Taking God's Name

"No, not an oath . . .
Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous,
Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls
That welcome wrongs."
- Julius Caesar, Act 2 Scene 1

Five days ago, the United States Air Force Academy quietly announced that "After reviewing the cadet Honor Oath, and in the spirit of determining a way ahead that enables all to be true to their beliefs, the Air Force's Academy has decided to make the final clause optional."

The United States Air Force Academy Honor Oath

"We will not lie, steal or cheat nor tolerate among us anyone who does.  Furthermore, I resolve to do my duty and live honorably, so help me God."

As reported by Time's Mark Thompson, the original 1959 oath "was modified following a 1984 cheating scandal" and "the phrase 'so help me God' was tacked on 'to add more seriousness to the oath.'"  

The USAFA press release discussed leadership's reasoning behind the decision, but did not mention the complaint brought by the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, whose mission statement reads: "The Military Religious Freedom Foundation is dedicated to ensuring that all members of the United States Armed Forces fully receive the Constitutional guarantee of religious freedom to which they and all Americans are entitled by virtue of the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment."

I am not surprised by the decision and although there will be dissatisfaction in the ranks, the US military has a solid tradition of being on the front line of equality, even if it doesn't all seem that way. President Truman's executive order 9981 desegregated the military in 1948, six years before segregation in American public schools was declared unconstitutional. In 2011, the Department of Defense eliminated punitive discharges for those who identify as homosexual.

Even so, according the Air Force Times, MRFF president Mikey Weinstein wasn't satisified with the decision and argued that "the Air Force Academy took the cowardly route,” Weinstein said after the announcement. “From our perspective, it still creates a tremendous amount of unconstitutional turmoil ... for anyone who is a religious objector." In an excerpt published in the Christian Post, Weinstein promised to press the fight "if the words are still there, if our clients are willing to come forward, we'll sue the academy in federal court aggressively and as soon as we can."

Media sympathetic to promoting and supporting public expression of religion, and specifically Christianity, reacted as you might expect. This piece published by Americans United for Separation of Church and State takes the religious alarmists to task and outlines what the writer sees as a strong push by the religious right to "invent a national Christian identity"

A blogger at Christian Fighter Pilot argues that nothing has really changed, since cadets could easily omit the phrase and nobody would notice, but is concerned that "Weinstein is calling the shots for religious liberty in the US military."

Big surprise, everybody has something to bitch about.

This decision to make "so help me God" optional allows adherents to monotheistic faiths, of which Christianity is by far the majority in the United States and by obvious extension also in the US armed forces, to express their commitment to their deity. It allows those who find deities superfluous to openly avoid mentioning a deity and perhaps move their lack of belief a little closer to acceptance alongside those who believe wafers and wine turn to flesh and blood and there is a supernatural being who punishes or rewards every thought of every human being on the planet. I also suspect polytheists will be able to insert a surreptitious pluralizing "s" to their oaths with no one being the wiser.

And, as Shakespeare pointed out, oaths are for those who expect wrongdoing. Liars are wont to lie loudly and keep their own cunning counsel.

Classroom Ephemera #4: Hey Gurl!

This note is obviously crafted. Not well-crafted, sure, but certainly thought out. So many adults of a certain age think kids are missing out on the joy of writing and receiving letters. Obviously, this writer cares for her "gurl" enough to take the time to carefully construct the note's appearance and diction. For instance, she doesn't just explain that she is worried about getting suspended and having to clean the cafeteria, she chooses to use the vernacular, writing "i feel helluh stupid for being in skool" without (apparent) irony.

She is also sensitive to her reader's sensibilities. With a consideration of a 19th century novelist, who might writ "Well. I'll be d_____d!" and allow the reader to fill in the blanks so as not to offend the innocent, our writer spares her friend with a modest "hes an f__en kissing ho."

This piece might also be of interest to anthropologists and sociolinguists, who might comment, each in their own way, on the significance of the "bootykall."

Mechanical Kurt

A few weeks ago, I found myself wandering around in the world of crowdsourcing. At one point, a friend of mine had his machine set up to work on the SETI project and a few months ago I heard a piece on NPR about using CAPTCHA responses to parse texts OCR programs couldn't crack.

In my meanderings, I came across Amazon's Mechanical Turk (MTurk), named after the 18th century hoax, a chess-playing automaton that wasn't an automaton at all, but rather an elaborate machine operated by a hidden chess master. MTurk has been around for quite a few years now, and I vaguely recall hearing about it, but I didn't take the time to explore until a couple of weeks ago.

Amazon's MTurk is essentially a match-finding service that pairs up people willing to work on Human Intelligence Tasks (HITs) in exchange for currency. Tasks range anywhere from transcribing WalMart receipts and voice recordings to identifying inappropriate images in a cluster pf pictures to helping a grad student with his or her research.

