The spiffy prosecutor stood and smiled as he prepared for opening arguments against Cletus Biffman, a man accused of a hate crime for murdering an open homosexual three weeks prior. Jay Comfort had been the lead prosecutor for several months and this was his first widely publicized case. His new assistant, Curt Camryn was a former teen idol who had dedicated the past ten years of his life to getting bad guys off the street since leaving Hollywood. Mr. Comfort began his arguments to the judge and grand jury.
"The victim Charles Danforth was a well know activist for gay rights here in New York City. He was found dead with a stab wound to the chest on 43rd street just one month ago. Less than one week later, our diligent police detectives picked up Mr. Biffman just two blocks from the scene of the crime. Mr. Biffman openly displayed a tattoo on his chest that reads "Kill All Fags."" To the surprise of the judge and jury, the dashing prosecutor then sat down and smiled.
The judge spoke. "Um, Mr. Comfort. Do you have anything else to add?"
Surprised, Jay rose slowly and responded. "Such as?"
"Well, how about some evidence?"
Startled, the prosecutor looked to his sidekick and they began murmuring together frantically. He then rose and spoke again.
"Well, Your Honor, we believe the case is self evident. Not only did Mr. Biffman openly display such a message across his chest, but he was only a few blocks away from where the crime took place. In addition to that, Your Honor, we did a recent poll of the citizens of our good city, and over 80% believe that Mr. Biffman is the perpetrator of the crime." He then smiled and sat once again.
"Yes, well while I appreciate the fact that people may believe in Mr. Biffman's guilt, isn't it true that he was arrested in a very public display with the Police telling the newspapers "we've got our man?" In fact, that was the exact headline in three major newspapers just two days ago, was it not?"
"Well, yes your honor. And just think of how dismayed and upset the people will be if he is not locked up for this."
"Perhaps they will be dismayed and upset, but that still isn't evidence that he actually committed this crime, is it? I mean, do you have anything concrete here?"
Again, shuffling of papers and frantic, mumbled discussions went on for a minute before the prosecutor spoke again.
"Your honor, Mr. Biffman has been known to make anti-gay slurs many times in the past. But, I'd like to make this even more clear."
"Yes, please do." the judge responded.
"Mr. Biffman either committed this crime, or he did not commit it. We can agree on that much, right?"
"Where are you going with this?"
"With only two possibilities at hand, we can start with the reasonable assumption that there is a 50% chance he is guilty of this crime. Once we understand that, we can then add in the facts of Mr. Biffman's tattoo, his proximity to the crime scene, his known anti-gay slurs and the public opinion to arrive at a 93.4% likelyhood that he is indeed the killer."
The judge stared back blankly, prompting the prosecutor to continue.
"AND, Your Honor, just think of the peace of mind the people will have when they know that a scourge like Mr. Biffman is taken off the streets for good. I'd also like to quote a former Police Commissioner who stated clearly that "people with hate filled tattoos are no good, and will probably end up in jail for something or another anyway."
After a long pause, the judge spoke.
"So let me get this straight. You want us to lock up a man because it will give people peace of mind, and because some former police commissioner once said something that happens to seem relevant now. In addition, you are arguing that there's more than a 90% chance of his guilt based on starting with a 50% chance of his guilt because he either did it or didn't? Couldn't we apply that same logic and say that there must be a 50% chance that either you or I committed this crime too?"
"Please Your Honor, let's not make a mockery of things here. Of course you or I didn't do this. Nobody believes we would have ever done such a thing."
"So, because people believe it or were led to believe it, you surmise that the likelyhood starts at 50% and goes up with every other factor worked into the equation."
"It's simple mathematics. It is irrefutable scientific proof. He's our man."
Jay and Curt sat and smiled at the grand jury. They had to see the obvious, didn't they?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Dear Mom & Dad
My childhood was filled with wonder, pain, love, happiness, sadness, loneliness, warmth, caring, teaching, fear, and many other emotions and experiences that range the entire spectrum of the human experience. For that, I thank you.
