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Comments and opinions expressed on THE KNIGHT SHIFT are those of Christopher Knight and not necessarily those of subjects discussed in this blog, of advertisers appearing on it or of any reasonable human being. Any correspondence/irate letters/lawsuit threats/Nigerian e-mail scams can be sent to theknightshift@gmail.com.
Several years ago I went to hear James Earl Jones give a lecture. He
said something I will never forget. "Who am I? Obviously, I am partly
African descent." But then he added "I am also part Cherokee. And
also part Irish. Who am I?" Jones elaborated that he was a person of
many ethnic backgrounds, and that "it is not right to call me an
African-American." It was more important to be simply an American, with
all of the nuances that come with that.
I think of my own racial
background. I am part English, part Scotch, part Irish... and also
1/16 part Cherokee. My great great grandfather and his two brothers
walked all the way from Oklahoma Territory to Patrick Springs, Virginia.
Several years later my maternal grandmother was born. I'll always
find that fascinating (and who knows, maybe Jones and I are distant
relatives!).
But those
things don't really define who I am today, any more than Jones said that
he felt obligated to be black, or Irish, or native American.
Last night I remarked to a friend (and I hope she and I can always be
friends regardless of our differences): human weaknesses doesn't "pick
and choose" who is like this, and who is like that. No matter our
ethnicities, we are ALL beholden to human nature. And human nature is
ubiquitous: none of us are exempt or immune to it.
I believe
there is such a thing as racism. But it is extremely wrong to ascribe
racism - or any other weakness of character - to one "race" or another
and no other. I have seen racism across the board, coming from
practically every ethnic group I have encountered. I have seen white
racism against black, black racism against white, white and black each
harboring prejudice against Asian descent, one Asian culture prejudiced
against another. I have even seen black against black racism...
Get the picture?
Human nature. It's not determined by skin color. One way or another
we each have stock in it. And it really ISN'T about color of skin, or
creed, or anything else. It's about how each of us, as individuals,
CHOOSE to respond to that nature. And also how we choose to respond
when others allow their own natures to overwhelm reason.
Don't
let a weak and petty thing like "race" be a rationale to excuse yourself
from human nature. We are all in this together, without favor.
And you never know: you might be a lot less "white" or "black" than
you've come to realize. Heck, you and I may be relatives from somewhere
up the line. Although whether you want to admit that I'm in your
genealogy should probably be better left an exercise for the reader :-)
This might upset some people. I can understand. Bear with me here though...
In 1828 the United States Congress passed what came to be called "the
Tariff of Abominations". It was meant to protect northern industry.
Instead it inflicted enormous harm on southern manufacturing and
agriculture, especially the cotton industry. And no place was more hit
by the consequences of the tariff than South Carolina.
This led
to the Nullification Crisis of 1832. South Carolina declared that the
Tariff of 1828 did not apply to within its borders. It effectively set
the state of South Carolina against the United States of America.
Fortunately cooler heads eventually prevailed, a new tariff was approved
to South Carolina's satisfaction, and everyone was happy.
But think about it: the American Civil War could well have broken out thirty years earlier.
I believe that civil war was going to happen regardless. It was
inevitable. In fact, it was practically guaranteed when the Founders
approved the 3/5th compromise that counted black slaves as "three fifths
of a free white person". The Founders may have been the greatest
collection of minds in modern history. But they were not infallible.
Whether they understood the consequences of their actions or not they
had set in stone regional differences and rivalries that would explode
into open conflict nearly eighty years later.
It was just a
matter of when. It was also just a matter of who it would be who fate
decided would be the ones who fought in that war. And no matter which
side it was - be it Union or Confederate - those men were faced with the
hardest decision of their lives. It certainly weighed on Robert E.
Lee, who had to choose between the country his grandfather had helped to
found and the people of Virginia: the ones he considered his
countrymen.
The best that could have happened for the Civil War
was that it would be led by good men, whose wisdom had failed to avoid
the conflict, but nonetheless trusted in higher Providence to establish a
final justice. And I believe that's what happened at Appomattox Court
House. When Robert E. Lee - still resplendent in his officer's gray -
surrendered to the ruffian-looking Ulysses S. Grant.
Grant said
something that day. He told it to his fellow officers and to the men
under him: "they are our countrymen again". Indeed, they were. The
great controversy had drawn to a close. It had cost each side dearly.
It no doubt hung on their consciences for all the rest of their lives.
But that was the die that had been cast and they could not have avoided
it.
And over the ensuing decades, they WERE countrymen. Fellows
who had shared a common bond. Together again. With no animosity among
them. One of the most beautiful photos I've ever seen is circa 1910,
depicting two then-elderly former opponents embracing as brothers. And
why shouldn't they be?
I believe that no matter which side of the
conflict, they found with as much honor as was afforded them. We may
not agree with who fought on what side, but that's really not for us to
judge. Those men (and women) did the best they could do with what was
given them.
Let me be blunt: they all fought with honor.
And I do believe, with utmost sincerity, that we can honor them all.
My heart has been breaking to see the statues of so many fine and
honorable and decent men being torn down, by people who have no grasp of
real history whatsoever. They certainly are not people of honor. And
now they are venting wrath against the statues of individuals who had no
part whatsoever to play in the Civil War. Last night it was a statue
of Francis Scott Key that was toppled and vandalized. A rational person
must ask: "Why?"
I have a private ritual, every January. I've
honored it for a long time now. I remember the lives of two great
Americans, whose birthdays are very close together. They are Martin
Luther King Jr., and Robert E. Lee. I can't see how they are all that
mutually exclusive. Why? Because each was a Christian man of deep
faith, who was a person of his time. And he did the best with the hand
dealt. Indeed, I can't but believe that on some level they were as
kindred spirits. What a meeting that would be!
