A Micro Review of Micro

I finished listening to the posthumously published Michael Crichton book Micro some time back and wrote a short review at that time. Unfortunately, the review was lost when I bent the thumb drive it was stored on; if you remember that story, you also remember it didn't end well (for the the thumb drive, that is ).

If you don't know the story behind Micro, it's about a group of young scientists shrunk down to the size of, oh, carpenter ants, and how they fight off bad insects and bad regular-sized humans with technology available to Lilliputians.

The gist of my comments were...

1. If you like Michael Crichton, you'll like Micro, even if Crichton didn't write most of it.

2. It's better than Pirate Latitudes (also published posthumously).

3. There was a huge missed opportunity at the end. Like most Crichton books, characters we are meant to dislike die, and those we root for (most of them) survive. In the case of this story, miniaturized humans return to full size, but they didn't bring anything back with them that could be threatening at a larger scale.

Think about it: You shrink a group of humans down to tiny size, they battle all sorts of creepie crawlies that are now gargantuan (to them), then you bring the humans back to normal size, and you don't bring back a creepy crawlie along with you?

I mean, the character Dan has wasp larvae incubating in him, for crying out loud. I fully expected to encounter giant wasp larvae that turn into giant wasps.

And of course there's a romance. What would happen it two micro humans mated? Do you get a micro baby?

All I can think of is that they wrote some teasers in and then wrote them out. Maybe the publishers have lost interest, or the Crichton estate wasn't interested, or the Crichton name simply has lost its Jurassic luster. But the miss is just too great to be accidental.

Too bad, but it was worth the read. Well, the listen, and John Bedford Lloyd did an okay job narrating. Took some getting used to, but once I did, it was a fun ride.

Crichton was my one guilty literary pleasure. I've tried a few others but have found none that I enjoy nearly as much. Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child come close; they are great reads, but difficult to digest as audio books (IMHO).

Started: 2012-02-20

Do you see what I see?

1
The mind is often disordered.

Those who are deeply mistaken are often incapable of examining themselves sufficiently to know they are deeply mistaken.

(This occurred to me after a Facebook debate on gun control.)

[2012-08-20]

2
The mind struggles to discern order.

Religion is a good substance out of which to fashion rules. If we didn't have religion, we would have to invent it, or something very much like it.

Indeed, any skeptic or agnostic or atheist who rejects God and still says there is a place for rules, has done just that.

You might as well curse your hunger for making you fat. You can do it, and get a lot of folks to do it with you, but you're still hungry, and you're still fat.

[2012-08-10]

3
Garage sale acquisition.

Porcelain statuette of Michelangelo's Pieta, about 7", copyright "Holland Mold." $1. Some Holland Mold Pietas are going for $15-$20, but I bought this because I liked it, not to resell.

The Grundig 960 behind it is a reproduction. Not a good performer, but very attractive. I got it "free" many years ago when I redeemed my Discover Card points.

[2012-08-26]

Hobo Beans

1
Hobo Beans

My Great Grandma Damon (my mom's mom's mom) handed down a recipe we all call Hobo Beans. As I recall the story, Great Grandma Damon was known for providing a hot meal for those in need. Hobos that rode the rail through town marked the sidewalk outside her house with chalk so others could enjoy her generosity.

I wish I could revisit those days and meet her, and the hobos. I know it's a romantic notion. It probably was nothing like how I picture it, but why should that matter, that is how I wish to picture it.

This is the recipe card written by my mom, Marilyn Cairns (née Grandy):

 

This is how the recipe reads:

Hobo Beans

1# ground beef - browned & drained
1# bacon - fry & crumble
2 cans pork & beans
1 can kidney beans - drained
1 can butter beans - drained
1 cup brown sugar - lightly packed
1 cup ketchup
1 small onion

Mix together. Bake at 350F for 1 hour.

I often use only 1/2 lb. gr. beef and 1/2 lb. bacon.

Beans: I usually use 1 - 16 oz. Campbell's pk. and beans and 1 - 28 oz. Bush's (any variety)

Reduce heat to 325F for slower, longer bake.

Slow cooker should tell how to adapt recipe.

In oven I use a 3 quart casserole.

