Al Gore has never impressed me greatly. He always struck me as a man born to be Vice President, and to be the butt of my all-time favorite knock-knock joke:
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Vice President [Name of current Vice President]."
"Vice President [Name of current Vice President] who?"
"They warned me about this job."
On the other hand, I didn't exactly need to hold my nose to vote for him over Chicken George.
But I never felt the urge to say to him, "Yes, you've got it, you said exactly the right thing today, when it needed to be said!" before Wednesday.
But then he gave a speech at a MoveOn rally in Washington about the current schemes afoot to undermine Cogressional procedures, in order to force a vote on Bush's seven worst judicial nominees. He reminded us that he was himself the victim of an outrageously partisan Supreme Court decision, and had been forced to ask his supporters to swallow it and move on.
Gore then added that "if the confirmation of those justices in the majority had been forced through by running roughshod over 200 years of Senate precedents and engineered by a crass partisan decision on a narrow party line vote to break the Senate's rules of procedure—then no speech imaginable could have calmed the passions aroused in our country.
"As Aristotle once said of virtue, respect for the rule of law is 'one thing.'
"It is indivisible.
"And so long as it remains indivisible, so will our country.
"But if either major political party is ever so beguiled by a lust for power that it abandons this unifying principle, then the fabric of our democracy will be torn."
Testify, brother Albert.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Friday, April 29, 2005
Lord God!
As I sit up here in the lookout and watch gray clouds threaten Corvallis with, oh, maybe a fine mist, I think of the man who, whenever he said "God damn it" or "Oh, God" would always add "Amen", thus turning his outburst from a blasphemy to a prayer of exasperation.
I'll admit to feeling a bit exasperated yesterday, when I made my whiny post.
In response, Peni R. Griffin wrote:
"This should perk you up.
http://www.birds.cornell.edu/ivory/story1.htm
"I thought the bird was gone and all the post-war sightings essentially fairies, like Bigfoot and Chupacabras. It's good to be wrong.
"Of course, it could still be functionally extinct. Or the Present Administration could still destroy it. Expect to get begging letters from environmental groups with Ivorybill Woodpecker logos.
"But for now, just sit and think of that searcher sitting on a log crying for joy: 'I saw an ivory bill!'"
Indeed yes. The ivory-billed woodpecker, noted for being both so large and so abrupt in its takeoffs that it became known as the Lord-god bird (as in, *rustle of wings, flash of black, flash of red, flash of shining razor-sharp ivory, involuntary cry of "Lord God!"*), has been seen among us. That can't be a bad thing.
Lord God no, it can't be a bad thing.
Lord God, no. Amen.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "You know how to learn the answer to this question."\\
I'll admit to feeling a bit exasperated yesterday, when I made my whiny post.
In response, Peni R. Griffin wrote:
"This should perk you up.
http://www.birds.cornell.edu/ivory/story1.htm
"I thought the bird was gone and all the post-war sightings essentially fairies, like Bigfoot and Chupacabras. It's good to be wrong.
"Of course, it could still be functionally extinct. Or the Present Administration could still destroy it. Expect to get begging letters from environmental groups with Ivorybill Woodpecker logos.
"But for now, just sit and think of that searcher sitting on a log crying for joy: 'I saw an ivory bill!'"
Indeed yes. The ivory-billed woodpecker, noted for being both so large and so abrupt in its takeoffs that it became known as the Lord-god bird (as in, *rustle of wings, flash of black, flash of red, flash of shining razor-sharp ivory, involuntary cry of "Lord God!"*), has been seen among us. That can't be a bad thing.
Lord God no, it can't be a bad thing.
Lord God, no. Amen.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "You know how to learn the answer to this question."\\
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Poor Old Arctic Wildlife
MoveOn asked me to call my Senator and urge opposition to Bush's plan to convert the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge into a toxic oil-company subsidy teat. But Smith's voice mail box was full.
Act For Change had a different number to call, but it was forwarded to the same overflowing box.
Oh, well. I tried.
Can you tell I'm feeling a little tired?
But that's the problem, of course, the basic asymmetry, with trying to protect vulnerable ecosystems, or vulnerable populations: we have to win again and again, in perpetuity, while the eat-and-run crowd only have to win once for the game to be over.
Forever.
Sigh.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Don't you have anything more important to ask about?"\\
Act For Change had a different number to call, but it was forwarded to the same overflowing box.
Oh, well. I tried.
Can you tell I'm feeling a little tired?
But that's the problem, of course, the basic asymmetry, with trying to protect vulnerable ecosystems, or vulnerable populations: we have to win again and again, in perpetuity, while the eat-and-run crowd only have to win once for the game to be over.
Forever.
Sigh.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Don't you have anything more important to ask about?"\\
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Cork's Donuts Are Swell
From up here in the lookout, I can see down Jefferson Avenue to Cork's Old-Fashioned Donuts at the corner of 4th and Jefferson.
The other day, I walked into Cork's Old-Fashioned Donuts, and Michelle welcomed me with a glad cry, even though she doesn't like getting her shoulders massaged (the usual reason people are glad to see me coming).
No, she was pleased to see me because in a previous posting to this blog, I had praised her doughnut shop.
Well, heck, I've always been fond of the cute little building at the corner of 4th and Jefferson that used to be the Dairy Queen, and later housed a series of small businesses, most recently a coffee shop (the parking spaces nearby are still marked "Cup-a-Cabana" -- maybe Cork's should lay claim to the name, and use it in promotions?). And I've always been fond of Homer Price stories, pages from which adorn the walls of Cork's. And there's definitely something to be said for any doughnut shop that carries marbled old fashioneds. Mmmmmmm.
So, Michelle gave me a free coffee and doughnut.
Does that make me a professional journalist now?
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Knowing the answer to this question will not change anything."\\
The other day, I walked into Cork's Old-Fashioned Donuts, and Michelle welcomed me with a glad cry, even though she doesn't like getting her shoulders massaged (the usual reason people are glad to see me coming).
No, she was pleased to see me because in a previous posting to this blog, I had praised her doughnut shop.
