Kansas Evolution/Creation debate heats up.

Oh, Crap.

Well, the good thing about all this is that Canada will be about a million miles ahead of the US in the biological sciences in about ten years. Which means that the US will be desperately seeking people who actually have some scientific literacy.

Which means that I, an American citizen who is not required to acquire a visa to work in the states, will be a rather valuable commodity in a few years.

But I'd like to bring up this debate for a moment. I'm not particularly inclined towards any religion (although, I confess, I've been leaning a little in the direction of Taoism lately). I'm not baptized; with the exception of very special occasions (Christmas, Baptisms, funerals), I have never attended church; and depending on who you ask, that means that I'm going straight to hell.

I went to a Catholic school for six years. Not being Catholic, my parents went to a degree which some would call obsessive to protect me from any kind of brainwashing. They encouraged me to learn as much about as many different religions as I could, and they taught me to look at the world with an opened mind. As early as the age of seven, I had a rather minimal understanding of Islam, as well as a very shaky knowledge of Buddhism. My knowledge in either of those hasn't increased significantly since then, but I at least had some understanding of what they taught. It wasn't until recently that I understood why my parents felt, at the time, that it was so important for me to learn these things, to have the widest possible perspective by the time I entered first grade. I think it has a great deal to do with the fact that my parents have possibly the greatest understanding of history, and its lessons, of any people I have ever met. They realized that some of the greatest atrocities in history have been perpetrated over the answer given to one of two questions: 1) do you believe in God, and 2) do you belive in my God?

One of the side-effects of my upbringing is that I claim, with absolutely no vanity whatsoever, that I have a greater familiarity with the Bible than many people who profess to be Christian. And it seems to me that the people who assume that the Bible has a blanked answer for absolutely everything don't appear to have ever read it.

There are passages in the Bible which specifically endorse Slavery; stoning someone to death for working seven days a week; and burning someone for wearing mixed threads. Passages in the bible specifically prohibit the eating of shrimp and lobster, while specifically endorsing the consumption of Locusts (something I don't get, considering that shrimp, lobster and locust all share the same phylum).

The bottom line is that if you read the Bible with the intention of interpreting it in an absolute, literal manner; most of what it says is patently absurd.

Now, although some people are very careful not to say that Intelligent Design or Creation is the way to go because it's what the Bible says; it's pretty clear from their rhetoric that that's the direction they're going.

This is entirely based upon a strictily literal interpretation of the book of Genesis. So not only are they forcing a religious agenda on a group of people who may or may not share their beliefs, but they're focing a religious agenda based upon an absurd interpretation of the text.

Let's start with the facts, shall we? Creationism and Intelligent Design have no scientific basis, period. They make no testable predictions, the present no results, and since they have no results, they have no reproducibility. These are considered to be the defining characteristics of a scientifc theory.

Which brings me to my next point: a great deal of noise is being made about the fact that Evolution is a theory, not a fact.

Well, in this sense, I suppose they are correct. Evolution is not a fact, but like any good scientific theory, it is a collection of many facts. It is not the explanation of a single detail, but the sum of all data; all facts; collected. By definition, a scientific theory must explain all available facts. If data is collected which directly contradicts one's theory, that theory must be changed.

In short, Evolution is not a fact, it possesses far more power than any one fact. It is the culmination of almost 150 years of observable, reproducible data. It is the sum total of all knowledge available to scientists at this moment.

Does Evolution have all the answers? Hell, no. But nobody's claiming that it does. That's why science is a continuous process. Every question answered raises more questions.

The Intelligent Design proponents assume that by casting a shadow of doubt upon Evolution; namely that it doesn't explain everything; then Intelligent Design is the only viable option. This is at the very least a shaky interpretation of the scientific method, and depending on how you look at it, may be manifestly dishonest. No scientist ever claims to have all the answers. No scientific theory claims to explain all observed phenomena. Intelligent Design offers the blanket explanation of "God dun it" to slap a band-aid over any unexplained phenomena. It has not testable hypothesis, it makes no predictions about future data.

Ergo, it is unscientific, and has no place whatsoever in the science classroom.

Now, in the interest of balance, I should also mention that I find pure Athiesm to be an unscientific approach as well. Admittedly, evidence of the existence of a higher power; God, Allah, Jaweh, Vishnu, Shiva, to name a few; is somewhat lacking. However, that a higher being somehow pushed things along is also a hypothesis, and the fact that that hypothesis lacks any experimental data to back it up at the moment does not necessarily disprove it. I point out that many of Einstein's theories lacked any experimental support until many years after his death (the speed of gravity, for instance, was only recently measured); and so far, he's been largely correct in many of his predictions.

