Throwing a Legitimate Dance Party: A How-To Guide

Ever since I was in high school, going to homecomings and proms, I always wanted to throw my own "dance" party. Why? Well, I just didn't like the way high school did stuff the stuff they did. I did not like every one's "dancing" style around me. I did not like the indiscriminate choice of music. I did not like that fact that there were no serious refreshments of which to speak. I just thought I could do it better...

So that is what I did. Over the past year, I've orchestrated the throwing of three very successful and legit dance parties. With each party, I learned some valuable lessons and the next time, I made the relevant changes to keep the party 'raging'. Below, I have created a 'how-to' guide for this delicate, but highly rewarding process:

1. Budget

Like every good endeavor, you need to sit down and determine what you're willing to spend on this thing. If you're looking to do it right and this is your first time doing it, it's going to be expensive. (for perspective, I believe my first budget was $100) The good news, though, is that the money you spend on infrastructure here will not have to be re-spent for future parties. It might be worth it to see if you can get an interested core group of people to help fund some of the various aspects.

2. Who To Invite

This is certainly more up to the personal preference of the hosts, but one hard-and-fast rule that I've found out is that you need to keep the guy-to-girl ratio pretty even. An overwhelming number of one over the other is not conducive to a properly socializing group because guys certainly want to be with their buddies, but they also want to have the opportunity to meet and socialize with plenty of girls. The same goes for girls; girl friends are nice to have, but a party with too many girls will make them feel like they're being used. This dynamic also becomes more clear when dancing begins; what guy wants to dance with another guy? And what girl wants to only be dancing with her girl friends all the time? I cannot stress this rule enough.

3. Music

The party doesn't have a chance without music, of course. It's probably a good idea to make two playlists: one of just general party tunes and another for dance music (the reason for this will become clear later). If you do not already have all the music yourself, see if you might be able to get it from that core group of friends. In selecting music, it is good to have a genre variety. Sure, Flo Rida and Lady Gaga are modernly relevant, but what about the timeless classics like Elvis Presley, Little Richard, Spice Girls, or *NSYNC? Every one likes to get taken back to the old days once in a while, so give them that diversity. Also, I recommend splicing in some other genre types such as salsa and swing dancing numbers.

4. Infrastructural Items, Pt. 1: "Sound"

Ah, here's the point that might be a bit hard to swallow: you'll have to invest some money into this party. Not just "some" money, but depending on what your goals are, potentially "alot" of money. For a first party, this does not always need to be a giant expenditure, but that also depends on what you already have to start with. You'll need a stereo of some sort, and you'll need an MP3 player that you can plug into said stereo. This is not a bad investment, party planning aside, but it can definitely be one that sets you back a few bucks. If you do not have an MP3 player and no one else you know has one, then you're probably Amish and I'm curious as to why you're throwing a dance party in the first place. Though seriously, if this is the case, MP3 CDs work well enough. They have a higher storage capacity than regular audio CD formats and iTunes can burn in this format.

All-in-one Disco Ball; $25

5. Infrastructural Items, Pt. 2: "Lights and Special Effects"

Colored light bulb; $5

This step will also require some monetary investment. Party lighting will give your dance party teeth, beyond simply having loud music. The cheapest route to take would be to purchase variously colored light bulbs. This will create a pretty static atmosphere for what should be a dynamic party, so I would only recommend these as a supplement. There are a couple of mid-range alternatives, however, such as small disco balls. And if you really have money burning a hole in your pocket, there is some professional DJ equipment out there that will really give the dance floor some kick. And smoke machines are reasonably inexpensive, depending on what you get. The low power ones (such as the 400 watt model) only create 'smoke', which is great to project LED through because it creates an awesome laser effect. The higher powered models (such as the 1100 watt) are able to create a low-lying fog effect that you see in the movies. It requires a special fog juice to create, so make sure you do your research on fog machines to ensure that you get what you want.

6. Food and Drink

Fog Machine 400 Watt; $30

Though not nearly as fun to shop for as the items listed above, proper nutrition and hydration (or de-hydration, depending on the beverage in question) is important. It would be appropriate to call on guests to bring either a snack food or a beverage when they accept the invitation, but you will undoubtedly need to supplement that. Chips and salsa is a decent, inexpensive starter. Also, it is vital that the host(s) provide the first round of beverages. This is important because your assigned beverage bringers might not arrive on time and while people are waiting, they should have a drink in their hand, if they desire it.

7. Decorations

This should probably be the weakest link in your budget. If you're short on cash or time, this becomes nonessential, but if you just don't have cash, then creatively-used, ordinary party streamers can change the look of your place drastically and get people in the party spirit.

8. Other Last Minute Preparations

Moonflower LED Light; $60

Of course, clean your place and make it look nice. Also, rearranging the furniture will give you more dance room space. If you live in an apartment complex, you should warn your neighbors of the noise the party will generate. Give them your cell phone number(s) and ask them to call you if it ever gets too loud. This is always better than the alternative of having the cops called. Reiterate that their comfort is your first concern and that you will be more than happy to bring the volume (or at least the bass) on the stereo down.

9. Timing and Bringing It All Together

Invariably, most of the guests will arrive anywhere between a half hour late to one hour and a half late. This is not terrible news because odds are you won't be fully ready by party time anyway. If you can get that core group of friends to show up early, they can play host or hostess while you are putting the finishing touches on the evening or getting ready yourself.

When people do arrive, they will want to have a drink or two and socialize with the other guests. This is a great time to put the 'party tunes' playlist or CD on the stereo at a conservative volume. Allow people plenty of time to snack and talk with their friends. Resist the urge to be over eager in moving to the dancing portion because regardless of the scene, people will not dance until they're ready too.

When it comes time to dance, the host should pause the music and call everyone around. A toast is usually appropriate here, as well as a few thank yous for everyone that came and for the food/drink they brought. While you're doing this, a trusted friend is setting up the dance playlist/CD. After the toast and thank yous, the host announces in some fashion that the dancing portion will begin shortly. Then, the party lights, which had been off up to this point, are switched on and the music starts.

People probably won't dance immediately, especially if this is the first time you're doing this. It will take some time for people to adjust to the idea of dancing in front of other people, especially if they weren't seriously expecting to do any dancing. So just be patient. Once they start dancing, your job is practically finished. Enjoy yourself and keep your cell phone by you to receive any calls from sleepy neighbors.

Hope this helps! Good luck!

The Science of Santa Claus

As a high school junior in physics class, we were released from classes for Christmas break with a short scientific analysis of the plausibility of Santa Claus. I admit, slightly shamefully, I wish I had the personality to be able to come up with these because I really quite enjoy these sorts of reality checks. Alas, I did not come up with this one, but I repost it for your reading pleasure from another website, credited below:

No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn’t (appear) to handle Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total — 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that is 91.9 million homes. One presumes there’s at least one good child in each.

Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75½ million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc.

This means that Santa’s sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest manmade vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second — a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized Lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN times their normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload — not even counting the weight of the sleigh — to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison — this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance — this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer with absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

 From http://www.chainreactionbicycles.com/santaclaus.htm 

My conclusion to all this: it's more plausible that God became man, remaining both fully God and fully man, and that a virgin conceived this child and gave birth to him, all throughout this process remaining a virgin, than Santa Claus existing.

The Going-Away Party

Maxwell had killed his sister. It was a pretty efficient murder at that; and Sir Maxwell Stewart prided himself on efficiency, whether it was with closing a business deal or doing away with nosy siblings. Although, the business deals were a significantly more common occurrence than the occasions that required the snuffing of relatives.

It had been efficient because she had consumed enough wine at his going away party that she did not feel the slight pin-prick of a syringe as it injected its lethal payload of insulin. Maxwell was a diabetic and his sister was not. The overdose had quietly put her to sleep on the sofa of the mansion's parlor. It did not take much.

