Freedom Just Around the Corner for You

I think language is fun. You pretty much have to in order to write a blog, something that Dr. Sighted loves making fun of me about. I was going to write about a clever hook in a song, but got to thinking that since I merged the Fear and Trembling part of the blog with this space, I really ought to the think twice, because that line is not the sort of thing you'd say in mixed company. (It's a sexual thing not a pee joke. I continue to reserve the right to make pee jokes in this blog. Poo grosses me out, though, so it's not funny.) This got me thinking about Christian Liberty again about something other than alcohol, which is kind of refreshing.

This topic is something I've thought about a lot and written about before, and art (as an extension of my appreciation of language) is something I think is valuable as humans and Christians. But, 2 Cor 6:16-18 points out that we should associate with no unclean thing. Rom 12:2 reminds us that we should be different after choosing to follow Christ, separate from earthly things. 1 Cor 10:23-24 famously says that "Everything is permissible, but not everything is profitable..." So, I think an argument could be made that anything that that is not active worship or sustenance is bad. I think there are people who believe that, but I feel like I am using weasel words and that makes me feel like a jerk. No jerks allowed on this blog, so I'll stop.

I think that's overstating it. Proverbs 3:13-14 praises people who learn (but in the context of 3:3-5, it's not to build oneself up but to expand your relationship with God and other people). The point, though, is that learning is not necessarily active worship. Luke 15:11-31 (the Prodigal Son) describes the Kingdom of God in the contexts of celebrations, implying that celebrations are good in the appropriate context, and celebrating isn't inherently worship either. (Note: I specifically opted not to mention Psalm 104:14-15 which thanks God for his role in growing bread and making wine in order to demonstrate my self-control.)

I think the important thing from that is that context is relevant. Intent and sincerity are relevant. Celebration isn't inherently worshipful, but it can be. Learning isn't inherently worshipful, but it can be. Both of those things, in fact, can be sinful if abused. I think the same is true of art and how we view it.

If I watch South Park, Dogma, or The Life of Brian and simply enjoy them for the surface level vulgarity and titillation, that's probably not ok, but if I appreciate them for their satiric value exposing hypocrisy, they might be. I think the same attitude is true about alcohol -- Prov 20:1 says that Wine is a mocker and beer is a brawler, yet SoS 1:4 praises your (presumably Solomon's) love more than wine, implying that wine is good -- which are written by the same author. Intent is important -- Song of Solomon is a book entirely about seduction, which is really an untapped aspect of the Bible's PR, but an excellent case study of the importance of context. Habakkuk, in Hab 1:2-4 questions God's commitment to His truths, but the context is one of seeking justice, seeking to know Him better, not one of disrespect or lack of confidence. (The book concludes in chapter 3 with a long song of praise.) Habakkuk is one of the Deep Tracks of the Old Testament.

So, if I remind myself that the line "The neighbors complain about the noises above/ But she only comes when she's on top" is extremely clever in appreciation of language as a tool created by God, and in the context of thanks for the talent to be able to identify with its intricacies and delight in its power. However, because it is vulgar, I must remind myself of that. I must also be aware and respectful of the concerns raised in Romans 14 about stumbling blocks to others as well. And I must be sincere, because lies make Baby Jesus cry.

While I write this, a bumper on the news used "Way Down Yonder on the Chattahoochee," which also has a sexual reference in it, yet I doubt there are many who would object to it on grounds of vulgarity. Or "I Love Rock and Roll," or "Only the Good Die Young." But that doesn't make the casual ignorance of vulgarity in James's "Laid" ok. Because Jesus turned water into wine is not an excuse to drink wine to get drunk. And I think if I am going to have a drink, have Laid on my iPod or throw parties that aren't explicitly worshipful, I need to be able to defend myself and maintain the attitude of sincerity and thankfulness of the gifts I have received, because I need that attitude all the time.

I like the Irish. Not Notre Dame.

It was in high school when I first started to think about what islands of white people my family came from way back when. Of course, like everyone else in the southeast, Britain and Ireland were the primary culprits. I was prompted to look into it because there were a lot of people in my high school whose parents were born in India but they had never seen the place and still managed to feel and act more Indian than American. Don't get me a wrong, there were a lot of awesome Indian people too, but there were some who would only hang with other Indian folks, which strikes me as, well, I don't want to say racist, but a little bit racist.

