It was the late 70's and I was a sophomore at Liberty University. On the first day of wrestling practice Coach Bonheim called us together and announced: "All right, this year we are going to do something a little different." He went on to explain how practices would be organized. Every other day we would be wrestling. The in-between days were to be spent practicing moves. This was my introduction to interval training.
Wrestling days began with body-weight exercises. Coach was a bit leery of free-weights back then. Afterward the real work started. A typical session would go like this: Wrestling for a 1 minute period, then 2 minutes, then 3. Next: 3 minutes, 2 minutes and 1 minute. Between we would circle the mat and check our pulse. Once our heart rate fell below 120 we would start again. Thus it would continue. Each practice would include about 45 minutes of full-on wrestling.
Off days would serve two purposes: Recovery from the previous day; and refinement of skills. This was radically different from what I had known before and I was curious about the effects. They turned out to be good. The team had a winning season and we placed 3rd in the NCCAA (National Christian College Athletic Association) tournament. The previous year we had placed 5th. The effect on me? Unfortunately I had to leave the team for more pressing matters early in the season. But the short time I had put me in arguably the best shape of my life. I had a resting heart rate of 50. I was strong with great endurance and flexibility.
That was then. Today interval training and its numerous variations are among the most popular forms of exercise. They promise all the usual benefits of training; weight loss, increased energy, muscle mass, etc, in a much shorter time frame. I am speaking of a couple of studies which seem to show that short, intense bursts of energy can have the same effectiveness as longer, less intense sessions.
I decided to test this idea on a willing subject - me. What kinds of changes would a high-intensity workout engender? Not being a gym rat anymore, I own exactly three pieces of equipment. Two 40 lb dumbbells and a NordicTrack bicycle.
On alternate days I do weights. Back, chest (in the form of pushups), abs, shoulders and arms. Three sets each with no more than 3 minutes rest in between. I warm up with a quick sprint on the bike, and usually hit it again halfway through to keep my heart rate (way) up. The in between days consist of bicycle sprints: 4 of them with 3 minutes rest in between. This may sound like a short session. It is. I spend no more than 1 minute at a time riding, but my pace is furious. Some days I go at my absolute max speed. These last for about 30 seconds. Other days I go at the highest rate I can perform for 1 minute.
The new workout had an immediate effect, mostly in a negative sense. The pain in my legs by the end of each sprint was tremendous. I would be sucking air like crazy and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest. This is certainly not for the squeamish! It took a few weeks for my body to adapt to this new workout. Now I'm developing some variations to make the sprints even more intense. My heart and breathing are still through the roof when I'm riding, but I recover quickly and by the next start time I'm more than ready to go again.
The effects? My muscles are tight and feel great. I haven't lost any appreciable muscle mass even though I have to do more reps than before. Sure, the intensity leaves my legs tight, but I remedy that with stretching on off days. On the up side, I am rarely tired or out of breath. And what about my resting heart rate? It's not 50 anymore. Actually, it's a bit lower.
This type of workout carries a high discomfort factor, that's true. But the benefits are well worth the effort.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Saturday, August 20, 2011
A Few Thoughts on Complexity
When we think about the ongoing debate between creationists and evolutionists, at some point the question of complexity comes up. The universe as we know it is complex and that points to a creator we would say. Not so, they retort, something can be complex and not have a designer or creator. Really? I could make a general statement that everything is complex, but it doesn't tell the whole story. Some things are more complex than others. Here are some considerations we should take into account. What makes something complex? Kind of a difficult question, but we can identify a few characteristics. First, let's talk:
Parts:
The number of parts is a factor, but that is only one aspect of it. An hourglass has lots of parts (grains of sand) but it is not really very complex. A pocket watch, however, is another matter. It contains lots of parts which are distinct from each other in material, size, shape and internal complexity. By this I am referring to the kinds of operations which are necessary to make the part fulfill its purpose. Some are made of flat metal with a couple of holes punched in them. Others are cast, drilled to precise measurements, have other parts, like bearings pressed into them, are heat treated, ground, tapped, grooved or knurled. They in and of themselves are complicated and made to exacting standards. We could also make a case for uniqueness. That is, does the part only exist in this environment, or is it widely available. Honorable mention would go the amount of time and energy required to bring all the different raw materials together for manufacture.
More than Parts:
But one thing is missing from the above argument. That would be the holistic nature of the mechanism. Is a watch more than the sum of its parts? Yes, definitely. What is it that makes the mechanism more? The fact that force and procedure must be applied to the parts in order to make them work. I alluded to this when I mentioned internal complexity. Parts alone do not make a watch. One can assemble all the necessary pieces, put them in a bag and leave them for a million years and they will never tell time no matter how much the bag is shaken, stirred or flipped. More is needed.
Force needs to be applied. Having the parts in close proximity to each other is nice, but someone, or some thing, (as in a robotic arm) must grasp the parts and put them in place. Fasteners will be needed to hold the parts together. If the fastener is a screw, it must be positioned and tightened in a specific way. Bearings are another matter. Watch makers often use jewels as bearings because of their resistance to wear. The force required for them must be very specific. If they fit too tight or too loose the watch will not achieve its full potential. It may wear out too fast, or not keep good time. If it is a mechanical watch, the spring mechanism must be placed in such a way that it will have some tension on it. Again, force must be specifically applied. Just the application of force is not good enough. Parts must be assembled according to certain:
Procedures. A watch cannot be put together in a haphazard manner. Since each part is interdependent they need to be assembled in a specific order. Fit between the various gears, bearings and drive mechanism is critical. Tolerances must be attended to. Often, the fit between parts is adjusted before tightening.