The silent killing was also an excellent method of murder because it left no crime scene clues, should the body ever be found. There were no lacerations, no stab wounds, no bullet holes, no broken bones, or anything else of the gory and ghastly sort typically associated with the dark deed. She was indeed very old and by all appearances, it would seem that her poor, ailing heart had simply given out and her soul had flown to the heights of that holy Paradise.

Maxwell knew that it was her blood sugar, not her heart, that gave out, and that her soul was actually rotting in the circle of Hell reserved exclusively for prying, gossipy nannies. She had invented this grand conspiracy theory that his business empire was somehow built on lies and cheating, all claims were woefully unsubstantiated, of course. Doubtless she had concocted this inconceivable foolishness to tarnish his sterling reputation and ruin his going-away party. Maxwell had tolerated his sister's ignorance on a variety of other subjects, but it seemed to him hardly fair that he should suffer her vague fantasies of corruption and sleight-of-hand dealings when his good name was at stake.

However, his reputation was the furthest thing from his mind when this cake knife in his chest was the closest thing to his heart. James Ironsides, his American business rival, had put it there. Just like his business manners, Ironsides had no tact: no silent poisons or macabre premeditation. He just walks right up to you and plunges the cake knife unpretentiously into your chest. He did not even have the decency to wipe the icing from the blade.

Anyhow, things were beginning to feel very cold for Sir Maxwell. He could not tell if it was the two feet of snow in which he was lying or the icy caress of death stealing over him. Whichever the case, he was alone. Ironsides had not even had the decorum to gloat over his dying form. He could have at least thanked him for inviting him to the party, yes, thank you it truly is marvelous, is this wine a special vintage? of course, most excellent, are you finished with that cake knife? here Maxwell, let me pin this thank you note to your blazer with this cake knife, comfortable? well, I must be going, lovely party, let's do this again sometime.

But it was not so, and Maxwell felt the chill of his fate long before he arrived at that frozen circle of Hell reserved exclusively for dishonest, sibling-murdering businessmen.

Was, Is, and Ever Shall Be, Chapter 1

Finished with Morning Prayer, Cale shut the breviary and put it back in his pack. He had spent the night at the edge of a small pond and a light fog surrounded him in the early autumn morning. The sun had just risen over the edge of the plain, but it had not yet penetrated the thick copse of rusty trees that concealed the pond. Cale had chosen this spot to remain concealed.

Arising from the half-rotten stump that served as a stool, the young deacon grabbed his empty plastic water bottle and knelt by the edge of the pond. He scanned the area around the pond, from the edge of the water to the line of trees, and then submerged the bottle in the murky water to fill it. Clean water was difficult to find in the Wilderness. Ingesting bad water this far from any sort of medical aid would be fatal, making proper drinking water crucial. After filling the bottle nearly to the neck, Cale returned to his sack and extracted another small plastic bottle of commercial household bleach and a roll of duct tape. Just a drop of the bleach would purify water to proper drinking standards. Who would have thought bleach would have become so essential?

Screwing on the cap, Cale laced his worn boots and wrapped a sizeable length of the duct tape around the boot’s toe and sole, wrapping the two together. The left boot had long ago come apart at this spot and the right boot was not far behind. This finished, Cale donned his dirty-white cowboy hat, picked up his pack, and headed for the edge of the copse.

The copse was only a few trees thick, but it had fulfilled its purpose of hiding the light of his small evening campfire from others. Although this area was largely deserted, some farms were still inhabited, and the residents might not have taken kindly to squatters on their land. Cale, however, was only passing through, and in a few steps, he emerged from the tree line and beyond.

The sun was now well above the perfectly flat, barren landscape about him. Corn had once grown on these rich plains, but the land now lies fallow and untilled. It had been some years since man had nurtured this area. The rains fell and the still sun shone on this beautiful land, now overgrown with high grass and some smaller trees. The earth here had mostly forgotten man’s past husbandry, now a fading memory of its youth that becomes more difficult to recall with each passing year.

Still, the paved highway remained cutting across the untended lands. A scar down the length of the open landscape, this was the most difficult memory for the land to suppress. Great fissures had formed in the asphalt, from which courageous shoots of the high grass had arisen. The bright painted lines were now all by sun bleached and gone. The surface eroded, little by little with the passing rains and occasional flood waters, but a highway, it continued to be. It was empty of any vehicles though. Neither car nor truck had driven on this road for some time, and with the circumstances of the state government, repairs were out of the question.

It was this highway that was Cale’s practical guide. He only possessed a road map and a compass, as this area had not yet been mapped for travel by foot. The map was simple enough to read; simply follow the roads and you will reach your destination. This had always concerned Cale, however. He had grown fond of following natural dirt roads and paths, and the idea of leaving himself exposed on such an open, though deserted, landscape while following a government-made road was unsettling. Therefore, Cale located the road and walked alongside it, close enough to the high grass should the need for a hiding place arise. But no one would see him here.

Cale used the sun to get his bearings and ascertain his direction. Then, adjusting the pack on his shoulder and tipping his hat forward, he headed north, in the direction of the destitute city of Chicago.

Within an arms length of the high grass, the going was fairly easy for Cale.   The earthy sloped up to the level of the pavement of the highway, creating a shallow trough for the traveler to carry on in. He not only had the high grass close enough to use for cover, but anyone traveling on the highway would have difficult spotting him. The only thing visible was his lean torso, his broad, but skinny shoulders and his pack, the rest of him hidden behind the trench wall.

Cale stood taller than most men. However, men were not as tall now as they had been, so he had heard. It appears that the lack of organized nutrition made proper growth a difficult thing, and though he was counted among the tallest of the remaining population, he amply moved through doorways and buildings constructed by mankind in previous times.

His shoulders, though wide in build, were lean and a bit scrawny.  Cale’s body had suffered greatly  from the effects of starvation only two years previous, and he was still on the road to recovery. Thus, his naturally large frame was left covered with only sparse muscle tissue and even less body fat. However, despite his lean appearance, Cale possessed a dangerous, frantic strength that derived from his unbreakable will of iron.

His curly, dark brown hair crowned his face, accented by his forceful green eyes beneath thick eyebrows. His nose lacked both prominence and distinction, but his chin and jaw compensated imposingly with an impressively square characteristic. He was mostly clean shaven, the typical appearance for members of the clergy, and only a short stubble dotted that angular jaw line. This, he scratched at thoughtfully, as he peered over his shoulder to check the road behind him.

He had only one pair of boots which he tried to keep in the best condition possible. Once those wore out, his ability to travel would be greatly diminished, unless he opted to proceed barefoot. Certainly, this was a mortification he would gladly undertake for the salvation of souls.  However, it would slow his progress and, if carried on for too long, could result in some hapless injury, rendering him unable to walk at all.

On his back, he wore a short, black leather jacket, provided to him by the diocese. Scuffed and beaten in outward appearance, it kept the warmth in and the damp out well enough. Beneath it, he had on a brown, moth-eaten sweater that smelled musty, but was enough to supplement the jacket. His jeans were faded and well-worn, ragged at the hemming and devoid of much of their original color. The white hat he wore completed the picture of something akin to a modern day cowboy, full of swagger and adventurously dusty, but beneath this visage trudged a scrawny young man, struggling just to put one foot in front of the other.

Yet each step he took brought him closer to his assignment. The Diocese of Southern Illinois had sent him on a missionary trip to the long starving city of Chicago, in which the Church had no formal presence. Since the earliest affronts against her, the Church had found it increasingly difficult to maintain established dioceses in the cities. The state government, now only an extension of the national government, used legislation and taxes to bend the Church to its will by compromising her beliefs or else destroy her. Unwilling to bend to tyranny and unable to die, the Church was outlawed, resulting in the diocesan authority’s exodus into the countryside to avoid arrest and criminal punishment for defiance of state law. From there, they continued to lead the remaining faithful while still sending missionaries in an attempt to reclaim souls within the cities. The Archdiocese of Chicago was now the Diocese of Southern Illinois, and due to a very sparse Catholic population in Illinois, the wilderness diocese had its hands full with all the land between Missouri and Indiana.

