Dumping tab for later. (Worked out by ear, possibly a little off.)
Gm Dm Cm - 1 - 1 (x4) - 0 - 0 (x4) - 3 - 3 3 - (x2) - - 3 - - - 1 - - - 3 - - 3 2 - - - 2 - - - 3 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Gm Dm Cm D - 1 - 1 (x4) - 0 - 0 (x4) - 3 - 3 3 - (x2) - - - - (x2) - - - 3 - - - 1 - - - 3 - - 3 - 2 - 2 - 2 - - - 2 - - - 3 - - - - - - - 2 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2 - - - 2 Gm Dm - 1 - 1 1 - - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - - 3 - - 3 - - 1 - - - 1 - 2 - - - - - 2 - - - 0 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Cm Dm (high) Em (high) - 3 - 3 3 - - 5 - 5 5 - 6 - - - 6 - - - 6 - - 3 - - 3 - - 5 - - 5 - - 6 - - - 6 - - 3 - - - - - 5 - - - - - - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Bridge: Cm Dm (high) 3 - - - 3 - - 5 - 5 - 5 - - - - 3 - - - 3 - - - 5 - - 5 - 3 - 3 - 3 - - 5 - - - 5 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Em(high) Dm (high) Em (high) 6 - - - (x3) 6 - 5 - 5 - 5 - 6 - - - 6 - - - 6 - - 6 - - - 5 - 5 - - 6 - - 6 - 7 - 7 - - - 5 - - - - - 7 - 7 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Coda: (x2) Gm Dm Cm Cm - 1 - 1 1 - - 0 - 0 0 - - 3 - 3 3 - - 3 - 3 - 3 - - 3 - - 3 - - 1 - - 1 - - 3 - - 3 - - - - 3 - 2 - - - - - 2 - - - - - 3 - - - - - 3 - 3 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Repeat Opening segment.
From my previously detailed List Of Skills To Acquire Before I Grow Old, the LOSTABIGO:
13. Run six miles in under an hour.
Should have written: Six miles in under an hour, with minimal fatigue.
58 minutes, ~40 seconds
I need a new #13 now.
…to inform you of the masterpiece that is Mass Effect.
It’s better than Galactic Deus Ex.
It’s more than an evolved KOTOR.
It hits harder than Firefly.
It’s what you’ll dream about for days when you’ve played it.
It’s Epic. In a sense that few games are, or can be. It [minor spoiler alert] has an entity dismissively projecting:
We are Infinite. We have no beginning. We have no End.
We are Legion.
Also, it’s taken over my life in the past two weeks; causative for the chain of events that has culminated in weight gain (mass effect!), sleep loss, general neglect and a fallow blog, all to be remedied as befits their cooldown times.
I owe RXFL an apology.
Robert Heinlein’s Time Enough For Love has its lead character Lazarus Long* spouting:
A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently and die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
Which is well in sync with my List Of Skills To Acquire Before I Grow Old. Well, all except for butchering hogs, which only a post-apocalyptic barren Earth might require me to engage in. And even then, with caution: Mutant hogs don’t make for ideal breakfast.
A few more specific additions to my LOSTABIGO, in no particular order:
- Hang a painting on a concrete wall.
- Analyze the Henon attractor.
- Paint: Both the painting, and three coats on the said wall.
- Map a city block. (Cartography is underrated.)
- Simulate a random walk. [DONE]
- Operate an eighteen wheeler.
- Pull myself onto ledges and overhangs.
- Compute a path integral. [DONE?]
- Cook at least three kinds of cuisine.
- Design a 4-bit CPU.
- Milk a member of the bovine species. [DONE]
- Solve the Euler equations for a thrown skittle.
- Run six miles in under an hour.
- Solve the other Euler equation. [DONE]
- Do the mayurasana.
- Listen to every Bach composition.
- Snap a long exposure photograph.
- Woo a member of the opposite sex.
- Make an 8-bit PC game.
I’m running out of time.
“You know, when I was a young man, hypocrisy was deemed the worst of vices,” Finkle-McGraw said. “It was all because of moral relativism. You see, in that sort of a climate, you are not allowed to criticize others—after all, if there is no absolute right and wrong, then what grounds is there for criticism?”
“Now, this led to a good deal of general frustration, for people are naturally censorious and love nothing better than to criticise others’ shortcomings. And so it was that they seized on hypocrisy and elevated it from a ubiquitous peccadillo into the monarch of all vices. For, you see, even if there is no right and wrong, you can find grounds to criticise another person by contrasting what he has espoused with what he has actually done. In this case, you are not making any judgment whatsoever as to the correctness of his views or the morality of his behavior—you are merely pointing out that he has said one thing and done another. Virtually all political discourse in the days of my youth was devoted to the ferreting out of hypocrisy.
“You wouldn’t believe the things they said about the original Victorians. Calling someone a Victorian in those days was almost like calling them a fascist or a Nazi.”
Both Hackworth and Major Napier were dumbfounded. “Your Grace!” Napier exclaimed. “I was naturally aware that their moral stance was radically different from ours—but I am astonished to be informed that they actually condemned the first Victorians.”
“Of course they did,” Finkle-McGraw said.
“Because the first Victorians were hypocrites,” Hackworth said, getting it.
Finkle-McGraw beamed upon Hackworth like a master upon his favoured pupil. “As you can see, Major Napier, my estimate of Mr. Hackworth’s mental acuity was not ill-founded.”
“While I would never have supposed otherwise, Your Grace,” Major Napier said, “it is nonetheless gratifying to have seen a demonstration.” Napier raised his glass in Hackworth’s direction.
“Because they were hypocrites,” Finkle-McGraw said, after igniting his calabash and shooting a few tremendous fountains of smoke into the air, “the Victorians were despised in the late twentieth century. Many of the persons who held such opinions were, of course, guilty of the most nefandous conduct themselves, and yet saw no paradox in holding such views because they were not hypocrites themselves—they took no moral stances and lived by none.”
“So they were morally superior to the Victorians—” Major Napier said, still a bit snowed under.
“—even though—in fact, because—they had no morals at all.”
There was a moment of silent, bewildered head-shaking around the copper table.
“We take a somewhat different view of hypocrisy,” Finkle-McGraw continued. “In the late-twentieth-century Weltanschauung, a hypocrite was someone who espoused high moral views as part of a planned campaign of deception—he never held these beliefs sincerely and routinely violated them in privacy. Of course, most hypocrites are not like that. Most of the time, it’s a spirit-is-willing, flesh-is-weak sort of thing.”
“That we occasionally violate our own stated moral code,” Major Napier said, working it through, “does not imply that we are insincere in espousing that code.”
“Of course not,” Finkle-McGraw said. “It’s perfectly obvious, really. No one ever said that it was easy to hew to a strict code of conduct. Really, the difficulties involved—the missteps we make along the way—are what make it interesting. The internal, and eternal, struggle, between our base impulses and the rigorous demands of our own moral system is quintessentially human. It is how we conduct ourselves in that struggle that determines how we may in time be judged by a higher power.”
From “The Diamond Age” by Neal Stephenson.
The notion that it is a moral failing to say one thing and do another is bizarre.
It might be less than ideal (whatever that means), but it certainly beats preaching nothing and lacking morality altogether.
Hypocrisy is overrated.