Well, heck, I've always been fond of the cute little building at the corner of 4th and Jefferson that used to be the Dairy Queen, and later housed a series of small businesses, most recently a coffee shop (the parking spaces nearby are still marked "Cup-a-Cabana" -- maybe Cork's should lay claim to the name, and use it in promotions?). And I've always been fond of Homer Price stories, pages from which adorn the walls of Cork's. And there's definitely something to be said for any doughnut shop that carries marbled old fashioneds. Mmmmmmm.
So, Michelle gave me a free coffee and doughnut.
Does that make me a professional journalist now?
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Knowing the answer to this question will not change anything."\\
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Different Sort of Day
Up at 7, get ready to go to the Grace Center for Adult Day Services, to look after the Center's "participants" while the regular staff have their staff meeting.
8 to 11 at the Grace Center, then up to the clinic for my first meeting with a physical therapist. He checked me out, decided what he thought I needed (mostly heat and electrical stimulation).
Have you ever had electrical neuromuscular stimulation? It's the damnedest thing. Feels like warm club soda is fizzing on your skin.
Back home, hang out with Kathe. Another board member of WIllamette Valley Community School comes over and we talk about school stuff.
Kathe and I go out to Robnett's Hardware to buy flashing for the rebuilt porch roof, don't find the flashing we want there, go on to Middleton Plumbing and Heating, where they cut it for us. I nick into Beekman Place, the antique shop around the corner, and admire the various items for sale there.
On the way home, we pass the former train station, now a beautifully restored collection of offices and apartments. The former Poultry Science building, later used as a grain storage structure, has been moved to the vacant lot next to the old station, and has stood ignored for years, but now they're busily preparing a basement / foundation for it, so things are looking up for the old building.
They probably aren't going to be cool enough, though, to name the refurbished structure The Corncrib.
Up the ladder I go, in the bright sunshine, to the lookout, to write a quick entry. It really does look nice from up here.
I log on and I read Arthur D. Hlavaty's blog, Supergee, where I read a painfully funny essay on a day in the life of Joe Republican, as seen at speakout.com. Thanks to Classics Cat.
A couple of hours, and then I have a massage to do. A house call -- I like making house call,s because then I get to see other people's books and things. After that, I see a home-health client and then I'm done for the day (no night shift tonight).
//The Magic 8-Ball says "Make a small donation to charity and you will find you have the answer."\\
8 to 11 at the Grace Center, then up to the clinic for my first meeting with a physical therapist. He checked me out, decided what he thought I needed (mostly heat and electrical stimulation).
Have you ever had electrical neuromuscular stimulation? It's the damnedest thing. Feels like warm club soda is fizzing on your skin.
Back home, hang out with Kathe. Another board member of WIllamette Valley Community School comes over and we talk about school stuff.
Kathe and I go out to Robnett's Hardware to buy flashing for the rebuilt porch roof, don't find the flashing we want there, go on to Middleton Plumbing and Heating, where they cut it for us. I nick into Beekman Place, the antique shop around the corner, and admire the various items for sale there.
On the way home, we pass the former train station, now a beautifully restored collection of offices and apartments. The former Poultry Science building, later used as a grain storage structure, has been moved to the vacant lot next to the old station, and has stood ignored for years, but now they're busily preparing a basement / foundation for it, so things are looking up for the old building.
They probably aren't going to be cool enough, though, to name the refurbished structure The Corncrib.
Up the ladder I go, in the bright sunshine, to the lookout, to write a quick entry. It really does look nice from up here.
I log on and I read Arthur D. Hlavaty's blog, Supergee, where I read a painfully funny essay on a day in the life of Joe Republican, as seen at speakout.com. Thanks to Classics Cat.
A couple of hours, and then I have a massage to do. A house call -- I like making house call,s because then I get to see other people's books and things. After that, I see a home-health client and then I'm done for the day (no night shift tonight).
//The Magic 8-Ball says "Make a small donation to charity and you will find you have the answer."\\
Monday, April 25, 2005
Out Came the Sun
At least the Sun has been shining on our house since that horridly inconvenient rainfall.
The rain damage isn't so bad. The only permanent damage was watermarks on some tacky beaverboards on the ceiling that we were already planning to tear down one of these days, and the same on a library book (only ten dollars, even we can afford it).
My back is starting to feel better. If I can manage to avoid reinjuring it, I should be all right. I see the physical therapist tomorrow.
I look down from the lookout and see the light shining on all the lovely dry ready-to-mow grass, and the fresh tarpaper now laid down over the new plywood on the porch roof, soon to be followed by fine new asphalt shingles.
So, not so bad.
The rain damage isn't so bad. The only permanent damage was watermarks on some tacky beaverboards on the ceiling that we were already planning to tear down one of these days, and the same on a library book (only ten dollars, even we can afford it).
My back is starting to feel better. If I can manage to avoid reinjuring it, I should be all right. I see the physical therapist tomorrow.
I look down from the lookout and see the light shining on all the lovely dry ready-to-mow grass, and the fresh tarpaper now laid down over the new plywood on the porch roof, soon to be followed by fine new asphalt shingles.
So, not so bad.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Taking the Name
[Recycled from August 3rd, 2004]
Why should a woman drop her last name and use her husband's when she marries? To my surprise, this 19th Century issue is still current in the 21st.
The usual story is that this practice ensures that the entire family will share a name and be more of a "real" family. But it doesn't. Only Dad, Mom and children fathered by Dad are ensured of having a name in common. Half of the grandparents and great-grandparents, half of the uncles and more than half of the aunts, cousins, stepchildren, children of ex-spouses and other important family members wind up on the wrong side of the family's (husband's) name. Children who are invited to take their new father's name (or who have it done for them) have to deal with many of the same issues as women facing a name change.
What this practice really does is emphasize the already-exaggerated importance of the nuclear family at the expense of all other relationships. That expense may be borne by the children.
Not that I have any suggestions for alternatives, goodness knows. My own wife adopted my last name, after some 30 years of using her previous husband's name, and so did our four (adopted) children. But I definitely have my doubts about the utility and necessity of the one-name-fits-all family.
