AnalPhilosopher

7-31-85 Wednesday. An impartial observer might classify me as a “Mama’s boy.” In our culture, that’s a pejorative term. A “Mama’s boy” is someone who is inordinately attached to his or her [!] mother, or who is shy and withdrawn. I fit the bill on all counts. But I see nothing whatsoever wrong with it. My mother is special to me, and always has been. She gave the best years of her life to provide a stable home life to my brothers and me, and she instilled traits in me that remain to this day. Why else would I write to her every week, as if on schedule? She’s without a doubt the most important person in my life. That, however, has made parting difficult. When I moved from Vassar to Madison Heights in 1979 [to attend law school], I was lonely and heartbroken for days. When I moved from Pontiac to Tucson in 1983 [to attend graduate school], much the same thing happened. But eventually I got over my sorrow and was able to get on with my normal activities. One thing is clear: I needed to move out of the household before I moved across country. In 1979, I was unprepared, both emotionally and psychologically, to be two thousand miles from Mom. Living within eighty miles of her for a few years made the longer break more tolerable. [I love you, Mom.]

Of all the moral issues of the day, I’m arguably most interested in abortion (animal rights is a close second, if not tied for first). Abortion raises factual (“Can fetuses feel pain?”) as well as normative (“Ought fetuses to have the same moral status as adults?”) questions and also requires that one consider rights, utility, and the claims of feminists in resolving the issue. More than almost any other arguments currently making the rounds of public debate, the abortion arguments tend to be fallacious. Both liberals and conservatives beg the crucial issue of the status of the fetus, and I am constantly pleading “irrelevant!” when discussing abortion with some friend, colleague, or student. It’s great fun just to keep the abortion debate on track, even if one never takes sides. That’s what I attempted to do in a recent letter to an Arizona Republic columnist, Ginger Hutton. I took up several points that she had raised in a previous column—either refuting or elaborating on them. It felt good to get back into the intellectual fray, if only temporarily. [I missed campus life. Law was fun, but not intellectually stimulating.]

The sixth race in the World Cup was held today in Hamburg, Germany. (Actually, the World Cup has been absorbed into the ProTour, but the ten World Cup events are the same.) The race was won by Italian Filippo Pozzato, who nipped his compatriot and teammate Luca Paolini at the line. What a finish! Pozzato covered the 155.6 miles in 6:00:59, for an average speed of 25.87 miles per hour. When you factor in the hills and the rain, this is impressive. Jan Ullrich showed well, as did aging sprinter Erik Zabel. Here is the story.

Addendum: While browsing the Cyclingnews.com site, I discovered that Chris Horner, who recently completed the Tour de France, kept a diary. He ends with this nice paragraph about Lance Armstrong:

And Lance, what a [sic] incredible finish to his career. To think that for seven years, he never had any real problems in the Tour and not only made it to the finish, but won seven straight Tours is unreal. He has an amazing amount of determination. And his luck over those seven Tours is truly amazing, but it's not just luck. Lance is a rider who knows the Tour so well he always manages to stay out of danger, always managed to give himself that extra second worth of space that might take more energy but keeps you safer. And Armstrong can do that because he is just so strong. Congratulations for a great career, Lance.

Well said. See here for the entire diary.

Lance Armstrong will become an action hero in Hollywood. Think about it. He's fit; he's strong; he has nerves of steel; he's a quick study; he has worldwide name recognition. Brian Bosworth fizzled—although I rather liked Stone Cold (1991). I think Lance would succeed. What do you think?

One of our philosophy majors, Kyle Vernon, is a McNair Scholar. He is writing an essay on pantheism. See here. If Kyle is willing, I will post his essay, when completed, on this site.

I like to do a bike rally every Saturday. Through 9 July, I had done 14 rallies in 15 weeks. I was getting stronger by the week, despite the lack of midweek riding. (I no longer train; I just do the rallies.) But there were no rallies on 16 or 23 July—at least within reasonable driving distance. I could have gone out on my own, obviously, but I decided to stay home and run. It didn’t help that the Tour de France was on television, live. Yesterday, not having been on the bike in three weeks, I did my 15th rally of the year and 359th overall (since 30 September 1989). The rally was in Cleburne, which is thirty-odd miles southwest of Fort Worth. They call it the Tour de Goatneck, probably because the course is two loops joined by a neck of road. The Goatneck is always in late July, when it’s frightfully hot. The course is hilly. It’s not for the faint-hearted.

Only a couple of my friends showed up, which surprised me. I hope they’re all right. The crowd was announced as 2,000 at the start. I found my friend Joe Culotta near the front of the pack and lined up with him. We listened to a prayer and an a cappella rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner before heading out (at 7:30) under a clear sky. As I explained to Joe, my goal was to go out easy so as not to suffer (too much) near the end. But we were feeling good, so we cruised. You might say that we stayed in the flow of traffic. We covered 20.56 miles in the first hour. The roads were good; it wasn’t hot yet; and we were feeling strong. On one stretch of road, we were in a pack flying along at 25 to 30 miles per hour. I looked down and saw that my heart was beating 106 times per minute. That’s almost resting. But in bicycling, as in life generally, there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch. We would pay for the fun later.

As always, I told Joe not to wait for me should I fall behind. He climbs better than I do, so either I chase him down after every climb or he stays ahead for good. I don’t want my friends to wait for me. They need to ride hard in order to improve their fitness. Besides, I have music. I enjoy riding alone for at least part of the time in each rally. I told Joe I’d see him at the rest stop in Nemo, which is a little over halfway through the 69.1-mile course. I always enjoy riding through Glen Rose. What a beautiful town! Many of the houses and fences are made of stone. I wish I had taken my camera, so I could show you some of them. We crossed the Brazos River a couple of times. This river—the longest in Texas—rises near Lubbock (home of Texas Tech University) and flows southeasterly through Texas into the Gulf of Mexico. I cross it on many of my bike rallies, including the Waco Wild West Century.

I covered 17.13 miles during the second hour, which took me to Nemo. This is not a town, to speak of, but it must be incorporated, because I saw an official-looking sign. There may be a post office or a general store on the final hill. I’m usually thinking about the rest stop on the other side of the hill and not paying attention. The rest stop was crowded with riders—and sure enough, there was Joe. Although it was only 9:35 in the morning, it was getting hot. People were filling their bottles with water and sport drink, eating bananas and oranges, using the porta-potties, sitting in plastic chairs, and of course commiserating. Bikes were strewn along the roadway, awaiting the return of their owners. I ate an oatmeal PowerBar while examining my course map. I know every inch of the route, having done it a dozen times, but I wanted to break the course into chunks to make it seem shorter. First I would get back to the goatneck, then I would cross the goatneck, then I would do the long southerly bend, and then I’d cruise back into Cleburne. I knew there were many hills, some of them steep, so the trick was to keep a steady pace. If you go too hard early on, or in the middle, you pay for it later.

