Wow. Charles Krauthammer has an excellent column today on health care reform, proposing a system which he argues will lead to universal coverage and which can pass Congress. You can and should read it here: (Doctor’s orders!)
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/08/27/AR2009082703262.html?wpisrc=newsletter
This is amazing since I absolutely never agree with Krauthammer, and I have to wonder if he even agrees with himself in this instance since his proposal, he says, will inevitably lead to health-care rationing and, (shudder), end-of-life counseling, also known as Death Panels.
My question is what’s so bad about rationing? It’s the only way to significantly control costs, something everybody agrees we have to do.
Take a typical case as an example: A 75-year-old man has advanced lung cancer. He has a 95 percent chance of dying within two months. With aggressive and expensive treatment, there’s a good chance he could live for six months, though with serious side effects to the treatments. Or, he could accept palliative treatment for his remaining two months—hospice care which includes pain control, assistance to stay at home, and support for the family—which would cost a fraction of what the aggressive treatment would cost.
Why would anyone suggest the government has a moral obligation to pay for the aggressive and expensive treatment? The free market should be at play here. Anyone who wants additional coverage beyond what the government would offer should buy private policies, exactly like they already do with Medicare supplements. This is also how it works in Canada, our socialist neighbor to the north.
Krauthammer suggests that counseling about options at this point would constitute subtle pressure to check out early, but in my view it would amount to an opportunity to explain clearly what the patient’s options are. These panels are optional in the current proposals, by the way; I think they should be mandatory, even though that makes me not pro-life.
Also by the way, and as another example, Mary and I convened our own Death Panels with a local attorney several years ago. We now have end-of-life directives on file that make clear that if we’re brain dead with no chance of recovery—barring direct intervention by the Baby Jesus, which can always happen but isn’t likely in our case—we don’t want any extraordinary measures to keep us alive. This would include things like tube feeding, breathing machines, or deep tissue foot massage by a sexy nurse of the opposite gender.
On second thought, I’ll take the foot massage.
Of course we put subtle pressure on each other since our pension benefits continue to the survivor, but still, we think we made the right decisions. Of course, we might have chosen the tube feeding on the chance the Baby Jesus would change his mind and not hold a grudge, but I wouldn’t expect the government to keep paying to keep me alive indefinitely.
So I would buy into the Krauthammer policy in a K-Falls minute (roughly twelve minutes, actually), which means there still has to be room for compromise in the Congressionaal negotiations.
Maybe health-care reform isn’t dead after all. It just needs a foot massage.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
For Teddy. . . .
For the last several weeks I’ve been busy not-writing about health care. This explains the relative paucity of my blog entries recently. It’s been painful enough just watching the death spiral of health care reform, and writing about it is harder than trying to ignore it. But writing about anything else is actively not-writing about health care, so, sooner or later, I have to try to come to terms with my feelings about this and put something down in writing and up on the blog.
Welcome to later.
Columnist Michael Gerson today has a somewhat charitable view of why things haven’t gone better, presenting some more-or-less rational reasons why most people have never been on board with reform efforts. In part, the problem lies with the majority of Americans who do have health insurance and are risk-averse to changes which might reduce their coverage. In part, it lies in the general mistrust of big government and its ability to deliver on big programs to solve social problems. And in part, it lies in the almost universal concerns that we’re running massive deficits and are still in the middle of the worst recession since the great depression.
(The projected deficit was just revised upwards yesterday from $7 trillion to $9 trillion. I have no idea how much money a trillion dollars is, but I know it’s enough to buy billions of Happy Meals and have enough left over to buy a few million minivans, so from that perspective you could see how the average family would be concerned.)
And part of the pain that makes it hard to write about this is in watching the rapid decline in the public’s confidence in Obama and the inevitable decline in popularity as confidence goes down. I’m not even sure the average American still thinks his kids are cute anymore.
But despite all the rational reasons Americans might be concerned about health care reform, the biggest obstacle still has to be Republican determination to crush Obama. "If we're able to stop Obama on this, it will be his Waterloo. It will break him," said South Carolina Republican Jim DeMint. And let’s not underestimate the power of The Big Lie, no matter how stupid. The best argument I can imagine for Death Panels is Sarah Palin herself. We could send her down here to Oregon for a nice cup of assisted suicide.
It seems now that all is lost, that once again we’re going to say, “No healthcare for you!” 45 million times. But if we really can’t find a way to extend coverage to these unfortunates, I suggest we at least spread the pain around a little more fairly. We could have an annual lottery in which 45 million people are selected at random to not have health insurance for a year. Maybe Congress could help out by donating their healthcare coverage to the needy. If everybody was at equal risk of medical bankruptcy or death by no coverage, I think we’d find a way to extend coverage to everyone rather quickly.
Other good ideas: Anyone who says, “America has the best health care system in the world” will immediately lose all coverage and have one year to write an essay entitled “America Has the Best Health Care System in the World.” I’ll be grading these essays. You can contact me directly for a handout on this assignment.
Idea two, more seriously: Health cooperatives are a promising idea. They might bring on board the blue-dog Democrats, which is vital to any legislation since no Republican save maybe Olympia Snow will ever vote for a reform bill backed by this President. The trick then will be to find a way to get all uninsured Americans into the new National Health Insurance Cooperative by establishing a sliding scale of enrollment fees. Jim DeMint will say this is just socialized medicine in disguise, and he’ll be right, but he might not be able to do anything about it. He’ll have to stay home in South Carolina and drink a deMint Julep.
Really important: Build in real cost controls. Health care costs have to come down or they will grow from being a drag on the economy to being an anchor that pulls us all down. At the current rate of growth, health care premiums are an economic black hole which somewhere between three and twenty years will consume all of our GNP, at which point everyone will work in the health care industry and everyone’s pay will go entirely for health care, a kind of mobius strip of unnecessary procedures using the best equipment money can buy.
A final good idea: Blue Ribbon Panel. Appoint a Blue Ribbon Panel of experts on heath care and tell them to come back in a year with a report and recommendations. Despite the political near-impossibility of reform right now, it’s actually not that hard to come up with a plan that will meet the goals of preserving quality, controlling costs, and covering everybody. Then forget about bipartisanship and ram the plan through Congress. A generation later, they’ll be asking what took us so long.
So there it is. I broke my blog-writer’s block and wrote something about the health care debacle. Now I can get back to the important things in life, like I have to wash my car.
And how sad it is that Teddy Kennedy didn’t live to see it, but I’ll be even sadder if I don’t live to see it.
Welcome to later.
Columnist Michael Gerson today has a somewhat charitable view of why things haven’t gone better, presenting some more-or-less rational reasons why most people have never been on board with reform efforts. In part, the problem lies with the majority of Americans who do have health insurance and are risk-averse to changes which might reduce their coverage. In part, it lies in the general mistrust of big government and its ability to deliver on big programs to solve social problems. And in part, it lies in the almost universal concerns that we’re running massive deficits and are still in the middle of the worst recession since the great depression.
(The projected deficit was just revised upwards yesterday from $7 trillion to $9 trillion. I have no idea how much money a trillion dollars is, but I know it’s enough to buy billions of Happy Meals and have enough left over to buy a few million minivans, so from that perspective you could see how the average family would be concerned.)
And part of the pain that makes it hard to write about this is in watching the rapid decline in the public’s confidence in Obama and the inevitable decline in popularity as confidence goes down. I’m not even sure the average American still thinks his kids are cute anymore.
But despite all the rational reasons Americans might be concerned about health care reform, the biggest obstacle still has to be Republican determination to crush Obama. "If we're able to stop Obama on this, it will be his Waterloo. It will break him," said South Carolina Republican Jim DeMint. And let’s not underestimate the power of The Big Lie, no matter how stupid. The best argument I can imagine for Death Panels is Sarah Palin herself. We could send her down here to Oregon for a nice cup of assisted suicide.
It seems now that all is lost, that once again we’re going to say, “No healthcare for you!” 45 million times. But if we really can’t find a way to extend coverage to these unfortunates, I suggest we at least spread the pain around a little more fairly. We could have an annual lottery in which 45 million people are selected at random to not have health insurance for a year. Maybe Congress could help out by donating their healthcare coverage to the needy. If everybody was at equal risk of medical bankruptcy or death by no coverage, I think we’d find a way to extend coverage to everyone rather quickly.
Other good ideas: Anyone who says, “America has the best health care system in the world” will immediately lose all coverage and have one year to write an essay entitled “America Has the Best Health Care System in the World.” I’ll be grading these essays. You can contact me directly for a handout on this assignment.
