Most Americans have little or no idea what’s actually contained in the health care reforms successfully passed despite fierce and unanimous Republican opposition. Drew Altman of the Kaiser Family Foundation reviews a few provisions:
“Since the bill's passage, the Department of Health and Human Services has set up a program to help people with preexisting health conditions get coverage through state or federal high-risk pools; established a program to help employers provide health insurance to early retirees; issued rebates to help pay drug costs for Medicare beneficiaries stuck in the "doughnut hole"; provided tax credits to small businesses to provide insurance coverage; and created a consumer-friendly Web site, http://HealthCare.gov, that rivals anything coming out of Silicon Valley (where our organization is based).
“Several popular provisions take effect Thursday [today]. They include allowing adult children up to age 26 to be on their parents' insurance; banning lifetime benefits caps and loosening annual limits on insurance coverage payouts; prohibiting insurance companies from kicking people off of their policies when they get sick; and requiring that newly purchased insurance policies cover preventive services at no cost to patients.”
Individually, Altman points out, these provisions have overwhelming support among the public. Many other provisions don’t go into effect until 2014, a concession that was made toward controlling budget deficits. Most of those are also widely popular, the one exception being that most people will eventually be required to have insurance, even if they have to buy it themselves. But universal coverage is the greatest cost saver in the plan, and I can see no real difference between requiring drivers to have auto insurance and everybody else to have health insurance. Besides, the cost of such coverage will be keyed to ability to pay and in fact will be minimal.
Almost all of the voluntarily uninsured today are young people who never believe they can get seriously ill or injured. They’re almost right, statistically, but those who do quickly convert to a public liability when they lose jobs and go on unemployment or welfare and become eligible for Medicaid. In other words, all the rest of us are involuntarily subsidizing their health care in the current system. Talk about socialism.
Altman notes that expansions of benefits in the past, including Medicare itself, were widely unpopular at the time they were passed, but opposition evaporated quickly as the programs began to take effect.
The Republicans’ “Pledge to American,” released today, promises to repeal Obama’s health care reforms. Not a chance. And when we begin to ask specific questions about things like why they want to repeal the exclusion of preexisting conditions for health coverage, they’re going to have a hard time answering.
Look for lots of prevarication and a quick return to talking points:
Talk about socialism.
[P.S.
Liberal elite media watch:
Neither NBC nor PBS ran a story on the changes in health care policy which went into effect today. Both covered the Republican Pledge to America.]
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Four thoughts of autumn
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
George Eliot
No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face.
John Donne
Elegy IX--The Autumnal.
The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall.
Johnny Mercer
[There are so many fine versions of Autumn Leaves. An unlikely favorite of mine is Nick Brignola's, medium-tempo on a baritone sax, from his album Live at Sweet Basil.]
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
William Cullen Bryant
George Eliot
No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face.
John Donne
Elegy IX--The Autumnal.
The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall.
Johnny Mercer
[There are so many fine versions of Autumn Leaves. An unlikely favorite of mine is Nick Brignola's, medium-tempo on a baritone sax, from his album Live at Sweet Basil.]
Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.
William Cullen Bryant
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
A few facts
An article in today's Washington Post announces that for the first time, women are now earning doctoral degrees in greater numbers than men. We've reached this point in a trend that has been developing for decades. There have long been more undergraduate women than men. It just took a few years for the female majorities to move up the educational ladder.
It takes an average of seven years to earn a Ph.D.
Men are now underrepresented in higher education for several reasons: they are less likely to finish high school, more likely to join the military, and more likely to go to jail. Although at seven years, jail wouldn't be a bad place to earn a Ph.D. It's that or lifting weights.
Once in an academic position, women's salaries lag men's, mostly because careers conflict with having children. Pursuing tenure takes a full six years, and those are the prime childbearing years. (The actual pursuit of childbearing takes only nine months, which is well-known.) But while men are busy doing research and publishing articles and books, women are changing diapers, though I know a few women whose careers have left their male colleagues far behind.
The average salary for male tenured professors is $89,000. For women, $70,000. It's hard to persuade a public whose average salaries are closer to $30,000 that faculty are underpaid, but compared to other professions, many of which require less education, those salaries are on the low end. At Oregon Institute of Technology, where I taught for twenty years, it wasn't uncommon for new graduates just entering the workforce to earn higher salaries than faculty at the peak of their careers. I thought we should earn a small percentage of each graduate's salary for their first five years of employment. That would only be fair.
We should also get a company car. I always wanted a Porche but ended up driving a Mitsubishi. I mean, come on.
I never earned more that $50,000, a member of the lowest-paid department at the lowest-paid institution in the lowest-paid system in the nation. Still, I never felt much resentment about salary. In my field when I started, there were on average over a hundred applicants for every new position. I felt lucky to break into the field at all. Talk about landing on your feet.
Today, there are on average three applicants for every position, and two of them still have a year or so to go in jail before they complete their Ph.D. We try to hire candidates with the fewest felony convictions, though it takes more than just one assault to get seven years. Not to mention time off for good behavior.
Despite relatively low salaries, Mary and I were both able to retire at 55. Chances are high that this benefit will become completely extinct starting about next Tuesday, what with the aging population, worries about Social Security, and shrunken retirement savings resulting from the implosion in the value of investmens.
Again we were lucky based on a few happy circumstances, like double-income/no kids (DINKs). This is the quickest path to early retirement. For every baby you don't have, you can retire five years earlier. If you don't have only nine babies, you never have to work at all. And because of compound interes, the earlier you start not having babies, the earlier you can retire
Also, we lived in about the least expensive housing market in the country. When we moved here in the early eighties, they would just give you a house. You had to agree to keep the lawn mowed.
And we had a generous state pension system (Gone now: one of the reasons I retired early was to minimize major cuts in pensions that are now in place). Finally, modest personal savings that sounded like a lot of money at the time. Once you do retire, though, you remember that you have to divide those savings by the rest of your life. You realize it's not all that much money and start saying things like, "I'm living on a fixed income!" Most people would kill today to be able to live on a fixed income.
The main factor in a happy academic career is a congenial department, which means that few to none in higher education are all that happy. My own department consisted of two or three members with diagnosed major mental problems, including myself, and all the rest who needed to get to the mental-health emergency room right now but never did because they were convinced they were the only sane person in the department. Some of them were also convinced they could fly.
I've now been retired eight years, which amazes me to think about it. I'm glad I got out early, though. My remaining mental health required it, and my current condition has recently been upgraded to just "eccentric." I'm very happy, relatively.
Also, my former colleague Jim Etchison just died of a heart attack while on vacation in Maui. His wife was taking his picture and he fell over dead. Jim was sixty-two; I am sixty-two.
