For 24 12 hours, all content at Missing the Point will show up as censored, with a message explaining why.

But why is there a crime wave?

Liner notes:

By mid-Heian, the Guard was merely ceremonial, an office with no real duties for nobles of rank.  But they had snazzy uniforms!  This poem shows the contempt the nobles had for the lower classes, viewing them as nearly sub-human (please note that I do not hold these views, but my persona would have been expected to).  Crime was rampant in the capital, in large part due to the fact that those ostensibly responsible for law enforcement were doing little more than going through the motions.  It strikes me as having certain parallels to what is happening with the Occupy movement.  The Heian nobles made up less than 1% of the population, yet the wealth gap was even greater than in modern America.  The modern police force is being used to oust the protestors, while ignoring real crime; there are accounts of police not arriving to investigate crimes such as home invasions until hours afterwards, because the entire force was engaged in actions such as fracturing the skulls of veterans.

The form is waka, Japanese in origin with a 5-7-5-7-7 pattern of syllables.  Composed 21st day of 10th month, AS XLVI.

Winter seclusion

Liner notes:

The beginning of winter in the Japanese calendar takes place on or around November 8th (variation mostly due to leap year).  The poem is inspired by the strong winds blowing today as we cleared our balcony.  Although we needed to winterize the blacony anyway, it took on special urgency when we received less than 24 hour notice that it had to be completely cleared so they could replace the railings.

The form is jueju, Chinese in origin with the 5-5-5-5 pattern of syllables known as wujue (strictly speaking, this should have a rhyming and inflection pattern, the inflection pattern being impossible to duplicate in English).  Composed 14th day of 10th month, AS XLVI.

From my love’s soft, sweet bower

Liner notes:

Lovers would exchange poems after a night spent together (this included spouses – marriage in the Heian era could be and often was much more fluid than the modern concept).  Ofttimes, a nobleman would have to leave in great haste before the sun rose.  Sei Shonagon, author of The Pillowbook, often wrote about how something was hateful if it interfered with something she enjoyed.  I have mixed Western imagery in this poem.  UPDATE: Part of the inspiration for this poem was that I had just dropped my wife off with her family to go to a beading retreat for the weekend.  The title hints at the fate of the cock, and also inspired by a new recipe I concocted the night before.

The form is waka, Japanese in origin with a 5-7-5-7-7 pattern of syllables.  Composed 7th day of 10th month, AS XLVI.

Those words bring to mind the climatic scene from the 1960 film Spartacus.  Spartacus had led an unsuccessful slave revolt, and the victorious general was offering leniency for the other slaves if they would identify Spartacus.  Before Spartacus can respond, the other slaves all proclaim themselves to be Spartacus, even knowing that they will be executed.

The purpose of this series is to call out those who threaten or file lawsuits against people just because they speak their minds.  So for the first installment:

Biologist Jerry Coyne had a debate with theologian John Haught at U of Ky last month.  The topic was “Are science and religion compatible?” and was part of a series of debates that have been taped and made public.  Both participants have participated in similar debates in the past, which have been taped and made available, and both agreed to the taping.  But Haught apparently didn’t like something about the debate and is refusing to release it.  Now, the debate itself was one person talking for 25 minutes, then the other, then a 40 minute Q&A session.  It would have been a simple matter to release just the parts that Coyne spoke in.  But the moderator, Robert Rabel, refused to do so.

So far, nothing worth mentioning in this series – Haught and Rabel may have been cowards, but to that point, they weren’t trying to prevent people from speaking their minds.  Here’s where it becomes worth mention.  When readers of Coyne’s blog contacted Dr. Rabel to complain about the refusal to release the the edited tape, he contacted Coyne and threatened to sue because some of them called him names, such as coward.

Dr. Rabel, you not only are a coward, you are a bully.

UPDATE:

Haught may have agreed to permit the tape to be released.  While I applaud Haught’s decision to let the tape be released, I still feel my criticism of D.r Rabel is justified.

references:

Jerry Coyne’s original post

John Haught’s response (with a sur-reply one comment later from Coyne)

Flowering conversation
Like the tea, warm and soothing

Rain on the window
And wind blowing through the trees
Still feels worlds away

Waves on the pond driven white
Memories of days well spent

Liner Notes

This my first attempt at renga (“linked verse”).  Its origins precede the Heian era, but it wasn’t until late Heian that it began to flourish.  Two or more people collaborate in creating verses that alternate between 5-7-5 and 7-7 syllable patterns.  Each verse is linked to the preceding verse, such that any two consecutive verses would make a complete waka.  For this particular poem, I wrote the first and last verses, my wife Kaede compsed the second, and my cousin Kayci wrote the third.  My cousin is attending college nearby and we were treating her to a home-cooked meal.  These poems could extend to 100 verses or more, and elaborate conventions developed over time.

Composed 30th day of 9th month, AS XLVI.

I was in 8th grade.  We had been let out of school after a half day, so we could celebrate Homecoming.  The parade route went right past the end of my street, so my mom and sister had gone to the end of the street to watch.  I, like many of my schoolmates, was riding my bike around the neighborhood while we waited for the parade to go by.  Something someone said to me got me upset, so I decided to burn off my anger by riding as fast as I could.  The way my sub was set up, there was a very convenient loop, with a gradual rise with a sharper drop, with the parade route only about 50 feet from the end of the loop.  Riding a ten-speed, I was able to really build up some speed.  Until I decided to go as fast as I could going down that hill.

