Michael Crichton, another asbestos casualty

I just found out one of my favorite authors, Michael Crichton, passed away a couple of weeks ago. He died of cancer, apparently associated with his asbestos exposure back when he was young, working his way through medical school. He was an M.D., but never practiced medicine, instead deciding to write novels. My first exposure to his work was reading The Great Train Robbery. If you've never read it, I highly recommend it. Nice, enjoyable, low key. It is based on the famous train robbery of 1855 in Victorian England, and closely resembles the Sherlock Holmes genre of Arthur C. Doyle, which is why I enjoyed it so much. Crichton also authored several others I enjoyed, including The Andromeda Strain, Timeline, and his most famous works, Jurassic Park and The Lost World. He also was the creator of the TV series, ER, and the author of the screenplay Twister. I found his Sphere to be disappointingly unbelievable, given the easy-believability of his other fictional works, including Airframe and Disclosure. Although I haven't seen it, I heard that the movie version of Timeline was terrible and did not do justice to the book. (That movie was the first movie to be released on DVD. It supposedly is one of the biggest box-office flops of all times, having cost $80 million to make, yet grossed only $19 million during its entire run, including DVD royalties.) I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and enjoyed it even more when re-reading it after having personally visited European castles of the period, such as the Gravensteen, Bouillon, and Kasteel van Horst. His last name Crichton rhymes with "frighten". This post is a response to the many who've expressed interest in something called the Twilight series. I have no interest in that type of genre, but definintely respect and encourage those who do. I am a firm believer in the benefit of books, especially ones that inspire a following for a favorite author or genre. Reading is truly one of the easiest ways we can experience real magic, transporting us to a land of make-believe a la The Never-Ending Story. Books require thought and mental exercise, and when well-written, are a great developer of mental acuity, critical thinking, and general analysis. It is our responsibility as parents and grandparents to make sure our children learn the enjoyment of great music, great art, and great reading. All three are benefits to society, culture, and progress. My $0.02 worth...

Common Cold...

Apparently in the U.Va. medical center, I picked up a headcold. I've been coughing and sneezing and my nose has been running like a faucet since Tuesday evening. Man, I hate going to hospitals and doctors. Did you know that nationwide, more people die in hospitals than anywhere else? Why would anyone willingly go in there? The only reason I go is to keep Dubby happy. I hope she appreciates it. I'm miserable right now. I can't breathe, I have a sopping wet hanky in my lap, my throat hurts. The things I go through just to keep my woman happy... (!) On the way to Raleigh Wednesday morning, we stopped at a Wendy's drive-through to pick up something for me to eat. Dubby and Bopnopper had already gotten something at Hardy's earlier. There was no line, because it was only 10:30 a.m. There was no one in the restaurant, and no one in the drive-through. We decided to go through drive-through so we could be on our way. I distinctly ordered my usual: a single combo, with only lettuce, tomato, and mayo, a medium fry, and a Coke. Simple. Over the intercom, the person read the order back to me correctly. She then asked if I wanted anything else. I replied, "yes, some extra napkins, please." "Got it. Okay, pull around." I pulled around to the window. I waited. Just inside the window, I could see four people standing around talking. Apparently they were taking turns telling jokes to each other. In Spanish, of course. In a couple of minutes, an older lady came to the window, ignoring the four joke-tellers, and asked for payment in perfect Virginian English. The bill was almost a dollar more than I was expecting, based on the mental calculation I did in my head at the drive-through menu board. I asked, "have your prices gone up?" She replid, "yes, they have. Quite a bit." Apparently the prices on the menu board are the old ones. She took my money, handed me the change, gave me the order and said, "have a nice day." I looked it the bag, and there was the sandwich and an order of fries. Separately, I had the medium Coke. I sipped it to make sure it wasn't orange or something. Everything appeared well. As we drove off, we noticed that still no one else was in the restaurant or the drive-through. Since Dubby had long since finished her Hardy's breakfast, we exchanged places so she could drive while I ate. I pulled out the meal and bit in. "Hey, they put cheese on this hamburger!" I cried, much to my dismay. I know how cheese is made, and I don't like touching it with my bare hands, let along having the stuff touch something I'm going to put in my mouth. There were piles of melted cheese all over the inside of the hamburger, even oozing out the sides, gluing the burger to the paper wrapper. I looked at the receipt in the bag. "Dang, they charged me for a Double, when I ordered a Single!" I was ticked. That's why the bill was so high. But they hadn't charged me for a double cheeseburger. They not only rang it up wrong, they didn't fill what I ordered. And they also didn't fill what was rung up, either! I bit into the sandwich. "It's not a double! There's only one meat patty. And look at this! There are pickles on this thing!" I didn't order pickles. I pulled the french fry carton from the bag. It was less than half full. No fries in the bottom of the bag, either. Finally, I look in the bag, and there in the bottom is one (1) -- not two, not three, but only one (1) little lonesome napkin. "Didn't I order extra napkins?" Yep. It's not like they could have gotten my order mixed up with someone else's. There WASN'T anyone else! They rang it up wrong, they filled it wrong, they filled it wrong even from what they rang up, shorted the fries, and the didn't give me the extra napkins. If we hadn't already been halfway up the mountain, I'd've gone back and raised Cane as much I was Able. As Scar said in the Lion King movie, "I'm surrounded by..."

