Back of the Envelope

This post was originally written on December 5th, although I'll be moving it to December 1st eventually. It is a review of the most significant posts I made during the month of November.

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Back of the Envelope endorses Bush -- To the great surprise of my readers, I explain why I support Bush in this election.

DYT! -- I've decided to make a point of supporting Howard Tayler in his attempts to become a full-time webcartoonist. Howard does Schlock Mercenary, and I'm going to continue my support even when he kills off one of my favorite characters.

Voter Registration -- I got to vote after all.

What are these moral values? -- I attempt to explain what's meant by moral values.

Storyblogging Carnival V -- For the fifth storyblogging carnival, it returns to Back of the Envelope.

The second term: domestic agenda -- What's Bush planning to do domestically in his second term?

Agenda, foreign, in Bush's second term -- And what is he planning to do in foreign policy?

Exiles in Babylon -- We very much need to send Christian missionaries to the strange and hostile land of Blue America.

Reforming the CIA -- Any serious reforms at the CIA will involve a lot of complaints, so I'm just hoping for the best.

Politics as usual, with the usual CNN coverage -- So the Republicans are planning to change the internal rules for their legislative caucuses. How is that any of the Democrats' business?

Decisions this weekend -- I have to decide between two job possibilities.

Storyblogging Carnival VI -- The sixth carnival. I'm still using Roman numerals despite Doc Rampage's attempts to convince me to do otherwise.

Finding evangelicals in Boston -- Yes, there are evangelicals in Boston. Soon I'll be one.

I've accepted a job offer -- Yay! I'll soon be working again.

Evangelicals and law professors -- Not only are there evangelicals in Boston, you can even find them at Harvard.

John Nordlinger has some thoughts on Condoleeza Rice and the complaints from the press that she's too much of a Bush loyalist:

The man she replaces, Colin Powell, is one of the most popular men in America, and for some good reasons. But it would be difficult to judge him a success as secretary of state. For one thing, he did an uneven job of explaining and defending U.S. policies around the globe, perhaps because he did not support some of those policies. This should not be a problem with Rice. Everywhere, she is described as a "loyalist" to the president, and people say that with a sneer — as though a president should have a renegade secretary of state.

If John Kerry had been elected president, would pundits have demanded that he appoint someone in disagreement with him?

This is a charge made against Bush across the board — that he is naming "yes men" to key positions. Newsweek ran a cartoon showing the president surrounded in the cabinet room by a bunch of "happy face" figures with the word "YES" on the name plates.

In truth, I doubt very much that Condi Rice, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Alberto Gonzales, Margaret Spellings, and the others are yes men. How would we know? When they present challenging views to the president, or disagree with his ultimate decision, the rest of us don't know it, because they don't complain to the press — they don't seek to aggrandize themselves at the expense of the chief, or of the administration. When Colin Powell and Richard Armitage, at the State Department, disagreed with something, we tended to know about it. Gee, wonder how that happened.

Look: Cheney, Rumsfeld, and others have lost plenty of internal battles — over the U.N., the Iraq aftermath, the 9/11 commission, etc. But they are not regarded as independent thinkers or brave dissenters, à la Powell, because once the president comes to a decision, they support him, certainly in public. If they thought the president egregiously wrong, they would resign, I imagine.

And, by the way: Powell was lionized, to be sure — but John Ashcroft, Rod Paige, and the others replaced by these "yes men"? Do you recall that the liberal press praised them while they were in their posts? Neither do I.

This was originally posted at 10:55 am on Nov 30, 2004. I'm reposting it, and deleting the original post, in order to eliminate the trackback spamming this post routinely receives.

A Harvard Law professor and evangelical, Bill Stuntz, has a few observations (via Instapundit):

The past few months have seen a lot of talk about red and blue America, mostly by people on one side of the partisan divide who find the other side a mystery.

It isn't a mystery to me, because I live on both sides. For the past twenty years, I've belonged to evangelical Protestant churches, the kind where George W. Bush rolled up huge majorities. And for the past eighteen years, I've worked in secular universities where one can hardly believe that Bush voters exist. Evangelical churches are red America at its reddest. And universities, especially the ones in New England (where I work now), are as blue as the bluest sky.

Not surprisingly, each of these institutions is enemy territory to the other. But the enmity is needless. It may be a sign that I'm terminally weird, but I love them both, passionately. And I think that if my church friends and my university friends got to know each other, they'd find a lot to like and admire. More to the point, the representatives of each side would learn something important and useful from the other side. These institutions may be red and blue now. But their natural color is purple.

See, I told you there were evangelical churches in Boston. More to the point, Professor Stuntz points out ways in which these two very different cultures could benefit from each other: evangelicals would benefit from the University's love of argument, while the University could benefit from the evangelicals' virtue of humility. Bill Stuntz also lays out the common ground: the focus on ideas, the importance of community, and the reliance on voluntary service. He even points out some common political ground:

There is even a measure of political common ground. True, university faculties are heavily Democratic, and evangelical churches are thick with Republicans. But that red-blue polarization is mostly a consequence of which issues are on the table — and which ones aren't. Change the issue menu, and those electoral maps may look very different. Imagine a presidential campaign in which the two candidates seriously debated how a loving society should treat its poorest members. Helping the poor is supposed to be the left's central commitment, going back to the days of FDR and the New Deal. In practice, the commitment has all but disappeared from national politics. Judging by the speeches of liberal Democratic politicians, what poor people need most is free abortions. Anti-poverty programs tend to help middle-class government employees; the poor end up with a few scraps from the table. Teachers' unions have a stranglehold on failed urban school systems, even though fixing those schools would be the best anti-poverty program imaginable.

I don't think my liberal Democratic professor friends like this state of affairs. And — here's a news flash — neither do most evangelicals, who regard helping the poor as both a passion and a spiritual obligation, not just a political preference. (This may be even more true of theologically conservative Catholics.) These men and women vote Republican not because they like the party's policy toward poverty — cut taxes and hope for the best — but because poverty isn't on the table anymore. In evangelical churches, elections are mostly about abortion. Neither party seems much concerned with giving a hand to those who most need it.

That could change. I can't prove it, but I think there is a large, latent pro-redistribution evangelical vote, ready to get behind the first politician to tap into it. (Barack Obama, are you listening?) If liberal Democratic academics believe the things they say they believe — and I think they do — there is an alliance here just waiting to happen.

I've said this before. The Democrats could easily reach out for the evangelical vote if they could cast down the sacred cow of abortion rights. After they do that, they would need to stop villifying evangelicals, at the least putting that wing of the party which believes that evangelicals want to turn the US into a theocracy out at the fringes where they belong. I doubt they could win me--I'm politically conservative for reasons of pragmatism (I have my doubts about whether the government can ever be effective in solving domestic problems)--but I know plenty of evangelicals who are conservative theologically but up for grabs politically.

I took it easy over the Thanksgiving Holiday. Maybe a bit too easy, considering that the blogging was light, the writing lighter, and the exercise non-existent. But boy was there some eating! In any case, it's time to ramp things back up, to see if I can manage that 2,000 words a day in writing, reasonable blog posting, running, while at the same time getting stuff straightened out for the new job, including apartment hunting. Sound like a lot? Keep in mind that right now I don't have a day job and it's not too bad. I did manage to finish the next chapter of Ryan's and Emily's on Sunday, which should give me just enough time to sneak in a revision before I send it to Sheya just before deadline. I encourage everyone else to send Sheya their stories as well.

The next Storyblogging Carnival will be hosted at Tales by Sheya. Be sure to submit your story by the end of the week. Sheya's hosting it for the first time, so let's make it a good carnival with plenty of stories.

Sluggy Freelance — Alt-Zoe's dead, and we all expected Torg to get medieval on Horribus. Instead he acted with maturity and in favor of the big picture, having learned that "That which redeems, consumes." This has become a hotly debated topic on the Sluggy forums. I think it's remarkably, if unintentionally, compatible with Christian theology. I believe that redemption is a good thing, but it must be accepted, not earned, and the attempt to earn redemption will just lead to frustration, even consumption.

