How Sogwa Nixed the Nix

            Once upon a time the people were upset, because they kept on losing things. They lost hats, and jackets, and favorite toys, and money, and ice cream. They’d turn their back on something for just a second, and when they looked again, the thing would be gone! Then no matter how hard they searched, and how much they worried and complained, the thing would not come back, and not even Hannah could find it again. That was scary, so Sogwa the supercat decided to do something about it.

            So Sogwa went up to a spider’s web, and she said to the web, “Who’s stealing all the stuff?” The web said, “Accessing data. Please hold.” Sogwa waited patiently, for what else can you do? The web always takes so long. Finally the web said, “It is the Nix.” And Sogwa said, “Who or what is the Nix?” There was another wait, and Sogwa groomed herself from head to tail, and then the web said, “The Nix is neither a Who nor a What; it is a Not. It is what it isn’t, and it isn’t what it is. The Nix is always for no, and never for yes.  It loves the lie and hates the truth. The Nix breaks but it does not make, it takes but it does not give, it talks but it does not listen, and it does not know that it does not know.” Then Sogwa asked, “What can I do about the Nix?” and she settled down and closed her eyes. After a long nap, she woke up just in time to hear the web say, “There is nothing you can do about the Nix, and there is nothing that you have to do about the Nix, because the Nix is already nothing.”

            “I will set a trap,” said Sogwa, and she went home to bake a cake. It was a special cake, a Fake Cake; all of its ingredients were imaginary. Into a big mixing bowl Sogwa  poured a half-pint of water from the Fountain of Youth, a cup of shark’s milk, and a teaspoon of snake oil. She added a dragon’s egg, thirteen rat feathers, a bolt of turtle fur, and a whisker from Santa’s beard. Next came a pinch of phlogiston, a philosopher’s stone, a free lunch, some wooden iron and a gram of unobtainium. Finally she tossed in an honest politician’s hat. She baked all those impossible ingredients into an even more impossible cake. It couldn’t be there, yet it was.

            Sogwa set the Fake Cake on the windowsill to cool down; then she turned her back on it for just a second. When she looked again, the Fake Cake was gone! The Nix  had swallowed it whole. Sogwa smiled. She said, “That’s a trick the Nix will wish it missed!” Then she heard a deep groan come from deep underground.

            That night Sogwa dreamed that three goons came by. They said, “The big boss wants to talk to you,” and brave Sogwa said, “Show me where.”  The goons took her to an elevator, and they all got in, and they closed the door, and they pushed the DOWN button, and down they went. Down, down, down, past basement and sub-basement and sub-sub-sub-sub-basement, down, down, down for miles and tens and hundreds and thousands of miles and finally they sunk below even the furnace room and they reached  the lowest place of all, where they got out.

            Sogwa found herself  in the world headquarters of the Nix News Dream Corporation. There were thousands of floodlights blazing at her; and millions of dream cameras  looking at her; and the Nix was there too, and it was mad at her.

            The Nix said, “Your Fake Cake gave me heartburn!” But Sogwa replied, “How can your heart burn? You have no heart.” And all the dreamers watching agreed that she was right; the Nix had no heart, and it never had one.

            Then the Nix said, “Your Fake Cake made my guts grumble!” But Sogwa replied, “How can your guts grumble? You have no guts.” And all the dreamers watching agreed that she was right; the Nix had no guts, and it never had any.

            Then the Nix said, “Your Fake Cake makes my brain ache!” But Sogwa replied, “How can your brain ache? You have no brain.” And all the dreamers watching agreed that she was right; the Nix had no brain, and it never had one.

            Then all the dreamers asked each other, “If the Nix has no heart and no guts and no brain,  then why bother watching it? Let’s forget Nix News and go dream better dreams.” So all the dream cameras blipped away to other channels, and all the floodlights shorted out, and the Nix News Dream Corporation  lost all its money, just like that.

            The Nix roared, “You’ve ruined me!  But I’ll get even!” Seeking revenge, the Nix turned into a giant shadow. It surrounded Sogwa and attacked. The darkness within the Nix was hard, shiny, jagged and whirly; and trapped inside its silence was  a roar and a scream. Within the Nix, up was down and near was far and light was heavy and yes was no; for the Nix knew nothing, not even itself.

            Sogwa wasn’t frightened, or dizzy, or even worried. There was nothing she could do, but there was nothing she had to do; so she sat down, and closed her eyes,  and did nothing. She did as much nothing as possible, and she did it very well; for cats are good at doing nothing. Sogwa blissfully contemplated herself; and cats are good at doing that, too.

