27 July 2006

toward a scientific theory of girth measurement...

A rule of scientific inquiry is that theories, even the greatest ones, must be consistently assessed and challenged. We must consistently test even those theories that have become structural walls and lodestones of our understanding of the world. Think of where we would be if Einstein had not taken us past Newton's physics. Or if Galileo and Copernicus had not taken us past the Ptolomaic system. This being the case, I have decided to offer a series of posts that shall allow interaction on a number of theories in several scientific and historical disciplines. I invite the reader to enter the conversation; to improve, to challenge, or to add to these theories in order to finally use the blogosphere to better Western civilization in a very real and lasting way. I only humbly ask that you engage these theories strictly in a scientific and rational way.

Since the time of classical Athens, great thinkers have dashed themselves upon the rocks of a great philosophical problem. How can aesthetics be reconciled rationally?

In recent years, one aspect of this great challenge was tackled (how successfully I will let the reader judge) by a sort of thinktank comprised in the main of a number of great minds, and in a merely incidental manner by the present author. If memory serves, the greatest service was rendered by one NB.

The problem at hand: There are nearly as many body types as there are bodies. The variety in human form seems nearly endless. And a simple statement of the girth of an individual: "He is fat", "She is thin", even given the seemingly scientific ratio of height to weight, simply does not properly quantify the aesthetic quality which these esteemed scientists chose to call 'girth'. The simple height to weight ratio does not address several important realities such as build that can render two persons of the same height and weight significantly different in aesthetic quality. So, essentially, how can the aesthetics of girth be properly discussed?

Being that those involved were rational men, they chose to attempt to apply a truly scientific method to this distressing aesthetic problem.

This congress of minds occurred at a chalet in the northwoods of Canada. And a story had recently been relayed regarding a group of camp counselors at Lake Michigan, a story that seemed to offer a possible point of departure. It seems that a number of camp counselors had been boating on one of the Great Lakes, and their watercraft had capsized. All aboard had proper flotation devices, but given the extremely cold water temperature, all but one succumbed to the elements. The survivor was a young lady who, fortunately for her in this situation, had an excess of internal personal insulation. So this hypothesis was submitted:

Relative girth can be assessed by the duration of time that a person can be immersed in freezing cold water without experiencing severe hypothermia.

What was then needed was a test case. Obviously, it would have been quite unethical to utilize human experiments to establish such theories. But, fortunately, there was a test case already at hand. There was a young woman, there at the chalet, who had that very week capsized a watercraft in freezing cold water. She was quite physically God-glorifying in a decidedly... well... shall we say voluptuous way. Having been in the water for approximately nine minutes, she was decidedly hypothermic. So they had their upper baseline. And there was a sort of informed group consensus that they could establish a lower baseline at say, three minutes. If she had succumbed after only three minutes of exposure, she would have been dangerously past established extremes of waifish supermodeldom.

And so the theory: Girth can be measured by the above-stated method. And reasonable aesthetic parameters would be three to nine minutes submersion with marginal hypothermia.

12 July 2006

meditations on the bow...

Well, it has been a couple of days since the Italians slaughtered the French in the OK Corral shootout of the World Cup. I was somewhat pleased that one of these two teams would get a chance to win. Since both countries are so long accustomed to losing military engagements, it is nice to know that one of them gets to feel what it is like to win something for a change. I guess Patton said something to the effect that the thing about battling the Italians is it is difficult to fight a battle when both armies are moving in the same direction. But seeing the French lose sort of set me to wistfully contemplating some of my favorite French defeats throughout history.

There was this little battle at a place called Crecy. Edward the Black Prince, son of Edward III of England was sort of vacationing in France, an army in tow, looking into the local real estate market. Well, in an early instance of localism, the French expressed a lack of appreciation for Edward's presence, specifically by sending a greeting committee in the form of their army. And to make a long story short, the English demonstrated the military value of the longbow, as their archers whooped up on the French, cutting down the flower of the French nobility.

A few years later, another English royal named Henry V was enjoying the hospitality of the Continent. He had besieged and taken a town called Harfleurs when, once again, the French showed themselves bad hosts by sending their army to ask him to leave. They met him at a little place called Agincourt. Well, there were a lot of Frenchmen and they had their signature heavy cavalry with them. All the English had going for them was a muddy day and their little old longbows. At the end of the day, "Oh, what a royal fellowship of death", old Harry and his band of brothers had taught the French a lesson in manners and in the English language, specifically the phrase 'arse whoopin'. And once again, the English longbow proved its value as a switch for taking the French to the woodshed.

So I was over at the Joey Love plantation the other day, as Joe and I were going to go shooting the shotgun and the .40 for a bit. And I don't mind saying that skeet was an endangered species after that outing. We were knocking those things out of the sky like nobody's business. But before we went out to the shooting range, we wandered down to Nick's place, where he had a little range of his own set up. Now Nick is the proud owner of a sexy little toy called a Matthew's single cam compound bow. I can't claim great knowledge of such things, but I seem to recall something about 70 lb draw and something like 750 ft/second. And silent. This was truly a sexy machine. Joe was putting them straight and deep, with pinpoint accuracy into the target at something like 30 yards. And it does the same thing at 70 yards, but we couldn't find the space to test that out in Nick's yard at the time. Not having ever shot a compound bow before, I heartily took up Joe's offer to try out Nick's bow. Mmmm... Other than a bit of a bow hicky from not holding my arm properly, it was a pretty amazing experience.
I tried to get Joe to stand by the target with an apple on his head, but I guess he just isn't a really trusting person.

