VFVCs

In all of my professional career, I had likely never written the word "lions" in my office. That was until I entered "Lions Club" in my calendar for an upcoming speaking engagement.

And in all of my professional career, no colleague had ever appeared in my office doorway to talk to me about lions--the animals.

And, yet, these two verbal events happened at exactly the same time--my colleague stood in my doorway and said "lions" exactly as I wrote "Lions" on my calendar.

Most people might not have caught this--and we call those people normal--but to me it's just too freaky not to at least notice. These coincidences are also verbal. So I am calling these types of odd experiences Very Freaky Verbal Coincidences, or VFVCs for short.

VFVCs happen to me a lot, perhaps once a week. I've thought about keeping a list of them, but they are usually so trivial that writing them down seems pointless--and that's because it really is.

Regardless, here are some examples:

1. As I drove through Greentown, Indiana, I heard the word "mouse" in the lyrics of the country song, The night the lights went out in Georgia, at the same exact time that my eyes landed on a sign for a store called The Church Mouse. Both parts of this equation are odd. I don't usually listen to country music or to songs with "mouse" in the lyrics. And, I pass through Greentown maybe 10 times a year, and this was the only time I had ever seen the sign for "The Church Mouse." So for these to have happened at the same time was freaky.
2. I was walking across my living room floor when my eyes randomly landed on a jigsaw puzzle piece of Alaska at the exact instant I heard Jerry Seinfeld say "Alaska" on TV. I rarely get a chance to watch Seinfeld, and I don't recall the show talking much about our 49th state. And the jigsaw puzzle of the USA--that was on the floor maybe 2 days out of the year.

Does anyone else have these experiences, or is it just me? (Yes, I know Audrey, it's definitely just me.)

Pre-Trib Raptor

A Thank You to my Sponsors--NASCAR Style

It's the end of the semester, so I figured I would use this entry to say thanks to all my sponsors for making this a fun and enriching semester.

[Raul enters classroom wearing a TIAA-CREF t-shirt, a McGraw-Hill baseball cap, and carrying a copy of The Chronicle of Higher Education in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee in the other.]

*Begins remarks by taking a sip of coffee with Folgers clearly labeled on the side of the mug.*

"It feels great to be here. First, I want to thank the team at Sony for the data projector we had in here. This thing ran like a horse all semester long, and I can't say enough about it. And we couldn't have stayed alert throughout such a long semester without the smell from those Expo dry-erase markers, and their partner, The Chronicle of Higher Education. I also want to thank the editing teams from McGraw-Hill, Prentice-Hall, and Wadsworth. You all make this thing happen. We had a good run this semester, but if Professor Jones plays one more loud video in the room next door, we're going to have to take this thing outside. God bless you and thank you all."

*Takes another sip of Folgers coffee and waves the copy of The Chronicle of Higher Education upon exiting the classroom.*

Surfake

"Dude. That lecture was so out there. It wasn't just surreal, it was surfake."

Sir Dunks-A-Lot

While attending an Indiana Pacers game last year, I had an interesting idea to spice up the half-time entertainment: Sir Dunks-A-Lot, the dunking knight in full medieval armor. You show me a knight who can dunk wearing that getup, and I'll show you what is likely to be an interesting half-time show.

Dining by the Numbers

The following three numbers have meaning tied to my dining room experience while living on campus at Cedarville University: 31, 9.5, and 1,200.

The 31 is the number of consecutive times I made it into the cafeteria (a.k.a., "Chuck's) without showing my student ID card, which was required for entry. For the record, I had my student ID with me, but I wanted to see how many times I could enter by confidently flashing a host of cards ranging from library cards to credit cards. The key here was not the card, but the confidence. Now that I think about it, this was probably during the time that I was working on a forensics speech on biometric technology that featured a part about the inadequacy of outdated security systems. I challenge any of you current Cedarvillians to best my mark, if it's logistically possible. [They might just scan the mark on your forehead now. Oh, wait, that's Antioch College.]

The 9.5 is the number of miles in height that I ascended by climbing the stairs to eat on the upper level of the dining hall. Given that I was never thrown off the balcony of the second level, it just so happens that this is also the same distance that I descended via the stairs. The bottom line is that while the total ascent was 21,132 feet higher than Mt. Everest, I ended up with a net ascent of 0 feet when accounting for descents.

The 1,200 is the number of dollars my two buddies and I could have wasted by leaving 5 uneaten grapes behind on the floor during each of the three daily meals. Note the "could have wasted" wording. I don't remember how I arrived at that calculation back in the mid-1990s, but the math works out to be 37,800 grapes in total that could have been wasted. If there is someone else out there who is willing to update the dollar amount, you could buy a bunch of grapes, count the number of grapes, divide the price per grapes, then multiply this price per grape by 37,800.

Just some food for thought.

