Check All Packages At The Door

Don't ask me why, because I really have no idea myself, but the other day, this very funny memory came to mind. And with absolutely no reason. I'll relate the story shortly, but for a moment, I want to focus on it's recollection. It came out of nowhere, with no 'trigger' to bring it to the foreground. It was just there. Now, I don't know about you, but when random memories start popping up with absolutely no prompt or point of reference, I start to wonder if the wiring is shorting out. It's as if all the index cards of my memories are neatly filled away in the memory cabinet, alphabetized, cross referenced and color coded for easy retrieval, yet for some reason, this one slipped out and dropped on the floor when I was clear across the room.



It freaks me out a little. I'll be watching for more occurrences, and if they start increasing, i'll bump up the memoirs entries, see an Alzheimer's doctor, and likely find myself writing reminders and notes all over my body, ala "Memento", before I forget them a few minutes later.



Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah...



The Funny Memory:



When I was in my early 20's, a few friends and I went to a local amusement park, "Great America", where they would routinely setup a makeshift stage in a portion of the park/parking lot for their summer concerts. I don't recall who was performing, probably somebody like "The Greg Khin Band", "Gamma", or some other group that'd likely not sell out anything larger. But it wasn't the band we went for, it was just something to do together for the fun of it.



They had a gate and checkpoint as you entered, at which you'd have to hand over your ticket, and subsequently be subject to a pat-search. Back then, the point of the search was not the removal of your arsenal of weaponry, or the confiscation of your glow-sticks and ecstasy. No, back in my day, alcohol and recording devices were the big taboo, and neither of which was easily snuck past a security checkpoint, due more to their size, then to the savviness of the security staff.



We didn't have either on us, we were just there for the show. So we walked in, handed our tickets over, and headed through the checkpoint. My friend Matt was the first thru, then myself, then another friend behind me.



After Matt got a quick once-over, I stepped into position. The security "guard" was a woman just about my same age, perhaps a few years older. I don't recall her being strikingly beautiful or frighteningly hideous, she was just an average girl in an average outfit doing an average job of looking for hidden beer and tape recorders. So I stood there, arms slightly outstretched, legs shoulder width apart, and tried not to think about feeling tickled. My sides and back were patted, then my calves, then my thighs, them my...



...HELLO!



It all happened in an instant, and before I was able to completely comprehend it, I was shuffling forward to my waiting friend. But it did happen, and there was no mistaking it's being intentional. This was not some casual, accidental finger-nail sized oversight. This was a full on, pre-meditated, firmly applied "nice to meet you" greeting... I almost instinctively turned and coughed. It took several moments of light-headed, head-tilting eye-blinking thought before it all settled in and I realized that I'd just been groped. She brought a whole new meaning to "Search and Seizure".



It was surreal. And I felt so.... dirty.



OK, not really, I actually wanted to go back through the line again. Not that I was so obsessed with the experience that I had to relive it, I just wanted to confirm that it actually did happen.



As I approached my friend who'd already gone through the line, I started to say "you'll never guess what just happened", but as I did, his lips moved in unison with my words. He was saying the same thing to me. We looked at each other, exclaimed "no way!" and turned to see our 3rd friend walking towards us, looking a bit befuddled, and saying "you'll never guess what just.....".

The Impact of Single Minded Multitasking

My mind is practically incapable of not multitasking on a daily basis. It seems that every thing I do, I do in parallel with something else. I frequently wonder what happened to the joy of doing one thing, completely in the present, and completely immersed. But between the onslaught of technology and the responsibilities that come with a demanding job and the requirements of parenting, things have dramatically changed. Getting lost in a really good book, going for an unplanned hike or just sitting with friends for several hours over dinner and drinks just does not seem to happen any more.

It's not that I can't manifest the opportunity. It's that I can't stop myself from thinking of all the things to do, all the new ideas or projects to tackle, or the projects yet to be completed. I don't sit and watch a movie, I watch a movie, send/read emails or work out my schedule for the days ahead. I don't read books, I listen to them in the car in 20 minute segments on the way to work. And even that's interrupted daily as I use my phone to leave myself messages about things to do, people to contact and actions to take. And don't even get me started about how my iPhone has become such an essential accessory that I've become dependent on it.

I bring this up because I finally read an article from The Atlantic that I've had printed and set aside to read for several months. What a great read. Funny, well written, and laced with insights into our modern culture and the impact of the feverish pace at which we race through it.