Intrigued, I signed up as a worker. It took a couple of days to verify my details and pretty soon, I was off. I quickly ran across HITS that were transparent attempts to generate web traffic. I took some glee in reporting these, as such crude manipulations are strictly against Amazon MTurk policy.

Then I pulled up some WalMart receipt transcription jobs, but decided I wasn't all that interested in typing "NUTS 1 9729837653423986592398" and "DIAPERS 1 089274897089348572" 63 times. Instead, I viewed a cluster of images, found nothing inappropriate, and clicked on the box that said so. Easy money, yo! then I ran across a psych grad student's survey about physical activity and health. It was fun clicking on the little radio buttons and contributing to science and all. Plus, I was getting paid!

After messing around on MTurk for an hour or so, I felt the same kind of rush all those Candy Crush players seem to be chasing. Plus, I was making money!

Well, sort of. If all my excitement has got you thinking about a new career path as an Amazon MTurker, you may want to look at my earnings statement:

Artifacts #4: Just the Basics

Becoming a "pinger"

I received a fabric-lined, faux-leather portfolio on the same day I had my high school hair shaved and a brass padlock and key hung around my neck. I spent that afternoon in the 3723rd BMTS, Flt 623 barracks getting to know my squad as we furiously stamped our tighty-whiteys and "pickle suits" with identifying markings and cowered under the withering glare of buck Sergeant John D. Elovich.

With my ears toward the future

That portfolio carried my red-tape through basic, into tech school, and through two PCS moves before the addition of a family made the paperwork too thick to fit.

I found it a couple of weeks ago, crumpled up at the bottom of our master bedroom closet. Recruits get messenger bags these days. Fucking hipsters.

Wrinkled, but still usable

I wonder if BCGs are still as hipster as they used to be? Probably not, or they wouldn't be called BCGs anymore.

50 Shades of Jesus

I ran across this lengthy and theologically convoluted justification of bondage-dominance sex games.(1)

In it, Jonalyn Grace Fincher, an apparent Christian and author of the site and book Ruby Slippers: the sparkly connection between femininity, sexuality and faith, interviews ordained minister "John Keller" who "shares his belief of how Christianity and BD/s (Bondage, Discipline, Domination) may work together." (And yes, I don't know what to make of the blog/book title either. "Sparkly"?)

Fincher is skeptical, but writes that she wants to learn more and challenges Keller to support his position. I will not summarize the whole bit here, but focus on a single point: Christianity and BD are completely compatible: both center on absolute, unthinking domination.

Keller, however, is keen to emphasize BD play is all about building mutual intimacy. He urges "those who get a kick out of controlling and overpowering others should stay away from BD/s, because for them in the end is not about mutual pleasure and building intimacy with one’s spouse, but about a thrill-seeking power-trip"

Considering that 40% of the Decalogue is all about an egocentric "power trip," Keller is slipping dangerously close to contradicting his thesis of BD/Christian compatibility. The Old Testament deity is clearly someone "who get a kick out of controlling and overpowering others." This isn't healthy, right?

But to be fair, Keller seems to be bringing his argument to what might be called "moderate" Christians, who usually try to emphasize embracing a loving Jesus who is both there to comfort and to guide. This, most Christians would agree, starts through complete and unquestioning faith and submission.

Multiple Biblical passages support the idea of total submission. These include everything from the chillingly prone to twisted interpretation Romans 12:1 "I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship," to the seemingly more benign James 4:7 "Submit yourselves therefore to God," to the gentle binding of Matthew 11:29 "Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."

It would be hard to find a Christian, even a "moderate" one, who did not agree with pastor Dr. Roger D. Willmore's exhortation that every Christian "should live moment by moment in faithful submission to the lordship of Jesus Christ."

Keller straps his argument to this clearly defined and long-accepted aspect of Christianity. He states that "the act of bondage – which would represent an ‘exercising power over a willing partner’ would not inevitably have to be seen as ‘dominion-taking’, since the one exercising ‘power over’ would not necessarily do this outside of the realm of love, but as part of a mutually empowering love. The powerful love in this BD/s scenario, then, expressing itself in the form of surrender and submission on the one hand, and care, guidance and leadership on the other hand, would mutually reinforce and deepen the strong bonds that exist between the marriage partners."

I don't have any problem with mutually consenting adults enjoying themselves in whatever ways they both find titillating, but if I were a believer, I would find Keller's closing comments a little disconcerting:

"BD/s should only be engaged in by a couple who share deep trust and where both are interested to grow, expand and deepen the ways they can build shared sexual and emotional intimacy. It will take lots of communication, understanding and ‘letting ourselves be fully known’ to practice BD/s healthily. But isn’t that exactly what can contribute to bringing a couple closer together – in a way that delights and honors God?"