            The Nix raged, but the cat purred, and her purr said peace. She purred so gently that anyone in dreamland could hear it if they listened right. Her purr said that up is not down, that near is not far, that light is not heavy, and that yes is not no. Sogwa knew the difference, because Sogwa knew  herself. 

            Soon the blazing blackness softened to honest restful night, and the silence grew quiet. Sogwa  looked around and saw that she was back in her own bed, safe and warm under her own covers. The Nix was gone; but just to make sure, Sogwa slipped back into dreamland. She asked the people of dreamland if they had seen the Nix, and they all said, “What Nix? There is no Nix, and there never was.”

                                                           

            That’s the story that Sogwa told me last night, and now I’ve told it to you. The End.

What Grandma Marge Told Sogwa

            Once upon a time all the books went blank, and all the games were lame, and there was nothing on TV but yucky ads, and there were no stories to tell Hannah. That was boring, so Sogwa the supercat decided to do something about it.

            So Sogwa got on her pet dragon Scorch, and they flew on a spiral all the way up to Heaven, where they met Grandma Marge. Sogwa asked Grandma Marge for stories, and Grandma Marge said, “I will grant you your wish, if you do three chores  for me. You must bring  me a saber-tooth cat, a tiny bottle full of tiny monster viruses, and a photo of the baby Universe.”

            Sogwa rode Scorch on a spiral back down to Earth, and she began her quest. She had no trouble catching a saber-tooth cat, because Sogwa is a mighty hunter. Then she asked her friend Rainbow Lizard to capture some tiny monster viruses in a tiny bottle; and Rainbow Lizard had no trouble doing this, because he’s a brilliant doctor. Then Sogwa rode her time machine back to the dinosaur days, where she met her friend Biter the T. Rex. She asked him to take a photo of the baby Universe; and Biter had no trouble doing this, because he’s a super scientist.

            Sogwa put these prizes on Scorch’s back, and they flew back up to Heaven. Sogwa told Grandma Marge, “Here is the saber-tooth cat, and here are some tiny monster viruses, and here is a photo of the baby Universe.” And Grandma Marge said, “And there are your stories!”

            That’s the story that Sogwa told me last night, and now I’ve told it to you. The End.

Kozmik Katz and Sogwa Introduction

Today, October 24^th, 2012, is the first birthday of our two Kozmik Katz, Charles and Katniss, now no longer kittens. They shall get new cat toys; and starting today, this blog shall run two weeks of stories starring Sogwa, my daughter’s old favorite cat doll.

Introduction:

     Who is Sogwa?

            Once upon a time a collection of stories needed an Introduction, but nobody knew what to say. That was embarrassing, so Sogwa the supercat decided to do something about it.

            So last night, in the middle of a dream, Sogwa walked right up to me and introduced herself. She said, “Hi there! I’m Sogwa the supercat and I’m six years old. Who are you?”

            I mumbled my name and my age, and I said, “What do you want?”

            Sogwa said, “I want to tell you my stories, for  you to report. So please ask me the reporter’s questions; Who, What,  How, Where, When and Why.”

            I said, “You’ve told me Who you are; so tell me, Sogwa, What do you do for a living?”

            Sogwa said, “I do as much nothing as possible. I’m a purry furry cat, and a prowly yowly cat, whatever suits me at the time. I’m a mighty hunter, a science whiz, and a quarrel-mender; but I also like to take long naps.”

            “How are you so super?”

            “I’m super because I’m extra nice, and genius smart, and hero brave.”

            “Where have you been and when were you there?”

            “I have been to Heaven and Hell and Outer Space. I have visited the Future, the Past, and the City That Only Kids Can See.”

            “Why these stories? And why tell them to me?”

            “I tell you these stories, so you can tell them to a certain special friend of mine and yours. She’s one of my favorite people.”

            “Mine too,” I said.

            And Sogwa said, “That is why I dedicate these six stories

                                                            With Love,

                                                            To Hannah.”

           

            That’s the story that Sogwa told me last night, and now I’ve told it to you. The End.

Happy Ussher Day 6015!

This post is for Tuesday, October 23^rd, 2012; which according to the calculations of Bishop Ussher, is exactly 6015 years since the creation of the world. It is also the day before October 24^th, 2012; which according to our records, is the birthday of our two cats, Charles and Katniss. So we are the proud ownees of two Kozmik Katz.

I plan to do what I did last year and the year before that; light a candle, sing “happy birthday, dear world”, tell it to make a wish, and hold the candle in front of an open window so wind can blow it out. (But last year the wind was low, so I compromised by leaning out the window and waving the candle around until it went out.) And as for the Kozmik Katz, we’ll give them new cat toys tomorrow.