Calling about Camels with No Hands*

Have you ever thought that someone in a public place was talking to you only to find that they were talking on a hands-free phone? This can still be a bit confusing at times, but I generally figure things out when I see the earpiece the other person is wearing. With the way technology is progressing, I can't help but wonder what is next. And my guess is that other people are thinking the same thing.

So, I propose to play on this uncertainty by placing and answering "phone calls" in public places, but without using any visible communication device. The trick here is to sound completely convincing in the imaginary dialogue, and I figure that a waiting room with a captive audience might be the best place.

Chances are that the "audience" may not notice the absence of a phone at first, so I might have to create a bit of attention. Perhaps I'll transfer a call to someone on my contact list--all while holding a magazine in both hands.

"Christina, let me transfer you to homicide." [Then, let the silence hang heavily in the air.]

I also need to have an exotic topic that compels people to listen. Sure, they are thumbing through a worn-out copy of People magazine, but there is no doubt that they are listening to me as well.

"Frank, I talked to my man in Hong Kong this morning, and we going to cancel the deal."

[Pause for 5 seconds.]

"That's what I said. I told him, 'Mr. Secretary, If you want to continue the camel trade in Southwest Egypt, then you are going to do it without me! I will not have my people go through another Cairo incident.'"

[Pause for 10 seconds.]

"Yeah."

[Another pause.]

"Okay. No problem at all. Hold on. Let me get a three-way call going here with Abdul...."

*Title sponsored by a generous grant from the American Foundation for the Advancement of Misplaced Modifiers (AFAMM).

Drinking from the Fountain of Truth

This is a close-up image of the drinking fountain in our hallway at IUK. I just posted a print out of this image above the fountain itself along with the following caption: "Don't let this bother you. It's the same as it has always been."

If you are a little weird, then you can click on the image for a closer look.

I might use some CLR on this in a few days, but in the meantime, I'm making an artistic and philosophical statement about how we respond when confronted with the ugly facts of reality. Or, maybe I'm just messing with people? Will someone rip the sign off the wall in hopes that the problem goes away? Will some people drink less from the fountain this week? Will someone actually clean it? Will someone call and have maintenance clean it?

Larch Tributary Community Church

I noticed a pattern in the naming of churches in the seeker-sensitive tradition, and it goes like this: Type of Tree + Body of Water.

It all started with Bill Hybles in South Barrington, IL, with the creation of Willow Creek Community Church. This church in the Chicago suburbs grew in popularity and eventually formed an association of over 2,000 churches that share a similar ministry mindset.

One church in Kokomo with strong ties to Willow Creek is Oakbrook Community Church--again, tree + water. That got me thinking: If a minister wanted to form a new church and pattern it after Willow Creek in both mindset and name, what naming options are available? It's really a matter of coming up with lists of trees and water and seeing what works. Naming a congregation Aspen Lake Community Church is catchy, but how about something more unique? I propose the following:

Kentucky Coffeetree Bog Community Church

Or, if this is an uppity neighborhood, you could go with the more scientific name: Gymnocladus Dioicus Bog Community Church.

Personally, I would scrap the whole tree/water trend and go with My Three Cappucinnos Community Church.

Facing the Music

I recently heard a concert by a local flute group calling themselves "Flutation." That got me wondering about what other groups are out there, such as "Tubation," but I won't go there.

With all due respect for the expertise of this group, I still have to confess that I generally don't like a straight dose of flute music. All of that breathy chirpiness makes me think of butterflies with vertigo, or something.

This got me thinking about how an activist might write a book against flute music, and a catchy book title is always a good start. Many books that rail against some evil in the social structure--did I say that flutes were evil?--have a title that includes the word "nation." Examples would be Derber's Corporation Nation and Schlosser's Fast Food Nation. So, in the fine tradition of the muckrakers who have come before me, I propose the following book:

Flutation Nation: The Rise of Flute Music in America and How you can Fight Back.

Chronic Drive Thru

I'd like to build a restaurant next to Sonic and call it Chronic. It's open 24-7, available all the time, and hence, Chronic. There are details to work through, such as: "Would you like to Chronic-size that?" Not sure if that has a ring to it.

But if that goes well, I could also build a "Dead Lobster" right next to it's more famous cousin.

Cheeseburgers in a Philosophical Paradise

I’m a big fan of learning new content by comparing it to knowledge structures that I’m already familiar with. Perhaps no discipline is better suited for such a learning strategy than philosophy with its abstract thoughts about reality, knowledge, and ethics. Trying to nail down some of these abstract lines of thinking can feel as futile as trying to attach a strip of Scotch ™ tape to midair. That’s why I would like to create a grand analogy called “Philosophical Paradise”—an imaginary (or real if you have the money) theme park that illustrates the significant thinkers and thoughts of philosophy in the western tradition.