So Christian couples, the next time you tie down, remember, your omniscient God is watching and is quite possibly "delighted."

(1) I just stumbled across this piece and was moved to write this blog even though I haven't explored what is apparently a well-established Christian BD "community." And although I haven't read any Christian BD erotica, perhaps the blog post will peak your interest in investigating further. Spank Me for Jesus seems like it might be a place to start. 

Teaching College > Teaching High School (for all the reasons you might expect)

Last week, I filled in for a government class over at the Henderson campus of the College of Southern Nevada High School. Students at CSNHS come from all over Clark County and have already completed their first two years of high school. They apply for admission during their 10th grade year and ,if accepted, have an opportunity to complete a two-year degree while they finish their last two years of high school, all on the district's dime.

The program appeals to students who find the normal high school experience tedious and pointless, look forward to more flexible class scheduling options, and are self-motivated enough to tackle a heavier course load with less adult oversight. It's a pretty good deal.

One of the students asked me, "Mr. Rice, what do you like teaching better, high school or college?"

I taught or trained plenty of post-secondary students during my 25 years in the Air Force, and I taught roughly 1,200 high school students in my 5.5 years at Spring Valley High School. I have only been teaching in higher education for 7 weeks. I loved mentoring and teaching and training and guiding and leading in the Air Force. The outcomes there were immediately tangible and almost always positive. But the kid had asked me to choose between college and high school teaching.

I found the answer came quickly: college.

My reasons are pretty predictable, not fully fleshed out, and in no particular order:

• High school students have no  buy-in since they cannot easily grasp where or how their education is being funded. This tends to result in high school students comparing high school to prison. While this analogy is inaccurate, one can see how they might, in their naivete, arrive at the conclusion. Because they often perceive high school as something they are forced to do rather than an opportunity they get to do, more than a few students work diligently to avoid learning anything while "incacerated."

• Most high school students have not experienced the difference between having a formal education and not having one. Young college students have at least been convinced that a higher education is beneficial and thus put some effort into succeeding. Adult students who have experienced years in the working world often put much more effort into succeeding. I am still amazed at how quickly my college students pick up concepts that before would have taken all year to pass along to high school kids.

• College students are free to come and go and completely shoulder the benefit or loss as a result.
• High school classes are constantly being interrupted by requests for students to go to the Deans' office or the counselor or to see the coach or help set up for an event or to head off to a rally.
• College students don't get parent-teacher conferences and I don't need entertain parental complaints about the appropriateness or pedagogical validity or challenging nature of my coursework. Students are expected to take those issues up with me directly.
• College classes don't take on a revolving door of transient students.
• As a college instructor, I am not expected to keep an additional set of entrance and exit books that could easily fall out of balance with the high school registrar's books, force students to comply with arbitrary dress codes, ask for parental permission to show video clips that contain taboo language. The bureaucracy, at least at my level, is almost zero. High schools, on the other hand, expect teachers to share a larger and larger part of the daily administrative load.
• My college doesn't filter the Internet or restrict where I or my students can roam. As a high school teacher, I could rarely use my classroom computer to assemble lesson plans because, and this is ironic given the push in education to integrate engaging technology, image and video search functions were disabled. Of course, lessons involving writing for public consumption were severely restricted because all major social networking sites were also blocked.
  
  And yes, I am aware of the pitfalls of college instruction as well. Perhaps a blog will be in order after I trip into one.

"Suspiciouse Activity" Indeed

I sometimes get confused about how to adequately categorize "bad digital things." Malware, adware, spyware, spam and an associated host of esoterica related to various to jack with your hardware, software and wetware. Still, I can usually spot bullshit when I see it.

However, scammers are getting trickier. For instance, I uploaded utility software that included adware I have been unable to eliminate from my system even with a reasonably diligent web search on how to make it go away. The adware changes my browser homepage, even after I go in and force it back to Google, and pops a window or two open on occasion. Based on my searching around, it doesn't seem to have any other deleterious affects.

On the other hand, I still routinely run across incredibly lazy scammers. Their work makes wonder how they manage to hook anyone. I received what looks like a phishing scam in my email and it got me thinking: who proofreads this shit? Are they hiring? It would be a dead easy editing gig and if the haul was good, I might get a decent Christmas bonus.

These guys could use an editor

It also got me thinking about the state of education. One of the quickest ways to detect bullshit is by noticing grammatical errors or inconsistencies in the copy. Professional firms go to great lengths to eliminate errors in their communications to customers and potential customers because they know every homophone error or misspelled word reduces their credibility and can steer business to competitors who have bothered to use spell check.

