Friday, February 24th
The last one was too easy
So while I was visiting a friend in a hospital on South Miami Avenue, I got quite thirsty. I went to the hospital cafe and ordered some iced tea. The only tea they had was a brand that I had never heard of before- it was named after a tree dwelling marsupial. As I was leaving, I noticed the tea was so full of tea leaves that it was undrinkable, so I took it back and asked the counter person if they could strain the leaves out.
They told me, "Sir, that's impossible!"
Why?
Thursday, February 23rd
Riddle me this
I told a friend that I was on a quest for beauty.
My friend told me that if I ever meet anybody who possessed a single specimen of any insect in the apidae family that I should carefully examine the interior of that person's ocular organ.
Why did my friend say that?
Wednesday, February 22nd
Who is that guy?
From the latest edition of The Ohio Jewish Chronicle:
Cantor Jack Chomsky to play Tevye in new 'Fiddler' production
All well and good- but I'm more interested in the identity of the man in the background...
Tuesday, February 21st
Phishing is life
Wow the Phishers are getting good!
I got an email today telling me that I had an ebay strike for non-payment of an auction I had won. Needless to say, it had me worried and upset. But after a few seconds I realized what it was. And sure enough, a search on the ebay site verified that the auction # in the phish email was non-existant.
Sunday, February 19th
Politics is Life
He then began to speak to them in parables: "A man planted a vineyard. He put a wall around it, dug a pit for the winepress and built a watchtower. Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers and went away on a journey. At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenants to collect from them some of the fruit of the vineyard. But they seized him, beat him and sent him away empty-handed. Then he sent another servant to them; they struck this man on the head and treated him shamefully. He sent still another, and that one they killed. He sent many others; some of them they beat, others they killed. He had one left to send, a son, whom he loved. He sent him last of all, saying, 'They will respect my son.' But the tenants said to one another, 'This is the heir. Come, let's kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.' So they took him and killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others. Haven't you read this scripture:
'The stone the builders rejected
has become the capstone;
the Lord has done this,
and it is marvelous in our eyes?'"
Then they looked for a way to arrest him because they knew he had spoken the parable against them. But they were afraid of the crowd; so they left him and went away.
I haven't been riled up about politics for a while, and I'm glad about that. But Jamie asked me to say a few words about the kingdom of God for our home group, which has got me thinking about it again. Kingdoms are a very political concept, after all. Plus I had a whole set of "[...] is life" series of blogs planned, and "Politics is Life" fits right in with that.
I heard recently from the most reliable of sources (my TV) that somebody has done a study that found that people that participate in partisan politics generally are heathier than those that don't. Initially I was surprised, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Participating in politics is an easy way to make one feel as though one is fighting the evil in the world- helping to slay the dragon, as it were.
It seems we have a biological need to feel this way.
But I'm not sure that partisan politics is exactly what God has in mind for people who follow Jesus. Despite the fact that many people think that God must be siding with a particular political party, I can't reconcile that to either what the Bible says or the way politics has gone in my ever lengthening experience. After all, God could easily arrange for one political party or the other to always triumph, but that doesn't seem to happen. And the idea that God wins a few and Satan wins a few doesn't sit well with me either.
One thing that struck me while studying Kingdom of God scriptures is the theme of the man who goes away on a long journey. Not every Kingdom Parable has this man, of course, but at least one does. So although the parable I quoted above isn't a Kingdom Parable, it does play into the whole subject. I've always thought of the man that goes on a long journey as Jesus, but clearly in this parable Jesus plays the role of the beloved son. Thus the man that goes on the journey is the Father.
One thing that I will have to think about is how the other parables about the man who goes on a long journey would read if we understood the man to be the Father rather than Jesus.
But the thing I like about this parable is that it supports an idea that I've been kicking around for a while. That idea is that all human authority is proxy authority- it only exists because of the necessity of God leaving the scene because of Adam and Eve's sin:
To the woman he said,
"...Your desire will be for your husband,
and he will rule over you."
... So the LORD God banished him ...