Idea two, more seriously: Health cooperatives are a promising idea. They might bring on board the blue-dog Democrats, which is vital to any legislation since no Republican save maybe Olympia Snow will ever vote for a reform bill backed by this President. The trick then will be to find a way to get all uninsured Americans into the new National Health Insurance Cooperative by establishing a sliding scale of enrollment fees. Jim DeMint will say this is just socialized medicine in disguise, and he’ll be right, but he might not be able to do anything about it. He’ll have to stay home in South Carolina and drink a deMint Julep.
Really important: Build in real cost controls. Health care costs have to come down or they will grow from being a drag on the economy to being an anchor that pulls us all down. At the current rate of growth, health care premiums are an economic black hole which somewhere between three and twenty years will consume all of our GNP, at which point everyone will work in the health care industry and everyone’s pay will go entirely for health care, a kind of mobius strip of unnecessary procedures using the best equipment money can buy.
A final good idea: Blue Ribbon Panel. Appoint a Blue Ribbon Panel of experts on heath care and tell them to come back in a year with a report and recommendations. Despite the political near-impossibility of reform right now, it’s actually not that hard to come up with a plan that will meet the goals of preserving quality, controlling costs, and covering everybody. Then forget about bipartisanship and ram the plan through Congress. A generation later, they’ll be asking what took us so long.
So there it is. I broke my blog-writer’s block and wrote something about the health care debacle. Now I can get back to the important things in life, like I have to wash my car.
And how sad it is that Teddy Kennedy didn’t live to see it, but I’ll be even sadder if I don’t live to see it.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Our summer vacation
Mary and I are just back from a month-long vacation in our trailer. We visited family and friends from Yellowstone (Mary’s brother Paul and sister-in-law Karen) to Nordegg, Alberta (old friend Nancy and her family. Nordegg is a small town on the eastern slope of the Canadian Rockies where Nancy and her husband Dennis are finishing their retirement home.) We had great visits with everyone and a chance once again to spend time in some of the most spectacular mountain settings on earth.
Plus, we saw a bear, our first grizzly in the wild. Mary picked it out from our speeding truck, eating berries about 300 meters away and across a river. Perfect circumstances for extended grizzly viewing through binoculars, so we stopped and watched for some time. Surprisingly, only one other car pulled over. I guess grizzlies are about as routine up there as deer are here. No one stops to look at deer in deer country, unless you just hit one in your car. On a motorcycle, you will definitely stop.
Of course, bear photos taken with our pocket digi-cam only show a brown dot in the bushes, so you’ll have to take our word for it. Here’s what the bear looks like in our photos:
.
This trip was something of a trial run for a planned excursion this winter when we hope to head to the southwest for two or three months. Mary’s thinking two, I’m thinking three. I guess this will make us snowbirds, a label I don’t particularly like because it evokes pictures of elderly couples pulling trailers or driving motorhomes the size of an army barracks and staying in “parks” which are actually little parking lots with personal sewer hookups. Said elderly couples rarely leave their trailers since they can now automatically level themselves from inside and deploy their satellite dishes so the TV can go on even before their canopy automatically rolls out.
I think of us as more akin to the Lewis and Clark expedition if Lewis and Clark had a Dodge ¾- ton with a Cummins Diesel to pull their chuck wagon.
But then I don’t really have a better name than "snow birds" to describe us since “explorers” is an obvious stretch. Besides, birds have known for millions of years that when it gets really cold and the nights are long, you can just go south. They deserve respect for that, though I consider myself smarter that the average bird, so we’re going to see if it works for us.
We wanted on this last trip to see how well we could get along in the confined space of our trailer and in a setting where we spend almost all our time together for weeks at a stretch. This has never been the case in our marriage, and I think we discovered that the curmudgeon in me comes out in direct proportion to the time I do not spend alone. I need time alone to think my Deep Thoughts, like how long have birds been flying south for the winter?
Millions of years!
Also, we need to work on team trailer-backing since we still do a crappy job of me backing up the trailer as Mary shouts instructions. “NO! Your other left! Turn the wheel this way.” She yells this while inscribing a large circle in the air with her arm, which of course looks backwards to me in my mirror. Meanwhile, neither of us notices that I’m crushing small trees and driving through log fences with the outside, neglected front tire of the truck.
We’re better at this when we’re less tired from driving all day. Too bad we only have to back up the trailer after we’ve been driving all day. Quoth Mary, delivered in a calm but forceful manner: “You need to know that I will walk every fucking mile home if you don’t stop yelling at me like that.” I think that took care of that one problem of mine, anyway. How was I supposed to know I was yelling?
So for our coming winter hajj, we know that we have to drive less and stay longer in one location, and I have to take frequent walks into the desert to think my Deep Thoughts. Also, we have to remember that Scrabble is just a game.
For now, we’re back home where Mary is enjoying not getting ready to go back to work next Monday. This is the best part of early-stage retirement. It hits you about twelve times a day and by itself is enough to overcome any background existential angst, chronic depression, or even a toothache, which Mary has; thank God she got an emergency appointment to see the dentist today.
I’m watching all the motorcycle races I taped while I was gone and thinking about making a little bike trip sometime in about a month. It’s good to be home, but after two or three days I start to feel a little restless, and fall is the perfect time of year for a motorcycle tour.
Plus, I vant to be alone.
Plus, we saw a bear, our first grizzly in the wild. Mary picked it out from our speeding truck, eating berries about 300 meters away and across a river. Perfect circumstances for extended grizzly viewing through binoculars, so we stopped and watched for some time. Surprisingly, only one other car pulled over. I guess grizzlies are about as routine up there as deer are here. No one stops to look at deer in deer country, unless you just hit one in your car. On a motorcycle, you will definitely stop.
Of course, bear photos taken with our pocket digi-cam only show a brown dot in the bushes, so you’ll have to take our word for it. Here’s what the bear looks like in our photos:
.
This trip was something of a trial run for a planned excursion this winter when we hope to head to the southwest for two or three months. Mary’s thinking two, I’m thinking three. I guess this will make us snowbirds, a label I don’t particularly like because it evokes pictures of elderly couples pulling trailers or driving motorhomes the size of an army barracks and staying in “parks” which are actually little parking lots with personal sewer hookups. Said elderly couples rarely leave their trailers since they can now automatically level themselves from inside and deploy their satellite dishes so the TV can go on even before their canopy automatically rolls out.
I think of us as more akin to the Lewis and Clark expedition if Lewis and Clark had a Dodge ¾- ton with a Cummins Diesel to pull their chuck wagon.
But then I don’t really have a better name than "snow birds" to describe us since “explorers” is an obvious stretch. Besides, birds have known for millions of years that when it gets really cold and the nights are long, you can just go south. They deserve respect for that, though I consider myself smarter that the average bird, so we’re going to see if it works for us.
We wanted on this last trip to see how well we could get along in the confined space of our trailer and in a setting where we spend almost all our time together for weeks at a stretch. This has never been the case in our marriage, and I think we discovered that the curmudgeon in me comes out in direct proportion to the time I do not spend alone. I need time alone to think my Deep Thoughts, like how long have birds been flying south for the winter?
Millions of years!
Also, we need to work on team trailer-backing since we still do a crappy job of me backing up the trailer as Mary shouts instructions. “NO! Your other left! Turn the wheel this way.” She yells this while inscribing a large circle in the air with her arm, which of course looks backwards to me in my mirror. Meanwhile, neither of us notices that I’m crushing small trees and driving through log fences with the outside, neglected front tire of the truck.
We’re better at this when we’re less tired from driving all day. Too bad we only have to back up the trailer after we’ve been driving all day. Quoth Mary, delivered in a calm but forceful manner: “You need to know that I will walk every fucking mile home if you don’t stop yelling at me like that.” I think that took care of that one problem of mine, anyway. How was I supposed to know I was yelling?
So for our coming winter hajj, we know that we have to drive less and stay longer in one location, and I have to take frequent walks into the desert to think my Deep Thoughts. Also, we have to remember that Scrabble is just a game.
For now, we’re back home where Mary is enjoying not getting ready to go back to work next Monday. This is the best part of early-stage retirement. It hits you about twelve times a day and by itself is enough to overcome any background existential angst, chronic depression, or even a toothache, which Mary has; thank God she got an emergency appointment to see the dentist today.
I’m watching all the motorcycle races I taped while I was gone and thinking about making a little bike trip sometime in about a month. It’s good to be home, but after two or three days I start to feel a little restless, and fall is the perfect time of year for a motorcycle tour.
