Courage

No, I'm not talking about Dan Rather's ridiculous sign off before he was nationally exposed as a first rate sanctimonious shithead rivalling even Bill Moyers. Rather, the Templeton Foundation has a great online newsletter and one of their recent issues posed the question to six scholars/thinkers/pontificators "Were the 9/11 Terrorists Cowards or Courageous?"http://www.incharacter.org/article.php?article=132. I'm by no means a thinker or an intellectual (should be obvious to anyone unfortunate enough to flounder onto this blog) but this isn't really a hard question for me to answer, but I was curious as to the responses from the big brains. Fortunately, contained in their pieces are some worthy gems:

From Ruth R. Wisse:

"America may appear to have incomparable advantages of population, resources, and a fighting tradition embodied in its national anthem, but if a significant portion of its elites no longer recognize and advocate the values that separate them from Islamists, the country will be overtaken by those with stronger convictions--from within and from without. The Japanese honored their kamikaze pilots, and Islamists honor the suicide attackers on Israel and America. Courage and cowardice are culturally determined, and God cannot help the society that confuses its values with those of its rivals." I think Ruth probably got scratched off the cocktail party list of the moral equivalency crowd with that brand of clear thinking.

From Robert Royal:

"There's nothing noble about walking into a pizza parlor in Israel and blowing up yourself and a bunch of civilians. There's nothing elevating in shooting up a Mumbai hotel, attacking Westerners, and dying in the process. And even in the marriage of Heaven and Hell, to which the modern world sometimes desperately seeks to aspire, it takes great credulity to believe that there was anything in the September 11 murderers worthy of the exalted name of courage." Robert won't be speaking at Harvard anytime soon.

From Paul McHugh (on the group of Flight 93 passengers who fought the attackers):

"Their aims and actions emerged from circumstances they faced and their sense of responsibility for its outcome. With little time to plan, they tied to thwart the aims of their opponents. Realistic conceptions and life-sustaining motivations brought them partial success and the gratitude of their countrymen." Put McHugh in the capitalist lackey crowd with the others.

The concept of courage is further explored in a piece in the same issue, titled "A Soldier's Book Bag" by Anita Blair. Included in her list of books popular with professional soldiers (in the United States, at least) are: "Once an Eagle, a novel by Anton Myrer about the career of a good officer against a "bad careerist" and the historical work by John Keegan, "The Face of Battle" which explores several epic battles, including Agincourt. I haven't read Myrer's book, but I did read W.E.B. Griffin's "The Corps" series which has a similar theme of a brave, resourceful officer often finding himself on the short end of things when confronted by toadying career types only interested in security and promotion. Great books with interesting detail. My old man, a former Marine liked them, so I guess that's an endorsement beyond my own. Regarding Agincourt, I'm going to reread Keegan, since I just finished a novel about Agincourt by renowned serial historical fiction writer, Bernard Cornwell. His is a cracking good book and a first rate page turner and it brought the battle to light well beyond what I had previously understood. Included is a great acknowledgement at the end, where he cites the scholarly works in which he relied, and pointed out fictional embellishments. Cornwell excels at painting the gruesome business of war, particularly of the medieval sort. Was courage displayed at Agincourt? Most certainly, but also a great deal of plain meanness and national vengeance. Give it a go if you want some great summer reading.

Up and Coming

Yo, Taras, the next time the womenfolk commandeer the remote and air women's tennis throughout the house, you might wanna grab a brew and watch for a while. Fresh faced (amongst other things) Simona Halep, a seventeen year old Romanian, might just be bouncing her balls around the court...

Burning Down the House

The best thing I've seen regarding green energy and the energy question as a whole: http://www.city-journal.org/2009/19_2_carbon.html. The guy who wrote it has too much horse sense to get through to the posturing nabobs out there, but he gives it a solid effort. I know that every time I drive west on IH-10 through Texas, I see more and more wind turbines on mesas and wonder just what is the end result from these things. As the article indicates, a few more nuclear plants would dwarf the whole enterprise. The French have 'em in spades and we know how much more civilized and refined they are than us, so why not?

More on death...

...or, obituaries to be exact: http://www.thesmartset.com/article/article04220903.aspx. I read the obituaries every day--they appear in the "Metro" section of my city's rag. Most are of little note, though occasionally I see someone I know (or should know) or read one that touches me, such as the death of a child or someone who seemed genuinely good. Increasingly though, I see an unfortunate trend toward amateurism, with family members or friends eschewing the help of the paper's obit staff and embarking on oddly thought out and sometimes bizarre send offs. Of course, this has a lot to do with my city which has more than a few free spirits bouncing around the place. Another awful trend is the writer taking the opportunity to proclaim that dear Aunt Linda "was a proud Democrat and would want her friends to vote Democratic in the upcoming election" or Uncle Richard "spent his last hours discussing Ronald Reagan's misuse of the Constitution" (actual quote). Is that how you really want to be remembered, as a spiteful old shit wrapped up in something that really doesn't matter? Please, folks, get a damn grip.

