
I'm a huge fan of the space program. I have no problem contributing taxes toward the exploration of the cosmos. Sending spacecraft into the void inspires awe, creativity, and pure wonder. It takes our eyes off the endless cycle of war, pestilence, and human misery swirling about and forces us to look above it all, if even for a short time.
While it was good to see Discovery soar the other day, I must admit I'm getting a tad bit impatient, though. I'm not getting any younger, and a tourist trip to Mars isn't looking very likely. A short jaunt into space might be within financial reach by the time I retire, but that's still not a certainty.
I suppose the science fiction of my youth is responsible for my great expectations. In the 1960's series Lost in Space the Robinson family was bouncing around the Milky Way in a flying saucer with a talking robot in 1997. And according to the '70's series Space: 1999 we should have had a base on the moon years ago, not to mention packing hand-held stun lasers and video phones on your belt. And according to James Bond I should have a jet pack by now.
At least Star Wars didn't promise all those cool spaceships and gee-whiz gadgetry. We knew right up front that all that was in some other galaxy, you know, a long time ago. But with the 25th century still quite a way off, there might be hope for Buck Rogers.
(Photo courtesy of NASA) { 7:05 PM }
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Lament of the day: "I would have taken writing more seriously if I had known Ernest was my father." So says 44-year old Richard Steel, now Richard Hemingway, after finding out only last year that his dad was the esteemed writer.
Don't worry Rich, from now on you'll always get a table at those trendy Key West restaurants. By the way, here's an obligatory pic of me hangin' at your famous dad's Key West residence just a few months ago (I got in because my middle name is Ernest). { 6:13 PM }
Wednesday, July 20, 2005

You know you're a real rebel when you just can't drive 25. { 1:11 PM }
Sunday, July 10, 2005

Nothing raises the hit count on a Weblog quite like a gratuitous photo of a cute puppy. This little fella is "Oakley," my brother Tim's Bernese Mountain dog.
They're the second largest breed (next to St. Bernards) and were bred by the Swiss to pull carts. Oakley should top out at about 120 pounds. { 5:51 PM }
Thursday, July 07, 2005

I've never been to London, but I've experienced the madness of a terror attack. So while names such as "Kings Cross" and "Edgware Road" don't conjure up any immediate familiar images, the eyewitness accounts of the attack's carnage sure do.
I remember swapping emails with London blogger Chris Worth after September 11: it was hard to accept that the Twin Towers no longer stood. Now it's his city that is feeling the latest taste of death from these extremists.
We're still at war, and will be for a long time. It's time for the civilized nations of the world to join together and body slam this threat. { 11:22 AM }

On the 4th as I watched the fireworks, I was reminded how symbolic they are of war.
Behind the beautiful explosions of red, white and blue I saw the face of a nameless Revolutionary War soldier blown away by a cannon blast two centuries ago in a New Jersey field; the terrified face of a young sailor feeling his World War II supply ship torpedoed in the middle of the Atlantic; the frozen face of a sergeant amid the mine-shredded wreckage of his Humvee on a desolate road to Baghdad.
I realized it's important to celebrate our freedom, (and wear silly hats) but most important, we can never become complacent. Never forget there are always wolves at the door. We owe it to the countless faces in the fireworks. { 6:25 AM }
Friday, July 01, 2005

Well I've read Moby Dick.
And Beethoven, Bach and Brahms do time in my cd player.
And yes, Van Gogh's Starry Night is framed on my bedroom wall.
But who cares about all of that, I just wanna see Dukes of Hazzard. { 10:26 PM }
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