There are actually 3 parts to this question:
Can we prove that God does exist?
Is it possible that God exists?
Can we prove that God does not exist?
I read an interesting quote this weekend relating to whether the existence of evil proves that God does not exist. I don't have the book in front of me but it went something like this.
Person #1: I would like an opportunity to ask God why, when he has the power to do something about it, he allows injustice, famine, pestilence, etc. to exist in the world.
Person #2: I am afraid that God will ask me that same question.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Who is God
Not too much to add today. It is difficult to type with one wrist full of puncture wounds. However, I did have a couple of thoughts this past weekend.
The very first questions: Who or what is God. It is a question that is easy to ignore but it is important to have an answer in order to answer some of the more difficult questions. For example, if you are going to discuss whether or not God exists, you cannot do that meaningfully without defining what it is you are discussing. If you determine that part of the definition of God is that he must be red, and someone is able to prove that God cannot be red, then that person has proved God does not exist. It will not do to throw out a definition of God and then backtrack later when proof is presented that God cannot have all of the characteristics he was defined to have.
A more concrete example is this: God is generally believed to be omnipotent, meaning all-powerful. If you accept that definition in its broadest form, that is, that there is absolutely nothing that God cannot do, if someone proves that there is something God cannot do, he has disproved God's existence, right? Of course, there are innumerable things that God cannot do. He cannot create the well-known contradiction of an immovable object and an irresistible force. So we have to be careful in our definition of God.
Mostly God is defined by what he has done or what he can do, and what his personality is like. People are defined much the same way. Defining someone is different from describing them. We might describe a person as tall, heavyset, dark complected, or other physical characteristics. But if we were to define them, or for example, me, you would be more likely to ignore the physical descriptors and say that I am a lawyer, used to be a good runner, very evil, likes cats, etc.
So, who is God:
Is God the creator of the Universe? A side question is: Why?
Is God all-powerful, at least to the extent he can do anything that is not logically impossible or mutually exclusive with another thing?
Is God omniscient? Does he know everything? Does he know the future? Does he know what we are thinking?
The philosophical definition of God is a greater good than that which can be imagined. So imagine a god with the best traits you can, and the real God is better than that.
The very first questions: Who or what is God. It is a question that is easy to ignore but it is important to have an answer in order to answer some of the more difficult questions. For example, if you are going to discuss whether or not God exists, you cannot do that meaningfully without defining what it is you are discussing. If you determine that part of the definition of God is that he must be red, and someone is able to prove that God cannot be red, then that person has proved God does not exist. It will not do to throw out a definition of God and then backtrack later when proof is presented that God cannot have all of the characteristics he was defined to have.
A more concrete example is this: God is generally believed to be omnipotent, meaning all-powerful. If you accept that definition in its broadest form, that is, that there is absolutely nothing that God cannot do, if someone proves that there is something God cannot do, he has disproved God's existence, right? Of course, there are innumerable things that God cannot do. He cannot create the well-known contradiction of an immovable object and an irresistible force. So we have to be careful in our definition of God.
Mostly God is defined by what he has done or what he can do, and what his personality is like. People are defined much the same way. Defining someone is different from describing them. We might describe a person as tall, heavyset, dark complected, or other physical characteristics. But if we were to define them, or for example, me, you would be more likely to ignore the physical descriptors and say that I am a lawyer, used to be a good runner, very evil, likes cats, etc.
So, who is God:
Is God the creator of the Universe? A side question is: Why?
Is God all-powerful, at least to the extent he can do anything that is not logically impossible or mutually exclusive with another thing?
Is God omniscient? Does he know everything? Does he know the future? Does he know what we are thinking?
The philosophical definition of God is a greater good than that which can be imagined. So imagine a god with the best traits you can, and the real God is better than that.
Good Samaritan
Fresh from a week of working on a rowing machine instead of running, I went out for a jog yesterday to test the improvements that a week off surely was going to have brought to me. I was disappointed by the results but at least came away with the belief that further rest was not going to be beneficial and set my sights on getting back on the road today or Wednesday.