Obligatory Photo...

Yep, we all had Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's "club" (at the top of a 17-story skyscraper). This has been a family tradition in Dubby's family since before the kids were born. We were missing quite a few this year, including Big Al, who just arrived in Africa, and Kat-Kim who's in Fairbanks, along with Tam-tam and her family. (Best wishes for a speedy recovery for the Big Bro.) They were all missed. We certainly had a lot to be thankful for this year. The above family (and their extended families) have much, much, to be thankful for this year, and we recognize how lucky we all are. And of course, our families head the list.

Day at the Doctors...

I spent almost six hours yesterday at the U.Va. medical center. Last time I went, the doctor told me to stop by the blood test center before my next appointment. Okay, appointment at 1, so I'm at the blood test center at 11:30. Wait 20 minutes. My turn comes up. Sorry, you're not in the computer, you need to check in at registration across the hall. Okay, go across hall. Sign in, take a seat. Wait 15 minutes. My turns comes up. Sit down by lady at a computer. Oh, this is the neurology clinic, you want registration, it's down the hall, not across the hall. Okay. I go to registration down the hall. Wait 20 minutes. My turn comes up. Sit down by another lady at a computer. Oh, we don't have you in the computer, you must want Main registration. Here's a map. Go across the street, turn right, turn left, up three floors, turn right, turn left, end of hall, turn right, third door, end of hall, turn left, turn right, third hallway on left, turn right at water fountain, second door on right. Fifteen minute walk. Okay. Get to main registration. It's now past time for my doctor's appointment. Wait another 15 minutes. My turn comes up. Sit down, start interrogation with nurse as she types info in computer. Get 10 minutes into the registration process, lady finds out that I'm only supposed to have blood work done, tells me that I'm at the admitting office for overnight patients. Sends me back across the street to blood clinic. Says I shouldn't have to register at all, just go to the blood clinic. Two hours after first arriving, I'm right back where I started from at the blood clinic and the lady at the blood clinic tells me she has nothing in the computer so there's nothing she can do for me. She can't draw blood until I'm in the computer. I give up and go to the doctors appointment. Doctor's office doesn't mind, because doctor is running 1 hour late anyway. Turns out to be 2 hours late. Get into examining room just before 3. Get undressed. Nurse takes blood pressure (twice, they always take it twice on me... they look at my tummy, take it at 125/75, then take it again thinking that can't be right.), temperature, etc. and comments about how chilly the room is. I sit on the cold table in my underwear for another 40 minutes. Chilly. I wonder if maybe they want me to catch pneumonia. At last, doctor comes in, asks why I haven't had my blood tested yet. Tell him the story. He checks computer. Yep, it's in there. Gives me a number to take back to blood lab. I go back to blood lab and give them number. They take number, yep, it's in there. The lady then proceeds to type the first eleven chapters of Tolstoy's War and Peace into the computer, and after she proofreads it, tells me to take a seat. Read six issues of Readers Digest. 45 minutes later, my turn comes up, it takes 4 minutes for them to draw my blood, three of which are sticking me four times to try to get a vein that will work. I go back to doctor's office. Sit in waiting room another 10 minutes. Get taken back to examing room. Nurse comes in and tells me doctor also wants x-ray. Gives me (get this!) a full sheet of paper containing 20 lines of text: the directions on how to get to x-ray! I follow the directions meticulously through the labyrinth. It takes me 15 minutes of walking and waiting and riding on three different banks of elevators, and finally, surprise, arrive at the radiology department waiting room! Perfect. Just one problem. The door is closed and locked. Lights off. Locked up tight. Go back to doctors office. They spend 10 minutes on phone, give me new directions to a second x-ray office. Go to second x-ray office, in completely different building. No one there, either, but voices in the back, giggling and laughing. I cough loudly, clear my throat, call out, say hello, no response, but giggling and laughing continue. I have a seat and wait 10 more minutes. Finally someone comes out and takes my papers. Wait 10 more minutes. Girl comes out and says we have to go to Urology x-ray since their equipment is down for some reason. We walk another mile and a half it seems, and finally get to a working x-ray department. I've had dozens, perhaps more than a hundred, chest x-rays in my life so I know the drill. I get undressed and stand with my chin on the bracket, while they fiddle with some contraption that looks like a TV dinner tray table. 10 minutes. They finally inform me that it's a shield intended to stand behind me to protect two certain parts of my body from the x-ray beam. I inform them that at my age I'm probably through with those particular parts anyway, especially as far as their originally-intended purpose, so they drop the idea of getting the shield set up. Taking the x-ray takes all of 1 minute. Walk all the way back up to the doctors office. I have uncanny direction, so I've always known exactly where I am, but I feel very sorry for people who don't have that... they'd get lost in that maze and never be found. Arrive at doctor's office just after 5:00 pm. Lights off, doors closed. Start to leave, run into doctor coming out. He invites me back in to the office, writes me refills for all four (4) of my prescriptions, plus a fifth one, too. Tells me that he has reached the conclusion (get this!) that I have "mild persistent asthma". I tell him, yep, he's guessed right. I've had it for about 25 years now. His tests are spot on. I remind him he reached that conclusion last time. He pointed out that last time, he didn't use the word "persistent". He tells me that getting rid of the cat probably won't help. He wants to run more tests, but the place is closing down. It's almost 5:30 pm. Tells me to call and make appointment to come back in four months. Four months?! Yep, four months. I get back to the parking garage just in time to join the Charlottesville rush hour traffic. I sure enjoy making Dubby happy.