Cale had travelled from Centrum, the headquarters of the wilderness diocese, and there resided the bishop, The Most Reverend Patrick Grayson. The community was the largest in the state and was still growing. To maintain the secrecy of diocesan capital’s location, Bishop Grayson appointed some of the more experienced priests to establish parish communities elsewhere in the nearby wilderness to keep Centrum’s population at a manageable level. The bishop also held a strong desire to return lost souls in the large towns and cities, especially Chicago, and to this end, he assigned able missionaries to the task. Travelling in pairs, they usually consisted of priests or deacons accompanied by a willing layman. Women were not allowed to aid in these assignments, due to the dangerous and morally depraved conditions of souls in the cities and the harm they could inflict.

After a quick drink from his water bottle, Cale checked the road map again. The flat terrain had begun to dip, and before him the highway descended into a thick wood of brown and yellow autumnal color. Somewhere within the wood was the settlement of Occulta. To maintain secrecy, there were no markings on the road map to indicate its location, but a large amount of preparation for the priesthood and deaconate was spent memorizing the locations of the various wilderness parishes. Therefore, Cale knew well enough where to find it, though he had never been there himself.

Replacing the map back into his pack, he hoisted the pack over his shoulder once more and descended into the wood.

Fight to the Death

A few days ago, I watch the 2012 film, "The Grey", starring Liam Neeson and directed by Joe Carnahan ("The A-Team"). It's the story of a former special forces soldier, now working for oil pipeline company in Alaska/Canada, whose plane crashes in that region leaving only him and a few others as survivors. Together, they must brave the cold, the hunger, and the pack of nearby ravenous wolves that seek to pick the off, one at a time. A quick glance at the synopsis might not interest you immensely (it didn't interest me), but upon seeing the film, it felt more like a horror-thriller film than a boring "Cast Away" survival film. It was a very frightening film, but one, I believe, that offers a happy, through realistic ending with an emotional soundtrack and stunning snow-capped, evergreen visuals to match.

I do not usually cry during films (why should I? I'm a man). I used to just get caught up in the moment of "wow, this is an awesome scene!" and that was the extent of my excitement. But there are a few elements of cinema that, if properly portrayed, bring free-flowing tears to my eyes. One element of which is the notion of fighting to the death. I will not explain exactly how this relates to "The Grey", because I hope that this post will convince you to see an amazing film without giving any revealing details.

A number of films exist in which the "fight to the death" theme exists. A few that spring to mind include "The Lord of the Rings", "Henry V", "Gladiator", "Cinderella Man", and, though no actual fighting occurs, "The Passion of the Christ". It is a concept that is nonexistent in our society because we are so obsessed with immortality and preserving our own lives. The American culture is obsessed with extending life by whatever means necessary. Acceptance of death is considered a disastrous defeat. No matter what the challenge, there is always the hope that there will be a way that we can defeat the threat and still live at the end of it. There has to be a way that we can achieve a "happily ever after" ending where everyone lives, right?

Death comes for us all. Ready or not, it comes for us. People are afraid of death because they do not know what they will find on the other side. It is not a welcome event because if we have lived our whole lives the way we wanted to and not the way we ought to have, then we make a gamble. The unknown of death, whether it be Heaven, Hell, or just oblivion is terrifying to the one without a clean conscience.

When Death does come for us, there is no more running, no more hiding. We have been caught out in the open, ragged and exhausted from our frantic flight and the end is inevitable. What more worthy thing can we do? The film "Gladiator" suggests "Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back".

The only thing we can do is gird our loins and face our darkest terror with courage and resolve. While other men will despair or beg for mercy, a man of true-spirit gathers himself up and stands his ground, despite the challenge ahead. Sometimes, we are afforded a moment of reflection. All options run through our head, and our vain hope that we could make it out of this grim circumstance alive is forever on our thoughts. But after breathing deeply and turning our eyes to our ultimate fate, we realize that there is only one thing to do. At this point, success and failure are irrelevant: our focus has to be on completing the task at hand, mustering all forces of body and soul for this one purpose.

Then comes the moment of clarity. All of the struggle and confusion of this world melts away and there is only one thing that remains: the purpose. It is finally apparent that everything that has happened to you, everything you have endured, everything that has filled you with joy and sadness in your entire life was given to you to prepare you for this moment. Now, what will you do with this precious gift of a single moment? The passengers of United Flight 93 on September 11 knew. There would be no returning from that flight, but they saw past the despair at the end of their own lives. Instead, they held onto the most critical thing to do at that moment, and if they did not do it, who would?

"The Posse"

For important Quinlan family events, "The Posse" dons the suits and sunglasses and ensures the integrity of the family name and the class of its members. This most recent photograph was taken at Michael's wedding. An especially significant occasion, the five donned tuxedos as groom and accompanying groomsmen.

"Watery Grave"

O’er thund’rous crests and waves,
Of deep Hell’s maelstrom, grim,
Distance between has grown.
With those who’ve made their graves
Without prayer, song, or hymn,
I drift to sea alone.

© 2012 The King's Coffee, All Rights Reserved.

Becoming Beautiful: A How To Guide

An Advertisement for American Eagle Outfitters

About a month ago, I was in my local mall to purchase a pair of jeans for the autumn season. As with any mall, each store hosted large advertisements with the latest fashions and looks, featured by boyish, soft-looking men and aggressive, voluptuous women. Each display promised me, the consumer, such a clean cut look that would attract the most beautiful of women... if I only bought their product.

It's a seductive message, to be sure, and we are constantly bombarded by it. Women, I am sorry to say, have borne much of this commercial pressure and it can wear on the self-confidence. But it is fair to say that both sexes have suffered from this strain. Physical beauty has become an obsession of our society.

But, really, what criteria determine physical beauty? Some say that a particular combination of the right physical features make a person physically beautiful; Large eyes, full hair, "hourglass" body form, etc. for women and muscular, "V-shaped" body form, etc. for men. There have been many studies in an attempt to discover the mathematical proportions that make a beautiful person (size of eyes in relation to mouth, in relation to length of nose, in relation to etc.). I do believe there is something to say about these features with regard to sexual attractiveness. But is that all that physical beauty is?

I believe there is already a beauty product that has existed as long as human beings have. I started writing this post over a month ago, trying to find a logical, philosophical argument to present it with, but my own rational power has failed to describe what I know in my soul to be the truth. So, since beauty product advertisements make no appeal to reason whatsoever to get you to buy their product, I feel that I must do the same. Here goes.

Step right up, step right up! Gather 'round, ladies and gentlemen, and see the most successful advancement in beauty care! Since the dawn of human existence, this product has transformed men and women alike into supermodels! Say "goodbye" to flab and fat, and say "hello" to a solid six-pack physique and captivating curves! Got repelling wrinkles or unsightly crow feet? This'll give you that elegant, and mature smile that you've always wanted! But, ladies and gentlemen! You won't find this product in stores! No, no! Countless have tried, but this miraculous beauty product cannot be bottled, bought, or applied. It's fabulous! Stupendous! Phenomenal! And it's called!.... VIRTUE.

No, I am not kidding. Not only does virtue solve all your soul's issues, it can also solve many of your physical attractiveness issues. No lie. I am a true believer in this.