The premise of the park is fairly simple: Create sections of the theme park that illustrate the major movements of philosophy. Disney World, for example, has “themed lands” such as Tomorrowland, Neverland, and Frontierland. Each of these sections has rides, shows, landscaping, restaurants, gift shops, and other attractions that feed on their respective themes.

So, what are the major themes of Western philosophy? In other words, how would this theme park be laid out? Personally, I think using the layout of Disney’s Epcot theme park would work the best given the way the park splits directions soon after you enter. You either go right or left to see the attractions around the lake. In philosophy, there is a similar divide as seen in the works of both Plato and Aristotle. In fact, it’s been said that all of western philosophy is nothing more than a footnote to Plato and Aristotle. Or, to put that another way, philosophy in the last two millennia has worked to articulate and reconcile the relationship between rationalism (Plato) and empiricism (Aristotle).

Before I deal with these lines of thought more concretely, allow me to back up the courtesy tram to give you the big picture.

When a visitor comes into the theme park, he or she might walk through an introductory pavilion focusing on the work of the Milesian (or “pre-Socratic) philosophers such as Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Thales, and Anaximander. I’ll leave the details of this to your imagination, but this introductory pavilion might feature a flowing river to illustrate Heraclitus’s notion of change—“You can never step in the same river twice.” And, for Pythagoras, there could be some kind of mathematical attraction illustrating his quest to achieve purity of soul through number crunching. Math was much more than a number thing to him; it was about being a clean person. Oh, and he also discouraged people from eating beans, if you get my drift.

Next would come Socrates, the first giant figure in philosophy. Perhaps this first “themed land” could be shaped like a question mark to emphasize his relentless questioning of premises—hence his Socratic method of questioning. What attraction, display, ride, or architectural feature could be built to illustrate his notion of serving as a midwife in giving birth to the philosophical ideas of others? What would best illustrate his fight against relativism, and his death that resulted from that fight?

Moving on, a visitor would either zig left to Platoland or zag right to Aristotle’s themed area (name?). The footprint of these two park sections would perhaps be the largest in the entire park given the scope of their thinking and the range of their influence. There are many attractions that could be added such as Plato’s Myth of the Cave Roller Coaster or Aristotle’s Marine Life Pavilion—he actually had over 1,000 people scouring the waters of the Mediterranean to collect marine specimens for his research.

But perhaps the most pressing question is this: How will each of them come to know “the cheeseburger.” In other words, if you brought Plato and Aristotle into a room and asked them both to explore the essence of what a cheeseburger is, you would find that they would have two radically different strategies for arriving at this “truth.” It would take too long to unpack in this blog entry, but I’ll offer a brief explanation in the next 2 paragraphs.

Plato, a rationalist, would seek to explore the inner recesses of his mind to find out what a cheeseburger is (cheeseburger NOT included). In fact, the further Plato could run from a physical cheeseburger, the better. His goal was to find the “form,” or the “ideal” burger—the one explanation that encapsulates exactly what a cheeseburger is—and not just one particular cheeseburger, but EVERY CHEESEBURGER. He was after “cheeseburgerness,” so to speak. So, Plato might lock himself in a mop closet, kill the lights, and search his mind for the real meaning of a burger—a meaning that he believes has existed from eternity.

Meanwhile, Aristotle would be slobbering like a contestant at a BubbaFest rib-eatin' contest. As an empiricist, the main way Aristotle feels that you can learn about a cheeseburger is through the senses. In other words, he would stay out of the mop closet of philosophical introspection and belly up to the bar of real world sensory experience. This kind of makes sense if you think about it. Who collected physical specimens of squid, sea squirts, etc.? Hint: It wasn’t Plato. Mr. Plato--let's call him Bob--would head back to the mop closet to learn about creatures like the Mediterranean yellow-striped sea bass.

To summarize, it all comes down to a single question in Western philosophy: What are you going to do with the cheeseburger? If you believe that truth about burgers is best explored through the mind, then you are likely a rationalist. You will frolic in Platoland and be delighted to move on in that same direction around the left part of the lake by exploring similarly-related themed lands devoted to Augustine and Descartes.

On the other hand, if you believe that scarfing burgers is the path to truth, then you will likely be an empiricist and prefer Aristotle. You will find yourself invigorated as you move on along the right part of the lake by exploring the themed parks featuring Aquinas and British Empiricists such as Locke, Hume, and Berkeley.

That leads us to an important decision at the far side of the lake. Do we erect a wall to keep the two lines of thought apart? Not according to the one philosopher whom many consider to be the greatest of them all—Immanuel Kant. His ambitious plan was to unite the two schools of thought. In other words, Kant felt it best to eat the cheeseburger in the mop closet. So, Kantland, or whatever, will explore this synthesis.