Them: 100%. Me: 97%. I'm cool with that.

Wow, gasoline is $1.59 per gallon at the Racetrack station in front of K-mart on Jefferson Highway (U.S. 250) in Waynesboro. Got a new battery installed in the van today. And tonight I discover the cruise control no longer works. It figures. Stake conference this weekend. Leadership meetings this afternoon. Afterwards, instead of partaking of the spaghetti dinner, I decided to sit in the chapel and hold a nice padded pew seat for me, Dubby and Bopnopper. Had I eaten dinner, by the time I finished all the padded seats would be taken and we'd end up sitting in the hard metal folding chairs back in the gym. No way. I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid. While I was waiting, the choir came in and began practicing. They sounded heavenly. Then, about fifteen seconds after they started, I remembered why I don't sing in a choir anymore. Two minutes later and I remembered why I'll *never* sing in a choir again as long as I live. The choir came in to the empty chapel and before the official practice started, some of them began singing the piece on their own. They sounded heavenly. The song was wonderful, their voices blending harmoniously, gorgeous musical... "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his voice; now is time we all rejoice; ..." I'm kinda paraphrasing here, but you get the idea. They got through most of it, and they sounded professional. Then the director arrived. They stopped singing, watched the director adjust the music stand and open her book. "Places, everyone. Let's start." Piano intro. One, two, ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his ..." "No, no, no. Stop. It's 'hark'. H-A-R-K. There's an "h" in it, people, let's hear the H. Start over again." Piano intro. One, two, ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his ...." "Nope, nope, stop. It's 'hark', with a K. I want to hear that K. Say it. kuh... kuh... it's Hark-kuh. Hark-kuh. Everybody got it? Okay, let's try again." Piano intro. One, two, ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his ..." "Wait, we need more bass on the "Lord". Where are the basses? Okay, why did I have to see you? Why couldn't I hear you? You're in a choir. You're supposed to be heard. Sound off. Okay, again." Piano intro. One, two, ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his voice; ..." "Hold it, hold it. Let's try it with some 'oooooummm' in the Lord. Like this: Luoooourd. Luooooourd, with some down and out to it. Try it again." Piano intro. One, two ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his ..." "No, no, no, no, NO! There's no breath after 'speaks'. Why is everyone breathing there. Mark your music. No breath. Okay, again." Piano intro. One, two, ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his voice; ..." "Stop. Open your mouth on 'hear'. It's not Heeer. It's HEEaar. Get those mouths open. HEEEaar. Got it? Okay, again." Piano intro. One, two, ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his voice..." "Nope, I still hear someone taking a breath after 'speaks'. There's a pause there, but don't breathe. Nobody breathes there. Okay? Got it, everyone? Okay." Piano intro. One, two, ready, sing: "Hark, the Lord speaks, hear his voice; now is the time..." "Stop, stop, stop. There's a break after 'voice'. I want to hear a moment of silence there..." And so it went. Of course, to be honest, the director was just doing her job. She was quite competent, very professional, and I can't argue a bit, not one bitty bit, about anything she was saying. She gave no direction that I thought was the least bit out of bounds. Everything she said was spot on, as the Brits say. She was polishing the choir into a professional-quality group. But it reminded me why I don't sing in a choir. I like to sing, I don't like to polish. And I'm perfectly happy to listen to a choir that is 97% (as this choir was when they started). But I realize that a choir director's job is to turn a 97% choir into a 100% choir. And the only way to do that is to polish, polish, polish. And that's why I won't be singing in a choir.