Why should a woman drop her last name and use her husband's when she marries? To my surprise, this 19th Century issue is still current in the 21st.
The usual story is that this practice ensures that the entire family will share a name and be more of a "real" family. But it doesn't. Only Dad, Mom and children fathered by Dad are ensured of having a name in common. Half of the grandparents and great-grandparents, half of the uncles and more than half of the aunts, cousins, stepchildren, children of ex-spouses and other important family members wind up on the wrong side of the family's (husband's) name. Children who are invited to take their new father's name (or who have it done for them) have to deal with many of the same issues as women facing a name change.
What this practice really does is emphasize the already-exaggerated importance of the nuclear family at the expense of all other relationships. That expense may be borne by the children.
Not that I have any suggestions for alternatives, goodness knows. My own wife adopted my last name, after some 30 years of using her previous husband's name, and so did our four (adopted) children. But I definitely have my doubts about the utility and necessity of the one-name-fits-all family.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Oh, Great
The rain came down, hard, while the porch roof was still torn up. The machine for keeping your books dry was not fully functional. I was away from home working a night shift, sitting up with an old man, when the rain hit. Kathe had to get up by herself, infected throat and all, to deploy newspaper and buckets, move non-waterproof items, drape plastic sheets, all in the middle of the night.
I came home suffering from the ongoing pains of my injured back and the novel discomforts of a cold in the making (I hope not the one that's made Kathe so miserable) and was not much use. We hobbled through the day, the two of us. Not the best day of the year, is what I'm saying. But that's life.
//The Magic 8-Ball says "You'll be better off not knowing the answer to this question."\\
I came home suffering from the ongoing pains of my injured back and the novel discomforts of a cold in the making (I hope not the one that's made Kathe so miserable) and was not much use. We hobbled through the day, the two of us. Not the best day of the year, is what I'm saying. But that's life.
//The Magic 8-Ball says "You'll be better off not knowing the answer to this question."\\
Friday, April 22, 2005
No, YOU Shut Up!
Recently, I read the blog of a person I happen to know lives in Corvallis. She said some distressing things, and I posted a comment inviting her to call me, or maybe it was come over and have a cup of tea.
The next day, she did call me, and I offered her my support, such as it might be good for. I felt pretty good about the whole thing.
A few days later, I received a letter from a person warning me to stay away from that crazy woman, she's bad, she's a liar, she's an exploiter, rant rant rant . . . .
This friendly message bore, of course, the hallmark of the true civic-minded humanitarian. That's right, it was unsigned.
The thing, I suppose, that puzzles me most is, why didn't Lionheart just e-mail me, or post a comment here? Why did s/he scrawl those nasty words on an actual dead tree and get saliva on a stamp, instead of just staying online with all the other faceless smear-artists?
Force of habit, maybe, in a veteran of many years' scratching with a poison pen.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Accept that you will never know the answer to this question."\\
The next day, she did call me, and I offered her my support, such as it might be good for. I felt pretty good about the whole thing.
A few days later, I received a letter from a person warning me to stay away from that crazy woman, she's bad, she's a liar, she's an exploiter, rant rant rant . . . .
This friendly message bore, of course, the hallmark of the true civic-minded humanitarian. That's right, it was unsigned.
The thing, I suppose, that puzzles me most is, why didn't Lionheart just e-mail me, or post a comment here? Why did s/he scrawl those nasty words on an actual dead tree and get saliva on a stamp, instead of just staying online with all the other faceless smear-artists?
Force of habit, maybe, in a veteran of many years' scratching with a poison pen.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Accept that you will never know the answer to this question."\\
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Jesse Huh?
The Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson would like to be the right-wing answer to Jesse Jackson, and maybe he would be . . . except nobody cares.
It's not his fault. No more than it's Bruce Tinsley's fault that his comic strip "Mallard Fillmore", which tries so hard to be the right-wing "Doonesbury", can barely manage on a good day to be the right-wing "Garfield".
//The Magic 8-Ball says "I am not the one you should be asking."\\
It's not his fault. No more than it's Bruce Tinsley's fault that his comic strip "Mallard Fillmore", which tries so hard to be the right-wing "Doonesbury", can barely manage on a good day to be the right-wing "Garfield".
//The Magic 8-Ball says "I am not the one you should be asking."\\
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Message From Kathe
I have been reading again about the "shortage" of "qualified" female voices in, oh, let's see, anywhere? And it occurred to me to wonder if guys who say The Ladies aren't up to it even know when they are reading blogging by a woman. I mean, it is easy enough to find out, but mightn't they simply assume that if it's not about things that interest women (let's see, that would be, babies. laundry, remodeling the house, cats, etc) then it must be by a man? I have to admit that I make some possibly sexist assumptions when I'm cruising the blogs and other opinion sites. I assume that if it's about laundry it's by a woman. But more to the point, I assume that if it's about laundry I'm not gonna be interested. I don't record or remember such sites though, so I may happen across them again,when the subject has changed, and never know it. But what I mean to be saying is that the same thing may be happening to men. Obviously, this doesn't apply to newpaper columns. Probably. (Have women stopped using their initials in order to avoid having their opinions dismissed without consideration?) By the way . . . . It is amazing (at least to me) how many blogs do seem to be about doing the wash. Some people need to get out more. And what's with the cutesy little icons and "what my mood is today"?? Like I care. For godssake. Boy am I getting cranky or what in my old age. Maybe I was always this cranky though. I can't remember ever being so interested in laundry that I'd take up precious communication time with it. Love, Kathe
Oh wait, I forgot!! I found Suzette Haden Elgin's blog; she's at livejournal and the name is "ozarque." I totally love it. I'm engaged in reading all of her archives. As you will know, if you've ever heard of her, she is a linguist who writes sf (sometimes; she also wrote the Gentle Art of Verbal Self Defense). Online, she writes about getting published, about linguistic analysis, and about society from the linguistic point of view. Oh, and about non-verbal communication. Bye-bye, this time for sure.