The authority of the husband over the woman was not something that existed from the beginning, but is spoken by God just before He leaves the scene, i. e., just before He goes on a "long journey." Compare that to:
Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers and went away on a journey
Saturday, February 18th
Dreams are Life
Last night I had an interesting dream. I dreamed I was in the basement of my parents' house in a submarine. The submarine was connected to a washing machine. Both the submarine and the washing machine were in the middle of the basement. They were connected together with a long hose which ran around the perimeter of the basement.
There were other people in the submarine with me. But most of the other people in the basement were tending to the long hoses which carried water between the washing machine and the submarine. There was also another submarine right next to mine set up similarly. It took me a while to realize that I was in a competition with an opposing team.
The dream ended when my teammates that were tending the hoses ended up at the washing machine and began mixing paint on it.
The obvious parallel to life is that I often feel that I am in an obscure competition that I don't understand the rules of or the purpose of; and the outcome of which is in the hands of other people. But what I found more interesting was that during the dream I never thought to question anybody as to why a submarine would be in a basement, or what the purpose of the hoses was, etc. etc.
I wonder if after the apocalypse I will have the same sort of experience- that of waking from a dream. Perhaps I'll think, "Wasn't it wierd that I thought breathing air was just the way it should be? I never questioned why objects should fall downward instead of rise upward."
I found an interesting description of pianists on a site intended to be funny. What is funny is how closely it describes me:
...they are intellectuals and know-it-alls. They studied theory, harmony and composition in college. Most are riddled with self-doubt. They are usually bald. They should have big hands, but often don't. They were social rejects as adolescents. They go home after the gig and play with toy soldiers.
Pianists have a special love-hate relationship with singers. If you talk to the piano player during a break, he will condescend.
Me, a know it all? Oh yeah. Studied theory-comp in college? Did that too. Riddled with self doubt? Well, I don't know about "riddled" but I'm a little insecure at times. Bald? Duhhhh! Social reject as an adolescent. Yeah, baby! Play with toy soldiers? What the hell does that mean? Is that some pop phrase for something and I don't know what it is? Or is there some really famous piano dude that is known for his fondness for toy soldiers?
I'll bet everybody is laughing at me for not knowing the significance of that phrase. I don't find it funny at all!
OK, maybe I'm more than a little insecure.
Friday, February 17th
Andy Whitman
Not everyone has the opportunity to be sufficiently sensitized to what is genuine. If you were raised with a lack of exposure to quality, I think it would be more difficult to recognize it. If you just eat Big Macs all your life and someone serves you the finest French food, I don't think you will necessarily appreciate it.
- Paul Simon on good art vs enterainment/bad art (specifically aimed at people that would call barry manilow an artist)
I lifted this quote from comments made on Andy Whitman's blog. Over a week ago (which is about 500 years ago in internet time) I had a virtual discussion with Andy concerning philosophy of music. At least I think that was what we were doing.
At that time I promised him further thoughts on the subject. I actually had a few written down, but then my computer crashed and I lost them all. Well, some of them are still floating around in my head, but I lost them in written format. I suppose the ones that I can't reconstruct from what is still bouncing around in my brain weren't worth much anyhoo.
Its important to emphasize that I like Andy. I also have a lot of respect for his opinions, though I don't always agree. Quantitatively I agree with him well over 50% of the time, I guess, but it seems that when I disagree, I disagree strongly.
Perhaps its just because he's a music critic. I have the same feelings about music critics that most people have about lawyers. There's always this feeling that lawyering is a bit on the sleazy side- profiting by other people's misfortune. I'm not sure if it's a feeling I have because musicians in general have this feeling, or whether it's specific to me because of my individual hangups- but music critics in general give me the same kind of creepy feeling.
The people whom music critics mostly profit by are all the artistically challenged average Joes of the world. We all know who average Joe is. He has all of the most common characteristics. He makes the median salary, is currently married to average Josephine (although he has been divorced 1.1 times), has 2.1 children 2.6 cars and 2.5 orgasms per week. He enjoys Big Macs, professional wresting, and thinks that watching American Idol is a great way to pick up some musical culture. And his heart beats a little faster when Barry Manilow makes an appearance thereupon.