Another Cute Cartoon

Making fun of the changing policy positions by Treasury Secretary Paulson.

Gas, Jeopardy, Belgium, Orange Juice, Frostfest, Aardbeien

Gas is down to $1.73 per gallon! How LOW will it go? Too bad I can't stock up and buy a years' supply. ... although I did fill up all my gas cans. Yesterday, I played a Jeopardy game with my classes, where the questions and answers came directly from material that they should have learned during the semester. All of this material has been gone over in class... several times. Surprisingly, four of the five teams ended up with negative scores! What was more surprising was, at the end of the game, after I'd revealed all the right questions and answers, I gave a 10-question quiz, 1 point per question, listing questions that had been in the Jeopardy game. I figured I'd give them an opportunity to bring up their overall course grades. Wrong. The average score on the quiz was ... 6.1 points! Out of 10! And they had just minutes earlier been given the questions and the answers! Sheesh. I don't know what's wrong with this crop of students. The term "DAAP" comes to mind, where the last word is "post" and the first word rhymes with "rum". I've been receiving a good response to my plans for a reunion of my 2004 Belgium semester-abroad program. It looks like we may have between 20 and 25 students (out of the 30) coming to the reunion in Antwerp next July. Oranges are coming back in season. I love fresh-squeezed orange juice. I need to buy my tickets for the Frostfest. They offer a 20% discount if you buy them early. The Frostfest is the big ham radio "hamfest" flea market in Richmond held every February. Guess why they call it the "frostfest"! Dubby and I had dinner tonight in Harrisonburg with Tim and Barbara L. and Brad and Adele R.. Tim and Barb were Faculty Members In Residence (FMIR) for the Semester in Antwerp program last Spring, and Brad and Adele are going to be the FMIR's this coming Spring. We all had a great time tonight around the table at the restaurant, practicing our Flemish. "Het drie aardappelen en het vlees es aan de bord bij het wortsel, niet bij aardbeien. Mijn twee zwart schoenen es onder de tafel." Oh, by the way, aardbeien is Flemish for strawberries.

Unpleasant part of the job...