I realized my mistake as I made the turn at the end of the loop nearest the parade, which had just started passing by.  To be more precise, as I tried to make that turn.  I was going too fast, and couldn’t make the turn.  And for the second time in my life, the handbrakes on my bike failed as I braked too hard.  Which left me a choice: I could hit the parked car, or I could hit the oak( or was it a maple?) tree that was about 3 feet in diameter.  I choose the car, as it was less solid and frankly, less vertical.  Which wasn’t that bad a choice, as it turns out: I didn’t hit the car.  My bike wrapped itself around the bumper, sure, but I sailed over the car and landed on my chin, knocked unconscious.

Fortunately, the ambulance was just a block away, part of the parade.  So it turned at my street rather than continue in the parade.  (I later got a nice card from the fire department, apologizing for not being there – they had already passed my street).  A neighbor saw my mom, and said she’d take care of my sister so she could go to my side.  When I came to several hours later, I had total amnesia.  I didn’t even recognize my name or my mother’s voice.  Over the course of the next eight hours, I regained memories chronologically.  Not many, but it was definitely in a chronological order, and I acted like I had at that age.  My first memory is of the doctor asking what month it was.  I was only off by about a month at that point.

When I returned to classes the next Monday, I learned what it was like to be an idiot savant.  My first academic class was a math class, Algebra if I recall correctly (I was on an advanced math track, in any case).  The teacher had me do some problems.  It was weird – I had no idea what these strange symbols meant, but I knew the correct symbol to write and the correct spot to write them.  By the end of the week, I regained my knowledge of what letters and numbers represented.  I had other problems those first days back.  I used to have beautiful handwriting, but I struggled to print even simple sentences.  Speaking was a problem as well.  I could partially visualize the words I wanted, but getting them out of my mouth was nearly impossible, and very frustrating.

I have never fully recovered.  Most of my memories never came back, and I have trouble retaining new ones.  My time sense is skewed, and time passes for me almost as if I were thirteen years younger.  While I am very good with math, I don’t remember how I learned to do anything before Algebra – I can do it with ease, but the basic underlying theory is just not there.  Speech and language was a major problem for many years, though I am much better now than even 14 years ago, when I met my wife, and to this day I will often struggle to properly form words (for example, saying cut instead of cot – I even know that I’m doing it).  Learning a foreign language is likely an impossibility at this point.  I have trouble parsing what I hear – often I have to ask people to repeat themselves be causeI matchedthe pho nemesincor rectly.  And most pertinent to this blog, writing is like wading through molasses.  A paragraph takes half an hour to write.  A report for work can take a day or more, where someone else would get it done in an hour at most.  One of the reasons I keep trying to keep the blog going is in hopes that by forcing myself to write, I will get past the block the damage created.  And it has worked to some extent already.

And that, while true, is only part of the story, the part that I tell people.  Read on for the rest of the story.

There was a reason I was upset that day.  I had been sexually abused two years earlier, and I had experienced some very nasty anti-gay bullying as a result (of the kind that leaves physical scars as well as emotional).  And before you ask, I am straight, and was straight back then as well.  But that didn’t stop the rumors or the bullying, and the school administration that first year not only turned a blind eye, I was punished whenever I reacted to the bullying.  It had died down towards the end of 7th grade, in large part due to a very public fight I was forced into while protecting a friend.  So I was very upset to suddenly have it flare up again that day.  It made me so upset, and it just got worse.  That final burst of speed was no accident – it was deliberate.  My intent was to hit that tree.  My goal: Suicide.

But I bailed on the suicide attempt at the last minute.

So now you know why I am so adamant about protecting gay rights.  I have experienced bigotry so damaging that it nearly took my life – how can I not attempt to end that bigotry?

How long for this gilded age?

Liner notes:

The Heian concept of beauty focused on the fleeting instant.  Beauty is not something that is lasting.  Heian society is beautiful, so it stands to reason that it, too, that it will fall.  The imminent failure of society was a common topic.  This topic was inspired by Harold Camping’s prediction of the end of the world this October 21st (Friday).

The form is jueju, Chinese in origin with the 7-7-7-7 pattern of syllables known as qijue (strictly speaking, this should have a rhyming and inflection pattern, the inflection pattern being impossible to duplicate in English).  Composed 23rd day of 9th month, AS XLVI.

Tonight, I did something I haven’t done in 15 years.  I stood up, placed my right hand over my heart, and sang all the lyrics to the first verse of the National Anthem.

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?

It was 1996, and my country had just done something despicable.  How could I proclaim pride in the symbol of my country and look myself in the mirror?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,

After a long, bitter fight, liberals caved to social conservatives hatred of homosexuals.

O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

The result?  First, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) in late 1993, and then the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) in 1996, twin beacons of bigotry.

And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Since the National Anthem is about a military engagement, I choose it for my protest of DADT.

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

I choose a silent protest, in honor of the soldiers forced into silence.  Though silent, they were still there, protecting my freedom even though their own freedom had been denied.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

But we never gave up fighting for their freedom, and on September 20th, 2011, DADT was finally repealed.

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

So tonight, I can proudly honor the symbol of our country, now that the brave are finally free.

Note:  This post was originally written in late September in anticipation of singing along to a televised flag ceremony at a sporting event.  Unfortunately, it took nearly a month before I finally managed to catch one without disruption.