But average Joe's dirty little secret is that he hates being average Joe. There is nothing more common than the desire to be remarkable. So although Joe enjoys his Big Macs and his Barry Manilow very much, he also worries that his tastes are unremarkable. That is why when Taco Macho comes out with the new cheesy beety gorditafaluta he runs to try it. If Joe can be the first on his block to have tried and appreciated what is new, then, for just one moment, he becomes remarkable.
So when the latest new band comes out, Joe rushes to hear them. "Have you heard that new band Retching Rectum Prognostication? They're great!" But Joe's elation only lasts until his neigbor (who, coincidentally is also named Joe) says, "Man, they sound just like Barry Manilow."
Joe's worst fears have just been realized. He enjoys that which is unremarkable. He hates what he likes, but agrees that music which is "art" is what he should like. So, since he agrees that he should like something else, it is no longer he that is average, but his tastes. Oh, wretched man that he is! Who will rescue him from his cycle of mediocrity? Thanks be to God, who, through the music critic, provides a way of telling him which kind of music he should be enjoying! What is the distintion between music that merely entertains, and music that has risen to the level of art? I sure as hell don't know, and none of my average Joe friends know either. It is a certain je ne sais quoi that only the gifted few can recognize.
Just in case you couldn't tell, that whole last paragraph was pure sarcasm. I'm not buying the whole argument. What "higher purpose" does music have than to give enjoyment? Perhaps the higher purpose is merely to make Joe feel remarkable for a minute or two. And if even the emperor needs new clothes every year or so, how often does Joe need them? Far more frequently, I'm afraid.
I'd like to close with a conversation I had with my wife recently:
Josephine: What are you thinking about?
Joe: I'm thinking about music
Josephine: Music? I like music.
Joe: What do you like about music?
Josephine: It's peaceful... well... most of it is. Some of it's not.
Josephine: Will you be home for lunch today?
Joe: Yes... well... maybe. I might just stop by McDonald's or something.
Josephine: You know something funny? That actually sounds kinda good!
On second thought, I'd like to close by saying that I have no idea if Andy Whitman agrees or disagrees with Paul Simon's quote. He didn't post it- it was somebody else commenting on his blog. But I will respect whatever he thinks about it. I like Andy Whitman.
Wednesday, February 15th
Valentine's Weekend
So I took a couple of vacation days off from the post office which gave me Friday-Tuesday off. I spent a ton of that time working on ipod stuff- ripping CD's into the computer and such. But I did manage to do some other more fun things-
Tuesday:
I really wanted to do something special for Nancy. But we had a "crisis" of sorts: the family computer went on the fritz. So I tore it apart and spent a lot of the day troubleshooting and cleaning. It's incredible how dusty a computer heatsink can get in 5 years.
Happy valentine's sweetheart! Here's a snoot full of dust.
Getting the computer fixed made me feel rather manly, which Nancy found funny. If I were to stop and think about it, I guess I would, too. Fixing the toilet or the shower head is manly. The computer- not so much.
Monday:
Saw two mediocre movies that had great music attached. (Lion, Witch...etc. and Munich). John Williams scores another hit. I enjoyed the company a lot more than the movies. I saw Lion with Nancy and Munich with Dad.
One thing that disturbed me about seeing Munich is how detached I have become. Bucketfuls of blood and gore on the screen and I can eat a sandwich no prob.
Friday:
The slam of course. What a great time! I get to go drink way more than usual, hoot and holler, and then go home and complain about the judging to my wife. What more could a man ask for?
The thing I really don't get is the judging of the French poem, especially in light of the comments people were making on Andy Whitman's blog about music.
Why would a completely incomprehensible poem score in the 8 range? I would have given it about a 6: 10 points for no discernable technical errors (only because I don't speak the language) and 2 style points for having the balls to get up and read an incomprehensible poem. Average them out to a 6.
I think that we have gotten it into our heads that good art shouldn't be too easily understood. For example:
Bad art- A painting of a caucasian female with blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a white dress with blue flowers sitting side-saddle on a medium sized brown horse with a white spot on his side on a grassy field at midday with a few clouds overhead.
Good art- A painting of a flower, or a tree, or a person, or nothing at all. Really, is it important what it is? I think it's the breath of God giving life to a dappled unicorn.