The fact that force is judiciously applied and certain procedures are adhered to means intelligence. Intelligence is not simply implied. It is a necessary condition. Some mind must consider the parts and their relationship with each other. That same mind must direct their energy in the best way to assemble the mechanism. Under no other condition will a watch work. Ever.
Now let's consider a cell in light of the same questions.
While a watch may contain hundreds of parts, a cell contains thousands of them. Some are chemicals, others are miniature structures. A few are unique to the cell and found nowhere else on earth. All are microscopic in size. The nucleus contains the blueprint (DNA), written in chemical code for all cellular operations, and also gives the cell the ability to reproduce itself with great accuracy. Other devices read DNA and perform its instructions. Cells contain their own metabolic power supply (mitochondria) and internal highway system (endoplasmic reticulum) These parts are enveloped in a semi-permeable skin, which is an engineering marvel in and of itself.
All in all, a cell is several orders of complexity higher than any watch. It is holistic too. It has already been 'wound' up. It is alive.
And that's a trick no watch maker has ever been able to pull off.
The above photo was copied from the Wikipedia article titled: "Watchmaker Analogy".
Here is the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watchmaker_analogy.
Also: Interested in what it might take to build a watch? Try this link: http://web.ticino.com/dcorson/watch/
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Episode 9: Candidate of the Apocalypse
Vance took a last puff of his cigarette and squashed it out. It was almost time. He had parked his car up here more than an hour before, half a block away from the Briar Street Theater. His mission was simple, to disrupt a political rally by any means possible. The candidate was a relative unknown, but he was supported by the Tea Party and that was enough for him, or, for his bosses anyway.
Vance's contact was nothing more than a voice, but he sure paid well. The call had come from a blocked phone a week before. If he was successful, and he usually was, a significant deposit would be made into one of his accounts. Cracking his knuckles and neck, he secretly hoped to get into a fight. But something wasn't quite right. He had been monitoring the sidewalk traffic for almost an hour and had seen no one approach the theater. Checking his watch again he saw it was only 15 minutes before the meeting was to begin. "These guys sure are running late tonight", he thought. Just then his phone rang....
Charles quickly ascended the podium. He stood smiling and nodding to acknowledge the crowd. With a raise of his hand the cheering stopped.
"First of all I would like to thank a few of you who somehow were able to book us at this beautiful edifice! Let's have a cheer for the Bank of America Theater!" As the crowd roared Charles nodded to a few people against the back wall who were smiling broadly.
"....What do you mean I've got the wrong place! This is the address they sent me!"
The voice on the phone rose in pitch and volume for a few moments, then calmed. Vance listened intently as the muscles in his neck tensed.
"Yes sir, I'll try and do better next time."
Vance got out of the car and paced back and forth on the sidewalk. Now what? He had fallen into disfavor with his bosses. Someone must have known what he was up to and led him on a wild goose chase. He'd been had. That realization worked its way through his mind and enraged him. "All right, two can play at that game. I know a few people too!" His phone came up to his ear and in a moment he was speaking in hushed tones to a man on the other end....
Charles held up the front page of yesterday's newspaper to display the headline.
"Tonight we will be talking about politics and the economy. First I want to explode a myth to you. A lot of times we see politicians in the news saying something like, 'We're going to put people back to work!' Or some variation of that. It doesn't matter what political party they represent. They're lying! The fact of the matter is this-governments do not and cannot create jobs. People do. We can see from a couple of thousand years of history that the powers of government have tried all kinds of different things to affect, or control the marketplace. And do you know how many times they have succeeded? Zero! An obvious lesson for us, isn't it? The best thing any government can do to promote economic growth is simply to get out of the way."
From his vantage point against the wall, his campaign manager had an excellent view of the crowd. They were fully engaged with Charles as he spoke. They smiled at his witticisms, nodded as he made each point and applauded regularly. The hard work their campaign had put in for the last year was showing. From the very beginning Charles had insisted on recording every talk he made. Not out of conceit, which was absent from his persona, but to help him get better. Every answer, along with his body language and facial expressions were examined in detail. Charles had honed his skills like a craftsman. The truth was that he already had many of the best qualities in place. He was friendly, personable, self-effacing and intelligent. He had a way of speaking to the issues softly but powerfully and could inspire confidence in just about any audience.
But tonight was something special.
His speech drew a standing ovation and Charles easily moved into the question and answer portion of the evening. Unlike most candidates at so called town hall meetings, none of the questions were screened. Charles stayed on the platform for this while some volunteers worked their way through the audience. Each one carried a portable camera so the questioner's face could be broadcast on the big screen up front. His answers were straight from the shoulder with no notes. His grasp of the issues, though considerable, was stretched to the limit. Questions covered every major and minor issue. Charles was able to keep upbeat and positive through it all.
Before long the meeting wound to a close. Most people filed out, but some stayed, hanging around in small groups with the largest around Charles. Like every meeting, (time permitting, of course) he would not leave until he had talked personally with everyone. It was past eleven o'clock when they finally shut the lights in the auditorium down. Charles had been there for over five hours and the fatigue was showing on his face. All that was left was to sign a few papers. His campaign manager would perform this task. Charles left first.