To examine this, I first draw your attention to the physical appearance of people who may be suffering from some degree of vice. The substance abuser, whether drinker, smoker, druggie, and so on, is unattractive in appearance and behavior. Their physical dependency on their addiction will leave them haggard and grim-looking and whether they get their fix or not, their behavior is sure to be erratic and unappealing. Also, people who lack virtue are undisciplined, resulting in obesity/anorexia or sexual obsession. Lust is a bit more challenging to define in terms of physical appearances. But those consumed with sexual obsessions will try to dress and appear more as objects of sexual gratification. Whether it be a man or a woman, this desire is quickly obvious based on both appearance and behavior of an individual. Think about it: it's the difference between an encounter of courtship and one of blatantly "hitting on" someone.

Obviously, this list is far from extensive, but the groundwork is sufficiently laid. Now, what are examples of virtue working towards making one more attractive?

If one possesses virtue, one must also possess discipline. Virtue is not something that one acquires casually. It takes effort, perseverance, and hard work. In order to accomplish this, one needs discipline, which is the control and authority exerted by one's will over his/her passions. It begins with small things, but this small efforts ultimately play a vital role in developing great virtues in a man or woman. Discipline keeps you on that diet you've been needing to go on. It keeps you from drinking too much, smoking too much, and away from illegal substances entirely. It also keeps your sexual desires healthy and in-check.

Another aspect of virtue is joy. One cannot be virtuous, achieving the purpose of his nature, and not be filled with irrepressible joy. Joy is subtle and sublime because its specific physical manifestation in each virtuous individual is sometimes difficult to pinpoint. This is because the physical manifestation of joy is unique to each individual, making that person an exclusive illustration of elegance.

Joy: Archbishop Timothy Cardinal Dolan

Wait, how does joy factor into physical beauty? As far as society is aware, joy is just a momentary feeling and beauty is sex appeal. Joy is actually a unifying state of being that extends across all moments of one's existence. It is living life "properly" and "fully". Essentially, you are getting the most out of life when you are joyful. And because human physical beauty is incomplete without that which animates the body, a soul (for example, you would not call a corpse physically beautiful), joy and fulfillment in one's soul is manifest in the animation it brings to the body. In simpler terms, if a soul is good, the behavior and movements of that person will be good and contribute overall to the person's physical beauty.

This is not the easiest concept to understand without some examples. Ballet, for instance, requires a dancer to have complete, disciplined control over her body to accomplish the very precise movements of the art. This is only obtained through frequent practice and focus. Of course, natural skill is involved, but without practice and focus, the talent is useless. However, after time, the effort put into achieving the different positions of the dance become second nature; sort of like "muscle memory". In another example, an orator must be able to control his tone of voice and rhetoric in such a way as to maximize the impact of his words. This also utilizes natural talent to some degree, but it requires concentration and discipline to develop.

Tying this all together,  because the soul is the body's source of movement, the goodness of the soul contributes to the goodness of the movement of the body.  Furthermore, it is not a goodness of movement that can be faked because it takes practice to achieve. Once achieved though, it becomes second nature and one does not even have to try to move beautifully: it just happens! Basically, that look he gives you isn't one that desires animalistic conquest of your body; it's one of complete appreciation for you, body and soul. That handshake your colleague gives you isn't a limp, dead fish; it's an energetic, welcoming grip that exudes courage and warmth. That compliments she pays you isn't fake or dubious; it's completely genuine and you can innately see that in her eyes.

To conclude: Ok, maybe Virtue isn't really a beauty product that can turn Joe Schmo into G.I. Joe, nor Plain Jane into Ms. America. But physical beauty is not just about sex appeal. It is also about the grace and beauty of your movements, and interactions with other people, which I think have a more lasting impression than physical looks alone. Even the world's best supermodel instantly loses her splendor if she's constantly scowling off-camera. So it might just be true, virtue's discipline will help you to shed those extra pounds, but more importantly, virtue's joy will turn that scowling-old-woman face into a laughing, grandmotherly smile. It is certainly not the quick and easy beauty product that you get from the mall, but trust me, the results are worth it.

The Culture of Coffee

This post is a portion of a larger untitled work in progress...

I love coffee. Since I was a boy, studying for the Advanced Placement Physics test in high school, my affection for this drink has known no bounds. Through college, it was the muse to my philosophical meanderings and stimulated both thoughtful and humorous conversations between my friends and myself. And in the working world, I greet it every day as the encouragement to welcome both the blessings and challenges of that day, yet to come.

In the past, I have often been accused of “coffee snobbery”. I prefer the term, coffee connoisseur. This term suggests that I respect the history and traditions surrounding coffee, whereas the former term implies that I arrogantly abuse my knowledge of coffee to compensate for my own lack of, shall we say, “beans.” I assure the reader: that is not the case.

As an example of my respect for the traditions surrounding coffee, I bring to your attention a misnomer regarding coffee proper in our culture. When you ask a friend to grab a cup of coffee with you, what you really mean is to grab a latte, an Americano, a mocha, or, saints preserve us, a “frappuccino”. It is very rare that I find myself sitting in a coffeehouse with a cup of freshly-brewed traditional black coffee before me. The above mentioned beverages are actually espresso blends, not made from traditional drip coffee makers.

Though I will be the first to agree that espresso possesses a rich, poignant flavor to it that is not found in regular coffee, it is a dainty European beverage. To me, it is the drink of the high-class and wealthy.  With their menu consisting of either overpriced espresso drinks or “freshly brewed coffee”, your next visit to the nearest Starbucks will either leave you with a small fortune missing from your wallet or a simultaneous regurgitation and loss of bowel control.

While I mention Starbucks, I would be remiss if I refrained from expressing my disdain for the establishment. They either fleece you or they “release” you. But I have disputes with Starbucks on crimes against the culture of coffee.

Starbucks has commercialized the coffeehouse. With their political awareness and patented coffee cup and heat sleeve design, they have infringed upon the peace and warmth that was once the local coffee shop. Starbucks has driven out the truly conscious and thoughtful people and made the coffeehouse into a rabble house of mindless, unimaginative pretenders. It is now considered “trendy” to drink Starbucks coffee, to hold the branded, recycled cup and carry it as a symbol of status, long after the liquid essence is gone. I once asked a man that I knew was a regular Starbucks coffee drinker why he preferred Starbucks coffee.

"It's because I'm sold on the brand." he grinned.

If I manufactured, packaged, and marketed mediocrity, despair, and misery in a buy-one-get-two-free combo pack, would you buy that too?

Among the throngs of people, there is something lonely about sitting in a Starbucks, knowing that maybe a few blocks away, there is another one, exactly like it. There is nothing unique about where you are sitting at this moment. For centuries, coffeehouses have been the source of inspiration for writers, actors, inventors, scientists, and every other occupation. And when one is sitting in a commonplace room that has been replicated in other locations a thousand times over, with overpriced, bitter hot water, and the noisy, zombie rabble, inspiration is very hard to find. I have achieved no manner of peace sitting in a Starbucks.

However, for me, the culture and traditions of coffee are alive wherever I call home. In fact, coffee has become a necessary part of my home. To many, this may sound radical, but coffee has been as integral a part of my history as it has been in all human history. Although the worldly pleasures of drugs, sex, and alcohol beckon temptingly, coffee is my innocent release. It is a necessity to maintain a caffeine habit for many, but I have no habit to maintain. It is just second nature.

The true traditional roots of coffee lie in its reputation as the drink of the working man. It has become a great American tradition in the workplace. Many people consider it just a caffeine fix, but I am sure that those same people would not substitute it with an energy drink. They do not drink it simply for its utility. It is an organic and wholesome stimulant.

Coffee is an agent of relaxation, taste and smell. I would wager that nearly everyone that has experienced the smell of coffee has wanted their kitchen to perpetually smell like a coffeehouse. You imagine yourself just breathing in that toasty aroma every day and feeling comfort. It slows your breathing to a relaxed rhythm; your days begin and end with that calming scent.