I left Salem at about 9:00 a.m. to drive back to Eugene. About 2 blocks into the drive I saw a miniature Border Collie running down the sidewalk, dragging a retractable leash, with a woman pursuing, but not gaining any ground. Having read portions of the Bible when I was a youth, I know how God smiles upon Good Samaritans. I quickly took a right turn instead of the planned left and pursued the dog. I drove 20 meters ahead of it, hopped out of the car and cut it off. The dog stopped and looked around for an escape route. I took advantage of his lack to attention to reach down and grab his leash. He took advantage of my foolhardiness to make my wrist his lunch. When I stopped bleeding later I was able to count 17 puncture wounds. He then took advantage of me being distracted by the searing pain to make a break for it. Not so fast! Using my abnormally high PTI, I ignored my wrist and lunged out to stomp on the dangling leash, and nailed it. However, with all of my weight on my outstretched foot, and either gravel or the leash reducing my coefficient of friction, I went flying through the air and watched from my back as the dog continued on his evil (or scared) way.
Remember how I have suggested in the past that the best solution for a nagging injury that can't be diagnosed and won't be cured by rest, is to keep running until it either gets better or breaks. Well, I no longer have a nagging injury in my left hamstring that won't get better and won't get worse. It is now broken. Not the bone, but the hamstring is toast. The only thing that keeps the pain from being unbearable is that my wrist hurts more.
So, the point of this modern day parable? God works in mysterious ways? No good deed goes unpunished?
We do not earn God's grace, nor do those who suffer deserve their suffering. This incident fits nicely into a discussion of whether the existence of evil, pain, injustice and suffering in the world proves that God does not exist.
I left Salem at about 9:00 a.m. to drive back to Eugene. About 2 blocks into the drive I saw a miniature Border Collie running down the sidewalk, dragging a retractable leash, with a woman pursuing, but not gaining any ground. Having read portions of the Bible when I was a youth, I know how God smiles upon Good Samaritans. I quickly took a right turn instead of the planned left and pursued the dog. I drove 20 meters ahead of it, hopped out of the car and cut it off. The dog stopped and looked around for an escape route. I took advantage of his lack to attention to reach down and grab his leash. He took advantage of my foolhardiness to make my wrist his lunch. When I stopped bleeding later I was able to count 17 puncture wounds. He then took advantage of me being distracted by the searing pain to make a break for it. Not so fast! Using my abnormally high PTI, I ignored my wrist and lunged out to stomp on the dangling leash, and nailed it. However, with all of my weight on my outstretched foot, and either gravel or the leash reducing my coefficient of friction, I went flying through the air and watched from my back as the dog continued on his evil (or scared) way.
Remember how I have suggested in the past that the best solution for a nagging injury that can't be diagnosed and won't be cured by rest, is to keep running until it either gets better or breaks. Well, I no longer have a nagging injury in my left hamstring that won't get better and won't get worse. It is now broken. Not the bone, but the hamstring is toast. The only thing that keeps the pain from being unbearable is that my wrist hurts more.
So, the point of this modern day parable? God works in mysterious ways? No good deed goes unpunished?
We do not earn God's grace, nor do those who suffer deserve their suffering. This incident fits nicely into a discussion of whether the existence of evil, pain, injustice and suffering in the world proves that God does not exist.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
About God - Part 1
So, perhaps you though that I would create a blog, cut and paste a few old writings and then forget about it. Nope. I have been working and thinking and drafting some bloggish stuff.
My first blog just for the sake of blogging is going to address the question that my children asked me last November in a little greater detail, that is, "What do you think of God?"
As I started drafting my answer, things got very complex. I visited Heather’s youth minister with Heather and Sue and spent a couple hours discussing various topics, the main one being our Easter discussion about "Who will be saved?" The pastor recommended that I read some of Lee Strobel’s books as he was a lawyer who set out to disprove Christian beliefs and instead became a believer. I am part way into "The Case for Faith." However, along the way I am researching material on the Internet about various aspects of his arguments, so the going is slow. Not surprisingly there are libraries full of stuff about God on the Internet.
