oh hi

Senseless

For years I have lamented the tragedy on 9/11, but the lost towers never seemed real to me. I had never been to New York. I didn't see the site of the World Trade Center until some years later, when I visited Ground Zero. By then it was just a hole in the ground. I had never truly felt the presence of those towers, only their absence.

I think this year, for the first time, I have some sense of what it would feel like for somebody living in Manhattan then. Every day I come home from work and look out my window at the Washington Monument. At over 500 feet tall it dominates the Washington skyline. It's a memorial to the father of our country. It's a symbol of American might. It's a shining beacon of freedom. 

Today, on this awful anniversary, I tried to imagine what it would be like if terrorists destroyed that monument. If, when I looked out at night, it simply weren't there. I felt a momentary flash of visceral rage at the imagined terrorists, and at the real ones. I realized how much worse it would be if this American symbol also contained the souls of 3,000 individuals, who perished along with it.

I'm trying to draw a lesson from this all. But I can't. Twelve years ago I proclaimed that I would die for my country if it needed me. Twelve years ago I would have joined the military to try to hunt the bad guys. But so much of our foreign policy over the past 12 years seems so senseless now. It all seems so senseless now. Their attack, our decade-long response against anyone we might deem a "terrorist," deserved or not.

The only thing I can do is pray for peace. Pray for the souls of those we lost. And pray that the unenlightened and misguided will eventually come to embrace love.

To the Empire!

lala Moses lalala

Olympia!

Smith-Corona Sterling - 10 pica

I've been typecast!

Lookie here, it seems I have a blog

If the date stamp on the recent post is correct, I haven't updated this blog in over a year and a half.

Of course it is correct. I have been busy, I have had a lot of stuff going on, and I have found other outlets for my creativity.

That is not to say I have not contributed any textually exciting posts. I believe I have posted a few notes on Facebook. Perhaps even a vignette or two. But nothing regular.

I hope to change that. I have recently set up my studio microphone to accept voice-recognition input from MacSpeech Dictate -- just now, in fact -- and perhaps that will let me overcome my innate laziness. (Of course, I am insanely jealous of my Windows counterparts, who have access to Dragon NaturallySpeaking 11, which boasts a 99.99% accuracy rate without any training whatsoever, but hey, Mac users have always been second-class citizens now, haven't they?)

I have a lot of important things on my mind -- personal things, like when I'm going to get a new job, what topic enthralls me enough to warrant choosing it for the next episode of Lex Appeal (the breast-feeding show was interesting as far as it goes, but honestly I'm so sick of that topic right now, I never want to see another breast for as long as I live)... and I also want to hone my creative writing skills, as currently my sister Katherine is winning the battle there.

Anyway, I hope you like the nifty redesign -- I have always wanted to use some sort of moon and cloudy sky header, and today I happened to find the very image I was looking for on someone else's website, and a quick Photoshop later, it was mine! (Insert evil laughter here.)

Okay, that's enough for now. Time to go fill out a dozen job applications.

The Wind Shield is what makes it really bad

Katherine:  you ran tonight?
Matt:   YES
Katherine: it's -7 right now here WITHOUT windshield
Matt:   awwwwwwww
  windshield!
  that's adorable!
  hahahahaa
Katherine:  what
Matt:   hahahahahaha
  do you call it windshield
Katherine:  yes
Matt:  hahahahahaa
  awww
Katherine:  oh no
Matt:  that's so cute
  that's like when i used to call it pasghetti
Katherine: i'm looking at your status
Matt:  hahahaaha
Katherine: it's wind chill???
Matt:  YES!!!!!
Katherine: i thought it was wind shield!!!!!!
Katherine: all these years!
Matt:  hahhahahaha
  oh no!
Katherine: i guess i've only ever said it
Matt:  you have been hoodwinked
Katherine: never written it
  no one ever corrected me
  cuz i guess it always sounded like windchill
Matt:  it would sound like a southern accent
  if you said it your way
Katherine: i do get awfully twangy
Matt:  wow
  in your defense
  i used to also think it was windshield
Matt:  until i was about 12 years old
Matt:  but then i figured it out
Katherine: how come no one has ever said, it's not said that way!
Katherine: i must have gotten it from you then
Matt:  OH DON'T BLAME ME for this
Katherine: how did i not know
  maybe i did know
Matt:  that is tragic
  and awesomely hilarious
Katherine: i'm sure i've seen it written
  maybe i'm just creating it
  cuz i look at the weather channel all the time
  and they write wind chill
  but my mind sees it like windshield
  this confirms it: i only see what i want to see!
  and hear what i want to hear!
Matt:  that's the definition of a crazy person!!
Katherine: then call me crazy

You'll See: THREE

After two years of making movies for New Year's, Matt decides he is too mature to sing and frolic with Nate and Donnie. Devastated, the two attempt to make this year's movie without him... with HILARIOUS results. Will their attempts at movie making be successful? Will Matt ever sing or frolic again? You'll see...

