I always thought I'd be going to hell. Now I know it. I actually agree with Dubya about something, to wit: his stand on the singing of the National Anthem. Yes, it should be sung in English and only in English.
I have no problem with translating the lyrics into Spanish (or any other language for that matter) so that people whose English is not so good can learn to understand what the Anthem is and what it means. I have no problem with putting the Anthem's melody to a salsa or any other kind of Latin rhythm. After all, the Anthem itself was adapted from an old British English drinking song. Besides, good music withstands just about any melodic/rhythmic treatment one cares to give it--I do not mind listening to the Beatles in Muzak, for one example. [Note that I said "just about any." Roseanne's desecration of the Anthem at a baseball game a few years ago is NOT included.--Ed.]
But to sing the Anthem in anything other than its language of composition is to make it no longer American. And that is just plain wrong.
Teddy Roosevelt in 1907 allegedly said: "In the first place, we should insist that if the immigrant who comes here in good faith becomes an American and assimilates himself to us, he shall be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an outrage to discriminate against any such man because of creed, or birthplace, or origin. But this is predicated upon the person's becoming in every facet an American, and nothing but an American...There can be no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but something else also, isn't an American at all. We have room for but one flag, the American flag... We have room for but one language here, and that is the English language... and we have room for but one sole loyalty and that is a loyalty to the American people."
I have not had the chance to confirm independently that this is in fact an exact quote, but I do not doubt its accuracy in spirit.
The notion that being an American is more a state of mind than anything else is of sound and long standing in this country. That is what being an American is. In no other country in the world can you become a citizen of full and equal standing just by living there. Oh, you can become a citizen, but you will never be recognized as being a FULL citizen, because your ethnic and religious background matter to the native-born citizens of every place on Earth except in America. Emma Lazarus enshrined it in her poem "The New Colossus." "Give me your tired, your huddles masses, yearning to breathe free."
To those who say it is their right to sing the Anthem in Spanish because of the First Amendment, I say two things. First, do not twist our laws against us to promote an essentially un-American end. Second, sing it in Spanish all you want, but do not say that it makes you American to do so. It does not. That is by definition not what being an American is. [I keep wondering what would have happened had we gone into Germany in post-WW II Europe and translated the post-Nazi German anthem into English and started singing it all over the place. As badly beaten as the Germans were, I think they'd have risen up in opposition to that. And it would have started the recognition that we were not so much an ally as an occupying power a lot earlier than it actually occurred to the Germans.--Ed.]
But to agree with Dubya!?!?!? Like I said, this means I am going straight to hell. Or maybe not. After all, as Ann Landers so cogently noted several years ago, "Even a stopped clock is right twice a day." Dubya is most definitely a stopped clock.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
No Wonder Our Society Is In Decline
I see that the one of the prosecutors in the Zacharias Moussaouai trial said in his closing argument that Moussaoui could not be a martyr because "if he wanted to die, all he had to do was go and throw himself off the Eiffel Tower." This is such a basic misunderstanding of what martyrdom encompasses that I hope the jury votes to put Moussaoui in prison for life just because the prosecutor's argument was so stupid.
Martyrdom does NOT entail committing suicide per se. It entails either (1) killing yourself while at the same time killing a lot of your enemies, or (2) getting your enemy to kill you--the implication being wrongfully to kill you. And since that is precisely what Moussaoui wants, it should not be allowed to happen. One of the defense attorneys made this very claim in his closing. No wonder Moussaoui thinks his attorneys are out to destroy him--they are! They value his life above what he wants. Good for them.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Dubya's response to the current "crisis" in gasoline prices includes relaxing the clean air standards imposed on oil refineries. La-di-friggin'-da.
He gets to keep his (blind trust) windfall oil profits, he gets to keep the support of the oil companies, he thinks he gets to improve his public standing, he gets to claim that he is "doing something," and he gets to gut the Clean Air Act besides . . . in other words, he gets exactly what he wants, at the expense of the common folk and the air we breathe.
I hope people finally see through this one and excoriate him for his hypocricy. And I hope against hope that the Senate and House finally impose a windfall profits tax on the oil companies. What's been happening lately to gas prices is just as much of a scam as what happened to electricity in California just before Enron collapesed. It's a cash grab by greedy, unregulated corporate interests-- again, at the expense of the people least able to afford it.
I wonder whether we will ever collectively take a good hard look at US history and realize that every time we deregulate some industry, we get this kind of financial rape and pillaging. I do not care what Adam Smith says: the "invisible hand" of economics does not lead to the larger social good. After all, the corporations themselves say their obligations are to their shareholders, and thus that their goal is to maximize returns for same. Why is it not an issue that they do this at the expense of the rest of us? The entire point of being "a society" is that we are united in important and fundamental ways for the common good. Heck, if today's corporate management had been alive 300 years ago, they'd all have been pirates. They would have been outlaws then--they were outside society, preying on its members--and they should for the same reason be outlaws now.
When do we say "enough is enough"? How many millions/billions/brazilians [there's a joke attached to that last that I may or may not iterate later in this screed.--Ed.] does it take to keep the corporate moguls happy? I'd settle for 1/100 of what any one of them takes in a year as my income for the rest of my life--and be very happy indeed.
I don't care what Michael Douglas's character said. Greed is not good.
[OK, here's the joke: Secy of Defense Rumsfeld tells Dubya that there were 3 Brazilian dead in Iraq today. Dubya, visibly paled, asks weakly, "how many is a brazilian?"--Ed.]
* * * * * * * * * *
Paul McCartney turns 64 in June of this year. AARP's magazine has a long cover story on it . . . and I devoured every word. I even scored 10/10 on the Paul quiz and completely solved the magazine's crossword puzzle (theme: Beatles songs). In ink. I am not even eligible to become an AARP member for more than a year yet. I am a totally hopeless mess.
* * * * * * * * * *
If you follow Nebraska politics at all, or even the national news in this case, you no doubt are at least somewhat familiar with the closing shenanigans of the most recent Nebraska Unicameral session. Yes, Nebraska has the only one-house state legislature in the country . . . allegedly because it is non-partisan. Talk about "things that make you go hmmmm . . ."
Anyway, there's been a huge fight over the composition and reach of local school districts in the state, prompted by what can be described only as an attempted money grab by the Omaha Public School district. The OPS board wanted to bring non-Omaha school districts under the OPS umbrella via an obscure state law that hasn't been enforced for nearly a century.
This, of course, horrified the about-to-be-taken-over school districts, which set themselves up to get out of the OPS bailiwick in the first place. Note that there's also a huge racial component here. The districts fighting the OPS takeover are in the predominantly white, western, financially well-off suburbs. OPS, of course, includes the poorer, more ethnically diverse sections of the city proper.
State Senator Ernie Chambers, Nebraska's own gadfly and liberal/radical-about-town, eternal [OK, nearly eternal. Ernie is being forced out in 2008 due to a term limits law the Unicameral passed, largely due to its collective irritation with Ernie, in an earlier session.--Ed] representative of the primarily black North Omaha district, proposed a bill that would instead divide OPS into 3 districts, one for North Omaha (as I said, primarily black), one for South Omaha (primarily Latino), and one for West Omaha (primarily white).
The stupid Unicameral passed the thing. LB 1024 is going to go down in Nebraska infamy.
Chambers said his goal was to return effective local control to school boards, and that he didn't care about integration or segregation . . . what he cared about was "quality education."
And if you believe that, I will sell you a bridge.
What he was really up to was saying to the overwhelmingly white rest of the legislature, "you're a bunch of racists anyway--now go and prove it." And--of course--they did. Now, the western parts of the state voted for Ernie's bill just to stick it to the "evil big city." But they're mostly white, too. Politics does make strange bedfellows.
I hope the bill gets tied up in adjudication for so long that everyone alive who voted for it dies before we finally get the official word that the thing is unconstitutional on its face.
I'd think this was majorly amusing if it weren't giving Nebraska collectively yet another black eye in the national news.
Martyrdom does NOT entail committing suicide per se. It entails either (1) killing yourself while at the same time killing a lot of your enemies, or (2) getting your enemy to kill you--the implication being wrongfully to kill you. And since that is precisely what Moussaoui wants, it should not be allowed to happen. One of the defense attorneys made this very claim in his closing. No wonder Moussaoui thinks his attorneys are out to destroy him--they are! They value his life above what he wants. Good for them.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Dubya's response to the current "crisis" in gasoline prices includes relaxing the clean air standards imposed on oil refineries. La-di-friggin'-da.
He gets to keep his (blind trust) windfall oil profits, he gets to keep the support of the oil companies, he thinks he gets to improve his public standing, he gets to claim that he is "doing something," and he gets to gut the Clean Air Act besides . . . in other words, he gets exactly what he wants, at the expense of the common folk and the air we breathe.
I hope people finally see through this one and excoriate him for his hypocricy. And I hope against hope that the Senate and House finally impose a windfall profits tax on the oil companies. What's been happening lately to gas prices is just as much of a scam as what happened to electricity in California just before Enron collapesed. It's a cash grab by greedy, unregulated corporate interests-- again, at the expense of the people least able to afford it.
I wonder whether we will ever collectively take a good hard look at US history and realize that every time we deregulate some industry, we get this kind of financial rape and pillaging. I do not care what Adam Smith says: the "invisible hand" of economics does not lead to the larger social good. After all, the corporations themselves say their obligations are to their shareholders, and thus that their goal is to maximize returns for same. Why is it not an issue that they do this at the expense of the rest of us? The entire point of being "a society" is that we are united in important and fundamental ways for the common good. Heck, if today's corporate management had been alive 300 years ago, they'd all have been pirates. They would have been outlaws then--they were outside society, preying on its members--and they should for the same reason be outlaws now.
When do we say "enough is enough"? How many millions/billions/brazilians [there's a joke attached to that last that I may or may not iterate later in this screed.--Ed.] does it take to keep the corporate moguls happy? I'd settle for 1/100 of what any one of them takes in a year as my income for the rest of my life--and be very happy indeed.
I don't care what Michael Douglas's character said. Greed is not good.
[OK, here's the joke: Secy of Defense Rumsfeld tells Dubya that there were 3 Brazilian dead in Iraq today. Dubya, visibly paled, asks weakly, "how many is a brazilian?"--Ed.]
* * * * * * * * * *
Paul McCartney turns 64 in June of this year. AARP's magazine has a long cover story on it . . . and I devoured every word. I even scored 10/10 on the Paul quiz and completely solved the magazine's crossword puzzle (theme: Beatles songs). In ink. I am not even eligible to become an AARP member for more than a year yet. I am a totally hopeless mess.
* * * * * * * * * *
If you follow Nebraska politics at all, or even the national news in this case, you no doubt are at least somewhat familiar with the closing shenanigans of the most recent Nebraska Unicameral session. Yes, Nebraska has the only one-house state legislature in the country . . . allegedly because it is non-partisan. Talk about "things that make you go hmmmm . . ."
Anyway, there's been a huge fight over the composition and reach of local school districts in the state, prompted by what can be described only as an attempted money grab by the Omaha Public School district. The OPS board wanted to bring non-Omaha school districts under the OPS umbrella via an obscure state law that hasn't been enforced for nearly a century.
This, of course, horrified the about-to-be-taken-over school districts, which set themselves up to get out of the OPS bailiwick in the first place. Note that there's also a huge racial component here. The districts fighting the OPS takeover are in the predominantly white, western, financially well-off suburbs. OPS, of course, includes the poorer, more ethnically diverse sections of the city proper.
State Senator Ernie Chambers, Nebraska's own gadfly and liberal/radical-about-town, eternal [OK, nearly eternal. Ernie is being forced out in 2008 due to a term limits law the Unicameral passed, largely due to its collective irritation with Ernie, in an earlier session.--Ed] representative of the primarily black North Omaha district, proposed a bill that would instead divide OPS into 3 districts, one for North Omaha (as I said, primarily black), one for South Omaha (primarily Latino), and one for West Omaha (primarily white).
The stupid Unicameral passed the thing. LB 1024 is going to go down in Nebraska infamy.
Chambers said his goal was to return effective local control to school boards, and that he didn't care about integration or segregation . . . what he cared about was "quality education."
And if you believe that, I will sell you a bridge.
