Simian Farmer

And on the 2,190,000th day...

The universe is now 6,000 years old.

Wow!! It's been around a long time. I think I said in my first-ever post that I have some fairly strong moral/philosophical views that may end up getting expressed on this here forum. The above-linked article is a good catalyst to get me started on creationism versus evolution. (Should I be capitalizing those?)

First off, the two are not mutually exclusive. From my perspective. Let me quote here from Obi-Wan Kenobi and say that, "Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our point of view." Everything I'll be saying here will be coming from that perspective, just so I don't feel obligated to keep repeating it. Nor should you feel obligated to swallow any of this for yourself. Why should your own opinion hold true to my own?

Now, Creationism and Evolution are NOT mutually exclusive. I think creationists are ignorant and narrowminded, blindly clinging to the 'truth' that has been spoon-fed them. AND I think that evolutionists are full of hubris from the scientific community having proved them 'right' and creationists 'wrong' that I find them nearly as intolerable. Both sides are wearing blinders, just of a different colour. I made a comment in a previous post about my reticence towards picking sides on very Black & White issues. This is one of the biggest, so colour me grey.

There is more than ample scientific proof here on earth that this little nugget of rock that revolves around our sun is several billion years old. The claim – deference given for the fact that it was made in the 1600s – that the earth has just this month turned 6,000 years old is completely ludicrous. Creationists and/or Flat-Earthers have their collective heads stuck so far into the sand that, no matter the volume of scientific inundation and reason, there is little to no point in trying to dissuade them from their views. (But the fun is in the argument, isn’t it?) I think that so much of this comes from the perceived threat that if there were any significant level of acceptance of evolution by creationist partisans, it would cast such a huge shadow of doubt on whatever religious dogma had heretofore been subscribed to by those creationists that Armaggedon-like chaos would inevitably ensue. If the world really is more than 6,000 years old, maybe Noah’s Ark needs to be investigated just a little bit more.

Similarly, evolutionists ought not be so caught up in self-congratulatory rhetoric as to think that they have it all right. (I use ‘they’ here though I consider my own thinking much more in line with evolution than creationism.) The age of the universe has been speculated – or loosely calculated – to be somewhere around 13 to 14 billion years old. This figure, to date, has fluctuated quite a bit and will continue to do so for quite some time, I think. Regardless, it is certainly a far cry from the figure of 6,000 derived from calculations made from the Bible. In comparison, our Earth is only approximately 4.5 billion years old.

I think that evolutionary theory has operated quite nicely outside the bounds of creationism for pretty much the full span of those 14 or so billion years. Where I see a breakdown or, God forbid, a marriage of both creationist and evolutionary thought, is at the point that started it all.

It has been generally accepted in scientific circles that the Universe and Everything in It started with the Big Bang. A single point of infinite mass and density that, for whatever reason, decided to experience what it was like to be a whole lot less dense in a big hurry. From what scientific reading I have done and no little personal introspection, I subscribe whole-heartedly to this theory. What science cannot explain is what happened for the first few teeny tiny instants immediately following that release. Or what led up to it.

This is where Science with a capital ‘S’ is showing a little more flexibility that most religious types. Normally, when things go BOOM on a cosmic scale, one of two things happens: 1. – the matter in question explodes with such ferocity that the material which was just packed into a tidy little area diffuses away from the point of explosion and nothing more comes of it. 2. – the matter explodes and radiates outwards, but such is the mass of the matter compared to the relatively (very important word here) small explosion, that it reaches a certain radius and then collapses back into itself. A black hole forming from an exploding star being a good example of this. So… Scientists have actually postulated that, assuming the Big Bang theory is correct, such was the precision with which the Bang took place in order for the universe to expand at just such a rate that galaxies and planets could form, that in itself lends credence to Divine Intervention. If it had exploded any more ferociously, the universe would have expanded too quickly for planets and suns to form from the dust. Any less intense, and the mass of the universe would have caused it to collapse back on itself and we wouldn’t need things like the internet since we’d all be living inside the same point singularity, jostling for elbow room.

