Centuries ago, when books such as Utopia were written, a regular feature of those ideal lands was ‘music in the air.’ Hundreds of years ago, thinkers apparently believed that being surrounded by music would be some sort of blessing. Little did they know how ‘music in the air’ would become torment for the quiet soul in a world of muzak, karaoke, and ubiquitous loudspeakers.

Once long ago I was wandering around the mountains near Trku/Taroko Gorge when I spotted a small path on the opposite slope. I found the trailhead and climbed the steep path. It was barely visible, so I climbed carefully to stay on the path, in both senses: if I had lost the path, nobody knew where I was, and one step off the path in the wrong direction would have taken me a hundred meters. Taiwan’s mountains are steep.

I forget how long I followed the path up, say an hour. The path went up close to a sheer drop through heavy jungle full of mosquitoes and bugs which expressed their welcome by plunging into my nose, ears, and eyes, and covering my skin. Feast!

Finally I came to a small tataq/Aborigines’ hunting shack, about 一坪半 three tatamis. I was amazed by the concrete floor. Somebody lugged not only heavy bags of concrete but also water all the way up that slope. Impressive. The roof was corrugated plastic, and the walls came from the jungle. There was a doorway but no door. I called several times but only silence answered. I entered the tataq slowly. There was nobody in; I was the only person on the mountain that day. Traps and hunters’ equipment hung neatly on the walls. There were cold ashes in small hearth, and a very faint smell of dank smoke.

What made the visit noteworthy was, as soon as I stepped inside the shack, I was free of the insects. None of them followed me inside. I stepped inside and out several times to test. As soon as I stepped out the doorway, the feasting resumed, but none would follow me in through the open doorway. I have never been able to figure that out.

It may be due to movies, which to many modern people are more realistic than real life. A real tough guy is supposed to be built like The Terminator. Have people forgotten the term muscle-bound? I have never met anybody all built-up like that who could fight well. Especially weightlifters: they are so preoccupied with making their bodies pretty for the other weightlifters that they end up with useless physiques.

During the Civil War, hard riding, hard fighting General Philip Sheridan remarked that the ideal cavalryman did not weigh more than 130 pounds. Others noted that the skinny little chaps from coal country usually outlasted the big brawny hunters and trappers.

One day Wumya, who comes up to about my shoulder, was lamenting that he is old and weak, because he can dash up a mountain path carrying only one 50kg bag of cement; when he was young and fettle he carried two. Let me point out the obvious, that’s a hundred kilos of cement. I have trouble carrying just one bag up muddy paths.

Years ago, a strapping American youth was hiking in Paiwan territory in southern Taiwan. He was six four and in good shape. He saw a scrawny old Paiwan lady resting in the shade by the path. Perhaps his Boy Scout days came to mind, he decided to do a good deed and carry her basket a ways up the path for her. He could not pick it up off the ground, it was so heavy. The old lady gleefully cackled, picked up her basket as if it were empty, and charged uphill at a pace he could not keep up with.

Think of marathon runners or mountain climbers. You don’t see big hulks weighed down by bulging muscle excelling in those sports. Big weightlifters lift the greatest weight measured in kilograms, but in proportion to body size, small men like Mongolians are far stronger. Even in football, the massive linebackers’ main duty is to get in the way; the real action is carried out by players such as the quarterback, who are generally lighter and smaller.

Given a choice between fighting a big, muscled Rambo type and a scrawny Aborigine, I would choose the Rambo as an easier opponent. You hit him, he falls, and he makes a nice satisfying crash when he bites the dust. Aborigine may not have enough space on their bodies for nerves, so they’re hard to take down. A wiry man is always harder to fight than a carcass covered with ornamental muscles.

And anyway, what matters is how big your heart is, not your body.

When Tlahuy and Bengax came, my good friend Qalux liked them so much he asked for one. I couldn’t do that, so I asked Ping if there were any left in the litter. Twelve all told, after all, and sure enough, there was a little girl waiting to be claimed. Qalux named her Luqa:: his own name turned around.
She was a mischievous little puppy, even more so than Tlahuy and Bengax, which is saying something! She knew where we live, and from time to time she would show up to romp with her brother and sister. But she would always get home in time to greet Qalux when he got off work

Qalux doted on her, and always told me how Luqa would greet him when he came home: she wagged her tail so hard she could barely walk. He really loved that dog, even when he had to apologize to neighbors for her chewing up their shoes. That happened a lot.