So when you see something misspelled, especially in the subject line of an email purportedly from Wells Fargo, there is a 100% chance it is bullshit. Unless of course you don't know how to spell "suspicious"in the first place or notice that your demonstrative pronoun doesn't match its noun.

"Mr. Rice, this shit is hard. Why should I fucking care about grammar and spelling? My friends understand what I am saying."

Good point. Here, let me put you on my mailing list.

Strange Tailoring

I understand why the tailored advertising feed on my Facebook page would push a high frequency of educational promotions. I often visit *.edu sites and my education and employment history show a strong interest in education at all levels.

On the other hand, I'm trying to figure out what slightly out-of-focus images of women with various expressions of what looks vaguely like drunken fear have to do with dads going back to school.

Perhaps they are experiencing a high level of credulity regarding the grant and citizenship claims.

In any case, the images are so incongruous that they do indeed draw my attention, but also ensure I never, ever will click on the link.

Unless my curiosity overwhelms me.

Tat Rebellion

Permanent resume

As body modification becomes increasingly more diverse and overt, especially with regard to skin ink, I wonder what my grandchildren will do to rebel.

According to a Pew study titled Millenials: A Portrait of Generation Next, "Tattoos have become something of a trademark for Millennials—nearly four-in-ten (38%) have at least one. Gen Xers are not far behind; 32% say they have a tattoo. Only 15% of Baby Boomers and 6% of Silents wear body art."

In a Harris Poll reported by Vanishing Tattoo, 36% of respondents said that having a tattoo made them feel rebellious when compared with not having a tattoo. This norm-breaking aspect of body art is threatened, though, as more and more people get inked.

It seems tat's negative image is eroding, even in the work place. In a piece in Forbes from earlier this year, Rachel Hennessey reports that "with many contemporary companies stressing commitments to diversity and inclusion, tattoos are becoming increasingly unproblematic across the board. Lax tattoo policies for blue-collar and art-related jobs aren’t shocking, but the increasingly tolerant outlook of frontrunners in corporate, educational and medical industries are more surprising." 

I remember the Air force deciding it was time to come down on tattoos after it starting becoming more popular outside the gates. Until then, tats were associated with grizzled lifers, who might have a badly rendered anchor or panther on a forearm. When dewy-eyed recruits started sporting tribals and barbed-wire biceps, the AF became concerned and clamped down.

What then, will happen when marked skin becomes more common than unmarked? Will kids defy their parents by not going under the vibrating needle?

"No Mom, I am not going to get a butterfly on my ankle."

"But honey, if you don't have at least a little body art, nobody will hire you."

"It's my body, I can do what I want!"

Classroom Ephemera #3: Manga Thanks, Mr. Rice

Although much of my classroom ephemera is interesting in a Secret Life of the American Teenager way, quite a bit of it demonstrates the kind of relationship I built with my students. Teachers live for the positive feedback they get from their kids and I was no exception.

But the wads of unsolicited offerings: thank you notes and gifts and bits of one-off art,  I received over the years are more than just evidence that I had some positive educational impact, they are evidence of a culture of kindness it is often hard to discern in surly adolescents.

The influence of Japanese manga art is unmistakable in this piece, but I can't explicate the symbolism of a coy angel and knock-kneed schoolgirl thanking me "for the interesting learning experience."

I left the artist's name intact on this post, because I am sure she wouldn't mind.

I think the yellow sticky note came from someone other than the artist.

Fake Service Dogs: A Problem with Culture, not Courts

I ran across this piece by Sue Manning describing how "dog cheats" outfit their pooches with service dog apparel readily available online, thus allowing them to take their pets into businesses that would otherwise disallow the animals. Manning writes about how current privacy legislation makes detecting and punishing these offenders difficult. She also explores the internal debate within the  assistance-dog-using community. Some want to bring in the Justice Department and focus more resources and attention to the problem in an effort to crack down on counterfeit service dogs and others are concerned this might have some deleterious effect on those who are legitimately using service animals.

I think everyone is completely missing the point here. Business owners keep dogs out of businesses, primarily because American cultural norms have evolved to sanction anyone bringing Princess into Denny's. True, I have noticed some give in the direction of indoor canine tolerance: a Yorkie sat in a fully enclosed stroller at the table next to us the last time we hit the Sunset Station feeding trough and was cooed at by the wait staff rather then evicted. But in America we can't routinely expect that kind of reception, especially with larger breeds.

I propose a shift toward German cultural norms with regard to dogs. Dog ownership is taken seriously. Dog owners are well trained and know how to manage their animals in public. Hence, I can roll into a bierkeller or restaurant and see a Lab, an Alsatian and a terrier relaxing at their owners' feet, unperturbed while plates and glasses clink and lamb and chicken and big, dripping cuts of roast pork fly by. Dog owners know when a retail establishment is too tight or otherwise unsuited to their dog and leash the animal outside, where it relaxes until the owner is ready to move on.