Anyone who know me well, knows that I will question anything and everything. Sometimes we accept things in our lives without question and that is okay. Sometimes it will just occur to me to question those things, even everyday things, and I will need to know why they are as they are. Often it can just be the use of a word or phrase. One of my favorite examples was not a question by me, but by my niece, Christine, when she was about 8 years old. After searching unsuccessfully for some desired object, she said that she had looked in every nook and cranny in her house. She then looked at me and asked: "Uncle Eddie, what’s a cranny?" We have all used the phrase "nook and cranny" but until then I never realized that I did not know what a cranny was.
The point is that in trying to describe what I think about God, I have to ask, and try to answer, some seemingly simple questions that are really quite complex. I also have to question things that most people, especially Christian believers, accept without any or much question.
To start off, I need to make a general outline of the issues that I have had to answer or for which I am still looking for an answer:
- Who or What is God?
- Does God Exist?
- What is God like?
- How Can I Know God?
- What Does God Expect From Me?
- What Will God Do With Me When I Die?
The subtopics are these:
- Who or What is God?
- Does God Exist?
A. What does "Exist" mean?
B. God can’t exist because:
1. Evil exists
2. Science has proven creationism is wrong - What is God like?
A. What is the Trinity?
B. Who was Jesus Christ? - How Can I Know God?
A. Through Faith: What is "Faith?"
B. Through the Bible: What is the Bible, why should I believe what is written there?
C. Through experience. - What Does God Expect From Me?
A. Prayer?
B. Fear?
C. Adulation?
D. Thanks? - What Will God Do With Me When I Die?
A. What is Heaven?
B. Who will join me?
Here are some quotes which I will incorporate into my discussion later:
What or who is God?
"God is that than which no greater can be conceived."
Göd is a small town in Pest County, Budapest metropolitan area, Hungary.
God is "The supernatural being conceived as the perfect and omnipotent and omniscient originator and ruler of the universe; the object of worship in monotheistic religions." http://www.wordnetweb.princeton.edu/
Does God exist?
Anselm: A God that exists is greater than a God that does not exist. Therefore God must exist.
"Either God wants to abolish evil, and cannot;
or he can, but does not want to;
or he cannot and does not want to.
If he wants to but cannot, he is impotent.
If he can, and does not want to, he is wicked.
But, if God both can and wants to abolish evil,
then how comes evil in the world?" - Epicurus
or he can, but does not want to;
or he cannot and does not want to.
If he wants to but cannot, he is impotent.
If he can, and does not want to, he is wicked.
But, if God both can and wants to abolish evil,
then how comes evil in the world?" - Epicurus
What is God like?
"So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them."? Genesis 1:27
How can we know God?
"Faith is belief without, or in spite of, reason." -George H. Smith
What is Heaven like?
"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him" (I Corinthians 2:9).
How can we know God?
"Faith is belief without, or in spite of, reason." -George H. Smith
Who else will be in heaven?
"No one comes to the Father if not through me." John 14:6 (I don’t believe this)
On the Bible’s trustworthiness:
On Prayer:
"When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer.
Petition the Lord with prayer.
Petition the Lord with prayer?
You cannot petition the Lord with prayer." Jim Morrison, The Doors
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer.
Petition the Lord with prayer.
Petition the Lord with prayer?
You cannot petition the Lord with prayer." Jim Morrison, The Doors
"And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are:
for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets,
that they may be seen of men.
Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets,
that they may be seen of men.
Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
"But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet,
and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret;
and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret;
and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
"But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do:
for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.
Be not ye therefore like unto them:
for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him."
for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.
Be not ye therefore like unto them:
for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him."
Matthew 6:5-8. (Perhaps my favorite Biblical passage).
If you got this far, I’ll bet you’re sorry you asked.
If you got this far, I’ll bet you’re sorry you asked.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Wreck of KC Taylor
The legend lives on from Lake Waldo on down
Of the runner they call KC Taylor
KC, it is said, will talk smack till he’s dead
Or until Joni gets mad and turns gloomy.
