Moral Dilemmas 101

So help me out here.

What's wrong now?

You told me about the trolley car, out of control, ready to run over five people.

Yes, that happens every day.

And so the driver, if she could, switches the tracks and the train now runs over only one person.

Right. The driver made a wise choice. Sacrificing one life to save five.

The more difficult dilemma is for the bystander. Does he throw a person onto the tracks to stop the trolley, given if he doesn't, five people will die?

Or maybe he feels that not doing anything is ok?

That's really the issue for me. Is it ok to do nothing?

I don't know. I remember when the man was beat up on the subway tracks in NYC and people just stood around. Imagine if we had laws against inactivity.

Yea... you don't jump in the pool to save the kid... then you could go to jail.

Or you don't learn CPR.

Or... you buy an expensive house rather than a cheap house, thereby diverting money from starving children.

Or... you don't take out a big life insurance policy before throwing yourself infront of the trolley, thereby eliminating a giant good deed to those in need. Is that acceptable and compassionate behavior?

Stay tuned to the next episode of Moral Dilemmas 101

You're too close

You're too close

For me, or for you?

That's just what I mean. Why can't you just say, "yes" and then move away?

Would the reason make any difference?

Of course. Not really.

Let's get back to this "you're just too close."

Fine. When someone says that, it is time to move away.

I know my limitations. I know that I have a tendency to clutch and then slip.

That is your problem.

Yes, and since we are together, it is your problem too.

Now you are really projecting. I'm quite comfortable with our distance.

Eeks... Now I'm really getting worried.

Me tooooooooooooo......

Later, in Segway heaven.

Sure glad we were able to come together.

Yea, I don't want some rookie riding me.

I didn't mean that.

?

Lots of territory to explore here.

Lots of time, though.

Most of my friends are here.

Did they get too close too?

Much later, in God's chambers.

What is that thing you are standing on, my son?

It is a Segway, Mr. God. It is used on Earth to get people from point a to point b.

I gave them legs.

Yes, but through many years of misuse and abuse, they don't work that well.

So you are dependent on a couple of wheels driven by lithium-ion batteries?

Yes.

So why don't you move?

Can't find a place to plug it in.

Sorry about that. So sorry. Maybe now you can learn to walk.

Dedicated to Jimi Heselden, Segway CEO, who road over a cliff 9/26/10.

One sided conversation with Phillipa Foot, RIP

You're up awfully early.

And you're asleep.

You really think we can have a meaningful conversation?

I can try? Who is it that gives our conversations meaning?

Huh?

So here's what I want to discuss?

Shh...

Listen, you told me shh last night. You get one shh every twenty-four hours.

Why?

It is Texas.

Oh. Shoot. But make it quick.

No promises.

Do you realize I fall asleep over and over again?

Yea.

And then get woked. Or is it waked? In any case, the Chinese could hire your as a torture chamber.

This is important.

I said shoot. And... make it fast.

Well, I'm going to ride a Segway today. And I want to know if I lose control and run into a crowd, should I aim for a spot with the least number of people?

Of course. Unless you are overly concerned with the latest census.

Now... if you were a trolley car driver, and your trolley brake was busted and you were barreling down the track, and you could either kill five people, or pull the switch and go down another track and kill one... what would you do?

Oh... this is torture. I'm not a trolley car driver... but if I was and you were the one...

Funny. One more question and you'll get my point. Or not.

Shoot. Aim for my head or the heart, please.

You are a surgeon. You have six patients, five of whom are dying and need a critical and different transplant. And you have one (healthy) patient who has all the needed organs. Unfortunately, he (or she) could not live without them. Would you kill one patient to save five?

Are you the one patient?

(Dedicated to Philippa Foot, great moral philosopher.)

You Don't Love Me

You shouldn't have turned there. You never remember the way.

You don't love me.

Is it that apparent?

Sometime you hide it rather well.

Like when I do your stinky laundry?

Yes, then, and when you cook omelets.

And that's it. I do those two things just to throw you off.

And it works most of the time. But, by now, I learned to see right through you.

I saw right through you from the day you put twigs in my mud pie.

You were four then. I guess that's why you made me go home... And told me you'd never be my friend.

So you married me for my money.

I was 36 and the time clock was clicking and despite your obnoxious behavior I though of all the possible mates, you probably had the best genes.

You should have gone to the sperm bank.

That's about the best idea you've ever had.

I think we are just about there. Around that curve we'll see the ocean.

I so love it when we go on vacation.

Me too. And get a break from the brats and our work.

Yea...

The Wise Ass Buddha

Mr. Buddha, I've been a total failure.

Tell me more, monk.

My mind wanders, I don't learn the chants, I get angry and impatient and selfish. Need I say more?

No, do not say more.

Can you tell me one thing I could do to cure my ways?

