On a lighter note…

August 23, 2005


In an effort to win back the readership lost with my recent evolutionary based post, here’s some hilarious Walker Texas Ranger outtakes from the Conan O’Brien show.

Thanks to I’ve Stared Straight Into The Sun for the links.

Tags: Random Links |

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Evolutionary design

August 23, 2005


Issues come and go in today’s society. For the most part, we find the same issues coming and going every couple of years – abortion, health care reform, oil prices – and we find the same arguments moving along with them.

Some of these issues I notice never get resolved. They probably never will. The two sides are so adamant in their views that there is no possible chance for resolution, regardless of how hard those in the middle try to bring them together. Abortion is one of these issues, and the teaching of evolution is another.

Over the past few weeks I have heard numerous things about the idea of “intelligent design,” which is, more specifically, the notion that “that certain features of the universe and of living things exhibit the characteristics of a product resulting from an intelligent cause or agent (wikipedia),” or “the world’s just so complex that something must have created it out of thin air.”

Here’s the problem – there isn’t any evidence of this.

Evolution is taught in science classes because it’s a scientific “theory” (a word that, in a scientific context, means a logically self-consistent model or framework describing the behavior of a certain natural or social phenomenon (thus either originating from observable facts or supported by observable facts) (wikipedia). In other words, it’s an idea supported by observable facts – so many facts that the only thing that’s keeping it from being a scientific “law” is the inability to actually see it happen (due to the millions of years it takes to produce a slight change in a population.) The argument that evolution is a “theory,” and therefore is not fact, is a typical uninformed defense – people in this line of thinking want the word “hypothesis,” not theory.

Intelligent design, however, has no basis in science whatsoever. It’s akin to the way we used to think about the solar system (with the Earth in the center, obviously) and the earth itself (with its completely flat contours – don’t dare go close to the edge!), two proposals that were, eventually, shot down because of scientific discoveries. The difference is this: intelligent design was shot down years before it came out and, despite this fact, it’s still being pushed as an actual defense against evolutionary biology.

In today’s literary culture, anyone can write a book about anything and get it published, especially if it’s cause for discussion or controversy. Because of this, many books have been written on the subject of intelligent design, books that I’m sure do a good job in convincing people of intelligent design’s validity. William Dembski gives us the idea of Mount Rushmore as a model of intelligent design. His quote:

“What about this rock formation convinces us that it was due to a designing intelligence and not merely to wind and erosion? Designed objects like Mt. Rushmore exhibit characteristic features or patterns that point us to an intelligence.”

Mount Rushmore is one rock formation, carved and created by one man and hundreds of workers. It took, relative to the history of the universe, no time at all to make. Herein lies the flaw.

Evolution, or the idea of natural selection (which is truly what’s under fire here,) shows us that over time, populations of a species will gradually gain positive traits that are eventually passed on and on until the original traits are phased out. This is basic genetics – genes sometimes mutate, and those mutations may help a specific creature to live a better life. In living a better life, that creature may be more inclined to reproduce. Any trait that gives an advantage to a creature over time will be more likely to be passed on simply because there will be a better chance of survival and reproduction.

This isn’t hard. The only thing that really stops this up is that the opponents don’t want this to be true, creating an irrational preference for religious beliefs. Since creationism is based on biblical evidence, evidence that is reportedly without dispute due to its divine place in religious ceremony, it’s somehow just assumed to be true despite the evidence against it.

Here’s where I lose some readers: I don’t believe the Bible is a straight forward word for word representation of the beginning of life. I agree that there is history in it, but ultimately it is a written word, word that was passed from generation to generation through stories and songs before it ever had a chance to be placed on paper. The Bible, and especially the story of creation, is an explanation of a very complex idea that happened before anyone can remember and prior to any true knowledge, scientifically, of the origin of life. Therefore, I can’t really accept it in its “every word is law” context.

I can’t possibly touch upon every small argument against natural selection and evolution in this one post, and I wouldn’t want you to have to go through that. I just wanted to throw a simply explanation of my views out there so, in the future – and as this proposed “Intelligent Design in Science Classes” idea gets thrown around – you’ll know where I stand. From now on, I’ll “skillfully” comment on anti-evolution theory as it comes.

