Fidel Castro's Relationship Advice

My current unemployment leaves me with time to think about subjects that interest me, and nothing interests me more than the mathematics of personal interaction. I receive squinted eyes as a response when I reveal this as my hobby, since mathematics is synonymous with arithmetic for the majority of the population. But there is a significant distinction: arithmetic is a branch of mathematics that deals with the study of quantity, while mathematics is the study of logical quality. I prefer to think of mathematics as Albert Einstein did: as the poetry of logical ideas.

In my mind, interpersonal interactions carry both weight and shape. The shape is the type of statement we form in response to another person; the weight is the effect that statement has on the other person's beliefs. In conversations where two people express opposing views, there is a desire to create a unified belief system between the two individuals. Each person wants the other to subscribe to his own beliefs, and both appeal to logic and reason to justify their claims. First, we need an understanding of where the thought process that you and I almost subconsciously subscribe to began.

Logic and rationality were not born in the Garden of Eden, but rather in Greece during an intellectual blossoming of the fourth century. Several schools of thought existed at that time, including the school of Socrates. The Socratic method of revealing truth through questions was formed during this time period. Plato was a disciple of Socrates, and wrote dialogues in which his master used the Socratic method to question, and vanquish, rival philosophers and rhetoricians. I am not going to enter into a treatise on rhetoric but, if you are interested after reading this post, there is a fantastic book I want to recommend called Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig.

My point is to show that logic is just one of the many schools of thought that existed at the time, but it is the one the Western world adopted. And that is a good thing, because logic runs the computer on which I am typing, and the internet through which I will broadcast this post. However, I wonder if logical thought is the best way to deal with human interactions, and if the Socratic method is the best way to unify opposing belief systems. We appeal to logic and rationality whenever we argue with another human being, always under the implicit assumption that the rules for logical thought and rationality are universal.

One of my favorite documentaries is The Fog of War, a chronicle of the decisions of former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. He described the Cuban Missile Crisis as follows:

"I want to say, and this is very important: at the end we lucked out. It was luck that prevented nuclear war. We came that close to nuclear war at the end. Rational individuals: Kennedy was rational; Khrushchev was rational; Castro was rational. Rational individuals came that close to total destruction of their societies. And that danger exists today."

Rational individuals came close to total destruction. But what scares me about this scenario is Castro. Was Castro rational? McNamara asked Castro these three questions in a meeting after the crisis:

"Number one: did you know the nuclear warheads were there? 

Number two: if you did, would you have recommended to Khrushchev in the face of an U.S. attack that he use them? 

Number three: if he had used them, what would have happened to Cuba?"

Castro's responses are chilling:

"Number one, I knew they were there. 

Number two, I would not have recommended to Khrushchev, I did recommend to Khrushchev that they be used. 

Number three, 'What would have happened to Cuba?' It would have been totally destroyed."

How is self-destruction a rational choice? Castro must have assumed that mutual destruction was inevitable, therefore nobody would be left alive to care who was responsible. Rational indeed. The choice, illogical to everyone else, was logical to Castro. 

I can imagine Khrushchev staring in disbelief at Castro's recommendation and asking, "Are you crazy?" Castro probably responded with, "Lo digo como lo veo." Translation: "I'm just telling it like it is."

This phrase bothers me when I hear it, because what is really means is, "Only my belief system is rational and logical," which is the same thing as saying, "You are irrational and illogical." No wonder over fifty-percent of marriages end in divorce: when you're assumption that is logic is universal, any argument means that one of the spouses is out of this universe (in a bad way). And nobody wants to be that person. 

The only relevant part of a conversation is what is heard, not what is said. Our words have no meaning other than the meaning which the listener attributes to them. 

This is because each human being is the intersection of an infinite amount of circles. For example, if I draw a circle labeled "Mormon," and another labeled "Man," then I am the intersection of the two. Now add a circle labeled "Moderate Republican," then one labeled "Husband," then one called "Brother." I am still at the intersection. 

Then draw one for "Baseball games with Dad" and "Grandpa has dementia" and "Mom was full-time homemaker" and on and on and on. Draw one for every experience, every feeling of happiness and heartbreak, then multiply the number of circles you have by infinity, and take the intersection of those circles. 

That is me. 

The labels on those circles define my frame of reference, which is the foundation for my own brand of logical thought and reason. I derive my assumptions from my frame of reference, and from there I form my premises and conclusions. My logic is my own, and so is yours. 

The stereotype that women are illogical always makes me laugh. Illogical compared to what? You? Some Aristotelian universal logic? It turns out that the circle labeled "Woman" is pretty important. 

Since logic cannot be used to change another person's mind, what can be? Rhetoric. Socrates and Aristotle just rolled in their graves, for the art they detested is the answer to the problem they created. 

Rhetoric deals with form, rather than substance. You have the ear of the listener in mind when you speak, instead of your own mouth. Presentation is the key. For which is better: to tell your son he should care more for the poor, or to take him to a soup kitchen? Both relay the same message, but one is combative to his belief that he already does care, or doesn't need to care, while the other provides another circle in his frame of reference. One tries to cut a branch, another adds a root.

