It Can't Rain All The Time...

2003-12-13T16:28:00.000-05:00

test

2002-05-26T12:47:00.000-04:00

Shopping is life, life is shopping : Due to having too much fun - yes, kiddies, there is life beyond the glow of a computer screen, if only barely - there was no posting yesterday and there will probably be little posting today. But I am working on another long SWVCTM and the doctors rant and will return to respond to comments, mail, and post more tommorow.

2002-05-26T12:32:00.000-04:00

This changes everything : We've long suspected that there was once lots of water on Mars. We've long known that there is currently water on Mars, just not all that much of it compared to Earth. At least as I understand things, the theory has long been that most of the Martian water boiled off with its atmosphere.

Then again, maybe not. Data from Mars Odyssey is indicating that there's not just a little water on Mars, there's oceans of it in vast frozen reservoirs just beneath the surface.

This isn't just a minor bit of interesting curiosity solved, if further data backs it up it's a Major Big Deal™. Leaving aside the Martian life question, for us water is a big deal. It's a lot easier to go somewhere if there's water there. It's not only important for our lives, but from it you have a relatively easy source of oxygen and hydrogen. We need oxygen to breath, of course, but oxygen and hydrogen are also the two main components in liquid fueled rocket engines. Having lots of water already there vastly simplifies a lot of things.

While I don't know a whole lot about the subject, it also seems to me that having that much water "locked up" also simplifies the terraforming question - bigtime. As "sci-fi" as such matters seem, they're of more than a little importance. Having all of our eggs in one planetary basket - one major asteroid hit on earth and it could be hasta la bye-bye, humans - is not an overly comfortable position to be in. We don't have the ability to send people to other stars, even if we did know for sure that there were habitable planets out there, but we do, if we've the will, have the ability to send people to Mars. With or without terraforming, having water available locally would be a critical component in any self-sustaining Martian colony. If such a colony spent the next few hundred years terraforming the planet, we might just end up with another relatively nice basket. Not to mention that Mars is a whole lot closer to the bulk of the asteroid belt and all those nice metal-rich rocks.

Just to go outside the realm of the speculative and into the ludicrous, what if we were to find life on Mars, though? Some bacteria that can survive the harsh environment and live off of the ice, minerals, solar radiation, each other, and what have you. It's not completely beyond the realm of possibility, there are some terrestrial bacteria that survive nicely in some incredibly harsh conditions. So what if we found something like that?

I'm not really talking here about the inevitable ravings from idiots who think that sending anything to Luna is "defacing a pristine environment". I mean what if we found an active, if primitive, biosphere? Would we have the right to wipe it out in order to try and terraform Mars to be more Earthlike so humans could be halfway comfortable there?

Personally, unless such a biosphere turned out to be a whole lot more than anything we can imagine with our knowledge of Mars now, I say yes, hell yes, absolutely yes. But I think it'd be foolish to ignore the question completely or not to recognize that a serious ethical debate would be called for.

My speculative babbles aside, if this discovery pans out it's more important than ever that humans go to Mars. One human being with a lab could do more and better research in a few hours than every probe we've ever sent has managed to date.

2002-05-24T22:14:00.001-04:00

Paranoid thought for the day : Not that I'm given to paranoid thoughts - it isn't paranoia if they are out to get you - but...

A housing complex in Encino went kaboom today. Preliminary indications (id est, the default guess that they've no current reason to doubt) are that it was a gas explosion. I'm sure that probably was what happened, but I couldn't help the paranoid thought "But would they tell us if it wasn't?".

[Fire Department Battalion Chief Roberto] Franco indicated that the circumstances of the explosion, particularly the few injuries, made the possibility of terrorism unlikely.

"It's not consistent with what a terrorist would want to achieve," Franco said.

Sorry, Chief, given how many times terrorists have managed premature explodization whilst putting together their little trinkets, that one won't fly. It's not like quality control is often a big item on a homicidal nutjob's priority list. I mean, how many bomb makers do you know who have ISO 9001 certification?

2002-05-24T22:14:00.000-04:00

Leave my pancreas be : There is new evidence that Type I diabetes might be caused by a virus. I wouldn't, as the article does, call it strong evidence, but it has long been suggested as a possibility and this certainly points in that direction.

There are a lot of very serious researchers who are starting to think it's possible that a lot of what we think of as congenital/genetic defects or as part of the normal aging process may indeed instead be the side-effects of various viruses or bacteria. If this turns out to be true, the implications will be stunning and may very well change our entire medical worldview. A link between at least one cancer and viral infection has been shown, same with ulcers and bacteria, it'll be interesting to see where future research brings us.

2002-05-24T20:34:00.000-04:00

Water, water, everywhere, but how many glasses to drink? : You've probably heard that you should drink eight glasses of water a day, right? Well, guess what, nobody even knows where that number comes from. Apparently someone, somewhere, once picked that number out of a hat and its been repeated so many times that it has become accepted wisdom.

Fact is, that's the case for an awful lot of the commonly accepted wisdom when it comes to diet and exercise. The food nazis like to beat you over the head with these various "facts", but a lot of the "facts" are anything from WAGs to last year's now-discredited study to something just this side of urban legend. A little common sense will take you a lot farther than any hard-and-fast rule or whatever the latest thang in the news might be.

2002-05-24T08:15:00.000-04:00

So, like what's with all the butt slapping stuff then? : On the way home yesterday I stopped at the grocery store and got some cereal and milk - after only about three hours sleep and eight hours at the hospital (yes, dear readers, there is an upcoming SWVCTM rant, you have been warned) I was in no condition to cook much of anything. When I got home and was putting what I'd purchased away I noticed that on the front of one of the boxes was an image of "M. Piazza" and thought "Hey, I know who that guy is...".

Now understand that what I know about professional sports could easily fit into an average sized thimble with plenty of room left over. I can usually identify a local team name, but not always reliably and I'm never entirely sure which sport it is they play. That's really more than I want to know, to be honest, I just don't "get" professional sports. Amateur? Hey if someone wants to go out and play softball every other Tuesday in the summer, why not? Such things, I'm sure, can be entertaining and I "get" that. Well, except for golf - hit the ball, chase the ball, hit the ball, chase the ball... Isn't that what dogs were invented for? I suppose Fido might get ticked off if he had to run three hundred meters to chase the golf ball you walloped with your whatever iron...

But I digress.

Often.

I get why people like to play sports, I just don't get why people like to watch sports. I don't get why people pay ungodly amounts of money to sit in overcrowded stadiums watching some schmuck get paid a trillion dollars to try and get rid of a load of pig epidermis before some hulk with the nickname "Killer" can spread his component atoms all over a few hundred square feet of astroturf. I especially don't get why anyone would plop themselves in front of the boob tube with a couple of dozen bags of Doritos and spend eight hours in a trance watching ice get bloody. We won, we won! We, Kimosabi? The only muscle movement you've displayed in the last three hours was that uncontrollable facial tick that creeps up every time you think you're gonna lose that fifty dollar bet.

I just don't "get" professional sports, so I was rather amazed to recognize a sports-type dude on the front of a cereal box. Normally when I see some sports-type dude (or, increasingly, dudette - like, what, this is progress? NOT.) I have some sense that, well, it's a sports-type dude (or dudette), so what? I can even sometimes guess at what sport might be involved. Really tall? Basketball. Missing teeth? Hockey. Wad of chaw? Baseball. Tall as two and wide as three normal people? Football. Feather boa? Wrestling...

Okay, so maybe wrestling doesn't count as a sport. I've never entirely been clear on that one, to be honest.

So I recognized this guy. Why did I recognize him? Because he was all over the news, CNN musta played his clip like thirty times in the span of an hour. Why was he on the news? 'Cause he had a very important announcement. And what was the very important announcement? He's not gay.

Huh?!?

Now given that he's a very handsome sport-type dude, this is, no doubt, good news to some woman somewhere who will one day end up being Mrs. sports-type dude, but why in god's name would anyone else care if he's gay or not? I gather that he's a baseball sports-type dude and, unless the sport has changed markedly since I last dated a guy who was rabid on the subject and wouldn't stop trying to convince me to take an interest in it (a forlorn hope that yielded no appreciable result, I assure you), this baseball sports-type dude gets paid to hurl balls, catch balls, run around a diamond shaped thingy, and such like activities, none of which would seem to be overly effected, at least to my unschooled eyes, by whatever his particular sexual interests (or lack thereof) might be.

So why did this poor schmuck have to go on TV and announce to the world that he wasn't gay? And why was this such big news that various news outlets felt they had to play it fifty thousand times? Well, apparently, because there aren't any gay men in professional sports.

Huh?!?

This is 2002, right? I mean as a matter of statistical probability it is a virtual certainty that there are more than a few gay men in sports. But, apparently, no gay men that are "out". In fact it seems that the only places there are any gay men or lesbian women in all of sports are men's ice skating and women's tennis.

Hmmm...

So someone wrote a column saying that there is a gay man playing professional baseball on some east coast team somewhere. Isn't that a bit like writing a column saying that it's going to rain somewhere in the United States tomorrow? Like, ummm, duh, ya' know? Suspicion focused on this Piazza guy for whatever reason (I'm guessing it's because he's more than a bit of a "prettyboy", but who knows) and he felt he had to go and defend himself.

Talk about a circular story.

So add another item to my list of things I don't "get" about professional sports.

2002-05-24T06:30:00.000-04:00

Constitution? We don't need no stenkin' constitution : A little truth from Jim Jeffords -

Most notably, Republicans accuse Democrats of blocking the president's judicial nominations. So far, 57 of the president's first 100 judicial nominees have been confirmed. One controversial nominee was rejected in the Senate Judiciary Committee on a party-line vote, and another was sent to the full Senate Thursday for a vote that Daschle says could come by year's end.

That record is fine by Jeffords, who praised fellow Vermonter Sen. Pat Leahy's handling of the process as chairman of the Judiciary Committee.

"I sleep better, Pat, at night knowing that you are picking the judges," Jeffords said.

Now maybe I missed something, but I don't recall Senator Leahy being elected President and, last I checked, it was supposed to be the President that picked the judges, the senate's function was advice and consent.

2002-05-23T07:18:00.000-04:00

You just knew this was coming, right? : After 2,000 years someone has noticed a little known detail about who the Catholic church does and does not ordain.

Claiming that the church's refusal to ordain women amounts to sexual discrimination, lawyer Susan Rockwell filed a lawsuit in U.S. District Court on her own behalf claiming the church's policy violates her right to free expression and religion.

Rockwell said that by granting the church tax exempt status, the federal government subsidizes the church's discriminatory policies. Rockwell is a Catholic who has sought to become a priest but was told the church's policy bars it.

Rockwell is basing her lawsuit on a 1983 U.S. Supreme Court decision regarding Bob Jones University in Greenville, S.C. The school lost its tax exempt status because of a long-standing policy that banned interracial dating. The ban was dropped in 2000, but the school has not sought to regain its tax status.

I'm sure this isn't the first suit of this nature, not by a long shot, and likely Ms. Rockwell won't get overly far. But given the legal atmosphere in these parts towards the Catholic church - to whit, the church at times practically begging to get drop kicked into next Wednesday - one never knows.

2002-05-22T22:39:00.000-04:00

Couldn't hoit : Alice, of Alice In TV Land is having her sinus surgery tomorrow (Thursday). It'd be nice if everyone kept a good thought for her...

2002-05-22T22:35:00.000-04:00

And the 'blog rolls on (Part XXIII, or something like that) : Since I've been too brain dead - sleep deprivation can be such a PITA - to come up with much to say the last couple of days, I'll add a few more people to the blogroll o' doom who have quite a lot to say. Please welcome The Weigh In and WarLiberal.

Justin, of The Weigh In, has the dubious distinction of being the first person to actually ask to be added to the blogroll o' doom. Note to Justin - Flattery will get you... Well, not much, I'm rather notorious for not handling compliments any better than insults. Actually, given that I've made it my life's work to turn self deprecation into an artform... Eh, you do the math. Anyway, having a good 'blog, well that'll get you far. Justin's prolific linker who likes Buffy (god, am I the only one in outer Blogtopia who thinks Buffy jumped the shark about three seasons ago?), thinks you should KaZaA yourself silly (Trojan or no, I suppose), and is a radical feminist. Eh, I suppose no one's perfect.

Christ, I feel like I'm introducing contestants on a bad game show... Not that there are really any good game shows, are there? Actually, I wouldn't know, I haven't watched one in eons. I did see Alex on CNN this morning at the National Geographic thingy. Yikes, did he ever flub that one.

WarLiberal intrigues me. Maybe I've just been living in New England too long, but it's been an epoch or three since I've heard much in the way of sense coming from a self-described liberal. And yet Mac Thomason manages to speak much sense, it's almost... I dunno, scary. I'm not entirely sure the WarLiberal hasn't come over to the dark side. Time will tell...

2002-05-22T19:37:00.001-04:00

Is there malaria in the area? : New GM mosquitos may help in the fight against malaria. These mosquitos have a gene inserted that causes them to be 80% less likely to spread malaria to humans. If released into the wild they would breed with other mosquitos and, hopefully, spread their modified genes far and wide. A lot more research and testing will be required before they can even think about doing that, of course, but it's an innovative and very creative approach that, while it wouldn't in and of itself eliminate malaria, would substantially reduce it.

We don't tend to think much about things like malaria here. Such diseases are rare and when they do crop up are generally treated fairly easily. But in other parts of the world, especially Africa, it's a very big deal - a lot of people die of malaria every year. If this pans out one hopes that the anti-GM zealots won't squash it they way they have tried to squash other advances that could help a whole lot of third-world people.

2002-05-22T19:37:00.000-04:00

Go ahead, steal this car : Scotland Yard has unveiled a decoy car they hope criminals will try and steal. They're not really revealing much, but the car includes both tracking and remote control capabilities.

It's a great idea, when you think about it. Stick the thing by the side of the road somewhere, especially in a high-crime area, and wait for some lowlife to steal it. Then you can either nab said lowlife or follow them around and see where they go, possibly nabbing his compatriots and/or discovering the location of a chop-shop. Of course it could be rather embarrassing should said lowlifes figure out how to really steal the car and get the added electronics besides, but if you designed the system well that should be pretty difficult.

I wonder if this could be applied to some of the high car theft areas in this country? Or would it be considered entrapment?

2002-05-22T08:12:00.000-04:00

To cell, or not to cell, that is the question : It seems lately that cell phones are becoming a huge boon to cops when it comes to catching moronic criminals. First we had the smiley face bomber twip, and now John Thomas Boston.

Wanted on burglary charges, Johnny had been avoiding the constabulary for eight years. I think it's probably safe to say that much of his success in avoidance was due to the cops not looking all that hard. But in May, for reasons unclear, Johnny sent a nasty-gram to the cops in which he claimed he was leaving for Canada and would never be seen again. This genius decided to include both a fingerprint and pictures of himself in Canada. Of course he also included, whether he knew it or not, genetic material. Said genetic material was enough to tie Johnny to at least one rape and possibly two others.

Oops.

But even that might not have been enough to get Johnny caught, at least not swiftly. But in April Johnny got real bright and made three taunting calls to the cops. Of course he used a cell phone to do so. What is it about cell phones that make people think they're safe and untraceable? How exactly do people think the cell system knows where you are in order to be able to deliver your calls if not because your phone periodically talks to the nearest available cell? Once the cops know that, well it doesn't exactly pinpoint your location but it does give them the general idea. In Johnny's case, the general idea turned out to be Dallas, where he was arrested the next day.

"In taunting investigators, it also got him caught," Louisville Police Chief Greg Smith said at a news conference Tuesday.

Double oops.

I mention all of this because there's always been something that has struck me about crime and punishment, and that is that it's a darn good thing that most criminals are dumb as dirt. If Johnny-boy had just kept his trap shut he probably could have avoided the cops for another eight years, perhaps indefinitely if he were smart about it. But he wasn't smart about it, and most criminals aren't. They commit crimes for which they have an obvious motive, thus making themselves an instant suspect. They leave obvious evidence at the scene, often in incredibly moronic ways - like leaving behind one's purse or wallet complete with ID. Johnny, he got creative about it and decided to basically paint a big honkin' "I'm here, come and get me!" sign in neon ink all over himself. On TV shows and in movies cops usually have to solve crimes by meticulous research and brilliant deduction, in reality they mostly just follow the breadcrumb trail of stupidity left behind right to the perp's front door. When there isn't such a trail, often they're completely lost - anyone seen Whitey Bulger lately?

This whole principle - that most criminals are mental midgets and that's a big part of the reason they get caught - has wider implications. Ever since the terrorist atrocities of September 11th there has been something of a debate over whether the murdering scum were super geniuses who only managed to commit their atrocities through careful planning and strict discipline, or whether they were just a bunch of dumb murdering schmucks who got extraordinarily lucky.

To some this might seem to be more than a bit of a moot question. After all, they're all dead and what does it matter? I think it matters quite a lot as it gives us a clue as to what kind of foes we might face in the future. I'm sure we'll never really know the answer, and not just because they're all dead. The law enforcement community has a vested interest in painting them as supercriminals and, given what they managed to pull off, so does a lot of the public. But just the fact that they managed to pull September 11th off is not enough evidence to me. I've several times, when hearing about someone going on a rampage and killing a number of people, had the thought that it was a damn good thing that the killer was basically a homicidal moron. A truly intelligent and well-trained individual - say, ex-special forces - who went off their nut could do a lot more damage than anything we've seen to date. You wouldn't just have a few people killed on a Long Island train - as horrid as that was - they'd kill everyone present in a cold and efficient manner and there'd be no jumping them whilst they tried to figure out how to reload.

If Atta and the rest of his crew of psychopaths were the super geniuses they're sometimes being painted as, we're in serious doggy-do and the chances of the next lot of 'em being caught before they manage to pull of their next bad-nasty are depressingly slim. If they're like Johnny, well we're still in serious doggy-do but it could be a whole lot worse.

2002-05-21T21:05:00.000-04:00

Power to the sheeple : A good overview of some of the problems with expecting photovoltaics to be a primary power source over on TCS.

One particular line caught my eye, though I think I've seen it before -

When asked why the fantastical promise of solar power over the last several decades has not led to very much of it -- less than 0.1% of total energy supplied in the United States -- Ralph Nader in an interview could only explain, "Because Exxon doesn't own the sun."

As it happens, eons ago I used to work with an engineer who's previous job had been running a semiconductor plant for Exxon. Guess what they were manufacturing? Photovoltaics. The plant was set up by Exxon to try and see if they could 1) Make more efficient photovoltaics, and 2) Make them cheap enough to be marketable. Exxon poured a couple of billion into this particular plant and opened up another, but in the end decided that the technologies they were exploring weren't going to meet the second goal and they shut the whole thing down.

If Mr. Nader and his ilk ever got their heads out of their respective rectal orifices they'd realize that Exxon doesn't need to own the sun, they only need to own the process that makes the devices that make harnessing sunlight cheap and efficient enough to be commercially viable. Unfortunately, despite oodles of money having been spent, so far no one has managed that trick.

Exxon and the rest of the big oil companies spend boatloads of money exploring alternative technologies of all types, including alternative energy sources. Despite what the conspiracy theorists think, they don't really care how they make money, they just care that they're making it. Exxon didn't set up the plant my co-worker ran just because they're nice guys, they did so because if anyone ever does come up with a photovoltaic system that's truly viable on a large or personal scale, they're going to make buttloads of money off of it.

It's convenient to blame Exxon for the lack of viable solar-power, in fact the Naderites have turned blaming business for just about every ill there is into a hobby. Unfortunately here on earth reality tends to be far more of a problem than any big business will ever be.

2002-05-21T21:02:00.000-04:00

When all else fails, sue : This could get interesting -

A U.S. national has filed a 100 million shekel suit against the European Union in Tel Aviv District Court. The plaintiff, who was paralyzed in a Palestinian attack, charged on May 20 that the EU knowingly allowed its monthly allotment of 10 million euros to be diverted for the financing of Palestinian terrorism.

To quote a phrase very much in vogue lately, what did the EU know and when did it know it?

2002-05-21T17:49:00.000-04:00

Touch your inner doll : This is just too funny. You know those little Russian nested dolls? Well it seems that in Moscow some of the ones they sell depict American presidents -

Bush also faces stiff competition in the matryoshka contest from Clinton, who remains a favorite topic for satire in Russia.

The Clinton doll opens to reveal Monica Lewinsky, followed by Paula Jones, who sued Clinton for sexual harassment. The fourth layer depicts Clinton's wife, Hillary Rodham Clinton, now a U.S. senator from New York.

Next up, Carter?

2002-05-19T16:01:00.000-04:00

Fathers, Birthdays, Cruises and Time

My father and I are going on a cruise in November. This has been planned for some time now and I had worried that I might have to cancel because of the bone cancer situation. Right now, it seems like things will be fine for the November trip and I am looking forward to it. We will be flying to Lisbon and sailing across the Atlantic to Florida, stopping at the Madeira Islands and Nassau on the way.

Cruises are an interesting thing. Your whole world condenses to the limits of the ship which is like a small city, or a very fancy, floating hotel with an attached mall which specializes in unique and expensive products. There is incredible food of almost every type, style and preparation you can imagine (and probably a few you never thought of) and it’s available any time of the day or night. There are, in addition to the dining room, restaurants (Japanese and Italian on the last ship), bars and casinos, not to mention both movies and live shows. There is usually a library (necessarily small, but useful never the less) which also rents videos. There are swimming pools, spas and hairdressers. There are also a couple of lecturers, usually, who give several presentations over the course of the trip on whatever their particular specialty is. On the Caribbean cruise, there was an astronomer who talked about meteor impacts and their possible influence on the extinction of the dinosaurs, and a very engaging historian who’s lectures on Caribbean history and pirates were always fascinating and well attended.

For many years, this has been Dad’s favorite type of vacation. Once he’s on board the ship, he can sit back, relax and let other people do the worrying. It seems to be the one place he can truly let go and just enjoy himself. Still, it’s an interesting choice for a man like my father. He doesn’t drink – at all, so the lavish bars (and on some ships, the price of your drinks is included in the fare) are wasted on him. His food preferences are very limited as he won’t eat tomatoes, onions or spices or herbs of any kind and considers beef and chicken to be the only reasonable options where meat is concerned – and he’s not entirely sure about the chicken. So the sumptuous repasts offered every day are usually things he has no interest in and he often has a steak or a bowl of plain pasta. Well, he might put some cheese on the pasta.

It is, I think, the total detachment from the rest of the world (and therefore, the world’s activities and concerns) that attracts him so strongly. Out on the ocean, work responsibilities evaporate since there is no way to see to them in any case. Yassar Arafat becomes the stuff of myth. There’s no laundry to do, meals to prepare or car to maintain. Almost all you can do is relax and entertain yourself. It is the one set of circumstances under which he feels absolutely free to do and be whatever he likes.

Our birthdays fall on consecutive days. He was 79 on Friday and I was 48 on Saturday. We, typically, get together to go out to a nice restaurant for a mutual celebration. This year we went to a splendid place in Wells, ME called Lords Harborside and stuffed ourselves happily stupid with some of the best seafood we have ever had. It was a tremendous meal and we had a really nice day. Dad seemed more relaxed and in better spirits than at any time in the last 6 weeks.

I had decided I wasn’t going to approach the topic of how much time I had left with my father. I wasn’t sure how he was dealing with things (or not dealing with things – which is something he sometimes does) and it seemed better to let him handle the issue in his own way. When (if) he asked about it I would be perfectly, uninflectedly candid – but I wouldn’t bring the subject up myself.

Well, he asked at lunch yesterday.

“Have the doctors give you any idea what the prognosis is, in terms of time yet?”

I wasn’t exactly taken aback; I knew it was coming eventually.

“Well,” I said “The doctor tells me that under these circumstances, where there is cancer in the bones, but hasn’t spread anywhere else, 2 years is average. Depending on other factors, there may be as many as 5.”

He smiled thoughtfully and didn’t seem to be upset. Perhaps this was better news than he expected.

“Time for one or two more cruises then?”

I had to laugh.

I think he’s going to be okay.

2002-05-18T21:58:00.000-04:00

You've been all over, and it's been all over you : I've mentioned that I only recently started driving again after a long hiatus. And it's not like I drove all that much before, I didn't bother to get a drivers license until I was twenty-two and I only drove for a couple of years before I decided that I'd have enough.

A lot of people believe that one must drive just to get by in today's society. If you live in the boonies that's probably true. But, whatever else can be said about the godforsaken burg I reside in, it is not the boonies and many people get by quite nicely without having a DL or a car. When I was working at least five of my employees (all female, but then, the occasional temp aside, everyone who worked for me was) that I can think of off the top of my head didn't drive and their ages ranged from the early twenties to the mid-sixties. Mind you, the plant I ran was not in what one would call a major city, but, like me, they could get around quite nicely via a combination of bus, train, cab, friend, boyfriend, husband, whatever. Just t'ain't that uncommon.

Myself, I never really thought I'd be driving again, certainly I had no desire to. But then SWVCTM lost most of the use of her left arm, thus couldn't drive, and still needed to be able to get to the hospital on a regular (currently every day) basis for chemo, radiation, and all of the other cancer treatment-type fun. Her father or someone else could take her or she could get there via a bus or cab, but it would have been a massive PITA, expensive, or both. It made a lot more sense for me to see to it, so I am. Mind you, I don't mind doing so, it's just that driving again wasn't something I foresaw as being anytime in my future only a few weeks ago.

Y'all are aware that most of the people on the road right now, right this moment, are certifiable, right?

I'm sure on some level you are, but I have to wonder if most people, those who have been driving pretty much their entire adult lives, are aware of it on any conscious level or if it has just long since become background noise. Given that I've only driven a few weeks in better than a decade, it isn't background noise to me, I'm constantly astounded at how bizarre it all is. How many roads, intersections, on-ramps, and such are like something out of an Escher nightmare. How many drivers act like they haven't had their thorazine shot on time. How it can be a Herculean effort just to ensure that going from Point A to Point B is something less than a suicide mission.

Yesterday involved a lot of driving. First there was getting SWVCTM to the hospital for her daily nuking. After that I took her to her previous place of employment (technically she's still employed there, but on disability, realistically she'll likely never work again) for lunch with a friend of hers - today is her birthday (she went out with her dad today, their birthdays are only a few days apart) and one of her ex-coworkers wanted to take her out. I was invited, of course, but this woman and I only get along so-so, so instead I dropped SWVCTM off and then went to lunch myself - spending most of the time sitting in a Pappa Ginos on the phone to my sister until the cell phone's batteries started complaining. After I picked SWVCTM up from lunch we went shopping - the Maul, grocery store, Walmart, and a half dozen other places I only barely remember. It was nearly midnight when I finally got home and I'd spent most of the day driving around, so it's a subject much on my mind.

Now the first leg of this daily trip to the hospital involves going down what is a major artery in this godforsaken town. It's only a two-lane road and through a residential area besides, but that's what qualifies as major arteries around here. Halfway down this road is a four way stop. Why, given the heavy traffic on this road, they made it a four way stop rather than a light, I'll never know. Especially given that around here the word "stop" is taken as a suggestion that maybe one should slow down just a little and the words "right of way" means that whoever can get their car into the intersection first is automatically right. This makes four way stops, or even a two way, very interesting. Since no one actually follows - or, I suspect, even knows - the rules governing right of way, you end up with everyone either sitting there because they expect everyone else to go and they don't want to get their car crunched, or everyone goes pretty much simultaneously and they sort it out usually based on the relative sizes of the vehicles in question. If everyone actually followed the rules of right of way things would go in a fairly consistent, predictable, and safer manner, but apparently that would be far too simple.

It's not just the rules of right of way that everyone ignores around here, of course, in fact following any of the predictable rules of the road is sternly frowned upon. Immediately past the four way stop is a pair of schools. There is a big sign with a yellow neon light that goes on during the day to tell you that the speed limit for this section of road whilst school is in session is 20mph. Given that I have an aversion both to running over little tykes and to getting ticketed by the constabulary, I tend to obey this sign and go 20mph until I'm past the schools. Unfortunately my fellow travelers down this road take a very dim view of this silly behavior of mine. Most often I'll look in my rear view mirror and see a car or truck so close to my tail that they could give me an exhaust pipe enema without even having to stretch their arms out. Add to that the flashing of headlights and the occasional blow of the annoyed horn, and sometimes I wonder when one of them is going to just decide to drive up and over my poor little vehicle. The sad part is that I don't really think the reason these people are annoyed with me is that I'm being anal about the speed limit in a school zone. I suspect they don't ever actually see the blinking neon yellow light nor, despite the fact that lots and lots of kids are around, have any understanding of the reason why it is that I'm going comparatively slowly.

The next piece of fun in the demolition derby that is my drive to the hospital occurs a little ways past the four way stop when one comes to a stoplight. The trick here is to understand how left turns are handled around here if the lights aren't staggered. As soon as the light turns green you go like a bat outta hell and make your left turn, not worrying about the fact that there is oncoming traffic. If there are people behind you also making a left turn they too will go like a bat outta hell. It becomes a war of wills between those who actually have the right of way and want to go straight, and those who are making a left turn in front of them. A line of people making a left turn, if they time it right (and they usually do, this seeming to be a practised maneuver, I'm not sure there isn't a section on how to do it taught in highschool or something), can actually cut off the people trying to go straight for the entirety of a light cycle. In this war of wills those making the left turn usually win, presumably because they're nuttier.