In my own experience, coffee stimulates social, intelligent conversation in a leisurely setting. As the smell and taste encourage relaxation, coffee is a catalyst for creating a comfortable atmosphere where friends can come to discuss their thoughts and opinions. Were I ever to become a philosophy teacher, I would have enough coffee in my classroom to give to my students. It turns what could be a boring, uninteresting college requirement lecture into an energetic exchange of ideas, a true search for the truth and right understanding. I could be wrong about this strategy, but at least none of my students would ever fall asleep in class.

Speaking of sleep, I frequently enjoy coffee while listening to classical music. Some might say that there is no other way to listen to classical music without falling asleep from boredom, but they are wrong. There is a true fittingness to this combination.

As mentioned in the previous paragraphs, coffee is an intellectual beverage. Scientifically, the caffeine in coffee increases the effectiveness of nervous impulses in the body, making you more alert and quicker to absorb information. Smell, flavor, and chemical composition combine to create an atmosphere of scholarly expedition.

Classical music, as well, is an intellectual experience. If you have not heard of the “Mozart Effect”, look it up. For at least two decades, classical music has been a hot topic in developmental psychology as to whether or not it makes one smarter, more intelligent, or whatever terms they have created to describe the phenomenon. Most people I have spoken with say that they listen to classical music primarily while they are studying… or trying to fall asleep, unfortunately, that was the runner-up usage. Either way, it proves, at least to me, that classical music at least allows one to focus their intellectual efforts and drive out distractions. Combined, coffee stimulates the mind without assaulting it, while classical music stimulates the senses without overloading them. They strike the perfect balance for intellectual pursuits, of which I am very fond.

To conclude, coffee has a long tradition. I do not believe that I invented it; I would not be nearly clever enough to pull that off. But there is a deep integrity and culture behind the simple mug of hot coffee that can be enjoyed in the peace and quiet of the little coffee shop on the corner. With the first sip of the day, you sigh and smile, and it almost sounds like someone nearby is playing the “Morning” piece from Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite just for you.

King Quinlan

My door in St. Edward's as decorated by Kyle
and Patrick after my 2nd LSAT

William Shakespeare, a writer that I greatly admire, once said, “Be not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them."

My ‘greatness’ was thrust upon me.

It is not with pride that I publish this account because it does not seem entirely appropriate that I have been given this title. Rather, I write on this topic to “let everyone in” on the inside joke that is my undeserved nickname and the namesake for half of the title of my blog.

Kyle, Herald of the King and Servant of the Kingdom, and Dan, Knight of the Kingdom, (if I have a title, it's only fair that they have ones too) in the year 2011 gave me the title of “King Quinlan” on the event of our yearly pilgrimage to Washington DC, to bear witness to the life of unborn children and the atrocities committed against these innocents (aka, the March for Life). The night before the march, men and women mingled in the men’s sleeping quarters until well after time permitted in our school’s student rulebook. Some men were attempting to retire to be ready for the early morning ahead; however their attempts were in vain as the incessant giggles and cries from the nearby women made sleep impossibly elusive.

At this injustice, I rose to action. Finding the nearest chair, I mounted it with arms outstretched, to be seen by all the transgressors.

“Everyone, it is now 12:15 AM, fifteen minutes past our school’s parietal policy for weekdays. Since this is a school sponsored field trip, the rules of Du Lac still apply. We have guys trying to sleep here, so the women in the area will need to either go back to their own sleeping quarters or find somewhere else to socialize.”

A young woman with an exasperated expression replied, “But we have nowhere else to go.”

I paused, attempting to determine what bearing this had on what I had just said. Giving up trying to reconcile nonsense with reason, I replied.

“Well, you will just have to find somewhere else to go.”

And with that, the crowd dispersed and the men were allowed peace. It was deemed by Kyle and Dan that I had handled the conflict with such a firm conviction and regal presence that thenceforth, I was given the title of King Quinlan.

However, like Prince “Harry” of Shakespeare’s plays before he became King Henry V, I was not always as kindly and virtuous.

I was a brash, hot-tempered youth. Following a traumatizing sophomore year, I had learned to despise a group of individuals known collectively as the “bros”. They were deplorable individuals who gave themselves to drinking and lewd activities every weekend, and it was such a weekend as these when they incurred my wrath.

I had retired for the evening, as had my roommate Patrick, the King’s Court Fool. It was about 4 AM when there was a loud commotion in the hallway outside our door. The bros had returned from their night of debauchery and were looking to make more trouble.

They sought to disturb a senior who lived across the hall from me and Patrick by finding a nearby vacuum cleaner and turning it on outside his door. They pounded thunderously upon his door and jeered at him. This went on for nearly 10 minutes without any sign of the arrival of hall authorities to put an end to this madness. Fully awake and angry now, I leapt from my 8 foot high loft, flung open the door, and entered the guilty hallway in naught but a pair of shorts.

Consumed by unfathomable rage, I cannot recall exactly what I said upon my appearance. I do remember that whatever it was, I had used such profuse profanity that the transgressors immediately ceased their depravities and met my fury with surprise and uncertainty. I could feel every muscle in my body strained, resisting the urge to enter the throng of at least a dozen miscreants and commit violence to each of them. With vulgar bellowing, I advanced upon them and forced most of them to retreat.

Scott, alone, defied me.

Of all those previously present, Scott despised me the most. I had never injured him, so it always puzzled me as to why he hated me. It actually was he that had stolen my Xbox the previous semester and used it for his own purposes in his room. Of course, the established social understanding among this group was that whatever belonged to one, by default, was accessible to all. I never agreed with this policy and Scott had frequently taken advantage of my belongings. Thus, I deprived his sense of entitlement to whatever he desired and invited his derision.

Now, three yards separated Scott and me in the deserted hallway.

“Go on! Get out of here!” I shouted at him.

With eyes glassed over, he slurred a reply, “It’s a free hallway.”

With deft agility, I closed the distance between us in a moment and was now close enough to smell the repulsive combination of Kamchatka vodka and Keystone beer on his brutish breath.

“No, it’s not,” I trembled with rage, “It’s MY [expletive] hallway! Now get the [expletive] out!”

With each word, he cringed as I involuntarily spewed him with venomous spittle. Thankfully, this had the desired effect because he drunkenly turned and stumbled in the same general direction as his friends. Had he not moved, I dread to think of what might have happened next.

Upon my return to the room, Patrick had remained silent. We had only known one another for a few weeks, and I imagine this event had cast some doubt on my general mental health. Kyle, who lived in a room next door to the commotion, also later bore witness to these events, but it was only well into our friendship that the topic of that night arose. He had not realized that it was I who had walked out into the hallway, surging with wrathful madness. We shared a good laugh over the incident and it became only greater cause for the royal title. Though I am certainly not proud of my intemperate behavior, I have endeavored since then to become more level-headed, and I am largely succeeding in this task.

All such incidents aside, though, I regret to admit that the title of King is primarily due to my manner of speech. As is the habit of the Quinlan family, I have a tone that exudes confidence and the force of truth. I rarely begin my thoughts with the words, “I think that” or “I feel like”. To me, this seems repetitive and unnecessary because anything that I say is, of course, my own statement.

This linguistic style and confidence, I have been told, creates an air of authority to my statements. My self-assuredness and lack of soft language projects each word as one of ironclad truth, unassailable by any argument. Even on topics which I have no practical experience on, I make an estimation as to a reasonable position and defend it.

However, this strength of tone often appears as arrogance to many. I will be the first to admit that truthfully, at times, my words carry at least a tinge of haughtiness. However, I do not apologize for my self-confidence, the root of this character of speech. It is sad to see many unwilling to engage in open debate with others for fear of conflict. I carry myself in a way that I hope others will follow.

Every man must be ruler and king of himself. If a man is apprehensive of the slight breezes that barely change the course of his ship, how will he weather the torrential gales and roaring maelstroms of life? A king can have no subjects under his governance until he learns to govern himself properly in the sight of God. As I have not yet learned to rule myself completely with justice, I claim no subjects as my own, but with all eagerness, I welcome into my court those willing to receive my love and affection.