The third hour was embarrassingly slow. I covered only 14.86 miles. My bike computer has been acting up recently, so I concluded that it was giving me erroneous information; but at the finish I knew that it was accurate. The hills slowed my pace very much. I thought about stopping again, but I had enough water, so I kept going. I made it in with energy to spare, averaging 15.76 miles per hour for the final 1:03:11. All told, I averaged 17.06 miles per hour for 69.15 miles (elapsed time = 4:03:11). With the warm-up and cool-down riding, I rode 70 miles. It was about 90° Fahrenheit when I reached the finish line, a few minutes before noon. The high for the day at DFW Airport was 96°. I had fun. But one poor rider didn’t. About three-quarters of the way through the course, I came upon a rider lying in the road with emergency technicians hovering over him. There were ambulances on both sides of the road with lights flashing. The rider had his eyes closed, so I hope he was okay. It looked like he had a neck brace on already. I have no idea why he fell. The road was in good order at that point. Perhaps he touched a wheel and crashed.

My maximum speed for the day was 38.4 miles per hour. My maximum heart rate was 156. I know I could get it higher, perhaps as high as 175, but there’s no reason to. I hit 165 a year ago on this course, even though I went significantly slower (15.75 miles per hour). My best speed on this course is 18.97 miles per hour. I’ve averaged over 20 miles per hour in almost every rally I’ve done, so this tells me that it’s a tough course. Heat, hills, humidity: the axis of evil. Here is a profile of the course (click to enlarge):

As expected, Joe was waiting for me under the awning at the finish. We ate watermelon and compared notes. Both of us are looking forward to the Hotter ’n Hell Hundred in Wichita Falls in four weeks. This is the mother of all bike rallies. If you’re a bicyclist, you need to come and do it. It draws people from every state and from many foreign countries.

The best songs of the day were “Turn It Over,” by Eddie Jobson and Zinc, from The Green Album (1983); “Begin the Day,” by Andy Summers and Robert Fripp, from Bewitched (1984); and “Somebody Saved Me,” by Pete Townshend, from All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes (1982).

“Veneration” of the Constitution has become a central, even if sometimes challenged, aspect of the American political tradition. Irving Kristol typifies this strand of our tradition, and its accompanying rhetoric, in his lead article in a special issue of The Public Interest devoted to the Constitution. “The Flag, the Declaration, the Constitution—these,” according to Kristol, “constitute the holy trinity of what Tocqueville called the American ‘civil religion.’” These formal symbols—and the historical experiences that they condense—evoke, for some, what the late Alexander Bickel once termed “the secular religion of the American republic,” in which “we find our visions of good and evil.”

(Sanford Levinson, Constitutional Faith [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988], 11 [endnotes omitted])

To the Editor:

Neither your July 20 editorial "Georgia's Undemocratic Voter Law" nor the July 24 letters in reaction to it mentioned Georgia's other restrictions on voter rights: its ballot-access laws.

Since 1943, when the Georgia Legislature passed a law requiring new party and independent candidates to submit a petition signed by 5 percent of the number of registered voters just to get on the ballot for any office, there have been no third-party candidates on the ballot in Georgia for the federal House of Representatives.

Moreover, the presidential ballot-access laws are onerous, and Ballot Access News ranks Georgia at the bottom of all 50 states for the number of third-party or independent presidential candidates allowed onto its ballots from 1972 to 2004.

The flip side of voter rights is candidate rights to gain access to the ballot to provide more meaningful choice for voters.

Theresa Amato
Washington, July 24, 2005
The writer, a lawyer, is the former national campaign manager for Ralph Nader's 2000 and 2004 presidential runs.

Quotation, n. The act of repeating erroneously the words of another. The words erroneously repeated.

Intent on making his quotation truer,
He sought the page infallible of Brewer,
Then made a solemn vow that he would be
Condemned eternally. Ah, me, ah, me!
Stumpo Gaker.

(Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, c. 1911)

Here.

Addendum: Safire is up in arms about the use of "desecration" in the flag-burning amendment. He says it refers to sacred, and hence (only) to religious, symbols. Has he never heard of an extended sense? The flag functions like a religious symbol in our society. It is an object of reverence, awe, and respect. In its generic sense, the word "desecrate" means to violate something worthy of reverence. This is the sense in which it is used in the amendment. In its specific sense, it means to violate a religious symbol. May I recommend a book? Sanford Levinson's Constitutional Faith (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988) is well worth your time.

The editors of The New York Times infer from the fact that there are no pure races that there are no races. See here. That's like saying that because no word meanings are perfectly clear, there are no word meanings. Genetic tests don't show that there are no races. They show that race is a vague concept, like baldness.

7-30-85 I should say a few words about the building in which I work, if only for posterity’s sake. I work in the eleven-floor Transamerica Building in downtown Tucson. The exterior of the building is glass and metal, while the interior varies by floor and office. I’ve noticed that the second floor is dark and cozy, while ours (the third) is lighter and more impersonal. The building’s lobby, which sits at ground level, contains a bank, a travel agency, a bar-referral service, a small computer-supply store, and a snack shop. There is also a mail chute located in the lobby—a chute of which I take advantage almost daily to mail my personal letters. Immediately west of the building, and attached to it, is a parking garage; but there is a fee for parking in this garage, so I park farther away (for free) and walk a few blocks. All in all, the Transamerica Building is a nice place in which to work. [Tucson] City Court is just to the west of it, [Pima County] Superior Court is a few hundred yards to the south, and I understand that the federal court building is also within walking distance of our office. “A” Mountain is visible from many vantage points in the downtown area. I’ll have more to say about the vicinity of the building later.

A year ago I was on the third leg of my bike trip, traversing the route from Payson to Flagstaff. This route was both the most grueling and the most scenic of the entire trip. It was grueling because of the climbing that I had to do with my bike. Several times—more times than I care to remember—I had to get off the bike and push it, physically, to the top of a hill. This required more exertion than did pedalling, so I had to stop repeatedly to catch my breath, rest, and drink water. Music helped, but couldn’t quite replenish my depleted energy supply. Finally, however, I got to the top of the Mogollon Rim (the line which cuts through Arizona at its midpoint), and began the long descent to Flagstaff. This was the scenic and enjoyable part of the ride. Pine trees were everywhere, the smell of rain and dampness was in the air, and I would occasionally see cows grazing in the fields. I felt as if I were on the “Ponderosa,” the fictional ranch of the old “Bonanza” television series. I have had some of my most enjoyable thoughts while thinking about this leg of my journey.

Tonight, while washing clothes in the laundry room, I had a conversation with a fellow tenant named Matt, whom I had met several months ago while waiting for the [Sun Tran] bus. Matt is intelligent and friendly, so we struck up a conversation almost immediately. I had told him, at the outset of our friendship, that I was a teaching assistant in the Department of Philosophy, but until tonight he had no idea that I was also a lawyer. At one point I mentioned that I had found a summer job, and he asked me what it was. “I’m a lawyer,” I said. “You mean you work for a lawyer,” he responded, as if correcting what I had said. “No,” I laughed; “I am a lawyer.” “I’ll be damned,” he said, and then began asking questions about wills, taxes, drunk driving, etcetera. That’s one reason why I never identify myself as an attorney. People immediately ask for advice. They also conjure up all kinds of stereotypes, which bothers me, because I feel that I don’t fit any of them. I’m not a “shyster,” I’m not “money-hungry,” and I don’t engage in rhetorical or sophistical reasoning. I prefer to think of myself as a philosopher, or simply as a contemplative person. In any event, Matt and I had a nice conversation about politics, school, and assorted other subjects. I told him that I’d probably see him in a few weeks, when school resumes. Matt is studying geology at the university [of Arizona].