With the exception of the first grade, I spent my entire pre-college education in Catholic schools where I was taught that a man walked on water, was born of a virgin, died for our sins, brought a friend back from the dead several days after rigormortis had set in, and rose from the dead himself. If one is to also believe the Mormon account, he apparently rematerialized in North America soon after to save the souls of the Native Americans, but that was kept a secret until Joseph Smith somehow figured it out several thousand years later. We learned that the earth was created in six days and that eating a small, tasteless cracker under proper circumstances was the equivalent of sacred cannabilism. We learned that dressing a woman in all black and white and demanding that she abstain from normal human relations is NOT a good way to foster happy, optimistic, positive role models for children. If my tone does not sufficiently contain enough sarcasm, allow me to unabashedly say that I do not believe in these holy myths any longer, though it took me many years of painful soul searching to reach this conclusion. I still love you.
I recall learning to suppress a gag reflex as a priest shook a cannister of burning incense nearby while chanting mystical dogma. The smell still lingers in my mind as a horrific experince. We knelt, prayed, asked for forgiveness for our mortal sins, accepted that we were lowly creatures admittedly unworthy of god's attention, while asking for this attention anyway. We learned that hell is a place for those not sufficiently devoted to constant subservience, and that it is an eternity of pain, misery, lonelines, and horrific agony. We learned this while we were still too young to think critically. If any of us were precocious enough to question any of the teachings, we were quickly taught that such analysis would not be permitted. Independent thought was stomped out of our malleable minds. I still love you.
I was never touched inappropriately by a priest, nun, or any other authority figure. I was never rapped on the back of my knuckles by a teacher. I do not specifically recall experiencing any of the commonly heard indignities that so many of my fellow Catholic schoolchildren seem to have endured. In all, great efforts were made to make the Catholic experience a positive one. I was proud to have been born into a Catholic family, as I clearly had the good fortune to have been selected as one of the people to be blessed with the one true faith, while many of my little friends had no hope of finding salvation.
As I watch my two young sons grow and develop minds of their own, I have consciously decided to spare them this experience. I don't know when it all happened, but I did realize at a certain point that my ingrained belief system simply does not hold up to any sort of critical thinking. I had to let go and accept that I was wrong, my teachers were wrong, my priests were wrong, the nuns were wrong, the multi-billion dollar organization known as the Catholic Church was wrong, my understanding of "Atheists" was wrong, Pat Robertson in wrong, the Muslim Mullah's are wrong, the Talmudic Scholars are wrong, and yes Mom and Dad, you were both wrong. I still love you.
As I do my best to raise my children to be good people capable of thinking for themselves and positively contributing to society, I do so with the intent of being right, and of teaching them what is right. To do this, I need to constantly accept that I could be wrong, and to challenge myself to point them in the right direction, no matter what that may be. They may grow up as scientists, mechanics, scholars, plumbers, or anything in between. If they do so of their own free will, and without the burden of eternal consequences weighing down their every decision, I will be happy. It will have been right.
Does constant selfishness make for a happy experience and existence? My experience tells me no. I have good friends because I treat my friends well. I make new friends because I treat strangers well too. I do this not because it is commanded by a deity, but because it makes me happy to share my happiness with others, and to share in their joy as well. I run a successful business because I realize that treating employees and clients with respect, dignity, and fairness will result in good work and happy customers. I donate some of my earnings to those less fortunate because it makes me feel good to know that I can help. Whether or not this is demanded by god is irrelevent to me. It makes me happy, it makes others happy, and it hurts nobody. If I am a godless heathen for acting in such a way, so be it.
I strive regularly to do what's right because this is what makes for a happy, contented existence here on earth. I want my children to learn that selflessness, charity, hard work and friendly positive interactions with others will also make them happy, healthy, and fulfilled. There doesn't need to be a promise of paradise or fear of hell to move me in this direction. This is simply what is right.