With a full load of bull - many many times more
Than any runner you’ve seen, except Bosworth
Other runners it’s true were just bones to be chewed
When KC kicked ass and took numbers.
KC had no pride, some grown men even cried
When KC decided to tease them.
As the big blowhards go he was louder than most
With the women his favorite targets.
Concluding some strides with Al at his side
He set out expecting to beat them
But a few miles in, rigor mortis set in
Could it be lack of training he’s feeling.
The footsteps behind made a tattletale sound
As mile twenty three he approached slowly
And every man knew, as Captain Cully did, too,
T'was the witch of Salem come stealing.
It dawned on him late and his break couldn’t wait
As KC’s runnin’ turned into slow walkin’
When reality came he was in too much pain
To do much but stand and stop talkin’.
With a pat of his butt the old chick made it plain
That with KC she would not be staying
The Boom that was heard, it knocked Case to the curb
She ran past with her arms raised in vict’ry.
When he was done with his walk, KC glanced at the clock
And the news didn’t start with a two.
And after that race when his friends he would face
Came the wreck of the great KC Taylor.
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the race turns the minutes to hours
The coaches all say he'd have made the Steph pay
If only he’d started out slower.
He might have given up or he might have just bonked
‘Cause he forgot to take Gu and drink water
But all that remains is the pain and the shame
Of getting chicked by a girl named of Snyder.
Dynamite booms, the Stephinator sings
In his mind now while KC is runnin’
Old KC still steams like a young man with dreams,
But the memory continues to haunt him.
He must shake off this gloom cause a rematch it looms
On the hills of the race they call Zena
And KC now trains, his boom to regain
With the heels of Stephie remembered.
By a rustic old church in Eugene KC runs
At the corner of Loraine and Bailey
The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 26 times
For each mile KC averaged 7.
The legend lives on from Lake Waldo on down
Of the runner they call KC Taylor
KC, it is said, will talk smack till he’s dead
Or until Joni gets mad and turns gloomy.
Of the runner they call KC Taylor
KC, it is said, will talk smack till he’s dead
Or until Joni gets mad and turns gloomy.
With a full load of bull - many many times more
Than any runner you’ve seen, except Bosworth
Other runners it’s true were just bones to be chewed
When KC kicked ass and took numbers.
KC had no pride, some grown men even cried
When KC decided to tease them.
As the big blowhards go he was louder than most
With the women his favorite targets.
Concluding some strides with Al at his side
He set out expecting to beat them
But a few miles in, rigor mortis set in
Could it be lack of training he’s feeling.
The footsteps behind made a tattletale sound
As mile twenty three he approached slowly
And every man knew, as Captain Cully did, too,
T'was the witch of Salem come stealing.
It dawned on him late and his break couldn’t wait
As KC’s runnin’ turned into slow walkin’
When reality came he was in too much pain
To do much but stand and stop talkin’.
With a pat of his butt the old chick made it plain
That with KC she would not be staying
The Boom that was heard, it knocked Case to the curb
She ran past with her arms raised in vict’ry.
When he was done with his walk, KC glanced at the clock
And the news didn’t start with a two.
And after that race when his friends he would face
Came the wreck of the great KC Taylor.
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the race turns the minutes to hours
The coaches all say he'd have made the Steph pay
If only he’d started out slower.
He might have given up or he might have just bonked
‘Cause he forgot to take Gu and drink water
But all that remains is the pain and the shame
Of getting chicked by a girl named of Snyder.
Dynamite booms, the Stephinator sings
In his mind now while KC is runnin’
Old KC still steams like a young man with dreams,
But the memory continues to haunt him.
He must shake off this gloom cause a rematch it looms
On the hills of the race they call Zena
And KC now trains, his boom to regain
With the heels of Stephie remembered.
By a rustic old church in Eugene KC runs
At the corner of Loraine and Bailey
The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 26 times
For each mile KC averaged 7.
The legend lives on from Lake Waldo on down
Of the runner they call KC Taylor
KC, it is said, will talk smack till he’s dead
Or until Joni gets mad and turns gloomy.
Night before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, and Hackers were awed
at the furious pace, set that day by V-Dog.
