Happy Halloween
My favorite day of the year. I got on the computer, scanned the Yahoo News, and ruined my day.
So don't read this if you'd rather have a war-free day.
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One headline says "Two Iraqi Civilians Killed During Protest" but that's not the real story.
The real story is that after an incident at a marketplace (the headline story) US troops moved into an area full of mosques. People came out. Someone started throwing rocks, and someone else started spraying the crowd with bullets. How would you feel if you were gunned down as you exit the church of your choice?
In related news, "al-Qaida Warns of 'Painful Strike' " . They threatened a wave of attacks in US occupied Muslim countries. " Al-Qaida "is getting ready to stage devastating attacks during the month of Ramadan against Americans that will make young boys' hair turn gray," said the e-mail, whose authenticity could not immediately be verified. It added attacks in Iraq were possible."
Three days later, Iraqis were dropping like flies. They're killing their own people to stir up dissent. Actually, I don't think terrorists have a "people". I don't think they give a shit about anyone but themselves.
Enjoy your Halloween. Enjoy your Samhain. This year's dead will be walking some very crowded streets.
Friday, October 31, 2003
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
More Redhead Science
Reading a bit about racial profiling in medicine, and it's not what you think. Sally L. Satel, M.D. writes an article- How Political Correctness is Corrupting Medicine. She writes about the importance of knowing her patients' race, because certain medications don't work so well on certain races. She also writes about how difficult it has become for physicians to discuss the issue.
I tell you what, if I ever need general anesthesia again, you bet your ass I want a doctor that pays attention to race! Redheads need significantly more anesthesia than other people. I want anesthesia, and I want to stay asleep. Please do not use a "one dose fits all" politically correct policy. I'm special, damnit! ;)
Reading a bit about racial profiling in medicine, and it's not what you think. Sally L. Satel, M.D. writes an article- How Political Correctness is Corrupting Medicine. She writes about the importance of knowing her patients' race, because certain medications don't work so well on certain races. She also writes about how difficult it has become for physicians to discuss the issue.
I tell you what, if I ever need general anesthesia again, you bet your ass I want a doctor that pays attention to race! Redheads need significantly more anesthesia than other people. I want anesthesia, and I want to stay asleep. Please do not use a "one dose fits all" politically correct policy. I'm special, damnit! ;)
Tee Hee
RR ranks 4th for "redhead mutation" in Google. :)
In checking the other links for "redhead mutation" I found this, um, thing... I won't link to the site 'cause it has nekkid redheads. But she states:
"Red hair is not another shade of blonde/brown/black which most of the planet possesses. The gene for red hair is recessive. It is a lack of colouring in the hair which allows the red to be seen, like green leaves turning red in autumn as their chlorophyl dissipates. Like blue eyes, two parents must have the recessive gene for it to become dominant in their child. Even then there is only a fifty percent chance of having a redheaded baby.
All Redheads are distantly related to one small gene pool that arose in what is now Ireland. The aboriginal people of Ireland and Scotland were known as the Picts. Being a cloudy place, I'm sure natural selection encouraged the pale skin of redheads because of it's ability to absorb vitamin D from small amounts of sunlight.
A recent scientific paper popularized a new theory about the origins of the redhead gene, known as the ginger gene to scientists. The theory traces the gene's origin back to the Neanderthals. A constant source of teasing from my non-redheaded friends. "
My rant on this: Um, yeah. Red is not a non-color. Non-Color is what you get when a redhead gets older, and the non-color is white. I dunno about the recessive thing, either, although it makes sense. Red hair does not originate from a small gene pool on a cloudy island. Both of my grandparents on my mother's side were brunettes. Black hair, no red highlights, yet they managed to produce 3 red haired children. My bloodline includes (in order of strength) Welsh, Sicilian, Dutch, Irish and Native American. I could get my hair from any of those.
I don't believe serious scientist call the gene that produces melacortin 1 the "ginger gene". and finally, As of yet, science has not been able to prove that there was successful interbreeding between us and neanderthals. I like the idea, I think it would explain a few things, but science can't prove it yet.
*update* There are 8 separate mutations that are linked to red hair in the MCR1 gene. A person with 2 or more of these mutations may have some or all of the "classic" redhead looks. The mutations have been found in about 40% of humans across the board, with the exceptions of "Asians" -who have a slightly lower occurrance of those particular mutations in the MCR1 gene.
RR ranks 4th for "redhead mutation" in Google. :)
In checking the other links for "redhead mutation" I found this, um, thing... I won't link to the site 'cause it has nekkid redheads. But she states:
"Red hair is not another shade of blonde/brown/black which most of the planet possesses. The gene for red hair is recessive. It is a lack of colouring in the hair which allows the red to be seen, like green leaves turning red in autumn as their chlorophyl dissipates. Like blue eyes, two parents must have the recessive gene for it to become dominant in their child. Even then there is only a fifty percent chance of having a redheaded baby.
All Redheads are distantly related to one small gene pool that arose in what is now Ireland. The aboriginal people of Ireland and Scotland were known as the Picts. Being a cloudy place, I'm sure natural selection encouraged the pale skin of redheads because of it's ability to absorb vitamin D from small amounts of sunlight.
A recent scientific paper popularized a new theory about the origins of the redhead gene, known as the ginger gene to scientists. The theory traces the gene's origin back to the Neanderthals. A constant source of teasing from my non-redheaded friends. "
My rant on this: Um, yeah. Red is not a non-color. Non-Color is what you get when a redhead gets older, and the non-color is white. I dunno about the recessive thing, either, although it makes sense. Red hair does not originate from a small gene pool on a cloudy island. Both of my grandparents on my mother's side were brunettes. Black hair, no red highlights, yet they managed to produce 3 red haired children. My bloodline includes (in order of strength) Welsh, Sicilian, Dutch, Irish and Native American. I could get my hair from any of those.