It saddens me. Jim was a sweet guy who was always laughing. If there's an afterlife, I picture him laughing at the irony of dying on Maui at age sixty-two while your wife is taking your picture. This is how I would like to go, too, but in maybe twenty years. Or thirty. I'll try to give Mary a heads-up a minute or two before.
If I had it to do over, I wouldn't change a thing.
Yes I would. Who could ever say that? They must have bad memories.
It takes an average of seven years to earn a Ph.D.
Men are now underrepresented in higher education for several reasons: they are less likely to finish high school, more likely to join the military, and more likely to go to jail. Although at seven years, jail wouldn't be a bad place to earn a Ph.D. It's that or lifting weights.
Once in an academic position, women's salaries lag men's, mostly because careers conflict with having children. Pursuing tenure takes a full six years, and those are the prime childbearing years. (The actual pursuit of childbearing takes only nine months, which is well-known.) But while men are busy doing research and publishing articles and books, women are changing diapers, though I know a few women whose careers have left their male colleagues far behind.
The average salary for male tenured professors is $89,000. For women, $70,000. It's hard to persuade a public whose average salaries are closer to $30,000 that faculty are underpaid, but compared to other professions, many of which require less education, those salaries are on the low end. At Oregon Institute of Technology, where I taught for twenty years, it wasn't uncommon for new graduates just entering the workforce to earn higher salaries than faculty at the peak of their careers. I thought we should earn a small percentage of each graduate's salary for their first five years of employment. That would only be fair.
We should also get a company car. I always wanted a Porche but ended up driving a Mitsubishi. I mean, come on.
I never earned more that $50,000, a member of the lowest-paid department at the lowest-paid institution in the lowest-paid system in the nation. Still, I never felt much resentment about salary. In my field when I started, there were on average over a hundred applicants for every new position. I felt lucky to break into the field at all. Talk about landing on your feet.
Today, there are on average three applicants for every position, and two of them still have a year or so to go in jail before they complete their Ph.D. We try to hire candidates with the fewest felony convictions, though it takes more than just one assault to get seven years. Not to mention time off for good behavior.
Despite relatively low salaries, Mary and I were both able to retire at 55. Chances are high that this benefit will become completely extinct starting about next Tuesday, what with the aging population, worries about Social Security, and shrunken retirement savings resulting from the implosion in the value of investmens.
Again we were lucky based on a few happy circumstances, like double-income/no kids (DINKs). This is the quickest path to early retirement. For every baby you don't have, you can retire five years earlier. If you don't have only nine babies, you never have to work at all. And because of compound interes, the earlier you start not having babies, the earlier you can retire
Also, we lived in about the least expensive housing market in the country. When we moved here in the early eighties, they would just give you a house. You had to agree to keep the lawn mowed.
And we had a generous state pension system (Gone now: one of the reasons I retired early was to minimize major cuts in pensions that are now in place). Finally, modest personal savings that sounded like a lot of money at the time. Once you do retire, though, you remember that you have to divide those savings by the rest of your life. You realize it's not all that much money and start saying things like, "I'm living on a fixed income!" Most people would kill today to be able to live on a fixed income.
The main factor in a happy academic career is a congenial department, which means that few to none in higher education are all that happy. My own department consisted of two or three members with diagnosed major mental problems, including myself, and all the rest who needed to get to the mental-health emergency room right now but never did because they were convinced they were the only sane person in the department. Some of them were also convinced they could fly.
I've now been retired eight years, which amazes me to think about it. I'm glad I got out early, though. My remaining mental health required it, and my current condition has recently been upgraded to just "eccentric." I'm very happy, relatively.
Also, my former colleague Jim Etchison just died of a heart attack while on vacation in Maui. His wife was taking his picture and he fell over dead. Jim was sixty-two; I am sixty-two.
It saddens me. Jim was a sweet guy who was always laughing. If there's an afterlife, I picture him laughing at the irony of dying on Maui at age sixty-two while your wife is taking your picture. This is how I would like to go, too, but in maybe twenty years. Or thirty. I'll try to give Mary a heads-up a minute or two before.
If I had it to do over, I wouldn't change a thing.
Yes I would. Who could ever say that? They must have bad memories.
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Mary and I took a ride today, met some friends for lunch, then rode up to the Crater Lake north entrance and around the Rim Road. It was a perfect day, cool up on top but still warm enough for a late summer ride. The lake was especially beautiful.
Monday, August 30, 2010
A day that will live in. . . .
Anyone not living in a cave knows that today marks the official end of American combat operations in Iraq. In fact, the last of the designated combat troops left last week. According to journalist Richard Engle, who accompanied them, they were greeted by exactly two American soldiers, who saluted them as they crossed over the border into Kuwait. Of course, 50,000 troops still remain indefinitely, and five of them have already been killed by rocket attacks and roadside bombs, but never mind.
President Obama is giving a speech today to mark the occasion. He’ll express gratitude to the troops, point out that he met his promised deadline concerning the withdrawl, and express concern about Iraq’s future, like for example how it doesn’t actually have a government right now. But he’ll be optimistic for the long-term.
What I’d like to see, though, are some speeches by the original architects of the war. The only one still on the scene and mouthing off from time to time about how soft Obama is on terrorism is Dick Cheney. I wonder if Dick will have any words to say about how the war turned out, whether he had it right when he declared many years ago that the evidence for Sadam’s weapons of mass destruction was a slam dunk, or that the insurgency was in its last throes.
We should line them up like in a high-school speech contest and demand a ten-minute address: Dick Cheney, George Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, Condolezza Rice, Paul Bremmer. And from the lesser luminaries from the Project for a New American Century, now defunct, all of whom later became members of the Bush administration: Paul Wolfowitz, Richard Perle, John Bolton, Richard Armitage, and Elliott Abrams.
We should demand an apology.
But count on it: We won’t hear a peep from any of them with the possible exception of Cheney, who will comment that Obama has made America less safe.
Credit, however, goes out to columnist Anne Applebaum, who wrote today, “I supported the invasion of Iraq, I think the surge was a success and I believe that an Iraqi democracy could be a revolutionary force for good in the Middle East. Yet even if violence abates, even if all American troops go home, we have still paid a very high price for our victory -- much higher than we usually admit.”
Never mind the word “victory,” she acknowledges that things didn’t go so well in Iraq. Here’s a look at her list of unintended consequences. Briefly, we seriously damaged:
“America's reputation for effectiveness.
“America's ability to organize a coalition.
“America's ability to influence the Middle East.
“America's ability to think like a global power.
And finally,
“America's ability to care for its wounded veterans.”
She expands nicely on each of these. She fails, though, to mention that the two major premises supporting the invasion in the first place turned out to be errors at best, outright lies at worst: That Sadam had WMD that threatened his neighbors and the United States, and that Sadam had ties to Al-Qaeda.