I'll talk more about rhetoric in relationships in a future post.  

The Walls That Divide Us

For centuries, mankind has attempted to solve problems by building walls. I stood under one of those walls yesterday, erected for the same reason as the Great Wall of China and the Berlin Wall--preservation through separation.

The fortress to which I refer is the wall that separates the West Bank from Jerusalem. It is built with mammoth cement bricks and resembles a grey row of teeth. Roads that used to connect the two areas stop at graffiti-ridden concrete slabs. The wall has suffocated the once-thriving West Bank.

We stood before it in the West Bank city of Bethany. What made this experience striking was the monument two-hundred feet beyond us. At a place where the wall can be seen ominously rising over surrounding buildings, a small wooden sign reads "The Tomb of Lazarus." It marks the place where Lazarus awoke from the dead at the command of Jesus Christ. Here, The Master tore down the wall that separates us from our loved ones: Death.

This makes sense because the Savior was an unabashed destroyer of walls. He spoke with unclean women and associated with the Samaritans. He ate with publicans and sinners. He chose a hated tax collector named Matthew and a simple fisherman named  Peter to be leaders in the organization of His church. He comforted an adulterer and praised the widow's mite. His teachings relieved people of the unnecessary fences the Jewish authorities had built around God's law, for His yoke was easy and His burden was light.

He tore down walls that divide.

Above the walled Old City in Jerusalem is a hill called the Mount of Olives. Here in this grove of olive trees, Jesus Christ routinely looked out over Jerusalem saying:

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!"

But it was below the Mount of Olives in a place called Gethsemane where He destroyed the barriers that separate us from God. My wife and I recently visited Gethsemane, and I commented on how foreboding the trees looked.

'"No," she replied, "I think they are beautiful."

When I looked again, I realized she was right. The unique twists and knots of the olive trees are picturesque in the daylight. I had been imagining them snarling at the Savior by moonlight as He fulfilled the Atonement.

This is where the Savior bridged an infinite wall that divides our imperfect selves from our perfect Heavenly Father. I studied mathematics in college, and when infinity popped up in a mathematics problem, I tended to throw my work out, because infinity in mathematics is impossible to overcome. That is why the Savior's Atonement is a miracle: He created a bridge to our Heavenly Father over a chasm of infinite width. By overcoming the world in Gethsemane, Jesus Christ defeated infinity for us all.

But what strikes me most about Gethsemane is its proximity to Jerusalem. The Savior could see His people from the Mount of Olives and their lit houses from Gethsemane.

All He had to do was look over the city wall.

Thoughts in Nazareth

We know little about the maturing years of Jesus Christ. Of His life between His instruction in the synagogue at age twelve and the start of His ministry at age thirty, the Apostle Luke gives us one sentence: "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man." But we do know He apprenticed in the family business of carpentry with His father, Joseph.

However, the belief that Jesus spent his time carving rocking horses and other wooden toys is probably false. A more correct translation of the Greek word that describes Jesus' occupation is 'builder' and, since the most popular building material in Nazareth was stone, Jesus more likely worked with His father to build houses instead of horses, by moving large stone blocks, instead of pliable 2x4's. He spent His growing years building physical shelters for the citizens of Nazareth; He would spend his last three years creating spiritual shelter for us all. Indeed, He knew from personal experience the importance of building a house upon a rock.

Stone is the material that lines the walls of the synagogue in Nazareth where He proclaimed Himself as the Messiah after quoting the prophesies of Isaiah and adding, "This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears." The Nazarenes in the synagogue were bewildered at His gracious words and asked, "Is not this Joseph's son?"--which is a perfectly acceptable question in the context of His occupation. If the construction worker who built my home came to me with his yellow hard hat on and claimed to be the Messiah, my response would be the same.

But it was in Gethsemane--the Aramaic word for "oil press"--where He who provided shelter for all mankind received none for Himself.

Matthew 26:37-39 And he took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and very heavy. Then saith he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me. And he went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.

In Jesus' time, before olives were made into oil they were ground into paste. The typical Nazarene olive press consisted of a large log on which was fastened three stones, each weighing one ton. The olive paste was placed under a flat stone and a basket was placed on top of the olives to separate the solid elements from the extracted oil.

The first press was with only the weight of the basket. The oil that seeped through was the best quality-- extra virgin. It was saved for temple anointings and other religious ordinances.

Matthew 26:42 He went away again the second time, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done.

After the extra virgin olive oil was extracted, the full weight of the three stones (six thousand pounds) was dropped onto the already sweating olive paste for the second press. The pressure on the flat stone squeezed the remaining liquid from the olives. This oil was still fairly high quality and used for cooking and perfumes.

Matthew 26:44 And he left them, and went away again, and prayed the third time, saying the same words.

Luke 22:43-44 And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

The third and final press on the olives was the most grueling: the olives were completely sapped of their liquid. In fact, the flesh of the olive became so compressed that it squeezed through the basket.

The oil gleaned from this final press was absolutely everything the olives had it give. It was used to light the houses of the Nazarenes.

May we light our homes and our lifes with the oil of His atonement.