When I walked by their house, Luqa would always come out and touch my hand with her nose (unless she was busy with her puppies), and give me her big, happy wag. She could tell I was coming long before I arrived.

Luqa had many, many litters of puppies! Qalux lost count long ago, but there are plenty of dogs around Wulai that remind me of Tlahuy and Bengax. Every time I see one with the resemblance, I think, oh, Luqa.

A year ago, Qalux had a new house built, up in the Tribe, away from the road, so I did not see Luqa for a long time. About two months ago, she came down to the road, wagging her tail so hard she could barely walk, like she always did. I was very happy to see her, because I hadn’t seen her for a long time.

Looking back on it, I think she came to say goodbye, because shortly after that, she disappeared. Nobody knows what happened to her. I think she was worn out by all those puppies, and she is the same age as Tlahuy, 7, which is old for a dog. Have you heard people say that a really loyal dog will not allow its person to see it die? Maybe her time had come and she went off into the mountains.

She was a wonderful dog (if you don’t count the six hundred pairs of shoes she destroyed). Qalux’s family and I will always miss her. His neighbors may not entirely share the sentiment.

Hard and fast rule

If you trim a tree with a saw attached to a long bamboo pole, no matter where you stand, no matter how the wind blows, the sawdust invariably falls straight into your eyes.

But I'll get back up on my feet some day!
臺北北門郵局

我讀大學的時候，偶爾坐20號公車到終點站，在臺北郊外，去爬山。下車走一段路，山腳邊有煤礦。工人看起來很窮，衣衫襤褸，斗笠開頂，打赤腳，下雨天他們都還穿蓑衣。一車一車的煤從礦坑推出來::用人力推::掉地上的用圓鍬收拾，圓鍬用到只剩一半，磨到圓鍬不圓了，成凹鍬。再往上走，有些住宅，土塊厝，都沒有電。住戶不多，生活看起來很清寒。登山步道邊有一間破屋，我曾想包下整修，但因為破屋實在太破，只好作罷，任它繼續荒廢。

每次下車往山裡小徑走，司機、車掌小姐用很好奇的眼光看我，因為除了那幾家住戶外，很少人到那裡。我喜歡離開臺北的號囂去偷個半日清靜，樹林鳥群，山美景佳。從山頂可以俯瞰山下的兵營，遠看臺北市、觀音山。山峰總是多逗留一回，再決定從哪一條步道下山。沿路不必開口說話，因為山上沒人。

____^^^

很難想像，現在那個兵營變成信義計畫區，101比那座拇指山還高，窮礦成為挹翠山莊。

I finished an e-letter to a relative with the sentence,

Please give your mother a big hog for me.

Amazing what a difference one letter can make, isn’t it? Hog, hug.

But it is the year of the pig, after all.

畢竟我修淨土，自己都不留戀娑婆，還牽個無辜小生靈來面臨生態崩潰、社會髒亂，怎忍得？ Never having entertained the least inclination to drag another wretch into this turgid world, I am perhaps not qualified to discuss parenthood.

Children start learning within 20 minutes of birth. First they recognize their mother (or the nearest female) and begin bonding with her. Now think about the average baby born into a typical modern hospital, removed from Mother as soon as possible, and plunked down into a viewing room, where the happy father stands outside the plate glass telling friends and family, The third one from the right in the fourth row is mine… I think.

In this day of mass production, I suppose we can’t have parents getting too close to their children.

This may seem like a stupid question, but it is Friday the 13^th, after all.

Now. If ghosts can walk through walls, how come they can also walk up and down stairs? If they can walk through walls, shouldn’t they sink through stairs and floors?

Ok, that’s two questions, I admit. But don’t look behind you just now….

Ha ha, made you look. Boo!

說有多無聊….