This is what I believe happened. The universe is such a beautifully complex and simple place, governed by immutable and understandable Laws, that I do not for a second doubt the Hand of God being instrumental in its Creation. And such was the perfection of that instant of creation that God (or whatever name or moniker you wish to ascribe to a higher power) has not laid hands on it since. For what reason would God make something so imperfect that he/she/it would have to intervene on a regular basis to make it right again? This is where I think there is a necessary and unavoidable union of science and faith.

God gave us the most perfect playgroud inside of which to experience the All of it. He started it with a Bang and bestowed on us the two greatest gifts of all: Life and Free Will. Then stepped back and said, “Go!” The rest is up to us.

Let me also say that, inasmuch as I subscribe to evolutionary thought, it is very important to maintain an open mind and be willing to embrace change when a former way of thinking no longer works. One of the strengths of science is its constant struggle to prove itself wrong using the scientific method. So, given that I’ve never made a single calculation of my own to verify the age of the universe or whether or not the earth really does rotate around the sun and not vice versa, it would be exceedingly hypocritical of me to say that creationists have it wrong. I am taking the word of others for what I believe in much the same manner as did Archbishop Ussher when he calculated his figure in 1650.

Therefore, as much as I doubt I can be dissuaded from certain of my beliefs, neither will I attempt to dissuade you from yours.

This is certainly a much larger subject than can be encapsulated in a single blog posting, so would more than welcome any comments for debate.

Curmudgeons & Dragons

A friend of mine just brought to light the fact that the roleplaying game of Dungeons & Dragons has recently turned 30. I mention this because I've been a sporadic player myself for a little more than the past decade.

I have rather fond memories of my first years in university, waiting for the weekend to arrive, when a glut of engineering geeks would traverse the highway to the countryside outside of Edmonton at a friend's acreage near the township of Devon and, for an evening, transform one portion of the basement into a Forgotten Realm.

Let me preface this by saying that much of our weekend tomfoolery rapidly took on the aura of ritual and tradition. Friday (or Saturday, as the case may have been) night arrived, school was forgotten and we accoutred ourselves in gaming gear - in the form of character sheets, rule books, 20-sided dice and Mountain Dew.

At the time, Jeff and I were the only ones local to Edmonton, so he would drive from the north side and pick me up in the west end. There were two quick stops that were of great import prior to our departure for the acreage. The west end Superstore for our choice of junk food for the evening. This was quite often a cube (24 cans) of Coke accompanied by a bag of Cheezies and some bulk pistachio nuts. (There was one evening when Jason came with us that he experimented with President's Choice Chocolate Black Cherry Cola, but we have agreed never to speak of that episode again.) So girded with supplies, Jeff's mighty Honda Civic would then wend its way past the Taco Bell drive-thru, bringing on board a meal for each of us. Doubly supplied with sustenance, we made the trek further west and south.

Arrival at the acreage was rewarded with nothing more than perfunctory greetings as we rapidly descended to the basement. Each weekend, one corner of the floor would be dominated by a large, white, square coffee table, surrounded by sofas and Comfy Chairs. And yes, we were such geeks that there was normally assigned seating. Or at least, the 'usual' seats.

There was rarely a concerted effort at 'serious' gaming. I don't think it would have been nearly as appealing to me if that was the case. We all played our characters, rolled our dice, fought over inane trivialities, ate too much junk food and couldn't believe that it was already 3 in the morning and where the hell did the last 8 hours go?! It was a lot of fun.

THIS is a rather humourous satire of stereotypical game play. It's based on a skit originally done by the Dead Ale Wives. And the reason it's so humourous is how closely it treads to the truth...

If you want an actual demo of Dungeons & Dragons game play, you can try HERE.

Happy birthday, D&D.

UPDATE:
To answer Mark's question regarding being shut down by the CRTC, Lando Calrissian said it best in that, "We're a small enough operation such that we avoid any unwanted attention."

And Aaron, my brother, wondered where I found the time to write some of this stuff. You don't think I actually 'work' at work, do you?!