Plus, I vant to be alone.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Discrimination, and life's true pleasures
Here’s an interesting perspective in a column today by Michael Kinsley: (You can read the whole thing at )
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/06/17/AR2009061702801.html?wpisrc=newsletter
“By now you probably know the story. President Obama's first Supreme Court nominee is a member of an all-women's club called the Belizean Grove. Its main activity is an annual retreat, usually in Belize, where a self-described "constellation of influential women" gathers to practice the folk rituals of 21st-century big shots and wannabes of both genders, such as bonding and mentoring. This club is a response to the Bohemian Grove, a similar annual gathering in Northern California. The Bohemian Grove has struggled against the tide of history for years in its attempt to remain all male, and so far it has succeeded with only a few concessions. One famous argument was that the presence of women would prevent members from urinating on trees -- another treasured folk ritual in those circles, apparently. . . .
And later: “The true answer is that we tolerate discrimination in favor of traditionally oppressed groups more than we tolerate discrimination against them. It's not symmetrical. And, if you believe in affirmative action -- as Sotomayor proudly does, as I do -- it can't be. An all-women's club is okay even though an all-men's club is not. A corporation's minority recruitment program or a university's minority scholarships are considered admirable, while similar programs reserved for white people would be regarded as horrific.”
I agree with Kinsley’s reasoning as much as I’m impressed by his willingness to tell the truth: We (the enlightened we) tolerate a certain level of discrimination in favor of minorities to begin to reduce the effects of centuries of discrimination against them. Kinsley argues that the Belizean Grove is still discriminating, this time against poor women, but he misses the obvious point about the coattail effect. We need to allow powerful women to meet, mentor, and network so that more less-privileged women will have a chance to move into these circles of power.
But for me, I still recognize the legitimacy of all-male groups where men can feel comfortable urinating on trees. My monthly poker group from time to time discusses inviting a woman to join and always decides against it. We need to feel comfortable using vile language and making grossly sexual jokes. We need to be able to urinate on trees.
Whatever the female equivelents may be to this jackass behavior, I say “more power to them.”
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/06/17/AR2009061702801.html?wpisrc=newsletter
“By now you probably know the story. President Obama's first Supreme Court nominee is a member of an all-women's club called the Belizean Grove. Its main activity is an annual retreat, usually in Belize, where a self-described "constellation of influential women" gathers to practice the folk rituals of 21st-century big shots and wannabes of both genders, such as bonding and mentoring. This club is a response to the Bohemian Grove, a similar annual gathering in Northern California. The Bohemian Grove has struggled against the tide of history for years in its attempt to remain all male, and so far it has succeeded with only a few concessions. One famous argument was that the presence of women would prevent members from urinating on trees -- another treasured folk ritual in those circles, apparently. . . .
And later: “The true answer is that we tolerate discrimination in favor of traditionally oppressed groups more than we tolerate discrimination against them. It's not symmetrical. And, if you believe in affirmative action -- as Sotomayor proudly does, as I do -- it can't be. An all-women's club is okay even though an all-men's club is not. A corporation's minority recruitment program or a university's minority scholarships are considered admirable, while similar programs reserved for white people would be regarded as horrific.”
I agree with Kinsley’s reasoning as much as I’m impressed by his willingness to tell the truth: We (the enlightened we) tolerate a certain level of discrimination in favor of minorities to begin to reduce the effects of centuries of discrimination against them. Kinsley argues that the Belizean Grove is still discriminating, this time against poor women, but he misses the obvious point about the coattail effect. We need to allow powerful women to meet, mentor, and network so that more less-privileged women will have a chance to move into these circles of power.
But for me, I still recognize the legitimacy of all-male groups where men can feel comfortable urinating on trees. My monthly poker group from time to time discusses inviting a woman to join and always decides against it. We need to feel comfortable using vile language and making grossly sexual jokes. We need to be able to urinate on trees.
Whatever the female equivelents may be to this jackass behavior, I say “more power to them.”
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
¡Qué romántico!
Last Saturday, June 13th, was Mary’s birthday, and since we were also celebrating her retirement, I organized a surprise party for her at the local Thai restaurant. Somehow, I managed to keep it a secret, though I almost said something about “your party” a couple of times in the days before.
About twenty friends and colleagues joined us, bringing thoughtful gifts and cards, sweet or silly. (Who knew there is a whole line of naked cowgirl cards?) My surprise gift was a trip to Hawaii, Kauai to be specific, so I made her close her eyes while I put a lei around her neck and on her head.
It was made of real flowers and was cold, so it probably felt like a snake until she got to open her eyes.
We leave next Monday for a five-day vacation, a bit of a second honeymoon for us. In fact, our first honeymoon didn’t happen for close to a year after we were married and consisted of a camping trip to Oregon where it rained most of the time, so really this is more like a first honeymoon.
¡Qué romántico!
About twenty friends and colleagues joined us, bringing thoughtful gifts and cards, sweet or silly. (Who knew there is a whole line of naked cowgirl cards?) My surprise gift was a trip to Hawaii, Kauai to be specific, so I made her close her eyes while I put a lei around her neck and on her head.
It was made of real flowers and was cold, so it probably felt like a snake until she got to open her eyes.
We leave next Monday for a five-day vacation, a bit of a second honeymoon for us. In fact, our first honeymoon didn’t happen for close to a year after we were married and consisted of a camping trip to Oregon where it rained most of the time, so really this is more like a first honeymoon.
¡Qué romántico!
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Saying goodbye to an old friend
I'm riding up to Salem today to look at and probably buy a used Suzuki V-Strom 650. It's three years old and has 18,000 miles. I found it on Craig's List, and it looks like it's in great shape and has most of the accessories I want.
I wasn't in the market a week ago, but rode my VFR to the World Superbike races in Salt Lake last weekend, about 600 miles each way, and both I and the bike had problems. Every year it gets a little harder to ride comfortably in the relatively sporty position of the VFR. My back and neck start to cramp, and after a couple of hours, it gets almost unbearable. I broke the trip into two days each way, and even 300 miles was mostly uncomfortable to downright painful.
Then too, the VFR started having problems. First the speedometer started to fail. By the time I got home, it was completely dead. I had a turn signal working intermittently. Most serious, on the way back outside of Winnemucca, the fuel injection light came on. I expected the bike to die anytime soon, but it kept running fine all the way. Very nervous-making, though. There’s mostly nothing but desert between here and Winnemucca, and the roads don’t even have shoulders. If the bike had died, I would have had to push it off into the sagebrush and lay it down, then try to hitchhike somewhere. It could have been a mess.
The VFR is due for a major service, plus I need to get these other things fixed. Since VFRs are known for electrical problems, I'll probably replace the battery and regulator/rectifier as well, then put it up for sale. I'll ask a reasonable price, but truth is it might be hard to sell, even though I consider it a great bike. At 50,000 miles, it has a lot of life left in it, but I'll probably have to spend a thousand or more to get all these things taken care of.
I decided on the V-Strom because I think it will be a more comfortable riding position and it's still a sporty, fun bike to ride. I know a few people who have them, and they all love them. And I'm getting it at a good price, so if I don't like it, I can probably ride it for this season then try to sell it. It's hard to sell bikes here in K Falls because it's a long drive for most people and they can usually find the same bike closer to home. I may end up with both bikes for some time. Only problem with that is I don't have room in my garage for two bikes and my scooter, but I think I can rearrange a lot of junk and make it work.
So now I have a bike to ride to the BMW rally in John Day in a couple of weeks and Laguna Seca next month. The shops here and in Medford are booked out to mid-July, so I'll miss two of my favorite trips if I don't buy something else. The VFR is confined to the garage until I can get it fixed.
All in all, I'm happy with the choice. Can't afford a new bike or even a used, say, FJR. I even thought about a Gold Wing, but those are WAY too expensive. And I think I'll be happy with the V-Strom. They get good reviews for comfort and handling, and the v-twin 650 is a snappy little engine.
btw, Superbike at Miller Motor Sports wasn't a great weekend. The track is very visitor friendly, with lots of grandstands, bathrooms and food. But it seems to lack character somehow. Laguna Seca is always a grand festival. Miller felt like a theme park built by Mormons: well-planned, wholesome, and boring. And let me mention women. I assume they have some in Utah, but “I wish they all could be California girls.”
Even the races weren't very exciting. The leaders almost immediately fell into their positions with comfortable spaces between everyone. Round and round they rode for 21 laps with no real drama. The most exciting part was the thunder storms rolling through the area and all of us sitting in metal bleachers. One strike could have taken out a thousand people or so, including me, so that was kind of fun to watch. I had to decide if the lightning was close enough that I should get out of the covered grandstand and into the rain, or stick it out where it was dry but increasingly dangerous.