有人說，不論四眾過。出家人，也是人，當然也會犯錯；在家弟子不該因為圓領，箝口不談。看動機、心態。

臺灣佛界有一個現象，向來讓我不舒服。常聽某某師出國宏法，而所去，只有北美歐洲澳洲紐西蘭，盡可能在有錢、有地位的圈子鑽。似乎只有這些「有頭有臉」的人有機會聽聞佛法。聽過哪一個師父到非洲難民營、巴西貧民窟、澳洲原住民部落、中亞戰區宏法嗎？很少，很少。得意的是哪一個洋弟子多有來頭，顯得勢利眼習氣比在家人重。苦命人最需要佛法。

起碼慈濟以物質賑濟貧困眾生。可是弱勢團體的法生慧命，彷彿被一般出家人漠視。

Sometimes == often == I feel I don’t have any idea what’s going on. I read that last August, a dozen masked men lugged six 40-gallon trash bags full of sauce packets into a Taco Bell on South Western Avenue in Marion, IN. They left them there with a note explaining that they had been accumulating them for a while and decided to give them back. There were about 25,000 packets.

Explain that, please? Maybe somebody ate at Taco Bell a lot (a lot) and didn’t like the sauce. Finally when he couldn’t get into his house any more for all the sauce packets he decided to return them, rather than save them for keepsakes, or sell them on Ebay.

Maybe it was performance art or a fashion statement, but please observe that the obvious supposition is that males did this. Women have sense.

Or maybe some guy dug them all out of his wife’s purse?

To the tune of How Many Times: sing along with me:

How many times can you photograph your dogs?
Before you run out of film?
Oh, how many times can you photograph your dogs?
Before you run out of film?
The answer, my friend, is barking in the wind,
The answer is barking in the wind.

It’s a digital camera anyway.

Danger lurks everywhere on the Taipei MRT!

Loose clothing! It'll getcha every time!










the infamous carnivorous panel! It bites! BEWARE!!

sophisticated humor

Another very good reason not to wear a tie:

http://www.strangepolice.com/content/item/124131.html

Around 1980 I knew a rather unpleasant young man –no, no, allow me my honesty, he was a horridly despicable young man – who considered himself an authority on Viet Nam because he had spent a few days visiting his parents who both worked at the US Embassy in Saigon. I forget just what his father’s title was, his job had something to do with diddling cats, I think. His mother was convinced of her superiority to the rest of mankind because she made the coffee for His Majesty Ambassador Bunker.

One day in a rare fit of condescension, the young man took me by the hand and said, “Talovich, you and I know what really happened in Viet Nam because we saw it from the top.”

My only goal being putting as much space as possible between us, I diplomatically refrained from breaking his ribs for him and retreated, thinking, no we did not! You may be as thoroughly befuddled as the others who saw the war from the top, but my view was from the bottom.

What the fat cats and big wigs say holds very little appeal for me. Nixon’s hot air, Bunker’s bunk, Ho Chi Minh’s deceit, Chairman Mao’s trickery, McGovern’s pompous declarations, you can take them all and shove them up your nose. I have always been more interested in how life goes for the little guy. I was 17 turning 18, and acutely aware that my friends - Viet Namese boys my age were getting drafted and dying in battle, that girls my age were getting married and pregnant so their lovers would at least have a child to leave behind. I stayed away from the rich foreigners who picked their way along the poverty-stricken streets with such visible disdain. I wandered around slums alone and unarmed, ate in stands along streets considered too dangerous for foreigners to enter, and subjected those poor people to my rudimentary Viet Namese language skills, for which it is a wonder they did not shoot me right then and there.

That was a long time ago, but my hackles still rise when I see something like the exchange (Atlantic Monthly) between La Fallaci, a beautiful Italian reporter, and The Kiss, Henry Kissinger, during the war. La Fallaci asked, “Don’t you find that it’s been a useless war?” Kissinger said, “On this, I can agree.”

It’s enshrined in American righteousness that the Viet Nam war was a useless war, because after all, it was all about Me Me Me (or, if you will permit me a dreadful bilingual pun, My My My), and the communists proved to us that we were losing, even while our troops conquered them and stopped their invasion. America was too egotistical to consider Viet Namese (Chinese) strategic thinking, and too proud to consider the plight of the typical Viet Namese.

No doubt, the war was terrible. What war isn’t? But something escaped the notice of lofty reporters and politicians and moralists: the peasants stayed in South Viet Nam throughout the war. No matter how bad the fighting, the common Viet Namese stayed put, close to the tombs of their ancestors, at home in their own language and culture, despite the poverty and suffering.

As soon as Nixon and Kissinger turned over the Republic of Viet Nam to the communists, and the war stopped, floods of Viet Namese fled the country, something they had never done before. They could stand the war, but they could not bear the peace Ho Chi Minh’s government brought.