And she missed a few consequences: The invasion of Iraq destroyed any hope of a favorable outcome in Afghanistan, which seemed within reach when we turned our backs on that conflict, and it led most of the Muslim world to believe that the United States is at war with Islam. These two outcomes will haunt us for the next generation and more.
Bummer.
Anyway, even if we didn’t yet see all of the outcomes, millions of us Americans knew that the invasion was a terrible idea and no good would come of it. We said so at the time, some with more evidence and authority, some with less.
We were roundly criticized for it. We were all but called traitors.
And so, on behalf of all of us, as the Mission Accomplished banner, now badly tattered, goes back up, I’d like to humbly say,
I told you so.
President Obama is giving a speech today to mark the occasion. He’ll express gratitude to the troops, point out that he met his promised deadline concerning the withdrawl, and express concern about Iraq’s future, like for example how it doesn’t actually have a government right now. But he’ll be optimistic for the long-term.
What I’d like to see, though, are some speeches by the original architects of the war. The only one still on the scene and mouthing off from time to time about how soft Obama is on terrorism is Dick Cheney. I wonder if Dick will have any words to say about how the war turned out, whether he had it right when he declared many years ago that the evidence for Sadam’s weapons of mass destruction was a slam dunk, or that the insurgency was in its last throes.
We should line them up like in a high-school speech contest and demand a ten-minute address: Dick Cheney, George Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, Condolezza Rice, Paul Bremmer. And from the lesser luminaries from the Project for a New American Century, now defunct, all of whom later became members of the Bush administration: Paul Wolfowitz, Richard Perle, John Bolton, Richard Armitage, and Elliott Abrams.
We should demand an apology.
But count on it: We won’t hear a peep from any of them with the possible exception of Cheney, who will comment that Obama has made America less safe.
Credit, however, goes out to columnist Anne Applebaum, who wrote today, “I supported the invasion of Iraq, I think the surge was a success and I believe that an Iraqi democracy could be a revolutionary force for good in the Middle East. Yet even if violence abates, even if all American troops go home, we have still paid a very high price for our victory -- much higher than we usually admit.”
Never mind the word “victory,” she acknowledges that things didn’t go so well in Iraq. Here’s a look at her list of unintended consequences. Briefly, we seriously damaged:
“America's reputation for effectiveness.
“America's ability to organize a coalition.
“America's ability to influence the Middle East.
“America's ability to think like a global power.
And finally,
“America's ability to care for its wounded veterans.”
She expands nicely on each of these. She fails, though, to mention that the two major premises supporting the invasion in the first place turned out to be errors at best, outright lies at worst: That Sadam had WMD that threatened his neighbors and the United States, and that Sadam had ties to Al-Qaeda.
And she missed a few consequences: The invasion of Iraq destroyed any hope of a favorable outcome in Afghanistan, which seemed within reach when we turned our backs on that conflict, and it led most of the Muslim world to believe that the United States is at war with Islam. These two outcomes will haunt us for the next generation and more.
Bummer.
Anyway, even if we didn’t yet see all of the outcomes, millions of us Americans knew that the invasion was a terrible idea and no good would come of it. We said so at the time, some with more evidence and authority, some with less.
We were roundly criticized for it. We were all but called traitors.
And so, on behalf of all of us, as the Mission Accomplished banner, now badly tattered, goes back up, I’d like to humbly say,
I told you so.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Post parto
Spanish class is over for the summer. I was still enjoying class and working very nearly full-time-squared up to Tuesday, when I bailed out after our instructor’s fifth absence. I had only a brief oral presentation on Wednesday and the final exam on Thursday, and since I’m auditing the class, there was no reason to stick around to earn the points.
Despite the poor showing from the instructor when he showed at all, I count the class a terrific success and would sign up for another this fall if one were available.
The instructor was a likeable guy and generally used class time well, but he’s the worst deadbeat I’ve ever had as a teacher, and in the end I was mostly fed up with him.
Despite all the problems with him (a long list of which I just deleted because who really cares?), I loved the class and made a huge amount of progress, though I still consider myself a beginner in Spanish.
I’m signed up for a Spanish lit class this fall, which meets two days a week, so I’ll commute the seventy miles one-way instead of living over there. I’m also probably going to volunteer in a local school working with ELL students (“ELL” meaning English Language Learners and replacing all prior acronyms). For now, there’s plenty of work to be done around the house after being gone for so long, and after a few days of mental rest, I’ll get back to studying two or three hours a day, my goal to continue to make a little progress and not immediately forget everything I’ve learned.
It’s good to be back home, although I’m having a little trouble adjusting to the change of pace that comes with not having something I absolutely must be doing right this minute. That might be a drain after awhile (and it is), but it’s also a form of structure. Take it away too quickly and one feels a little adrift. At the moment, I’m somewhat adrifting but should adjust to things fairly quickly.
Despite the poor showing from the instructor when he showed at all, I count the class a terrific success and would sign up for another this fall if one were available.
The instructor was a likeable guy and generally used class time well, but he’s the worst deadbeat I’ve ever had as a teacher, and in the end I was mostly fed up with him.
Despite all the problems with him (a long list of which I just deleted because who really cares?), I loved the class and made a huge amount of progress, though I still consider myself a beginner in Spanish.
I’m signed up for a Spanish lit class this fall, which meets two days a week, so I’ll commute the seventy miles one-way instead of living over there. I’m also probably going to volunteer in a local school working with ELL students (“ELL” meaning English Language Learners and replacing all prior acronyms). For now, there’s plenty of work to be done around the house after being gone for so long, and after a few days of mental rest, I’ll get back to studying two or three hours a day, my goal to continue to make a little progress and not immediately forget everything I’ve learned.
It’s good to be back home, although I’m having a little trouble adjusting to the change of pace that comes with not having something I absolutely must be doing right this minute. That might be a drain after awhile (and it is), but it’s also a form of structure. Take it away too quickly and one feels a little adrift. At the moment, I’m somewhat adrifting but should adjust to things fairly quickly.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Progress Report
We changed instructors at week four since the course is actually three consecutive three-week sessions. Monday was the 4th of July holiday, so it was already going to be a short week. I was a little concerned because we cover a chapter a week, and four days has been barely enough to keep up. I spend most of the weekend before getting a head start, so much of the homework, “tarea,” is ready to hand in and I’m reasonably familiar with all the content of the chapter. It’s been a full-time effort, but I’m keeping up and getting A’s on all the assignments and tests. Not really important since I’m auditing the class, but a good indication that I’m doing satisfactory work and making progress.
But Tuesday when the new instructor arrived, we watched the film The Motorcycle Diaries, which I had already seen and which is well worth watching again. After the film, the new guy assigned a composition, then said he wasn’t feeling well and was going home early.