The Autumn of the Multitaskers
also appended below for posterity

Screwed Up Washer Makes Me Nuts

Sunday, you know, is laundry day. Actually, I need to clarify this. In our home, every day is laundry day. Every single day. With twins, it just works out that way. Our washer/dryer gets an above average workout, so much so that every few weeks, the Maytag repair man shows up at our door, asking if they're still running. Sad bastard's a drinker, too, and a heavy one at that. He's got breath that'll singe your nose hairs. But that's another story...

Earlier in the day, my wife mentioned that the washer failed to drain/spin dry the last load, yet moving the dial to another section caused it to kick in. On my turn at the switch, things didn't go so well. After about 10 minutes of various attempts, I could not get the machine to do anything other then agitate. And if there is one thing I need less of in my life, it's agitation.

Ultimately, faced with the unlikely outcome of finding an open laundromat on a Sunday evening at 11pm, I took my wife's advice and attempted to wring out the clothes and see if 4 or 5 dryer cycles would get me through this situation.



As I wrung clothes out into the washer and moved them, item by item, to the dryer, I glanced at something that gave me an immediate idea at what might be the cause. As soon as I saw it, I remembered that washing machines have mechanism that stop certain activities if the lid is opened, typically the spinning cycle used when water is draining. The exact activities that were not working here, when the top was closed.



And how does the machine know it's closed? The switch on the side that's depressed when the lid comes down.



I grabbed a long machine screw within immediate reach, depressed the switch, and the machine kicked into gear. I closed the lid, and it did not. A minute or two of cleaning and adjusting, and we were back in business. It was just some gunk in the switch.



I love things like this. I love the puzzle solving, fixing something myself, not having to pay somebody else to come over and do it for me, and not having to lug a dripping basket of water soaked clothing on a fruitless search for an all night laundromat.

An Open Apology To

I've just had a rather interesting talk with my wife, who sides with BL's observation and comment on my "It was worse" wording in the prior post. We talked at length about how "zealous" my own position and comments can be as well. And I've had a couple of other "like-natured" chats with other friends and family over the course of the past few weeks. This all has me reflecting on a couple of points, namely being what I'm doing this website for in the first place, and the other being the toes I've stepped on recently as well as over the course (or should that be "coarse") of my life. I'll address the latter here and the former in a separate post.

Now, I'm not saying I've plowed through this life time with no regard for anybody along the way. Far from that. But when I look back, or just "around", there are plenty of things I should apologize for. there are people my words or actions have offended. There has been work I've knowingly done half-assed out of lack of commitment or interest. There have been occasional and unintentional incidents of neglect, disrespect, or perhaps a general lack of consideration. In most cases, the opportunity to extend the gesture of an apology has long passed, and in others, the opportunity is still within my grasp. So I'll start here with an open apology to, well, to everybody.

I'm over 40. I've had plenty of time to step on lots of toes, and to offend many people through the years. Some of these offenses were simply the product of youth, such as making an off-color joke without considering how it might be taken. Other youthful omissions of consideration were more selfish, and a few bad decisions haunt me to this very day. There are many situations that come to mind.

I don't believe that I've ever intentionally set out to cause any harm to another, but I have made choices and taken actions that ultimately have done so. In some cases, there's little I can do besides say I'm sorry that things went that way, and in other cases, were I able to have a do-over, I'd change things around and not have the same outcome. In some cases I take full responsibility, in others, not so much. But I ultimately do recognize that the end results might have been different had I managed things better, communicated more clearly, or just chosen my words with more consideration.

So, for anybody out there that remembers me making a callous joke, offensive statement, not returning a phone call, failing to follow through on a promised action, or any other situation that left them feeling offended or slighted. I apologize.

I'll write more about my revisiting the point of this website another time.

Wince, Lather, Retreat

As I was showering this morning, I reached for and opened the shampoo bottle, flipped open the lid, and squeezed out the standard blob needed to wash my hair. I do this every day. I have for years. Only this time, as I snapped the lid shut, I watched a tiny pin-head size droplet of shampoo fling off the hinged lid cap, and launch towards me. It took a millisecond, yet I watched it travel the entire distance from the lid of the bottle to my face. I had no choice, because it propelled directly into my right eye. I didn't even have time to react. I just saw an expanding white droplet approach, and my vision was suddenly blurred on one side. My eye was immediately coated with soap. For a brief moment, it was as if all fell silent around me; no water running, no splashing droplet, no hum of the exhaust fan... just my breathing. And I blinked. Then this clear and concise thought ushered in the pain to follow. "This is gonna sting".