Americans, descendants of immigrants, in general are more rootless than people of older nations, so it is hard for us to understand the unwillingness of Viet Namese to leave home. Viet Namese are probably among the people in the world least willing to leave their homeland. But as soon as the war ended, they started running for their lives.

Haven’t you heard the expression, “voting with your feet”? That is what a million or more of these poor people did, and hundreds of thousands died trying to escape the peace American protestors brought them. Doesn’t that tell you something?

捷運站一個徵才廣告很好笑：

我們向您保證

前三個月養成期保障月收入最高35,000元！

了？

保障月收入最高35,000元，換句話說，月收入可能只有五千元，可是他們向您保證，一定不會讓您賺五萬元、十萬元，最高三萬五。

看樣子，能收五千已經很偷笑。

It’s not entirely by chance that Bill Gates is the richest man in the world. Yesterday I wrote about Chinese characters for specific animals. Most of the words have not been in common usage for many dynasties, but I was surprised how many I could drag up from my computer’s fonts. To be sure, for 馵, I had to settle for the 或體/alternative character rather than the original 象形兼指事 character listed in 說文, but let’s be practical, how often do you need the character for a horse with a white back left foot?

I got my first computer around 1988, long before the mouse was invented. In those days nobody used Apple, because Mac did not handle Chinese well. Okay, amend that statement: nobody in Taiwan used Apple for that reason. Very few people I knew had computers, I knew two people – both American – who had email, and there probably were a dozen computers in private hands in all of mainland China. Evidently the people at Apple did not feel the Chinese language market was worth bothering with, even through the 90s, when there were already several popular ways to write Chinese on Microsoft computers. By the time Apple woke up to the fact that hey, there might be a market for Chinese language computer software, Microsoft already had the market sewed up. I have heard the same situation held true for Japanese and Korean. So no wonder Microsoft is thoroughly entrenched, and Apple can never catch up.

In When Languages Die, K David Harrison says, “As societies become larger and inhabit a greater range of environments, and as people become urbanized and detached from nature, languages and people shed specialized knowledge pertaining to the environment. English once made fine distinctions in animal names; a castrated goat or sheep was a ‘wether,’ young female sheep ‘theaves’ (of ‘chilvers’ or ‘tegs’), and young sheep that are older than lambs ‘hoggetts.’ As we have less to do with animals, naming systems fall into disuse – even new terms like ‘baby horse’ are making inroads to refer to a foal or colt.’

This explains something that had perplexed me. 說文解字, the Han dynasty etymology dictionary written about two thousand years ago, is full of specific vocabulary for animals that has long since fallen out of use.

犡，牛白脊也 a cow with a white spine
犉，黃牛黑唇也 a brown cow with black lips
犪，牛柔謹也 a cow that is gentle and cautious

There are specific words for two, three, and four year old cows, but they are not in the computer (wonder why). I am choosing from what I can type; there are many more words in 說文.

駒,馬二歲曰駒，三歲曰駣 a two year old horse is a 駒; a three year old horse is a 駣; there are also specific characters for a one year old and an eight year old horse.
駱，馬白色黑鬣尾也 a white horse with a black mane and tail
駹，馬面顙皆白也 a horse with a white face and forehead
馵，馬後左足白也 a horse with a white back left foot
驕，馬高六尺曰驕 a horse six feet tall
騋，馬七尺為騋，八尺為驡a horse seven feet tall is a 騋, a horse eight feet tall is a 驡.
羔，羊子也 a lamb
羜，五月生羔也 a five month old lamb; there is another specific word for a six month old lamb
羍，小羊也a hogget (Thank you for the word, Dr Harrison); there is another specific word for羊未卒歲也a hogget that is not yet a full year old
羭，夏羊牝曰羭 a female black sheep
羖，夏羊牡曰羖 a male black sheep
豰，小豚也 a piglet
豯，生三月豚 a three month old piglet
豵，生六月豚 a six month old piglet
豜，三歲豚a three year old piglet

I am constrained by what can is available on the computer; there are many other characters I cannot type. (I have to say, I am impressed by the characters I can find.) As I recall, the most specific vocabulary for animals is as I have listed above, cows, horses, sheep, and pigs. However, it all fell out of use thousands of years ago. It would be interesting to trace just when the words receded from common use, and why. Chinese raise plenty of pigs to this day.