A few minutes later his manager came out of the theater, trotted across West Monroe and turned left. Their car was just up the street. As he walked his mind was thinking about the next day's schedule. They would start early at Good Day Chicago. That meant very little sleep tonight. But there would be an opportunity to catch a few winks on the flight back tomorrow afternoon. Just then his thoughts were interrupted. Something was going on up ahead. Some kind of struggle. He paused for a moment, not out of fear, but curiosity. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs and took off running. Some thugs were attacking Charles!
"Hey!" he shouted, "Leave that guy alone!" One of the masked men turned his head toward the manager and pointed a pistol in his direction. Seeing the gun he dove to the side, just in time to see the muzzle flash out the corner of his eye. He heard the whine of the bullet as it passed through the space where he was a moment ago. There was no fear at the moment. That would come later. He rolled to his feet and saw that Charles was being hauled into a van. The door slammed shut and tires squealed as it took off. The manager ran out into the street unable to do anything except watch as the van disappeared into the night.
"Help! Help!" He cried into the air with tears streaming down his face.
Vance's contact was nothing more than a voice, but he sure paid well. The call had come from a blocked phone a week before. If he was successful, and he usually was, a significant deposit would be made into one of his accounts. Cracking his knuckles and neck, he secretly hoped to get into a fight. But something wasn't quite right. He had been monitoring the sidewalk traffic for almost an hour and had seen no one approach the theater. Checking his watch again he saw it was only 15 minutes before the meeting was to begin. "These guys sure are running late tonight", he thought. Just then his phone rang....
Charles quickly ascended the podium. He stood smiling and nodding to acknowledge the crowd. With a raise of his hand the cheering stopped.
"First of all I would like to thank a few of you who somehow were able to book us at this beautiful edifice! Let's have a cheer for the Bank of America Theater!" As the crowd roared Charles nodded to a few people against the back wall who were smiling broadly.
"....What do you mean I've got the wrong place! This is the address they sent me!"
The voice on the phone rose in pitch and volume for a few moments, then calmed. Vance listened intently as the muscles in his neck tensed.
"Yes sir, I'll try and do better next time."
Vance got out of the car and paced back and forth on the sidewalk. Now what? He had fallen into disfavor with his bosses. Someone must have known what he was up to and led him on a wild goose chase. He'd been had. That realization worked its way through his mind and enraged him. "All right, two can play at that game. I know a few people too!" His phone came up to his ear and in a moment he was speaking in hushed tones to a man on the other end....
Charles held up the front page of yesterday's newspaper to display the headline.
"Tonight we will be talking about politics and the economy. First I want to explode a myth to you. A lot of times we see politicians in the news saying something like, 'We're going to put people back to work!' Or some variation of that. It doesn't matter what political party they represent. They're lying! The fact of the matter is this-governments do not and cannot create jobs. People do. We can see from a couple of thousand years of history that the powers of government have tried all kinds of different things to affect, or control the marketplace. And do you know how many times they have succeeded? Zero! An obvious lesson for us, isn't it? The best thing any government can do to promote economic growth is simply to get out of the way."
From his vantage point against the wall, his campaign manager had an excellent view of the crowd. They were fully engaged with Charles as he spoke. They smiled at his witticisms, nodded as he made each point and applauded regularly. The hard work their campaign had put in for the last year was showing. From the very beginning Charles had insisted on recording every talk he made. Not out of conceit, which was absent from his persona, but to help him get better. Every answer, along with his body language and facial expressions were examined in detail. Charles had honed his skills like a craftsman. The truth was that he already had many of the best qualities in place. He was friendly, personable, self-effacing and intelligent. He had a way of speaking to the issues softly but powerfully and could inspire confidence in just about any audience.
But tonight was something special.
His speech drew a standing ovation and Charles easily moved into the question and answer portion of the evening. Unlike most candidates at so called town hall meetings, none of the questions were screened. Charles stayed on the platform for this while some volunteers worked their way through the audience. Each one carried a portable camera so the questioner's face could be broadcast on the big screen up front. His answers were straight from the shoulder with no notes. His grasp of the issues, though considerable, was stretched to the limit. Questions covered every major and minor issue. Charles was able to keep upbeat and positive through it all.
Before long the meeting wound to a close. Most people filed out, but some stayed, hanging around in small groups with the largest around Charles. Like every meeting, (time permitting, of course) he would not leave until he had talked personally with everyone. It was past eleven o'clock when they finally shut the lights in the auditorium down. Charles had been there for over five hours and the fatigue was showing on his face. All that was left was to sign a few papers. His campaign manager would perform this task. Charles left first.
A few minutes later his manager came out of the theater, trotted across West Monroe and turned left. Their car was just up the street. As he walked his mind was thinking about the next day's schedule. They would start early at Good Day Chicago. That meant very little sleep tonight. But there would be an opportunity to catch a few winks on the flight back tomorrow afternoon. Just then his thoughts were interrupted. Something was going on up ahead. Some kind of struggle. He paused for a moment, not out of fear, but curiosity. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs and took off running. Some thugs were attacking Charles!
"Hey!" he shouted, "Leave that guy alone!" One of the masked men turned his head toward the manager and pointed a pistol in his direction. Seeing the gun he dove to the side, just in time to see the muzzle flash out the corner of his eye. He heard the whine of the bullet as it passed through the space where he was a moment ago. There was no fear at the moment. That would come later. He rolled to his feet and saw that Charles was being hauled into a van. The door slammed shut and tires squealed as it took off. The manager ran out into the street unable to do anything except watch as the van disappeared into the night.