And man oh man, did it. I rinsed the blob from my hand and pried my eyelid open as I worked to maintain a steady flow of water over the eyeball for a few minutes, river dancing all the while. (and for my squeamish readers, I apologize for that visual). I recalled the existence of those "Eye Wash" sinks that spray streams of water into ones eyes from each side, and wished I had one on hand at that moment. They have those special sinks anywhere you might expect somebody to run with their hands over their face, screaming, such as wood and metal shops, in labs and business where chemicals are openly used, and in the control booth for "The View".

Wheels Left On The Right Side Of The Road

It's interesting that, in the prior post, I referenced childhood memories of my father running beside me as I learned to ride a bike, sans training wheels. Because I did that Saturday afternoon. (No, not learn to ride a bike without training wheels... this time I was the running father). At 4.5 years old, at their bequest, they gave it a try. The training wheels came off. And we are sincerely stunned at how well my son picked it up. I probably only ran beside him 3 or 4 times before he had it so down pat that he was making turns and eventually going in circles without any help. Within an hour, he was starting himself on the bike from a dead stop with no assistance. I've seen him smile, grin, and beam with delight in the past, but the pride on his face was priceless.

My daughter's picking it up as well, although not quite so quickly out of the gate. At first it was more like a ride for her to be pushed along without real effort, but we've gotten to the point where she can make it, typically, from one end of the back patio to the other, while I run behind to quickly assist when the persistent wobbling leads her into a wall or onto the grass. I think (read "hope") she'll continue to improve with a little more time and practice. I've even looked up a few tips on how to help them learn the balancing part, which I think will be useful for her.

I've written before about this "parenting pendulum"... that there are times that children test your patience and they'd be up on eBay were it not prohibited by law (as found out last November, but that's a whole different story), and there are other times that they have to wriggle free from your arms because you just don't want the hug to end and you can't imagine the average human heart would be capable of feeling as much love for them as you do at that moment. Today was a case of the latter.

03/18/08 : Day 2 : Takin' It To The Streets

Saturday was 'back yard proving ground' time. We took things to the next level on day two: We took it to the street. Using a couple of bright orange pylons to alert any drivers to proceed with caution, the kids took to the open road [well, about 4 or 5 house lengths of it, anyway] and continue to perfect their balancing skills. My daughter's learning curve has dramatically increased and she's now turning circles and navigating on her own, with only the 'starting by herself' hurdle yet to leap. My son, well, the boy's fearless.... so my grey hairs are coming in double-time now.

The image below is for posterity. The things strapped to their backs? My son wanted to take his stuffed bear along for a ride, strapped to his body with packing tape. My daughter followed suit.

Play Ball

Over the course of the last few weeks, I've found myself being asked frequently by the kids to play ball, to draw, to sit with them and spend time together in one endeavor or another. The more I do so, the more they enjoy the time and attention, and I find myself reflecting on my own childhood with a recognition of the opportunities before me today. In most cases, I try and engage in the activity for as much time as I can, knowing that it's also "while I can".



Tonight, when my son, daughter and I were gathered in the back yard to play, I pulled out some tennis balls that we ended up throwing back and forth and up into the air. They were having a blast. Then my son started swinging at one perched atop a nearby umbrella stand with the plastic 'club' from his "bam-bam" halloween costume, ala "t-ball". I won't hesitate to tell you, the boy's a natural. He's signed up to play t-ball this summer for the first time. I think it'll be the start of a life long love affair with the game.



When I was a child, about 9 or 10 years old, I was a pretty decent ball player myself. I remember being taught by my father to break in my glove, to repeatedly bend and flex it, almost wringing it dry like a cloth, in order to soften it up. He showed me his own glove. It was aged, worn, it smelled of musty, damp leather, yet it was as soft and flexible as you'd expect one used for decades to be. I spent hours with my own glove on my hand, smacking the ball into it over and over again. I played on a kids team in Pennsylvania, and although I wasn't the king of home runs, I did make a mean first baseman, which is a pretty critical position to play. The ball typically came to me first, and it would usually do so quite quickly. My father had taught me to get behind the ball when it was coming at me, keeping my glove up and in position, my free hand cupped behind it, and not to be afraid. Once I overcame the fear of the ball doing anything besides landing directly into the center of that glove, that's all it ever seemed to do.