Today was one of those days that reminds me that teaching isn't all fun and roses. I gave back a major project today. The students had five weeks to take a shoebox full of receipts, select a software package, learn the package, put in the 51 transactions, and produce financial statements for a months' operations of this fictitious company as though they were the company's accountants. I spent most of last week and all weekend grading the 20 group submissions, representing 80 students. I've used a version of this project for more than 15 years, and every time I use it, I change it somewhat to improve it, altering transactions to make them more clear, eliminate ambiguities, enhance meaning, etc. I also change most of the numbers to prevent cheating. Over time, it's gotten pretty well polished. This semester the students did pretty well. Out of 20 projects, I had 6 A's, 4 B's, 4 C's, 2 D's and 4 F's. The thing that bugged me are the D's and F's. Usually out of 20 groups, I would have 5 A's, 5 B's, and 10 C's, with an occasional D sprinkled in. I often go several semesters without an F on this particular project. So on the four F projects, I wrote that I would appreciate meeting with the groups to give them an opportunity explain. I said I was interested in what they had to say, and would listen. Three of the four responded. Plus, one of the D's responded. So, four groups asked to meet with me in the office. So far, so good. Here's what happened. Two of the group meetings, I'll call them Groups U and V, were very humble, and came in and apologized for not checking their work. They admitted that all the errors were their own fault, and they had learned a lot about the need for audits, checks and balances, edit checks, validation checks, controls, and everything else. The other two group meetings, I'll call them Groups E and J, just wanted to argue about their grade. They acted as though their low score was my fault for grading so harshly. They never admitted any mistakes or errors, simply insisting that my grading was too nit-picky and way over the top when it came to "punishing them for minor mistakes". Keep in mind that no one single thing on the project counted off more than five points; the low scores were due to the huge number of mistakes on these projects. I was exhausted after the four meetings. It's not easy arguing with people. Even when you are on solid footing, it's not easy standing your ground. If you were the educator, which groups would make you happy you're a teacher, and which ones remind you that being an educator can sometimes be very frustrating.

First Snow...

Notwithstanding a few flurries in the headlights a couple of weeks ago, last night was the first time that it "snowed" under the traditional use of the word. Of course, the amount could best be described as a "trace". The ground was warm enough that it didn't accumulate, but stuck to the cars.

Oboes, Italy, Key Lime, Scotch Tape, and Cheap Gas. Meh.

Well, given the underwhelming response to my last post, I guess it's obvious that I'm the only one who cares for Schubert. Oh, well... Lint Monkey has a great song accompanying her latest juggling video. Nice oboes. Of course, some thundering horns and pounding timpanis would make it even better.... ;-) I took my main squeeze out on a date tonight to a Mexican restaurant in Verona. Funny how our Mexican restaurant is in a town named after an Italian city. You know how lots of restaurants give out little peppermints with the check? This place gives out little round green mints, but instead of mint, they are flavored "Key Lime Pie". Sour. I guess variety is the spice of life. I saved some money by having a Dr. Pepper instead of my usual Jarritos Strawberry Banana Kiwi. Afterwards, we were looking for something romantic to do together, so we went for a nice relaxing stroll through Staples. I bought her some cute little magnets she wanted -- and some rolls of Scotch tape. Oh, and an electric pencil sharpener for the Staunton Branch building library. I like making her smile. Gas is down to $1.87 per gallon. And still dropping. Hope the airlines can make some money while it lasts. (And you probably thought the cheap gas had to do with the Mexican restaurant, eh?) Did you see where the word "meh" has officially been added to the dictionary?

Rosamunde. By Schubert.