Oh wait, I forgot!! I found Suzette Haden Elgin's blog; she's at livejournal and the name is "ozarque." I totally love it. I'm engaged in reading all of her archives. As you will know, if you've ever heard of her, she is a linguist who writes sf (sometimes; she also wrote the Gentle Art of Verbal Self Defense). Online, she writes about getting published, about linguistic analysis, and about society from the linguistic point of view. Oh, and about non-verbal communication. Bye-bye, this time for sure.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Unitarian Jihad
If you haven't signed up with the Unitarian Jihad and gotten your Jihadi name yet, there's still time.
There's still time right now, that is. Don't wait too long, if you know what's good for you.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Take care of something you've been meaning to get around to, and the answer will come to you."\\
There's still time right now, that is. Don't wait too long, if you know what's good for you.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Logging Chain of Patience.
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "Take care of something you've been meaning to get around to, and the answer will come to you."\\
Monday, April 18, 2005
The Kennedy (Character) Assassination
According to the article linked above, some conservatives believe Tom DeLay may be "barking up the wrong tree" in seeking the mass impeachment of judges (and Supreme Court justices) he doesn't approve of.
I'd say "barking" is the right word for Tom DeLay.
The shambling moss-encrusted mockery of a porch roof is finally coming off, falling in a shower of broken shingles onto the lawn. The house is going to look substantially spiffier when it's re-shingled. From up here in the lookout, I can see the crew of roofers scurrying about like little ants . . . .
Oh, wait, those are little ants, exposed by the shingles being torn up. That's right: the lookout is imaginary, and the porch roof is being torn up by just the one guy. I'm not participating very much in the project because *sniffle* my poor, poor back hurts so much.
//The Magic 8-Ball says "Go have a treat and the answer will present itself by the time you are finished."\\
I'd say "barking" is the right word for Tom DeLay.
The shambling moss-encrusted mockery of a porch roof is finally coming off, falling in a shower of broken shingles onto the lawn. The house is going to look substantially spiffier when it's re-shingled. From up here in the lookout, I can see the crew of roofers scurrying about like little ants . . . .
Oh, wait, those are little ants, exposed by the shingles being torn up. That's right: the lookout is imaginary, and the porch roof is being torn up by just the one guy. I'm not participating very much in the project because *sniffle* my poor, poor back hurts so much.
//The Magic 8-Ball says "Go have a treat and the answer will present itself by the time you are finished."\\
Sunday, April 17, 2005
David Reinhard Speaks
It was quite interesting, really, to read Reinhard's column in the Oregonian, wrestling with his conscience over same-sex marriage.
I would have liked it better, of course, if his conscience had won, but considering its size, I'm sure the little blighter put up a good fight.
I would have liked it better, of course, if his conscience had won, but considering its size, I'm sure the little blighter put up a good fight.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Moonbat
Lately I've been seeing a new word online, "moonbat". I've seen various attempts made to define it, but none of them seemed properly succint and complete, and worst of all none seemed to provide any sort of etymology.
I shall now attempt to both define and derive this word since it seems to be so popular and important.
"Bat", of course, refers to members of the order chiroptera (with some contending that the "megachiroptera" of South America should be classified as primates), strange and wonderful animals which are beneficial to humanity. Intelligent, well-educated liberals recognize bats as an asset, and seek to encourage them through environmental protection, including the building of bathouses on the outsides of their homes. The ignorant and superstitious hate and fear bats, and can think of no worse insult than to compare people they also hate and fear (out of ignorance) to bats.
"Moon" refers to Earth's primary natural sattelite, which humans visited for a brief period thanks to a massive liberal spending program. The scientific and technological benefits of the Apollo Project were immense, and would have been far greater if the program had not been killed by a right-wing administration that wanted to spend that money on a futile foreign war. Thus, the Moon is, like bats, symbolic of liberalism and all the benefits it brings to a culture, and naturally will be an object of hatred and fear to the Right.
Combine the two and you get "Moonbat"; environmental good sense, scientific curiosity, prosperity for all and the triumph of knowledge over traditional superstition. In short, all the things that enemies of civilization like Osama bin Laden and Pat Robertson hate most.
I shall now attempt to both define and derive this word since it seems to be so popular and important.
"Bat", of course, refers to members of the order chiroptera (with some contending that the "megachiroptera" of South America should be classified as primates), strange and wonderful animals which are beneficial to humanity. Intelligent, well-educated liberals recognize bats as an asset, and seek to encourage them through environmental protection, including the building of bathouses on the outsides of their homes. The ignorant and superstitious hate and fear bats, and can think of no worse insult than to compare people they also hate and fear (out of ignorance) to bats.
"Moon" refers to Earth's primary natural sattelite, which humans visited for a brief period thanks to a massive liberal spending program. The scientific and technological benefits of the Apollo Project were immense, and would have been far greater if the program had not been killed by a right-wing administration that wanted to spend that money on a futile foreign war. Thus, the Moon is, like bats, symbolic of liberalism and all the benefits it brings to a culture, and naturally will be an object of hatred and fear to the Right.
Combine the two and you get "Moonbat"; environmental good sense, scientific curiosity, prosperity for all and the triumph of knowledge over traditional superstition. In short, all the things that enemies of civilization like Osama bin Laden and Pat Robertson hate most.
Friday, April 15, 2005
The Individual-i Icon
A new icon has been created, the "individual-i", intended to represent
"Freedom from surveillance
Personal privacy
Anonymity
Equal protection
Due process
Freedom to read, write, think, speak, associate, and travel
The right to make your own choices about sex, reproduction, marriage, and death
The right to dissent"
Personally, I prefer this icon, which also means all of those things.
[Note: If the link above to my favorite icon doesn't work, I'm referring to the icon of individual rights which has stars and stripes.]
"Freedom from surveillance
Personal privacy
Anonymity
Equal protection
Due process
Freedom to read, write, think, speak, associate, and travel
The right to make your own choices about sex, reproduction, marriage, and death
The right to dissent"
Personally, I prefer this icon, which also means all of those things.
