Several things come to mind immediately. Funny, I have a sudden craving for a cigar. Let’s hear you best caption suggestions… No holds barred…

[Credit Crooks & Liars email newsletter, March 30, 2007]

ei·det·ic (ī-dět’ĭk) - adj.
Of, relating to, or marked by extraordinarily detailed and vivid recall of visual images.

I am reminded of the old joke that he/she has a photographic memory, but does not have film in the camera. Funny how women tend to remember so many details of things. Many I’ve known can tell you in minute detail what they wore for their sixteenth birthday party 30 or 40 years ago, or when their spouse proposed to them, or what their spouse wore to dinner on the second night of their honeymoon. As for me, I can’t remember what color shirt I have on without looking. What was she wearing on our wedding day? Hold on, there must be some pictures around here somewhere…

Mick Brady at Dancing in Tongues recently had a post that showcased photos from NASA’s Spitzer Space Telescope. We’re looking at worlds never before seen or in some cases even dreamed of. Of the many spectacular photos, this one caught my eye, pun intended. Is the Creator watching  us through this deep space eye?

Prepare to beam us aboard, Scottie. Get us the hell out of here! Warp 9. Engage…

…Or possibly a bigtime copout…

an·ti·no·mi·an Pronunciation[an-ti-noh-mee-uhn]
–noun

1. A person who maintains that Christians are freed from the moral law by virtue of grace as set forth in the gospel.

2. An adherent of antinomianism.

-adj.

1. Of or relating to the doctrine of antinomianism.
2. Opposed to or denying the fixed meaning or universal applicability of moral law.

[Origin: 1635–45; < ML Antinom(ī) name of sect (pl. of Antinomus opponent of (the moral) law < Gk antí anti- + nómos law) + -ian]

 Have you ever know anyone like that? Someone who felt free from moral law. Someone who used their god as a shield. Someone who feels knows that they are so blessed by the grace of god that they can do whatever the hell they please. After all, there is no firm meaning of moral law, only what they want it to be at any given moment. One of my peers many years ago got born again. He sat in my office and told me face to face that he no longer had to be concerned about making mistakes because he could not make mistakes. He had put everything into the hands of the lord who guided his every move, every decision. He assumed no responsibility for his own life. He tried, unsuccessfully, to recruit me and save my soul. I invited him to go talk it through over a pitcher of beer. Incensed, he stalked out of my office, muttering to himself that he had met the devil face to face, or something.

That is a very dangerous person. Especially if such afflicted person was also in a very important and powerful job, like head dude of a country or something. Of course, that would never happen…

I do not know if that is proper application and usage of the word antinomian, but it seems to fit.

Thanks to Delights for the Ingenious for leaving this word, new to me, lying out in plain view where I could find it.

Broke my damn toe, I did. Negotiating the same routine motions that I do every morning. Shower, dry head and torso, step into the walk-in closet to put my feet (one at a time or I would fall on my arse) on the little stool in there to dry feet and legs. For 12.224 years I have followed this same routine every morning. Yesterday morning as I swung my right foot up onto the little stool, the end of toe 4, counting from the little toe, hit the edge of the stool. Funny how the sight of bright stars on a black field of vision will evoke the lord’s name everytime. I yelled and cursed the wicked stool but no one heard my cries. Roomie was out of town for the weekend. I felt the throbbing pain, saw my toe turning black almost immediately, and knew what had happened. I broke my damn toe and it is hurting like a sumbitch.

Roomie has pulled this stunt numerous times. She insists on running around barefoot all over the place. Well, she is from Missississississippi. In the 12.237 years we’ve been together, she must have broken every toe at least once, maybe some twice. And I have learned from her experiences that there is not a damn thing all the medical science in the world can do to help. Tape it to the good toe next to it, endure the pain, and keep on going. If I’m lucky and don’t refracture it, it should be healed by the time Bush is out of office. I can hardly wait…

One of the most precious attributes of America and being American is the right to have and express opinions openly and without fear of reprisal. At least up until now. Since our founding, America has grown and prospered because we encourage diversity of opinion. It is the negotiation, the back and forth, the give and take, all done with respect of the other, that combine to make us uniquely American. It’s the jocular old saw, I disagree with what you say, but will defend to your death your right to say it.

Buried over there in the sidebar Blog Links under the category Places2Go is was a blog that I have read on an occasional basis for the last year, and almost daily for a few months prior to that. The content tends to be quite eclectic, like mine, and frequently has something I find interesting. My diminishing frequency of visiting, reading, and commenting was my quiet way of rejecting the increasingly noxious pronouncements coming from that blogger, all in support of everything Bush. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it. Same goes for my writing. Recently, the tone has shifted from support of his position and beliefs, to an all-out, bilious attack on those who do not believe as he does. I suppose he learned it from the master — think Bush and the firing of an octet of federal prosecutors who were not completely loyal to him and his political agenda.