I've written a couple of obituaries; one for my old man and the other for my father in law. In both instances, I have learned the value of sticking to the facts and not getting melodramatic with the thing. Also, when it comes to the funeral services themselves, there's a lot to be said with sticking to tradition--it keeps the thing from getting out of hand and turning into a fiasco on behalf of the departed. I personally witnessed that once when a business client and friend died and his loved ones decided to have memorial service, inviting friends and family up to the mic to say something about old John. After the second or third story about old John and his exploits in Boys Town, I had firmly decided that a tidy, old fashioned church service (pick any) makes a lot of sense. Old John gets a few nice words said about him, he's buried, and his "friends" can relate the whore house stories with each other on their next hunting trip--not in front of his widow and daughters.

I think for me, I would like a quick obit to note that I don't give a rat's ass for who you vote for or whether or not you want to send flowers and not to get into any of my odd interests or note that I enjoyed nature or any of that other Reader's Digest crap. In fact, I'd just prefer the thing published after I'm cremated or buried or thrown into a cactus flat and folks and the world can go merrily along. There you have it.

Buckley on Dying

Christopher Buckley pens something that's a bit long but well worth the read: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/26/magazine/26buckley-t.html?&pagewanted=all. It's interesting not only from the standpoint of allowing us to peek into the world of the Buckley family, and along with it much of the American political elite and associative odd behavior, but also Christopher's own journey of accompanying his father through the last year or so of his death, and also the last month or so of his mother's demise. It's inevitable that we'll all be orphans--well, that is if we outlive our parents--some of 'em are pretty tough old birds and might outlast us. Like the younger Buckley, I spent a lot of time with my old man from the time of his diagnosis of terminal lung cancer to holding his hand when he drew his last breath. If you haven't been through the process, you'll find that you learn a lot about what goes into dying, as well as reflecting on your own mortality. While my dad did not suffer a pain wracked deterioration toward death, it's nevertheless something that wasn't pleasant to behold, especially the final stages. I made the two hour drive over to my parents' house every Saturday morning for those nine months to be there in time to cook him breakfast (he never lost his appetite and liked having fried eggs and biscuits) and to also help out my mom a little around the house. In the last three or four months, he was on some fairly heavy morphine doses, so he faded in and out a lot during the process and discussing anything substantive was not realistic. I had always maybe hoped for some lasting heart to heart conversations of a profound nature, but they didn't come and I suppose they don't come for most. You're pretty much who you are at that point and issues don't necessarily suddenly clarify or become resolved; they just end. After the diagnosis, however, he did do a few things out of character, namely he did talk about the war a little with me, something he never liked doing and I sort of wrote down the story he told me regarding his involvement in one Pacific engagementhttp://ussslcca25.com/fletcher.htm#top. But, he wouldn't talk about other battles like Tarawa--some things he never get over and would remain nailed shut for all time. Probably better that they did.

Piano News

Here's a piece from Denis Dutton from 2007 regarding an old hag who faked a series of piano performances and gained international acclaim before somebody finally said, WTF? Interesting reading: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/26/opinion/26dutton.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1.

I don't know jack about music and there's really no other excuse but laziness. Even if you don't play or sing, you can still be educated about the subject but my eyes tend to gloss over whenever I'm tempted to learn something about what makes a certain piece of music good or why Beethoven is better than Mozart or whatever. I do like the stuff, though. All kinds, too. As we speak, I'm reviewing playlists on my ipod for the Saturday morning heavy workout. Typically, I go for something high energy with a take no prisoners attitude. This morning, I'm a little more mamby pamby, so maybe Springsteen or some other whining "The Russians Love Their Children, Too" artiste gets a listen. I don't know. Probably will revert back to a standby whenever indecision reigns--that little ol' band from Texas--you know what I'm talking about.

I took piano lessons once when I was a kid. The old man, despite being a hard ass had a soft spot for "piana music" so I was dispatched to the home of "Miss Edna," an old lady who was in my mom's Eastern Star chapter who taught piano music to ignorant redneck children. Miss Edna was a sweet old lady and all (she had terrible arthritis that had crippled her hands) but she had the worst breath I have ever experienced, and bench time with her was a horrid experience. Too, playing the piano was way down on my priority list when it came to baseball and football and throwing rocks at my cousins and perfecting curse words and throwing frogs onto the lighted barbecue grill and the eternal quest of seeking fireworks at all times. You get the drift. I did make it to one recital and discovered the phenomena that are finger sandwiches. Those things are tasty and I can pretty much eat forty without much effort. So, I guess Miss Edna wasn't a total failure and I think of her kindly whenever I'm throwing down those pimento cheese filled delights.

Please note that the young lady above has never plagarized piano music and we apologize for any allegations of such upon her character.

Extend This

Are you completely fed up with the unending wave of dick pill and wang extender ads on your color television set? Okay then, here's a little something for you: http://www.cracked.com/blog/if-penis-enlargement-ads-told-the-truth/. This is the most horrible and creepiest of the bunch and nothing makes it worse than its appearance when you're sitting in front of the television amongst mixed company--I'm talking about spouse and teenage daughter kind of company here. Just awful. Can we go on record with something now; that there is not a forty something man in America and probably planet earth who is NOT aware that there are some remedies available for penis lag. EVERYONE knows the brands and how to get them so can we knock off the relentless ad campaigns, especially during seemingly innocuous programming? In fact, the drug companies can eschew the TV ads and just mail some samples out to every man in America over forty and they will achieve more success than throwing up Cialis ads every ninety seconds on the goddamn golf channel.

End of rant. Sarah Varone (pictured above right) agrees with our assessment.