Lucky for you, huh?

Tags: Annoyances, Career, Politics |

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Political scaredy-cat

August 23, 2005


I really hate to say it, especially since I’m on so many South Dakota political blog rolls all of a sudden, but I really don’t like talking about politics.

Whoops. My readership just went down 74%.

I’ve got my reasoning. My main hang-up is more of a self-conscious twitch than a true aversion: I don’t like to enter myself into situations where I’m not ready to answer every question that comes at me. For this reason I usually stay away from political discussions whenever possible, preferring to silently stew about whichever uninformed opinion I’ve just heard.

It’s not an uncommon thing, I think. I’ve grown up with the realization that in order to make headway in a serious conversation, you have to at least give the image of knowing what you’re talking about. I’m not saying I don’t know what I’m talking about – I’d consider myself as well educated and up-to-date as the next person – but I have certain anxieties about having a heated discussion on the BRAC committee and suddenly finding myself without an answer, to which someone from South Dakota Politics would say “ha! I always knew you were a no talent hack!”

This is a little of an exaggeration, to be sure, but it’s a true feeling all the same. I’d love to rebut some of these “Intelligent Design” theories, but I’m not quite confident enough to enter into that realm. I could go on at length about why I don’t trust the Bush administration, but I don’t have the hard facts to back it up, and I certainly can’t match the fire and desire that some of our liberal brethren have cooked up.

I guess ultimately it all comes down to the confidence needed to argue convincingly. I have my opinions, but I’ve never felt confident in my reasoning to warrant them argue-worthy. Unimportant stuff, like professional basketball and the relevance of next-generation console-gaming, I can argue at length with anyone about, but this important “life as we know it” crap I just can’t wrap the discussion-oriented parts of my mind around.

I know it sounds whiny and horrible, but really I just don’t want to sound stupid. So I leave myself out of the situations. It’s a coward’s way out, and I’ll never become anything without standing up for something. Still, it’s not easy to overcome.

Someone help me argue, please. Then the blogosphere might take me a little more seriously.

Tags: Politics |

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Gonzo Bomb

August 20, 2005


After six months of sitting idle, something the man would never have done on his own, Hunter S. Thompson’s remains were finally put where they belonged.

In a cannon shaped like a fist.

As I write this, Thompson’s farewell party is underway. His dream was to be shot out of a cannon shaped like the Gonzo fist – his personal trademark. He’s getting that wish tonight.

It’s a gala Hollywood type affair, apparently – Johnny Depp reportedly funded most of it, and there are security guards securing the 250 guests inside his ranch. Bill Murray is there, and George McGovern is there, and Sean Penn is there as well. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Lyle Lovett are both playing the event. It’s a grand drinking party in honor of the man who spent the best parts of his life participating in grand drinking parties.

They’ve built a hell of a Gonzo cannon too. Unfortunately, there are no photos of it except this canvas-wrapped pre-party shot (it’s the blue tower with the crane next to it.) In the foreground you can see some kind of large wooden pole a metal vulture on top:

The Gonzo Monument

As you can see, it’s very tall.

Ralph Steadman has his own version of the Gonzo Monument. From his website:

Ralph Steadman, Thompson illustrator.

Artist Ralph Steadman, long-time friend and collaborator with Dr. Thompson, originally created this Gonzo Monument art work in 1977, and now he has produced an edition of 150 prints to commemorate his friend and to further the causes he stood for. After the blasting of Hunter’s ashes on August 20th 2005, this original silkscreen print will be signed by Ralph Steadman and a handful of Hunter’s close friends in the War Room at Owl Farm, Woody Creek, Colorado.

The prints are going for $2000 (plus $50 shipping and handling).

Here are some links to a few AP stories, one on ESPN.com and one on CNN.com, about Thompson’s Memorial Party.

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Finally, the six-month anniversary of Hunter’s suicide means we’ve come to the six-month anniversary of Black Marks on Wood Pulp. The first post made it’s way onto the web on February 20th, 2005, and it’s still plugging along.

Thanks to everyone who reads, whether it’s daily or only every few weeks. It’s all appreciated.

So, with that: Hooray for me!