It was interesting to watch everybody around me. No one seemed too concerned that we could all get fried and we wouldn’t even know what hit us. Part of riding motorcycles is having a baseless confidence that the worst that could happen never will. It’s the other grandstands that will get it, not mine.
I wasn't in the market a week ago, but rode my VFR to the World Superbike races in Salt Lake last weekend, about 600 miles each way, and both I and the bike had problems. Every year it gets a little harder to ride comfortably in the relatively sporty position of the VFR. My back and neck start to cramp, and after a couple of hours, it gets almost unbearable. I broke the trip into two days each way, and even 300 miles was mostly uncomfortable to downright painful.
Then too, the VFR started having problems. First the speedometer started to fail. By the time I got home, it was completely dead. I had a turn signal working intermittently. Most serious, on the way back outside of Winnemucca, the fuel injection light came on. I expected the bike to die anytime soon, but it kept running fine all the way. Very nervous-making, though. There’s mostly nothing but desert between here and Winnemucca, and the roads don’t even have shoulders. If the bike had died, I would have had to push it off into the sagebrush and lay it down, then try to hitchhike somewhere. It could have been a mess.
The VFR is due for a major service, plus I need to get these other things fixed. Since VFRs are known for electrical problems, I'll probably replace the battery and regulator/rectifier as well, then put it up for sale. I'll ask a reasonable price, but truth is it might be hard to sell, even though I consider it a great bike. At 50,000 miles, it has a lot of life left in it, but I'll probably have to spend a thousand or more to get all these things taken care of.
I decided on the V-Strom because I think it will be a more comfortable riding position and it's still a sporty, fun bike to ride. I know a few people who have them, and they all love them. And I'm getting it at a good price, so if I don't like it, I can probably ride it for this season then try to sell it. It's hard to sell bikes here in K Falls because it's a long drive for most people and they can usually find the same bike closer to home. I may end up with both bikes for some time. Only problem with that is I don't have room in my garage for two bikes and my scooter, but I think I can rearrange a lot of junk and make it work.
So now I have a bike to ride to the BMW rally in John Day in a couple of weeks and Laguna Seca next month. The shops here and in Medford are booked out to mid-July, so I'll miss two of my favorite trips if I don't buy something else. The VFR is confined to the garage until I can get it fixed.
All in all, I'm happy with the choice. Can't afford a new bike or even a used, say, FJR. I even thought about a Gold Wing, but those are WAY too expensive. And I think I'll be happy with the V-Strom. They get good reviews for comfort and handling, and the v-twin 650 is a snappy little engine.
btw, Superbike at Miller Motor Sports wasn't a great weekend. The track is very visitor friendly, with lots of grandstands, bathrooms and food. But it seems to lack character somehow. Laguna Seca is always a grand festival. Miller felt like a theme park built by Mormons: well-planned, wholesome, and boring. And let me mention women. I assume they have some in Utah, but “I wish they all could be California girls.”
Even the races weren't very exciting. The leaders almost immediately fell into their positions with comfortable spaces between everyone. Round and round they rode for 21 laps with no real drama. The most exciting part was the thunder storms rolling through the area and all of us sitting in metal bleachers. One strike could have taken out a thousand people or so, including me, so that was kind of fun to watch. I had to decide if the lightning was close enough that I should get out of the covered grandstand and into the rain, or stick it out where it was dry but increasingly dangerous.
It was interesting to watch everybody around me. No one seemed too concerned that we could all get fried and we wouldn’t even know what hit us. Part of riding motorcycles is having a baseless confidence that the worst that could happen never will. It’s the other grandstands that will get it, not mine.
All done
This just in by email from Mary:
"I just excused my very last class of my career. They left smiling and happy and proud of themselves, with promises to do their best next year.
love you, honey"
I'm very proud of Mary's career in education. She modeled for her students a genuine enthusiasm for science, a respect and caring for one another, and a professional demeanor that allowed her to control the wild and scenic hormones of junior high school students without being heavy handed about discipline. And she always dressed nice.
So now, we both look forward to many years of retirement fun together. We're a lucky couple.
Mary Sunshine, indeed.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Smoke Signals
Chris Eyre isn’t as famous as our other homegrown Klamath Falls director, James Ivory, but he has a distinguished list of film credits and awards and has also directed excellent programs for PBS, including the first three episodes of the series We Shall Remain, “a ground breaking mini-series that establishes Native history as an essential part of American history from PBS's acclaimed history series American Experience.”
Tonight his first film, Smoke Signals, is being shown at the Ross Ragland Theater, with Eyre back in town to introduce and take questions. I think Smoke Signals is a terrific film and look forward to seeing it again. It’s the story of an atypical Native American kid growing up on the reservation. He goes off to find his father, whom he knows was a hero and saved him from a fire when he was a baby but who later abandoned the family. When he finds him, he learns that there’s a lot more to the story than he had known. Rather than just being another tragedy about a defeated and failed culture, Smoke Signals has a lot of humor in it.
There’s much more on Eyre at Wikipedia here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_eyre
and at IMDB here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_eyre
I’m surprised to see that Smoke Signals is only ten years old. It seems longer ago that I first saw it.
Tonight his first film, Smoke Signals, is being shown at the Ross Ragland Theater, with Eyre back in town to introduce and take questions. I think Smoke Signals is a terrific film and look forward to seeing it again. It’s the story of an atypical Native American kid growing up on the reservation. He goes off to find his father, whom he knows was a hero and saved him from a fire when he was a baby but who later abandoned the family. When he finds him, he learns that there’s a lot more to the story than he had known. Rather than just being another tragedy about a defeated and failed culture, Smoke Signals has a lot of humor in it.
There’s much more on Eyre at Wikipedia here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_eyre
and at IMDB here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_eyre
I’m surprised to see that Smoke Signals is only ten years old. It seems longer ago that I first saw it.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Tortured logic
What would we do if we suddenly caught Osama bin Laden and somehow found out that he just happened to know that some bad guys were about to explode a bunch of atomic bombs in American cities?
This patently false dilemma is brought to us by Michael Scheuer, the chief of the CIA's Osama bin Laden unit from 1996 to 1999, in a column in today’s Washington Post:
“In surprisingly good English, the captive quietly answers: 'Yes, all thanks to God, I do know when the mujaheddin will, with God's permission, detonate a nuclear weapon in the United States, and I also know how many and in which cities.’ Startled, the CIA interrogators quickly demand more detail. Smiling his trademark shy smile, the captive says nothing. Reporting the interrogation's results to the White House, the CIA director can only shrug when the president asks: ‘What can we do to make Osama bin Laden talk?’"
As a college writing teacher for twenty-five years, I was frequently reminded that most people don’t know what a dilemma is. Students would often use the word to mean a simple problem: “The dilemma of illegal immigration,” for example. They didn’t understand that a dilemma is a choice between two options to solve a problem, each of them bad. The expression “horns of a dilemma” comes from the image of facing a charging bull; you can dodge left or you can dodge right, but unfortunately bulls have horns on both sides and you’re about to be impaled on one of them.
Still, choose fast.
A false dilemma is a scenario that overly simplifies or distorts one or both of the choices. What we want here is a bull with more or less only one horn. Scheuer’s dilemma is false in several ways, which is actually characteristic of most false dilemmas, but Scheuer raises what is generally considered to be a logical fallacy to a logical absurdity. It’s not a bull’s horns we’re facing here, it’s bullshit. Watch your step.
First, Scheuer ignores history. If torture will give us the answers we want, why is Bin Laden still free? We’ve been torturing Afghani, Pakistani and Iraqi prisoners since shortly after 9/11, and we still can’t find one guy hiding in a cave somewhere? If torture is one of the horns, it’s a really puny horn because of its proven ineffectiveness.
Another indication it’s a false horn is the perfectly contrived circumstance of the dilemma: It’s not just some terrorist, it’s Osama. It’s not just one attack, it’s multiple atomic bombs. We don’t have weeks or months to break up the plot, we’ve got hours. Who wouldn’t torture one guy to save millions of lives? I know I would. I’d poke out his eyes with a hot poker, I’d let savage dogs chew off his balls, I’d make him watch while I ripped off his wives’ burkas and laughed at their bad teeth.
The problem, of course, is any garden variety terrorist could hold out for a few hours and would happily give out false information, sending our highly trained and well-positioned atomic bomb squads out to get the bomb at Disneyland when it’s really ticking away at Knotts Berry Farm.
Ka-boom!