Scary Go Round — Just when it looks like she's in for it, Sherry's rescued by Tim in his submarine-blimp thing. Nobody believes her that the Men-o'-War intend to destroy humanity, but fortunately for mankind, Men-o'-War aren't exactly the most competent sea creatures.\

College Roomies from Hell!!! — Maritza's back! And Dave runs into Mrs. Green. Dave is always in trouble, but after he and Blue spent some quality naked time together, something had to happen lest his angst drop to dangerously low levels. At least she didn't find him during that quality naked time. Let's hope she doesn't know too much.

General Protection Fault — Sydney is Dwayne's three (or is it four) year old daughter, and she's precociously tech-savvy. She'll fit right in, assuming she doesn't give her father a heart attack first. Kids these days grow up way too fast.

Schlock Mercenary — So Kevyn's taken over, and he has no idea how much Petey has manipulated things so that would happen. Now it's up to the Reverend to give the memorial, but first he gets promoted so he can notify the next of kin.

I came across this article at Townhall, and it's a must-read:

Once, about four years ago, I found myself being tailed late at night by a car I didn't recognize. I was by myself, it was around 11 p.m. in my hometown, a city with enough violent crime to make a person more than a bit wary.
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I took a few more turns, trying to get back to the bluish streetlamp glow of the main road. He turned with me every time. My brain swerved from panic to reason and back again, he and I the only two cars on the road. I was almost to the pool hall and he was still with me. I could hear the blood beating in my ears. I was contemplating driving all the way to my parents' house, pulling right onto the grass in the backyard and dashing in the door to avoid attack when I looked back and realized the car was gone.

Deep breaths. I drove around for a few minutes, still no one behind me. Deep breaths. So, I headed back to the pool hall to meet my friends. When I walked in, I was still a little shaky, sat down to have a Coke and watch some friends play 9-ball. A couple acquaintances came up to my table, started telling a story that had them both in stitches.

"Did you guys hear?" one of them laughed. "John tailed some idiot with a Bush-Cheney sticker on his car all the way here."

The story got a hearty laugh from my whole group of acquaintances, all liberal. It was a good joke, played on some abstract conservative, retold in the utter certainty that there were no such abstract creatures in the room.

I glared straight at John and said something along the lines of "Yeah, that was me, and that was real liberal and accepting of you," adding a few sailor-approved flourishes worthy of a man who would threaten a young woman with physical harm because of her political beliefs.

At first there was more laughter, then nervous smiles, then looks and comments of utter bewilderment—not at the fact that someone they knew had just been physically threatened for her political beliefs, but at the fact that she held those particular beliefs. There were apologies from John, but all with a smile on his face. The whole incident was quickly excused.
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This week, I'm going home for Thanksgiving to a blue city. Maybe the healing will start there.

But if things go as they generally do, I'll end up having to explain to folks who excuse Mammy jokes that I am not a racist.

I will try to tell people who look at me like a rare zoo exhibit missing its explanatory plaque that I am not insulated from other opinions.

And I will undoubtedly have to convince the young man who once tailed me on a dark night because he didn't like my political bumper sticker that mine are not the politics of fear and intimidation.

But here's hoping that this year will be different. I think we all deserve better.

I find groupthink of any kind to be disturbing. Being in Louisiana, I see plenty of it from the right as well, although I still see some from the left depending on the setting. I guess what is most disturbing is the assumption that all rational people think the same way. Opposing viewpoints are simply dismissed, and as a result, it's impossible to have conversations on certain issues. I blame poor education: a proper grounding in history should be enough to convince students that rational people can disagree on fundamental issues. It's necessary to understand enough of those worldviews that you aren't at a complete loss when talking to others.

I spent the day at the Louisiana Renaissance Festival with my parents, my sister, and her daughter. It was fun, even if my niece, Hope, was a handful. I especially liked the blacksmith. I considered buying one of his swords, but it was a bit outside my price range... for the time being.

I considered giving a little homily today, but I think not. Today I'll be spending time with my family, and I urge you to do the same if possible. At the least, remember what you are thankful for, and the One to whom you are thankful.

God bless, and I'll see you tomorrow.

Rich Lowry has a bit of fun, imagining what the Bush White House would be like if he did things like the liberals seem to want:

President Bush announced that former Senate Minority Leader Tom Daschle would be his new White House counsel, in a move interpreted as part of an effort to reach out to Democrats. The Bush team has abandoned its euphoria over a victory that had the president winning a higher percentage of the popular vote than the last three Democrats elected to the White House, and instead reconciled itself to the reality that in a polarized political environment, elevating partisan enemies and encouraging internal critics is the only way to govern effectively.

"We realize that merely winning 51 percent of the vote, a higher percentage than any Democrat in 40 years, doesn't cut it anymore," said a chastened White House official. "Sure, Clinton tried to implement his ideas after winning 43 percent and 49 percent of the vote in 1992 and 1996 respectively, but that was a different time. We know we have to find a place within our administration for people who hate us and our ideas. That's what democracy is all about."
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Bush's maneuvers represent a departure from his typical political style. Bush usually presents voters with clear policy ideas and, should he win, implements them. "We all realized that was just too simplistic," a Bush official said. "Look, there's no getting around the fact that 55 million people voted for 'nuance' and incoherence. That's exactly what we're going to give them."

For my money, though, the last paragraph is the best:

The Bush team's ambition in implementing its new approach was evident in rumors of a shake-up at the Republican National Committee. Soon-to-depart Democratic National Committee Chairman Terry McAuliffe is being considered for a post there. "The problem is, the Republicans have a slight majority in the country, which isn't very bipartisan if you think about," said a member of the Bush political team. "We've got to get some of the ineffectual guys from the other side working for us, so they can help tamp down our popularity. Terry would be perfect. We're considering Bob Shrum too — if we can get him to come down on his fee."

I have now accepted a job offer, and everyone has now been informed, so I can let you know that, come January, I will be working at Lincoln Laboratory. I'll be attempting to make all the arrangements to move back to the Boston Area next month, and if I'm lucky, there won't be any delays due to snow. I'll let you know more as I learn more.

I'm posting this as a public service for Massachusetts liberals. You may be wondering what these evangelicals are like. I read a lot of liberal columnists talking about them as if they are bizarre foreigners with an unfamiliar culture and strange values. Hopefully, you don't view them as "self-righteous, gun-totin', military-lovin', sister-marryin', abortion-hatin', gay-loathin', foreigner-despisin', non-passport-ownin' rednecks" (as Brian Reade in the Daily Mirror says), in which case I can't help you. If you're a bit more open minded, I would like to point out that evangelicals are not as foreign as you might think. You don't have to visit South Dakota or South Carolina in order to meet an evangelical--there are, in fact, evangelicals in Boston. How do you find them?

Well, the best place to find them is in church. There are churches all over the place in Boston, but not all churches are frequented by evangelicals. Some of them are little more than historical monuments, and others have a theology so distant from evangelicalism that it's hardly recognizable as the same religion. Of course, evangelicalism is not really a denomination, so much as a religious movement, as I've explained previously. I'm not even going to try to list a bunch of evangelical churches, but I will point you to one church where you're sure to find evangelicals. It's easy to find, and you may already be familiar with it. In fact, it's the third stop on the Freedom Trail, right off of Boston Common. Park Street Church's place on the Freedom Trail does not come from its role in the revolution, as it was founded in 1807, but rather from the part it played in the abolitionist movement. The church describes itself as "A congregational church that is evangelical and international," and it is very much an active, living church. If you want to actually meet an evangelical, I suggest that rather than doing the Freedom Trail tour, you come to one of its services. Just walk in the front door and go up one of the sets of stairs on either side, and you'll find the sanctuary. The church has four services on Sunday, at 8:30 am and 11 am, and also at 4 pm and 6 pm. At any of those times you'll have the opportunity to meet plenty of people, most of whom describe themselves as evangelical, even though some of them have only a vague idea of what that means (hint: the simplest definition of evangelical might be "a Christian who takes the Bible seriously"). Personally, I especially enjoy the evening services, which are more contemporary than the morning services. Come January, I should be back in Boston, and if you would like to join me at the 4 pm service, just let me know.