Sailboat or Security

I found a sailboat for three-thousand dollars on the internet last night. It has a small cabin with two tiny beds and is perfect for heading south. It is both exactly what I want, and the exact opposite of what I want, at the same time.  

I have a good friend who is studying for his PhD in economics. He is a smart man, quick-witted, and infallible in logical arguments. I will relish calling him Dr. ______, mostly because I know it will annoy him. Of his good qualities, I envy only one: his singular passion and devotion to one subject. I envy everyone who has found what they want to do for the rest of their lives.

My brain is a seesaw. The left side gives me the strong urge to pack my wife and myself in a sailboat and toss my ambitions overboard. Sail to Central or South America, work odd-jobs, and have adventures.

The right side tells me to devote myself to the study of something, anything, and use my abilities to make a difference in the world. Money is also a factor.

The left side tells me I'd be happy as a nobody. The right side says I want to be President of the United States.

I'm stable when one idea is higher than the other on my seesaw. It's when they are even, like yesterday, that causes anxiety. I spent the morning searching terms like "Best Behavioral Finance programs" and "Mathematical Finance Master's Degree". Then the nagging question buzzed into my head: is this what you really want? 


So I spent the afternoon reading articles entitled, "How to Overcome Seasickness" and "Buying Your First Sailboat." The night ended with a doomed pitch to my dad to buy twelve acres of wildlife preserve and natural hot springs in Central America.


Google must think I'm schizophrenic. 

Don't Disturb My Circles

I recently read a story in the New York Times about free after-school programs that help high school students from lower income families get the test scores they need to be competitive in college. The subject of the article was a student from Newton High School named Nathaly Lopera. I believe in both the effectiveness and necessity of these programs, but Nathaly's self-reported statistics do not add up.

Nathaly says she has been attending after school programs since she was in second grade, and studies for hours a day, sometimes getting to bed well past midnight. Yet her SAT scores are so bad, she won't discuss them for the article. The article states that "to get a good grade (on the SAT), a student must read and write quickly," which are necessary elements for a successful college applicant. If Nathaly spends three to four hours per night reading just her AP Spanish homework, college will be difficult.

But what caught my eye were her performance in mathematics, which produced the only C grade to blemish an otherwise stellar record. According to the New York Times,

'Her first two semesters in math, Nathaly got an 89 and an 86, but then fell apart on trigonometry, exponents and logarithms. “Fractions, the pi thing, oh my God,” Nathaly said.' 


I spent two years tutoring high school math for BYU Independent Study, where I helped countless Nathalys. And I've noticed the correlation between SAT scores and math grades. I talked to tearful parents who complained their child studies math four hours every day, yet does not score well on the SAT's or the course. They believed the system is unfair.  


Each conversation had the same format:


-        Let me talk to your son/daughter. 
-        ...Hello?
-        Hi. I've just talked with your mother, and she says you are studying hard in geometry, but you are             not doing as well as you'd like. How many hours per day are you studying on the course?
-        Between four and five hours per day. 
-        Wow, that's a lot. And how much of that time is spent with Facebook or Youtube opened on another  tab?
-         (laughter) Most of it. 
-         So you really aren't studying between four and five hours per day. 


It is unfair to judge Nathaly, but the article's title picture is her staring at her laptop as she yawns. I wonder what she's staring at. 


There has been a steady decline in SAT scores since 1986, which is ironically the year Bill Gates took Microsoft public for $21/ share. I think at least a small part of that decline is a result of the ease with which a computer delivers distraction. Here's another conversation, this time on an online whiteboard I was using to show a student how to do a trigonometry problem:


-         So if this angle is 160 degrees, what would this corresponding angle be?...Hello?
-         Yeah, sorry. I got hung up for a minute. Yeah, I don't know. 
-         Are you chatting online with someone else right now?
-         Yes. I'm sorry. 
-         This conversation is over. Email me when you are ready to focus. 


I had these conversations weekly. But the sad part is that these conversations happened with the students who studied four to five hours per day, and whose parents raved they are the best everywhere except math and complained the system is unfair. Many students I tutored aced their other classes, but the common excuse for taking math through BYU Independent Study was "the teacher here is terrible." I've seen students who try to do math homework with their ipods blaring music in their ears; maybe the hated teacher's problem is that he's teaching terrible students. 


This is why I love mathematics. You cannot run from it. I had parents who, on a regular basis, would confront me about their child's test score and tell me there is a glitch in the scoring system because there is no way their child can study for this long and do this poor, because their child is on the honor roll, and blah blah blah blah blah. But when I force the child to do problems in front of me and his parent, the dad blushes in embarrassment.


Mathematics requires the student to make connections between seemingly irrelevant pieces of information. You are given a problem, and asked to solve it without an instruction manual. A mathematicians two greatest weapons are focus and silence: focus to learn the material, and silence to allow the brain to make the necessary subtle connections. Both of these are difficult to find in the instant media and communication age.


I remember a particularly difficult math problem I had to solve for a college class. I had already spent several days thinking about a solution, but there was a gap between two important concepts I still needed to bridge. I was so consumed in thought that I decided to drive home with the radio off, preferring the silence. The answer to three days of contemplation popped into my head in between two stop signs. I am convinced that I would have failed the assignment had I listened to music on that ride home. 


