The Trouble With Boys

Read an interesting article about education here.

A Jocose Lie

Courtesy of the Onion.

I'm not sure what's more disconcerting, that our seminar Friday had such a hard time coming up with an example of a jocose lie, or that less than half had heard of the Onion.

And of course I'm going to right a post on a.) how boring the seminar was, and b.) why Aquinas caused the boredome (forsooth he did not just say that!).

What Did You Expect?

Maybe it's because most Republicans are mid-western/southern red necked hillbillies.

Requiescat in Stomachum

I swear that's a real word.

Muddy Man is dead, I believe.

Super Rap Group "Dr. Human"

see here for information on my latest endeavor.

The Cult of Creativity

The aforementioned Mr. Pietta spoke gold in class yesterday. The Cult of Creativity, that trend in music and the plastic arts to "express one's inner being" or whatever bs they come up with, can only and ultimately lead to ugliness.

We're blank slates from birth: we know nothing. We learn through sensing exterior things. The source of beauty is outside of ourselves.

Those "artists" who look inside themselves for beauty can perhaps manage scatological monuments, and rightly so: for after all, what more appropriately emits from the vulgar man than shit?

Etymology

sine
trigonometric function, 1593 (in Thomas Fale's "Horologiographia, the Art of Dialling"), from L. sinus "fold in a garment, bend, curve." Used by Gherardo of Cremona c.1150 in M.L. translation of Arabic geometrical text to render Arabic jiba "chord of an arc, sine" (from Skt. jiva "bowstring"), which he confused with jaib "bundle, bosom, fold in a garment."

from Etymonline.

Apparently what happened is this, according to my Ptolemy (now Kepler) tutor: arabian written script doesn't have vowels, so he saw "jb" which stood for the chord of an arc, and thought it was "jb" for a fold in a garment, which is translated into latin as "sinus".

In other words, the use of our word "sine" as derived from the latin "sinus" has nothing to do with the original meaning of the word.

Inferno equals Consolation of Philosophy

(affecting the style of EP.)

Don't look for necessary causes of scientific knowledge in the motives of the poet. Dante must be lead through Hell: why Virgil? The Poet, Aeneas, Rome, New Rome, Noble Pagan, these are reasons enough. Do not consider what theological considerations say about one of the blessed or militant entering hell.

Theological and Philosophical necessity may influence but don't determine the poet's choice of symbolism.

Philosophy in Dante does not equal Salvation. Ary, Plato, et al. are in hell. Virgil guides: he doesn't teach. (except at points)

This is literature, not philosopy.

Philosophy analyzes: it breaks things down to their component parts to see things in a step-by-step manner, knowing the whole through its parts.

Literature sees: seeing the punishments of hell is enough to understand.

More in the Way of Music

I'm heading down to San Diego for the weekend with the sis to visit a friend and catch the Barber of Seville. I'm finally getting out of this anomalous catholic community in southern california to see the world!

Apparently the West Coast version of the walk for life was quite the experience: the San Fran crazies were out en masse.

Oh the Irony

Today in lab we were attempting titration, which is a laborious process which no one likes and apparently no one has managed with much success. It involes, with the slightest motions of the hands, dripping a most precise amount of acid into a base in order to neutralize it. I've heard tell that even Lavoisier, that lover of scientific exactitude, was known to "round off" his numbers a little in doing this process. It's not fun. Unless, of course, you happen to be in my lab group.

The lab assistant here, I'm pretty sure, has a love-hate relationship with our group; more love than hate, I'm sure. We goof off a little, causing little explosions and all your typical merry experiences from laboratory class, but we get our work done and usually well. Today, however, all hell broke loose, so to speak.

This was worse than when I burned sulfuric acid, producing profuse amounts of highly toxic gas which, to our great gladness, was lighter than atmospheric air. But not in a bad way. No, it was hilarious, and proved a point too.

One of my three partners, Peter, and I, usually do most of the serious experimental work, while the two girls act as lab assistants and take notes. They relentlessly mocked our failures today, not believing us when we complained how difficult the process was; nor did they believe the lab manual, which declared titration to be the most difficult elementary - we're liberal arts majors, OK - lab technique around. So after numerous failures, though excruciatingly close, we allowed "the girls" to give it a try.

We walked over to the counter and started laughing it up with the lab manager guy, when all of a sudden.

crash!