2
Great Commercial

Eddie Haskell (Ken Osmond) pitches St Joseph's aspirin. What fun, and what a great sense of humor Osmond and St Joseph's have. We need more of that.

[2012-08-21]

3
I'm just going to keep writing.

Ever get to the point where the noise becomes so oppressive, you can no longer process it? Batman, theater shooting, Sikh temple, 7 dead, are they Muslim? war on women, war on religion, hurricane, GOP convention, 17 partygoers beheaded in Afghanistan.

There are times when events are so mangled and jangled I can no longer process them.

And so I write about something I can process, that is uncomplicated, comfortable.

Like Hobo Beans.

There was time once when a bum could get a hot meal at a house in Corry, PA because a nice lady believed even bums deserved one.

[2012-08-10]

Why a Pro-Life Vote Counts When Abortion is Legal

I've struggled with this issue myself for years. Abortion is legal. What possible value can there be in casting a vote that considers a candidate's position on this topic?

This:

1. Many people are wrong about many things. It doesn't matter how loud they get or who they are. If you think something is wrong, it very well could be wrong. If sheer numbers and popularity determined right and wrong, we’d be in a lot of trouble. (And sometimes that happens. Ask the Anti-Defamation League.)

2. If you allow something to continue without opposition, you are condoning it by your silence and leading by example.

So far this is agnostic. However...

3. On January 23rd, 2009, 3 days after taking office, President Obama suspended the Mexico City Policy, which prevented organizations receiving U.S. government funding from performing or promoting abortions in other countries. That means our president changed a policy that directly increased abortions outside the US. (Source > )

I didn't know that until recently.[1]

All arguments I've heard in favor of abortion rights revolve around convenience, economics, or the non-personhood of the unborn.
Never when human life is involved - whether it's the elderly or the unborn - will you hear anyone consider the value of life aside from the cost to maintain it.

If you base your decision on what's convenient and economical, the choices are very easy.

[1]
If you've followed me this far, you know my reevaluation over the past few months has reduced the tally of candidates I feel good about to precisely zero.


Started: 2012-08-13

sorta kinda maybe once in a while a little the same way

In the space of about 20 minutes [Aug. 24, 2012], I heard...

1. ... Romney announce proudly while stumping in Commerce, MI, where he was born, that "no one's ever asked to see my birth certificate." (AP Story >)

2. ... a DNC email misrepresent Romney’s position on abortion in the case of rape by quoting part of an LA Times article; the full context said nothing like the implication of the partial quote. (Story: Anderson Cooper Takes DNC Chair Wasserman Schultz to Task for Misquoting L.A. Times In Fund-raising Pitch > )

3. ... progressive radio hosts yuk it up over US bishops and the Catholic church position on HHS like a couple gravel-voiced FM DJ's that smoke 5 packs a day and take a toke off their one-hitter before hitting the air; it seems the "high road" was being taken by "child molesters." Snortle grimace guffaw.[1]

Our country - yours and mine - is facing something more serious than an election: the loss of perspective.

After which little else can matter, because there's so little we can agree on.

Even when confronted with blatant misrepresentation in front of a national audience, DNC Chair Debbie Wasserman-Schultz would not concede. Even when repeatedly asked for more tax returns, Romney will not concede. The response from Wasserman-Schultz is essentially "Yeah, but we all know what he really thinks about abortion," and Romney's response is "Yeah, but I released 2,000 pages of tax info from one year, and my VP pick released his returns."

The closer we get to the election, the further away both sides are from my vote. Neither side will stand above the fray and rein in the troops on the front lines that are becoming embarrassing cannon fodder in a take-no-prisoners damn-the-truth battle. It's like watching two teams compete in a sport I don't care about from two schools I never heard of.

I'm sure someone somewhere is saying, "Awwww, Clarence is upset, nobody's playing fair, isn't that too bad."

We're incapable of seeing things sorta kinda maybe once in a while a little the same way.

[1]
Child abuse exists everywhere, not just the Catholic church. Why the focus on Catholics? Andrew Brown in The Guardian had this insight, which has a lot of truth to it:

This is vile, but whether it is more vile than the record of any other profession is not obvious. The concentration on boys makes the Catholic pattern of abuse stand out; ... it is nowadays very widely reported. It may be the best reported crime in the world: that, too tends to skew perceptions.