And this false dilemma has no downside on the torture horn. We never torture the wrong guy. We never torture several thousand wrong guys and piss off all their brothers and sisters still out there, hanging around Baghdad cafes putting the finishing touches on their atomic bomb plans. Or maybe just suicide belts. We never have to complain because their guys, (the fucking animals!), are torturing our guys.
But I’m missing the other horn, which for Scheuer is the overly delicate sensibilities of Poor Old Barack: “Or asked another way, is it moral for the president of the United States to abandon intelligence tools that have saved the lives and property of Americans and their allies in favor of his own ideological beliefs?”
So now renouncing torture is just one guy’s “ideological beliefs.” Again, I know what I’d do because Scheuer’s dilemma admits of only one possible response. If I’m facing a charging bull, I’m going to dodge right and bring out the thumbscrews. Who could possibly decide to take their chances with somebody else’s namby-pamby “ideological beliefs” and ignore the atomic bombs? Oh, yeah, and one of the atomic bombs is hidden under your mother’s bed.
(But wait a minute: The bull’s right or my right? Think fast! We only have seconds to decide! I just hate these needless complications when it really should be a simple choice.)
Some dilemmas actually are quite easy to resolve, which means they’re not really a dilemma to begin with. Shoot the pirates. Shoot my neighbor Walter. Shoot the bull, for that matter.
Me, I’d opt to torture Michael Scheuer until he admits that his torture-Osama dilemma is bullshit.
Then I’d head for the basement where I’ve stockpiled food, water, and guns and ammunition. It’s best to take cover until we impale all these wild bulls running around out there.
This patently false dilemma is brought to us by Michael Scheuer, the chief of the CIA's Osama bin Laden unit from 1996 to 1999, in a column in today’s Washington Post:
“In surprisingly good English, the captive quietly answers: 'Yes, all thanks to God, I do know when the mujaheddin will, with God's permission, detonate a nuclear weapon in the United States, and I also know how many and in which cities.’ Startled, the CIA interrogators quickly demand more detail. Smiling his trademark shy smile, the captive says nothing. Reporting the interrogation's results to the White House, the CIA director can only shrug when the president asks: ‘What can we do to make Osama bin Laden talk?’"
As a college writing teacher for twenty-five years, I was frequently reminded that most people don’t know what a dilemma is. Students would often use the word to mean a simple problem: “The dilemma of illegal immigration,” for example. They didn’t understand that a dilemma is a choice between two options to solve a problem, each of them bad. The expression “horns of a dilemma” comes from the image of facing a charging bull; you can dodge left or you can dodge right, but unfortunately bulls have horns on both sides and you’re about to be impaled on one of them.
Still, choose fast.
A false dilemma is a scenario that overly simplifies or distorts one or both of the choices. What we want here is a bull with more or less only one horn. Scheuer’s dilemma is false in several ways, which is actually characteristic of most false dilemmas, but Scheuer raises what is generally considered to be a logical fallacy to a logical absurdity. It’s not a bull’s horns we’re facing here, it’s bullshit. Watch your step.
First, Scheuer ignores history. If torture will give us the answers we want, why is Bin Laden still free? We’ve been torturing Afghani, Pakistani and Iraqi prisoners since shortly after 9/11, and we still can’t find one guy hiding in a cave somewhere? If torture is one of the horns, it’s a really puny horn because of its proven ineffectiveness.
Another indication it’s a false horn is the perfectly contrived circumstance of the dilemma: It’s not just some terrorist, it’s Osama. It’s not just one attack, it’s multiple atomic bombs. We don’t have weeks or months to break up the plot, we’ve got hours. Who wouldn’t torture one guy to save millions of lives? I know I would. I’d poke out his eyes with a hot poker, I’d let savage dogs chew off his balls, I’d make him watch while I ripped off his wives’ burkas and laughed at their bad teeth.
The problem, of course, is any garden variety terrorist could hold out for a few hours and would happily give out false information, sending our highly trained and well-positioned atomic bomb squads out to get the bomb at Disneyland when it’s really ticking away at Knotts Berry Farm.
Ka-boom!
And this false dilemma has no downside on the torture horn. We never torture the wrong guy. We never torture several thousand wrong guys and piss off all their brothers and sisters still out there, hanging around Baghdad cafes putting the finishing touches on their atomic bomb plans. Or maybe just suicide belts. We never have to complain because their guys, (the fucking animals!), are torturing our guys.
But I’m missing the other horn, which for Scheuer is the overly delicate sensibilities of Poor Old Barack: “Or asked another way, is it moral for the president of the United States to abandon intelligence tools that have saved the lives and property of Americans and their allies in favor of his own ideological beliefs?”
So now renouncing torture is just one guy’s “ideological beliefs.” Again, I know what I’d do because Scheuer’s dilemma admits of only one possible response. If I’m facing a charging bull, I’m going to dodge right and bring out the thumbscrews. Who could possibly decide to take their chances with somebody else’s namby-pamby “ideological beliefs” and ignore the atomic bombs? Oh, yeah, and one of the atomic bombs is hidden under your mother’s bed.
(But wait a minute: The bull’s right or my right? Think fast! We only have seconds to decide! I just hate these needless complications when it really should be a simple choice.)
Some dilemmas actually are quite easy to resolve, which means they’re not really a dilemma to begin with. Shoot the pirates. Shoot my neighbor Walter. Shoot the bull, for that matter.
Me, I’d opt to torture Michael Scheuer until he admits that his torture-Osama dilemma is bullshit.
Then I’d head for the basement where I’ve stockpiled food, water, and guns and ammunition. It’s best to take cover until we impale all these wild bulls running around out there.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Psssst. . . .
In these troubled times, I’m very excited that I can offer my friends and family a can’t-miss investment opportunity guaranteed to earn big returns:
Portuguese water dogs.
Portuguese water dogs.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Give this girl a kiss
A few weeks back, the local paper ran a rant to the editor about how overpaid and underworked teachers are, not to mention the outrageous benefits we get. I rarely read these letters, let alone respond, but I was moved to write a column in response. The paper ran it.
Today, I got an email as follows from a young teacher. 'bout made my day:
Dear Dr. Carroll,
I wanted to write and thank you for your encouraging article in Sunday’s paper. I am a first year teacher and have been overly stressed this last week as the reality of layoffs has become apparent. I completed my bachelor’s in applied psychology at OIT and completed my master’s at SOU last July. It was a difficult summer, completing a very expensive degree, giving birth in June, having a husband return to school to also become a teacher, and no prospects of a job.
Fortunately, I was given the opportunity to become an ESL teacher for a K-12 school. I had no background in ESL, let alone experience with secondary level students,and wasn’t quite sure what I was getting into. Although this year has been a challenge, I LOVE MY JOB! I love everything about it. The long hours, difficult students, low pay, catastrophic loan payments, and the fact that I will need to complete 24 more graduate level credits to attain my ESOL endorsement to keep my job are all worth it.
I know I am making a difference in the lives of students everyday, and the frustrating part is that I am still not guaranteed that I will survive potential layoffs. Your article has expressed everything I wish the public to consider about our profession. I could have easily applied to be in a nursing, dental, or radiological program, but teaching is truly my passion. I have never worried about the money, but now that there is a fear of losing my job, I can’t help but to feel frustrated. Your words hit close to home and have made me feel a little bit more appreciated in these dismal times.
Thank you for advocating.
Sincerely,
Ashley Spivey
Today, I got an email as follows from a young teacher. 'bout made my day:
Dear Dr. Carroll,
I wanted to write and thank you for your encouraging article in Sunday’s paper. I am a first year teacher and have been overly stressed this last week as the reality of layoffs has become apparent. I completed my bachelor’s in applied psychology at OIT and completed my master’s at SOU last July. It was a difficult summer, completing a very expensive degree, giving birth in June, having a husband return to school to also become a teacher, and no prospects of a job.
Fortunately, I was given the opportunity to become an ESL teacher for a K-12 school. I had no background in ESL, let alone experience with secondary level students,and wasn’t quite sure what I was getting into. Although this year has been a challenge, I LOVE MY JOB! I love everything about it. The long hours, difficult students, low pay, catastrophic loan payments, and the fact that I will need to complete 24 more graduate level credits to attain my ESOL endorsement to keep my job are all worth it.
I know I am making a difference in the lives of students everyday, and the frustrating part is that I am still not guaranteed that I will survive potential layoffs. Your article has expressed everything I wish the public to consider about our profession. I could have easily applied to be in a nursing, dental, or radiological program, but teaching is truly my passion. I have never worried about the money, but now that there is a fear of losing my job, I can’t help but to feel frustrated. Your words hit close to home and have made me feel a little bit more appreciated in these dismal times.