[Note: If the link above to my favorite icon doesn't work, I'm referring to the icon of individual rights which has stars and stripes.]
Thursday, April 14, 2005
I Admit It, I Was Wrong
Last July, I posted the following item:
"Studies have shown that children are happier, healthier, get better grades, are less likely to get in trouble with the police, have fewer cavities, &c., if they have a mother and a father.
"This piece of news has been widely reported.
"Very widely.
"Less often mentioned is the fact that children also do better if both of their parents are white.
"Apparently, nobody feels a pressing need to make that fact the basis for public policy."
I confess it, I was wrong. Those widely-cited studies don't, well, exist. I apologize for my error.
Everyone else who has cited that phantomnation of studies may also feel free to retract and apologize.
"Studies have shown that children are happier, healthier, get better grades, are less likely to get in trouble with the police, have fewer cavities, &c., if they have a mother and a father.
"This piece of news has been widely reported.
"Very widely.
"Less often mentioned is the fact that children also do better if both of their parents are white.
"Apparently, nobody feels a pressing need to make that fact the basis for public policy."
I confess it, I was wrong. Those widely-cited studies don't, well, exist. I apologize for my error.
Everyone else who has cited that phantomnation of studies may also feel free to retract and apologize.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
I Hurt My Back
Hurts like the dickens sometimes, and occasionally I can't stand up straight. I can barely make it up here to the lookout.
I'm calling a physical therapist. Hope s/he can help.
How are you?
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "You already know the answer to this question."\\
I'm calling a physical therapist. Hope s/he can help.
How are you?
//The Magic 8-Ball says: "You already know the answer to this question."\\
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
One Of Those Question Things
"If you were writing your autobiography (since no one else can), what five lessons would you want people to gain from your experiences?"
My answers:
1. Wanting to be spanked is not a sexual perversion. Spanking a child for masturbating is a sexual perversion.
2. Don't ask for something until you can define what you're asking for succinctly.
3. The best way to make a pass is to start with "You probably already know that I find you very attractive."
4. When you feel trapped, tell yourself "There is a way."
5. There *is* a way.
My answers:
1. Wanting to be spanked is not a sexual perversion. Spanking a child for masturbating is a sexual perversion.
2. Don't ask for something until you can define what you're asking for succinctly.
3. The best way to make a pass is to start with "You probably already know that I find you very attractive."
4. When you feel trapped, tell yourself "There is a way."
5. There *is* a way.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Caterpillar Story
[Recycled from August 7th, 2004 and Januar 13th, 2005] here's a story I love to tell:
There are a lot of benefits to Waldy's friends coming and hanging out at our place. One of them is that we know where Waldy is (provided he's actually somewhere in the mix, and hasn't nicked off while his friends continue to hang out). Another is the occasional request for the caterpillar story.
It's not even my story. It's actually Joseph's story. But Kathe divorced Joseph and married me, so I guess I have some claim on the caterpillar story. Certainly it's unlikely that Joseph is going around telling the caterpillar story to his new (Joseph-and-Libby) friends. He's much too dignified for that these days.
Joseph came home from a job interview one day and wrote a note to Kathe and their housemates about the interesting time he'd had. He wrote it in the form of a children's story, with illustrations, and left it on the kitchen table. Kathe still has that sheet of paper somewhere, but she hasn't seen it in years, and doesn't know where it is. I will, as I do for the kids, attempt to paraphrase the caterpillar story as best I can remember it.
Once upon a time there was a man who wanted to get a job giving money to poor people. The man liekd poor people, and thought it would be a good idea to give them money, so he went to the place where they were interviewing people for the job.
The man who was giving the interview did not like poor people. He said, "Grind up the people on welfare into hamburger."
During the interview, the man noticed a caterpillar crawling on his boot. The interviewer told him to put the caterpillar in the wastebasket, bu the man said he would put the caterpillar on his knee until the interview was over, and then take it outside.
When the interview was over, the caterpillar was no longer on the man's knee. He looked all over the interviewer's office for it. He got down on his hands and knees looking. Soon, the man who gave the interview was also on his hands and knees trying to find the caterpillar, but they could not find it at all.
I do not know if the man got the job or not.
There are a lot of benefits to Waldy's friends coming and hanging out at our place. One of them is that we know where Waldy is (provided he's actually somewhere in the mix, and hasn't nicked off while his friends continue to hang out). Another is the occasional request for the caterpillar story.
It's not even my story. It's actually Joseph's story. But Kathe divorced Joseph and married me, so I guess I have some claim on the caterpillar story. Certainly it's unlikely that Joseph is going around telling the caterpillar story to his new (Joseph-and-Libby) friends. He's much too dignified for that these days.
Joseph came home from a job interview one day and wrote a note to Kathe and their housemates about the interesting time he'd had. He wrote it in the form of a children's story, with illustrations, and left it on the kitchen table. Kathe still has that sheet of paper somewhere, but she hasn't seen it in years, and doesn't know where it is. I will, as I do for the kids, attempt to paraphrase the caterpillar story as best I can remember it.
Once upon a time there was a man who wanted to get a job giving money to poor people. The man liekd poor people, and thought it would be a good idea to give them money, so he went to the place where they were interviewing people for the job.
The man who was giving the interview did not like poor people. He said, "Grind up the people on welfare into hamburger."
During the interview, the man noticed a caterpillar crawling on his boot. The interviewer told him to put the caterpillar in the wastebasket, bu the man said he would put the caterpillar on his knee until the interview was over, and then take it outside.
When the interview was over, the caterpillar was no longer on the man's knee. He looked all over the interviewer's office for it. He got down on his hands and knees looking. Soon, the man who gave the interview was also on his hands and knees trying to find the caterpillar, but they could not find it at all.
I do not know if the man got the job or not.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Personal Responsibility
[Recycled from 16 July 2004]
Let's see if I have this straight:
If you become addicted to tobacco as a teenager and are unable to quit later on, all of the diseases that make you miserable and eventually kill you are your own personal responsibility
If you learn in the 1950s that tobacco is a killer, but spend billions of dollars on ad campaigns intended to ridicule and obfuscate the truth, not only do you bear no personal responsibility, but it's unfair to your poor widdle corporation to demand a few pennies to put a band-aid on the damage you have done.