There are, however, some fragments of figures from the outside world suggesting that not many professions do better. Last year, it was reported that half of the girls fostered in social democratic Sweden in the 50s and 60s had been abused; according to Camila Batmanghelidjh 550,000 children are reported to the social services in this country every year.

So why the concentration on Catholic priests and brothers? Perhaps I am unduly cynical, but I believe that all institutions attempt to cover up institutional wrongdoing although the Roman Catholic church has had a higher opinion of itself than most, and thus a greater tendency to lie about these things. (Source: Andrew Brown, The Guardian > )

Started: 2012-08-24

Of Crucifixes and Castration

“My first memory is of the crucifix in my boyhood parish, Holy Name in Birmingham, Michigan. I do not know how old I was, but I knew Jesus had died for me and my whole life was supposed to be a response to this.”
--Fr John Riccardo[1]

“And I, brothers, if I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet suffer persecution? then is the offense of the cross ceased.” Paul in Gal 5:11, AKJV[2]

 

Two Responses, a Single Source

Fr Riccardo and Paul are referring to two different types of responses to the cross, but the emotional components have a lot in common.

Paul was referring to some Jewish Christians disagreeing with him over circumcision; they couldn't accept that the cross (death and resurrection) fulfilled and superseded Jewish law. Paul said circumcision didn't matter one way or the other, but if that's what they wanted to do, they had to keep the whole schmeer.

Fr Riccardo's comment is deceptively simple. The crucifix is a reminder that we must respond to this suffering person; in many homes and churches it's in every room. A cross with no body on it (common in evangelical churches) doesn't have the same effect. It means "I am a Christian." It doesn't mean "I have an obligation," certainly not in the same visceral way.[3]

Many evangelicals find the crucifix offensive, not because it conflicts with their belief in a crucified Jesus, but because it's a reminder of the passion, not the resurrection, where evangelicals like to focus. In other words, it's painful. Who likes pain? (I still can't bring myself to watch The Passion of the Christ.)

It's probably fair to say we can put too much emphasis on one or the other - the death or the triumph over death – but each is needed to understand the other.

As a child and to this day, the symbol of the crucifix spoke to me. I never found it offensive, but rather intriguing and compelling. I do not have one in my home; I do carry one in my heart.

[1]
Fr John Riccardo is pastor at Our Lady of Good Counsel in Plymouth, MI. He hosts "Christ is the Answer" on Ave Maria Radio on Wednesday's at 8pm. This block is quoted from this blog >.

[2]
"Offense" is also translated "scandal" or "stumbling block." Here are a couple more translations:

11 But I, brothers, if I still preach circumcision, why am I still persecuted? Then the stumbling block of the cross has been removed. 12 I wish that those who disturb you would cut themselves off. Gal 5:11-12, WEB

11 Now, brothers and sisters, if I am still preaching circumcision, why am I still being persecuted? In that case the offense of the cross has been removed. 12 I wish those agitators would go so far as to castrate themselves! Gal 5:11-12, NETFree

Most versions translate "castrate" as simply "cut off." Yes, It is actually "castrate," according to a recent lecture I heard by Luke Timothy Johnson. Paul's words are interesting here; he's talking about circumcision, right? He's saying he wishes those guys that keep insisting on circumcision would go ahead and cut the whole thing off. He's angry.

[3]
You will often see a cross at the front of a Baptist sanctuary, or in a Sunday school room, on a plaque with a bible verse, for example; and of course around Easter, sometimes with a red sash hanging over it, reminding us that Jesus was once there, but no more. Often you'll see three crosses, a large one representing the one Jesus died on, and two smaller, one on each side, for the two thieves. It's more common now to see the cross on T-shirts, soda can cozies, and other pop culture items, even among evangelicals.

Started: 2012-08-24

RIP Neil Armstrong, August 5, 1930 - August 25, 2012

No one not around in 1969 can possibly understand the enormity of Armstrong's step onto the moon. It is second only to one other world-changing event 2,000 years ago. And it's a shame that the children covering the passing of a great man cannot begin to comprehend the import of their own words.

