You’ve got to hand it to the Irish, they sure can sing. Although I have only a smattering of Irish blood, Irish folk songs have beguiled me since I was a boy. At the drop of a hat I could sing dozens and dozens of Irish folk songs by heart, so keep a good grip on your headwear in my vicinity.

But something about Irish songs has perplexed me. They have plenty of songs celebrating their heroes, but have you noticed something about their heroes?

Roddy McCorley

Up the narrow streets he strides, smiling, proud, and young
Upon the hang-rope on his neck, his golden ringlets flung,
There was never a tear in his blue eyes, both sad and bright are they,
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the Bridge of Toome today.

The Minstrel Boy

The minstrel fell but the yeoman’s chains
Could not pull that proud soul under

Kelly the Boy from Kilanne

Poor Wexford stripped naked hung high on a cross
With her heart pierced by traitors and knaves

Boulavogue

At Vinegar Hill, o’er pleasant Slaney,
Our heroes vainly stood back to back,
The British soldiers took Father Murphy
And burned his body upon the rack

The Dying Rebel

My only son was shot in Dublin,
Fighting for his country bold

Tiperrary

His comrades gathered around him
To bid him a last farewell
He was as true and as brave a lad
As ever in battle fell

The Croppy Boy

As I stood on the gallows high,
My aged father did me deny

Foggy Dew

While Britannia’s sons with their long range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew
the bravest fell, and the mourning bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the springing of the year

Kevin Barry

In Mount Joy Jail one Monday morning,
High upon the gallow’s string
Kevin Barry gave his young life
For the cause of liberty.
But a lad of 18 summers,
Yet no true man can deny,
As he walked to death that morning,
He proudly held his head up high.

James Connolly

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland
The firing party he bravely did face.
Then the order sang out: Present arms, fire!
James Connolly fell into a newly dug grave.

God Save Ireland

High upon the gallows tree swung the noble hearted three~~

I could go on, but you should notice the trend by now: all their heroes get exterminated, many by execution rather than on the battlefield.

For a long time I have wondered why it is that Irish folk songs always go on and on about how bravely their heroes met their deaths. Can't they think more positively?

The answer occurred to me: the Irish have never won a war. I am no authority on Irish history, but I think that throughout their history, they have lost every war they fought, or rather, if they did win any wars, those wars were fought against other Irish.

Please correct me if I am wrong, but off the top of my head, I cannot think of a single war the Irish won.

Now I’ve said that, the IRA will probably bomb my blog.

The luck of the Irish! But happy Saint Patrick’s Day anyway. God save Ireland, just so they can keep singing.

About ten days ago, I bought a bunch of plantains from MM’s truck and hung them up to ripen. An hour earlier, Lacya had done the same. She lives a few minute’s walk away, at the roadside; her elevation is about 50 meters below mine.

Her plantains have been ripe for days, already turning brown, and half have been eaten already. Mine are just now turning yellow, but are mostly green. I expect to start eating them in a few more days.

Talk about microclimate! If I shouted loud enough, she could hear me, but conditions APBRP* are clearly different. I conjecture the road is the deciding factor, with the heat from the asphalt and passing cars. Now multiply that by the number of paved roads and motor vehicles in your vicinity. Is it any wonder we are faced with global warming?

====

*APBRP is a scientific term for measuring meteorological variation; it stands for As Proved By Ripening Plantains, and was invented by GB Talovich in March 2007. Application is, for some reason, still not widespread; suspect a conspiracy of silence. Or silliness.

李漁 閒情偶寄:

養生之訣，當以善睡屬先。睡能還精，睡能養氣，睡能健脾益胃，睡能堅骨壯筋。

Good night.

「三四十年前，醫院一進去就有藥味，只有耕莘醫院沒有，因為他們天天清潔。那個時候，所有醫院，只有耕莘最乾淨。有一次我到桃園看朋友，他住省立醫院，Yugan，桃園醫院真髒！一進去就聞到藥味、病人的味道、很多味道，真臭！很臭！比我們泰雅山上打獵的工寮還髒！沒看過那麼髒的醫院，臺灣最髒的。

「有人跟我說，『不要去耕莘醫院，因為你是基督徒，他們是天主教醫院，你是基督徒，所以你應該到馬偕。』Yugan，醫生不在乎你是甚麼教，只要是病人，醫生就醫。回教徒生病，醫生照樣醫。所以我是基督徒，可是我還是要去耕莘。」

All those who labor under the fantasy that the United States was founded as a Christian nation would do well to note that at the very beginning, John Winthrop argued heatedly against making the Massachusetts Bay Colony more democratic, because he observed that would go against the scriptures.

As I recall, there is an Old Testament book called Kings, but no book called Presidents or Senators. For senators, you have to look to pagan Rome. Democracy sprang from heathen Greece, not monarchic Israel.

論衡率性篇：「不患性惡，患其不服聖教。」斯語似是，卻有病。聖教能服人，以其合人性；倘聖者教人飛樹築巢，雖欲勉為之，亦不可行也。是以聖人教天下，化民風，順其本然者而為教。

不思善不思惡，因為善惡是人為假合；無客觀善，無客觀惡，因于人之需要，而善惡生焉。何以言「人為假合」？若人立崖觀狂瀾，推而墜之，惡也；但魚乘狂瀾置身崖上，推而墜之，善也。推而墜之，一也，于人于魚異，人魚不同性，故其善惡亦不同。

人性若惡，無以服聖教；若不能服人，非聖教也矣。

From www.overheardinnewyork.com
Man to child in stroller: ... Then we push her over the edge of the cliff. That's called getting even!--

President & 5th Ave, BrooklynOverheard by: George

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
A movie about the British hangman Albert Pierrepoint showed on the flight from LA to HK. In his autobiography, Executioner: Pierrepoint, he stated, "I have come to the conclusion that executions solve nothing, and are only an antiquated relic of a primitive desire for revenge which takes the easy way and hands over the responsibility for revenge to other people. "

There has been quite a bit of discussion recently about the death penalty. If the death penalty is used as an instrument of the law, and does not discriminate against certain races, classes, or castes, it does have the advantage that it does a good job of assuring that the offender does not offend again.

If a fair trial can be assured, that seems reasonable. The objection to the death penalty has been made that it is a form of revenge. First, what's wrong with revenge?

Second, if justice is not to be vengeful, what is to be said about jails? If jails are not revenge, what are they?

I agree with the principle of removing evildoers from society so society may function freely and safely without harm. The crux of all my arguments is fair police and fair trials; for example, in America, police and courts which do not discriminate against people with black skin or Spanish accents. (In this respect, the US might learn something from Taiwan; I have never heard any complaints about police or judicial prejudice against aborigines.)

If prisoners learned some sort of lessons in jails, I would not call jails vengeful. Constructive lessons, I mean. It would be nice if prisoners learned better citizenship, a trade, self respect, better behavior. I have never been in prison, but I understand that American prisoners learn humiliation, rape, hate, and how to be a more effective criminal. The only motive for shutting people up in modern prisons, especially American prisons, seems to be to make them suffer. That's revenge. So if that is ok, what's wrong with the death penalty as revenge?

Too often they tell me to answer my doubts with prayer, which seems very much like addressing one's hunger by thinking of food.
-- Valentino Achek Deng, in What is the What

A great difference between Christianity and Buddhism. Christianity does not allow doubt; Buddhism encourages doubt. 小疑小悟，大疑大悟.

We live in an age that tells us, Be Yourself, then in the next breath tells us, straighten your teeth! get a nose job! have a face lift! lose those wrinkles! dye your hair! In other words, be yourself, just so you are just like everybody else.

Mark my words, the next big thing will be plastic surgery for pets. I'm not talking about simple tail docking or ear chopping. Think of nose jobs, eye redoes, fur transplants, coat dyes, breast implants, nail jobs, and tail lengthening! Yes, size does matter! Aren't you aware that your dog feels inferior when all the other pooches wag their studly, masculine tails, and your dog's tail JUST DOESN'T MEASURE UP? Now proven surgical techniques will lengthen your dog's tail, providing greater satisfaction ("She barked all night long when I wagged my new tail!" an authentic quote from a satisfied customer, Rover O. of Altoona, PA). Cats will flee in terror at the sight of your dog's mighty new tail! Your neighbors' dogs will cringe in envy! Don't wait, bring your dog NOW to Barnum's Pet Plastic Surgery Clinic; easy financing, low interest!

Tell me this isn't going to be the biggest craze since hula hoops! If you're smart, you'll invest now, ahead of the curve.

I don't know about other places, but in Taipei you can drop your dog off on your way to work at a dog spa, where your dog will have a sauna and shampoo; after a hard day of work, you pick up your dog, perfumed and combed, with ribbons in its hair and painted toenails. You know that a dog's favorite perfume is dead fish, the kind that has been on the beach for four days under a strong sun, but you also know the dog spa isn't spraying your pet with anything like that. It's a wonder more people don't get bitten by their dogs!