Students like Nathaly who complain about "the pi thing" should take a lesson from Archimedes, the Greek mathematician whose name graces the principles in their textbooks. Of him, Plutarch stated: "He placed his whole affection and ambition in those purer speculations where there can be no reference to the vulgar needs of life." And there is no event more exemplary of his life-philosophy than his death. 


Archimedes was in charge of defending Syracuse from a Roman siege led by General Marcus Claudius Marcellus, who had given the order to spare the famous mathematician. The Romans broke through Archimedes' defenses and stormed the city. 


A Roman soldier entered Archimedes' headquarters and, with chaos surrounding the building, found Archimedes drawing diagrams on the floor. The soldier told Archimedes that Marcellus requested his presence, but Archimedes stood puzzling, deep in thought, over his diagrams. Angry at the disrespect with which Archimedes treated his general's request, the soldier slayed him. 


Archimedes' last words?


Please don't disturb my circles. 

Why Tim Tebow Wins Games

Update: The Broncos just beat the New York Jets by a score of 17-13. Sanchez twice as many pass attempts (40) as Tebow. But, with the vaulted Jets defense worn out at the end of the game, Tebow waltzed into the end-zone for the game-winning touchdown.

***

When he throws, his arm looks like a slow motion windmill. He's terribly inaccurate. In his last outing against Kansas City, he threw eight passes, and completed just two. 

So why are the Denver Broncos 3-1 with him at the helm, a quarterback who barely takes advantage of his arm?

American-style football can be traced back to the 19th century, at which time it was nearly identical to rugby, where the forward pass is illegal. The lack of helmets and minimal padding created a gladiatorial sport, as players ran for both touchdowns and their lives. This insanity continued through the 1905 season, when eighteen players were killed and one-hundred and fifty nine were seriously injured. There was an uproar in America to abolish the game.

Now is the one time I can "tebow" in thanks for politicians. President Roosevelt demanded changes to the rules to make the game safer, and the forward pass was born. The New York Times reported that the main reason for the new rule was to spread the game out and allow speed and skill to "supercede so far as possible mere brute strength and force of weight."

Football did not adopt the forward pass to score more points, but rather to protect the players. Now look at the average amount of passing plays to running plays up to 2009:

Passing far outweighs rushing--as also indicated by a comparison between the earliest NFL drafts and the most recent.

Drafts from 1936-1946 

9 run centered position players (Halfbacks, Fullbacks, Centers)

2 quarterbacks. 

Drafts from 2001-2011

1 run centered position player

9 quarterbacks

The league has flipped upside down from a game of bruising ground campaigns to aerial assaults, which has reduced mobile offensive lineman to static brickwalls. The first three weeks of this season produced the most points scored per game than the first three weeks of the previous ten seasons. Teams score by throwing the ball, which means the Broncos' 3-1 record under Tebow does not make sense, right? It does if you refuse to pigeonhole yourself into the NFL's assumption that you have to pass to win games. Coaches unknowingly collude to make this a reality and, by so doing, create a cult of personality around the quarterback position. Quarterback salary rises with the pressure to win games through the air. 

If every coach believes you must throw to win games, it one-dimensionalizes the game: the best thrower wins. We've seen this over the last ten years: teams use their first draft pick to acquire a franchise quarterback. They go all-in on one offensive piece; an important piece if you want to compete against the Tom Bradys and Aaron Rodgerses. 

The problem boils down to this: if you want to be a franchise quarterback, you need to take a franchise amount of snaps. So every team gives their quarterback a franchise snap count, and the team with the best quarterback wins. This was the Broncos'  problem with Kyle Orton: they played like it was a war against the Philistines, and sent their best guy against the best on the opposing side. Sure, David beat Goliath, but if you take God out of the equation, Goliath beats David 999 times out of 1000 (I'm leaving David some room here in case Goliath has a heart attack or some other internal failure of his giant heart or lungs). 

With Tebow, however, the Broncos are not allowing the opposing side, or the NFL in general, to impose its style on the game. Tebow as quarterback, eight passes in a game, is football's equivalent of a knuckleball: the hitter goes from thinking, "This looks ridiculous," to "Why can't I hit this?".

Denver's statistics say it all: the team rushes the most in the league with just above forty-one attempts per game. Because of this, the Broncos posess the ball on average thirty-two minutes per game with Tebow as quarterback, which is in the top ten for the league. Compare that to last year's average time of posession, and you see that the Broncos hold the ball four minutes more every game. That's a four minute rest-bonus for the defense this year. 

Every weekend, the Broncos tell the other team, "Okay, your Goliath is better than our David, so we're not going to play by your rules. Have fun sitting on the bench, Goliath." Their strategy is to keep the other team's quarterback off the field for as long as possible, which will increase their chances of winning against a more favored opponent. 

The cushiest job in the NFL, aside from kicker, might be Denver's defensive line. If you take Orton's games out of the statistics, Denver's defense is only on the field for 28 minutes, meaning the opposing team's defense is playing for 32 minutes. That means the Broncos' defense gets four minutes of additional rest per game while their counterparts on the other team have to spend those four minutes defending the run, an excruciating defensive postures. Four minutes means the world if you're 6'6'', 260 pounds. 