The point that I'm trying to make is that science can neither assume nor eliminate the possibility that a higher intelligence was at work during the creation of life on earth. However, science deals with observed facts and evidence. So-called Creation Science has provided neither.

Huge Guys with Hard Elbows

I hurt.

I just ate, both literally and figuratively, an elbow.

This would not be much of an issue if the other end of said elbow were not connected to a man who weighs approximately 320 lbs. And no, I'm not exaggerating. If anything, I'm actually underestimating the guy's weight. He's fricking huge.

There's a difference between sparring and flailing. Sparring is an exercise. The purpose of the exercise is to learn improvisation; to react to your opponent and respond. The object is not to hurt your opponent. Sometimes accidents happen, someone gets smacked in the face or whatever; but for the most part, it's bloodless. Flailing is a very different exercise. You swing wildly not giving a flying, um, darn what you hit, if you hit, or how hard you hit. This guy was deeply in the latter category. We're also very careful in how we use elbows; largly because they can be absolutely devastating weapons. Hit someone with an elbow and you can do everything from winding them slightly, to breaking an arm, to cracking some ribs to breaking a nose or a neck. And it's a very difficult weapon to moderate. There is very little difference between the force required to snap someone's head upwards, and the force necessary to break their neck. So, no elbows, as a general rule; until you get really good.

My opponent in this particular case was not that good; he just thinks he is. It's a damn good thing my reflexes are good. I jerked my head back about six inches just before he hit. If I hadn't; I probably would be in the market for some replacement teeth. As it was, he probably hit me hard enough to break my nose, but since he didn't actually hit my nose, that was a non-issue. He hit my two front teeth pretty hard, not hard enough to knock 'em out, but hard enough to make 'em hurt a bit. My lower lip got cut up pretty badly. I think I bit down on it.

As it is, yeah, I hurt. My jaw feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it, my lower lip has started swelling. I don't remember it, but apparently as soon as I got hit, I dropped like a stone. My Daai Si Ying thought that I'd suffered an anneurism or something. I don't think I blacked out or anything, I think my head just got a little knocked around. Tom, our resident med tech agreed with that assessment. My pupils were a bit dilated and I was having a little trouble tracking his finger when he moved it around. That improved after about 20 minutes, a little water, and sitting out for a bit.

At any rate, Daai Si Ying was decidedly unimpressed at the other guy and decided to teach him control.

I'm not a violent guy by nature, but I have to admit that watching my former opponent get the crap pummeled out of him was immensely satisfying.

Trembling Ram

Stick, I dub thee Trembling Ram.

So my Daai Si Ying suggested the name "Trembling Ram" for my staff. It actually sounds quite a bit cooler in Cantonese, but I can't remember it at the moment, so I'll have to ask him what that translates into. Again.

Anyhow, I the basis of the name is the fact that I was born in the year of the ram. In Chinese astrology, Rams are supposedly timid by nature. Sometimes clumsy in speech, they are always passionate about what they do and what they believe in. Ram people never have to worry about having the best in life for their abilities make money for them, and they are able to enjoy the creature comforts that they like. Ram people are wise, gentle, and compassionate.

Sounds like me. My element is Earth, so here's some material my Daai Si Ying gave me, transcribed here verbatim.

This is type of Ram is optimistic and more self-reliant. In spite of his strong attachments to the domestic scene and devoted loyalty to family members, he will still try to maintain a certain degree of independence.

Earth as his element makes him conservative and careful. He won't like to waste money but he won't be counting the pennies either. But being a Ram, he will still find it difficult to deny himself. What may appear as luxuries to other people will be bare necessities to him.

However, just as he plays hard, the Earth Ram will work hard. He can take his responsibilities seriously and will go out of his way to help his friends. It is unlikely that he will ever turn his back on someone in trouble.

Although he may be more adept at concealing his emotions, this particular Ram is also prone to being neurotic and ultradefensive when criticized.

Frankly, I don't know if there's anything to all of this or not, but I gotta admit that that's not too bad a description of yours truly.

Besides which, it sounds cool in cantonese.

Just wish I could remember it.

More Stick stuff.

My stick got put through its paces last night.