In the Boston subway, the History Channel advertises its latest program with a photo of a rockclimber making his way across a stone face that looks like a Buddha in Angkor Wat. The climber is protected by a chock placed in a crack in the Buddha's forehead.

This image is highly offensive on many counts. Angkor Wat is a fragile site of great age; I am appalled that the History Channel feels that sending a climber to grind his feet into the rock is the proper way to display and protect this precious sculpture. If he fell, how much damage would the chock do to the sculpture? Does the History Channel seriously believe that this is a good example of how we are to act in an ancient archeological site of great cultural and religious significance?

The act of climbing across the face of a Buddha is shocking, and expresses extreme contempt for all Buddhists everywhere. Placing shoes on this ancient monument demonstrates great disrespect for the cultural treasures of the people of Cambodia. How would the American public feel if a Cambodian climbed into the Lincoln Memorial to urinate on Lincoln's head? What would Christians do if the History Channel advertised its latest programs with photos of a Buddhist trampling across DaVinci's Last Supper in mountain boots, or climbing the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with carefully placed chocks?

This photograph is a sad example of American arrogance and the contempt with which the History Channel holds other cultures and religions.

我這生聽過演講技術最爛的，毫無疑問是Zopa仁波切。”….. yes… it is….. yes…. yes…. it is ….. no ….. it is …. yellow …. no, it is yellow, yes ….. no ….. yellow …. it ….. yellow, no ….. and so!.... yes …. it is ….. it …. no ……it …. yellow …. and so!….. yes ….. yes, yellow, therefore ….. you see, yellow, therefore …. and so! but …. yes…. it is ….. no ….. it is …. yellow …. no, it is yes yellow, no ….. and so! … yellow …..” 講這麼一段，至少三分鐘。聽過他演講的話，知道我這是實錄，一點也不誇張。他的忠實弟子雷久南博士非常厲害，上師台上不知所云五六分鐘，她不只聽懂藏腔英語，還能把上師要講的重點很清楚地譯成國語。

演講技術那麼爛，為甚麼要聽呢？不要聽，可是要知道，他那樣講，是因為他上台入定。不要理他講的，他放的氣絕妙無比；他講的時候，專心浸淫他的氣場中，然後等雷博士講解。

不僅吸了很多好氣，很多重要修行法門，也是跟他學的；說不定是雷久南自己的心得報告，借上師的場發表的；不得而知，因為上師講甚麼，我真的不知道。

聽說他有一次在印度演講，在台上「演講」三個小時，等他睜開眼睛結束的時候，演講廳空無一人。大家不耐煩，全走光了。

We take so much pride in progress, but how much real progress have we made? Our farming ancestors spent their working days trudging with a plow following (depending on the culture) a horse's rear end, a mule's rear end, or a water buffalo's rear end.

When you think of President Dubya or President Bean (陳水扁 of the ROC), you have to ask, What's the difference? We're still following a dumb mammal's rear end.

Keep your eye on your leader and you STILL get the same thing.

The Catholic church could very easily make a strong comeback. All they would have to do is resurrect the almost forgotten cult of St Wilgefortis. Who? The saint for getting rid of detested husbands.

They could gild the dome of St Peter's with the revenue for one year from the Wilgefortis cult in the US alone.

從香港飛回臺灣的飛機上有一位先生讀一本「企業策略」；我覺得很恐怖，這種書怎會有人想看？可是他看得彷彿津津有味。坐捷運看人把報紙先翻開財經板；更甚者，書店裏商業書類擺出那麼多書目，不止有人花錢買，還有人花時間花心血寫，于我，簡直是無法理喻。

話又說回來，文化、藝術工作者或鄙視、仇視那種企業策略讀者，實也不妥：沒有他們怎麼有我們？我畢生志氣，希望成為社會的寄生蟲。可是我看清楚，要寄生嘛，要有可寄生之處。

楊哥小時很想拉小提琴，爺奶罵、父母不准：吃都吃不飽，拉甚麼琴？那時臺灣太窮。聽過很多人說年少時愛好文化藝術，只因臺灣太窮，父母不准，朋友譏笑，師長不許，同學反對，只好作罷。

現在臺灣富裕，可以養活我這種閒雜人口，對于企業策略讀者，我感恩。休叫我看就是了。

說不定我的甲骨金文論語禮記，他們不愛看。哈哈哈說笑，像「古籀彙編」如此精彩的書，怎麼可能有人不愛看？

On trips to the US, I have noticed that at cash registers I often get a slightly different kind of service than other customers. It is a feeling that I have been keeping an eye on over the years. At first I thought it might just be me, or the luck of the draw.

On this trip to Boston, I refined that. This is more noticeable in the East, and hardly occurs in California. I observed that if the person at the cash register speaks English with an accent, I get the same service as anyone else, but if the person at the cash register clearly speaks American English as a first (only) language, the service I get is slightly different from that accorded 'real' Americans. Whether the clerk is Black or White doesn't matter. They will greet other customers with an easy smile, Hi how are you having a nice day, but when I get up, it's just: Nineteen dollars and ninety eight cents. There is some impatience, get this guy out of the way. It is not pronounced, but they seem just a little beat eager to get me gone.

I am sure they are not aware of it, because it is subtle, but this has happened so often that I have to wonder, am I wearing the wrong type of shirt or something? What goes? My guess is, since I have lived most of my life in Taiwan, my body language is a bit different from that of most Americans, and the clerks unconsciously pick up on that. Their attitude is not racial, since I am a white American male getting slightly different treatment from the other white American males.

I am writing this not as an explanation or conclusion, but as a comment on something I have observed. This is speculation, not definitive.

Prejudice may not always be racial, but sometimes a reaction to something strange, a way of dealing with an uncertain situation.

Or am I just weird?

Ken left a New Yorker magazine with an article discussing films on the web: "You can shoot a movie on your cell phone, transfer it to your computer, and post in on YouTube three minutes later." Clear enough, but consider: to a reader in Lincoln's day that sentence would have been incomprehensible. For a reader 150 years ago, the only identifiable noun would have been 'minutes.'

Ken told me he knew an old woman whose nanny had seen Abraham Lincoln.

So close yet so far!

If you wonder who won the war on terrorism, take an international flight out of Los Angeles. After checking in, I was instructed to take my checked luggage for inspection. I took my place at the end of a long line and inched forward for half an hour. Three or four TSA agents were chatting leisurely as they slowly moved luggage, piece by piece, into a screened off area to X ray. One of the agents was so fat that he could barely walk; he had to get his arms and legs swinging to launch himself forward to take a step. Yes, they are fighting terrorism with science and machines, but he was hardly a sight to inspire awe. Just so you don't get under him if he stumbles.

Maybe the Security people figured they were working too hard, or maybe they decided it was time to irritate the passengers: the line froze, and we didn't move for fifteen minutes. I worried I would miss my flight, so Chao watched my luggage as I sought an airline representative. She came over and interceded on my behalf, so I was jumped to the front of this line, where I had the privilege of turning over my luggage to a rude, surly TSA agent; the airline representative commented that he was much nicer than most.

After the unpleasant TSA agent took my luggage, I had to go stand in another line until they said I could go. Then I rushed to my gate, where I got to stand in another line, take off my shoes and jacket, and prove that I was not carrying anything dangerous, such as bottled water, onto the plane. No wonder the flight took off late.

My feeling was very strong that passengers are subjected to all this bother not for security, but to intimidate: you are in our hands now and you WILL obey.

A repeating announcement said that we were being subjected to this harassment for our traveling safety. Traveling safety, my ash. In Taiwan when I checked in for my flight to LA, a conveyor belt whisked my luggage directly to an X ray machine at the end of the counter: no fuss, no bother, no danger or inconvenience to anyone. If the authorities here in Taiwan badgered passengers the way American authorities do, people would make such a fuss that our civil rights would be quickly restored. Why do Americans tolerate such rudeness? Do we have no right to civility in American airports?

Americans should remain silent for the last line when they sing the national anthem: the land of the free and the home of the brave? The country has been cowed.

A day for parting. This morning we said goodbye to Mom and made our separate ways. I came back to Taiwan, Chao went back to Boston, Steph went back to SF, and Mom went back to bed.

When Steph dropped us off at the Cathay Pacific terminal, I told her, "Safe flying."

>Huh?

<Safe flying.

>Flying.

<Yeah.

>Okay, flying.

<Yeah, safe flying.

>I just did.

>Did what?

>Say flying.

<Yeah, you too.

>What do you mean?

<I said, safe flying.

>I said it already.

<You said what already?