Wednesday I arrived for class and there were only four other students of the fifteen or so still remaining. One of the guys checked email and found a message that had gone out the night before from the instructor saying he was quite ill but would get out an assignment sheet soon.
That night, the same message, so we had now lost a full week, and still no study guide. By Saturday night back home, I wasn’t sure we still had a class. I thought the instructor might have died at home and nobody even knew ityet. Or possibly he’d been able to contact the department chair who was looking for a replacement, but I know that during the summer, faculty disappear like cockroaches when the lights go on, and finding a replacement was not likely. There are only so many cockroaches. I guessed there was better than a fifty-percent chance the class would crash and my summer experience would be over.
Monday morning, though, our guy was there, and I learned that an email had gone out Sunday afternoon with a short study guide. I don’t have computer access in the RV park where I’m staying, so I didn’t get the message.
For the next two weeks, life was crazy. He had to cram three chapters into two weeks, and I was now working from behind the curve instead of ahead of it. We also had a new composition to write, a skit to prepare with a few other students, and a chapter test every two or three days instead of at the end of the week.
It was brutal. By the night before the last test, I had given up on anything more than a quick review of new grammar and readings that I didn’t really understand.
In the end, the test last Thursday wasn’t so bad. He included useful aids, such as a list of verbs to choose from and notes on when and how to use them, so I think I did reasonably well. The best part, though, is that this weekend I’ve been back to my usual routine, with only one chapter to prepare and a sense that I’m going to be ahead when we start class tomorrow.
More good news: Mary is down in Santa Cruz for a wedding I was able to beg off from; though it was the son of some very old friends, I generally don’t like weddings or funerals, and I was glad for the excuse. I’ll do the occasional birthday party.
Bad news: today is the Motorcycle Grand Prix at Laguna Seca in Monterey, and it’s the first time I’ve missed the race in many years. I’m watching it this afternoon on TV with a friend, so that’s some compensation.
I’m making good progress in class, but it’s slow. I know a lot more than I did before, but speech, such as it is, is still halting at best. Listening comprehension is getting a little better, but when I watch a Spanish-language movie, I still have to rely mostly on subtitles, catching only parts of the dialogue here and there.
Note: Sin Nombre is an excellent film, and I highly recommend it. It should be required watching for all the virulent anti-immigrants, though it probably wouldn’t change their thinking much. But still. . . .
So this morning I keep working for a few hours. Then I have to take the dogs to the kennel because Mary will be gone a few more days and I’m heading back to the trailer after I watch the race. There I’ll spend most of the afternoon and evening studying some more. Tomorrow, back to class for the last three weeks of the program.
I’m so glad I was finally able to do this, and I’m already thinking ahead to ways that I can continue to study when the class ends.
I have some ideas.
But Tuesday when the new instructor arrived, we watched the film The Motorcycle Diaries, which I had already seen and which is well worth watching again. After the film, the new guy assigned a composition, then said he wasn’t feeling well and was going home early.
Wednesday I arrived for class and there were only four other students of the fifteen or so still remaining. One of the guys checked email and found a message that had gone out the night before from the instructor saying he was quite ill but would get out an assignment sheet soon.
That night, the same message, so we had now lost a full week, and still no study guide. By Saturday night back home, I wasn’t sure we still had a class. I thought the instructor might have died at home and nobody even knew ityet. Or possibly he’d been able to contact the department chair who was looking for a replacement, but I know that during the summer, faculty disappear like cockroaches when the lights go on, and finding a replacement was not likely. There are only so many cockroaches. I guessed there was better than a fifty-percent chance the class would crash and my summer experience would be over.
Monday morning, though, our guy was there, and I learned that an email had gone out Sunday afternoon with a short study guide. I don’t have computer access in the RV park where I’m staying, so I didn’t get the message.
For the next two weeks, life was crazy. He had to cram three chapters into two weeks, and I was now working from behind the curve instead of ahead of it. We also had a new composition to write, a skit to prepare with a few other students, and a chapter test every two or three days instead of at the end of the week.
It was brutal. By the night before the last test, I had given up on anything more than a quick review of new grammar and readings that I didn’t really understand.
In the end, the test last Thursday wasn’t so bad. He included useful aids, such as a list of verbs to choose from and notes on when and how to use them, so I think I did reasonably well. The best part, though, is that this weekend I’ve been back to my usual routine, with only one chapter to prepare and a sense that I’m going to be ahead when we start class tomorrow.
More good news: Mary is down in Santa Cruz for a wedding I was able to beg off from; though it was the son of some very old friends, I generally don’t like weddings or funerals, and I was glad for the excuse. I’ll do the occasional birthday party.
Bad news: today is the Motorcycle Grand Prix at Laguna Seca in Monterey, and it’s the first time I’ve missed the race in many years. I’m watching it this afternoon on TV with a friend, so that’s some compensation.
I’m making good progress in class, but it’s slow. I know a lot more than I did before, but speech, such as it is, is still halting at best. Listening comprehension is getting a little better, but when I watch a Spanish-language movie, I still have to rely mostly on subtitles, catching only parts of the dialogue here and there.
Note: Sin Nombre is an excellent film, and I highly recommend it. It should be required watching for all the virulent anti-immigrants, though it probably wouldn’t change their thinking much. But still. . . .
So this morning I keep working for a few hours. Then I have to take the dogs to the kennel because Mary will be gone a few more days and I’m heading back to the trailer after I watch the race. There I’ll spend most of the afternoon and evening studying some more. Tomorrow, back to class for the last three weeks of the program.
I’m so glad I was finally able to do this, and I’m already thinking ahead to ways that I can continue to study when the class ends.
I have some ideas.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Laca laca laca
I just wrote to Broshat that I’m three weeks into my nine week Spanish-intensive summer program, and it feels like Spanish boot camp. But a few guys actually liked boot camp because what are they gonna do, send me to Vietnam? (This was back when I actually was in boot camp and they did send everybody to Vietnam. I wasn’t one of those guys because this is a metaphor which starting getting away from me about three lines back. Who enjoyed boot camp? is what I’m saying. They did send me to Vietnam, and I didn’t enjoy that either.)
I am, however, enjoying my class very much, though it's taking it's toll.
I work mostly all the time the four days a week I’m living in our trailer near school. Weekends home I work about half-time and spend the rest doing a few things around the house and trying to spend quality time with Mary. The old “quality time" thing, which is what you call it when you know you’re preoccupied and being something of a pain in the ass.
We change teachers next week since it’s technically three courses in sequence. I liked Lady Vanderlip well enough, although over the last week she slipping into speaking mostly ingles in class, something I think would take great discipline not to do. Manipulation of body language and facial expression by students can get a teacher to do about anything including delivering lectures wearing a swim mask and flippers, so foreign language teachers have to accept that when they’re actually speaking the language they’re trying to teach, students will often look at them like they’re from what used to be the planet Pluto. Also, the three native speakers I’ve had as teachers seem to need to share a lot of detail about growing up in their native countries, which is certainly interesting but, hey, I’m trying to learn Spanish here. I’m not signed up to learn about growing up in Panama.