This German (and generally European) approach to dogs in public places does happen in more enlightened parts of America. For example, at the La Boulange, in San Fransico's Cole Valley neighborhood, patrons leave their larger mutts outside without incident and at least one French restaurant has a day a week when they make a place for dogs at the the table. Perhaps this trend will expand and it won't be uncommon to find well-behaved pit bulls relaxing under a table at your local Macaroni Grill.


It certainly would eliminate the fake service dog racket.

Dark Dungeons

I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons as a teenager. Gaming trailed off as I entered into young adulthood, got married, and had kids. I still play now, usually only for a week or so once a year with a couple of the same guys I gamed with in high school.

In addition to playing D&D, I also attended church regularly and was an active and heartily believing young Christian lad. I began doubting my faith, ironically enough, as a result of the now classic religious tract, "Dark Dungeons" published by Chick Publications. The art isn't too bad, in a hyperbolic comic book way, but the dialog and situations portrayed in the tract are so ludicrous, it made me begin to wonder about the realities of my strongly held faith. Could it be just as much of a fantasy as the games I played?

Thanks, Chick Publications, for being the catalyst that began my questioning that ultimately allowed me to look at my faith with critical eyes and finally to discard it.

Artifacts #3: Hey MU, What's Your AC?

These volumes sit in a place of reverence on my living room bookshelf and remind me of my place in the RPG universe. My original, 3 volume D&D set and AD&D Player's Handbook, Dungeon Master's guide and Monster Manual were lost on a rainy night in Santa Ana in 1980, but a friend provided me this set on long-term loan to what has become a single-shelf museum to the grandfather of pen and paper RPG. The fact that we now have to prefix "RPG" with "pen and paper" bring on a melancholy that is sometimes hard to shake.

A few years ago, a couple friends and I decided to run a couple of nostalgia games using first the original rules and then another game using the AD&D rules. How we managed to play with these in the 1970s and early 80s is beyond us.  As we played, we tried to find rules we were sure existed, but were nowhere to be found. There was so much ambiguity that house rules accumulated like flowstone, obliterating the original core and becoming indistinguishable from the literal rule sets.

It was an enjoyably frustrating few hours at the end of which we decided we would probably never try again. With D&D, as in life, you can never really go home.

Kill those Redskins!

During (American) football season, I often stick my nose in my local sports book to check out the boards and occasionally drop a couple of twenties just to keep my Sunday afternoon blood pressure as high as possible. I scan the games, looking to see how big the spread is getting on my wife's Giants as they stumble through the season, Eli Manning proffering footballs to opposing defensive backs as if he were handing out treats on Halloween. I check out the 49ers as well, although the league's getting wise to Kaepernick's antics.


As I review the boards, it never occurs to me to be offended by a sports team's name. After all, teams were named in far less enlightened times. I am of course referring to the recent media rekindling of Native American discontent with Washington's mascot.

An Air force friend who commented extensively on my "Slaves to the Symbol" post regarding offense and the Confederate battle flag passed along this article discussing the debate and thought I might comment.

Some might raise the specter of "political correctness" and warn us that we are taking offense too easily these days: "Come on, get over it already." They might point to Notre Dame's mascot and argue that Irish-Americans aren't up in arms about the jut-jawed leprechaun stereotype.
 
On the other hand, I can understand why they might be offended and I know that I would certainly notice if the bookie's board had spreads for the Metropolitan Niggers vs. the Neon City Kikes.

The word "redskin" was used in part to dehumanize an opponent during a long period of intermittent warfare. Dehumanizing epithets are a cultural universal, especially in times of violent conflict. Thus, "redskin" can be compared to "gook," "raghead," "jap" or "kraut." I cannot say whether or not the epithet "redskin" is as offensive as these examples, if gradations of this form of insult are possible, to the Oneida Nation. It is not my place to make that call and it is easy for those distant from the offense to dismiss its severity to the offended.

We cannot avoid offending others and sometimes this offense is critical to our strength as a republic. I am pretty certain a large percentage of the population would find offense at some of my opinions, but I still need to be able to express those opinions in a civil manner. Calling people names is also not restricted, although under certain circumstances it can be libel or slander if the name-calling is public, false, and damaging.

The Redskin's case is neither an expression of political, economic, or religious policy nor is it slander or libel. Additionally, it seems that a huge majority of Native Americans are ambivalent toward the Redskin's mascot.

Does this matter? Do we allow every offended group to dictate how others use language? Does the size of the group or its relative power matter? How far should we go to avoid offense?

At this point, I could not support court action or legislation to decide this matter, although such court action was attempted some years ago in this specific case. I am pleased that the NFL is at least willing to discuss it, although how seriously they are considering it is beyond my ken.