Political Philosophy Pt. 3 "The City-State"

Part 3 in a three-part series.

In my previous poli-philo post, I specified that because each human being is capable of a measure of rational activity, they should participate in the political process of an ideal nation. However, a citizen's participation can easily be nullified by a badly established structure of governance. Sure, we claim to strive for a democracy, but is that what the political establishment facilitating?

Aristotle, in his Politics, describes his political establishment in terms of the polis, or rather, "city-state". The polis is comprised of a "downtown" area and the surrounding countryside. The size of the polis is large enough that the people that live in it are self-sufficient, but small enough that every citizen has a reasonable opportunity to know every other citizen. They are capable of feeding, housing, blacksmithing, clothing, and other necessities. They also may have some finer crafts and arts that they could use to trade with other poleis. Each polis would be governed independently from the other poleis, in accordance with that particular peoples' traditions and culture.

Currently, this is not how our political system in the United States appears to work today. The Founding Fathers granted all rights to the States, while giving the federal government only the power to regulate interstate commerce, provide for the national defense, and handle foreign policy. However, even today, that right is stretched to the limits in nationwide decrees on divorce, abortion, business, and in the most recent debate, healthcare. These are all decisions and laws handed down by the federal government and they apply to all states. As a result, most of the power in today's legal and judicial system is wielded by the federal government.

A possible advantage of having a strong central government is that it would make standardization laws among states easier. There is a universality among the states and their governance comes down to a singularity, the federal government. All decisions are made from D.C. and wherever you go, the laws will be uniform.

However, this returns us to my first blog post on the topic of political philosophy, concerning the viability of the philosopher-king. A singularity of power is not what a nation should be governed upon, especially in the vastly dissonant moral atmosphere of modernity. The moral health and character of this singularity will affect the governed body as a whole. If the leadership is sick, then the whole nation is sick.

In more recent times, our democracy has appeared more as an aristocracy (the term "career politicians" springs to mind). As the size of the federal government increases, the power of the federal legislature (the House of Representatives and the Senate) grows in terms of making federal laws. Political parties have been narrowed down to two groups, Republican and Democrat, and in order to receive any support from your party to win elected office, you must buy into the party's platform. Also, within the judicial system, the term "legislating from the bench" has become a popular phrase in light of many Supreme Court justices handing down decisions that essentially write laws for the whole nation.

But in recent years with the deadlock between entirely contrasting viewpoints, the President has gained legislative power. Nothing is accomplished in Congress's stalemate, so the President passes laws and declares wars without congressional approval. With the legislative branch rendered impotent, our political establishment appears more as a monarchy (or tyranny). Once more, the singularity narrows from the aristocracy (rule of the few) into an monarchy (rule of the one).

This is indeed troubling and worthy of much alarm, especially when 535 members of Congress legislate for over 311 million citizens and even worse when the President gets involved in the legislation process without Congress. So what is the solution?

The answer is to return power to smaller governing entities. Each area is aware of their governing needs, based upon their real-world experience in that area. Being at the "ground level" of a particular territory, whether it be the state or city level, will always be a more advantageous position to gauge the particular challenges of a population than a singular position in Washington DC.

In addition, the elected officials that wield the most power will be those that are of the same background and culture of the population. And a political system that establishes personal acquaintance and knowledge of the elected official is always to be encouraged in order that a citizen might be more informed when selecting those for governing duty.

In essence, this returns our nation from the folly of national political parties and encourages local groups with real concerns for their own community. Aristotle used the polis as a model for governance because it would prove large enough for self-sufficiency, the minimum for a decent living, but also small enough that it might not be encumbered by such extreme vanities and legislative singularities that currently plague our modern nation. Such global governing institutions cannot effectively and properly rule such a vast population. As a result, injustices occur and government is rendered incapable of completing the task it was designed to do: create and enforce laws, designed for the good of the people.

Political Philosophy Pt. 2 "The Social Order"

Part 2 in a three-part series.

Sponsored by Aristotle For Philosopher-King

In the previous post, it was established that the "philosopher-king" was an impractical scenario because in order for it to work, the ruler must be virtuous (lest the monarchy falls into tyranny) and there must be an impartial system in place for choosing his successor (elections and primogeniture have historically proven to be unreliable). And because a proper aristocracy (rule by the few) would be more difficult to establish (not only do you have to find one virtuous man, but you have to find several), it is to democracy we place our hopes.

In establishing democracy, it is necessary to determine who would be considered citizens, allowed to participate in the political process. Aristotle claimed that natural slaves/manual laborers and women were not to participate in the political process because natural slaves/manual laborers did not possess the ability for rational activity and women's rational activity held no authority over their emotional nature. Though I disagree with the end result of Aristotle's argument here, I believe he is only trying to make the best conclusions of what evidence he had.

Those who reject Aristotle's political system more than likely first point out that he believes that some individuals should, by their very nature, be enslaved. Oh horrid ideology! I, on the other hand, believe there is an alternate reading to this and it fits very well into his philosophy. Fact: there are alot of people out in the world who are well-endowed with physical strength but are not very intelligent. Asking the Aristotelian question, "what is the function of these persons?" can give us a decent idea of why Aristotle thinks these individuals should stick to manual labor and not participate in politics: because they're equipped for it and not very good at rational activity. So are there any modern day natural "slaves"? On the blue-collar side, farmers, factory workers, manufacturers, construction workers, etc. On the white-collar-side, interns, IT help desk, call center, etc. (note: these are simply generalities based on general observation; they are by no means scientific laws) These people are not performing jobs that require them to be physically strong, but they may not have the natural rational ability to rise any higher than work at this skill level. All "natural slaves" must be capable of some measure of rational activity because they take direction from their superiors and exhibit understanding of their respective roles.

So are there "natural slaves" that are better with menial tasks and not capable of high amounts of rational activity? Yes. But should these people vote and participate in the political process? If you say, "yes, of course!", ask yourself how many times you've seen people you've considered idiots or morons on the street and thought to yourself "Wow... and that guy's vote counts as much as mine." I have thought this many times myself, but in the end, I believe that "natural slaves" has a right and an obligation to participate in choosing its future because they are capable, by their nature, of rational activity.

As for women, Aristotle made a natural distinction between men and women that was a bit strong. As I've described in another post, there certainly is a distinction between how men and women express themselves: men in logical terms and women in emotional terms. Both are completely human, both can be valid, and both are prone to fault. Aristotle claims that women's reason has no authority over her emotions, but I think that a more accurate, albeit nuanced, representation of his observations is that the persuasive terminology of women is to appeal to emotional relationships. This can be a valid (though not strictly logically valid) form of argumentation because everyone has feelings. Though I don't think that appeals to emotion belong much in political governance, to say that reason has no authority in a woman is very harsh and not a true representation of the factual evidence.

Therefore, should women participate in the political process? Absolutely, because they are capable of rational activity and are free members of society that should have a say in deciding its future.

What's my point here? Hasn't modern thought solved all these problems already? Every citizen gets to vote, including women and uneducated workers. So what's the big deal?

I guess I am trying to rescue Aristotle's political philosophy from being completely disregarded in political discussion. There's a bad habit in modern thought that finds one thing wrong with ancient/medieval philosophy and then decides that it should all be tossed out. (another example is when Descartes threw out Aristotle's physics, including the notion of telos, or "final cause", only because it was not mathematical in basis; therefore, it was considered wrong and useless) That is not honest thought and a discussion misses alot of important ideas without the ancient/medieval approaches.

Political Philosophy Pt. 1 "The Philosopher-King"

Part 1 in a three-part series.