I don't believe serious scientist call the gene that produces melacortin 1 the "ginger gene". and finally, As of yet, science has not been able to prove that there was successful interbreeding between us and neanderthals. I like the idea, I think it would explain a few things, but science can't prove it yet.
*update* There are 8 separate mutations that are linked to red hair in the MCR1 gene. A person with 2 or more of these mutations may have some or all of the "classic" redhead looks. The mutations have been found in about 40% of humans across the board, with the exceptions of "Asians" -who have a slightly lower occurrance of those particular mutations in the MCR1 gene.
Funny Photos of the Pretender
Links to selected images from ToppleBush.com
Bush with a baby
Mastercard ad
One of my favorites
the Pezident
disturbingly NOT funny
Links to selected images from ToppleBush.com
Bush with a baby
Mastercard ad
One of my favorites
the Pezident
disturbingly NOT funny
Monday, October 27, 2003
It is rare for me to laugh out loud at a blog
But this made me laugh out loud... for a long time.
"Saturday, September 27, 2003
Two women came into the store, one marching briskly ahead of the other. The Alpha was clearly on a mission.
"I'd like to see your bracelets," she said crisply.
"I don't sell bracelets," I replied.
"Fine," she responded, and turned on her heel to march back out. Before she did, though, she stopped dead and stared past me.
"Yes, you do carry bracelets," she said.
"No, really, I don't."
She clucked her tongue impatiently.
"Yes, you do. Don't you even know what you carry? My God!"
With that she strode up to the counter and slapped both hands firmly down on it for emphasis before gesturing to a spot on the wall behind me.
I slowly turned my head, confused. She was so certain, and so irritated with me for being so remarkably stupid that for a moment I expected to see a whole wall, metallic and shiny, dripping with jewelry. But no. The slappers and harnesses were right there, just like they always were. Unless -
"Do you mean this?" I asked.
Aggravated sigh. ""Yes!"
"Those are cockrings."
Pause, then: "Oh, my GODDDDDDD! Oh, GODDDDD, noooooo!"
and she ran out the door."
But this made me laugh out loud... for a long time.
"Saturday, September 27, 2003
Two women came into the store, one marching briskly ahead of the other. The Alpha was clearly on a mission.
"I'd like to see your bracelets," she said crisply.
"I don't sell bracelets," I replied.
"Fine," she responded, and turned on her heel to march back out. Before she did, though, she stopped dead and stared past me.
"Yes, you do carry bracelets," she said.
"No, really, I don't."
She clucked her tongue impatiently.
"Yes, you do. Don't you even know what you carry? My God!"
With that she strode up to the counter and slapped both hands firmly down on it for emphasis before gesturing to a spot on the wall behind me.
I slowly turned my head, confused. She was so certain, and so irritated with me for being so remarkably stupid that for a moment I expected to see a whole wall, metallic and shiny, dripping with jewelry. But no. The slappers and harnesses were right there, just like they always were. Unless -
"Do you mean this?" I asked.
Aggravated sigh. ""Yes!"
"Those are cockrings."
Pause, then: "Oh, my GODDDDDDD! Oh, GODDDDD, noooooo!"
and she ran out the door."
still needed for L's costume
*gloves with long cuffs
*fitted black pants
*red fabric
*padding for chest plate
*tubing for chest plate
*spirit gum
*opaque hosiery
*silver, blue and magenta spray paint
*more copper sheeting
*4' metal rod
*foam rubber?
*find dapping block
*oxy for torch?
*form 2-6 rivets for boots
sigh
*gloves with long cuffs
*fitted black pants
*red fabric
*padding for chest plate
*tubing for chest plate
*spirit gum
*opaque hosiery
*silver, blue and magenta spray paint
*more copper sheeting
*4' metal rod
*foam rubber?
*find dapping block
*oxy for torch?
*form 2-6 rivets for boots
sigh
Sunday, October 26, 2003
Other interesting Amendments
The 13th amendment abolishes slavery, except as punishment for a crime. (chain gangs)
The 14th amendment makes the Government un-sueable for the loss of the value of a slave.
The 15th amendment says the right of citizens to vote shall not be infringed on the basis of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.
The 16th amendment gives the federal government the right to charge an income tax, modifying Article I, section 9, of the Constitution.
The 18th amendment begins prohibition, it includes a clause for being ratified. Clearly, it was an iffy amendment from the outset.
The 19th amendment gives women the right to vote.
The 21st amendment repeals prohibition, but puts the right to make alcohol illegal into the hands of states and counties.
The 13th amendment abolishes slavery, except as punishment for a crime. (chain gangs)
The 14th amendment makes the Government un-sueable for the loss of the value of a slave.
The 15th amendment says the right of citizens to vote shall not be infringed on the basis of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.
The 16th amendment gives the federal government the right to charge an income tax, modifying Article I, section 9, of the Constitution.
The 18th amendment begins prohibition, it includes a clause for being ratified. Clearly, it was an iffy amendment from the outset.
The 19th amendment gives women the right to vote.
The 21st amendment repeals prohibition, but puts the right to make alcohol illegal into the hands of states and counties.
But don't take my word for it
L is studying the constitution in school this year. Oh, how well I remember my own 7th grade introduction to civic responsibility. If you don't remember your studies, then go find the United States Constitution online, or just follow the handy-dandy link provided, and read it! (freaky. The government link only provides the first part, not the amendments. It also does not list the parts that have been changed by various amendments. WTF? An accurate version of the first part can be found here.)