So you get to a light that you know isn't staggered. You're going straight and in a sane world as soon as the light turned green you would go. But you can't, because you are relatively sane and would prefer not to end up parked halfway inside the car of whatever nutjob is jumping the gun and making a left turn crossing in front of you right off the bat. And you know just about everyone does this, and I mean everyone. The other day I was next to a cop car who was making a left turn and, to my utter amazement, as soon as the light turned green he gunned it and made his left turn thus setting a nice example for all of the other drivers around. The only thing I could figure was that maybe he'd heard over the radio that there was a sale at Dunkin' Donuts and was in a hurry so he wouldn't miss anything. Had the oncoming driver been as nutty as the cop and also gunned it there would have been a cop car sandwich in the middle of the intersection and wouldn't that have led to some interesting explanations? You see, therein lies the problem. Like this cop, many of the people making left turns are insane, but many of the people going straight are just as insane. That leads to more than a few violent meetings of metal in the middle of intersections that occur only because people are terminally stupid.

The next fun part of my little trip is just a couple of hundred yards downhill from the light, it's called a rotary. Now I grew up in Southern California and spent my younger years traveling and living all over the western half of the country. I'd never seen a rotary before I came out here and my first thought upon seeing one was "You're kidding, right?". I mean who in god's name came up with that idea? As far as I can tell, the French did, which begs the question of who in the world thought copying the French road system was a good idea.

For those of you who've never had the pleasure of driving where they use rotaries, it's pretty much what it sounds like. Anywhere from four to a dozen roads and/or highway on- and off-ramps meet at a large circular road that can be one or two ill-defined lanes. Streams of traffic are trying to get onto the rotary whilst other streams of traffic are trying to get off, all simultaneously and all at anywhere from thirty to sixty miles per hour. People on the rotary, of course, have no incentive to go out of their way to let others get on the rotary and technically they have the right of way. People trying to get on the rotary generally handle this by simply barreling on at full speed and praying to whatever god(s) they believe in that they don't hit anything - although sometimes it's less than clear to me whether they care if they hit anything or not. Of course not just barreling on can have its disadvantages too, as one tries, from a full stop, to join a stream of traffic moving at thirty to sixty miles per hour.

Rotaries can be very confusing, even to those who are used to them. In theory everyone goes the same direction - counter clockwise - but in practise that's not always the case. There are few things funner than getting on a rotary at night and seeing a set of headlights coming at you. If you're not familiar with the rotary in question it can be very unclear which exit to take off - that is, of course, assuming you can get over anyway. This sometimes leads to people going round and round the rotary whilst they try and figure it out. Legend has it that there are a few poor souls who have been trapped on rotaries for decades. One even sometimes sees people just stop in the middle of the rotary while they try and puzzle it out - I saw this the other day when some Uncle Fester looking guy just upped and stopped in the middle of things, traffic whizzing about him as he pointed around with a very confused expression on his face. For all I know he may still be there.

Short of reprogramming stoplights so they all turn green simultaneously, I can think of few things that are a more obvious recipe for driving disasters than a rotary.

This particular rotary marks the meeting of three roads and the on- and off-ramps for the connector. The connector is a rather strange piece of road, especially as it's never been entirely clear what it is it's suppose to connect. It's a short chunk of four lane highway that starts at the intersection of two major highways and goes... Nowhere. Only a few miles long, it literally ends just short of the downtown of this godforsaken burg. It's as if they meant for it to go somewhere and simply ran out of parts, money, or both. Very odd, local legend has it that old man Wang - once a businessman of near god-like powers in these parts - had the state put it in because it goes right past the towers of his hubris - and, in fact the particular rotary of which I speak is right in front of what used to be called The Wang Towers. Locals in the know claim that isn't the case, the egg came before the chicken. I tend to believe them as the legend only barely makes any sense.

Whatever the case, after a run of dodge-car halfway around the rotary, you get on the on-ramp for the connector. Now this on-ramp is a steep incline, what sadistic genius thought it was a good idea to try and have people get on a highway by going up a near vertical incline first is a mystery to all and sundry. I mean, normally one does not expect one's car to have to get out pitons, carabineers, and a rock hammer just to climb up a on-ramp, but here it's common. If the on-ramp were any steeper my poor little car would need VTOL capability - something not part of the standard package - just to get up to the highway.

Now it is my considered opinion that entry onto a highway is best done at something approaching highway speeds. Merging with a traffic stream is far easier if huge delta-Vs aren't involved and if one doesn't have to pray that the oncoming vehicles both are capable of and will use a decent deceleration curve whilst you shift wildly, vainly hoping your car's anemic maximum acceleration curve is enough to stop you from being splattered all over the asphalt by a double-trailer eighteen (or however many they have) wheeler who'll go through you like you're not even there and whose driver's speed addled mind no longer comprehends the concept of slowing down.

Did I mention that once you reach the end of this steep incline that's pretty much it? Ready or not, you're on the highway. Apparently a couple of hundred feet of extra lane to allow you time to get up to speed and merge would be far too much to hope for.

If there's no one in front of me none of this is really an issue, my poor little car has enough experience to be able to scale up the cliff face pretty quickly and hit the highway at something remotely approaching the speed of traffic. But if someone is in front of me, fahgetaboutit!

The really fun ones are the trucks, most of which accelerate up an incline about as well as an unmotivated water buffalo on 'ludes. Of course they don't really care, if they hit the highway doing ten miles per hour, so what? They know that if anyone hits them it'll be the other car that losses. They just go ahead and hit the highway as slow as they like, probably laughing at the sound of all the screeching brakes as the other cars slow and try and get the hell outta the way of the water buffalo. Oddly this can even work in your favor if you're shadowing the water buffalo closely enough - it's like the thing has a shield around it and you can sneak within its limits if you're careful. Of course this makes me feel like one of those little birds that picks the bugs off of a water buffalo, but in general my survival instinct overrides my pride.

Unfortunately it's not just big trucks, in fact I seem to be one of the few people in the state that has this obsession about trying to hit the highway at near highway speeds. Most of the other drivers seem wholly unconcerned and if you get behind one of them then god help ya'. A couple of days ago I was stuck behind a big jeep and three quarters of the way up the ramp, just about two seconds from hitting a stream of traffic doing between fifty-five and seventy-five, we were doing maybe twenty-five at most. I turned to SWVCTM and said "Well, at least we know that Jeep is female". I mean, I'd never really thought about vehicles having a sex, but it suddenly seemed so clear. "Why do you say that?" SWVCTM asked in confusion. "Apparently it's got no balls," I replied simply.

When death is staring you in the face, sticking your tongue out is a viable strategy as far as I'm concerned.

Of course the fun doesn't stop once you've gotten to the top of this on-ramp. You see just a hundred or so feet past the end of this on-ramp is an off-ramp to one of the two major highways the connector feeds into and out of. So you hit the highway going maybe twenty-five miles per hour and you want to merge to the right so you can go down the connector a quarter of a mile to another exit. But the traffic coming up behind you is traveling anywhere from a sedate fifty-five to a lunatic seventy-five (or beyond) and they want to merge left so they can take this off-ramp.

They say that possession is nine-tenths of the law. On the road speed is ten-tenths of right of way.

This cross-merging arraignment is, by the way, not simply a matter of how the connector was designed. Bizarrely enough it's a common theme, it's rare to find an on-/off-ramp pair that doesn't involve cross merging. This is, in my considered if relatively inexperienced opinion, well beyond the point of being a design flaw and into the realm of utter lunacy. Who in the hell thought arranging things so that one stream of traffic was trying to slow down and get off a highway would cross paths with another stream of traffic who's trying to speed up and get on a highway was a good idea?

If by some miracle one manages to survive the four way stop of indeterminate right of way, the left turn jumping redlight, the rotary of doom, the on-ramp of too many degrees incline, and the cross-merging traffic of excessive delta-V, the drive actually becomes rather sedate by comparison. But only by comparison. You still have to deal with truckers who think that getting so close they're only half a foot from climbing into your trunk and parking is a polite way of telling you to get the hell out of their way. You still have to deal with the self-absorbed cell-phone-to-the-ear salesjerk whose Lexus comes within an angstrom of clipping off your front bumper when they make a sudden and directional free triple lane change for no apparent reason. You still have the little red sports cars movin' like a bat outta hell and zipping in and out of traffic like this is Mister Toad's Wild Ride. You've still got the hats and blue hairs who get into the middle or left lane and suddenly slow to thirty miles per hour. You've still got the, well, the just about everybody who whenever they pass any kind of disturbance have to slam on the brakes and rubberneck because maybe, just maybe, they'll get to see a body. You've still got all of those drivers who never bothered to get the apparently optional blinking directional system because they apparently believe that signaling might give other drivers an unfair advantage.

In short you've got something just a hair short of six million drivers - not counting out-of-staters - who apparently believe that anything and everything they could possibly do to get themselves to their destination one pico-second faster is a good idea and that safety is a wholly optional concept.

Yesterday, on the way home, as I was approaching the on-ramp to the connector some mental midget came up from behind going about twice my speed and zipped around me, going partially up on the grass by the side of the road to pass me. Not more than five seconds later he had to very nearly lock up his brakes to avoid slamming into the van that was ahead of me and doing a sensible for this ramp forty miles an hour or so. I just stared in stunned silence, downshifting so I wouldn't end up in this guy's tailpipe. I just can't believe anyone could be so stupid, my mind refuses to believe the evidence of my eyes. This cerebral degenerate quite literally risked his life, my life, and that of whoever was in the van ahead all to gain a fifteen foot advantage he wouldn't have had if he'd just stayed behind me.

God, I'd love to give that guy, and all of the nutty drivers out there, a season ending cliffhanger's worth of pointy toed pump up the hiney. Every time I park at home I consider it a minor miracle that I didn't end up kissing the exploding airbag. And the sad part is that there is just no reason for it. For all of the nutty maneuvers the time these people save themselves generally is barely more than a single light cycle - hit one redlight, and, *poof*, all those risks were for naught. It just doesn't make sense to me. I'll gladly get home ten minutes later if it means I substantially increase my chances of getting there in one piece. Apparently a lot of people feel differently, though.

They're insane, I tell ya', flat out bonkers. No wonder I decided to stop driving all those years ago.

2002-05-18T11:49:00.000-04:00

Do not adjust your television set : Okay, this will be the last time I do this for a while. Well, at least the last time I do it and bug y'all about it. Anyway, made more tweaks but the only one worth mentioning is that by popular request (hey, around here one reader qualifies as popular request) you are now in control of the text size via your browser's "Text Size" setting. The same setting will also apply to the comment window. So go ahead, change things to gigantotext and enjoy. I'll just sit here with my tiny text and laugh maniacally.

2002-05-17T09:16:00.000-04:00

The Parable of the Penguin Gods : I originally wrote this for and posted it to The Captain's excellent discussion group in response to a thread there, but I've decided to post it here as well. Why? Well, because...

What's that? Yes, you, there in the back, what was that you said? Because I'm so enamored with my own mindless blatherings that I want to spread them as far and wide as possible? Well, yes, there is that, but mostly I'm posting it because I'm rather cramped for time and thus won't be doing a lot of writing this morning and there's at least the remote possibility that one or two of my five regular readers might find it amusing. If you're one of the five and don't "get" what this silly thing is about, well have heart as that likely means you haven't been following the various OS wars for the last decade or two and thus are likely a far smarter individual than I.

In any event, on with our story -

The Parable of the Penguin Gods

Once long ago in a land far, far away there existed a Great Religion that worshipped the penguin gods. The believers in this Great Religion were, for the most part, a peaceful people, scholars who engaged in work and debate and had created some wondrous and amazing things. They were happy and content.

But eventually some of the believers in the Great Religion started to notice that there were others who did not believe as they did. The believers in the Great Religion had come to think that theirs was the one true way, that all others were inferior in all ways, and that all should bow down before their penguin gods. Early in their history many had believed that this would happen naturally. After all, it was apparent to any who looked that they had the one true way, people would see this and flock to their temples. Their penguin gods would become powerful and rich beyond all dreams of avarice and even more great works would be done in their name. It was only natural that this should happen, was it not?

In the passing of time it did not happen. Other gods came and went, but some continued on and one particular one grew in power well and far beyond that of the Great Religion. This angered the believers in the Great Religion and they focused that anger upon another land where the Other Religion seemed to reign supreme. They focused their anger especially upon the high priest of that other land, a man of great power and astonishing wealth that some believers of the Great Religion came to say was not a man at all, but instead an evil demon, a great Satan, sent to tempt people from the one true way.

Time had somehow passed the believers in the Great Religion by, but this could not be. Was not their Great Religion superior? Were not their penguin gods supreme above all others? Had they not done great works? Did not the peoples of these other lands understand that they worshipped false gods and gave power to men of great evil? They came to blame this unjust state of affairs on the evil one and his Other Religion.

In response many believers in the Great Religion swore to redouble their efforts and create more great works in their god's names and thus all would see how great their Great Religion was and would come to them in swarms. But it did not come to pass. They gained many converts from the Other Religion, but these were a mere token and only particular types did come. The vast masses who worshiped the Other Religion were somehow not swayed.

Some of those who believed in the Great Religion counseled that it was best to ignore the Other Religion, that it mattered not if others prayed to other gods as long as they knew the truth, as long as they followed the one true way. But these were not listened to in many circles. Many believers in the Great Religion came to believe that it was not enough that they build up their gods, they must tear down the false gods and show them to be things of evil.

Some tried this through scholarship, others tried cajoling the believers in the Other Religion, still others tried to wage great wars - a difficult task as the believers in the Other Religion were little interested in the fight. This went on for what seemed like eons, but to little avail. Few of the believers in the Other Religion were converted. The great Satan still stood, as powerful as ever, and preached his message. No matter what they did, the believers in the Great Religion could not seem to tear down the false gods of the Other Religion.

Some of the believers in the Great Religion grew weary of this and moved on to other things. Some came not to care if the Other Religion remained as it was. Many vowed to continue their futile efforts despite their only tiny successes, swearing that eventually, someday, the Other Religion would cease to be. Few of the believers in the Great Religion could understand why the Other Religion still stood despite all of their efforts. Were not their gods superior in every way? Had they not done many great and wondrous works in their god's names? Could the believers in the Other Religion not see this and realize the errors of their ways? How, how could this be? These thoughts traveled endless circles in their minds, with no answer to be found.

And it came to pass that a believer in the Great Religion and a believer in the Other Religion were traveling upon a road distant from either's land. A great sandstorm came up as if out of nowhere and the two were forced to seek shelter together lest both be lost.

The sandstorm lasted for what seemed like weeks and in the course of time a grudging admiration grew between them.

"Why do you worship this Other Religion?" Asked the believer in the Great Religion as they sat about the fire wondering when the storm would finally pass.

"It serves my needs," the believer in the Other Religion said with a sigh, for he had heard this argument many times before.

"But do you not see that my Great Religion is better?"

"Perhaps," the believer in the Other Religion said, "but it matters not to me."

"How could it matter not?" The believer in the Great Religion demanded.

"As I said, my religion serves my needs. It provides what I ask of it and that is all that I care or concern myself with."

"You should come with me, friend," said the believer in the Great Religion. "Come, learn our ways, and I will show you all of the wondrous things that are possible with my religion, things not even dreamt of in your religion."

"I'm sure that yours is a great religion," said the believer in the Other Religion, "capable of many wondrous things. But your people care greatly for the how of things. Your rituals are quite complicated and in languages I do not understand. I mean no insult, but I've not the time nor energy to learn all of these things and I do not need them. I am a simple man, and my religion serves my needs."

"Your religion is evil," spat the believer in the Great Religion.

"It is neither evil nor good," replied the believer in the Other Religion, "it simply is."

"How can you believe that when your priests care only for money?"

"Aye, they do," said the believer in the Other Religion.

"You know this?" Said the believer in the Great Religion in shock.

"Of course I do. I am a simple man, my friend, but not dim. The priests of my religion care deeply for money, but that is not evil."

"How could it not be? Our priests care not for money, they are pure."

"So they claim. But money is not evil, you and I need it to put bread on the table and so do your priests."

"Your priests take your money," said the believer of the Great Religion in sad disgust.

"They cannot. My priests care greatly for money but they cannot take it from me. To get my coin they must give me something I need or want. To that end they work hard to provide things my people will want and need. To that end they provide things that your priests, who have no such motivation, do not. We do not trust our priests as you do yours, but we understand them. As long as they provide me with what I need and want I will be pleased with them. You see mine is not a religion like yours, I do not worship at their temples nor do I care what their rituals might be. I care only that what they provide serves my needs. Most of my people feel this way and because our priests do provide goods that serve our needs they are happy. As long as these priests continue to do so they will have great wealth and power, if there ever comes a time when they do not then they will be gone and their religion with them."

The believer in the Great Religion shook his head, for he understood this not.

Eventually the storm passed and the two men went their separate ways.

2002-05-17T09:15:00.000-04:00

A tweaking we will go, a tweaking we will go : : It occurs to me that I should mention that neither my sister nor SWVTCM has anything to do with the template, blogroll, or various other tweaks I habitually make to this 'blog - blame it all on me. 'Tis my cross to bear on that road to Damascus, or something like that anyway.

Also, I've been trying to figure out a way to make it clearer at the beginning of a post which of us it's from. Despite our differing header and writing styles I'm not sure that authorship is always clear, especially as the bulk of the posts are from me. Unfortunately to date none of the solutions I've thought of would be acceptable esthetically. Amusing, when one considers that the template tweaks I've made have caused this 'blog to have ended up about as esthetically pleasing as a florescent green latex skort. But then, what do I know?

Unrelated question - if you cross a skort with a spork does Colonel Sanders appear and offer you three wishes?

The world may never know...

2002-05-16T22:23:00.000-04:00

And the 'blog rolls on (Part XXII, or something like that) : Please welcome acdouglas, Dreaded Purple Master, Feces Flinging Monkey, and Sand in the Gears to the blogroll o' doom.

I also made some other minor changes, mostly having to do with the comments section. YACCS has upgraded their code and made it easier to futz around with how the comments boxes look. Hopefully the "comment on the weather" thingy is self explanatory.

2002-05-16T19:11:00.000-04:00

They can't read, write, or do arithmetic, but at least they can manage a blood libel or three : There are no words to describe my disgust at seeing this. Click on the link to see the image. There's nothing particularly gross about it, it's just utterly, completely, and irretrievably disgusting.

This poster, funded by the Associated Students of San Francisco State University, was posted on campus in April2002. This is perhaps the most grotesque and explicit incarnation of the "blood libel" observed in the free world since the Nazi Holocaust. It was generated on the campus of a public university by students, using public money. The poster included the names of the following organizations: Associated Students, GUPS (General Union of Palestinian Students), MSA (Muslim Student Association) and WIA (unidentified).

The poster incorporates the two most common elements to this medieval racist slur. It suggests (1)that Jews ingest the flesh and/or blood of children, and (2)that there are rites associated with the Jewish religion which detail how to perform this cannibalism. Note that this vicious racism is not directed specifically at Israel but at Jews, for it reads, "slaughtered according to Jewish rites".

One expects to see this sort of stuff on MEMRI, translated from the Middle Eastern press, but it's here too.

Is SFSU going to respond to this hatred with anything more than a letter? In fairness to SFSU, they are apparently going to do something about the near riot, but given their own code of conduct I don't see how they can allow this poster to just pass.

(link via Protein Wisdom and Transterrestrial Musings)

2002-05-16T18:35:00.000-04:00

A Literary Diversion

I am not a book reviewer – just a book lover – and there are very few things I would unhesitatingly recommend. This morning, I finished John Crowley’s Little, Big, finally back in print after way too many years. I was one of the most wonderful reading experiences I’ve ever had and I wanted it to go on forever.

Partly it’s fantasy with faeries, kobolds, gnomes, gods and goddesses. Also it’s about life in the big city. Partly it’s the tale of a family, how it came together, how it grows and evolves, separates and comes together again, and how it fulfills is obligations and promises. Partly it’s the tale of the Tale. It is full of current and ancient culture, philosophical musings and promptings, love, magic, mystery, music and pursuit. It’s about faith and loyalty, dissipation, knowledge and redemption. It’s about lessons learned and applied. And all of this is wrapped in the richest, most luscious and evocative prose committed to paper since Shakespeare.

This is not easy reading. The vocabulary is extensive, unabashed, uninhibited and uncommon. Bring your dictionary because you will have to look things up. Also, be prepared for the necessity of putting the book down for a while to think over something you have just read. It’s going to happen quite a few times on your journey through this story. However, none of this is even remotely gratuitous. The words – every single one of them in over 500-odd pages are les mots justes – not a single syllable could be changed.

Let me quote (and please forgive the length – there’s no way to leave anything out):

“To look at the Ancient concept through the spectacles of the New concept is to see absurdity: seas that never were, worlds claimed to have fallen to pieces and been created newly, a congeries of unlocatable Trees, Islands, Mountains and Maelstroms. But the Ancients were not fools with a poor sense of direction; it was only not Orbis Terrae that they were looking at. When they spoke of the four corners of the earth, they meant of course no four physical places; they meant four repeated situations of the world, equidstant in time from one another: they meant the solstices and the equinoxes. When they spoke of the seven spheres, they did not mean (until Ptolemy foolishly tried to take their portrait) seven spheres in space; they meant those circles described in time by the motions of the stars. Time, that roomy seven-storey mountain where Dante’s sinners wait for Eternity. When Plato tells of a river girdling the earth, which is somewhere (so the New concept would have it) up in the air and somewhere also in the middle of the earth, he means by that river the same river that Heraclitus could never step in twice. Just as a lamp waved in darkness creates a figure of light in the air, which remains so long as the lamp repeats its motion exactly, so the universe retains its shape by repetition: the universe is Time’s body. And how will we perceive this body, and how operate on it? Not by the means we perceive extension, relation, color, form - the qualities of Space. Not by measurement and exploration. No: but by the means we perceive duration and repetition and change: by Memory.”

I remember when Little, Big was first published because it made such a stir. The reviews were splendid but I also remember that I couldn’t find it anywhere. The one copy I did run across was on someone else’s bookshelf and they weren’t interested in loaning it to me.

So I have been keeping my eye out for it for almost 20 years. This is a magnificent and enormously satisfying read and it was absolutely worth the wait. It will go into that select portion of my library that gets re-read on a periodic basis. I’m not fool enough to think I’ve gotten everything there is to get on this first trip through its pages and I’m already looking forward to going back.

2002-05-16T06:46:00.000-04:00

The tyranny of the majority : Six congresscritters have proposed a constitutional amendment that would constitutionally define marriage as being between a man and a woman. They proposed this, no doubt, in order to reverse all of those states that currently allow gay and lesbian marriages and to stop other states from heading in that direction. Except, of course, that there aren't any states that allow gay and lesbian marriages currently, nor does it seem overly likely that any shall anytime soon. Nor does this amendment really stand a snowball's chance in hell of passing the high hurdle set for a constitutional amendment as it's neither a pressing issue nor is there nearly enough agreement on the subject and they very well know that.

In other words, it's a sad joke.

I don't get the near hysteria in many social conservative circles towards the concept of gay marriage, I just don't. Aside from theocratic arguments - and since the United States neither is nor should be a theocracy I've zero interest in those - I've yet to hear a decent reason why gays and lesbians shouldn't be able to marry.

If marriage was simply a religious institution that would be one thing. If a particular religion chooses not to bless or recognize a particular union or kind of union, that is well within their rights. If it was simply a social institution, like joining the VFW or something, it would be one thing. But marriage has become a legal institution, heavily controlled and defined by the state. Marriage automatically confers a host of legal rights and responsibilities upon a couple. Legal rights and responsibilities that in some cases are not available any other way, or, if they are, can only be attained in a watered down version at some expense. Denying the availability of those rights and responsibilities to an entire class of individuals is, frankly, unconscionable.

It also conveniently serves a rather circular argument.

It wasn't all that long ago that homosexuality was a DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of mental disorders - the shrinkological bible) entry. Homosexuality was a mental disorder, they knew this because, well, the DSM said so and if you were homosexual they could throw you in the loony bin and subject you to drug therapy, ECT, aversion therapy (basically torture), psychoanalysis, and anything else they wanted whether you agreed or not. Since they could and did do this then obviously you were insane, even though the reason they could do this was that you were by definition (theirs) insane. It made a nice little circular argument and justification all wrapped up in one.

They also studied these homosexuals they tossed in the rubber room, of course, and they found that they were often depressed and maladjusted. Never mind that it was by no means clear that the people they studied were a representative sample of the homosexual population in general, it never seemed to occur to anyone that being thrown in the rubber room against your will and subjected to the predations of shrinkology might be enough to cause anyone to be more than a tad depressed and maladjusted. Add to that the fact that homosexuals were most often rejected by their friends and family, had a hard time finding jobs, and were regularly assaulted, robbed, or murdered with little or no consequence to their tormentors. Not exactly an environment apt to result in a happy and well adjusted individual. They could avoid some of this by remaining "in the closet", though to do so effectively would have meant burying a large segment of who and what they were - not something humans are wired to do without some rather nasty psychological consequences.

The common line from social conservatives is that the removal of homosexuality from the DSM was basically a political move. Frankly that's horsepuckies and shows an astounding lack of understanding of the subject. Over time it was realized that shrinkology had willingly been drawing a causal link where no such link could be said to reasonably exist. That the homosexuals they studied were, as a class, depressed and maladjusted was not proof that homosexuality itself caused depression and maladjustment. To argue that it does leaves out a huge chunk of the sociological feedback loop for nothing save convenience, in fact it has often been used as a justification for the very sociological response.

But that same line of reasoning lives on to this day. One of the biggest arguments against homosexual marriage is the assertion that homosexuals, especially gays (and these arguments almost always seem to come down to gays, lesbians somehow don't count), don't form the same sort of tight bonds heterosexuals do. Well for starters many heterosexuals don't exactly establish tight bonds - had a look at the divorce and out of wedlock birth rates lately? - but the argument that homosexuals don't establish the same sort of tight bonds as heterosexuals so we shouldn't allow them to establish the same sorts of tight bonds as heterosexuals is as absurd on its face as arguing that homosexuality is a mental disorder simply because you have defined it as such.

It is commonly argued that marriage is an institution designed to support and protect the having and raising of children. Since homosexuals can't have children, they shouldn't be allowed to marry. Perhaps that was once the case, but it's an absurd argument in today's world. Is the intention, or even the ability, to have children a precondition of marriage for heterosexual couples? Under this line or reasoning it should be, especially as the fact of the matter is that a fair percentage of heterosexual marriages do not result in children whether by design or because one or the other individual is infertile. Add to that the fact that many homosexuals do indeed have children and how exactly is it that this line of reasoning holds any water?

All of the arguments I've seen against allowing homosexual marriages basically boil down to the theocratic, supporting self-fulfilling prophecies, or "I just don't like them". None of these are operative in our system of government. In a perfect world government would just get its nose out of the marriage business, as it really has no business being there, and all of this would be moot. But that isn't going to happen and anyone who seriously suggested it is going to get their head handed to them on a platter. Absent that, and since government has turned marriage into a set of important rights, there is no justification for excluding a whole class of individuals from enjoying those rights.

Of course they aren't excluded, not in the technical sense. Gays and lesbians can still get married, they just can't marry who they wish - to quote Tina Turner "What's love got to do with it?". That's why the legal arguments surrounding equal protection, really the only serious legal leg homosexual marriage advocates have to stand on, have and likely will continue to fail. The best gays and lesbians can hope for are Vermont-style "separate and unequal" civil unions that in the end may be better than nothing but are largely meaningless and subject to risk of legislative elimination at any time. For better or ill - ill, in my opinion - that's how things are going to be apt to stay for quite some time.

Which begs the question, given that this amendment has a snowball's chance in hell of passing, given DOMA and all of the state level anti-full faith laws that have passed, and given that there is not a single jurisdiction in this country that currently does or is likely in the near future to allow homosexual marriage, why in the world was this abomination even proposed?

2002-05-15T13:35:00.000-04:00

And this weed is just right : With all the time the government has spent going after weed and weed growers you'd think they would have learned a little about the subject. Apparently not. In one study being carried out in San Mateo County they're not happy with the ganja the government is supplying. Why? Like way too many stems and seeds, dude!

"It's stale, low-potency ditch weed."

Serious bogusity!

The government defended its marijuana, saying it "does not contain sticks and seeds."

Now I ask you, when it comes to decent weed whose opinion are you going to believe, the state coordinator for NORML or the man?

In La Jolla they have the opposite problem.

Two patients enrolled in a medical marijuana trial program in La Jolla have complained that the NIDA-provided pot is too potent.

Didn't know there was such a thing.

2002-05-14T20:11:00.000-04:00

This is your taxes on drugs : Anti-drug PSAs don't work. No duh? I could have told them that for only a fraction of the US$929 million they've wasted on these things. Their solution to this problem? Why we should spend another US$180 million on these things 'cause this time they'll make 'em work - we promise. Yeah, right.

Most television advertising is an insult to one's intelligence, but PSAs are in a class by themselves. My gerbils look at PSAs and think "And they think we're dumb?". The anti-drug PSAs are often enough to almost make one want to go out and become a crack whore just to piss off the morons who create these things. What in god's name is their point? Drugs are bad, blah-blah-blah. Like, what, we don't know that? Has there ever been anyone about to shoot up heroin, saw an anti-drug PSA and thought "Holy crap, I didn't know this stuff could be bad for me!"?

Education is not the problem here - whether you're talking drugs, AIDs, or whatever. If there is anyone in this country who isn't aware that hard drugs are maybe not the brightest move if you're planning on having a long-term future, it's because they're completely uneducatable. People doing crystal meth are not usually under the illusion that this is health food they're putting in their body ya' know. The only people still arguing that coke is good for you are generally missing their nasal septum which tends to hurt their credibility just a tad.