This coming week is, of course, the holiday for people who like to pretend they're Irish. I have never been to Ireland and my last name is English, but there are Irish people in my family tree and begorrah, I love it. The Irish are a jolly people, and I like being a part of that. There are primarily three things that Irish people are known for, and they're all fantastic. Indian people might have better food, but they sure don't have better booze.

1. Booze (Biotálle). Distillation came to Ireland from the Mediterranean by way of missionaries, according to wikipedia. How great is that? Missionaries! There's a saying that the Irish discovered whiskey and the Scottish perfected it. You know what I have to say about that? Ireland is independent and Scotland is still run from London. Eat that. Also, everyone loves Guinness. Americans learned to make their liquors when the Irish and Scottish came over and settled the South in the early colonial days. Good for them.
2. Blessings (Beannachtaí). Everyone knows the "May the road always rise to meet you..." blessing. You may not have known is that there are like a thousand just like it, poetic and fun and cheery. For a people so historically miserable (not quite Polish or Jewish miserable, but certainly more so than the Canadians), most of what you see is very positive, like charming brogues, pots of gold and leprechauns, and excellent smelling soap. I suspect #1 has a hand in this attitude. My favorite is: May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
   
3. Blarney (An Bhlárna). It is a town, castle, rock and gift originating in County Cork. You might think it's just mumbo jumbo, but this community has been able to convince Americans to come to their town and spend good money in order bend over backwards to kiss a rock. If that isn't evidence of the gift of Blarney, I don't know what is. There is also a disproportionate presence of Irish writers in the English language, and I'd like to think that there's something in the blood, and I just have to activate that component of it by drinking Bushmills.

Sure, there are terrorists and domestic violence too, but all that has largely been drowned out by the Muslims blowing people up in more dramatic fashion. And their accents aren't nearly as fun. Can you imagine a Saudi breakfast cereal? Magically delicious, insha'allah. Anyway, everyone have a happy SPD on the 17th, eat some corned beef and cabbage and say sláinte as you think about your favorite blogger. The Wonkette.

Graphs Aplenty: Death Wish

Charles Bronson is a Man among men. Of that, there really is no question. So it was really only a matter of time before my old roommate demonstrated, in graph form, just how that works out when his famed Death Wish movies are compared to one another.

This one took a bit more analysis than the previous Graphs Aplenty, and it shows in the confusing but scientific multiple axes. This, of course, is only a qualitative comparison because it is difficult to get hard numbers without including the various hypotheses on what sort of drunkenness was reached. You see, this was only testing the one variable, not severity of inebriation. That is clearly for further study. Please make whatever comments you notice.

Now Introducing: Graphs Aplenty

You know, for being an engineer, there has been a dearth of data analysis on this here blog. You know what? That ends here, right now. My old roommate, the one who likes both Vonnegut and Death Wish, started generating some graphs that needed a home (other than in the finest of scientific journals, that is), and luckily, I happened to have a blog that nobody reads. So, naturally, there will be more graphs in our future.

This, of course, is a Venn Diagram. I want to stress that this is not representative of my findings, and that this conclusion should be under the same sorts of review and verification that any other scientific result would be. There are plenty of other things that make me happily vomit.

Super Week!

Hey, I heard there's a football game on today. It's supposed to be super. Every single person I've spoken to has said that they aren't particularly excited about the game, because at this point everyone hates the Patriots and nobody liked the Giants before anyway. I knew a guy at Clemson who liked Eli, though, which always amused me; it was like wishing that Rambo would have starred Frank Stallone instead. Frankly, I think that the Pats are unstoppable, but I can't say I'm terribly happy about it. Also, I hope the commercials are a little better this year than they have in the past years.

Tuesday is also a super day. Super Tuesday, in fact. I think it's also Mardi Gras, but I'm neither Catholic nor Cajun, so it really doesn't have a huge impact on me. I did make gumbo for the game tonight, though. But I think I'm looking forward to Tuesday than I am about the game. You see, this is the first time I get to go to the polls to vote for President of the United States. (I had to do it by absentee ballot before. As far as civic satisfaction goes, you don't get quite the same feeling as pulling a lever, or in my case, using a touch screen to identify my candidate in the same way that you make reservations at Epcot.) Afterwards, I get to come home and drink martinis while watching the returns come in. Election day is too class a day to drink anything other than martinis. I want to have a small party for it. I already know that I am taking off Nov 4.