post #1,000

這篇是我去年寫的、忘了。

說實在，最近煩惱臺灣的未來。看起來，逃避現實的人很多。也是因為我民國六十年秋天來華，剛好三十五年，一方面回顧，想了解我們的來路，一方面想藉經驗了解我們現在的處境、未來的方向。

三十五年來，臺灣的變化，不可思議；我能經歷這段時期，很幸運。

想到一個問題。民國六十幾年，臺灣女性化妝的很少。只有那些上了年紀的婦人出席正式場面才化，掩飾歲月，不然，化妝幾乎是風塵女郎的標誌。

在美國，青春痘的問題不是「有沒有？」而是嚴重程度而已，以為是青少年無法避免、必經的階段；來華讀大學，發現班上同學不太知道青春痘是甚麼，我詫異不已。可能是因為政府不准麥當勞入侵，所以那時一般人氣色、皮膚相當好，青春痘並不普遍。只有天生油性皮膚的人才有。

可能是這個原因吧，所以不需要化妝品。皮膚好、氣色好，不需要化妝；越化妝，皮膚越差，越需要化妝品。

I was raised a Lutheran: Sunday school and church every Sunday, choir, acolyte, catechism classes, confirmation, I did it all. In my twenties I wrestled with Christ, and I won, even though he fought dirty. Several years later I wrestled with the buddha and found out there’s no winning or losing, but a couple years after that, when I became a buddhist, I shook my finger at the boss and said, Some day I am going to see through you and then I’m not going to be a buddhist any more. The buddha smiled and cheered: go to it! that’s the spirit!

One of the reasons I shook Christianity out of my life was the book of Revelations. Any religion that includes in its scripture such a rant written by a madman full of hate does not merit my attention. The world, and Western civilization in particular, would be much better off if the original draft of Revelations had been quietly burned as soon as it was written. Wow, did you hear that? That shriek you just heard was the Christians knocking their computer screens off their desks and laps.

End days? Please. Yes, according to careful reading of scripture, learned authorities came to the conclusion that the world was sure to end in the year 800. Oops, try again. 1000 AD? No less a biblical scholar than Martin Luther was sure that the end of the world was nigh; please tell me you have studied the bible more closely than Luther and you know better than he.

First, I don’t think Jehovah has the ability to end the world. He’s just a god, for crying out loud, what’s the big fuss about? And second, in the greater scheme of things, so what if the world did end? One tiny speck of dust in the universe. Sure, we are attached to this world, sort of; in spite of all our efforts to beat Jehovah to the punch and destroy the earth by pollution, we grew up here, so we do have a certain affection for the earth, and it would be sad to see it exterminated. What could be more beautiful than a tree? If trees don’t grow on other planets, that alone would be worth preserving this earth for. Certainly the earth is going to die someday, sooner than that if Bush has his way. But I’m not going to worry about end days or the Beast. Something that cracks me up is the people who get all worried about the number 666; sorry, that’s a misprint, the original numerology pointed to 634 or something, not 666. But if it makes you happy, please don’t let me stop you, do stay up all night worrying about the Mark of The Beast and 666. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help laughing out loud as I wrote that.

~*^*~

Concerning rigid orthodoxy, Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “Any decent person ought to go mad, if he really holds such … opinions. It is very much to his discredit in every point of view if he does not.” (1857)

Let me tell you, those people in the ACLU sure get some weird ideas. Ramona Ripston, executive director of the ACLU of Southern California said, "We've always felt that a flashlight was not an instrument to beat people with.”

Well, lady, what do you think the police carry flashlights for? Especially in LA! To see in the dark, ha ha ha? Wassamatter, why you hate America? You want the terrorists to win? Sheesh.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070330/ap_on_re_us/police_flashlights

When I came back from the US, I posted acerbic comments about security at LAX (this blog, February 26 this year); at least they were supposed to be acerbic enough, and since I am a Serb, I think that will have to do, lest we melt down computer terminals.

However, in all fairness, I would like you to know that those arrogant fatheads have actually caught themselves a suspect. Fadhel Al-Maliki, a 35 year old Iraqi national living in Atlantic City, NJ, set off metal detectors as he passed through. Al-Maliki said he knew what had triggered the alarms, and “proceeded to remove items from his rectum, including a rock, chewing gum, and thin wire filament”(LA Times OC B3 2007.03.07, by Andrew Blankstein).(See? I have a source, I am not making this up.)