What am I trying to say with all of this?
There is a rage loose upon this land that is NOT representative of who
we are called to be not just as Americans, but as friends and neighbors.
As family. This isn't what we're supposed to be at all. It's not
just the statues. I'm seeing worse than that between people who just
weeks ago lived in contentment with one another. What happened? A very
terrible turn of events was exploited, by people who devote their lives
to exploiting, and it set off a powder keg that didn't have to be there
to begin with.
Am I arguing that the status quo should have been
maintained? Certainly not. I don't believe in a "status quo". I
believe that there is always going to be room for improvement. I
believe that ours is a family that can strive together to find ever more
who we are supposed to be. We've come a long way already toward that.
It would be a tragedy if that was undone now.
But that is what I am seeing happen now. All the progress that we have made, together, is being torn apart.
We have had people of honor, throughout and across the entire spectrum
of American history, whose examples we are meant to heed. We stand on
the shoulders of giants, no matter their skin color or creed or
whatever. Not perfect people... but then again, who has ever been
perfect? Only One who I know of, and He lived two thousand years ago.
We have squabbled over what it is to follow His example ever since. But
for all of our failings, we still have that sense of common decency and
respect for one another.
It would be an enormous crime against our ancestors, if we continue to destroy their legacy.
I will not, in the demanded context, agree that "... lives matter"
except to say that "all lives matter". And they DO. But I choose to go
deeper: "All INDIVIDUALS matter". And isn't that what has come before
has been all about? That we are not judged by the color of our skin,
but by the content of our character. A great man said that. I prefer
to believe that he was correct.
We are better than this. It's not too late to pull back from the present madness.
It's not too late to be countrymen again.
And it shouldn't take someone like me to be saying all of this.
A few weeks ago Amazon delivered a Ninja Foodi air fryer/pressure cooker into my grubby little paws. Since then I have had a fistful of fun cooking just about everything in it! Hot dogs come out exactly like baseball park wieners, and I'm getting the hang of baby back ribs. This past week a friend told me that you can cook steak in it. I didn't believe it at first but I put a rib-eye into it a few nights ago. The steak was cooked perfectly medium throughout, with a spot-on warm pink center.
Okay well that's all good... but what about making chicken in the air fryer?
My first attempt, had I posted photos of it to social media, would have gotten me banned from Facebook on grounds of violating community standards. It was the worst culinary exercise that I have ever tried. The meat itself was juicy and edible but that was only after you got past the... crud... that was supposed to have been the crispy skin.
But never let it be said that I am deterred. Part of the fun of cooking is that you get to experiment. And hey, even my first ever deep fried turkey came out of the pot more than a little burned.
So a few nights ago I gave it a second try. Had a pack of eight drumsticks and that made for three experimental batches in the fryer. I played around with technique and on the third batch... the chicken came out exquisite. Cooked beautifully, crispy outside... and the taste was pure Southern delectable.
Batch #3 - the best product - is the two pieces on the upper right of the plate
With everything else going on right now, I thought it was time to post something more upbeat and educational and fun. So if you've got an air fryer, here is how I made air-fried chicken:
INGREDIENTS:
Chicken (I used legs but you could do this with breast or whatever)
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups buttermilk
2 eggs
2 tablespoons black pepper
2 tablespoons paprika
1 tablespoon salt
Before doing anything else, open up the fryer and spray the basket with a thorough amount of cooking spray or oil (vegetable, canola, olive, etc.) THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT!! I discovered that this keeps the chicken crust from sticking to the basket.
Mix the flour, black pepper, paprika, and salt thoroughly in a bowl.
In another bowl mix the buttermilk and eggs (making sure you've cracked the eggs and poured the inside yolk into the bowl... just making sure you're paying attention ;-)
Wash each chicken piece thoroughly. Pat dry. Then drench the piece in the bowl with the buttermilk mixture. When thoroughly covered place piece into bowl with flour mixture, rolling it around until it's completely covered. Place chicken piece on sheet of foil or cooking sheet. When enough pieces have been covered in flour mixture, spray cooking spray/oil on the pieces. Place pieces with sprayed-side down into the basket. Close fryer and turn on 350 degreees at 16 minutes. Halfway through cooking time open the fryer, spray chicken, and turn over. Cook for the remainder of the time. Remove from fryer... and enjoy!
EDIT 3:06 PM EST: Just for the heck of it, here's a pic of the air-fried steak from the other night:
The notion of "racial justice" is a wrong one. The problem is that to have any kind of justice at all there must be a baseline standard against which to compare and contrast and ultimately judge. "Racial justice" does not really possess that. Which race is the standard? Black, white, Hispanic, Polynesian, Brazilian... what?
I will posit that "racial justice" introduces far more problems than it solves. It elicits and encourages envy and anger. Sometimes wildly misplaced envy and anger. And we are seeing the fruit of that anger right now.
Yet obviously there is an issue. There has been one and always will be so long as human nature endures.
If "racial justice" is the wrong idea to pursue, then I would suggest "racial neutrality". Which is much more open ended and challenging. Racial neutrality emphasizes that all races are equal across the board, without respect or condescension toward anyone. It is not just an outward goal to strive for, but an inward reflection of how one perceives and interacts with all people.
Personally, I would rather have racial neutrality than have racial justice.
Then again, all my life I've seen all people as equal anyway. I have never understood racism during that time and I can't understand it now, however form it takes. So what do I know?