There are individual bristlecone pines provably older than 6015 years, so I don’t take Ussher’s calculations seriously. The universe is more like 13,700,000,000 years old; but the exact calendar date of the Big Bang is indefinite, due to the relativity of time-rates. Pick any day of the year, including leap-day, and the Big Bang occurred on that day in some reference frame. (Hour and minute are also adjustable; see my blog entries of October 23, 24 and 27, 2011.) So the birthday party might as well be on October 23, at any time you please.

I ask the world to make a wish for novelty’s sake; for who ever asks the world for its wishes?

By the way,  6013 = 7*859;  and   6014 = 2*31*97; and 6015  = 3*5*401, and 6016 = 2*2*2*2*2*2*2*47, and 6017 = 11*547.  Interpret this any way you wish!

Hominid Thermostat

The North Pole is melting. The Northwest Passage will soon be open on a regular basis; expect shipping patterns to change accordingly. So long, polar bears. What other little surprises does dear old Mother Nature have in store for us? That’s the trouble with climate change; you can’t predict just what the changes will be; but civilization needs predictability.

I’m philosophical about it all. I have a theory, which I call the Hominid Thermostat. It goes as follows; Gaia, the planetary biosphere, noticed that that it’s been suffering from periodic ice ages lately. This will not do; so the biosphere evolved a species of semi-intelligent fire users (that’s us) to dig up and burn gigatonnes of coal and oil, and thus warm the planet. In typical Gaian fashion, the process is self-regulating; for as soon as we put enough CO2 into the air, then the seas will rise, drown out most of our cities, and thus end the process. How ecological!

The fish will like Florida; but Al Gore is anthropocentric enough to try to stop the process. He will probably fail because he’s trying to counter human political disunity, plutocratic greed, and ideological stupidity. Contra Naturam!

Oh, by the way; according to New Scientist, part of the long-range  global-warming forecast is that certain areas will each year experience a combination of heat and humidity high enough to kill an unprotected human within hours. (Unprotected as in; naked, sopping wet, in the shade, sitting in front of a fan, drinking water constantly, but you die before the day is done. Only air conditioning or a deep cave would save you.) These heat-stress areas include parts of China, parts of Africa, parts of South America, all of the USA’s South and Eastern Seaboard; and all of the Indian subcontinent. So India had better  plug in the AC (and hope the power stays on) or dome over the cities, or dig in like hobbits. Or leave, or die. And they, and the rest of us, will have at most three centuries  to prepare.

Medicine for the Catholic Church

     - some philosophical doctoring -

          1. A Question of Motive

          I write about the troubles of the Catholic Church, and offer three diagnoses and two prescriptions. The remedies I prescribe are powerful and effective but safe and convenient; and I offer them free of charge.

          But first, a question of motive. Why should I help the Catholic Church? I’m not Catholic; but I help out of neighborliness, and also self-interest. If you were walking down the street and noticed that your neighbors were pennying in their fuses, then you might advise them to get some real fuses; for if their house catches on fire, then a few sparks may land on your own roof.

          2. Triple Diagnosis         

          The Church’s troubles are three layers deep. On the surface, the problem is psychosexual; below that problem is a managerial/political debacle; and causing that is a persistent cybernetic malfunction.

          The surface psychosexual problem is obvious; priestly sexual ‘abuse’ of minors. (The word ‘abuse’ is a euphemism for rape.) This problem is not unique to the RCC; abusive sex is statistically not zero whenever adults supervise adolescents. Nurses, teachers, counselors, coaches… note Penn State. Pedophilia happens often enough that I suspect the practice has old evolutionary roots.

          But civilization is organized to control people’s urges, usually. Turning pedophile employees in to the police is part of management’s function; which brings us to the Church’s managerial/political debacle.

The bishops failed to protect the children; the hierarchy put its needs above the parishioners. So goes the usual charge; but forgive me for not being shocked by normal bureaucratic behavior. That the bishops were incompetent is simply the Peter Principle; that their incompetence nonetheless served corrupt institutional needs is standard opportunism.

In this imperfect world of trial and error, most people don’t mind corrupt incompetence, being that way themselves; but they do object to incompetent corruption. If you’re going to do wrong, then you’d better do wrong right!

The bishops were incompetently corrupt. They hid facts, and moved priests, in order to end scandal; but the facts re-emerged, and the priests re-offended, and the scandal worsened. The more they tried to silence dissent, the louder dissent got.

Why? How come this failure of control? I see it as a cybernetic glitch; a breakdown of the operating system due to faulty programming. The bishops were attempting the mathematically impossible; faultlessness.