Let's see if I have this straight:
If you become addicted to tobacco as a teenager and are unable to quit later on, all of the diseases that make you miserable and eventually kill you are your own personal responsibility
If you learn in the 1950s that tobacco is a killer, but spend billions of dollars on ad campaigns intended to ridicule and obfuscate the truth, not only do you bear no personal responsibility, but it's unfair to your poor widdle corporation to demand a few pennies to put a band-aid on the damage you have done.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Flotsam From Jake
Kathe's son Jake sent me this one.
Dang, and I like $2 bills myself, too.
A tale of customer service, justice and currency as funny as a $2 bill
Michael Olesker
March 8, 2005
PUT YOURSELF in Mike Bolesta's place. On the morning of Feb. 20, he buys a
new radio-CD player for his 17-year-old son Christopher's car. He pays the
$114 installation charge with 57 crisp new $2 bills, which, when last
observed, were still considered legitimate currency in the United States
proper. The $2 bills are Bolesta's idea of payment, and his little comic
protest, too.
For this, Bolesta, Baltimore County resident, innocent citizen, owner of
Capital City Student Tours, finds himself under arrest.
Finds himself, in front of a store full of customers at the Best Buy on
York Road in Lutherville, locked into handcuffs and leg irons.
Finds himself transported to the Baltimore County lockup in Cockeysville,
where he's handcuffed to a pole for three hours while the U.S. Secret
Service is called into the case.
Have a nice day, Mike.
"Humiliating," the 57-year old Bolesta was saying now. "I am 6 feet 5
inches tall, and I felt like 8 inches high. To be handcuffed, to have all
those people looking on, to be cuffed to a pole -- and to know you haven't
done anything wrong. And me, with a brother, Joe, who spent 33 years on
the city police force. It was humiliating."
What we have here, besides humiliation, is a sense of caution resulting in
screw-ups all around.
"When I bought the stereo player," Bolesta explains, "the technician said
it'd fit perfectly into my son's dashboard. But it didn't. So they called
back and said they had another model that would fit perfectly, and it was
cheaper. We got a $67 refund, which was fine. As long as it fit, that's
all.
"So we go back and pay for it, and they tell us to go around front with
our receipt and pick up the difference in the cost. I ask about
installation charges. They said, 'No installation charge, because of the
mix-up. Our mistake, no charge.' Swell.
"But then, the next day, I get a call at home. They're telling me, 'If you
don't come in and pay the installation fee, we're calling the police.'
Jeez, where did we go from them admitting a mistake to suddenly calling
the police? So I say, 'Fine, I'll be in tomorrow.' But, overnight, I'm
starting to steam a little. It's not the money -- it's the threat. So I
thought, I'll count out a few $2 bills."
He has lots and lots of them.
With his Capital City Student Tours, he arranges class trips for school
kids around the country traveling to large East Coast cities, including
Baltimore. He's been doing this for the last 18 years. He makes all the
arrangements: hotels, meals, entertainment. And it's part of his schtick
that, when Bolesta hands out meal money to students, he does it in $2
bills, which he picks up from his regular bank, Sun Trust.
"The kids don't see that many $2 bills, so they think this is the greatest
thing in the world," Bolesta says. "They don't want to spend 'em. They
want to save 'em. I've been doing this since I started the company. So I'm
thinking, 'I'll stage my little comic protest. I'll pay the $114 with $2
bills.'"
At Best Buy, they may have perceived the protest -- but did not sense the
comic aspect of 57 $2 bills.
"I'm just here to pay the bill," Bolesta says he told a cashier. "She
looked at the $2 bills and told me, 'I don't have to take these if I don't
want to.' I said, 'If you don't, I'm leaving. I've tried to pay my bill
twice. You don't want these bills, you can sue me.' So she took the money.
Like she's doing me a favor."
He remembers the cashier marking each bill with a pen. Then other store
personnel began to gather, a few of them asking, "Are these real?"
"Of course they are," Bolesta said. "They're legal tender."
A Best Buy manager refused comment last week. But, according to a
Baltimore County police arrest report, suspicions were roused when an
employee noticed some smearing of ink. So the cops were called in. One
officer noticed the bills ran in sequential order.
"I told them, 'I'm a tour operator. I've got thousands of these bills. I
get them from my bank. You got a problem, call the bank,'" Bolesta says.
"I'm sitting there in a chair. The store's full of people watching this.
All of a sudden, he's standing me up and handcuffing me behind my back,
telling me, 'We have to do this until we get it straightened out.'
"Meanwhile, everybody's looking at me. I've lived here 18 years. I'm
hoping my kids don't walk in and see this. And I'm saying, 'I can't
believe you're doing this. I'm paying with legal American money.'"
Bolesta was then taken to the county police lockup in Cockeysville, where
he sat handcuffed to a pole and in leg irons while the Secret Service was
called in.
"At this point," he says, "I'm a mass murderer."
Finally, Secret Service agent Leigh Turner arrived, examined the bills and
said they were legitimate, adding, according to the police report,
"Sometimes ink on money can smear."
This will be important news to all concerned.
For Baltimore County police, said spokesman Bill Toohey, "It's a sign that
we're all a little nervous in the post-9/11 world."
The other day, one of Bolesta's sons needed a few bucks. Bolesta pulled
out his wallet and "whipped out a couple of $2 bills. But my son turned
away. He said he doesn't want 'em any more."
He's seen where such money can lead.
Copyright © 2005, The Baltimore Sun
Dang, and I like $2 bills myself, too.
A tale of customer service, justice and currency as funny as a $2 bill
Michael Olesker
March 8, 2005
PUT YOURSELF in Mike Bolesta's place. On the morning of Feb. 20, he buys a
new radio-CD player for his 17-year-old son Christopher's car. He pays the
$114 installation charge with 57 crisp new $2 bills, which, when last
observed, were still considered legitimate currency in the United States
proper. The $2 bills are Bolesta's idea of payment, and his little comic
protest, too.
