The Roman Soldier

Surely anyone who goes by the nickname "Scooter" even though he has a perfectly serviceable first initial will gladly take a bullet for his perceived protectors. However, I can't wait to see the mugshot. This week A Word A Day's theme has been concepts for which there actually is a word. So my question is, can we sum up the phrase "badly-concealed schadenfreude" with a polysyllabic Hellenism? To sum it all up with a homespun Southernism, "Don't pee on my leg and tell me that it's raining."

Excuses for being less prolix than usual.

• Mothers-in-law (my wife's and my own) are visiting.


• Parent Teacher Conferences--"How can I put this delicately?"


• New Member's Class--We're joining a church in Charlottesville...finally!

Merry Fitzmas to all, and to all a good night!

The Whiner Series

Not that I care, but it isn't cold and rainy all summer in Chicago. So the Astros are whiners. However, I wish there was some way that both teams could lose. Especially because this is the most competent baseball team to come out of Chicago since before the Roaring 20s.

I'll post more later...maybe?

Sweet Justice.

According to CNN.com...

"Saddam and seven other of his regime's officials, whose trial by special tribunal is scheduled to begin Wednesday, are charged with scores of reprisal killings and tortures in the Tigris River town after the incident on July 8, 1982."

"What a day, what a day, for an auto da fe!"

So how's about them Hoos? The first game I go to, and we beat a nationally ranked team, and the geniuses in the engineering department can't even tear down a stinkin' goalpost. If this were MSU, that thing would've been down in sixty seconds flat.

Let's add this to the good-luck-controlling-drunken-undergrads file. I found this in my UVa inbox this morning. (My new aspiring-Latin-teacher-EDLF-345-friend Carter Smiley was one of the poor cheerleaders caught in the unrush. Fortunately, she was wily enough to avoid injury.)

Dear Virginia Athletics Fan:

Saturday was a great day for college football, both nationally and here in Charlottesville as our Cavaliers earned a win against the No. 4 ranked team in the country, Florida State University. More than 63,000 fans gathered at the Carl Smith Center and watched a resourceful U.Va. football team beat the previously unbeaten Seminoles. All our fans deserve a great deal of credit for helping to create an enthusiastic atmosphere in Scott Stadium in support of our team as a national television audience watched from all over the country.

The euphoria of the hometown fans was short-lived as the game clock ran out, however. A number of fans took it upon themselves to storm the field as the game ended. An evening that should have ended in celebration and fun turned into a night of misfortune for a number of fans, mostly students. About a dozen students ended up being taken to the emergency room. It is important for me to address the Athletics Department's priorities in administering post-game safety measures.

I am relieved to know that injuries sustained by fans after the game ended were not life-threatening. It must be stated there is no role for fans who enter the field of play before, during, or after games. The field of play is for those people who, by virtue of their hard work, have earned the right to be on the field (the players, coaches, game officials, and game/event staff). It is our primary role to protect those who are supposed to be on the field. Equally important is our priority to provide a safe environment for fans to attend events; this priority is much more challenging, and in some cases impossible, when fans disregard the rules and attempt to go places they do not belong. When our fans overstep their role and attempt to enter the field of play, ensuring the safety of every player, coach, official, event staff representative, and fan is impossible.

Many of us witnessed a dangerous situation unfold on the hillside after Saturday's dramatic finish. Some fans intended to go on the field. Others were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time and were caught up in a crush of humanity. This was all unnecessary, and it was no fun for those who were injured or witnessed it. As I talked to many of the injured fans who ended up in the emergency room, each spoke of being afraid of having no control over the rush of people moving chaotically toward the field from the hillside. Among the fans who watched the game from the hillside were younger fans who easily could have been seriously injured in the post-game frenzy.

The spontaneous eruption of enthusiasm and support in the stands is what makes our fans, especially our students, so special. I ask for your continued support for all of our teams. We cannot, however, allow another situation to occur as it did on Saturday night. The injuries and the fear experienced by so many are not worth the brief thrill that might have come from being in a restricted area on the field.

The Department of Athletics cannot solve this situation alone. First, we welcome the level of enthusiasm for each game that was in the stands on Saturday night. Second, we need for celebrations to occur in the stands and other places where it is appropriate. The field, however, is not a place for fans to celebrate.

Thank you for contributing to our team's great on-the-field triumph on Saturday night. We welcome your continued support by giving a winning effort in the stands in the future.

