Influenza

It's only anger in my veins
An influenza of the spirit
That swells like a river
That rips apart a rural town
After a prolonged torrential rain.

How I fear the power it brings.
I watch as my capillaries
Ripple 'neath my cyanized skin
So thin, throbbing with each terrible pulse
And seeping rivulets of brine.

My vision goes colorless
And is blinded to all nuance.
My jaw clamps tight,
Allowing only terse, seething utterances
To escape my lips.

My notions become absolutes,
Determined like a rogue virus,
Tearing through body and brain
Displacing the pure oxygen of reason
With the putrid mucous of hate.

But nature has her way
Of debilitating my wrath,
Forcing me back to the mean,
Tethering the rampant germ
From its untenable extreme.

Though this strain my re-assort
And lurk in the mire of my pity,
The sequela it leaves behind
Are the lost friends, family, and lovers
Who did well to avoid my plague.

How I Became An Atheist (Part 1)

After writing my last post and possibly pissing off a few people in the process, I felt it necessary to explain the genesis of my atheism. Below is a post from an previous blog I used to write. Not that anyone cares, but hopefully, it provides some context to how I came discard 35 years of Roman Catholic indoctrination. I've seen moved beyond the agnosticism expressed below and I'm very comfortable with the idea that we are born, live, die and turn to dust. Anything after that is speculation without proof. But I digress.

First posted 6 October 2004:

I was raised as a Roman Catholic and to this day continue to attend regular mass with my wife and kids, out of respect for my wife's wishes to raise our children in this manner. I have no objection to this religious "training", but understand that I am no longer of that "faith".


My skepticism began when I learned that a large number of priests were found to have molested children in their care. The Church, in trying to avoid the scandal, tried to cover it up by paying off the injured parties and reassigning the "accused" clergy where they sometimes were left to commit the same crime again. Yet, in nearly every mass I've been to in the last 10+ years, I've heard homily after homily spout on about the evils of abortion, secular humanism, technology, you name it. It stinks of hypocrisy that this "so-called" moral authority can damn acts contrary to their doctrine on one hand, yet offer safe haven for criminals in their midst and call it an act of salvation. I suppose it's not just a human trait to protect your own but a "divine" one as well. But my skepticism runs deeper than that.


Not long after the RC Church scandal broke wide open here in the US, I read a book titled "Guns, Germs and Steel" by Jared Diamond which offered a different take on world history and how we as the highest order of mammals evolved to the present day. This book does not simply espouse unsupported theories, but attempts to explain our development as humans relative to the development world at large. He offered cogent explanations on the the development of plants as food, animal use in farming, languages, trade routes, the rise of political entities and centers of power. This all begs the question: Was the Earth really created by ONE God in seven days as the Judeo-Christian scriptures state? Or is Mr. Diamond right in stating that the earth evolved over tens of thousands of years and that the relative evolution of different cultures rests largely on the ecological, biological, and geological fortunes placed before them?


Finally, what cemented my skepticism was a book titled "Galileo's Mistake" by Wade Rowland. Again, another learned piece which revisits Galileo's trial in 1633 and explodes certain myths about what really happened. But make no mistake, this book is also a defense of the Church and laments the loss of spiritualism (Christian spiritualism, that is) in modern society. While I agree with Mr. Rowland that Galileo made a political mistake in challenging the Church's beliefs (afterall, at the time, heresy was a crime that carried life-threatening consequences), where I disagree with Mr. Rowland is with his notion that we've lost something spiritual by embracing the pursuit of knowledge through science. What I find particularly troubling is that he spent so much time refuting human-kind's evolution towards logical thinking while quoting the same people who developed the model. Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Ptolemy, Aquinas, Descartes, Kant, all great philosophers and thinkers on whose thoughts rest the so-called Great Western Tradition relied heavily on logic to develop their views regardless of whether the topic was scientific or spiritual in nature. So I ask, was it wrong for Galileo to question the RC Church's notions of heaven and earth, given the evidence revealed to him with the telescopes he developed by accident? Was it not the logical learning embedded in the Western Tradition that made his discoveries and inventions possible? Or was it God-given and, therefore, lacking the all-knowing divine truth purported to belong solely to God? In practical terms, even if you assume that God is all-powerful and divine, why couldn't the Church reconcile it's views with Galileo's evidence instead of Galileo recanting his Copernican beliefs before the Inquisition? Could it have been God's intention to reveal this new information to Galileo, therefore making the RC Church's position wrong?