The offensive line gets more action, because rush-blocking is more fun than pass-blocking. Instead of building a cocoon around a pretty-boy quarterback, the guards get to pull around the center and knock the linebackers' teeth out. The center gets to bulldoze his way forward. The tackles get to lean forward and hit on the snap, as opposed to being on their heels searching for the blitz. They get to do what they've spent countless hours in the gym to do: hit somebody. 

Their excitement shows, because over the last three games, Denver is second in the league in rush yards per attempt, with 6. Run the ball, eat away the clock, keep the opposing quarterback making practice throws and your defense resting on the bench. Let the offensive line bulldoze forward, cause the opposing defense to suck wind, and make the franchise star impatient on the bench. Then tell Eric Decker to go long and get ahead of the run weary defense, and have Tebow toss a 56-yard touchdown pass.  

Espn anaylist Merrill Hodge says Tebow will never fit the mold of an NFL quarterback. He's right--and that's why they're winning. 

Joe Paterno's Tragedy

Disclaimer: First, I admit that a note like this could be, in the words of my internet-savvy wife, "too soon". But, to be honest, I don't know if any time in the future will ever not be too soon. What happened at Penn State over the last ten years is one of the most terrible tragedies I have ever heard of. I pray the adage "time heals all wounds" will apply to the scars of those who suffered (and are still suffering)l. I also pray thhat this adage will apply to the men who, through negligence, allowed this to happen. But I know it will not. God heals the victims of tragedies and even the tragic heros. But He does not heal the writers of tragedies when the victims are His little ones.

This is Joe Paterno's tragedy because he is the writer, not the star. 

***

Long before Shakespeare, Western tragic drama was a sadistic mess of action at which even Rambo would blush. Husband killed wife, brother killed brother, mindless butchery on the road to vengeance was never blurred by what Shakespeare calls the "pale cast of thought." The storyline for every play could be summed up by the Mosaic law "an eye for an eye," and drama was beholden to this idea until a Greek playwrite named Aeschylus changed everything with three lines. 

In the second of Aeschylus' collection of plays entitled Oresteia, Orestes is on the verge of exacting revenge on his mother, when she begs for pity and reminds him of their familial bond. The action that caused a surprised gasp to sound through the theater was an inaction--the first of its kind. Orestes stops to have a conversation: 

Orestes. What shall I do, Pylades? Be shamed to kill my mother?

Pylades. What then becomes thereafter of the oracles

     declared by Loxias at Pytho? What of sworn oaths?

     Count all men hateful to you rather than the gods.

Orestes. I judge that you win. Your advice is good.  

The moment between thought and action was revolutionary. Orestes is right: it is a terrible thing to kill your own mother. The dilemma causes him to pause and reflect on his future action. These three lines of thought in Orestia eventually turned into Shakespeare's twelve-hundred and fifty lines in Hamlet. Many of William Shakespeare's tragedies are case studies of humanity, and Hamlet in particular focuses on a question: What happens to our resolve in the moment when reflection defers action?

***

In 2002, in the locker room at Penn State University, Mike McQueary, at the time a graduate assistant to Joe Paterno, noticed former coach Jerry Sandusky sodomizing a young boy in the shower. McQueary was obviously disturbed by this sight reported what he saw to Paterno. Joe Paterno then reported the crime to Athletic Director Tim Curley and Vice President Gary Schultz. Sandusky was banned from using campus facilities. 

But that's not all. We also know a janitor, several parents, and even two police officers knew about Sandusky's perversions long before the shower scene witnessed by McQueary. 

At least ten people knew about Sandusky's crimes, yet no one called the police. Why?

This question gnaws on me, and I disagree with the easy answer that it was a university cover-up. I think we are so quick to latch on to the cover-up hypothesis because, if we examine this closely, we would see a terrifying breakdown in our own society and, perhaps, in ourselves. Orestes paused for a few seconds; Hamlet for a few months. These men paused for ten years, and would have remained frozen even longer. 

Recently, I watched a video in which a reporter staged a kidnapping on a busy sidewalk. The child was an actress that convincingly screamed "Stop! You're not my dad!" several times as the man held her by the arm and dragged her away. Undercover police were waiting at the corner to intervene every time someone tried to stop him. There was only one problem: The police never needed to intervene. Hardly anyone attempted to stop this alleged kidnapper. The scenario was repeated several times, nearly always with the same result.

The camera provided closeups of the bystanders' faces as they passed, with many actually dodging the victim and her assailant. The bystanders knew they needed to intervene but, as the moment passed with each step, their resolve diminished to the point that a few bystanders looked back in annoyance, rather than concern. These people saw a man taking advantage of a little girl who bleated for help as he dragged her away, and no one intervened. The line between Joe Paterno and ourselves is thinner than we think.  