Craig Littlepage
Director of Athletics

He arose.

Jesus that is. Let's just say that rumors of Baby's demise were greatly exaggerated. Apparently (s)he had three dead siblings. That just means (s)he is a survivor.

vita mors est.

Well, if anyone read my blog in the last 24 hours, they may be curious why I choose to translate some homoerotic Medieval verse yesterday. I didn't really know, either, other than that I was curious to try my hand.

Well, today I know. The poem has a very self-centered view on loss--"Don't leave me or cheat on me, because then I'll be sad." However, in another way, I think the poem could be read to say, "I don't want you to leave or love another, but I know you're going to, so I'm just going to have to deal with it."

Anyways, my sweet baby turtle died. I think it was too late in the year to leave a baby turtle outside for any time at all and expect it to make it. I've learned my lesson, and hopefully, next year, there'll be more babies. I think the comforting thing about our particular brand of mystery religion is the singular mystery.

VITA MORS EST.
This can be restated in question and answer format.

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own,
but belong—
body and soul,
in life and in death—
to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven:
in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him,
Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him.

I've lost 25 pounds. However, I've been eating faithfully at McDonald's® and Burger King®. Of course, the key is portion control. The "medium" Whopper Jr.® meal is actually only 4-5 starches. The "regular" Chicken Strips® meal at McDonald's® is also 4-5. As I was eating at Burger King today, they had signs out advertising their new pies. One said, "An Apple Pie a Day..." Of course, inviting one to complete the puzzle by adding, "...will slowly rot you from the inside out," or something similar. I realize that as a recovering foodaholic, it's like going to a fast food restaurant full of bad foods, and then being tempted to eat them. However, I have a secret weapon, and it's not weaponized anthrax (which would be a really lame secret weapon anyways). The metformin has drastically affected my appetite, to the point where I am actually full after eating a Whopper Jr.® meal. Praise God for big Pharma. So screw you, Morgan Spurlock.

Carmina Cantabrigiensia

A Cambridge Song, 10th century AD
What a marvelous idol of Venus,
In whose design there is no carelessness,
May the Ruler protect you, the one whose toil
Spun the earth and the stars and laid the seas and the soil.


And so that you do not suffer a theif's ingenious trap,
I hope Clotho loves you, because she holds the spindle in her lap.
"Save this boy," I ask not as an exercise,
Lachesis, but with a hard longing I agonize,
Sister of Atropos, so that some heresy may not mesmerize.


May you have Neptune as a shipmate, and also Thetis,
While you are carried across the river Thesis.
Where could you flee--I would like to know--where I will not love you?
What a shambles I will be, when I can't see you.


The hard matter of our mother's bones
Created humans when it was thrown over a shoulder as so many stones,
From which one came that little child
Who couldn't care less about a tearful sigh.
As I wallow in sadness, my rival will gladly make his play.
I will roar like a doe, when her buck dashes away.

You can't always get what you want.

That's what the sign said on the AFC as the reason why it would be closed on the day of the Stones concert. Cute.

But how true it is...

Let's talk about baseball.

• Last year the Cubs got tantalizingly close to doing well in the off-season, only to loose it all to sheer incompetence. (Excuses about fan interference are merely excuses.) Ah, well, 'tis better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all, especially if your insurance covers therapy.


• This year, by far, the two best teams in baseball were the Cubs' NL and AL archnemeses.


• It gave me great pleasure to see all the East Coast teams lose. I am sick of hearing about Yankees and Red Sox. And I've hated the Braves since childhood, because of the loss of my sports innocence at the trading away of Greg Maddox.


• I told Dave during one of our runs together, that it would probably be the White Sox and the Cards in it for all the monkeys. The situation being a true Cub fan's worst nightmare notwithstanding, I hope that's what it comes down too. I just want to be able to hold my head up a little bit higher around all these east-coast elitists. Anyways, as I said to Spencer, "I hope the Sox, grrrr, make it to the World Series and get beat, and if it's the LORD's will that the Cardinals do it, then I'm just going to have to accept it."

Let's not talk about baseball.

• Today, a student was disenrolled. This was not the sole reason (according to some he should have been sent away months ago), but it was the straw that broke the camel's back—he called a fellow teacher a b**** to my face.
  I'm going to be one of the bad guys tomorrow. C'est la vie.