The new teacher starts next week and I understand he’s not a native speaker but almost never speaks ingles in class. I’m hoping the new drill sergeant will stay on-task.
I’m making good progress but still basically a beginner. When I overhear real Spanish, my reaction is “Hey, that’s Spanish!" but beyond that I’m mostly in the dark. Also, the subjunctive was invented during the Spanish Inquisition as a way to torture heretics and it somehow caught on. It’s complicated as hell and serves virtually no communicative function as far as I can tell. I’ll bet the first thing L.L. Zamenhof did when he developed Esperanto was dump the subjunctive. Esperanto itself, btw, in a very interesting story which you can find with a quick Wikipedia search.
“Laca laca laca” means “blah blah blah” I learned this week, so that’s become my goal, to be able to laca laca laca in a language not my own and which I started to study after I turned sixty. Also, btw, I’m the only student in my class over twenty-two, I’d guess, so talk about wearing a swim mask and flippers. They’d probably warm to me faster if I wore a burka, but finally the chill is wearing off and a few students have actually said a few words to me before class starts.
Laca.
I am, however, enjoying my class very much, though it's taking it's toll.
I work mostly all the time the four days a week I’m living in our trailer near school. Weekends home I work about half-time and spend the rest doing a few things around the house and trying to spend quality time with Mary. The old “quality time" thing, which is what you call it when you know you’re preoccupied and being something of a pain in the ass.
We change teachers next week since it’s technically three courses in sequence. I liked Lady Vanderlip well enough, although over the last week she slipping into speaking mostly ingles in class, something I think would take great discipline not to do. Manipulation of body language and facial expression by students can get a teacher to do about anything including delivering lectures wearing a swim mask and flippers, so foreign language teachers have to accept that when they’re actually speaking the language they’re trying to teach, students will often look at them like they’re from what used to be the planet Pluto. Also, the three native speakers I’ve had as teachers seem to need to share a lot of detail about growing up in their native countries, which is certainly interesting but, hey, I’m trying to learn Spanish here. I’m not signed up to learn about growing up in Panama.
The new teacher starts next week and I understand he’s not a native speaker but almost never speaks ingles in class. I’m hoping the new drill sergeant will stay on-task.
I’m making good progress but still basically a beginner. When I overhear real Spanish, my reaction is “Hey, that’s Spanish!" but beyond that I’m mostly in the dark. Also, the subjunctive was invented during the Spanish Inquisition as a way to torture heretics and it somehow caught on. It’s complicated as hell and serves virtually no communicative function as far as I can tell. I’ll bet the first thing L.L. Zamenhof did when he developed Esperanto was dump the subjunctive. Esperanto itself, btw, in a very interesting story which you can find with a quick Wikipedia search.
“Laca laca laca” means “blah blah blah” I learned this week, so that’s become my goal, to be able to laca laca laca in a language not my own and which I started to study after I turned sixty. Also, btw, I’m the only student in my class over twenty-two, I’d guess, so talk about wearing a swim mask and flippers. They’d probably warm to me faster if I wore a burka, but finally the chill is wearing off and a few students have actually said a few words to me before class starts.
Laca.
Friday, June 18, 2010
A blog of note
Mary (the wife) has started a blog. Initially intended just for her reading group, like all good blogs it has now expanded to include anything she feels like writing about. She writes real good for a science teacher, I told her maybe even better than that guy Stephen J. Gould, or Stephen Hawking, or even Stephen Darwin or Stephen Einstein.
I'm now a follower and you could be, too, by pasting this address into your browser since I never have figured out why I can't post hot links anymore:
http://kf-biblioblog.blogspot.com/
I'm now a follower and you could be, too, by pasting this address into your browser since I never have figured out why I can't post hot links anymore:
http://kf-biblioblog.blogspot.com/
Week one progress report
This is great: The Panamanian Drill Sergeant brooks no complaining: if you miss a day, you miss a week’s worth of material and your grade drops by one. One student asked if he could leave an hour early one day a week because of his job, and she said no. Just “no.” I used to get requests like this all the time, and I also said no, but I’d add a long explanation about how important class time is, and if I make an exception for one student. . . . I once had a young woman ask if she could finish the class two weeks early because she was joining the Marines and going to Officer Candidate School, which started before our class was over, and her recruiter told her if she didn’t make this OCS class, she might not have a shot at another one. I told her she should get a new recruiter.
And but anyway,
Class is four hours a day with a five-minute break at the hour: she doesn’t hesitate to switch to English occasionally to explain something (which was just not done when I took French at UCSC exactly one hundred years ago), but otherwise class is almost completely in Spanish. I can understand her quite well, though if I hear her talking in the hall to another Spanish teacher, I can’t understand a word they say.
I’m at just about the perfect level to start this course. It’s a challenge, but it’s the workload and not yet the material that is close to overwhelming. After class I spend three or four hours on campus using my laptop to access the Website which has all of our film and audio materials (my WIFI connection at the trailer park is slower than a constipated turd), then back to the trailer to study from the book and do other written homework. I go to bed feeling like I need at least one more hour of study to be ready for the next day, but I long ago made the vow that I would never miss sleep over work or a class. It’s worked for me.
The other students are all about twenty and seem to have formed circles of friends before I got there, so I’ve been a little isolated, but finally yesterday a young woman sat down and visited with me during the break. My kind of kid. She and her husband left Boise State where they were studying business and came to Ashland, known for it’s lefty orientation and whole foods ethic, to study international relations. Jobs? They’ll worry about after graduation, and I expect they’ll sooner or later find the kind of work they want to do.
The class has dropped from 25 to 15 in the first week. Now I’m home for the weekend, where I can relax a little and do some things other than study Spanish. Still, I have a lot of work to do to be a little ahead when we start week two on Monday.
You don’t finish an eight-week class like this fluent, or even generally conversational, in a foreign language, but at last I’m actually learning fast in a structured program, and if I take time to stand back and look at it, I’m really enjoying it. I have to find a way to also eat during the day, but that’s not so important yet; I’m thinking microwave burritos (“Little burros”; who knew? ).
And but anyway,
Class is four hours a day with a five-minute break at the hour: she doesn’t hesitate to switch to English occasionally to explain something (which was just not done when I took French at UCSC exactly one hundred years ago), but otherwise class is almost completely in Spanish. I can understand her quite well, though if I hear her talking in the hall to another Spanish teacher, I can’t understand a word they say.