Monday, February 13th
Fred Kohn vs the rest of the world
OK- here's the deal:
Since Anya moved out I've been in the process of restoring the space she was using into my studio again (which was the original intent of the space). This process has involved going through piles of stuff. While doing this I found my grandfather's old chess set. It's really a very nice chess set and should be used, I think.
It's rather boring using a chess set by one's self and Nancy won't play chess with me.
So if anybody wants to help me use my chess set, I will spring for that person's potable of choice (within the limits of reason): wine, or fruit juice for example.
Sunday, February 5th
myspace.real
Anya moved out Saturday, which means that I have my studio back. Not a virtual myspace, but actual physical territory that I can load all my crap into.
Wow that feels nice!
I've been working in a little corner of our bedroom, which is not only not as satisfying but also has cluttered up things terribly. After I moved out all of my various electronic thingies, Nancy got busy getting things back to normal. Wow! Neither of us realized what a sacrifice we had actually made in order to have our daughter move back with us. (Perhaps it was better that way.) Then I went to the basement and carted out all of the electronic thingies that wouldn't fit in the corner of the bedroom and put them in myspace, too. It's nice to actually be able to use all of the stuff you actually have.
Perhaps my turntable angst was overflow from my angst at not being able to operate at 100% capacity in the studio. At any rate I seem to be fairly happy about the turntable situation. On my day off I took the headshell from the Panasonic down to The Audiowright Shop because one of the clips had broken off the tiny little wires that connect the cartridge to the tonearm. I was planning on having him solder it back for me. I was quite surprised to find out that they sell little packages of 4 wires for $1.99.
Should I be surprised that people are still manufacturing turntables and turntable stuff? I suppose not. I think that the advent of home computers has clued many people into the fact that "CD quality" is not such a magical thing after all. Now that terms like bit depth and sample rate are more generally understood, people are starting to get that "digitally remastered" was just code talk for the theoretically infinite bit depth and sample rate of analog recordings getting slashed to 16 bit and 44.1 khz.
Gotta admit though that it's a heck of a lot easier to deal with a CD player than a turntable- especially after having to replace those 4 teeny tiny wires.
In other news, the reknown acoustic butler has agreed to take a stab at doing some mastering for me, which I think is pretty cool. He and his wife are also joining the Clintonville Choir this time around. I'm thinking that I don't have to accompany this time around, although they haven't actually told me anything yet. Nancy and I missed the first rehearsal because I was sick.
Nancy has told me that I better mention in this blog how hard she worked to get our bedroom looking great today.
So: Nancy worked very hard to get our bedroom looking great today.
And it does 
Wednesday, February 1st
Sit Down Young Stranger
I'm standin' in the doorway, My head bowed in my hands
Not knowin' where to sit, Not knowin' where to stand
My father looms above me, For him there is no rest
My mother's arms enfold me, And hold me to her breast
They say you been out wandrin', They say you travelled far
Sit down young stranger, And tell us who you are
The room has all gone misty, My thoughts are all in spin
Sit down young stranger, And tell us where you been
I've been up to the mountain, I've walked down by the sea
I never questioned no one, And no one questioned me
My love was given freely, And oftimes was returned
I never came to borrow, I only came to learn
Sometimes it would get lonely, But it taught me how to cry
And laughter came too easy, For life to pass me by
I never had a dollar, That I didn't earn with pride
Cause I had a million daydreams, To keep me satisfied
And will you gather daydreams, Or will you gather wealth
How can you find your fortune, When you cannot find yourself
My mother's eyes grow misty, There's a tremblin' in her hand
Sit down young stranger, I do not understand
Now will you try to tell us, You been too long at school
That knowledge is not needed, That power does not rule
That war is not the answer, That young men should not die
Sit down young stranger, I wait for your reply
The answer is not easy, For souls are not reborn
To wear the crown of peace, You must wear the crown of thorns
If jesus had a reason, I'm sure he would not tell
We treated him so badly, How could he wish us well
The parlor now is empty, There's nothin' left to say
My father has departed, My mother's gone to pray
There's rockets in the meadows, And ships out on the sea
The answer's in the forest, Carved upon a tree
John loves mary, Does anyone love me
Gordon Lightfoot- 1970
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