For this, Bolesta, Baltimore County resident, innocent citizen, owner of
Capital City Student Tours, finds himself under arrest.
Finds himself, in front of a store full of customers at the Best Buy on
York Road in Lutherville, locked into handcuffs and leg irons.
Finds himself transported to the Baltimore County lockup in Cockeysville,
where he's handcuffed to a pole for three hours while the U.S. Secret
Service is called into the case.
Have a nice day, Mike.
"Humiliating," the 57-year old Bolesta was saying now. "I am 6 feet 5
inches tall, and I felt like 8 inches high. To be handcuffed, to have all
those people looking on, to be cuffed to a pole -- and to know you haven't
done anything wrong. And me, with a brother, Joe, who spent 33 years on
the city police force. It was humiliating."
What we have here, besides humiliation, is a sense of caution resulting in
screw-ups all around.
"When I bought the stereo player," Bolesta explains, "the technician said
it'd fit perfectly into my son's dashboard. But it didn't. So they called
back and said they had another model that would fit perfectly, and it was
cheaper. We got a $67 refund, which was fine. As long as it fit, that's
all.
"So we go back and pay for it, and they tell us to go around front with
our receipt and pick up the difference in the cost. I ask about
installation charges. They said, 'No installation charge, because of the
mix-up. Our mistake, no charge.' Swell.
"But then, the next day, I get a call at home. They're telling me, 'If you
don't come in and pay the installation fee, we're calling the police.'
Jeez, where did we go from them admitting a mistake to suddenly calling
the police? So I say, 'Fine, I'll be in tomorrow.' But, overnight, I'm
starting to steam a little. It's not the money -- it's the threat. So I
thought, I'll count out a few $2 bills."
He has lots and lots of them.
With his Capital City Student Tours, he arranges class trips for school
kids around the country traveling to large East Coast cities, including
Baltimore. He's been doing this for the last 18 years. He makes all the
arrangements: hotels, meals, entertainment. And it's part of his schtick
that, when Bolesta hands out meal money to students, he does it in $2
bills, which he picks up from his regular bank, Sun Trust.
"The kids don't see that many $2 bills, so they think this is the greatest
thing in the world," Bolesta says. "They don't want to spend 'em. They
want to save 'em. I've been doing this since I started the company. So I'm
thinking, 'I'll stage my little comic protest. I'll pay the $114 with $2
bills.'"
At Best Buy, they may have perceived the protest -- but did not sense the
comic aspect of 57 $2 bills.
"I'm just here to pay the bill," Bolesta says he told a cashier. "She
looked at the $2 bills and told me, 'I don't have to take these if I don't
want to.' I said, 'If you don't, I'm leaving. I've tried to pay my bill
twice. You don't want these bills, you can sue me.' So she took the money.
Like she's doing me a favor."
He remembers the cashier marking each bill with a pen. Then other store
personnel began to gather, a few of them asking, "Are these real?"
"Of course they are," Bolesta said. "They're legal tender."
A Best Buy manager refused comment last week. But, according to a
Baltimore County police arrest report, suspicions were roused when an
employee noticed some smearing of ink. So the cops were called in. One
officer noticed the bills ran in sequential order.
"I told them, 'I'm a tour operator. I've got thousands of these bills. I
get them from my bank. You got a problem, call the bank,'" Bolesta says.
"I'm sitting there in a chair. The store's full of people watching this.
All of a sudden, he's standing me up and handcuffing me behind my back,
telling me, 'We have to do this until we get it straightened out.'
"Meanwhile, everybody's looking at me. I've lived here 18 years. I'm
hoping my kids don't walk in and see this. And I'm saying, 'I can't
believe you're doing this. I'm paying with legal American money.'"
Bolesta was then taken to the county police lockup in Cockeysville, where
he sat handcuffed to a pole and in leg irons while the Secret Service was
called in.
"At this point," he says, "I'm a mass murderer."
Finally, Secret Service agent Leigh Turner arrived, examined the bills and
said they were legitimate, adding, according to the police report,
"Sometimes ink on money can smear."
This will be important news to all concerned.
For Baltimore County police, said spokesman Bill Toohey, "It's a sign that
we're all a little nervous in the post-9/11 world."
The other day, one of Bolesta's sons needed a few bucks. Bolesta pulled
out his wallet and "whipped out a couple of $2 bills. But my son turned
away. He said he doesn't want 'em any more."
He's seen where such money can lead.
Copyright © 2005, The Baltimore Sun
Friday, April 08, 2005
Jimmy Why?
I'm impressed by how many different versions there are of why Jimmy Carter wasn't a member of the White House's official delegation to the Pope's funeral. Explanations range from the grotesque to the mundane, but where the current administration is concerned, I have learned not to discount the preposterous.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Freedom Isn't Free
Arthur D. Hlavaty passed along to me a link to a most interesting essay concerning the recent attempt by certain right-wing voices (oh, very well: the entire echo chamber) to smear photojournalists who have been reporting on the current war from the front lines.
Guess what? Turns out that freedom isn't free. Big surprise.
Guess what? Turns out that freedom isn't free. Big surprise.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
"I Coulda Swore He Was Asking For It"
Amanda Marcotte comments on a gay-bashing incident.
The most disturbing thing about the whole business, to me, is that the defendents' parents were able to find a lawyer who specializes in defending alleged Christians who are accused of acts of violence.
Frankly, I'm surprised that "he was asking for it" didn't work as a defense. Men have been slowly turtured to death by men who walked free by arguing that they were provoked. Maybe certain areas of the country are growing up a little bit.
The most disturbing thing about the whole business, to me, is that the defendents' parents were able to find a lawyer who specializes in defending alleged Christians who are accused of acts of violence.
Frankly, I'm surprised that "he was asking for it" didn't work as a defense. Men have been slowly turtured to death by men who walked free by arguing that they were provoked. Maybe certain areas of the country are growing up a little bit.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Cutting It
From up here in the lookout, the lawn doesn't look too bad, but I know that the view from street level (where massage clients might be), the view is less forgiving.