What he was really up to was saying to the overwhelmingly white rest of the legislature, "you're a bunch of racists anyway--now go and prove it." And--of course--they did. Now, the western parts of the state voted for Ernie's bill just to stick it to the "evil big city." But they're mostly white, too. Politics does make strange bedfellows.
I hope the bill gets tied up in adjudication for so long that everyone alive who voted for it dies before we finally get the official word that the thing is unconstitutional on its face.
I'd think this was majorly amusing if it weren't giving Nebraska collectively yet another black eye in the national news.
Friday, April 21, 2006
I Was An Eighth-Month Preemie . . .
. . . and I've been exhibiting Type A behavior ever since.
Not quite in the penultimate-to-my-half-century-year, I am already doing the "taking stock of my life" thing. Frankly, I do not like a lot of what I see.
Am I anywhere near where I thought and planned I'd be at this stage of my existence? Not hardly. And there's no one to blame for it--for a chronic and debilitating (and ultimately fatal) pulmonary disease of unknown cause and no known cure has brought me low. What's even worse is that I was exhibiting symptoms of this insidious disease for a good 5 (count 'em, FIVE) years before I was (finally) diagnosed correctly. But is anyone willing to take that into consideration and cut me a little slack for my admittedly somewhat aberrant behavior while I was seriously ill but didn't know it? Of course not. That would take something rare, like compassion, maturity, understanding, or even kindness.
My house is full of "durable medical equipment." I have a bi-Pap machine in my bedroom, so that I can breathe and get supplemental oxygen while I (try to) sleep--in my home-use hospital bed-- with a mask plastered over my face. I have a nebulizer (with meds) and a pulse oximeter in my bathroom so that I can open my bronchii while awake and make sure I'm getting enough oxygen then, too. I have a blood pressure cuff. I have a portable electric oxygen concentrator and 36 tanks of compressed air oxygen in my office in case my weekly liquid oxygen delivery is late. I have two 4' tall liquid oxygen tanks in my foyer (too heavy to carry upstairs), along with two portable liquid tanks so that I can leave the house. I have a portable compressed air delivery device (and another portable compressed air tank) in my car in case I am away from home and my portable liquid tank runs dry. I have an exercise bike, free weights, a treadmill, and an ab-cruncher in my family room to maintain some level of fitness in the face of not being able to breathe.
I have a motorized wheelchair that I am supposed to use when going out and about. Since my car is not big enough to carry the thing, however, I hardly ever leave home unless absolutely necessary. And I can't afford to buy a minivan so I can transport the wheelchair, either. At home, I am tethered at all times to a 50-foot length of oxygen tubing so that I can get the liquid oxygen from its big tanks into my lungs. When using the portable tanks, I have a 7-foot leash. Not to mention 15 different prescriptions I must take that my pulmonologist and general practitioner have determined are necessary to maintain my life in some state remotely resembling normal. My full-time job has become coping with this stupid disease and managing the medical and financial problems it produces.
The irony in all this is that I am a life-long non-smoker. When I am feeling relatively strong, it doesn't bother me that people stare when I am out and about with my portable oxygen tank. [We held a contest at my last outside place of employment to name it. The winning entry was Mannheim Steamroller, because "it gives me Fresh Aire." Now that's a pun that Omaha-area denizens can appreciate!--Ed.] When I am not feeling particularly strong, however (which is most of the time) but I have to be out doing things anyway, it hurts like hell to see the accusation in the starers' eyes: "You must have done this to yourself. You are too young to be in such dire straits unless you yourself caused it. Shame on you."
So I make (lame) attempts to bring up at every opportunity that I don't (and didn't) smoke, and that this disease has no known cause . . . or cure. Imagine, feeling guilty for being sick! How utterly American of me! [Yes, I, too, have fallen victim to the myth of the Right Wing: in America, you can always go as far as you want, and if you don't get there, you have no one to blame but yourself.--Ed.]
As if that were not enough, the presence of the obviously disabled in this society is still mostly not welcome. Omaha is just now planning to cut curbside access for wheelchairs in its sidewalks. How long has the Americans With Disabilities Act been in effect? Far more than 10 years. What took the city so long?
A recent article in the Omaha World-Herald described how people still discriminate against the physically disabled in the workplace. The presumption is that healthy people think (perhaps subconsciously) if someone with a physical handicap can do the same job those healthy people are doing, it somehow reflects badly on the healthy people. So the healthy people don't want the disabled around and thus do everything they can to make the disabled feel unwelcome . . . that is, if the disabled get in the door in the first place. Anyone who is disabled and who loses a job finds it nearly impossible to get another one. I can vouch for that from personal experience.
Moreover, in so-called "right to work" [read that "right to be unemployed," or "right to keep unions and other pro-labor assistance out"--Ed.] states, like Nebraska, someone with a disability can be fired even if the disability is the (real) reason and nothing can be done about holding the employer liable for violating the Americans With Disabilities Act. As long as the employer can come up with some colorable reason ("we weren't making enough money and thus had to cut staff," e.g.), the fired employee has no grounds to complain. The employment contract was considered "at will" for both employer and employee, so the employer has the rights and the employee has the right to get screwed.
I thought the legal fiction that one lone employee came to the bargaining table with equal power to the giant, multinational employer had been thoroughly discredited. But "conservatives" no longer want merely to conserve. They want to undo. We are being forced back into the 1890s, in labor law, tax law, environmental law, food and drug safety law, corporate law, and every other business-impinging kind of law you can imagine.
Many healthy people don't want the disabled around in their restaurants, either. I can (but I won't, unless you ask) tell you several personal horror stories of substandard treatment I've received since being hooked to my oxygen tank, in places I previously attended regularly with no problems while I was not obviously physically disabled. And yes, I make a point of never going back . . . and of notifying the management of why . . . when I can. The staff at one place I went even refused to give me a customer comment card. Claimed they had no such thing.
Right. Want to buy a bridge?
Yet the support group for women with my particular lung disease is full of happy, shiny people who are so grateful to the group for its help and emotional assistance. Of course, they all have spouses and others who didn't run screaming in the opposite direction, which means they had emotional support and financial stability, too. And the group raises money strictly for research. "Can't help anyone directly. It would be too complicated to decide who needed help." Or so says the group's founder. But as I keep telling her, all the medical research in the world isn't going to help me if I am not alive to see it implemented. Limiting direct help to a "rah-rah" cheerleading effort is NOT particularly helpful to my continued existence. Or maybe that's the point. Maybe my continued existence is not important.
***sigh***
I apologize. Most of the time, I keep my perspective. But when I am tired, and broke, and there are bills due that I cannot pay, I sometimes slump. Today, I am slumping. I saw a piece on ESPN the other day about a young man who became a quadriplegic due to a sports injury. His attitude and mine coincide in remarkable degree. He, too, said most of the time he was fine, as he was too busy doing what needed to be done each day to spend time moaning and complaining and bewailing his fate. But there were days . . . and what he wouldn't give for a weekend off! I second THAT emotion.
And so while I regret the "never-weres" and "might-have-beens" of my life, I do not often have time to reflect on them. There's too much to do every day, even if that comprises merely feeding the cats and getting dressed. I have a mug that says, "God put me on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind that I shall never die." In that spirit, every time I get one project done, I pick up two more to do. I am not going without a fight. You can't get rid of me that easily!
Not quite in the penultimate-to-my-half-century-year, I am already doing the "taking stock of my life" thing. Frankly, I do not like a lot of what I see.
Am I anywhere near where I thought and planned I'd be at this stage of my existence? Not hardly. And there's no one to blame for it--for a chronic and debilitating (and ultimately fatal) pulmonary disease of unknown cause and no known cure has brought me low. What's even worse is that I was exhibiting symptoms of this insidious disease for a good 5 (count 'em, FIVE) years before I was (finally) diagnosed correctly. But is anyone willing to take that into consideration and cut me a little slack for my admittedly somewhat aberrant behavior while I was seriously ill but didn't know it? Of course not. That would take something rare, like compassion, maturity, understanding, or even kindness.
My house is full of "durable medical equipment." I have a bi-Pap machine in my bedroom, so that I can breathe and get supplemental oxygen while I (try to) sleep--in my home-use hospital bed-- with a mask plastered over my face. I have a nebulizer (with meds) and a pulse oximeter in my bathroom so that I can open my bronchii while awake and make sure I'm getting enough oxygen then, too. I have a blood pressure cuff. I have a portable electric oxygen concentrator and 36 tanks of compressed air oxygen in my office in case my weekly liquid oxygen delivery is late. I have two 4' tall liquid oxygen tanks in my foyer (too heavy to carry upstairs), along with two portable liquid tanks so that I can leave the house. I have a portable compressed air delivery device (and another portable compressed air tank) in my car in case I am away from home and my portable liquid tank runs dry. I have an exercise bike, free weights, a treadmill, and an ab-cruncher in my family room to maintain some level of fitness in the face of not being able to breathe.
I have a motorized wheelchair that I am supposed to use when going out and about. Since my car is not big enough to carry the thing, however, I hardly ever leave home unless absolutely necessary. And I can't afford to buy a minivan so I can transport the wheelchair, either. At home, I am tethered at all times to a 50-foot length of oxygen tubing so that I can get the liquid oxygen from its big tanks into my lungs. When using the portable tanks, I have a 7-foot leash. Not to mention 15 different prescriptions I must take that my pulmonologist and general practitioner have determined are necessary to maintain my life in some state remotely resembling normal. My full-time job has become coping with this stupid disease and managing the medical and financial problems it produces.
The irony in all this is that I am a life-long non-smoker. When I am feeling relatively strong, it doesn't bother me that people stare when I am out and about with my portable oxygen tank. [We held a contest at my last outside place of employment to name it. The winning entry was Mannheim Steamroller, because "it gives me Fresh Aire." Now that's a pun that Omaha-area denizens can appreciate!--Ed.] When I am not feeling particularly strong, however (which is most of the time) but I have to be out doing things anyway, it hurts like hell to see the accusation in the starers' eyes: "You must have done this to yourself. You are too young to be in such dire straits unless you yourself caused it. Shame on you."
So I make (lame) attempts to bring up at every opportunity that I don't (and didn't) smoke, and that this disease has no known cause . . . or cure. Imagine, feeling guilty for being sick! How utterly American of me! [Yes, I, too, have fallen victim to the myth of the Right Wing: in America, you can always go as far as you want, and if you don't get there, you have no one to blame but yourself.--Ed.]
As if that were not enough, the presence of the obviously disabled in this society is still mostly not welcome. Omaha is just now planning to cut curbside access for wheelchairs in its sidewalks. How long has the Americans With Disabilities Act been in effect? Far more than 10 years. What took the city so long?
A recent article in the Omaha World-Herald described how people still discriminate against the physically disabled in the workplace. The presumption is that healthy people think (perhaps subconsciously) if someone with a physical handicap can do the same job those healthy people are doing, it somehow reflects badly on the healthy people. So the healthy people don't want the disabled around and thus do everything they can to make the disabled feel unwelcome . . . that is, if the disabled get in the door in the first place. Anyone who is disabled and who loses a job finds it nearly impossible to get another one. I can vouch for that from personal experience.
Moreover, in so-called "right to work" [read that "right to be unemployed," or "right to keep unions and other pro-labor assistance out"--Ed.] states, like Nebraska, someone with a disability can be fired even if the disability is the (real) reason and nothing can be done about holding the employer liable for violating the Americans With Disabilities Act. As long as the employer can come up with some colorable reason ("we weren't making enough money and thus had to cut staff," e.g.), the fired employee has no grounds to complain. The employment contract was considered "at will" for both employer and employee, so the employer has the rights and the employee has the right to get screwed.
I thought the legal fiction that one lone employee came to the bargaining table with equal power to the giant, multinational employer had been thoroughly discredited. But "conservatives" no longer want merely to conserve. They want to undo. We are being forced back into the 1890s, in labor law, tax law, environmental law, food and drug safety law, corporate law, and every other business-impinging kind of law you can imagine.
Many healthy people don't want the disabled around in their restaurants, either. I can (but I won't, unless you ask) tell you several personal horror stories of substandard treatment I've received since being hooked to my oxygen tank, in places I previously attended regularly with no problems while I was not obviously physically disabled. And yes, I make a point of never going back . . . and of notifying the management of why . . . when I can. The staff at one place I went even refused to give me a customer comment card. Claimed they had no such thing.
Right. Want to buy a bridge?