To the Editor:

Your July 23 editorial "Houses Divided on Warming" is correct in castigating Representative Joe Barton's treatment of scientists and their science. Most geographers and other earth scientists accept the overwhelming evidence that Earth's atmosphere and oceans are warming up. Most also accept the evidence that humans are adding to that warming, primarily through the burning of fossil fuels.

Less clear, however, is any consensus about either what we should or even could do about it and what the costs of any interference might be compared with the benefits. Many economists argue, correctly I think, that it is not rational to make investments with today's dollars if the benefits of those investments will not accrue for a century or more down the road.

Global warming is likely to continue until humans are forced into a transition from fossil fuels to other energy sources by rising prices for the former and declining prices for the latter. The debate should focus less on global warming and more on the energy transition that must come and ways to adapt to warmer climates in the interim.

Gary L. Peters
Paso Robles, Calif., July 23, 2005
The writer is a professor of geography at California State University, Chico.

Backbite, v.t. To speak of a man as you find him when he can't find you.

(Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, c. 1911)

Mark Spahn sent a link to this. I wonder whether these tires will catch on.

Me and my brother were talking to each other
'Bout what makes a man a man
Was it brain or brawn, or the month you were born
We just couldn't understand
Our old man didn't like our appearance
He said that only women wear long hair
So me and my brother borrowed money from Mother
We knew what we had to do
We went downstairs, past the barber and gymnasium
And got our arms tattooed
Welcome to my life, tattoo
I'm a man now, thanks to you
I expect I'll regret you
But the skin graft man won't get you
You'll be there when I die
Tattoo
My dad beat me 'cause mine said Mother
But my mother naturally liked it and beat my brother
'Cause his tattoo was of a lady in the nude
And my mother thought that was extremely rude
Welcome to my life, tattoo
We've a long time together, me and you
I expect I'll regret you
But the skin graft man won't get you
You'll be there when I die
Tattoo
Now I'm older, I'm tattooed all over
My wife is tattooed too
A rooty-toot-toot, rooty-tooty-toot-toot
Rooty-toot-toot tattoo too
To you

7-29-85 Monday. I still think often of the second night of my 1984 bike trip [across Arizona]. I had ridden hard all day, climbing mountains and weathering rainstorms, and was about to give up for the afternoon and pitch my tent on the side of the road when the driver of a flatbed truck saw my outstretched thumb and picked me up. He drove me into the town of Payson, where I had a hot meal and spent the night in a cheap motel room. What, you ask, is so special about this? Nothing, really. I was just so pleased to have gotten a ride into town that it seemed to make the entire evening memorable. I recall taking a long, hot shower, putting on a flannel shirt and corduroy jeans, and walking across the street to a Burger King restaurant for dinner. It was a cool, brisk evening. My face was unshaven, and I remember thinking how unusual I must have looked to the employees and other patrons. Little did they know that I had just ridden my ten-speed bike 172 miles in only two days. The town of Payson impressed me. It sits high in the mountains, is surrounded by pine trees, and has the aura of a tourist location. Some day I’d like to go back there, but this time under more favorable conditions.

Believe it or not, I get along extremely well with the local prosecutors. One might think that defense attorneys and prosecutors would be at each other’s throats, but that has been far from the case with me in [Tucson] City Court. I know all of the prosecutors by name, and some of them have even helped me out while we were appearing in court. For instance, one prosecutor, Lola Rainey, suggested to me in private that I should ask for an Order to Show Cause instead of a bench warrant when I explained to the judge that my client hadn’t appeared for his or her pretrial conference. Without such a request, the judge would undoubtedly have issued a bench warrant for my client’s arrest. Another time, the prosecutor placed my case on the bottom of his stack so that my client would have more time to appear in court. And finally, Mark Ralles, a city prosecutor, helped me straighten out the Sean D. matter (in which my client was sentenced to a second-offense D.U.I. instead of the proper first-offense D.U.I.) by mentioning the error to the judge and then stating that he had no objections to my motion for resentencing. All in all, the city prosecutors have treated me well—and fairly. As a result, I find myself doing such ridiculous things as wishing Mark Ralles “good luck” this afternoon (our firm wasn’t involved in the case). This comment may be a “first” in the annals of the criminal law.

I don’t know why it is, but wherever I work, I seem to pick up cutesie-pie, affectionate nicknames. At Kutinsky, Davey & Solomon, in Madison Heights [Michigan], for instance, Stacy Foley pinned the monicker “Keifers” on me. She still uses that name to greet me in her letters. Now, inexplicably, I am being referred to as “Keithums” by Mitzi, a secretary at Ditsworth, Dunscomb & Shepherd. What is it about me that lends itself to such appellations? I honestly don’t know. Perhaps I’m young-looking, or perhaps there is no appropriate nickname for “Keith” and these people are determined to use one. Whatever; I’d rather be known by a cute, affectionate nickname than by an obscenity. But “Keith” would do just fine.

To the Editor:

Thomas L. Friedman asks (rhetorically) why President Bush does not invite business leaders to Washington to devise a national strategy to compete in the global economy and generate good jobs for Americans.

The answer is simple: This president and the current version of the Republican Party do not believe in national strategies for economic development involving collaboration between government and industry. They believe that business should act on its own and that "the market" will take care of our future.

On a more fundamental level, they do not believe that government can be a force for good in local matters. In this, they have been very consistent. The decline of American economic competitiveness is part and parcel of "getting the government off our backs."

For America, so long as the very notion of government is derided, there is little hope for improvement.

Philip Siller
New York, July 27, 2005

Here—hot off the press—is Judge Richard A. Posner's review of several new books on the media. If you haven't been reading this blog from the outset, let me repeat something I said long ago. If I were stranded on a desert island and could have the works of two people to read, they would be R. M. Hare and Richard A. Posner. Both are brilliant; both are provocative and insightful; both write about a wide range of topics; both can write. Did I mention that both write voluminously? I would never run out of reading material!

The Central American Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA) passed the House of Representatives yesterday. Most Republicans, including President Bush, are for it, most Democrats against it. Every law has both winners and losers, and trade agreements are no exception. The winners are consumers, who always benefit from free trade. Each country has a comparative advantage in producing certain products. It's more efficient, economically speaking, for each country to produce what it has a comparative advantage in producing. Trade gets the products where there's a demand for them. Free trade increases competition, which always redounds to the benefit of consumers. The losers are domestic industries, which will now have to compete with outsiders for customers. It's no accident that Big Labor is opposed to CAFTA and has threatened political retribution against those members of Congress who vote for it. Its workers will now have to compete for jobs with those in other countries, who are likely to be willing to work for less. What surprises me is that the editors of The New York Times support CAFTA. See here. I would have guessed that the Times would side with Big Labor. In a moment, I'll see what The Nation has to say about CAFTA. The Nation is a longtime defender of Big Labor.