Interesting that Armstrong will share this date with Truman Capote. Coincidence, of course, but aside from my father, they are two men on a very short list of those I most admire.

[2012-08-25]

R.I.P. Truman, August 25, 1984

A lost kite that flew too soon toward heaven.

Truman on Wikipedia >

If you read only one book of his, read Music for Chameleons.

 

Jeff Hull

"I did not suppose that what came out of books would help me as much as the utterances of a living and abiding voice."

--Papias of Hierapolis, quoted in Eusebius,
on preferring oral tradition over written.

 

According to Bart Ehrman, Papias was referring to his conversations with "the companions of the elders," by which he meant those who knew the apostles.

As an analogy, that is like my father telling me about his grandfather. I'd much rather hear my dad talk about his grandfather than read a book, though there will be much more in a book that my dad didn't know, didn't remember, or didn't think was important.

There is a place for both; and while oral tradition is a living interaction that allows probing and clarification, the study of texts are is usually confined to what we have in front of us.[1]

With each succeeding generation, like a game of telephone, an oral story changes, sometimes benignly, sometimes maliciously, but always at least a little one way or the other.

Jeff Hull
Jeff Hull was a character. Jeff went through school with me, starting in kindergarten. I knew him all the way through 10th Grade. I don't recall seeing him after that. We were not close friends. Just classmates. (Yes, this does relate, bear with me.)

Jeff taught me how to look up girls' dresses in kindergarten by crawling under the tables. He also frequently demonstrated how to get the tar whaled out of you.

Jeff was Vernondale Elementary School's biggest problem child. Vernondale Elementary School is on Wilkins Road in Millcreek, PA.

In 3rd Grade, when he refused to return to his desk, our teacher, Miss Anderson, left the room. We knew where she was going: the principal's office. It was a long walk even for a teacher. And we knew she was working up a head of steam with every step. And she'd get the principal worked up all the way back, and when they two of them entered the classroom, the 8-year-old version of the O.K. Corral would unfold.

Jeff sat in the back of the room holding a pair of scissors we'd been using on a craft; the rest of us breathed rapidly, looking blankly at him, at each other, like patrons in a western saloon tensing up while the cowboy in the black hat and the cowboy in the white hat stare each other down, hands poised above their six shooters.

Then Miss Anderson returned, with the principal, Mr Luscheon.

As soon as Jeff saw Mr Luscheon, he threw the scissors on the floor and said "Okay, I'll go back to my desk." But it was too late. Mr Luscheon cut him off at the pass, got him in a headlock under his left arm and went to town with his right until Jeff was crying good and loud.

I cringed and looked away.

No kid likes to see another kid get spanked, even if that other kid deserved it.

Fast-forward to 4th Grade
Mrs Budzynski is teaching us how stories change when they are retold. We play a game of telephone. She arranges the class in a semicircle and begins the game by telling something to the first person on one end of the semicircle. We each in turn listen and retell the story to the next. By the time the story gets to the other end, it is so unlike the original that it's obvious one of us exercised some creative license. Mrs Budzynski conducted an impromptu inquisition and discovered where the communication had broken down: Jeff.

Mrs Budzynski was unhappy enough that we didn't play it again. I was disappointed too. Even at that early age, I wanted to learn about this new aspect of language and storytelling.

Finally, the Point
However, I did learn something important, and that is the point of this post: Some stories are maliciously altered, but when this is done with a whisper (as in a game of telephone) or with an ancient manuscript (where authorship, provenience and cultural bias may be unknown), reassembling the pieces can be a challenge, if not impossible.

I suspect Papias' preference for oral tradition was less shared, in reciprocal measure, by succeeding generations.

Who was Papias of Hierapolis? >
Who is Bart Ehrman? >

This is Vernondale Elementary School today:

 

[1]
Lately (past few years) I've come to prefer listening to books read by the author rather than read them myself. The biggest and most delightfully pleasant surprise I've had while doing this was hearing William Peter Blatty read The Exorcist. His voice and meter is alternately lulling and frightful, but always enjoyable.

There is enduring value in real people talking about real subjects, on TV news op-ed shows, in the classroom, or around a campfire. Despite the transience of the medium, the experience is indelible in a different way than books.