Let me preface this by stating from the start: I know fully well that bad cops exist. There is a city in North Carolina that I am forever going to loathe going through because of one incident that involved both city police and county sheriff's personnel, and that was almost twenty years ago (oh the perils of being a puppy-eyed cub reporter getting knocked around by the world for the first time). I believe that there are few things as bad as any member of law enforcement who consciously betrays what it means to take an oath and puts on the badge. And this blog has chronicled law enforcement abuse so many times that it's gotten its own tag.
In short: I get it.
But I'm also grateful for being able to still appreciate that the good cops far outnumber the bad.
Three situations come to mind as I write these words. One happened not too long ago, and it revitalized my trust and confidence in the members of law enforcement in general. Two of its representatives assured me that an incident I brought to their attention would be pursued as much as possible, and I have taken their word on that. The second involves the prank video I made four years ago of a rocket launcher destroying that "new statue" in Reidsville, North Carolina's downtown area. Two police officers came to my front door (fifteen minutes away from town!) to ask about it. There was no warning issued, they seemed pretty amused by it actually. It was just that apparently someone reported it to Homeland Security and they had to follow up on it. They were confident that I was harboring no real explosives and a good laugh was had by all.
The third situation regards my having severe enough mental illness that I have had to be taken into custody numerous times by members of law enforcement.
Yes, I have had to be handcuffed. I have had to be put into the back of a police cruiser or sheriff's vehicle. I have been frisked for potential weapons and escorted under guard into hospital emergency rooms. All of these and more. And not once have I felt like my dignity as a human being was violated. Every officer involved in those sporadic situations has behaved with utmost respect toward me and I hope that I reciprocated that to them.
(There is also the matter of how many times during the course of my current profession, that I have witnessed law enforcement officers interact with some of the most neglected people in our community. That alone has brought about renewed appreciation for their efforts.)
Right now there is a lot of commotion about cities disbanding their police forces. Travis Yates, writing at the website Law Officer, has penned a heart-rending essay about why that will sooner than later not be necessary. Because members of the law enforcement community are finally becoming so discouraged by what they must deal with that they are now actively asking young people to reconsider going into the profession.
I have to agree with Mr. Yates, on every point. And if Minneapolis commits to its plan to abolish its police department, then it truly will become "Mogadishu on the Mississippi": a lawless realm of total anarchy. Give it a year and it will not resemble the Minneapolis of today... and I don't mean that in a good way either. It is not a situation that will be remedied by bolstered social programs and increased bureaucracy.
It's an eye-opening article, and it made me reassess my own perspective on those who put on the uniform. It also led me to discover Blue Line Bears: an endeavor by a young lady in Florida to provide teddy bears to children of those who have fallen in the line of duty. I was so impressed by the effort that I reached out to them to thank them. There's an option to make contributions on their site and I'm going to ask that any readers of this post consider that.
As for the people of Minneapolis and other cities: you would do well to read Mr. Yates' words and ponder them deeply. And then if you are still led to do so, go ahead with your plan to abolish the police force wholesale.
I've posted this photo before. It seems more timely than ever.
This picture ran in newspapers across America in the winter of 2012. It depicts a family friend and fellow farmer, John, along with my father Robert Knight.
This photo hangs on the wall in my office at my job. There is rarely a day when I don't stop to admire it. It says so much, without saying a word.
In its own way, it says everything that I'm feeling led to say. Without a single word.
Some additional notions that I have been pondering, though I said earlier that there would probably be nothing more that would be remarked upon:
1. The death of George Floyd was a tragedy, make no mistake about it. But it was not necessarily a racially-motivated death. It is now coming out that the officer who knelt on Floyd's neck already had an established history of troubling behavior in his role as a law enforcement agent. It is altogether possible that Mr. Floyd's ethnicity didn't even figure as a consideration in the officer's mind, as well as that of the other officers involved.
Not everything is about race. Or needs to be.
2. The handling of George Floyd's death was a matter germane to local jurisdiction and that's ALL as far as it should have gotten. There should have been proper investigation, including objective autopsy (there are now two autopsies with different results competing with one another). Such a matter as this demands that there be as objective and thorough an examination as possible, with regard toward all parties involved. The people of Minneapolis deserved no less. The family of George Floyd deserved no less.
But of course it became a viral video, one that the media picked up and ran with, and now... well...
3. Speaking of the the media, it is 10,000% culpable in this disaster. There is likely not another situation in American history where the news media has been responsible for precipitating so much devastation. But as is also 10,000% of the time there will be no holding anyone in the media accountable. And speaking as a former journalist, what I have seen is beyond the pale. These are not the actions of those in a profession devoted to seeking and reporting the truth of the matter. I can attest without reservation that too many in the journalism racket are actually proud of the mayhem that they have helped to unleash.
Incidentally, I am never going to chalk myself down as a fanatic for the guy, but the media is trying to perpetuate the claim that President Trump's visit to the church a few days ago was preluded by confronting protestors with tear gas and rubber bullets. We now know that this did not happen, according to United States Park Police.
4. Impartial handling of the case has been rendered impossible. Mob justice has prevailed. Anything going forward is going to be poisoned with the threat of more rioting and violence. It is going to be impossible to empanel an impartial jury after this debacle. Because no juror will want to have it on his or her conscience that he or she voted "not guilty" in a case after a full and fair presentation of evidence, if said presentation merits a not guilty verdict.
In short: the rule of law in the George Floyd case - figuratively speaking - has been strangled.
5. Scott Adams - the creator of the Dilbert comic strip - has made a brilliant observation in his video podcast: the "black leadership" presuming to speak on behalf of all African-Americans is for all intents and purpose without a rudder and has NO idea what it is trying to accomplish. For all of the rioting and calls for social upheaval, there is not a single solid idea that has been put forth from these "leaders" about how to accomplish it. As Adams put it, nobody in the crowd seems to have a typewriter or a pencil to capture any ideas that come to mind. Adams further remarked that there is currently no leader approaching the caliber of Martin Luther King Jr. I am compelled to agree with him on that.