When it comes to hard drugs the problem is that about two thirds of these people know these things are dangerous but they don't think bad things will happen to them. Oh sure, heroin can be addictive, but it won't happen to me! See, if you only do it for three days than it won't be addictive. Think I'm joking? I heard that very line from an ex-addict, just before he got addicted again. And landed in jail... Again. After a few B&Es. Again, of course. See, even when something bad does happen, they still manage to convince themselves that next time it'll be different. And round 'n round they go until something happens - usually something pretty nasty - that makes them wake up and smell the coffee. Or until they end up dead, whichever comes first.

The other third knows these things are dangerous and doesn't give a flying crap. Usually because they don't give a flying crap about themselves. Often because on some level they're committing slow suicide and usually drugs are just one of the ways they're doing it.

As a former member of the latter third who spent time around both types, I'll tell you right now that PSAs are not going to reach either type - at best they're a meaningless gesture, at worst they're a pathetic joke. But, of course, most of the PSAs aren't aimed at current drug users, they're aimed at kids - try and stop 'em before they start. The problem doesn't change however, it's not a matter of lack of education on the matter, it's that no PSA could possibly address either psychology even though its roots are there. No PSA is going to convince an arrogant sixteen year old that he's not virtually invincible, that bad things don't just happen to other people. No PSA is going to give a lost fourteen year old the self-esteem necessary for her to give a crap what happens to her if she otherwise lacks it.

I've occasionally worked with kids in their teens and early twenties (okay, so technically they're not "kids", but you know what I mean) regarding a rather rare and complicated problem upon which I have some expertise and experience. One of the things that struck me the first few times was the realization that you couldn't tell them jack. Well, no duh, when I was eighteen no one could tell me jack either. Lots of people tried and sometimes I even knew they were right, but I didn't listen, couldn't listen, or whatever.

There's a rule in good fiction writing - Show, don't tell - and it applies here. You can show someone the various paths they can take, you can show them some of the experiences you had, but you can't tell them what way to go and you can't tell them what experiences they'll have. It just don't work that way.

The PSAs, not to mention most of the various "education" efforts, are attempts to tell, not show.

2002-05-14T09:48:00.000-04:00

Yeah, what he said : Sand In The Gears tosses some sand Bill Clinton's way -

I used to think, believing in a just God, that he would be the first ex-President to die from a venereal disease. Now I am beginning to suspect that he will be the first person to die from his own verbal crapulence, as every synapse instinctively devotes itself to flattering or defending its master, so that none are left to remind the lungs to breath, or the oozing heart, overinflated with self-infatuation, to beat. For eight long years we were afflicted with his logorrhea, and now it continues, though at mercifully diminished levels. The topic, as always, is himself. The method, as always, is half-truth easily exposed, as is the fact that he is at best half a man, and a poor half at that.

Definitely a must read.

Between Clinton showing up just about everywhere to tell us, yet again, what a good job he did and how he was aboutthisclose to ending terrorism forever (damn 22nd amendment!) and Jimmy "Hear No Evil, See No Evil, There Is No Evil" Carter apparently thinking it's his duty to kiss Castro's hiney (by the way, Jimmy, are they going to show you the prisons they stuff anyone they think is gay into while you're there?), what is it with ex-presidents these days?

I think I'm with Cut On The Bias on this one -

[...] Old Presidents need to have their traveling priviledges revoked unless specifically asked to go somewhere.

2002-05-14T07:25:00.000-04:00

The lowest bidder : NASA admits that they have people trawling web auction sites looking for old equipment to buy and strip for parts to maintain their old equipment.

Now this isn't quite as odd as it sounds. I used to do the same thing, searching around for old scrap PDP 11/04s to keep the ones I had running. I mean, it's not like anyone makes core memory anymore and have you tried to find eight inch disk drives lately? Trolling equipment auctions for antique - which can sometimes mean anything over a few years old - parts is a time honored tradition.

Or, at least, it is for little gedunk semiconductor houses like the one I ran. I had a budget of a few mil a year, doesn't NASA have a budget in the billions? What in god's name is NASA running that still has an 8086 in it? And didn't they stockpile the silly things? I had like a fifty year supply of 7400 series TTL ICs I stockpiled because they were getting to be harder and harder to find. If I had an Op Amp blow I'd buy fifty of the silly things because if it went once it was almost certainly going to go again and it was tons better, and cheaper, to have too many than to not have one when you needed it.

Ah well, I wonder if anyone at NASA is interested in buying a slightly used Russian space shuttle? Talk about yer spare parts...

2002-05-13T21:07:00.000-04:00

Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius : A nineteen year old man... Eh, let's be honest, boy, was in court facing charges for drug possession, fleeing a traffic stop, and biting an officer.

Biting an officer? What does he think he is, a boxer?

Anyway, said late adolescent twip apparently thought it was a good idea to bring his latest stash of crack and MJ with him to court. When approached by officers who wanted to serve him a warrant on an unrelated matter, he panicked, fought the cops, and then admitted he had the "blow" on him.

The police chief's comment?

"If they were geniuses, they wouldn't be in court for criminal possession of drugs."

True enough, but then there's stupid and there's so dumb you have to wonder if their body is running off of random electrical impulses. I mean, how flatline do you have to be to not realize that maybe walking into court to face drug charges with a pocket full of illegal drugs is maybe not the hottest idea that ever crossed your pea brain?

2002-05-13T20:13:00.000-04:00

Like watching a train wreck : What in god's name is up with the no-Palestinian-state Likud vote? Why not just hand Arafat a few dozen tanks and a few thousand rounds of ammo? Politically, at least outside of Israel, it would have been a smarter move.

Trying to establish a Palestinian state before there's peace would probably be suicidal for the Israelis. Realistically even if the PA got started on actually fixing things tomorrow it might be quite a long while before any halfway trustworthy Palestinian state might be possible. But saying that openly might not be the brightest of moves, saying "No Palestine!" is certainly not. What in the hell were they thinking?

The sad part is that looking at things from a few thousand miles away with only what I can find in various news outlets, it looks like a schoolyard political catfight. All well and good, we have plenty of those here, but didn't it occur to anyone that maybe this wasn't the greatest time to be having a urinating contest over this subject? Didn't it occur to anyone that this was going to look like proof of Israeli intractability? That this was only going to improve Arafat's hand on the world stage?

Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face.

Tal G had this to say (no direct link, scroll down) -

[...] When Netanyahu was in power, Ariel Sharon was his critic from the right. Now that Sharon is in power the roles have been reversed.

Sharon has been more effective that Netanyahu was - primarily due to traditional political virtues that enabled him to maintain a governing coalition and conduct an effective military campaign. Netanyahu is more youthful, suave, and American-style. This makes him a much better spokeman of course, but it hasn't shown him to be a better leader. In his first go-round he exhibited a tendency towards selfish political calculations that lost him most of his allies. The news from the Likud central committee sounds to me like more of the same.

Gah, just what they need.

NOT.

Hopefully, in the perversity that is the world of politics, this may actually turn out to help Sharon.

Just to make things even funner, it looks like Arafat is losing more than a little support in the "Palestinian Street". That might actually be a good thing, except it seems the support is going instead to people even nuttier than he.

Making his first trip in six months, Yasser Arafat on Monday toured West Bank cities battered by the Israeli military, but drew relatively small crowds in a sign of growing dissatisfaction with the Palestinian leadership.

Arafat skipped his most widely anticipated stop - the devastated Jenin refugee camp - pulling back at the last moment when aides feared he would be heckled in the stronghold for Islamic militants.

[...]

"I'm very angry and very disappointed because Arafat did not visit the camp," said 43-year-old Mohammed Abu Ghalyoun. "He didn't talk to normal people, he didn't want to meet the people who lost their sons.... If he isn't interested in us, we are not interested in him."

[...]

Arafat's trip to Jenin was also marred by a gunfight between two members of his Fatah movement. After an argument, one shot the other in the leg, sending the crowd fleeing in panic.

It gets worse -

Later in Ramallah, five masked assailants attacked Parliamentary Affairs Minister and Arafat confidante Hassan Asfour at the entrance to his home. Palestinian security sources claimed that the attack was carried out by Tanzim militants angered by recent statements made by Asfour which they felt were critical of jailed Fatah leader Marwan Barghouti.

Asfour was in stable condition last night.

In the Jenin camp, many people said their main allegiance is not to Arafat but to militants such as Mahmoud Tawalbe, head of the local military wing of the Islamic Jihad movement, who was killed in fierce fighting with IDF troops.

Atef Abu Rub, a Fatah member from Jenin, claimed the camp visit was cancelled because “the chairman’s bodyguards saw dozens of the Islamic Jihad members chanting ‘Tawalbe, Tawalbe.’”

“Islamic Jihad spent a lot of money on their supporters in the camp, and neither Islamic Jihad nor Hamas leaders in the area appeared on the scene to receive Arafat,” Rub added.

“Our leader is Mahmoud Tawalbe, not Arafat,” said Abdul-Karim Sa’adi, 17, standing on a huge pile of rubble and twisted metal at the heart of the refugee camp.

Rejecting Arafat’s call on militant groups to stop attacks against Israeli civilians, Sa’adi said: “We approve of [Arafat’s] policies in general, but not his decision to put pressure on us to stop operating in Israel.”

Others are frustrated at what they called an absence of reform in the PA, and said Arafat stayed away for fear the people would turn against him.

“People are disappointed that there has been no reform to make our life better. There should be radical reforms here,” said Mohammed Awad Jamal, 24, pouring coffee in his busy roadside cafe.

“Arafat is afraid the people will be furious with him. Until now he has carried out no reforms,” said a 30-year-old man after waiting in the heat to see the Palestinian leader. He declined to give his name.

So the Israelis seem to rather stupidly, to put it mildly, be intent on eating their own politically and the Palestinians, never a source of calm and reasoned discourse, seem primed to eat their own very nearly literally.

To paraphrase Howard Jones - Things can only get better... 'Cause it's hard to imagine how they could get much worse.

Of course every time I say that they do get worse.

Sigh.

2002-05-13T19:35:00.000-04:00

Thinking About My Dad

My father will be 79 on Friday. He has never been sick a day in his life and still works a 40 hour week. He likes it that way – it gives him enough money to be comfortable, to pursue two or three of his beloved cruises a year and helps him continue to feel useful.

He has always been a fairly stoic individual, emotionally inexpressive, dealing with whatever life hands him and moving on. And life has handed him some pretty bitter pills. In 1969, his only other child, my brother, died at the age of 13 when he was hit by a truck. He tended his own mother’s failing years with kindness and devotion while his siblings…allowed him to bear the brunt of the burden and his mother, not satisfied with the attention of the son who was there, criticized and manipulated (or tried to) and insisted that he was the least of her children No, it wasn’t dementia – it was just my grandmother. In 1989, my mother (61 years) passed on, dying from lung and bone cancer.

The worst part of this whole issue with my own cancer was having to tell my father that I too am dying and that, in all probability, he is going to outlive the last member of his own family. I can think of no more horrible news than that.

We were at complete loggerheads through my teenaged years, not an uncommon situation, I know. I thought I had all the answers and was totally unwilling to give him credit for what he knew, had learned and had worked for. A typical teenage snot, in other words. When I moved in with a man I wasn’t married to (though we later did marry – and divorce) he severed all communication with me and we did not speak again until my mother’s cancer was diagnosed.

After my mother passed on, we began the slow process of getting to know one another as adults. It has been enlightening and, in many ways, lots of fun. I had never realized (though I believe my mother did) how much alike he and I tend to be. Facts can be cantankerous critters; it is in some of our less pleasing aspects that we most resemble each other. We tend to be overly sensitive, somewhat hidebound and stubborn beyond reason. But we share a vast intellectual curiosity, delight in a good joke and a love and fascination with music, mathematics, science and good food. These things, along with a tacit agreement to avoid subjects we can never agree on, have given us a basis for relating to each other over the last 13 years and I am deeply grateful to have had the opportunity to do so.

His attitude is not as stoic as it has been. He seems frailer and more agitated. He handles me, to my extreme dismay, with kid gloves. He went on a cruise a few weeks back that I’m sure he would have cancelled had I not made it abundantly clear that would have made me very angry. I e-mailed him every day to let him know what was going on, to send jokes, and to tease him about his onboard diet of beef and bacon. In the middle of the trip, he called me from Brazil – an unprecedented expense – just to chat for a few minutes.

I know he wonders what in the world this is all about. It isn’t natural for a man to survive his children. But I also sense guilt there – because he is healthy and I am not. This isn’t the usual so-called “survivor’s guilt”. It has more to do with an unshakable belief that he didn’t pass along the right genes and that because of that I have poor eyesight and a somewhat limited future.

I can tell him – and have – that he bears no responsibility for my current situation. It is not his fault in any way, shape or form that I have cancer. I can assure him that while things are terminal, they are not immediately so and may not be for some time. I can tell him how much I love him (which would embarrass the stuffing out of him) and how much I have enjoyed getting together with him and getting to know him over the last decade or so and that finally, I understand that he was the best father he could be. He always did his level best and, whether I agreed with his actions and decisions or not, I appreciate the effort and the time he put into my raising, education and well-being.

In the best of all possible worlds, I wish him to understand that while I would like to have been granted a more normal life-span, (I know my mother felt cheated when her terminal status was discovered) I don’t feel personally persecuted. It’s trite but true: None of us gets out of this alive and I have been given more time than many. I have had a good life – the last ten years have been especially joyous and rewarding having been spent with a partner of the heart who’s only demand of me has ever been that I be the best “me” I could be (something my marriage never approached or, sadly, even aspired to). I learned a new craft and succeeded in obtaining a job that was not only reasonably lucrative (comparatively) but which made me glad to get out of bed in the morning to see what problems I could solve today! Those two things make me feel blessed beyond belief and I do not prepare to leave them without sadness and reluctance. But I also know how many people never have the joy of either one.

I would like him to understand that I don’t feel things have been truncated and that I have had a rich and fulfilling life. That I am happy with the part he’s played in it and that I want him to try to relax and enjoy both the time we have left and the time that will come after for him.

I can tell him all these things – but I can’t get him to hear them. It never gets beyond the panic in his eyes.

Since all of this is still relatively new knowledge, perhaps time will help him find a way to make peace with all this. He is an intelligent man but emotional issues are, and have always been, very difficult for him. So I am trying to think about ways in which I might be able to help him through the next couple of years.

If those of you who might be reading this have any suggestions, I would deeply appreciate hearing your thoughts.

2002-05-13T15:55:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the Napster Generation : The Professor has a column up at TCS discussing, among other things, patent and copyright law. Now I don't particularly mean to discuss Professor Reynolds' column per se, but it did get me thinking about something that's been bugging me for a while.

As a sometimes author I feel very proprietary towards my work. There are works I've created that I'm extremely proud of, others I wish I'd never let see the light of day, some that I really don't care that much about one way or the other. But whichever category a work falls into in my personal ranking, they are all my work. This is something I take very seriously, and I think I've every right to. Some of my works are the result of months of work and all of them are the result of my time, effort, and whatever modicum of skill I can bring to bear. Writing good fiction - and I like to flatter myself in believing that some of my work is actually good fiction - is an incredibly draining experience, much more goes into it than most people realize as from the outside it all seems so simple, so easy. It is neither simple nor easy, at least for me. I can churn out paragraphs of opinion for my 'blog 'til doomsday, that's nothing, but writing good fiction takes a lot out of me.

So I feel very proprietary towards my work. It is mine, my property - until and unless I decide to sell it in whole or part to someone else. I don't really view this IP (Intellectual Property) I create as being any different from what the results would have been had I spent my time creating a table rather than writing a story. Both involve time, effort, skill, and materials to create a finished product.

But the product of my labors when I sit down to write is not a physical thing in the same sense that a table would be. My story is made up of words typed on digital paper, it is a set of unique characters and ideas rather than physically shaped and polished wood. Rightly or wrongly, society treats it differently than it would a physical product like a table, there is a kind of "statute of limitations" set on my ownership that is called copyright.

Whatever my feelings on the concept of copyright itself, understand that it's not my intention to argue against it here. To do so would be a pointless exercise and I am not generally given to engaging in pointless exercises - at least not usually. But what confuses me is the attitude of many avowed libertarians (mind you, I am again not speaking directly to Professor Reynolds' piece here, nor saying that he is a libertarian, though he clearly has leanings in that direction) towards the concept of copyright.

It is no grand secret that many of the inhabitants of Blogtopia are libertarians, whether of the small- or big-L variety - indeed, I consider myself a small-l libertarian (mind you, that does not necessarily extend to the other two women who post here, I leave it to my sister and SWVCTM to declare their political beliefs if they wish). It seems, at least from my reading, that many or even most libertarian bloggers have a rather negative view of copyright issues. A belief that copyrights are something that should be minimized at best, and perhaps are not even justifiable at worst.

I view my works as my property unless and until I sell my rights to them in whole or part. The law agrees, for the next X (depending on the age of the work in question) years they are mine or the property of whomever I sell them to. After that point they will be taken from me (or my heirs, or whomever I've sold them to) for... For what? For the betterment of society?

How does that square with libertarian ideals? At its base that is what I find confusing. It seems from what I read that many libertarians square it with their property beliefs quite nicely, but I can't figure out how exactly they do so and I've not seen their full argument stated.

In his article Professor Reynolds take a strict constructionist tact, which is certainly a perfectly defensible and internally consistent position - whether or not I agree with his interpretation and analysis being irrelevant. Others - notably The Captain, who most assuredly does not claim to be a libertarian - take a strictly utilitarian tact. But however defensible these two positions, neither seems overly consistent with libertarian thought on property rights as I understand things.

I've long argued that, whether I like it or not, copyright is rapidly becoming a dead concept anyway. In essence the only thing that kept it alive was that it was more expensive (or difficult to impossible) to make a decent copy of something than it was to go out and buy one. For more and more media that is no longer the case and that trend will only accelerate. I can buy a CD blank for pennies, throw it in my CDRW drive, and in a few minutes have an identical copy of any CD I can borrow from a friend, library, or what have you. With only a small amount of searching I can find any number of copyrighted books online that are downloadable for free and put them on my Visor. One can download movies - including ones that haven't even been released yet - if one cares to and has a fat enough pipe and/or enough time. Clearly neither ethics nor the law was what was stopping people from violating copyrights en masse - if they were, KaZaA wouldn't be one of the most popular downloads on the 'net - it was simply a matter of technology. As the technology to make perfect or nearly perfect copies of copyrighted material has gotten to be fast, cheap, and easy, people have started doing so with abandon.

Given that, I'll grant that the discussion is something of a moot point, but it still makes me curious. To use just one of many examples, when I see a well known libertarian blogger arguing that extending copyrights is wrong because most owners earn all the money they will in the first few years, I wonder how that tracks with libertarian property theory. Why it is that extending ownership is a bad thing? Isn't the near sanctity of property ownership one of the basic tenets of libertarianism? To me it just doesn't track very well. Taking property from the owner as early as possible for the theoretical good of society does not jive very well with my understanding of libertarian attitudes towards property, there seems an inherent conflict in there to me. Arguments about whether or not the average author is apt to earn any money beyond that point seem moot unless one cares to extend the concept of an "acceptable return on investment" to other spheres - something I would hope most libertarians would argue against. The "why should Disney continue to make money off of Mickey Mouse for this long" argument strikes me as even weaker - they created it, it's their property, that's why.

So I'm curious as to how people reconcile these elements against their own beliefs and to that end I solicit any explanations anyone cares to e-mail me or leave in the comments section.

2002-05-13T07:46:00.000-04:00

98% of all divorces are caused by marriage : The notion that money is the root cause of many, if not most, divorces has been conventional wisdom for quite a while now. Only it turns out there's not really much in the way of evidence to back that up.

I've always wondered about this. Clearly money problems, whether it's a lack thereof or disagreements about how it should be spent/saved/whatever, could be a stress factor in a lot of relationships, but a cause of divorce? Doesn't seem likely unless the relationship was extremely weak to begin with.

2002-05-13T07:36:00.000-04:00

I can't drive 55! : Ever wondered what mechanics are doing with your car when you leave it for service? Well one Manchester, UK man found out.

Two days after he'd had a tracking/security system installed in his car he took it in for service. It seems this particular system, a TrakM8, can be set to send SMS messages to its owner's cell phone to tell the owner where the car is and if it's exceeding the speed limit. Whilst his car was supposedly in the shop being fixed it was sending him messages telling him that it was really speeding through the streets of Manchester. I'm sure an awful lot of people suspect this sort of thing goes on, but this man had proof.

Wouldn't you have loved to have been a fly on the wall when the manager of the garage started getting irate phone calls from someone who could prove they were abusing his car? Now if only they could stick a machine into a car that would tell those of us who know zip about these sorts of things if the mechanic is screwing us over when he says that the thing-a-ma-bob needs to be replaced for US$1,250.

Mechanic - "Your hazelmutzus needs to be replaced, gonna be a big job."

Car owner - "What is a hazelmutzus?"

Mechanic - "It's this thing, right over..." (I love how they always try and show you these things, like that means squat if you don't even know what it is.)

Car - "He's lying, don't believe him! My hazelmutzus is just fine, dammit!"

2002-05-11T19:20:00.000-04:00

The Canadian Peso : A Canadian who robbed a US bank is arguing that because of the exchange rate his police record is only worth 62% of an American's and thus his sentence should be reduced.

You've gotta give him points for creativity, not that it'll do him a whole lot of good.

2002-05-11T19:09:00.000-04:00

Ehhh... What's up, Doc? : The latest and greatest in frankenfoods, carrots that contain a Hepatitis B vaccine. They still need testing, but it looks pretty promising. Imagine a future where just eating a salad protects you against half a dozen diseases.

The question, of course, will be whether these sorts of things will ever see the light of day. Last I heard - and this may have changed - the Vitamin A enhanced rice was still sitting on a shelf somewhere despite the incredible amount of good it could do for millions of people. That's not just sad, that's downright criminal.

I'll certainly grant that a lot of care needs to be taken with genetic modification, cloning, and some of the other biotechnologies that we are now on the brink of being able to truly take advantage of. These are not things to be taken lightly, nor will all of it or all of how it's going to be used be good. There's an awful lot we have to work out on both the technical and ethical levels, starting with a recognition of just how much we really don't understand about what we're doing. Frankly I get just as annoyed at the go-go biotech boosters, with their tendency to label anyone with any reservations a Luddite, as I do with the true Luddites who would shut down every biolab on the planet tomorrow if they could. But, both extremist ends aside, we will work these things out, likely with some spectacular successes and more than a few mistakes along the way.

A carrot that protected people against Hep B, that would be a pretty spectacular success.

2002-05-11T09:32:00.000-04:00

Silly rabbit, tricks are for prostitutes : A new top level domain, '.pro' for "professional", has been approved. There's only one hitch, you can only get an address in the ',pro' domain if you're a certified member of the legal, medical, or accounting professions and indeed they claim they will check out your bona fides and recheck them on a yearly basis. The idea is supposedly people who go to a site in the .pro domain will know that they're talking to a "real" professional.

Where to begin? Why only lawyers, doctors, or CPAs? Isn't an engineer a "professional"? A teacher/professor, a system analyst, or an HR beancounter? For that matter, isn't prostitution referred to as the world's oldest profession? And why exactly am I supposed to find anyone with a '.pro' address any more reliable just because some company says they're "certified"? Contrary to what many of them seem to think, just because someone is a doctor, lawyer, or CPA doesn't make them right - anyone want to take advice from Arthur Andersen these days?

In the end, though, I'm not sure this isn't a great idea. If they'd just add politicians to the list then you'd have a safely ignorable domain name ghetto.

2002-05-10T20:41:00.000-04:00

We're from the government and we're here to help you : I'm forever thankful to whatever powers that be that HitlarityCare was stillborn. Why? Let me count the ways -

The [UK] government said in spite of the situation at Bath the number of patients waiting more than 15 months for in-patient treatment was now the lowest on record. It said the number of patients waiting more than 12 months for in-patient treatment was at its lowest level since 1996.

According to the Department of Health figures, the number of people waiting over 12 months fell by 4,400 during March to 21,400. This compares with a total of 41,500 last year.

The total number of people waiting for hospital treatment dropped slightly over the same period - down 15,700 to 1,034,700.

Mr Hutton said: "The isolated problems of one hospital must not cloud what is a considerable achievement for NHS hospitals and staff throughout England.

Making it so people only have to wait fifteen months for treatment is an improvement for the NHS. And, lest you think waits are only for silly things like hangnail surgery -

Doctors advise that women with breast cancer should be treated within four weeks of surgery.

But the BBC investigation found one patient in Hertfordshire had to wait 17 weeks.

In west London some women can wait up to 16 weeks.

[...]

Anne Johnstone, who has a brain tumour, says she is angry at being forced to wait.

She should have had radiotherapy treatment within four weeks, but nine weeks later she is still waiting.

I bitch endlessly about our medical system, and not without reason. But if Ms. Johnstone was going to the same hospital SWVCTM is she would have started radiation therapy within days at absolute most. That's not speculation on my part, it is a fact, and in some instances - there's no way to know which ones beforehand - that could mean the difference between life and death.

2002-05-10T07:46:00.000-04:00

Driving Miss Berry (Mad) : The Bushies finally won one against Her Royal Majesty, Mary Frances Berry, chairwoman of the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights.

Our story so far - On December 6, 2001 Bush appointed Peter Kirsanow to the commission. This most displeased Her Royal Majesty, who refused to allow him a place on the commission. Her majesty claimed that there was no opening - so sorry - because that seat was already filled by Victoria Wilson. Ms. Wilson was appointed on January 13, 2000 by President William Jefferson "CrotchShot" Clinton to fill the unexpired term of Judge A. Leon Higginbotham, which was set to expire on November 29, 2001. Now normally when you're appointed to fill an unexpired term you do so until the term would normally have... err... Expired. But Her Majesty had other ideas. Her Royal Highness was of the opinion that when a new person is appointed the clock "reset" and they automatically got a six year term. This makes little sense, but then Her Majesty is not known for her prowess in logic.

Bizarrely enough, a lower court agreed with Her Majesty, perhaps they were dazzled by her mere presence. Unfortunately for the Royal, yesterday The U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit basically said "What are you, nuts?". Her Royal Highness still has the option, and almost certainly will, of requesting an en blanc hearing from the court and possibly an appeal to SCOTUS.

White House spokeswoman Anne Womack said yesterday that "the court has made it very clear that Peter Kirsanow is a rightful member of the commission, and we fully expect that he will be recognized as such."

Anne, hun, if you really expect that than you must be about the only one. The commission is Her Royal Majesty's fiefdom and has never in recent memory bothered itself with little things like logic, fairness, following its own rules, or matters of law.

2002-05-10T01:24:00.000-04:00

A million here, a million there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money : A Oregon judge recently reduced a judgement against Phillip Morris.

A judge reduced a landmark $150 million punitive award against Philip Morris to $100 million Thursday, saying the original amount was “grossly excessive.”

So now it's just, what, obscenely excessive?

2002-05-10T01:14:00.000-04:00

57 channels and there's nothin' on : Cable TV continues it's slow suicide. They spent lots of money on changing their systems over to digital, but few people are actually signing up. Their solution? To make premium channels only available on digital.

Here’s why cable may be willing to make the digital gamble. Nationwide, just over 72 million people get cable, including 70 million who have access to digital cable because of the recent infrastructure upgrades.

But only 15 million have actually signed up, and there’s a high monthly turnover rate — what the experts refer to as the “churn rate.”

“It’s a smart move for cable because they have a lot of digital churn,” said Scott Cleland, a telecommunications analyst at The Precursor Group. “So the first thing they’re trying to do is prevent people from churning out of it, to make it more stable. And the next thing is it will add to the bottom line, it will increase average revenue per consumer.”

Now I'm just a dumb housewife and not a "telecommunications analyst", but it seems to me that maybe someone ought to try and figure out why they have a high churn rate? I mean, isn't that pretty basic? Or is it that they already know it's because digital cable costs too much, doesn't offer anything additional most customers want, cable service sucks and cable companies treat their customers like crap, and people now have other options like DirectTV?

2002-05-10T00:32:00.000-04:00

Oops! ...I'm the second horseman of the apocalypse! : A Britney Spears video game has been released for the PS2.

More proof that TEOTWAWKI is on nigh...

I suppose it's better than the latest AARP sponsored tour... If only barely. At least Mick can act.

2002-05-10T00:17:00.000-04:00

Only his hairdresser knows for sure : Remember those sixteen Hamas members Arafat arrested to show he was serious? Then again, maybe not.

The White House is also cautious about Arafat's ability to demonstrate his authority by maintaining 16 Hamas members reportedly in custody.

Hamas officials say the arrest never happened and dared the Palestinian Authority to try to arrest them, saying that it would lose its credibility with the Palestinian people if it dared.

Hamas leaders were continuing to go about their business in the Gaza Strip — Hamas' headquarters — with Hamas founder Sheik Ahmed Yassin preparing for his daughter's wedding, his son Mohammad said.

The White House is concerned that the Palestinian Authority does not have any militants in custody, particularly since the PA has a history of making arrests under pressure, then quickly releasing the militants.

Hmmm... Dared the PA to arrest them? Makes ya' wonder about those reports of Arafat losing street cred among the Islamakazi set. If true, that would seem to put Arafat between Iraq... I mean, a rock and a hard place.

2002-05-09T22:42:00.000-04:00

Unsafe and insane : This is just mind boggling -

Accused mailbox bomber Lucas Helder told authorities he was planting pipe bombs in a pattern to show a happy face during his five-state weekend spree.