Tags: Writers |

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Gassed

August 18, 2005


S.D. Watch, featuring the previously-retired South Dakota Blog Watch Man, has been using the horrible gas prices as a subject for thier last two posts (here, and here). It’s fitting — I’ve never seen gas so high in my life. In fact…(cue hazy flashback scene)…I remember when I first bought my 1969 Volkwagen Beetle back in 1996. Gas was $0.99 a gallon.

Yes. You read that right.

In fact, gas prices were as low as $1.19 back in December of 2002 — only a few months into this war we’re waging on “terrah.”

According to SDBWM the prices in Sturgis are up to $2.89 a gallon now. And I believe it — we just drove through the Black Hills twice in the span of a week and were amazed at the gas prices all across the state. We spent nearly $200 on gas alone to drive across South Dakota and Wyoming — that’s filling up six times at over $30 a pop.

We need a Prius.

Anyway, S.D. Watch brings us a nifty little link that you can use to find the cheapest gas in the state. Here in Sioux Falls it’s currently at Sam’s Club (as long as you have a membership) but the Gas Stop by the IHOP is just as cheap.

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Now, completely off subject, I’m happy to report that I didn’t have to write a long lament on how our dog ran away or was stolen or dead and how sad I was about it. We have a gate that, for some reason, our tenants downstairs never seem to be able to latch correctly. Becket got out and was lost — that is until 12:45 am when some nice family realized that they had shut him inside thier garage for the night.

We were both a mess worrying about him, but all’s well that ends well, I guess.

Tags: Politics |

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Soccer jones.

August 17, 2005


There’s only 296 days until World Cup 2006.

Just in case you’re keeping track, that is.

I say this only because I’ve felt a renaissance within myself, so to speak – my once superficial attention to soccer (or football as the rest of the world knows it) is swelling up again, threatening to actually become something worthwhile. It seems that everywhere I go something springs up to make me appreciate what many call the “beautiful” sport.

I never liked soccer before. Sorry, let me rephrase that. Like many people in the United States, I didn’t care about soccer. Soccer was a game played in gym class and pushed by over-protective parents who didn’t like the thought of their kids playing American football. I was too young to ever see Pelé play, and I didn’t live in a city that had a Major League Soccer team, so I really had no need to pay attention to it.

Two things changed that. I started to pay attention when:

1. The United States won the Women’s World Cup in the summer of 1999. This didn’t mean much to me at the time, but eventually I realized the significance of a United States team beating everyone else in a sport that the country didn’t even care about. The 1999 World Cup even got a few of us watch our first professional soccer matches on television (spurred by our friend of Argentine decent, Andy – a natural at loving soccer because of his countries almost fanatical devotion to their top ranked national squad.)

That World Cup also became well known for it’s classic images of soccer women tearing their shirts off and revealing their sports bras, but that’s for another time.

2. I visited England, and they apparently like the sport a lot over there. This is what really fueled my sudden “love” for soccer – a desire to be all things “anglophilic” (which, coincidentally, is a word I just made up.) I needed an English team to follow, regardless of how knowledgeable I’d ever become, and I couldn’t possibly root for someone so obvious as Arsenal or Manchester Untied. Instead I chose Liverpool – a team that is perennially in the championship hunt but never quite manages to make it. They’re the Indiana Pacers of the Premier League. They also advertise Carlsburg beer on their jerseys.

Eventually, through the help of FIFA 2002 for Playstation 2 and Fox Sports World (the 24 hour soccer and rugby channel) I managed to actually look like a real soccer fan. It all culminated with World Cup 2002. The tournament was being held in Korea, so I would find myself taping England matches at 1:00 in the morning and watching them later. I openly rooted for England despite being a member of the United States, and I even set my alarm for 2:30 in the morning in order to watch the England vs. Brazil semi-final match – a match which England lost, but not before scoring the only goal Brazil allowed in the entire 16 team final tournament.

It was pretty sick. Ask Kerrie. I was obsessing about it, and with the games so early in the morning, it wasn’t healthy for me to be even caring about them. But, for a short amount of time, I was a true soccer fan, even trying to schedule the start of our 2002 vacation to Idaho around the ending of the Brazil-Germany final.

