Jonathan Field - Maker of Random Stuff

So a devout Christian family member sent me this article about Intelligent Design this morning. I wrote back the following, which I thought I’d post because I think it sums up my thoughts well.

My first thought is just to say that as a secularist, I live up to one of the highest moral codes of anyone I know. And this is true of most secular people — as a group I would say that secular people usually live to higher than average moral standards. And I would also refer to mankind’s bloody religious history to show that answering to a god does not keep most people from doing terrible things. So the claim that secular science is afraid of having to answer to a high moral authority (from their second paragraph) doesn’t make sense to me.

But onto the main topic: I have nothing against people believing in Intelligent Design. I just think it is a pretty odd thing to teach in schools, because it doesn’t actually teach anything specific. It’s just like saying “we got here by magic”. Even if evolution is wrong, at least it’s a specific attempt to explain how all this could happen.

It is true that a degree of faith must be exercised in any belief, scientific or religious. The main difference between science and religion, as I see it, is that science can admit it is wrong when new facts present themselves. That is because science is simply the search for the truth, and has no belief to protect. Science has been wrong many times throughout history, but when someone can demonstrate that it is wrong, science is updated. In other words, truth is more important than belief. Religion, on the other hand, holds belief and truth as the same thing, so new evidence is discarded or ignored or marked as blasphemous.

As a admission of guilt on the above point, some alleged scientists, like the followers of any belief system, don’t live by the core principles, and so they might dismiss or ignore bits of truth that they don’t like. But fundamentally the core of science is discovery and learning and refining our understanding of the world, and those people are just practicing bad science.

As a point to remember about science; many Intelligent Design proponents talk about science as though it was some kind of annoying fringe belief system that they’d like to see go away. But these same people drive cars, use cell phones, live in heated, air conditioned houses, drink purified water, eat safe food, and take medical treatment when they are ill. All of these things are a direct result of scientific study over the past few centuries. For all the amazing things that scientific study have brought us, I would expect a little more trust and appreciation. Religion had complete control of the world for thousands of years, but it wasn’t until the scientific method grew in popularity that things started getting notably better.

And though nobody can prove the theory of evolution, it is based on some pretty convincing evidence. Not the least of which is that we have actually observed small-scale evolution in our lifetimes: the adaptation of bacteria and insects to be resistant to our antibiotics and pesticides. So we do know for sure that this type of evolutionary adaptation takes place, at least on a small scale. This, combined with fossil records and genetic research makes a pretty strong case for the full theory of evolution.

But I should also say then, that science and religious beliefs are not incompatible! In fact, many Christians these days believe that the creation story is a metaphorical account of evolution. It is obvious that many of the stories in the Bible are not literal; Jesus used parables to illustrate many points. Might that be the case with the story of creation?

The Bible talks about many plagues without describing the underlying biological mechanism of bacterial infection. When bacteria was discovered, did this contradict the Bible? Apparently not. So who says that God didn’t use the biological mechanism of evolution to create life on earth? And as it turns out, the creation story describes the order of events as they would happen in the scientific version, including evolution: after the light and dark, and the earth and water, simple living things like plants appear, then more advanced creatures like fish, then birds, then mammals, and finally man. Taking a big-picture view, the two accounts line up rather nicely.

Science can’t prove or disprove the existence of a god. I personally don’t believe in one, but that has little to do with my scientific faith. Science is just there to explain how all these things in the physical world might have happened. Intelligent Design might be true, but it can’t be a part of the scientific discussion because it doesn’t actually explain anything. Maybe they’re right, maybe everything was intelligently designed, but that doesn’t contradict any point of science or require inclusion in science textbooks.

When Intelligent Design proponents can explain to me where the creator came from, or how the mind of God gets around the problem of “irreducible complexity” which they claim is the flaw in the theory of evolution… well then we can talk, because their explanation would naturally be part of science.

At least, that’s how I see it.

I don’t care how offensive it was. As an athiest I’m regularly labeled an amoral danger to society. And I’ve been offended every day of my life by some godawful world event. Get used to it.