To the bishops, the Church could do no wrong; therefore, when it did wrong anyhow, the Church had to seem to have done no wrong; even though creating that false seeming itself involved more wrong-doing. It’s a positive feedback loop, naturally culminating in system crash.

Beneath the sexual dysfunction and the incompetent corruption is nothing less than the sin of Hubris. It is excessive pride; the belief in impunity.

Of course all of this leads back to the Catholic Church’s doctrine of papal infallibility. A church with an infallible pope is bound to believe itself infallible; but infallibilism always backfires.

The Church proclaims papal infallibility with great solemnity, but solemnity is not wisdom. They use this power rarely, as if it were radioactive; and rightly so. They say that the Pope has been infallible only twice; but that’s twice too often.

Infallibilism is Hubris, which brings on Nemesis. The Greek goddess of retribution fights dirty; she humbled the celibate church with a sex scandal.

3. Double Prescription.

The Catholic Church suffers, on the surface, from a sexual dysfunction; beneath that, from incompetent corruption; and beneath that, from a fatal system error; infallibilism.

The incompetent corruption will probably solve itself by ordinary bureaucratic infighting. The bishops responsible will be kicked upstairs or sideways into useless posts; normal attrition will do the rest. Since clerics have no children, there are no family lines to defend. In a few decades turnover will be 100%, with all posts re-filled from the laity.

That is the great virtue of clerical childlessness; it prevents the rise of a priestly caste. If clerics reproduce, as they do in other faiths, then there will be clerical families; these rise and fall, like all aristocracies. This causes little harm in decentralized faiths; but the church has a Papacy, which it dare not let some falling dynasty’s idiot heir capture and drag down. Hence no bishop’s sons; enforced so far by clerical celibacy; but clerical celibacy causes other problems.

I therefore propose that the Catholic Church replace clerical celibacy with clerical sterility. Let there be vasectomies for all priests, tube-tying for all nuns, and sterilization also for their spouses. Let them marry but have no children; this will give them personal experience with married life, but will prevent nepotism.

Clerical sterility, as opposed to clerical celibacy, has all the benefits of the old system (no priestly castes) and none of its defects (sexual alienation, recruitment shortfalls). It is safe and simple; less a reform than a tweak.

But no change, however helpful, can happen unless the Church can change at all. Infallibilism opposes change. Infallibilism is the denial of error; but denying error is not the same as correcting it. In fact infallibilism is the opposite of error-correction; it is error-accumulation.

I therefore propose that the Catholic Church replace the doctrine of papal infallibility with its opposite; a doctrine of papal necessity. By this I mean a pope who is needed, or inevitable, or you might even say unavoidable. Even the Church’s critics will agree that the Church, as it is, needs a Pope to be what it is.

An infallible pope is never wrong; but nobody else can live up to that standard; so an infallible pope is not a guide. Whereas a necessary pope is Catholic by definition; anyone in disagreement with him can go find another church. Thus a necessary pope is stronger within the Church than an infallible one; but in return a necessary pope must submit to necessity.

A necessary pope can error-correct. He needn’t be impeccable; he need only be corrigible. His job is not to make no mistakes, for mistakes are inevitable. His job is to unmake mistakes, both his own and those of previous necessary Popes. This makes change possible.

In sum:

Diagnosis of the Roman Catholic Church:

Psychosexual dysfunction, uncontrolled due to incompetent managerial corruption; this in turn aggravated by hubristic error accumulation.

Prescription:

For the bad sex: replace clerical celibacy with clerical sterility.

For the incompetent corruption: this will purge itself.

For the hubris: replace papal infallibility with papal necessity.

Fee:

Free. This is pro bono philosophy-doctoring.

Signed,

Nathaniel Hellerstein, Doctor of Philosophy

Inverse Pascal’s Wager

           I have come up with an inverse Pascal’s Wager, as follows:

           1. God does not seem to exist.

           (I mean this in the crude no-proven-miracles sense; but in also there’s theodicy, scriptural contradictions, god-of-the-gaps, etc.)

           2. If there is no God, then God’s seeming nonexistence would be a reflection of reality; and atheism would be realistic.

           3. If there is a God, then God’s seeming nonexistence would be a miracle, due only to the will of God; and atheism would be in accordance with God’s will.

           4. Therefore there is no downside to atheism. If there is no God, then the atheist would be no further behind with God than the theist, and would in addition be realistic. If there is a God, and God wills to seem nonexistent, then the atheist would be pious, and the theist impious!

           A God who exists, but does not seem to exist, would be practicing a curious miracle. Some say that would be a test of faith; shall the believer believe without evidence? I retort that the real test of faith is; will you play along?