I'm going to paraphrase the first 10 amendments, although the entire document is interesting. Most people don't really care about the first bit that outlines our government, so I'm skipping that part.
Amendment 1
Congress shall make no laws about an establishment of religion, Congress shall make no law prohibiting the free exercise of religion. Congress shall make no law that lessens, diminishes or curtails the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. (This is pretty explicit. Congress isn't allowed to make certain laws that might infringe on personal freedoms)
Amendment 2
A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.
(Citizens have the right to own and use guns and other weapons, the idea being that we should know how to use weapons in case our country needs the people to defend itself.)
Amendment 3
No Soldier shall live in a civilian home during peacetime without the consent of the Owner. No soldier shall live in a civilian home in time of war, except in a manner to be prescribed by law. (This prevents the problem the colonists had with having British troops living in their homes)
Amendment 4
The people have the right to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures. Warrants shall only be issued upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and the warrant must particularly describe the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized. (self explanitory)
Amendment 5
No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the Military when in actual service in time of War or public danger. No person shall be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb. No person shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself. (re: taking the fifth, emphasis mine.) No person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law. Private property shall not be taken for public use without just compensation. (Again, pretty clear)
Amendment 6
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.
(For criminal prosecutions -everybody gets a lawyer, witnesses, is told what they're accused of, gets their trial in the area the crime happened in, gets to be tried by a jury, and it has to happen "quickly")
Amendment 7
In civil suits where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, you have the right to a trial by a jury, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise reexamined in any Court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law. (In civil cases, we have the right to a trial by jury. Once tried by a jury, the case shall not be reexamined in any court -unless common law provides for it)
Amendment 8
(this one's pretty straightforward)
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
Amendment 9
(Listing rights in the Constitution should not be seen or used as a way to deny or disparage other rights retained by the people.)
Amendment 10
The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.
L is studying the constitution in school this year. Oh, how well I remember my own 7th grade introduction to civic responsibility. If you don't remember your studies, then go find the United States Constitution online, or just follow the handy-dandy link provided, and read it! (freaky. The government link only provides the first part, not the amendments. It also does not list the parts that have been changed by various amendments. WTF? An accurate version of the first part can be found here.)
I'm going to paraphrase the first 10 amendments, although the entire document is interesting. Most people don't really care about the first bit that outlines our government, so I'm skipping that part.
Amendment 1
Congress shall make no laws about an establishment of religion, Congress shall make no law prohibiting the free exercise of religion. Congress shall make no law that lessens, diminishes or curtails the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. (This is pretty explicit. Congress isn't allowed to make certain laws that might infringe on personal freedoms)
Amendment 2
A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.
(Citizens have the right to own and use guns and other weapons, the idea being that we should know how to use weapons in case our country needs the people to defend itself.)
Amendment 3
No Soldier shall live in a civilian home during peacetime without the consent of the Owner. No soldier shall live in a civilian home in time of war, except in a manner to be prescribed by law. (This prevents the problem the colonists had with having British troops living in their homes)
Amendment 4
The people have the right to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures. Warrants shall only be issued upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and the warrant must particularly describe the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized. (self explanitory)
Amendment 5
No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the Military when in actual service in time of War or public danger. No person shall be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb. No person shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself. (re: taking the fifth, emphasis mine.) No person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law. Private property shall not be taken for public use without just compensation. (Again, pretty clear)
Amendment 6
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.
(For criminal prosecutions -everybody gets a lawyer, witnesses, is told what they're accused of, gets their trial in the area the crime happened in, gets to be tried by a jury, and it has to happen "quickly")
Amendment 7
In civil suits where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, you have the right to a trial by a jury, and no fact tried by a jury, shall be otherwise reexamined in any Court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law. (In civil cases, we have the right to a trial by jury. Once tried by a jury, the case shall not be reexamined in any court -unless common law provides for it)
Amendment 8
(this one's pretty straightforward)
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
Amendment 9
(Listing rights in the Constitution should not be seen or used as a way to deny or disparage other rights retained by the people.)
Amendment 10
The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.
Doughnuts from Krispy Kreme are not your average donuts
When we went to Six Flags, they gave us a coupon for buy a dozen, get a dozen free Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. L promptly suggested that we visit Krispy Kreme on the way home. Hubby and I gave a unanimous "no". Sorry, kiddo. There's no way I'm going to sit in a drive through line for 20 minutes, after tramping around Six Flags all day, waiting on a Saturday nightfor 2 dozen doughnuts so you can eat 1 donut and say you're done, never touching the box again.
I stuck the coupon on the fridge along with all the other coupons I'll never use, and promptly forgot about it. L however, did not. Every day I asked, "What would you like for breakfast?" and he'd reply, "Krispy Kreme... You didn't buy them last night? Ok then, hashbrowns." This went on for 2 solid weeks. I'd pick him up from school; he'd ask for Krispy Kreme. I went grocery shopping; he asked for Krispy Kreme. I'm still thinking he will eat one or two donuts and be done with the Krispy Kreme thing, and we'll be stuck with 22 high-calorie rings of doom. (Chasmyn, you've heard my rant before) I'll have to eat some of them, B will eat the rest, and the only thin person in the house will be the boy who wanted the darned things in the first place.
I could not have been more wrong. We finally go buy the friggin' donuts. L eats one, I eat one, B eats one. Then we all eat another. L notices that the first dozen are halfway gone, and says, "There were 24 donuts, and 3 people. That makes 8 donuts each." We all agreed that 8 donuts were the max we'd eat, so that all would be in balance. This isn't normal behavior for L. He's usually quite generous, and if he mentally divides food, he does it by size. Thus I say: Krispy Kreme Doughnuts are not your average donut.
