By now, most of you know that Japan was hit by a devastating earthquake last week. In addition to the initial loss of life and the extensive structural damage to the manufacturing plants in the area, there has been significant damage to the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear-power complex. Now, you're probably wondering why I mention the nuclear (nuclear, not nookulear gosh dang it) power plant. By significant damage, I mean that the nuclear reactor has been damaged to the point that it is now leaking radiation and, at the same, on the verge of a full meltdown. This will mean that more people will become victims of this catastrophe. The damage to the reactor could also be detrimental to the United States. It will give oil companies and environmentalists another weapon to use against those who are trying to promote alternate fuel sources. Americans are easily swayed by their ignorance of the situation. We tend to believe what our news outlets tell us (even if you deny it, it still affects your thinking). Thus, we see a nuclear meltdown and instantly think that they are common day occurrences. So why would we want to have that on our soil? Everyone who lived near it would die. Because, clearly, there is evidence that since there have been three nuclear meltdowns in the last 40 years, it must happen a lot. Of course, we are willing to overlook the horrible alternatives to nuclear power. Like coal mining, for example. It seems that every year or so we here about a mine collapsing somewhere in the world. Even without mines collapsing and trapping the workers, the conditions that miners have to endure are horrendous. Or, do we care that Saddam Hussein (I know, I have poor taste for bringing THAT name back from the dead) invaded a much smaller, weaker country because it had rich oil fields. It is a sad state of affairs, but that's how Americans think. They let the media decide what is important and what is not. But this nuclear power plant's meltdown is important to America. It will undoubtedly affect our drive towards alternate fuel sources.
And that wraps up this week's current event.
~The Piebald Penguin
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
In honour of Pi Day
Today is 3.14.2011. Which means that it's Pi day. (If you don't get it, look up Pi...or enter it into your calculator...or ask someone who passed 7th grade math)
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Thoughts on Napoleon
DISCLAIMER: Please note that the following "history lesson" is meant to be a personal opinion and commentary on historical knowledge. As such, I will not be citing sources. I do understand that historians do a lot of difficult work attempting to sift through the ashes of the past. I would not like to take credit away from these dedicated individuals. For this particular piece, my inspiration, and perhaps some of my more obscure facts, have come from Edith Saunder's The Hundred Days and Jeremy Black's The Battle of Waterloo. If this style of not citing facts in a blog post bothers you, please email me at breadcrumb124@gmail.com and I will be more than happy to provide you with exact citations...or else I'll admit that I'm simply shooting the breeze and was unable to pull the wool over your eyes (that's right. I did just use two cliche idioms in one sentence. I bet you wish you were this awesome.)
It's a conversation that I'm sure you've had many times. It seems to come up when discussing the grand over-arching history of the world. Or it comes up if you're just plain tired of that accent. Regardless, we, here in America, have a strong distaste for the French. Alright, I'll admit, it's more of a national loathing. Perhaps it's irrational and perhaps not. Inevitably the topic arises that the French love two things: the color pink and running away from a fight. Predictably, the one person in the discussion who has French roots, or just loves French wine, brings up that last ditch effort to save face in light of a history of failures (this is said with a great deal of sarcasm). We all know who saved the French, right? (Hint: it wasn't King John II or Vercingetorix...yeah put that one in your pipe and smoke it...) Obviously the savior of French national pride is none other than Napoleon Bonaparte (it's always been interesting to note that we call him "Napoleon" rather than "Bonaparte". Especially in light of how he refer to men like "Patton", "Hitler", "Wellington"...but I digress). Ok, I said it. We all know that Napoleon made France a great nation; he conquered Europe; he improved the infrastructure of the country (that's a fancy way of saying he had things and stuff built...like roads); Napoleon even worked to codify the laws. Basically, he was a great guy...well, not in stature; everyone knows that he was really short (like 5' 6"). But at least he had a big ego to go with it. At any rate, he saved France from the ignominy of being the most worthless nation on the planet...or did he? Was he really a great conqueror? Was he a military genius?