"Help! Help!" He cried into the air with tears streaming down his face.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Episode 8: Candidate of the Apocalypse Part 2
"Ahhhhh!" The menacing faces disappeared and Charles found himself sitting up in bed. It had been a dream. He shook his head to clear it and discovered there was indeed a hand on his shoulder. His campaign manager had risen earlier from the other bed, and hearing his distress moved to wake him. A few moments were necessary for Charles to re-orient himself. What day was it? March 20th, 2011. Where was he? Redding, California. Room 225 in the downtown Holiday Inn. Looking at the clock he saw it was 5:55 AM. In two hours he was to speak at a breakfast get-together with the Redding Merchants Association. Afterward they would be chauffeured into the country for a series of seminars and question/answer sessions for the rest of the day.
"The dream again?"
Charles nodded. For the last few weeks he had been plagued with them.
"Man! That was intense!" Charles got up and paced around while he related a few details from the dream. Then he poured a cup of coffee and they ran over his schedule. It was a busy one. He was going to speak some five times that day-on different subjects. For each talk a folder had been prepared with the most up-to-date and pertinent information. Normally Charles preferred a more extemporaneous approach. His outlines were often just key words on a sheet of paper. But this was a conference and he wanted to have the documentation at his fingertips.
A few minutes later, he nodded. "This is very impressive! We're going to knock-em dead today." With that he rose to shower and get ready.
His manager nodded and shifted toward the computer. He had been working on their web site. It was puzzling. For some time now his goal was to use every internet tool possible to spread their message and promote Charles as a viable alternative to normal party politics. Facebook, Twitter, blogs, emails and the rest were his domain. He found that their 'no money' policy was a good hook, but now more was needed to keep interest in the cause. His web site featured a literal cornucopia of information and resources. There was a set of links to the best and most conservative sites. Both he and Charles wrote weekly articles about the role of government and law to a free society; and the consequences when these roles were exceeded. Both their blogs were updated daily with running commentary about the issues at hand. He recorded every talk Charles made and excerpts were posted on a regular basis. They had multiple areas for their followers to comment. One, called 'My Take', allowed individuals to offer their own solutions to everything from health care to tax reform. Needless to say, this was a popular and lively forum. The best of these ideas were featured prominently on the site. In fact, many of them were quite good. He had also set up the network to be as decentralized as possible. The sister and mirror sites were maintained and updated by volunteers, who had a measure of control over them. A bit of latitude was allowed to keep local groups focused and interested. It had taken quite a while for him to put all this together, and the rewards were beginning to show. Membership was increasing rapidly. Charles had garnered the attention of the Tea Party and became a speaker at their events. Everything was in place for the big push which would begin later this year. All in all he was confident of their chances. What was needed now was some nudge, a seminal event for Charles' candidacy to explode on the national stage. Were that to happen he would be unstoppable.
Yet he had to face a feeling that something wasn't quite right. This mood was unrelated to Charles' leadership or his abilities. He was a great boss. No. It was something external and cast a pall over every victory, every achievement.
When the threats began he supposed they were from some disenchanted individual or group. It was soon apparent they were not. And when he used his (considerable) programming skills to find the culprits, he found nothing but dead ends. The perpetrators, whoever they be, were pretty slick. But the demands of the campaign left no time to concentrate on some (hopefully) empty threats. However, they continued, becoming more and more specific as well as more violent. Soon they could no longer be ignored. He sought advice from law enforcement officers who specialized in cyber-crime, to no avail. Now he was quietly asking for plainclothes officers and off-duty policemen to attend their meetings and keep and eye out for anything suspicious.
As campaign manager he was rarely on center stage but always near it. That fact allowed him to be in a unique position. He could watch the audience and read their faces. While most of the people in the crowds were fully engaged, smiling and upbeat; a few started appearing with scowls and frowns. When he attempted to corner these individuals and find out what their concerns were he was met with stone faced silence. They were obviously being watched. But by whom? He could not tell. It was quite normal for politicians to keep tabs on their opponents; but this behavior had a sinister feel. In the past few days the number of threats had increased considerably. His gut was warning him that something bad was going down in just two weeks. All the threats pointed to Chicago.
But he had a few tricks up his sleeve, too.
"The dream again?"
Charles nodded. For the last few weeks he had been plagued with them.
"Man! That was intense!" Charles got up and paced around while he related a few details from the dream. Then he poured a cup of coffee and they ran over his schedule. It was a busy one. He was going to speak some five times that day-on different subjects. For each talk a folder had been prepared with the most up-to-date and pertinent information. Normally Charles preferred a more extemporaneous approach. His outlines were often just key words on a sheet of paper. But this was a conference and he wanted to have the documentation at his fingertips.
A few minutes later, he nodded. "This is very impressive! We're going to knock-em dead today." With that he rose to shower and get ready.
His manager nodded and shifted toward the computer. He had been working on their web site. It was puzzling. For some time now his goal was to use every internet tool possible to spread their message and promote Charles as a viable alternative to normal party politics. Facebook, Twitter, blogs, emails and the rest were his domain. He found that their 'no money' policy was a good hook, but now more was needed to keep interest in the cause. His web site featured a literal cornucopia of information and resources. There was a set of links to the best and most conservative sites. Both he and Charles wrote weekly articles about the role of government and law to a free society; and the consequences when these roles were exceeded. Both their blogs were updated daily with running commentary about the issues at hand. He recorded every talk Charles made and excerpts were posted on a regular basis. They had multiple areas for their followers to comment. One, called 'My Take', allowed individuals to offer their own solutions to everything from health care to tax reform. Needless to say, this was a popular and lively forum. The best of these ideas were featured prominently on the site. In fact, many of them were quite good. He had also set up the network to be as decentralized as possible. The sister and mirror sites were maintained and updated by volunteers, who had a measure of control over them. A bit of latitude was allowed to keep local groups focused and interested. It had taken quite a while for him to put all this together, and the rewards were beginning to show. Membership was increasing rapidly. Charles had garnered the attention of the Tea Party and became a speaker at their events. Everything was in place for the big push which would begin later this year. All in all he was confident of their chances. What was needed now was some nudge, a seminal event for Charles' candidacy to explode on the national stage. Were that to happen he would be unstoppable.