Addendum: I was right. The Nation opposes CAFTA. See here and here. The Left is going to try to punish the 15 Democrats who voted for CAFTA. The Times calls them principled and says they exercised "independence" and "good judgment." The Nation views them as traitors to the progressive cause. It does my conservative heart good to see the Left squabbling.

This essay by the late biologist Garrett Hardin (1915-2003) is almost 31 years old, but it's as topical today as it was in 1974—perhaps more so. The main theme, as I understand it, is that good intentions are not only not good enough, but positively dangerous. Liberals have yet to learn this important lesson, which is why they deserve the epithet "do-gooders." I would appreciate hearing from readers (in the comments section). Are you persuaded by Hardin's argument? If not, why not?

A reader sent this to me. I wouldn't hold it against Lance Armstrong if he were a theist, so even if he's an atheist, like me, it doesn't increase my admiration or respect for him. His religious beliefs, or lack thereof, have nothing to do with his achievements as a bicyclist. That said, there's nothing in this blurb that shows that Lance is an atheist. He says he doesn't care for organized religion. But that's compatible with theism, understood as belief in a supernatural being. Are atheists so defensive and insecure that they need celebrities to make their disbelief respectable? Organizations of atheists give atheism a bad name, just as PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) gives animal rights/liberation a bad name.

Paul Krugman* likes the way the French do things. I like the way Americans do things. Krugman is right that life is a series of trade-offs. The French make theirs. We make ours. If we didn't like the trade-off we've made, either collectively or individually, we would make another one. Is Krugman suggesting that everyone be coerced into making the same trade-off? Last I checked, nobody in this country is forced to work any particular job, or to work more hours than he or she wants, or to have children, or anything else. Nor should we be. That way lies totalitarianism. The French have opted for security over liberty. That's fine. Americans have opted for liberty over security. That's also fine. If you don't like the American model, move to France. What else is there to say?

* "Op-Ed columnist Paul Krugman has the disturbing habit of shaping, slicing and selectively citing numbers in a fashion that pleases his acolytes but leaves him open to substantive assaults" (Daniel Okrent, "13 Things I Meant to Write About but Never Did," The New York Times, 22 May 2005).

Addendum: See here for Donald Luskin's post about Krugman's column.

Introduction, n. A social ceremony invented by the devil for the gratification of his servants and the plaguing of his enemies. The introduction attains its most malevolent development in this country, being, indeed, closely related to our political system. Every American being the equal of every other American, it follows that everybody has the right to know everybody else, which implies the right to introduce without request or permission. The Declaration of Independence should have read thus:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, and the right to make that of another miserable by thrusting upon him an incalculable quantity of acquaintances; liberty, particularly the liberty to introduce persons to one another without first ascertaining if they are not already acquainted as enemies; and the pursuit of another's happiness with a running pack of strangers."

(Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, c. 1911)

7-28-85 I neglected to mention yesterday that for the first time in months, I played my guitar. I noticed when I was walking back from the laundry room that my downstairs neighbor, Steve, was sitting on his floor strumming an acoustic guitar. He asked me through the screen if [sic; should be “whether”] the noise from his stereo had “bothered me” last night, and I said “no.” I then expressed surprise that he played the guitar, and he invited me in to see and hear him play. That did it. I rushed up to my apartment, grabbed several books of sheet music and my guitar and amplifier, and hurried back downstairs to play. Steve is still a beginner on the guitar, so he was impressed by the songs that I was able to play (Alice Cooper’s “Be My Lover” and Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here,” for example). I stayed for about twenty minutes and then left Steve with all of my lesson books and sheet music. He promised to make copies of those materials that he wants to keep and to return everything to me as soon as possible. I’m glad that someone is finally getting some use out of my musical materials.

“Violence is NEVER the answer, even when one is dealing with fanatics,” I wrote five years ago, while discussing terrorism. I was wrong, of course. [!] Today I accept the justifiedness of violence in certain cases. Which cases? Well, imagine a situation in which large numbers of sentient beings are being tortured or experimented upon (for instance, animals in research laboratories). In such a case, I would argue that violence against the perpetrators is justified. Violence is also justified in cases of war (where the cause is just), slavery or oppression, and genocide. To have sat idly by while [Adolf] Hitler [1889-1945] was exterminating Jews would have been morally wrong. The right thing to do would have been to kill or maim Hitler, if he could not be persuaded by nonviolent means to cease his murderous activities. In general, however, violence should be a last resort, for it causes pain, suffering, and loss of life; but it can be and is sometimes justified. [In other words, I was not an absolutist deontologist about violence. But that doesn’t mean I was a consequentialist. I was advocating moderate deontology.]

Has it been a whole year since I left on my bike trip to Yellowstone [National Park]? My, how time flies. It seems like only yesterday that I was pedalling [sic; should be “pedaling”] northward along Oracle Road toward Globe and Payson. Upon reflection, I have accomplished a lot in the past year. Besides another successful academic year, I qualified for the Ph.D. program, flew to Michigan to visit friends and relatives for two weeks, was graduated for the fifth time, found a job as an attorney, and had a brief romantic fling with one of my students. It has been a varied and active year. In fact, if the next year is only half as active and productive as the past year, I’ll be happy. But of course I’m always expecting more of myself. Already, I’m planning to tackle two occupations—law and teaching—at once, and I’ve got several scholarly articles currently under consideration by publishers. Apparently, I’m still a workaholic.

Fittingly, I rode my bike today—a total of 42.1 miles. The high temperature was only eighty-five degrees [Fahrenheit] (eighty-eight at my apartment), while the relative humidity was an oppressive fifty-three percent. But I made good time. In fact, I set another record for gross average speed: 13.50 miles per hour. I’ve now ridden my bike at least forty miles for ten consecutive weeks, nine of them to Colossal Cave. My odometer reads exactly “3300.0.” And so I’ve got to ride an average of 30.1 miles during each of the remaining weeks of 1985 in order to set a new annual mileage record. My bike is holding up well, although the derailleur could use some minor adjustments.

I am amazed at how little I rode my bike in the days and weeks leading up to my 1984 bike trip. I had ridden the bike only 12.1 miles in the entire seven-week period prior to 28 July. And then, in one day, I rode a grueling 91.5 miles, much of it over hilly terrain and a good part of it during the rain. Isn’t that bizarre? One would think that I would have trained extensively for such a long and exhausting trip; but I didn’t have the time. I was so busy finishing my fellowship paper and teaching my summer philosophy course that I could barely find time to study for the bar exam, let alone ride my bike. It was a calculated decision, and it undoubtedly affected my trip. Had I been in better physical shape before I left, I may have been able to weather the mountains and rain a bit more easily.