Hoser Extraordinaire

Canada's CBC has, for the past couple of months, been promoting it's new series on The Greatest Canadian. According to Canadians. Viewers have been encourage to go on-line, write in or phone in with their nominations for the individual that they consider to be the greatest Canadian in history. At the end of the voting, the top 10 individuals will each have a single show dedicated to them and their alleged greatness. During the run of those ten shows, viewers can again vote for the one person of the the ten that is, in their mind, the greatest Canadian of them all.

If you're curious, here's the top-ten list with a brief description of the major accomplishment of each:

Frederick Banting
-discovered insulin, for which he won the Nobel Prize, and also ensured that nobody could make profits from its production.

Alexander Graham Bell
-there are several countries that claim Mr. Bell as their own. Canada can say that he invented the telephone while in this country. He was born in Scotland and lived and worked for a time in England before emigrating to Canada.

Don Cherry
-he's a former NHL hockey coach who, for the past number of years, has used a particular spotlight on CBC's Hockey Night in Canada to spout off his varied and inflammatory opinions on sundry items. I'd see him getting into the Top 100. But the Top 10?! Please...

Tommy Douglas
-Canadian politician, from a controversial socialist perspective, and has been dubbed Canada's 'father of Medicare.'

Terry Fox
-ran across the country on a prosthetic leg to raise awareness and money for cancer research. He died from cancer after completing just over half of his 'Marathon of Hope.'

Wayne Gretzky
-just the greatest hockey player ever to grace God's green earth. And a wonderful spokesman for the game, and Canada in general.

Sir John A. Macdonald
-Canada's first Prime Minister. He spearheaded the idea to unite Canada's East and West with the Canadian Pacific Railway.

Lester B. Pearson
-another former Prime Minister, he gave Canada the Maple Leaf flag, the Pension Plan and won the Nobel Peace prize for introducing a Peacekeeping force during the 1956 Suez Crisis.

David Suzuki
-a world-renowned geneticist, academic and broadcaster, Dr. David Suzuki has spent the past 40 years educating the public about environmental issues, both in the classroom and over the airwaves.

Pierre Elliott Trudeau
-the single most charismatic man ever to lead Canada in the Number One position, he was equally loved and hated by many Canadians. I don't think any of those same people disrespected him.

So there's the list. Of them all, I don't think Don Cherry belongs on the top-ten list. And as for the greatest? That could vary widely just depending on one's definition of 'great'.

How would I vote?
Well, first, here are what I think are the two most pertinent definitions of greatness, as I think it would apply to selecting the greatest Canadian EVER:

1. Of outstanding significance or importance
2. Superior in quality or character; noble

I am somewhat torn. To date, Banting's discovery has saved millions of lives and will continue to do so until a cure for Diabetes is at hand. Terry Fox demonstrated what the human soul is capable of, in the light of seemingly insurmountable physical adversity. Trudeau was the sort of leader this country needs. When he died in 2000, the whole nation mourned.

My vote will go to Pierre Elliot Trudeau.

I salute you

We had an expected visitor at work today. Jack's back. I mentioned Jack briefly in one previous post of mine that I'm not going to bother to look up and link. He had his arms ripped off in a construction site incident earlier this summer. He was just released from the hospital this week so he can go home.

Today is the first day that I've seen him since before the incident. I worked with him on my last project up in Ft. McMurray; that was the last time I had seen him. He looks better now than he did then, which amazes me. As he came into the office, I got up to give him a hug. So he shoulder-checked me and I hugged him back. His attitude is completely amazing. He always was a very upbeat and positive man. And to have your arms ripped off just after you've retired would likely put most men in their mid-sixties into an emotional spiral that would lead to an early grave. Not Jack.

Today, he had a big smile on his face and was bragging about how he's down to 170 pounds and a 34 inch waist. He hasn't been in this kind of shape since he was 18, he was saying, with a deprecating laugh to follow.

His mood, and certainly mine too, are a far cry from when I recall going to the incident site the day after it happened and looking at the drilling rig with the bits of hair and flesh stuck to it, with a small pool of blood where Jack landed and had some of his clothes cut off.

Jack, you are one helluva man.

Oh fortunate me !