Holy crap did it ever. We spent the night learning a two-man fighting staff form. We learned the whole thing in one night. Lots of fun; but holy crap was it an intimidating activity. The fact of the matter is that with a fighting form; whether it's two-person staff, two-person empty-hand, two person staff vs. bench or crutches vs. bench, or two person weapon vs. empty hand; if you screw up, you get hit. No punches are pulled, so if you get hit, you get hit hard. About two months ago, I got a nasty whack across my right eyebrow. I had a pretty ugly black eye for a while; and my right eyebrow was split; but I definitely learned not to screw up that part of the form again.

I also learned how to suture myself up; which, believe it or not, is actualy pretty hard when you're doing it by looking in a hand mirror. I didn't even get a scar from it (well, I did, but it was super-tiny; my eyebrow hides it).

Anyhow, as those who have been reading previous postings have read; I now have a stick of my own. A nice, white waxwood staff. Light, springy; and, as it turns out, strong.

This thing has a thickness of about an inch at its widest point; and it didn't even twitch at some of the more nasty blows it received. Especially when my buddy was bringing his staff down in a blow which would have made a very nice indentation in my skull. The staff took it. I was positive it was gonna splinter like a toothpick, but it barely even bowed at it.

So, yeah, this is pretty strong stuff.

A lot stronger, it turns out, than my fingers. I took a nasty whack on my left hand. Not hard enough to actually break my fingers; but close. It hurt like a sonuvabitch.

All in all, more successful than a lot of the attempts at staffwork I've done lately.

And it still doesn't have a name. For the moment I'm just calling it "stick." Maybe I'll think of something eventually.

Lion Dancin', Beer Drinkin', Stuff breakin'

I'm starting to wonder if I have some inherent desire to hurt myself. Wouldn't surprise me, 'cause right now, I hurt like a sonuvabitch, and all of it is voluntary (if not self-inflicted).

We did another lion dance yesterday. It went very well. We ended up doing what's called a "bridge dance;" which, believe it or not, is actually kinda tricky. It involves dancing back and forth on a rather narrow (about 10 inches wide) bench, doing some impressive acrobatic maneuvers, and making it all look good. Rather difficult, actually.

So, when we actually get on the bench, my partner and I need to do some rather impressive maneuvering. It's not traditionally part of the dance, but we have to do it 'cause my partner's short and she can't quite pull off the mount. Dismount she's fine with; 'cause gravity does most of the work; but the mount is a little finicky. Since nobody really pays attention to the Lion's tail, she uses her hands to help her get onto the bridge (it's about a three-foot hop that she can't quite make).

Now, things get tricky. Do do most of what we need to do on the bridge, she now needs to be controlling the lion's head, and I need to be the tail for the simple reason that most of the maneuvers we need to work our way through involve the person controlling the tail lifting the person controlling the head in the spinning them around a few times, and depositing them back on the bridge (I would like to take this opportunity to reiterate that the bridge is very, very narrow). So, as she climbs onto the bench, I duck and cover as she leapfrogs over me, grabs the lion's head and takes over.

As I dropped, my left foot slipped, and my shin slammed hard into the edge of the bench.

I don't think anybody noticed, but it hurt like a sonuvabitch. This would be the first of several injuries I would be subjected to that night. The rest of the dance went without incident (which my lion dancing partner greatly appreciated, since a screw-up in this part of the dance usually involves her faceplanting on the bench; it's a small miracle that she hasn't broken her nose yet).
Then came the Kung Fu demonstrations.

Now, Bak Mei is generally not a flashy art (nobody will ever make a movie where the protagonist uses Bak Mei); but the demonstration I was doing was a form called Daai Sek Sze (directly translated: Big Stone Lion), which involves the one flying kick that exists in this particular martial arts style.

One unfortunate detail: you have to both push off and land on the leg that I'd just whacked against the edge of a wooden bench (and which, I hasten to add, now has a bruise roughly the size of a large orange, or a small grapefruit, on it). Walking on this thing hurt. Imagine what landing on it must've felt like.

And this kick is performed twice in the form.

Ouch.

The first one went well, relatively speaking. I don't think anyone in the audience saw me wince as I hit the ground. The second one didn't go so well. I think I new what was coming and I braced myself for it. But when I hit the ground, my leg buckled, and my ankle rolled over.

Ouch.

I finished the form; but I was pretty much limping off the stage at the end of it.

So we finish the demo (I had another form I was supposed to do, but I had to hand it off to my Daai Si Ying; the top student; largely 'cause I could barely walk, much less hop around looking like I was beating the crap out of someone).

So, the night ends, we all take a bow. We weren't required to do another lion dance (Thank God), but I was hurting pretty bad at this point.