Speaking of good physical shape, ten consecutive weeks of riding has made my legs strong and vastly improved my stamina. I now tackle the hills of the desert head-on, instead of hesitatingly, and I can maintain a constant speed of, say, fifteen miles per hour for more than a dozen miles. I ride almost continuously in eighth or ninth gear. On the way back from the cave, in fact, I put the bike in tenth gear and cranked the pedals furiously. People stared at me from their vehicles, probably wondering why I was in such a “hurry.” But I was in no hurry to get anywhere; I was just trying to set a record—or rather, to test myself. I’m far from being in as good physical shape as the Tour de France riders, but I’m in better physical condition than most Tucsonans, and that’s a satisfying thought.

I had a productive day, creatively. I brushed up on my second “On Writing” manuscript, drafted several letters, and checked the galley proofs of my bad-samaritan article for errors. The latter task was difficult, to say the least. Here’s how it went. With one finger I followed along on the printed manuscript, while with the other I traced the lines on the galley proofs, making sure that words were spelled correctly and that everything in the manuscript had found its way into print. It took several hours to complete the process. But it was worth it, for I found several errors. I want all of my published works to look polished and professional. With at least one other editor at the Criminal Justice Journal proofreading the article for errors, it should come out well. I’m glad to get the galley proofs out of my hands.

See here.

Irving Marmer Copi (born Copilowish) was born on this date in 1917—40 years before I was born. He died almost three years ago, at the age of 85. Irving wrote and edited many important books in logic, including the bestselling Introduction to Logic (now in its 12th edition). In 1990, Irving invited me, a stranger, to revise another of his books, Informal Logic (which was originally the "informal" part of Introduction to Logic). I didn't deserve it, but he insisted on listing me as coauthor of the second edition (and later the third). The book made me a lot of money when I most needed it. Before getting started on the revision, I was flown to New York by the publisher (Macmillan), where I was wined and dined. I had a wonderful meal with Irving in a fancy restaurant. I had worn my plain clothes to New York, so the maitre d' fitted me with a jacket. During dinner, Irving regaled me with stories about Bertrand Russell and other great figures in our discipline. He had a quick wit and a self-deprecating sense of humor. I will never forget his kindness to me.

Addendum: Most philosophers, including my teachers at The University of Arizona, pronounce Irving's name COPE-ee. I asked him about this. He said it's pronounced COP-ee. In fact, he told me a self-deprecating story about it. As a young philosopher, he attended a conference. An older philosopher saw his name tag and said, "So you're the author of that logic textbook. Tell me, is your name pronounced Copi as in sloppy, or Copi as in dopey?" How can you not love a man who would tell such a story?

Addendum 2: Here is the long letter that I wrote to Irving on 10 January 1990. My aim was to help him improve his book, nothing more. To my surprise, he wrote back to thank me. That started a correspondence that led to our collaboration.

Norm Weatherby pays tribute to our idol, Lance Armstrong. Note that Norm has changed the appearance of his blog.

What a wholesome place Berkeley is! See here. Bishop George Berkeley, for whom the city was named, is spinning in his grave.

I’m baffled by descriptions of Judge John Roberts as an “extremist.” Anyone without an ax to grind and with a bit of sense can see that he’s well within the mainstream of American life and law. In fact, he strikes me as the epitome of nonextremism. But this creates a puzzle. Why is he described as an extremist when he is emphatically not an extremist?

Here’s my theory, which came to me as I watched Hardball this evening. Calling someone an extremist is not to locate him or her in ideological space; it’s to say that he or she is far away from oneself. In other words, it’s a relative term, not an absolute term. It has to do with distance (from oneself), not location. To see what I mean, draw a spectrum—call it the ideological spectrum—with “0” at one end and “100” at the other. Put marks for “25,” “50,” and “75.” Suppose person X calls John Roberts an extremist. If my theory is correct, this doesn’t locate Roberts; it simply identifies the distance on the spectrum between Roberts and X. Specifically, it says that there is a large distance (say, 50 units) between X and Roberts. But whereas X thinks that he or she is at or near the center of the spectrum (say, 50), which puts Roberts at 100, this is only one possibility. In fact, X may be at 0 and Roberts at 50. Or X may be at 25 and Roberts at 75. It may be X, rather than Roberts, who is the extremist, in absolute terms.

This theory explains why most of those who describe Roberts as an extremist are on the far left (rather than the near left or the center) of the ideological spectrum. (Brian Leiter, a noted leftist wacko, describes Roberts’s views as “depraved and repellent.”) They don’t realize they’re on the left. They think they’re moderate. From where they sit, Roberts looks extreme! We might call this a political illusion. One virtue of my theory is that it works in both directions. Those on the far right are likely to see people like Hillary Clinton as an extreme leftist. I have argued in this blog ad nauseam that if you look at her positions on various issues, such as immigration, capital punishment, and national defense, she’s not an extremist. She may not be at 50, but she’s not at 0, either. She’s closer to 25. To someone at 75 or 100, she looks extreme. Calling Hillary Clinton an extremist says more about the speaker than about Clinton.

What do you think? By the way, I majored in political science as an undergraduate. That hardly makes me an expert. But hey, this is a blog, not a scholarly publication.

NARAL Pro-Choice America wants you to tell your United States senators to oppose the nomination of John Roberts to the Supreme Court. And oh yes, to send money. See here.

Addendum: The following definition is from the Oxford English Dictionary, 2d ed.:

opportunism

1. a. The policy of doing what is opportune, or at the time expedient, in politics, as opposed to rigid adherence to party principles; often used to imply sacrifice of principle or an undue spirit of accommodation to present circumstances.

A term first of Italian, and then of French politics, which in English use has been extended to characterize any method or course of action by which a party or person adapts himself to, and seeks to make profitable use of, the circumstances of the moment. (The introduction of the word has often been erroneously ascribed to Gambetta.)

b. Socialism and Communism. A policy of concessions to bourgeois elements of society in the development towards socialism.

2. Opportunistic state or activity. a. Med. (See opportunistic a. 3.)

b. Ecol. (See opportunistic a. 2.)

Yup.

I was delighted to read just now (see here) that Lance Armstrong plans to take up marathoning. He says he wants to complete a marathon in 2:15. (The world record is 2:04:55.) I love it! Most people go from running to bicycling, since the latter is easier on the skeleton. I went from bicycling to running. The difference between us is that Lance was originally a triathlete, and hence a runner. Until September 1996, when I began marathon training, I had never run more than 6.2 miles at a time in my life. Who knows? Maybe I'll see Lance at a marathon some day.

Addendum: Bicycling and running are alike in some respects and different in others. One big difference, which I appreciate, is that running is far less dependent on technology. Yes, there are shoes, which differ in quality; but other than that, it's just you and the road. Running is elemental. I'm powerfully drawn to that.

Addendum 2: I just remembered that Lance's ex-wife, Kristin, ran the most recent Dallas White Rock Marathon (in December 2004). I read about it in the newspaper. Perhaps they should have run together years ago. The couple that runs together stays together!