Here's the thing though. When you were bringing me up, you also did what you believed was right. This was what you were taught, and this is what you believed. You thought that this belief system was what we needed in order to be good people, so you taught it to us. You believed that the fear of god was what drove people to positive action and you wanted us to be good people. You loved us unconditionally, and you did all the things you thought were right. For that, I love you, I thank you, and I hope you will always know how proud I am to have been raised by wonderful parents such as you.
With the exception of the first grade, I spent my entire pre-college education in Catholic schools where I was taught that a man walked on water, was born of a virgin, died for our sins, brought a friend back from the dead several days after rigormortis had set in, and rose from the dead himself. If one is to also believe the Mormon account, he apparently rematerialized in North America soon after to save the souls of the Native Americans, but that was kept a secret until Joseph Smith somehow figured it out several thousand years later. We learned that the earth was created in six days and that eating a small, tasteless cracker under proper circumstances was the equivalent of sacred cannabilism. We learned that dressing a woman in all black and white and demanding that she abstain from normal human relations is NOT a good way to foster happy, optimistic, positive role models for children. If my tone does not sufficiently contain enough sarcasm, allow me to unabashedly say that I do not believe in these holy myths any longer, though it took me many years of painful soul searching to reach this conclusion. I still love you.
I recall learning to suppress a gag reflex as a priest shook a cannister of burning incense nearby while chanting mystical dogma. The smell still lingers in my mind as a horrific experince. We knelt, prayed, asked for forgiveness for our mortal sins, accepted that we were lowly creatures admittedly unworthy of god's attention, while asking for this attention anyway. We learned that hell is a place for those not sufficiently devoted to constant subservience, and that it is an eternity of pain, misery, lonelines, and horrific agony. We learned this while we were still too young to think critically. If any of us were precocious enough to question any of the teachings, we were quickly taught that such analysis would not be permitted. Independent thought was stomped out of our malleable minds. I still love you.
I was never touched inappropriately by a priest, nun, or any other authority figure. I was never rapped on the back of my knuckles by a teacher. I do not specifically recall experiencing any of the commonly heard indignities that so many of my fellow Catholic schoolchildren seem to have endured. In all, great efforts were made to make the Catholic experience a positive one. I was proud to have been born into a Catholic family, as I clearly had the good fortune to have been selected as one of the people to be blessed with the one true faith, while many of my little friends had no hope of finding salvation.
As I watch my two young sons grow and develop minds of their own, I have consciously decided to spare them this experience. I don't know when it all happened, but I did realize at a certain point that my ingrained belief system simply does not hold up to any sort of critical thinking. I had to let go and accept that I was wrong, my teachers were wrong, my priests were wrong, the nuns were wrong, the multi-billion dollar organization known as the Catholic Church was wrong, my understanding of "Atheists" was wrong, Pat Robertson in wrong, the Muslim Mullah's are wrong, the Talmudic Scholars are wrong, and yes Mom and Dad, you were both wrong. I still love you.
As I do my best to raise my children to be good people capable of thinking for themselves and positively contributing to society, I do so with the intent of being right, and of teaching them what is right. To do this, I need to constantly accept that I could be wrong, and to challenge myself to point them in the right direction, no matter what that may be. They may grow up as scientists, mechanics, scholars, plumbers, or anything in between. If they do so of their own free will, and without the burden of eternal consequences weighing down their every decision, I will be happy. It will have been right.
Does constant selfishness make for a happy experience and existence? My experience tells me no. I have good friends because I treat my friends well. I make new friends because I treat strangers well too. I do this not because it is commanded by a deity, but because it makes me happy to share my happiness with others, and to share in their joy as well. I run a successful business because I realize that treating employees and clients with respect, dignity, and fairness will result in good work and happy customers. I donate some of my earnings to those less fortunate because it makes me feel good to know that I can help. Whether or not this is demanded by god is irrelevent to me. It makes me happy, it makes others happy, and it hurts nobody. If I am a godless heathen for acting in such a way, so be it.
I strive regularly to do what's right because this is what makes for a happy, contented existence here on earth. I want my children to learn that selflessness, charity, hard work and friendly positive interactions with others will also make them happy, healthy, and fulfilled. There doesn't need to be a promise of paradise or fear of hell to move me in this direction. This is simply what is right.