The article continues, “Concern that the objects might be components for an explosive device led authorities to call in the Los Angeles Police Department and FBI bomb technicians as well as a hazardous material team.” If he can make a bomb out of a rock, chewing gum, and thin wire filament while riding on an airplane, I say, more power to him, sign him up for the CIA, the country needs this guy!

Unfortunately, such was not the case. Al-Maliki explained that the objects in his rectum were used to alleviate stress, especially the rock, which came from another planet.

I suspect Al-Maliki came from another planet, but I would love to see a transcript of his questioning. It probably went like this.

FBI: “Why did you feel you have to alleviate stress?”

AM: “Wouldn’t you be stressed out if you were an Iraqi national trying to go through security to board a flight?”

Or maybe:

LAPD: “Why did you feel you have to alleviate stress?”

AM: “Wouldn’t you be stressed out if you had a rock, chewing gum, and thin wire up your rectum?”

I’m just conjecturing, but do remember to visit this blog daily for important news updates and tasteful humor.

Photo by Chao, permission assumed

今天二月十二，花朝節，即百花的生日。

年將七十老爺說

兩年前，有一天晚上我宵夜吃太油膩，早上睡醒嘴巴歪一邊。去看醫生，醫生說是輕微中風，給了藥叫我吃。我吃了兩個禮拜還沒好，我跟醫生說，不行，你多給我幾個禮拜的藥，我要回家鄉。

上飛機，大家都在看我，這個人嘴巴怎麼歪一邊？飛機上，只有我一個人嘴巴是歪的。

回到家鄉，我四弟看到，說，咦？哥哥嘴巴怎麼歪一邊？我不要他擔心，我就騙他說，因為哥哥打kiss太多，所以嘴巴歪一邊。

I have reached a solution for a thorny problem: gun control. My solution ~~ you may call it the Talovich Solution ~~ requires two laws be instituted simultaneously across the board. This will make everybody happy: rich gun manufacturers (they’re the only ones who really count in this debate) as well as you and me and police and legislators. Even Moses and Charlton Heston.

The first law calls for a total repeal of all gun control laws whatsoever. To purchase any gun you like, all you have to do is plunk down money on the counter, or sell yourself to the credit card people. No age limits, no background checks, no phone numbers, no ID, no nothing. Across the counter you may buy any gun you can afford, from a little pistol that will fit in my lady’s purse to an assault gun that could chip holes in the moon. Take it home to fondle and drool over.

The second law, which is to be enacted at the same time and with the same thoroughness, calls for a total ban on all ammunition. Guns don’t kill people, people don’t kill people, bullets kill people. So all the people can have all the guns they want, but possession of a single bullet requires the invariable execution of the death penalty. By your own gun and with your own bullet, if you so desire, but make an iron-clad law that possession of ammunition by anyone but an on-duty police officer or warfighter results in death by firing squad.

I’m sure not even death penalty opponents would mind that too much, and most guys buy guns just so they can wrap their hands around that big, long, hot, masculine firearm. Shooting is not really what gets them off. They just want to run their hands up and down that big, long, hot, masculine, throbbing uhh firearm. So everybody’s happy. Heck, they’ll probably thank me for saving them a bundle on ammunition.

Quick, quick,, if you hurry you can be the first to nominate me for a Nobel Peace Price.

聽說政府計畫將屠宰業集中在大型屠宰場；動物在中央屠宰場殺了再把肉賣到各個市場。

這樣作好嗎？我吃素，我的立場，大家都不吃肉的話，大家健康快樂，這樣比較好。現在的肉販把血淋淋的肉賣給消費者，起碼提醒消費者，那是動物的屍首。用漂亮保麗龍保鮮膜包裝，消費者可以不想無辜牲畜屍體，而且增加許多垃圾。

屠宰業集中在大型屠宰場，我看不出好處。作屠夫不容易，要學；如果集中起來，一定會將屠法簡化，以降低屠殺者的薪資；美其名是降低成本。要了解這個道理，想一想餐廳廚師領的薪水，與在速食店翻漢堡的廉價工。廚師有一技之長，所以薪水高，為了保持食物水準老闆必須讓他三分；速食店的伙計簡化，學三分鐘就會了，老闆把薪水壓的與僱員人格一樣低。說是價格比較便宜呢，該計社會成本再說。