Addendum 3: I hereby predict that Lance Armstrong will tire of the airheaded musician (what's her name?) and remarry the mother of his children. I still can't believe they divorced. Is staying together for the sake of the children a meaningful concept these days? Whatever happened to "for better, for worse / for richer, for poorer / in sickness and in health / to love and to cherish / 'til death do us part"? It truly is the Me Generation.

Resort to force is never justified, in [Noam Chomsky’s] view, because no nation has completely clean hands. But it may be excused when it is by a nation or group that is neither the United States nor allied with it. Chomsky is an anarcho-pacifist [PDF]. His embrace of that creed—which he treats as self-evidently correct and so doesn’t attempt to defend—illustrates the academic public intellectual’s common mistake of confusing political with personal ethics. A private citizen of the United States can go through life without killing anybody or governing anybody; it does not follow that a large nation can get through its life without governing and without causing people to be killed.

(Richard A. Posner, Public Intellectuals: A Study of Decline [Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 2001], 88 [footnote omitted])

I'm not alone in thinking that Paul Krugman is intellectually dishonest. See here for James Taranto's take. Scroll down to the heading "The Former Enron Adviser." Krugman, like his fellow New York Times op-ed columnists Bob Herbert, Maureen Dowd, and Frank Rich, is paranoid and delusional. I have no idea why. If I had to guess, I would say that it's because they're dogmatic. Their egalitarian and pacifistic commitments are so strong—so unquestioned—that they can't understand how anyone could not be similarly committed. That individuals (such as George W. Bush) who lack these commitments continue to be elected can only be a sign of a grand conspiracy. According to this way of thinking, the American people aren't evil, like their leaders. They're stupid. They have a false consciousness. Krugman et al. see it as their task to educate the masses so that they have a "true" consciousness. This explains why they keep harping on the same point, column after column.

Liberals, with their fetish for tolerance and sensitivity, will be the death of us all. See here.

This man is beyond cynical. He's paranoid and delusional.

Here is a new blog for your consideration.

To the Editor:

Senator Edward M. Kennedy says the activities of Judge John G. Roberts's wife should be "out of bounds" in examining his qualifications.

But they are not out of bounds for The New York Times, which published an article about Jane Sullivan Roberts on its front page ("Anti-Abortion Advocacy of Wife of Court Nominee Draws Interest," July 23).

We have apparently reached the point where a person who is a pro-life advocate is, at least in some quarters, a danger to the nation.

How did we get to this awful condition? Are the anti-Bush forces so hateful that they will try to blackball a judge because his wife doesn't believe in killing unborn babies?

If they do, I suspect that there will be a considerable backlash, with more voters deciding that the Democrats are indeed culturally tone-deaf.

As for Judge Roberts, it is hard to imagine anyone more qualified to sit on the Supreme Court. The country cannot afford to let this good man get away.

Frederick Van Veen
Kennebunkport, Me., July 23, 2005

Some people think faith and reason are incompatible. In his 1998 encyclical Fides et Ratio, the late Pope John Paul II explained why they are not. See here. Please note that Pope John Paul II (born Karol Józef Wojtyła) was a philosopher by training, inclination, temperament, and profession. (See here, under the date of 1948.)

Addendum: There are two types of explanation. The first is factual or scientific. For example, why are there rainbows? Why do dogs bark? Why are there homosexuals? The second is conceptual or philosophical. For example, how is it possible for human action to be both free and determined? How is it possible for faith and reason to coexist? How is it possible for God and evil to coexist? Scientific explanations explain why something is the case. Philosophical explanations explain how something can be the case, given something else that may seem to be incompatible with it. This papal encyclical is of the latter sort. If you'd like to read more about philosophical explanations, see Robert Nozick, Philosophical Explanations (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, Belknap Press, 1981).

Callous, adj. Gifted with great fortitude to bear the evils afflicting another.

When Zeno was told that one of his enemies was no more he was observed to be deeply moved. "What!" said one of his disciples, "you weep at the death of an enemy?" "Ah, 'tis true," replied the great Stoic; "but you should see me smile at the death of a friend."

(Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, c. 1911)

7-27-85 Saturday. The sky clouded up this afternoon and rain poured forth. I remained inside the apartment trying to catch up on my correspondence, journal entries, and newspaper reading, so the rain didn’t bother me. Tomorrow, however, I’ll be disappointed if it rains, because my weekly bike ride must go on as scheduled. It’s that time of year when the weather is at its most volatile. One day the sky is clear and blue, while the next it is filled with clouds and lightning. Right now I’ve got the air conditioner on at full blast to neutralize the heat and humidity of the outdoors.

My letter to the editor on constitutional adjudication was published two days ago. But this morning, to my surprise, I got a flattering telephone call from a stranger telling me that he “enjoyed” my letter in the Arizona Republic. He guessed that I was a “constitutional lawyer.” “Well,” I said, “I am a lawyer, and I’m also a Ph.D. candidate in philosophy, but I’m not exactly a constitutional lawyer.” The caller then explained that he was a seventy-two year old retired attorney and that his son, Winton D. Woods, teaches at the University of Arizona Law School. He must have gotten my telephone number from the operator. Oh well, it could have been much worse. I could have gotten a call from an irate conservative, someone who thinks that the intentions of the framers are all-important in constitutional adjudication. I thanked Mr. Woods for his call, and for his kind words, and wished him well. How nice to find support for one’s position among strangers!

I was angry and disappointed a year ago when I learned that my Sears [Free Spirit] bike had not been repaired, as ordered. But when I looked at things dispassionately, I realized that I was better off trading the bike in for another, better bike than spending money on repairs. I don’t regret the decision. I’ve had my white ten-speed bike for exactly a year, and in that time I’ve ridden 1005.8 miles with nary a problem—much of it in the rain or over mountains. The tires have not gone flat, the derailleur works tolerably well, and the footstraps make riding much easier. I’m glad that I purchased the bike. Perhaps some day I can purchase an even lighter and more durable bike. Mine has only ten speeds, but I understand that twelve- and fifteen-speed bikes are being manufactured these days. That will turn large hills into flat surfaces. [On 23 September 1989, more than four years after this entry was written, I purchased a 14-speed Schwinn 564, which I rode for 11½ years. I’ve had my current bike—a 16-speed Douglas Precision TI (titanium)—for a little over four years.]

A new world record was set in the mile run today. Steve Cram of Great Britain stole the record from his countryman, Sebastian Coe, who had set the record of three minutes, 47.33 seconds in 1981. Cram’s new mark is three minutes, 46.3 seconds—or the equivalent of four consecutive 56.57-second quarter-mile runs. Can you believe it? Many top-notch athletes would have a hard time running one 56.57-second quarter-mile, let alone four in a row. Cram now has set two world records this month. His earlier record came in the 1500-meter run, which is slightly less than a mile. I’m amazed at these feats. Running is definitely not my sport. [Ha! I have dozens of trophies and medals from running, at distances from five kilometers to the marathon. The mile record is now 3:43.13, set by Moroccan Hicham El Guerrouj on 7 July 1999. Guerrouj also holds the record in the 1500-meter run.]