I’m at just about the perfect level to start this course. It’s a challenge, but it’s the workload and not yet the material that is close to overwhelming. After class I spend three or four hours on campus using my laptop to access the Website which has all of our film and audio materials (my WIFI connection at the trailer park is slower than a constipated turd), then back to the trailer to study from the book and do other written homework. I go to bed feeling like I need at least one more hour of study to be ready for the next day, but I long ago made the vow that I would never miss sleep over work or a class. It’s worked for me.
The other students are all about twenty and seem to have formed circles of friends before I got there, so I’ve been a little isolated, but finally yesterday a young woman sat down and visited with me during the break. My kind of kid. She and her husband left Boise State where they were studying business and came to Ashland, known for it’s lefty orientation and whole foods ethic, to study international relations. Jobs? They’ll worry about after graduation, and I expect they’ll sooner or later find the kind of work they want to do.
The class has dropped from 25 to 15 in the first week. Now I’m home for the weekend, where I can relax a little and do some things other than study Spanish. Still, I have a lot of work to do to be a little ahead when we start week two on Monday.
You don’t finish an eight-week class like this fluent, or even generally conversational, in a foreign language, but at last I’m actually learning fast in a structured program, and if I take time to stand back and look at it, I’m really enjoying it. I have to find a way to also eat during the day, but that’s not so important yet; I’m thinking microwave burritos (“Little burros”; who knew? ).
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
What is the meaning of this?
I've always got a kick out of the question, "What is the meaning of this?" because it's like the worst essay question you ever saw on a test. Or your boss walks into your cubicle with a memo you just wrote and demands, "What is the meaning of this?" and you can only look baffled for a minute and then say, "What, so now I'm a philosopher?"
But it seems an appropriate title to the following excerpt from a wire service story
on the Web today:
MONROE, Ohio (AP) — Hundreds of sightseers drawn to the remains of a six-story-tall statue of Jesus Christ that was struck by lightning and erupted into flames stopped Tuesday to snap pictures or gaze at the ruined structure.
The "King of Kings" statue, one of southwest Ohio's most familiar landmarks, had stood since 2004 at the evangelical Solid Rock Church along Interstate 75 in Monroe, just north of Cincinnati.
The lightning strike set the statue ablaze around 11:15 p.m. Monday, Monroe police dispatchers said.
The sculpture, about 62 feet tall and 40 feet wide at the base, showed Jesus from the torso up and was nicknamed Touchdown Jesus because of the way the arms were raised, similar to a referee signaling a touchdown. It was made of plastic foam and fiberglass over a steel frame, which is all that remained Tuesday.
But it seems an appropriate title to the following excerpt from a wire service story
on the Web today:
MONROE, Ohio (AP) — Hundreds of sightseers drawn to the remains of a six-story-tall statue of Jesus Christ that was struck by lightning and erupted into flames stopped Tuesday to snap pictures or gaze at the ruined structure.
The "King of Kings" statue, one of southwest Ohio's most familiar landmarks, had stood since 2004 at the evangelical Solid Rock Church along Interstate 75 in Monroe, just north of Cincinnati.
The lightning strike set the statue ablaze around 11:15 p.m. Monday, Monroe police dispatchers said.
The sculpture, about 62 feet tall and 40 feet wide at the base, showed Jesus from the torso up and was nicknamed Touchdown Jesus because of the way the arms were raised, similar to a referee signaling a touchdown. It was made of plastic foam and fiberglass over a steel frame, which is all that remained Tuesday.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Primero dia
Off to a great start. My instructor is named Lady Vanderlip, which led me to expect some kind of Dutch Noblewoman, but in fact she’s from Panama and speaks Spanish like a native.
Class was just as I’d hoped. Most students are at or a little above my level. We had lots of practice in Spanish, often working with a partner. Tonight I have homework that would usually be due over the first week. Sacre Bleu!
Fortunately, I got the book and other materials last summer and am a few chapters ahead, so I think I’ll survive the first couple of weeks. After that, well, it’s all just from grins, right?
Unlike at OIT, all the students are twenty-somethings, which made me feel a little self-conscious for about two minutes until we got to work. The good news is no one pointed and laughed. The bad news is the little bastards have working memories I can only vaguely remember having.
Steel traps vs. the rusty bucket. Pero, recuerde la tortuga and el conejo ( but remember the tortoise and the hare).
Hasta la pistola.
Class was just as I’d hoped. Most students are at or a little above my level. We had lots of practice in Spanish, often working with a partner. Tonight I have homework that would usually be due over the first week. Sacre Bleu!
Fortunately, I got the book and other materials last summer and am a few chapters ahead, so I think I’ll survive the first couple of weeks. After that, well, it’s all just from grins, right?
Unlike at OIT, all the students are twenty-somethings, which made me feel a little self-conscious for about two minutes until we got to work. The good news is no one pointed and laughed. The bad news is the little bastards have working memories I can only vaguely remember having.
Steel traps vs. the rusty bucket. Pero, recuerde la tortuga and el conejo ( but remember the tortoise and the hare).
Hasta la pistola.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Joe Hablo
“No estoy seguro si es posible aprender una lengua nueva a mi edad.”
Or,
“I’m not sure if it’s possible to learn a new language at my age.” Probably with a few errors illustrating my point. (Just edited to correct a few errors even I could see.)
This comment was part of a short speech of introduction I made the last time I was in a Spanish class, about two years ago. The class was one in the first-year sequence offered at Oregon Tech, my former employer. Since all of the students except me were majoring in either engineering or one of the health professions, everyone was there only to satisfy a requirement. There wasn’t a lot of involvement or preparation by anyone else, and the overall quality of the class was poor at best. It ended up being a class in which we spoke about Spanish in English, kind of a Spanish Appreciation course.
Since then, I’ve studied on my own and managed to make some progress, though you can only go so far without instruction and opportunities to speak and practice. Not very far at all, really.
Today, I’m moving our trailer over to a little RV park outside of Ashland, home of Southern Oregon University, a liberal arts and teaching college with a Spanish department that has a good reputation. Monday, I’ll be starting an intensive Spanish summer program, all of year two in eight weeks. I’m a bit nervous that either the course will be way over my head and go much too fast, or that it will be badly taught with yet more unmotivated students and will prove of little value. My hope, of course, is that the reality will be somewhere in the middle and I’ll be able to make more progress in the next eight weeks than I’ve made in the last two years. We’ll see.
It’s hard to say exactly how my interest in this all started. At first, living in a bilingual and bicultural community, I thought it would be the least I could do to learn a few phrases, be able to say “excuse me” when I reach past someone in the supermarket, or “what a cute baby you have.” (A dangerous comment in Spanish since “mono” can mean both cute and monkey. “What a baby monkey you have!”)