Got a haircut this morning.
Tomorrow, gonna cut the grass for the first time this season.
Wild times, I tell ya.
Got a haircut this morning.
Tomorrow, gonna cut the grass for the first time this season.
Wild times, I tell ya.
Monday, April 04, 2005
No Freedom Without Religion
Rich Lowry says there is no freedom without religion, because there is no freedom without morality, and no morality without God. In fact, it had better be Lowry's own God, just to be on the safe side.
I have progressed over the course of my adult life from militant evangelical atheist to lattitudinarian, but I have never understood this notion of "God-given morality".
It's always seemed to me that if morality is simply whatever God says to do / refrain from doing, then it's only happenstance that taking an axe to your grandmother isn't a sacred duty.
On the other hand, if God is restrained by *God's* innate sense of morality, then God is irrelevant -- we are obliged to do good no matter who does or does not do good, no matter who does or does not exist.
Did I miss something?
I have progressed over the course of my adult life from militant evangelical atheist to lattitudinarian, but I have never understood this notion of "God-given morality".
It's always seemed to me that if morality is simply whatever God says to do / refrain from doing, then it's only happenstance that taking an axe to your grandmother isn't a sacred duty.
On the other hand, if God is restrained by *God's* innate sense of morality, then God is irrelevant -- we are obliged to do good no matter who does or does not do good, no matter who does or does not exist.
Did I miss something?
Sunday, April 03, 2005
New Names
Kathe went to Blogthings and she brought back . . . new names:
and here are mine:
Kathleen Lucile Burt's Aliases |
Your movie star name: Chips Clarence |
Your fashion designer name is Kathleen Naples |
Your socialite name is Little Beaver Portland |
Your fly girl / guy name is K Bur |
Your detective name is Rat Washington |
Your barfly name is Chips Beer |
Your soap opera name is Lucile 44th |
Your rock star name is Licorice Shoes |
Your star wars name is Katcok Burcly |
Your punk rock band name is The Good Dufungisis |
and here are mine:
John Merritt Burt's Aliases |
Your movie star name: Chips Charles |
Your fashion designer name is John Antwerp |
Your socialite name is Chop-Chop San Francisco |
Your fly girl / guy name is J Bur |
Your detective name is Rat Crescent Valley |
Your barfly name is Muffin Corflu |
Your soap opera name is Merritt Gellatly |
Your rock star name is Butterfinger Life |
Your star wars name is Johamb Burlin |
Your punk rock band name is The Amused Rocket |
Saturday, April 02, 2005
All The Good Tunes
One solution to a common annoyance of public transportation. And street corners. And your own front step.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Goodbye, Mrs. Schiavo
I want to speak of the matter of Theresa Schiavo one more time, and I hope to do so in a respectful manner. There have been too many unpleasant words spoken on the subject.
The problem is that there are two very different stories here. In fact, there are two different people under discussion.
Terri Schindler-Schiavo was brain-damaged to some extent, but still described as "lucid". She responded to voices and to touch in an obviously meaningful fashion, and occasionally spoke, inarticulately but with obvious intent. Her evil husband plotted to kill her for $700,000 of insurance money, and ignored all pleas on her behalf. He claimed that she would not want to live under such conditions, but he had no corroboration for the claim. He injected her with insulin to try to hasten her death, muttering "When is the bitch going to die?"
Mrs. Theresa Schiavo was severely brain-damaged and had no consciousness. The place once occupied by her cerebral cortex was filled with fluid and scar tissue. Her eyes did not track, she did not respond to sound or to touch. She had said to her husband and to various other persons that she did not want to be kept alive artificially under such conditions, and her husband stood by her in spite of harassment, death threats and even offers of money that ran as high as ten million dollars.
Those are the two lives we have been offered by the media. Depending on which channel you tuned in, you heard one or the other. Any decent human being would reach out to Terri Schindler-Schiavo, and millions did. The problem is, the two versions of reality are not equally valid. As with evolution vs. creationism, orweapons of mass destruction in Iraq, there comes a time when a reasonable person is forced to say, "This is reality, and the other side of the argument is proven false by overwhelming evidence."
Terri Schindler-Sciavo was a fictional character created by wishful thinking (on her parents' part) and political expediency (on the part of people like Randall Terry and Tom DeLay, who had agendas of their own). The tragedy of Theresa Marie Schiavo is the reality, period.
The problem is that there are two very different stories here. In fact, there are two different people under discussion.
Terri Schindler-Schiavo was brain-damaged to some extent, but still described as "lucid". She responded to voices and to touch in an obviously meaningful fashion, and occasionally spoke, inarticulately but with obvious intent. Her evil husband plotted to kill her for $700,000 of insurance money, and ignored all pleas on her behalf. He claimed that she would not want to live under such conditions, but he had no corroboration for the claim. He injected her with insulin to try to hasten her death, muttering "When is the bitch going to die?"
Mrs. Theresa Schiavo was severely brain-damaged and had no consciousness. The place once occupied by her cerebral cortex was filled with fluid and scar tissue. Her eyes did not track, she did not respond to sound or to touch. She had said to her husband and to various other persons that she did not want to be kept alive artificially under such conditions, and her husband stood by her in spite of harassment, death threats and even offers of money that ran as high as ten million dollars.
Those are the two lives we have been offered by the media. Depending on which channel you tuned in, you heard one or the other. Any decent human being would reach out to Terri Schindler-Schiavo, and millions did. The problem is, the two versions of reality are not equally valid. As with evolution vs. creationism, orweapons of mass destruction in Iraq, there comes a time when a reasonable person is forced to say, "This is reality, and the other side of the argument is proven false by overwhelming evidence."
Terri Schindler-Sciavo was a fictional character created by wishful thinking (on her parents' part) and political expediency (on the part of people like Randall Terry and Tom DeLay, who had agendas of their own). The tragedy of Theresa Marie Schiavo is the reality, period.
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