Yet he had to face a feeling that something wasn't quite right. This mood was unrelated to Charles' leadership or his abilities. He was a great boss. No. It was something external and cast a pall over every victory, every achievement.
When the threats began he supposed they were from some disenchanted individual or group. It was soon apparent they were not. And when he used his (considerable) programming skills to find the culprits, he found nothing but dead ends. The perpetrators, whoever they be, were pretty slick. But the demands of the campaign left no time to concentrate on some (hopefully) empty threats. However, they continued, becoming more and more specific as well as more violent. Soon they could no longer be ignored. He sought advice from law enforcement officers who specialized in cyber-crime, to no avail. Now he was quietly asking for plainclothes officers and off-duty policemen to attend their meetings and keep and eye out for anything suspicious.
As campaign manager he was rarely on center stage but always near it. That fact allowed him to be in a unique position. He could watch the audience and read their faces. While most of the people in the crowds were fully engaged, smiling and upbeat; a few started appearing with scowls and frowns. When he attempted to corner these individuals and find out what their concerns were he was met with stone faced silence. They were obviously being watched. But by whom? He could not tell. It was quite normal for politicians to keep tabs on their opponents; but this behavior had a sinister feel. In the past few days the number of threats had increased considerably. His gut was warning him that something bad was going down in just two weeks. All the threats pointed to Chicago.
But he had a few tricks up his sleeve, too.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
A Quick Thought on Creation
The watchmaker argument is still a good one. I was reading a skeptic blog some time back and it seems that someone asked a RSG (really smart guy - ie, a scientist) about it. He replied (and I'm paraphrasing) that it didn't seem like much to compare a watch to the universe. My reaction was, "of course!" It is kind of trivial to do so. I find it quite sad that an otherwise brilliant man can look at a watch and know it had a designer and then that same guy can turn around, look at the universe which is, what, a trillion times more complex, and say it had none.
Episode 8: Candidate of the Apocalypse Part 1
"The Dream"
Flashback: January 2013
It was a beautiful, crisp morning. The sun was just peeking over the trees that lined Pennsylvania Ave and a slight breeze stirred the few remaining leaves on the ground.
"And now without further adieu, it is my pleasure to introduce to you, The President of the United States!"
The crowd rose to their feet, clapping and cheering wildly. Many of them were waiving flags at the same time. On the Capitol steps the scene was equally jubilant. Smiles were everywhere. Charles was beaming as he stepped up to the podium. But he didn't stop behind it as he was instructed by the Secret Service. Rather, he stepped beside the podium and acknowledged the adulation of the crowd. The roar got even louder as he stood and raised his hand in a gesture of victory. A full four minutes later he waved for the last time and moved behind the podium. It took a few moments for the crowd to fall silent while Charles shuffled the sheaf of papers which were his speech. He cracked his neck and cleared his throat before he began.
"Members of the Senate and House of Representatives, and citizens of the United States - and honored guests - welcome! The tide has turned! (cheers) This past November you spoke loud and clear. You said no to a particular ideology and yes to another. This is what you said 'no' to. Big government! Ineffective solutions! Higher taxation! Unending regulation! The results of that ideology you know very well. Our nation has experienced the lowest levels of growth and the highest sustained levels of unemployment in it's history. And we are drowning in debt. The high place we enjoyed among the nations of the world has been threatened. Needless to say, this presents quite a challenge. Perhaps the greatest one we have ever faced. But I have faith in the resourcefulness of the American people. After all, weren't we the ones who defeated the best navy in the world at a time when our Navy was non-existent? Weren't we the ones who fought a civil war and emerged from it even stronger than before? Weren't we the first to fly? Haven't we sent a dozen of our number to the moon? By every measure our country has been and continues to be greatest nation in the history of the world.
So what makes us to special? To former administrations the answer to that question would be government. They could not be more wrong. We are great because we place you above government. You are in fact more important. If I may quote from our foundational document, the Declaration of Independence, "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator, and by Creator I mean Almighty G...."
But he could not finish. Something had happened. A gust of wind, much stronger than the others ruffled the papers in his hand and stung his eyes. Startled, Charles wiped away the tears and composed himself to continue his speech, but no words came. His mind was disconnected from his body. He looked down, hoping to regain his bearings from his notes, only to see them turn to ash and crumble in his hands. The dried and broken pieces were swept away in the rushing breeze. Empty palms stared back at him for a few moments while he strained to make sense of it all. At long last he looked up to apologize to the waiting crowd but they had - vanished! The street which moments ago was filled with people was now deserted and littered with blowing debris. There were no cars within his seeing. The howling wind swirled around with rising ferocity. A shadow fell before his eyes and he looked up to see the bright sun disappear behind grey forbidding clouds. But the clouds were not the only things in the air. Birds, black crows were flying everywhere. But no. They were not birds. They were helicopters circling around. Ropes were cast from them and men in black slid down to land in front, beside and behind him. Something inside Charles' mind was yelling for him to run but no movement came. He was completely paralyzed and helpless. His podium dissolved into dust before his impassive eyes and blew away. By now the black-suited, faceless men had surrounded him. Still he did not - no - could not move anything except his head. Their gloved hands were reaching out for him. He was going to be taken away, but where? Why was his happening? He knew not. Suddenly one of his attackers grabbed his shoulder like a vice. His paralysis left him and the next instant Charles was fighting for his life....