With Thanksgiving this week, not to mention accepting a job offer (expect an announcement later today), I'm not sure how much time I'll have for blogging this week. Still, I have a few things I want to post. We'll see.

Welcome to the sixth Storyblogging Carnival. The previous carnival was also hosted here two weeks ago, while the next one will be at Sheya Joie's blog two weeks from now. Today we have one new writer and several old favorites, so let's get started.

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Everybody Needs a Ride Sometimes
by Queenie of Rolling My Eyes
A 237 word brief story rated PG.

Con-artist or beggar or both, she still needs to make a living.

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Untitled novel length project
by Mike J. of Democrats Give Conservatives Indigestion
A 610 word excerpt of a novel in progress, rated PG.

A private investigator/licensed pilot who specializes in recovering lost, stolen or otherwise missing property lands in Jamaica with his client as the story begins...

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Taxi Ride
by cbeck of Feeding the Habit
A 628 word brief story rated PG.

A story of realization; the harsh reality of goodbye.

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A Meating of Mines, scene iii (Beginning of the story)
by Dave Gudeman of Doc Rampage
The next 1,151 words of a 3,888 word story in progress, rated PG-13.

Rolf and Zantar are hired by one of the feuding families of Winkelfranks.

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Fishies
by Andrew Ian Dodge of Dodgeblogium
A 2,777 word short story rated PG-13.

Rupert, already perturbed to find out that some people like dressing up as animals to get their kicks, has to investigate an even more disturbing club in Aberdeen.

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Dreams and Visions, Chapter 4 of Eyes in the Shadow (Beginning of the story)
by Donald S. Crankshaw of Back of the Envelope
The next 4,511 words of a 14,310 word story in progress, rated PG-13.

Restful nights aren't always restful. On the bright side, the story now has a name!

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The Child (Parts 11,12,13,14,15,16) (Beginning of the story)
by Sheya Joie of Tales by Sheya
The next 5,245 words of a 11,614 word story in progress.

And so began the sweetest days of the Child's life. Days spent in the company of the Master, her Beloved. Days spent walking together, her small hand in his, her eyes feasting on his dear face - as he delighted in her delight in him. His voice filling both her ears and her hungry heart as he spoke songs of love into her...

[It wasn't obvious at first that this story was allegorical, but it was obvious that it was delightful, as it remains. -DSC]

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Thanks for coming by. I hope you'll be able to visit Tales by Sheya for the next carnival. If you'd like to join the Storyblogging Carnival e-mail list, just drop me a line.

I meant to have the storyblogging carnival done last night and scheduled to go up around noon, but the computer crashed around halfway through, and since I had to get up a bit early this morning, I had to leave it for today. The Carnival will be up today, but I can't guarantee it'll be here around noon when I intended. Check back sometime in the afternoon.

I was wondering how long it would be until Dave Barry got around to seriously mocking Dan Rather. Dave's more blog-savvy than most MSM people (he has one of his own), so I'm not surprised that he's finally doing it:

Yes, it is a tragic but statistical fact that every Thanksgiving, undercooked turkeys claim the lives of an estimated 53 billion Americans (source: Dan Rather)...

Now discard the rest of the pumpkin, because the simple truth, obvious to anybody with half a brain, is that NO PART of the pumpkin looks, smells or tastes ANYTHING like so-called "pumpkin" pie. This is why nobody actually makes "pumpkin" pie; everybody buys it at the supermarket. The question is: What does the supermarket put in there? The Food and Drug Administration is investigating this, and according to one informed source (Dan Rather) "they think it's tofu."

...Also, even though I have "poked some fun" at Mr. Dan Rather, I sincerely believe he is a great journalist and a credit to his home planet.

It's too bad that Dave's going on hiatus after next month. At this rate he's never going to get around to poking fun at the election results.

Sluggy Freelance — Up until this week, I considered it possible, but not likely, that Torg would escape the DoP without doing any permanent harm and everything would return to normal. That's out. First, Horribus killed Mosp. Now, it looks like he's killed alt-Zoe. (No one really expected alt-Zoe to survive this storyline, but we've become attached to her by now. I especially liked her playfulness with Torg.) Horribus's odds of surviving this storyline have become infinitesimal. Now that Torg has the blood he needs to power his sword, it's time for Horribus to die. Whatever happens, the DoP is going to be changed forever.

Scary Go Round — Shelley goes shopping for a superhero car. Of course, being Shelley, she can't exactly afford the Batmobile. She'll have to settle for a submarine scooter.

College Roomies from Hell!!! — CRFH!!! has been on hiatus this week as Maritza has computer/power company/air conditioner problems. Yikes, that was trouble, but the comic should be back next week.

General Protection Fault — Cat fight! Sharon's and Ki's fight gets physical, only to have Dwayne announce that the project they're fighting over has been cancelled. Fortunately, the two make up quickly.

Schlock Mercenary — Kevyn drops the bomb and lets the troops know that Tagon is dead. He then claims command and is railroaded to the rank of captain. Kevyn has no plans to seek revenge on Tagon's death, but the same can't be said for the mercenary company whose leader Schlock killed.

This weekend I'm deciding between two job possibilities, one at Lincoln Laboratory and one at JENTEK Sensors. The final decision will not be based on starting salaries, as they are close enough to make no difference. The first factor is how I feel about the work. Since there are security clearances and non-disclosure agreements at stake, I need to be careful not to say anything I shouldn't, so I'm going to do what every good blogger does, go to the web and just quote what's already public domain. At Lincoln Laboratory, the group which made the offer is the Tactical Defense Systems Group, and rather than try to paraphrase what they told me, I'll quote the Licoln Laboratory website:

...A second major emphasis is on Tactical Air Defense which includes a broad range of activities in the detection, location, identification, and engagement of air vehicles. We combine the modeling results of phenomenological investigations and testing insights from air vehicle measurements into system performance predictions. Our suite of state-of-the-art instrumentation sensors includes two business-sized jet aircraft with instrumented radar and infrared sensors and electronic countermeasure systems.

Our work includes experimental demonstrations as well as phenomenological experimentation and analysis. In fact, we're modeling the effect of new surveillance and air defense technology on military outcomes, as well as comparing alternative technology and designs. At Lincoln Laboratory, we're creating a rigorous scientific foundation for the world's most advanced tactical systems technology development

JENTEK Sensors doesn't have a website, but if you do a Google search you can find a few things, such as this page:

JENTEK Sensors, Inc. provides sensors and systems for monitoring of fatigue crack initiation and growth on aircraft and other structures, as well as for manufacturing/rework quality control. This SBIR [Small Business Innovation Research] focussed first on the adaptation of JENTEK's MWM™-Array sensor to develop surface-mountable eddy-current sensors that can be mounted in difficult-to-access locations on aircraft (e.g., in the fuel tank) to monitor crack initiation and growth. Also, this program addressed specific problems in manufacturing quality control (e.g., rolling, shot peening, and coating characterization).

Both of them are fascinating projects, although JENTEK's research is closer to what I've done previously. Aside from the work, there are other things to consider: advancement opportunities, benefits, work environment. At the end of the day, I think the question is where I think I will perform the best, not just in terms of pure skills but also where my personality and work habits will fit in best. I'll need to have an answer by Monday.

Old Post: The beginning of this story is here, while the previous chapter is here.

Aha! The story now has a title. I would have come up with one sooner, but I needed a better idea of what the story was about. Even then the title ended up being vague and confusing. I brainstormed a bunch of different titles before coming up with this one. Some of them were pretty good, but I decided that this one worked best.