When we went to Six Flags, they gave us a coupon for buy a dozen, get a dozen free Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. L promptly suggested that we visit Krispy Kreme on the way home. Hubby and I gave a unanimous "no". Sorry, kiddo. There's no way I'm going to sit in a drive through line for 20 minutes, after tramping around Six Flags all day, waiting on a Saturday nightfor 2 dozen doughnuts so you can eat 1 donut and say you're done, never touching the box again.
I stuck the coupon on the fridge along with all the other coupons I'll never use, and promptly forgot about it. L however, did not. Every day I asked, "What would you like for breakfast?" and he'd reply, "Krispy Kreme... You didn't buy them last night? Ok then, hashbrowns." This went on for 2 solid weeks. I'd pick him up from school; he'd ask for Krispy Kreme. I went grocery shopping; he asked for Krispy Kreme. I'm still thinking he will eat one or two donuts and be done with the Krispy Kreme thing, and we'll be stuck with 22 high-calorie rings of doom. (Chasmyn, you've heard my rant before) I'll have to eat some of them, B will eat the rest, and the only thin person in the house will be the boy who wanted the darned things in the first place.
I could not have been more wrong. We finally go buy the friggin' donuts. L eats one, I eat one, B eats one. Then we all eat another. L notices that the first dozen are halfway gone, and says, "There were 24 donuts, and 3 people. That makes 8 donuts each." We all agreed that 8 donuts were the max we'd eat, so that all would be in balance. This isn't normal behavior for L. He's usually quite generous, and if he mentally divides food, he does it by size. Thus I say: Krispy Kreme Doughnuts are not your average donut.
Saturday, October 25, 2003
I just know this post will draw weird people :(
But it's my journal, so to heck with them. I'm looking on the internet for a Christmas present for a friend. It is absolutely the perfect gift, but finding it online means I have to search sites that are (to say the least) frowned upon by mainstream America. I don't know why these sites think flashy advertising will inspire you to cough up your credit card number for stuff you can get for free elsewhere, especially the amateur stuff. I found an ad-free netring that looked promising. Through them I found a site with some lovely vintage art. It's right up my alley for the gift I have in mind. Unfortunately, the netring links to some places I'd rather not go. I don't know what some of the phrases mean, though. I clicked on "plumping" thinking it would have artwork of an erotic nature, involving plump people. It led to webcams of women in lingere, or photos of breasts. I still don't know what "plumping" means. Whatever it represents, it's not what I was looking for. Perhaps I should check a dictionary before I click another unknown site.
Today I learned that "sissy" is a lifestyle, trampling is a fetish, firecrackers can be used as bras, and forniphilia is a word. Hmmm.
I will have to remember to clean up my bookmarks after I find the christmas present.
But it's my journal, so to heck with them. I'm looking on the internet for a Christmas present for a friend. It is absolutely the perfect gift, but finding it online means I have to search sites that are (to say the least) frowned upon by mainstream America. I don't know why these sites think flashy advertising will inspire you to cough up your credit card number for stuff you can get for free elsewhere, especially the amateur stuff. I found an ad-free netring that looked promising. Through them I found a site with some lovely vintage art. It's right up my alley for the gift I have in mind. Unfortunately, the netring links to some places I'd rather not go. I don't know what some of the phrases mean, though. I clicked on "plumping" thinking it would have artwork of an erotic nature, involving plump people. It led to webcams of women in lingere, or photos of breasts. I still don't know what "plumping" means. Whatever it represents, it's not what I was looking for. Perhaps I should check a dictionary before I click another unknown site.
Today I learned that "sissy" is a lifestyle, trampling is a fetish, firecrackers can be used as bras, and forniphilia is a word. Hmmm.
I will have to remember to clean up my bookmarks after I find the christmas present.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
A sad day for space travel
NASA Defends Sending New Crew to Station
Conspiracy theorists blame it on the Jews, aliens, HAARP, China, the internet, and GW needing a distraction. I'd like to see the conspiracy theorists tackle why we keep getting grounded. The ISS is falling apart. None of the countries involved are sending the required replacement parts. The atmosphere aboard is toxic, but not deadly. The onboard sensors designed to provide real-time analysis of the air, water and radiation levels have been broken for months, so no one can tell how bad it is up there right now. And without repairs and replacements, it's only going to get worse.
On the flip side of the news, however; GW was heckled in Australia by members of parliament and protestors outside. His response? "I love free speech."
Um. Yeah. Bush loves free speech. Those words just don't string together very well.
NASA Defends Sending New Crew to Station
Conspiracy theorists blame it on the Jews, aliens, HAARP, China, the internet, and GW needing a distraction. I'd like to see the conspiracy theorists tackle why we keep getting grounded. The ISS is falling apart. None of the countries involved are sending the required replacement parts. The atmosphere aboard is toxic, but not deadly. The onboard sensors designed to provide real-time analysis of the air, water and radiation levels have been broken for months, so no one can tell how bad it is up there right now. And without repairs and replacements, it's only going to get worse.
On the flip side of the news, however; GW was heckled in Australia by members of parliament and protestors outside. His response? "I love free speech."
Um. Yeah. Bush loves free speech. Those words just don't string together very well.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Breach Of Trust
(swiped and paraphrased from an editorial in the Star Tribune. Not my words, but quite good writing)
...the Health Department's distortion of research findings in (an abortion info) brochure. It marks a major breach of public trust -- and the appearance at the state level of the Bush administration's similarly out-of-bounds skewing of scientific research.
(skipping a bit about the abortion issue...we all have our opinions, they all have value, this is a Bush rant)
In politics, and even in governance, the public understands that officials tend to interpret facts in a way that suits their agenda; they put the best face on bad news and tout the good. There are, however, boundaries to this behavior -- boundaries that are critically important to effective decisionmaking by both leaders and ordinary citizens.