I turned around, saw the blue base spilled all over the lab surface, the burets (t pronounced, in case you were wondering) pouring - ok, dripping at a fast rate - their contents likewise all over the counter, and an expensive lab funnel on its way to crashing into the sink.

crash!

With two red sheep-faced girls sheepishly hiding their faces wtih sheepish little grins and even redder faces.

I've never felt so vindicated in my life.

Redemption

Mahler's 5th will be performed on my birthday. I'm going to this without fail, and hopefully I'll be able to convince someone to pitch in for a birthday present because I'm not risking rush tickets again.

And the cruelest month features Beethoven's 5th.

Providence = Pro Videntia

Anyway...So there was in fact an unforeseen disaster: the LA Philharmonic ticket office lied to me, straight up.

"Are there rush tickets available for tonight's performance?"
"Yes, sir."
"So I should be there 2 hours before the show, which is when rush tickets go on sale?"
"Yes, sir."

many hours later...

"4 rush tickets please."
"I'm sorry, we don't have any rush tickets available."
"I called earlier and the man said that there would be."
"I don't know why he told you that. I have 4 tickets for $90 a piece."
"Great. Good night."

Basically, longest and most expensive trip to ice cream I've ever taken in my life.

Do bad things just happen? I firmly believe, with Augustine and Boethius, that everything happens as a result of God's Divine Providence. What good came about from me missing this concert last night, when I was clearly told tickets would be available? I looked at the news tonight and neither TAC nor the Disney Hall exploded into flames last night, so my life wasn't in any danger. Morally? I doubt Sibelius disorders the soul, but the chick Hilary Hahn was playing.... I trust it's all for the best.

Either way, I'm not too thrilled about the whole affair, especially since the "new girl" was with us. We were trying to make a good impression, and that failed miserably.

One good consequence is I thought of a thesis while listening to "Sketches of Spain" last night, and I got through about half of Bach's b minor mass. (um, beauty beyond words...)

Yay for Me!

Barring unforeseen disaster, I will be seeing the Sibelius violin concerto played by Hilary Hahn and Shostakovich symphony 13 tonight for $10!

Hmmm...

I think I was actually more upset over the assassination of former President David Palmer on "24" last night than I would have been if our actual president would have been assassinated. It was like I lost a member of my own family. Maybe I'm just screwed up, but I don't think so. Here is my question: If you forced every registered voter in America to watch seasons 1-4 on DVD, and convinced Dennis Haysbert to legally change his name to David Palmer, don't you think he would win in a landslide in 2008? I have bounced this question off several people and Palmer has every vote so far, and most would have voted for him over Bush and Kerry.
-- Ryan Desmond, Miami

from Bill Simmons' Mailbag

Mountain Men, Buddhists, And BoyGirls

I've not cut my hair since I buzzed it sometime towards the end of summer. It's getting quite beastly, apparently in a shaggy-good-looking kind of way. (It's what they say.) So now, since I can, insofar as I am a college student without a job, girlfriend, or a mother nearby, I will grow a mountain man beard. It's unclear whether I am biologically able: only time will tell. The talented meghstan p. pennyfeather will be doing a "beard documentary" on the progress.

In the process of trying to convince a weary friend of mine to shave her head, dress in orange man togas, and move into a buddhist monastery, hoodwinking the head monk into believing not only that she was in fact a he, but also that he/she was not in a relationship with a certain other monk, in Taiwan, or Tibet, or Thailand - whichever! - I found myself tempted by the idea. Not to mention there are tigers over there in one or all of those countries - and need I remind you I killed a mountain lion with my bare hands before?

Patton said that while he was in Morocco celebrating with the Sultan, he heard a loud crash, sounds of a scrap, and then a few shots. Patton asked the returning guard what had happened. He said that a jaguar had leapt 20 feet and deftly maneuvered through palace guards until he attacked one of the sultan's sultry women, satisfying his animal blood lust. Before Patton could express his sorrow, the guard told him it was of no importance: she was merely a concubine.

So replace Morocco with Tibethailandwan, jaguars with tigers, a harem with a monastery, patton with me, and you've got yourself an adventure!

More Chuck

Thanks to Meghstan P.

Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice.

The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.

Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

To prove it isn't that big of a deal to beat cancer. Chuck Norris smoked 15 cartons of cigarettes a day for 2 years and aquired 7 different kinds of cancer only to rid them from his body by flexing for 30 minutes. Beat that, Lance Armstrong.

Chuck Norris can touch MC Hammer.