Yet the support group for women with my particular lung disease is full of happy, shiny people who are so grateful to the group for its help and emotional assistance. Of course, they all have spouses and others who didn't run screaming in the opposite direction, which means they had emotional support and financial stability, too. And the group raises money strictly for research. "Can't help anyone directly. It would be too complicated to decide who needed help." Or so says the group's founder. But as I keep telling her, all the medical research in the world isn't going to help me if I am not alive to see it implemented. Limiting direct help to a "rah-rah" cheerleading effort is NOT particularly helpful to my continued existence. Or maybe that's the point. Maybe my continued existence is not important.
***sigh***
I apologize. Most of the time, I keep my perspective. But when I am tired, and broke, and there are bills due that I cannot pay, I sometimes slump. Today, I am slumping. I saw a piece on ESPN the other day about a young man who became a quadriplegic due to a sports injury. His attitude and mine coincide in remarkable degree. He, too, said most of the time he was fine, as he was too busy doing what needed to be done each day to spend time moaning and complaining and bewailing his fate. But there were days . . . and what he wouldn't give for a weekend off! I second THAT emotion.
And so while I regret the "never-weres" and "might-have-beens" of my life, I do not often have time to reflect on them. There's too much to do every day, even if that comprises merely feeding the cats and getting dressed. I have a mug that says, "God put me on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind that I shall never die." In that spirit, every time I get one project done, I pick up two more to do. I am not going without a fight. You can't get rid of me that easily!
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Benjamin Franklin Has Whirled Himself Into Oblivion
"Those who would exchange liberty for security deserve neither liberty nor security," according to the author of Poor Richard's Almanack. Were we to dig up Ben Franklin's earthly remains, we'd find he'd disappeared--events and attitudes in the USA since 9/11 surely have spun him in his grave so fast that the friction alone has erased him.
Dubya still won't acknowledge that what he's done in the name of "domestic security" is unconstitutional. And now Attorney General Alberto Gonzales says that purely domestic warrantless wiretaps are not per se unconstitutional, either.
Dubya was answering a man, Harry Taylor, at a town hall meeting in Charlotte, North Carolina. Taylor told the president, "[w]hile I listen to you talk about freedom, I see you assert your right to tap my telephone, to arrest me and hold me without charges, to try to preclude me from breathing clean air and drinking clean water. I have never felt more ashamed of nor more frightened by my leadership in Washington."
Dubya did chide the audience members who booed Mr. Taylor, a real estate broker. However, he replied, "I'm not going to apologize for what I did on the terrorist surveillance program."
And Gonzales told the House Judiciary Committee that the NSA would have to determine whether a conversation was related to al Qaida and was "crucial to fighting terrorism" before deciding to listen without court supervision, and that this meant listening in on entirely domestic (as opposed to international) calls and reading entirely domestic email exchanges was not ruled out.
That goes far beyond the administration's initial justification for warrantliess wiretaps of international calls and emails, which was that the president had the inherent power to do so as Commander in Chief.
Note that many of us citizens, including many Republican members of Congress, disagree with that assessment, let alone with this extension of executive authority. The whole point of not allowing warrantless wiretaps is to provide independent confirmation that the intrusion is necessary. Has anyone in the adminstration heard of checks and balances? Not to mention the 1978 intelligence law that set up a secret court to monitor such things. Not to mention that that 1978 law lets organs of the executive branch listen for up to 72 hours before getting the warrant in the first place.
The last time someone said "trust me, I know what's best for you," I declined to buy a used car from him without getting my mechanic to evaluate the car first.
There is no undue burden on the executive branch that allows the president to authorize totally warrantless wiretaps. Period. Dubya is usurping the authority of both the legislative and judicial branches of our government . . . and if he is allowed to get away with it, he is destroying the foundation of our system.
Ben Franklin is gone. My skin is crawling to the degree that calamine lotion doesn't help. And the idea that is America is dying, too. All in the name of "domestic security." I mourn America's death, the demise of what made America the beacon of freedom and the hope of the world.
Dubya still won't acknowledge that what he's done in the name of "domestic security" is unconstitutional. And now Attorney General Alberto Gonzales says that purely domestic warrantless wiretaps are not per se unconstitutional, either.
Dubya was answering a man, Harry Taylor, at a town hall meeting in Charlotte, North Carolina. Taylor told the president, "[w]hile I listen to you talk about freedom, I see you assert your right to tap my telephone, to arrest me and hold me without charges, to try to preclude me from breathing clean air and drinking clean water. I have never felt more ashamed of nor more frightened by my leadership in Washington."
Dubya did chide the audience members who booed Mr. Taylor, a real estate broker. However, he replied, "I'm not going to apologize for what I did on the terrorist surveillance program."
And Gonzales told the House Judiciary Committee that the NSA would have to determine whether a conversation was related to al Qaida and was "crucial to fighting terrorism" before deciding to listen without court supervision, and that this meant listening in on entirely domestic (as opposed to international) calls and reading entirely domestic email exchanges was not ruled out.
That goes far beyond the administration's initial justification for warrantliess wiretaps of international calls and emails, which was that the president had the inherent power to do so as Commander in Chief.
Note that many of us citizens, including many Republican members of Congress, disagree with that assessment, let alone with this extension of executive authority. The whole point of not allowing warrantless wiretaps is to provide independent confirmation that the intrusion is necessary. Has anyone in the adminstration heard of checks and balances? Not to mention the 1978 intelligence law that set up a secret court to monitor such things. Not to mention that that 1978 law lets organs of the executive branch listen for up to 72 hours before getting the warrant in the first place.
The last time someone said "trust me, I know what's best for you," I declined to buy a used car from him without getting my mechanic to evaluate the car first.
There is no undue burden on the executive branch that allows the president to authorize totally warrantless wiretaps. Period. Dubya is usurping the authority of both the legislative and judicial branches of our government . . . and if he is allowed to get away with it, he is destroying the foundation of our system.
Ben Franklin is gone. My skin is crawling to the degree that calamine lotion doesn't help. And the idea that is America is dying, too. All in the name of "domestic security." I mourn America's death, the demise of what made America the beacon of freedom and the hope of the world.
Why Am I Not Surprised?
New translations of a Coptic "Gospel of Judas" were released Thursday by the National Geographic Society, which apparently paid for its restoration after it had been discovered by looters in the Egyptian deserts in the 1970s.
The 1700-year-old age of the ink and paper used was confirmed by "extensive analysis" of both them and of the writing style and the very text, according to the Los Angeles Times. This "Gospel of Judas" itself translated an earlier, Greek document written around 140 A.D. The Coptic translation was made by scribes of the Gnostics, an early Christian sect whose beliefs were not favored by the founders of the "official" church.
Why do we care? Well, for starters, this gospel claims that Judas was in reality Jesus's most trusted apostle, and that Jesus asked Judas to turn him over to the authorities to fulfill Jesus's mission on Earth.
The gospel also said that Jesus told Judas he would be reviled by everyone, but that he would ultimately be vindicated.
Early church fathers rejected this gospel for inclusion in the New Testament. They also ensured that the original Greek copies of this gospel were destroyed. [Surprise, surprise.--Ed.]
I remember the first time I read the official gospels, back in junior high school. I never could wrap my head around the notion that Judas was condemned for doing the one thing that seemed necessary to get Jesus into the Judaic and Roman legal systems, so that He could be crucified and then resurrected as foretold in older scriptures.
Assuming you believe that that's what happened, that is. My own beliefs are not entirely settled. I will say that I know that something momentous happened to the surviving apostles. Nothing else explains why they went from cowering in hiding after Jesus's death to preaching their "Good News" boldly and willingly becoming martyrs for their beliefs.
I also know that Mary Magdalene played a much greater role in Jesus's life and ministry than early church fathers wanted to admit--because even they could not suppress the fact that she was the first to learn that Jesus had risen from the dead.
I also know that Jesus was far, far from the prissy, intolerant, right-wing WASP a lot of Christian fundamentalists want you to think He was. They seem to have missed several key points of Jesus's teachings. To name just four of many: (1) that it is "easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into Heaven;" (2) that His mission was to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted; (3) that He would have been out amongst the "sinners" (gays, profligates, you-name-it) helping them, not sitting around raising money by condemning them; (4) that faith is faith, civil government is civil government, and the two should not be intertwined ("render unto Caesar . . .").
Not that any of this matters. People generally will believe what they want to believe, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Just as Lincoln would not be a Republican if he were alive today, so Jesus would not be a "Christian" (in the American, right-wing fundamentalist sense of the word) if He were alive today.
If that doesn't get somebody posting comments to this blog, I might as well give up.
The 1700-year-old age of the ink and paper used was confirmed by "extensive analysis" of both them and of the writing style and the very text, according to the Los Angeles Times. This "Gospel of Judas" itself translated an earlier, Greek document written around 140 A.D. The Coptic translation was made by scribes of the Gnostics, an early Christian sect whose beliefs were not favored by the founders of the "official" church.
Why do we care? Well, for starters, this gospel claims that Judas was in reality Jesus's most trusted apostle, and that Jesus asked Judas to turn him over to the authorities to fulfill Jesus's mission on Earth.
The gospel also said that Jesus told Judas he would be reviled by everyone, but that he would ultimately be vindicated.
Early church fathers rejected this gospel for inclusion in the New Testament. They also ensured that the original Greek copies of this gospel were destroyed. [Surprise, surprise.--Ed.]
I remember the first time I read the official gospels, back in junior high school. I never could wrap my head around the notion that Judas was condemned for doing the one thing that seemed necessary to get Jesus into the Judaic and Roman legal systems, so that He could be crucified and then resurrected as foretold in older scriptures.
Assuming you believe that that's what happened, that is. My own beliefs are not entirely settled. I will say that I know that something momentous happened to the surviving apostles. Nothing else explains why they went from cowering in hiding after Jesus's death to preaching their "Good News" boldly and willingly becoming martyrs for their beliefs.
I also know that Mary Magdalene played a much greater role in Jesus's life and ministry than early church fathers wanted to admit--because even they could not suppress the fact that she was the first to learn that Jesus had risen from the dead.
I also know that Jesus was far, far from the prissy, intolerant, right-wing WASP a lot of Christian fundamentalists want you to think He was. They seem to have missed several key points of Jesus's teachings. To name just four of many: (1) that it is "easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into Heaven;" (2) that His mission was to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted; (3) that He would have been out amongst the "sinners" (gays, profligates, you-name-it) helping them, not sitting around raising money by condemning them; (4) that faith is faith, civil government is civil government, and the two should not be intertwined ("render unto Caesar . . .").
Not that any of this matters. People generally will believe what they want to believe, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Just as Lincoln would not be a Republican if he were alive today, so Jesus would not be a "Christian" (in the American, right-wing fundamentalist sense of the word) if He were alive today.
If that doesn't get somebody posting comments to this blog, I might as well give up.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
I Said The SCHMIDT House!
World class hitter and Hall of Fame Philadelphia Phillies third baseman Mike Schmidt voiced an interesting take on whether Pete Rose should be elected to Cooperstown. On ESPN's Sports Center's Hot Seat, he said Rose's career accomplishments should be recognized by the HOF, but that no mention should be made of Rose's managerial career. I presume that this is because Rose did his illegal gambling on baseball while managing.
However, Schmidt seems to have forgotten that Rose was for a time a player-manager. While I initially thought Schmidt's argument had some merit, upon reflection I am forced to say it doesn't wash. You cannot separate Rose the player from Rose the manager. I think, as any of you who have read any of my previous baseball rantings know, that Rose should NEVER be voted into Cooperstown.
Schmidt did have the presence of mind to say that before any of this happened, Rose would have to be reinstated by baseball. He also implied that this was not likely to happen. He added that he'd have no problem having his HOF accomplishments displayed next to Rose's should Rose get voted in--as a player. I disagree with Mike Schmidt about this, but I have to admire the fact that he obviously has thought carefully about it. That is more than I can say for some of the booze-heads who cry and pitch fits at every opportunity that Rose should be voted in. (I will change my mind on this subject IF--and only if--Shoeless Joe Jackson is voted in first. Neither will happen. Cooperstown values its credibility and its role as guardian of All That's Worthy in the game too much to risk it over the likes of Pete Rose.)