In Book VI of his seminal work, The Republic, Plato writes about the need for philosophers to fill the Guardian role in his utopian society. They will be fit to rule over the rest of the polis because of their wisdom and knowledge obtained in their study of philosophy. His student, Aristotle, wrote in his Politics that only those capable of rational activity should be allowed to participate in the state's politics. Despite modern philosophy's general aversion to confronting the arguments of these two ancient geniuses, there is much to be understood and gained if only we were to follow the reasoning of these honest thinkers. Sure, they made some errors, but I am confident that although I have never met these two in person, they attested to what they observed and described their thoughts without prejudice.

And so begins my first post on political philosophy. It has been a long time in coming, but with the impending election, everyone will more than likely be burned out from all the political talk after the election results come out and no one will be interested in reading this post. (so really, this is a chance that only comes once in 4 years)

First, my political views do not endorse any political party or candidate. Parties typically represent ideologies, which tend to be dangerous, and if a party offers a strict creed of political policies and not some kind of rich, dark beer (like a proper party should), than I'm ultimately not interested. That is not to say that I do not find myself aligning with one party or another; however, that only occurs because a choice must be made if anything resembling my idea of an ideal political atmosphere is to exist.

Second, the persons that have influenced my political philosophy include Plato, Aristotle, Alisdair MacIntyre, and G.K. Chesterton. Please note that none of these men are or ever were politicians. They are philosophers of one sort or another and have applied themselves to determining the goals of political activity, something that is nonexistent in today's political discourse.

In contrast, I will be the first to admit that philosophy, alone, is useless (numerous potential employers looking dubiously at my academic credentials have confirmed this). It is a guide in all areas of study and aides the thinker to understand the principles behind the other sciences. So it would not be helpful in today's political discourse to write about a "dream society" where each detail was figured out and everything was engineered for peace.

Every society in history has been faulty, some more than others. From small fishing towns to vast empires, each society has one thing in common: they are comprised of human beings. For millennia, each society has been created by human beings and comprised of human beings. I claim that the problem with creating a perfect society is man himself. There is something about human nature that consistently thwarts the establishment of a lasting, good society. Therefore, as long as a civilization is made up of human beings, it will have its faults.

However, my philosophical outlook on politics is not all that bleak. There are definitely some sound insights to be applied to a forming society.

I agree with Aristotle that the best form of government is a monarchy, and I agree with Plato that the ruler of a society should be a "philosopher-king". A monarch represents a singularity of rule and law. He discerns the good and commands his subjects towards that good. His subjects are accountable to him, just as he is accountable to God.

Most of you, I'm sure, are playing out the scenario of your college intro-philosophy professors being elected president, cringing at the thought. Fear not, I suggest no such thing. A true philosopher performs both contemplation in addition to cultivating practical wisdom. A philosopher-king is not just a philosopher (*SPOILER ALERT*: he's also a king). Devoting all one's time to either philosophy or governance makes for a poor ruler. Rather, seamless incorporation of the two is both possible and necessary for the philosopher-king because one rational activity forms the other.

Now that I've put the idea of the philosopher-king out there, I'm going to admit that it cannot be done for several reasons. First, the line between monarchy and tyranny (according to Aristotle, the best and worst forms of government respectively) is very thin, and anyone less than a virtuous man will abuse his power or be rendered impotent. Also, the means of selecting a successor would be very difficult because democratic elections would be fraught with self-interested politics and primogeniture doesn't always work properly.

The interesting thing about a monarchy would be that everything comes down to a single link, as far as decision-making is concerned. This is either very good or very bad for the society, heavily dependent on the moral stuff of the ruler. If an aristocracy (rule of the few) was installed where there were several people ruling a nation, the vices of one individual might be lessened by the virtues of the others. However, the fate of the nation still rests in the hands of a few people, and in the currently aimless moral climate of modernity, a true sense of honor and honesty in an individual is hard to come by. Therefore, we must not allow ourselves to be ruled by one or a few and aim for democracy (rule of the people), endeavoring not to fall into ochlocracy (rule of the majority).

My First Car

This post is a portion of a larger untitled work in progress...


V6 and black. That’s all I told my brother when I asked him to find me a car. He found me a V6, in black, with red leather interior.

Ok, let’s test drive this.

An hour later, I was buying this car, my first car, a 2.7L V6, 172 horsepower, 2008 Hyundai Tiburon GT Limited (tiburon is Spanish for “shark”), the most accessorized trim for the model with the red leather interior, Sirius XM radio, sunroof, fog lights, low-profile sport tires, and ‘select-shift’ transmission. I had performed my own research and was having trouble finding something for which I was comfortable paying. Whatever I drove away with, I needed to love it. Finances would be tight and I wanted to be sure that I wanted to pay for it every month.

I wanted a 6-cylinder engine because I was a young man. I wanted to pull out into traffic and roar up to speed with everyone else. I wanted to be pushed back in my seat as if I were on the back of some wild animal. I wanted to drive down that straightaway 70 mph highway feel the power of freedom over the bellowing of the engine.

Two speeding tickets later, though, I had given up on the whole going faster than the speed limit notion. You would think that fast cars were made for young people to get caught speeding in. But for someone my age, the acceleration of this beast leaves nothing to be desired.

I wanted a black car because black is appropriate for any occasion. It is colorless, but not characterless. It projects class and composure like a sharp man in a tuxedo, but also stealth and elusiveness like a thief in a black turtleneck and ski mask.  Black is about business and silent power, formality and dark strength. It has good manners, but will quietly dispatch opposition.

A complex duality to the color that lacks any color, but I wanted both personalities for my car. I am not a rambunctious red or a pristine white car man. I wanted both professional functionality and sleek style.

With the inclusion of red leather, this car became all about stylish business on the outside, and party on the inside. I had never expected or dreamed that I could afford a car with a leather interior, much less a fashionable leather interior. The expression “icing on the cake” does not properly do it justice. Rather, was like “icing with flowers made of icing on the cake made entirely of corner pieces”.

Of course, she has her one foible. Miles per gallon? Not too great, and I have the V6 to blame for that mostly. But after what I’ve mentioned previously, who cares?

With time, I would come to properly appreciate the ‘select-shift’ manual transmission, referred to as ‘Sport Mode’ in the user’s manual. I had initially been shopping for a manual transmission car, but after a harrowing experience with my father’s Jeep, I had decided that I was not that interested in dying so young. However, the select-shift on the Tiburon was exactly what the doctor ordered for the hand-foot coordination nightmare that is manual transmission for me: manual shifting with an automatic clutch. Because sometimes, you’ve got to be able to shift down to jump off that corner as fast as you want.

With all of these things combined, you get the sheer delight I experienced driving 70 mph down Highway 55 in the early morning in my stylish, sleek ‘shark’ sports car, Genesis blaring over the voracious roar of the V6. Is this love?

My History of Coffee

This post is a portion of a larger untitled work in progress...


When birthday or Christmas time rolls around, people ask me for gift ideas for me. Typically, I don’t appreciate this question because that spoils all the fun of getting someone a gift. But I play along anyway. What I usually say is very simply, “Coffee.” I get a laugh or two and then they ask me what I really want for my birthday.

This puzzles me. I just told them. Coffee.

People that don’t know me very well seem not to take that answer seriously. Wait, was I being serious? Was I really talking about the beverage that everybody makes, half-asleep, a couple minutes after dragging themselves out of bed in the morning? Was I actually referring to the chewable, black tar that the bushy-mustached old man makes at the office, referring to it as a “cup of Joe” when it would be more accurate to refer to it as a “cup of– wait a second… is this dirt”? Was I speaking about the beverage that represents just a "caffeine fix", as easily replaceable by Red Bull, Monster, or RockStar?  Oddly enough, coffee is not my source for a caffeine fix.

Coffee is a source for spiritual experiences.