Hamlet wonders the same thing I did upon watching this video and studying the Penn State tragedy. In Act IV, once again contemplating the revenge his father's ghost entreated of him, Hamlet says in bewilderment:

I do not know

Why yet I live to say, "This thing's to do,"

Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means

To do't.  (IV, iv, 43-46)

He knows what he must do. He has everything he needs. So why is the job still not done? To find the answer, we must examine a scene in the play where Hamlet has the perfect opportunity exact his revenge. He and his uncle, Claudius, are alone, and Claudius is kneeling in prayer. The stage is set for action. Hamlet says so himself:

Now might I do it pat, now 'a is a-praying,

And now I'll do't. And so 'a goes to heaven,

And so I am revenged. That would be scanned. 

A villian kills my father, and for that 

I, his sole son, do this same villain send 

To heaven.  (III, iii, 73-78)

To scan, to survey, scrutinize, examine. The entire play is Hamlet's scanning of the act he must do. And the scan perpetually delays the act because, when he scans, his resolve becomes "Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought...and lose the name of action." To be or not to be  . . . is that really the question, Hamlet? It sounds like the question should be "To act or not to act."

This was probably Paterno's question as well. College football coaches are incredibly focused scanners. They spend weeks, even months, surveying a team's strengths and weaknesses. They scrutinize defensive postures and offensive attacks, they examine playbooks and stat sheets. Is it any wonder, then, that Paterno scanned this situation before action? A distraught young man brings allegations that confirm his deepest fears about a man he once respected.

I believe he knew the police should have been called. But, in the interim, he told the athletic director and school president. Now there are three other officials who know about the incident. Just as there were three or four people on the sidewalk looking at each other, wondering why a child was screaming as a man pulled on her arm. Might it be that each person assumed another would call the police? And, even more terrifying: Does the fear of mistake, of embarrassment, trump the desire to act? And in the face of surmounting evidence? 

And like a man to double business bound

I stand in pause where I shall first begin,

And both neglect.  (III, iii, 41-43)

After a week, no Pennyslvania State police officer knocked on Paterno's door. No news broke of an investigation against a former Penn State football coach.  Perhaps during practice one morning that week, he stood with his socks soaked through by the dewy grass, examining his quarterback through his trademark glasses, and thought:

What would he do

Had he the motive and the cue for passion 

That I have?   (II, ii, 570-572)

Now, those people on the street are looking back at the whining girl in embarrassment as they turn the corner. If they call the police now, they will have to face the question, "You had the chance to stop this man on the spot. Why didn't you do something besides call the police after the fact?"  

What to ourselves in passion we propose,

The passion ending, doth the purpose lose... (III, ii, 217-220)

This is not an acceptable answer. Nor is:

I do not know

Why yet I live to say, "This thing's to do." (IV, iv, 43-44)

That question must have taken on more weight, became more unanswerable, with each passing week, month, and year of Paterno's life. 

***

There is a remedy to the cowardly scanning that publicly destroyed Paterno, and privately destroys each of us when we handicap ourselves with thought. It comes from Claudius, Hamlet's uncle, the villian of the play. 

That we would do

We should do when we would; for this "would" changes

And hath abatements and delays as many

As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;

And then this "should" is like a spendthrift sigh,

That hurts by easing.  (IV, vii, 118-123) 

In Shakespeare's time, people believed a sigh provided ease because it thinned the blood. Another result of this, they thought, was a shortened lifespan, so people tried to refrain from sighing as much as possible.

Hence, as time passes, telling ourselves we should act might ease our conscience for the moment, but inevitably hurts us, as well as the victims of our negligence. For however many times in the last ten years Paterno thought he should call the police, his "would" had already birthed a bastardly justification that he had done what he was supposed to.  

Now, he is rightfully disgraced. The wrath of the nation, with the exception of a few blind individuals, is upon him. He is no longer a coach and no longer revered as a man of integrity. Recently, the commissioner for the Big Ten Conference erased Paterno's name from the Paterno-Stagg Trophy, a prize to be awarded to the conference champion at every year's end for decades to come.

Nothing is more symbolic of the effect Paterno's inaction had on his life than that word: Erased. The opposite of "to be." It is our actions, and inactions, that define who we are.

Which means that Hamlet had it right all along: To be or not to be really is the question, for all of us.

A Republican Rundown--Hollywood Style

Ron Paul This guy is the Hugh Grant of the Republican Party: he shows up around every four years to feed us the same generic romantic comedy plot we saw last time. He has a loyal fan base that raves about his accent and "comic delivery," which consists almost entirely of mumbling through his script. And he gets less sexy and more mumbly with each four year span, but it doesn't seem to matter because the same people who bankrolled his previous movie will always be there to bankroll future movies.

Now, I admit that I like some of what Ron Paul says, and I admire him for always bringing the field back on topic. But if you are one of the Ron Paul bankrollers, please stop giving your money to him. The man doesn't have a chance to win because most of the time he forgets the nature of his audience. A father with a family to support who just lost his job doesn't want to hear about how the current economic climate is a "correction." Think of the natural response: "I've spent the last ten years working my fingers to the bone, and Ron Paul just said it's correct that I lost my job?" Yeah, I know that's not what Ron Paul means. But average Americans need someone to blame for the fact that they're living paycheck to paycheck and have a hard time paying for the rising cost of living. The "business cycle" is not an adequate villian, even if it's what's truly to blame. But, like Hugh Grant, he gets points for being lovable. 