>Flying. You told me to say flying.

<…. Steph. I said… safe. flying. I was wishing you safety on your flight.

It was about then that we noticed the lady next to us about to fall over guffawing.

大一修論語，讀到「父母在，不遠遊，遊必有方」，謝新瑞老師笑問，「陶維極同學對這章看法如何？」只能以笑對。

卻思斯，理論難容實際，況世易事異。古者交通不便，非大事不出遠門，但孝子遠遊亦常事。漢孝廉遴官，官則遠遷；唐亦崇儒，除官千里外。

今由火車而汽車飛機，從電報電話而電腦即時通，不同于夫子之世。父母在，遊而有方，可矣。

==
怎樣？圓得漂亮嗎？

You can barely believe your eyes. At Roland Heights, I saw a steakhouse sign that read BLACK ANGUS. Fine, but I read it without the G. Something like parson's nose?

My mother's bookshelf boasts a title I thought read Alternative Curses. What kind of church has Mom gotten involved with? My eyes had inserted an extra S in the second word of the name of a book about homeopathy, reflexology, and acupuncture.

Today we flew to LA. At Boston's Logan Airport, we saw signs for a no-frill airline called Jet Black, if I recall correctly. Chao explained why their prices are so low. First, the passengers push the airline to the runway, which cuts down on fuel costs. Federal law requires in-flight crew perform the exit-lifevest dance, so Jet Black provides one in-flight crewperson per flight; anybody qualified may also perform the duty for an additional five bucks off their ticket. If there is a Flight Attendant, that Attendant appoints a passenger Chief, and parachutes out the stern of the plane to serve on the next flight. Then the Chief is in charge.

Of course there are no in-flight meals. As a matter of fact, in addition to bringing your own sandwiches, you have to bring your own stool or chair to sit on, and on all flights lasting more than one hour, the passengers are required to chip in whatever they brought to help feed the pilot. Needless to say, there is no luggage allowance. The only carryon luggage allowed is either A, lunch, or B, a begging bowl. To circumvent this requirement, some passengers wear so many layers of clothing that they can barely bend their arms. Just as well, because not all the windows have glass, and it gets cold up there, not that the planes fly very high; they routinely clip telephone poles and douglas firs, but hey, anything to keep costs down!

Once the plane has landed, the passengers help push it to the gate. This may be more difficult than it sounds, because Jet Black planes frequently don't carry enough fuel and come down miles shy of the runway. There are even accounts of passengers ferrying a jet across a river to reach the airport.

Anyway, that's what Chao told me, and it must be right, because she heard it from Daiwei, who flew Jet Black from Buffalo.

Flew, I mean really flew. Daiwei got designated Pilot, for twenty dollars off her fare, plus a Quick Guide to Flying. But she had to sign for that, and return it at the end of the flight.

People in Boston don't kid around about sweets. At Rosie's Bakery on Mass Ave in Cambridge I chose a luxurious, enticing black slab subtly named a Chocolate Orgasm Brownie. Instant Diabetes would serve just as well as its name. After an hour's work, I arose, stuffed and content that I had met The Brownie to End All Brownies.

Two things I really like about Boston:
Pedestrians take jaywalking as a natural right, to be exercised often and enthusiastically.
Passengers on the subway read good books.

The snow cover froze overnight, so you see a lot of broken and bent snow shovels discarded by the way.

frozen solid

the advantage being that you don't have to worry about anyone stealing your car.
not before spring, at least

The falling snow was soon replaced by freezing rain. The snow covering the ground turned to slush, which filled the gutters. I was amazed by the result. Greater Boston is home to MIT, Harvard, and a host of schools, all of which produce engineers, city planners, and urban designers by the gaggle, and they can't manage to keep their streets and sidewalks endurable during the winter. Hasn't it ever snowed here before? Plunging off the sidewalk onto the crosswalk, you have to wade through frigid water backed up in the gutter and trust that your boots are waterproof and high enough to stay above waterline. Where have all those engineers gotten off to? Or do they worship rarefied theory so fervently that mundane practical applications that might keep feet dry are beneath their exalted gaze?

blaq kwara smuran kawas na bzoq

山豬在山諸事宜
野人在野萬般樂

Happy pig!

Americans call Boston Beantown, but I think Oniontown would be more apt, or even Garlictown. I haven't seen a lot of beans on menus, but the only restaurant dishes that don't have onions have garlic. Onions and garlic are not kosher for Buddhists, so eating here is difficult.

Restaurants in other American cities I have visited offer vegetarian dishes that generally do not have onions or garlic, but here even the Chinese restaurants put these smelly, petulant vegetables in their vegetarian dishes; they may never have heard of "Buddhism."

The other day we finally found a pizza without onions or garlic! … it had scallions.

note: onions, garlic, leeks, and scallions are not eaten by Buddhists, because they unsettle the mind and body. Plus they reek.

Hurrah, it finally began to snow!

General Talovich prepares to lead the attack on Canada. Photo by Chao, Charles River, Boston

JAP: "Other people go to Paris and take pictures of the Eiffel Tower, right? So when Ronny went, what did her parents take pictures of? They took pictures of Ronny shopping. 'Oh, here's Ronny going into Chanel – what will we find here?' Disgusting!"
overheard in Porter Square Dunkin' Donuts

Before I reached Boston, I had mentally prepared myself for Bostonian pronunciation: pahk the cahh in Hahvahd yahd type of thing. To my surprise, Bostonians mumble. They slur and slosh their words about so that I have trouble understanding them. Subway announcements could be in Lithuanian, for all the help they are: Disstren zapproachin Pwodaskwayuh frawyupassnguhz wid hyup hyup whoo kickapoo tippecanoe n Tyler too.

Harvard Cooperative has a bookstore called the Coop, pronounced not co-op, but coop, as in chicken. Ringing up my purchase, the lady at the counter asked me, "Dyoo have a cucumber?" Fortunately, I did not answer, "No, but we bought some carrots earlier." I realized she had asked me, "Do you have a Coop number?"

Overheard in LAX: "I'm a proud father today! My son got an award from his school for tardiness!"

A week before my departure, Yumin started sulking. I told him, keep an eye on the place for me, and look after your sister, and I'll be back in a couple weeks. He brooded and moped.

When I took Ken out for a walk, Yumin went part of the way with us and then turned back home. Ken said, Maybe he's worried he won't get fed. When I got home, I told Yumin, the neighbors will feed you every day, you don't have anything to worry about, just stay near home and play with your sister, and bark if anybody comes near; you'll get fed every day.

Since then, he has been a happy beagle again.

恭喜恭喜，南陽街最後一顆榕樹已經成功地拔除摧毀了。原來此處有幾顆綠意昂然的榕樹，為了蓋一棟細小型建築物，把樹給殺害了，將來此處可以有更多水泥！！市民不必在此看到沒有經濟效益、佔地不賺錢的樹，因此心可以不往大自然飄，可以很扎實紮住于賺錢營利的要事上。

對街的那幾顆也挖掉的話，也可以多鋪幾坪柏油，不知道有關單位遲遲不動手。

I've decided to become a professional skeptic. Every time a real breakthrough is achieved, reporters round up a professional skeptic who will make sour noises of disapproval. That's what I want to do: easy money, easy fame.

It's a cinch to be a professional skeptic. What are the qualifications?

First, if it wasn't something you knew by the time you finished high school, it can't possibly be true.

Second, if it's something you never heard before and doesn't fit the narrowly restricted pinholes through which you view the universe, it can't possibly be true.

Third, you have to be absolutely sure of yourself. No room for introspection or conflicting viewpoints. Rigid dogma, that's what you need.

And you're in business! To prove my acuity in this line, I have posed some real stingers of questions and provided my professional skeptic answers.

Methane trapped undersea could contribute to global warming if it escapes into the atmosphere. T or F?
F, of course. Nobody ever told me that there was methane trapped under the sea, and if there were, who trapped it? And then it might burst its shackles and arise to terrorize the earth? Oh dear, this reads like a dreadful Grade B- sci fi flick.

In the interests of utter objectivity and thoroughness, I phoned a prominent scientific researcher connected with the Bush administration. He assured me that there is no methane undersea whatsoever, but in case there is, that will necessitate immediate drilling for oil in the Artic, as well as a further troop buildup in Iraq.

Automobiles produce pollution. T or F?
F again. Automobiles produce enormous amounts of pollutants, but not pollution. True scientists pay special attention to the exact utilization of verbal vocabularical units. That's why we sound so scientismistic.

It is possible to tell when someone is staring at you, even if you do not see that person. T or F?
F, utterly F. In the interests of rigorous scientific rigmarole, I personally performed exhaustive tests. I placed myself in highly frequented local malls and stared at sexy young females who were not looking at me. Not one of the 247 SYFs I ogled even glanced at me. Although I did get followed home by a young man wearing pink pants and a violet shirt. Yoohoo!