I don't portend to know the answers. I don't know who's right and who's wrong. Science or Faith? Christianity or Islam? God or no God? But I've pondered this for a long time and have come to the conclusion that my "faith" in anything must be supported by proof in the same way that all living beings are supported with energy. I simply cannot accept the notion that we simply live, die, and turn to dust as science would have it. Something sparked the energy that now gives us this consciousness we call life and I believe that this energy is inextinguishable. Likewise, I cannot blindly accept the notion that my "soul", which I believe this energy to be, is not really mine; that it is given to me by a "God" and can be taken away by a "God" lest I come to terms with this so-called authority. I am simply unable to suspend my notion of disbelief in this manner.


Let's face it, our capacity to reason as humans is limited by what we see, hear, feel and think. While it's true that people of science have revealed a great many discoveries to human-kind, many people of Godly faith have given us "revelations", made without prior knowledge or observation, that we still hold to be true. So on the question of who's universal view is right and wrong, I don't know. But I do know that I have allowed my mind to accept all forms of knowledge and reasoning, and made it my mission to reconcile that information with what I've known to be true in order to make a judgment for myself on whether to have faith in it or not. If I have taken the wrong track, if all I ever need is to have faith in God despite what I see, hear, feel and think, then I'll accept whatever consequence that follows when I die. Until then, I can only see, hear, feel and think my way through this earthly existence....

Atheism and Houswork -- Is there a link?

Lately, I've trying to figure out new and creative ways to get out of going to church. I am an atheist and E. knows this, but because she is still an Xtian, and a Catholic one at that, I promised her that I would help maintain the the ruse with our kids that I am still a believer.

So what's an un-believer to do? Housework.

As we were sitting at the dining room table noshing on our usual Sunday morning breakfast of bagels and coffee (regular), E. asked me if I was going to church this morning. The conversation ran something like this:

E.: You going to church?

Me: Uh....no.

E. (Letting out an exasperated breath): So what are you gonna do?

Me: Um....aahhhh....I think I'm going to clean the bathrooms!

E.: Really! That's great! I was going to do that today when I got home.

Me: Yeah. They were looking kind of skanky and you've been busting your ass around here lately. I figured...

E.: You sure. I don't mind if you just stayed home.

She saw right through it and played along with me, but you have this little scene was played out for the sake of the kids. It was kind of like keeping up the whole Santa Claus ruse, except that this one has to be played out week after week until I come clean.

Who knew being an atheist would be so much work? Yeesh. The blogger MeThink did when she* posted this little ditty last month.

“I Do” not do housework!– say husbands nationwide

* - no gender noted in profile, but this it is my belief that this is something only a woman would post.


If only for a day, I feel that I can count myself amongst those husbands who is bucking the trend because I spent the better part of the morning scrubbing toilets and tubs and wet-swiff mopping the tile floors. But I wasn't finished there. My hands still smelling of Comet detergent, I went to the basement to get the steam vacuum to clean the carpet in our living room that is Chester's favorite place to recline and chew his rawhide.


I'm no housework slouch. But when you expand the definition of what is and isn't housework, I could point to many "big ticket" projects that were the product of my imagination and doing. This is one such shining example.
Cleaning bathrooms and rugs, cleaning dishes or doing laundry pale in comparison to mammoth effort it took to refinish my deck last year, but I admit, this is not an every day job. Dishes get used everyday as do the bathrooms and clothes, all of which require a daily effort to keep clean; and all of which E. ensures gets done with her effort and her force of will. She doesn't pray for a miracle to keep our clean, she busts her ass.

Listen, I know that I'm not as active or as willing a participant in the daily housework as I should be. In that sense I bow to E. and all she does to make our house livable. I just can't go to church anymore, and if I want to keep up the "believer" ruse for the kids, I think I'll be visiting the bathrooms for alot more than just showering or taking huge dumps.

This is my dilemma -- come clean or clean house. What's an un-believer to do?

