When good baptisms go bad

At the church I attend, we practice baptism by immersion typically for someone who has grasped, at least in a fundamental aspect; the meaning of the ritual. The person can actually be quite young, but we don't baptize babies (although we do dedicate them).

Well, I came across this footage of a baby baptism by sprinkling holy water on the infant. I hope that the child has no repressed anxiety that will show up later in his/her life, but it appears that the church lost a member...and possibly it's priest. Maybe even it's reputation. You can view it here.

Purse Snatcher Snatched

As reported in Spiegel, on Sunday June 18:

A thief who stole a woman's handbag in Munich struck lucky on Sunday when he found it contained a ticket to the World Cup match between Brazil and Australia. His fortunes quickly changed, however, when he took his seat and found he was sitting next to her husband. Police arrested him in the stadium.

You gotta love it.

This is Dave's Brain. This is Dave's Brain on Drugs

I switched to a new neurologist recently. My former one is inconveniently located, and after my first seizure when I was living in fear and uncertainty, perhaps even terror about what was going on in my head I had a visit with her. Right in the middle of my appointment, her phone rang and while Sherry and I sat there in shock she took a patient call! Hello, this is about ME right now! Additionally, her treatment was to simply throw a bunch of Dilantin into me. I asked why she picked Dilantin, and how she new how much to prescribe, and it pretty much boiled down to "industry standards" and a drug that has been in use since the phrase "I like Ike" meant something to Americans.

Well, brains are complicated little things and as I've begun to research I've realized why we make jokes that theme around "brain surgeon". Why, oh why; did I have to have a seizure? Why couldn't my malady just have been a mangling of the metatarsals or something so much simpler? But no, I have been handed lemons and will make lemonade.

Right from the start I knew the new neurologist was, as they say in Hawaiin Pidgin, "da kine". He's this wiry little guy with a big shock of Albert Einstein hair, and his office was plastered with enough diplomas to paper a King Kong sized parakeet's cage (culminating with a PhD from Harvard).

Additionally, although the rest of his garb was professional, he had on this tie that said "I am confident in my self worth and therefore I can wear this ugly tie". You can read your own meaning into that! I loved the guy within 10 minutes. As we reviewed my EEG and MRI, he pointed out to me a little squiggle and said "there's your problem". I looked and it wasn't apparent to me. He gave a little description and pointed out how the other side of my brain was void of the squiggle in the opposite and corresponding section. Suddenly, like when you are watching House or ER or CSI the squiggle emerged and was visible to me. It made sense. He explained how this scar or lesion was smack dab in the place where seizures are triggered. I asked if the scar was a result of, or the cause of seizures. He said it was the cause and he asked if I had ever suffered head trauma. Not that I can recall, and in a subsequent conversation with Mom I asked her if there had ever been an event in my childhood that might have precipated serious trauma, like dropping me as a baby.

She laughed and said "do you think I would tell you?". Love you Mom! Seriously though there was nothing that she could think of. Then, I asked how come the other neurologist passed me with flying colors. He said that it is a matter of interpretation and he could not speak for the other doctor, but to him there was a clear and present cause of the seizures. It made a little sense to me working in the software world - what's FAD (functions as designed) to some may be a defect to others.

Well, truth be told I was very discouraged about finding the cause. Because the Dilantin is working, and I live an absolutely normal life other than a few minor side effects, I had slipped back to a Pollyannish view that I'm OK. But I'm not. I'll have to take drugs for the rest of my life which threw me into a mild depression for a few days. But then, realities pushed their way back into my selfish worldview. I feel great, I'm living the same lifestyle that I was before the seizures. I just have to take pills every day of my life. Many, many people are in far greater daily physical pain and problems than I am.

One thing though I thought of was the impact of Katrina displacing thousands of people in a sudden, irrevocable way. If I were to stop taking my meds cold turkey, it could actually induce a seizure. I now carry a few days supply with me every where I go "just in case" I'm separated from home involunatrily.

Well, as mentioned I have a few minor side effects with Dilantin. Nothing of great importance, but the doctor is switching me from Dilantin to Lamictal. He said it is a much newer and advanced drug than Dilantin and will have less side effects, although he said that if a rash develops I should seek medical treatment immediately as I might die. No kidding, I'm not making that up. Otherwise I should see a marked improvement. Here is a picture of how my brain operates:

It's hard to see but there's a little electrician goes around plugging in various outlets and receptacles the conscious and unconscious workings of my body. Sometimes he goes on a lunch break and the circuits get overloaded and pop a breaker. Dilantin is like a bologna sandwich on Wonder bread to this guy, solid, reliable and dependable - his wife's been packing his lunch with these for 35+ years. Add a few Cheezits and pickles, and he's gonna make it through the day. Lamictal though is like the energy drink RockStar - it's hip, it's sexy and it will give my little electrician a jolt (no pun intended against Jolt cola) that's gonna have him plugging and unplugging and watching those circuit breakers like foam on a latte.