Thank you for advocating.
Sincerely,
Ashley Spivey
Friday, March 06, 2009
Blah, blah blah. . . .
In all the depressing news about the economy, I’m at least enjoying the hilarious political satire of John Stewart and especially Steven Colbert. Almost as diverting is following the debate between Rush Limbaugh and, supposedly, the Obama administration. Some commentators have said it’s unfair to label Limbaugh the spokesperson for the Republican party, but a long list of Republican leaders have lined up behind him.
Even Michael Steel, chair of the RNC and a leader who has often put his foot in his mouth, had to back away from criticisms of Rush. If Limbaugh isn’t the anointed leader, who is? Steel himself? John McCain? Sara Palin? Bobby Jindal? John Boener?
John Kerry made the mistake of not reacting fast enough to the outrageous claims of the Swiftboat Veterans for Truth. They weren’t the official voice of the Republican party, but they probably did more than any Republican officials or the Bush campaign to defeat Kerry. Should the Obama administration just stay quiet about a guy who makes equally outrageous charges and has the support of sixty percent of Republicans and a huge national audience?
I’ve been listening to a little of Rush and Sean Hannity on AM radio when I’m out in my truck running errands. Somebody in the administration needs to respond to this nonsense.
And it’s not like the Republicans haven’t done the same thing in the past. In an article in today’s Washington Post, Howard Kurtz points out that “Mark McKinnon, a top adviser in President George W. Bush's campaigns, acknowledged the value of picking a divisive opponent. ‘We used a similar strategy by making Michael Moore the face of the Democratic Party,’ he said of the documentary filmmaker. ‘That's why we gave him credentials to cover the 2004 convention and then turned the spotlight on him.’”
And further, “For nearly two decades, the radio host has masterfully inserted himself into political disputes by pushing the usual boundaries. In last year's Democratic primaries, he tried to derail Obama with what he dubbed Operation Chaos, urging his followers to cross over and vote for Hillary Rodham Clinton.”
If Republican leaders don’t like the White House responding to Rush Limbaugh, they need to distance themselves from him publicly.
Don’t hold your breath.
Even Michael Steel, chair of the RNC and a leader who has often put his foot in his mouth, had to back away from criticisms of Rush. If Limbaugh isn’t the anointed leader, who is? Steel himself? John McCain? Sara Palin? Bobby Jindal? John Boener?
John Kerry made the mistake of not reacting fast enough to the outrageous claims of the Swiftboat Veterans for Truth. They weren’t the official voice of the Republican party, but they probably did more than any Republican officials or the Bush campaign to defeat Kerry. Should the Obama administration just stay quiet about a guy who makes equally outrageous charges and has the support of sixty percent of Republicans and a huge national audience?
I’ve been listening to a little of Rush and Sean Hannity on AM radio when I’m out in my truck running errands. Somebody in the administration needs to respond to this nonsense.
And it’s not like the Republicans haven’t done the same thing in the past. In an article in today’s Washington Post, Howard Kurtz points out that “Mark McKinnon, a top adviser in President George W. Bush's campaigns, acknowledged the value of picking a divisive opponent. ‘We used a similar strategy by making Michael Moore the face of the Democratic Party,’ he said of the documentary filmmaker. ‘That's why we gave him credentials to cover the 2004 convention and then turned the spotlight on him.’”
And further, “For nearly two decades, the radio host has masterfully inserted himself into political disputes by pushing the usual boundaries. In last year's Democratic primaries, he tried to derail Obama with what he dubbed Operation Chaos, urging his followers to cross over and vote for Hillary Rodham Clinton.”
If Republican leaders don’t like the White House responding to Rush Limbaugh, they need to distance themselves from him publicly.
Don’t hold your breath.
Monday, March 02, 2009
I love my TV!
Last month I decided to cable-up. Blame it on those long winter nights. We also got a better deal by bundling our computer hook-up, telephone and television. Now I can surf the web, call my cousin in Arizona, and watch a Sopranos rerun, all at the same time.
Our only TV for the last six years or so has been rabbit ears, which got us the three networks, Fox, and PBS, all for free. I usually watched the nightly news, which runs maybe one or two overly brief stories of any substance. The rest is fluff and commercials. Is it really a lead story that the East Coast is getting a big storm in February?
PBS has occasional good programming. Fox has The Simpsons. Beyond that, nada.
But the new cable, coupled with the DVR which allows me to record any program and fast forward the commercials, has proven to be better than I expected. Now I record the network news and watch the whole program in about fifteen minutes, skipping both commercials and any stories about a beached whale. I can pause to go out to the kitchen and start dinner, usually beans and rice, or rice and beans. We’re not immune to the recession, you know, despite having the luxury of living on a fixed income. (Remember when people used to complain, “I’m living on a fixed income”? Now it’s not polite to boast about your good fortune.)
I record The Daily Show and the Colbert Report, both of which manage to bring humor to the news, which otherwise is overwhelming in its depressingness.
Yesterday, I recorded the first motorcycle road race of the year, an epic battle between a seasoned veteran and promising rookie at Phillip Island in Australia. Great race! The only American rider is Ben Spies, who looks like he might dominate the season. And BMW is fielding its first team of two bikes, returning to racing after almost three decades. The Beemers finished in the top ten, and former world champion Troy Corser looks like he’ll be in the running.
Is Troy Corser an absolutely perfect name for a motorcycle champion or what?
And finally I’m finding that there actually is something worth watching on television, as long as you can watch it when you want and skip most of the commercials. I usually watch an hour or two a night. And of course I still have DVDs. Saturday I watched Pan’s Labyrinth, an excellent film loaned to me by my Spanish tutor. “Don’t read the subtitles!,” she commanded. Right. My tutor is very strict, but I cheat.
I watched the big Obama speech to Congress, fast-forwarding through the long interruptions for applause. And the Bobby Jindal rebuttal had to be the strangest and most amusing thing I’ve seen in years. I actually did a replay of some of the best parts. (BTW, his story about being in the office with the local sheriff while Washington bureaucrats foiled rescue attempts turns out to be as true as Sara Palin just saying no to the bridge to nowhere. Kenneth the Page comparisons were right on the mark. So much for now for the rising stars of the new Republican party.)
All of this raises the question of whether television, like the newspapers, can survive a new technology which makes its advertising irrelevant. In the long run, maybe not, but by then I’ll be dead. In the meantime while I’m not dead, I’m once again enjoying television as one part of my entertainment and news on a daily basis.
Cage fighting is fun, too.
Our only TV for the last six years or so has been rabbit ears, which got us the three networks, Fox, and PBS, all for free. I usually watched the nightly news, which runs maybe one or two overly brief stories of any substance. The rest is fluff and commercials. Is it really a lead story that the East Coast is getting a big storm in February?
PBS has occasional good programming. Fox has The Simpsons. Beyond that, nada.
But the new cable, coupled with the DVR which allows me to record any program and fast forward the commercials, has proven to be better than I expected. Now I record the network news and watch the whole program in about fifteen minutes, skipping both commercials and any stories about a beached whale. I can pause to go out to the kitchen and start dinner, usually beans and rice, or rice and beans. We’re not immune to the recession, you know, despite having the luxury of living on a fixed income. (Remember when people used to complain, “I’m living on a fixed income”? Now it’s not polite to boast about your good fortune.)
I record The Daily Show and the Colbert Report, both of which manage to bring humor to the news, which otherwise is overwhelming in its depressingness.
Yesterday, I recorded the first motorcycle road race of the year, an epic battle between a seasoned veteran and promising rookie at Phillip Island in Australia. Great race! The only American rider is Ben Spies, who looks like he might dominate the season. And BMW is fielding its first team of two bikes, returning to racing after almost three decades. The Beemers finished in the top ten, and former world champion Troy Corser looks like he’ll be in the running.
Is Troy Corser an absolutely perfect name for a motorcycle champion or what?
And finally I’m finding that there actually is something worth watching on television, as long as you can watch it when you want and skip most of the commercials. I usually watch an hour or two a night. And of course I still have DVDs. Saturday I watched Pan’s Labyrinth, an excellent film loaned to me by my Spanish tutor. “Don’t read the subtitles!,” she commanded. Right. My tutor is very strict, but I cheat.
I watched the big Obama speech to Congress, fast-forwarding through the long interruptions for applause. And the Bobby Jindal rebuttal had to be the strangest and most amusing thing I’ve seen in years. I actually did a replay of some of the best parts. (BTW, his story about being in the office with the local sheriff while Washington bureaucrats foiled rescue attempts turns out to be as true as Sara Palin just saying no to the bridge to nowhere. Kenneth the Page comparisons were right on the mark. So much for now for the rising stars of the new Republican party.)