6. Much of the reaction to the Floyd murder... and again, something that may not have been racially motivated at all... has been either out of fear or out of political opportunity or both. For God's sake, LEGO has now jumped into the fray and telling its stores to not display sets depicting cops or the White House.
I am going to draw flak for proclaiming this, but I'm not going to jump on this particular bandwagon. It is mob mentality, it is madness, and someone's got to say it dammit.
7. The mob mentality we are now seeing is too much like what transpired during the French Revolution, when "the wisdom of the crowd" wrought anguish and worse upon the innocent. Thankfully it is not at the point of beheadings and mass drownings. Not YET anyway...
8. An example of that last point is what has happened to Grant Napear, the longtime announcer for the Sacramento Kings. Napear merely tweeted that "all lives matter" and for that he was driven from his position.
9. I am going to state without hesitation that all lives do matter. That all human lives are precious and sacred. Indeed, I will posit that the Founding Fathers had it all wrong: it's not "all men are created equal". It should be "all men are created sacred".
10. The last words my grandmother spoke before she died were "I love everybody."
That's not a bad way to live, when you think about it. Too bad that the way things are going, saying those words will probably be soon worth condemning over.
Some are seriously suggesting that the looting taking place in the
"protests" (note: they are not protests, they are bouts of purposeless
violence) are justified because "white people looted" for thousands of
years and that's "loot" that now fills the museums.
Which is the most ridiculous thing that I've heard all month and believe me, I heard ridiculous this past month.
99.99% of the inventory of museums has been found in archaeological expeditions, or donated, or otherwise legally
obtained. In the vast majority of these there was no present legal
owner of the property, because said owners were long dead without any
identification.
What is
happening now however, across America, is outright theft of private
property, whether it belongs to a store or to individuals or is in the
custody of legitimate government. It is being done by people who have
no respect toward the notion of ownership.
Others with greater
minds than mine have remarked that private property ownership and the
right to have that, are among the most basic elements of a free society.
Take that away and there is no regard for anything that follows. And
we are seeing that happen now in cities throughout America: the throwing
aside of respecting the property of others, watching the anarchy and
madness that inevitably follows.
I'm old enough to remember the
riots that broke out in Los Angeles following the Rodney King case
verdicts. Thousands of buildings were set on fire, many innocent people
were killed. Those weren't "protests" either. Those were acts of
violence absent any responsibility or regard for human life. Among the
buildings destroyed were many owned by African-Americans as well as
Caucasians. The ONE exception was stores and other buildings that were
owned by those of the Korean community. Why were they spared? Because
the store owners LITERALLY took to the roofs of their property and held
vigil with handguns, rifles, and whatever other firearms they possessed.
THAT is where the rioting and mayhem is taking us. If some will not
respect the property of others, then the owners of that property are
justified... more than justified even... to protect said property by any
means necessary. Up to and including potentially depriving others of
life. If property is the product of one's own efforts and sacrifice,
then that person WILL be forced to defend it by any means necessary if
his or her back is pressed against the wall.
I don't want to see it come to that any more than any other sane human being would.
What we see happening now however, is not sane. And the perpetrators
are fast compelling those who respect law and property to consider
taking measures that would be regrettable for all involved.
It really does seem like just yesterday when we were slathering that fake blood all over Chad's legs, andmaking a springtime drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway look like blizzard in the Colorado mountains. And turning a cousin's living room into Skywalker Ranch. So much happened since then and yet, our cast and crew became a family that has endured. More than endured even. And for that, I'm thankful that this project got seen through to the end.
Yes, it has indeed been fifteen years since the release of Forcery: that Star Wars fanfilm parody of the Stephen King movie Misery. I'd wanted it to be ready before Star Wars Episode III: Revenge Of The Sith but it didn't quite make it. Still, it was late May of 2005 when it was first unloaded onto the Internet and about a year or so later it was "serialized" (because of time restrictions at the time) onto YouTube. And then everyone could behold the tale of George Lucas (Chad Austin) being held captive by Star Wars-obsessed uberfan Frannie Filks (Melody Hallman Daniel).
I will be the first to admit: it looks a little dated now. We shot it with a couple of standard definition camcorders, and I did my best to color grade it to look more cinematic. The car going off the road in the blizzard well... no doubt someone could CGI that easily today. And there is one effect that I wish we could do over again because it would be ridiculously easy to fix and that's my faulte entirely. Sometimes I wonder if it could have been edited better but again, that's on me.
All the same, quirks and all, Forcery was a little film that could. And it made its way from the living room of a few friends' houses to the big screen and some bigtime media recognition. Clips of Forcery were heavily featured in the acclaimed documentary The People vs. George Lucas and I've been told that some of it was even shown on Japanese television (which would be one of two times that this blogger's work has been on TV in the land of the rising sun... but I digress). Knowing that's your lifelong best friend being projected onto the screen at Cannes: it was more than a little startling. Like, "we did THAT?!?"
But most of all, Forcery was a binding and bonding experience for those who came together to make it happen. It would take reams of virtual paper to chronicle all the good that came of it. And I'm too infamous already for writing long stuff, but here's one example that took place a few years ago. Know this though: that I am now and will forever be proud of the effort that so many made to turn this little film idea into a reality. THEY are the ones who Forcery is accredited to, far more than it ever could be to me.