Eating eggs is good for your health. T or F?
T, absolutely T, because my mother always fixed eggs for me when I was little, and if you can't trust your mother, who can you trust? Some pointy headed geeks who do research without approval from the dairy interests? Let's get realistic!

Global warming is caused by human activity. T or F?
Global warming again? What's the matter, why do you hate America? Do you realize that your hatred for freedom and democracy are aiding Osama bin Laden and his buddy Saddam? This sort of question proves the necessity of drilling for oil in Arctic nature preserves, further troop buildups in Iraq, and a crackdown on nuts like you.

Katrina was god's judgment against the US because the US has flirted dangerously with Darwinism. T or F?
T. I consulted highly respected scientific authorities, such as the West Texas Christian Prayer Circle, Oklahoma Synod Against Darwinism, and the Orange County Christian Crusade Against Filth, among others. They all concurred that Darwinism was one of the main causes of Katrina, although they also listed other factors including civil rights, gay rights, abortion, improperly worn baseball caps, environmental protection, illegal immigrants, long hair on men, foreign languages, vegetarianism, spotted owls, gun control, anti-smoking legislation, abortion, restrictions on prayers in school, body piercing, and so forth. The West Texas group informed me that 7 of their 12 snakes were adamant that Darwinism was the cause of Katrina, so you see we have a very definite, very authoritative scientific figure to use here, that is, 83.6%.

Guns kill people: T or F? People kill people: T or F?
F and F! Both wrong. Guns don't kill people, people don't kill people, bullets kill people.

Traditional Chinese pharmacists used to grind dinosaur fossils into powder to use as medicine. Dragon bones have therapeutic properties: T or F?
F. Absolutely no empirical clinical trials have ever been carried out to investigate whether or not ground up fossils cure diseases, but because traditional Chinese doctors worked according to centuries of experience rather than Western laboratory procedure, we need no experiments to know that they are superstitious. Their practical experience does not conform to our prejudices; that in itself stands as proof positive that our skepticism is the Truth and that their knowledge is superstition (that's what being a professional skeptic is all about, reinforcing your own biases). Who you gonna believe, a white man in a lab coat or suit and tie, or some heathen Chinee who may not even speak English? Sheesh! Next question.

Aura Lee Bacillus (known to you non-scientific peons as the Northern Lights) is caused by the earth farting, T or F?
T. For scientific discussion, please refer to November 2, 2005 this blog.

Dogs are capable of sensing their people's return long before any distinguishable physical signs are evident: T or F?
F. In all the experiments purportedly carried out on this subject, actually the dogs were alerted by text messages sent to receivers hidden in their collars. I was tipped off on this one by the so-called 'scientists' gardener, who said he picks up the text messages in his fillings, but he can't take them out to read them, so he doesn't know what they say.

People used to think that fighting bulls charged the matador's red cape because the color red enraged them, but actually bulls are colorblind so they cannot see red. T or F?
Now this is a question for a real professional skeptic, one that separates the men from the boys, and we professional skeptics don't believe in sexism. Of course this is F. Of course bulls can see red. However, they are colorblind, so they cannot distinguish red from other colors.

There! I have proved the caliber of my skepticism, so bring on the contracts! Just throw the latest scientific advance at me, and (for a fee) I will prove that it just ain't so. After all, being a professional skeptic is not very different from the last question: it's all a bunch of bull.

Here's how my doorbells work. Here you see Ken jingling one of the little bells attached to the new doors. When you ring the bells, the dogs rush out and start biting you. When I hear you scream, I go out to see who it is, and decide whether to invite you in for tea or let the dogs finish their meal.

And it works without electricity!

Before, when people asked me how to say 枸杞 in English, I was always at a loss. The Chinese-English dictionary had a Latin name, but there was no way to say it in English. Besides, who ever saw 枸杞 in the US?

Last year in the States when I saw 枸杞 being promoted as the latest great health food, I was immediately eager to see how they said it in English: goji, a rough transliteration. Ok, great, we've got something we can work with. Gojis, or goji berries.

Yesterday I took Ken to see the Jade Market and Flower Market. Near the 信義end of the Flower Market there's a stand selling delicious drinks. They had hot ginger soup with goji, just the thing for the dropping temperatures of late afternoon! I suggested Ken try some. He wanted to know what was in it. Aha, a chance to use the new word for which I had searched so long! I told him, "Ginger with gojis." Aghast, Ken said, "Ginger with goat cheese? That sounds terrible!"

一個邏輯問題。捷運廣播，請記得隨身攜帶的物品。可是如果忘記，就不是隨身攜帶的；如果隨身攜帶，就不必提醒。

該如何是好？真難。

The death penalty is one of those things that all right-thinking people are supposed to oppose: be dead set against, if you will pardon me.

Very vividly I remember an event that occurred shortly after I arrived in Taiwan. One Tuesday night, a youth with a knife tried to mug an old lady in New Park; a Military Police patrol (憲兵) caught him. He was tried by military tribunal on Wednesday morning and shot Thursday morning. You could walk around any place at any time of day or night and never catch a scent of fear.

Four or five years later security was deteriorating. Four young men broke into a rich actress' apartment, murdered her maid, and robbed the place. They were sentenced to death. Two were brothers, so the father knelt before the judge pleading him to spare one, to carry on the family's incense (香火). The judge said something to the effect that if you valued your ancestors' bloodline so highly you would have done a better job raising your sons. The execution was televised up to the point the four terrified young men were dragged before the firing squad. Western experts say the death penalty is not a deterrent to crime? Maybe because executions are not televised. All I know is, the police didn't have much work on their hands for years afterwards.

Detective novels usually end with the murderer getting killed by the hero. Very few novels end with the hero delivering the dreadful murderer to the courts and waiting cheerfully for justice to be done. A novelist may strive for realism, but to succeed a novel has to be psychologically valid. How well does the court system heal psychological wounds? To be sure, the perpetrator has rights, but the victim does too, as well as the victim's family and friends. American imprisonment can be hell on earth for the common criminal (not the white collar criminal), but how much satisfaction does it afford the victim's family to know that the beast who murdered their beloved is presently smoking cigarets retrieved from somebody's rectum?

I am not sure if I am for or against the death penalty. If chickens can be tortured for eggs, and cows butchered for beef, how immoral is it to eradicate someone who has viciously taken the life of another citizen? Rape should certainly warrant the death penalty, provided the courts guarantee fairness and justice. Ah, there's the problem. How much justice is to be found in modern courts? Ask OJ.

The death penalty supposes that the individual is ultimately subordinate to the state and to society. If the state has no right to kill a murderer, what right does it have to march soldiers into death in battle?

One day when I was delivering pizzas to Long Binh, the largest US military base in Viet Nam, our Toyota had a flat. We pulled over to the side of the road, jacked up the truck, and started to remove the bolts to change the tire. We couldn't. The bolts wouldn't turn. We tried different bolts, the driver and I took turns, but we couldn't turn a single bolt.

If the bolts wouldn't turn, we couldn't change the tire, and we couldn't leave the base. The military wouldn't permit us to spend the night on the base, driving back to Saigon after dark would be dangerous, spending the night somewhere outside the base would be suicidal. A pretty predicament, but the bolts just wouldn't budge.

We needed help. There was a motor pool nearby, so I trudged over and explained our plight to the head mechanic. He was happy to help. Even though he was overseas in a combat zone, his work was pretty routine. Not often he got a chance to help one of "my fellow Americans" in distress! He picked up his bolt gun and we headed back to the truck. With a modest smile, he applied his bolt gun to the wheel…. and the bolt still didn't turn. He tried other bolts, with as much success as we enjoyed. He was flabbergasted. He told me, "Wait a minute, I'll go back and get a stronger bolt gun."

He came back a few minutes later with a stronger bolt gun. We all took turns with it, but none of the bolts would budge. The sun was sinking in the sky, taking with it my heart.

He returned to his garage and came back with a couple other soldiers from his motor pool and the strongest bolt gun in the garage, so big that they had to load it onto a truck to bring it to us. "This'll take the bolts off a tank, let's see how tight your tire is bolted on!" ZZZzzzzzRRRRRPPPPPPbbbbb! The bolt stayed put. Consternation.

One of the soldiers pulled a long bar out of the truck. "Okay, let's use leverage, let's slip this bar over a tire iron and take the bolt off that way." We placed a tire iron firmly on a bolt, fitted the bar over the iron, and we all pulled down on the bar, the three soldier mechanics, the driver, and I. We must have looked like some sort of Iwo Jima reenactment, but the bolt did not move any more than it had before.

The soldiers were astonished. They had never seen anything like it. We had brought the might of the US military-industrial war machine to bear on those bolts, and not a one would budge.