The truth about Napoleon seems to be that he was an energetic and ambitious man. He made some good decisions, some extremely bad ones, and then a few that were neither good nor bad. It is these latter decisions that concern us. For we know that the good ones were certainly good. Like joining the military in a turbulent time; or reorganizing the army to operate under the corps system; or even in his initial ability to pick subordinates. We also know which decisions were remarkably awful. For example, his decision to invade Russia; or his decision to place family members on the thrones of European nations; or his decision to return from exile when the Coalition leaders were all together in Vienna. But there is one major decision that he made that will be debated by historians for generations to come. That decision, of course, is the one that led to the final battle of his career. Waterloo. We use this term now to refer to someone who has had some success earlier but has now experienced a career ending event (like a nation that tries to hold onto its colonies in Southeast Asia and ends up having its military forces decimated by, supposedly, "primitive" guerrillas. Sorry France, I couldn't resist...). Napoleon's defenders will say that he had no choice in the matter. That he did the best he could with what he had. Or that he would have won the battle if such and such a general had done his job. There's also the defense that his physical ailments finally caught up with him. This event has always interested me because a great general was finally humbled before his adversaries.
If you'd like to know what happened to Napoleon at the infamous Battle of Waterloo, stay tuned. Next week, I will give you my in depth thoughts on what went wrong and why the defenders of French martial history should be ashamed to use Napoleon as their key point. Also, my own defense of the French will be upcoming (I promise I don't hate them.).
~The Piebald Penguin
It's a conversation that I'm sure you've had many times. It seems to come up when discussing the grand over-arching history of the world. Or it comes up if you're just plain tired of that accent. Regardless, we, here in America, have a strong distaste for the French. Alright, I'll admit, it's more of a national loathing. Perhaps it's irrational and perhaps not. Inevitably the topic arises that the French love two things: the color pink and running away from a fight. Predictably, the one person in the discussion who has French roots, or just loves French wine, brings up that last ditch effort to save face in light of a history of failures (this is said with a great deal of sarcasm). We all know who saved the French, right? (Hint: it wasn't King John II or Vercingetorix...yeah put that one in your pipe and smoke it...) Obviously the savior of French national pride is none other than Napoleon Bonaparte (it's always been interesting to note that we call him "Napoleon" rather than "Bonaparte". Especially in light of how he refer to men like "Patton", "Hitler", "Wellington"...but I digress). Ok, I said it. We all know that Napoleon made France a great nation; he conquered Europe; he improved the infrastructure of the country (that's a fancy way of saying he had things and stuff built...like roads); Napoleon even worked to codify the laws. Basically, he was a great guy...well, not in stature; everyone knows that he was really short (like 5' 6"). But at least he had a big ego to go with it. At any rate, he saved France from the ignominy of being the most worthless nation on the planet...or did he? Was he really a great conqueror? Was he a military genius?
The truth about Napoleon seems to be that he was an energetic and ambitious man. He made some good decisions, some extremely bad ones, and then a few that were neither good nor bad. It is these latter decisions that concern us. For we know that the good ones were certainly good. Like joining the military in a turbulent time; or reorganizing the army to operate under the corps system; or even in his initial ability to pick subordinates. We also know which decisions were remarkably awful. For example, his decision to invade Russia; or his decision to place family members on the thrones of European nations; or his decision to return from exile when the Coalition leaders were all together in Vienna. But there is one major decision that he made that will be debated by historians for generations to come. That decision, of course, is the one that led to the final battle of his career. Waterloo. We use this term now to refer to someone who has had some success earlier but has now experienced a career ending event (like a nation that tries to hold onto its colonies in Southeast Asia and ends up having its military forces decimated by, supposedly, "primitive" guerrillas. Sorry France, I couldn't resist...). Napoleon's defenders will say that he had no choice in the matter. That he did the best he could with what he had. Or that he would have won the battle if such and such a general had done his job. There's also the defense that his physical ailments finally caught up with him. This event has always interested me because a great general was finally humbled before his adversaries.