Ultimately, I would ask, just as I clarified in a reply to the "Slaves to the Symbol" post, that we continue to at least consider those aggrieved and not dismiss them offhand. In our daily lives, we should seek to avoid gratuitous offense. Why? Because those "say what's on their minds and don't give a shit what other people think" are both louts and liars.

Anti-Obama Headline Proves Fallacious!

I am always looking for examples of classic rhetorical fallacies and, since the anti-Obama hype machine is at full-crazy tilt during the partial government shutdown, there is much fodder to be had. True, there are also rhetorical shenanigans going on among Obama supporters, but the hair pulling on the anti-Obama side is a much, much richer vein to tap.

Ironically, much of the hue and cry seems to be coming from the camp that routinely urges us to strip back the government. It is not uncommon now to spot a meme-o-gram laughing at the notion that the shutdown is serious (WITHOUT GOVERNMENT, WHO WOULD CLOSE THE ROADS?) followed by links to op-ed pieces arguing that "King Obama" is using the shutdown to advance nefarious schemes quite possibly in the pay of any number of international cabals. Although the effectiveness of these geriatric bugaboos is in serious question.

In any case, every president has had to face straw men put up by the opposition. Here is one instance I came across in my ramblings that seemed particularly amusing, if it wasn't that so many people believe this stuff.

Among those furloughed under the most recent budget stalemate (something we went through many times during the Reagan administration and once in a big way during the Clinton era) are civilian Catholic priests who minister to troops on military bases. In an op-ed critical of this particular aspect of the furlough plan, John Schlageter, General Counsel of the Archdiocese for the Military Services, USA, argues that this will impede the free exercise of religion among those in uniform. He provides specifics and makes a well-reasoned, valid point (1).

Various journalistic outlets picked up on this op-ed and, one of my favorite, came up with this headline:

"Obama Orders Priests Arrested if they say Mass on Military Bases"

"Over the course of history, dictators have seen the Catholic Church as an obstacle to their power," writes Coach Kevin Collins, "It is, therefore, not surprising that King Barack is using the phony crisis, he himself has created, during this government shutdown to mount a new and perhaps the most vicious of his attacks on Catholics and their priests serving in our military.Under the cloak of the usual weekend news blackout where virtually no reports of any value are posted, King Barack has used a royal edit [sic] to command that any Catholic priest who dares say mass on a military base during the shutdown be arrested. Yes that said arrested!"

Well, yes, Collins has partially right.The Roman Catholic Church is powerful enough to be a bane or boon to those seeking power. They are an incredibly powerful organization and influence the lives of millions. Then again, the same could be said of the NRA or the AARP.

On the other hand, it is impossible for President Obama to have created the government shutdown, he can't issue royal edicts, and it is unlikely that any priests would be arrested for saying mass on base.

Collins also fails to point out is that it isn't President Obama's "edit [sic]" that forces priests and other government workers to stand down, it is the Antideficiency Act, passed in 1870 under the watchful eye of King Ulysses S. Grant (Republican and a Radical Republican at that). This means that civilian imams under government pay and ministering to US military Muslims will also be barred from their duties.

In addition, it appears that on the same day Collin's rant was published, Schlageter's well-reasoned plea had the desired affect: the house passed a resolution urging the military not to cancel religious services during the government shutdown.

I don't care what side you happen to take, please just don't fall for this nonsense.

(1) I need to be clear at this juncture. Schlageter's argument is valid based on law and precedent regarding the free exercise of religion of in the United States. Whether or not it is wise and fiscally responsible to set up and pay a specialized field of intercessors between troops and the executive branch of their particular brand of supernatural belief is an entirely different matter.

Classroom Ephemera #2: Busy Sex Hands

Sex is a big deal. Teenagers are especially entranced by sex as an act and as a topic of conversation. In this issue of Classroom Ephemera, I present a widely practiced exchange of fluids the discussion of which couldn't wait until after the passing bell. Oh, and I don't think "succed" is a misspelling of "succeed."

Scowling Inspiration for Young Writers

In high school English classrooms all across the nation, you'll see these wonderfully executed sketches of literary greats. These particular shots came from a friend's room. I took over her 12th grade classes last week. We worked on diction.

In any case, this dour parade of lettered folk don't inspire me to write, and I like to write. I even write for money. Or chickens. I am pretty sure they don't inspire high school kids to write.


I mean look at their faces. James Thurber, a "celebrated humorist" looks like he's ready for his close up as Pink Floyd's schoolmaster from The Wall.

A couple look like they might be getting ready to have a good time. Vonnegut is wearing a modest smirk and Fitzgerald looks like he might have heard something funny, like someone told him he would be taped to a Las Vegas classroom wall one day.