Until the sergeant adjusted the bar for a better grip, and with that light touch, the bolt turned. We had all been turning the wrong way….

The mechanics were too sheepish even to swear. Once we got the direction straightened out, it was a simple matter to change the tire, and within a quarter of an hour we were on our way out the gate, beating the sunset back to Saigon.

Sometimes when you are faced with a problem, even a problem so onerous and intractable that it may kill you, you just have to approach that problem from a different direction.

二十年前吧，我看了一篇報導，國民黨發起一項攻勢，三民主義統一中國；結果帶頭的是谷正綱那票人。看到谷正綱又被抬出，永遠就是那陳舊老套，一個很深很深的感觸，三民主義統一中國，可能；但絕不是國民黨領導。

前幾天看了一篇報導，民進黨發起一項攻勢，臺灣獨立；結果第一大討論題目是二二八。看到二二八又被抬出，永遠就是那陳舊老套，一個很深很深的感觸，臺灣的前途絕不能由民進黨安排，因為民進黨對前途沒有興趣，他們的臺灣停頓在前世紀的誤會、仇恨、不安。

大學：湯之盤銘：茍日新，日日新，又日新。康誥曰：作新民。詩曰：周雖舊邦，其命維新。是故，君子無所不用其極。

Byajing had a visit from her mother, Amy, today. Byajing was shy. Tlahuy (stage right) offered support; Yumin growled at everybody who came near his beloved.

the fun started when 老齊 tried to take Amy and 小虎(Byajing's cousin) back to the city. 小虎 wouldn't get in the car. 但請不要誤會，這張老齊並不是在磕頭求小虎上車.

During the war, the government of South Viet Nam printed posters, papers, and pictures to encourage the people. Some were dropped from helicopters; somewhere I have a chao hoi (招回) leaflet a helicopter flying overhead dropped, encouraging Viet Cong to defect to the government. Must have been some sort of nasty area I was in.

The other day I found this little piece tucked in one of my books. I forget where I picked it up; there were a lot of these floating all over South Viet Nam. It says tat co cho chien thang 一切為戰勝 all for victory. Notice the excellence of the composition and execution. The colors are simple but lively, and the whole piece is contained but powerful. Maoist propaganda simply reeked of Stalinist influence, and looked lifeless and heartless in comparison. Not that better artwork saved the South from conquest.

很多人濫用「科學」、「迷信」等詞。科學講求實驗、證據，沒有實驗、證據，不能臆斷某事合不合科學。

兩三年前臺北旱災，陳水扁本來想以元首身分燒香祈雨，中央研究院的「學者」斥為迷信，就罷了。這種態度非常不科學。沒作過實業求證元首燒香祈雨會不會下雨之前，不能冒然評為科學或迷信；只能說，「我的先入為主的主觀意識讓我不接受這種事。」

中國若干重大攷古發現，是在中藥店裡發現的。恐龍化石、甲骨文、元謀人的臼齒，均在中藥店發現，本當藥材用。頭腦不清的學究反射性指責為不科學，把古骨當藥視為迷信；這種態度不科學。沒作過實業求證古骨當藥有沒有藥效，不該憑自己狹隘主見蓋上「迷信」的帽子。

As you will see below, for some reason, my dear sister Steph suffers under the delusion that "the Stones are the greatest rock'n roll band." I'm not sure how to read that sentence. Maybe we should read it, "The Stones are the greatest rock'n roll band for nothing." That is workable. However, dear benighted Sister Steph has forgotten the Beatles, the Mothers of Invention, and the Clancy Brothers, all of who could sing Mick Zipper under a table. I have been trying to interpret her meaning on that sentence since last November, which is why I have delayed this piece until now. Steph went to a Paul Simon concert last November, and this is what she wrote. Just never mind her when she discusses Mick Jughead. She'll get over it. And now for Steph::

It was great, had a wonderful time enjoying every minute of concert! There's a, what shall I say, a gentleness? about Paul Simon. The Stones were FABULOUS DARLING!! They were over the top, and stayed there, and I may have mentioned a time or ten that seeing (hearing) Mick Jagger gave me new respect for The Vocalist, various operas notwithstanding. They don't hype the Stones as The Greatest Rock'n'Roll Band for nothing.

But Paul Simon, ah. Different. Going 95 miles an hour? No strain, no breaking rocks; just a gentle, peaceful wave. Piece of cake! 95? Easy. The music just pouring out. This calm-type guy did have TWO complete drum set-ups. Just to show he knows what he's doing, all right! He played the old songs like a man who is older now. More feeling, less effort. Does that make sense? As if ~ the Stones show that they've still "got it," and better than ever. Paul Simon plays "Sound of Silence" or "Bridge Over Troubled Water" without Garfunkle's vocals ~ with the "plain old" Paul Simon vocals, not trying to be Art Garfunkle, just singing the song, and playing, nothing to prove? As if, "of COURSE he's better, he's older now"... instead of, "he's older, but still good"...

I told Erin that the "places where the ragged people go" had a lot more anger back then, breaking away from (scorned by) the Rock Hudson - Doris Day world, and the way he sang it Friday night had the memory of that, and the feeling, talent, etc. Plus, he was singing as the age he is now, with the understanding and experience he has now, and the memory of then; and the FABULOUS DARLING MUSIC! was even better, imagine that, having matured into complete freshness! ~ with "world music" rhythms, dazzling instruments and 2 drum sets. They were knocking them down and tearing the place up, but no destruction. It's like the ocean doesn't "HAVE TO" rage to be mighty.

We were in the 5th row from the stage at the Greek Theater (outdoor amphitheater) at Berkeley, WOW!!! At the end, we all had our hands up, standing and clapping. Paul Simon had his hands up to, kind of waving to the crowd. He made a pointing-finger and pointed to someone, paused, nodded, then turned and pointed to us. We had our hands up already, clapping. I pointed back to him, and he nodded, then turned and waved so gently to the crowd. We were all clapping like crazy. It was the end of the third or fourth curtain call. If I knew how to scream, I would've joined in the screaming and whistling. Erin was calling, "WOOOOOOOO!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

After that, we were slowly jostling out with the crowd, and I found myself passing a young woman a row up. I recognized the profile of her wild, kinky hair. It was in a number of points. Earlier, she had leaped into the little space in front of the stage and begun dancing, with a lot of arms and the points of her hair, in silhouette, waving like dark flames.

As she bent forward to gather her things, I bent toward her and said quietly, "Beautiful dancing." She started to look up and say thank you, but then she felt my acknowledgement was a recognition of her gift, not a compliment. She was young. Slender, muscular, much smaller than I had thought. Australian Aborigine body-type? Anyway, she felt me intuitively, that was so cool. We spent a small moment with our foreheads barely touched together. A small moment of stillness holding for a heartbeat, then sweeping on in the natural movement of the crowd.

磨墨南北談

在國語中心學國語的啟蒙老師路國棟先生是北平人，說小時在家鄉讀書，冬天磨墨，字寫慢的話，墨在硯台上結冰。

+=+=+=+

聽說在南方，有人訓練猴子磨墨。北寒，不宜猴，所以有小書童磨墨；最大的差別在于有尾巴與沒有尾巴。

My mother majored in Art, under and graduate. Once when I was a boy, she told me that there were two types of teachers; you could tell the difference by the way they dealt with students' paintings.

The first type would practically repaint the student's entire work. When it was finished, it was definitely better, but you could barely see anything of the student in the painting. The teacher had made it over in his own way.

The other type would study the work, and then touch here and there. When it was finished, it was definitely better, but you could barely see where the teacher had changed anything. It was still the student's own work, but somehow it had been greatly improved.

In my own teaching, I have always kept that in mind. The students are not me; I am not trying to clone myself. (== one Talovich is enough!) As a teacher, my duty is to develop students' own abilities.

以佛法來講，第一類老師我執重。第二類比較無我，高一籌。

說「高」也不對，無有高下。但以修行論，是比較近道。

以前我認識一位英文老師，教字彙，對象是一般大專程度的托福準攷生。這位老師教字彙，每一個字都要詳細介紹字根、由來，這個字在古挪威語怎麼講，那個字是從希臘文來的，若有梵文字根他最高興，因為他學過梵文，趁機寫半個黑板豆莢字。問題是，一，儘管學生很乖，一筆一畫抄他的梵字，可是教室裏只有他一個人懂那些梵文字母。第二，學生花錢報名是要增加英文字彙，八百年前的挪威人早已經死掉入土了，誰管他們怎麼說？

有的老師教書的目的是培養崇拜者，深怕青出于藍。這也是增我執。

Having pets is wonderful, if and only if you don't treat your pets better than you do your parents.

The Professor
I wrote this in 1980. There were not many foreigners wandering around Taipei in those days.