If you'd like to know what happened to Napoleon at the infamous Battle of Waterloo, stay tuned. Next week, I will give you my in depth thoughts on what went wrong and why the defenders of French martial history should be ashamed to use Napoleon as their key point. Also, my own defense of the French will be upcoming (I promise I don't hate them.).
~The Piebald Penguin
Friday, March 11, 2011
What the tooth fairy?
I have a small mouth. Every dentist and orthodontist I've been too has made it a priority to let me know this. Apparently it affects the rate at which my baby teeth fall out. Essentially, my teeth took a lot longer to come out than a normal person's teeth (it probably didn't help that I was too stubborn to actually pull my own teeth. I knew they would come out when they good and ready.). Naturally, the dentist couldn't stand that my teeth were taking so long to fall out, so he continually encouraged my parents to have him pull them for me. As a result, I ended up having almost 20 baby teeth yanked before their time by the dentist (as a side note, I've also had several adult teeth extracted, not including my wisdom teeth which have been removed as well).
Now, all of that was a prologue to the real story. Because I'd like to tell you about the first tooth that I ever lost. It was not a natural loss. I was but a young lad of 7, when that first tooth did fly free from my mouth. I had known that it was loose, but, again, my mind had already decided that teeth came out on their own, so I didn't need to worry about it. It happened one evening as my family prepared to take an excursion to the grand retail store known only as...Walmart. As we were walking from the house to the car, my brother and I started a conversation about how much money we had in our wallets. I was excited to actually have cash. I boldly informed my brother that I was going to count my money once we arrived at the store. It was at this time that I noticed a gross insult to my boyhood! My shoe had come untied. Being the know-it-all child that I was, I quickly stooped to rectify the problem. Of course, it takes two hands to tie your shoe. I had previously pulled my pocketbook from my pocket to show my brother. Needing the hand that was holding my wallet, I placed the wallet firmly between my teeth, while I expertly tied my shoe. At this point, my brother approached me, telling me that if I counted my money in the store, someone would steal my wallet from me. To demonstrate what would happen to me, and not realizing that my wallet was, in fact, in my mouth, my brother closed his hand on my wallet and gave a sharp tug. I cried out in pain as, much to my dismay, my loose tooth decided to hitch a ride with my wallet.
Thus ends the tale of that infamous day.
~The Piebald Penguin
Now, all of that was a prologue to the real story. Because I'd like to tell you about the first tooth that I ever lost. It was not a natural loss. I was but a young lad of 7, when that first tooth did fly free from my mouth. I had known that it was loose, but, again, my mind had already decided that teeth came out on their own, so I didn't need to worry about it. It happened one evening as my family prepared to take an excursion to the grand retail store known only as...Walmart. As we were walking from the house to the car, my brother and I started a conversation about how much money we had in our wallets. I was excited to actually have cash. I boldly informed my brother that I was going to count my money once we arrived at the store. It was at this time that I noticed a gross insult to my boyhood! My shoe had come untied. Being the know-it-all child that I was, I quickly stooped to rectify the problem. Of course, it takes two hands to tie your shoe. I had previously pulled my pocketbook from my pocket to show my brother. Needing the hand that was holding my wallet, I placed the wallet firmly between my teeth, while I expertly tied my shoe. At this point, my brother approached me, telling me that if I counted my money in the store, someone would steal my wallet from me. To demonstrate what would happen to me, and not realizing that my wallet was, in fact, in my mouth, my brother closed his hand on my wallet and gave a sharp tug. I cried out in pain as, much to my dismay, my loose tooth decided to hitch a ride with my wallet.
Thus ends the tale of that infamous day.
~The Piebald Penguin
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Story time!
