By the Hearing of Faith

When I returned to the room, I was accosted by a periwig-clad fop brandishing a flintlock pistol. Turns out, I’d been mistakenly given the Flignitz Corp – USA® Duel Action Baby Wipes. It’s a mixed blessing: Though Eli’s rear is now spotless, there’s also a dead 18th-Century Prussian nobleman on the hospital room floor.

(Originally posted to Facebook on March 1, 2015 at 8:25 AM)

… I thought it sounded like the name of a kosher deli in the deep South. “Billy Reuben’s: Best Schmaltz South of the Mason-Dixon. Shalom, Bubba!” Must’ve been hungry.

(Originally posted to Facebook on March 1, 2015 at 8:12 AM)

Parent 1: Hey, look at our boy’s oxygen saturation! It’s 98%!

Parent 2: Pretty good!

Parent 1: Pretty good?!? Try “awesome,” babe. WAY better than that Snordbaum kid. He’s only 92%.

Parent 2: Yeah, but he just got here yesterday.

Parent 1: Whatever. Sounds like an excuse to me.

Parent 2: His respiration rate is good.

Parent 1: Respiration rate? Come on. That’s SO last Tuesday. All the serious people on the ward are watching O2 now.

Parent 2: *sigh*

(Originally posted to Facebook on February 28, 2015 at 12:10 AM)

… I’ll enter him in some competitive eating contests. Or at least take him to those all-you-can-allegedly-eat buffets. A man’s got to test his limits.

(Originally posted to Facebook on February 28, 2015 at 12:48 AM)

He just simultaneously did jazz hands, pooped his trousers, and kung-fu kicked me in the ribs while eating. Need to work on his social graces.

(Originally posted to Facebook on February 28, 2015 at 12:09 AM)

At least, not to my knowledge. (Note to self: Research adult fatalities resulting from exposure to baby urine.)

(Originally posted to Facebook on February 27, 2015 at 7:23 PM)

(Originally posted to Facebook on February 27, 2015 at 10:45 AM)

I’m remodeling this blog. My dumb math jokes and thoroughly unimpressive (and poorly maintained) “SQL Query of the Day” aren’t worth keeping around–the few people who would have appreciated them have gone on a permanent fishing trip and/or won’t talk to me any more. So I’ve decided to write about more important things.

And in my estimation, the most important things are 1) to be loved by the Author of love and 2) to love like He loves, as much and as best we can while there’s still time (and I sense that time is running out). I’m not writing about the mawkish, sentimental love portrayed in our idiotic popular culture; I’m talking about the real, gritty thing: sacrificial, unpleasant and often chaotic, inconvenient and usually mistaken for something else.

One of the best ways to love is to be a husband and a father. Whatever you do for your career will be forgotten, whatever you build will burn down, and whatever you own will be taxed away, given away, or sold at auction. But people are eternal. And because the Author of love is also the Author of people, I see marriage and fatherhood as an eternal investment of myself.

It’s a great investment, the best investment. I’d be crazy to pass on it, and maybe this blog will turn out to be a kind of prospectus. Maybe it will turn out to be another blog about how to change your toddler’s diapers when he’s thrashing around like a marlin. I don’t know. But I’ve grown to hate Facebook (and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual) and have decided to use another medium.

Anyways, what better day to start a Dad-blog than on Father’s Day? Thanks to my sweet wife Andy for a great day with Audie & Peanut. I’m going to go do the laundry now and drink beer clean up the kitchen. Nighty-nite ….

Love,
Daddy

Here’s a nifty vid from Khan Academy proving that the harmonic series diverges: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yyLfrsSXQQ.

Summary: Construct another series S with each term consisting of a power of 1/2 but less than or equal to its corresponding term in the geometric series G, i.e.:
G = 1 + 1/2 + 1/3 + 1/4 + 1/5 + 1/6 + 1/7 + 1/8 + 1/9 + 1/10 + 1/11 + 1/12 + 1/13 + 1/14 + 1/15 + 1/16 ….
S = 1 + 1/2 + 1/4 + 1/4 + 1/8 + 1/8 + 1/8 + 1/8 + 1/16 + 1/16 + 1/16 + 1/16 + 1/16 + 1/16 + 1/16 + 1/16 ….
This can be expressed as:
S = 1 + [i=1,∞]∑(1/(2^i))(2^(i-1))
Which simplifies to:
S = 1 + [i=1,∞]∑(1/2)
Which obviously diverges. Therefore, since S diverges and is less than G, the harmonic series must diverge.

Pretty clever, Mr. Oresme. But lest you feel all smug and superior, sitting there with your fancy pen in your cushy medieval office, you should know that Nicole is a girl’s name. Also, your desk is uncomfortably cubist. And you live in the 14th Century. Actually, I feel kinda bad for you. Never mind.

As you may already know, I can’t listen to songs without skeptically questioning the stories behind them. I dunno, maybe I should’ve been a police detective or something. One story I’ve always wondered about is “Saturday in the Park,” by Chicago. Robert Lamm, the song’s author, was born on October 13, 1944. So when he wrote “Saturday in the park …. I think it was the Fourth of July” in or before the year 1972, he could have been recalling how many Saturdays? And was he even old enough to remember each? I asked Mr. Database:

CREATE TABLE #saturday_in_the_park (
 WhatYearWasIt varchar(4) NOT NULL,
 HowOldWasRobert varchar(3))
 DECLARE @theyear varchar(4);
 SET @theyear = '1945';
 WHILE ((SELECT @theyear) != '1973')
 BEGIN
 IF (DATENAME(dw,'07/04/' + @theyear) = 'Saturday')
 INSERT #saturday_in_the_park VALUES (@theyear, (@theyear - 1945))
 SET @theyear = @theyear + 1;
 END
 SELECT * FROM #saturday_in_the_park;
 DROP TABLE #saturday_in_the_park;

Query result:
WhatYearWasIt, HowOldWasRobert
1953, 8
1959, 14
1964, 19
1970, 25

The Fourth of July fell on four Saturdays between 1944 and 1972, and Robert was probably old enough to remember them all. But were they noteworthy? According to popular music lore, the “park” in question was Wrigley Field, and Robert was watching the Cubs play. What happened? I asked Mr. Google, who tells me that the Cubs played the Braves at Miluakee on July 4th 1964, lost at home to the Dodgers on July 4th 1959, and lost at home to Pittsburgh in 1970. Since it’s unlikely for Lamm to have fondly remembered a home game that the Cubs lost, we can therefore safely conclude that the song recalls Saturday, July 4, 1953, when Robert Lamm was eight, and the Cubs beat the Cardinals 5-4.