Many years later, when I was about 15 or 16, when my parents were first starting to talk openly about divorcing, i'd been experiencing some ambivalence toward my father. it wasn't out of hate or anger, it was just a sense of being disconnected. I was a teenager, after all, and I now recognize this as a rite of passage for most young men. And although this was the man that ran beside me as I wobbled my way to riding a bike without training wheels, that shepherded me on Sunday paper routes through the sleepy streets of a small town in Pennsylvania, and that played catch with me in my little league days, this was also the man who'd embarrassed me on more than one occasion, who'd enforced rules at home that I felt compelled to challenge, and who'd let some of his own frustrations with life pour over into our relationship. One day, he came home from work and made the effort to pull out the baseball and both of our worn and weathered gloves, and to approach me with the desire to throw the ball about in the front yard. A simple exercise that I know, in hindsight, would have meant the world to him then. And in fact, in hindsight, would mean the world to me now had I done it. Yet I responded as a typical defiant, independence-seeking teenager might; I dismissed the invitation, even stating something along the lines of "I'm too old to play catch, Dad. Those days are gone."



I can still see his face sinking, a shallow breath of air escaping as if somebody had struck him in the gut with a bowling ball. A moment or two later, after heading our own directions, I think I knew, deep down, the significance of what had just transpired. And I think I knew how it hurt him, just as it did the year my brother and I stopped letting him to read "The Night Before Christmas" to us on Christmas eve, and I regretted how it'd played out. But I was in that defiant teenager stage, so the last thing I was going to do was admit it at the time.



As I take time now to reflect on my own childhood during these busy days of parenting, I think about the choices we all have to make every day about the things we put our time and energy into, or take our time and energy away from. I can't help but feel that my own regrets of missed opportunities ultimately find a 'redemption' of sorts through the chance to be there for my children in the same fashion that my own parents were there for me. In ways that matter even forty plus years down the road.



I also realize that, at some point and time, I'll be told that "I'm too old for that" when I try and read them "The Night Before Christmas", attempt to sit them on my lap, try and give them a hug while dropping them off at school, or extend the nostalgic attempt to toss a ball back and forth in the front yard. I know they'll pull away in their own fashion, and I expect I'll feel that momentariy loss of air as they do so, just as my own father did. Only this time around, when they read this entry as an adult, perhaps with more insight into this whole process, perhaps even as parents themselves, they'll realize that I knew it'd happen, and that it's OK. I understand.



PS: This kind of thing is what makes men tear up when watching "Field of Dreams".

Faithless Feedback

Let me state up front that it's far from my intention or desire to turn this website into something focused on bashing religion. Those posts I write in which I do so are thoughts of my own that I wish to express, but not the focus of this work on the whole. In fact, I've been thinking a good deal lately about what I want to focus my time and energy on here, and it's definitely not to leave behind a bitter, angry, complaining and cantankerous view of the world. I'd sincerely like this effort to be more about those posts in which I try and share and convey my own enjoyments, periods of reflection, growth, and the occasional 'attitude adjustment' that comes with realizing how precious the unknown amount of time we have here truly is... and that we should not get caught up in the downward spiral of complete cynicism.

That said, the right balance of skepticism and objective reasoning, alongside an appreciation and respect for the wonder of the world around us, and the fleeting blink of an eye that is the time we get to experience it is a balance I strive for.

*BUT* I do want to share a couple of items I've been exposed to through my recent rant/post about preaching to the backs of the choir.

1. I've had a brief offline exchange with my staunch republican brother-in-law. And regardless of how we push each other's hot buttons and cause each other to have bruised foreheads, the result of banging our heads on our desks as we read each other's emails and posts, he still loves and respects me. And I, him. So the feuds will continue, but the family ties won't come unraveled. How cool is that?

1. Jeff Schwartz sent me a "brilliant" (said with a British accent) article by Ricky Gervais. It's a quick read and a refreshingly well-stated summary of what living without belief means.

1. If you've never seen Penn and Teller's "Bullshit!" series, you're missing some great fun and critical thinking. One of the segments from their first season discussed the Bible. It's on YouTube and worth watching. I've embedded it below.

Once again, for the record, you should not expect that this website is on its way to being a platform for rallying against religion. If I reach a point that I feel so compelled to dedicate a website to doing so it'd not be here. And there's plenty out there that do so already. But once in a while I'll go off on a rant. Look for more humor and 'Isn't life great' posts in the near future.