I like the following description of what Lamictal does. I plan to memorize this so I can repeat it at parties and appear to be very smart (remember, appearances are deceiving). I particularly like the part about lightly brushing receptors, it invokes the image of Lamictal being Leonarda Da Vinci, and my brain being Mona Lisa. The master and the canvas, Michael Jordan and a basketball, Lance Armstrong and a bicycle, Dick Cheney and a shotgun - these are the partnerships that make life worth living. This is how Lamictal Works in Your Brain:

Lamictal (lamotrigine) works on binding to voltage sensitive sodium and maybe calcium channels in the brain. The calcium bit is a matter for debate. It also invokes glutamate which is a major excitatory neurotransmitter in the brain which is responsible for sending messages from neuron to neuron in 85% of the brain. It also lightly brushes the 5-HT3 serotonin receptor and the sigma opioid receptors, which probably account for its lovely antidepressant properties. Nothing like a combined serotonin and opiate reaction. As to precisely where in your brain Lamictal does its sodium and calcium channel magic, that's a mystery.

And likewise, my brain is ultimately a mystery to me, although after a hard day at work there's nothing like having my 5-HT3 receptors lightly brushed.

Jesus Cartoons - Blasphemous or Benign?

In the Sunday, May 21, 2006 columnist Steve Duin writes about Jesus cartoons:

"In a culture fueled by the endless friction of provocation and outrage, the "Jesus cartoons" were inevitable. Eager to cause a stir, a student newspaper at the University of Oregon, The Insurgent, published a series of inflammatory cartoons in March lampooning -- or worse -- Jesus Christ and the Resurrection. The cartoons, most of which are gleefully obscene, were apparently unleashed in response to the decision by a competitor, The Oregon Commentator, to publish the Muhammad caricatures unveiled last September by the Danish newspaper, Jyllands-Posten. "

I'm sure you have heard about the Muhammad caricatures and the uprising they caused. Should Christians react the same way? Some did, throwing comments out according to Duin such as "These blasphemers and those who support this nonsense will be judged. . . . Mark my words, when their flesh is burning and the devil is laughing they will cry out to the very man they mocked" and "We trust in a real, living God to exact his vengeance. . . . For that day, we can wait patiently.."

Yes, there can even be temporal judgment for insulting Jesus - an unnamed blogger in Singapore faces charges of sedition and possibly up to three years in prison and a $5,000 fine for posting cartoons depicting Jesus as a zombie for biting a boy's head and other unflattering depictions.

But there is a significant difference in Muslim reactions to the Muhammad cartoons and Christian reactions to the Jesus cartoons. Daniel Pipes asks What if a cartoon of Jesus had been published by the Danish paper instead? Could you imagine Christians:

1. Calling for the cartoonists to be beheaded?
2. Firebombing a mosque?
3. Rioting in the streets?
4. Retaliating by publishing vile cartoons about Muslims?

Cartoonist Johnny Hart (B.C) certainly knows how Jesus cartoons can offend. In 2001 he drew a cartoon with a menorah and the words of Jesus in a positive, respectful way and a huge furor ensued. It seems to be OK to denigrate Jesus, but don't dare to honor Him in a public forum!

Well Duin goes on to reports that:

But now and then, between the bursts of brimstone, you'll see this: "As a Christian, I am -- yawn -- very upset. Actually, He can defend Himself quite well. He asked that my defense of Him is to love my enemies and forgive others. And the secret is I can't do it, so He does it through me!"

Those are the posts that change hearts, swing the debate, and put a cool towel on the fever of the moment. Those are the posts that put rage and outrage in their place and give love its everlasting due.

Now I haven't seen either sets of cartoons, but have read descriptions of both. From what I've read, the Jesus cartoons are patently and blatently offensive, and yeah - I woud definitely classify them as offensive and without doubt are blasphemous. But I don't have any desire to extract fiery vengeance on the artist. I think this person said it best:

"As a Christian, I'm deeply offended by this obscene mockery of my Lord and Savior. So in response, I'm going to unleash my religion's most powerful weapon: I forgive Them."