A decade ago, President George H.W. Bush said to the National Academy of Sciences, "Science, like any field of endeavor, relies on freedom of inquiry; and one of the hallmarks of that freedom is objectivity. Now, more than ever, on issues ranging from climate change to AIDS research to genetic engineering to food additives, government relies on the impartial perspective of science for guidance."
Any threat to that objectivity, whether it involves actual manipulation of the scientific process or the distortion of scientific conclusions, will result in skewed guidance to policymakers. Such guidance is worse than worthless; ...with very real consequences.
This kind of distortion is very much akin to what happened during the buildup to the war on Iraq. Intelligence analysts' best thinking, based on the available objective evidence, was placed in subservience to the administration's agenda. Findings were exaggerated and distorted -- and now the public is beginning to understand both that the breach of trust occurred, and where it led.
(a report) documented numerous cases in which the administration "manipulated the scientific process and distorted or suppressed scientific findings."
It happened in abstinence education, "where performance measures were changed to make unproven 'abstinence-only' programs appear effective," in global warming, "where reports by the Environmental Protection Agency on the risks of climate change were suppressed," on missile defense, wetlands policy, and many other issues where objective scientific guidance is imperative, both for policymaking and to have an accurately informed citizenry.
Now it's happening here.
(swiped and paraphrased from an editorial in the Star Tribune. Not my words, but quite good writing)
...the Health Department's distortion of research findings in (an abortion info) brochure. It marks a major breach of public trust -- and the appearance at the state level of the Bush administration's similarly out-of-bounds skewing of scientific research.
(skipping a bit about the abortion issue...we all have our opinions, they all have value, this is a Bush rant)
In politics, and even in governance, the public understands that officials tend to interpret facts in a way that suits their agenda; they put the best face on bad news and tout the good. There are, however, boundaries to this behavior -- boundaries that are critically important to effective decisionmaking by both leaders and ordinary citizens.
A decade ago, President George H.W. Bush said to the National Academy of Sciences, "Science, like any field of endeavor, relies on freedom of inquiry; and one of the hallmarks of that freedom is objectivity. Now, more than ever, on issues ranging from climate change to AIDS research to genetic engineering to food additives, government relies on the impartial perspective of science for guidance."
Any threat to that objectivity, whether it involves actual manipulation of the scientific process or the distortion of scientific conclusions, will result in skewed guidance to policymakers. Such guidance is worse than worthless; ...with very real consequences.
This kind of distortion is very much akin to what happened during the buildup to the war on Iraq. Intelligence analysts' best thinking, based on the available objective evidence, was placed in subservience to the administration's agenda. Findings were exaggerated and distorted -- and now the public is beginning to understand both that the breach of trust occurred, and where it led.
(a report) documented numerous cases in which the administration "manipulated the scientific process and distorted or suppressed scientific findings."
It happened in abstinence education, "where performance measures were changed to make unproven 'abstinence-only' programs appear effective," in global warming, "where reports by the Environmental Protection Agency on the risks of climate change were suppressed," on missile defense, wetlands policy, and many other issues where objective scientific guidance is imperative, both for policymaking and to have an accurately informed citizenry.
Now it's happening here.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
Monday, October 20, 2003
Hi, I'm horrified... How are you?
Yep, Horrified. I've gotten some freaky hits for my other blog in the past. Searches involving strange intercourse desires vie for space with the perennial "redhead scholarship" requests. Sometimes they amuse me, sometimes they make me shudder. But why, of all days, when I've just ranted about affirmative action on this blog, do I get a search for (N word that I won't taint this space with) and kool-aid? Is there some connection I'm unaware of? Since most of my hits are looking for perverted content, is there an adult rated movie out there involving derogatory names for people of color and kool aid? What is wrong with people these days?!
On the flip side, I found out that two guys in St. Louis, way back in '91, sprayed black residents with water and kool aid and called them bad names. I see that as the act of true madmen. Each faced a maximum sentence of one year in prison and a fine of up to $100,000. That's it??? WTF
Also, I don't think believe there are that many twisted people searching the net for adult content. I think there are a handful of very active pervs and a lot of spiders linking words together and trolling the web.
Yep, Horrified. I've gotten some freaky hits for my other blog in the past. Searches involving strange intercourse desires vie for space with the perennial "redhead scholarship" requests. Sometimes they amuse me, sometimes they make me shudder. But why, of all days, when I've just ranted about affirmative action on this blog, do I get a search for (N word that I won't taint this space with) and kool-aid? Is there some connection I'm unaware of? Since most of my hits are looking for perverted content, is there an adult rated movie out there involving derogatory names for people of color and kool aid? What is wrong with people these days?!
On the flip side, I found out that two guys in St. Louis, way back in '91, sprayed black residents with water and kool aid and called them bad names. I see that as the act of true madmen. Each faced a maximum sentence of one year in prison and a fine of up to $100,000. That's it??? WTF
Also, I don't think believe there are that many twisted people searching the net for adult content. I think there are a handful of very active pervs and a lot of spiders linking words together and trolling the web.
Proof that a high IQ doesn't mean you can think of everything
I can't believe I didn't think of this ever. I mean really! I checked out a blog titled The Smallest Minority, thinking in my vain way that it would be about redheads. I was wrong, but no matter. The author is all for gun rights. The side blog says, "INVITATION: If you have never shot a firearm, regardless of your position on the right to arms, and if you live near or visit the Tucson, AZ metropolitan area, I invite you to go shooting for a day. I will provide the arms, ammunition, targets, safety equipment, range fees and instruction.
All you have to do is show up.
2 Takers To Date"
This catches my interest, so I read on...