I know that "Don't worry, be happy" song was enough to drive anyone bonkers, but this is ridiculous.

2002-05-09T22:32:00.000-04:00

The ultimate patriarchal plot : Having sons may be hazardous to a mother's health?

Coming soon : Warning labels required on 'Y' sperm.

2002-05-09T22:17:00.000-04:00

Is he strong? Listen, bub, he's got radioactive blood :

**Warning, Possible Spidey Spoilers!!**

Went to see SpiderMan today. I'm probably going to get crucified for this, but... I don't get it.

Oh I get the whole SpiderMan thing well enough and I "got" the movie, I just don't get the hype. From everything I'd read I'd expected this to be either the greatest movie ever made or to blow chunks. It was neither, it was just an entertaining enough movie that I'm glad I saw but won't particularly be tempted to spend the money to see again.

I should mention that I'm more than a tad familiar with the SpiderMan comics and that probably shades my view of this movie more than a little. When we were kids someone gave my brother subscriptions to a couple of SpiderMan comics and I used to read them when he was done with them - before he was done with them, if I could figure out where he'd hidden them (and I usually could). In my late teens and through my early twenties I read pretty much everything Marvel put out, eventually I lost interest (and they got to be too damn expensive) but I have fond memories of them.

Any Marvel show or movie is a dicey proposition for anyone who's been a fan of the comic books. Marvel has this inexplicable habit of changing their own mythos wildly from what they've created in their comic books to what they show on screen. Sometimes it makes sense to do so - having Uncle Ben die via carjacking, for instance, makes much more sense than the original version. Sometimes maybe there's a reason but it's not clear why they felt they had to do it that way - Rogue being a teenager, for instance, and lacking her (inadvertently permanent) stolen abilities. Sometimes it's just stupid - David "Bruce" Banner, anyone? Other times there just doesn't seem to be any reason for it at all - Bobby Drake/Iceman being a teenager when he only has a couple of minutes of screen time and there are any number of other characters that could have been used (any of the New Mutants or perhaps Kitty). Slavish devotion to one's source material isn't necessarily a good idea, of course - though it didn't seem to do much harm to Lord of the Rings - but Marvel so often just makes odd changes with no apparent reason and that are near guaranteed to annoy their built-in audience that you have to wonder why. It isn't just that Marvel fans want to hate their movies because they couldn't ever live up to the fan's expectations, Marvel really has given them more than a few reasons to expect to.

While there were any number of changes to the Spidey mythos in this movie, most were either minor or made sense. The one that seems to have ticked off a lot of fans was the switch from Peter Parker invented web slingers to organic. To a certain extent I "get" why this annoys some fans. Peter was supposed to be a genius, his inventiveness was often used as part of the various stories. One of the first introductions to this was his invention of the web slingers and those too were used as part of various stories - often they ran out at points inconvenient for SpiderMan but convenient for the story (of course at other points they had movie machinegun-like infinite supplies). In the movie the only indication you've got that Peter has any brights is that everyone keeps saying so and he has a periodic table on the wall of his room.

Still, I think all the bitching about that particular change is more than a bit overblown. As Marvel mythos shuffling goes, it's extremely minor to the overall story. The movie followed the mythos closely enough to at least be recognizable. Tobey Maguire was decent enough as Peter Parker, though not really the image of Peter I always had in my head. He did seem a bit uneven, at some points quite engaging and at others off his game. Willem Dafoe was great as the schizoid Osborne/Goblin, the scene of him talking to his other personality in the mirror was wonderfully handled. J.K. Simmons as J. Jonah Jameson was absolutely perfect, I wouldn't have imagined anyone could have pulled off that character - both the appearance and manner - that well. Most of the rest of the cast was anywhere from good to serviceable - with one exception.

Kirsten Dunst as Mary Jane "Fang Bangs" Watson absolutely suck-diddly-ucked. Even though she's only twenty she looked more like she was thirty-five and way too old for the role. In one particular scene she's talking to Peter across the fence between their back yards and I thought "My god, she looks like a heroin addict!" - every other scene she was in I couldn't help by look for track marks. There was no chemistry between her and Maguire. Not that that's necessarily her fault. Every time they had a scene shifting to the love interest between them the movie came to a screeching halt - slammed into a narrative brick wall is more like it. Good lord, who in the world wrote that dialogue? It was embarrassingly bad, I felt sorry for Dunst and Maguire as it must have been downright painful to try and pass that drek off as anything any real human being would say (maybe that explains the heroin?). It's not like the love interest angle can't be handled well in a superhero movie - the first Batman movie did it, as did The X-Men - but here... The dialogue was like something out of a fifth rate soap opera.

Of course I'd guess that isn't what most people go to this kind of movie for, they're more interested in the effects and the battles. Rather a mixed bag, in my opinion, though mostly good. Some of it was absolutely spectacular - the ending sequence was especially stunning and worth the price of admission all by itself. Some of it just didn't look quite right, wire work that the eye catches easily as violating the laws of gravity - granting that Spidey is a superhero and all, but the laws of physics work the same for him as everyone else. The battles were mostly well handled, though the final battle between Spidey and the Goblin got close to, if not quite crossed, gratuitousness. The battle downtown and on the bridge - though the latter's have your cake and eat it too violated the mythos (although it also wasn't MJ in the original), but the scenes of the people on the bridge throwing everything they could at the Goblin was oddly endearing - were both pretty impressive to watch. Oddly enough, the fight between Peter and Flash (Joe Manganiello) was perhaps more visually interesting than any of those between Spidey and the Goblin.

One perhaps odd bitch of mine was the Goblin's mask. Every time Dafoe (or whoever was stuck in the suit) talked you could see it through the screen over the open mouth of the mask, for some reason I found that very distracting. I also thought the obvious sequel set-up was both unnecessary and silly.

Anyway, overall it was a pretty good movie. Good, and well worth the price of admission, but not great.

2002-05-09T08:14:00.000-04:00

There's nothing like a free and open election (and this'll be nothing like one) : Saddam Hussein has called for a referendum to decide if he should remain in power.

Iraq is to hold a referendum later this year to decide whether President Saddam Hussein should remain in office, according to state radio.

The vice-chairman of the Revolutionary Command Council of Iraq, Ezzat Ibrahim - the country's second-in-command - is said to be chairing a committee to ensure a "successful result" in the ballot.

Ensure a successful result?!?

Sample ballot -

Should our glorious and omnipotent leader, Saddam Hessein, continue to lead us in victory?

1) Yes.
2) Hell Yes.
3) Absolutely Yes.
4) I'm suicidal, so No.

The president, 65, also holds the posts of prime minister, army commander-in-chief, chairman of the Revolutionary Command Council and secretary-general of the ruling Baath party.

They forgot to mention "Numero uno target on the axis of evil top ten hit parade".

2002-05-09T08:01:00.000-04:00

I'm shocked, shocked I tell you! : The feds are going after the makers of those exercise belts.

Those widely advertised electronic exercise belts don't work as promised, the U.S. Federal Trade Commission said Wednesday in announcing suits against the marketers of three devices.

What? You mean... You mean they don't actually work? Well knock me over with a feather.

Who actually buys this kind of junk, anyway? It boggles my mind to think that there are people out there that see these infomercials and hurriedly dial 1-800-SUCKERS with credit card in hand. Doesn't it ever occur to them that those models with the ripped abs probably got that way via... Well, maybe, could it be... EXERCISE? That perhaps these models with the ripped abs hadn't even heard of this product until about three minutes after getting to the set?

A fool and their money are soon parted, so they say, apparently there's a lot more fools out there than many of us would like to think.

2002-05-09T07:30:00.000-04:00

Of course you know, this means war : An environmental group is suing chocolate manufacturers.

An environmental group sued chocolate manufacturers Wednesday, contending chocolate contains potentially hazardous levels of lead and cadmium and should carry warning labels.

[...]

A state investigation last year discounted the lawsuit's claims, and U.S. Food and Drug Administration researchers have found children younger than 6 who eat lots of chocolate take in 6 percent or less of the total daily amount of lead allowable by law.

Go after twinkies, deny us our rightfully delicious artery clogging movie popcorn, put farmers out of business to preserve the rare spotted microbe, try and take away our SUVs... But if you go after chocolate, we will get you.

2002-05-08T08:04:00.000-04:00

Hoist, meet petard : Consumer reports sent out 15,000 glove compartment organizers as an incentive to new subscribers. Only it seems there's a problem and now they've had to recall them.

The kits contain a flashlight that can overheat and melt the case and a tire-pressure gauge that gives inaccurate readings, which could lead people to improperly inflate their tires.

I hate it when that happens...

2002-05-08T07:33:00.000-04:00

Religion of pieces : Another Islamakazi went kaboom in Israel, fortunately there were no other casualties -

The bomber was walking along Megiddo Junction when the blast went off, possibly prematurely. A group of soldiers were standing at a nearby bus stop and might have been the intended target, Israel Army Radio said.

In response to yesterday's bombing Israel might expel Arafat -

"It could be that in the end there will be no choice and we will have to expel Arafat," she [Israeli Minister of Education Limor Livnat] told Israel Army Radio.

She said she had no indication that Sharon had already made such a decision.

Prime Minister Ariel Sharon put things in a slightly different light -

"He who rises up to kill us, we will preempt it and kill him first," he said.

[...]

Referring obliquely to Arafat, Sharon said: "Those who call for millions of martyrs are guilty. Those who constantly incite are guilty. Those who fund terrorism are guilty. Those who launch terrorism are guilty. Guilty," he said, pounding his fist on the podium.

If Hamas, who has claimed responsibility for the Rishon bombing, intended to derail any possible peace initiatives - and given the timing that intention seems to be clearly written in Israeli blood - it would seem they have almost certainly succeeded.

Another bomb went off in Karachi, Pakistan, killing ten French citizens and two Pakistanis.

It is not yet clear who is behind this attack.

But police said they would investigate possible links between the bombers and the al-Qaeda network as well as Pakistan's regional rival, India.

"We cannot rule out the involvement of al-Qaeda, but our suspicions are across the border. I am pointing towards India," the Reuters news agency quoted Sindh province police chief, Kamal Shah, as saying.

To state the depressingly obvious - the war on terrorism has a very, very long ways to go.

Update : The Megiddo suicide bomber survived the blast and is currently undergoing surgery. Two Israeli soldiers were lightly wounded.

2002-05-08T06:34:00.000-04:00

It depends on what the meaning of 'is' is : Words to live by -

Poor Cardinal Law. As the 71-year-old archbishop does the perp walk for the very first time this morning, he has learned a very important life lesson:

It's one thing to mess around with altar boys, or allow your pervert priests to, but never, ever screw around with an ambulance chaser.

2002-05-07T17:26:00.000-04:00

Here we go again : Let me see if I get this right. Just as Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon is talking to President Bush, who everyone expects to try and get concessions for peace out of Israel, someone decides to blow up a billiard hall in Rishon Lezion and kills at least fifteen people? Does anyone think the timing was random? Anyone?

According to the Qatar-based al-Jazeera television news network, Hamas has claimed reponsibility for the Rishon Lezion bombing. However, a conflicting report indicates Palestinian Authority Chairman Yasser Arafat's Fatah faction has claimed responsibility for the attack.

Update : At least 16 killed, 57 wounded.

Middle East analysts said it appeared that the timing was not coincidental and was aimed at disrupting any attempts to broker a cease-fire and possible resumption of peace talks.

[...]

The observers noted that any setback on the Middle East front would frustrate Bush's reported plans for military action against Iraq for which he has been trying to build support in the Arab world.

Sharon cuts US visit short and heads for home.

2002-05-07T17:05:00.000-04:00

Airport screeners wanted, sadistic impulses a plus : Congress wants to raise the security fee you pay as part of your airline ticket (exactly how many invisible taxes are tacked onto those things, anyway?) from US$2.50 to US$5.00 per leg of your trip.

MassPort officials, all of whom would only speak under conditions of anonymity, were thrilled by this potential improvement. "We're already working on a new advertising campaign to restore public confidence," said one, showing reporters a draft poster intended for busses and subways which said "Logan airport, now with twice as much humiliation!". "With the extra money generated by this fee change we'll be able to randomly strip-search two to three times as many seventy year old grandmothers from Des Moines," said another, "and still have the resources left over to force parents to remove diapers from infants in case anyone decides to hide explosives there. This should go a long ways towards restoring public confidence in the air transportation system in general and Logan International specifically.".

Okay, so I made the quotes up... I bet it's what they're thinking, though.

Update: It looks like this one is all but dead.

2002-05-07T08:23:00.000-04:00

You're such a pill : I've always been more than a tad suspicious of chemical psychiatry. Fact is I'm suspicious of psychology/psychiatry in general. Far too much of it is based on little more than opinions that can vary wildly from one shrinkological school of thought to another, too often what qualifies as a mental disorder boils down to little more than enforcing some societal norm or other (sometimes that's a good thing, sometimes not), and shrinkology has a horrifying history and a lousy track record when it comes to being predictive or accomplishing results when the chips are down.

Chemical psychiatry in particular suffers from some fairly major problems. First, we really have no idea how the brain works. Second, we really have no idea how most of the drugs used work. Lastly, it's often a too easy answer, an attempt to treat a symptom without doing the work of dealing with the underlying problem, with a lot of questionable incentives involved.

So what's my answer to all of this? Sugar pills!

After thousands of studies, hundreds of millions of prescriptions and tens of billions of dollars in sales, two things are certain about pills that treat depression: Antidepressants like Prozac, Paxil and Zoloft work. And so do sugar pills.

A new analysis has found that in the majority of trials conducted by drug companies in recent decades, sugar pills have done as well as -- or better than -- antidepressants. Companies have had to conduct numerous trials to get two that show a positive result, which is the Food and Drug Administration's minimum for approval.

What's more, the sugar pills, or placebos, cause profound changes in the same areas of the brain affected by the medicines, according to research published last week. One researcher has ruefully concluded that a higher percentage of depressed patients get better on placebos today than 20 years ago.

[...]

The new research may shed light on findings such as those from a trial last month that compared the herbal remedy St. John's wort against Zoloft. St. John's wort fully cured 24 percent of the depressed people who received it, and Zoloft cured 25 percent -- but the placebo fully cured 32 percent.

2002-05-06T18:43:00.000-04:00

Flavor and Savor: Food, Glorious Food

All my life I have been in love with the flavors of food – mild, piquant, rich, spicy, hot, sweet, salt, sour food. From the profound mellowness of a good piece of Brie to the complex over and undertones of a majestic curry, from the perfect simplicity of a ripe strawberry to the riotous delight of a rich and comlicated trifle, the kaleidoscope of taste and tang has been one of the most reliable and constant sensual pleasures of my life.

Until now.

Last Thursday I had the first session of my second chemotherapy course. One of the possible side effects is the loss of the ability to taste things. This didn’t happen with the chemo I had a year and a half ago so I wasn’t thinking about the possibility this time – only praying that I wouldn’t get nauseous again. And, as it happens, I didn’t get sick – for which I am profoundly grateful.

Friday morning after my radiation treatment (arm) we went to do a little shopping and then repaired to a nearby fast food restaurant for lunch before returning to the hospital for a discussion about starting radiation treatment on the spinal mets. I know fast food isn’t the healthiest choice in the world, but I was hungry, needed something quickly and was seriously jonesing for a fat, salty hamburger loaded with everything and a bucket of fries I could dive into and eat my way out of.

The only thing I could taste was the pickle on the hamburger.

Nothing else had any flavor at all. Well, my coffee tasted fine, but the food could have been so much shaped, moist cardboard. It was very strange. It all felt right – the burger had the right burger-texture, the lettuce crunched, the fries were crisp on the outside and tender/mealy on the inside. But there was no flavor!

After we got home I experimented a little. It seemed to be specifically salt that my tongue was missing. Sweet, sour and bitter still responded. Talk about bizarre! A piece of hard candy yielded a wonderfully intense sweet respberry taste, but a piece of Genoa salami was totally unidentifiable and anonymous. Pickles announced themselves well, but a cheese cracker delivered neither tang nor taste – only crunch.

In the following days, other aspects of my ability to taste things have faded in and out like reception on an old radio. As of Saturday morning, I couldn’t taste sweet things any more either – nor was my coffee anything but warm liquid. We made pizza Saturday night and I choked a piece down because I was hungry and needed to eat – but it might as well have been a bowl full of green beans (one of the few foods I really don’t care for) for all the appeal it had.

This morning, I had some toast and coffee. The coffee taste buds were somewhat back on line but the toast buds were still languishing somewhere. However, this afternoon, a piece of the leftover pizza and a muffin both tasted pretty good!

I don’t know how this is going to work, going forward, and I don’t know how long it will last. It would be easier if it were consistent – either I could taste things, or I couldn’t. You know what I mean? If I knew the buds were working, I could opt for the roast chicken, couscous and asparagus but if they were still hanging out on the islands with their little umbrella drinks and no intentions of returning to work any time soon – bring on the green beans! Why waste good food when you can’t taste it anyway?

I got to wondering. What if other senses besides taste were affected? What if you woke up one morning and could no longer see the color red or, say, any of the colors in the warm part of the spectrum? Or what if depth perception took a hike? Or peripheral vision? What if you could suddenly no longer hear in a certain range? Lost the ability to comprehend music or language? Couldn’t make sense of the printed word? What if velvet suddenly felt like concrete or water like fire? Any of these things would be devastating rather than merely inconvenient.

Perception is a strange and wonderful thing and, for the most part, we take it utterly for granted. Even through my grumpiness, I recognize that a certain point has been made and, perhaps a small lesson learned.

This is more strange than upsetting. I miss flavors, but they will be back eventually and in the meantime, I can cope. Being unable to taste my food doesn’t impair my day-to-day effectiveness. All the same, I’m looking forward to being able again to revel in an Oreo cookie and to determine that I don’t like green beans by actually tasting them!

2002-05-06T09:11:00.000-04:00

HTML is the work of the devil : Thanks to a small coding error, naught but a forgotten quote mark, a small chunk of last night's SWVCTM post ended up disappearing into the ether and last night I was too half asleep to realize it. Most annoying as the absence rather messed with the chrono-swapping flow I was using. Anyway, it has now been restored.

You also might notice there's been another minor change to the site. Personally I like the most amount of text in the least amount of space possible. I'm one of these people who reads the bottommost line of an eye chart from fifty feet away just because I can, small text doesn't bother me in the least. Unfortunately a lot of people apparently don't feel as I do - those foolish mortals - so I've upped the text size a little.

Lastly, the link to Moira Breen's Inappropriate Response has been fixed. The previous link was taking people to her old site.

2002-05-06T00:37:00.000-04:00

Nuclear Medicine : Ah yes, I see that it's time for another entry in the (hopefully long) ongoing saga of SWVCTM and those nasty little rebellious breast cancer cells.

First, a question - Why am I writing these? Answer? Damned if I know. Certainly when I started this 'blog keeping a record of SWVCTM's trials and tribulations on the medical front was not exactly my intent. When I started writing that first post I had no idea how bad things were. At the outset it was intended as a semi-humorous rant about how bloody annoying dealing with the medical community can be, but before it was finished it was discovered that her problems went well beyond the annoying and into the terminal.

I imagine that many of those who read my writings, whether here or elsewhere, draw the understandable conclusion that I'm a rather loud-mouthed over-opinionated ill-informed bitch. To a certain extent, that's true, but outside of my writing few people would ever know it. I'm an extremely soft spoken person and, outside of a very small list of those people I know extremely well, in general I'm not overly apt to express any strong opinions. Or, indeed, to say much of anything at all. I kid you not when I say that there have been instances where someone I saw peripherally on a regular basis was shocked to discover that I could talk, apparently having come to the conclusion that I'm mute.

There are a variety of reasons for this, most boiling down to two things. The first, as my sister has hinted in the comments section, being that our parents were abusive lunatics - frankly that's far to mild and kind a term for them. I refuse to have anything to do with anyone in my family save my sister for exactly this reason. Growing up in such an environment I learned early that expressing an opinion could be rather hazardous to one's health. The second thing is that I have hyper-sensitive hearing, this is something I get from my mother. Like my mother, I can pick out a conversation being carried on at the other side of a house behind closed doors with ease. It was never wise to assume my mother was out of earshot, and the same is pretty much true with me - perhaps even more so. As a result of the combination of sensitive hearing and abusive upbringing, I have a very quiet voice. In any kind of public setting, which tend by their nature to be noisy, few people can hear me even if I were to speak so there generally seems little point to my saying anything even if I was inclined to do so.

As a result of all of this my close friends and loved ones know me to be sometimes rather talkative, rather like I often am in my writing. But beyond that small circle most people have rarely heard me say more than a word or two. This is not something I'm overly thrilled about in myself, but it's also not something I've had more than minor success at changing. So instead I turn to writing where I can rant and rave to my heart's content. I've no idea why it works that way for me, it just does and pretty much always has. Though I wish I was more expressive in my day-to-day life, I do enjoy writing. Through years spent writing fiction I've even developed a tiny modicum of talent for it.

While it didn't really start out this way, these entries have in part become my way of venting some of what I'm feeling about what SWVCTM is going through in a way I wouldn't otherwise feel comfortable doing - railing at the heavens is just not my style. I suppose they're also documenting some of it, a kind of tribute to her, though to whom or why I couldn't say.

So if these entries bore the livin' crap out of you, well I can certainly understand that and I'd certainly understand if you skipped them. But I intend to continue them for my own good, if nothing else.

One thing I suspect a lot of people aren't aware of, maybe don't want to be aware of, is how fast things can change, how quickly your life can be turned upside down. How you can go from one day thinking you're perfectly healthy with a long life in front of you to discovering the next day that you're dangerously ill.

SWVCTM's cancer was discovered, as often happens, through a matter of pure happenstance. One day she was uncomfortable in the bra she was wearing so I offered her one of mine. We're basically the same size, but the bra I'd always found quite comfortable bothered her and she couldn't figure out why. The underwire was biting into something in her left breast and she discovered that something was a lump. If it hadn't been for that little bit of bra swapping god only knows how much longer it would have taken before the lump was discovered and there's no way to know how long it'd been there - presumably a while.

Discovering a lump in your breast (or, I suppose, anywhere else) is never a happy experience. But given her age and all it wasn't the thunder of doom either. Benign breast cysts are quite common in a woman her age and are harmless. In fact one of the sources of the heavy debate over mammography and breast self-exam is that they lead to a lot of benign cysts being discovered and a lot of unnecessary worry and biopsies (with the attendant, if minor, risks) without there being much in the way of strong evidence that they contribute to overall survival.

Knowing all of this, I tried to reassure her and by the time she went to the GP we were both convinced that it was nothing. The GP concurred that it probably was nothing to worry about, but of course wanted a mammogram anyway. So she went to have the mammogram and went home still believing that everything was fine. It wasn't, there was a call on the answering machine from the doctor's office, and there was only one reason the doctor's office would be calling.

The next stop was the surgeon's office with a copy of the mammogram. The surgeon made no bones about it, he believed it was cancer. Worse, he couldn't be sure without a biopsy but he believed there was probably lymph involvement.

The severity of a breast cancer is referred to as its "Stage". Combined with the age (younger is worse) of the patient, the particular type of breast cancer, and the degree, or lack thereof, of receptor positivity, what "Stage" you are tells you a lot about what your chances are. For breast cancer the scale is Stage 0 through Stage IV. Stage 0 basically means there are pre-cancerous cells that if left will cause problems. Stage I through III are defined by the size of the tumor. Stage IV is either a very large tumor or any size tumor where there are signs of lymph involvement. Your chances of long term survival for Stage 0 - I breast cancers are extremely good - in many instances better than 99%. Stage II cancers are roughly 80%. It drops rapidly from there. Once there is lymph involvement, Stage IV, it means that the cancer has moved and can metastasize to just about anywhere in the body.

What the surgeon was telling her was that from what little data he had he believed that it was indeed cancer and that it was likely very bad. At that point he didn't really have enough to go on for anything more than an educated guess, part of the problem is that our imaging technology isn't all that good (though new technologies are improving that) and the only way to know what's going on is to go in and look. I later came to the conclusion that what he was basically doing was trying to prep her for the worst possible news. If it turned out that there was no lymph involvement, well it would be good news. It it didn't, well she was already expecting about the worst news possible.

Whatever his reasons for putting things as he did, the surgeon's opinion was devastating. In the span of just a couple of days she went from being a perfectly healthy forty-something with more than half her life ahead of her and, aside from the lump, not a hint of illness, to basically being told there was only a 35% (if even that) chance she'd be alive in five years. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. The thought "Oh my god, she's going to die!" ran through my head on a continuous loop, my mind just refused to assimilate it. I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for her.

The first thing they had to do was make sure that it was indeed cancer, though at that point there was little doubt in anyone's mind. Because of the size of the tumor - around 2cm - the way they did this was what is called Needle Locator Biopsy, that was scheduled for a couple of days after she first saw the surgeon. As I said, when it's serious and they know it's serious things can move extraordinarily quickly.

We got to the hospital early in the morning, being late fall it was rainy and dreary - not the best of omens. The day surgery area is one large long room. About a third of it is a waiting area with chairs and the ubiquitous waiting room TV. The rest is set up with a series of beds, each having a curtain that can be pulled around them. When you get there a nurse has you fill out a ton of paperwork and then asks you pretty much all of the questions which you just answered on said paperwork before explaining to you their method of describing any pain - a zero through ten scale with ten being "Please kill me now". From there they have you change into the standard dignity-shredding hospital gown and you sit and wait until they're ready for you.

Eventually they came and got her and took her to a room for placement of the needle - really more of a wire. After giving her a local they had her lay on a table that has holes in it for your breasts to go through. Using a high resolution display of realtime x-rays they place a very thin needle/wire into the breast, down to where the tumor is. The wire will then act as a guide for the surgeon so he knows exactly where and how deep to go to find the tumor.

Once the needle was placed they returned her to the day surgery area, this time to lay in one of the beds. The surgeon came by and talked to her for a moment before an anesthesiologist showed up to pump her full of antibiotics and get her started on her way to la-la-land. She was wheeled into surgery and the surgeon followed the wire down to the tumor, taking a small biopsy of it for analysis.

It was, of course, ductal invasive breast cancer.

Every day at ten in the morning I take SWVCTM to the cancer center for radiation treatment. Her appointment isn't until 10:45, but it's about a twenty-five minute drive to the hospital and it takes her a few minutes to prep before the treatment. The way they run this machine you don't want to be late if you can help it.

This daily trip adds an odd bit of regimentation to my life. As I've mentioned before, I've been a housewife for the last three and a half - almost four, now - years. One of the advantages to being a housewife (and, trust me, there are disadvantages as well), at least if you don't have kids, is that your time management is fairly fluid. Aside from the occasional appointment, I haven't had a particular place to be or thing to do at a given time in quite a while. Oddly enough, I find these trips comforting. I suppose on some level they represent my contribution to her well being or some such psychobabble nonsense.

The most interesting part of the trip - now that I've actually started getting used to driving after better than a decade of having been naught but a passenger - is finding parking. Why is it that big honkin' hospitals only ever have enough non-reserved parking spaces for a few dozen people? One becomes very adept at sharking for parking spots very, very quickly.

Radiation Oncology is in what they call the ground floor of the Cancer Center. Since the hospital is built on the side of a hill and the main entrance is on top of the hill it seems to me that the ground floor would more logically be called the basement, but no one ever seems to consult me about these things - more's the pity. As far as I'm concerned, when you go into the main entrance and have to take an elevator down well, you've gone to the basement haven't you? Then again, what do I know?

Anyway, when we get to Radiation Oncology I'm relegated to the waiting room. Given that for the most part the same people are having radiation every day at the same times, the others in the waiting room are mostly people I've seen there before. For the most part no one looks at, let alone talks to, much of anyone else - an arraignment that in general suits me just fine. I do get some odd looks, almost certainly because of my age. When I say that I'm usually the youngest one in these various cancer waiting rooms, I mean by a rather large number of years. I've not bothered to ask, but I presume most of them think I'm there with my mother.

That's something that took a little getting used to, people thinking she was my mother - especially given how I feel about my mother. In actuality SWVCTM is only nine years older than I but apparently in appearance it's a larger difference. Part of that is simply that I look younger than I am, I'm often surprised by just how young people think I am. And the cancer treatments have aged SWVCTM more than a little, pretty much inevitable under the circumstances and about the least of her worries - she's rather pragmatic about such things, more so than I would be in her shoes. The odd thing, though, is that it actually started before the cancer treatments.

After the biopsy was analyzed the surgeon presented her with a choice. There were two ways he could handle things, lumpectomy or mastectomy, and the studies said that they have essentially the same statistical outcome. In a lumpectomy they just take the tumor itself and some of the surrounding tissue, leaving the breast at least partially intact. In a mastectomy they take everything. Either way she went she would need chemotherapy but a lumpectomy would also require an extended series of radiation treatments. SWVCTM felt that a mastectomy would give her a better chance and that's what she decided on. His lecture about statistical outcomes aside, it was clear that the surgeon was relieved. Given his own experience and SWVCTM's bust size (she is quite busty, though why he felt that a factor was never entirely clear to me) he clearly believed that she'd made the right choice.

Before doing the surgery he wanted a series of tests done, the most important of which was a bone scan and a MUGA scan. The bone scan was to check for possible mets, if there had been any then likely they wouldn't have bothered with the mastectomy. The MUGA scan was to check her heart function because there was a risk the drugs they were going to be using could effect the heart and they wanted to be sure it wasn't already damaged. Those two, plus the various blood tests and such, came out fine. The only anomaly was that the bone scan showed what they thought were likely the very early stages of arthritis - we now know that likely those were instead the very early stages of bone cancer.