Rick Santorum In the spirit of Halloween I'm giving Mr. Santorum a hockey mask and an axe, because he is the Jason of the field. The man is nothing but a plot device. He doesn't talk a lot in debates, and nobody asks him questions. He just keeps coming forward, brutally killing all the non-virtuous candidates with wild accusations and false assessments. And the other candidates' reactions to his onslaughts remind me of what every lascivious girl screams before her demise in the previous twenty-seven Friday the 13th movies: they look at him with wild eyes and ask, "Where did you come from?" and "Why are you doing this?"

It makes sense on so many levels. Jason is like the avenging angel in those films because he kills off the characters who have premarital sex and terrible morals. In short, Jason is defending family values. He cares about the moral future of America. How many times have we heard Mr. Santorum stare into the camera with wild, googly eyes and yell things like, "Look at me! I'm the only values-based candidate!" Unfortunately, Jason always gets beat by someone more virtuous in the end. But, on a more optimistic note for Mr. Santorum, they keep making movies about him. And I'm still waiting for him to blurt out, "Newt Gingrich cheated on his wife!" 

Newt Gingrich The unfortunate man who gives proof to the belief that we look like our names. I have to give him the Bruce Willis from Die Hard award. The Newtster just keeps coming back. Just when you thought his career was dead in the water, he writes another book with the same plot as the previous book and titles it with a rearrangement of words from the previous title. Then he does a book tour. He's the only candidate that can still be alive after denying allegations that his heart is not in his campaign from a Mediterranean cruise ship. 

But the real comparison to Bruce Willis is in their wit. My favorite scene is when the hotel hijackers find one of their henchmen dead and dressed Santa hat in the elevator with a shirt that reads, "Now I have a machine gun. HO HO HO." Anyone can kill a henchman, and I'm sure anyone could dress the dead guy up like Santa Claus. But it's that added charm, that final HO HO HO that turns gory murder into vengeful (dare I say it?) art, and makes the audience go from gasps to laughter. No matter which hostage situation the candidates are debating-- the economy, jobs, the national debt, immigration polocy, 999-- Newt Gingrich has a quip that will make us laugh and rescue us from debate doldrums. But he is surprisingly efficient, and you are left astonished and telling yourself, "He's just one man. HE'S JUST ONE MAN!" Of all things he is, he certainly isn't newtered. Yippie ki yay mother f*****. 

Michele Bachmann Not since Hillary Clinton have we seen a woman rise up and lead with grace, intelligence, and determination quite like she does. I'm referring to Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany. Michele Bachmann is not that woman. But not since Sam I Am from Dr. Seuss' Green Eggs and Ham have I heard someone who says "I am" more than Michele Bachmann. And that's saying a lot, since Sam I Am actually holds up a sign that says I Am Sam. 

Michele I Am is a federal tax attorney. Michele I Am is on a thousand committees. Michele I Am is the only person to do this or that and sign such-and-such pledge. Michele I Am is the proud parent is 23 children. Michele I Am is willing to go to great lengths to make us like her. Would you like her in a box? Would you like her with a fox? Would you like her if she promised to defund the Department of Education? At least Sam I Am stops talking about himself and focuses on important issues like green eggs and ham. But that's hard to do when your message is your resume.

Rick Perry I remember the first time I saw Keanu Reeves act. I was twelve, and Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure was on TBS. The movie features Keanu as Ted, an idiot teenager who stumbles upon a telephone booth time machine but, instead of doing something brilliant like Biff does in Back to the Future and buying a future Sports Almanac to bring back to now and bet on the winning teams, decides he'd rather get an A on his history report. 

But then I saw Keanu in Rush Hour, and I thought to myself, "Wow. He's still kind of Ted." Then I saw him in The Matrix, which could have been titled Ted's Mom Just Died and no one would have batted an eye. After a while, all you see is Ted saving a speeding passenger bus, Ted fighting machines, etc.

Rick Perry has the same problem. In the first debate, I thought to myself, "Wow. He sounds like an idiot." Then I saw him in New Hampshire, and realized that the first might not have been a fluke bad day. It wasn't until after the opening statements in Las Vegas when he said "..a conservative of conviction. Not. A. Conservative. Of Convenience," that I realized he is a legitimate idiot of the worst kind: the kind that doesn't know they're idiots. The man says things no intelligent human would say if he were running for president. In one instance, Anderson Cooper asked him a question which he flat out didn't answer. Here is a paraphrasing of the exchange:

Anderson: But you didn't answer my question.

Perry: Hey, you ask the question how you want, and I'll answer them how I want to.

Translation: My debate prep team told me to evade questions I don't want to answer, and I just spilled the beans. Oops. I guess I shouldn't have done that. 

Another similarity between Rick Perry and Keanu Reeves is the "I hope no one notices I just soiled my britches" face. If I had a dollar for every time Rick Perry looks like he just crapped his pants I would be part of the 1% against which Occupy Wall Street has such a vendetta. Now he's bringing up Obama's birth certificate again. I want Perry to get in Ted's telephone booth and zoom to the future so he can see that he never was, nor ever will be, President of the United States. Then I want to send him back to the Paleolithic era so he can be with animals that speak his language. Then I want to disconnect his telephone line and leave him there.