Schmidt further observed that had he played during the "steroids era" (as he called it), he cannot in honesty say he would not have used steroids himself. He noted that he'd like to think he would not, but had the integrity to admit that under the pressure to perform at the major league level, if he knew others were using, he cannot say absolutely that he would not have resorted to chemical assistance. Note that all this is predicated on the understanding that using steroids was not illegal under baseball's rules at the time. I have always liked and admired Mike Schmidt; I have to confess that I cannot see him breaking the rules or the law just to get an edge. It does not seem consistent with his overall character.
Other baseball items of note . . . and of character:
The last pertinent news reports I saw about it (in February) said that Sammy Sosa had rejected a one-year contract with the Washington Nationals and perhaps was about to retire. Sammy has since fallen off the radar. I hope we have not seen the last of his electric smile and his considerable talent. The summer of 1998, when he and Mark McGwire chased and surpassed Roger Maris's season home run record, was magical. Still, both he and McGwire since have been touched by the steroids scandal . . . and while no proof is in, the rumors have flown farther and faster than any of the prodigious homers either of them hit.
I cannot help but be saddened by Sammy's absence. He was already close to getting 600 career home runs (a rare and HOF quality accomplishment), and his pure joie de vivre at playing the game was infectious. He is a good man, too. In the spirit of one of his (and my) baseball heroes, Roberto Clemente, he was first in line to help people in the Caribbean/Latin America who'd been greviously harmed by hurricanes and other natural disasters. Hey, he's from the Dominican Republic, after all. I am impressed no end that he used the fruits of his major league success to help the less fortunate whence he came.
But his absence makes me keep thinking of T.S. Eliot: "This is the way the world will end, this is the way the world will end, this is the way the world will end . . . Not with a bang, but a whimper." If this is indeed the end of Sosa's baseball career, it is a very, very sad end. Sammy, we'll miss you! [Shane! Come back, Shane!--Ed.]
Barry Bonds, on the other hand, I usually have little or no use for. He, too, has prodigious talent, but he always has struck me as not giving a damn about it and not having sufficient respect for the game. That's why his breaking McGwire's home run record and upping the seasonal ante to 73 meant little to me. Besides, I find it incredible to believe that he did not "knowingly" partake of steroids or any other illegal substances, considering his connections to Balco and other figures in that mess. [Besides, some of us are not knee-jerk opposed to what investigative journalists report, as in the new book Game of Shadows.--Ed.]
However: I cannot stand it that people in this day and age are sending him hate mail, hate emails, hate phone calls, and other such crap as he chases Babe Ruth's career home run record and tries to move into second place all-time behind only Hank Aaron. What is the matter with people who would do that? Why would anyone do that?
And that gets me right back to what Mike Schmidt said about the pressures to perform at the major league level. Who knows what any of us would do under such circumstances? I'll also give Barry Bonds credit for saying people can do or say anything they want about him--his concern is to take care of his family, financially and otherwise.
Baseball is a beautiful game. It is the American game (thank you, Susan Sarandon). It's popularity worldwide has exploded, if the general reaction to the recently played World Baseball Classic is any indication. And that leads me to the non-story of the day, to wit: Roger Clemens's remarks about some of the WBC games played in Anaheim and Arizona. He told a story about how he wanted to get some dry cleaning done, but that the lady at the dry cleaner's told him he couldn't have it done by when he wanted "because we'll all be at the game." And then Clemens talked about how packed the stadium was for the Japan-Korea game and how the Japanese and Koreans supported their teams and obviously loved the game.
Some bozo decided to complain about what Clemens said, claiming it was derogatory to Japanese and Korean people. Puh-leeze! If you listen to what Clemens said, and heard the entire thing in context, it was a glowing appreciation of everyone with ties to Japan and Korea. There was absolutely NOTHING derogatory about it. The lady at the dry cleaner's said what she said. That is a fact. And Clemens did not talk about it as though it were an insult to him. Rather, he was impressed with the level of fan support the Japan-Korea game was drawing in Anaheim. Besides, she asked Clemens for his autograph right after she said what she said about the delay in getting his cleaning done, and he signed several things for her with kindness and grace, and not a shred of a hint of an iota of acrimony.
To think that the season is in only its third day. What in the world will come next?
However, Schmidt seems to have forgotten that Rose was for a time a player-manager. While I initially thought Schmidt's argument had some merit, upon reflection I am forced to say it doesn't wash. You cannot separate Rose the player from Rose the manager. I think, as any of you who have read any of my previous baseball rantings know, that Rose should NEVER be voted into Cooperstown.
Schmidt did have the presence of mind to say that before any of this happened, Rose would have to be reinstated by baseball. He also implied that this was not likely to happen. He added that he'd have no problem having his HOF accomplishments displayed next to Rose's should Rose get voted in--as a player. I disagree with Mike Schmidt about this, but I have to admire the fact that he obviously has thought carefully about it. That is more than I can say for some of the booze-heads who cry and pitch fits at every opportunity that Rose should be voted in. (I will change my mind on this subject IF--and only if--Shoeless Joe Jackson is voted in first. Neither will happen. Cooperstown values its credibility and its role as guardian of All That's Worthy in the game too much to risk it over the likes of Pete Rose.)
Schmidt further observed that had he played during the "steroids era" (as he called it), he cannot in honesty say he would not have used steroids himself. He noted that he'd like to think he would not, but had the integrity to admit that under the pressure to perform at the major league level, if he knew others were using, he cannot say absolutely that he would not have resorted to chemical assistance. Note that all this is predicated on the understanding that using steroids was not illegal under baseball's rules at the time. I have always liked and admired Mike Schmidt; I have to confess that I cannot see him breaking the rules or the law just to get an edge. It does not seem consistent with his overall character.
Other baseball items of note . . . and of character:
The last pertinent news reports I saw about it (in February) said that Sammy Sosa had rejected a one-year contract with the Washington Nationals and perhaps was about to retire. Sammy has since fallen off the radar. I hope we have not seen the last of his electric smile and his considerable talent. The summer of 1998, when he and Mark McGwire chased and surpassed Roger Maris's season home run record, was magical. Still, both he and McGwire since have been touched by the steroids scandal . . . and while no proof is in, the rumors have flown farther and faster than any of the prodigious homers either of them hit.
I cannot help but be saddened by Sammy's absence. He was already close to getting 600 career home runs (a rare and HOF quality accomplishment), and his pure joie de vivre at playing the game was infectious. He is a good man, too. In the spirit of one of his (and my) baseball heroes, Roberto Clemente, he was first in line to help people in the Caribbean/Latin America who'd been greviously harmed by hurricanes and other natural disasters. Hey, he's from the Dominican Republic, after all. I am impressed no end that he used the fruits of his major league success to help the less fortunate whence he came.
But his absence makes me keep thinking of T.S. Eliot: "This is the way the world will end, this is the way the world will end, this is the way the world will end . . . Not with a bang, but a whimper." If this is indeed the end of Sosa's baseball career, it is a very, very sad end. Sammy, we'll miss you! [Shane! Come back, Shane!--Ed.]
Barry Bonds, on the other hand, I usually have little or no use for. He, too, has prodigious talent, but he always has struck me as not giving a damn about it and not having sufficient respect for the game. That's why his breaking McGwire's home run record and upping the seasonal ante to 73 meant little to me. Besides, I find it incredible to believe that he did not "knowingly" partake of steroids or any other illegal substances, considering his connections to Balco and other figures in that mess. [Besides, some of us are not knee-jerk opposed to what investigative journalists report, as in the new book Game of Shadows.--Ed.]
However: I cannot stand it that people in this day and age are sending him hate mail, hate emails, hate phone calls, and other such crap as he chases Babe Ruth's career home run record and tries to move into second place all-time behind only Hank Aaron. What is the matter with people who would do that? Why would anyone do that?
And that gets me right back to what Mike Schmidt said about the pressures to perform at the major league level. Who knows what any of us would do under such circumstances? I'll also give Barry Bonds credit for saying people can do or say anything they want about him--his concern is to take care of his family, financially and otherwise.
Baseball is a beautiful game. It is the American game (thank you, Susan Sarandon). It's popularity worldwide has exploded, if the general reaction to the recently played World Baseball Classic is any indication. And that leads me to the non-story of the day, to wit: Roger Clemens's remarks about some of the WBC games played in Anaheim and Arizona. He told a story about how he wanted to get some dry cleaning done, but that the lady at the dry cleaner's told him he couldn't have it done by when he wanted "because we'll all be at the game." And then Clemens talked about how packed the stadium was for the Japan-Korea game and how the Japanese and Koreans supported their teams and obviously loved the game.
Some bozo decided to complain about what Clemens said, claiming it was derogatory to Japanese and Korean people. Puh-leeze! If you listen to what Clemens said, and heard the entire thing in context, it was a glowing appreciation of everyone with ties to Japan and Korea. There was absolutely NOTHING derogatory about it. The lady at the dry cleaner's said what she said. That is a fact. And Clemens did not talk about it as though it were an insult to him. Rather, he was impressed with the level of fan support the Japan-Korea game was drawing in Anaheim. Besides, she asked Clemens for his autograph right after she said what she said about the delay in getting his cleaning done, and he signed several things for her with kindness and grace, and not a shred of a hint of an iota of acrimony.
To think that the season is in only its third day. What in the world will come next?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
The Trains May Now Run On Time
No more Delay! Huzzah! US House of Representatives member Tom Delay (R-Tex) has announced his resignation, effective "sometime in June" according to a videotaped statement he sent earlier today to the media. [We can all guess why he wouldn't face the media directly.--Ed.]
The Hammer is no more. All I can say is that it's about time. Hubris ever goes before a fall, and Delay certainly had plenty of pride to go around. What finally prompted him to do a 180° from his public face of total confidence despite ever-increasing pressure from the ethics violation accusations against him? One of his top aides pleaded guilty to criminal corruption charges at the end of last week. The aide apparently told the judge that he knew more about a lot of things than he delineated in his written guilty plea. Delay must finally have seen (and with apologies to Mel Brooks) that the jig was up.
Of course, Delay wouldn't admit to this. He claims he was facing a very, very expensive reelection campaign and stood a real chance of losing, so he wanted to get out of the way to make sure a Republican would hold his soon-to-be-ex-seat in November. Right. Want to buy a bridge? He got his district redrawn to hold a solid 55% Republican majority, and he won a bruising and heavily-contested 4-way Republican primary earlier this year. What he really wants to do is use the money in his campaign war chest to pay his legal bills.
Despite my saying that, my hope now is that a higher road will be taken in response. The only way we are going to end our own American version of the eternal tit-for-tat [as brought to you daily by events in the Middle East.--Ed.] is to avoid swinging as violently to the left as Delay pounded to the right. Besides, it will give the Democrats the mantle of moral superiority to be civilized in response to Delay's fall.
But blood is in the water, and I fear a feeding frenzy will commence.
The Hammer is no more. All I can say is that it's about time. Hubris ever goes before a fall, and Delay certainly had plenty of pride to go around. What finally prompted him to do a 180° from his public face of total confidence despite ever-increasing pressure from the ethics violation accusations against him? One of his top aides pleaded guilty to criminal corruption charges at the end of last week. The aide apparently told the judge that he knew more about a lot of things than he delineated in his written guilty plea. Delay must finally have seen (and with apologies to Mel Brooks) that the jig was up.
Of course, Delay wouldn't admit to this. He claims he was facing a very, very expensive reelection campaign and stood a real chance of losing, so he wanted to get out of the way to make sure a Republican would hold his soon-to-be-ex-seat in November. Right. Want to buy a bridge? He got his district redrawn to hold a solid 55% Republican majority, and he won a bruising and heavily-contested 4-way Republican primary earlier this year. What he really wants to do is use the money in his campaign war chest to pay his legal bills.
Despite my saying that, my hope now is that a higher road will be taken in response. The only way we are going to end our own American version of the eternal tit-for-tat [as brought to you daily by events in the Middle East.--Ed.] is to avoid swinging as violently to the left as Delay pounded to the right. Besides, it will give the Democrats the mantle of moral superiority to be civilized in response to Delay's fall.
But blood is in the water, and I fear a feeding frenzy will commence.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Une Pastiche
I hate Daylight Savings Time. The only good thing about it is going off it . . . and next year, we'll have to wait even longer. Ugh!
On the other hand, DST means that baseball can't be far behind--let's play two! (And focus on the game, not on Barry Bonds.)