Anyway, here is my point... Every American should go out today, get a bow, and get started practicing shooting it. Why? Because it is sexy. But more importantly, because you never know when you are going to be head-speared by an angry French soccer player. And when that happens, why not be prepared to give them their obligatory English lesson.

06 July 2006

two deeply meaningful quotes...


Just want to share two deeply meaningful quotes.

The first is from an anonymous source. It is anonymous because I don't know which sexy mountaineering book Jeryl snagged it from when he shared it with me. The second quote is from the ancient church father Ignacio. I want to drink in both each day and live by the depth of their meaning...

"The life you want to live has no recipe. Following the recipe got you here in the first place.
Mix one high school diploma with an undergrad degree and a college sweetheart. With a whisk blend two cars, a poorly built house in a cul de sac, and 50 hours a week working for a board that doesn't give a shit about you. Reproduce once. Then again. Place all the ingredients in a rut. or a grave. One is a bit longer than the other. Bake thoroughly until the resulting life is set. Rigid. With no way out. Serve and enjoy.
Live the lifestyle instead of paying lip service to the lifestyle. Live with commiment. With emotional content. Live whatever life you choose honestly. Give up renaissance man, dilettante bullshit of doing a lot of different thiings. Get to the guts of one thing: accept, without casuistry, the responsibility of making a choice. When you live honestly, you can not separate your mind from your body, or your thoughts from your actions."
-Mountaineering Book

"They think I do not know a buttload of crap about the Gospel, but I do!"
-Ignacio

05 July 2006

dave v. dave...


I saw Dave Matthews in concert tonight. Some friends were going to see his concert at Montage and they had an extra ticket. Not the biggest DMB fan in the world, but figured I would give it a whirl and was pleasantly surprised. Those crazy kids are pretty talented (though almost all of their songs really DO sound the same, even live). Some of the guitar work was really clever and the violin was remarkable. Pretty sexy music on the whole. But I digress...

The upshot is, when I finished satiating the munchies I got from my first contact high (I think that is what the kids are calling them these days) with a couple of hot dogs from the Dunmore Sheetz and a McDonalds hot fudge sundae, it occurred to me to arrange a proper Battle of the Daves between Dave Matthews and one of my favorite Daves, Dave Barcelona. So here goes...

Dave Matthews grew up in S Africa. But Dave Barcelona got to grow up in Germany, in Lompoc (aka. Fresno-by-the-Sea), etc. S Africa is pretty sexy, but Germany? vacations in Lauterbrunnen? the US of A? Barcy clinches this one.

Dave Matthews plays the guitar and sings. Barcy rocks at the guitar AND the bass. He can work the keyboards and he's got a voice. Dave Matthews has a band. Dave Barcelona IS a band. Point, Barcelona.

Dave Matthews spends his evenings on tour surrounded by thousands of stoned hippie chick high school girls. Dave Barcelona spends his evenings in the company of his lovely wife Jessica and her radiant smile. Barcy 3, Matthews nil.

1/2 of Dave Matthews' band are brown people. 1/2 of Dave Barcelona is brown people. Once again, point Barcelona.

Dave Matthews' payoff for making music that he loves, cash and fame. Dave Barcelona's payoff for making music that he loves... the opportunity to express his soul, his love and awe to God, to lead His people in doing the same, and to enjoy sharing it all with his shiny new wife. This one is all Barcelona.

So Barcelona takes the Battle of the Daves like the Germans took Paris. No contest.

Congratulations, Dave. Now pack up your wife and fly out here for the medal ceremony.

04 July 2006

easy there little fella...

So I was at this farm in Saxonburg, PA the other night. Rolled into town in the wee hours to help my friends Chris and Ana get married. I stumbled into an upstairs bedroom in this farmy bed and breakfast out in the beautiful countryside of western Pennsylvania in the dead dark of night. When finally got situated, and well along the path to the land of Morpheus, I noticed a green light sort of slowly circling above me in the room. After a brief flickering thought, through the fog of near sleep I came to realize that the green light tracing his way around the room was in fact a shiny little lightning bug.

That little lightning bug was flying tighter and tighter circles, getting closer and closer to my bedstand as he blinked his little posterior to the glory of God. Then I noticed something rather interesting.

My cellular phone has a wee little blinking light on it, and that wee little blinking light just happens to be lightning bug green.

That crazy little guy was putting the moves on my cell phone. And let me tell you, as smooth as he was, it was fated to be unrequited love.

03 July 2006

new beginnings and genital protection...

Hey, kids!

I decided to inaugurate my shiny new blog with a sexy new concept. We need to make a new kind of jock strap that is decorated with a picture of the globe.

The product's name: The World Cup.

Plus, we could put alternating soccer balls and flags of the countries that made it to the tournament around the edges or on the strappy parts.

I know this idea is kind of late for this year, but we could probably get production ready for the next tourney. The perfect gift for athletic supporters the whole world over.

Alright, who is ready to invest?