Flashback: January 2013
It was a beautiful, crisp morning. The sun was just peeking over the trees that lined Pennsylvania Ave and a slight breeze stirred the few remaining leaves on the ground.
"And now without further adieu, it is my pleasure to introduce to you, The President of the United States!"
The crowd rose to their feet, clapping and cheering wildly. Many of them were waiving flags at the same time. On the Capitol steps the scene was equally jubilant. Smiles were everywhere. Charles was beaming as he stepped up to the podium. But he didn't stop behind it as he was instructed by the Secret Service. Rather, he stepped beside the podium and acknowledged the adulation of the crowd. The roar got even louder as he stood and raised his hand in a gesture of victory. A full four minutes later he waved for the last time and moved behind the podium. It took a few moments for the crowd to fall silent while Charles shuffled the sheaf of papers which were his speech. He cracked his neck and cleared his throat before he began.
"Members of the Senate and House of Representatives, and citizens of the United States - and honored guests - welcome! The tide has turned! (cheers) This past November you spoke loud and clear. You said no to a particular ideology and yes to another. This is what you said 'no' to. Big government! Ineffective solutions! Higher taxation! Unending regulation! The results of that ideology you know very well. Our nation has experienced the lowest levels of growth and the highest sustained levels of unemployment in it's history. And we are drowning in debt. The high place we enjoyed among the nations of the world has been threatened. Needless to say, this presents quite a challenge. Perhaps the greatest one we have ever faced. But I have faith in the resourcefulness of the American people. After all, weren't we the ones who defeated the best navy in the world at a time when our Navy was non-existent? Weren't we the ones who fought a civil war and emerged from it even stronger than before? Weren't we the first to fly? Haven't we sent a dozen of our number to the moon? By every measure our country has been and continues to be greatest nation in the history of the world.
So what makes us to special? To former administrations the answer to that question would be government. They could not be more wrong. We are great because we place you above government. You are in fact more important. If I may quote from our foundational document, the Declaration of Independence, "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator, and by Creator I mean Almighty G...."
But he could not finish. Something had happened. A gust of wind, much stronger than the others ruffled the papers in his hand and stung his eyes. Startled, Charles wiped away the tears and composed himself to continue his speech, but no words came. His mind was disconnected from his body. He looked down, hoping to regain his bearings from his notes, only to see them turn to ash and crumble in his hands. The dried and broken pieces were swept away in the rushing breeze. Empty palms stared back at him for a few moments while he strained to make sense of it all. At long last he looked up to apologize to the waiting crowd but they had - vanished! The street which moments ago was filled with people was now deserted and littered with blowing debris. There were no cars within his seeing. The howling wind swirled around with rising ferocity. A shadow fell before his eyes and he looked up to see the bright sun disappear behind grey forbidding clouds. But the clouds were not the only things in the air. Birds, black crows were flying everywhere. But no. They were not birds. They were helicopters circling around. Ropes were cast from them and men in black slid down to land in front, beside and behind him. Something inside Charles' mind was yelling for him to run but no movement came. He was completely paralyzed and helpless. His podium dissolved into dust before his impassive eyes and blew away. By now the black-suited, faceless men had surrounded him. Still he did not - no - could not move anything except his head. Their gloved hands were reaching out for him. He was going to be taken away, but where? Why was his happening? He knew not. Suddenly one of his attackers grabbed his shoulder like a vice. His paralysis left him and the next instant Charles was fighting for his life....
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Episode 7: Candidate of the Apocalypse
Flashback: Late October 2010
Charles was in Seattle finishing up a question from the audience, "....and you know what is said, when taxes approach one hundred percent they should start to level off." The audience responded with laughter. "But this is part of the question that we asked at the beginning, are we a nation of laws? Or not? Every problem facing us is a direct result of our representatives purposefully ignoring the very laws they have sworn to protect. I've got enough time for one more question - let's see. You." He was pointing toward a woman to his left. "What's the big deal with out debt?" I mean, I've heard people say that deficits don't matter. Can't we just forgive it?"
"Good question. Why can't we just forgive our debt? Well, the reason is that this is money we owe to people, or countries. A large part of our debt is obligations to retired individuals through Social Security, Medicare and other types of programs. Another part of our debt is money owed to other countries. Did you know we owe close to a trillion to China? Plus interest, of course. Besides all that is the cost of running the government. All those people who go in to work every day just like you and me. Now, it is on a much larger scale of course, but it is not unlike you having to pay the bills for your household every day, week and month. The difference is the government has a few tricks which are not available to us normal citizens. For example, they can vote to raise their own debt limit. (Wouldn't you guys like to do that!) or raise taxes, or simply print more money. We all know there's a down side to each of these too."
"And now I would like to introduce the team that made all this possible." He proceeded to call the different people up to the platform from memory. In a short time some twenty five beaming faces were standing around him. "These guys put in a lot of time and effort to make this a success. It's amazing what can be accomplished when people voluntarily agree to work together. I would love to stay longer, but I am scheduled to appear on channel 12 WKQD as part of their noon show. Oh, I almost forgot! We are having lunch at Bill's Chop House after the show. If any of you can join us, come on by!" The audience stood and applauded as he was ushered out of the arena.