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Chapter 4
Dreams and Visions

Ryan fled through the many-roomed house, and Red-eyes pursued him.

He did not understand this house, with its rooms and doors but no windows or furniture. It had no logic behind its design, no overarching theme, only fading yellow wallpaper and dusty hardwood floors beneath and bare lightbulbs overhead. All the rooms looked alike, small and square with doors in every wall, and he did not know whether he was going forward or in circles as he chose doors at random. He looked for footprints in the scattered dust, but he saw no trace of anyone's passage, not even his own when he looked behind him. He did not know where Emily was, although he thought she too was in this house. He could hear doors opening and closing, heavy footsteps echoing through the nearby rooms, and he turned away from them, moving as quietly as he could without relinquishing too much speed, trying to avoid Red-eyes' notice. In all the time in this house he had not seen Red-eyes, and he knew that once he did he would die. So he ran, or tip-toed when the sounds of pursuit drew near, turning the next doorknob slowly and praying the hinges did not creak as he slipped into the next room.

He did not know how long this pursuit had gone on, but he was sure it had been hours. He was panting and gasping, his breath long worn-out, sweat dripping into his eyes, and his chest sore from his hammering heart. It was not the running which had worn him down, as this chase was practically sedate compared to the previous mad dashes, but from the tension, hour after hour of near misses and narrow escapes. He thought that his heart would burst soon, the stress having overwhelmed his poor physical conditioning.

Ryan heard loud, thudding footsteps to his right, and he turned to the left, opening the next door with all the stealth he could manage.

His ears must have deceived him, as he found that Red-eyes was not in the room behind him, but in the room directly before him. Red-eyes' hand was reaching toward the same door that Ryan had just opened, and as Ryan tried to slam it shut, he caught it on his open palm and pushed it back open. The door swung open with enough force to shove Ryan back. He skidded in the dust and then fell on his rear, with Red-eyes towered above him.

At first glance Red-eyes was still a tall man with dark hair and a dark mustache. He wore sunglasses now, but they were not enough to hide the crimson glow coming from his eyes, seeping around the edges and even through the lenses. His long trenchcoat was buttoned up tight, but it bulged and twitched as odd shapes pressed against it from the inside. The chest bulged outward as the shape of a hand pressed against the inside of the coat. The two hands which were where they should be reached toward Ryan, the ill-fitting black leather gloves not hiding deformed claws within. All around Red-eyes was a darkness which seemed to leak out from within. The glow from the lightbulb dimmed as this dark aura hid it as Red-eyes leaned over Ryan.

Ryan scooted backwards on his bottom, pushing with his feet while using his elbows for support, and noticed that the left pocket of his coat dragging on the floor, drawing a rough scraping sound only partly muffled by fabric and dust. He always had things in the pockets of his coat, but this was too heavy for the usual pen and paper and calculator. His hand fumbled at his pocket, closing on cold metal, and he drew out the item. It was smooth, heavy, and cool, and when he saw it at first it was so out-of-place that it wouldn't register. A round cylinder the size of of his fist, a narrow barrel wider than a finger and as long as his hand, a grip wrapped in plain black leather. It was a silver revolver straight out of a Western. As he closed both hands around the grip, he was surprised at how comfortably it fit his hands. Ryan had never fired a pistol before, but now was not the time to argue. Red-eyes' twisted hands were mere inches from his throat, so Ryan pointed the pistol at his forehead and pulled the trigger.

At this range he could not miss, and the pistol's report echoed back and forth through the small room even as its recoil sent his head thudding against the floor. The loud crack was audible even above the pistol's echo, but Ryan could not spare a moment for the pain. He used his left hand to push himself up while his right still held the pistol pointing toward where Red-eyes had been. He saw the large man stumbling backwards, a hole in his forehead and the red eyes and dark aura gone from his body. Instead, the red-eyes and dark aura had remained where they were, unmoved by the pistol shot. A dark shadow still loomed above Ryan, having sloughed its human body like a dead skin. It eyes, now completely red except for a cat-like pupil, blazed crimson while dark talons reached for Ryan's throat even as the cast-off human body hit the wall and slid down it. Ryan fired twice more, but the bullets only passed through this shadow. It had a shape which was vaguely human and vaguely animal, and though its black mass was indistinct and even translucent, Ryan could see the bird-like talons clearly until they passed beyond his vision and locked on his throat. The fingers were icy cold and hard, more like rock than flesh despite the gaseous figure of its owner. He felt his windpipe collapsing under the pressure of those fingers, and Ryan gasped for breath as he fired once more into the darkness. The chill was radiating from those hands, spreading through his neck to his head and his chest. He thought the cold might kill him even faster than the lack of air. His vision was fading at the edges and he knew he could not last much longer. He stared into the blazing red eyes as he continued pulling the trigger, even though only a loud click came from the weapon now. The mouth opened--to Ryan it seemed more beak than mouth, but his dim vision could not hope to make sense of the indistinct form before him--to reveal a crimson glow leaking from within, and Ryan heard a single word in that deep, resonant voice which now wasn't so distant, just before all light and sound vanished with Ryan's consciousness.
* * *
Ryan sat up straight so quickly that he got a headrush. "Yow," he said, putting a hand to his damp forehead. The covers had slipped from his bare chest, also damp from sweat, to collect at his waist. He rubbed the sweat from his chest, wondering whether it came from the heat or the fading dream. The hotel room was too warm to be under the covers, but Ryan felt too naked in his underwear to sleep without covers with Emily in the same room. Fortunately, she was still asleep, soft and easy breathing coming from her bed to his right, so she wasn't a witness to his near nudity and less than athletic physique. His eyes were well enough adjusted to the dark that in the light streaming in even through the closed blinds he could see the generic furniture in the room.

Emily had shown little modesty when undressing for bed, and lay under a thin sheet which did little to hide her figure. Ryan looked away, not wanting to stare, and got out of bed on the left side. Placing his left hand on the wall for guidance in the dark, he followed it to bathroom. The wallpaper was embossed with elegant filigree, and the simple sensation of the patterned roughness against his fingers was comforting after the vague and overpowering dream. Turning the corner he came to the door to the bathroom. It was dark inside, the wall blocking the light from the window and only an illuminated lightswitch providing any light, and little enough at that.

Ryan reached for the lightswitch and then thought better of it. He didn't need much light and he really did not want to wake up all the way, even after that nightmare. Fumbling, he found the sink and turned on the faucet, setting the water to where it ought to be slightly warm. He had never met a faucet that actually gave the expected temperature, and sure enough the water was scalding in no time. His questing hands had found a washcloth by then, so he held it under the water without much regard for the temperature. The washcloth was unpleasantly warm as he rubbed his face with it, but it was bearable. He could already feel the stubble on his face, and without a razor he would look pretty unkempt in the morning. Quite an adventure, isn't this? It's been less than a day and already I'm missing the comfort of my own home. Apartment sweet apartment. Ryan used the washcloth on his chest and stomach next, cleaning off the sweat and dampening the top of his boxers. Done, he set the cloth down and forced his eyes open so he could face himself in the mirror. In the dark, all he could see were shadows and a vague, man-like shape. With bright red eyes.

The shape in the mirror wasn't him, couldn't be him. It was too big, lean and tall rather than stout. The shadows in the mirror had dissolved into a grey blur, while in the center, filling his vision, was the dark shape in his dream. It lacked distinct lines, its edges blurred and streaming and billowing, as if it were made of smoke barely able to hold its shape. Its resemblence to a human being was no more than a stick figure's--the same uprightness, the same number of limbs, a single head. Beyond that, Ryan could not make out much more. The head was indistinct, but he did not think it was human, as he could not make out nose or mouth or jaw, only the crimson eyes with the slitted pupils. The arms--if they were arms, for they moved with a fluidity more akin to tentacles--ended in talon-like hands, five fingers with long, sharp nails and no palm. These hands alone were clear and distinct, as they reached toward him. Out of the mirror.