Today's Practical Joke

I give a stack of letters to my secretary, with directions to have these copied and given to Gary so he could take them to the Copyright Office. "So you want these to go to the FCC?" she asks. "No," I repeat, "Copyright Office."

An hour later Gary stops by my office, where a partner is giving me an unrelated assignment.

Gary: The lady at the FCC said she didn't really know what these were about but she took them anyway.

Matt: FCC? (look of shock and horror) ...COPYRIGHT OFFICE!

Gary: Uh oh.

...Gary breaks into laughter. The partner cracks up, and gives him a high five.

Partner: Did you see his face turn all red!

They walk out of the office, laughing.

Rudy Loves to Cuddle!

Rudy in high def!

A Special Kind of Warrior

My housemate Christen calls me from CVS and asks if I need anything. I respond that I am almost out of deodorant.

Christen: What scent do you want?
Matt: I don't know... it's so hard to describe.
Christen: How about "Ocean"?
Matt: No! Not ocean. Rain, maybe. Something bluish.
Christen: Well what do you want to smell like?
Matt: I want to smell like a warrior.
Christen: A warrior, hmm.
Matt: The kind of warrior who would run through a field of flowers after a victorious battle.
Christen: So you want to smell like flowers.
Matt: NO! Not a warrior who smells like flowers; a warrior who would run through a field of flowers. That's what I want to smell like.
Christen: (uncontrollable laughter)
Matt: Do you understand the distinction?
Christen: Yes, and that's why I'm laughing so much!

Classic Dialogue from October 7, 2005

(In the car.)

Matt: "I'm not coming back here when I graduate."
Katherine: "That's okay. I'm moving away."
Elizabeth: "I'm leaving too."
Mom: "You can all go to hell!"

A Good Throw

In honor of Halloween, BeforeISleep.net today presents a spooky story I wrote back in 2003. Well, it's the beginning of a spooky story. I never actually got around to continuing it. But looking back on it, it reads pretty well. Shall I keep going?

*

They didn’t even bother to kill the baby before throwing it overboard. The tides would do that, they figured. Babies can’t swim. He’ll just bob up and down a bit and then sink to the bottom. Why waste more resources on an experiment that had already failed?

So they didn’t. Tonight’s submersion was the third in a week, and very likely the first of hundreds. The task fell to Guido. He and the other shipmates had drawn straws, and his was the shortest, so he got to do the dirty work. And not just once or twice; every time. Whenever there were three arms and no legs, or two heads but not a single brain between them, Guido was the official Tossin’ Man. Funny thing, though – he didn’t mind it. The boys decided to draw straws because no one was really begging for the job. They weren’t heartless, after all. Nobody liked to see the babies thrown overboard, and no one really wanted to do it. But it had to be done – Capo explained there was no other way. The first time, Guido was shaking so badly he was barely able to grab onto the kid.

Ah, the first time. No one knew exactly what to expect. The actual toss wasn’t so bad; it took no more than a few seconds, just a short arc from the boat to the waves. No, the worst part was watching the kid, seeing him float there, his baby fat keeping him above water for a few minutes longer than you’d think. No one really wanted to watch, but each man was glued to his spot, hypnotized, watching the fat little head bob up and down until no one could see it anymore.

Everybody watched but two. Soon as he threw, Guido turned his back on the ocean and looked at the Capo. Capo looked back at him, jaw set, eyes wide and unblinking. The two were about ten feet apart, just looking at each other, while the baby screamed behind them. It was the worst sound you ever heard, the doomed baby’s screams. It wasn’t a regular cry. It was as though the baby knew it was going to die, and was begging for its life. Only it didn’t know any words, so all it could do was scream as loudly and painfully as it could, and hope someone would take pity on it and jump into the water after it.

After a few minutes, the painful screaming became a kind of muffled gurgle. Then it stopped.

When the baby really was gone, Guido turned away from the Capo and went down to his cabin. He wouldn’t come out for days; just asked for food to be left outside his door. Strict as Capo was, he didn’t even mind the absence much – even he realized how much Guido must hurt. But then, about a week later, Guido was back at his post as if no time had passed. When the boys asked him if he was all right, he just laughed.

“What do you mean, Angelo, you think the waves are making me sick? I told you, I got used to the rocking weeks ago.”

Alfonso looked around at those who had heard. “No, Guido,” he said. “The baby. The… last week.”