Charles was all smiles as a entered the station just a few minutes before air time. He was immediately accosted by the producer, who, after a brief introduction proceeded to give instructions about being on TV. "Talk quickly and precisely, look at the person whom you are addressing. Keep gestures to a minimum. Pretend the camera isn't there. Above, all - no dead air." The man was talking nonstop. As he spoke he outfitted Charles with a mike, checked it and gave the make-up artist a chance to do a few touch ups. Charles was relaxed and attentive, nodding after each instruction. He asked no questions. While these preparations were being made the three of them were slowly moving down the hall to the stage door. Passing through the door they could see part of the brightly lit stage. A few moments wait were necessary for the hostess to finish the current segment and go to commercial. In one and a half minutes they would be live. During all this Charles' campaign manager had been silently following along, forgotten. He had been told, and prepared his candidate for the subject of today's on air discussion, government and job creation. Their opponent was an economist, Dr George Carlson. The producer nodded and stepped on stage. He introduced Charles to his host, Connie Chisholm. She offered her hand, "Honey, just call me Connie." Then she turned and introduced him to the other guest. But there must have been some mistake, unless George was a woman. There was no time to adjust. Charles was going into this interview completely blind.
The hostess had dreamed this up as a way to make Charles look like a fool. (Even though she would later deny it.) The actual topic of the segment was religion and prejudice. Across from Charles sat a woman who was invited to speak fist. She proceed to give a rather lengthy, (for television) and possibly rehearsed speech about how people in her religion were discriminated against and the American people were still prejudiced toward them. She finished her speech. Connie smiled broadly and turned to Charles. "And what do you have to say about this?" She asked sweetly.
His campaign manager held his breath.
Charles appeared unperturbed. He leaned forward and, in a soft voice said, "Would you mind if I asked a couple of question?" The woman shook her head. "I see you are wearing a head scarf. Is this required, or do you wear the scarf voluntarily?"
"Yes, it is required, but I want to wear it as well."
"And are you married?"
"Yes"
"Is your husband here today"
"No, he is traveling right now."
"And did he take his other wives with him for his trip?"
She seemed taken aback by this question.
"No, er yes, I am his only wife."
"Do you have a relative, who is with you here at the station?"
"No."
"And have you ever had to appear in court in your home country?"
"No, never."
"Thank you for your answers. The reason I am asking this is because the religion you claim to represent is one of the most repressive on earth, especially toward women. I am somewhat surprised a person of your gender is defending it. You are right about the scarf. But your religion also allows men to have up to five wives at a time. Has your husband ever hit you or threatened you in any way?"
The woman was now on the defense.
"No, he has not."
"Yet the book you call scripture does allow men to strike their wives."
Charles continued. "It is also a requirement that no woman to appear in public unescorted. To go out alone can invite scandal or arrest, as the reporter in your country discovered a few months back when she was in a Starbucks talking to a male colleague. I pity her when she appeared in court, and I'm glad you have never experienced that. And you know why, don't you?"
She said nothing.
"That's because in your court system it takes the testimony of two women to equal that of a single man. This causes no end of problems when women are attacked and there are no other witnesses."
"Now let me ask you a couple of questions about the United States. Do we require a woman to wear a particular garb in public?"
Her head barely moved.
"That's right. Do we require any citizen to express faith in a particular religion? I'll answer that for you, of course not. Yet in your home country if a person, say, decided to become a Christian they would be arrested and perhaps killed. In our country can a man have more than one wife? No. And in our court system does a woman's testimony have any less credibility than a man's? Also, no. You have come here to express that Americans are prejudiced, but that is not so. We may have a lack of knowledge about your belief system, but is that not because it deliberately obfuscates itself? My dear, I pity you."
"I'm afraid we must now break for a commercial." Connie broke in.
Of course the interview was over. The hostess' face barely concealed her rage as she quickly ushered them off stage. Charles' campaign manager was shaking his head in wonder at what he had just seen. How did he know? Who prepped him for this?
A half hour later they were at Bill's lunching with a happy crowd. A number of them had seen the show. Charles was at his best, eating on his feet and moving from table to table as he engaged in conversation with his new friends. He had just picked up a piece of cake for desert when a man signaled to him by waving his phone. "Hey, take a look!". Charles looked intently. There, on a major video site, was his interview. It was already on the web.
The video became an instant hit, particularly among conservatives. The membership of Charles' site almost doubled.
In Washington the political operative noticed the video and visited his site. He gasped at how many new followers were registered and was even more impressed at the site traffic. He picked up the phone and dialed his superior, who angrily chewed him out. Now the operative knew what to do.
And that's when the threats started.
Charles was in Seattle finishing up a question from the audience, "....and you know what is said, when taxes approach one hundred percent they should start to level off." The audience responded with laughter. "But this is part of the question that we asked at the beginning, are we a nation of laws? Or not? Every problem facing us is a direct result of our representatives purposefully ignoring the very laws they have sworn to protect. I've got enough time for one more question - let's see. You." He was pointing toward a woman to his left. "What's the big deal with out debt?" I mean, I've heard people say that deficits don't matter. Can't we just forgive it?"