Tigard Festival of Balloons

It's time for the Tigard Festival of balloons, or "TFOB" (thank God it's the Friday of Balloons)! We live about a mile away from this event and it's very cool - this isn't a troop of professionals who tie long skinny ballons into Giraffes, this is giant hot air balloons filling the sky right above our house. As dusk dawns down in Cook Park they have an event called "nightglow" as the climbing fires that heat the air cast a translucent glow like this:

Sometimes we call this the Tigard Festival of Baboons as we watch the inebriated inhabitants of nearby homes frolicking in the sun. OK, maybe it's not quite that bad but it's a great opportunity to people watch.

Well, our dog Kadie is a mellow German Shepherd mix (politically correct term for "mutt") that we got from the pound for companionship and protection for Sherry when I used to travel for business very often. She did not turn out to be very aggressive and mostly sleeps a lot (I'm referring to the dog not my wife). Occasionally Kadie gets a little upset over a raccoon, but that's about the extent of her viciousness. Until the balloons filled the sky:

As a few balloons floated above us, Kadie went nuts - hair raised on her back, barking furiously and showing fang. Wow! I didn't know she had it in her. She hardly ever barks so I was actually pleased with this protective behavior (well, that's my interpretaion). She actually reminded me of that scene in Signs where the dog goes nuts about the alien invasion. Kadie would probably let the aliens even do their er, ah "medical experiments" as long as they through a ball for her.

But this time, I rue the horrible experience should one of those balloons deflate and land in our driveway.

Teenagers thwart adults - again

In an amazing scientific discovery picked up by the Associated Press, students are using a new ring tone to receive messages in class — and many teachers can't even hear the ring. Some students are downloading a ring tone off the Internet that is too high-pitched to be heard by most adults. Apparently, with the typical hearling loss that comes with agong, it is a high pitched whine like a mosquito and is usually undectable. With it, high schoolers can receive text message alerts on their cell phones without the teacher knowing.

You can read more about it here, but think of the implications. Imagine teenagers communicating right under the noses of adults. With that kind of subterfuge, who knows how many parties are being planned, cheating going in classrooms, and various nefarious plots to heinous to even be described here.

Well teenagers - I got news for you! Yes you clever little rascals, we adults have ringtones that you can't hear either. Yeah, who's your daddy now?!? Here's a sample of ringtones that teenagers are oblivious to:

1. Be home by ten.
2. Make your bed.
3. Mow the lawn.
4. Call your grandma.
5. Take out the trash.
6. Clean your room.

The saga of Daisy

So here I am, working on the blog when the phone rings - the caller ID told me it was "AIM". I was in the mood for a little mystery and clicked talk and said hello. I heard a voice say "Daisy" and then a hang up.

OK, you don't know who you are fooling with! A quick Google search on "AIM Daisy" brought back a hit on how I could change my AIM (America Online Instant Messaging) "buddy" icon to Daisy Duke from the Dukes of Hazzard. Hmm, no joy there.

I pressed *69 out of futility, every telemarketer knows to block that feature, correct? HAH! I got a recording providing the phone number, and selected the option for the automated dialback. I received an error message indicating the phone number was marked private and the call could not be completed.

I almost gave up then figured hey why not try a manual redial. Bingo! The call was picked up by a person who identified them as "American Independent Mortgage". OK, the AIM mystery solved. I asked if Daisy was there. After being put on hold shortly, the operator came back on and said that Daisy was not there and could she take a message for her? "Nope", I replied; "I'll try back later". Game on!

Then, I typed the phone number into Google (Google also returns phone number information if it is publicly listed). You'll never believe what I found. Seriously. There were two hits, one was for a local (Portland) mortgage office with the address of the business.

But the other was gold - I kid you not, an excel worksheet of 6,559 licensed mortgage companies posted to a Washington state government website. There was contact information (personal name), physical addresses, office phone numbers, fax numbers, etc. All at my fingertips.

My introduction into technology was the use of a predictive dialer for past due loans at a bank I worked for. I still know enough to think I could have found a used dialer on eBay, hook it up to a PBX and call everyone of those mortgage companies over and over and over finally crashing their phone switch and grinding the economy to a halt with a recorded message that says something like this:

Hello, thanks for calling. We're not interested in your crummy products and even lousier service. We know that you are going to sell our loan to an even lousier service provider. Furthermore, we're annoyed that even though we're on a do not call list you still persist in pestering us.

Well, I'm not really that malovent or mischevious. But still, it would be fun!