* * * * * * * * * *
Is it my imagination, or have nasty thunderstorms been occuring later in the day than they used to occur? I seem to remember being told once that storms form during the hottest part of the day--which means that we used to get tornado warnings and such from around 3-7 p.m. Lately, however, they seem to be starting at 7 p.m. or later. More anecdotal evidence for global warming? Or am I just getting old and upset with sitting up all night waiting for the things to pass . . . or for a lightning strike to blow up my TV again?
* * * * * * * * * *
I should have played the women's NCAA basketball pool, not the men's. I'd have had 1/2 of the Final Four right. Still, if the men's pool hadn't filled up with so many upsets on last-split-second shots, I'd have had at least 1/2 of the men's Final Four, too, instead of having bupkis.
This is why I much prefer baseball, even though I'd doubtless lose money on that if I were to bet. I enjoy the head game, the intellectual exercise of evaluating the teams. I have no interest in the money angle. I'd rather be right than be rich. Although being rich has its advantages, like being able to afford decent health care for all Americans.
* * * * * * * * * *
I see from an op-ed column in the Friday or Saturday (forget which--read both the same day) Omaha World-Herald that at least one doctor has exactly pegged the reason consumer-driven health care plans (CDHP) will never work: health care is not like buying a car, where you can go elsewhere or skip it if the price and other conditions are not right. Once you need health care, you need it NOW. And if you've already started receiving it, you cannot just up and leave, as a rule. The vaunted Free Market won't work under those circumstances. By definition, you are not really FREE to make cost-based choices. For this reason, too, utilities should not be creatures of the free market, and run by profit-driven companies.
I am no communist (certainly not in the "how it actually exists in the real world" as opposed to "how Marx presented it in his imagination" sense), but I can see that there are times when money/cost/profit are not the best bases for decision-making. Which is why I agree with Firesign Theater: "All Hail Marx (Groucho) and Lennon (John)!"
* * * * * * * * * *
The character Bill from "The Red Green Show" is a comic heir to Harpo Marx. I realized this while watching "Duck Soup" on TCM's April Fool's Day classic comedy films line-up yesterday. There's even a vague physical resemblance between the two of them.
But don't ask me to explain why my favorite comic characters tend to be the "wise/holy fool" kind. There is something quite profound about their wisdom being revealed in their innocence. Other such characters? Stan Laurel, Bullwinkle, Patrick Starfish, Odie, Opus, Linus spring first to mind. Feel free to add to this list.
Don't get me wrong: I also love the wit and word-play of such comic geniuses as Groucho Marx and Mr. Peabody. But I have always been drawn to the comic innocents--as opposed to the comic dumb, like Jerry Lewis. I don't care what the French think. A lot of Jerry Lewis's humor is not brilliant--it is cruel.
It must be the eternal optimist in me (which I try to suppress, usually without much success). I hope that the world can be the sunny place the comic innocents see it as being. It's a question of kindness, at heart . . . which is the other thing the comic innocents have in common: kindness is at the very heart of their characters.
* * * * * * * * * *
Yet the serious world intrudes. It is ever thus. I saw in David S. Broder's recent column on the immigration question that a poll was finally taken of legal immigrants, with the somewhat startling result that 81 percent of them think that illegal immigrants do not drive down wages "because they are doing the jobs no one else wants to do." Eleven percent disagreed; the other 8 percent apparently were undecided.
The pollster explained the reuslts by noting that most of the legal immigrants did not feel the illegals were in competition with them, and thus the legals felt sympathy for the illegals. As one woman, a legal immigrant and accountant put it, "I came first class. The illegals are coming coach--they do jobs I didn't have to do, and they live outside the law."
This is all well and good, but it begs the real question. The real question is WHY Americans seem so unwilling to take the jobs the illegals are taking. Is it because the jobs are that disgusting? I think not. It is because the wages for such jobs are way too low for what the labor involved is worth. Any number of Americans would take those jobs if they would be paid what the jobs were worth.
But I still have no idea about what is the best way to answer "the immigration question." So I repeat my call to you, my readers: give me your insights, your wisdom and your reasons. Right now, I feel like a cross between Diogenes and the Hebrews, wandering around lost, seeking answers. Help me out, here, won't you?
On the other hand, DST means that baseball can't be far behind--let's play two! (And focus on the game, not on Barry Bonds.)
* * * * * * * * * *
Is it my imagination, or have nasty thunderstorms been occuring later in the day than they used to occur? I seem to remember being told once that storms form during the hottest part of the day--which means that we used to get tornado warnings and such from around 3-7 p.m. Lately, however, they seem to be starting at 7 p.m. or later. More anecdotal evidence for global warming? Or am I just getting old and upset with sitting up all night waiting for the things to pass . . . or for a lightning strike to blow up my TV again?
* * * * * * * * * *
I should have played the women's NCAA basketball pool, not the men's. I'd have had 1/2 of the Final Four right. Still, if the men's pool hadn't filled up with so many upsets on last-split-second shots, I'd have had at least 1/2 of the men's Final Four, too, instead of having bupkis.
This is why I much prefer baseball, even though I'd doubtless lose money on that if I were to bet. I enjoy the head game, the intellectual exercise of evaluating the teams. I have no interest in the money angle. I'd rather be right than be rich. Although being rich has its advantages, like being able to afford decent health care for all Americans.
* * * * * * * * * *
I see from an op-ed column in the Friday or Saturday (forget which--read both the same day) Omaha World-Herald that at least one doctor has exactly pegged the reason consumer-driven health care plans (CDHP) will never work: health care is not like buying a car, where you can go elsewhere or skip it if the price and other conditions are not right. Once you need health care, you need it NOW. And if you've already started receiving it, you cannot just up and leave, as a rule. The vaunted Free Market won't work under those circumstances. By definition, you are not really FREE to make cost-based choices. For this reason, too, utilities should not be creatures of the free market, and run by profit-driven companies.
I am no communist (certainly not in the "how it actually exists in the real world" as opposed to "how Marx presented it in his imagination" sense), but I can see that there are times when money/cost/profit are not the best bases for decision-making. Which is why I agree with Firesign Theater: "All Hail Marx (Groucho) and Lennon (John)!"
* * * * * * * * * *
The character Bill from "The Red Green Show" is a comic heir to Harpo Marx. I realized this while watching "Duck Soup" on TCM's April Fool's Day classic comedy films line-up yesterday. There's even a vague physical resemblance between the two of them.
But don't ask me to explain why my favorite comic characters tend to be the "wise/holy fool" kind. There is something quite profound about their wisdom being revealed in their innocence. Other such characters? Stan Laurel, Bullwinkle, Patrick Starfish, Odie, Opus, Linus spring first to mind. Feel free to add to this list.
Don't get me wrong: I also love the wit and word-play of such comic geniuses as Groucho Marx and Mr. Peabody. But I have always been drawn to the comic innocents--as opposed to the comic dumb, like Jerry Lewis. I don't care what the French think. A lot of Jerry Lewis's humor is not brilliant--it is cruel.
It must be the eternal optimist in me (which I try to suppress, usually without much success). I hope that the world can be the sunny place the comic innocents see it as being. It's a question of kindness, at heart . . . which is the other thing the comic innocents have in common: kindness is at the very heart of their characters.
* * * * * * * * * *
Yet the serious world intrudes. It is ever thus. I saw in David S. Broder's recent column on the immigration question that a poll was finally taken of legal immigrants, with the somewhat startling result that 81 percent of them think that illegal immigrants do not drive down wages "because they are doing the jobs no one else wants to do." Eleven percent disagreed; the other 8 percent apparently were undecided.
The pollster explained the reuslts by noting that most of the legal immigrants did not feel the illegals were in competition with them, and thus the legals felt sympathy for the illegals. As one woman, a legal immigrant and accountant put it, "I came first class. The illegals are coming coach--they do jobs I didn't have to do, and they live outside the law."
This is all well and good, but it begs the real question. The real question is WHY Americans seem so unwilling to take the jobs the illegals are taking. Is it because the jobs are that disgusting? I think not. It is because the wages for such jobs are way too low for what the labor involved is worth. Any number of Americans would take those jobs if they would be paid what the jobs were worth.
But I still have no idea about what is the best way to answer "the immigration question." So I repeat my call to you, my readers: give me your insights, your wisdom and your reasons. Right now, I feel like a cross between Diogenes and the Hebrews, wandering around lost, seeking answers. Help me out, here, won't you?
Friday, March 31, 2006
Phil Collins Was Right
OK, so it was Genesis, not Phil Collins alone. But he/they was/were right: it is no fun being an illegal alien.
I confess to being totally in knots over the latest immigration proposals before Congress. As a matter of simple human decency, it's wrong to make felons out of both people who come to America to improve their circumstances and people who help illegal immigrants once they are here. However, if illegal immigrants are given guest worker status, they'll become a permanent economic underclass which business interests can exploit to drive down wages and benefits for citizens, undercut the power of labor unions to protect their members, and generally otherwise wreak havoc on everyone who is a worker bee and not an owner bee.
"Them what has, gets--and the rest of us gets screwed."
On the other other [yes, I meant to repeat that--Ed.] hand, I can also see the country coming apart at the seams, as more and more people come here for better money than they can earn at home, but who have no interest or stake in perpetuating the idea of "America." Is it fear of being discovered as illegal that keeps these immigrant communities so insular? Or is it lack of interest in making even a token effort to learn some American English? Or is it just plain bad manners--the scourge that seems to be afflicting every society on Earth right now?
I just do not know, and I am distressed. I do not like sitting on fences--for one thing, doing so is most uncomfortable--but I dislike the terrain on either side I'd land on if I were to come down. So, my readership, assuming you are out there, help me out. Post comments. Give me some insight, a fresh way of evaluating the situation, so that I can live with the results of getting off the fence. I'm counting on your individual and collective brilliance to show me the way.
I confess to being totally in knots over the latest immigration proposals before Congress. As a matter of simple human decency, it's wrong to make felons out of both people who come to America to improve their circumstances and people who help illegal immigrants once they are here. However, if illegal immigrants are given guest worker status, they'll become a permanent economic underclass which business interests can exploit to drive down wages and benefits for citizens, undercut the power of labor unions to protect their members, and generally otherwise wreak havoc on everyone who is a worker bee and not an owner bee.
"Them what has, gets--and the rest of us gets screwed."
On the other other [yes, I meant to repeat that--Ed.] hand, I can also see the country coming apart at the seams, as more and more people come here for better money than they can earn at home, but who have no interest or stake in perpetuating the idea of "America." Is it fear of being discovered as illegal that keeps these immigrant communities so insular? Or is it lack of interest in making even a token effort to learn some American English? Or is it just plain bad manners--the scourge that seems to be afflicting every society on Earth right now?
I just do not know, and I am distressed. I do not like sitting on fences--for one thing, doing so is most uncomfortable--but I dislike the terrain on either side I'd land on if I were to come down. So, my readership, assuming you are out there, help me out. Post comments. Give me some insight, a fresh way of evaluating the situation, so that I can live with the results of getting off the fence. I'm counting on your individual and collective brilliance to show me the way.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Typical Nebraska Weather--Addendum Redux
OK, so it's March in Nebraska. We've had high temperatures in the sunny low 70s, a blizzard, and now we're in the middle of a tornado watch . . . you want 4 seasons of weather? Come to the Cornhusker State. You can get them all in the same week!
Santa's Little Helpers--NOT!
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For those of you who had trouble seeing the picture I've added to my profile, here it is in a larger version. That's Linus on your left (higher) and Lucy on your right (lower). They never knocked the tree over, and they didn't break any ornaments--because I put up only non-breakable ones--but the tree was listing quite a bit by the end of the holiday season!
Sunday, March 26, 2006
P.Vill.
Back in the day . . . WAY back in the day . . . on the order of a quarter-century ago . . . I spent two summers as an employee of the Nebraska Department of Economic Development, Division of Travel and Tourism. I was a Nebraska Vacation Guide. [This is taking on the air of "True Confessions," isn't it?--Ed.]
My job entailed spending my days with at least one other Guide at assorted Interstate 80 rest areas. We gave out maps, directions, and other information about the scenic wonders and destinations of note for visitors to/travelers through the great state of Nebraska. Oh, I can tell you stories about some of the weird questions we were asked! But that's for another day.