Started: 2012-08-22

1982 Bethel Baptist Church Directory

This is the 1982 Bethel Baptist Church directory. This was printed after Bethel had already moved to 1781 W 38th Street in Erie, PA. The pastor was Kenneth L Andrus. Assistant Pastor was Paul D George. Bethel Christian School Principal was Charles Bloomfield.

The enrollment at that time was over 500 people and this was distributed to the dozens of families in the church, so I hope no one minds me making it available.

You are welcome to download a copy. It's in Google Docs and public on the Web with no password, Google may ask you to sign in to your Gmail account to see it.

Download the 1982 Directory of Bethel Baptist Church in Erie, PA –>

This is what Bethel Baptist Church at 1781 W 38th Street in Erie, PA looks like today:

This was the sanctuary in 1982[1]:

 

[1]
The rectangular box in the very center, at the end of the aisle and on the floor, is the communion table. Once a month that table is prepared before the service starts. You know you are going to have communion if, when you enter the sanctuary, the table is draped with white linen. Under the linen is the unleavened bread and grape juice. Communion is not the focus of a Baptist service, even on the Sunday it’s held; it’s added at the end, after a full normal service. It takes about 20 minutes in a large church. Congregants are passed the bread and wine down each aisle; they do not go forward. Deacons generally distribute the bread and wine.

Before “coming to the table,” the pastor reminds you that “you must be born again, since immersed, and walking with the Lord.” That means you must believe in Jesus as your personal savior, be baptized by immersion, and have a relationship with Jesus today. Baptists confess their sins in private prayer just before partaking. It is a very solemn service. See my post here on parallels with the Eucharist, Something Like Grace.

During funerals in this church, the deceased’s coffin is placed where you see the communion table. Afterward, the coffin is wheeled to a door on the right; outside that door there is plenty of room for a hearse and cars for the funeral procession to the cemetery. I have attended too many.

Started: A long time ago.

My Position on P**** Riot

• Legislation regulating hateful expression should be applied equally and without regard to those being offended.

• The best test of a law is how it protects or punishes both the popular and unpopular, the weak and the powerful.

• Russia is a sovereign state and allowed to make their own rules just like any other country. And everyone else has a right to criticize it.

• Laws are nothing more than codified efforts to protect the lives, property and sensibilities of others. No one likes to get their feelings hurt. That includes individuals, and collections of individuals who identify with a sexual orientation, skin color, religious belief, etc.

• The verdict seems to be more about Russian president Vladimir Putin than it is about churches or hooliganism.

• NPR seems to be enjoying covering this story and repeating the name of the band on the air. Or maybe I'm just reacting to my own sensibilities.

The Washington Post: A Russian farce over a punk rock band >

P**** Riot On Youtube >

P**** Riot In Wikipedia >

We lost power this weekend, hence no blog entries. I did however enjoy reading Dr Seuss to Dee Dee by oil lamp; I may not get a chance to do that again under quite the same circumstances. Lamp oil has a very pleasant smell when lit and extinguished, if you grew up with it, as I did. I also spent more time with my neighbors than I have in years.

Started: 2012-08-17

What's the deal with your story ideas?

1
What's the deal with your story ideas?

Kurt Vonnegut often wrote story snippets that were incomplete but compelling, and unsatisfying in that they seem to hold enormous potential, like an ungerminated seed.

When I first encountered one of these, I was intrigued and wanted to read more, assuming they were strategic clues to fuller stories elsewhere; but upon discovering another and then another, I realized that's all there was.

But, of course, the rest of those story ideas are in his other works, if you approach them as occasional glimpses into his psyche. They're sort of detached glints, or vibrations, or reflections, and sometimes points and sharp edges.

And his got published.

I'll bet you someday somebody will discover Brother Tappit and say "My goodness, there is something quite interesting underneath this."[1]

[2012-08-15]

 

2
Where nobody knows your name.

I have a friend now living in Manhattan who spends a lot of her free time at a public library near her mid-town apartment.

If I were her and had any length of time alone in a big city, I'd spend lots of it there myself. I did as a kid. I rode my bike for miles to go to the downtown Erie Library.