The Professor is a highly intelligent, high-strung New Yorker.

The first time he took a bus in Taipei, the driver slammed on the brakes, as they are wont to do, and the Professor hit the floor. With his large nose and beard, he fits the Chinese stereotype of the foreigner, and his carroty blond hair attracts attention, so there was accordingly considerable tittering on that bus.

Two days later, the same thing happened, and the Professor swore never to take a bus in Taiwan again.

Now, Taipei taxidrivers are a rough and tumble bunch, and drive like maniacs, so the Professor was soon intimidated. It was either taxis or walk. So the Professor retaliated by becoming pro-communist and denouncing the Republic of China to anybody and everybody at every occasion.

There was a time when he kept a study in the apartment on 潮州 Street that Roger and I shared, and he frequently slept there.

Then came the night Dinah visited; Roger, Jessy, Dinah, and I sat around talking, until it developed that Dinah had come to work off fiancé trouble. She and Jessy got into an involved discussion concerning the male sex that frightened Roger and me out of the living room.

The Professor, oblivious to the static in the air and the absence of males, came out of his study, pipe in hand, to amuse one and all with his perfected German accent (speaking English).

Dinah, with one or two well-chosen epigrams, chopped him off at the knees.

The Professor retreated into his study, and stomped out of the apartment several minutes later, locking his door behind him.

Dinah's fiancé took her away an hour later. Brave man.

The next noon, Jessy, Roger, and I were eating around the living room table when the door opened and the Professor stalked in.

Without a word of greeting, he went to open his door, but the key didn't work.

He tried the other keys, and they didn't work. He got the spares out of the drawer, and, still not having said a word, tried them one by one.

None worked.

We ate very industriously.

Then from the corners of our eyes we noticed the Professor straining at the doorknob, and soon heard a sound, and realized that the Professor was grinding the doorknob off by twisting it around and around in a circular motion.

The plywood door was wearing down.

Finally the knob was loose, but the tongue of the lock was still secure, so he spent several more minutes jockeying it out. Then, triumphantly, he held the whole knob aloft in his hand. He brought it over to show to us and proclaimed:
I don't believe in internalizing anger.
and threw the wasted knob into the kitchen trash.

Not long after that he paid for the knob and the door and moved out. I remain quite fond of the Professor, in spite of all his quirks.

But from him, I learned an important lesson. He had an excellent memory, and knew an astonishing number of dates, names, and statistics, yet he could conceptualize nothing. He had a high level of education and the behavior of a three year old.

I learned that accumulated facts is not knowledge, that knowledge is not depth of character, and that depth of character is still not the ability to translate into action.

Eventually his mother's nagging for grandchildren got to him, so the Professor went out with his PhD and bagged himself a bar hostess for a wife. Roger shared an apartment with them for a time after their wedding, and reports that on one of the last evenings the Professor spent in Taiwan before returning to his university, he had his semiliterate wife perched on a kitchen stool, and was giving her a lecture on the history of figs. You couldn't buy figs in Taiwan in those days.

God bless you and all your breed, Professor.
May you flourish.
May you learn to hold on to the strap.

=========
Epilogue, 2006
When Roger and I were moving out of the apartment, the landlady gave us a lot of grief. She hit the ceiling when she saw the Professor's door, even though I assured her it would be restored to health. I bought a brand new doorknob, and Lung showed me that thingy in it that you can pull out so the door locks shut permanently the first time the door is closed. When I installed the knob, I pulled out that thingy, and carefully left the door to the Professor's study open when I left.

I once read that that you should pare your fingernails after dark on Fridays for harder nails. After several years' experimenting, I am inclined to agree partially. Perhaps the natural rhythms of the body provide stronger nails if they are trimmed in the night. I doubt Friday has anything to do with it, though. The days of the week are arbitrary, and not in synch with the sun or moon.

Tali Watan told me, "One day when I was a little boy in the third grade, we heard a strange noise. There was something up in the sky over Wulai, higher than the mountains. Nobody had seen anything like that before. The whole village came out to look. Our teacher was an educated man from Japan. He said, 'That is an airplane.' He had never actually seen one before either. And that was the first airplane I ever saw."

從前教課忙時，或許是由于壓力吧，常常失眠。有人叫我念文殊師利菩薩，因為文殊有願，若有眾生睡不著念其名號則得墜入夢鄉。

我試試看，南無文殊師利菩薩，南無文殊師利菩薩，南無文殊師利菩薩，文殊師利菩薩，文殊師利菩薩，殊師利菩薩，殊師利菩，師利菩，師利菩zzzzzzzzz

效果蠻好。後來我想，文殊師利菩薩也懂英文嗎？因為漸入眠境時，念的是南無文殊師利菩薩，南無文殊師利菩薩，文殊師利菩薩，文殊師利菩薩，文殊師利菩，殊師利菩，殊師利菩，師利菩，師利菩，師利菩，師利菩，sleep, sleep, sleep zzzzzzzzz.

Happy 200th birthday to Robert E Lee, with gratitude for the grace and decency with which he accepted defeat.

今早開始下雨時，聽到兩個菜農的對話。閩南語，說話不疾不徐，一來一往。
甲： 落雨。
乙： 落雨。
甲： 落雨。
乙： 落雨。
甲： 落雨。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 莫要緊。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 莫要緊。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 莫要緊。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 我要回去。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 我要回去。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 我要回去。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 落雨。
乙： 落雨。
甲： 落雨。
乙： 落雨。
甲： 我要回去。
乙： 你有雨傘莫？
甲： 我要回去。

語言不只是名詞動詞句型，更是說話的方式。

Through no fault of my own, without planning, I happened to reach DC the day after W's inauguration in 2001. Not on purpose. I was visiting my mother in California. Friends east urged me to drop in, so I crossed the Mississippi for the first time since 1962, went to Michigan, New York, and my birthplace, DC.

Cousin Steve took me to his office near the White House, whence I set out sightseeing. Because of the inauguration, the anti-abortion crowd was out in force. There were thousands of protestors everywhere I went (I managed to get a clear field for this photo), so in addition to seeing the monuments, I observed the protestors.

The crowd was overwhelmingly white, and generally overweight. Among the thousands of people, I saw only a few Orientals and a couple Blacks, not totaling ten. There were a lot of church groups and ministers, but I did not see a single representative of the religions that show the greatest respect for life: if any Buddhists, Hindus, or Jains joined the protests, I did not see them. I don't recall seeing any rabbis or Orthodox Jews. Although I am trying to be impartial, a group of Catholic monks I saw looked like they stepped right out of the Inquisition. I still remember their smiles very distinctly: teeth. Gonna bite you, gonna tear your flesh. 皮笑肉不笑。

===
Stray exchange overheard between middle aged women protestors:
"I can't believe it! I'm actually here in Washington DC!"
"I know! I've never been so far away from Tennessee, either!"
===

Overall, I would guess that the majority of men in the crowd are enthusiastic hunters, always eager to go out and blast some innocent life into death. It hadn't started yet, but you know these are people who support war in Iraq, torture in prisons, and death penalty at home. I am willing to wager that almost no vegetarians were present. Quite the opposite: this looked like the Junk Food Crowd. One obese man waddled about with a sign, "Obey thy god, thy body is his temple." I wanted to say, first show your own temple a bit of respect.

The smokers among the protestors perplexed me. An unborn fetus is a holy life worthy of reverence and protection, but it's fine to destroy your own life just so you do it gradually?

The general tenor of the crowd was harsh. My feeling was not that the protestors had any great respect for life, but they wanted to impose their will on others. It was more a power thing. Thank the Founding Fathers for outlawing burning at the stake!

To the bible toting anti-abortionists, I would say, the majority of people probably are not opposed to abortion, so do not force the majority to conform to your wishes, or the wishes you read into your god's mouth. Judgment is mine, sayeth the lord, so let them do as they wish and risk hellfire if they please.

I believe nobody really wants an abortion; it can't be fun. Then why do people do it? Must be necessity. The necessity may be removed either before or after it forms. The way to limit abortion is not by outlawing it, any more than the way to reduce cancer is by outlawing it; people have to live healthy lives, knowingly and voluntarily. Rather than Christians parade the streets, better that they show us, by their thought, word, and deed, that their way of life is preferable to ours, and persuade us to follow their example.

Face it, people are going to screw around. It's what people do. Even the ten commandments recognize that, and say it's ok for married men (not women) to screw prostitutes.

The only way you can screw without any chance of anybody getting pregnant is homosexuality, and the abortion people don't allow that either. I will also wager that the entire crowd would also take to the streets to support an amendment against same sex marriage, especially if you made it punishable by death. No pleasing some people.

It's ridiculous if you say both no abortion and restrictions on MAP: where's Plan B? Or they think dead babies in trash cans is how you please god?