Guido’s eyes grew wide, and he smiled so broadly that the rest of his face seemed to tighten up to make room. “A good throw, wasn’t it?”

Angelo didn’t know how to react. It was one thing to do the deed; quite another to laugh about it. It was a solemn task, a burden to shoulder in the name of progress. No one’s sense of humor should be that twisted.

Angelo half smiled, and nodded his head. Guido nodded back at him, and went back to his clipboards, transferring numbers from one board to the other. Angelo eyed him warily, and slowly turned back to his workstation, adjusting his monitors and firing up the gene program.

It was a few minutes before Guido spoke again. “Did you hear him shriek when I spun him around?”

Angelo and the others looked up. “What are you talking about?”

“It was a good shriek,” Guido said, reliving the moment in his head. “Kind of a laugh. Like we were playing.”

A burly man next to them spoke up. “You didn’t spin him, Guido,” he said in a calm voice. “The baby didn’t laugh. He didn’t know what hit him.”

Guido stared at him. Slowly, the grin faded from his face, but the eyes stayed wide. “No,” he said. “No, I suppose I didn’t. I should have spun him.”

Word spread about Guido’s strange sense of humor, and from that point on nobody brought up the subject around him. When time came to dispose of the next one, Guido was in high spirits. As he stood by the stern, cradling the baby in his arms to stop it from crying, the Capo began to speak.

“Look at the moon,” he said. “Look at the stars!” There was silence as the crew stared at him. Waves crashed against the hull. “Our ancestors used to believe the stars were gods, and those gods could smile upon us, bringing us good fortune if they were pleased” – he looked at Guido – “and bad fortune if they were not. It all sounds so foolish from our modern perspective, doesn’t it? Stars as gods.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “And yet… maybe not so foolish, if you think about it. We have learned so much in just the past few years about how things work. Powers unimaginable have been granted to us, and why?”

He paused, waiting for someone to answer him. No one did.

“Because we were foolish enough to think the impossible!” He turned to Guido. “We were foolish enough to take part in this years-long endeavor, to enhance Nature herself! And, my friends, we are so close. So close.” There were nods of agreement as he said this.

“So,” he continued, “I will ask you what I asked Guido: Now that we are so close to realizing this wonderful dream we share, do not turn away in disgust at some of the more… unfortunate aspects of the program. Some of you have voiced concern about our chosen method of disposal. I have explained to you that it is the most… humane… option available. But even my assurances have left some of you unconvinced.”

He looked down at his boots, which glistened in the moonlight. “I can offer you no more assurances, so I will offer you a possibility.” He looked up. “Our science tells us stars are nothing more than balls of burning hydrogen. But what if our science is only half right? We scientists are very good at explaining how things work… but why things work? That, my friends, is for the priests. Why do the stars shine? Perhaps the gods are behind it. And if the gods really can bring us good fortune, then think of this not as a disposal – but as an offering.”

He motioned to Guido, who walked toward the water and lifted the baby above his head. This one was an exceptionally odd result. All its limbs were intact, all internal systems present and functioning normally. Indeed, aside from a slight ridge on its frontal cranium, a casual bystander might notice nothing amiss. Yet the deformity quickly becomes clear to anyone who tries to interact with the child. From the beginning, the instruments measured absolutely no brain activity, even though physically, the organ was in perfect condition. All his organs were perfect. His brain was large, his heart strong. His blood circulated and his lungs functioned normally – indeed, every system worked.

Every system but the most important: its consciousness. Amazing, Capo once intoned, how the aspect that is the most important, the most definitive of being human, is not recognized in the textbooks. Circulatory system, respiratory system, reproductive system – and yet no awareness system. Without that, a human is just a collection of machinery. It might function, but the resulting product is less a human being than a flesh-and-bone robot.

We may produce many like that, he told his crew. The technology to clone parts is not necessarily the technology to clone the sum of the parts. We will end up with parts. If we’re lucky, they will be arranged in a manner fitting a human being, and in appropriate numbers. Anything grander… will require a miracle.

As yet, no miracles had been granted. There was such hope over this one – he was as beautiful a clone as Capo could have imagined. He looked just like the picture Capo had placed on every display’s desktop. Sans beard and moustache, he was the spitting image of Capo himself – about 50 years younger, of course.

But his mind was empty. There were no cries when they cut it from its mother’s womb. It was, for all intents and purposes like a brain-dead child. A brain-dead child who should not have been. Perhaps this one will help show the men how humane our disposal process really is, Capo thought.