It was again dreary and drizzling the day of the mastectomy. I got up quite early that morning, as is generally my wont, and got dressed in my Sunday best. Rather odd, but it seemed like good luck somehow. After all, if you look your best bad things can't happen, right? In retrospect I wonder if some part of me wasn't being morbid. Black dress, dark hose, black shoes, black satin bow in my hair - the only hint of colour besides my jewelry was the white cardigan I wore because the dress was a tad too light for the cool weather. It just seems odd to me now, looking back, that I would have picked a virtually all-black outfit, my warped mind moves in mysterious ways, and I have to wonder if it registered with the doctor that I was practically dressed for a funeral. At the time I never even gave it a thought.

You see the results of this surgery were going to be very important. It wasn't just that any surgery, especially any surgery involving a general anesthetic, carries risk, it was the nodes. It wasn't just the breast they were going to take from her, but also lymph nodes and what those lymph nodes had to say would be critical.

When breast cancer "moves" to another part of the body it does so through the lymphatic system, this is typical of a lot of cancers. One of the problems with looking at a cancer in a non-primary organ is you don't know for sure if it has moved or not so what they try and do is look for something called a sentinel node. The sentinel node is the primary lymph node that services the area where the breast cancer is. In the old days when they did something like a mastectomy for breast cancer they simply took all of the nodes in the area but this led to problems like lymphedema in the arm. Now they just take the sentinel node and some of the nodes surrounding it, this reduces, though doesn't eliminate, the chances of later problems.

The nodes that are removed are examined carefully. If they find any signs of cancer cells in them it means that likely the cancer has metastasized. If they don't find any, chances are it hasn't. Which it turned out to be was going to determine whether her chances of being around in five years was 80% or 35%.

Her father took us to the hospital, but he didn't stay. It's probably just as well, he was wound up like a spring and I think sitting in that waiting room would have driven him bonkers.

After they'd prepped her and she was wheeled away to surgery I sat in the waiting area, fidgeting. A woman sitting a couple of chairs over from me turned and said "Don't worry, dear, I'm sure your mother will be fine.". I looked at her for a moment, confused. To the best of my knowledge - and, given that I hadn't talked to her in a good eight years or so I could have been wrong - my mother was in Arkansas. It took me a moment to realize that this woman meant SWVCTM, I just tried to smile and nodded. There seemed little point to correcting her error and it's happened any number of times since then, to the point where now I just assume that's likely what people who don't know her or I are thinking when they see us together.

Every day while I'm sitting in the Radiation Oncology waiting room SWVCTM goes back and changes into a hospital smock. She and the others waiting to be nuked sit in a small alcove waiting to be called. SWVCTM tells me that unlike the waiting room, where people tend to be introspective and mostly silent, those waiting to be nuked are quite chatty. They see each other every day, if only for a short time, and they're all going through variations on the same thing so there's a real bond there.

Once called, SWVCTM is led into a room and laid on a metal table. They adjust her position just so and then, using lasers, align the machine with the tattoos they've put on her arm. A linear accelerator is used to generate a tightly focused extremely high energy beam of x-rays designed to target the cancer in the bone. The machine then moves and aligns to another angle, and they hit her again. Everything from the size of the beam to the angles to the amount of energy has been precisely calculated beforehand. Periodically they take regular x-ray images, another function of the machine, to check how things are going.

The idea is that normal cells have a mechanism to repair themselves when hit with radiation. Cancer cells don't, they can't survive being nuked the way normal cells can. This kind of treatment can't stop the cancer she has, but it can slow it down some and hopefully cause it to retreat so that the crack in the bone can heal. What is hoped for is that the radiation will reduce or eliminate the extreme pain that is being caused by the cancer as it eats away at her bones.

The radiation treatment itself takes a surprisingly short amount of time. Once it's done, periodic visits with the Radiation Oncologist aside, she comes out and I take her home.

The mastectomy - more accurately, left modified radical mastectomy - was supposed to take around four hours. I sat in the day surgery waiting room, twiddled my thumbs, and worried. I couldn't concentrate enough to really read my book, I kept going over the same pages again and again without really absorbing anything of what the words were saying, so I alternated between staring off into space and playing an endless number of games of solitaire on my Palm. About a half hour past the four hour mark the surgeon came out and spoke with me briefly. Things had gone well, he told me, and she was out of surgery. She was coming out of the anesthesia more slowly than they'd expected, though, and they didn't have a room ready for her yet so it'd be a little bit before I could see her. He said someone would come and get me when she was out of recovery in a half hour or so, and then he left.

I waited another forty or so minutes before I started wondering why they hadn't brought her out. Periodically asking one of the nurses got me nowhere. They didn't know where SWVCTM was either, and apparently it would be too much bother to try and find out.

I'm generally a very patient person, perhaps too much so. When I was a kid my mother was fond of saying that I had the patience of Job, and that was my problem. Then again, my mother was full of lots of such bits of wisdom, like her periodic musings about how it was too bad you couldn't just throw away the eldest child because that's the one you make all the mistakes with.

Of course, I'm the eldest child.

Anyway, nearly eight hours had passed since they'd wheeled her off to surgery before someone came to tell me that she was out of recovery. By that time even my near infinite store of patience was well and truly exhausted. When we finally got her up to the room she'd be staying in for the night her father was already there, waiting by the door. Unfortunately the room still wasn't ready, they had to arrange things to accommodate the equipment - heart rate/BP monitor, on-demand morphine pump, and auto-inflating leg cuffs - they had her hooked up to.

"If they ever did anything straightforward around here I'd need a hospital room," I told him as we waited for three nurses to stop scurrying around.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because I'd have a heart attack from the shock."

The breast tissue and lymph nodes that had been removed were sent for analysis, the nodes came back clear. This was unexpectedly good news, it started to look like she might just pull through this relatively unscathed after all. The only bad news from the tissue biopsy was that the cancer was estrogen negative and only slightly progesterone positive. This was bad news because there are adjuvant therapies (SERMs, anti-Aromatase, ovarian ablation, and such) that can help with estrogen positive cancers and those that are negative tend to be a bit harder to treat and somewhat more aggressive.

Her recovery from the mastectomy went fairly well, considering. SWVCTM has very impressive recuperative powers along with a tolerance for pain that helps but can sometimes gets her in trouble. There was, however, one post-surgical issue that was a massive pain in the figurative rectal orifice - drainage.

As I said, in doing a modified radical mastectomy they take everything - essentially they slice off the breast, nipple and all, take a few lymph nodes just for good measure, then pull the skin from top to bottom to sew over where the breast used to be. This causes rather a large amount of trauma to the area and in response the lymphatic system keeps sending fluid that way, the fluid builds up under the pocket left where the breast used to be. Lots of fluid, in her case lots 'n lots of fluid. This usually goes on for a week or two and then the pocket starts to heal and the fluid build-up goes away.

In her case, it didn't. Lots of fluid would build up, as much as a liter a day, and that had to be drained. This would require a trip to the surgeon's office where he'd use a big honkin' needle and swapped off 60ml syringes to remove the fluid. This went on for three months, well past the usual amount of time, requiring every-other-day (occasionally every day) visits to the surgeon's office. Finally, just when the surgeon was considering more drastic measures, it slowed down and then stopped. For a while there, though, we were wondering if it ever was going to.

Last Thursday was the start of her new chemo regimen. She's been through chemo once before, of course, so both of us already know the basic drill. In a sense it's very comforting to have some idea what's coming.

It was another rainy and dreary day Thursday, which is what got me thinking about the whole rainy and dreary thing and realizing how many significant days we've been to that hospital where it has been rainy and dreary. It wasn't drizzling though, at points it was raining cats 'n dogs, which made the drive to the hospital loads of fun. Under the best of circumstances drivers around here practise offensive driving, any bad weather and the highways (I still have to stop myself from calling them "freeways", a byproduct of my California childhood) turn into something just this side of a seventy mile per hour demolition derby.

Myself, and driving aside, I tend to like rainy and dreary some. Thanks to my own rather minor experience with cancer of the skin, I'm something of a vampire - I avoid the sun like the plague since it is a serious risk factor. At best I'd rather not go through another eight hour surgery and at worst I might not be nearly so lucky next time. So rainy and dreary is just fine by me. An online friend of mine who I've known for years but never had the pleasure of meeting once joked that from my pictures, specifically my skin tone (I am, I sometimes joke, the whitest Native American on the planet), she assumed it must always be overcast here. Well, no, I live in New England not Old England (yeah, I know, I'll get rightfully outraged notes from my UK readers, if I have any, for that crack, all I can say is I mean it in a good way), I just seriously go out of my way to avoid any sun exposure. SWVCTM is about my opposite in that, at times I wonder if she isn't solar powered or something. Rainy and dreary doesn't tend to effect my mood at all, but it is a serious downer for her.

We got to the hospital about 10:20 but there wasn't a parking spot in the regular parking lot to be found and since it was getting close to time for her to be nuked I didn't have time to shark. So I dropped her off and headed off to an "axillary" parking lot they've just put in out in BFE. And I do mean BFE, to get from there to the main entrance normally requires a fully stocked backpack, tent, sleeping bag, GPS receiver, and a two day hike. Fortunately I'm a fast walker with a great sense of direction as I didn't have any of those things nor nearly that much time.

By the time I got to Radiation Oncology she was just about through being nuked so we headed upstairs, checked in, and sat in the waiting room.

The first time I went with SWVCTM to the Cancer Center was for the consult with the Oncologist. Neither of us had ever been there, in fact I hadn't even known there was a cancer center there - though I later found out my sister had trained there when she was in nursing school.

The first person we met there was the head oncology nurse, a tall and rather gregarious woman. Though I tend to be habitually distrustful of medical personnel, this woman put me immediately at ease. It wasn't just her easy-to-like manner, it was that she actually seemed to know what she was talking about. I have an automatic, and to me wholly reasonable, expectation that medical personnel working with patients should know more than I do. Fact is, I don't know all that much but then I don't treat sick people for a living either. Unfortunately my experience has been that almost universally the nurses and various technicians - and they do the vast bulk of the actual treatments - have known quite a lot less than I do. Perhaps it shouldn't, but that worries the hell out of me. I have many times now listened to a nurse talk about some aspect of cancer or its treatment and known that he or she was not only wrong but wasn't even in the right ballpark. But this woman seemed to know her stuff. I've since heard her make one silly mistake - referring to the humerus as the femur - but my high opinion of her stands.

The Oncologist himself was likewise fairly impressive. Unlike a lot of doctors - her surgeon had at times been one of them - he wasn't in the habit of treating his patient like a slightly retarded adolescent. He laid out what he thought the best course of treatment for her particular cancer would be, what the results would be, what her chances were, and presented her with a couple of options. He was more than willing to take as much time as she needed answering questions and such, we both got the sense that this guy really cared about her comfort level and her best health.

Unfortunately, with the exception of one of the secretaries who seems to basically single-handedly run the place, the rest of the oncology staff (presumably with the exception of the other Oncologists, none of whom we've dealt with) turned out to be a tad less than impressive. That hyper-competent and imminently nice secretary aside, the rest of the office staff doesn't seem to know how to tie their shoes without assistance. If the hyper-competent secretary isn't around for whatever reason the only way to get even something as simple as an appointment properly scheduled is to go to the head nurse - we learned early that if we needed or wanted to ask anything of importance find the hyper-competent secretary, the head nurse, or the doctor - as dealing with any of the rest of the office staff can be an excruciatingly frustrating experience.

The rest of the Oncology nursing staff ranges from the competent but surly to the ditzy but nice to... The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward. Competent but surly is a middle aged male nurse who is apparently the best at putting in IVs there is. He seems nice enough, if, well, a tad surly, it's almost as though he's mildly annoyed that all of these patients keep showing up in his cancer ward and he wishes they'd just go away and leave him the hell alone. The ditz is a tall blonde woman, extremely nice and very personable, who seems to have this almost preternatural talent for answering any question with the exact opposite of the right answer. Pretty much anything she says, you can figure the exact opposite is the case. And then there's The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward...

I'm extremely unfair to The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward, and I know it. I have no idea what it is about her, but from the first moment I saw her - long before she treated SWVCTM or I'd even heard her say a word at all - she set off every flag I've got. On rare occasion that happens with me, for no reason I can ever point to someone will set off my subconscious warning flags and I'll take an instant dislike to them. She's a short woman, late middle aged, thin as a rail, long kinky salt-n-pepper hair, and she has a penchant for new-agey style jewelry. I really have only one concrete reason to dislike her, but that didn't occur until quite a while later and otherwise she's always been nothing but pleasant to SWVCTM and understandably a bit confused by my habitual avoidance of her.

The one reason occurred the day after Christmas during the last of SWVCTM's first set of chemo treatments. One of the drugs they were giving SWVCTM is called Adriamycin and it's extremely nasty stuff. The dose they were giving her came in two 60ml syringes to be given via IV push over a period of fifteen minutes each. The stuff even looks nasty, it is an almost neon-red colour that seems to almost glow as if in warning. Despite all of the anti-nausea drugs they gave SWVCTM, when they started that IV push you could see it her hard, you could literally watch the nausea wash over her as this stuff entered her system. The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward was the one giving her this stuff for her last treatment and it was clear she was in a hurry. When she started the IV push the rate she was going at was going to finish both syringes in about five minutes rather than the prescribed half hour. It was way too fast and it was obviously making SWVCTM even sicker than this stuff normally did. Both SWVCTM and I asked her to slow down some, but instead she actually sped up the push, babbling something about how it was better to get it over with quickly. She was done before I could decide if throttling her on the spot would do any good.

After SWVCTM's nuking and checking in we sat in the main waiting room for an hour. That's pretty good, actually, the first time SWVCTM went for chemo we waited for four hours. I don't know if they overbook or are just not very good at estimating how much time they need for each treatment - probably a bit of both - but it's usually the case that they have more chemo patients than slots to put them so you have to wait for one to open up.

The actual chemo ward is a large rectangular room about twice as long as it is wide. Around the edge are set a dozen or so Lazyboy recliners - presumably special-made as they're on wheels and have frames that go out well behind the recliner so it would be virtually impossible to push one over. Next to each of these is a small freestanding cabinet, a biohazard waste holder, and an IV infusion stand. In the center of the room are two televisions, one facing each long end of the room.

SWVCTM picked a recliner and I pulled up a hard backed chair and sat next to her. After a few minutes The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward came over to put in the IV and get things started. She had a hard time finding a suitable vein, probably because SWVCTM was understandably a little tense. It'd been more than a year since we'd last been in the Chemo Ward and it's not exactly a place with a lot of happy memories attached.

The IV has to be fairly precisely placed and in her case it can only go in her right arm because the mastectomy was on the left side and, on top of that, the left arm is fractured. If it isn't placed just so, or if the vein is punctured, the rather nasty chemotherapy drugs will get out of the vein and into the tissue where they can cause quite a lot of damage - for obvious reasons, this is something to be avoided. Given the problems finding a vein and that chemotherapy is something that SWVCTM is going to be on for the foreseeable future, The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward suggested that SWVCTM might want to consider a port-a-cath. A port-a-cath is a device they install to make it easy to both take blood and do IVs. What they do is make an incision just below the collarbone and thread a tube down into the superior vena cava - the main vein that returns blood to the heart from your upper body (the rest of your body returning via the inferior vena cava). Once this is done there is a small metal "port" just below your collar bone that they can basically "plug into" whenever they need to take blood or give you an IV.

While The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward was quite right that, given the circumstances, this was probably a good idea, the thought didn't make SWVCTM very happy.

SWVCTM's mother suffered from a congenital neuro-degenerative disorder called Dystonia. In treating this they gave her a number of drugs, including one that was known to possibly cause cancer - the risk of cancer being deemed worth taking if it could slow down the effects of the degeneration. Eventually they did find cancer in her lungs, it was metastatic and her father says they were never entirely sure what the original source was - by that point it didn't much matter.

Her mother went through many of the same sorts of treatments that SWVCTM herself is going through now. Eventually, about thirteen years ago, the cancer killed her. For obvious reasons this makes things difficult for both SWVCTM and her father. One of the many steps they went through with SWVCTM's mother was the insertion of a port-a-cath and because it was done pretty much around the beginning of the end it has a particular significance for both SWVCTM and her father. For hopefully obvious reasons, SWVCTM is not too thrilled with the idea of getting one herself, though she acknowledges that it is probably something it would be best to do, and she worries about how her father is going to take it.

Once the IV is installed they set up a saline drip. The IV tube is rather a complicated affair with several ports on it both for other drips and for an IV push. It also has a device on it that when inserted into the infusion machine allows it to act as a kind of very accurate pump. They set the amount of something that they want to go into her and the rate they want it to go into her and the machine handles the rest. When it's done the machine beeps loudly and annoyingly - imagine your alarm clock, cubed - and as often as not several of these things attached to various patients around the room decide to go off at once.

Once they'd run the saline into her for a few minutes to make sure the lines were clear and that everything was working right, the first drug they set up was the anti-nausea agent. With her prior, much more intense, chemotherapy this entire arraignment had been much more complicated. This longer term and milder treatment was much simpler. Previously they'd had her take an oral anti-nausea agent for three days before and three days after, as well as an IV "booster" of the same drug. This time there was no before or after pill, just the IV. That was a twenty or thirty minute affair followed by a steriodal anti-inflammatory for another half hour or so and then more saline.

Next came the actual chemo drug, for this instance they're only using one drug instead of the previous one-two punch. It was a 500ml bag chock full of stuff nasty to your body but even nastier to cancer cells. That was going to take an hour and she was drifting off, trying to get a nap. I was feeling hungry - they'd given her lunch when she first sat down but I hadn't eaten much of anything all day and it was getting to be mid-afternoon.

On my way out, there's a small corridor off to one side that most of the patients don't know about but which connects the Cancer Center to the main hospital, I passed The Wicked Witch of the Chemo Ward.

"You're still here?" She asked.

She was joking, of course, she knew I'd be there pretty much the whole day. Several potential sarcastically biting responses flitted through my mind before I just mentally shook my head. What in the hell would be the point of trying to alienate her further? My subconscious flags and that one incident aside, I really had no reason to dislike this woman and, like it or not, I was going to be seeing a lot more of her in the coming months and, hopefully, years.

"Yeah," I responded with a smile, "if I'm here much more y'all will have to start charging me rent."

She smiled in response, truce signed and ratified.

I brought some pretzels and a fresh baked muffin back to SWVCTM, though I was only gone a few minutes she was awake by the time I got back. We chatted some but it was clear that she couldn't quite get comfortable. The problem was her back, it had started hurting her a few days before and was apparently starting to get to be a real problem. When we got a chance we talked to the head Oncology nurse about it and she suggested that SWVCTM see the Oncologist about it the next day.

After the chemo drug was done they ran the saline for a few minutes and then started with the anti-bone-dissolving drug. The chemo is going to be every three weeks for a while (six treatments, after which they'll let her body recover for a little bit, run more tests, and then start the whole thing over again), but the anti-bone-dissolving drug is every six weeks so she won't have to go through that one until the chemo treatment after the next one. It's a 1000ml bag and it takes two hours.

We'd gotten to the hospital at around twenty after ten in the morning, it was around six in the evening before they finished the final saline flush, disconnected the IV, and we could leave. Chemo makes for a very long day and a surprisingly stressful one considering that most of the time all you do is sit there.

I took her down to the hospital on Friday to get nuked as usual. Her back was quite a lot better, almost certainly because of the anti-inflammatory they'd given her, but she still needed to see the Oncologist about it. He wasn't going to be in until 2pm, so after she was nuked I took her to a bookstore a few miles from the hospital - SWVCTM has a voracious reading appetite - and then to lunch before heading back to the hospital.

Given that she has two mets in her spine the back pain wasn't any grand shock to the Oncologist, though it seemed clear he hadn't expected it to start this early. He called the Radiation Oncologist, but he'd apparently stepped out for a few minutes so they wanted us to go downstairs and wait. The long and short of it is that Monday she'll get her arm nuked as usual and on Tuesday they'll do the simulation and tattoos for the spinal mets so they can start nuking those as well.

And that's where things stand now - more nuking and chemo and pain pills, oh my! She's doing better, though, the chemo seemed to help the back quite a lot and the various treatments have helped her regain at least a little use of the arm. Hopefully with more radiation treatments and the chemo that will improve even more. Emotionally she's up and down, pretty much to be expected and for the most part there's more up than down. I'm forever amazed at how well she handles this, I think if it was me I'd be a total disaster area.

For those who've made it this far and haven't seen the other SWVCTM entries it occurred to me that I should include a list of them -

1) From the department of rants
2) The rest of the story (or, at least, part of it)
3) Everything is relative

2002-05-04T21:43:00.000-04:00

However much they're paying you, it's too much : I really, really, really hope the FBI has more to go on than this -

"This [the person(s) setting the mailbox bombs] is someone whose thinking ... whose anger, sense of frustration is so strong, that he doesn't care who else is injured because he feels his message is so important," said Clint Van Zandt, [...]

Wow, good thing they called in an expert, who else could have figured that out?

The use of the phrase "attention getter" seems to indicate the writer is older, and other aspects indicate the writer may have mental health problems.

No, ya' think?

Looking at the timing of the bombings, he said, "we're drawn to April 15th. This is someone who may well have some tax protest issues."

And, apparently, calender use issues as well... Given that it's now May fer god's sake. Maybe whoever it is has May Day issues instead?

On Saturday, FBI special agent Jim Bogner invited the bomber to contact the FBI with his grievances.

Dear nutjob, we reallyreallyreally want to meet you.

Oh yeah, that'll work.

2002-05-04T12:13:00.000-04:00

Shoveling against the tide : Rep. Ron Paul (R - Texas) has introduced The Identity Theft Prevention Act (H.R. 220 - enter "HR220" into the bill number search box). Sounds kinda boring, don't it? Identity theft bad, we'll punish, blah-blah-blah. Nothing much that effects the average citizen, presuming you're not going around stealing other people's identities.

Well, not quite, the bill is far more interesting than that.

Thanks to congressional indifference, private Social Security numbers now are used by virtually all federal, state and local government agencies as a de facto national ID. As a result, once-private numbers intended only for the administration of Social Security benefits have become widely used in our daily lives.

Perhaps the worst abuser is the Internal Revenue Service (IRS), which illegitimately uses Social Security numbers as taxpayer ID numbers — an abuse certainly never intended by Congress when the Social Security Administration was established. Today the IRS acts in concert with the Social Security Administration, by requiring the assignment of Social Security numbers to infants before parents may claim a dependent deduction on their taxes. I trust the majority of members of Congress still understand that a free society should not be registering infants.

This abuse of private Social Security numbers has led to a terrible loss of privacy and a troubling rise in identity theft. Since one centralized government number identifies virtually every American citizen, the private sector — including banks, insurance companies, credit reporting agencies and other businesses — predictably adopted the numbers to identify their customers. In fact, federal law requires financial institutions to obtain Social Security numbers from account holders.

HR220 would go a long ways towards undoing some of this damage. It would require that federal and state governments no longer be allowed to ask for or demand your SSN in an attempt to return the SSN system to what it was originally promised to be. It would also require the SSA to issue a new, randomly generated, SSN to anyone with a previous SSN within five years.

It is time to start over with regard to Social Security numbers in this country. The federal government, not the private sector, is by far the worst invader of our privacy. Legislation is needed to reverse the terrible trend toward a government surveillance society — and the first step in that reversal must be to halt the use of Social Security numbers as national IDs.

More than likely this act doesn't even have a snowball's chance in a diffusion furnace of ever seeing the light of day, but it's one worth supporting if we're to have any hope of taking back some of our lost privacy. I urge anyone interested in this issue to write their congresscritter in support of this bill. A listing of representatives can be found here, Senators here.

2002-05-04T10:45:00.000-04:00

When bad things happen to bad people : Iraqi Foreign Minister Tariq Aziz seems to have an amazing grip on the blindly obvious.

“If it [war] comes, we will fight against it. If it doesn’t come, that will be very good for us,” he said.

2002-05-04T08:32:00.000-04:00

Crying poormouth : The Archdiocese of Boston has reneged on a deal that would have paid out millions to 86 victims of pedophilic priest John J. Geoghan. To say that people are ripshit about this would be putting it way too mildly. The lawyer with whom this deal was hammered out over a period of ten months, Mitchell Garabedian, means to go to court Monday and demand that Law's passport be taken from him. Another lawyer already tried that and didn't get very far, but this time it might work.

Beyond the obvious, there are two things about this that hint that the Boston Archdiocese is trying to get out of this on the cheap. The first is that this is being played as something that was done against Cardinal Law's wishes. He wanted the deal to go through, you see, but it was the Financial Council that nixed it, for which Law feels terrible. No one is buying. Law runs the Archdiocese with an iron hand and in the entire time he's been here the Financial Council has never gone against his wishes.

Joe Gallagher, co-founder of the Coalition of Concerned Catholics, a grass-roots church reform group that supports victims, added: ``Since when is it even conceivable for lay people to override any member of the hierarchy? If that were the case, Law would have been gone a long time ago.''

The other thing that smells fishy about this is that for the first time recourse to the state liability cap is being floated. You see Massachusetts has a law that limits the liability of charitable organizations to US$20,000. The deal Law's office had hammered out with the lawyer for Geoghan's victims would have cost the church between fifteen and thirty million. If the church invokes the state liability limit it's down to US$1.72 million. The church knows that Geoghan's victims are just the tip of the iceberg and long before this is over they may very well be wishing they could bring back the sale of dispensations.

2002-05-04T07:49:00.000-04:00

The Keystone Cops could do better : Airport security strikes again.

Two airport concourses were evacuated after a passenger's bag set off an explosives detector, and the passenger and bag disappeared into the crowd before security personnel noticed, authorities said.

Airport Commissioner Fred Szabo said screeners were unable to locate the bag in a search of the concourses. He could not rule out the possibility that the passenger got on a departing flight with it before the concourses were closed.

This has gotten beyond pathetic. I mean it's bad enough that every other day we're reading about an x-ray machine or bomb detector going off and by the time anyone realizes it the person whose bag it was has gone hasta la bye-bye. But what is truly amazing is that they not only walk away with no one apparently noticing, but they manage to take the bag with them. I mean, at an absolute minimum you'd expect that if a bag set off a warning they'd keep track of the bag. It'd be nice if they could keep track of the bag and its owner, but apparently expecting that they could keep track of both is too much to ask.

So we'll give Granny a high colonic just to make sure she isn't hiding any rounds in her rectum and confiscate those highly dangerous knitting needles, but if someone walks through security with a bag that looks like its got a gun or bomb in it... Hey, why worry? It's not like it's worth getting worked up about or anything ya' know. The guy and his bag do a Houdini? Eh, that sucks, clear out the concourse and we'll have them go through "security" - the same security that just let the guy and his bag just walk away, by the way - again.

Oh yeah, that makes sense.

2002-05-04T07:25:00.000-04:00

Sanctuary! : The siege at The Church of the Nativity is now entering its second month.

There are several things I've been wondering about pretty much from the outset of this mess. The first has to do with the oft repeated claim that this is a holy site revered by all of Christendom. While that's a nice idea, am I wrong in thinking that most of Christendom, at least most American Christians, had probably never even heard of this place before a bunch of Palestinians decided to break in? I'll certainly grant that to certain sects this church may be of great importance, but for most protestants?

Through my teens and early twenties I was a quite fervent believer in Christianity and though my beliefs have changed and the Christian church and I had a parting of the ways, I still have a great deal of respect for it - as I do for many religions. In my younger days I was certainly aware that there were a lot of important historical sites in "The Holy Land" that were of great interest, but the idea of a holy site would have been quite alien to me. Unlike Catholocism, Mormonism, Judaism, and Islam, all of which appear to my eyes to revere particular things or places as having a particular religious (rather than simply historical) significance, such a concept didn't exist in the particular branch of Christianity I subscribed to. A place or thing could have a great deal of historical significance and thus be of great interest, but it could not have an intrinsic "holiness". A church - whether built yesterday or two thousand years ago - was simply a building, holiness existed within the individual as a matter of accepting the holy spirit - this being one of the changes wrought by death and resurrection of Christ and the rending of the curtain.

The claims of this church being a holy site seems to me an attempt to say that should nastiness happen to it as a result of Israeli actions - somehow the actions of the Palestinian gunmen don't seem to count - all of Christendom will rise up in a righteous rage and smite those evil Israelis. Personally I just don't see it. While some sects might feel differently, it seems likely to me that the loss of this church, should it be destroyed, would be of no more and no less importance than the loss of the ancient statues of The Buddha that were destroyed by the Taliban. At least Israel has a reason for being there, rather than simply having decided that they don't like the place so they're going to raze it.

The second thing I've been wondering about is just how much ammo were these gunmen carrying with them? For more than a month now there's been on-and-off gunbattles between the gunmen and the Israelis, right? Well unlike what you see in the movies, even a short exchange chews through ammo at a ferocious rate. Unless the Palestinians (who, unlike the Israelis, presumably don't have a resupply line) are just occasionally popping off a round or two for shits 'n grins, each of these guys must have been a walking ammo dump.

The third thing is what kind of idiot runs into a war zone? Ten activists ran into the church on Thursday. That just blows my mind. You know if any of these mental midgets gets so much as a scratch they're going to scream to the high heavens and I can just imagine what the press will say if anyone starts taking the phrase "human shield" literally. What exactly did these people think they were going to accomplish? Did they think the Israelis were going to think "Oh, there's some Americans and Europeans in there now, I guess we'd better pack up and go home."? These people are proof the gene pool could use some serious chlorine.