But that is not the point. The feeling I got from that crowd, a very strong clear signal, was that the issue was dominance, not abortion. They had seized on abortion as an issue to use to control other people, regardless of the cost, regardless of the suffering. Stay in your place! Stay under my thumb!

捷運站看到一個廣告：樹葬。甚麼叫做樹葬，聽都沒聽過，所以打電話2733-4421詢問。所謂樹葬，即將亡者遺體火化後，用特製罐子埋樹下，回歸大地。福德公墓有樹葬區，已有四五百名先哲用遺體滋養天地，讓綠葉延續生命。

土葬，不合時宜，活人空間不夠，何必堅持佔地餵蚯蚓？火葬，若把骨灰罈放靈骨塔聽聞佛號，尚勝把昂貴棺木埋在土裡，但我覺得樹葬猶高一籌。

Here's an interesting thought concerning leisure:
"The capacity of most people to occupy themselves usefully without spending money is diminishing." Henry Hobhouse, Seeds of Change

Why break your back making money if you're not going to spend it on something you enjoy? There may not be any great virtue in spending no money for leisure, but it does warrant taking stock. Children in Saigon could amuse themselves for hours with a rock and a can, any rock, any can, just pick something off the side of the road. I never understood the rules of the game, but it must have been fun, because they could spend a whole afternoon playing that way; sometimes flip-flops were also part of the game. Hours of leisure, no money spent. Can you imagine children in ______ (please fill in the name of the place you live) amusing themselves with a rock and a can? Can you imagine your local business community permitting that?

When I ramble through the mountains, my equipment is minimal. I wear the hiking boots I was born with and the sturdy clothes I wear around home. The only equipment I always carry is a laraw (headhunting knife), indispensable in these mountains, especially since I have trouble keeping to paths. I often carry a plastic bag in case I find some seeds. That's about it, unless I take along the camera.

Camera: now there's a hobby that can eat up money if you please. Like stereos. Some people spend so much time tuning the newest gadgets on their stereo that they don't have any time left over to listen to music. That's going a bit far. Like the photographers who spend so much time and effort on their lenses and filters and light meters that they don't have energy left to go take photos.

Is the point of leisure to have a good time, or to show others how much time and money you have to waste?

Don't even talk to me about that vile abomination, golf.

真不懂，是不是現代人太喜歡湊熱鬧？

每次過臺北車站的Mister Donut，看到排長龍；偶爾沒人我就買一個吃吃看。說實在，這是很普通的doughnut，不算特別，可是生意就是那麼好。附近好幾家doughnut一樣好吃(並不難)，可是生意不怎麼樣。我懷疑，是不是因為排長龍，所以生意好？

或者因為乍看似亮麗卻沒特色的doughnut，正好相應一般愛湊熱鬧的人的內心？

I got a really funny spam:
Get a diploma without all the hassle
Yeah, right, all the hassle of learning.
Is that funny or sad?

Another great one:
In just as little as 2 weeks you can have a masters degree from a national university. No books to buy, no classes to go to and no entrance exams.
Learn in your own home at your own pace. We supply all the study materials, all you have to do is apply! Everyone is accepted!

Isn't that wonderful? You learn in your home at your own pace; just finish your coursework and thesis in two weeks, and bingo, instant Master's degree.

I'd have more confidence if they'd learn how to punctuate.

I once knew a loser who went out and bought himself a pair of glasses with plain glass instead of lenses. He was pitifully proud of himself. He told me, "See? 三百塊買氣質For only three hundred NT I can look educated." I wanted to tell him, No, for three hundred NT you look like a loser wearing a pair of fake glasses.

論語‧子路‧葉公問政。子答曰，近者悅、遠者來。

扁政下，臺灣人民悅不悅，似乎不是很悅，除非看臺灣經濟、國際地位一路下退為樂。陳總統說拼外交、要國際化；誠意有多少？

若遠者來，對臺灣經濟、文化有貢獻，但要遠友來，必須要有引誘，例如良好投資環境、平等工作機會、相同福利等等；並且要讓外人感到歡迎，不論國籍、膚色、宗教等等。如果統治者對付自己國民分化族群、極化國民，外國人才更感到不安，所以不會選擇來臺灣工作。

陳總統這方面的努力如何？這兩三年來增加很多限制，不給外籍人士投資機會，不讓外籍人士設公司，不給外籍人士平等福利(如退休金)等等，似乎這幾年給外國人的限制增加不少，這樣能吸引多少外籍人士來為臺灣效力？

嘴巴上說拼外交、要國際化，僅是賣力飛往小國家去觀光、在本島處處貼上不成英文的標誌，這是不夠的。

以一個多年住臺灣的外國人眼光來看，我覺得，對外國人，臺灣民間的態度是歡迎、開放，而陳總統政權的態度是排斥、封閉。

美國人很直，一就是一、二就是二，不要囉嗦，說話算話，很不喜歡鑽漏洞、狡辯文過的人。

很多美國人不諒解President Clinton，不是因為他作錯事，而是因為事後狡辯。很多民眾的看法是，誰都會犯錯，可是錯了他應該坦然認錯；如果這樣的話，大家不怪他，可是他的解釋太多。太不老實。

依我對美國民族性的了解，陳水扁明明不受歡迎，偏要過境美國，在美國人眼中，這種行為不老實、卑鄙，這樣會引起美國人的極度反感、排斥，因而會瞧不起他與他所代表的臺灣。即使原先同情的人，也因而瞧不起。

所謂的「拼外交」原來只是熱臉貼冷屁股。

陳水扁的外交到底是求實際效果，或者不計後果演給中南部鄉下人看？下次乾脆把電子琴一塊帶去，受限在飯店時可以奏一些悲慘可憐的曲子，奪取阿公阿媽的熱淚。

=====
又：聽說他與Pelosi波洛西通電話，很難想像他們的對談："No, sir, on your visa I am afraid you cannot get a job here. Yes sir, yes, I know you are qualified, but I am sorry, McDonald's does not hire illegal immigrants. What? Really? Yes sir, I do believe that your 臺南擔擔麵 is delicious, but ~~ sir, sir, will you listen to me? You have to understand that there are no night markets in the United States, so there would be no place for your stand here. Yes, yes, I know you have deposited huge amounts of money in American banks, but we have to take immigration laws into consideration, plus the IRS is curious about the source of all that money….”

The day before yesterday I explained that I did not carry a gun in Viet Nam. For a time I did carry a pair of rice thrashers, which the initiated called nunchaku/連耞(雙節棍) but we called numchuks.

I learned how to use numchuks before Bruce Lee shot his comedies. If you don't know how to use them, they are as deadly to yourself as to anybody in the immediate vicinity, not only because they are hard to control as you swing them, but also because they bounce funny. You may swing and connect, but if you don't take the bounce into account, they may swing back and crack you in the head. And good luck to you if you swing and don't connect on your target! Your numchuks will find something to connect with: you.

A landslide buried the legs of a rattan chair in back of our house, so I used that. I spent months and months hitting the springy rattan, and trying to spring back before the rice thrashers thrashed me on the backswing. Eventually I got the hang of it, so I could hit anything with full power at no danger to myself.

The secret of using numchuks is, keep it simple, and whack anything that comes within range. Nobody survives a direct hit from numchuks, so just hold one end in one hand, let the other end dangle, and whack anything that comes within range. No need for anything fancy, because they are such a devastating weapon: one hit does it all. It sounds simple, but it takes practice. And it is effective.

Then Bruce Lee came along with his ludicrous armpit grip. You have to understand that Lee did a lot of moves for movies that he himself thought were worthless in real life. You see people wailing around with numchuks up down and over, whoosh whoosh whoosh, either they don't know what they are doing or they are just practicing for control of the weapon. Practicing for control is fine, just so you know better than to think you could use that to defend yourself.

If I were attacking somebody who used numchuks under the influence of Bruce Lee, I would just provoke him a bit, and stay out of range as I enjoyed the spectacle of the imbecile bashing himself with his own weapon.

Bruce Lee's armpit grip makes as much sense as Bruce Tegner's devastating chop. For the younger generation: Bruce Tegner was this guy who, when martial arts were first getting known in the West, made a career out of writing books full of moves that were parodies of real martial arts. His devastating chop was performed in this manner: first shape your right hand into a deadly hand knife chop, and prepare for delivery; hold it straining against your left hand until the appropriate moment at which you release the left hand and your right hand rockets outward with all the ferocity and killing power of a plate of cold spaghetti.

The armpit grip is fine if you don't mind cracking your elbow, breaking your ribs, slowing down your weapon, and reducing its efficiency by 90%. In other words, Bruce Lee's armpit numchuk grip is great if you're a blatant fool who doesn't understand the martial arts. But you may as well carry a brick and just hit yourself on the forehead with that.