The chill in the air seeped through their armour as they stood in silence. The damp fog obscured the surrounding plateau, making William feel very incredibly alone. A far away chirp, a sudden cough, the clink and creak of rusty armour. Yet silence prevailed. Then, as if the gates of heaven had opened, a solitary ray of sunlight burst through the fog bank, banishing the darkness and bringing warmth and comfort to the small company. It was then that an arrow came streaking out of the mist. The silence was broken as, with a thud, the arrow sank deep into Gwyn's neck. Her startled cry was cut short and replaced by frantic gasps for air. She crumpled to the grass, twitched once, and lay still. A vicious battlecry rose from above the fog as more arrows filled the pregnant air. Aeric screamed in rage as one found the meaty portion of his thigh. Several smacked into William's armour but did not penetrate the protective shell. A bemused calm settled over him as he watched Melody and Aerith rush to Aeric's side. Tosgar was crouched behind his shield, and there eagerly awaited the coming foe. At last, they could be seen breaking free from the darkness. The single ray of sunlight continued to illumine the battleground, and William found it to be, oddly, peaceful. With a mighty roar and a tranquil heart, William leapt into the fray, launching himself at his closest enemy. He lifted his enormous sword into the air and brought it singing down atop the man's head, messily cleaving the unfortunate man in two. In one fluid motion, William twisted and raised his weapon towards the sky. His second victim's sword shattered, as did his face when William's blade continued upward. With a sweeping turn, a third man found himself flying through the air, sans his legs which had been smoothly removed from the rest of his body.
Blood surged through William's veins and pounded in his ears as he stepped forward and decapitated another assailant. And then, as if fate had finally frowned upon him, he found himself clutching at an arrow shaft as it pierced one of his lungs. With a sickening snap, he broke the shaft and discarded it on the ground, only to notice that his, previously alive, friends were all in varying states of dismemberment. None had fallen easily, but all had inevitably been overcome.
Another arrow came and pierced his chest. He slumped to the cold earth, as his blood flowed freely from his wounds.
A masked man approached him.
William watched as the man raised his sword. The blade glistened in the sun like burnished gold.
William watched.
The deadly instrument descended towards him.
Blood surged through William's veins and pounded in his ears as he stepped forward and decapitated another assailant. And then, as if fate had finally frowned upon him, he found himself clutching at an arrow shaft as it pierced one of his lungs. With a sickening snap, he broke the shaft and discarded it on the ground, only to notice that his, previously alive, friends were all in varying states of dismemberment. None had fallen easily, but all had inevitably been overcome.
Another arrow came and pierced his chest. He slumped to the cold earth, as his blood flowed freely from his wounds.
A masked man approached him.
William watched as the man raised his sword. The blade glistened in the sun like burnished gold.
William watched.
The deadly instrument descended towards him.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Have you met Emma Anne?
Dear Emma Anne, I apologize for taking so long to finally write a whole post dedicated to you. But here it is.
Emma Anne is one of the most amazing people on this planet. She's witty and wise, funny and comforting, a loving wife and a fantastic mother...she's also really short but she married a tall man, so it all works out. For the other two family members, I related a favorite memory or an ironic story. With Emma Anne, I have too many favorite memories to choose from. From elementary school through high school, she was my own personal nurse. She used to take care of me when I was sick. Then as I went away to college, she came out with me to make sure that I got all properly settled in. Then, during my breaks and trips home, I could always count on being able to stand in her kitchen and talk my head off about life, and have her listen and commiserate with me over the trials of life. She's one of the people who I know will always be there for me when life gets me down. She's not even that old yet, but I have associated her with wisdom for many years now. She's the kind of person that you regret not knowing. And the kind of person that you want to get to know. And she married Superman, who's also awesome. She's one of my two favorite sisters, and I love that I get to know her as such.
Also, she has a good blog that you should all check out here.
~The Piebald Penguin
Emma Anne is one of the most amazing people on this planet. She's witty and wise, funny and comforting, a loving wife and a fantastic mother...she's also really short but she married a tall man, so it all works out. For the other two family members, I related a favorite memory or an ironic story. With Emma Anne, I have too many favorite memories to choose from. From elementary school through high school, she was my own personal nurse. She used to take care of me when I was sick. Then as I went away to college, she came out with me to make sure that I got all properly settled in. Then, during my breaks and trips home, I could always count on being able to stand in her kitchen and talk my head off about life, and have her listen and commiserate with me over the trials of life. She's one of the people who I know will always be there for me when life gets me down. She's not even that old yet, but I have associated her with wisdom for many years now. She's the kind of person that you regret not knowing. And the kind of person that you want to get to know. And she married Superman, who's also awesome. She's one of my two favorite sisters, and I love that I get to know her as such.
 |
| Emma Anne and Superman |
~The Piebald Penguin
I can't can Kant in a cannon
Immanuel Kant is making my life miserable. Let me tell you why...