The last thing I keep wondering is why no one seems particularly outraged by the actions of the Palestinians. Breaking into and using a church as a shield, not to mention taking civilian hostages, violates every rule of war there is. When the US set up Gitmo to hold prisoners it seemed like everyone and their brother wanted to go over each line of the Geneva Convention with a microscope looking for any violation, real or perceived, possible to scream from the high heavens. And yet here, not a peep. Where is the UN resolution? The EU outrage? The Palestinians routinely use civilians and civilian buildings as a shield, violating every rule of war there is, and yet nary a peep.

Funny, that.

2002-05-02T21:39:00.000-04:00

I don't know if it's art, but I like it : Is there an ounce of sense left anywhere in the educational system?

A Pennsylvania school suspended an 11-year-old girl for drawing two teachers with arrows through their heads, saying the stick figures were more death threat than doodle.

Lemme see... An eleven year old girl gets a D on a vocabulary test, vents her frustration by (poorly) drawing stick figures of her teacher at Custer's last stand, and that's a death threat? Good lord, if I'd gotten suspended every time I said, drew, or wrote something nasty about my teachers I'd have spent most of high school at home - a frightening thought indeed. I took particular pleasure in trying to come up with inventive ways my Bio II teacher might meet his end, and yet, oddly enough, I was never particularly tempted to rampage through the school with a 22 rifle, or blow up the teacher's lounge, or otherwise hasten certain teachers to their much-deserved end.

Kids vent, doodling or writing is often an outlet, and oftentimes their imaginations can run to the macabre. God knows mine did, I blame it on too much Pink Floyd. I suppose that in a world where a principle thinks that panty and bra checks are a good idea it's probably too much to expect sense out of school officials, but this total lack of proportion and common sense has to stop. For god's sake, which is healthier - letting her draw a nasty picture of a teacher and get it out of her system or having her seethe about it for a week? And what in the world is this kid supposed to learn from this? That authority figures can arbitrarily decide when your expression is offensive to them and punish you for it?

Zero tolerance is simply an excuse for zero thought.

2002-05-02T21:09:00.000-04:00

And then there were three : SWVCTM has much to say and has decided that she would like to say some of it here. So now she joins myself and my sister here on "It Can't Rain All The Time...".

2002-05-02T20:55:00.000-04:00

No Negotiation with terrorists

I am SWVCTM (someone who is very close to Myria). Today began the second week of my radiation therapy against bone cancer and the first session of my second course of chemotherapy. It was long and tedious and occasionally painful. All that aside, it did not make me nauseous (thank heavens for small favors) and they tell me I won’t lose my hair this time. Boo-yeah!!

Two things happened this afternoon that made me think about the concessions we often make in our lives without really thinking about them. I grant, in the overall scheme of things, they are probably minor irritations but at this point in my life, I’m not willing to put up with them. Nor do I believe that anyone else should have to should that be their choice.

On the way home from the hospital, our route takes us past a restaurant situated in the most difficult location in the city. Oh it’s convenient to the highway and right smack in the path of rush hour traffic so it practically mints money between 4:00 and 7:00 PM. And it is all but impossible to enter into or exit from because it is surrounded by frantic and constant two-lane traffic.

Does this slow down business? Not in the slightest! The patrons of this restaurant have adopted a type of semi-kamikaze approach to the problem. When they want to get out of the parking lot, they just come ahead. They don’t look to see if there’s traffic coming (they already know there is) nor do they pause at the street. They just nose the car out about halfway across the first oncoming lane of cars – and stop.

Then they start looking around. Actually, they start glaring at the drivers hoping to force someone to stop and let them pull all the way out. As a rule, this takes little time as it seems that most people aren’t troubled by being intimidated by idiots.

However, there are some people, I among them, who refuse to capitulate to this little machination. You pull your car out in front of me improperly and I will not let you out. I will attempt (usually successful, I might add) to go around you. If I can reasonably manage it, I will stop in front of your car, file my nails, empty the ashtray and check my oil.

It’s nothing personal. I don’t negotiate with terrorists. Just policy.

When we got home, I sat down to look at my email which is full of notes these days from friends and co-workers who are concerned for me and wish to stay in touch. I love and honor them all for this because I very much want to stay in touch and their friendship means a great deal to me.

However, amongst this group are a couple of folks who feel that receiving every inspirational story floating around in cyberspace will give me the hope and strength I need to hang on, fight the good fight, yadda-yadda-yadda. I can live without the stories; I’ve seen them all dozens of times anyway. Half of them are legends and the others are so emotionally manipulative as to make Bill Clinton look like a straight shooter. Almost inevitably, these stories of faith, hope and sap are tagged with the following lines (or variations thereof):

You now have two choices, you can:

1) Pass this on to your friends or
2) Delete it and act like it didn't touch your heart.

See, this is what makes me see red. This bit of business passes itself off as a painfully earnest and sincere attempt at getting you to acknowledge some responsibility for making someone’s day, helping them to feel better and in general asserting the nobility of the human race.

But what it really is – is blackmail and fairly explicit blackmail at that. You can pass this along to your friends and lighten their loads, bring a ray of sunshine to their lives and a tear to their eyes by forwarding that noble, unselfish piece of boiled balderdash thereby making you… Well, let’s not mince words here eh? Making you a hero! Someone who sees the opportunity to do a good deed, shine a light in a naughty word and, damn the torpedoes, just goes ahead and does it because shucks, that’s the kind of person you are!

Or you can be a heard-hearted rat-bastard who knows your friends e-mail boxes are already stuffed with more junk than they want to wade through, who understands that having to shoot Old Yeller is tragic, but that it is a tragedy we will all have to learn to deal with in our own ways when the time comes, and who refuses to hallow emotional garbage like this by passing it on to people who already have enough on their plates to deal with – and delete it.

Better yet – make a dozen copies first and delete them ALL!

2002-05-01T21:14:00.000-04:00

Power Tool Hell

We bought a house recently. Well, really, its a 900 square foot shack in dire need of remodelling, which we are currently doing with money we don't (and likely never will) have. Hey, it has a nice yard, though, and we can always put up a tent, right? In any case, interior demolition commenced immediately upon closing on the house and the current project involves the kitchen floor. Actually, I should say *one* of the current projects, since there is very little actual house left and my, wouldn't it be nice if we actually built some stairs to replace the ones we ripped out, rendering it impossible to get to the bedrooms upstairs? But I digress and run-on.

Back to the kitchen floor. This house was built in 1912, when hardwood floors were all the poor man could afford. Then, sometime later, someone with a horror of hardwood floors and an appalling love of linoleum tiles (my, what a step up in flooring THOSE are!) tarred over the hardwood and applied said tiles. They were, presumably, a nice pristine white at some point.

Times change and more bad taste items are marketed. So, over the linoleum tiles, someone nailed plywood and covered it with modern linoleum in the usual brain-numbingly boring and completely forgettable yellow pattern thang.

Let me recap: first hardwood, then tar, the linoleum tiles, then plywood, then linoleum.

And I, in my vast wisdom, decided it would be a lovely idea to restore the hardwood flooring. Really, how hard could it be? Just rip the newish linoleum and its backbone plywood out, take a heating gun to the linoleum tiles to pry them up easily, use a stripper to take the tar off, sand the hardwood down, seal it, and presto-flasho, restored hardwood floors.

It has taken over two weeks of smelly dirty tarry disgusting work, but we finally got to the Sanding of the Hardwood today. Now I (again in my vast wisdom) decided that a belt sander would do the trick nicely, since the kitchen really isn't very large and certainly not big enough to bother renting one of those big honkin' push-mower type sanders. No, no, a simple belt sander would do the trick.

I've never used a belt sander before. Where the hell I got the idea I had any talent with even such a minimal power tool is, at this point, beyond me.

The first thing that happened when I turned the sucker in is that it tried to take off across the room without me. Nearly suceeded, too, pompous little sneak. But I outflanked it and in a bold (but stupidly dangerous) move, I snapped it up off the ground and gave it a good shake for its impudence. Then, after a minute of wary regard, I located the off button and taught it a lesson by cutting its power. Probably could have just pulled the plug in the first place, but I was so outraged by its near-escape (after paying $49 for it at Home Despot) that the thought really didn't occur to me.

After that little incident I decided that perhaps I should do a few things before turning it loose again on my kitchen. After all, a loose belt sander in a house built in such a half-assed manner is really not a good idea. So, I figured I had better start with checking to see if it was actually wearing sandpaper (Oh, my, it WAS!) and maybe even leaf through the instruction book. After doing the latter, I felt somewhat less in control of the situation, since I had been doing exactly what the book said the first time I turned it on and there was no mention in the book of the belt sander needing to be broken via whip before use. Obviously, I had the wrong instruction book, but I couldn't let the belt sander know that or I'd be in deep, er, sandpaper.

So, hitching up my special "work" jeans (bought specially for doing work on the house, of course) and taking a deep (somewhat fearful) breath, I reentered the kitchen and faced the belt sander head on. Well, sort of. I actually plugged it back in and said a little prayer that I'd be able to control it when I hit the on switch.

Control was shaky at best. The belt sander bucked and kicked and etched little (well, okay, kind of large) marks in my hardwood floor, clearly trying to throw me off its back. I gripped it with both hands and gave it its head. It dragged me four feet across the kitchen (oh, look--that's nearly wall to wall!) before I could dig my heels in enough to slow it down. It dragged me forward. I dragged it back. We repeated that pattern until my arms simply couldn't take it anymore and I feebly managed to find the off button again. I sat, gasping for air, on the floor for a solid ten minutes before I was ready for Mr. BeltSander's Wild Ride again (definitely an E ticket). We repeated this ridiculous act quite a few more times over the period of nearly five hours. Eventually, as I sat in forlorn exhaustion on the much-desired hardwood floors once again, I looked around and decided that the floors no longer required any sanding. They were perfect and woe to any who suggested otherwise, dammit. I have had my day with power tools and I have found it not in the least to my liking.

As for the belt sander...you may be assured I will be taking care of that little twit of a power tool, and I *don't* mean gently oiling and cleaning it. Why in the name of all that's holy do men find these rebellious tools in the least exciting?!

2002-05-01T19:49:00.000-04:00

Do you know where your children are? : The government has discovered that kids are being watched by their grandparents. The horrors!

Nearly one-third of paid child care workers are relatives who often lack training and government oversight, according to a national study released Wednesday.

[...]

Brandon said the study illuminates the need for more training and support, especially for informal and unlicensed caregivers. According to the Labor Department, child care is one of the nation’s fastest-growing occupations.

“You want to find the isolated, clueless caregivers and give them help,” Brandon said.

Were you aware that Granny is an isolated and clueless caregiver destroying your children's lives because you give her a few bucks to watch the diaper dragons and the government isn't involved?

2002-05-01T19:43:00.000-04:00

Coming to a discrimination suit near you : First the PLO got evicted from their office space for failing to pay their rent. Now they can't find anyone who is willing to rent them new office space.

The poor dears.

And to add insult to injury -

The point may be moot in six months, however, because the Bush administration has said it will kick the PLO out of Washington — and restrict its leaders’ travel to and from the capital — if Arafat doesn’t crack down on terrorism.

I'm sure there's office space for them in Ramallah...

2002-05-01T18:59:00.000-04:00

Now that we've had our way : The feds have decided that single sex schools are okay.

I can hear them gnashing their teeth at VMI from here.

2002-05-01T18:49:00.000-04:00

And they ran like rats! : I found this story on remote control rats to be both intriguing and disturbing.

What they've done isn't really quite as shocking as the title of the article sounds. These rats aren't remote controlled exactly. They have implanted electrodes to stimulate the nerves associated with their left and right whiskers as well as to stimulate the rat's pleasure center. The rats have been trained to turn left or right, depending on the stimulation, knowing that if it does so it will get a little jolt of pleasure. These electrodes are radio controlled and have a range of 1,640 feet - presumably much farther with a more powerful transmitter.

There are some interesting potential applications for this. Rats are small and can get just about anywhere, they are certainly far more versatile than any robot we can design today. The rat would act as an intelligent agent, you tell it where to go and it figures out how to get there. If you could strap a small camera on the back of one of these rats you could, for instance, send it into the rubble of a collapsed building to look for survivors.

Realistically what they've done really isn't much different from any number of positive reinforcement techniques one might use to train an animal. You could presumably do basically the same thing without ever touching the brain. But they did, and that introduces a serious squick factor. Even though you're not actually controlling the rat - presumably if you gave the rat the signal to turn left and pass through a curtain of flame little ratty would give you the finger (paw?) and head the other direction, lack of pleasure jolt or not, post haste - the potential for this sort of thing can be a tad disturbing.

"I think that a lot of people are very wary of that sort of thing and understandably so," Rears said. "I don't think it's a sign of paranoia to react against this because it is very odd. It's Brave New Worldish."

Brave new rattish?

2002-05-01T17:18:00.000-04:00

They went that-a-way! : Six wanted Palestinians are now apparently in the custody of the US and British.

Israeli armored vehicles began rumbling out of Yasser Arafat's battered compound Wednesday night, ending his five months of confinement in a diplomatic breakthrough that also saw six wanted Palestinians whisked away to a West Bank jail in a U.S. and British convoy.

[...]

The standoff ended when the sides accepted President Bush's plan to move the six wanted Palestinians from Arafat's offices to a jail in the West Bank town of Jericho, where they will be watched over by American and British wardens. Israel had been demanding custody of the men.

Leaving aside for the moment why anyone (well, anyone besides Arafat) wanted Arafat to be running free again, a lot of people in Blogtopia have been wondering what in the world is going to happen to these US and British wardens. After all, Palestinian mobs routinely break into various jails and release prisoners either because they want to hang them as collaborators or free them so they can go blow up civilians. A quick glance at the situation makes one wonder if this isn't one step short of a suicide mission for these wardens, who are very likely going to soon face a mob and are either going to have to run very, very quickly or they'll be toast.

I'm not sure a more subtle game isn't being played here as it sets what must be a disturbing precedent for Arafat. Another routine part of the Arafat cycle of deception has been his rather nasty habit of picking up and jailing extremist when the heat is on and then, when the heat and international attention has died down, releasing them. This, rather understandably, ticks the Israelis off to no end.

What if those US and British wardens actually manage to run a functional prison that isn't controlled by Arafat and the mobs? I grant you that this is a big "what if", but consider it for a moment. Now there's a precedent and the next time Arafat is supposedly rounding up dangerous extremist instead of letting him handle them, knowing they'll be released in a few days or weeks at the most, they can demand that they go to the US/British run prison where they will actually be kept for trial and held for the length of their sentence. Arafat wouldn't care for this much, to be sure, but he may not end up with much of a choice and he's already shown that he's willing to hand people over if he feels he's getting something in the bargain.

And what about those mobs? Well typically they're breaking into a Palestinian run jail and it's fairly clear that the resistance the jailers put up is little or none. Will they be willing to face jailers who are far more likely to shot back than to hand over the keys? And will Arafat be willing to take the risk of what the US and British might do should their people be attacked?

2002-05-01T13:51:00.000-04:00

What if they threw a massacre and no one came? : Even the Palestinians now admit that there was no massacre at Jenin.

Palestinian officials yesterday put the death toll at 56 in the two-week Israeli assault on Jenin, dropping claims of a massacre of 500 that had sparked demands for a U.N. investigation.

The official Palestinian body count, which is not disproportionate to the 33 Israeli soldiers killed in the incursion, was disclosed by Kadoura Mousa Kadoura, the director of Yasser Arafat's Fatah movement for the northern West Bank, after a team of four Palestinian-appointed investigators reported to him in his Jenin office.

Is anyone surprised by this? Anyone? I should be expecting retractions from all those breathless commentators who couldn't wait to tell us all about Israeli brutality, right? Yep, any minute now...

But here's the real kicker -

He no longer used the ubiquitous Palestinian charge of "massacre" and instead portrayed the battle as a "victory" for Palestinians in resisting Israeli forces. "Here the Israelis, who tried to break the Palestinian willpower, have been taught a lesson," Mr. Kadoura said.

So we've gone from the evil Israeli massacre to the Israeli's having got their bum kicked, eh? Stunning, but oh-so-predictable.

2002-05-01T13:26:00.000-04:00

You can't keep a good tax down : Taxachusetts rides again.

2002-05-01T13:20:00.000-04:00

Power tools : Legislation has been introduced to revamp drivers licenses, requiring that they include a chip (making them "smartcards") with biometric data on it for identification purposes.

Legislation to standardize state-issued driver's licenses across the United States, and to mandate that those licenses carry a computer chip and incorporate some kind of unique identifier such as a fingerprint, will be introduced in Congress on Wednesday.

The Driver's License Modernization Act of 2002, sponsored by Reps. Jim Moran, D-Va., and Tom Davis, R-Va., also directs that the chip be capable of accepting software for other applications, including those of private companies.

Uhhh... Software for other applications?

Ignoring for the moment that the feds have no business sticking their nose into this in the first place - if they want to create a national ID card they should be up front about it instead of trying to backdoor their way in - why in god's name are they even talking about making these things capable of storing information on you for businesses? Why are they even considering adding cost to the manufacture of these new drivers licenses so that they can be used for purposes other than what they are issued for?

He also stressed that use of the enhanced driver's license for private-sector services is strictly voluntary.

This argument gets extraordinarily tiresome. In theory your SSN was never supposed to have been used for identification purposes by anyone save the SSA. This was explicitly stated exactly because the fear was that the SSN would become a de facto national identification number. A fact a lot of people are completely unaware of exactly because the SSN is now a national identification number with the number of governmental and private agencies demanding and using it expanding exponentially every year.

Given the government's record when it comes to such things why should we trust them now? Why would we want them to have one iota more of information on us than they already have? Why would anyone think that if they had just one more way of tracking you that you'd be more safe when indeed likely it makes you less? And why, oh why, is anyone even talking about spending tax money to make a drivers license a more convenient tool for business?

2002-05-01T11:05:00.000-04:00

The Frontier just ain't what it used to be.

Get a family from Southern California, a family from Tennesee, and a couple from back east, send them out to Montana, and make them do the homesteading thing a la 1883---this is the premise for PBS's Frontier House. PBS seems to think it a great history lesson, this taking of modern folk and only letting them eat food and use tools that would have been found in that time period. Show the public how things *really* were back then.

Yeah, right. What it is proving to be is one giant whine-fest on the part of the families involved. The family from California was utterly horrified when they found out they wouldn't be allowed to use their mascara. The mother of the family actually broke down in tears over this and the two girls smuggled in make-up anyway, then were forced to bury it when people found out they were using it. Exactly how they thought they could hide the eyeshadow and lipstick they were wearing is a complete mystery to the viewer. The entire family from California freaked out when they discovered how much food they were allotted, claiming they would starve to death. The father of the family, after loosing a little weight, screamed Malnutrition and the doctor was called in to assess him. The doc's professional opinion? The man had been fat and was now more fit. That, and he was dehydrating himself, stupid moron. In any case, the family remained deeply concerned over the amount of food they had, so the enterprising father took to making moonshine in an effort to make more money to buy more food. Guess we know what sort of stock he comes from.

And then there is the family from Tennesee, the mother of which is an utterly militant, sharp-tongued organization freak. Her husband, apparently having missed this fact in all their years of marriage, has suddenly, on the frontier, discovered it. They are now on the verge of divorce--something one might add was unlikely to be allowed in 1883.

The only decent ones in the group are the couple from back east--newlyweds. The wife is none too thrilled about being there and does a fair amount of complaining, but her husband does his work with little or no complaint and actually appears to be pleased with being there. Refreshing.

The one thing that I completely fail to understand about all of this is how these people missed the fact that homesteading is HARD freakin' work and that the 1800's were no cakewalk. Did they never read a history book? Did they not research what they were going to be getting into *before* actually applying to be part of it? Are they really that stupid?

Well, in any case, tonight will be the airing of the final two episodes. If you like whining and seeing neighbors feud, tune in or check out their website at PBS.org.

2002-04-29T17:33:00.000-04:00

By jove she's got it! : While driving home from the hospital today I had a brilliant insight - Sunnydale is obviously a suburb of Springfield.

Just thought I'd share that with y'all...

2002-04-29T16:41:00.000-04:00

That meddlesome priest : I've not had anything to say about the whole pedophilia in the Catholic church thing, what can one really say about it? The whole sordid affair is incredibly saddening and sickening, those involved or who knew about it deserve to be punished to the fullest extent of the law.

The way this whole thing has played out has been bizarre in the extreme. As my sister mentioned, the Catholic church has had a couple of thousand years to learn how to handle Scandals (capital-S, dontchaknow). Yet in this they've acted like rank amateurs, at every turn seeming to do almost exactly the wrong thing. At every step they seem intent on making things worse, not better, and they seem almost unaware of how much damage has been done. It almost seems as though they still think this a minor matter that they can sweep under the rug. Their house is burning down around them and they're talking about seeing a fire insurance agent tomorrow... Maybe.

Mind you, I'm not Catholic (nor, for that matter, do I subscribe to any particular religion), but it has never seemed to me that Bernard Cardinal Law has ever been particularly popular around here and he certainly isn't now. From what I'm told his predecessor was quite popular and was seen as a man of the people, everybody's grandpa. In contrast Law was seen as a cold fish, rather condescending and patronizing and certainly no one's grandpa. So when this whole mess finally started to see the light of day Law didn't have a whole lot of goodwill to draw on. He still has his supporters, but they're quickly getting to be few and far between.

Around here we're used to seeing the word "embattled" next to politico or judge's names, but not Cardinals. Even had Law handled this mess well, which he most assuredly has not, it's questionable in my mind whether he could have reasonably continued to be an effective leader of the Boston archdiocese even assuming he himself was not shown to be legally culpable for the heinous acts of some of those priests working under him. When the US Cardinals were called back to Rome for their Weekend at Bernie's, a lot of people around here figured that would be the last anyone would see of Law and there were more than a few sighs of relief. The question of his presence for depositions aside, there seems little or no chance that the Boston archdiocese can even begin to start to heal while Law was still around.

Of course it was not to be, Law did return. Quickly thereafter the rumor ran around that he would soon be "elevated" - that is, the Vatican would get his bum out of here as soon as reasonably possible. But, of course, that idea - at least so far - has been discredited. Apparently Law intends to stay and fight.

Who exactly does he intend to fight? Apparently anyone in the priesthood or laity that happens to not be happy with how things have been handled.

In a letter faxed to priests throughout the archdiocese late Thursday at his behest, Law's top aide called a proposed coalition of parish councils ``superfluous and potentially divisive'' and said laity seeking a greater voice must do so ``within the hierarchical structure of the church.''

``The archbishop does not endorse or recognize the proposed association,'' wrote Bishop Walter J. Edyvean, vicar general of the Boston Archdiocese. ``As pastor or parochial vicar, you are not to join, foster or promote this endeavor among your parish pastoral council members or the community of the faithful at large.''

The letter referred to a proposed diocesan-wide association of parish pastoral councils, which include laity and which act as advisory boards to local pastors.

[...]

The letter nevertheless appeared to have a chilling effect among the clergy, coming on the heels of a series of meetings - described by some as reprimands - between Law's top aides and priests who have criticized the church's handling of the crisis.

Reading about these sorts of moves, I have to wonder if the hierarchy of the Boston archdiocese has collectively lost its mind. They don't want to deal with the problem, instead they must wait for yet another meeting and in the meantime apparently they're going to do their level headed best to try and piss off as many of those who might have actually helped and supported them as absolutely possible.

And then I read this and all doubt is removed.

Cardinal Bernard F. Law, in documents filed by his attorney, said ``negligence'' by a then 6-year-old boy and his parents contributed to alleged sexual abuse of the child by a priest.

The cardinal's six-page defense document is in response to the lawsuit filed against him Gregory Ford and his parents, Rodney and Paula Ford of Newton. The Fords have charged that Law was negligent in overseeing the Rev. Paul R. Shanley, who he knew, or should have known, was a danger to children.

[...]

In the court document, Law declares: ``The defendant says that the Plaintiffs were not in the exercise of due care, but rather the negligence of the Plaintiffs contributed to cause the injury or damage complained of ...''

The response also says that any damages assessed against Law ``should be reduced in proportion to the said negligence of the Plaintiffs.''

Bernard Cardinal Law has lost his marbles, it's the only explanation I can come up with for something like this. I don't care what his lawyers may have told him, to try and make the legal claim that a six-year-old boy who was sexually abused by a priest was somehow negligent is insanity.

2002-04-29T09:37:00.000-04:00

A Barbie girl livin' in a Barbie world : Ruth Handler, co-founder of Mattel and generally credited with having created the Barbie Doll, died Saturday at the age of 85.

I've been a sometimes collector of Barbies for years now - I've a modest collection, though I haven't bought any new ones for a couple of years. You might be surprised at just how many collectors there are, the claim is that doll collecting is the second most popular hobby in this country, and a fair percentage of the new dolls made are mostly for the collector market. One does not typically, after all, buy a multi-hundred dollar porcelain Barbie for one's nine year old daughter. The most expensive Barbie yet made, Pink Splendor Barbie, went for $900 new. Original Barbies in mint condition have gone for as much as five thousand dollars or more.

Contrary to popular mythology, Mrs. Handler did not come up with the idea for Barbie herself. Indeed she "borrowed" it from a doll called Bild Lilli. Bild was a German newspaper that in 1952 started running a comic strip, considered somewhat risque for the time, featuring a character called Lilli. Much to everyone's surprise, Lilli became quite popular and it occurred to someone to make a Lilli doll. The Lilli doll likewise became popular - still is on the collector's market - and at first was mostly a kind of gag gift that one gave at parties, mostly to men, presumably because of the risque factor. Some have described Lilli as being a bit beyond risque and more into the pornographic realm at the time as she was generally depicted as being half dressed and usually scheming to find a "sugar daddy".

While in Europe Ruth Handler got three Bild Lilli dolls and came up with the idea to market something similar in the US to girls. You see at the time dolls for little girls were either infants or children and Ms. Handler believed that an adult doll would be very popular with young girls. As it turned out, she was right. She and her husband formed a company called Mattel (a contraction of "Mattson", from their friend and partner, Harold Mattson, and "Elliot", her husband's first name) and Mrs. Handler convinced a Japanese company to manufacture a "new" kind of doll for them which she named after her daughter (and, later, Ken was named after their son). Almost overnight Barbie became extremely popular.

Barbie's mythical full name, if you're curious, is Barbie Millicent Roberts. She is from Willows, Wisconson, and graduated from Willows High School.

Whatever happened to the guy who invented Bild Lilli and his doll? Basically Mattel squashed them like bugs. Mattel has, almost from the beginning, been extremely protective of its market, and not without reason. Barbie has been one of the longest lasting and most lucrative toys of all time.

Of all of the controversies that seems to crop up about Barbie, the one that has always struck me as being the oddest concerns her figure. Certainly Barbie's dimensions are exaggerated but any idea that this was done, oftentimes said as though it were some kind of plot, to present some sort of unrealistic expectation for little girls is ludicrous.

On an adult woman clothes have a certain flow, they look a certain way. This is a combination of the woman's curves and the way the weight of the clothes causes them to cling in some places and fall in others. However when you scale those same clothes down to fit a doll they have little or no weight, you've removed half of the equation and all that's there to give them shape is the underlying form of the doll itself. The somewhat exaggerated dimensions are simply an effort to make clothes "look right" on the doll, simple as that. Mrs. Handler and company wanted a realistic appearing doll, which in this sort of thing is not the same thing as wanting a perfectly scaled model.

2002-04-29T07:10:00.000-04:00

Join the dark side, Luke... : The European Commission president, whose only real power - at least as far as I can tell - is the ability to generate huge amounts of hot air, means to spank those naughty British today -

Romano Prodi, the European Commission president, will deliver a withering attack on Britain today for being too "afraid" of the European Union to take a leading role in shaping its future.

'Fraidy cat, 'fraidy cat! Neener-neener-neener!

Yeesh.

I've no idea how this will likely sit with our UK cousins, but I know it'd go over about as well as poop in a punch bowl here. Tactically it just doesn't seem that bright - not that, from what he's said in the last few months, it seems likely that Mr. Prodi is at risk of accidentally winning a Nobel Prize anytime soon.

Scratch that, considering what a joke the Nobel Prize - at least the Peace Prize - has become, maybe he is.

In any event, it's my fervent hope that the British won't give in to this kind of rot, won't give up all of their freedoms to the Eurocrats, and perhaps in doing so they may help save the whole mess from becoming an even worse disaster than it seems most likely it is going to be.

2002-04-27T17:14:00.000-04:00

Welcome to fantasy island : Whenever you have a pro-sex education group touting Iran's policies - Iran, where 9 year old girls get sent off to arranged marriages - as a good example of how sex-ed should be handled, you know things are getting a little weird(er). I suppose that if you're going to send 9 year old girls off to marry some perv five times their age who already has two other wives it's in your best interest to make sure they know everything about the birds and the bees there is to know. It may or may not have occurred to these geniuses that here in the US we don't generally expect 9 year old girls to be doing to horizontal mambo, but obviously that's because the US is in the grip of evil conservative Christian religious views whilst Iran is liberal, nonreligious, and free.

"Too many policymakers subscribe to the caricature of adolescents as mere hormone-driven accidents waiting to happen," Waggoner said.

Uhhhh... That's a caricature? Since when?

2002-04-27T08:36:00.000-04:00

You are what you eat : Remember how your mother told you that you should eat lots of fish? Well, maybe she didn't, but she should have (link requires free registration) -

In the first study, in the April 10th issue of The Journal of the American Medical Association, Dr. Frank B. Hu, from the Harvard School of Public Health, Boston, and colleagues collected dietary data on 84,688 women who participated in the Nurses' Health Study. These women were 34 to 59 years of age, and free from CHD at baseline in 1980.