• Today, another student had an epileptic seizure. Goodness, besides the sheer fear of any unknown medical problems, it must be terribly embarrassing to have something like that happen in front of your peers.


• Long day. Pax vobiscum omnibus.

Baby on board

Well, the LORD moves in mysterious ways.


I didn't really think Tullia was up to it, but she has produced an heir, whether male or female we shall see. (Apparently, the hotter the temperature, the more likely a female.) However, as is always the case in our universe, new life is matched with new death. It appears that "Baby" had a sibling that didn't make it. The inexplicable smell coming from the turtle shelter has now been explained. The poor little one has been interred below the sand.


Now, surely, Baby will find many obstacles to reaching adulthood. Therefore, I am ready to let go of my first-born turtle if the LORD asks him/her of me. However, I am already planning on being a doting turtle-daddy. I bought Baby a new house, a water dish, and specially-formulated Calcium-rich sand in which to play. All along with a serving of dog food and some turtle pellets, hopefully Baby's nutritional needs will all be met. I am still debating how to take care of Baby this winter, as de Vosjoli says that turtles do not hibernate until their second or third winter. I imagine that I will have to create a mini-terrarium inside to care for her.

I realized the other day that there may be many dead links on the archives of this blog. Just as likely, there are lovely graphics which may no longer display themselves. I have decided to take a Zen attitude to the situation. Just like I was sad when I had to bury my turtle-that-never-was, but not really sad, I feel able to let go of those pictures and links as they slowly die over time. I feel that blogging should be like sand-art—brash in its inception, and then gently fading with the winds and the tide.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

• If one were not able to correctly parse the last post, my sister is pregnant, and I'm going to have a niece/nephew on my side of the family. The bundle of love and joy should arrive in March, but hopefully will not be as bellicose as its birth month.


• Jaimee is hopefully going to buy the house next door from Tara. Commuting to work by tandem bicycle, anyone?


• My mother has a job interview in, of all places, Charlottesville? Whether she gets this job or not, please pray that she finds an outlet for her prodigious talent which provides generous health insurance.


• "My fellow Americans, tonight I'd like to talk about peace in South Vietnam."


• The times, they are a' changin'.

a day of self-discovery

What did I discover on my first day of Fall Break? That I'm a lazy jerk. Oh, and that sometimes I really want to use sentence fragments, but generally keep myself from doing so.

As a recovering Calvinist, I have decided that wasting time needs to become a spiritual practice. In Calvinism we learn, "Let your 'yes' be 'yes,' and your 'no' be 'yes.'" Basically, we are expected to take responsibility for the fact that the world still has sin in it. Not that this concept in and of itself is totally wrong (as are very few concepts), but in practice it can be a mind-warping experience. Consider yours truly, who constantly castigated himself for being lazy while working 40 hours a week and taking a full load of classes as an undergrad.

Many Calvinists try to live like Ned Flanders, "I did everything in the Bible, I even did the stuff that contradicted the other stuff." The fact of the matter is, life is about balance—our bodies were designed for spending 60 hours a week in the fields, not 60 hours a week parsing deponent verbs.

So in honor of wasting time, I have decided to pursue self-knowledge by engaging in the blog(o/a)log(ue).

Let's start with internet personality tests. Liquid Generation provides some colorful fun. Of course, any test that claims to be the ultimate in anything must tell me something powerfully profound about my affinity or lack thereof for the darkside.


This somewhat disturbing result led me to try and discover my S.Q., or Simpson Quotient. Matching myself among such luminaries as Homer, O.J., Jessica, et al., I found a more comforting result.


Although initially relieved, this led to the somewhat unsettling question of my pure unadulterated nerdery.


To my delight, I had not yet reached level I nerdhood, but I realized that I was dangling precipitously close to the edge. Logically, I needed to take a purity test at that moment.


Having concluded that I may actually have dangled myself too far over the edge (hey, I didn't mean it that way), I took the quasi sequitur step (at least in terms of dangling precipitously) to my final internet self-knowledge query.


Ah, truly, the unexamined life is not worth living.

Of course, these quizzes did not come from such reputable sources as my fellow blog(o/a)loggers, most of whom I would actually trust to dangle my third-born child off a balcony in Berlin. Since Andrew's is shorter, I thought I'd tackle his first.

Five Publishable Idiosyncracies

1. I will buy one cereal over another if it includes a free prize inside (i.e. a children's book, or a Disney® Wobbler©.)