There's a nice rant about Democrats being just as fundamentalist as Republicans. He's quoting others, and now I'm quoting him. I'm part of a cycle! Anyway, within the post is a bit about affirmative action. Before I quote his quoting, I'm going to rant myself. I think affirmative action is a bad idea. I think it perpetuates a bad situation. Growing up in a poor white trash neighborhood taught me nothing about "other races". It only taught me the neighborhood-standard way to treat "them" in public. It's not pretty, and I'm not proud of it. Way back when Roots was on TV, I apologized to a black girl that I'd been playing with. I told her I was sorry for what my ancestors had done to her ancestors. My dad pulled me out of the pool and spanked me so hard I hurt for days. No exaggeration. I don't remember the pain as well as I remember him yelling, "We never apologize to black people!" each time he hit me. He made me repeat it back to him until I could say it without crying.
I'm a Taurus, and a redhead. I'm very stubborn, but I'm not stupid. I repeated his words, and each time I said them I hated him more. I silently vowed I'd find that girl the next time we went to the pool and become her best friend, just to spite him. I'd apologize as often as I wanted to. I'd just make sure he wasn't around to hear me.
Of course, dad took off before I could find her again, so the idea was moot. Probably a good thing. Even an 8 year old shouldn't make "friends" for revenge.
OK, got way off subject there. I meant to say I learned a lot from sesame street. That most awesome of PBS shows was filled with children playing together. Children in wondrous variety. Sesame Street did not segregate, and only began discussing race after I was too old to watch. They never mentioned differences in "race" I never saw 3 white kids and one black kid when they sang "One of These Things Is Not Like The Others". There was no distinction.
Hence, I see no distinction. I have my prejudices. Damn right I do! I pre-judge people who walk in the middle of the street, like the sidewalk is not good enough for them. I pre-judge people who dress like a stereotypical anything. From gang-bangers to Madonna wannabes, I mentally belittle them all. Once again, I'm not proud of it.
And, in affirmative action I see prejudice. Plain and simple. To me, affirmative action says "white people can't help but be prejudiced, and non-white people can't help but be victims". It pisses me off! How dare our government treat anyone like helpless victims!
Affirmative action is not right action. And it's what we've got right now. I don't think things should go back to where they were 50 years ago, but I do think that if we're going to take 50 years to "fix" something, there's a better way. Affirmative action builds resentment, creates division and suppresses free thought.
You can take away my soapbox, I won't be needing it for a bit. If you've read this far, here's what started the whole thing. I can't believe I never thought of this... "(Democrats believe)...Blacks and Hispanics, no matter how well off, simply can't keep up with white students; they need help. Note that the logical alternative-- basing affirmative action on poverty-- is scoffed at."
Beautiful!
I can't believe I didn't think of this ever. I mean really! I checked out a blog titled The Smallest Minority, thinking in my vain way that it would be about redheads. I was wrong, but no matter. The author is all for gun rights. The side blog says, "INVITATION: If you have never shot a firearm, regardless of your position on the right to arms, and if you live near or visit the Tucson, AZ metropolitan area, I invite you to go shooting for a day. I will provide the arms, ammunition, targets, safety equipment, range fees and instruction.
All you have to do is show up.
2 Takers To Date"
This catches my interest, so I read on...
There's a nice rant about Democrats being just as fundamentalist as Republicans. He's quoting others, and now I'm quoting him. I'm part of a cycle! Anyway, within the post is a bit about affirmative action. Before I quote his quoting, I'm going to rant myself. I think affirmative action is a bad idea. I think it perpetuates a bad situation. Growing up in a poor white trash neighborhood taught me nothing about "other races". It only taught me the neighborhood-standard way to treat "them" in public. It's not pretty, and I'm not proud of it. Way back when Roots was on TV, I apologized to a black girl that I'd been playing with. I told her I was sorry for what my ancestors had done to her ancestors. My dad pulled me out of the pool and spanked me so hard I hurt for days. No exaggeration. I don't remember the pain as well as I remember him yelling, "We never apologize to black people!" each time he hit me. He made me repeat it back to him until I could say it without crying.
I'm a Taurus, and a redhead. I'm very stubborn, but I'm not stupid. I repeated his words, and each time I said them I hated him more. I silently vowed I'd find that girl the next time we went to the pool and become her best friend, just to spite him. I'd apologize as often as I wanted to. I'd just make sure he wasn't around to hear me.
Of course, dad took off before I could find her again, so the idea was moot. Probably a good thing. Even an 8 year old shouldn't make "friends" for revenge.
OK, got way off subject there. I meant to say I learned a lot from sesame street. That most awesome of PBS shows was filled with children playing together. Children in wondrous variety. Sesame Street did not segregate, and only began discussing race after I was too old to watch. They never mentioned differences in "race" I never saw 3 white kids and one black kid when they sang "One of These Things Is Not Like The Others". There was no distinction.
Hence, I see no distinction. I have my prejudices. Damn right I do! I pre-judge people who walk in the middle of the street, like the sidewalk is not good enough for them. I pre-judge people who dress like a stereotypical anything. From gang-bangers to Madonna wannabes, I mentally belittle them all. Once again, I'm not proud of it.
And, in affirmative action I see prejudice. Plain and simple. To me, affirmative action says "white people can't help but be prejudiced, and non-white people can't help but be victims". It pisses me off! How dare our government treat anyone like helpless victims!
Affirmative action is not right action. And it's what we've got right now. I don't think things should go back to where they were 50 years ago, but I do think that if we're going to take 50 years to "fix" something, there's a better way. Affirmative action builds resentment, creates division and suppresses free thought.