I was an intolerable grump last night. I get that way sometimes. I complained to my wife that I got a grand total of two things accomplished at work yesterday. I had a much loftier to-do list compiled that sat, unglanced at, for the duration of the day as I fed the seemingly insatiable demands of others. Such is often the case at work. So that's why I'm at the office right now. On a Saturday. Getting some of the stuff done that avoided my intentions yesterday.

Plus I do my best not to look at my Mastercard balance. Still has most of the wedding on that. Every time I ponder too hard on that particular number, which, believe me, is MUCH larger that 2, I get a little out of sorts. That also was a contributor to my mood last night. I assuaged myself by consuming the rest of the orange sherbet in the freezer. There was about half a litre left in the container. I felt much better after that.

And then this morning, I realized, for the umpteenth time, how very little I have to gripe about. I awoke to a beautifully snow-covered world and my son and I got up and had a grand time together for the few hours before his mom got up. I took this picture just after 6, before the sun had come up. Welcome to Alberta in mid-October.

I have been in the habit, on the weekends, of getting up when our 5-month old does and letting Amy sleep for another 2-3 hours.
(Her ability to sleep, when given the opportunity, still astounds me.) Since I'm normally up between 5.00 and 5.30am anyway, getting up just after 6.00am to hang out with my boy is really no trial. We normally start by ensuring his, uh, backyard is freshly diapered and head out to the living room to play on the floor. Lately, a blanket laid out on the floor has been the best toy for him.

He starts getting a little fussy after about an hour, so he gets plopped into the high chair and a small bowl of warm oatmeal / rice / barley / mixed grains is soon on its way. I am just as astounded at his ability to eat as I mentioned being at Amy's ability to sleep.

I felt a little further chagrin this morning knowing that one of my coworkers has a son just a few months older than my own, and he's currently struggling with the fact that he may be nearly blind. The most frustrating part of this whole ordeal, and what surely has my coworker gnashing his teeth, is that his son will be two years old before 'they' will be able to determine the severity of his son's vision problem!

I also know this fellow, Jaquandor (his net moniker), whose own new addition may suffer some potential long-term effects from not getting enough oxygen during the birth. Again, it will probably be years before the full ramifications for him are known.

So this morning, I will consider myself to be very well blessed at the opportunity to awaken to a beautifully serene landscape and to be able to share it with my son, who giggles gleefully sometimes just at the sight of his father, and who is in perfect health. He just spits up a little too much. But if I had to eat the same stuff he did, I probably would too.

Now... What am I doing still at my desk... ?

Sufferin' succotash

My wife got an Email just yesterday from my stepmum that one of their two cats, Jeff, passed away earlier this week. He and his sister, Mutt, had just recently passed their 17th birthdays. That's pretty darned venerable for a feline.

Jeff, for most of his life, was close to 9 kilos (or about 20 pounds) with a belly that swayed under him when he walked. For the past number of months, whenever Amy and I have been over at their house, he's been a recumbent bonerack, weighing in at about a third of his healthy weight. Stepmum had to hand feed him cooked shrimp for the past while even to get him to eat anything. It was his time and I don't doubt that his sister Mutt will be too far behind him. They came from the same litter.

This has reminded me strongly of the passing of my own cat, Blitzen, about 5 or 6 years ago. He had been a lifelong companion up to then. And he made a fairly memorable entrance when he came.

It was Christmas eve, just a couple years after the family had moved to Edmonton from Ontario. My brother and I were in our pyjamas and were gathered around the Christmas tree in the living room with Mom and Dad, soon to go to bed. The doorbell rang. Who comes calling on Christmas eve, this late at night?

Santa. That's who.

Mom told me to go get the door, which I did with a little trepidation. As I opened the front door, I was completely flummoxed to see a large, fat man standing on the other side of the screen door, dressed from head to toe in a red suit. It was, without a doubt, Santa Claus. Reacting in the only way I could, I promptly slammed the door in his face and ran back to the living room, shouting to my mother that Santa was at the door. In a state of mind much more composed than mine, she suggested that I go back to the front door and let Santa in.