Props to all the religious folks who can peacefully ignore other folks expressing opinions about their beliefs.

Well now that it’s done I can publicly admit, without fear of an IRS invasion, that I never did my taxes for 2004. These 2004 taxes included some California stuff, so I decided (after much prodding from my good friend Lisa) to have them done there instead of here in Las Vegas. Well, it all worked out fine… or should I say no fine. Since I had a refund, and there was no penalty. Phew. And we hit the 2005 taxes as well while we were at it so we’re all caught up.

Oh: I have the best accountant ever. He’s a total wise ass. Doing taxes with him is more like having a beer with a buddy, but he knows his tax shit too.

Anyways, that’s why I was in San Francisco this weekend: to do taxes. But since we had to see each other for the tax stuff anyway, I did visit with Sophie as well. And had a very nice time. We hit a couple of our favorite old restaurants, like Left Bank in Pleasant Hill. I really dig that place. After a half bottle of bordeaux and their excellent lamb dish, I was ready to do my taxes all over again.

I managed to organize my office/studio a little on Sunday. Enough so that I actually played some music and recorded an idea or two. Been a while since I’ve done that. I should probably make some kind of commitment, like recording one song per month or something. But that’s too much pressure. Maybe instead I’ll commit to thinking about recording one song per month.

I met up with Romi outside the House of Blues around 6PM. Did you know you can’t buy gum at Mandalay Bay? And I thought Vegas was an “anything goes” kinda town. They did have Mentos, though, so my evening was not ruined.

Inside we saw Gogol Bordello … self described “gypsy punks”. I thought it looked a little more like “Pirate Rock” myself. They put on an amazingly lively show, which included people marching around with bass drums and cymbals, and others who just danced frenetically. I eventually counted nine members — the only time they held still long enough was on their final bow. The lead singer had a big fluffy mustache.

Following up were Tegan & Sara. Their stage show was dramatic in it’s lack of random people flailing around on stage. But their catchy little tunes made up for it. I think I’ll check out that “So Jealous” album that’s getting around…

There was a standup comedian who appeared between each act on a big projection TV. Note: he got pretty good reactions with the words “pot” and “blowjob”.

Cake came on and did a decent job rocking out. But here I will digress… throughout the night the sound was bad. Now, I don’t consider myself a master sound technician, but I know I could have mixed this stuff better. I mean I could hardly hear the vocals for the first two acts, and while I could hear the vocals for Cake, the drums and guitar were pretty much buried. I’m not sure they even had the drum mics on at all — just the acoustic sound of the drums competing with the terrifically loud bass amp. I really just wanted to walk over there, slip the guy at the board a roofie, and mix that shit myself. I mean, just turning everything up to 11 would have been a start.

But despite that, I had a good time. And finishing off with great sushi just put it over the top. Now get back to work, dammit!

Today I cleaned out my refrigerator. There were items with expiration dates from 2004.

But that’s not all! Thanks to Aki, (whom I helped give a mohawk last month), I managed to get out and do something. Something cool, in fact. We went to a show — Strunz & Farah. They’re in the “World Jazz” category in iTunes, if that’s any help. They were darn good; playing in a smaller venue at Boulder Station, which was sold out. And even though I spent over a year as a percussionist by trade, I was introduced to a new rhythm instrument, the cajón. No, that’s not cojones, though it would be pretty impressive if a guy could make drum sounds with his balls. Anyways, no, it was basically a box with some beads on it. And this Cuban dude was able to get some mighty good world-beat sounds out of that thing. So props to Aki for spotting the show, and bringing a bunch of us along.

And then tomorrow night (after cleaning my bathroom or something else exciting, I suppose) I’m headed out to see Cake with my friend Romi. She paid for the tickets with blood. No, really. They’re like $75 a piece tickets and she got them by giving blood. That’s very expensive blood. Or perhaps she just gave a lot of it. Either way, I’m impressed.

Oh: and the Zappos party last week was fun. Lots of people got sick and threw up and got tossed out of the club on their ass. But not me. I just watched and laughed.