Before Immanuel Kant was born, the world was a nice place. There weren't any classes about Kantian ethics. There weren't any lectures in universities about the Categorical Imperative. No one had decided that they needed to shove bogus ethical systems down other people's throats (ok, so that last statement is false. Lots of people think they know the right way to live). But still. Before Kant was born, no one could say that his life was made more miserable by being forced to listen to things written by Kant (by the way, that's a true statement. Before Kant was born, humans probably didn't know that Kant would be born...well, up until about 9 months prior to his birth, but they still wouldn't have had any idea that years after his birth students would have to sit through 3 hours of lecture a week about the man just because they want to graduate...but I digress). Unfortunately, Immanuel Kant was born. Kant decided that he would write a book about a system of morality that was supposedly desirable. However, Kant's system of morality doesn't work in the real world. That seems to be a little tidbit that he left out of his book. So, his system of doing the morally "right" thing is based on an ideal where humans can be perfectly rational. The rational man will only be moved to action by his desire to do his duty (notice that it's rational man...even Kant recognized that "rational woman" is a contradiction...). Unfortunately for us men, even we are rarely purely rational. We like to think that we can make the rational choice on a regular basis, but our rational minds are kind of connected to our emotional minds (assuming you only have one brain, and therefore one mind). We make choices based on both reason and emotion. To wrap this up, I'd like to thank Kant for coming up with a completely irrational system of morality that is oddly appealing to some people. Sadly, it really doesn't affect my life much, which upsets me because my professor insists on spending week after week talking about Kant.
This was probably not a very fun post to read...so head on over to Emma Anne's blog for some light-hearted goodness.
Tune in tomorrow for an exciting, spontaneous short story. And if you would like to get in contact with me for any reason email me at breadcrumb124@gmail.com
~The Piebald Penguin
Before Immanuel Kant was born, the world was a nice place. There weren't any classes about Kantian ethics. There weren't any lectures in universities about the Categorical Imperative. No one had decided that they needed to shove bogus ethical systems down other people's throats (ok, so that last statement is false. Lots of people think they know the right way to live). But still. Before Kant was born, no one could say that his life was made more miserable by being forced to listen to things written by Kant (by the way, that's a true statement. Before Kant was born, humans probably didn't know that Kant would be born...well, up until about 9 months prior to his birth, but they still wouldn't have had any idea that years after his birth students would have to sit through 3 hours of lecture a week about the man just because they want to graduate...but I digress). Unfortunately, Immanuel Kant was born. Kant decided that he would write a book about a system of morality that was supposedly desirable. However, Kant's system of morality doesn't work in the real world. That seems to be a little tidbit that he left out of his book. So, his system of doing the morally "right" thing is based on an ideal where humans can be perfectly rational. The rational man will only be moved to action by his desire to do his duty (notice that it's rational man...even Kant recognized that "rational woman" is a contradiction...). Unfortunately for us men, even we are rarely purely rational. We like to think that we can make the rational choice on a regular basis, but our rational minds are kind of connected to our emotional minds (assuming you only have one brain, and therefore one mind). We make choices based on both reason and emotion. To wrap this up, I'd like to thank Kant for coming up with a completely irrational system of morality that is oddly appealing to some people. Sadly, it really doesn't affect my life much, which upsets me because my professor insists on spending week after week talking about Kant.
This was probably not a very fun post to read...so head on over to Emma Anne's blog for some light-hearted goodness.
Tune in tomorrow for an exciting, spontaneous short story. And if you would like to get in contact with me for any reason email me at breadcrumb124@gmail.com
~The Piebald Penguin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)