Anyhoo, Happy 15th Birthday to Forcery! And if you want to see it right now now now, you're in luck! You can watch it in fairly large scale via the Forcery page on this blog and some nice chap uploaded it to YouTube. So strap yourself in and prepare for fifty-four minutes of a film that some said couldn't be done and others said should not have been done. They don't count though (but that's another story :-P )
And one last bit of fun: I turned what is arguably the most-quoted line of dialogue from Forcery into an animated GIF. Feel free to use it elsewhere :-)
It seems like an entirely other world ago now. When the wait between new episodes could be not just weeks but months away. There was no "binging" a series on a regular basis. And streaming television was still yet to come.
I was in a different place also. Still reeling from a divorce. Wrestling with the worst symptoms of manic depression. Alone. Confused. And, well... lost. Looking for a purpose, as John Locke was.
There had never been a television series like Lost. And there never will be again, ever. At least, there never can be for me.
The medium has changed too drastically. Viewer expectations have become too impatient. The audience demands definitive answers, when once upon a time such a thing as "exercise for the reader" was a treasured virtue. To be sure, some series - such as The Walking Dead and Game Of Thrones - followed admirably in the wake of Lost. But those are basic and premium cable, absent the restraints of broadcast network television.
And as frustrating as "The Iron Throne" was to many Game Of Thrones fans, it only remotely approached the level of controversy as did Lost's final season leading up to "The End".
Always live together, and you'll never die alone.
Lost's series finale came ten years ago tonight. It capped off six years of a phenomenon that had engrossed millions, fueled so many classroom and workplace discussions on the mornings after, and unleashed countless online forums where fans dissected everything from the sounds of the Smoke Monster to Egyptian hieroglyphics. From those frantic first moments of Oceanic Flight 815's wreckage on the beach of an uncharted island Lost was mythology painted with a broad, broad brush. And it was going somewhere, was set to give us closure. Right? Right?!?
But here we are, ten years later, and the fans seemingly more galvanized than ever about "The End" and what preceded it.
Me? I thought "The End" was not a perfect episode, but it didn't have to be. It was as fitting a conclusion to Lost as there was likely to be. And while we will forever be debating whether there was some master plan that was followed - with every element having an appropriate reason and backstory behind it - it must be admitted, however begrudgingly, that "The End" was pure Lost. And really, would we have wanted it to be any different?
Others will have already written with more eloquence about "The End". But on this occasion, I thought it might be fun to share some of the theories I've had over the years about Lost. A series that we will forever be theorizing and conjecturing about. Why not add my own into the mix?
First off...
WHERE was the Island? How can it move?
I don't believe the Island was something "movable". It had a solid geological basis somewhere and we can know that because of its volcanic origin. But I do think that access to the Island was something fluid and malleable. It's the approach to the Island that is constantly moving. Going back to the quantum physics that the DHARMA Initiative boffins were messin' around with, the Island is somewhat "superpositioned" in the real world. It might be geologically located in the midst of the Pacific, but the access points to it change from time to time so that someone flying over the Atlantic might come upon one of the "windows" that Eloise described. Or arrive at the Island by boat in the Mediterranean (as Claudia and her people did). So think of the Island as a fixed point, with spacetime warped around it seemingly haphazardly. Going back again to what Eloise told Jack and his friends however, the windows through the warp could be calculated (with the help of an Apple II computer and that really strange Foucault's pendulum down at The Lamp Post station).
So no, the Island itself was not moving. But how you came to the Island certainly was!
How old is the Island? When did the Egyptians, the Romans etc. get there?
The Island itself is probably a few million years old, give or take an eon. But we're wondering how long people have been coming there.
A major clue comes in "The End", when Desmond enters the Heart of the Island. See those characters carved in the walls and on the "cork"? Those are Phoenician: predating ancient Egypt. It can be surmised that the Heart of the Island was primarily the work of this earlier culture. As for what purpose: who knows. But they're the ones who are ultimately responsible for all of the crazy on the Island.
The Egyptians came some time after, and they built the statue of Taweret, the wheel chamber, etc.
Then came the Roman castaways of which Claudia was one. And who gave birth to Jacob and his brother.
Wait... it was the Man in Black and the Romans who built the wheel, right?
The Man in Black and his compatriots were building a wheel, not THE wheel. Not the one that we see Ben Linus turning in the fourth season finale.
The evidence? The Egyptian hieroglyphics on the wall of the chamber. The fact that Mother destroyed the Man in Black's own chamber before he could finish his wheel.
Are you saying that Jacob and the Man in Black came after the Egyptians were on the Island?
Yup.
That's impossible! The Egyptians had the Smoke Monster in their wall carvings. So the Man in Black was before they came!
The Man in Black and the Smoke Monster were two different entities.
Work with me here. We ARE theorizing after all...
The Smoke Monster has long, long been part of the Island's place in the scheme of things. Way before the birth of Jacob and his brother. The Smoke Monster is a tangible representative of evil itself and that evil must always be contained. Just as Jacob told Richard when he was showing him that bottle of wine: the Island is a "cork" keeping the bottled-up darkness from spilling out. And for a time, whether by the Phoenician culture or the Egyptians, that representative was held back.
Until Jacob threw his brother into the Heart of the Island. Which was the catalyst for everything that came after.
Entering the Heart killed Jacob's brother. We can know this after the tearful farewell that Jacob gave his brother and the Mother. Jacob didn't treat the Smoke Monster as if it were a new incarnation of the Man in Black. But what happened at the Heart did free the Smoke Monster from captivity. And Jacob would spent the next two thousand years trying to make up for his mistake.
What would happen if the Smoke Monster got off the Island?
Hell would come to the world.
We got a glimpse of it with Sayid, after he was resurrected in the corrupted water at the Temple. It was "the sickness" that had been spoken of before, and now we know what it did: it darkened the heart of the infected. As Lennon translated from Dogen, Sayid had been "claimed" by the darkness. And later on Sayid described how he couldn't feel anything: that he had become emotionally deadened.