You can take away my soapbox, I won't be needing it for a bit. If you've read this far, here's what started the whole thing. I can't believe I never thought of this... "(Democrats believe)...Blacks and Hispanics, no matter how well off, simply can't keep up with white students; they need help. Note that the logical alternative-- basing affirmative action on poverty-- is scoffed at."
Beautiful!
Saturday, October 18, 2003
I've noticed that good blogs are cyclical. I don't mean great blogs, just plain good blogs. They cycle between boring, mundane stuff to introspective, to rants about politics or boyfriends to genuinely interesting things. Then there's a pause... a break if you will, and they're back to yakking about things I could care less about. I went to ilikelasagnia to see his current level of debt, and perhaps send him 5 cents through paypal. Maybe. The page opened, and I realized I've found a good blog just entering it's interesting phase. Right at the top... today's post... I see a photo of men getting around a kitchen without touching the ground. Farther down is a lonely pile of snow, and how the blogger and the snow interacted.
Oh, yeah. This guy would love the IGPS.
Oh, yeah. This guy would love the IGPS.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
I have a very active imagination
I imagine people are smart. I imagine people are understanding. I imagine people use a little forethought. It keeps me entertained, and gives me a more positive outlook on life.
What started this rant, you wonder? Why this great (scary) page, of course.
People, please, please, please think before you name your child. Swiped from the above mentioned site:
"Let's play Spot the Issue. See if you can guess what my problems are going to be with the following essay (in its abridged form.)
(a) (My daughter) Wellsley is named for Wellesley College in Mass.. ..
(b) I wanted to spell it with the middle "e" but we had close relatives "test-spell" it and they repeatedly left out the "e". (c) Understand that we live in [the antithesis of New England] where very few people have ever heard of the college.
(d) So, much to my personal disappointment, we decided to spell it Wellsley. (e) I must say, I love my daughter's name, (f) but I broke one of my golden rules by using a variant spelling and I've regretted it ever since. ...
(g) One of my biggies, (h)and this is just a personal opinion, (g cont.) is that variant spellings tend to look uneducated, (i)and I have been concerned that my daughter will (j) eventually broaden her horizons beyond [where we live] and she will (k) appear to have a mother who didn't know how to spell "Wellesley."
... But here's the thing - - Wellsley starts kindergarten next fall. (l)If ever the time is right to make the change, it's now. ... So, given all of that data, what would you do???" "
You want to name your kid after a College, fine. That's your business. But Wellesley??? Poor thing's starting kindergarden soon... I can see it now... "How ya doin' Wellsley. Are you feeling sick today, Wellsley?" I hope their child doesn't catch many colds.
Other bad idea names I found on the website include Vienna (as in sausages???), Jasper Rain (jasper is a rock that comes in lovely opaque colors. Why not just name him Meteor Shower and get it over with) One more, then I'm done. Remember learning to print your name? Remember how exciting and fun it was? Remember how it got really old, really fast? I personally spent years wishing for a shorter, easier to write surname. and Remember learning the rules for words? i before e, double vowel usage, etc.? Right. Now take a peek at this:
"my hubby got on a kick of the names rhyming, believing we would have no more. lol, we are due in nov! so, i am in a tight place. my dd is kaesyn paige,(jason w/ a "k"), and my son is richard brycin (goes by mn).
if this bb is a girl, her name will be adecyn shai (addison shay)...
i need a name w/ the "sin" sound, not the spelling! lol! i am not fond of jaxon, but my dh likes aryxon (erikson) and i am fond of tycen. ...
New naming rule: If in typing the name out you have to follow it immediately with another version in parentheses, because otherwise no one would have the slightest clue this was supposed to be a name and not Klingon for "Wax my forehead, supple wench," this is a bad, bad, woah bad bad name. "
I imagine people are smart. I imagine people are understanding. I imagine people use a little forethought. It keeps me entertained, and gives me a more positive outlook on life.
What started this rant, you wonder? Why this great (scary) page, of course.
People, please, please, please think before you name your child. Swiped from the above mentioned site:
"Let's play Spot the Issue. See if you can guess what my problems are going to be with the following essay (in its abridged form.)
(a) (My daughter) Wellsley is named for Wellesley College in Mass.. ..
(b) I wanted to spell it with the middle "e" but we had close relatives "test-spell" it and they repeatedly left out the "e". (c) Understand that we live in [the antithesis of New England] where very few people have ever heard of the college.
(d) So, much to my personal disappointment, we decided to spell it Wellsley. (e) I must say, I love my daughter's name, (f) but I broke one of my golden rules by using a variant spelling and I've regretted it ever since. ...
(g) One of my biggies, (h)and this is just a personal opinion, (g cont.) is that variant spellings tend to look uneducated, (i)and I have been concerned that my daughter will (j) eventually broaden her horizons beyond [where we live] and she will (k) appear to have a mother who didn't know how to spell "Wellesley."
... But here's the thing - - Wellsley starts kindergarten next fall. (l)If ever the time is right to make the change, it's now. ... So, given all of that data, what would you do???" "
You want to name your kid after a College, fine. That's your business. But Wellesley??? Poor thing's starting kindergarden soon... I can see it now... "How ya doin' Wellsley. Are you feeling sick today, Wellsley?" I hope their child doesn't catch many colds.
Other bad idea names I found on the website include Vienna (as in sausages???), Jasper Rain (jasper is a rock that comes in lovely opaque colors. Why not just name him Meteor Shower and get it over with) One more, then I'm done. Remember learning to print your name? Remember how exciting and fun it was? Remember how it got really old, really fast? I personally spent years wishing for a shorter, easier to write surname. and Remember learning the rules for words? i before e, double vowel usage, etc.? Right. Now take a peek at this:
"my hubby got on a kick of the names rhyming, believing we would have no more. lol, we are due in nov! so, i am in a tight place. my dd is kaesyn paige,(jason w/ a "k"), and my son is richard brycin (goes by mn).
if this bb is a girl, her name will be adecyn shai (addison shay)...
i need a name w/ the "sin" sound, not the spelling! lol! i am not fond of jaxon, but my dh likes aryxon (erikson) and i am fond of tycen. ...