Over 16 years of followup, there were 484 were deaths from CHD and 1029 nonfatal MIs, the researchers found.. Multivariate analysis showed that women who ate fish once per week had a relative risk for CHD of 0.71, for those eating fish two to four times per week the relative risk was 0.69, and for women who ate fish five or more time per week it was 0.66 (p for trend = 0.001), Dr. Hu's team reports.

According to the authors, women who had a higher intake of omega-3 fatty acid also had a lower risk of CHD.

Dr. Hu and colleagues conclude that "this prospective study provides strong evidence for an inverse association between fish and omega-3 fatty acid consumption and risk of CHD in women, particularly CHD death."

So basically the more fish they ate the lower the incidence of Coronary Heart Disease. Given that CHD is what gets an awful lot of us in the end, this is pretty significant.

Dr. Christine M. Albert, from Brigham and Women's Hospital, Boston, and colleagues analyzed previously collected blood from 94 men for whom sudden death was the first sign of cardiovascular disease. They compared these samples with 184 matched controls.

According to the report, the adjusted relative risk for sudden death was 0.28 among men who had concentrations of long-chain n-3 fatty acid in the third quartile and 0.19 for men in the fourth quartile, compared with men in the lowest quartile.

Dr. Albert and colleagues conclude that "if the observed association is causal, increasing the intake of n-3 fatty acids by eating more fish or by taking supplements is an intervention that could be applied to this segment of the population at low cost and little risk."

Assuming you're not allergic to fish, pretty much no risk.

There was also an Italian study (again, requires free registration) -

Omega-3 fatty acids, or n-3 polyunsaturate fatty acids (PUFA), found in fish oil have been confirmed to reduce cardiovascular (CV) risk and mortality, according to a randomized trial and 2 additional studies published this week.

The GISSI-Prevenzione study was reported April 8 online as a rapid access publication in Circulation, a journal of the American Heart Association. It involved 11,323 Italian patients with recent myocardial infarction (MI) who were randomized to supplementation with PUFA, vitamin E, both, or neither. Patients who received PUFA had significantly lower all-cause mortality, resulting largely from a 42% reduction in sudden cardiac death at 3 months' follow-up.

"That was a surprise," lead author Roberto Marchioli, MD, from Consorzio Mario Negri Sud in Italy, said in a news release. "The risk of death, and sudden death, is higher in the first months after a heart attack. It is exactly in this period that the effect on sudden death was noted."

Although the mechanism of action of PUFA is still unknown, the benefits appeared to be related to reducing dysrhythmia rather than to changes in cholesterol levels or to anticoagulant effect.

So basically in both women and men Omega-3 Fatty Acids seem to reduce the risk of coronary heart disease. In those who have had an MI they seem to reduce the risk of sudden death. That's pretty significant, especially when you take into consideration that for the vast majority of people (again, those who aren't allergic) they are perfectly safe. There is also some preliminary evidence that Omega-3 Fatty Acids may have beneficial psychological effects as well as having a beneficial effect on insulin metabolism, thus potentially delaying the onset of Type II diabetes (both links again requiring free registration).

If you don't like fish or don't want to have fish five or six times a week - personally I like fish well enough, but probably not enough to have it that often - you can get Omega-3 supplements from any good health food store.

Now on to vegetarianism (again, link requires free registration) -

Dietary animal protein appears to play a protective role in the skeletal health of older women, according to a report in the April 1st issue of the American Journal of Epidemiology.

[...]

"Multiple linear regression analyses adjusted for standard osteoporosis covariates showed a positive association between animal protein consumption, assessed by food frequency questionnaires in 1988-1992, and BMD, measured 4 years later," the investigators report.

[...]

Vegetable protein was negatively associated with BMD in both men and women.

"These findings, along with the intriguing observation of a negative association between vegetable protein consumption and BMD, have significant implications for osteoporosis prevention strategies and warrant further investigation in elderly cohorts," Dr. Barrett-Connor and colleagues conclude.

BMD is an acronym for Bone Mass Density.

In other words, being a vegetarian may be bad for your bones.

2002-04-26T20:55:00.000-04:00

Death, where is thy sting? : Is capital punishment unconstitutional? A federal judge thinks it might be and has given prosecutors until May 31st to prove it isn't.

So why does he think it might be unconstitutional? Because of the "cruel and unusual" clause? Well, no, instead because death row inmates are being found to be innocent using modern technologies at a rather disturbing rate.

In doing so, he [U.S. District Judge Jed S. Rakoff] said, he would find the federal death penalty law unconstitutional on the grounds that innocent people were being sent to death row ``with a frequency far greater than previously supposed.

I've always been against the death penalty and one of the strongest arguments to me is that the risk of putting an innocent to death is far too high. Even if the judicial system was run well and efficiently that would be the case, but more so because it's not.

Update: Non Sequitur File has an interesting entry on this.

2002-04-26T20:53:00.000-04:00

And the 'blog rolls on (again) : For those of you playing at home, a few additions to the "Daily Reads" - Alice In TV Land, Alley Writer Yack, Dr. Weevil, and NoodleFood.

Welcome all to my list o' doom... Bawhahahahaha!

2002-04-26T09:40:00.000-04:00

They might be giants : Were you aware that shrinkology was a Jewish plot?

And how incredible that a science - psychology - based on conclusions drawn from the lives of 19th century middle-class Viennese Jews should be used to interpret the behavior of late 20th century Arab leaders!

This guy could seriously use some couch time.

The strangest coincidence is that Bush’s four colleagues — described by Louise Gilman of North Carolina as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse — have the same eye movements! And I quote her: “Cheney, the Jackal, war-wolf Wolfowitz, Rambo Rumsfeld and Perle, the prince of darkness.” And having watched them several times in a number of TV films, I have come to realize that they too have that strange fiery glint when they discuss Palestine or Arafat. As for me, I would hate to come across any of them in a dark alley — or even in a well-lit one. The glint that I have seen on TV has already filled my heart with dread.

Good.

2002-04-26T09:25:00.000-04:00

I'm dreaming of a white July 4th, just like the ones I used to know... : Last night we got two inches of snow. They had expected more but the storm moved further south than predicted. Even two inches would be unusual in a normal year, I frankly don't ever remember seeing snow out here this late in April, but this year we've almost had more snow in April than we had the entire winter!

Yeah, I know, a weather fluke does not a trend make and this says absolutely nothing about global warming. What I find odd, however, is that every time we have an odd hot day - as happened a couple of weeks ago when it was rapidly approaching 90 degrees here - there's always some idiot on the news who just has to mention global warming with a "See, it's happening!" self-satisfied sneer. And yet when there's a fluke snowstorm or two just a couple of weeks later that proves nothing. Or, worse yet, that is in fact also proof - somehow - of global warming.

2002-04-26T05:51:00.000-04:00

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention this : I talked about my sister's 'blog, Hawkspirits, a few days ago and how it is a 'blog dedicated to discussing the goings on in my nephews lives. Well my sister is a rather opinionated sort, it must be a genetic thing, who finds herself sometimes wanting to take a pet peeve or three for a walk around the park. She doesn't want to do it on her own 'blog as that would violate both its spirit and intent, so she's going to do so here whenever she feels the need.

So if you're wondering who this "corvidae" is who's posting about the church, that's who.

2002-04-25T23:44:00.000-04:00

Scandal? Church? What a Shock...

I live in the land of Mormon and the favorite religious activity for all us non-Mormons hereabouts is watching the rare public appearances of the President of the Church to see if he will actually fall over at some point, or if the strings holding up his Methuselah-age body will yet again keep him upright. The Mormons certainly have their fair share of scandal and have, over the years, become quite adept at double talk and other political-type activities.

Quick learners, considering it took the Catholic Church centuries to learn the same and they still don't quite seem to have it down pat. But then, the main problem with the Catholic church is that everyone knows the rules they are supposed to play by. The Mormons tend to be a bit more secretive on the finer points of their game plan and, hence, one is never quite certain when they are atually in the midst of a scandal or simply pulling exceptions out of their Quorum behinds. Really, it makes for great entertainment at times.

One fine political move the Mormons have figured out quite well is that, if one wishes to make oneself look good, make someone else look bad. Comparison is always a good tactic when someone else is screwing up. Accordingly, the press hereabouts has been having a ripping grand time with the latest Catholic Church scandal. The evening news anchors (most of whom are owned bodily by the Mormon Church) have, in the past week or so, finally perfected their Solemn Voice And Shocked Intake of Breath act when the Catholic Church comes up. Of course, they had to perfect it quickly, since the Rubbing Hands Together With Glee bit was considered to be in poor taste by many. I have little doubt that speech coaches were called in to instruct the anchors and various news minions on how to properly enunciate the word "Scandal" (yes, with a Capital S). After all, they use the word so very often now, one must be certain to say it with the appropriate Innocent Horror.

It seems to have escaped the Mormons that the Catholic Church cut its teeth on Scandal (again with the Capital S). Just a few days ago, I watched a History Channel special on the Borgias and the one-time head of the family, Pope Alexander. Now I don't customarily rely on the History Channel for historical accuracy in most things--after all, history can be a tad boring and that won't keep the ratings up without a little added spice, now will it? However, one knows that when the name Borgia comes up, no extra spice is needed and Pope Alexander, along with his daughter Lucrezia, ate Scandals far worse than the current one for a midnight snack to tide them over until morning. The idea that the current Scandal (the S key seems to be stuck in Capital mode) is anything out of the ordinary for the Catholic Church is ludicrous. The Mormons, apparently, have simply not been around long enough to realize that. The gods of a thousand universes know the Mormon history books are a bit, shall we say, skewed? If they stuck to their own books, they would likely never even realize there was a Catholic Church.

Mormons aside, however (and wouldn't that be a nice trick for many of us here in Utah?), the Catholics really haven't quite managed to politic themselves out of this mess as well as they usually do. Not to put to fine a point on it, but does anyone have a dictionary that defines the word, "chastity?" If so, perhaps you would be so good as to forward it to Cardinal Law? Or perhaps the Pope himself? Today's Salt Lake Tribune reported:

The American church leaders said they would recommend a special process to defrock any priest who has become "notorious and is guilty of the serial, predatory sexual abuse of minors." In cases that are "not notorious," they would leave it up to the local bishop to decide if such a priest is a threat to children and should be defrocked.

"Not Notorious?" Does that mean that as long as the abused person doesn't tell enough people, the priest is okey-dokey in the eyes of the Church? Exactly how many children does a priest have to molest before he is considered a threat to children? Does the term "holy vows" mean nothing to these people, or is sex with children really not considered to be sex at all? As long as one party wasn't willing, it doesn't violate the vows?

Of course, I ask this rather cynically, since I've never noticed the Catholic Church to find it necessary to play by their own rules. Really, though, I did expect better of them during the cover-up. And, as far as Cardinal Law goes, well, in the plagiarized and slightly bastardized words of Henry II in reference to Thomas Beckett: "Will no one rid me of this priest?"

2002-04-25T02:05:00.000-04:00

Everything is relative : Yes, boys and girls, it's SWVCTM (Someone Who's Very Close To Me but prefers to remain nameless) time again. Another entry in the ongoing, and hopefully very long, saga. Today's episode opens with a question -

When is being told you've got five years to live good news?

When you thought you only had two.

It's amazing how relative what constitutes "good news" versus "bad news" can be.

Last Wednesday I took SWVCTM to the hospital for a battery of tests. It's kind of odd, the medical community only seems to have two speeds. If you've ever dealt with doctors over some comparatively minor medical problem - say, a reoccurring UTI or something - you know how slowly things can move. Molasses flows quicker and you're convinced that it'll be years before they get all of the test results and get you treated properly even though in reality it only takes months (well, days, but it seems like months). But if you ever deal with them over something really serious, and they know it's serious (which, of course, is the key), you'll be truly amazed at how fast things move. Test-this and appointment-that gets thrown at you so fast and furious you can only barely keep track.

For months I waited, hoped, and prayed for one of her doctors to get a frickin' clue and run a real test to find out what was wrong with her, but nothing happened. Then all in one day they scanned most of her body with half the technologies known to medical science.

You know how they tell you that if you need an MRI it'll take two, maybe three weeks to get scheduled? If they think it's serious you'll be in there the next day, if not that afternoon. I know this, of course, because that's exactly what happened. One of the ER docs she'd seen had talked about possibly getting an MRI through her GP, but had gone on to explain apologetically and at length that it would take weeks to get an appointment and probably another week or two before the results were available. When the Oncologist's office called the MRI was done the next day, the results were available a couple of days later.

The first test on Wednesday was blood. We walked into the Cancer Center, as we'd been instructed, and talked to the secretary. Unfortunately the secretary informed us that the nurse who did the blood tests was gone, she left at 3:30, so we'd have to go to the main test center in the attached hospital. Okay, fine, we'd gotten out the door of the Cancer Center when it finally dawned on me that it wasn't quite 2:30 yet and if the nurse left at 3:30 then... Eh, screw it, we went into the hospital and to the test center. The scary thing is that I've now pretty much got most of the hospital and the Cancer Center layout memorized and knew exactly where to go. Unless you happen to work in one, you never want to be that familiar with any hospital.

Drawing blood didn't take long, of course, and the next stop was Radiology for the CAT scan. We'd been to radiology several times before, of course, so I knew where that was too. We got there, she checked in at the front desk, and we went into the rather large communal waiting room.

Hospitals are very odd places, in a sense they're a kind of city unto themselves. Hospital waiting rooms are even odder. Most of the waiting rooms in this particular hospital have a TV in them and almost all of them are playing CNN 24/7. I haven't watched CNN in quite a while, almost long enough to have forgotten why. After the last couple of weeks and having seen hours of CNN, now I remember - it's just not good for my blood pressure.

I joke about my blood pressure but actually it's very low, in fact just this side of dangerously low. I wouldn't normally think to mention that, but, well, I've been spending a lot of time in hospitals lately and doing so causes one to think about such things and occasionally blurt out random little factoids about one's health, or lack thereof, and...

...Shutting up now.

Anyway, almost no one really looks at the TVs in the waiting room. I'm not entirely sure why since what they do spend a lot of time doing in waiting rooms is reading newspapers. There's usually one or two discarded ones in a waiting room and when one person finishes them there's sometimes accidents when ten others pounce simultaneously to claim it. Fortunately if you have to have an accident a hospital is the place to do it.

There are really three kinds of people you see in waiting rooms. The first are those who studiously ignore the fact that there's anyone else in the room. They're the ones you'll find staring at a newspaper or a magazine so hard you have to wonder if they think that by sheer ocular force of will they can absorb the print on the page. The second type are those who want to know everyone who's there and usually want everyone there to know them. These kinds of people can range from the mildly entertaining to the excruciatingly annoying. The last type are kids. Usually, hopefully, they're there because their parents have to be seen for whatever reason.

When we got to the radiology waiting room CNN was playing on the TV as usual and there were a number of people already there. We sat down and it was immediately clear that the woman sitting a chair over from SWVCTM was of the second type, subclass entertaining. She was a middle aged Hispanic woman with a perpetual light smile that hinted at some secret mystical knowledge and the possibility that if you were nice to her she might share it. She said "Hi!" and something else, I don't even remember what, before returning to contemplate her secret mystical knowledge. About ten minutes later a nurse came in holding two sixteen ounce styrofoam cups. SWVCTM had to drink this stuff and from the secret mystical knowledge lady's expression and comments it quickly became clear what the secret mystical knowledge was - anything a nurse gave you to drink in this place was going to make fermented horse urine seem palatable. Poor SWVCTM had to drink down these 32 ounces of chalky goodness as quickly as possible and did so whilst secret mystical knowledge lady cracked jokes about how foul the stuff was and the nurse tried to keep her composure - it apparently being bad form for a nurse to roll around on the waiting room floor laughing her bum off. When done SWVCTM looked up at the nurse and said "You know that lemon flavoring isn't hiding anything.".

The 32 ounces of chalky goodness needed twenty minutes to do its job so we sat and waited. Well, I sat, SWVCTM got up and paced some since that was supposed to speed up the process. Not long after the two cups, a half dozen or so young and semi-burly - if short - men came in and sat down. Collectively they were of the second type, subclass excruciating. They started talking to each other but I couldn't understand a word they said. Not because they were in fact talking in Spanglish, of which I can pick up at least some, but instead because they were talking at a volume sufficient to blow out my eardrums and cause a mild concussion. Well, not really, but it felt like it. CNN was completely drowned out, for which I would have thanked them had there been any chance whatsoever of my quiet voice being heard over the din they were creating. How they could possibly have understood each other, given that for the most part they were all talking simultaneously to each other and several others in the room, is an utter mystery to me. Finally, in desperation, I took my MP3 player out of my purse. Set on 22 (my MP3 player's volume goes from 0 - 22, I have no idea why) I was just barely able to lose myself in Eve6.

Shortly after we'd gone on to Sammy Hagar ("I can't drive 55!" Bwahahahahaha!) a nurse came in and called for some of the young and semi-burly - if short - men, which allowed me to reduce volume to 15 or so. Another quickly followed, asking for SWVCTM. Also around this time a mother and her son walked in and sat down. The mother was around my age, mid-thirties somewhere, and the son looked to be about nine or ten. The mother had timed things just right, an elderly man who'd been reading a paper had also just been called, thus freeing up said paper. The mother pounced on it before anyone else could even move and started reading. Occasionally she mumbled something, I gathered she was a sports fan. The young boy was, unsurprisingly, bored out of his gourd and mostly sat and fidgeted.

Now personally the ill manners many people's children display in public is a pet peeve of mine. But, for whatever reason, one rarely sees this sort of thing in hospitals. In fact most of the kids I've encountered in hospital waiting rooms have been incredibly well behaved and quite sweet. But I quickly had reason to suspect this young man might be an exception.

I had SWVCTM's films - the bone scan and spinal x-rays - with me. One of the nurses at the Cancer Center had entrusted them to me with multiple and strict admonitions that I was to never under any circumstances let them out of my sight. Apparently some hospital departments like to keep these things when they shouldn't. I've no idea why, maybe they take them home to feed to their pets or something. Whatever the reason, I took my duties quite seriously. These things were in a big manilla envelope with "X-RAYS" stenciled on it in large enough letters to be seen from orbit without the assistance of advanced optics - at most someone in the ISS would need a good pair of binocs and I suspect those letters might be readable from there with nothing save the naked eye. I'd set this big manilla envelope on the chair next to me and set my purse on top of them. Woe to anyone who tried to touch those films, though I wished they'd at least given me a sword or something.

The young boy was sitting in the chair next to the chair with the films in it and apparently they were too fascinating to ignore. His hand kept creeping over and I watched this out of the corner of my eye with some mild amusement. Amusement until his hand got too close and it became clear he actually meant to pick the envelope up. I reached over and wiggled my finger at him, indicating that this would not be the wisest move he'd ever made in his young life. He pulled his hand back as though burnt and looked at me with eyes nearly twice as wide as his entire skull.

"Little brat," thought I in a most uncharitable way.

A few minutes later I noticed him twisting and turning his head trying to look at something, what he was trying to look at was my watch. I hit the pause button and looked over at him inquiringly.

"May I please see what time it is, Ma'am?" He asked.

"Certainly," I replied, holding my arm out so he could read my watch.

I felt like a heel for having thought so ill of him. He really shouldn't have been trying to pick up the envelope, but he had no way of knowing it was something important or even for sure whose it was. And, frankly, ten minutes in one of those waiting rooms is enough to bore me to tears, I can't imagine what it must be like for a ten year old whose mother is pretty much ignoring him.

A little while after this SWVCTM returned, looking a bit the worse for wear. First, for the CAT scan she wasn't supposed to eat or drink anything for two to four hours prior. This meant that she hadn't had a pain pill for a while and was overdue. Second, I gather they weren't especially careful about getting her laid down so they could run the scan, nor careful about getting her back up again. One problem with having an arm and shoulder out of commission is that it's difficult to impossible to lay down or get back up again. Inevitably you end up moving the arm and/or shoulder and that causes excruciating pain. Of course if they were careful about it and helped her this would be less of an issue, but they weren't and didn't.

I was wrong about the CAT scan, by the way. I'd assumed it was to check her brain for possible mets, but it wasn't. She told me they'd scanned her abdomen, having read the reports now that makes sense.

The next test on the top ten hit parade was the MRI, so we headed down to the other side of the hospital. This hospital has an MRI and PET group attached at one end. The people who run it aren't actually part of the hospital, though physically attached the hospital it's a separate group/company which can make insurance issues interesting. Along the way I gave her a pain pill (with her shoulder out she's not carrying a purse so I keep them in mine) and we stopped at a drinking fountain so she could take it. Unfortunately it was going to be a good twenty minutes before it hit her system and because her stomach was completely empty it wasn't going to be overly effective. We'd planned to stop in the hospital cafeteria so she could get something to eat, but there just wasn't enough time.

We got to the MRI place and since it's a separate company they had her fill out all of the how can we best fleece you paperwork - always fun, that. And they wanted the films I'd been given to guard with my life. Okay, apparently they needed them to line up the MRI or something, which sounded reasonable, but I made it abundantly clear that I wanted them back as soon as absolutely possible. The woman asking for them seemed almost insulted by this, as if I'd demanded her firstborn and a pile of gold, and wanted to know if I was sure. Yes, hell yes, absolutely yes! So she took them and, much to my surprise, quickly returned with them, explaining that she'd made copies. Amazing what happens when you're assertive, I really should try that more often.

We didn't wait long before they came out to get SWVCTM. I couldn't go back with her, of course, so I sat in the waiting room. In this instance, a particularly boring one. No TV, meaning no CNN, and since it was getting relatively late there was no one else in the waiting room. So out comes the MP3 player. I knew this was going to be a longer wait than most, an MRI is not something that is done quickly. Depending on how much they're scanning it can be anywhere from a forty-five minutes to an hour or so. By the time I'd gotten halfway through the songs on my MP3 player I knew we were well past the hour mark. An hour and a half in I was starting to get nervous. Just short of two hours a nurse comes out and calls my name. The only way she would know my name is if SWVCTM told her and that made me a tad nervous as it meant that SWVCTM needed help - else why come out and get me?

"We had a bit of a problem," the nurse said.

Uh-oh.

"She needs your help."

Double uh-oh.

"But we got some really great pics!"

Bully for you.

The nurse leads me into the labyrinth and says "She's in there," before walking off.

"There" was a locked door behind which I could hear SWVCTM crying.

Fury rising. What in the hell did they do?

I knocked on the door and let SWVCTM know I was there, a few minutes later she comes out and is most obviously much the worse for wear. We go across the hall to a dressing room. It's obvious SWVCTM is in extreme pain and can't dress herself, which was why they came and got me. It took several minutes before she had things together enough to tell me what had happened.

Imagine your arm and shoulder are in really bad shape (in fact later we found out that among other things the arm is in fact fractured). Now imagine you have to spend nearly two hours trapped inside a huge extremely noisy machine. Now imagine that because there is little room inside said machine you have to keep your already extremely painful arm in a painful position. For nearly two hours. Now imagine that when they take you out of said machine they forget to put the rails down so your excruciatingly sore arm gets jammed between the bed you're laying on and the rail. Now imagine that no one seems to really give a flying crap about any of this. And, finally, imagine that it's a good thing I don't have a gun or I would have shot every damn last one of those unconcerned stupid assed son of a bitches.

In the kneecaps.

Both kneecaps.

Twice each.

I was beyond livid as I helped her dress, and I still am. I didn't dare say anything to anyone, though I desperately wanted to say quite a few things, because I was afraid that if I did I would just blow up. After I'd gotten her dressed we simply walked out without a word. As we passed the front desk I half expected the lady there to say something and if she had I was going to unload. I was looking forward to it, mentally putting my expletives into order for maximum verbal ballistic impact. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point-of-view, no one said anything.

We've had this problem all along, outside of the Cancer Center no one seems to take her pain seriously at all. Not the first ER doctor, not the GP, and not the various testing facilities at either hospital. It infuriates me to no end, how could they be so bloody stupid and blind?

Part of it is SWVCTM's manner. In certain personality traits she's almost masculine. I don't mean physically. I'm what she refers to as a "girl-girl", she's definitely not but she's by no means butch. In appearance she's, well, your average forty-something woman. But her personality traits are somewhat mixed, and in some things she can be almost "macho". One of those ways is when it comes to pain. Stoic doesn't begin to describe it. She's like a boss I had years ago. He had obvious back problems that anyone who knew him could see, but he wouldn't take so much as a aspirin for it and heaven forbid he'd admit that there was a problem. She's not quite that bad, but close. Even when it's obvious to me, because I know her, that she's in extreme pain if someone asks she'll say something like "It hurts a little, yeah...". I half expect that if someone chopped off her arm she'd say "It's naught but a scratch!". Complicating matters and for reasons that wholly escape me, she's often reluctant to bring up things in her medical history that might be relevant and she seems downright embarrassed when I mention them - as if I've just spoken of some sin she committed in the distant past that should remain unmentioned.

As far as I can figure out most of these mental midgets expect that anyone who was in any degree of pain worth mentioning would be screaming like a banshee and babbling their entire medical history like a stoolie confessing his crimes in hopes of a lighter sentence. Instead they get a woman who tells them it's naught but a scratch and doesn't mention much of anything about her medical history so she must not be in any real pain - nothing to worry about here. Of course if these flatline EEG cases had half an ounce of observational powers they might actually notice that she can barely move the arm and it might even occur to them that if someone says that laying down is a problem because of their shoulder and arm then maybe you should bloody-well listen just in case.

Up until now that's been my theory, anyway, that basically these idiots aren't seeing what they expect to see in someone who has serious pain so they don't take it seriously. Only that doesn't fly with the cerebral degenerates running the MRI machine like a torture device. Those worthless pieces of walking crap had her bone scan and spinal x-rays and knew damn well there were some major serious problems in the arm and shoulder and still didn't bother to take the most basic of precautions. What their excuse for their utter inconsiderate stupidity might be, I have no idea. But I don't and won't buy "accidents happen". For one thing there's no excuse for it, for another it's been too consistent.

Anyway, by the time the MRI was done it was seven PM. We went by the Cancer Center but there was no one at the desk so I took her home.

Yesterday (well, soon to be the day before yesterday as it's nearly midnight) I took her back to the Cancer Center. The first stop was downstairs for the radiation consultation. Since she didn't have radiation treatments before - one of the reasons she chose to have the left modified radical mastectomy over the lumpectomy was to avoid them - we'd never been down there. She checked in at the front desk and we sat in the standard waiting room with the standard TV blaring out the standard CNN. They were discussing the aftermath of the train wreck and showing pictures of it. God did that look like a... Well, like a train wreck.

The Cancer Center waiting rooms are different from those in the hospital itself in that nearly everyone you'll see in there is of the first type. Almost everyone is staring at a paper or magazine and almost no one even looks at anyone else. Everyone there is there for deadly serious business and everyone there knows it. Joviality is not something one sees a lot of in Cancer Center waiting rooms.

After a little while a nurse comes out and calls for SWVCTM, leading us back to a conference room where we sat at a table. The entire back wall was covered with dozens and dozens of bins for various pamphlets, each set labeled with a different kind of cancer. It was a little depressing to me to see how many there were. On the back of the door was a poster covering the basics of ductal invasive breast cancer and another below it on prostate cancer - probably the two most common that they handle.

The nurse sat down across from us and opened a thick file before starting to throw rapid-fire epidemiological questions at SWVCTM. When was your first period? Where were you born? Have you ever been pregnant? Stuff like that. None of this is for SWVCTM's good, of course, they collect this kind of data by law and it's used in studies. I know it probably shouldn't, but this sort of thing annoys the hell out of me and I have to think there's a better way to collect this data than the common rapid-fire third-degree technique. I also have to wonder why it is every time you see someone new you have to go over your whole life story again. You'd think they could write all of this stuff down just once and then pass it around or something, but no. I suppose that would be too easy. SWVCTM says she half thinks they're afraid you'll lie about something and they really do cross-check what you tell them to see. A tad paranoid, but I'm not sure it'd shock me if it was true.

After the third degree was done the nurse took SWVCTM to be examined and I was relegated back to the waiting room. Some woman on CNN was babbling about abstinence programs. This was ostensibly a news piece, but it wasn't hard to figure out how the bimbo giving the report felt. Her main complaint seemed to be that abstinence programs weren't teaching kids how to have safe sex. Worse yet, they were teaching kids that sometimes safe sex techniques failed - the woman said this as though it were an obvious lie. She kept babbling about how by the time they were eighteen 70% of children had engaged in sex. Ignoring for the moment that I've known several married eighteen year olds and in fact I wasn't much older than eighteen when I married for the first time, I wondered how in the world they got this number and why she thought it so compelling. What, you think that if you ask kids if they've had sex a substantial proportion aren't going to lie like a rug? Adults lie about sex fer god's sake!

See, this is why I don't watch CNN. It's bad for my blood pressure. Not that I have blood pressure problems, mind you...

Just when I'd reached the point where I was either going to have to scream at the bimbo on CNN or pop a blood vessel, the nurse comes out and calls for me. I go back to the conference room where SWVCTM is waiting. I asked her how the exam went and it was clear that she was most impressed. The doctor had been very careful about helping her to lay down and get up and all of that, pretty much the first medical-type person who had.