Now imagine that same deadening happening to millions, if not billions of people across the face of the Earth.
Jacob was right: the Island was a cork and it was holding back something that if it became free, it would spread.
Maybe "The End" didn't make it clear enough but those were REALLY high stakes that Jack was playing for when he fought the Smoke Monster's Locke form.
What is the meaning of "the numbers"?
Ahhhh yes: 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42. And how mad we did get trying to figure those out.
The answer is at once ridiculously mundane and metaphysical. And it helps to bear in mind the Valenzetti Equation that was written about on the blast-door map. In The Lost Experience real-life game at the time, it was revealed that the numbers are factors in the Valenzetti Equation: a formula calculating how long manking has before driving itself into extinction. One of the purposes of the DHARMA Initiative was to change at least one of the factors, and thus stave off that extinction.
Basically, the numbers are intrinsic to the fabric of the universe. THAT is why they keep showing up. They surface because... well, it's their nature. And DHARMA is trying to change the numbers and consequently, the universe itself.
So the numbers are at once pretty boring and also utterly fascinating.
Who was that in Jacob's cabin?
My gray matter has discombobulated itself a zillion ways from Sunday trying to figure out who it was we briefly saw in that chair when Ben took Locke to the cabin. And later the same figure apparently appeared very briefly when Hurley found the cabin.
It wasn't the Smoke Monster-as-Christian Shepherd, we can disregard THAT possibility by process of elimination. And it obviously wasn't Jacob himself. Even though it seems that Jacob was using the cabin at some time or another, given the dialogue when Ilana and Bram arrived with their group.
I've no idea who it is and the showrunners probably never knew who it's supposed to be either. It's almost a disappointment, albeit an intriguing one.
What DID happen at the Swan site?
Basically, Daniel screwed up with his calculations. And the Island proved him wrong: changing the variables did not affect the past. Jack, Kate, Sawyer etc. had to be on the Island in the present day, and the Island brought them there. That's the best that I can come up with.
What about the polar bears, the "Hurley-bird", the source of the DHARMA food shipments, some other stuff?
Those got answered in "The New Man In Charge": the eleven minute "mini-episode" that was included in Lost's home release. Here it is if you've never seen it. It's pretty much the very last moments of the Lost mythos that were produced.
Who was David? Jack never had a son in life. Why does he have a son in the "flash-sideways" afterlife?
Of all of my theories, this is my most favorite. Because not once have I ever, ever seen anyone who has come up with this...
David Shepherd is the son of Jack and Kate.
Dylan Minnette was perfectly cast as David. I mean, just look at the features he shares with Jack and Kate. Especially Kate's eyes. And Jack's hair.
But how and when did David come about? Ahhhhh... now that IS an interesting question and the answer is an astounding one.
Before leaving for the Ajira Airlines flight, Kate came to Jack's home and was pretty adamant about the two of them making love. I believe now that doing so was part of the plan: that Kate had to become pregnant
Because... what did Eloise tell Jack, Kate and the rest? That they had to replicate, as closely as possible, the conditions of the original Oceanic 815 flight. Which, among other things, had a pregnant young woman aboard.
Kate was proxying for Claire, who was nine months along with Aaron at the time of the Oceanic crash. Locke's dead body was proxying for that of Christian and now it was Kate who was a stand-in for Claire.
Nine months later, after Kate and the other survivors returned home, she gave birth to David. And it was in the flash-sideways that Jack got to be the father he never had the chance to become in life, to his own son.
That is where David came from. He wasn't some "figment" of the flash-sideways. He was flesh and blood, and presumably lived a long life and then was united with the father he never knew.
That's my VERY longtime theory about David Shepherd. And I'm quite proud of it.
And the voices?
The Island's mega-electromagnetic qualities "trap" the souls of some. The ones who can't "move on". But as "The New Man In Charge" implies, such people are not beyond the realm of helping. And that's the very best that I can come up with. Okay smartie pants, what about...
I would love to be able to figure out the reason for the Egyptian characters on the Swan Station's countdown clock: the one that turns red and black if the numbers aren't entered in time (some have translated it to mean "cause to die"). Why did women who conceived on the Island die during pregnancy (a fate Sun avoided after escaping and giving birth in the outside world)? How exactly did that lighthouse - the thing that spied on more people than Alexa - work? Who was...
Look, I am not going to attempt to answer ALL of the mysteries about Lost! That's for others to work out on their own. Who am I to deprive others of intellectual exercise? Just watch the show and suss it out for yourself! Besides, it's more fun that way.
Anyhoo, here's saluting you, Lost. Gone, but NEVER to be forgotten.
Those were the words of one Harry Truman (no relation to that Harry S Truman) in the days prior to the eruption. Truman had a lodge on the side of Spirit Lake, in the shadow of Mount St. Helens. He lived there with twenty-some cats, and I guess being almost ninety years of age he was just too stubborn to listen to geologists who were screaming at him to get out of the area. That giant building bulge on the north slope of the mountain didn't seem to impress.
A few days later, an earthquake triggered the lateral blast on the north flank. The entire top of the mountain and the north slope were blown away. Harry Truman and his cats are now somewhere 300 feet beneath ash and rock that eventually formed a new Spirit Lake. In all the eruption killed 57 people, including volcanologist David Johnston. His camp was directly in front of the blast area. Johnston's final frantic words over his radio: "Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!"
That was forty years ago today, May 18th 1980.
Back in 2012 I got to visit Mount St. Helens. Standing at the Johnston Observatory (built on the site where the gifted young geologist had made his camp), looking across the still-blasted wasteland and into the crater, thinking about how much taller St. Helens used to be...