With my heart in my throat, I did this. Santa had come to hand-deliver a gift to my brother and me. It was a special gift, deserving more attention than simply being placed under the Christmas tree. As he made himself comfortable in our living room, as comfortable as he could be under the unblinking gaze of two young boys, he presented to us a small gift. A very small gift. At first glance, it appeared to be a ball of black fuzz. Upon closer inspection, it revealed itself to have two eyes and a dainty pink tongue. It was a kitten, not more than old enough to be just freshly weaned from its mother.

Well! This was just about the best thing that could have happened to us that night! As Santa made his goodbyes, not wanting to disappoint the rest of the world's boys and girls, we were left with the task that night, before heading to bed, to name that small bundle. It was fairly simple. I don't recall who picked the name that night; I'm pretty sure it wasn't me. Who delivered him? Santa. So what shall we name him? Well, after one of his reindeer, of course. So 'Blitzen' joined our household for the next 17 years.

We had many other pet cats come and go over the course of the next decade and a half. Some ran away. Some were given away. But Blitzen was a constant. His loss after a wasting sickness was very hard to take. He'd always hated to go the vet and fought every time we took him in the car. We'd have to wrap him up snugly in a towel in the house before-hand, and transporting him to the vet was a always a two person job. One to drive, and the other to contain the feline fury from being unleashed in the confines of a car.

The night we decided that it would be best to put him down, my mother and I drove him to the vet. We brought a large towel with us but ended up not needing it. He sat complacently on my lap as we drove in silence to the clinic that night. It was the only time he had ever done that. I'm convinced he knew, and was relieved.

I don't think the loss of another pet will ever affect me as much as losing my first cat did.

Squash him!!

I would dearly love to be in England at the end of this month. There is a challenge squash match being played between Jonathon Power of Canada and Peter Nicol of England on the 28th. (That's Canada's Power on the right in the picture.)

If you don't know who either of these people are, you're probably in the majority. If you have ever played even a little bit of squash, you'd know that they have been two of the most prolific, and best, players in the game for nearly the past decade. Their head-to-head rivalry has sparked more interest in the game in the past eight years than has ever been seen in the squash community. Having played against each other a total of 38 times to date, Nicol currently has the edge at 21-17.

The international scoring system has recently changed, which could end up favouring the Canuck. It used to be PAR (point-a-rally) to 15 points, and in order to speed the already fast-paced game up a bit, has been altered to PAR to 11 points, requiring at least a 2-point margin to win a game.

Being a fervent squash player myself, I would dearly love to see that match. I've never seen an international calibre match in person, having cursed my inability to see the match play at the last international tournament held here in Edmonton when the ice rink at West Edmonton Mall was transformed into a show court.

I'm also cursing the fact that it's been nearly a year since I last picked up a racquet and stepped onto a court. I am intending that this winter will see several changes in my level of physical activity. I've been using the fact that I have an infant son as an excuse for a number of months now. That has to, and will, change.

Star Wars banner

Here's another potential teaser in the final instalment of the Star Wars saga. This picture of a banner was posted on TFdN. While the picture I had posted here has been pretty much confirmed as not being an actual teaser poster for Episode III, this banner looks more like the real thing.

I'm getting very excited.

Carreyed to the south

This BBC news article is another sad bit of proof of the on-going brain drain of Canadian talent to the US. I use 'brain drain' a little tongue in cheek there. Jim Carrey wouldn't be considered by most to be a brain drain, but he certainly does have considerable talent. Certainly more than was initially exhibited in his stint on In Loving Colo(u)r.

Canada has, for years, been losing much of its talent in terms of doctors, scientists, engineers and artists to the United States because of the obvious lure of a more lucrative living south of the 49th parallel. There's a really long post hiding in this last paragraph.

Happy birthday

This is coming a day late, but yesterday was my step-dad's birthday. We had some spice cake with
coffee icing (his favourite) on Thanksgiving Sunday to celebrate. Amy and I left a birthday message for him on the phone wishing him well, Declan being a little reticent. He just breathed hard at the phone as we were leaving the message. And tried to get it into his mouth, which is all he does with anything that comes his way these days.

Happy Birthday Ted!!