I thought this was a cute cartoon. Click on it to read what's on the bag. As I write this I'm listening to the Rosamunde Overture. Ahhh. Schubert. Words can't express the majesty of really great music. Listen to a large philharmonic play Rosamunde and you'll see what I mean. If you don't have access right now to a good recording of Rosamunde, try these two YouTube clips I stumbled across. I don't know who posted them, and they are both really lousy recordings, but they give you an inkling of what Schubert's music can do. First, however, if you're using a laptop, plug your earphones into your computer --- a laptop's computer speakers simply can't do Rosamunde justice, even a bad recording of it. The first clip is someone's home movie of his daughter's school orchestra concert. They are playing the abridged version I played when I was in school. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9kt_YQuowM Like all daddies, he spends all the camera time on his daughter. But you don't need the video, what you want is the audio. And no, that third note at the beginning is not a mistake, it's supposed to sound like that. About the 22-second mark, listen closely at how complicated the music is, with the different instruments playing very different parts, yet listen how simple the overall melody and harmony is. Genius. About 1:28, the real fun begins. The flute comes in at 1:47, nice and clear if you're listening for it. At 1:58, the gravel starts flying. 2:20: Listen for the horns. Yeah, horns! At 2:55, the horns start their 35-measure tied passage with no breathing allowed! Sweet! (...even if they are just background scenery at this point.) At 3:44 the violas start their two-way dialog with the violins. At 4:00, the engine is fired up, and half a minute later, it's cooling back down. The workout starts anew at 4:50. Notice that this is where the first chair violins really begin earning their pay: notice the motion in their arms, wow, what energy. At 5:19, the herd is charging, the colors come out, the horns shine through as the rock-solid foundation for the violas. At 5:40, although you can't see it, you can hear the violas going into Code Red. The abridged school arrangement curtails the finale a bit, but you can get the idea. The second clip is the full overture by a professional philharmonic in Italy. Or maybe Spain, I can't tell. Well, most of the orchestra...the ending is cut off. And even more unfortunately, it is terrible video, interrupted by idiots walking around, whispering, etc., and the audio is a lot worse than the school clip. But hey, it's the full overture, and if your headphones are decent, you can still get an appreciation for how fantastic Schubert's music is. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ev0YVOd4274&feature=related Forget the picture. It just distracts you. Close your eyes and lean back in your chair and pay close attention to the audio. Once you've heard it with your eyes closed, replay it again and notice the nuances of what you experienced. The overture starts out with a nice little twisty-turny frolic, as the oboes, clarinets, flutes, violins, cellos, horns, and basses all play their unique moving parts, yet it all blends magnificently. Things are kinda slow for a while. Then, around the 3:19 and 4:00 marks the flowers start to bloom and things start really getting pretty. At about 4:13 you hear the horns start the first pass of their extended 35-measure tied whole-note passage. Ahhhh. Then at 4:50 the wind catches the sails, and she starts throwing up a wake. At 5:21, close your eyes tight (right where the fools in front of the camera walk in, right at one of the climaxes) and listen to the timpani's taking out their thunder for some mean exercise. At 6:10 listen how complicated the music gets, with about six different melodies all going at the same time, blending perfectly. At 6:30 the whole world lights up, and at 6:52 you get to one of my favorite parts: the minor-major transitions as the crescendo begins wiping out everything in its path. How 'bout them horns?! The conductor starts rushing again about 7:30, probably to prevent the horn players from passing out from the second go-round of their 35-measure continuously-tied whole note string. At 8:00 you can hear the galloping violins challenging the horns, who wake up and go to work at 8:19. By 8:30 all heck is breaking loose as the timpani's erupt in flames again, inciting the full orchestra into DefCon 1, resulting in the harmonic pandemonium which rolls up and on to the last full minute of timpani-pounding brass and string cacaphony... listen to the variety of the music beginning about 9:30. Heavenly. Then, right in the last ten seconds, at the 10:00 mark.... Stupid Youtube... the server cuts off the last three runs and trills, and the four ending stingers. "File too large. 10-minute limit reached." Bummer. What a letdown! That last minute is somewhat reminiscent of Beethoven, where the composer doesn't seem to want to part with his music. Ludwig also loved to bang the timpani's a lot, and both he and Franz (and of course all smart composers) loved to let the Horns play loud and long. It's a crying shame this recording doesn't have the last six measures of the finale. Oh, well, you've got the school concert to show you a prototype of what that ending was like. Wow, I'm grinning from enjoyment just thinking aboug it! Ahhhh. Schubert! Rosamunde! Encore, encore! If you enjoy it, let me know and I'll send you a really nice, high-quality MP3 professionally recorded, stereo. That's what I'm listening to.