It was utterly humbling. The photos I had seen could not compare to seeing the thing up close. And St. Helens is still considered active. Every so often a plume of steam or ash rises out of the crater. Another eruption someday is still altogether possible. Just as eruptions are possible on nearby Mount Hood and other peaks in that part of the Cascades.
We propose nothing in the sight of nature. That is what came to mind as I looked into the maw of what is still deemed to be a fairly medium-size volcano. Pinatubo's eruption in 1991 was much worse and sent global temperatures dropping. Krakatoa did much the same and in fact, its eruption was heard from thousands of miles away.
And on that Sunday morning in May the world indeed beheld that mountain dared blow up on old Harry.
Happy Fortieth Anniversary to Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, premiered May 17th, 1980 at the Kennedy Center and then wide release a few days later.
Now and probably for all time, the very best installment of the entire Star Wars film franchise.
I'm still choosing to be coy about where fate landed me after I left North Carolina almost four years ago. Even so, I still keep an eye on my old home state, and I'll forever be proud to have been a son of the Tarheel State (even if my basketball proclivities lay toward Duke, but I digress...).
Right now I'm sitting in some abject disbelief at North Carolina's governor Roy Cooper insisting on keeping the state closed for all intents and purposes. Neighboring states like Georgia are slamming the doors wide open for businesses large and small. South Carolina places of worship have begun to crank up for regular services. So far none of these places have recorded a rise in COVID-19 cases. If anything the infection rate is dropping.
There is good reason for that. We are definitely on the back side of the coronavirus situation. "Shelter in place" deterred the virus from spreading when it was most contagious. It served its purpose and it served it well. But there is very little good that will come out of continuing this hunkering-down. Viruses of the airborne vector - like COVID-19 - tend to follow a very defined track of lifespan over the course of a few weeks or months at most. To be brief about it: the virus has been mutating into strains that are less contagious and hostile to human physiology. As I like to put it they are "mutating downward", not up and into worse strains.
So what would I recommend to North Carolina, and to the United States as a whole?
Reopen. End shelter in place. Ask that those who are most susceptible and concerned about COVID-19 to remain in self-isolation for the next few weeks or even months. But as for everyone else it should be business as usual again. It's almost purposefully infecting the virus into oblivion as the much-ballyhooed herd immunity kicks in. It won't fully eradicate the virus, but it will put us on track toward ending the threat much faster and more reliably than waiting for an effective vaccine which may never come or will arrive, at earliest, a year and a half from now.
We have shied away from the virus. Now it is time to begin aggressively confronting it when it is most vulnerable. And it is time to begin an aggressive return to life as we knew it before COVID-19 became a cultural byword for microbial horror. This isn't the Spanish influenza. This isn't even polio. But it has been a pandemic and we can be proud of ourselves for staving it off before it became something far worse... and for the very first time in history. Western medicine has prevailed magnificently in this regard.
And now is the time to declare victory. Let there be jubilation in the streets and the bars and the barber shops and the churches! Let's see some real leadership - in North Carolina and across America - boldly proclaim that we've beaten this thing.
Otherwise, the cure will go down in history as worse than the disease. It's already well on track for that. Time to let real healing begin, throughout our country.
Maybe
I'm sharing too much with this post. But it hasn't been anything that I
haven't divulged already to some, if only to "get it out of my head" or
else lose my mind.
Only in the past few years have I come to
realize how much my own mother was a monster. There were moments when
she could be sweet and loving, but now I wonder if that was just a show.
That was the side she showed most people. But a few of us saw her for
what she really was: Bitter. Hateful. She had, as one close friend
told me, "a kernel of cruelty". She seemed to enjoy humiliating me in
front of others, especially friends and sometimes co-workers. She did a
lot behind my back to sabotage my chances for happiness... up to and
including things she was saying to my former in-laws before my ex-wife
and I were married. God only knows what that would have been without her interference. I certainly would have been a better person with life in general if He had given me a better woman as a mother.
It is the memories of my mother that are most
at the heart meat of the therapy that I have been undergoing.
Thankfully, those have been working and working terrifically. They take
the sting out of the memories. They are making me assured that it was
never "me" that was bad. It was that woman, who called me "retarded"
and would blow cigarette smoke into my face and who blamed me for her
own lack of relationship with God. It was that woman who would slap me
in public, who threatened to smear human feces in my face, who never
gave more than hugs bereft of any empathy. Mom was, I see now, a highly
functioning psychopath and someone who was NOT a Christian at all. And
that is what hurts more than most: how she turned God into a weapon to
beat me over the head with, not a God who is loving and merciful and
looks past our faults and frailties. Mom never forgot my fault and
frailties. I don't think she forgot them with anyone.
My mother
was the kind of woman who ruined the funeral of an uncle I was close to.
No, really. She literally ruined a funeral. All for her own selfish
sake.
But I was expected to love her, because "she's your
mother". Now I understand that love can never be demanded. It must be
EARNED. Including for one's own parents.
My life would not be so
screwed up all along, had there been a TRULY loving and caring mother
in my life. One who was sincerely beautiful in spirit. But as it is,
she was not that and she poisoned that house and everyone within it.
And I'm thankful that I got to see Dad happier than he had ever been
before, in those final years before his own passing.
Why am I sharing this?
If you have a true and sincerely loving mother, or you did have one, be
thankful. NEVER stop being thankful for that. Thank God every day
that He blessed you with her. There are some of us who never got to
have that, and it seems we will never stop asking Him why did He trap us
with someone like that. Many are the days when I wish that I had just
died in the delivery room, as I almost did. Instead He gave me to a
woman who should never have been a mother in the first place.