This week, this blogger stepped over the line with this (his spelling and grammar have been left intact):

I think that the worst enemy that America has is not AL Qaida and their ilk, but some of her own people…the American Left supports Islamo fascism as it used to support Socialism and Communism. In fact it supports almost any anti-American group.

Excuse me, Mr. RightWingNutJob. Though I detest labels, I am a part of what I assume you call the American Left, and I do not support any of those things. He continues with:

These people take advantage of free speech to denigrate and demean America. They actively campaign to bring America to her knees.

Sadly misinformed at best. Unadulterated bullshit at worst. I’m not sure why I’m even devoting the space and time to talk about this poor unfortunate soul. He obviously has no clue what he’s talking about. He is probably in a deep funk as his beloved Bush spirals downward into oblivion. Depressed? Perhaps. Dangerous? Probably not, but could be, if pushed. When people feel threatened, when their value system is under attack, when their world is starting to crumble, they lash out incoherently and indiscriminately at the perceived enemy. I feel truly sorry for this guy because I think he is basically a decent human being. Just terribly misguided and lost. There are others out there like him. Be careful…

Don’t mess with me before noon. I am very much a creature of routines and habits, especially early in the day. A couple of days ago as I blindly followed my mechanical morning routine, I was suddenly jolted into conscious awareness by an anonymous random act of kindness that will endure as my Kevin Spacey moment.

Stopping for a coffee, as I do routinely at the Mapco gas stop/convenience store adjacent to my office on Trousdale, I poured the Columbian, added just a tad of sweetner, stirred, tasted, and headed toward the front checkout register. Halfway there, the clerk motioned for the young woman already standing there to go to the other register. I stopped and moved aside for her to pass on her way to the back checkout counter. She motioned for me to go ahead, but I said, No, you were here first. She smiled and walked on back to checkout. I lingered along the way, drooling over a promotional display of the latest dark chocolate sins from Hershey.

After the young woman was finished and headed out the door, I moved to the counter with money in hand. The clerk said, She paid for your coffee. Gazing at her with my best deer in the headlights look, sure that my hearing aid batteries had suddenly failed, I uttered something highly intelligent like, Huh?

That young lady ahead of you paid for your coffee. You’re good to go.

I looked at the clerk, looked out the door hoping to glimpse that wonderfully generous soul, then back at the clerk. The moment blurs, but I remember saying something akin to, I wish I knew who she was. Hurrying out the door, looking left and right, she was nowhere in sight. I found a comfortable spot to stand and soak up some rays from the morning sun while enjoying my coffee and wondering at the marvelous event that had just occurred.

A young woman, a very attractive young woman, who I had never seen before and will likely never run into again, had for no discernable reason, bought this old fool a cup of coffee. Was it because I demonstrated the common courtesy of letting her go ahead of me at the checkout? Is that such a rare thing these days that it gets rewarded? Certainly I neither deserved nor expected a payback. Maybe she was paying it forward, like in Spacey’s film.

To that kind young woman: Thank you so much. Your anonymous generosity is rare. At every opportunity, I will be passing it on by paying it forward. I hope that when you least expect it and most need it, someone comes along to shower you with a similar act of kindness. If you see me again, tap me on the shoulder and say Howdy. Let me buy you a cup of coffee or three.

Those who have read these mutterings for more than a short time know that I have a somewhat lustful fascination with the language, especially the words that we shove together in random and chaotic ways to constitute our sometimes bizarre English language. If there had been a lucrative job market awaiting me, I might have chosen to forego life as an engineer to pursue an exciting career as an etymologist. That sounds somewhat similar but differs in spelling from entomologist, a dude who gets off studying bugs. As a kid, I did that too, having one of the largest insect collections known to exist on my block.