Ryan would have cried out, screamed like a madman or a child, but he could only squeeze the barest wheeze out of his throat. He would have run, but his feet seemed rooted in place. He raised his right arm to protect himself, and his left went for the light switch, still glowing orange on the wall. His fingers found the switch even as one of the creature's talons swept aside his upraised arm.

The overhead flourescent flooded the room with light, reflecting from the mirror and the tiles and the porcelain to chase all the shadows away. Even in his horrified paralysis, Ryan blinked in the sudden light, and when his vision cleared the creature was gone. There was only himself in his boxers, bare chest and pouched stomach covered in dark curly hair. Ryan's head swiveled back and forth, looking for the thing which had been in the mirror. "What the hell is going on here?" he asked himself in the mirror, taking a good, long look to make sure it was him in the mirror.

He placed his hands on the edge of the sink, leaning on his arms as he took several deep breaths and let his galloping heart resume a more normal pace. His heart was in no condition for these sorts of shocks, nor was his mind. One or both would give if this continued, and he could only hope that his mind had not broken down already. His eyes were red with dark spots underneath. He really needed sleep, but he doubted he'd be able to return to sleep now. Had he fallen asleep standing up and dreamed? Was it a vision like what Emily claimed she saw? What else could it have been?

His right forearm burned, and he looked down to see blood running down his arm, to where his hand was flat against the porcelain edge of the sink. Ryan picked up the washcloth and wiped away the blood to reveal a long, shallow scratch across his arm. How...? He remembered the creature reaching for him, its talon brushing aside his right arm, a nail scratching across the skin. Ryan pressed the cloth against the cut and looked at himself in the mirror. It was just him now, looking unnaturally pale and frightened. He clenched his teeth to prevent them from chattering. That couldn't have been real; it just couldn't have.

Ryan was more tired than when he had first lay down, but he didn't think he'd be going back to sleep now. He didn't even want to return to the dark hotel room. Think, Ryan. Think! Was his mind really starting to crack under the strain? Or... is this situation even crazier than I first thought. He needed to come up with a course of action, but there were too many unknowns.

"Approach this logically. Like a scientist," he told himself in the mirror. Technically speaking, Ryan wasn't really a scientist. He was an engineering Grad student at MIT who did experimental research in semiconductor physics, but it was close enough. Since he was an electrical engineer, his affinity was for the design side of the experiments, but he knew how to do scientific research. This crazy situation might seem well beyond the laws of science, but was that really the case? Just because it was outside the known laws of physics didn't mean it didn't obey any laws. He just had to determine what those laws were, which could be done by forming and testing hypotheses. Apply the scientific method and everything would fall into place, right?

"Okay, problem one, I don't know that. It may be that logic doesn't work here and it doesn't obey any rules. If I try to pretend that it does, I'm dead. Problem two, even if it does, and I could apply the scientific method to mutants or demons or ghosts or whatever this is, attempting to disprove a hypothesis is liable to get me killed. There are way too many ways to die here."

Ryan stared at himself in the mirror and wondered how he had gotten involved in this. Was it just a coincidence, that he was there and Emily latched onto him as a part of her delusion? Or was there really some sort of prophecy involved, as she believed?

Okay, her visions provide me with a testable hypothesis. He could compare her visions with reality and see if they truly could predict what would happen, preferably as part of a double-blind test where people could not be influenced by her visions. Only he couldn't see how to make it work. He would need to record each vision in a lab notebook, carefully marking time and date and each detail of the vision, then keep a record of incidents which might be matches with the visions. As he was intimately involved in them right now, there was no way to make it a double-blind prophecy. To properly do this sort of study might take years, selecting for those visions where the subject did not know about the vision, and Ryan didn't have years. All right, let's save that one for a later date.

What about Red-eyes? What is he? Natural or supernatural? Science or religion? Flesh or spirit? How do you test something like that? For a start, let's list his traits. Ryan's coat was hanging in the closet directly outside the bathroom, and he braved the dark to retrieve a small notepad and a pen from an inner pocket. As an afterthought he grabbed a pencil as well. He kept a ready supply of writing instruments since he was always looking for one. Always be prepared. He kept the notebook so he could record any brilliant ideas he might have. Given his usual dearth of brilliant ideas, instead he found that he used it to write down pithy sayings of his own invention, such as Tempus fugit... et sequimur postea. and If we are what we eat, does that make us cannibals? Opening the six-by-four notebook to the first blank page as he sat down on , he considered what to write.

Tall. Big man. Strong--unnaturally strong? Dark hair and mustache. Ryan paused. Everything else he wrote would be about his unusual traits, those things that made him abnormal or even supernatural. Unnoticeable. Red irises--glowing? Super traction? That sounded silly, but he had seen it himself. Red-eyes had no more difficulty walking on ice or snow than pavement. Super fast? This one Ryan was less sure about. It had seemed that no matter how fast they ran they could not gain any distance from him, but if that was the case, how had he not caught them in the mall, where they were careening off people but the crowd parted for him like the Red Sea? It had only been outside that he had the real advantage, where even plowed streets were slick and gritty and filled with people. It could be a manifestation of that super-traction thing. Or perhaps he was applying logic to where none belonged.

"Okay, that's gotten me nowhere. Now what?"

Dream? He surprised himself with that one. But yes, he could not ignore the dream, nor the after-dream phantasm which had nearly ripped his arm off. So, yes, maybe this thing could cause nightmares. If it could cause people not to notice it, why couldn't it cause nightmares in its targets? Hallucination? And if dreams, why not hallucinations? Maybe prolonged exposure to whatever it was which caused its non-targets to ignore it also cause nightmares and hallucinations in its target. And the cut? Well, he'd had dreams which incorporated physical sensations before. That didn't mean the dream caused the physical sensation.

He looked at his notebook and wondered whether he'd accomplished anything. He'd done a fine job of rationalizing his experiences, if by rationalizing you meant accepting the fact that he was being chased by some freakish mutation which could be invisible to everyone but him and Emily while causing him to suffer strange dreams and hallucinations. And Emily? She already had hallucinations, so how could she tell the normal insanity from the new stuff? Why don't I just accept the fact that I've gone mad and check myself into a mental institution? Emily could come too. It would do her good.

Ryan looked himself in the eye. "I'm not insane." He smiled at himself, not because he was happy but because he believed it. It was true, the insane never thought themselves insane, and perhaps he was just deceiving himself, but up until yesterday his life had just been so normal, ordinary, and boring that it was impossible for him to believe that he'd gone off his rocker, just like that. Maybe the stress of the current situation was getting to him, but if so, it was because he really was in a situation worth getting stressed about. Now he could write off the dream as just a dream, and even the phantasm he'd just witnessed might be no more than that. He'd only been half awake, he'd been completely freaked out by the nightmare as much as by real life, and sometimes dreams did incorporate physical sensations, such as cutting his right forearm on something while walking around half asleep.

On the other hand... what if the dream and phantasm were not just his subconscious, but something outside at work. Whether supernatural or superscience or telepathic or something else, it could be significant. In which case... Ryan took pen to paper again and wrote out a brief description of the dream. That took up two pages of his notebook. Then, trading the pen for one of the cheap mechanical pencils which he bought by the dozen, he began to sketch the thing he had seene. The problem, aside from his complete lack of artistic ability, was that the shape he had seen had been blurred and indistinct when he'd first seen it, and his fading memory was making it more so. He found himself starting over several times, and he had ripped out three pages until he came up with a passable sketch. The shape of the head was a bit of a puzzle, and he smeared the lead with his thumb until it was as indistinct as it had looked to him, but the arms and talons, at least, looked like what he remembered. Satisfied, he stuffed pen, pencil, and notepad back in the pocket of his jacket and returned to shut off the light. He felt a moment's fear looking into the mirror with the light off, but nothing appeared but his own shadowy reflection. He found his way back to his bed, once again using the wall to navigate. The clock said it was three in the morning. He didn't remember the exact time when he had awoken earlier, but he thought it had been about an hour. He was feeling much better, his writing and drawing having leeched the emotional strain out of him. He was asleep again within minutes.