One of the most heavily promoted stops (due to its creator's own efforts) was Harold Warp's Pioneer Village, out near Minden. Mr. Warp, who made his millions in plastics if memory serves (and if it doesn't, please correct me), created an homage to his own upbringing in rural Nebraska. For instance, he bought an abandoned one-room schoolhouse and moved it to the Pioneer Village site, displaying it with a plaque noting it was similar to the school he attended as a child.
Pioneer Village had some neat stuff: one of the last working steam-powered carousels in the USA is the first that leaps to mind. But it also had a lot of junk. He had collections of old cars and tractors, knickknacks and other googaws, massed together by type for the visitor to peruse at his/her leisure, with no serious regard for historical significance beyond the fact that Mr. Warp liked them. All too often, the items were rusty and dusty, displayed in a generally decrepit condition that further disguised any larger historical significance they perhaps held.
Mr. Warp also made sure the Vacation Guides had plenty of promotional handouts for tourists, delivered in box after box after box labeled "P.Vill." You can imagine what a budding iconoclast made of that unfortunate abbreviation!
A story in this week's Bellevue Leader has caused me to reassess. While Mr. Warp himself died quite some time ago, Pioneer Village lives on. I doubt that its overall impression has changed; nevertheless, the keepers of Mr. Warp's vision have made a decision that I can but admire and appreciate. By way of explanation, let me tell you a love story . . .
Bill and Rita Cornell grew up together in Indiana. Bill's father thought Rita was the perfect woman for his son . . . and eventually Bill and Rita agreed. After enduring the tribulations of separation during World War II, they married in late 1947.
After traveling the world, they settled in Bellevue in 1982. All this time, Rita had collected dolls: porcelain ones, Barbies, Cabbage Patch, and others. She bought what she liked, often from a second-hand stores. She restored them and displayed them, and they gave her great pleasure.
In 1995, Rita suffered a debilitating stroke. She became frail and lost her ability to speak. Bill couldn't bear to see her in the hospital, so he learned how to care for her and brought her home. He built shelves and shelves in her room, to display her treasured dolls. He took her for walks, pushing her wheelchair up and down the Fontenelle Hills neighborhood that was their home. [This is no mean feat, as anyone who's tried to drive in Fontenelle Hills in good weather, let alone after a snowstorm, can attest.--Ed.] And though she declined steadily over the succeeding 10 years, he cared for her tenderly until her death last September.
Even as she lost touch with things that had once mattered to her, Rita never lost interest in her dolls--or in Bill. He would show her catalogs of dolls, her eyes gleaming when she saw one she especially liked. He would take her shopping and add to her collection. He loved her and cared for her the way any real man would. [Which is unfortunately increasingly rare these days, but that's beside the point.-Ed.]
No one wanted to sell the dolls after she died; nor did Bill and Rita's children want the collection to be split up. Bill is moving into assisted living facilities himself, and cannot keep the collection with him. Neither did anyone want to see the dolls just go into storage and be forgotten.
Once the good people at Pioneer Village learned about this situation, they said they'd be delighted to take the dolls. They have promised to keep the collection intact, and to display the Rita and Bill Cornell Doll Collection in its entirety. It will debut in the coming years. It will be a concrete expression of the love Bill and Rita shared, of their joy in their love for each other until death did them part.
Bravo, people of Pioneer Village! I take back and apologize for every less-than-sterling comment I made and thought I had about your facility. I hang my head in shame while at the same time thanking you for your generosity of spirit and understanding of what truly matters in this life.
My job entailed spending my days with at least one other Guide at assorted Interstate 80 rest areas. We gave out maps, directions, and other information about the scenic wonders and destinations of note for visitors to/travelers through the great state of Nebraska. Oh, I can tell you stories about some of the weird questions we were asked! But that's for another day.
One of the most heavily promoted stops (due to its creator's own efforts) was Harold Warp's Pioneer Village, out near Minden. Mr. Warp, who made his millions in plastics if memory serves (and if it doesn't, please correct me), created an homage to his own upbringing in rural Nebraska. For instance, he bought an abandoned one-room schoolhouse and moved it to the Pioneer Village site, displaying it with a plaque noting it was similar to the school he attended as a child.
Pioneer Village had some neat stuff: one of the last working steam-powered carousels in the USA is the first that leaps to mind. But it also had a lot of junk. He had collections of old cars and tractors, knickknacks and other googaws, massed together by type for the visitor to peruse at his/her leisure, with no serious regard for historical significance beyond the fact that Mr. Warp liked them. All too often, the items were rusty and dusty, displayed in a generally decrepit condition that further disguised any larger historical significance they perhaps held.
Mr. Warp also made sure the Vacation Guides had plenty of promotional handouts for tourists, delivered in box after box after box labeled "P.Vill." You can imagine what a budding iconoclast made of that unfortunate abbreviation!
A story in this week's Bellevue Leader has caused me to reassess. While Mr. Warp himself died quite some time ago, Pioneer Village lives on. I doubt that its overall impression has changed; nevertheless, the keepers of Mr. Warp's vision have made a decision that I can but admire and appreciate. By way of explanation, let me tell you a love story . . .
Bill and Rita Cornell grew up together in Indiana. Bill's father thought Rita was the perfect woman for his son . . . and eventually Bill and Rita agreed. After enduring the tribulations of separation during World War II, they married in late 1947.
After traveling the world, they settled in Bellevue in 1982. All this time, Rita had collected dolls: porcelain ones, Barbies, Cabbage Patch, and others. She bought what she liked, often from a second-hand stores. She restored them and displayed them, and they gave her great pleasure.
In 1995, Rita suffered a debilitating stroke. She became frail and lost her ability to speak. Bill couldn't bear to see her in the hospital, so he learned how to care for her and brought her home. He built shelves and shelves in her room, to display her treasured dolls. He took her for walks, pushing her wheelchair up and down the Fontenelle Hills neighborhood that was their home. [This is no mean feat, as anyone who's tried to drive in Fontenelle Hills in good weather, let alone after a snowstorm, can attest.--Ed.] And though she declined steadily over the succeeding 10 years, he cared for her tenderly until her death last September.
Even as she lost touch with things that had once mattered to her, Rita never lost interest in her dolls--or in Bill. He would show her catalogs of dolls, her eyes gleaming when she saw one she especially liked. He would take her shopping and add to her collection. He loved her and cared for her the way any real man would. [Which is unfortunately increasingly rare these days, but that's beside the point.-Ed.]
No one wanted to sell the dolls after she died; nor did Bill and Rita's children want the collection to be split up. Bill is moving into assisted living facilities himself, and cannot keep the collection with him. Neither did anyone want to see the dolls just go into storage and be forgotten.
Once the good people at Pioneer Village learned about this situation, they said they'd be delighted to take the dolls. They have promised to keep the collection intact, and to display the Rita and Bill Cornell Doll Collection in its entirety. It will debut in the coming years. It will be a concrete expression of the love Bill and Rita shared, of their joy in their love for each other until death did them part.
Bravo, people of Pioneer Village! I take back and apologize for every less-than-sterling comment I made and thought I had about your facility. I hang my head in shame while at the same time thanking you for your generosity of spirit and understanding of what truly matters in this life.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Typical Nebraska Weather--Addendum
Lord help me, but I am beginning to sound like everyone's great grandpa. In my original post today, I implied that current snowstorms are pretty wimpy compared to what Nebraska used to get, specifically back in the early to mid-1970s. But we did! It's true. I swear!
Snow was piled up 3 feet deep along streets and in parking lots well into May every year. As one of my closest friends (who shares my love of tongue-in-cheekiness) says, "We had to walk uphill 30 miles each way, every day." No such thing as a snow day for us! [The girls in those days weren't allowed to wear pants to school, either. Jeans in school, on males or females, were entirely unheard of. Nor were girls allowed to wear pants and change once they got to school. Even in the days of maxi-coats and hip-hugger boots, that was a stupid policy.--Ed.]
Seriously: we did walk to school even during the worst of the storms. Nowadays, however, a mere 2 inches of snow seems to call for Winter Storm Warnings, school and business closures, and general wailing and great gnashing of teeth.
My brain tells me this is just the pendulum swinging too far in response to what obviously was an untenable situation 30-plus years ago. My heart tells me we've become a bunch of wimps.
In any event, it provides additional, if anecdotal, evidence supporting global warming. My generation's parents' parents don't recall any winters, even during the Dust Bowl, as relatively mild as what we've experienced over the past decade and a half.
Frankly, I'd rather have the old-time big storms.
Snow was piled up 3 feet deep along streets and in parking lots well into May every year. As one of my closest friends (who shares my love of tongue-in-cheekiness) says, "We had to walk uphill 30 miles each way, every day." No such thing as a snow day for us! [The girls in those days weren't allowed to wear pants to school, either. Jeans in school, on males or females, were entirely unheard of. Nor were girls allowed to wear pants and change once they got to school. Even in the days of maxi-coats and hip-hugger boots, that was a stupid policy.--Ed.]
Seriously: we did walk to school even during the worst of the storms. Nowadays, however, a mere 2 inches of snow seems to call for Winter Storm Warnings, school and business closures, and general wailing and great gnashing of teeth.
My brain tells me this is just the pendulum swinging too far in response to what obviously was an untenable situation 30-plus years ago. My heart tells me we've become a bunch of wimps.
In any event, it provides additional, if anecdotal, evidence supporting global warming. My generation's parents' parents don't recall any winters, even during the Dust Bowl, as relatively mild as what we've experienced over the past decade and a half.
Frankly, I'd rather have the old-time big storms.
Typical Nebraska Weather
So we had two heavy (by current experience) snowstorms back-to-back in early December. Then we spent most of January reveling in the sixty-plus degree sunshine in our short sleeves. February was mercifully brief. I saw my first robins of spring on St. Patrick's Day. And now, on the first full days of spring, we are getting socked by "The Blizzard of Aught Six."
Wazzup with that?
I am not complaining. We need the moisture. And the storm seems to be much less drastic than predictions would have warranted, here in Bellevue anyway. Besides, there's something almost holy about the stillness of the air during a lull in the snow. It's a cathedral-like hush that makes me understand the human need to acknowledge a universal Greater Power.
And the small sting of the cold air on one's face is downright refreshing.
I thought of this earlier today, when I was dragging my trash out to the curb for its weekly pickup. What the heck I was doing up at 5:20 a.m. I do not know. I'm almost never awake at that time of day unless I stay up all night to get there. But something woke me today, and I am glad it did. That enveloping stillness is a wonderful [in its original sense, as in "full of wonder" or "producing wonder."--Ed.] experience.
Things are back to mundanity now. The snowplows are rattling up and down the street. The sun is shining. For all I know, the snow may be melting already. But I am still glad I got to treasure that perfect silence this morning. I'm sure, however, that I'll be taking a long nap this afternoon!
Wazzup with that?
I am not complaining. We need the moisture. And the storm seems to be much less drastic than predictions would have warranted, here in Bellevue anyway. Besides, there's something almost holy about the stillness of the air during a lull in the snow. It's a cathedral-like hush that makes me understand the human need to acknowledge a universal Greater Power.
And the small sting of the cold air on one's face is downright refreshing.
I thought of this earlier today, when I was dragging my trash out to the curb for its weekly pickup. What the heck I was doing up at 5:20 a.m. I do not know. I'm almost never awake at that time of day unless I stay up all night to get there. But something woke me today, and I am glad it did. That enveloping stillness is a wonderful [in its original sense, as in "full of wonder" or "producing wonder."--Ed.] experience.
Things are back to mundanity now. The snowplows are rattling up and down the street. The sun is shining. For all I know, the snow may be melting already. But I am still glad I got to treasure that perfect silence this morning. I'm sure, however, that I'll be taking a long nap this afternoon!
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Were They Thinking?
Not "what were they thinking"--but "were they thinking" is the question of the day. Government lawyers in the penalty trial of convicted al Quaida conspirator Zacarias Moussaoui coached some of the FAA witnesses in clear violation of the judge's orders in the case. Worse, the potential witnesses got copies of the emails sent to the others in an implicit attempt to make sure that all the witnesses' testimony agreed, also violating the judge's orders. Still worse, it came out in court yesterday as the judge, Leonie Brinkema, questioned the potential FAA witnesses., that one of the attorneys never told the witnesses that if they were willing, they could talk to the defense attorneys . . . while that same attorney had told Judge Brinkema that the witnesses all refused to speak to the defense attorneys.