My fascination with words spills ink on these pages in several ways, not the least of which is the category of Weird Words, which can be found somewhere down there in the sidebar. When I encounter a word that is new or only vaguely familiar, out comes my original model palm device, the trusty 3×5 card and Pentel mechanical pencil. There the words reside, etched in graphite on bleached papyrus, until I find time to check them out. There is one blog that has a sidebar that gets me all excited and sweaty (not what you’re thinking…). Jeremy Freese has a list that he calls enunciation candy — some of his favorite words to hear or say. I would be envious of Jeremy, but he is a Harvard professor, fer gawd’s sake. As such, in keeping with the natural order of things, it is more appropriate that I, a mere mortal, cower in awe and admiration than to covet or emulate. I would wager yesterday’s PBJ from my leftover lunch bag that Jeremy even knows how and when to use every one of those words. But I digress… Go read Jeremy’s weblog - he is a hoot…

So yester morning I’m sitting here in BlogCentral, sipping the java, prying the eyelids from their nocturnal down and closed position, minding my own business and reading the morning updates to your several thousand blogs. Without warning, the Weird Word klaxon sounded, my eyelids popped open, the slouch let go of my back, I leaned into the monitor and stared at the word in front of me — one that had never passed this way before.

entelechy

Aha! A quick check found that Jeremy didn’t have this one on his list. Grab another cup o joe and get to work. Dictionary.com sez:

en·tel·e·chy /ɛnˈtɛləki/ - [en-tel-uh-kee] –noun, plural -chies.

[Origin: 1595–1605; < LL entelechīa < Gk entelécheia, equiv. to en- en-² + tél(os) goal + éch(ein) to have + -eia -y³]

—Related forms

en·te·lech·i·al /ˌɛntəˈlɛkiəl/ [en-tuh-lek-ee-uhl] - adjective

Also shown there is the American Heritage Dictionary definition:

en·tel·e·chy (ěn-těl’ĭ-kē) n. pl. en·tel·e·chies

1. In the philosophy of Aristotle, the condition of a thing whose essence is fully realized; actuality.
2. In some philosophical systems, a vital force that directs an organism toward self-fulfillment.

Damn! This is good stuff! Aristotle, yet. Wonder if Jackie knew about this. Jeremy, go sit in Harvard Square and contemplate self-actualization and the Aristotelian order of things. May the force be with you in all that you do…

For anyone still awake and wondering what dark alley I explored to find this word, it was at a blog of Alaskan origin, named of course, entelechy. One of the tag lines under the blog title is :: an expression of unity ::, which is certainly something we could use more of these days. Go check it out. And don’t forget to pay a visit to Jeremy. Tell him Winston said Hey…

[Hat tip to amba for the link to Maria at entelechy.]

The intent of this is simply to brighten the spirits of some of you whose world is now gray and white and bleak and cold and wet and dark…

Photograph of Butchart’s Garden, Vancouver Island, CA, used with permission of Ray Maxie. This place has some of the most phenomenal displays of natural color your eyes have ever encountered…

An absolutely must see movie: Checking Out, starring  Peter Falk, who books what has to be an Academy Award  worthy performance. Also very strong supporting roles by Laura San Giacomo, David Paymer, and Judge Reinhold. This is an intelligent film with a story built on a premise that makes you go hmmmm… Funny, entertaining, provocative and fast moving, this is one film you don’t want to miss…

I was unaware of it until picking the DVD off the shelf at my neighborhood rental store. What a lucky find! Look for it soon…

And now, for the question that has mystified philosophers through the ages…

ARE CANKER SORES CONTAGIOUS?

One of the great secrets of medicine—and one that doctors are loathe to admit—is that we often don’t have all the answers. Take canker sores. Studies have suggested that they are the result of abnormal immune response directed toward the oral membranes, and several bacteria and viruses have been investigated but none was found to be responsible.

Medically known as recurrent apthous ulcers, canker sores are the most common oral disease; they are frequently confused with cold sores, from which they differ in several ways. Canker sores occur inside the mouth while cold sores rarely develop inside. Cold sores are caused by the herpes virus—and are definitely contagious. Canker sores are just…painful.

[From Page-A-Day Online Calendar, March 16, 2007.]

After a six-year absence, cultural high priestess Camille Paglia returns to Salon.com with her insightful commentary that cuts quickly, cleanly, and efficiently to the chase. From her inaugural return column, here is her take and position on the mess in which we find ourselves:

I want American troops out now — not next year but tomorrow. Support of the troops means not subjecting them to an unsustainable and ultimately unwinnable mission, cooked up by armchair cowboys who see the world in simplistic cartoon terms (”good guys” vs. “bad guys”). The provincial philistines of the Bush administration blundered into the Mideast with little more than superficial knowledge of its tangled history and ancient culture. And they have colossally wasted American blood and treasure on a project that had only a tangential relation to the atrocity of 9/11.

No mealy mouthed beating around the Bush there. Following Camille as she conducts her own shock and awe mission should be as enlightening as it is entertaining.

Hat tip to Mick Brady over at Dancing in Tongues.

There is only one success: to be able to spend your life in your own way, and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. — Christopher Morley

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed. — Emily Dickinson

The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you’ve got it made. — Jean Giraudoux

If at first you don’t succeed, cheat. — Unknown