Their shoes were set out next to the front door
Getting dry for the next run in 12 hours more.
The Garmin was charging, the head lamp was too.
While shorts, shirts and socks spun in the Whirlpool.
I on my Gateway, and TK on his new Dell,
Had just settled down to chat for a spell.
When up on my inbox there popped a new note,
I switched to the website to see what had been wrote.
I hit the wrong key, and got the wrong site,
Instead of the hackers, I got porn from last night.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a challenge to race, once a month this new year.
From a has-been old runner, who’s short, old and skinny
I knew in a moment, it must be from Spinney;
More rapid than eagles his insults they came,
And he heckled, and taunted, and called us by name;
"Now, T-Bone! now, Vendley! now, Taylor and Whalen!
Now, TK! now, Diesel! now, Geester and Logan!
From the time of the First Run, to the last race of the year,
I will kick all your butts, I want that made clear;
The Edmund Fitzgerald? I don’t like your games,
For voting for me, you will go down in flames;
He insulted my sisters, my father, my brother
He wrote that I couldn’t beat his grandmother;
And then, in a twinkling, the first race came to pass
I signed up to run, Grand Prix points to amass.
As I pulled out my money, and was turning around,
To sign up himself, Ed came with a bound.
He was dressed in race gear, from his head to his foot,
And his shirt was bright red with a large Nike swoosh.
A pair of race shoes, he had flung on his back,
And he looked like his boasts could be more than smack.
His eyes were intense! His demeanor not merry!
I bade him good luck, he said "you, I will bury."
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
This wasn’t a workout, that much was clear;
A packet of Gu he ripped with his teeth,
The shot of caffeine put him out of reach;
He had nylon shorts, and a shirt made of cotton,
No tech stuff for Ed, he thought it was rotten;
He was fit as a fiddle, a right evil old elf,
And I shuddered when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A glare from his eyes and a shake of his head,
Soon gave me to know I was as good as dead;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to the line,
To wait for the gun and catch a glimpse of Be Fine.
And William the Measurer said "on your mark"
Raised his right hand and the pistol did bark;
Ed sprang from the start, to his fans gave a smile,
And away he flew, soon ahead by a mile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he ran out of sight,
"Age grading be damned, I’ll own you this year, bitches."
MERRY CHRISTMAS
at the furious pace, set that day by V-Dog.
Their shoes were set out next to the front door
Getting dry for the next run in 12 hours more.
The Garmin was charging, the head lamp was too.
While shorts, shirts and socks spun in the Whirlpool.
I on my Gateway, and TK on his new Dell,
Had just settled down to chat for a spell.
When up on my inbox there popped a new note,
I switched to the website to see what had been wrote.
I hit the wrong key, and got the wrong site,
Instead of the hackers, I got porn from last night.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a challenge to race, once a month this new year.
From a has-been old runner, who’s short, old and skinny
I knew in a moment, it must be from Spinney;
More rapid than eagles his insults they came,
And he heckled, and taunted, and called us by name;
"Now, T-Bone! now, Vendley! now, Taylor and Whalen!
Now, TK! now, Diesel! now, Geester and Logan!
From the time of the First Run, to the last race of the year,
I will kick all your butts, I want that made clear;
The Edmund Fitzgerald? I don’t like your games,
For voting for me, you will go down in flames;
He insulted my sisters, my father, my brother
He wrote that I couldn’t beat his grandmother;
And then, in a twinkling, the first race came to pass
I signed up to run, Grand Prix points to amass.
As I pulled out my money, and was turning around,
To sign up himself, Ed came with a bound.
He was dressed in race gear, from his head to his foot,
And his shirt was bright red with a large Nike swoosh.
A pair of race shoes, he had flung on his back,
And he looked like his boasts could be more than smack.
His eyes were intense! His demeanor not merry!
I bade him good luck, he said "you, I will bury."
