A more verbose introduction
We that have done and thought,
That have thought and done,
Must ramble, and thin out
Like milk spilt on a stone.
W.B. Yeats, “Spilt Milk,” 1933
I’ve watched the blogging revolution from the sidelines for some time. Now I’ve decided to get back in the game.
Back in 1997, I launched a small and generally worthless personal website containing favorite links, photos of the kids, and the like—all the standard features. Even my mother stayed away. But one section did elicit a small, but positive, response: my page of (largely political) rants, the place where I exposed the web to the froth that formed atop my stream of consciousness.
I didn’t think much of it at the time, as the page was more of my brain’s pressure-release valve than anything else. I nevertheless plodded along for several years, toiling in relative obscurity, erecting a large mound of opinion and commentary. And then I moved, lost access to my host, and let the thing lapse.
Now, of course, such things are extremely common, their evolution having been aided and abetted by many technological advances. I am having difficulty with this, perhaps for the uncharitable reason that, while I was always a small fish, I swam in a much, much smaller pond. With my return, I do not expect to make a great splash; but I feel a strong need to get my thoughts down on paper (so to speak), and this way seems natural to me.
So I dive once again into the seas of commentary. I therefore offer a few disclaimers. As you may notice, I lean toward what is reflexively called “the right,” though I do not consider myself to be a dogmatist (perhaps I flatter myself here—the judgment is yours). I am in my early 30s, married, Catholic, white, and the father of two young children. If you choose to value or devalue my thoughts based on these data, that’s your problem. I will endeavor to present opinion as opinion and fact as fact, and I will link to external references when I can. And while I can’t promise that this will be the prettiest site out there, I’ll at least try to make it easy on the eyes.
If you want to voice your thoughts on my thoughts, please feel free to do so. I can take criticism and/or abuse like the best of them. If you want to contribute, I welcome your submissions, but I reserve the right to exercise some degree of editorial control. Beyond that, I hope you simply enjoy.
What’s a “Log and Line,” anyway?
In the days prior to the development of an accurate maritime chronometer, ships at sea used a log and line to gauge speed, thus helping to determine the ship’s location. A sailor would heave the “log” (a flat piece of wood that would drag behind the ship) and watch how many knots of rope flew off the reel of line within a specified timeframe. It thus became standard to measure a ship’s speed in knots, a standard that remained in place even after such navigational procedures were no longer necessary.
"In our time the destiny of man presents its meanings in political terms." --Thomas Mann
How can I, that girl standing there,
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics,
Yet here's a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there's a politician
That has both read and thought,
And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war's alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms.
W.B. Yeats, “Politics,” 1938
That have thought and done,
Must ramble, and thin out
Like milk spilt on a stone.
W.B. Yeats, “Spilt Milk,” 1933
I’ve watched the blogging revolution from the sidelines for some time. Now I’ve decided to get back in the game.
Back in 1997, I launched a small and generally worthless personal website containing favorite links, photos of the kids, and the like—all the standard features. Even my mother stayed away. But one section did elicit a small, but positive, response: my page of (largely political) rants, the place where I exposed the web to the froth that formed atop my stream of consciousness.
I didn’t think much of it at the time, as the page was more of my brain’s pressure-release valve than anything else. I nevertheless plodded along for several years, toiling in relative obscurity, erecting a large mound of opinion and commentary. And then I moved, lost access to my host, and let the thing lapse.
Now, of course, such things are extremely common, their evolution having been aided and abetted by many technological advances. I am having difficulty with this, perhaps for the uncharitable reason that, while I was always a small fish, I swam in a much, much smaller pond. With my return, I do not expect to make a great splash; but I feel a strong need to get my thoughts down on paper (so to speak), and this way seems natural to me.
So I dive once again into the seas of commentary. I therefore offer a few disclaimers. As you may notice, I lean toward what is reflexively called “the right,” though I do not consider myself to be a dogmatist (perhaps I flatter myself here—the judgment is yours). I am in my early 30s, married, Catholic, white, and the father of two young children. If you choose to value or devalue my thoughts based on these data, that’s your problem. I will endeavor to present opinion as opinion and fact as fact, and I will link to external references when I can. And while I can’t promise that this will be the prettiest site out there, I’ll at least try to make it easy on the eyes.
If you want to voice your thoughts on my thoughts, please feel free to do so. I can take criticism and/or abuse like the best of them. If you want to contribute, I welcome your submissions, but I reserve the right to exercise some degree of editorial control. Beyond that, I hope you simply enjoy.
What’s a “Log and Line,” anyway?
In the days prior to the development of an accurate maritime chronometer, ships at sea used a log and line to gauge speed, thus helping to determine the ship’s location. A sailor would heave the “log” (a flat piece of wood that would drag behind the ship) and watch how many knots of rope flew off the reel of line within a specified timeframe. It thus became standard to measure a ship’s speed in knots, a standard that remained in place even after such navigational procedures were no longer necessary.
"In our time the destiny of man presents its meanings in political terms." --Thomas Mann
How can I, that girl standing there,
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics,
Yet here's a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there's a politician
That has both read and thought,
And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war's alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms.
W.B. Yeats, “Politics,” 1938
posted by Jeff at 8:45 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home