Where does that put me now? Well, through a series of unconnected, but soccer-related, occurrences I am slowly working myself up to the dubious title of “soccer-enthusiast.” I’ve just finished reading a book called How Soccer Explains The World, a piece dedicated to explaining globalization and class violence through the world’s obsession with soccer, and I’ve finally bought Fever Pitch – the original one based on Hornby’s novel of the same name. I’ve slowly started paying attention to how the national teams are doing.

I was surprised to find that our countries’ national squad has managed to reach previously unforeseen heights – they are ranked sixth in the world. The world! We don’t even have a viable professional league for soccer in the United States, and we’ve managed to land ourselves that high in the FIFA rankings? What’s next?

All this has come together to rekindle the soccer hysteria. Thankfully, the World Cup is in Germany this year, so I won’t have to watch games at 1 am. They’ll be on at 7 am instead.

Oh well. I guess I can’t win them all. I’ll just have to get the VCR ready and wait.

After all, there’s only 296 days left.

Tags: Soccer, Sports |

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An introduction to camping

August 15, 2005


I’ve talked at length about camping before – in fact, I’ve talked at length about a lot of things that may or may not have any effect on your lives – and so I don’t need to drone on extensively about my love of camping and what I enjoy about it. I’ve already done it.

Sometimes, however, I find myself with an all out longing to go camping. I’ve never been one of those psychotic outdoorsy people, but there have been inexplicable times in the past few years – times that are growing more and more frequent as I age – where I’ve felt the pull of the fire rings and flat grassy areas that we call state park campsites.

Growing up I never really quite understood the draw of camping. I knew that it was an excuse for grown people to drink a lot of beer, and that occasionally (if the fire wasn’t already out) I would get chocolate and marshmallows. I knew that there were a lot of bugs, and there was no television, and I wasn’t able to go to the bathroom without fear of something coming through the vault toilet and attacking my young rear end.

I remember going on a camping trip with our fifth and sixth grade class at Irving Elementary. I was, unfortunately, bunked in a tent with three nerds (four, if you count myself) and a chaperone. The other tents were laughing and having fun until well past dark. Our tent just went to sleep early – each one of us secretly wishing we could have been invited to play with the cooler kids (except for the chaperone, who probably just wanted a stiff drink.) I don’t remember much else; I’m sure it was at Newton Park State Park, and I remember helping to make pancakes in the morning.

My second camping memory was a bit more memorable. My parents had just let me know that they were getting a divorce (a story for another time, I’m sure) and I guess they thought that, in the effort of bonding, my father and I should go camping together. So we went to Lewis and Clark Recreation area and we bonded. We went fishing a lot. We talked about the impending divorce. We both felt concerned for the other, and we both accepted each other’s concern with open hands.

I had never really had a heart to heart talk with my father before; I was independent enough and I also figured he was a burly enough man that he was fine without one. It was an interesting experience because of that. I can’t say I remember anything we talked about, but I do remember him being very concerned about how I was taking things. Surprisingly, I remember the fishing more than the talks that might have been earth shattering to any other 5th grader.

What am I getting at? Nothing really. I’m just throwing stuff out there because I have finally started writing out our trip to the Boundary Waters – just one year later than I had expected – and these are the things I think of when I’m considering an introduction. The Boundary Waters was an unforgettable trip because it was a bare bones camping experience. Throwing a thirty-pound, six-person tent up next to a paved driveway and electrical post couldn’t hold a candle – or an electric lantern, I guess – to the solitude and beauty of the Wilderness Area.

Still, I couldn’t do that trip justice without starting from the beginning. Just like the Boundary Waters began when glaciers in northern Minnesota melted millions of years ago, my affair with tent camping began as the twin glaciers of my pre-adolescence and my parents marriage began melting away. It began out of necessity, but blossomed into a past time.

I now look forward to camping more than anything. I understand the importance of taking myself out of my normal life and experiencing the outdoors, forgetting my troubles back in civilization and ignoring my future – at least for just a weekend. I relish the idea of cutting myself off from all connections, outside of our short-wave radio.

Come to think of it – it’s just as much a necessity as it was in 5th grade.

Tags: On..., Outdoors |

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