A Shout Out To Kelso

Everyone has friends in the blogsphere and fiends of friends. This morning, one of my friends -- DCup of Politits -- clued me in on another blogger friend of hers, Kelso of Kelso's Nuts. As you'll see he is an American ex-pat living in Panama who has alot of good insights into the state of American politics. He knows how the rest of the world sees us. But he's there and not here, which means my shout out to him has to travel many, many miles of category 5, 5e, 6 and fiber-optic cable.



Enjoy it bro!

Everything Can Be Explained With a Beatles Song

Please consider the following points before you check out the YouTube video I linked to this post:

Anyone who knows me knows that I am Beatles fan; even moreso a John Lennon fan.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am in an indescribable state of malaise over everything in my universe.
Politics? I've checked out. Suburban living? Need I make snarky comment to describe what's wrong with it? Respect for religious moderates? Sam Harris is right.

All matters great and small from politics to parental cruelty can be explained in a Beatles song, even the way I'm feeling. Here ya go folks. Spartacus is S'ing TFU....

Spartacus Dishes

A fellow blogger and new friend, Franny, from over at FranIam has decided to interview me. By way of full disclosure, I have to say I asked for this. Really I did. I was reading the interview that Dr. Monkey von Monkerstein of Monkey Muck gave my dear Franny and felt a bit left out. So here I am, a fresh set of questions before me, just because I could not shut the fuck up......

What inspired you to begin blogging and to choose the name Spartacus?
I could lie and say that I was inspired by the disgraced Roman Legionnaire who led a slave revolt against Julius Caesar that was unsparingly crushed. After all, every one loves the underdog, right? But that would be wrong. There's no special significance to the name. I took it from the movie because it's an all-time fave of mine, Kirk Douglas is one of my favorite actors, and I needed something memorable with which to comment online.

However, here are some names that were also given brief consideration: Mick-lovin-spic; McBoriqua; Patatas-hervidos (boiled potatoes). However, none of these do well to describe what happens to a Puerto Rican who fell hook, line and sinker in love with a beautiful Irish lass back in 1988. So, I dropped the whole idea and went with Spartacus. (No...I'm Spartacus! No...I'm Spartacus!!!!!) The tattoo on my avatar is the symbol of my love for E.

Tito Puente - yes or no. In either case, explain why.
Yes and no.

Yes, because the man was, without a doubt, one of the greatest latino jazz musicians to walk this earth. The depth and the sheer size of the musical legacy he left behind makes me proud to be a fellow 'Rican. His influence can still be heard in many of today's salseros.

But no, and sadly no, because while I could hear his music blare from my bedroom window in the projects, and was very excited the day he came to my neighborhood to perform live at a block party, I was too smitten with my oldest brother's interest in sex, drugs and rock and roll. I was a front row witness when Gus first played Lou Reed, the Rolling Stones and David Bowie on my dad's combo TV-Stereo set and I simply caught that bug. By the time I got to my senior year at Aviation High School in 1981, and got past my very brief fascination with disco, I was living in Queens, and too far into The Ramones, The Police, The Sex Pistols, The Clash to have any time for my father's music. I know it's a sad comparison to make with the King of timbales, but at 17, I wasn't really thinking in terms of the cultural significance of my choice.

I regret it now and I've been getting back into it lately, ever since I got the XM satellite radio hooked up to my ride. But I've got a long way to go before I can ever consider myself an aficionado. No time better than the present.


You meet George Bush in an elevator and you have 45 seconds to say whatever you want. What happens?
First, I would push the emergency stop button on the car we are riding in and deliver the biggest ass-whooping that faux-Texan, AWOL, SOB has ever experienced. While I was going thug life on his ass, I'd ask him "Where my money, bruh? I heard you been passin' mad cheddar out in crates over in Iraq and you ain't got shit for us back home? Whas wrong witchu? Whatta about NOLA mu fukka? Whatta about them kidz in uniform with bad equipment?" Then I'd bitch slap him a bit more before pulling out the emergency stop button to let the car come to a landing. I'd then surrender myself to the waiting platoon of SS agents, who would drag me to an isolated, windowless room and beat the living shit out of me. Can you tell I've imagined this scenario? The ass-kicking trade off would be well worth it.