Odds and ends: (1) Beau, my nephew, will be five years old a week from Monday. I’ve been sending birthday cards to all of my nieces and nephews for several years. But today I decided to start something different. In addition to birthday cards, I’ll compose and send a poem to each of my nieces and nephews on their birthdays. Beau’s poem, which I composed today, is about baseball.

As someone who plays softball and, in fact, needs a new glove (mine is at least 30 years old), I am pleased to learn that there are gloves made of synthetic materials rather than leather. See here.

I'm paid by the citizens of the state of Texas, so it's only fair that I disclose my salary to them. Here it is:

09-01-89—$23,000.00
09-01-90—$25,000.00—$2000.00—08.69%
09-01-91—$28,000.00—$3000.00—12.00%
09-01-92—$28,769.36—$0769.36—02.74%
09-01-93—$29,123.00—$0353.64—01.22%
09-01-94—$30,301.00—$1178.00—04.04%
09-01-95—$35,775.44—$5474.44—18.06%
09-01-96—$36,034.04—$0258.60—00.72%
09-01-97—$38,557.00—$2522.96—07.00%
09-01-98—$39,557.00—$1000.00—02.59%
09-01-99—$40,890.00—$1333.00—03.36%
09-01-00—$42,934.00—$2044.00—04.99%
09-01-01—$44,522.00—$1588.00—03.69%
09-01-02—$45,635.00—$1113.00—02.49%
09-01-03—$45,635.00—$0000.00—00.00%
03-01-04—$48,395.00—$2760.00—06.04%
09-01-04—$51,993.00—$3598.00—07.43%
09-01-05—$53,493.00—$1500.00—02.88%

The first column is the effective date. The second column is the salary. The third column is the increase in salary over the previous year. The fourth column is the rate of increase in salary over the previous year.

Here is John Gray's review of Thomas Friedman's book The World Is Flat.

One summer, when I was in graduate school in Tucson, my friend David Cortner lent me his compact-disc player and a box of CDs. I was to take care of them until he returned (from Tennessee) for the fall semester. I didn't own a CD player and didn't think I'd enjoy the music he had; but I was wrong. David had several CDs from the Windham Hill label: George Winston, Michael Hedges, Alex De Grassi, Mark Isham, Shadowfax, William Ackerman, Liz Story, and Stanley Jordan. I immediately fell in love not just with the technology, but with these albums. Every morning, as I sipped coffee while working at my Kaypro II computer, I listened to beautiful, relaxing music. As soon as I could afford a CD player of my own, I bought one, and then I began purchasing the albums I had heard, plus several others. To this day, Windham Hill music transports me to another world. Thank you, David, for introducing me to this wonderful music.

To the Editor:

Re "Lock and Load" (column, July 23):

Sarah Vowell assumes that when people take on problems the government cannot solve, they must be childish. But those who illegally enter a country attack the very essence of a nation: its sovereignty.

These Minutemen citizens policing our borders are performing theater, to draw attention to a problem that is destroying the core of our culture. Or does Ms. Vowell imagine that more than 10 million illegal immigrants is a minor problem?

Gregory Benford
Mammoth, Calif., July 23, 2005

You may laugh when you read this, but I’m on a diet. No, not one of those stupid and dangerous diets, such as the Atkins Low-Carb diet. I’m simply monitoring (and limiting) my caloric intake. Let me give you some background. I’ve always been skinny and athletic. (My law-school buddy Steve said I looked like a Biafran.) I used to eat voraciously and not gain any weight. I do mean voraciously. I know from reading my journal that I ate 12 to 14 slices of bread a day, plus other foods. In September 1996, having ridden my bicycle like a maniac for more than a decade, I took up marathon running (in addition to bicycling, not instead of it). I think it’s because my 40th birthday was approaching and I needed a new challenge. Some men buy a Corvette, get a hair transplant, or take a mistress when they turn 40; I took up distance running. When I began running, I weighed 160 pounds. I’m five feet, eleven inches tall, so you know I had no fat on my body.

I quickly became addicted to running. As soon as I finished one run, I started thinking about the next one. I probably drove my family and friends crazy by talking about my new love. By 3 January 1997, having run my first marathon and commenced training for the second (two months later), I weighed 155.5 pounds. That was my low point, weight-wise. I know I was eating just as much as ever, so the running must have reduced my weight. This was my lean, mean running-machine period. A year later, still running fanatically, I weighed 161 pounds. Some of this may be due to increased muscle mass (i.e., the replacement of fat by muscle), but I suspect my metabolism had begun to slow. I was almost 41 years old. On 10 May 2001, I saw “170” for the first time. I still felt and looked good, but I had decreased the frequency and intensity of my runs. By 2004, my weight had creeped into the 170s. My waistline had increased an inch (or two), but I was still slim by any reasonable standard. Fast forward to 1 July 2005—26 days ago. I was horrified and disgusted to see that I weighed 177 pounds. I had never seen more than 175!

That did it. I decided that unless I took control of my diet, I would balloon to 180 and higher. You have to believe me when I say that I had never given any thought to the amount of calories I consumed. I ate when I was hungry; I ate what I wanted; and I ate as much as I wanted of whatever I was eating. The first thing I did was find out how many calories I need to sustain my current weight. To my surprise, there are Internet sites devoted to dieting. Here is one of many calculators that I found. I typed in my sex, age, height, weight, and activity level. It said that I need 2,500 to 2,700 calories per day to sustain my weight, given a moderate activity level. Well, then, I said to myself, I need to consume fewer calories than that until my weight falls. I chose 2,000 calories a day, just to see what happened.

It’s been amazing. I weigh myself first thing in the morning every day, and on Fridays I record it. I weighed 177 pounds on 1 July, 172 on 8 July, 169.5 on 15 July, and 170 on 22 July. This morning, I weighed 168 pounds. That’s nine pounds in 26 days! Please note that everything else except caloric intake has been held constant. I’m doing the same amount of bicycling, running, softball playing, and rambling (with my girls); I’m sleeping just as much (or little); and I’m consuming the same amount of water. The only change has been the amount of calories I consume. As those who know me will attest, I’m disciplined. I have not gone over 2,000 calories on any given day. (Okay, I’ve gone to 2,015 a time or two, but only because a portion required it.) What’s interesting about this “diet” is that I eat the same foods I’ve always eaten; I just don’t eat as much of them. The diet has also had some unexpected benefits. First, I don’t eat so late in the evening, since by then I’ve consumed my calories for the day; and second, I eat smaller meals. I don’t want to be hungry in the evening, so I make sure I don’t consume all of my calories in one or two sittings. I might add that I feel great. My gut, such as it was, is quickly disappearing. A month ago, riding alongside my friend Joe at a bike rally, I cracked that if I’m going to have a beer belly, then by god I’m going to drink beer! (I’ve had no alcohol since January 1978.)