I could.

Will ya?

Yes.

Now?

Sure. Just master your mind.

Easier said than done.

But it is one thing, as you asked, you goof-ball.

Who is it that should master my mind?

Don't play any of those zen games on me. It isn't important.

What kind of Buddha are you? First you say, "master your mind" and
then when I ask who should do the work, you say it isn't important.

To be truthful, I'm not a very good Buddha. I know of no truths or paths
that you do not need to find yourself.

So can you point me to a better Buddha?

Sure, look in the mirror.

Who taught you those wise ass answers?

I see your impatience and anger. Why don't you go off into a cave for nine years and work on your mind.

My mind. Where is my mind?

Go into the cave, and your mind will follow you. Then master it, watching it as it gets lost over and over again.

And who watches it?

You'll find someone, don't worry.

And then what?

That will be enough...

LoseIt

I started my diet today.

And yesterday, and the day before.

No, I really did it today. My intentions were solid.

Solid? That's a new one.

Yea, I use this iphone app called LoseIt.

I think you've LostIt.

Hey, let me explain.

I'm listening.

Ok, I was getting impatient with my progress, so I set my goal up to 2 lbs a week from 1.5 lbs a week.

That sounds ambitious.

Too. I couldn't get my calories down for more than one day. I'd just be hungry... you know... ready to eat aannyytthhiinngg.

Ok... then what.

Well, I started out today with my normal taco breakfast at the local Mexican restaurant. A couple of corn tortillas, beans, avocado, and rajas. 250 calories.

Hey, this is getting boring.

No... wait... it gets better.

I didn't get home from breakfast until about 11 am... so I just had peanut butter on a cracker for lunch.

I said this is getting boring.

Shh... Then I went to the market to buy some bananas. I forgot until I got there how many free samples they had. I thought this would just strengthen my character... to walk past potato chips, great cheese and crackers, and hibiscus tea.

But you have willpower, right?

Ya know, as I came into the market, my first thought was that I should have had the sailors tie me to the mast... but then I thought I'm strong... and I'm really into this diet today... and those food sirens won't tempt me.

Wait... what is wrong with hibiscus tea? There can't be any calories to that.

Well, that's what I thought. Especially when I noticed that the woman demonstrating the tea was blind. Blind people don't lie... right?

Never. I've never been lied to by a blind person.

Right. So I drank the tea and told her how good it tasted.

And...

She replied that she had a secret.

We all have secrets. What else is new?

No... a secret about the tea. She confessed that she had added apple juice and agave to it.

No... that's criminal... you could have been diabetic and...

Yea... but worse, I was off the wagon. Off... way off. Went to those potato chips that were free and had a handful... then to the cheese... then to the organic cheerios.

That isn't too bad.

Until I came to the free Henry's frozen custard.

You have got to be kidding.

No... I thought... what can one cup of coffee custard set me back?

How was it?

Great.

Were you done?

I thought so. I saw some mint and asked her about it. She said it was mint with chocolate chip but that all the chips are gone. Who wants mint custard just by itself?

What happened to those poor chips?

She said she didn't know.

And then?

Then she scooped out another cup and there were two beady eyed chips looking right at me.

Don't tell me you ate that too.

Yea...

So what's next?

Tomorrow...

In 99 Years

Her gray hair was thin,
tired of many years
of endless
combing and brushing.

The silvered strands
were expertly cut—
they could not have been
better cared for,
considering her
age.

She smiled for the lens.
Her mouth formed
a polished camera
facial expression.

She had been
on that side
of the lens
many times before—
it was apparent

as she was able to combine
a wry suspicion
with a pseudo-authentic smile,
making it all seem pleasing in the end.

There was a hard,
Eastern-European texture
to her face.

She had not chosen mud
and other beauty facial treatments,
rather had lived an adventurous
yet privileged life.

Her smile said
"I've seem much of life
in 99 years, and,
now it is yours
to enjoy and tend."

She work a black scarf
wrapped around her neck,
giving some dimension
to her very small body.

That sat onto
a poka-dotted shawl,
which was inside,
and partially covered by
another larger shawl,
laced with gold thread.

Her forearms and hands
emerged
from the third shawl.

The arms were larger
than one might expect
coming from
such a petit figure.

These (almost workman) arms,
as familiar
gardening
as editing books,
laid one upon
the other
in a warm gesture.

There was no tension,
but the weight of one arm
on the other
seemed a little more
than she could bear

causing her smile
now to tighten and
not seem
quite as relaxed
as her face
first suggested.

Her skirt exhibited
a similar
but darker dot pattern
to the smaller of the two shawls.

Her legs
appeared to be tired,
at 99,
as they struggled to
hold up her arms,

with dignity,
as a pedestal holds
tirelessly
a death mask.

Goodbye, dear aunt.