out of the blue

I just bought Neil Gaiman's new book of short stories, Fragile Things. I don't expect it to take long to read. I also got Old Man's War, by John Scalzi, from the library. So I have a good deal of new reading material, all of which I have been looking forward to. Forecast: a happy Smurf.

I was thinking about sheep earlier today, and it reminded me of something that I learned a long time ago. My fourth grade class went to visit a farm one October, and throughout the day we talked to the people in charge of the various animals: the man who took care of the cows, the lady who knew all the horses by name, the pig-man, and the chicken-keeper. The sheep were the last. Probably because they were so fuzzy and good to pet. Anyway, this lady was telling us that every sheep has its very own individual pattern of hairs, sort of like a fingerprint. Some sheep have curls closer together, some have slightly different directions or tightnesses of curls on their sides or their necks or their legs. She said that she knew her sheep so well that she could tell them apart just by running her fingers through their hair. She would often go out to them at midnight when she couldn't sleep, and whisper their names. "Hello Winifred." "How you doing, Molly?" Sometimes they would nuzzle her as they slept, and every once in a while she'd wake one of them up. And you know what? Sheep aren't as grumpy when they're woken up. They don't snap at you, they just realize that you're there, and that you care about them. She joked that she sometimes thought that she preferred sheep to people.

It makes me wistful. I wonder if I know anyone well enough to tell them apart just by being in their presence, just by that indefinable aura that fills any room that they occupy. Someday, I hope to.

Now for Lila's request, of something cute. Anything cute. I was thinking of painting her portrait just because it would be funny, but I decided against it (because I was too lazy). Anyway, I've been experimenting with a more poster-like style recently. Not as fuzzy and abstract as what I usually draw. I like the style quite a bit, and I think I'm going to use it more often. It's teaching me useful new techniques. Be sure to view the whole image, because it's funny, and the small one is incomplete because of how tall the full image is.

(See a larger version by following the link.)

DRAWING REQUESTS PROGRESS

• Andrea Crow – doodle of "The Cat and the Fiddle"
• Jenny Sullins – a pretty sunflower, or a swallow midflight, with the right colors
• Cami Wendlandt – a lighthouse shining over the ocean at night
• Sarah Redd – a flying purple llama
• Ann Foreyt – draw anything, but at the park (view)
• Soren Laulainen – something Fugue-related, or Rock Lake
• Paul Moore – a forest-dwelling ascetic being given an ice cream cone
• Aya – a picture of a very fat cat looking arrogant (view)
• Lila – something cute (view)
• Laila – a Rusty

There has been a flurry of activity in the "blogosphere" around the passing away of John M. Ford. Making Light just posted an entry with a large number of his various comments and writings (there seems not to be much distinction between the two terms, in his case). I found a number of them wildly entertaining, so I'm going to reprint them here. The original article on Making Light is here: Mike Ford: Occasional Works (Pt. One) I also have one stolen from Neil Gaiman's journal.

John M. Ford's comments are so chock full of allusion that you might just drown in it, and he has a satirical streak as wide as the Mississippi. Beware.

( John M. Ford, selective collection )

For those of you who missed Aaron's recent adventures, here is a picture I took of him breathing fire. That's one talented madman!

Thesis 1: Morality Exists Regardless of God's Existence

If you can answer this question "no", you're saying that regardless of whether God exists or not, you're not going to go around raping people and murdering people. You're saying that it doesn't matter whether God exists or not: this is still going to be wrong.

To say this is to say that God Himself exists only within morality. You may say that this morality is a part of Him, but no matter how you look at it, God is bound by morality. He cannot morally do anything that would be wrong if we did it, were we in His place with all of His knowledge and wisdom. Therefore, we can evaluate God's supposed actions from a moral standpoint and decide whether he was behaving morally or not (always keeping in mind that, of course, we do not possess omniscience or perfect wisdom, things that God is postulated to possess).

This isn't, of course, a watertight argument. You may argue that if God is morality, then the only reason you don't steal rape or murder is because God commanded it. This seems to me to be the strongest counterargument, but I would still find it difficult to accept. To accept this is to say that morality is arbitrary – that God, in His Infinite Wisdom, spoke forth into the Darkness and said "and This is the Way it Shall Be: Man shall not take from his brother that which is not freely given unto him; Neither shall he take from a woman that which she does not freely give unto him", and he could just as likely have said "and This is the Way it Shall Be: Man shall go and do whatever the Hell he wants, for I have created him that if he be strong, he shall rule over the earth and over his fellows to his heart's content."

I, for one, find this distasteful.

Therefore, I subscribe to the Thesis: that Morality exists regardless of God's existence.

I hate those times when you wish something terrible would happen so you feel justified being depressed.

I hate wanting to cry, but being unable to summon tears.

I hate being a footnote.

*shiver*

This will pass shortly. But it is how I feel at this precise moment. Ugh. I think I'm going to go take a shower. Sorry to go so emo on you all….

Aaron just told me a story about his childhood. It's not important what, but it is important that in the end he burned a poem in a jar, closed the lid, and wrote "Broken Dreams" on the top. I say "You're so emo, Aaron."

"Shut up!"

I gesture up and down at his completely black clothing that he earlier described as his Hamlet costume. He tries to think of a way to prove me wrong, so he unzips his pants and shows me that his boxers aren't black. But, oh wait, they are.

"FUCK!"

Three minutes ago, the phone rings. I pick it up. "Hello?"

"This is Cami. Can I speak to the lady of the house?" in a rather ordering tone. (Not, obviously, the usual Cami.)

*brief pause while I think of how to respond*

"Can I speak to the lady of the house!" same tone.

"Well, actually, this is a college residence. We have eight students living here." I didn't mention that only three of them were ladies, and I'd be hard-pressed to say who the "lady of the house" would be. Probably Kenlyn.

"I'm sorry, goodbye." This was a bit contrite, as if she had done something wrong or embarrassing. But no indication of what was going on, no "I'm sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number" or anything like that. I was very confused.

Any ideas what this was? Do you think she was calling her next-door neighbor about some hijinks their kids were up to and dialed the wrong number? I can't think of what sort of salesperson would speak in a commanding, irritated tone….

If any of you still think our country is holding to the high moral ground, you should read this. If you are not physically sick throughout a large portion of the article, there may be something wrong with you. I have a fairly strong ability to suppress revulsion, and it was entirely overcome.

The article is a description of various torture techniques that have been used in interrogations, according to "former and current intelligence officers and supervisors." [ABC News] The techniques have been authorized since March 2002, although a couple of them have now been officially banned.

A practical concern of torture, in addition to all the moral outrage that it invokes, is that you can persuade anyone to admit to anything if you apply these techniques. The most stolid of the prisoners, Khalid Sheik Mohammed, was able to resist under the most horrendous of these tortures for a mere two-and-a-half minutes. It must must be utter hell, to break a well-trained man so quickly. The CIA agents who underwent it themselves withstood it for an average of only 15 seconds.

There is something wrong with our country. There is something wrong with the world. It is up to our generation to stop it, to react against the atrocities of the current age and put an end to them.