But Emily Dickinson is almost certainly hiding a hickory switch behind the whiteboard and Willa Cather is about as warm as a catheter-wielding nurse.

Hurry up and write, kids, or Frost will come for you in your sleep.

Remember teachers, just because you get free posters from publishing houses doesn't mean you should put them up.

Princess Army

This image of Disney Princess All Hallow's Eve costumes at our local Costco doesn't quite capture the same ominous beauty of the Battlestar Galactica reboot's resurrection ship but it does do a pretty good job demonstrating how good Disney is at infiltrating our culture.

Actually, I may be wrong in this case. Infiltration is complete. Disney has become as much an integral part of American culture as jeans and Jesus. Raising your child without any one of them might get you accused of neglect.

There are other science fiction analogs to this rack of princess husks waiting to imbued with souls: the Borg, Matrix energy pods, any number of zombie movies. The promise of a Halloween night filled with underage Cinderellas and Snow Whites could be much more disturbing.
Zombie kids? No.
Cyborg kids? No.

 Imagine a night of underage Caprica Sixes.

Oh wait, that's an American Apparel ad.

Apocalypse Food

HP sauce goes great with meat, especially fatty ground up meat in casings. We love HP sauce so much and in 2003 it was so difficult to come by in Italy that when I was sent on a short-notice TDY to the UK, I jumped at the opportunity to grab a few bottles, wrap them in my underwear, and carry them home to my wife like battlefield trophies.

You may notice the expiration date in this picture, but please also understand that in our house these dates are only suggestions. Government meddlers aren't going to keep us from potentially poisoning ourselves.

I snapped the shot, opened the bottle, and poured a little of the brown and spicy and tart stuff all over my cheap hot dogs. It was quite a bit thinner than it should have been even after a vigorous shaking. But hey, it can't be that bad. I lived  to write this blog post.

Pilgrimage

Early last June, I participated in an art class up on Mt. Charleston. Although I had a passing interest in the project, I almost certainly would have found an excuse not to bother driving the 70 miles from my couch to far end of asphalt. I like Mt. Charleston, but it is hard to bend the inertia of routine to get up there.

My motivation for the trip came in the form of a writing assignment for Seven. Having some extrinsic motivation to write and knowing I am going to make a chicken or two in the process helps with inertia bending.

The day's workshop was part of a series of projects designed to get people up on the mountain, interact with natural media and create an installation that would last however long it lasted. The resulting piece I wrote explains the whole concept.

That day, our class installed our sort of gradated stone and woodchip and deadfall Viking longboat sculpture, although we didn't think of it specifically that way at the time. We put it in the middle of the wash, again, not because we thought it might eventually turn out to look like a boat, but because we figured natural events in the wash, like monsoon flooding, would fairly quickly scour our project away.

It turns out it lasted longer than I thought it might and now heading up the hill is at least part pilgrimage. Last Monday, my wife and I had a morning off and went up just because we could. The colors are changing and because it was a weekday, we would have much of the place to ourselves. We drove up, parked near the old ski tow site, and crunched across the dirt lot to the wash and there it was, not much worse for the monsoon season.


The mast has collapsed, but the hull and prow remain and worse, I am beginning to build an emotional connection with a transitory piece. Perhaps I will disassemble it, carry it down the hill, and reassemble it in our living room.

Running Laps

You gonna rewrite that shit next time!? Punk.

Why so many high school and freshman college students I meet think they get one shot at writing an "A" paper is beyond me.

Imagine a bunch of high school freshmen walk into the locker room at the start of the football season and the coach says, "OK, guys, get suited up. We're playing Bishop-Gorman(1) in an hour."

These 9th graders may have played PeeWee or street games, but never at the high school level and have had no practice, no play study, nothing. The kids might be excited at first, especially since they didn't have to do any of the grinding conditioning and fundamentals work. They never had to run laps, drop and give the coach 20, or memorize and run plays until they dreamed about them.

So the kids hit the field and get slaughtered and the coach says, "You all suck. You'll never play football. You have no talent, no drive, and no knowledge of what to do out there. Get out of my locker room!"

If your son were dropped into a game with Gorman and the coach didn't put the boy through a rigorous and repetitive training program that drilled him until he was exhausted and inspired to press on, you wouldn't holler at your kid, you'd scream for the coach's head.

Learning how to write well in the academic environment is exactly like getting ready to play the best team in the league. Writing well isn't a matter of talent, it's a matter of preparation. Repetition, conditioning, memorizing the play book and running the plays until you dream about them. Running them until you can spot a botched set of quotation marks in the grocery store. Running them until you can pull your own misplaced modifiers and vague pronoun references and subject-verb disagreements and sideline their asses. Running them until slinging together a 5-paragraph essay is as easy and automatic as driving to class.