And the night had barely started.

One of my fellow students was having a housewarming party. Lots o' fun.

I mentioned in an earlier posting that Kung Fu practicioners like to break stuff. Not necessarily in huge quantities; but we do like to break things. Usually after consuming a beer or four, because alcohol allows Chi to flow more freely. Or so they tell me. Either that or it's just an excuse to get drunk and break stuff.

Anyhow, after everyone's had a couple of beers (or more), we start breaking things. We start easy: beer bottles. Hell, we had a bunch of 'em anyway; so we might as well, right?

The only hard part of a beer bottle break is not ending up with a bunch of shards of broken glass in your hand at the end of it. The object of the exercise is to strike the lip of the bottle, and make the bottom of the bottle burst outward. You start easy: filling up most of the bottle with water, and as you get better, you progressively remove about an inch of water from the bottle. I've seen people do a beer bottle break on completely dry bottles. I can't do that. The people who do it with dry bottles are the ones who can break rocks with their pinky fingers (which, by the way, I also cannot do). I can do it at about 2/3rds full, but it takes me a couple of tries.

So, my Daai Si Ying is getting somewhat impressed. We decided to proceed to chair lifting. This consists of grasping one of the legs of a chair where it meets the ground, and lifting it off the ground.

Try it; it's a lot more difficult then it sounds. You have to manage to shove that leg under the chair's center of gravity, then lift it straight up. All with one hand.

And as if all that wasn't enough; my Daai Si Ying decided to put some weight on it. He found a box of somethingorother (I think it was books), and told me to lift it.

So I tried.

I failed miserably; twice. At which point he handed me his half-empty beer and said "drink this, and try again." So I hammer it back, next attempt is successful.

I'm starting to get slightly ripped at this point. And the Chopsticks come out.

Chopstick breaks are kinda fun. The object of this exercise is to punch into the air, holding a chopstick in the punching hand, and the force of your punch combined with the inertia of the chopstick makes it snap. We use plastic chopsticks; but I've seen it done with Bamboo; again, by people who break rocks with their pinky fingers. So, Daai Si Ying hands me a chopstick, and says "break."

It takes me a couple of tries, but the chopstick breaks.

So, he hands me two chopsticks, and tells me again: "break."

This one took me a little while. These were thicker chopsticks than I'm used to; but they broke nicely.

So, he hands me three chopsticks.

I can do three on a good day. And these ones were just being damned stubborn.

"Does anybody," Daai Si Ying asked, "have a beer they can loan this gentleman?"

Immediately, six people are thrusting half-empty beer bottles in my direction.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but at this point I'm starting to think I have to work tomorrow and I really don't wanna be hungover. Fortunately, I took the train to the party, so I didn't need to worry about that; but a hangover was really the last thing I needed.

And lo' and behold, they break.

So I'd had enough of chopsticks, so I sat down.

You'd think I'd have quit while I was ahead, right?

No; my Daai Si Ying had one last thing he wanted to show me. He stands me up and he shows me a series of joint locks; which is basically the ultimate in mercy fighting. The basic principle is that if you force the wrist to the point where it can't bend any farther, the elbow bends to copensate. If you force the elbow, the shoulder takes over. You force the shoulder, and the hip takes over. Once you've got the hip, they're screwed. You can basically force them to the ground by shifting the position of their arm very slightly (the farthest he had to move my hand was about eight inches). So this exercise meant that I spent a disproportionate amount of time saying something to the effect of "Okay, you can stop right there; I like my arm in one piece thank you very much," or "pray, dear sir, could you see your way clear to not breaking my wrist?"

Just 'cause I'm in pain is no reason to be rude.

So, my wrist is now the size of a canteloupe; or at least it feels that way.

Yeah, I'm starting to wonder if I'm a glutton for punishment.

Tryin' to fly below the radar

Why won't my department get it through its head that the only thing I really want to do is duck under the radar and get my damned PhD out of the way?

I get an Email from my Graduate Coordinator congratulating me on successfully passing my candidacy exam. For a single, terrified, instant I was afraid that they were about to inform me that my candidacy exam had been declared invalid because I'd brought in my own dry-erase markers or something. That would be pretty consistent with the level of Red Tape I've had to deal with just to get this exam to happen. But I digress.

Apparently, I'm required to sit for a photograph and have them snap a picture of me so that they can post it up somewhere to let the world know that I have successfully passed my candidacy exam.

Which raises the obvious question: what if I don't want the world to know?