The judge made the only feasible ruling she could in the case. She forbade any of those witnesses from testifying in front of the jury. She could have disclared a mistrial--thus spending even more millions of dollars on a case already 4 years old. She could have ruled out the possibility of Moussaoui getting the death penalty--not a particularly politic move in the current emotional climate . . . though my personal belief, as previously expressed in this blog, is that life in prison without parole would be far more punishing to him than would his own death, which would make him a martyr to his "glorious cause."
[I do dearly wish the families of the victims of 9/11 could recognize that. They all seem hell-bent on Moussaoui getting the death penalty, which is exactly what he wants. Moussaoui's death would not well-serve the memories of those who died on 9/11, despite what their relatives say they think.--Ed]
As a matter of fact, however, Judge Brinkema has taken the death penalty off the table, by making it nearly impossible for the prosecution to prove the FAA could have stopped the events of 9/11 if Moussaoui had not lied. If none of the FAA witnesses can testify, none can offer testimony supporting that contention, which is the keystone to the argument for imposing the death penalty in the first place.
Maybe Judge Brinkema thinks as I do about Moussaoui's punishment. Actually, I hope not. The judge shouldn't be thinking about that at all. She should be thinking about how to get this trial to its conclusion with as little additional time and money wasted as possible. And that seems to be a reasonable interpretation of what she's doing.
I can't wait to find out how the government's lawyers screw up next. If they did what they did out of ignorance, the quality of legal education in this country has certainly plummeted. If they did what they did out of a win-at-all-costs mentality, they have no business being prosceutors. If they did what they did out of conviction that Moussaoui shouldn't get the death penalty, then even Machiavelli should tip his hat to them. It's not too many people who are willing to sabotage their own public standing in the service of a greater good (which is having Moussaoui forgotten but not gone).
The judge made the only feasible ruling she could in the case. She forbade any of those witnesses from testifying in front of the jury. She could have disclared a mistrial--thus spending even more millions of dollars on a case already 4 years old. She could have ruled out the possibility of Moussaoui getting the death penalty--not a particularly politic move in the current emotional climate . . . though my personal belief, as previously expressed in this blog, is that life in prison without parole would be far more punishing to him than would his own death, which would make him a martyr to his "glorious cause."
[I do dearly wish the families of the victims of 9/11 could recognize that. They all seem hell-bent on Moussaoui getting the death penalty, which is exactly what he wants. Moussaoui's death would not well-serve the memories of those who died on 9/11, despite what their relatives say they think.--Ed]
As a matter of fact, however, Judge Brinkema has taken the death penalty off the table, by making it nearly impossible for the prosecution to prove the FAA could have stopped the events of 9/11 if Moussaoui had not lied. If none of the FAA witnesses can testify, none can offer testimony supporting that contention, which is the keystone to the argument for imposing the death penalty in the first place.
Maybe Judge Brinkema thinks as I do about Moussaoui's punishment. Actually, I hope not. The judge shouldn't be thinking about that at all. She should be thinking about how to get this trial to its conclusion with as little additional time and money wasted as possible. And that seems to be a reasonable interpretation of what she's doing.
I can't wait to find out how the government's lawyers screw up next. If they did what they did out of ignorance, the quality of legal education in this country has certainly plummeted. If they did what they did out of a win-at-all-costs mentality, they have no business being prosceutors. If they did what they did out of conviction that Moussaoui shouldn't get the death penalty, then even Machiavelli should tip his hat to them. It's not too many people who are willing to sabotage their own public standing in the service of a greater good (which is having Moussaoui forgotten but not gone).
At Least Someone Is Speaking Out
According to the New York Times, a new Islamic voice is challenging traditional Muslim teachings. Dr. Wafa Sultan is a Syrian-American psychiatrist who lives near Los Angeles. In late February, she gave an interview on al-Jazeera television further publicizing the views she expressed in an essay she earlier had published on the web site Annaqed.
The Times said that she "bitterly criticized the Muslim clerics, holy warriors and political leaders whom she believes have distorted the teachings of Muhammad and the Koran for 1400 years. She said the world's Muslims . . . have descended into a vortex of self-pity and violence."
She compared Muslims unfavorably to Jews. In response to the Holocaust, she said, the Jews "forced the world to respect them, with their knowledge, not with their terror; with their work, not with their crying and yelling. We have not seen a single Jew blow himself up in a German restaurant. We have not seen a single Jew destroy a church. We have not seen a single Jew protest by killing people. Only the Muslims defend their beliefs by burning down churches, killing people and destroying embassies. . . . The clash we are witnessing around the world is not a clash of religions or of civilizations. It is a clash between two eras. It is a clash between a mentality that belongs to the Middle Ages and another mentality that belongs to the 21st century. It is a clash between civilization and backwardness, between the civilized and the primitive, between barbarity and rationality."
Muslim clerics have dismissed her as a heretic who has blasphemed against Islam, the prophet Muhammad and the Koran. She is receiving death threats by telephone and email.
But what she said makes a lot of sense. Now if an influential, respected-in-the-Islamic-community male Muslim would just say the same things. Maybe then we could make some progress in learning to live with one another.
The Times said that she "bitterly criticized the Muslim clerics, holy warriors and political leaders whom she believes have distorted the teachings of Muhammad and the Koran for 1400 years. She said the world's Muslims . . . have descended into a vortex of self-pity and violence."
She compared Muslims unfavorably to Jews. In response to the Holocaust, she said, the Jews "forced the world to respect them, with their knowledge, not with their terror; with their work, not with their crying and yelling. We have not seen a single Jew blow himself up in a German restaurant. We have not seen a single Jew destroy a church. We have not seen a single Jew protest by killing people. Only the Muslims defend their beliefs by burning down churches, killing people and destroying embassies. . . . The clash we are witnessing around the world is not a clash of religions or of civilizations. It is a clash between two eras. It is a clash between a mentality that belongs to the Middle Ages and another mentality that belongs to the 21st century. It is a clash between civilization and backwardness, between the civilized and the primitive, between barbarity and rationality."
Muslim clerics have dismissed her as a heretic who has blasphemed against Islam, the prophet Muhammad and the Koran. She is receiving death threats by telephone and email.
But what she said makes a lot of sense. Now if an influential, respected-in-the-Islamic-community male Muslim would just say the same things. Maybe then we could make some progress in learning to live with one another.
Icky L'Uomo, Or Are You Kidding Me?
According to an article in the Chicago Tribune, "[t]hey had sex. She got pregnant. She sued for child support. Now, he's suing back, claiming that men have a constitutional right to 'avoid procreation.'"
Matthew Dubay, 25, of Saginaw, Michigan, claims he had a discussion with his then-girlfriend wherein he told her he was not ready for the emotional OR financial responsibilities of parenthood. She allegedly responded that she was infertile and using birth control "just in case" anyway. Of course, she got pregnant. She did not want to give up the child. After her little girl was born, she got a court order requiring Dubay to pay $500.00 a month in child support.
He doesn't want to pay, so he is (largely at the behest of the National Center for Men, which has wanted to make this case for over 12 years) suing back, claiming that under the equal protection clause, he has a right "not to be a father." [The National Center for Men more properly should be called the National Center for Boys, as what they really want is to play without paying.--Ed.]
Arguments favor both sides. As a practical matter, once the woman IS pregnant, if the father does have a constitutional right not to be, would that mean he could compel her to have an abortion? That certainly isn't going to sit well with a lot of people. Or does it mean that he has a right not to support that which he helped create? That, too, is BAD social policy. All it does is pass the financial burden onto the rest of us while letting the man have his cake and eat it, too.
On the other hand, when couples create test-tube embryos but then decide to go their separate ways, courts have ruled that the father can stop the mother from using the embryos to get pregnant.
A simple solution to this conundrum exists, however. It comes down to the facts of the case. If the man relied on the woman's assertion that she used birth control, he accepted the risks--both the risk that she was lying and the risk that she was telling the truth but the birth control failed. In that case, he reaps what he sows, literally. He is responsible.
On the other hand, if he takes the initiative and provides additional birth control, and his partner gets pregnant anyway, he may be able to make the company providing the faulty birth control at least partly financially responsible for the results. [Not that that would ever happen in the current pro-business-profit, anti-business-responsibility environment.--Ed.]
But there's an even easier answer! All you men out there: think with your brains and not your gonads. If you are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions, DON'T DO THE DIRTY DEED IN THE FIRST PLACE.
You don't want the burdens of being a father? Then don't have sex. The ONLY 100% effective method of birth control is abstinence. So grow up, kwityerbitchin, and accept the facts. If you insist on having sex, you have to take responsibility for the consequences. You don't get to dance without paying the piper when the tune is done.
Matthew Dubay, 25, of Saginaw, Michigan, claims he had a discussion with his then-girlfriend wherein he told her he was not ready for the emotional OR financial responsibilities of parenthood. She allegedly responded that she was infertile and using birth control "just in case" anyway. Of course, she got pregnant. She did not want to give up the child. After her little girl was born, she got a court order requiring Dubay to pay $500.00 a month in child support.
He doesn't want to pay, so he is (largely at the behest of the National Center for Men, which has wanted to make this case for over 12 years) suing back, claiming that under the equal protection clause, he has a right "not to be a father." [The National Center for Men more properly should be called the National Center for Boys, as what they really want is to play without paying.--Ed.]
Arguments favor both sides. As a practical matter, once the woman IS pregnant, if the father does have a constitutional right not to be, would that mean he could compel her to have an abortion? That certainly isn't going to sit well with a lot of people. Or does it mean that he has a right not to support that which he helped create? That, too, is BAD social policy. All it does is pass the financial burden onto the rest of us while letting the man have his cake and eat it, too.
On the other hand, when couples create test-tube embryos but then decide to go their separate ways, courts have ruled that the father can stop the mother from using the embryos to get pregnant.
A simple solution to this conundrum exists, however. It comes down to the facts of the case. If the man relied on the woman's assertion that she used birth control, he accepted the risks--both the risk that she was lying and the risk that she was telling the truth but the birth control failed. In that case, he reaps what he sows, literally. He is responsible.
On the other hand, if he takes the initiative and provides additional birth control, and his partner gets pregnant anyway, he may be able to make the company providing the faulty birth control at least partly financially responsible for the results. [Not that that would ever happen in the current pro-business-profit, anti-business-responsibility environment.--Ed.]
But there's an even easier answer! All you men out there: think with your brains and not your gonads. If you are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions, DON'T DO THE DIRTY DEED IN THE FIRST PLACE.
You don't want the burdens of being a father? Then don't have sex. The ONLY 100% effective method of birth control is abstinence. So grow up, kwityerbitchin, and accept the facts. If you insist on having sex, you have to take responsibility for the consequences. You don't get to dance without paying the piper when the tune is done.
What's Wrong With This Picture?
The Omaha World-Herald reports that the federal government is cutting back on a USDA nutrition program for low-income families. Two years ago, the program helped 536,196 households; after June 1st of this year, the number will be cut to 477,187. That doesn't seem like a lot, but more than 50,000 households nationwide means over 1,000 per state will lose vital assistance. According to federal regulations, the vast majority of those losing aid will be the elderly, because federal regulations require the assistance go first to women and children.
One measure of a society is how it cares for its members who are least able to care for themselves. By that measure, we collectively are failing miserably. This is inexcusable. It differs only in number, not in kind, from the 19th century British passive genocide against the Irish during the potato famines. Other food was there, but the British exported it and sold it, letting the Irish starve while they made money . . . and gained even more property in Ireland as its native owners died.
The official justification was that the only people who starved were the ones too lazy and shiftless to take care of themselves. Right. And I have a bridge to sell you. Even in the face of credible eyewitness reports of people eating grass in their desperation, the British government refused to assist the Irish.
The British government's stand was utterly reprehensible. And so is our government's stand today. Dubya's projected budget for 2007 is even worse: it will eliminate the program entirely, not just the help for our seniors. We spend and spend and spend for (among other questionable things) the quagmire in Iraq--and I wouldn't even be upset about that if the money were going where it was needed, to wit: to our troops and to their equipment and protection. An awful lot of the money seems to be disappearing, however, most probably into the pockets of those committing contract fraud . . . and more scarily, perhaps even into the hands of those who will use it to do us harm.
What's worse, the money for the war in Iraq isn't even in the regular budget to begin with, so the federal government's spending crisis is even worse than the "official" figures suggest.