Guido stood, looking out over the waters. It was a calm night, but a storm was on its way. In the distance the sky was gray with impending doom, angry clouds rolling toward them, slow and confident. He turned the baby so it faced him, its large blue eyes open, yet strangely distant. Guido looked out at the two dozen men circling him, and smiled. He looked back up at the baby, still held firmly above his head, and smiled even wider. With a great heave and a loud yell, he hurled the creature into the sea. It splashed as it entered the peaceful waters, and disappeared under the water. Within seconds, it had bobbed back up, its face holding steady just above the surface.

Guido leaned over the stern, looking down at the baby, disbelieving. “Start crying!” he yelled.

“He won’t,” Capo said quietly. “He doesn’t react, you know that.”

“Not to stimulus in the lab, but this is different! The sea is stronger.”

“And the baby’s mind is just as detached as it has been for days. He feels nothing.” He turned to the crew, his voice louder now. “You see? He feels nothing! He will be swept away to a peaceful end. Those who can feel can tell no difference between this” – he motioned to the water – “and their mother’s womb! The submersion is quick and completely painless. A simple sleep that ends their troubles and ours.”

Guido had a look of disgust. “Damn shame,” he said. He turned from the sea and stormed down the steps.

Capo and the other men stood in place, watching him go, listening to his footsteps. When, in the distance below them, they heard a cabin door slamming, they turned back to the sea. The baby was farther out now, about thirty feet away, still silent. He was being carried away at a meandering clip by the light current, and he seemed neither to notice nor to care. The night was cool and beautiful, bright stars dotting the sky, undimmed by human dealings. The light breeze was becoming stronger, and the baby was quickly carried twice as far out. Far to the east, the crew saw flashes of lightning, and many seconds later heard nearly silent rumblings. Capo turned from the sea and walked to the stairs, descending below. One by one, the crew turned and followed.

The silent baby was a hundred feet out now, barely visible. And still, it bobbed up and down in the water, as the waves grew taller and the ship began to rock.

* * *

My Superhero Name is "The Green Triangle"

You may ask, is it hard for me to lose all this weight? The answer is, no. Once you find a rhythm that you can live with, it's no big deal at all.

Mobile post sent by DCTenor1 using Utterli.  Replies.  mp3

Now that's a good compromise

Matt: I figure if the federal gov't is going to take a stronger role than in the past, they might as well do it right. I know money won't fix everything, but by god, I'd rather spend $15B on helping our nation's schools than on building another bomber.

Ryan: No no, I want the bomber. It's cooler.

Matt: How about we compromise?

Ryan: Ok, we can hold classes in my bomber.

An Interspieces Battle for Domination!

See what happens when Matt figures out how to get the dogs to play tug of war against each other...

O'Reilly's Interview with Obama: The Democrats are in Trouble

Say what you want about O'Reilly; he's a pitbull of an interviewer. Today he pressed Obama on the Surge and Iran. The results were not good for Obama supporters.

Obama acknowledged the success of the surge but claimed it exceeded the wildest expectations of even Bush and McCain. (I don't see how that's a bad thing.) He would not, however, admit that he was wrong in voting against it. In the process he missed a great opportunity for powerful rhetoric.

O'Reilly: "If we had listened to you, we wouldn't have had a surge and we wouldn't be winning the war!"
Obama (fire in his eyes): "If you had listened to me, we wouldn't NEED a surge because we wouldn't have STARTED this war in the first place!"

Now that's the Obama I love. Unfortunately, that Obama doesn't exist. Obama did not say that; there was no fire. He smiled and hemmed and hawed and said, "Well, we still are paying $12 billion a month on Iraq and..."

This remains an unpopular war among most of the American public and Obama needs to turn up the rhetoric. He would do well to remind us that we wouldn't be in this mess if he had been in the White House. (We might be in other messes, but not this one.) From what I've seen, it appears that as great as he is in a prepared speech, he isn't very good at extemporaneous speaking. Biden is amazing at it and that will help offset Obama's stilted responses, but Biden's not the guy who would be the commander in chief.

O'Reilly next moved on to Iran, and asked specifically what Obama plans to do. What happens if diplomacy doesn't work? Does he think military action is likely? Obama was quite evasive. He responded that, as a candidate for president, it's "not appropriate" for him to "tip his hand" regarding the direction he's going to go in Iran. Excuse me? You're not going to tip your hand? This isn't a Supreme Court nomination hearing, Obama, you are supposed to tell us what you're going to do. Eventually he gave his same old "all options are on the table" answer, but with no specifics.

Upon the conclusion of the interview, my first reaction was that Obama is going to lose. In any moderated debate with McCain, McCain will use forceful rhetoric about the need to use military force and confront our enemies. McCain will have fire in his eyes. Obama is, as usual, going to be very introspective, Kerry-like in his desire for nuance. It's not going to play well among the undecideds who agree the world is a very dangerous place.