(1) Bishop-Gorman, a privately operated Catholic school. In Vegas, B-G is synonymous with boost-your-football-team-with-all the-best-high-school-players-from-the-valley-by-handing-out-scholarships.

Artifacts #2: A Sign of the Times

I was first stationed stationed at RAF Upper Heyford, an air base a double handful of miles or so north of Oxford, from 1982 to 1984. In early 1984, I PCSed back to the CONUS and found myself in the antithesis of England: Nellis AFB, NV.

I missed the Midland's cool rain, soft green topography, and ancient peace. Vegas came on to me in all her brash exuberance, and I found myself pining and homesick for a place that was only my home for a couple of years.

Nellis is the home of the Red Flag exercise, and as such, routinely hosts USAF, sister service, and allied force units from across the globe. In 1985, a year or so after I left Heyford, the 20th TFW rolled into town to participate in Red Flag. I got to see some old line buddies and catch up on news. 

A tradition at the time was for visiting units to paint identifying markings on a piece of sheet metal screwed to the outside of the hangar out of which they worked for the duration of the exercise. When they left, Nellis personnel would come along, paint over the markings, and the next unit would roll in and the cycle would repeat. I was determined to save the Heyford sign, regardless of its intended transient nature. 

So, the night after the 20th packed up and left, I got off a long swing-shift at Eagle AMU and on my way out I Street gate, eased my truck up next to the hangar. I looked around for roaming SPs and saw none. So I slid out, and quickly popped out the retaining screws, threw the sign in the back, and rolled on home. 

The sign has followed me ever since. Before its current posting in my garage work space, it came back to Nellis and hung behind my desks at the 57 IS and 57 ATG, reminding me of that first tour.

Oh, and after I "liberated" the sign, I kept my eye on the unpainted piece of hangar. Sure enough, within a couple of weeks, CE had put up another piece of sheet metal. 

The new one was riveted in place.

Hemispheres

On one side , my dad's '66 Mustang, $3,000 bought new from Smith Ford and an heirloom now but still flying its original paint and upholstery and a radiator that can't quite hang with Vegas summers. This is the car that flung me through my late adolescence, threatening to to kill me at every turn. I love that car. I love looking out across its broad prow, watching it rumble and torque when I slap down the pedal. I love dumping pints of gas through the carb just to hear that old engine growl. The guts and grind of it all.

On the other side, our 2012 Toyota Prius Plug-In Hybrid Advanced. Just saying the name gives you get an idea of how long it takes to get from 0-60. It's sleek and quiet and very polite. I love that car. It's like driving an iPad. I love easing down on the pedal and hearing. Nothing. Amps to torque to the grocery store for a trickle of kWh. I love the data, the charts and graphs and flowing arrows and arcing LCD mpgs. The Bluetooth and HUD of it all.

Looking for Mr. Prog-Hop

It's not easy for someone like me, 52, white, and baptized in the waters of 70s rock, to come to terms with hip-hop. I tried, at least I always say I tried, to pick up on what people were calling the great masters of the genre.

Sorry Tupac, you're just another Jim Morrison to me: charismatic wild-child buried early but lyrically unimpressive and musically uninspiring.

What I need is some Prog-Hop. Something technically demanding, multi-layered, and with lyrics that lean into literature. My students have tried to to help. "Lupe Fiasco," they say, "Here, Mr. Rice," they proffer, "you must try Immortal Technique." Not even close.

Now, I pick up this week's issue of Seven, and am teased by a piece on Ekoh by Camille Cannon. She teases me with lines like, "This year, Ekoh’s poetic flow is rippling deeper than ever." Even more  tempting is the title of his latest release, Zzyzx Road, which strikes a Joshua Tree chord in my latter-20th century bosom.  

I haven't spun the digital turntable on Ekoh yet, but I'll let you know the outcome once I have the courage to get disappointed again.

This year, Ekoh’s poetic flow is rippling deeper than ever. - See more at: http://vegasseven.com/2013/09/25/ekoh-resonance-man/#sthash.fnYLttDC.dpuf

This year, Ekoh’s poetic flow is rippling deeper than ever. - See more at: http://vegasseven.com/2013/09/25/ekoh-resonance-man/#sthash.fnYLttDC.dpuf

This year, Ekoh’s poetic flow is rippling deeper than ever. - See more at: http://vegasseven.com/2013/09/25/ekoh-resonance-man/#sthash.fnYLttDC.dpuf

This year, Ekoh’s poetic flow is rippling deeper than ever. - See more at: http://vegasseven.com/2013/09/25/ekoh-resonance-man/#sthash.fnYLttDC.dpuf

This year, Ekoh’s poetic flow is rippling deeper than ever. - See more at: http://vegasseven.com/2013/09/25/ekoh-resonance-man/#sthash.fnYLttDC.dpuf