Beyond my vague initial interest, I began to feel more and more that as an Anglo-American, I’m missing out on something important if I don’t at least speak some of the language I hear all the time around me. I reflected on the often-heard comment, “If you’re going to live in this country, you should learn English.” The corollary being that if you’re going to live in any bilingual community, you should speak some of both languages.
But I continued studying not because of some sense of a social imperative but because I became once again fascinated by the structure and astounding complexity of language, a complexity mastered with no study or effort by any average three- or four-year-old. Maybe in another year or two, I'll be able to have a meaningful conversation with a Mexican four-year-old.
And it gives a retired person who doesn’t play golf and stopped drinking four years ago something to do. Otherwise, I risk taking up shuffleboard.
This is all so exciting. I’ll be living in our trailer four days a week, studying as close to full time as I can, riding my motorcycle to school, and coming home on weekends. A perfect way to spend the summer.
Or maybe not. What if I can’t find my room? What if they all make fun of me? What if I can’t find the bathroom and wet my pants?
What, (my greatest fear), if the class is a dud and we spend four hours a day speaking English about Spanish?
I’ll post the occasional update here on my blog.
Or,
“I’m not sure if it’s possible to learn a new language at my age.” Probably with a few errors illustrating my point. (Just edited to correct a few errors even I could see.)
This comment was part of a short speech of introduction I made the last time I was in a Spanish class, about two years ago. The class was one in the first-year sequence offered at Oregon Tech, my former employer. Since all of the students except me were majoring in either engineering or one of the health professions, everyone was there only to satisfy a requirement. There wasn’t a lot of involvement or preparation by anyone else, and the overall quality of the class was poor at best. It ended up being a class in which we spoke about Spanish in English, kind of a Spanish Appreciation course.
Since then, I’ve studied on my own and managed to make some progress, though you can only go so far without instruction and opportunities to speak and practice. Not very far at all, really.
Today, I’m moving our trailer over to a little RV park outside of Ashland, home of Southern Oregon University, a liberal arts and teaching college with a Spanish department that has a good reputation. Monday, I’ll be starting an intensive Spanish summer program, all of year two in eight weeks. I’m a bit nervous that either the course will be way over my head and go much too fast, or that it will be badly taught with yet more unmotivated students and will prove of little value. My hope, of course, is that the reality will be somewhere in the middle and I’ll be able to make more progress in the next eight weeks than I’ve made in the last two years. We’ll see.
It’s hard to say exactly how my interest in this all started. At first, living in a bilingual and bicultural community, I thought it would be the least I could do to learn a few phrases, be able to say “excuse me” when I reach past someone in the supermarket, or “what a cute baby you have.” (A dangerous comment in Spanish since “mono” can mean both cute and monkey. “What a baby monkey you have!”)
Beyond my vague initial interest, I began to feel more and more that as an Anglo-American, I’m missing out on something important if I don’t at least speak some of the language I hear all the time around me. I reflected on the often-heard comment, “If you’re going to live in this country, you should learn English.” The corollary being that if you’re going to live in any bilingual community, you should speak some of both languages.
But I continued studying not because of some sense of a social imperative but because I became once again fascinated by the structure and astounding complexity of language, a complexity mastered with no study or effort by any average three- or four-year-old. Maybe in another year or two, I'll be able to have a meaningful conversation with a Mexican four-year-old.
And it gives a retired person who doesn’t play golf and stopped drinking four years ago something to do. Otherwise, I risk taking up shuffleboard.
This is all so exciting. I’ll be living in our trailer four days a week, studying as close to full time as I can, riding my motorcycle to school, and coming home on weekends. A perfect way to spend the summer.
Or maybe not. What if I can’t find my room? What if they all make fun of me? What if I can’t find the bathroom and wet my pants?
What, (my greatest fear), if the class is a dud and we spend four hours a day speaking English about Spanish?
I’ll post the occasional update here on my blog.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Mea gulfa, mea gulpa, mea culpa
It’s taken Sarah Palin fifty days to figure out a way to blame me for the Gulf Oil Spill: we environmentalists did it. Because we blocked development of safer sources of domestic oil, such as drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and from oil rigs closer to shore and in shallower water, we forced the oil companies into the more risky task of deep water drilling farther offshore. It was an accident waiting to happen.
What a bunch of mooseshit.
Let’s be clear about one thing: The Deepwater Horizon exploded, killing eleven men and unleashing the greatest environmental disaster in American history, for one reason and one reason only: BP malfeasance. Dozens of current and former BP employees have testified that BP cut corners, rushed deadlines and ignored warnings in their zeal to bring the well into production on schedule, which is to say as fast as possible. BP proceeded with insufficient data about safety issues and solid evidence that failsafe systems had failed tests. Workers on the rig have testified that they saw the accident coming and feared for their lives. As the evidence mounts, independent engineers, including distinguished faculty from the best engineering programs in the country, shake their heads in wonder.
One of the few pieces of good news that has been missed by the media is the slow rate at which the massive body of oil has approached the Gulf coast. Despite the horrific images—fouled beaches; dead and dying birds, fish, and endangered turtles; thick oil and tar invading fragile marshlands—the diagrams of the growing leak have demonstrated an amazing concentration offshore that has yet to make anywhere near its full impact on coastal communities. This is meager comfort given the disaster at hand, but it has at least given authorities and BP itself time to respond as best they could to contain and minimize impacts.
If even a smaller leak had occurred in one of the shallow-water operations close to shore, it’s easy to imagine that the result would have been far worse far sooner.
Blame the environmentalists and blame Obama; the loonies try every tactic to shift blame to their targets of opportunity, however specious their arguments.
I expect no less of Sarah. I’m just surprised it took her so long.
Drill baby.
What a bunch of mooseshit.
Let’s be clear about one thing: The Deepwater Horizon exploded, killing eleven men and unleashing the greatest environmental disaster in American history, for one reason and one reason only: BP malfeasance. Dozens of current and former BP employees have testified that BP cut corners, rushed deadlines and ignored warnings in their zeal to bring the well into production on schedule, which is to say as fast as possible. BP proceeded with insufficient data about safety issues and solid evidence that failsafe systems had failed tests. Workers on the rig have testified that they saw the accident coming and feared for their lives. As the evidence mounts, independent engineers, including distinguished faculty from the best engineering programs in the country, shake their heads in wonder.
One of the few pieces of good news that has been missed by the media is the slow rate at which the massive body of oil has approached the Gulf coast. Despite the horrific images—fouled beaches; dead and dying birds, fish, and endangered turtles; thick oil and tar invading fragile marshlands—the diagrams of the growing leak have demonstrated an amazing concentration offshore that has yet to make anywhere near its full impact on coastal communities. This is meager comfort given the disaster at hand, but it has at least given authorities and BP itself time to respond as best they could to contain and minimize impacts.
If even a smaller leak had occurred in one of the shallow-water operations close to shore, it’s easy to imagine that the result would have been far worse far sooner.