2. I collect recyclable items of trash (i.e. paper bags, paperboard) in my classroom until they grow into such a pile that I either (a) generally throw them away, or (b) stuff them in the trunk and forget about them for a month.


3. I often dream that I am back in high school, either teaching my peers (although we are all still teenagers), or being taught by my current colleagues.


4. Secretly, of all the things I own, my favorite posession is my Futbol Club Barcelona towel that I bought for €10.


5. All of my books at school are labeled and catalogued with a Dewey Decimal Number.

Lastly, I would be remiss, if I did not respond to Guamo's kind inference that I would be the most likely to respond to his brief biography. I take it as a sign of our closeness, which dates back to the days of LEGO® spaceships and first crushes. (Tom used to like Erin Feller—is the statute of limitations out on an already violated pledge of eternal secrecy?)

1. What is your occupation? Teacher
2. What are you listening to right now? The sound of electricity humming
3. What was your favorite vacation spot? Braga, Portugal
4. What was the last thing you ate? Falafel platter at Sticks.
5. Do you wish on stars? Only if I'm in the right mood
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? piña colada
7. How is the weather right now? Pacific Northwest Rainforest with a side of kudzu.
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? la Juanita
9. How many different sizes of jeans are in your closet? enough to keep up with the swiftly changing contours of my ass
10. How old are you today? 26ish
11. Favorite drink? Diet Pepsi
12. Favorite sport to watch? Baseball is too depressing to watch right now.
13. Have you ever dyed your hair? Blondes have more fun.
14. Do you wear contacts? My eyesight is my only physical feature which does not require constant maintenance.
15. Pets? 3 beautiful turtles, wanna see pictures?
16. Favorite month? June at about the 15thish
17. Favorite food? Did someone say "gyro?"
18. What was the last movie you watched? Sky Captain & the World of Tomorrow
19. Favorite day of the year? Did I mention June 15thish?
20. What do you do to vent anger? Ummmm..., you're reading it.
21. What was your favorite toy as a child? LEGO®, Transformers
22. Fall or Spring? I'm more of a nuclear winter.
23. Hugs or kisses? Are we talking candies, 'cause otherwise, why would one need to choose.
24. Cherry or Blueberry? 1 cup of berries is only 1 starch, whereas a whole banana or large apple might be 2.
25. Do you want your friends to email (blog) you back? Why else would I have a blog?
26. Who is most likely to respond? Maybe Judith, because she's nice, but nobody really reads this, do they?
27. Who is least likely to respond? I thought I was.
28. Living arrangements? Roommate, girlfriend, lover, and life partner (geez, that makes me sound like a ho)
29. When was the last time you cried? I get upset about a generation's loss of innocence.
30. What is on the floor of your closet? Worldly possessions.
31. Who is the friend you have had the longest? My brother is still my friend, even if he did vote for Dr. Evil. Also, I need to make a shout out here to my big sis, who has taken me one step closer to biological avuncularity.
32. What did you do last night? I skinned my knee while riding my bike to choir practice when I stopped too suddenly at the rapturous sight of la Juanita coming home from work. After choir practice, I rode past the Rolling Stones concert only to come by while the stadium was cleared due to a bomb threat. After watching a delightful episode of South Park at Jaimee's house, I went home and set out a bunch of trash for the large item pickup.
33. Favorite smell? Not fratboy puke before a Rolling Stones concert.
34. Who inspires you? Juh-EE-suhs
35. What are you afraid of? Acrophobia, Claustrophobia, Gephyrophobia
36. Favorite car? I wish I had a hybrid, or a car that ran on bio-diesel.
37. Favorite dog breed? Mutt
38. Number of keys on your key ring? Too many
39. How many years at your current job? I think I started this job while I was still in junior high.
40. Favorite day of the week? Friday night
41. How many states have you lived in? 3
42. How many cities have you lived in? 3

That was anti-climactic, or is it climatic? Well, now I know who I am, and you should too.

But seriously, folks, let's not take ourselves too seriously. I would be remiss if I didn't end this post with a final contradiction. As a middle-school teacher, I have learned that unless I act with the complete moral authority of the gospel, I can never develop the humility that will allow me to survive another year.

Peace.

What about the children?

In a seemingly vain attempt to educate children about international justice and the joys of the ablative, this delightful webpage came to existence.

