If you haven't swung by lately, Heather's been posting regularly.

Over at the DBR. Check it out.

The Day, five years after.

Flight 175, heading for the South Tower. When we learned it was war.

Fr. Mychal Judge, FDNY Chaplain.

Peter, Sue and 2 year old Christine Hanson.

Passengers on Flight 175, heading for Disneyland.

Frauds on Tour.

[Language alert]

That would be the 9/11 conspiracy theorists, that is.

Deep down, the poseurs don't believe a word of it, and I can prove it.

How? Because they are still travelling around the country whining about it and brainfarting into the ether that is the internet, getting self-published and doing. nothing. else.

People who truly believed this crap would do something more, like, oh, I don't know--at a minimum, stop paying their taxes, perhaps? Hell, our Founding Fathers formed armed militias over trade duties and these clowns can't bestir themselves into passive resistance.

After all, they are claiming this government is a dictatorial regime that has butchered its own citizenry to further imperialist ambitions across the globe.

You'd think that might merit something more than pseudo-intellectual posturing and twee missives about fascism.

I mean, it would if they believed the bullshit they were shoveling.

I'm here to help.

There has actually been some discussion among those who call themselves Michigan fans about whom they should be rooting for in the clash between Ohio State and Texas on Saturday.

It's simple. The only mindset for a true Wolverine fan is this:

If Hell fielded a college football team and it was playing Ohio State on Saturday, you still root against the Buckeyes.

Don't give me any of this "Big 10(11) solidarity" crap. We're not talking about Purdue here, you idiot. This is OSU.

Any further questions?

Go Longhorns!

She can't be five.

Five years ago at 2:14pm, Madeleine Rochelle Price came into the world. All 8 pounds, 12 ounces and 22 inches of her.

Boy, was she was reluctant and angry. She was an induced birth and not at all happy about being evicted.

In fact, she was so out of sorts that they had to use what is essentially a vacuum to "coax" her out. This left her with a rather grim conehead that had vanished before she left the hospital.

I didn't get to hold her for quite a while--Heather did, but then after I "cut the cord" (think of those tawdry canned "hunting" expeditions and you're close to the level of participation on Dad's part) she was taken for the apgar and bilirubin checks, her eyewash and Vitamin K shot. I remember becoming very irritated and defensive about that process--"Hey, that's my daughter--step it up, can't you see she's crying?"

Sometime in the next hour, I was able to hold her, and the enormity slowly began to set in.

You are responsible for this little being.

It wasn't a panic attack, but by the time we were putting her in the car seat to leave the hospital, I began to wonder if the world is nuts.

We've never done anything like this before! We haven't been trained! Good Lord, you're the experts--why are you handing her over to us?!

That faded with time, and the competence began to develop.

Then her milestones began to fly past like the highway dashes you see in your headlights. So many that only a sampling is possible:

The first time Heather left her alone under Daddy's supervision--during which I was treated to a full 45 minutes of full-throated, unconsolable screaming. After which, she flopped against me and went to sleep.

Her first smile--right into the mirror after a bath.

Her first laugh--responding to a somewhat vulgar, if alliterative, reference to nursing as I carried her to Heather. I even turned it into a song, which got bigger giggles.

Her first taste of solid food--hummus. Not bad, she seemed to say. Probably explains why the quart containers from Costco last about 36 hours.

Her first steps, across our family room floor.

Her tentative reaction to the fact she had a brother, a look that said "You brought him home?"

Her first phony crying fit, which followed me reprimanding her for misbehavior of one sort. Forced boo-hoos repeatedly punctuated by not-so-sneaky looks up at me to see if I was still paying attention. My email to Heather on that one was titled "Manipulative little snot."

First word--"mama," of course. But also the first time she asked for "Daddy."

Now it's "Dad," which always makes me a little wistful.

Her defense of our dog after Dad berates the hound for some infraction.

Her insisting on getting Mom and Dad's toothbrushes ready.

Her Danny Phantom crush.

Her memorizing the Salve Regina.

Her joy at learning to read.

So many milestones, photos, achievements.

But the short of it is, every day I'm thankful for having her in our lives, however daunting the responsibility remains.

Happy birthday, Sprout.

Another Meme!

Courtesy of S.M. Stirling:

Which five fictional characters would you like to meet?

Here's mine:

1. Elrond.

2. Scheherazad.

3. John Christian Falkenberg.

4. Ford Prefect.

5. James Tiberius Kirk.


Honorable Mention:

Mike Havel.

Walter Sobczak.

John Carter, Warlord of Mars.