Here's the thing though. When you were bringing me up, you also did what you believed was right. This was what you were taught, and this is what you believed. You thought that this belief system was what we needed in order to be good people, so you taught it to us. You believed that the fear of god was what drove people to positive action and you wanted us to be good people. You loved us unconditionally, and you did all the things you thought were right. For that, I love you, I thank you, and I hope you will always know how proud I am to have been raised by wonderful parents such as you.
You Can Call Me HAL
One of the more common recurring themes we see in science fiction is the sudden sentience of man made machines, and the aftermath that occurs from their self awareness. The Terminator series paints a dire picture of an upcoming apocolypse and humanity's struggle to prevent it. The Matrix series plays on this theme also as man fights against far superior computers that man origionally created, then lost control of. Perhaps the best known example to many people of a slightly earlier generation would be HAL, the supercomputer in 2001 a Space Odyssey. HAL's self awareness and seemingly intelligent thoughts send chills up the spine of any viewers.
Human beings are often describes as the "Perfect Machines." While I'd dispute this assessment, primarily based on an abundance of medical issues we regularly encounter as a direct result of evolution's shortcomings, it seems to fit well into this analysis.
Evolution occurs on the genetic level, not on the species level. This is an important concept to understand, and it's one that most people seem to miss. We have evolved as beings specifically to carry those genes that are best suited to give us the characteristics that will help us to survive, and therefore pass along those genes. If the gene is designed to give us a slightly bigger nose, and therefore allows us to sniff out a prowling predator before our friend Og is able to, we have a better chance of surviving and passing along that big nosed gene. If a similar genetic mutation causes our noses to become correspondingly less sensitive, we're at greater risk of becoming cheetah lunch. It doesn't take a geneticist to see that this particular gene mutation will probably not make it in the long term.
Standing back for a second, we can now see that human beings, as well as fir trees, chipmunks, mushrooms, and turtles are all complex machines that were "designed" by the evolution of these genes. We are the supercomputers that were created by the genes. We are also sentient, and we now understand our creators and can make decisions independent of their wishes. We can choose to not pass along our genes simply by adopting a lifestyle that does not include progeny. We can medically preserve the health and reproductive success of people who would otherwise be unlikely to survive in a more natural setting. We can essentially subvert the intent of our genetic creators. We ARE the suddenly self aware, creepy decision makers that now hold the very survival of our makers in the palms of our hands.
It's a little more fun to be on this side of the equation, isn't it?
Human beings are often describes as the "Perfect Machines." While I'd dispute this assessment, primarily based on an abundance of medical issues we regularly encounter as a direct result of evolution's shortcomings, it seems to fit well into this analysis.
Evolution occurs on the genetic level, not on the species level. This is an important concept to understand, and it's one that most people seem to miss. We have evolved as beings specifically to carry those genes that are best suited to give us the characteristics that will help us to survive, and therefore pass along those genes. If the gene is designed to give us a slightly bigger nose, and therefore allows us to sniff out a prowling predator before our friend Og is able to, we have a better chance of surviving and passing along that big nosed gene. If a similar genetic mutation causes our noses to become correspondingly less sensitive, we're at greater risk of becoming cheetah lunch. It doesn't take a geneticist to see that this particular gene mutation will probably not make it in the long term.
Standing back for a second, we can now see that human beings, as well as fir trees, chipmunks, mushrooms, and turtles are all complex machines that were "designed" by the evolution of these genes. We are the supercomputers that were created by the genes. We are also sentient, and we now understand our creators and can make decisions independent of their wishes. We can choose to not pass along our genes simply by adopting a lifestyle that does not include progeny. We can medically preserve the health and reproductive success of people who would otherwise be unlikely to survive in a more natural setting. We can essentially subvert the intent of our genetic creators. We ARE the suddenly self aware, creepy decision makers that now hold the very survival of our makers in the palms of our hands.
It's a little more fun to be on this side of the equation, isn't it?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)