Blame the environmentalists and blame Obama; the loonies try every tactic to shift blame to their targets of opportunity, however specious their arguments.
I expect no less of Sarah. I’m just surprised it took her so long.
Drill baby.
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Friday, June 04, 2010
Little enough
I've just made a donation to the National Wildlife Federation towards their ongoing efforts to save and protect wildlife affected by the gulf oil spill. The people of Louisiana need our help, too. I hope you will join me by contributing in whatever way you can.
Thanks,
ross
Thanks,
ross
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Good news at last!
This just in from the Washington Post:
"A cap is in place over the Gulf of Mexico gusher, live video footage provided by the company showed Thursday night, but the spewing oil made it very difficult to tell if the cap was fitting well."
BP also stated "Spewing oil is pretty much the only reason we're not sure if we've
stopped the spewing oil."
As soon as the oil stops spewing so much, BP promises to issue an optomistic press release and BP President Tony Hayward can take a well-deserved week off.
"A cap is in place over the Gulf of Mexico gusher, live video footage provided by the company showed Thursday night, but the spewing oil made it very difficult to tell if the cap was fitting well."
BP also stated "Spewing oil is pretty much the only reason we're not sure if we've
stopped the spewing oil."
As soon as the oil stops spewing so much, BP promises to issue an optomistic press release and BP President Tony Hayward can take a well-deserved week off.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Fingers crossed
Lest I be thought alarmist, (me?), NBC Nightly News last night cited two experts, geophysicists or some such, who said that if BP can’t successfully cap its leak, oil will flow unimpeded into the Gulf of Mexico for our lifetimes and longer. BP’s top kill effort, today maybe, is given a sixty to seventy percent chance of success by its own engineers, and you have to worry that they’re putting a good face on it.
I’m not given to prayer unless there’s a direct and immediate benefit to me, but I’ll say a little prayer on this one. What’s to lose? I’ll also cross my fingers.
NBC also had a guest, the former president of Shell Oil, who said leaks like this are actually rather common. This one gets press because it’s here and already destroying vast wetlands and a fishing and tourism industry. The Shell guy said a comparable leak in the Gulf of Arabia a couple of years ago was treated by a fleet of supertankers which siphoned the leaking oil from the surface, separated it from the sea water, and headed for port and the refineries. He thinks we should be lining up tankers now.
I take it the Arabian leak was finally plugged, though it’s also the depth and cold that make our blowout particularly hard to stop.
Side bar: In his press conferences on this and other subjects, I notice that Obama’s hair is already turning gray, and not just a little. His has to be the toughest job in the world. Sadly, too many Americans expect him to fix every national problem in a matter of weeks, including a massive oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico.
He's missing a photo-op: he should be standing on a shrimp boat wearing a mask and snorkle with a Mission Accomplished sign in the background.
I’m not given to prayer unless there’s a direct and immediate benefit to me, but I’ll say a little prayer on this one. What’s to lose? I’ll also cross my fingers.
NBC also had a guest, the former president of Shell Oil, who said leaks like this are actually rather common. This one gets press because it’s here and already destroying vast wetlands and a fishing and tourism industry. The Shell guy said a comparable leak in the Gulf of Arabia a couple of years ago was treated by a fleet of supertankers which siphoned the leaking oil from the surface, separated it from the sea water, and headed for port and the refineries. He thinks we should be lining up tankers now.
I take it the Arabian leak was finally plugged, though it’s also the depth and cold that make our blowout particularly hard to stop.
Side bar: In his press conferences on this and other subjects, I notice that Obama’s hair is already turning gray, and not just a little. His has to be the toughest job in the world. Sadly, too many Americans expect him to fix every national problem in a matter of weeks, including a massive oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico.
He's missing a photo-op: he should be standing on a shrimp boat wearing a mask and snorkle with a Mission Accomplished sign in the background.
Monday, May 24, 2010
In the light of day
I forgot last night—it was late—that BP is also drilling a new well that it hopes will relieve pressure from the leak and perhaps slow or eliminate the flow. Maybe that will work.
It’s hard, though, to take seriously anything BP says, since it’s consistently understated the size of the leak and withheld information from Congress and the public, including video that showed multiple leaks gushing oil and gas at rates impossible to measure. Now, according to BP President Tony Hayward, “Everything we can see suggests that the overall environmental impacts of this will be very, very modest.”
This is more than spin control. It’s lying.
Tony—and let’s add Rush Limbaugh, who bloviated that environmentalists are overreacting and the ocean is self-cleaning—needs to get some detergent and rags and start cleaning pelicans, or paddle up into a saltwater marsh and tell us how he’s going to clean oil out of reed beds.
One thing we do know: when it’s over, if it’s ever over, we’ll have lots of tar and feathers.
It’s hard, though, to take seriously anything BP says, since it’s consistently understated the size of the leak and withheld information from Congress and the public, including video that showed multiple leaks gushing oil and gas at rates impossible to measure. Now, according to BP President Tony Hayward, “Everything we can see suggests that the overall environmental impacts of this will be very, very modest.”
This is more than spin control. It’s lying.
Tony—and let’s add Rush Limbaugh, who bloviated that environmentalists are overreacting and the ocean is self-cleaning—needs to get some detergent and rags and start cleaning pelicans, or paddle up into a saltwater marsh and tell us how he’s going to clean oil out of reed beds.
One thing we do know: when it’s over, if it’s ever over, we’ll have lots of tar and feathers.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
What then?
The news of the massive oil leak in the Gulf just keeps getting worse. A month ago, it was 2,000 barrels a day, and BP was going to put a dome over it. At the time, news stories focused on how much worse the Exxon Valdez spill had been.
I don’t even know what the current estimates of barrels per day are, but I’m beginning to believe we’re looking at the largest environmental disaster in American history. It breaks my heart.
Now, as BP prepares to pump tons of mud, cement, and golf balls into the breach in hopes of clogging the flow, I’ve yet to hear anyone speculate that perhaps this leak simply can’t be stopped. But note that certainly BP hasn’t expressed any confidence, and I've heard not a word about yet another plan if this one, too, shall fail.
Suppose, like the volcano in Iceland, this is now a force of nature beyond the control of man.
What then?
I don’t even know what the current estimates of barrels per day are, but I’m beginning to believe we’re looking at the largest environmental disaster in American history. It breaks my heart.
Now, as BP prepares to pump tons of mud, cement, and golf balls into the breach in hopes of clogging the flow, I’ve yet to hear anyone speculate that perhaps this leak simply can’t be stopped. But note that certainly BP hasn’t expressed any confidence, and I've heard not a word about yet another plan if this one, too, shall fail.
Suppose, like the volcano in Iceland, this is now a force of nature beyond the control of man.
What then?
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