Here's a little way to make Super Tuesday more fun (as if it could be any more fun!):
-Every time somebody says "Too close to call," you drink.
-Every time a future press conference by a candidate is referenced, you drink.
-Every time Keith Olbermann takes a gratuitous shot at Bush, you drink. (Be careful if watch MSNBC with this one...)
-Every time Keith Olbermann does something unnecessarily smug while trying to make a joke that isn't funny, you drink. (This will be the last Keith one, because this game could be dangerous. I don't want to be a case study for a Law & Order episode where somebody dies from reading a blog entry. Actually, that would be pretty awesome.)
-Every time Chris Matthews throws in an unnecessary compliment to some guest on his show that you've never heard of, you drink.
-Every time Chris Matthews's smile reminds you of the smile of your five year old nephew (not to mention haircut), you drink.
-Every time Brit Hume looks disgusted by the lack of professionalism by someone on his panel, you drink.
-Every time a pundit is confused by a disagreement between polling data and actual election returns, you drink.
-Every time a candidate who lost a state makes it sound like they really won it, you drink. (You may have to stay up late for this one.)
-Every time someone says "Billary," you drink.
-Every time someone compares Obama to JFK, you drink.
-Every time someone talks about Mitt Romney's hair, you drink.
-Every time someone talks about how conservatives don't like McCain, you drink.
-Every time we are reminded by a commentator how relevant Huckabee still is, you drink.

If you aren't laughing at all of Romney's and Olbermann's jokes after an hour with this game, then I don't know what to tell you. Sláinte!

My accent is really boring

I was on my way to my car this afternoon, and a bug flew into my ear. This doesn't really have anything to do with what I'd like to write about in this post, but I feel that this event ought not be forgotten. To be clear, when I say it flew into my ear, I mean it nearly landed on my brain. It was in the entrance to the canal, and it sounded like a bee does in a cartoon. If it was an actual bee, I think I might have died. Has anyone ever heard of a documented case of a person stung by a bee in the ear canal and surviving? I sure haven't heard one.

I know I've touched on this subject before, but I am jealous of everyone (except New Yorkers, Bostonians and Chicagoans) who has a regional accent. I was watching the news, and one of the reporters was a Scotsman. That accent is awesome. There are a number of great accents, notably, all of them but those three I already mentioned. I am very aware of this, as a native Floridian, since I don't sound like I'm from anywhere. This is even more pronounced in South Carolina, where most folks talk like they are from South Carolina. It is a delightful accent to listen to, but I am marked as a foreigner immediately. Florida counts as foreign is some parts round here. Also, I don't drink sweet tea. There are connoisseurs of sweet tea around here like there are of wine and liquor other places. It's really quite something.

My roommate is from Wisconsin, and when he apologizes he sounds like he could sing for the Barenaked Ladies. My mom is from Michigan, but her northern affectations have been extinguished long ago. Her dad and some of her siblings, though, say things like ruuf and ruut instead of rewf and rewt for roof and root. They don't like it when I tell them they're doing it wrong.

I like to do voices every once in a while, and I think I do a couple of accents sufficiently for something like a comedy sketch, but if I were a spy that had to pass off as a German, I might be found out. Even though I'm in the land of the Southern folk, the South Carolina accent differs a little bit from region to region, so I don't think I could do a passably authentic Southern accent. It's a little troubling, because I think I'd like to be able to. I want to be like a lingual chameleon.

I decided to take a job that will keep me in South Carolina for a while, so maybe I'll get the chance to work on it. And hopefully I'll get to befriend an Australian so I can work on that too. So, until then, cheers, mate. And watch out for bees in your ear.

I write about the bathroom oddly often

There is something about urinals to me that is inherently funny. Like zebras. It's basically a sink held up on its side into which I pee. It's so elegantly simple, but such an unusually shaped device and it carries a lot of baggage. Do you think it would be appropriate to strike up a conversation with someone you barely know about a urinal? (Exception: while drinking in a bar.) And why not? I don't know if I know you (but chances are, I probably d0), but I'm going to talk about urinals now.

This applies to regular toilets too, but why is it that we always seek out the cleanest one for use with urination? I can understand twosies or if you're a girl, but I realize that if there's a cigarette butt or some other contaminant in the bottom of the urinal and/or toilet, it's not getting anything out of me. I wish I could tell you why; it's not like pee is fragile, or a dirty urinal will return fire or something. I guess it's just that I subconsciously think I'm so awesome that even my toilets need to be clean for me to use them. Fortunately, I've never run into a situation where all of them were dirty. That could be uncomfortable.