[OOC: I'd have drawn a picture, but sadly my artistic abilities are even worse than Ryan's. My attempts came far short of the image I saw in my head.]
* * *
When Ryan woke up, sunlight was filtering in through the blinds and Emily was talking on the phone. He heard her mention tickets, but he wasn't conscious enough to figure out what she was talking about. He sat up and rubbed his eyes until he could see clearly. Emily was already dressed, and she was brushing out her hair as she spoke on the phone. He yawned as she hung up.

"You're awake!"

"I guess so," he mumbled.

"Good. I let you sleep in while I made arrangements but we have to hurry if we're going to catch our plane."

"Catch our what?"

"Our plane. I got us some reservations on a flight to Columbia. It was really expensive on such short notice but I have a pretty high limit on my credit card and it is an emergency--"

"Whoa, hold on, you got tickets to Colombia, as in South America?"

"No, silly, Columbia, as in South Carolina. Although I guess it does sound sort of the same."

"Okay, first question, what do you mean `us'? I can't just join you for a trip to South Carolina or South America or South anywhere out of the blue."

"But it's an emergency! You have to come with me! We're in this together!"

"Which brings me to the second question: why South Carolina? What's there that it makes a good place to run when fleeing Red-eyes?" Ryan had never been anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line, so his knowledge of it came only from television shows like Dukes of Hazzard (Where did that show take place, anyway?) and high school classes on US history and the civil rights movement. He knew that such things hardly covered the most positive aspects of the South, and the few Southern friends he had at school made fun of those stereotypes when they weren't offended by them, but even giving South Carolina the benefit of the doubt, it was no place that he wanted to go. He could do without the hicks and the racists and the Bible-thumpers, assuming they weren't all one and the same.

"It's where I'm from," Emily said. "My parents still live there. They can help us."

Ryan had never noticed that she had much of a Southern accent, but that was not the part of that he was interested in. "They can? How?"

"Well, my father's a minister... I'm not sure how, but I'm sure they can. I feel it."

"Look, Emily, I know you think Red-eyes is a demon or something, and I don't mean to offend you, but, what if you're wrong? What if he's a mutant or something?"

"You still think he's just a mutant?"

"It's what I'm going with, yes." Since when is someone just a mutant? "I'd prefer to think he was just some dangerous psychotic who was good at mind games, but we'll go with mutant."

"So, he's just a mutant? Or just a psychotic? Or whatever? Anything but admit that he might be a demon?"

"My point is that if he's not a demon, how is the fact that your father's a minister going to help? Is he going to pray away a psychotic?"

"Why not? If prayer works against a demon, why shouldn't it work against a psychotic?"

"Why? Why?! Can't you see the difference between a physical threat and a spiritual one? Sure, if he's really a spiritual entity--which, by the way, I'm not convinced of--then maybe he can be prayed away. Spiritual beats spiritual. But if he's a purely physical being, than how can the spiritual have any effect?"

She looked at him for a long moment, and Ryan thought that maybe his argument was sinking in. "You really don't know anything about religion, do you?" she asked.

"Argh! Why do I even try to argue?"

"Good question. Anyway, I've already bought the tickets, so I'm going. Even if my parents can't `pray away' the psychotic mutant demon, they can help in other ways. So, are you coming?"

"Yeah. Sure, why not? I've come this far. How much worse can it get?"

"I don't know, but you better hurry up and get dressed if you want to find out. We need to be out of here in twenty minutes if we're going to catch our plane."

Ryan slunk out of bed and into the shower, wishing he had more time. As he hurriedly washed himself, he reflected that in the light of day his silly nightmares seemed insignificant compared to the trouble he was really facing.

---

This is Chapter 4 of a story in progress. This chapter is 4,511 words long, bringing the total to 14,310. It's not yet in novella range, but it's creeping there. It might be novel length by the time it's done. I really have no idea where the story is going from here, but it's bound to be a fun ride. One thing I really liked about this section is the phrase "psychotic mutant demon." I briefly considered making that the title of this story, but felt that it didn't quite fit. I do intend to use it more, not just in this story or even this blog: it's the sort of phrase that needs to be worked into everyday conversations.

While in the airport yesterday, I caught some of CNN's television political coverage. I know I shouldn't be surprised to find a mainstream media outlet biased, but I was sort of surprised by exactly how biased it was. They were talking about the challenge to Arlen Specter's chairmanship of the Judiciary Committee and Tom DeLay's position given the investigation which might indict him. Republican rules say that the chairmanship should go to Specter and DeLay should give up his position as House Majority Leader if he is indicted. CNN's segment dealt with them both as examples of the Republicans changing the rules of the House and Senate to their advantage, which is misleading. As far as I understand, these are both internal party rules for the Republcan House and Senate caucuses. So the whole story amounts to the Republicans possibly changing their own rules to benefit themselves. Even if you decide it's newsworthy, it's an internal matter for Republicans. Why the heck was CNN asking Hillary Clinton about this rule change, especially when she was supposed to be talking about the Clinton Presidential Library? Of course she called it a grave hypocrisy, which I suppose is her right, but it would have been nice for someone to point out that these are internal rules for the Republicans. How is it any business of the Democrats? Now, when the Republicans start trying to change the cloture rules in order to get Bush's nominees through, then the Democrats can whine to CNN all they want.

My take on both of these issues? Again, they're internal rules, so it's up to the House and Senate Republicans to decide. And now that I've given proper context like any good blogger, I feel free to give my opinion. Arlen Specter is trouble, but the challenge has put him on notice, and he's given a written statement saying that he'll support Bush and Republican efforts as Judiciary committee chairman. I think it was worthwhile to get that concession from him, but I'm not sure it's worth the infighting to push him out completely. And it looks like he'll be confirmed now. As for DeLay, I think Amy Ridenour makes a good point that criminal investigations are too often politically motivated for the rule to make much sense (the one DeLay's under sure seems to be that way), but I think Professor Bainbridge makes a good point that it looks awfully self-serving to change it now. My take? Leave the rule for now, and have DeLay step aside if necessary, to return when he's exonerated, and quietly remove the rule then. I think that would make sense from a pure PR, CNN converage, view. From a standpoint of morality, I can see both sides.

The first part of the interview, which was today, went well. The second part is tomorrow, but I'm thinking it's highly likely they'll be making an offer. Which means that I'll have two offers, and I'll have to decide between them by Monday. I won't tell you which way I'm leaning, as there are positives and negatives with both.

I'm currently posting using the wireless access in the hotel room, which is cool. It wasn't free, but it was cheap (about $4), so I thought it was worth paying for.

I'll have to write something else to take the place of the earlier post that was supposed to go up tomorrow.

You have 36 hours left to submit entries to the next Storyblogging Carnival. Please get your entries in on time.

If all has gone as planned, I'm currently in Boston for an interview. I love Powerblogs' scheduling feature, which allows me to schedule this post to go up even when I'm not around to put it up myself. Later today, the next installment of my story will go up. Who knows, I may even have a name for it by then! Well, actually, I know, since that post was written and scheduled on Wednesday as well, but I'm not telling.

Update: One problem with the scheduling feature is that sometimes I goof it up. This post wasn't supposed to go up until tomorrow. At the point it actually went up, I was boarding the plane that would take me to Boston. The promised next chapter of the still nameless story will go up tomorrow, which is what I meant to say.

I'm not adding this one to the sidebar right away, as I haven't finished reading the archives yet, but I spotted a new webcomic the other day (thanks to the Keenspot advertising on CRFH!!!). The comic is Count Your Sheep, which begins here. It doesn't contain the sort of epic storylines I usually look for, but it is funny and, well, cute. Maybe too cute. I'm having fun reading it so far, but it seems like it could get old quick. I'm going to have to read further in the archives before I reach a decision.