The story had a good ending though. A few days later good old AIM showed up again on my phone. Snatching it up, I answered before the telemarketer could even speak:

Hi, is Daisy there?

The telemarketing was derailed from her script and stammered a bit. I said, "this is Dave, is Daisy there? She was still a bit rattled so I asked if there was a Daisy in her office. She said no, and plaintively bleated out "I called YOU" I replied, "then please take me off of your calling list. I'm not interested in your calls and I'm happy with my interest rate. She recovered a bit and tried to sell me, but I pushed right back and said "did you hear what I said? I'm not interested and take me off of your calling list" She said OK and hung up. Goodbye Daisy!

Methodist Squirrels

An oldie but a goodie, with a modern update:

There were five country churches in a small midwest town: The Presbyterian church , the Baptist church, a seeker-sensitive church, the Methodist church and the Catholic church. Each church was overrun with pesky squirrels.

One day, the Presbyterian church called a meeting to decide what to do about the squirrels. After much prayer and consideration they determined that the squirrels were predestined to be there and they shouldn't interfere with God's divine will.

In the Baptist church the squirrels had taken up habitation in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a cover on the baptistery and drown the squirrels in it. The squirrels escaped somehow and there were twice as many there the next week.

The seeker-sensitive church decided to take a purpose driven approach to the squirrels, and put out bushels of acorns and embraced them just as they were.

The Catholic group got together and decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God's creation. So, they humanely trapped the squirrels and set them free a few miles outside of town. Three days later, the squirrels were back.

But -- the Methodist church came up with the best and most effective solution. They baptized the squirrels and registered them as members of the church. Now they only see them on Christmas and Easter.

From Samaria to Everest

In the Saturday May 27 Oregonian the story began with this headline:

A low point near Everest's summit.

As reported by Binaj Gurubacharya and picked up by Associated Press, Binaj tells us that a British mountaineer (David Sharp, 34 years old) desparate for oxygen had collapsed along a well-traveled route to the summit. Dozens (emphasis mine) of people walked right past him, unwilling to risk their own ascents. Within hours, he was dead.

As Marlon Brando whispers in the last lines of the movie Apocalypse Now, "the horror. The horror."

It made me think of the parable of the Good Samaritan (LK 25:37 NIV):

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"

In reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

"Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

Now, what we don't know is who the victim was, but we do know that a priest (whom we would have expected compassion from) and a Levite (from the tribe of Levi, one of the 12 tribes of Israel) rejected the opportunity to be of assistance. Then, a Samaritan offered help at a personal cost to himself. Samaritans were of mixed ethnic backgrounds and were racially mistreated by Jews as second class citizens. However, in this story it is a despised person who displays the loving your neighbor principle.

Sherry and I had some interesting conversation as we read the Everest account. We asked each other a series of questions that went something like this (for context, we are weekend warrior middle aged athletes):

1. If you were out for a leisure walk with the dog, and came across someone who had been hurt; would you help him? No hesitation, of course.
2. If you were pressured for time to get your walk done and get to work, would you help him? No hesitation, of course.
3. If you were training for a race, would you stop and help him? No hesitation, of course.
4. If you were in the race, but placing high was not your priority, would you stop and help him? No hesitation, of course.
5. If you were training for a race, and you knew you would be in the top ten of all finishers, but this training run was very important to achieve that goal, would you stop and help him? A little hesitation, then of course.
6. If you were in the race, and new you would place in the top ten, would you stop and help him, jeapordizing your place? Some hesitation, then a somewhat shallow yes.
7. If you were in the race, and new you would place in the top three or even first place would you stop and help him? Now we had some equivocation and theorizing that someone else may stop, or the race officials would respond, or that paramedics just happened to be around the corner. I'm not sure if we ever got to yes. In other words, probably not.
8. Now, what if you had paid thousands of dollars for a once in a lifetime shot to be able to say that you had ascended Mount Everest? Would you risk those bragging rights and fulfillment of perhaps a lifetime goal to help someone? WOULD YOU? WOULD I?
   

Well the story goes on to provide some interesting context:

"...many of today's Everest climbers are on commercial expeditions, some paying tens of thousands of dollars to guides who are under fierce pressure to get their clients to the summit. But, the story continues "In Sharp's case about 40 people are thought to have walk past him...the few that did stop to check on him - and at least one team did give him oxygen - said he was so near death there was nothing that could be done."

It's hard to make judgments like that when I'm removed and looking in as an outsider, but all things considered, I hope that I would have stopped to give him aid, and above that try to keep him alive or support a rescue attempt.