I've gone to a great deal of trouble (some would describe it as obsessive) to operate as low-profile as I possibly can. I've spent a lot of time and effort trying to be as invisible as I possibly can in this building, for the simple reason that I quite possibly have the single most recognizable last name in this building. My dad's worked here for 35 years. You ask any 50 professors about my last name, and I guarantee you that a minimum of 49 will recognize it.

I also lack a common last name like "Smith," where I could just claim that the similarity in our names is a coincidence.

To say that I've spent a lot of energy making sure that as few people as is humanly possible actually know my last name is a colossal understatement. I've given nineteen different seminars for various reasons in the three years I've been here. I have the powerpoint files from all nineteen. All nineteen have one notable omission: my name; and it's not accidental. Unfortunately, there are a few places that I can't get around; my classes, my committee, my graduate coordinator and department chair. The way I see it, nobody else needs to know. I'm perfectly happy being an anonymous guy who shows up for work every morning, publishes a couple of papers by noon, and heads home every night. That's an image I can live with. A recognizable face; an unknown name.

So, I'm trying to figure out a way to tell my graduate coordinator that I appreciate the offer, but I'd really rather not have my picture taken. And in a way that I won't insult or piss anyone off.

Here's my first draft:

Unfortunately, in an incident involving an improperly-discarded banana peel, a fllight of stairs, a laptop computer, and a four-year-old Cocker Spaniel, I have recently broken my nose, and am now wearing a large white bandage which covers a sizeable portion of my face. I could appear for a photography session, but the resulting photograph would be utterly unrecognizable as me.

If a photograph is absolutely necessary, I offer the following recommendation: acquire a photograph from the archives; preferably of someone who graduated many years ago, and use their photograph in my place. Since nobody actually looks at these things anyway, I cannot imagine that this will cause any trouble. We could start a pool to see if anyone actually notices.

I thank you for your time,
Drew

Well, it's a first draft. Maybe subsequent drafts will improve upon it. The only disadvantage to this approach that I can think of is that I will have to wear a bandage on my face until they forget about the photograph; but I can live with that.

Oiling up something long and rigid.

It's not what you think.

Pervert.

So I spent a chunk of yesterday preparing my previously-mentioned stick. It's a long, involved process that involves some 600-grit sandpaper, a bottle of mineral oil, a blowtorch and some clear-coat varnish.

Start by sanding down the stick, and soaking it in mineral oil. Once the oil is soaked up, you take it out back and burn in a pattern with the blowtorch, then you go though another series of soakings, followed by a sealing with varnish. I'm currently at the second-soaking stage.

So far, we're working on a principle of mutual loathing. The stick hates me, and I hate it right back. But I've got the blowtorch, so it stays in line.

My instructor suggested that I name this thing. No luck on that front so far. On my list of eliminated names:

Bob
Rodney
Thumper
Thunder Donkey
Thunder Snake
Elephant's Tusk
Hrunting
Roaring Mouse
Screaming Hawk
Bill
Max
Bellowing Driveshaft
Monkey's tail
Flying Crane
Osgood
Matt
Fred
Bob
Adam
Tom
Dick
Harry
Lightning tooth
Water Spear
Quicksilver

Note that I do not have a list of possible names for this thing, so any suggestions will be greatly appreciated.

Buying Sticks.

I strolled down to Chinatown yesterday to buy a big stick, largely at one of my Kung Fu instructor's suggestions.

I don't like staff forms, as a general rule. Actually, at the moment, I'm not a huge fan of weapon forms in general. They feel cumbersome and unwieldly in my hands, or maybe it's just that I'm clumsy. I'm not sure which. At any rate, it's somewhat beside the point. The senior student advised me to purchase a staff, and when the senior student advises you to do something, you do it.

Part of my dislike for the staff comes from the fact that I invariably whack myself with it; and it hurts. A lot. The human body, it turns out, does not react well to having a large hunk of wood hitting it.

Nevertheless, he assured me that this would pass. I'm somewhat skeptical, since I'm the quintessential klutz, but we'll see.

SUCCESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I PASSED!

I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed.

(*deep breath*)

I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed, I passed.

I passed.

Oh, good lord I am so happy to have this over and done with. I have had this fricking candidacy exam hanging over me for almost a year, and now for the first time it's done. Oh, I cannot tell you how good that feels.

Lemme put it this way: I have not slept as soundly in months as I did last night.

Dr. Droo draws one step closer.

Okay, on to more pleasant things: like my thesis defense.