Kaldi, son of Aldi

Given to mankind from the Mug of God himself, coffee has a long and hallowed history. Originating in Ethiopia in the 9th century and discovered by Kaldi, son of Aldi (who himself was the successful founder of a global discount supermarket chain), the drink quickly became known for its healing powers and use in religious ceremonies. It was adopted by many Middle Eastern countries and became a staple as a drink of the Muslim world. Despite the success of the drink in the immediate area, the Islamic nations withheld trade to the Western and Far Eastern countries.

It was not until the early 12th century when Saint Drogo, blessed by the Lord with the ability to bilocate, was able to liberate the bean covertly from the Middle East’s grip and brought it to Italy, thereby earning the title of “patron saint of coffee and coffeehouses”. Unfortunately, the Christian world was not yet prepared to accept the strange brew from the Muslim world. But in 1600, Pope Clement the VIII proclaimed that the drink be made available to all Christians, declaring, “Non magis excusat desideraturus mane Missam!” The western world was ecstatic, blessing God for his infinite goodness and generosity.

The Boston Coffee Party of 1773

Since then, nations all around the world began to discover the black and life-giving treasure. In America before the Revolutionary War, the King of England had laid a heavy tax on tea, prompting the colonial peoples to import coffee as a substitute. After tasting the first arrival of the new beverage, they were astonished at the superior taste and tossed all of the British-imported tea into Boston harbor in celebration. The event was erroneously misnamed because the drink of choice at the ensuing party was in fact coffee, making it accurately known as the “Boston Coffee Party”.

In the early 19th century, Napoleon Bonaparte sought to invade and conquer Russia. Despite the Russian’s “scorched earth” tactics, the French army was resolute on entering Moscow. Although two thirds of Moscow lay burned upon their arrival, it was not the ruin and spoil of their prize that disheartened the Emperor of France: the Russians did not have any coffee in the city . Unable to devise a strategy to survive the bitter Russian winter without the soul-warming brew, Napoleon sounded the retreat and his army limped back to France, discouraged, defeated, and de-caffeinated.

Without coffee, Thomas Edison’s 10,000 attempts to invent the light bulb would have been impossible to accomplish during the long days and endless nights of work. Without coffee, Ward Cleaver would have woken up every morning to the sound of Beaver’s voice without the character-fortifying agent that restrains the disciplining backhand. And without coffee, countless research papers and final projects would have lay in ruins before procrastinating student.

Every culture, every land, throughout all of human history, has benefited from this wonderful beverage. If fresh, it is sweet to taste and refreshing to the mind. Though truly fresh coffee is difficult to obtain, roasts abound that harness the power of the bean and still yield not to bitterness.

Why Sex is Meant For Marriage, Pt. 2 "Women"

The point was raised in a comment on my first post concerning sex and its proper context, marriage, that has prompted this follow-up post. The claim was that my argument was from the perspective of a man and, therefore, I had only shown that it was right for man to save sex and sexual acts for marriage.

But what about women? Do the same principles apply for women as they do for men? This was a bit trickier for me, a man, to tackle with an argument from experience. I have met women and I have dated women, but I have never been a woman. However, I will draw on from what experience I have to prove in an argument complementary to my first that sex and sexual acts are meant for marriage according to the healthy feminine nature.

First, there some differences between the masculine and feminine natures. These are necessary to point out to show that my first argument in my previous post does not really apply well to women, but more importantly, to outline the challenges unique to a woman. I have often heard it said that men are more logically based than women, and that women can often allow emotion to "overrule their reason". I believe this to be an unfair characterization because it frames women as irrational beings (albeit, at times). In my opinion, it would be more accurate to say that the feminine nature generally favors seeking empathetic understanding with others as opposed to logical agreement. This method of communication can create a deeper connection between two people than a simple "agreement of facts" can. For conciseness though, I claim that men tend to express themselves in logical terms, and women tend to express themselves in terms of their emotional connection to a situation, person, etc.

All the other terms and premises from my previous post apply, such as exclusive uncommitted relationship. If you need a refresher on that one and others, click here.

Ok, now suppose we take the same couple that we considered in my first post in an exclusive uncommitted relationship. As sex and activities leading to sex are frequent, the woman will become charged with emotional stimulation (similar to how the man is physically stimulated). The act is physically pleasant, but the woman primarily draws on the emotional closeness that she feels towards the man. As the emotional attachment grows stronger, the woman needs to be constantly assured of the man's affections for her (which can cause heightened expectations on the man, thus straining the relationship). Ultimately, the exclusive uncommitted relationship is bound to end or see serious hardship. If it ends, regardless of who initiates the break up, the woman will be forced to annihilate the vast emotional bond that she so dearly invested herself in.

The sexual act and acts leading to it inevitably create an emotional bond between the man and the woman. This is a sacred trust that is necessary to being together forever; to invest in and empathize with the joys and sorrows of the other. It is so tight-knit that were it to be broken, both would suffer excruciating emotional turmoil. The sexual act and other associated activities lead to one of two outcomes: (A) a loving, lasting emotional attachment between a man and a woman that allows them to enjoy together emotional sunshine and weather together emotional darkness, or (B) the woman succumbs to insecurity and despair as she searches for a full, lasting emotional commitment in vain.

Considering the path (A), just as with the argument from the masculine perspective, I do not think this option is available to those in an exclusive uncommitted relationship. As soon as the woman consents to any activity leading to sex, she has forsaken, to some degree, her essential dignity as a woman. It is a woman's responsibility, especially in this day and age, to command respect from men by holding them to honorable standards. Women can have, if they choose, a seductive power over men's reason. The feminine nature confounds his reason and ignites his passions. In my experience, this is not a reciprocal attractions, meaning, men do not have this same seductive power over women. (James Bond does not count because he was engineered specifically to give men the notion that they too could make women swoon over them; it doesn't happen) Women, in my experience, may fall for a guy, but they are never as without their wits as a man is before a woman. Thus, in the exclusive uncommitted relationship, the woman has the reigns of Reason and must show the man that she demands his respect and his full commitment to her. Without this respect, that emotional bond will not properly form.

In the case of (B), a woman who has engaged in many sexually active relationships will begin to wonder either what was wrong with the men she has dated or, my more frequent experience, what is wrong with herself. In the pornographic culture that we live in, there is an enormous pressure on women to be flawless. Each successive break up and emotional PTSD will be negotiated with thoughts that she just needs to lose more weight, get plastic surgery, etc. This goes hand-in-hand with the (B) scenario outlined in my first argument. Men will become more critical of their woman's appearance and ultimately, their partner's physical appearance will not be enough for him. A woman will be able to sense this acutely, especially if she is aware of any unfaithful relationships or pornography that the man is engaged in. This will only increase her sense of insecurity. With increasing insecurity, she will steadily set her sights lower and lower and entrust herself to more abusive and baser men, unable to believe that she is worth anything higher. If all her future relationships engage in sexual acts, she will be aware constantly of her physical appearance and remain in deep insecurity regarding her man's expectations and, more importantly, her worthiness of respect.

The repeated "high-stakes" emotional investment for a woman in a sexually active relationship will leave deep scares on her self-esteem, making it difficult for her to take her dignified place as an equal partner in a lasting relationship. A woman must not underestimate the power she has over a man; and it is this power that she must wield responsibly or forfeit it to the man's physical appetites. If a woman does not pick up this charge, then it becomes very difficult for a man to control his passions in the relationship. Though he is no less responsible for reigning in his passions, no man should associate with a woman who fails to hold him accountable for them, and no woman should associate with a man who fails to respect her according to her dignity, body and soul.

Authors Note: Ok, there it is. This is all based on my experiences and careful thought, but it is by no means infallible, whatsoever (a deep contrast to my other writings ;) just kidding) Whatever your thoughts, man or woman, please comment. This is a forum for serious discussion and I'll be the first to submit myself to guidance in this area.