Oh, and what to do about modern philosophy? One might propose drowning it in the middle of the lake, but another choice would be to extend it beyond Kantland in the opposite direction of the main entrance. Of any of the themed land areas, this part of the park will be the most difficult of all to construct. Its thoughts and thinkers are more often characterize not by what they are proposing, but by what they reject. This is a theme land of philosophical negation in which you can never know the truth about what a cheeseburger is. There is no CHEESEBURGER, but only individual cheeseburgers as perceived by our individual and subjective experiences. In this place, you might say, "The cheeseburger on my plate is the best burger in the world," only to be met with, "Well, I respect your right to believe that there is a cheeseburger on your plate, but that's not my reality. I choose to believe that you have no burger before you."

Anyway, this is a general overview of the Philosophical Paradise theme park that would make even Jimmy Buffet proud. I’d add more, but I’m getting kind of hungry—for a cheeseburger.

Digital Solutions to Helter Skelter

I just heard a report on Fox News about a tornado that touched down in Tennessee. Apparently, a police officer was in his patrol car when the tornado picked up the car and tossed it some distance with the officer inside. The segment ended with the officer saying, "It's something I will never forget."

Really, now?

Let's fast forward 20 years from now. His buddy asks him, "Remember that tornado that picked you up back in 2006?" Can you imagine the officer saying, "Dude, I barely even remember that one. Did you say that I got picked up by a tornado or something?"

What's more odd, perhaps, are the events we are likely to remember for the rest of our lives. I can remember thinking as a 15-year old that a painfully awkward situation really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things because "I'll never remember it 20 years from now." As it turns out, I still remember!! Sometimes the events are noteworthy, but other times they are less remarkable, such me as hiding in the back of a car trunk as a 6-year old with a friend while singing Play that Funky Music White Boy to people walking by on the sidewalk (unrolling bathroom tissue out the back of the nearly-closed trunk included).

What is interesting to me is that this upcoming generation could remember virtually every event in their lives because of the traces of digital photography they have created. I figure it this way: If I take pictures of my 6-year old son at an event--let's say to a car show, for example--and then review those pictures with him every three months, he likely would never forget the experience.

What's scary is that you could strategically make memory imprints on the minds of youngsters about an event as mundane as eating at Bob Evans. Fast forward 30 years: "Son, do you remember that time we ate at Bob Evans back in '06." "Sure, Dad. That was the time when we had the Word Find on my Kid's Activity Book about the National Parks. You took lots of high resolution pictures of that too."

Further, from a parental PR perspective, one could strategically create a set of photos for the sole purpose of proving to your kids later in their lives that they did, in fact, have a happy childhood. "The pictures don't lie, Johnny. You grew up in a happy and stable home. So stop blaming me for your emotional problems." Too bad Mr. and Mrs. Manson didn't have a digital camera to take snapshots of their dear little Charlie.

Tyrone's China Buffet

This cultural fusion could have some interesting culinary outcomes. Any ideas out there?

Thanks for the Memories

With the semester drawing to a close, I feel that the time is right for me to make a major announcement regarding my future career path. But first, I want to say how much I’ve enjoyed the last decade of teaching, and I sincerely hope that my interactions with my students and colleagues has in some way made the world a better place. I know that I am a better person for all that my time in academe, and I hope that in at least some small way I have returned the favor.

The time has come, though, for me to turn the pages and enter a new chapter of life. Following the end of my two summer courses at IUK, I will fly to Tucson, Arizona to attend a week-long orientation for my new position as the Associate Director of Public Policy for the Ostrich Ranchers of America (ORA). This position is ideal for me because it allows me to do many of the skills I’ve taught over the years. One of my major responsibilities will be to represent the ORA to key policy makers on the state, national, and international levels. The great thing is that I’m already scheduled to present my paper on public perceptions of exotic meat at the Western Wildlife Association’s conference in Denver in July as well as at the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s “Livestock for the Future” symposium held in Kansas City in early August. There are also plans in the work for a trip to Perth, Australia in May of 2007. How cool is that?

In the meantime, my family and I will be leaving on Friday of next week to look for a townhouse in Tucson, AZ, and that is kind of cool because it puts me close to my grandparents in Bisbee, which is only a couple of hours to the east. If you haven’t driven across Arizona in the last few years, then you may not realize how many large ostrich farms there are in the stretch between Phoenix and Tucson. My office at the ORA will actually be on the 4th floor of the Sidd Finch Building on the main campus of the University of Arizona. I’m not sure if that is going to make me a “wildcat,” but after having been a Crusader, Viking, Yellow Jacket, Golden Eagle, Boilermaker, and Hoosier, I guess I’m open to almost anything.

For those of you wanting to stay in contact with me, I plan to maintain this blog after the move, and I’ll also keep my account on facebook.com. Maybe the next time you see ostrich offered in the meat section of your local grocery store, you will think of me and the opportunity I have to promote the ranchers of this growing industry.