I’m not going to get into details, and I’m not sure what use it is, but I just want some kind of recognition that I have an inhuman ability to turn down what would seem to be incredible sex with hot women.

Fuck.

Or, rather, not.

So coming out of work today as I walked to my car I passed by the the next office building to ours. It was about 7PM, and pretty dark out, so I could see into the building where rooms were lit up. The corner room nearest me, as I passed, seemed to have some type of class going on. There were about twelve folks sitting at their desks, looking up towards the front of the room. A teacher or something was projecting images on the wall and speaking. All this seemed normal. But I found the projected image itself a bit odd: a terrifically unflattering close up of Michael Jackson… you know the look I’m talking about: where he looks like a burn victim geisha girl. The caption on the top of the picture said “Nose”. And though I couldn’t hear what they were saying through the glass, the teacher spoke about this until I lost interest and went home.

A class of plastic surgeons maybe? “Here’s what you don’t want to do to a… ‘nose’.”

Yes, I’m known for throwing around superlatives like a Scotsman throws cabers, but only six days into this year I feel I’ve already come across the best song and video of 2006.

Maybe I like it because it seems like something I’d do, if I was still awesome.

And real life fades just like dreams do.

So on the way to Boston, on Christmas Eve, the airport was pretty much deserted. Everyone had already gotten where they were going and late travelers like myself were rewarded with a whole aisle on the plane to themselves. The parking garage was full, and so was the overflow parking lot. But the good folks at McCarran airport found an extra dirt lot around the bend and let folks park there for free. A little shuttle van took us to the airport.

Spent the nights with my Dad and Sharon in New Salem — a non-existent little town in in central Massachusetts where they just bought a home. The town has only 400 or so people, and is actually the remnants of four other towns that were possessed and flooded back in the 30′s by the government to make Quabbin reservoir, which provides water to much of the state. When Quabbin gets low during a drought, you can still see the tip of the church steeple from the drowned town. My Dad loves stuff like that. He’s in his element out there.

Speaking of elements, the ground was covered in a sheath of ice like I haven’t seen in a long time. I was a-slippin’ and a-sliding all over the place as I tried to make my way from the car to the house and visa-versa. This didn’t stop us from visiting the rest of the family at Valley Farm. Good eats, good peeps, and a decent Yankee swap, to boot.

The flight home on December 26 was full. No more stretching across the seats and sleeping. I had received LOST Season One on DVD, and watched four episodes on the way home. I almost feel like there should be some kind of law against this, as the first four episodes feature about 20 flashbacks to the plane crash that sets the plot in motion. Every ten minutes my 17″ display would light up with screaming faces and oxygen masks dropping down, flying objects cracking heads, people getting sucked out the back of the plane at 30,000 feet where the tail had been torn off, and all manner of other airplane disaster mayhem. I think someone behind me may have had a heart attack, but I was too engrossed to really pay attention to that.

Anyways, I realized how pitiful my life is last night: it’s the little things. When I got to the shuttle pick-up point at around 11:30 PM to take me back to my car at the overflow-overflow lot, there were well over a hundred people there waiting. Now, the little shuttle van can hold maybe 15 or so. And the van comes around about every 10 minutes. I didn’t bother pulling out my calculator to figure out that it would be precisely one long ass time before I got back to my car, which was really only half a mile away. I fidgeted in the line for a moment, then I walked upstairs and checked the taxi line, which was endless.

After fretting for another few minutes about waiting in line like a sheep, I decided to strike off on my own. I was going to be an urban trailblazer — a rebel against the oppression of sidewalk arrows and yellow guide ropes. I slung my backpack and walked right through that line of long-faced people, across the street, and into the wilderness. The wilderness consisted mainly of gravel ditches and jersey barriers, and a few busy roads without crosswalks. But my bravery and ingenuity were rewarded when ten grueling minutes later I arrived at my car, panting, sweating, but very much alive. Those suckers waiting in line at the airport probably hadn’t even moved. I almost hiked back to let them know.

And then I realized that was the most adventurous thing I’ve done in a month. And probably will be for the next month too. Ouch.

Merry Christmas, all!