Preaching to the Backs of the Choir

Some of these posts are jotted down in a matter of minutes, and others take days if not weeks to compose. This is the later. This is something I've been mulling over for at least a full year. I've written and rewritten this entry, and each time I've felt I've completed the effort to articulate my thoughts, something has happened to make me pause to reassess not my own thoughts and beliefs, but the bottom line point, or futility of, expressing them. This observation is something that's come out of a number of exchanges with friends and family, either as sincere and open dialogs or as tension filled and almost antagonistic ranting dissertations. I've noticed a common theme, and I've stepped aside repeatedly to just observe, to evaluate, to walk around and look at it from various angles.

The impetus for this was an email from my brother-in-law Jay, and my subsequent flame back in his direction. He'd forwarded a press release in an email that was calling Al Gore a hypocrite because his home energy usage was dramatically higher then the US average. In my opinion, it was a ludicrous and ridiculous detraction from the realities of an environmental issue. This was so disturbing to me that I literally lost sleep, violently tossing and turning in our bed, lamenting the thought that there was a significant chance that partisan ignorance might impede people from recognizing a serious issue and taking measures to contribute to controlling it as much as possible.

"But actually it's you who wants so badly to believe it's true that you mention every shred of inconsequential proof to fuel your justification."

I spent time composing a post, using hour upon hour of my downtime, wanting to be sure I stated my position well, and with sufficient data to back it up. Then I started to wonder if there was a point in doing so, and if my efforts to cull together a rational, documented and verifiable set of data would be given true consideration, or merely refuted or discounted with a roll of his eyes.

Meanwhile, I'd also ventured into some impassioned religious debates with a close friend or two, which gave me cause to reflect not on the topics of the discussions, but on the process of the dialogs instead.

Shortly thereafter, my other brother-in-law posted a comment to my Global Warming reference, closing the loop in this journey, and verifying the conclusions I have been arriving at as all these parallel events took place.

As is the case with any religion, from Jehovah's Witnesses to Muslims and everything in between, and as is the case with political perspectives, from patriotic flag waving in the US to 'Free Palestine' statements of the French and again, everything in between... you can and will always find articles, scientist, ranters and ravers for every possible perspective. EVERYBODY has an opinion, and everybody can and will say and do things to support their opinion far more aggressively then they will to challenge it.

What honestly should and needs to be boiled down to in examining any point or statement is the resource(s), supporting and reproducible scientific analysis, and the neutrality of their motives. I'm sure that a zealous religious supporter would easily find a plethora of 'resources' to support their position and refute logical arguments, but it does not make them right or their belief's "true". The sources of the info they bring to the table will not be objective ones.

For example, look at global warming. Yes, as it is the case with the websites, reports, books and defenders of religions belief systems that a thinking person would clearly recognize as falsehoods and apologetic rationalizations, there was a clear, and sadly misplaced and inappropriate political slant applied to the topic of global warming. It'd oddly become a right/left wing debate, and just like the press and websites that have a republican conservative slant or a democratic liberal twist to what they do or do not report, there were plenty of places you could find to dispute or confirm Global Warming science. I know that directing my relative to a scathing, exposé on the cover up of global warming issues published on Vanity Fair would be met with the same degree of skepticism as would his directing me to the Hannity article relating the falshoods behind the claims, as published on the Ann Coulter website.

Or, take religion as another example. I've spend years... and I do mean years, reading and investigation religion. I've repeatedly been challenged by christians to read their literature, attend their church, join and live their gospels. But I've also read and investigated the foundations of the gospels, the ignorant and irrational claims, the fairy tale fables presented as historical fact in the face of undeniable scientific refutation, and I just can't and won't buy into it. But more often then not, no.... actually, on every single occurence, although I was asked to investigate theirbeliefs, my own findings and facts were consistently discounted, regardless of the fact that doing so requires abandoning logical though, critical scientific findings and probability analysis. So much so that I now firmly believe that the term 'blind faith' is redundant.

My wife would argue that my religion is skepticism. I disagree. I have no religion. Skepticism may be a passion and a driving force in discussions of faith, politics and things of such a nature, but it's a passion for the search for reasonable rational thought and truth. I believe that I've reached a point of conviction in my own research and investigations into so many of these things. But that's never stopped me from being open to consider I might be wrong. I just need something that can answer all the reasons that science and analysis disproof a belief system then the pat answer that "God's just testing your faith.... you have to believe beyond things that give you reasonable evidence to doubt".
But willingness to consider the other might be wrong is not what I find in most exchanges. It's asked and expected of me, but In most, as described above, I find a turned back to all of the arguments and data that challenges their position.