Don't Wait!

This is way too good to pass up.

I Wasn't Lying...

when I said posting would be down. I actually feel like I don't have anything to say, nor do I have anything to link to. (By the way, this is not unfounded. Have you seen Drudgereport? A sample headline: "Sometime this month, somewhere in suburban South or West, a couple, probably white Anglo Saxon Protestants or Hispanic, will conceive a baby who, when born next October, will become the 300 millionth American..." sounds like a slow day, Matt. Predicative news? honestly...)

Mainly, too much going on to write, and studies have shown that anything new tends to attract, so I'll keep your attention fixed to our blog by posting this mindless nonsense.

Easily the Best Website Ever!

Free Choral Music!!!

Gotta Love Apple

What's an Intel chip doing in a Mac? A whole lot more than it's ever done in a PC.

Boethius

"For now she has deserted you, and no man can ever be secure until he has been forsaken by Fortune."

If the loss of the things of fortune ought not to bring sorrow, that is, they are accidental to a man's happiness, then they are just that; and having them, too, would be accidental to man's happiness.

"Then evil is nothing, since God, who can do all things, can do no evil."

That has to be the most eloquent expression of that idea I've heard.

And Just For Fun

Because I couldn't resist. It's the cover of a vacuum cleaner my mum recieved for christmas.

You Pay For What You Get

Which is nothing.

School's begun again, so I'm guessing posting will be down for a little bit until everything settles.

Yay! For Etymology

I've been misusing this word: atrocity

1534, from L. atrocitatem (nom. atrocitas) "cruelty," noun of quality from atrox "fierce, cruel, frightful," from PIE *atro-ek-, from base *ater- "fire" + *okw- "see," thus "of fiery or threatening appearance." The noun meaning "an atrocious deed" is from 1793.

Was wondering where the heck this came from: boycott

1880, from Irish Land League ostracism of Capt. Charles C. Boycott (1832-1897) land agent of Lough-Mask in County Mayo, who refused to lower rents for his tenant farmers. Quickly adopted by newspapers in languages as far afield as Japanese (boikotto). The family name is from a place in England.

Who is that Pig? Take Him Out and Shoot Him!

Here's a picture of the aforementioned pig. (I'm still not sure of the name: perhaps it's muddy man, or mudface, or just pig.) I know it looks freezing, and it's hard to imagine how a mammal - I'm pretty sure pigs are mammals, though I'm not certain - can stand below freezing temperatures; so in case you were worried, let me tell you we put hay in that little house of his. Of course, the farmerman - not farmerwoman - who sold us the pig tells us that the hay is really for the humans. The pig doesn't feel the cold: humans feel it for him. So to sleep surely at night, we give the thing some token hay to keep itself warm. Beats me.

But it doesn't matter way too much, because the day of slaughter has been set for January 30th. Sadly I won't be home to witness this. But it's more than likely that there will still be choice cuts of pork stored away in the freezer by the time I get back for spring break or something. What a fitting end for a foul beast, to be eaten by the hand that fed.

Actually, it's like we're using the pig to convert all the trash scraps of food into edible meals. Rotten cabbage? coffee beans? banana peels? Throw 'em to the pig! He eats them, we eat him, and it's all a happy circle.

WSJ...

continues to impress. Here's a worthy read regarding how big families are viewed in our society, and how the general opinions, like usual, are exactly opposite of the truth.

ITU Cribs

That's my house. It's purty and sweet. And yes, that's my pops snowblowing the pond which is covered with snow in the first picture. (We like to skate.)

Priceless but Obscure (Somewhat)

1. Black Pudding
2. Guide to Kulchur
3. Veedon Fleece
4. Shostakovich
5. Tobias Picker
6. Taylor Ham
7. Hugh Kenner
8. Flatland
9. Charles Mingus
10. Diabelli Variations

The Problem With Politicians

I haven't ventured into politics in a while here, but the steady stream of scandal flowing from the filthy sea of Washington and its tributaries forbodes ill. We have Bush fulfilling the dream of the Straussian Neo-Cons establishing super-secret - no longer! - spying techniques on his own people. Again, he supposedly called the Constitution a "goddamn piece of paper." Not that this attitude is much of a surprise coming from the political elites: the high courts have had this mentality for a century.

When a government begins to serve its own interests it has already failed. The senators, congressman, presidents, justices, they all think that they have power, while admitting that this power comes from the people. With this premise, they do what they think is good for the people, not what the people want, because they themselves are in charge. This shows a widely accepted fundamental misunderstanding of a republican democracy.