如果屠宰各自進行，屠夫可以做小本生意，靠自己。他要找雞鴨牛豬貨源，可以找小型養殖場；甲養十隻雞，乙養五十隻。動物在小型養殖場一定比較幸福：當然都是冤枉的死刑犯，但比照之下，小型養殖場比較人道；大形養殖場簡直是人造地獄。

小型養殖，小型屠宰，各自分散，很多人可以靠自己，作自己的事業，作自的老闆。大型養殖，大型屠宰，只有財團可以問津。有錢人越有錢，小老百姓越拮据，拼經濟原來是這樣嘛。

小型養殖場還有一個好處：生物多樣性。甲養的雞，是阿公留下的種，乙的雞從南部朋友家買來的，種類、基因與甲的不同；因為屠夫一天的量有限，各別看、各別判斷買不買。大型屠宰場這樣作的話，不符成本；必須統一規格，生物多樣性便不顧了。

說來說去，政府也不會理我。可是自己想。雞、鵝、鴨、魚、牛、羊、豬、鰻，跟你有甚麼仇？何必殘害牠們？不過呢，吃了就有仇。殺牠，牠怕、痛、怨；吃牠，對自己健康有害無益。最好還是不殺，不吃。

現在票選國鳥 www.birdingintaiwan.com ; 沒有國，哪有鳥？姑不論，，我當然捧鄰居的場，投藍鵲的票。看樣子藍鵲領先，但無管如何，希望黃山雀不上。為甚麼？因為黃山雀的英文是yellow tit；臺灣這幾年鬧的笑話已經太多，不必給天下人這個笑柄。

Continental drift provoked vehement controversy when it was first proposed, but now we have definite proof that it is correct. As evidence, I wish to present this map I photographed on 南陽 street in Taipei (某留學代辦). Notice the London has moved severely to the northwest, dumping Cambridge in the Irish Sea.

Prepare to meet your fate, Paddy. Before long, London will be muscling aside Dublin, and the English dream of overwhelming Ireland will finally come true, through inexorable geological processes.

Tayal qutux: Baq su ga, Oro 中風了.

Me: Pongan gu.

Tayal sazing: Ima Oro?

Me: Oro yutas 甜美.

Tayal sazing: Nanu sa 中風?

Tayal qutux: Nipun gwaw ini tnaq la.

Translation:

Tayal A: Do you know that Oro had a stroke?

Me: I have heard that.

Tayal B: Which Oro?

Me: Tienmei’s father.

Tayal B: How did that happen?

Tayal A: He didn’t drink enough liquor.

what some people won't do to get an upgrade....
http://www.strangedangers.com/content/item/123619.html

國畫擅寫意。若寫實，勉與洋畫比，略嫌不如；但飄逸玄虛，無有可與中國畫比者：深山霧煙、農夫悠然垂釣、佛道意境、高士恬淡頤神，華夏水墨之最。

其弊，齊白石詩道盡：

山外樓臺雲外峰

匠家千古此雷同。

今居高樓大廈，西裝革履，機車捷運的畫士，筆下猶出文人騎驢過茅屋，書童抱琴隨。

國畫歹。水墨畫交通警察騎摩托車過霓虹燈五彩繽紛的檳榔攤，不類，非其長；但依例畫蓮池佚舢舨，小橋遇佳人，遠矣。或以今人心境不飄渺，雅士全被卡拉ok嚇跑。

待賢者解之。

夫子一定會木彫。宰予晝寢，子曰，朽木不可雕，這是行話。

木腐朽鬆垮，不收刀鑿；然木過于堅硬，亦不可琱。木必質堅理順，刀入而不崩，鑿淨而不乖，是好木：可彫。木彫如此，教書更是如此。

三隻小豬列為成語，可見在杜正勝眼中，西洋的童話可與華夏奧妙文學媲美。怎麼有這麼崇洋的政權？

陳水扁很重視這位讒諛部長，因為每次杜貽笑大方，大眾注意力移到教育部，暫忘總統的荒誕言行。寧將人民教育付之一炬，不願少釋權柄。

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？