Jury Duty

I was called for Jury Duty yesterday. I didn't necessarily want to get out of jury duty but when the judge asked point blank, "is there anything that makes you think you might not be able to listen to the facts of the case, and then apply the law to those facts as it is explained to you, to decide guilt or innocence?" I felt the moral obligation to advise him that I was well aware of the constitutional precept of "jury nullification". He immediately interrupted me in mid-sentence, saying "Stop! Stop! Don't say any more! Please go with the bailiff through that side door." I shrugged and followed the bailiff to the anteroom. The bailiff handed me back my cell phone, gave me my parking pass, and told me the canned speech, "thank you for taking your time to participate in your democratic government, we appreciate your service to your fellow citizens of the Commonwealth. You are hereby dismissed and can go now. Have a nice day." Jury nullification is the very heart of the concept of a trial by your peers. It is the constitutionally-mandated obligation of a jury to see that justice is done, regardless of the law or the facts in a case. This is exactly opposite what judges tell you in a courtroom, since if everyone knew that juries had the right to nullify the law in the case they were hearing, there would be some temptation to simply start ignoring law in general. Juries could abuse the power, and we would degenerate into a lawless, uncivil anarchy. Jury nullification doesn't affect the status of the law, it simply is the process whereby a jury decides that the given law, if applied to the case at hand, would result in injustice. The jury is supposed to decide in the favor of justice, not necessarily the law. A citizen is not tried by the law, nor is a citizen tried by a judge, lawyers, or the court. A citizen is tried by the jury of his peers. This is the only real checks and balances on the judiciary short of constitutional amendment. The most blatant case where jury nullification should have been used was the case where a jury listened to the judge, and decided that an idiot who spilled hot coffee on herself should, under the law, be awarded damages calculated in accordance with the law, which amounted to millions. When the jury was asked if that wasn't a little bit absurd, the juror who was being interviewed said, "of course it's absurd, it's ridiculous, we all knew that. But we had no choice, the law was clear, and the facts were clear, and we had to follow the law." Wrong. The jury is supposed to see that justice is done, not to follow the law. Of course, judges will tell you otherwise, but they are doing their duty, too. A judge can legally tell you "there is no such thing as jury nullification under the law" and he will be correct. Jury nullification is not in the law, it is in the constitutional mandate of "trial by jury", which is superior to the law. Don't take my word for it. Look it up in any source you consider reliable. "Jury nullification". My personal opinion (go ahead, flame me, see if I care) is that every American citizen owes it to his fellow citizens to be aware of this. Of course, practically NO one is. And the judges and lawyers plan to keep it that way. As long as no juror knows about it, the judge and lawyers have full control. As long as juries think that they have to follow judges directions, the judges get to essentially decide the case, by serving as the gatekeeper in deciding what evidence the jury hears, what instructions the jury is given, what laws are read to the jury, etc. When a juror knows that jurors are there to mete out justice and is aware that the jury does NOT, regardless of what the judge says, have to restrict themselves to his directions, the judge and the lawyers lose control, and they don't want that. Hence, the judge yesterday exercised his perogative (which he does indeed have) to dismiss me from the jury pool. He doesn't need a reason, he and the lawyers can simply dismiss me at will. Knowing that I knew about jury nullification, he didn't want me on the jury. No judge would. I'm happy, because I didn't have the time to spend three days listening to lawyers argue about two 18-year-olds who got into a fight in a bar at 2 in the morning and one ended up using a steel pipe to try to damage the other one's reproductive capabilities. I mean, what are 18-year-olds doing in a bar at 2 in the morning anyway in a state where the legal drinking age is 21? Of course, I was also about to tell the judge that I was not confident that I was going to receive sufficient information in the courtroom anyway to make an informed decision: in the last five times I actually served on a jury, there was more evidence 'thrown out' than there was presented, and in at least two of the cases we found out later (after the case was over) that there was RELEVANT evidence that had been suppressed that would have definitely allowed us to make a much better decision. Bottom line: I got out of jury duty. If I'd had the time, I don't mind it, I see it as a civic duty. But in this case, I don't have the time. This is the first time I've admitted that I knew about jury nullification. I'll have to remember this next time I'm called and don't have time to serve. If you are thinking about using jury nullification, you'd better do a lot of reading on it, and know something about it, and be able to answer some big-league questions about it if the judge interrogates you on it. It is a powerful tool for democracy. Not that I'm any big fan of democracy... Speaking of democracy, the recent Proposition 8 results (and the GLBT community's response to it) has really surprised me. First off, I'm simply astounded speechless that 52% of Californians had the sense to vote for it. I would've sworn that there weren't anywhere near that many sane people in the state of California. And second, it shows that I have more in common with the gays and lesbians and even the ACLU than I thought: They, like me, apparently don't believe in this nonsense about letting the American people having the right to govern themselves. No, they, like me, recognize that democracy results in bad government (hey, if you don't believe me, just ask Daddy Bill about how good he thinks our government by the people and of the people is! I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you.) And the GLBT and ACLU and me, heck, we definitely all agree that an absolute dictatorship is the only way to go. We need a real dictator, an absolute ruler, someone who will make everyone to do what HE wants, regardless of what the people think or what's best for society. Of course, there's a little disagreement about WHO that absolute dictator should be... the ACLU and GLBT folks think the dictator should be some judge in California, whereas I think it needs to be ME! But hey, that's splitting hairs. The main thing is, neither the GLBT nor the ACLU nor me have any use for letting the people make their own decisions... this idea of letting people make their own laws is so, so... democratic! No, the people need an absolute ruler, a king, a dictator, an emperor, or someone telling them what to do and forcing them do it his way. I'd make a great one, much better than some judge, don't you think? Anyway, enough sarcasm. Go read about jury nullification. It is the only check on unbridled judicial power short of constitutional amendment (which was deliberately made difficult to do) and was meant by the founders of our Constitution to be exercised in good faith, and has been upheld consistently by all courts in the history of our nation, and even the English Common Law system on which our country's jurisprudence system was founded.