All of this raises the question of whether television, like the newspapers, can survive a new technology which makes its advertising irrelevant. In the long run, maybe not, but by then I’ll be dead. In the meantime while I’m not dead, I’m once again enjoying television as one part of my entertainment and news on a daily basis.
Cage fighting is fun, too.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Monday, February 02, 2009
Berry berry good to me
Wow, I gotta love the VA. After I got the letter last week saying they were going to pay me for my complete though short-lived total disability, I got a check the next day. I didn’t expect to see any actual cash for a very long time, if ever. Since I tried to withdraw the claim a couple of times, in writing, I half expect them to catch up to me and ask for the money back. More likely, they have other things to do and this case is closed. For now, everything is going into savings.
I won’t mention an exact amount except to say it is a modest but tidy sum. With Mary retiring in June and us planning to travel about in our truck and trailer, it will make for a somewhat more upscale vacation. No more camping in Wal-Mart parking lots. (Actually, we never camp at Wal-Mart and never shop there either, for all the usual reasons.)
All of this got me thinking about what wonderful benefits I’ve received from the VA over the years. After I got out of the army in 1970, VA paid me student benefits for three years until I finished my B.A. I always worked part-time as well, but my modest monthly total meant I could get by rather well if I was frugal, and I never had to take out any student loans. When I first me Mary, I wowed her by taking her out for a steak dinner. She ended up briefly in the hospital shortly after, and I wooed her not with flowers but a carton of cigarettes. We've been together ever since. She married me for my money.
A few years later, I learned I had one year left of student benefits, which pushed me to follow up on my plans to get a master’s degree and try for a teaching job in a community college. I had my first teaching experience as a new grad student when they handed me the book they used for freshman comp and told me what room I was in. Between the stipend for teaching and the VA checks, I was able to finish my master’s, again without borrowing any money. I ended up as an adjunct in the Oregon University System, and then paid staff rates to get my Ph.D. from U of O. Essentially, the Ph.D. was free.
It’s certainly possible that none of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for the financial encouragement.
We never bought a house using a VA loan, but we’ve refinanced this one a couple of times for lower interest rates, and one of those loans was VA. And now they’ve paid me handsomely for my used prostate.
So although I had a shotgun-enlistment in the army with the draft board only a few weeks behind me, and although I hated the military, I have to say the VA has been berry, berry good to me. I know that benefits aren’t nearly as good for GIs now, and of course there are horror stories about wounded troops getting lost by the system and living without any follow-up medical care. A whole new generation of vets is heading for a life of official neglect and bureaucratic obstacles. It's not only sad, it's stupid.
I hope the Obama administration will actually walk the talk of supporting our troops. For me, things have gone the way they should have gone in a nation that says it honors veterans.
I won’t mention an exact amount except to say it is a modest but tidy sum. With Mary retiring in June and us planning to travel about in our truck and trailer, it will make for a somewhat more upscale vacation. No more camping in Wal-Mart parking lots. (Actually, we never camp at Wal-Mart and never shop there either, for all the usual reasons.)
All of this got me thinking about what wonderful benefits I’ve received from the VA over the years. After I got out of the army in 1970, VA paid me student benefits for three years until I finished my B.A. I always worked part-time as well, but my modest monthly total meant I could get by rather well if I was frugal, and I never had to take out any student loans. When I first me Mary, I wowed her by taking her out for a steak dinner. She ended up briefly in the hospital shortly after, and I wooed her not with flowers but a carton of cigarettes. We've been together ever since. She married me for my money.
A few years later, I learned I had one year left of student benefits, which pushed me to follow up on my plans to get a master’s degree and try for a teaching job in a community college. I had my first teaching experience as a new grad student when they handed me the book they used for freshman comp and told me what room I was in. Between the stipend for teaching and the VA checks, I was able to finish my master’s, again without borrowing any money. I ended up as an adjunct in the Oregon University System, and then paid staff rates to get my Ph.D. from U of O. Essentially, the Ph.D. was free.
It’s certainly possible that none of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for the financial encouragement.
We never bought a house using a VA loan, but we’ve refinanced this one a couple of times for lower interest rates, and one of those loans was VA. And now they’ve paid me handsomely for my used prostate.
So although I had a shotgun-enlistment in the army with the draft board only a few weeks behind me, and although I hated the military, I have to say the VA has been berry, berry good to me. I know that benefits aren’t nearly as good for GIs now, and of course there are horror stories about wounded troops getting lost by the system and living without any follow-up medical care. A whole new generation of vets is heading for a life of official neglect and bureaucratic obstacles. It's not only sad, it's stupid.
I hope the Obama administration will actually walk the talk of supporting our troops. For me, things have gone the way they should have gone in a nation that says it honors veterans.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
There's stimulated, and then there's stimulated
In the new age of bipartisanship, Republicans in the House yesterday unanimously voted against the Obama stimulus plan on the grounds that it represented more of the same old Democratic government spending. Liberal spending is defined as any government spending that doesn’t go to defense contractors in the congressperson’s home district.
From the little I know about it, I agree that some of the proposed new spending seems more stimulating than other new spending, but it seems to me that any money pumped into the economy for any thing will excite our spending molecules and send us on a buying spree. So $200 million to spruce up the National Mall means $200 million spread around the real Washington, D.C. where professional mall sprucers will start spending their money to buy things they wouldn’t have bought otherwise, like food and maybe a new Chevy.
Or a few million $s for the National Endowment for the Arts. Artists need money just like the rest of us, and they’ll spend it on stimulating things like brushes and clay and exotic paints. Nude figure models need work, too.
Which is why I’m looking forward to receiving a few thousand dollars from the VA because, according to them, I was 100 percent disabled with prostate cancer for five months.
When I first learned I had PC a year ago, I began to read everything I could find on the subject, and one of the things I learned was that anyone who served in Vietnam and later developed PC was presumed to have a service-related disability from exposure to Agent Orange. I guess the VA quit trying to determine who might or might not have actually been exposed and just started paying out to anyone who was there because you can’t prove a negative: Nobody can prove I wasn’t downwind from an application that might have been miles away but was sprayed from a massive tanker plane flying at relatively high speeds and altitudes. These were not precision pesticide applications by farmers trying to cover their beet fields while mostly missing the grammar school next door.
So I filed a claim thinking why the hell not? I could be impotent and incontinent in a few weeks, and if that isn’t a double-dog disability, I don’t know what is.
After I had surgery and began to quickly recover, though, I couldn’t help but notice that the plumbing was working pretty much as well as ever, and with a little help from a moderate dose of Viagra, I could fly the flag as high as I could when I was twenty-something. That was actually an improvement over the pre-op me, so I began to actually feel unentitled, an emotion as rare these days as contrition in the political class, but there it was nonetheless. I wrote the VA a letter and said I wanted to withdraw the claim.
Not to be deterred, though, the closest VA office started calling to tell me I needed to come in for a physical to verify somehow that I was still 100 percent disabled. How do I prove impotence? I wondered. That might be a medical test a guy could enjoy failing. “Get undressed in the next room and a nurse will be in shortly to help administer the test. Do you have a gender preference for your nurse?”
I kept telling them I was doing fine and I still wanted to withdraw the claim, but they called back a few more times to remind me to make an appointment. I ignored the messages.
When I didn’t hear anything more for a few months, I forgot about the whole thing until yesterday when I received a big envelope from the VA with lots of official looking documents inside, and when I read through everything a few times, I figured out that they still believed I was totally disable for five months, at which time I became totally not disabled and my benefits were terminated.
There was no check inside, though I assume one is in the mail. Or not. You know how the VA can be.
For a brief moment I thought I can’t possibly accept this money, something around $10,000 before taxes, and then I realized the hell I can’t! I’ve actually been feeling left out because I haven’t received a single billion in bailout money yet, and why am I less deserving than a mall sprucer or bank president? I’m not, and I can assure the Republican super-minority in congress that unlike some of those banks, I always promptly spend whatever I take in and a little bit more, so I’ll have an immediate effect on the economy rather than a long-term effect, which seems to be a bad thing.
I could probably re-file with the VA to start up my benefits again. One of the criteria is continuing drug therapy, and there’s the Viagra thing. This stuff isn’t cheap.
I’ll have to think about it.
From the little I know about it, I agree that some of the proposed new spending seems more stimulating than other new spending, but it seems to me that any money pumped into the economy for any thing will excite our spending molecules and send us on a buying spree. So $200 million to spruce up the National Mall means $200 million spread around the real Washington, D.C. where professional mall sprucers will start spending their money to buy things they wouldn’t have bought otherwise, like food and maybe a new Chevy.