Some liberals have been talking about having blue states secede from the Union, in sort of a reverse of the Civil War. Mac Owens has some fun with the idea:

Of course, we expect such stuff in the fever swamps of internet conspiracy theories. But the rot is more widespread. Blue states have come to believe that they are too good to associate with the peckerwoods who reelected George Bush. For instance, on a recent installment of the McLaughlin Group, Lawrence O'Donnell, a major Democratic operative and alleged "political analyst," suggested that the election will lead to serious consideration of blue-state secession from the Union.

On one hand, I don't think much of the concept of secession...

On the other hand, it might be fun to consider the possibilities that blue-state secession would provide. Red-state Americans who have grown weary of being lectured by their moral and intellectual "betters" from the precincts of the Massachusetts witch-burners and slave-traders might just say: "Go ahead, punks. Make my day."

To begin with, where would the blue-state secessionists get the military force they would need to vindicate their action? After all, to paraphrase Thomas Hobbes, principles, no matter how noble, are mere wind without the sword. Most U.S. servicemen come from the red states, or from the red counties of the blue states. The blue states have made it next to impossible for their citizens to own firearms, so they can't count on "a people, numerous and armed" to vindicate their secession.

There is an additional problem. Owens mentions four potentially secessionist states by name: Massachusetts, New York, California, and Pennsylvania. Of these, only Pennsylvania has a Democratic governor, Rendell. The governors of the other three states, Romney, Pataki, and Schwarzenegger, respectively, are all Republicans. If the blue states want to secede, who the heck is going to lead their secessions if they can't get the governors to play along?

On a more serious note, one hundred and fifty years ago, secession was possible, as our government wasn't very centralized and people were scattered. Since then, the federal government has become much more powerful, and the liberals talking secession now played a large role in decreasing the power of the states in favor of the national government. At the same time, mass communication and high speed transportation did much to decrease the cultural differences between regions. I very much doubt loyalty to regional government is now strong enough to make secession possible

I was never a great believer in the concept that now that David Willis has departed from the role of evil webcartoonist to make light-hearted Roomies strips, other webcartoonists would rush in to fill in the void with their own evil. But in the weeks since It's Walky! came to a close with a reasonably happy ending, the other Webcartoonists I read have been killing important characters left and right. Howard Tayler killed off Captain Tagon, one of the main characters in his strip, and Maritza Campos has killed a minor but significant character, Mrs. Pepitone, the mother of a main character. She was evil, which is why Maritza was able to ratchet up the angst by having another main character do the killing. But now even Pete Abrams is killing off characters. Mosp, aka Amospia, has just been incinerated by Horribus. Like Mrs. Pepitone, Mosp was technically a minor character, but she was significant, especially to this storyline, and while she was not really a good guy, she died seeking redemption. I hope she found it. Rest in peace, Mosp.

Joe Carter has an interesting post on free will and, you guessed it, divine foreknowledge:

A similar question arises when we consider the relationship between human free will and divine foreknowledge. If God knows everything before it happens then how can we we be responsible for the choices we make? If we accept that God can foreknow all that will ever happen, does that mean that free will is an illusion?

According to evangelical philosopher William Lane Craig, we are quite justified in believing that God has the ability to foreknow events without having to accept the conclusion that such knowledge causes us to make the choices we do. In order to arrive at that determination, though, we must first take a detour through the philosophical puzzle know as Newcomb's Paradox.

As I've pointed out before, I take a somewhat different view on God's foreknowledge. Since I believe that God is outside of time, I don't believe that the term "foreknowledge" is quite accurate, since to him, it's simply knowledge. Of course, by looking at things this way, I'm pretty much saying that backward causation is not an issue for me. In any case, read Joe's post for an alternative view.

Peter Goss is cleaning out the CIA, and already people are crying bloody murder:

"The agency is being purged on instructions from the White House," said a former senior CIA official who maintains close ties to both the agency and to the White House. "Goss was given instructions ... to get rid of those soft leakers and liberal Democrats. The CIA is looked on by the White House as a hotbed of liberals and people who have been obstructing the president's agenda."

One of the first casualties appears to be Stephen R. Kappes, deputy director of clandestine services, the CIA's most powerful division. The Washington Post reported yesterday that Kappes had tendered his resignation after a confrontation with Goss' chief of staff, Patrick Murray, but at the behest of the White House had agreed to delay his decision till tomorrow.

But the former senior CIA official said that the White House "doesn't want Steve Kappes to reconsider his resignation. That might be the spin they put on it, but they want him out." He said the job had already been offered to the former chief of the European Division who retired after a spat with then-CIA Director George Tenet.

I am of two minds about this. One, I believe that the CIA needs a shake-up, and this will involve a lot of re-staffing. A lot of good people will need to go for strictly non-partisan reasons--their contribution is simply not what the CIA needs. There's also a need to get rid of the partisan hacks, and that includes the people who leaked information for the express purpose of hurting Bush. Even if getting rid of these people looks like revenge, it simply must be done. That is not acceptable behavior for an intelligence organization. Any leaks are dangerous, and the only people who might possibly get a pass are whistleblowers who alert the public to criminal activity without jeopardizing intelligence operations. As far as I'm concerned, those with differences of opinion over policy don't qualify. On the other hand, it's similarly wrong to get rid of people just because they disagree on policy (if they are a hindrance to implementing policy, that's a different story). Replacing one set of partisan hacks with another is not a productive house-cleaning. However, since I'm not in a position to judge what kind of house-cleaning this is, I'm just going to have to agree with Jonah Goldberg:

Since any good reform will result in just as many screaming hissy fits from the rank-and-file as any bad reforms, I'm simply hoping for the best.

Captain Ed sounds even more optimistic.

The next Storyblogging carnival will be on Monday, November 22nd. If you have a story on your blog that you'd like to have included in the Carnival, please e-mail me at dscrank-at-alum.mit.edu (or post in my comments), including the following information:

• Name of your blog
• URL of your blog
• Title of the story
• URL for the blog entry where the story is posted
• (OPTIONAL) Author's name
• (OPTIONAL) A suggested rating for adult content (G, PG, PG-13, R)
• A word count
• A short blurb describing the story

The post may be of any age, from a week old to years old. The submission deadline is 11:59 PM Eastern time on Friday, November 19th. More detailed information follows:

1. The story or excerpt submitted must be posted on-line as a blog entry, and while fiction is preferred, non-fiction storytelling is acceptable.
2. The story can be any length, but the Carnival will list them in order of length, from shortest to longest, and include a word count for each one.
3. You may either send a complete story, a story in progress, or a lengthy excerpt. By lengthy excerpt, I mean that it should be a significant portion of the story, at least 10% of the whole thing. You should indicate the word count for both the excerpt and the complete story in the submission, and you should say how the reader can find more of the story in the post itself.
4. If the story spans multiple posts, each post should contain a link to the beginning of the story, and a link to the next post. You may submit the whole story, the first post, or, if you've previously submitted earlier posts to the Carnival, the next post which you have not submitted. Please indicate the length of the entire story, as well as the portion which you are submitting.
5. The host has sole discretion to decide whether the story will be included or not, or whether to indicate that the story has pornographic or graphically violent content. The ratings for the story will be decided by the host. I expect I'll be pretty lenient on that sort of thing, but I have some limits, and others may draw the line elsewhere. Aside from noting potentially offensive content, while I may say nice things about stories I like, I won't be panning anyone's work. I expect future hosts to be similarly polite.
6. The story may be the blogger's own or posted with permission, but if it is not his own work he should gain permission from the author before submitting to the Carnival.

