Free Will: A Philosophical Discussion

The Hand Of Reason

There’s never a good time to discuss philosophy with Kellie, but there are certainly bad times. One of those less opportune moments is right after Kellie has consumed a half liter of Turkish wine following a twelve-hour flight from Los Angles to Istanbul. I’m not sure why I brought up the subject of free will, but I certainly regret it.

“We don’t have free will,” I told Kellie. “We believe we're in control our own actions but it’s just an illusion.”

Whack! Kellie's right palm landed landed flush against my left cheek.

The Unhappy Camper

I'm jumping for joy. Notice my smile.

I am not a happy camper. In fact I fail to see the point of camping. How can anyone possibly derive pleasure by abandoning the amenities of home and living in dirt, using an out house, and having to pay fifty cents for a three-minute shower in a room where the previous user bathed their dog? (I should mention that the previous user bathing their dog was my wife, Kellie.) The privilege of experiencing poverty doesn't come cheaply. The beat up RV we rented ran $125 per day for five days, not to mention the $400 in gas it took to transport that beast from Los Angeles to Morro Bay and back. And just like living in a Third World country, I had intermittent electrical power, drinking water of questionable purity, and no convenient place to dispose of human waste. 

Boehner Blames Obama For Pit Bull Attacks

WASHINGTON (Living in Kellie’s World)—Speaker of the House John Boehner (R-Ohio) said today that he blames President Obama for the rise in Pit Bull attacks since 2008.

Here We Go Again!

It’s been more than month since I’ve written anything in any of my three blogs; life intervened. Spending a month with my father following his open heart surgery broke my writing habit. In a couple of weeks we start our biggest trip of the year, which should give me time to start writing again. I say biggest trip because we’ve already cruised a few times this year and plan to finish 2014 with a few weeks in the Caribbean. What started out as an eight-day tour of Ireland somehow grew into a two-month trek.

Voicemail

My brother Gerard and I chat periodically. He usually calls during his drive home from work. If he calls at any other time, it typically means he has family news to share. If he leaves a voicemail that says, “Call me,” it’s usually not good news. A week after his last call me message, I was on a flight to New York.

The Limitations Of Inductive Inference In Marital Relations

Marriage is an educational institution, one where graduation is impossible and dropping out or expulsion is the only escape. I should know; I flunked out on my first attempt, but it wasn't my fault. My primary instructor was distracted tutoring other students. Now I'm enrolled in another institution of higher learning, the School Of Kellie, and while there's still no hope of receiving a diploma, there's little risk that my tutelage will be interrupted because Kellie's campus is closed to new admissions. She has all she can handle with her one transfer student who is on perpetual academic probation. Thanks to my sustained lackluster performance, frequent remediation is required, and I regularly get schooled. This week's lesson, conducted aboard the Celebrity Century while cruising along the California Coast, explored the limitations of inductive inference in marital relations.

Mr. Winky Goes To A CrossFit Box

I have not been very conscientious about protecting Mr. Winky over the years. Throughout a lifetime of carelessness I have subjected him to multiple chemical burns and countless assaults from an endless variety of projectiles. Today I wacked him on his head; he never saw coming. It was an accident. I apologized profusely. Just to be clear, Mr. Winky is a euphemism for the centerpiece of my family jewels, the royal staff, if you will.

Reckless Abandonment

When the alarm went off at six-thirty on Valentine’s Day morning, Kellie jumped out of bed and started packing. I smothered my head with a pillow and ignored her until she started rattling around next to the bed. She dropped my Valentine’s gift on the nightstand: a 2009 Beaulieu Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon and bag of barkTHINSTM snacking chocolate. I didn't know what the hell barkTHINSTM were, but at $15.99 a bottle she plunked down about four times what she normally spends on my wine. She's clearly guilt ridden about abandoning me on Valentine's Day.

The Many Faces Of Kellie

I tried finding my wife’s condition in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, but Kellieness is not a generally accepted diagnosis. Dissociative identity disorder, more commonly known as multiple personality disorder, was the closest match I could find after ruling out the only other likely candidates, bipolar disorder or schizophrenia.

Marriage Risk

Kellie claims that marriage extends a man's life expectancy but reduces a woman's. I didn’t believe her and needed only minutes to prover her wrong, again. Studies show that married women outlive their single counterparts too. I'm tired of always being right.