If
you are not like me, then you should consider yourself very, VERY
blessed indeed. Because, like I said, some of us didn't get to have
that. And I for one am as envious as can be that other people got to
have that loving mother.
That's all that I'm going to say today.
On this Mother's Day, if she is the kind of mother that God intended
for them to be, let her know how much you appreciate and love her for
that. If she is no longer here, thank God that He let you have that.
And maybe you never had that kind of mother. Perhaps there are other
women who have become like true mother figures in your life. In that
regard, I have been immensely blessed. THEY are the ones I prefer to
think about on this Mother's Day. They are the ones who stepped up to
bat and showed me what real motherhood is all about.
I know of what I speak. I know what was missing from my life. I pray that no one else has to know that kind of vacuum.
Thank God for your mother, if she is or was the kind of mother that a woman in that place is meant to be.
That's all I know to say about the subject. Don't expect me to write about it again. I've said what God was leading me to say. And that is enough.
Work with me here. It's way too late at night, I can't sleep and this is the kind of thing I think about at this hour.
Here's the problem: "Does a shadow have mass, and how much does it weigh if it does?"
Remember how in Peter Pan, when Pete loses his shadow and has to sew it back on when he finally catches it? That's how this started (though why I was thinking of Peter Pan so randomly is beyond me). So if Pan loses his shadow, and it gets away from him and he has to catch it and attach it back to himself, then...
Logically, the shadow must have mass. Because Pan couldn't take hold of it if it didn't have mass. Except it's impossible for a shadow to have mass, right? Right?!
Okay, let's look at this from the angle of physics. What is a shadow, exactly? It's the absence or diminishing of light upon a surface because an object is between the surface and a source of light. There is no "there" there for a shadow. It just is. It's the effect of an object with mass absorbing light energy.
But for more than a century now, we've known that per Einstein's equation E = mc2 that energy and mass have an equivalence. Matter is energy and energy is matter. And among other things the addition of energy to a system increases the mass of that system. So in our situation the light hitting Peter Pan is increasing his mass (although almost insignificantly so).
The system being discussed here is Peter Pan, his shadow, and the light cast upon the local environment. The surface of Peter has increased mass and so does the wall (or whatever) that the light is hitting. The shadow however is not absorbing energy.
With the local environment as a baseline, and the ultimate source of the mass being the sun or lamplight or some other source of light, the shadow has less mass than it would without being impeded by Peter's mass. And not only that but the shadow both exists and has a mass of less than 0. All without absorbing energy on its own. It has existence and mass because of the mass/energy equivalence of its surroundings.
Therefore, a shadow does possess mass. And despite the absence of light it does have corresponding weight.
So then, we can conclude that a shadow has weight. And said weight is dependent upon the surface it is cast upon, the area of the shadow, the size of the object casting the shadow, and the size and strength of the source of light.
Which means that in theory, Peter Pan could have lost his shadow and had to sew or staple it back on.
Well, that settles that question then. Me go back to sleep now.
Some longtime readers already know that the Gears Of War video game franchise is near and dear to my heart. One of my prized geeky possessions is a copy of the Gears of War 3 soundtrack signed by composer Steve Jablonsky Maybe it's something to do with how the first game came out on that Election Day in 2006: when my name appeared on the ballot for board of education. I didn't get to play Gears of War until a year later when I finally scored an Xbox 360 but as soon as that disc stopped loading I was totally sucked into the world of Sera, and the fight against the Locust.
Unfortunately I haven't come into possession of an Xbox One so I'm way behind on the main series, but that doesn't mean a fan has to be completely out of the loop. Last week Microsoft released Gears Tactics. It's a turn-based tactical game set in the Gearsiverse. Specifically, fourteen years before Dom breaking Marcus out of that prison. It's the countdown to the Hammer of Dawn offensive, and you play a poor shlub who gets tapped by Chairman Prescott (as posturing an a$$hole as ever) to swipe some documents before the surface of Sera gets burned.
I'm a few missions into it and so far have been enjoying every moment. Gears Tactics truly brings the spirit of the franchise to the desktop, with astounding design choices and situational dynamics. If you want a Gears Of War game, it's here: the Gears and their signature armor, emergence holes, parkouring over obstacles, charging toward the bad guys... and of course the iconic execution with the chainsaw bayonet. Movement and targeting are simple, and absent any "hex-based" spacing that the genre is often known for. In short: it's a solid translation of the typical Gears Of War game into a more casual "thinking person's" exercise.
This morning one of the local churches had a broadcast of their service from last Sunday morning. They have adapted well to the coronavirus-engendered shutdown. Several dozen choir members sang hymns together via Zoom and a father baptized his daughter in the family's bathroom tub. The sermon - delivered to an empty sanctuary - was no less potent and encouraging.
I imagine that much the same is happening across America and in other places also: churches holding virtual worship services across the Intertubes. But really, it doesn't matter where a church meets. As Jesus said, "where two or three are gathered in My name...", there is the body of Christ also.
Along those lines, there's an idea I had a few days ago and I'll pass it along to this blog's readers and anyone else...
Churches should have a "Revital Sunday" service (or "Revital Sabbath" for our friends among the Seventh-Day Adventist congregations). Yes, I know: "revital" isn't an actual word. But "revival" isn't the point. It's about a group of believers coming together to revitalize themselves and their church after such a long absence from each other. Revital Sunday could be a time of dedication and re-dedication as nothing quite has presented itself as an opportunity before. It could be a time of thanksgiving, for being delivered through some very trying circumstances. It could be a time for prayer, as so many are attempting to get their lives back on track, particularly after the enormous loss of jobs across the private and public sectors.
Revital Sunday could be a time of reflection and appreciation, and gratitude for what God has given already and what we must never take for granted, ever.