Gas Prices Down. And...

Gas is down to $1.99 per gallon. At ALL the stations: Exxon, BP, Texaco, Sheets, Hess, Shell, Citgo.... everywhere, $1.99 per gallon for regular. And get this: mid-grade is only a dime more, and super is only a dime more than that, too. Stock up. Oh, and I got another opossum yesterday. Where are they all coming from?

Hiking with the Bopnopper

This fall has been spectacular. The autumn color started firing up the last week of September, and has been going strong ever since! Fall is always spectacular up here in the Shenandoah, but this has been one of the most beautiful I can remember. Even now, the first part of November, it's STILL awesomely gorgeous. These pics were taken yesterday and today. The oak in our backyard is in full glory. The box elders are yellow, the maples are orange, the pin oak is shining crimson.

After church today, Bopnopper and I decided to go hiking in the mountains: exercise, solitude, peace and quiet, glowing colors, fresh air... a real spiritual experience if there ever was one.

Before leaving, we checked the trap, and sure enough, we got another one of Dubby's Jasons. This one is really fattened up for the winter. I've never seen a whistlepig so chubby. The pears worked great as bait.

Speaking of pears, every night, we have deer eating our pears. Bopnopper and I went out on the deck last night and scared two young bucks away right at sunset.

The three of us (Bopnopper, me, and the Jason) drove out to the parking lot at the lower trailhead of the Paine Run Trail, at the border of the Shenandoah National Park east of Harriston. We liberated Jason, and then headed up the mountain. The colors are indescribably fantastic, even though it was a cloudy overcast day. Click on these photos, and take a close look at the colors...

Bopnopper brought the camera. We put it on a trail marker post to take our picture.

About a half-mile up, we forded Paine Run, then a hundred yards or so further, we crossed again. Fortunately, the water is low, and there were stepping stones, so we didn't have to take off our shoes and socks and walk through the ice-cold water like I usually do at this spot.

A half-mile further on, we split off onto the Trayfoot Mountain Trail and began climbing. The scenery can't be described, and even the photos don't do it justice. Click on the pic and enjoy the brilliance.

We climbed and climbed. After a little less than an hour, we finally reached the lower ridge of Trayfoot Mountain, which is about 1000 feet of elevation change above the trailhead. If I look sweaty, it's because I am, even though the temperature is about 55 degrees.

The Bopnopper is in great shape. She had no trouble at all keeping up with the 52-year-old asthmatic arthritic old Geezer. Again, click on this picture and see the wonderful colors.

Tha's Buzzard Rocks in the background. The peace and serenity up here in the wilderness is truly spiritually refreshing.

Those of you in Florida, Alaska, or other places, click on the photo below and try to imagine yourself here. The air is crisp, the walk invigorating, ahhhh.

Bopnopper took the picture below, looking east and down across Left-Hand Hollow. We were up on the ridge for about a half-hour, waiting on the setting sun to come out from behind the cloud and light up the mountain across the hollow, over by Buzzard Rocks. But when the sun finally came out from behind the cloud, we realized the opposing mountain was in its own shadow. Oh, well, the color was still inspiring.

Everywhere we turned, there was color, color, color.

By the time we hiked back down the mountain, the sun had set completely and we were in the twilight. The last couple of pictures didn't come out as pretty, but in person, the colors were still fantastic, even in the almost-dark. Click on these pictures and see the full-sized versions.

By the time we got home, it was getting cold. Dubby had made some of her signature homemade chicken pot pie. Mmmm. This has been a great day. Life is really, really good.