歲末不利我家狗。January is not a good month for my dogs. Bengax died two years ago next week. Last January pesky Yumin spent a day and a night in a snare.

This morning I heard a ruckus off in the jungle, dogs squealing and barking. When I opened the front door, Byajing was not there to greet me: unusual, to say the least. Tlahuy and Yumin were tense but subdued. By this time, there was only one dog barking, far away.

I strapped on my knife and headed up the mountain. Soon I could tell that I was uphill and northwest of the barking dog; as I headed closer, I recognized Byajing's bark. I called to her, she barked, and I headed straight across the jungle towards the sound. Tlahuy lead the way. There was no more barking, but soon I saw Tlahuy wagging his tail as he rushed into a patch of taro. Byajing lay on the ground, tired and frightened, with her front right paw caught in a trap.

There was some blood, but the wound did not look deep. I comforted her and very carefully released her foot from the trap. She fell back trembling. I removed the trap and tied it up on a tree, then picked up Byajing and carried her home.

Fu's dog Blackbean got stuck in a trap last year, so I carried Byajing over to ask if he had any medicine left. He had none, but we inspected Byajing's paw, and the injury seemed very light. She was more scared than hurt. "Let her lick it for a day or two and she'll be as good as new."

That's what I thought too, but just to be on the safe side, I phoned Denise the Vet. Her assistant suggested I take Byajing in for an X-ray, to make sure no bones were broken. I arranged for Chang to take us in his taxi, but when it was time to leave, there was no sign of Byajing or Tlahuy. Yumin squirmed guilefully in the doghouse, but I could find no sign of either Tlahuy or Byajing.

Finally, I went down and told Chang, "We've got a problem, Byajing doesn't want to go." He told me to take my time, so I came back up and after I called a few more times, Byajing very unwillingly crawled out of the underbrush to me. I picked her up and carried her to the taxi, where she jumped out of my arms and frisked around with Yumin. "She looks okay to me," Chang said. I picked her up again. We examined her foot. The injury was barely noticeable by then. I squeezed her paw, first lightly then harder, and she didn't even pay attention. Finally we decided that Byajing had had enough unpleasantness for the day, no need to put her in the car: she dislikes riding in cars.

Tlahuy did not show himself until we came back up from the road. I have no idea where he hid Byajing.

I wrote a note asking the trapper not to place traps near the village, and left it in a plastic bag by his traps, hanging sprung from a tree.

=====
Byajing told Tlahuy and Yumin, "Isn't he intelligent? This morning when I barked, he very quickly came and released me from the trap. He is very well trained. Good boy, Yugan, good boy!"

All's well that ends well.

Somebody asked if I carried a gun while I was in Viet Nam. No. There was a war going on so everybody was armed to the teeth. My pizza deliveries took me way out into the boondocks, where they fought with M16s, AK47s, and up: mortars, tanks, helicopters, machine guns. If somebody was going to make a fuss, what could I do that would make any sort of impression? Carry a rocket launcher?

I was definitely the only American male who did not carry a firearm in that very macho environment: my gun's bigger than your gun! A lot of clubs and restaurants had a 50 gallon barrel filled with sand at the entrance. Upon entering, etiquette required you empty your firearms into that, rather than into the clientele.

My pizza route often went through Viet Cong and North Viet Namese Army territory. Being armed would have made me a combatant. Unarmed, I was simply an idiot. My theory was, the people fighting the war shot at combatants, not at idiots, so I was safer unarmed.

For a while, I did carry a pair of numchuks (rice thrashers, nunchaku, 連耞，雙節棍) on my belt, because in close quarters in Saigon – the only situation in which I would have a remote chance of survival anyway – they were as good as a pistol. Nobody knew what they were, since Bruce Lee's ridiculous movies hadn't been filmed yet, so any potential berserkers were mystified long enough for me to remove myself to more hospitable situations. The numchuks were good solid oak, and heavy, so they pulled down my belt, though, and I gave them up. When I came to Taiwan, Tam Gibbs/唐模 introduced me to black paper fans/杭州黑扇, so whenever I went back to Viet Nam, I carried one always. It too mystified people, and it did save my life, again and again, by providing me with a fresh breeze under the hot sun. More than any gun could do.

And anyway, I don't think my mother would have let me have a gun. Granted, Mother's permission was not a factor that concerned many of the spooky types running around shooting people, but for me, it was decisive. So no, I never did carry a gun in Viet Nam.

電線桿上寫「死後有審判」。其實不對：時時刻刻都有審判，而判官是自己。每一個念頭、每一個抉擇，都在審判，我是甚麼樣的人？我對自己的要求、規範是甚麼？我作人作事堂堂正正、光明磊落，或者偷雞摸狗？敬業盡職或偷工減料？對自己、對家人、對社會負責，或敢作不敢當？是君子是小人？

每一剎那每一個念頭都在審判自身的期許、原則、操守。這些點點滴滴加起來造成習慣，習慣造成個性，個性塑造命運。死後哪有閻羅王？投胎轉世由自己念頭決定的。

常常作甚麼樣的思維，就是甚麼樣的人、甚麼樣的心；業由斯而織成，下一世就這麼決定。重要的審判不在死後，而是在日常生活舉止中。

閻羅王能作的頂多是在成績單上批分數，可是分數卻是自己用生命計的。

往往父母很能幹的話，子女有壓力，因此等長大、翅膀硬了，必須要有自己的天空，找出自己的空間。這很正常，也很健康。但是如果孩子一味否定自己的父母，卻沒有活出有自身的特色，反而是一種不成熟;若繼續走死胡同，難有成就。

同樣，有人提臺灣獨立。若是文化上的成長，很好；文化上要成長，倘使奠立在中華文化燦爛成就上，發展空間極廣闊。但是如果始終做為一種封閉的政治手段，臺灣會悶死。

第一，我不肯讓政治決定我的生命。政治是人群管理而已，是權術；我不肯把政黨當作我的宗教。

第二，中華文化那麼的豐富奧妙，怎麼會有人想去中國化？想去中國化的人，不是文化人，而是勾心鬥角的政客，我不願這種人影響我的精神生活。

Did you see what the Pope said about college students?

"The students at the new university devote themselves largely to pleasure and are avid for food and wine, and they are not restrained by any discipline."

Isn't that so! He goes on to comment acerbically on how easily excited they are by "shameless women." Really, wouldn't you say it's tragic how young people don't have any respect for the virtues and traditions of their elders? Have they totally forgotten old time religion? Why can't they follow the rules and commandments that have been passed down by their forefathers? If they would just obey their elders and consent to learn from the wisdom of earlier ages, why, the world would be a much better place to live in, don't you agree?

Before you agree too quickly, I should admit that the pope we're discussing here was Pius II, and he wrote that around 1458.

老師去哪裡跨年？
沒出去，留在家裡。
那麼老師耶誕到哪裡狂歡？
我不是教徒，我不過聖誕節，可是我還是尊重他們的「平安夜」，加上不愛熱鬧，所以沒有狂歡。
……又不跨年，又不過耶誕，不是很無聊嗎？
怎麼會？我很忙。
忙甚麼？
很多事！例如，下雨天，可以聽雨聲，還有群鳥寒蛙，都很好聽！霧呀、山嵐、草木蕨石土都好看，怎麼會無聊？
……嗯，這個…那麼老師最近有沒有看甚麼比較好看的電影？

老實念佛是真諦，卻記，是老實念佛，不是死板念佛。認為只要用心念佛即可往生淨土，好比認為用心念縫紉機死後成縫紉機。

老實念=佛=，「佛」是「覺」的意思，念佛不覺，念啥？

修淨土容易淖滯。老實念佛，要活用。

A story I heard a long time ago: a man asked his rabbi, In the old days people used to see the face of god, but now nobody does. Why not?

The rabbi said, Because they cannot bow low enough.

===
莊子說，每下愈況

Dawn of the new year.
昨晚十二點很多遊客放燄火，讓我想起…民國六十一年，我跟幾個美國朋友在新生南路租了一間公寓。六十二年元旦將到來，買了一串鞭炮，十二點到就放；很遠的地方聽到一兩個地方也有人放，但幾乎所有人已熟睡，完全不理元旦。跟班上同學說我們有放鞭炮，他們不了解元旦有甚麼好慶祝的。我反問他們，元旦為甚麼不慶祝？大家反應一樣：新曆年是外國的東西，所以元旦不重要；重要的是農曆年。
現在呢，到數狂歡。

A swarm of several bees visited my front door this morning. By the time I thought about filming it, most of them had passed. This is the tail end of the swarm. Happy new year, little buddies.

In Portugal, it's against the law to pee in the ocean.
I appreciate the effort, but I really wonder how they enforce that one.