Some time ago, I made a focused and dedicated trip to Peets Coffee. Not for the beans or beverage, but for the chance to engage a close friend in a focused dialog and discussion. My long time friend Martin goes there almost daily. I've known Martin probably longer then I've known anybody outside of my immediate family. His family moved from England to the US in the very early 70's and our father's worked together and friendship was formed. Martin and I worked together at the Cupertino Library, we partied with shared friends, I attended his first and second weddings, and for many many years we routinely meet for breakfast or coffee in Los Gatos and have stayed good friends for decades. At a point between his first and second marriage, Martin "found God", and has since fully embraced his religion. Fortunately our friendship's ability to survive and thrive has never let this matter be an issue, and Martin, more then any other person I know, is tolerant of my questioning, challenging and even attacking of his beliefs. There's a mutual respect for each other's rights to choose. And so I sought him out, wanting to have a serious and detailed discussion about the conclusions I was arriving at regarding the futility of attempting two way dialogs in matters of religion, politics, or even Global Warming.

I asked Martin point blank about the possibility that, were I able to actually present him with documented, concise and reproducible evidence that something he'd believed his whole life was completely incorrect, would he consider it as a possibility. When it didn't involve religion, he felt that his world view might color his assumptions but that he'd be open to the possibilities. But when it comes to religion, regardless of what I might present, he firmly stood by his convictions that his relationship with God was the strongest in his life and nothing would shake it. I have a sister-in-law that's immersed in the Jehovah's witnesses, and the same would hold true for her. I've had only a few moderate discussions with her but, like Martin if not much more so, I recognize the futility of it. I recognize that at some point, there's simply no use in attempting to have a dialog with somebody's who's already formed so firm a conclusion that they'd not even entertain the possibility that they could be incorrect. Their back is already turned.

I know I've also got my feet planted firmly in my own sand on many topics, and that I might seem tough to budge. I like to think that's not the case, and that my passion for scientific examination continues to include being open to conflicting opinions and theories. Sure, I might definitely put the responsibility firmly on proving a religious theory onto the believer at this point, but when my brother-in-law raised a number of points and objections as to the severity of humans having anything to do with the global warming issues that face our planet, I felt compelled to ensure that my exposure included the points he argued before being able to carry on an effective discussion. That, to me, is as reasonable as it is for me to expect that he might do the same in return and seek out neutral, scientific based reporting, devoid of agenda, stepping back to consider data published by the EPA, a scientific, government based fact-reporting agency. Or the National Climate Data Center. National Geographic. The American Meteorological Society. NASA. All of which, in my opinion, represent a reasonable collection of sources with a scientific charter.

Unless you do the research and really look, scientifically and with your eyes and mind open, and unless you exercise your inate ability to objectively discern truth, how can you reasonably claim knowledge of anything? If all I ever considered was what supported my beliefs at the time, and I turned my back on any arguments, I'd believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the promises of presidential candidates, and numerous other misconceptions that have been proven wrong over the years.

The point, after all this rambling, that I'm trying to make is that with rare exception, when I encounter somebody who's opinion on a topic might differ from my own, I typically and inevitably feel like there's little or no chance that they're really interested in hearing and investigating anything that might challenge and potenially disprove their beliefs. I feel like the response I might receive will only be findings that support their positions and not that they'll even care about or want to look at, with an open mind and heart, what I'm putting before them. I feel like I'm preaching to the backs of the choir. And it feels so futile that I'm more inclined to just drop it then I am to pursue an ongoing exchange of emails or discussions that are based on just validating their points and arguing mine.

Oh, and by the way, after being offensively lambastedby a member of my family about my 'green' tendancies...

I did honestly and earnestly dig into the countering claims about the global warming facts. I read the arguments and the arguments to the arguments. And my conclusion remains the same: The world is warming at an unprecident pace. Mankind's impact to this is indisputable. Changes we make in how we live and what we put into our enviornment can and will reduce the severity of the situation. If you believe otherwise, then I challenge you to go do the same homework in return, investigate both sides of the claims and science with a netural point of view, and then you come back and make your case.
That is, unless you're a believer in the second coming of Christ, in which case, this situation likely gives you a gleeful sense of optimism that the resurrection is near and it's another sign of the Apocalypse and the foretold return of the son of God. Oh, and so we're clear, not any of the many Gods worshipped by numerous religions on the planet today, throughout the world, and certainly none the hundreds of Gods that were once worshipped and subsequently abandoned for those being worshipped today, regardless of how similar they may be in concept or even stories of their actions and events, because hey, we all know those old Gods were not real. And come on, all those other world religions of today... phpfffftt... who're they kidding? We're talking about OUR God. The only true one. Right?