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
This wasn’t a workout, that much was clear;
A packet of Gu he ripped with his teeth,
The shot of caffeine put him out of reach;
He had nylon shorts, and a shirt made of cotton,
No tech stuff for Ed, he thought it was rotten;
He was fit as a fiddle, a right evil old elf,
And I shuddered when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A glare from his eyes and a shake of his head,
Soon gave me to know I was as good as dead;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to the line,
To wait for the gun and catch a glimpse of Be Fine.
And William the Measurer said "on your mark"
Raised his right hand and the pistol did bark;
Ed sprang from the start, to his fans gave a smile,
And away he flew, soon ahead by a mile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he ran out of sight,
"Age grading be damned, I’ll own you this year, bitches."
MERRY CHRISTMAS
My first encounter with Sue's ex
The good news is that the doctors are pretty sure that they can save my legs and they think I will be able to at least walk again, possibly jog. Also they said many people are able to live normal lives with only one kidney and one testicle. I expect to be transferred from Salem to River Bend hospital in the next few days for surgery to put a plate in my head, but you should be able to visit by Saturday.
I know some of you don't know how I got into this predicament, and I am not entirely clear myself. Some of the images are very hazy. My last clear memory was spending Monday afternoon in Salem with new fellow Hacker Sue. She is remodeling her home and had a few little do-it-yourself projects that I agreed to help her with, including putting in an exhaust fan in her bathroom. The chore required me, first of all to travel to Lowes home improvement store where we had the good fortune to meet a friend of hers who is getting divorced and saw fit to let us know how much he hates bottom-feeding, scum-sucking lawyers. But that isn't part of the story. At her home I had to spend about an hour crawling through the confines of a small attic lying in what I hope was not asbestos insulation. The old fan was, of course, tucked into the narrowest space in the farthest reaches of the attic and required me to lie face down in this crap to get it out and the new one in.
When I finally dragged myself out, after what seemed like 4 hours of breathing through a straw, I was covered from head to foot with insulation and sheetrock dust. Fortunately I had my running gear with me, so I showered and changed into those clean clothes. I put my dirty clothes, including shoes, socks, jeans, undershorts and shirt in a pile to take out to the car later. So there I was, hair soaking wet, barely dressed, sitting at the kitchen table talking to Sue, when her face went pale. I noticed she was staring out the window and turned to look. She said we have company and sure enough a big Pepsi truck had pulled up out front. I asked her who that was. She looked at me with a terrified look and said: "My Husband! Quick! Hide!"
Well as Shoe learned last week, Evil Ed is not one to back down from any confrontation, no matter that this guy looked every bit of 6'5", 250 pounds, and RIPPED. He was coming up the sidewalk, the tattoo of "Mother" and the American Flag not quite covered by his Jeff Foxworthy T-shirt, and he was twirling a 40 ounce baseball bat like it was a cheerleader's baton. Sue ran to try to block the door but was too late. Too late to block the guy from barging in, and too late to remove my pile of clothing from the entryway.
Now, before I go any further, I need to write in defense of the moral character of my new . . . um . . . friend. She has been separated from her husband for 20 months, they have reached a property settlement agreement and she has filed a petition for dissolution of marriage. Contrary to what KC might have you believe, the ink on the petition is, and when I met her was, dry. The marriage, although continuing in the eyes of the law, had long since terminated physically and emotionally. Apparently Mr. NASCAR didn't get that message.
Sue tried to explain that I was just a friend who had come over to install the exhaust fan, but apparently he didn't think a shower and chat the kitchen are part of a normal home repair contract, and wasn't buying into it. The last thing I remember before the lights went out was wondering why Shoe wasn't there backing me up, and this dude screaming something about a scrawny old man. I have no idea what that was a reference to. I then had a fleeting image of "Adirondack, Dolgeville, New York, White Ash, Made in the USA." Then nothing. I only remember the words so well because when I look in the mirror I can see them imprinted on my forehead.
Fortunately, Sue has two big black labs that came to her defense. While they were gnawing on hubby's legs, Sue, a staunch Republican and lifetime member of the NRA, was able to access her arsenal and blew a 12 inch hole in the ceiling with her Benelli 10 gauge magnum, the most powerful shotgun ever manufactured. She had a second round in the chamber ready to blow his head clean off before the thunder of the first shot stopped reverberating through the house. The blow that would have taken out my other kidney, along with my liver, spleen and other organs I didn't even know about, never came.
