There are no races.

There is no biological meaning to the sentence "That person is a member of [XX] race."

This is not merely my opinion. It is the overwhelming consensus of experts in the field. "Race: Man's Most Dangerous Myth" by Montagu is dense but worth reading for its devastating and total refutation of the idea. A much more readable book covering some of the same subject is The MisMeasure of Man by Gould. Online resources that set forth the refutation of the idea of biologically meaningful races include: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Race_%28classification_of_human_beings%29 and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Race_and_genetics.

In the face of the above, you might think it unnecessary to propose yet another refutation of the idea of race. However, since so many people taken the existence of races for granted, since books, newspapers and magazines regularly reinforce the false idea by referring to people in racist terms (for example: saying Obama is black), it is necessary to make the argument mathematically.

Here is my mathematical refutation of "race" as a meaningful biological way to classify humans.

1. Those who defend the concept can not agree on how many races there are, or how they are composed. If humanity were actually divided into real races, then the number of races would not be in dispute. (For those who say that there are actual races but the definitions are "fuzzy" and the border lines are vaque are being sophomoric.)

2. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that there were, at this moment, exactly 4 (biological) races, and that every human could be assigned to one of them. Even if that were true today, it would not be true tomorrow because babies will be born whose parents come from different "races". It will never be possible to assign those babies to one of the existing (biological) races because the combination of genes possessed by those babies will be outside of the combination that defines the race of each of their parents.

In other words, even if there existed a moment in time in which all humans could be exactly assigned to a finite number of biological races, it would not be possible to do so in the very next moment in time.

There are no races.

I have neglected blogging for quite a while. No special reason.

But (again for no known reason) I happened to find myself in possession of a CD called Sex Without Bodies (Dave's True Story is the equally bizarre name of the band). I really have no idea how it appeared on my desk.

When I noticed it had a version of Walk on the Wild Side (Lou Reed), I simply had to play it, and the CD grew on me; immensely.

If you want a bitter-sweet laugh, listen to Spasm and I'll Never Read Trollope Again. Their version of Walk on the Wild Side, the reason I played it (and maybe, the reason I own it), shows again that artists can find new meaning in old songs.

I went home to attend Amy and John's wedding (a command preformance). The whole trip can be divided into several parts. This is the first one.

I spent a couple of days hanging out with Mom and Dad, getting over jet lag so I could enjoy the wedding.

The wedding was beautiful, but the experience was bitter and sweet on many levels.

First the sweet; I saw many friends and relatives that I had not seen in years. I had a good talk with Tom Mano and Ruth Dixon, for example, which opened up many memories.

Prior to graduating from Law School, I helped lawyers at Seattle Legal Services challenge, defeat and replace a wrong-headed child support rule adopted by the Department of Social and Health Services. That rule, stated simply, was that the absent parent of a child on welfare paid the lesser of (1) the amount of child support ordered by a judge in a divorce or (2) the entire amount of the welfare paid the custodial parent. The lawsuit the lawyers filed resulted in the DSHS being ordered to set child support using the same principles judges used in divorces (basically *ability to pay*).

What does all that have to do with Tom, Ruth and the wedding? Well, Ruth was the one on welfare, and Tom Mano and my brother suggested that Ruth's husband go to legal services to talk to me.

The whole case arose out my extended family.

Some more of the bitter: I have not been a part of the lives of the people at the wedding. Had Jo and I toughed it out (if I had controlled drug use and gambling), the relationships would have been much closer and I would not have had to keep saying, “I am Amy’s uncle Jim; her father’s brother.” Feeling like a stranger at your brother's daughter's wedding is a drag.

More bitter: Dad passed out at Amy’s wedding.

More sweet: After I busted him for it, he stopped drinking martinis.

I confronted Dad about his drinking after Amy's wedding. He denied passing out of course, so I asked him about John’s beautiful *Father’s* speech. He acknowledged that he didn't remember it. (BTW, it was an outstanding speech.) I asked him if he would like to be able to remember his son's speech at his grand-daughter's wedding. He acknowledged that he would like to be able to remember that. When I told him that he was an alcoholic, he denied it. I suggested he prove that by not drinking for a week.
A day or so later, while out to dinner with Mom and me at Anthony’s Home Port, he ordered a martini. I said that I would prefer that he didn't so he cancelled the order. We had a lovely conversation about Green Belt, Boeing, the Finks and Jarvis Stixrood (among other topics). After the meal I told him that I really enjoyed the conversation. I had further conversations and repeated the compliment a couple of other times during my visit. I explicitly connected the quality of the conversations to his sobriety.

To the best of my knowledge the only alcohol he has had since Amy's wedding is a glass of wine at dinner. We went out to eat many nights and he had wine only if Mom did. If she did not order wine, they drank water.

More later.

I am going to America to visit family and attend my niece's wedding (I didn't know that Americans were still getting married). I will of course see most of my family (weddings are wonderful reunions), which I am looking forward to.

I am somewhat concerned about my parents. They are not getting younger and I worry about them. Seeing them so old is both scary for me (my turn is coming) and makes me wonder if I shouldn't be doing more to help them.

I have just re-re-read all 6 of the Harry Potter books, and I am more convinced than ever that when Dumbledore says, "Severus...please...", it means "Severus please kill me."