She had just enough time to tell me this before the doctor walked in and introduced himself. He was a tall guy, balding, a bit heavy set and serious as a myocardial infarction. He sits down and starts explaining what they're going to do to her - nuke her - for how long - every weekday for a month or so - what the results will be - 80% chance of reduction or elimination of the pain - and what the side-effects are - mucks up the skin. All well and good and pretty much as expected - except for the 80% part. He then asks her what pain meds she's on. She tells him and he shakes his head. Uh-uh, ain't good enough, he wants her on a more serious pain med on top of what she's taking and an anti-inflammatory on top of that. This pleased me as it was clear that the pain meds they had her on weren't good enough, even with them she still was having problems and occasionally serious ones. He was also adamant about her using a sling, not something she had been doing much and I'd been complaining about. He answered a couple of questions from her and from I and then asked if she was ready to be nuked (well, he didn't put it that way, but my way sounds better). This was something of a minor surprise, she hadn't expected they would start right away. But the faster they start the sooner she'll be through it and hopefully a lot better off pain-wise.

So they took her away and I was again out in the waiting room. This time I was smart, I got out my MP3 player - I knew there was a reason I hauled that thing around - and stuck the ear buds in before CNN could hook me.

What they did with her is what's called a simulation. Basically they put her on a machine and line things up using all of the various films and data they have on her cancer. Then, once everything is lined up, they tattoo dots that will act as targeting markers later. By using these they can just put her on the machine, line up on the targeting markers, nuke her for eight minutes, and then send her on her way. I gather this machine is busier than a McDonald's drive through at noon. No doubt it's an extremely expensive machine so they have it set up to be as efficient as possible. And, unlike the other medical-type idiots who've acted like she was a ragdoll they could just toss around any which way, these nurses and doctors know how to handle things so as to not put her into excruciating pain.

Once she had her new tattoos and they'd nuked her, we went upstairs to see the Oncologist. This was the part we'd both been dreading. Remember all of those tests they'd run last Wednesday? Well those were to look for possible mets in a major organ which, if present, would mean that the chances of her being around to see my fortieth birthday were slim to none. She was seeing the Oncologist to get the results of those tests and frankly we were both convinced that the news was not going to be good. Considering how often the news has been bad lately, this wasn't entirely without reason.

So we sat in the waiting room and, well, waited. Now one other thing about Cancer Center waiting rooms is that almost invariably SWVCTM is the second youngest one there by a good two or three decades. Which makes me the youngest one there generally by three or four decades - in all the times we've been there I don't honestly remember seeing anyone even close to my age. This time, however, there was someone there younger than I - substantially younger. She a cute little girl maybe eight or nine there with her mother. I fervently hoped, and later found out that it was so, that it was the mother there for treatment and not the little girl as one of them most likely was and that seemed the lesser of two evils. The little girl seemed absolutely fascinated with my hair, which I have the sometimes bad habit of playing with when I'm tense, and we exchanged many a smile which helped pass the time a little.

Finally they came out to get us and took us back to an exam room we've both been in what seems like a thousand times before. The nurse chatted for a while and eventually the doctor came over. He hadn't even gotten the door closed when SWVCTM asked him what the news was - she could hardly be blamed for impatience. Everything was clear, he told her. Neither of us could really believe our ears and wanted him to repeat it. Hell, I wanted to get a tape recording of him saying it, bring it home and make a .wav file of it and put it on an endless loop. Later the nurse gave us copies of all of the reports. Basically they'd found another spinal met - not great news but not overly important in the grand scheme of things considering there was already one they knew about - but nothing else. They'd looked at pretty much every major organ - lungs, heart, liver, kidneys, intestine, uterus, you name it they scanned it - and found nothing out of the ordinary.

The Oncologist then went into what the next steps would be. Basically they have to start giving her what I've come to refer to as the anti-bone-dissolving drug. Without it the cancer will cause her bones to decalcify, which is definitely not a good thing. He told her they'd have to give her that - it's a two hour infusion - every six weeks for the rest of her life.

Christ, the rest of her life. That sounds so odd to me now. If someone says that to me they mean, what, the next forty years or even longer? But what he'd just told her was that basically the odds are she's got five years or so and that was good news. Not only good news, the best possible news. Think about that, how relative things can be. How turned upside down things are when someone telling you that you'll have to take a drug for the rest of your life and they mean the next five years and you're bloody thrilled. Cancer does very weird things to one's perspective.

From there he went on to discuss chemo. The first course of chemo they gave her was basically one of the nastiest there is. She's had as much of that stuff as her body can take, they can't go back to it. So they're going to go with something that's milder - a "second line" drug - but is over a longer course of time. They'll give her a full course of that, stop to run tests and give her body a chance to recover, then start the whole thing again. With luck the chemo will slow the cancer down, shrink the mets, and keep it from spreading to a major organ for as long as absolutely possible.

The one piece of bad news he had to give - bad news, but not unexpected - was that the humerus is fractured. Basically the cancer had eaten away at the bone to the point where there was little structural integrity and it just cracked. The problem is that it cannot heal as things are, it won't begin to heal unless and until the radiation and chemo has caused the cancer to retreat some. Even when that happens the bone will still be weak so there's a chance they need to put a metal rod in so it doesn't break entirely. He really didn't like the idea, adding surgery on top of radiation and chemo is a major bad idea as your ability to heal goes to near zero, but he wasn't sure if they'd have a choice. He wants her to see an Orthopedic surgeon to get another opinion on what needs to be done.

SWVCTM hasn't been to work since the first bone met was discovered, of course. There would be little point since she can't do much of anything and is on serious painkillers besides. The HR beancounter knows the basics of what's going on but neither SWVCTM nor I have really seemed to have been able to get the severity of this across. Said HR beancounter keeps saying things like "I hope you have a quick recovery!" and such. A nice thought, to be sure, but one does not recover from something like this, period, and it's important that Ms. Beancounter understand this. For disability to kick in and all Ms. Beancounter has all kinds of forms and such that must be filled out by the doctor so SWVCTM brought these along and handed them to the Oncologist. The Oncologist said he'd fill them out and fax them right then, but SWVCTM told them that wasn't really necessary as they didn't need them until Friday. The Oncologist looked very sheepish and said "But I'll forget!" which was oddly and endearingly cute. So we sat and waited whilst he filled out all of the forms, faxed them, and then handed them back. I glanced at what he'd written and had to smile. Basically, in very nice terms, he'd said "She's sick, she isn't going to get better, so leave her the hell alone!". Hopefully Ms. Beancounter will now get the point.

After all that was done we had to stop and get the chemo and other treatments scheduled. It occurred to SWVCTM that there's one thing she'd forgotten to ask - would this chemo treatment cause her to lose her hair?

That might seem like a minor thing and maybe in the grand scheme of things it is. But in another way it isn't. Prior to the breast cancer being discovered SWVCTM was one of the few women I know with hair as long as mine. It was a point of pride with her and, having very long hair myself, I can understand how she felt about it. Losing the breast she could deal with. Knowing that there was a chance the cancer would kill her she could deal with. But when, a bit after the first chemo treatment, her hair started falling out and she had to get it cut off, that sent her into a spiral of depression for a while. It's that way for a lot of women - perhaps men as well, I don't know - kind of the final indignity, the straw that breaks the camel's back. Emotionally it's something that can be very difficult to take and I dreaded the thought of her having to go through that again and go back to the wig.

But, it turns out, she won't have to. This particular chemo treatment doesn't usually cause hair to fall out - the final good news for the day.

So for now I'll be taking her to the Cancer Center for radiation treatments every weekday for another month. Next Thursday they'll start chemo and the anti-bone-dissolving drug. She's on better pain killers now and can, for a change, actually sleep through the night. The people at the Cancer Center know how to treat her so she doesn't end up in excruciating pain and I don't end up thinking about committing mayhem. And, chances are, she's got longer to live than she thought and even if that doesn't mean as much time as one would hope she'll take what she can get.

A note for those who've written kind notes and comments about these posts and SWVCTM's plight. I should be responding to every one, thanking you for your nice thoughts, but sometimes I've been a bit remiss in that. My apologies. Lately I've been up and down a lot emotionally and as often as not I just don't know what to say. It has taken me this long to even start to adjust to all of this. I am adjusting, or at least I think I am, and I'll try and do better.

2002-04-24T08:38:00.000-04:00

Your tax dollars at work : This just amazes me -

Elmo of Sesame Street testifies before a House Committee hearing on Capital Hill Tuesday, April 23 in Washington. Elmo, a popular puppet from the television series, was testifying in favor of school music education.

First, did anyone happen to ask him about the connection between certain Sesame Street characters and OBL? What did he know about Bert's support of Islamofascism and when did he know it?

Second, who in the world cares what a puppet has to say about anything? What's next, Mickey Mouse talking about how ummm... Mickey Mouse the tax laws are? Captian Kangaroo on how to improve the courts? Wile E. Coyote on the results of violence? Buzz Lightyear on space technology?

I know these various Senate and Congressional hearings are a pathetic joke, of course, but it still annoys the hell out of me that every time you turn around some self important celebrity is sitting before a bunch of self important congresscritters talking about some subject he or she knows little or nothing about.

Remember Ted Danson giving testimony on oceanography and the environment? What a minute, they're listening to Ted Danson?!? Ted Danson, fer chrissakes? I'm sorry, but I wouldn't listen to Ted Danson's advice on how to tie my shoes let alone much of anything else. I'm sure he's a great guy and all, but since when is he an expert on oceanography?

The reason they get these celebrities up there, of course, are that they're "names" and thus appeal to the cult of celebrity - all of those millions out there in the great unwashed who if Oprah says it believe it must be true. That, and all of those congresscritters like to fall all over themselves to shake hands with whoever happens to be famous at the moment. I would say that we should expect better of our congresscritters, but that would be silly of me. But we should demand more of our congresscritters. The issues of the day are too important, the people's business should be handled better and shouldn't be an excuse for hauling whatever celebrity they can shanghai up there to turn things into a media circus.

2002-04-23T11:05:00.000-04:00

Global warming? : I have my own little mini-zoo here that currently consists of two rats, three gerbils, five rabbits, two cats, three fish, and various and sundry plant type creatures. Sounds nuts? Well, it is, though in actuality it's a much smaller population than I have at times cared for.

The lagomorphs (that's rabbits to you non-bunny people, although actually Lagomorpha refers to rabbits, hares, and pikas) live in a big room in the front of the house. Well, one of the fronts of the house. Since we live on a corner the house kind of has two fronts. The only thing is that what looks like the real front of the house isn't. Why? Because there's no parking there. The "real" front of the house looks like it isn't, which tends to confuse visitors and sometimes is a good thing - Jehovah's Witnesses and other such urban type pests rarely figure out which is the real front of the house and thus which door they should knock on if they want someone to actually answer. They just kind of stand on the corner looking very confused for a while, not that they don't look confused most of the time anyway. You see it's a big huge old Victorian that was ancient long before I was ever born and has a big fancy porch and entrance on what is a semi-major artery in this godforsaken city, but that's mostly locked and ignored because one parks on the other side and thus it's easier to use the non-fancy entrance. But since Jehovah's Witnesses and such types don't park, they ride bikes or some such, they don't generally get this. They just kind of stand there, it's really almost pathetic. I presume eventually a police car comes by, calls an ambulance, they take them to the hospital where they get pink slipped for their own good, but I don't really know that for sure. There are just some things a wise person does not enquire about.

Anyway, the rabbits live in a big room in one of the fronts of the house. When I say they live in the room, I mean they live in it as in they pretty much own it. They have a cage, but they pretty much only go in there to eat rabbit pellets. Their water is in a big bowl that they share with the cats and there is another bowl on a big mat that is filled with various greens at least twice a day. There are, of course, also a number of litter boxes for their use. Otherwise the room has the normal furniture-type stuff along with a TV/VCR/DVD/N64 and such. The entrances are blocked off such that the cats can get in and out relatively easily but the rabbits can't. Well, actually they could pretty easily but they don't know that. You see cats have binocular vision like we do, they can thus judge distances and such as we can and they know they can leap over a four foot high barrier without even trying. Rabbits have monocular vision, which means they can't judge distances for diddly. They could jump over the bins blocking the doorways, I've seen them make higher jumps than that, but since they can't really tell how high they are they've never figured that out. That monocular vision thing has its advantages, it means the rabbits have a huge field-of-view, but it has its downside too. You figure this out pretty quickly when you notice that a rabbit's primary mode of locomotion often involves going as fast as they can - which for a rabbit is pretty darn fast - until they hit something and then switch directions and do it all over again.

My mentioning of the cats and rabbits together might sound odd. After all, rabbits are prey animals and cats are hunters. Make no mistake about it, if the cats were hungry enough it would be rabbit stew for dinner in a heartbeat. Though rabbits are somewhat outside of a cat's normal prey-size range, they can and will go after a rabbit if sufficiently motivated - indeed I saw several semi-wild bunnies go to the great beyond with feline help when I was a kid. But our cats have never known a hungry day in their feline fur-covered-garbage-disposal lives and going after the rabbits would entail far too much work. You might think that the rabbits, being prey animals with virtually no offensive weaponry to speak of, would be afraid of the much bigger cats with their sharpened claws and needle teeth, but you'd be wrong. For the most part they like the cats, even going as far as to groom them as they would another rabbit. They are infinitely fascinated by cat tails, which occasionally is a problem as they'll sometimes try and take a chomp just to see if that long thing really is part of the cat. The head bunny is a black female french lop who weighs in at around eight pounds and is still growing. Occasionally she will decide that she doesn't want one of the cats around for whatever bunny reasons she might have and will start going after them. It's really kind of funny to see, she makes these little grunting noises and makes these little leaps at them. It's like one of those little yappy dogs, all sound and fury with nothing to back it up. The cat usually gets the hint, gives her a "You have to be kidding me!" look, and exits the room. This is the genius of how we've set up the room, if the cat couldn't leave he'd probably retaliate in kind and while an eight pound bunny can't do diddly to a cat, a twelve pound cat can most definitely do a lot of damage to a bunny. But since that would entail far too much work and they can leave, they do.

Now yesterday we had electricians in here ripping the place to hell and back. This being an old Victorian the electrical wiring was probably put in by Thomas Edison or something. We have power-hungry electronic gizmos up the ying-yang and the wiring was insufficient to feed all of these power-hungry electronic gizmos so they came in to put a couple of more feeds in. When the electrician was in here a couple of weeks ago (or was it months ago?) to discuss what was needed I carefully explained to him that I use my computer for a lot of various and sundry things and if they were going to have to turn off the power I needed to know ahead of time. No, he assured me, they wouldn't need to turn off the power and my computer wouldn't be effected. What he didn't tell me, of course, was that they were going to run the wires through the wall directly behind my computer and thus my desk would have to be pulled out by about ten feet and I wouldn't be able to get at my computer all day even though there would be plenty of power to run it if I could get at it.

Aside from being computerless (blogging withdrawal sux) for the day and having two strange men wandering in and out of my house all day it was actually quite a lot less painful than I expected. Well, except for when one of them moved the big honkin' air conditioner that is waiting to be put in the window and set it right down on a network cable, thus giving me a heart attack (surprisingly the network cable survived this just fine). They were both quite nice and, contrary to my usual experience with construction-type dudes, wanted to explain everything they were doing. That was probably my fault as I'd previously explained to the electrician that prior to becoming a housewife I used to run a semiconductor plant and prior to that I was an electrical engineer. I explained all of this too him so that he would hopefully take my suggestions about where and what current to put the various feeds he was installing seriously rather than just doing whatever he might think should be done. Given my previous occupation I do know a little something about how to calculate how much power I need where, but it has been my experience that construction-type dudes tend to ignore whatever the resident says and do whatever they think should be done, especially if said resident is a woman. Somewhat to my surprise, they took my offered credentials quite seriously and wanted to explain everything to me as though it would make perfect sense. No, no, no, if you want to know how to design and program ATE gear or manufacture multi-junction high voltage ultra-low leakage diodes or high current zener transient suppressors, well I'm the one to ask. But once you start talking about nomex-this and junctionbox-that, forget it. All I know is that I need fifteen amps here and twenty amps there. Being able to calculate inductive reactance or design an automated high voltage Ir tester does not make one an electrician. But, instead of trying to explain the difference between "electrical engineer" and "electrician" and not wanting to appear the idiot I was, I spent much of the day smiling sweetly and nodding like I had the faintest idea what they were talking about while nomex-this and junctionbox-that whizzed over my head and bounced around the room for a while. I occasionally blurted out "GFI" just to make it sound like I knew something - oddly that seemed to work.

Knowing that the electricians were coming yesterday I got up quite early and moved the bunnies into the bathroom then commenced to cleaning their room from top to bottom. The bunnies needed to be out of the way since loud noises and strange men tend to bother them and when there are going to be strange men wandering around one's house and creating huge messes one wants said house to be especially clean. Don't ask me why, it's a housewife thing. It doesn't matter how clean you keep your place, nor does it matter that construction-type dudes probably wouldn't notice if it was a disaster area, when strangers are going to be in your house you do the white tornado thingy yet again, and again, and again.

So when I went to bed last night, my face sore from smiling sweetly and still periodically blurting out "GFI!", the bunny-room that's kinda-sorta in the front of the house was especially pristine with nary a speck on its floor. Which, odd as it might seem, is the entire point of my telling you all of the above.

I got up at five AM this morning. A bit late for me, but the events of the last month or so have screwed up my already screwed up sleep cycle - sleep is a design flaw, dontchaknow - even more than usual. I glance into the bunny room that's kinda-sorta at the front of the house - one of my first duties in the morning being to feed the feline fur-covered-garbage-disposals and the lagomorphs, and what do I see? Remember those pictures of Jenin? My kinda-sorta front room was in far worse shape.

There's an old sectional in the front room that faces the TV/VCR/DVD/N64. It has seen far better days - like around October 12th, 1860 or so. Someone, I'm betting it was the head bun, just decided they were going to open up one of the armrests. When I got there they had eviscerated it and the littlest bunny was actually up inside the thing digging out more stuffing. There was a pile of whatever in the world kind of foam stuff they use in those things in front of the couch that was about two feet high and growing, and the couch armrest, in fact most of that whole side of the couch, looked like a deflated balloon. The bunnies, of course, thought all of this was great fun and were only too happy to show me their handiwork. You know how kids will jump into piles of raked leaves? Well the buns had come up with their own version.

We came aboutthisclose to having hasenpfeffer for breakfast.

So I spent my first hour of the morning trying to stuff enough stuffing back into the couch to stop it from looking so pathetic - a task that I was not overly successful at - and cleaning up the endless mess my wonderful buns had created for me. All the while one of the cats sat watching and I am convinced he had something to do with it - likely he gave them the idea in the first place. All the while I'm doing this the bunnies are trying to make clean up as difficult at possible as to them this was all one big game and they clearly had no idea how close to the stewpot they had come.

Not the greatest way to start one's morning.

So what does all of this have to do with global warming? Not diddly, actually, save that by the time I had completed my task my serum caffeine level had fallen dangerously low. As I've mentioned previously, as far as I'm concerned the triumvirate that makes up the true elixir of the gods is Diet Pepsi Twist, Diet Doctor Pepper, and Pepsi One. Besides being the components of the true elixir of the gods, these are my source for that most necessary of morning nutrients - caffeine. The only problem was, there wasn't any of the above in the house. There was, however, plenty in the car. So I grabbed my keys and went to the car.

What did I see when I got outdoors? Snow on the car! Snow! At the end of April! When we'd hardly seen a flake the entire winter! When only a week ago it was ninety degrees! Snow!

Upon seeing this and to no one in particular I screamed "Global warming my ass!".

Presuming the neighbors weren't already convinced of it - which they almost certainly were - everyone now knows that I am quite insane.

2002-04-23T11:04:00.000-04:00

Healthy for whom? : Three Boston law firms just got a great payday. They sued some manufacturers of bulk vitamins that are added to foods because they claim local consumers had to pay higher prices for said foods due to apparent price fixing. Said bulk vitamin manufactures finally settled.

Now, let's see... The law firms will get US$3.9 million. Local charities will get US$15.7 million. And the local consumers who were supposedly harmed by this action will get? Diddly-squat. Well, no, that's not exactly true, is it? The US$19.6 million will have to come from somewhere, won't it? And where do you suppose it will come from? Could it be... ummm, consumers via increased prices? Why yes, I suppose it could. So while the law firms are, I'm sure, happy, and the charities are, I'm sure, happy, the consumers who supposedly got screwed by price fixing are going to again get screwed to pay the money taken from these companies to atone for the price fixing.

Wow, what a deal for consumers.

2002-04-21T09:10:00.000-04:00

Things I should have thought of, but didn't : Sometimes you read or hear something that seems so obvious you want to slap your forehead and say "Duh, why didn't I think of that?" Take this line from Mona Charen -

Some of this is simple Jew hatred. Some is a sinister response to guilt. Since the Holocaust happened on European soil, how cleansing to believe that the Jews are now the guilty parties, which is why the Nazi analogy crops up with nauseating regularity vis a vis the Israelis, probably more often than it is invoked against anyone else (except perhaps for America in Vietnam).

This is such an obvious psychological dynamic, why didn't I think of it?

Like a lot of people, I've been wondering why in god's name most of Europe seems to be completely insane on this issue. The ultimate non-violent expression of this insanity to date came from the Nobel Peace Prize committee, which apparently decided that it was perfectly okay for a recipient of said prize to incite terrorism, support terrorists, import arms for terrorist purposes, and pay off the survivors of terrorist nutjobs (thus giving the terrorists even more incentive), but it was unconscionable that a recipient of said prize not to have quit a government that decided to try and defend itself against said terrorist. How in god's name does that make any sense?

There are a lot of possible explanations for this kind of insanity, of course, and many or even most of them are perhaps part of the truth. But they've all seemed somehow incomplete to me, there was something missing. I suspect the missing component is guilt.

Guilt is often a rather odd thing. One would think that if, for instance, one felt guilty about the Holocaust - either because of sins of omission or commission - the natural response would be an intense desire to ensure that such a thing never happened again. But human nature is such that often the response will be the near opposite. You don't blame yourself and thus strongly desire not to make the same mistake again, you blame whomever it is you see as making you feel guilty.

Rightly or wrongly, we Americans don't feel guilty about the Holocaust. While it could be argued that we could have and should have done more or started earlier, it didn't happen here, it happened "over there". More importantly from our point-of-view, we, along with our allies, spent an unimaginable amount of blood and treasure to put an end to the regime behind it - we weren't a part of it and we did something to stop it. We Americans feel guilty about a lot of things and engage in an awful lot of navel-gazing on those subjects, but the Holocaust is not on that list.

I have to imagine - and conversations I've had with some European friends certainly backs up the notion - that a lot of Europeans do feel guilty about the Holocaust. Certainly there are a number of European countries besides Germany that have every reason to feel guilty about it. Some of them participated directly or indirectly in it, others simply sat by and watched it happen.

To many Americans, Israel is in part a sign of one of our successes. But to many of those who feel guilty about what happened she is an annoying reminder of their own failure that they wish would just go away. If they can paint Israel as being as bad as, or even better, worse than their own failure was, so much the better. It assuages the guilt. To paint Israel in the worst light possible serves a noble purpose in their minds. For Israel to simply "go away", well that might even be better. Israel is a "shitty little country" in part because she is a shitty little reminder of what worthless pieces of shit some of these European countries turned into for a while.

This dynamic explains a lot, I think, and fills in a big and otherwise inexplicable hole in my understanding of how and why much of Europe seems totally insane on this issue.

And now onto Thomas Sowell -

Virtually every necessity of life is spoken of as something to which people have a "right" -- meaning that it should be paid for by the taxpayers. In other words, nothing that you really need should require your own effort. Presumably the only point of working would be to get frivolous amenities.

This rather obvious point fills in another hole in my understanding.

I've never quite gotten why so many leftists have such an intense dislike of anyone they perceive as being "rich". There are a lot of explanations, of course, just as there are for Europe's apparent insanity when it comes to Israel, but there always seemed to be a missing piece.

It isn't just the bizarre notion that everyone is entitled to their fair share simply because they exist and thus anyone having more than their fair share must be depriving someone else, it goes beyond that. If having more than your fair share is wrong, then the work that got you more than your fair share must also be wrong. Working hard is wrong because... Because it gets you more than your fair share!

It's all so logical, in a circular kind of way, and I suspect this insight of Sowell's hints at the source.

Let's say I see the world as being one big pie to be divvied up. It's all just kind of "out there" just waiting for each individual to get their part of the pie. Being a "fair-minded" and "progressive" sort, I believe that everyone should get an equal part of the pie. I don't want to have to work hard to get what I believe should be my fair share. But the world is so messed up that if I don't work hard I don't get my fair share. I see my next door neighbor, let's call her Jane, working her butt off and she gets more than her fair share - I know this because she has more than I do. That's just not... Well that's just not fair! Everyone, as a right, should be entitled to their fair share!

In this world view work isn't what generates the pieces of the pie, it's simply what gets you whatever piece of the pie you can grab. The problem with this world view, of course, is that if no one works there is no pie to divvy up, but that little detail always seems to escape these people. It's so obvious that it never occurred to me before that someone could be unaware of it, that someone could believe that there would be a "fair share" to have without work, but that is clearly the case. It explains some of the hostility in a way I'd never thought of. If you believe that it's all just "out there" for the taking and someone is taking more and thus depriving you of your rightful part, well it makes sense in a way that it doesn't if you're aware that it isn't all just "out there" but instead someone has to work to create it.

Now the only question is whether the people who believe that they should have their "fair share" without having to do anything are simply ignorant, stupid, insane, or all of the above.

2002-04-20T10:09:00.000-04:00

And the truth shall set you free : I've been avoiding the UK and EUropean press lately, there's only so much I can take before my blood pressure rises enough to make me worry about popping some blood vessels. But Osama's mention of this article got me curious.

But Israel has committed a heinous crime. That crime is to seek to defend itself against the attempt to annihilate it. For this effrontery, a torrent of lies, distortions, libels, abandonment of objectivity and the substitution of malice and hatred for truth is pouring out of the British and European media and Establishment.

Go read the rest, it only gets better from there.

2002-04-20T07:13:00.000-04:00

You can't keep a good ship down : The USS Cole sails again.

The Cole returns to duty with 14 months worth of repairs and the additions of many new features, including 17 stars laid in the hallway floor one for each of the sailors killed when an explosion tore a hole in the ship's side on Oct. 12, 2000.

2002-04-19T23:04:00.000-04:00

That feeling of dread : I was sitting in the car waiting and listening to the radio yesterday when I first heard the news of that plane crashing into a building in Milan. I'm betting I wasn't alone in thinking "Oh no, not again!". As enough details came out pretty quickly, though, it seemed unlikely it was an "again" - horrible for those hurt and killed, to be sure, but not another terrorist atrocity.

I have to admit that ever since the terrorist atrocities of September 11th just about every time I've turned on the TV, the radio, or logged onto the 'net and checked the news I've been expecting it. Waiting for it, as though some part of me is utterly convinced it is going to happen again and it's just a matter of time before the other shoe drops. This isn't like the intellectual knowledge that there's a good chance it could happen again. It goes well deeper than that and is a kind of emotional certitude that it is going to happen again.

The day President Reagan was shot and the day space shuttle Challenger blew up on lift off are the only things in my lifetime that have come within an AU of what happened on September 11th. And, frankly, as horrible as those two events were, neither even came close to what happened on that day. Moreover, there was little or no chance that either event was going to be repeated any time soon - John Hinkley was quickly caught, they weren't going to be sending up any shuttles for quite a while to come. But on September 12th, 13th, 20th, all the way to April 18th and beyond, we all know another September 11th is possible. We are and should fight a war to minimize the chances of there being another September 11th, but we can never eliminate that risk entirely.

Today the feds issued a warning concerning information they'd received that banks in the Northeast might be a target for terrorists. The information apparently comes from an al-Qaida nutjob who seems to be singing like a canary. Problem is, they don't trust him and the chances are he's lying just to cause a stir. They really have nothing else to go on save the word of someone they don't trust, it seems pretty clear that they do think he's lying. But he might not be, there's no way to know for sure, so they issue the warning. No doubt they'll take guff for it when, as seems most likely, nothing happens. But if something did happen and they's had a hint of information they didn't share, they'd take a lot more than guff. Besides, it's at least remotely possible that by coming out with this information it could disrupt any terrorist plans and self-fulfill a "warnings mean nothing's going to happen" prophecy.

As it happens, I have bank accounts in a bank in the Northeast - kind of makes sense, given that I live in the Northeast. I don't go into the bank very often, that's what ATM cards and machines are for, but what if I were to need to in the next few days for whatever reason? I'm well aware that I face far more risk just getting in the car than I do going into a bank - even if a terrorist were intent on blowing up a bank in this region it's pretty darn unlikely that he'd chose one right around here. But, still, it does make you think.

I'm not cynical enough to believe that these warnings are just a matter of CYA, though I'm sure that's at least a little part of it. I can see how they could do some good, on the off chance that someone really does mean to blow up a BankBoston (or whatever) downtown somewhere maybe someone will be a little more on alert and catch them before they can do any damage. Or maybe the warning, the knowledge that someone is on to the game, might be enough to cause such a terrorist to change their plans or, better yet, do something stupid that will get them caught before they can do any damage.

The warnings also keep that sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop to the forefront. Short term I'm not sure that's a bad thing. But in the long term...?

In the long term I wonder if that feeling will ever go away. If there will ever come a time when I will turn on the TV without half expecting to see live coverage of another September 11th... Or something even worse.

2002-04-19T21:21:00.000-04:00

He's baaaaaaaaaaaaaack (and the squirrels are rejoicing) : Protein Wisdom appears to be back up - with a vengeance. Jeff apparently had some serious snark pent-up, you absolutely positively should not miss this post or this one.