Part of the money being cut had paid farmers for their crops, thus putting foodstuffs directly into the hands of the needy. These cutbacks therefore will also hurt an already-reeling agricultural economy. Yet the total amount of money involved is a microscopic pittance of the multitrillion dollar deficits Dubya has run up. "But we have to cut unnecessary spending," she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips.
Let's face it: the poor, even the elderly poor, are invisible to this administration. When Dubya can have his scripted, audience-pre-selected "public" appearances, during which an elderly white male (well-dressed and obviously well-off) claims that the new Medicare drug "benefit" worked well for him, Dubya does not get an accurate impression of the plight of the elderly in this country. Of course, how would he know anyway? Despite his pseudo-folksy manner, he's a child of privilege. Remember, his father--20 years ago-- didn't even know about UPC scanners in grocery stores.
It shouldn't surprise me that Dubya doesn't want to see what's really going on. He certainly doesn't want us to see what he's really doing, either. He gutted the terms of the release of presidential papers; he instructed the NSA to illegally wiretap Americans; his appointees make their departments ignore the Freedom of Information Act; and the government is classifying a geometrically-increasing percentage of its documents. All this in the name of fighting a war on terror wherein he has not even directly engaged our principal antagonist.
It's beyond shameful. It's inexcusable. Nevertheless, I do not see any hope for improvement unless the Democrats can come up with candidates who can articulate a sensible, coherent vision for the future of America and at the same time not be perceived as being soft on defense.
I'll take your bids on that bridge I'm selling now.
One measure of a society is how it cares for its members who are least able to care for themselves. By that measure, we collectively are failing miserably. This is inexcusable. It differs only in number, not in kind, from the 19th century British passive genocide against the Irish during the potato famines. Other food was there, but the British exported it and sold it, letting the Irish starve while they made money . . . and gained even more property in Ireland as its native owners died.
The official justification was that the only people who starved were the ones too lazy and shiftless to take care of themselves. Right. And I have a bridge to sell you. Even in the face of credible eyewitness reports of people eating grass in their desperation, the British government refused to assist the Irish.
The British government's stand was utterly reprehensible. And so is our government's stand today. Dubya's projected budget for 2007 is even worse: it will eliminate the program entirely, not just the help for our seniors. We spend and spend and spend for (among other questionable things) the quagmire in Iraq--and I wouldn't even be upset about that if the money were going where it was needed, to wit: to our troops and to their equipment and protection. An awful lot of the money seems to be disappearing, however, most probably into the pockets of those committing contract fraud . . . and more scarily, perhaps even into the hands of those who will use it to do us harm.
What's worse, the money for the war in Iraq isn't even in the regular budget to begin with, so the federal government's spending crisis is even worse than the "official" figures suggest.
Part of the money being cut had paid farmers for their crops, thus putting foodstuffs directly into the hands of the needy. These cutbacks therefore will also hurt an already-reeling agricultural economy. Yet the total amount of money involved is a microscopic pittance of the multitrillion dollar deficits Dubya has run up. "But we have to cut unnecessary spending," she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips.
Let's face it: the poor, even the elderly poor, are invisible to this administration. When Dubya can have his scripted, audience-pre-selected "public" appearances, during which an elderly white male (well-dressed and obviously well-off) claims that the new Medicare drug "benefit" worked well for him, Dubya does not get an accurate impression of the plight of the elderly in this country. Of course, how would he know anyway? Despite his pseudo-folksy manner, he's a child of privilege. Remember, his father--20 years ago-- didn't even know about UPC scanners in grocery stores.
It shouldn't surprise me that Dubya doesn't want to see what's really going on. He certainly doesn't want us to see what he's really doing, either. He gutted the terms of the release of presidential papers; he instructed the NSA to illegally wiretap Americans; his appointees make their departments ignore the Freedom of Information Act; and the government is classifying a geometrically-increasing percentage of its documents. All this in the name of fighting a war on terror wherein he has not even directly engaged our principal antagonist.
It's beyond shameful. It's inexcusable. Nevertheless, I do not see any hope for improvement unless the Democrats can come up with candidates who can articulate a sensible, coherent vision for the future of America and at the same time not be perceived as being soft on defense.
I'll take your bids on that bridge I'm selling now.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Flash!
Herewith some updates and clarifications on the Bare Bottom Bandit story (and, yes, the pun in the title was intended).
First: he didn't catch his pants on the broken glass; he caught it on the security bars he squeezed through after he broke the glass.
Second: he didn't pull up his pants because he either knew or feared that a motion detector alarm would go off with that much activity on his part. That's also why he crawled on the floor, to stay "below the radar" as it were.
Third: the fact that the Tobacco Hut's advertising slogan for years has been "The Best Butts In Town" had absolutely nothing to do with it. Too bad.
Fourth: he was arrested Thursday, and in an interview on Friday with one of the local TV stations admitted he was drunk out of his mind at the time. He said he'd had an entire liter bottle of rum. He says he drinks like that frequently. He's 21 years old. This moves the story from the silly to the sad. The very, very sad.
Fifth: he will return the money he took. I am sure the judge will further order him to make restitution for the property damage he caused. The total for both is in the neighborhood of $1,000.00 according to the Tobacco Hut's owners.
Finally: Just don't smoke!
First: he didn't catch his pants on the broken glass; he caught it on the security bars he squeezed through after he broke the glass.
Second: he didn't pull up his pants because he either knew or feared that a motion detector alarm would go off with that much activity on his part. That's also why he crawled on the floor, to stay "below the radar" as it were.
Third: the fact that the Tobacco Hut's advertising slogan for years has been "The Best Butts In Town" had absolutely nothing to do with it. Too bad.
Fourth: he was arrested Thursday, and in an interview on Friday with one of the local TV stations admitted he was drunk out of his mind at the time. He said he'd had an entire liter bottle of rum. He says he drinks like that frequently. He's 21 years old. This moves the story from the silly to the sad. The very, very sad.
Fifth: he will return the money he took. I am sure the judge will further order him to make restitution for the property damage he caused. The total for both is in the neighborhood of $1,000.00 according to the Tobacco Hut's owners.
Finally: Just don't smoke!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
From The Ridiculous To The Sublime To The Sad To The Silly
I see that Omaha is getting more national attention for an odd local robbery . . . or more correctly, for the odd local robber. He recently broke into a Tobacco Hut by kicking in the glass. When he crawled through the opening he'd made, his pants must have snagged on some of the shards. Security tapes show him scuttling around the store on his knees with his pants down and his rear assets visible. [I can't help but think of an old "Designing Women" episode, wherein Annie Potts's character talks about plumbers and notes that they give the newspaper headline "America's Crack Problem" a whole new meaning.--Ed.]
He has been nicknamed The Bare-Bottom Bandit. Local TV newscasters are asking anyone who recognizes either end of the bandit to notify Omaha police.
The local NBC affiliate won't air the security tapes, saying they are not fit for broadcast TV. The local ABC affiliate, on the other hand, aired them with strategic pixel distortion. The local CBS affiliate showed the tapes with a fuzzy spot in the critical area. I was too afraid to see what the local Fox affiliate showed.
* * * * * * * * * *
I am still reeling at the news of the deaths of baseball Hall-of-Fame outfielder Kirby Puckett from a stroke and Dana Reeve, widow of Christopher Reeve, from lung cancer. Puckett was a geniuinely talented fireplug of a player and a truly nice guy. Dana Reeve had marvelous courage in the face of the crap life threw at her: her husband, paralyzed in a horse-riding accident, used his fame not just to fund spinal cord research but to speak out about the inequities of the US health care system (and she was 100% by his side as he did so); a life-long non-smoker, she contracted lung cancer and knew she was going to die; she knew she would leave behind a teen-aged son . . . and yet her spirit and optimism never wavered. She was an inspiration. Somehow I think her son will be just fine.
Billy Joel was right. Only the good die young.
* * * * * * * * * *
The jury must NOT give Zacarias Moussaoui the death penalty for his being an adimtted Al Quaida member and alleged co-conspirator in the 9/11 attacks. (He claims he was training to fly a plane into the White House on a different day. Like that should give him brownie points.)
All his antics during his trial have been calculated to tick off the jury and get him the death penalty so that he can become a "glorious" martyr for his "cause." He has repeatedly ignored instructions from the judge, repeatedly condemned his own attorneys, and pumped his fist in apparant satisfaction when the horrors of 9/11 were recounted to the jury.
The LAST thing we need to do is make him a martyr for radical Islam. Let's give him life in prison without parole and see how he likes it as his name and deeds and intended deeds fade from the collective American consciousness. Being forgotten but not gone would serve him right.
* * * * * * * * * *
The weekly Bellevue Leader includes a column during the school year called "KIDspeak." Local elementary school students are asked a question, and nine of the best/most typical/most interesting responses are published with the students' names and pictures.
Sometimes the questions and answers are cute. For Valentine's Day, for instance, many of the kids said their mom was their favorite valentine. But this week, the question was "What makes a perfect husband or wife?"
After reading the responses, all I could think of was "it starts early, doesn't it?" The boys all thought that part of being a perfect wife was doing the cleaning and other chores and catering to the needs of the husband. One of them even said that included financially, as she was supposed to have a good job in addition to feeding him and keeping the house and laundry clean.
The girls, on the other hand, thought the perfect husband would gladly help with the chores and raising the children and generally be kind and caring. One went so far as to say that the perfect husband would also be rich and take her shopping. (No, her name was not Anna Nicole.)
I think they ALL need a reality check.
He has been nicknamed The Bare-Bottom Bandit. Local TV newscasters are asking anyone who recognizes either end of the bandit to notify Omaha police.
The local NBC affiliate won't air the security tapes, saying they are not fit for broadcast TV. The local ABC affiliate, on the other hand, aired them with strategic pixel distortion. The local CBS affiliate showed the tapes with a fuzzy spot in the critical area. I was too afraid to see what the local Fox affiliate showed.
* * * * * * * * * *
I am still reeling at the news of the deaths of baseball Hall-of-Fame outfielder Kirby Puckett from a stroke and Dana Reeve, widow of Christopher Reeve, from lung cancer. Puckett was a geniuinely talented fireplug of a player and a truly nice guy. Dana Reeve had marvelous courage in the face of the crap life threw at her: her husband, paralyzed in a horse-riding accident, used his fame not just to fund spinal cord research but to speak out about the inequities of the US health care system (and she was 100% by his side as he did so); a life-long non-smoker, she contracted lung cancer and knew she was going to die; she knew she would leave behind a teen-aged son . . . and yet her spirit and optimism never wavered. She was an inspiration. Somehow I think her son will be just fine.
Billy Joel was right. Only the good die young.
* * * * * * * * * *
The jury must NOT give Zacarias Moussaoui the death penalty for his being an adimtted Al Quaida member and alleged co-conspirator in the 9/11 attacks. (He claims he was training to fly a plane into the White House on a different day. Like that should give him brownie points.)
All his antics during his trial have been calculated to tick off the jury and get him the death penalty so that he can become a "glorious" martyr for his "cause." He has repeatedly ignored instructions from the judge, repeatedly condemned his own attorneys, and pumped his fist in apparant satisfaction when the horrors of 9/11 were recounted to the jury.
The LAST thing we need to do is make him a martyr for radical Islam. Let's give him life in prison without parole and see how he likes it as his name and deeds and intended deeds fade from the collective American consciousness. Being forgotten but not gone would serve him right.
* * * * * * * * * *
The weekly Bellevue Leader includes a column during the school year called "KIDspeak." Local elementary school students are asked a question, and nine of the best/most typical/most interesting responses are published with the students' names and pictures.
Sometimes the questions and answers are cute. For Valentine's Day, for instance, many of the kids said their mom was their favorite valentine. But this week, the question was "What makes a perfect husband or wife?"
After reading the responses, all I could think of was "it starts early, doesn't it?" The boys all thought that part of being a perfect wife was doing the cleaning and other chores and catering to the needs of the husband. One of them even said that included financially, as she was supposed to have a good job in addition to feeding him and keeping the house and laundry clean.
The girls, on the other hand, thought the perfect husband would gladly help with the chores and raising the children and generally be kind and caring. One went so far as to say that the perfect husband would also be rich and take her shopping. (No, her name was not Anna Nicole.)
I think they ALL need a reality check.
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