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Jeremy Pierce has some advice for Christians who are concerned about the increasing separation between Red and Blue America:

Jollyblogger has an excellent post looking at the electoral maps (including a good comparison of the county maps from 2000 and 2004 and a purple-shade map for measuring the percentage of red and blue in each state). It's not the political analysis that interested me, though. He points out that most of the country is red when you look at counties, with almost 50% of the electorate concentrated in the 25% of the counties that are blue and just over 50% of the electorate in the 75% of the counties that are red. The fact of the matter is that most evangelical Christians are in those red counties, which means most of the people in the blue counties don't actually know any evangelical Christians. This explains why so many people don't even come close to understanding evangelical Christians (which doesn't stop some of them from talking about us as if we're demonic). What struck me was Jollyblogger's remark about what Christians should do. He says Christians need to migrate in large numbers to those blue counties if they ever hope to influence the culture around them. He's right, but perhaps I can elaborate on the point more specifically.
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If evangelical Christians are largely clustered around those who are culturally and socially conservative, who are steeped in the church in some form, and not those who are at the forefront of the liberalization and secularization of America, then how are we to fulfill this mandate? Christians who live in their small towns and do have relationships with nonbelievers might play a role in fulfilling the Great Commission of Matthew 28:18-20, but there are whole people-groups within the United States that are in some ways nearly unreached, and the majority of blue voters in blue states are among them. Most Christian conferences I've been to emphasize unreached people groups around the world, and I think that's necessary if we're to take Jesus' command seriously, but I'm not convinced we understand how close the unreached people groups are.

I happen to agree with this point, and it's been one influence on my job search. Although I'll admit it's not exactly in the terms I was thinking. When I first moved to Boston, I was amazed at how vibrant and outgoing the Christian community was there, and I want to be part of that again. I really do think the fact that evangelical Christians are in a minority in such places, that they do not possess worldly power there, is part of what encourages them to develop spiritually. As Jeremy points out, the temptation to circle the wagons is even more powerful in the blue counties, to keep your Christianity under wraps unless you're with your Christian friends, but no one ever said being a Christian was easy.

By the way, the title of this post refers to the book of Daniel, which reflects the proper attitude of Christians when they find themselves in strange lands. The book of Daniel is also the inspiration for the name of this blog by Grad students and alumni from Boston.

Since I found out that Dave Barry will be going on a sabbatical starting next year, I have been savoring every column he has put out. Some are very hard to savor, even if they are hysterical:

Our first breaking item, brought to our attention by alert reader Don Bovaird, is an alarming report in the May 28 Erie (Pa.) Times-News, which devoted most of its front page, and an entire inside page, to this story. What happened, in brief, was that an 18-year-old male got sick and defecated in . . . well, in his briefs. He then changed at a friend's house, put his soiled clothes in a black garbage bag, and threw the bag away.

Now in normal times, this would not be front-page news, even in Erie. But of course we do not live in normal times: We live in the Age of Stark Buttpuckering Terror. In fact, the day before the young man soiled his undies in Erie, U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft had issued one of those vague yet at the same time unhelpful federal terrorism warnings that boil down to: ''Be afraid! Be very afraid!''
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After several tense hours, police apprehended the young man, who told them what was in the garbage bag. This was confirmed by the Bomb Squad, and I think we can all agree that no matter how much those officers get paid, it is not enough. So life in Erie returned to normal for everybody except the young man, who is currently in a Guantanamo Bay cell surrounded by irate military dogs.

No, seriously, he faced minor charges, and we're sure he's doing just as well as you'd be doing if you were the subject of a front-page newspaper story informing the world that you managed to paralyze your city after doodifying your drawers. But let this story serve as a reminder to all of us: If we ever have a similar accident, we should NOT dispose of our underwear in a careless manner. Instead, we should -- to quote U.S. Department of Homeland Security director Tom Ridge -- "mail it to whoever is responsible for the TV show Wife Swap."

Now that is some very good advice from Tom Ridge.

Sluggy Freelance — Wow. Just... wow. This week we discover how Amospia and the Asps were merged into Mospinispinosp. It is a tragic tale of love, betrayal, and gross stupidity. I worry that there might be a parallel with Torg. Amospia sought to sacrifice her world for the sake of her lover. Torg might do the same. He doesn't particularly care about the Dimension of Lame or the Dimension of Pain, and if it came down to the choice of saving one or both of them or saving Alt-Zoe, he'd save Alt-Zoe without a doubt, repeating Mosp's mistake.

Scary Go Round — While Amy is left to mope, Fallon and Shelley go out. It looks like it will be up to Shelley to stop the evil aquatic man-o'-war from wreaking havoc on the land-dwelling citizens.

College Roomies from Hell!!! — Okay, Blue and Dave are locked in a room, running low on oxygen, in mortal fear that the Dragon will find them. Of course, Blue is willing to sacrifice their relationship for Dave's welfare, and Dave is unwilling to let her push him away the same way Margaret has. Yep, looks like a perfect make-out opportunity. Meanwhile, Margaret is with Roger, who's gone were and doesn't seem interested in changing back. And we all want to know where Margaret's clothes have gone. My guess? Well, Margaret was just bitten by a werecoyote. Maybe Roger isn't the only were around anymore.

General Protection Fault — Enough wedding talk already! Okay, good. Now that Dwayne's assigned a new project and put Sharon in charge, we can watch as Sharon and Ki fight it out. Fun!

Schlock Mercenary — Kevyn still hasn't told the troops that Tagon is dead. He has just beaten them all at volleyball. I'm really curious about how he plans to break the news to them. At least the doctor knows now.

I'm going to be out-of-town on Thursday and Friday of next week, on an interview in Waltham, MA (in the Boston area). I may be able to prepare a few posts to go up while I'm out of town, but no promises. I could try to get someone to do some guestblogging, but I'm not sure I'm willing to put up with the childish rivalries they encourage.

Victor Davis Hanson is always worth reading. In his latest column in National Review Online, he carefully weighs the positives and negatives of glabalism:

Globalization has brought the world unforeseen material prosperity and an increasing standardization in material consumption, communications, and basic medical care. But the embrace of Western-style economic reform so far seems predicated on a continual American willingness to run-up enormous trade deficits, allow easy immigration, promote liberal dissemination of expertise, provide global security for commerce, and to ignore accumulated national debt.

Outsourcing has done more for India in improving its standard of living and moderating its former socialist policies than all the past billions in foreign aid. Letting in cheap Chinese goods has caused a liberalizing revolution in Asia and weakened Peking's Communist death grip as much as all the brave work of Voice of America. Japan and South Korea are reasonable, stable, and prosperous societies precisely because the United States was willing to tolerate enormous trade balances with them, subsidized their defense, ignored their occasional anti-American rhetoric, and promoted Democratic reform. The same is true to a lesser extent of many countries in Latin America and Africa.

That is the good news and the world is surely richer and freer for it. But such accomplishment doesn't come cheaply: Ask a steel worker, farmer, or billing clerk. Of course, globalization pressures us to be more competitive and gives us low-cost products; but ever-cheaper wages abroad, an absence of regulations and trial lawyers, and lack of environmental oversight allow all these countries to undercut American producers. We are soon to be a net agricultural importer, something unthinkable twenty years ago. Just drive through the San Joaquin Valley of central California, once the world's breadbasket, and see weed-filled vineyards and orchards, entire generations of farmers gone to town, and suburbs encroaching on former cropland — the wages of cheap dried and imported fruits and staples from abroad. The same realignment is true of manufacturing, textiles, and now even the computer industry, as American expertise and know-how is adopted overseas, but without our health, judicial, environmental, and government oversight — thus, at least for the near future, giving our competitors enormous advantages.

I don't know enough about outsourcing and the like to know if he's correct, but I appreciate reading about both the positive and the negative without the boosterism or the paranoia that you see from people on either side of the argument.

I also appreciated that Hanson pointed out how hard of a job George W. Bush has ahead of him. I hope and pray that he's up to it.

There'd be more, but I did some volunteer work yesterday, which put me really behind on the writing, and again the blogging gets bumped and even then I'm having trouble with my 2,000 word goal. Still, I may be by in the afternoon, but with my sister and her daughter coming over, I'm not expecting a lot of free time.

Update: In case you're wondering, I finished the 2,000 words al