Herman Cain  When my wife holds a baby, and that baby farts, my wife laughs and talks about how cute the baby fart was. When I fart, she looks over at me with dementor eyes and tells me I'm disgusting. This is the same double standard Herman Cain is wrapped in, only he is on the "baby fart" side. The man is like Winnie the Pooh. If piglet or rabbit had a gluttonous, obsessive-compulsive relationship with honey, it might be cute for a little bit, but after a while Christopher Robin would start to laugh awkwardly and distance himself. If Eeyore went to such dangerous lengths for honey like fighting ravenous bees and climbing trees, we would take him to the doctor for some Ritalin (maybe a Ritalin/Zoloft cocktail?). But Winnie the Pooh gets a pass on all this behavior, because he's so dawg-gone cute and cuddly.  

Now imagine if Winnie the Pooh said he wants to build an electrified fence around the Hundred-Acre Woods to keep foreigners out. For a second, we might picture charred human remains. But then we would see Pooh rub his belly and say something like, "I'm so rumbly in my tumbly!" and we would smile and think that maybe he is someone we could see leading the Hundred-Acre Woods. A nine-percent federal sales tax on acorns, in addition to a state sales tax? That one whistling mole with the miner's headlight would be pissed. But then Pooh would smile and say, "Aww shucks wabbit," and everything would be better and the mole would go back to digging tunnels to smuggle illegal aliens under the electric fence.

Mitt Romney When I was twelve, my mom left with my sister for a week. I don't remember where they went. All I remember is that my dad sat my younger brother and I on the couch and said, "We are going to watch some movies I think it's important for you to see." He dumped the contents of a Blockbuster bag onto the coffee table, and I noticed a cassette sleeve with a cracking, phosphorescent green egg on the front.

"What's this one, dad?"

He explained that it represented the most fear he'd ever felt in a theater. Then he pushed it into the VCR, and for two hours I watched a rather timid alien kill each of the crew on Ripley's mining spaceship. As the credits rolled, I thought I had survived the most terrifying moments of my young life.

Then my dad put Aliens, the sequel, into the VCR.

The first alien, like I said earlier, was timid. He hid in the shadows and thought, "What the hell am I doing on this spaceship, and who are these weird creatures?" The aliens in the second movie are thinking, "Who cares where I am? Let's see how many humans I can kill in the next two hours." They know what they came here to do, and they scare me in their efficiency. 

Mitt Romney part one was a disaster. He never went for the throat, and always seemed awkward on stage. But Mitt Romney part two is attacking with vengeance and purpose. My favorite line of the debates so far was when he said, "You know, it's been a rough couple of debates for Rick," after Perry tried to lob a ridiculous accusation his way. Plus, it seems like his campaign has a much better strategy than last time. 

I must point out that, in an odd coincidence, Romney is going against a field that includes a bunch of white males, a woman, an african american, and an android (Rick Perry). The alien combated against a similar line up: white males, Ripley (woman), an african american guy, and an android. I don't count Private Vasquez, Jenette Goldstein's character, as a woman in this case. Google images will tell you why. 

But I'm afraid this coincidence doesn't count because I just compared the best looking candidate with what has been voted the ugliest villian in movie history. 

Jon Huntsman Most of my friends know I love mathematics. But most of my friends don't know the reason I love mathematics is every character Jeff Goldblum has ever played. If a director is casting for a film, and he needs a character to say a few intelligent lines but be okay with getting killed off early, he calls Jeff. Ian Malcolm of Jurassic Park is the archetype of both Jeff Goldblum's career and Jon Huntsman's candidacy for presidency.

Ian is a mathematician that, for no explicable reason, John Hammond needs to inspect his dinosaur park before it opens to visitors. He doesn't say much but, when he does, his words are nuggets of reason, like reminding Dr. Hammond that "life finds a way" even though all the dinosaurs on the island are female. Unfortunately, his reasonableness is mocked by his counterparts--"so you're saying that a group composed entirely of females...will...breed?" So who do you think gets the last laugh when the dinosaurs rip down the fences and Dr. Grant starts to find broken reptilian eggshells?

Not Ian Malcolm. In a remarkable display of courage, he stands by his instinct to save the children from the T-Rex by running into a vacant bathroom even though the party leadership, Dr. Grant, yells "Ian...Freeze!" He doesn't die, but falling banana leaves from the collapsing roof break his leg when the T-Rex destroys the bathroom. His reward for his bravery is to spend the rest of the movie in the command center, doing miniscule tasks like reading schematic maps. 

Huntsman's reasonableness has made him the man under the crazy-heavy banana leaves. He's heroic because he believes in climate change ("Life finds a way...") and other beliefs considered impossible to the rest of the pack. But his reasonableness is what leads him to run into the bathroom to save the country from the T-Rex, even though the American people wonder whyy he's even running at all. Fortunately, Huntsman will survive this bloodbath, and return in four years with his version of The Lost World.

God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates reason. Jon Huntsman uses reason. Man destroys reason. Man doesn't vote for Jon Huntsman for President of the United States.