That was when it was at 27 South Park Row, Erie, PA. That was about 6 miles from my home. (I think. Addresses have changed. The old library is on the corner of South Park Row and French and is now home to the US District Court Clerk.)

It looked like this:


I was 14 or 15, no driver's license, and you'd think my folks would have been scared to death, but that was a different age. As plentiful as drugs and hippies were, there was not a lot of of violence in Erie in those days.

Ten years after I left Erie for the last time, the Erie library moved to a beautiful new facility on the bayfront and is now at 160 East Front St. Erie, PA 16507 .

It looks like this:

I haven't been to this new location. My heart is still with the old. It is very pretty, however, especially when seen from Dobbins Landing, which I still call "the dock."

This is a picture I took from the top of Dobbins Landing a few years ago; this looks up Sate Street away from the bayfront. The library is just out of view, to the left.

[2012-08-08]

[1]
As I may or may not have mentioned at one point, I started but could not finish Palm Sunday, which has a number of these story snippets, IIRC. Palm Sunday is a brilliant collection, but I happened to be reading it at a time in my life when I was battling severe anxiety, and as can happen with those types of things, the anxiety quite by accident became associated with this wonderful book. I've not been able to return to it since, for fear the anxiety would return.

 

Where are you, Cobra?

1
I have no control over ads like this...

I turned them on to observe advertising patterns. I am not making money off them (though they would make money with sufficient traffic). You undoubtedly see different adds than I do, and they change based on what I'm writing, who's visiting, and who's paying for them.

 

2
Overheard: "He's book smart but he's really dumb"

(This was not directed at me.)

Question: Why is that those who are not book smart are allowed to say this but those that are book smart are not allowed to say the reverse? Eg, "He's street smart but he's really dumb."

Answer:
A: Those that are not book smart are in the majority and it is more often acceptable for the majority to insult the minority.
B: A public expression of inadequacy is often embraced among others that share that inadequacy.
C: They don't know any better because they've never read a book on it.

BTW, there is of course a place for both types of smarts. I'm not suggesting one is always better than the other. I make my living as a writer, and you don't learn that in a book. You learn by writing and being read, and reading other writers who do the same.

[2012-08-03]

 

3
Story Idea: The Cobra

Aloysius writes product descriptions for super hero costumes. We see him in narrow and detailed slices, as if he lives in a movie or comic book.

Aloysius is pronounced "al'-oh-wish'-us."

Aloysius is balding with a thick horseshoe rim of black hair; he is slightly pudgy, always tired, and already stubbled by 10:00am; he perches reading glasses on his head until he needs them; he wears a wrinkled suit coat that he removes when he arrives at work and puts back on when he goes home; he hangs this coat on a cubicle wall that encloses a small desk in a corner near a dripping water fountain.

After a long day at the office, Aloysius goes home to a small inner-city apartment. It's nighttime. He picks up the morning newspaper left outside his doorstep. After entering his apartment, he tosses the newspaper on a bare kitchen table and hangs up his coat.

The apartment is small, dark, empty; stuffy daytime air is freshening with evening air slowly drifting through a single open window. Neon lights from a sign across the street alternately flash green and blue onto bare walls.

Aloysius microwaves a cup of of instant soup. He sits down and holds it to his lips, blowing on it while he lifts the newspaper. He scans the front page, pulls down his reading glasses and reads more intently.

Aloysius goes to a hall closet, opens the door and turns on an overhead light that casts a dim beam on dozens of superhero costumes.

He pulls a costume out, glances over at the newspaper on the table, and puts the costume back. He pulls another costume out. The hallway light goes out and in the green and blue neon flashes Aloysius is transformed into The Cobra; he holds out his hand and tests a device that projects a sharp, shiny, prong; it extends and retracts like a licking snake tongue with a forked tip exuding drops of glistening liquid.

Lithe, thin, agile - The Cobra flares the hood behind his neck and leaps between billowing curtains and through his apartment window.

The room is empty again.

A horn sounds in the distance.

A cup of soup steams over a newspaper; pages lightly lift and fall in the evening air blowing through the city.

The newspaper headline reads:

Murder rate sky-rockets in Metropolis
Where are you, Cobra?

That is the end of the story idea.

[2012-08-13]