The paramedics arrived just in time to keep me from bleeding out. I am currently consuming as many Powerbar Recovery bars as I can, and as soon as they are done with the surgery, I am going to see if I can get in for a massage with Kelly. I still hope to beat the odds and recover in time to run Napa.
Please come visit.
I know some of you don't know how I got into this predicament, and I am not entirely clear myself. Some of the images are very hazy. My last clear memory was spending Monday afternoon in Salem with new fellow Hacker Sue. She is remodeling her home and had a few little do-it-yourself projects that I agreed to help her with, including putting in an exhaust fan in her bathroom. The chore required me, first of all to travel to Lowes home improvement store where we had the good fortune to meet a friend of hers who is getting divorced and saw fit to let us know how much he hates bottom-feeding, scum-sucking lawyers. But that isn't part of the story. At her home I had to spend about an hour crawling through the confines of a small attic lying in what I hope was not asbestos insulation. The old fan was, of course, tucked into the narrowest space in the farthest reaches of the attic and required me to lie face down in this crap to get it out and the new one in.
When I finally dragged myself out, after what seemed like 4 hours of breathing through a straw, I was covered from head to foot with insulation and sheetrock dust. Fortunately I had my running gear with me, so I showered and changed into those clean clothes. I put my dirty clothes, including shoes, socks, jeans, undershorts and shirt in a pile to take out to the car later. So there I was, hair soaking wet, barely dressed, sitting at the kitchen table talking to Sue, when her face went pale. I noticed she was staring out the window and turned to look. She said we have company and sure enough a big Pepsi truck had pulled up out front. I asked her who that was. She looked at me with a terrified look and said: "My Husband! Quick! Hide!"
Well as Shoe learned last week, Evil Ed is not one to back down from any confrontation, no matter that this guy looked every bit of 6'5", 250 pounds, and RIPPED. He was coming up the sidewalk, the tattoo of "Mother" and the American Flag not quite covered by his Jeff Foxworthy T-shirt, and he was twirling a 40 ounce baseball bat like it was a cheerleader's baton. Sue ran to try to block the door but was too late. Too late to block the guy from barging in, and too late to remove my pile of clothing from the entryway.
Now, before I go any further, I need to write in defense of the moral character of my new . . . um . . . friend. She has been separated from her husband for 20 months, they have reached a property settlement agreement and she has filed a petition for dissolution of marriage. Contrary to what KC might have you believe, the ink on the petition is, and when I met her was, dry. The marriage, although continuing in the eyes of the law, had long since terminated physically and emotionally. Apparently Mr. NASCAR didn't get that message.
Sue tried to explain that I was just a friend who had come over to install the exhaust fan, but apparently he didn't think a shower and chat the kitchen are part of a normal home repair contract, and wasn't buying into it. The last thing I remember before the lights went out was wondering why Shoe wasn't there backing me up, and this dude screaming something about a scrawny old man. I have no idea what that was a reference to. I then had a fleeting image of "Adirondack, Dolgeville, New York, White Ash, Made in the USA." Then nothing. I only remember the words so well because when I look in the mirror I can see them imprinted on my forehead.
Fortunately, Sue has two big black labs that came to her defense. While they were gnawing on hubby's legs, Sue, a staunch Republican and lifetime member of the NRA, was able to access her arsenal and blew a 12 inch hole in the ceiling with her Benelli 10 gauge magnum, the most powerful shotgun ever manufactured. She had a second round in the chamber ready to blow his head clean off before the thunder of the first shot stopped reverberating through the house. The blow that would have taken out my other kidney, along with my liver, spleen and other organs I didn't even know about, never came.
The paramedics arrived just in time to keep me from bleeding out. I am currently consuming as many Powerbar Recovery bars as I can, and as soon as they are done with the surgery, I am going to see if I can get in for a massage with Kelly. I still hope to beat the odds and recover in time to run Napa.
Please come visit.
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