There are also some urinals which are floor length, in addition to the sideways sinks. They're like the luxury ones, because they seem so decadent. There's no particular advantage from the user's point of view for having the urinal be that long, other than it's easier to avoid the splashback. I think the primary reason is that it becomes harder to miss the urinal. If you've ever worn flip-flops to the bathroom, though, you know how big an issue splashback can be if you're not careful. In fact, one of my engineer buddies and I once discussed a flow solution for urinals to make splashback (and, additionally, flushing) a thing of the past, but I think it would be kind of excessive.

I'll bet if you asked somebody what urinal pose they prefer, you'd get a surprisingly forthright answer. Some people go for the Leaner, where the body makes a right triangle with the wall and floor. There is also the Straddle, which all but eliminates inaccuracy but makes splashback disastrous. The counterpoint is the Marksman, where the user is about a foot away and aims for the cup part of the urinal -- splashback is never an issue but accuracy can be. This one works better with the floor length. For the particularly daring, you can do the Flying V, so named by the shape of one's legs during execution. Hang upside down from the two partitions separating the neighboring urinals and aim downwards.

Sometimes you find yourself looking into a trough that the establishment has asked you to use for your liquid waste needs. It's a strange feeling, because it's kind of fun since it's a different sort of vessel than you use on an everyday basis, but it's also a little dehumanizing since you're going at the same time as one or two other guys right next to you. You don't have the Dave Barry Rules of Separation with troughs. Although, one time I was oddly proud that while going I outlasted two cycles of guys coming through. It was like a 180 second session.

I recently visited an establishment that had a urinal without a lever for flushing, but it didn't have standing liquid in it either, so I imagine it flushed on its own time. I didn't really witness an actual flush, so it's only speculation. I mentioned my observation to those in my party, which led to a conversation that led to me thinking about this post, and one of the guys basically thought by putting some of this information out there I would be doing a service for the female readers in helping them understand a little bit about urinals. I hope this goes towards that noble endeavor.

A little fashion sense even I can understand

People everywhere have very strong opinions about popping the collar. I see signs, have heard people bitch about it, and there are facebook groups about it. The thing is, I've only seen one collar actually be popped. It was at a Ralph Lauren Outlet store, and I'm pretty sure the guy worked there. He looked like sort of guy who would drink a Bud Select while calling it a "brew." Or put rufies in a girl's drink at a party.

So, judging from my statistical sample of one person with a popped collar, I can understand where the opposition comes from. However, I don't really understand how this level of vitriol developed for such an uncommon thing. Something like violent anger directed at CSI is more understandable, because you can't turn around, televisionwise, without running into one of those Jerry Bruckheimer produced pieces of filth. Then again, I don't go to frat parties much and I try to avoid places where crappy beers are the drink of choice, which I guess are really two of the same things, so I might not be in the collar popper's native habitat.

So where does this happen? Is it simply a manifestation of a bad college stereotype, as I suspect? It can't simply be that; people I've run into who never go to those places have formed more intense opinions about this than they have about abortion. I have to say that until I see it pop up (ha ha!) more often, I'm probably not going to care, even though I realize this issue is like two years old at this point. So yes, I'm a little behind. I'm in grad school; time doesn't flow the same way for me.

Just put it on my tab

This may seem surprising, but on Friday night, for the first time ever, I opened a bar tab. I normally pay in cash. I have to say, opening a tab is far superior in everyway to simply paying cash. I may never pay cash at a bar again. It's akin to the very first time you try boxers instead of the kiddie underoos. It's liberating. And it makes you feel like a big boy.

The first thing that happens after the tab is opened, the bartender asks, "What can I get you, Mr. Sighted?" He doesn't say my name when I pay with cash. Who doesn't like to hear their name, even if it's from a stranger who only knows it because I gave him a card that says I promise to give him money? Not me, that's who. I don't not like that a lot.

Later on, you don't have to worry about making the right change, if you're going to accidentally throw your wallet halfway across the bar while removing money or maybe drop it into a small pile of spilled vodka. You simply say, "I'll have a Jack and Coke, sir, and please, put it on my tab." What an empowering phrase that is. "Can I get you something? I'll put it on my tab!" If only everything worked like that.

Actually, I guess that's pretty much how a credit card works all the time, but it doesn't have the romance of the bar tab. Next time, I think I'll open two.