Han Solo (the one who fired first).

Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog.

[Update. Tag: Suffers from Elkhornitis, James, Mike, Trot's (blog something, or I'm going to talk about what a big Dokken fan you were), and Lee Anne.]

Mangy dog still whining/Driving me insane

So I'm going off to the store/
For some Gravy Train

It's...distressing what currents can run through a pop-culture-smelted brain.

If none of the above italicized reference/paraphrase makes the slightest sense to you--count yourself fortunate.

I dread going senile--I'm sure I'll regale the nursing home staff and other inmates 24/7 with commercial jingles, movie one-liners, Monty Python sketches, song lyrics and other obscure references--think Dennis Miller meets Rain Man meets Aunt Bethany from Christmas Vacation [$toP mE bFour I sUb-reFErEnCE @gAiN]. Well, at least until they stuff the pillow over my face. Probably with the blessing of my HMO and a court order, no doubt.

Yes, it's been a long day--why do you ask?

The Meme results are in.

With 100% of precincts reporting, here are the responses:

Heather (yes, she knows about St. Pio)

Terry

Chris

Tom (who added an interesting military category)

Zach.

Our first Witnesses.

Yes, the Jehovah's Witnesses knocked on our door this morning. I quickly relieved Heather of point defense duty and spent the better part of twenty minutes with them. Actually, they were the ones to end the conversation, if that means anything.

Nice folks--as Peter Kreeft says in another context: "They are our patients, not our enemies."

So I was pleasant--in demeanor, at least. I was prepping to mow the lawn and had yet to shower. In fact, I suspect I looked like Jon Kruk after a week of deer camp. I just hope I didn't smell like him.

Anyway.

For the most part, I listened, interested in getting a feel for their approach. It bounced around a lot, from scripture to unconnected scripture. From Hebrews to First Peter to the Psalms to Genesis. Quite the dizzying tour. It presumed some kind of Christian background, however stunted and unwatered--in fact, I don't see how it would make the least dent on a non-Christian. As a result, there is a welcome reverence for the Bible (their dubious translation, natch, though none of those verses came into play) and it's the only argument presented--apart from reading the signs of the times. Indeed, apocalyptic themes predominated--"it's never been this bad" being the general tenor of the presentation.

Naturally, based on the JW worldview, it all started with the First World War and now manifests itself in such varegated phenomena as pedophilia.

He tried to get me to sign on to the concept that the Bible is the sole means by which we can judge the times. Now let me nip a sola scriptura firestorm in the bud right now--he wasn't limiting it to revelatory truth. He was arguing that it was the sole frame of reference--period. Philosophy, history, etc. had to be shunted aside, with the sole exception being the history of the last century as read through the prism of the Witnesses. That's sola nostra, not sola scriptura. It also made not the slightest positive impression.

Anyway, it ended after twenty minutes or so, and apparently they will be back. [Said without an Austrian accent.]

Now, I know there's a split of opinion on engaging the Witnesses--whether the door should be politely closed or not. If you are comfortable with it, engage--but don't drop prooftext bombs on them from the start. Listen and try not to arch your eyebrow too much.

If nothing else, you have engaged in delaying tactics worthy of Fabius and have kept them from speaking to someone else more likely to be roped in.

Steve Irwin, Rest in Peace.

This is a real tragedy. The man's love of nature and wildlife always shone through, and he will be greatly missed. First and foremost by his wife and children, who can use our prayers this evening.

Don't mess with homo sapiens sapiens.

Yesterday, I stumbled across an Animal Planet special about a probably-extinct giant reptile called the megalania. Topping out at twenty feet long and upwards of half a ton in weight, the megalania's bite injected a toxic bacteria into its victims which caused them to expire of blood poisoning in the unlikely event the prey managed to escape. It is believed that the creature could see into the infrared spectrum and hunted by heat signature.

The megalania has the distinction of being the largest reptile to coexist with man, and the aboriginal settlers had the misfortune of being the humans who ran into this fearsome predator. The aboriginal oral histories preserve accounts of the beast.

But the megalania proved to be even more unfortunate, meeting a much deadlier foe. Fast, strong and largely unaffected by the humans' primitive weaponry, the aboriginal settlers realized there was no way to stand toe-to-toe with the reptile. After losing people to the megalania, the aboriginals quickly adapted. Recognizing that lizards are slower in the morning, they scouted the general section of the grasslands where the creature lived and broke out their weapon of mass destruction: Fire.

Staking out that area in the early morning, the settlers set fire to the region. By the time the megalania roused itself sufficiently to the danger, it was barbeque.