What is the Spartacus top 10 list of important books to read?
The problem I have with this question is that for me, it's much too broad a question. Top10 list of important books? Hmm. On what topic? Religion? History. Literature? Science? Well, I'm going to take liberties with this one because you said I should feel free to change or add a question. So here goes Spartacus's list of the top 10 list of important books I've read since 9/11, in no particular order:

Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies – Jared Diamond

Grand Illusion: The Untold Story of Rudy Giuliani and 9/11 – Wayne Barrett, Marty Collins

The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Deadliest Plague In History – John M. Barry

Paris 1919: Six Months That Changed the World – Margaret MacMillan

Downtown: My Manhattan – Pete Hammil

I'm a Stranger Here Myself – Bill Bryson

Truman – David McCullough

Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln – Doris Kearn Goodwin

The Journey of Man: A Genetic Odyssey – Spencer Wells

The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and The Future of Reason – Sam Harris

Please note that this is an ever-evolving list, as I am always reading something. Ask me tomorrow and the list could change significantly.


What is the most important thing you will leave your kids, and money doesn't count. (not that I thought it would!)
Besides 23 of my best chromosomes? I think what I want to leave my kids is a sense of respect for themselves, their family, and for the world in which they live. I also want them to have a healthy sense of skepticism and to maintain their critical thinking skills. Sure, I'd like them to have fabulous careers at high-paying salaries so that they can support me and E. when we are old, decrepit septuagenarians, but I don't feel any of that is possible without showing them how to stand up and think for themselves. In the end, only they know the path to their happiness. All E. and I can give them now are the tools to get them there and a safe laboratory to help them work out their theories.

Phew! Man that was work. Great questions. Thanks for the opportunity. Peace. (Blows two-fingered kiss to the blogsphere.)

UPDATE: I changed the title of the post. I like the way this one sounds better.

What The Fuck Was I Thinking?

Last night, I endured one of the lowest moments in my life as a parent.

I took all of my kids to see Superbad last night at the nearby multiplex. I knew going in that the film was rated R, so I risked the possibility that there would be a few inappropriate scenes.

A few.

But after sitting through commercials (we now pay to see commercials at the movie theater) and the trailers, the movie came on. The opening scene is with Seth puling up to Evan's house in his Chevy/Geo Metro and honking the horn. Out comes Evan and his hot mom. Naturally, she leans over to show her cleavage, and Seth -- the ever horny teenager -- registers his interest.

You would think at that point, I would have a clue, but I press on. They've been exposed to this type of humor. After all, they saw Dodgeball, Blades of Glory, Talledega Nights, The Wedding Crashers, and You Me and Dupree. I'm thinking that this is nothing new to them.

Nothing new.

But the movie was just getting started. In all there were 186 separate uses of the word "fuck" (84 by Seth alone), not to mention countless references to the male and female reproductive organs, and scenes so scatologically inappropriate that even I was cringing. Clearly, this was a very unwise choice of movies to see.

Very unwise.

I finally decided to pull The Little One out of the theater when guests at a party Seth and Evan inadvertently crash notice a blood stain on his pants leg. Apparently, the girl he was grinding and dancing with had her little friend on his leg. That's when this little exchange took place between me and The Little One:

LO: Dad? What's so funny?

Me: You really don't want to know.

LO: No, really Dad. Did she cut him? Why is that so funny?

Me: C'mon let's go. You really shouldn't be watching this.

He walked out of the theater with me with very little protest. I left The Eldest and 13 there because they understood fully what was going on in the movie and were laughing at the parts that were supposed to be funny. For the Little One, not so funny.

I called up E. to come pick him up at the theater. She knew why, but didn't lower the hammer on me for letting the Little one go or for not choosing a more age appropriate movie. After all, Rush Hour 3 and Harry Potter 5 were playing in the same multiplex. No, I wanted to see Superbad and I wanted company. Talk about having regrets. I was besides myself with them.

While we were waiting for E. to arrive, I bent down to get face to face with him and tell him how sorry I was.

Me: I had no idea that this movie would not be good for you to watch. I should have done a better job of checking it our before letting you go. I'm sorry.

LO: It's okay Dad. I didn't really want to stay anyway. The movie was creeping me out.

I suppose I can take come solace in the fact that he knew he was watching something that isn't appropriate for a kid his age. But I took little solace in that fact. I was still left with the awful feeling that I exposed him to something I shouldn't have. I was left with that ever nagging question -- what the fuck was I thinking?