If you use the calculator I provided, try selecting different activity levels. Using my weight of today (168 pounds), I get the following figures:

Sedentary: 2,107 calories
Lightly Active: 2,191 calories
Moderately Active: 2,528 calories
Very Active: 2,866 calories
Extremely Active: 3,371 calories

I can rule out “Sedentary” and “Extremely Active,” and I’m pretty sure I’m not “Lightly Active,” so I’m either “Moderately Active” or “Very Active.” To be safe, I chose “Moderately Active.” That means I need 2,528 calories a day to stay at 168 pounds. But I’m going to go down to at least 165 pounds. Once there, I’ll increase my caloric intake by 100-calorie increments until I find an equilibrium. In other words, I’m going to count calories for the rest of my life. It’s pretty easy, actually. I eat 99% of my meals at home, so it’s just a matter of checking the label on everything I consume and writing it down on a post-it note stuck to the counter. Who knows? I felt so good at 155.5 pounds (in 1997) that I may go back to it. Then again, I’m 48 years old. Maybe I should go no lower than 160 pounds. I’m sure it will make running easier on my bones and joints and help me climb hills faster on my bicycle.

I hope this post inspires you to lose weight. Most Americans are overweight, and many are obese. One’s weight is completely within one’s control, despite claims that obesity is a disease. (It’s no more a disease than alcoholism is a disease.) There’s nothing wrong with being hungry from time to time. Have I been hungry during the past month? Yes, but surprisingly, only a handful of times—and I’ve always resisted the temptation to eat. Nor do I feel hungry at night, while sleeping. So get control of your body. Count calories!

The Left's position on homosexuality is no longer about winning tolerance for it but about getting everyone to celebrate it as just one more perfectly normal sexual lifestyle, something many religious conservatives adamantly reject.

(Brian C. Anderson, South Park Conservatives: The Revolt Against Liberal Media Bias [Washington, DC: Regnery Publishing, 2005], 23)

Thomas Friedman uses Lance Armstrong to make a point in today's New York Times op-ed column. The point seems to be that government should take the initiative in trying to solve certain problems that confront us, such as energy dependency. But Lance's athletic success illustrates the power of individual initiative, not collectivism. The role of government is to provide a legal structure within which individuals compete. Friedman makes it seem as though the quest for wealth and status is a problem. No. It's the engine of economic growth, and ultimately of well-being. Friedman's column is another example of the liberal planning (and engineering) mentality. For the umpteenth time, government is hardly ever the solution. It is often the problem.

Note from AnalPhilosopher: When I was a poor law and graduate student, I composed poems for my nieces and nephews as birthday presents. This one was for Beau Andrew Jackson, who was almost five. Now, incredibly, he is almost 25. Happy birthday, Beau!

Laureate, adj. Crowned with leaves of the laurel. In England the Poet Laureate is an officer of the sovereign's court, acting as dancing skeleton at every royal feast and singing-mute at every royal funeral. Of all incumbents of that high office, Robert Southey had the most notable knack at drugging the Samson of public joy and cutting his hair to the quick; and he had an artistic color-sense which enabled him so to blacken a public grief as to give it the aspect of a national crime.

(Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, c. 1911)

Katrina vanden Heuvel is editor of The Nation and a self-proclaimed champion of the little person. See here. But she's a child of privilege, a multi-millionaire, and a capitalist. See here and here. How can anyone take her seriously? At least Karl Marx lived a frugal life.

7-26-85 . . . I recently purchased a cassette tape by Tony Banks, who is a member in good standing of the group Genesis. Besides four tapes by Genesis, I now have a growing collection of tapes by former or present Genesis members. I own Tony Banks’s The Fugitive [1983], Phil Collins’s Face Value [1981], one of Peter Gabriel’s many solo tapes, Mike Rutherford’s Smallcreep’s Day [1980] and Acting Very Strange [I now have this 1982 album on compact disc], and Steve Hackett’s Please Don’t Touch [1978]. Pretty impressive for a single group, isn’t it? Each of these musicians is extremely talented and productive in his own right, and when they come together to make music as a group, the result is superb. I just hope that Genesis remains a viable entity over the next few years. But if it doesn’t, I’ll have several additional tapes to purchase before I have a completed collection of the band’s music. [I now own 19 Genesis albums on compact disc. I have several more yet to buy.]

My brother Glenn (up in Michigan) just sent a link to this. I've done two bicycle expeditions. (Actually, "expedition" means [literally] out [ex] walk [ped], or walkout, so it's not the right term. Nor is "excursion," which means out [ex] cur [run], or runout. I call mine "bike trips.") I rode around Michigan in 10 days in 1982 and across Arizona in five days in 1984.

Imagine pedaling a bicycle 30.88 miles in one hour, with no drafting, no tailwind, and no aerobars. That's what Czech Ondrej Sosenka did a week ago in Moscow. He is now the world record holder in the hour. Some of the greatest bicyclists in the world, including five-time Tour de France winners Jacques Anquetil and Eddy Merckx, have held this record. Some were reluctant to try, for fear of failure. To my knowledge, Lance Armstrong has never made an attempt. He should. If he succeeds, it will put him in the bicycling pantheon. Isn't he already in the pantheon? No. He focused too much on one race: the Tour de France. He is the best Tour rider of all time, but not even close to the best bicyclist of all time. See here for criticisms of his narrow focus. See here for the story of the hour record.

There’s been a great deal of speculation—already—about what Lance Armstrong will do with himself now that his bicycling career is over. I may as well throw in my two cents’ worth. I predict that Lance will become an attorney. Why? Because it’s a high-status occupation; it’s challenging; it’s competitive; and it’s versatile. Lance may want to represent athletes the way he’s been represented by Bill Stapleton. Or he may view law as a stepping-stone to politics. The problem with Lance becoming an attorney is that he never went to college. So that’s the first step. I predict that within a year, Lance will enroll at The University of Texas at Austin as an undergraduate. Perhaps he’ll take some of his courses via the Internet so that his celebrity doesn’t disrupt the campus. Law school will be different. The people there are older, more mature, more serious, and less excitable. They’ll know who Lance is, but they won’t be intimidated by him. Another reason I think Lance will go to college is to show his children the importance of formal education.

Addendum: Here is a story about Lance Armstrong—before he was Lance Armstrong. Here is another one.

This week's link is to the website of Brian Bix. Note Brian's credentials: a law degree from Harvard and a D.Phil. degree from Oxford. I hate you, Brian. But seriously, Brian is a terrific—and prolific—scholar. I have corresponded with him for several years and used one of his books in my Philosophy of Law course.

To the Editor:

Re "Death Toll Rises in Egyptian Bombings" (front page, July 24) and "5 Shots in a Train Car Leave Londoners Shaken" (front page, July 23):

As the tragic events in London and Egypt unfold, it is not surprising, although it is regrettable, that frightened and worried people who see themselves as potential victims may react with sweeping condemnations of entire ethnic or religious groups.

One way to avoid such a backlash might be for the entire Muslim community to rise up as one and energetically and unequivocally condemn those terrorist acts committed by an unrepresentative few.