Piss me off once, shame on me. Piss me off twice...you can't piss me off twice

Let's summarize, for those who have been away.

Karl Rove: (on phone) Okay, Byker, we need to send Bush somewhere to give a commencement address where he's not going to look like an ungrateful, spoiled jackass, and we've decided it's going to be you.
Gaylen Byker: (on phone) Yes, my liege, it is a privilege to host the dark master.

Shadowy Calvin Administration Figure: Okay, Nick, we've decided that your decades of thoughtful scholarship in the Reformed tradition are not enough to earn you the right to give the commencement address we promised you. So go f*** yourself.
Nicholas Wolterstorff: Right back atcha! I'll be tending my garden, meditating on all the s*** you'll have to wipe off your damn fool faces.

Official Administration Announcement: It should please one and all to know that the prince of this age has deigned to bequeath us, his lowly subjects, with his most wise and beneficent oratory. Wow, this makes us look good in the eyes of man.
Small Minority of Liberal Calvin Community Members:Whaaaaa?

Media Echo Chamber: Blah, Blah, Blah... Bad! Uncivil! Blah, Blah... (sound of words twisting in the wind)

Gaylen Byker: Those ingrateful bastards! I mean, how many chances are they going to get to have one of the most divisive and arrogant public figures in living memory address their children with some pithy, meaningless tripe that he didn't even write himself! I mean this deeply uncivil discourse about someone who has personally approved of ad hominem attacks against members of his own party is surely unwarranted. Let's shorten his remarks to fifteen minutes, that'll hold 'em.

Official Calvin College Commemorative Commencement Publication: Our glorious leader did hold court over a great peaceful ceremony today. His profound and thoughtful sayings didst bewisen and bemuse the graduates, who shall proceed forth into the world to redeem creation for greater Republicania (and Jesus, maybe). Oh, and all who did disagree with his wise and prudent policies are uncivil and rude.

Disgruntled Liberals: Bitch. Moan.

Michael Van Denend: (in letter) I know you ungrateful liberals are full of hate, but can you still send us money? I mean, you should hear the conservatives whine about how much you whined. I mean, it's like you don't love us anymore. So, how's about a check for a new dorm? I mean, you can't hate us forever, right? Oh, and go read a book on civility.

Calvin College Spark: (beating a dead horse) Isn't it great that the leader of the powers and principalities of this age came to Calvin. Let's have an uncivil civil discussion about it.
Randy Bytwerk: I didn't sign the letter because I'm a Republican, dumbasses. Oh, and the people who signed the letter committed a grave, grave sin.
Karen Saupe: I signed the letter because I'm a Democrat, dumbasses. I can't believe that people would bitch at me for having an opinion different than theirs. WTF?

The moral of the story—dissent is uncivil. Unthinking support of the government—well, what would Jesus have done? Oh, Calvin College, they'll take your check no matter for whom you vote, but don't expect them to care about your opinion.

The real moral of the story—we're all full of s***, and by "full of s***" I mean, corrupted by sin. So if that is a core belief of our theology, why invite a man to speak at commencement whose actions and ideas don't seem to really live into it?

Mikey likes it

So I tried it this morning, and I must admit, after getting over the initial shock of its resemblance to sylvan ground cover, it tasted delicious. I grabbed the box in disbelief that it was actually good for me. I then discovered the secret ingredient—sugar, 9 grams a serving or 18 grams a bowl. Counting the total carbohydrates, but subtracting the fiber, and then adding fresh, delicious milk to this bowl, this breakfast comes out to a total of 5 servings of starch. A little heavy for breakfast, but I needs my flax.


Now the moral of the story is, not only does a spoonful of sugar help the medicine go down, but counting carbs is like any moral discipline—eating something that looks disgusting can actually make you look like a good person while rotting your teeth (but of course I brushed).

By the way, thank you, Phil for writing a deliciously hilarious post on the psychotropically disorienting (or clarifying?) effects of self-discovery.

Grace and Peace.

In which Satan buys a down parka

I bought Flax & Fiber Crunch cereal today. I guess I have to eat it, or send the starving children in Africa a check for $5.95.


I had a meeting with a dietician yesterday. She told me to eat flax. I asked her in all sincerity, "Isn't that what they use to make linen?" Well, I guess I'm going to have to eat my natural fiber shirt.

Now, I'm going to go lift (weights, that is). Who am I and what have they done with the real Matt?