Bush, Kennedy, Kerry, these cats are not people whom we've elected as our temporary rulers. No, in fact, they have been collectively chosen to serve - public servants they used to be called. They are temporarily slaves to the people: they must do our bidding for it was upon that condition that they were elected.

Surely understanding this concept would remove so many problems. A loyal servant to the people would amputate those cancerous branches and commissions which no longer seek the common good but their own.

Alas, such is not human nature. It is the great men, those better than ordinary, that must be elected.

Alas, such men rarely appeal to the majority of people.

An Exaggerated Whaaat?

someone in my house is playing Vanilla Ice...

Interesting Read

Here's something a friend wrote that's been on my mind as well of late. Possibility for the Demiurgus, Ryan?

Another Measure of Pound

Here's a rather long excerpt, though it is worth much thought.

In Europe, if you ask a man to define anything, his definition always moves away from the simple things that he knows perfectly well, it recedes into the unknown region, that is a region of remoter and progressively remoter abstraction.

Thus if you ask him what red is, he says it is a 'colour'.

If you ask him what a colour is, he tells you it is a vibration or a refraction of light, or a division of the spectrum.

And if you ask him what a vibration is, he tells you it is a mode of energy, or something of that sort, until you arrive at a modality of being, or non-being, or at any rate you get in beyond you depth, and beyond his depth.

*****

But when the Chinaman wanted to make a picture of something more complicated, or of a general idea, how did he go about it?

He is to define red. How can he do it in a picture that isn't painted in red paint?

He puts (or his ancestor put) together the abbreviated pictures of

ROSE, CHERRY, IRON RUST, FLAMINGO

*****

The Chinese "word" or ideogram for red is based on something everyone KNOWS.

- ABC of Reading, Ezra Pound

Despite What You Might Have Heard, Microsoft Computers Are So Awesome!!!

Yeah right. Yet another reason I love my iBook.

A Friend on Hope

"You're right, though, about Hope -- sometimes I feel like it's the only force in my life. If all the pain and all the stupid mistakes, all the mislaid words, all the sadness and all the joy are boiled down; what they all end in, or start in, is Hope."

She's beginning to write here. She's a good writer, clever and funny, but she's literally locked herself up on live journal and I haven't been able to link to her. I encourage reading.

Changing Gears

interesting article in the WSJ about teetotaling. poorly written and sometimes contradictory, but a salient voice of the silent, so to speak.

p.s. registration is required, so if you subscribe, log in. if you subscribe to the paype, look up Weekend Journal, Friday December 31.

Very Many Troubling Questions

I'm unable to sleep as a result of my pathetic acquiesence to the power of caffiene. One Coke at 8 of the clock keeps me up until 2:30 without fail.

I recently provoked a good friend at a party. I said something along the lines of, "what is life except to be holy? What else is there except to be devoted to God?" Obviously I was implying that both daily and celebratory events are in effect a waste of time and, more likely than not, a distraction. These sentiments brought about an annoyed response from said friend. She is wise and experienced beyond her years, so I in no way passed it off as someone trying to deny the painful truth.

I absolutely believe that there is nothing to life except sanctity and devotion to God. The problem is, however, what are the consequences of that? Does that rule out dancing as St. Francis seems to believe? or music, as Augustine? or marriage and what it entails, as St. Paul?

One's first reaction is, of course not! But what says experience? Think of all the saints you can name. How many were married?

To use an Aristotelian argument - what do the saints themselves believe?

Furthermore, St. Paul clearly says that ideally all should be celibate. But what St. Paul says is not in his own words. Indeed, as an inspired author, his words are the Word of God.

I'm going to leave this here.

As an aside, this post relates very much to the sub-title of this blog.

(See Deirdre for the de Sales passages and something of a sed contra.)

Newman on Aristotle

"While the world lasts, will Aristotle's doctrine on these matters last, for he is the oracle of nature and of truth. While we are men, we cannot help, to a great extent, being Aristotelians, for the great Master does but analyze the thoughts, feelings, views, and opinions of human kind. He has told us the meaning of our own words and ideas, before we were born. In many subject-matters, to think correctly, is to think like Aristotle; and we are his disciples whether we will or no, though we may not know it."

- Cardinal Newman

Happy New Year to all you witting or unwitting Aristotelians!