Or a few million $s for the National Endowment for the Arts. Artists need money just like the rest of us, and they’ll spend it on stimulating things like brushes and clay and exotic paints. Nude figure models need work, too.
Which is why I’m looking forward to receiving a few thousand dollars from the VA because, according to them, I was 100 percent disabled with prostate cancer for five months.
When I first learned I had PC a year ago, I began to read everything I could find on the subject, and one of the things I learned was that anyone who served in Vietnam and later developed PC was presumed to have a service-related disability from exposure to Agent Orange. I guess the VA quit trying to determine who might or might not have actually been exposed and just started paying out to anyone who was there because you can’t prove a negative: Nobody can prove I wasn’t downwind from an application that might have been miles away but was sprayed from a massive tanker plane flying at relatively high speeds and altitudes. These were not precision pesticide applications by farmers trying to cover their beet fields while mostly missing the grammar school next door.
So I filed a claim thinking why the hell not? I could be impotent and incontinent in a few weeks, and if that isn’t a double-dog disability, I don’t know what is.
After I had surgery and began to quickly recover, though, I couldn’t help but notice that the plumbing was working pretty much as well as ever, and with a little help from a moderate dose of Viagra, I could fly the flag as high as I could when I was twenty-something. That was actually an improvement over the pre-op me, so I began to actually feel unentitled, an emotion as rare these days as contrition in the political class, but there it was nonetheless. I wrote the VA a letter and said I wanted to withdraw the claim.
Not to be deterred, though, the closest VA office started calling to tell me I needed to come in for a physical to verify somehow that I was still 100 percent disabled. How do I prove impotence? I wondered. That might be a medical test a guy could enjoy failing. “Get undressed in the next room and a nurse will be in shortly to help administer the test. Do you have a gender preference for your nurse?”
I kept telling them I was doing fine and I still wanted to withdraw the claim, but they called back a few more times to remind me to make an appointment. I ignored the messages.
When I didn’t hear anything more for a few months, I forgot about the whole thing until yesterday when I received a big envelope from the VA with lots of official looking documents inside, and when I read through everything a few times, I figured out that they still believed I was totally disable for five months, at which time I became totally not disabled and my benefits were terminated.
There was no check inside, though I assume one is in the mail. Or not. You know how the VA can be.
For a brief moment I thought I can’t possibly accept this money, something around $10,000 before taxes, and then I realized the hell I can’t! I’ve actually been feeling left out because I haven’t received a single billion in bailout money yet, and why am I less deserving than a mall sprucer or bank president? I’m not, and I can assure the Republican super-minority in congress that unlike some of those banks, I always promptly spend whatever I take in and a little bit more, so I’ll have an immediate effect on the economy rather than a long-term effect, which seems to be a bad thing.
I could probably re-file with the VA to start up my benefits again. One of the criteria is continuing drug therapy, and there’s the Viagra thing. This stuff isn’t cheap.
I’ll have to think about it.
Friday, January 09, 2009
My kind of review
From the Washington Post
A Poor Reception for 'Bride Wars'
Ann Hornaday recommends that you send your regrets and not attend "Bride Wars": "Predictable, lazy and as overprocessed as Kate Hudson's hair, this thoroughly joyless movie also possesses a deep nasty streak, making it loathsome when it might have been merely annoying."
I wish I'd said that. Three movies that got good reviews and I thought were merely annoying when they could have been loathsome:
Mama Mia: Shrill, shrill, shrill. Will you all just SHUT UP!
Iron Man: Stupid! We went out to see it, and I should have left and played the motorcycle roadracing game in the lobby. When it was finally over, I badly needed a drink. Tragically, I quit drinking some years ago.
WALL-E: Or however you capitalize it. Great animated film for pre-teens. I'm sixty and could have better used my time Twittering.
A Poor Reception for 'Bride Wars'
Ann Hornaday recommends that you send your regrets and not attend "Bride Wars": "Predictable, lazy and as overprocessed as Kate Hudson's hair, this thoroughly joyless movie also possesses a deep nasty streak, making it loathsome when it might have been merely annoying."
I wish I'd said that. Three movies that got good reviews and I thought were merely annoying when they could have been loathsome:
Mama Mia: Shrill, shrill, shrill. Will you all just SHUT UP!
Iron Man: Stupid! We went out to see it, and I should have left and played the motorcycle roadracing game in the lobby. When it was finally over, I badly needed a drink. Tragically, I quit drinking some years ago.
WALL-E: Or however you capitalize it. Great animated film for pre-teens. I'm sixty and could have better used my time Twittering.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
None too soon
With only sixteen days left in the Bush administration, we’ll soon see an end to stories like this.
*****
LOS ANGELES -- The Bush administration appears poised to push through a change in U.S. Forest Service agreements that would make it far easier for mountain forests to be converted to housing subdivisions.
Mark E. Rey, the former timber lobbyist who heads the Forest Service, last week signaled his intent to formalize the controversial change before the Jan. 20 inauguration of President-elect Barack Obama. As a candidate, Obama campaigned against the measure in Montana, where local governments have complained of being blindsided by Rey's negotiating the policy shift behind closed doors with the nation's largest private landowner.
The shift is technical but has large implications. It would allow Plum Creek Timber to pave roads through Forest Service land. For decades, such roads were little more than trails used by logging trucks to reach timber stands.
But as Plum Creek has moved into the real estate business, paving those roads became a necessary prelude to opening vast tracts of the company's 8 million acres to the vacation homes that are transforming landscapes across the West.
Scenic western Montana, where Plum Creek owns 1.2 million acres, would be most affected, placing fresh burdens on county governments to provide services and undoing efforts to cluster housing near towns.
"Just within the last couple weeks, they finalized a big subdivision west of Kalispell," said D. James McCubbin, deputy county attorney of Missoula County, which complained that the closed-door negotiations violated federal laws requiring public comment because the changes would affect endangered species and sensitive ecosystems. Kalispell is in Flathead County, where officials also protested.
The uproar last summer forced Rey to postpone finalizing the change, which came after "considerable internal disagreement" within the Forest Service, according to a U.S. Government Accountability Office report requested by Sen. Jon Tester (D-Mont.). The report said that 900 miles of logging roads could be paved in Montana and that amending the long-held easements "could have a nationwide impact."
*****
LOS ANGELES -- The Bush administration appears poised to push through a change in U.S. Forest Service agreements that would make it far easier for mountain forests to be converted to housing subdivisions.
Mark E. Rey, the former timber lobbyist who heads the Forest Service, last week signaled his intent to formalize the controversial change before the Jan. 20 inauguration of President-elect Barack Obama. As a candidate, Obama campaigned against the measure in Montana, where local governments have complained of being blindsided by Rey's negotiating the policy shift behind closed doors with the nation's largest private landowner.
The shift is technical but has large implications. It would allow Plum Creek Timber to pave roads through Forest Service land. For decades, such roads were little more than trails used by logging trucks to reach timber stands.
But as Plum Creek has moved into the real estate business, paving those roads became a necessary prelude to opening vast tracts of the company's 8 million acres to the vacation homes that are transforming landscapes across the West.
Scenic western Montana, where Plum Creek owns 1.2 million acres, would be most affected, placing fresh burdens on county governments to provide services and undoing efforts to cluster housing near towns.
"Just within the last couple weeks, they finalized a big subdivision west of Kalispell," said D. James McCubbin, deputy county attorney of Missoula County, which complained that the closed-door negotiations violated federal laws requiring public comment because the changes would affect endangered species and sensitive ecosystems. Kalispell is in Flathead County, where officials also protested.
The uproar last summer forced Rey to postpone finalizing the change, which came after "considerable internal disagreement" within the Forest Service, according to a U.S. Government Accountability Office report requested by Sen. Jon Tester (D-Mont.). The report said that 900 miles of logging roads could be paved in Montana and that amending the long-held easements "could have a nationwide impact."
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Christmas, 2008
Mary and I are enjoying Christmas at home this year. We had a lot of snow yesterday, and today is sunny and relatively warm. There's a lot of shoveling to be done. This is actually a picture of Mary from last year. It looks about the same out there right now.Happy holidays to all my friends and family. We're looking forward to dinner with friends this evening. In the meantime, there's more snow to be moved around.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Air disaster
Mary said awhile back that I needed a new hobby. I decided to give radio control planes a try.
Despite a few setbacks, I'm still trying to learn to fly. This could easily become another expensive hobby.
Still doing my part to stimulate the economy.
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