"Good question. Why can't we just forgive our debt? Well, the reason is that this is money we owe to people, or countries. A large part of our debt is obligations to retired individuals through Social Security, Medicare and other types of programs. Another part of our debt is money owed to other countries. Did you know we owe close to a trillion to China? Plus interest, of course. Besides all that is the cost of running the government. All those people who go in to work every day just like you and me. Now, it is on a much larger scale of course, but it is not unlike you having to pay the bills for your household every day, week and month. The difference is the government has a few tricks which are not available to us normal citizens. For example, they can vote to raise their own debt limit. (Wouldn't you guys like to do that!) or raise taxes, or simply print more money. We all know there's a down side to each of these too."
"And now I would like to introduce the team that made all this possible." He proceeded to call the different people up to the platform from memory. In a short time some twenty five beaming faces were standing around him. "These guys put in a lot of time and effort to make this a success. It's amazing what can be accomplished when people voluntarily agree to work together. I would love to stay longer, but I am scheduled to appear on channel 12 WKQD as part of their noon show. Oh, I almost forgot! We are having lunch at Bill's Chop House after the show. If any of you can join us, come on by!" The audience stood and applauded as he was ushered out of the arena.
Charles was all smiles as a entered the station just a few minutes before air time. He was immediately accosted by the producer, who, after a brief introduction proceeded to give instructions about being on TV. "Talk quickly and precisely, look at the person whom you are addressing. Keep gestures to a minimum. Pretend the camera isn't there. Above, all - no dead air." The man was talking nonstop. As he spoke he outfitted Charles with a mike, checked it and gave the make-up artist a chance to do a few touch ups. Charles was relaxed and attentive, nodding after each instruction. He asked no questions. While these preparations were being made the three of them were slowly moving down the hall to the stage door. Passing through the door they could see part of the brightly lit stage. A few moments wait were necessary for the hostess to finish the current segment and go to commercial. In one and a half minutes they would be live. During all this Charles' campaign manager had been silently following along, forgotten. He had been told, and prepared his candidate for the subject of today's on air discussion, government and job creation. Their opponent was an economist, Dr George Carlson. The producer nodded and stepped on stage. He introduced Charles to his host, Connie Chisholm. She offered her hand, "Honey, just call me Connie." Then she turned and introduced him to the other guest. But there must have been some mistake, unless George was a woman. There was no time to adjust. Charles was going into this interview completely blind.
The hostess had dreamed this up as a way to make Charles look like a fool. (Even though she would later deny it.) The actual topic of the segment was religion and prejudice. Across from Charles sat a woman who was invited to speak fist. She proceed to give a rather lengthy, (for television) and possibly rehearsed speech about how people in her religion were discriminated against and the American people were still prejudiced toward them. She finished her speech. Connie smiled broadly and turned to Charles. "And what do you have to say about this?" She asked sweetly.
His campaign manager held his breath.
Charles appeared unperturbed. He leaned forward and, in a soft voice said, "Would you mind if I asked a couple of question?" The woman shook her head. "I see you are wearing a head scarf. Is this required, or do you wear the scarf voluntarily?"
"Yes, it is required, but I want to wear it as well."
"And are you married?"
"Yes"
"Is your husband here today"
"No, he is traveling right now."
"And did he take his other wives with him for his trip?"
She seemed taken aback by this question.
"No, er yes, I am his only wife."
"Do you have a relative, who is with you here at the station?"
"No."
"And have you ever had to appear in court in your home country?"
"No, never."
"Thank you for your answers. The reason I am asking this is because the religion you claim to represent is one of the most repressive on earth, especially toward women. I am somewhat surprised a person of your gender is defending it. You are right about the scarf. But your religion also allows men to have up to five wives at a time. Has your husband ever hit you or threatened you in any way?"
The woman was now on the defense.
"No, he has not."
"Yet the book you call scripture does allow men to strike their wives."
Charles continued. "It is also a requirement that no woman to appear in public unescorted. To go out alone can invite scandal or arrest, as the reporter in your country discovered a few months back when she was in a Starbucks talking to a male colleague. I pity her when she appeared in court, and I'm glad you have never experienced that. And you know why, don't you?"
She said nothing.
"That's because in your court system it takes the testimony of two women to equal that of a single man. This causes no end of problems when women are attacked and there are no other witnesses."
"Now let me ask you a couple of questions about the United States. Do we require a woman to wear a particular garb in public?"
Her head barely moved.
"That's right. Do we require any citizen to express faith in a particular religion? I'll answer that for you, of course not. Yet in your home country if a person, say, decided to become a Christian they would be arrested and perhaps killed. In our country can a man have more than one wife? No. And in our court system does a woman's testimony have any less credibility than a man's? Also, no. You have come here to express that Americans are prejudiced, but that is not so. We may have a lack of knowledge about your belief system, but is that not because it deliberately obfuscates itself? My dear, I pity you."
"I'm afraid we must now break for a commercial." Connie broke in.
Of course the interview was over. The hostess' face barely concealed her rage as she quickly ushered them off stage. Charles' campaign manager was shaking his head in wonder at what he had just seen. How did he know? Who prepped him for this?
A half hour later they were at Bill's lunching with a happy crowd. A number of them had seen the show. Charles was at his best, eating on his feet and moving from table to table as he engaged in conversation with his new friends. He had just picked up a piece of cake for desert when a man signaled to him by waving his phone. "Hey, take a look!". Charles looked intently. There, on a major video site, was his interview. It was already on the web.
The video became an instant hit, particularly among conservatives. The membership of Charles' site almost doubled.
In Washington the political operative noticed the video and visited his site. He gasped at how many new followers were registered and was even more impressed at the site traffic. He picked up the phone and dialed his superior, who angrily chewed him out. Now the operative knew what to do.
And that's when the threats started.
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