New naming rule: If in typing the name out you have to follow it immediately with another version in parentheses, because otherwise no one would have the slightest clue this was supposed to be a name and not Klingon for "Wax my forehead, supple wench," this is a bad, bad, woah bad bad name. "
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
(deep sigh) Whenever I blog hop, I wind up at some 9/11 site. I spend hours reading other peoples' memories, and I cry. I wonder about that.
The day it happened, I did not cry. I talked to all my friends through their sobs, and did not cry. Twice a day I drove past the firehouse with it's flag at half mast, and did not cry. Not really. Everything I saw caused a momentary restriction in my throat, a burst of sob-noise and a few tears. But I didn't cry.
Months later, my mother-in-law sent us a Time-Life book about September 11th. I glanced through it, it was very moving. A smattering of tears ran down my face, and I put it away. It sat on the shelf, waiting for me to be ready. I finally was ready one day.
I took the book off it's shelf and opened it. The inside cover is filled with the pictures people had posted all over New York... and then I could cry.
I pressed the book to my chest and rocked back and forth, and cried, and cried, and cried.
I couldn't call anyone, I couldn't tell anyone. They had already had their grief and moved on. I was too late to grieve with the nation. I grieved alone.
I wonder if that's why the Universe keeps pointing me toward 9/11 sites. I am not alone. I was not alone that day. I hope some day I'll find a blog where someone else couldn't cry. I think that would be cathartic.
The day it happened, I did not cry. I talked to all my friends through their sobs, and did not cry. Twice a day I drove past the firehouse with it's flag at half mast, and did not cry. Not really. Everything I saw caused a momentary restriction in my throat, a burst of sob-noise and a few tears. But I didn't cry.
Months later, my mother-in-law sent us a Time-Life book about September 11th. I glanced through it, it was very moving. A smattering of tears ran down my face, and I put it away. It sat on the shelf, waiting for me to be ready. I finally was ready one day.
I took the book off it's shelf and opened it. The inside cover is filled with the pictures people had posted all over New York... and then I could cry.
I pressed the book to my chest and rocked back and forth, and cried, and cried, and cried.
I couldn't call anyone, I couldn't tell anyone. They had already had their grief and moved on. I was too late to grieve with the nation. I grieved alone.
I wonder if that's why the Universe keeps pointing me toward 9/11 sites. I am not alone. I was not alone that day. I hope some day I'll find a blog where someone else couldn't cry. I think that would be cathartic.
My Meyers-Briggs personality... today, anyway
Take Free Myers-Briggs Personality Test
| ENTP - "Inventor". Enthusiastic interest in everything and always sensitive to possibilities. Non-conformist and innovative. 3.2% of the total population. |
A Woo Hoo! Moment
My period usually gives me some warning before it arrives. Not today however. There I was, yakking on the phone in the bathroom, (why does this upset some people, by the way?) when my phone friend has to hear, "Woo Hoo! I got my period!"
How did I ever wind up living in America? I've been informed of the rules, of course. So why don't I follow them? There must be something wrong with me. (or wrong with mainstream America)
1. I don't think peeing is "nasty". Um... it's urine, we all produce it. When it exits your body it's sterile, and if you don't like it, then stop using shampoo. Read the label. What did you think urea was, anyway?
2. I don't freak out over menstruation. I say "woo hoo!" on the phone, no less.
3. I don't think bodily noises are evil. But please try hard not to fart in the elevator, or any enclosed space. Nobody wins.
My period usually gives me some warning before it arrives. Not today however. There I was, yakking on the phone in the bathroom, (why does this upset some people, by the way?) when my phone friend has to hear, "Woo Hoo! I got my period!"
How did I ever wind up living in America? I've been informed of the rules, of course. So why don't I follow them? There must be something wrong with me. (or wrong with mainstream America)
1. I don't think peeing is "nasty". Um... it's urine, we all produce it. When it exits your body it's sterile, and if you don't like it, then stop using shampoo. Read the label. What did you think urea was, anyway?
2. I don't freak out over menstruation. I say "woo hoo!" on the phone, no less.
3. I don't think bodily noises are evil. But please try hard not to fart in the elevator, or any enclosed space. Nobody wins.
Sunday, October 12, 2003
I'm beginning to understand what famous authors meant when they talked about "having to write". I was trying to play a game on the computer, and I've been fidgeting for the last half hour or so. I kept thinking that I should write another story for Random Redhead. I don't have any specific story in mind, I just feel the need to write something. I feel like I'm going to be itchy and restless until I do. Geez, it's like fighting an addiction. :(
What am I going to do when the book is completed? That decade of my life is really the only interesting stuff that happened to me. I suppose I could write meditation books (bleah) or children's books. (you've already seen my laughable work in that area) I could write about adoption, but I don't really want to. That part of my life is personal, I don't feel the need to share it with strangers. The only part I'd want to share about adoption is this:
Not all women spend their lives grieving for the child they gave up. Some women experience momentary sadness followed by a feeling of satisfaction, because their child has a better family than they could have offered him or her.
What am I going to do when the book is completed? That decade of my life is really the only interesting stuff that happened to me. I suppose I could write meditation books (bleah) or children's books. (you've already seen my laughable work in that area) I could write about adoption, but I don't really want to. That part of my life is personal, I don't feel the need to share it with strangers. The only part I'd want to share about adoption is this:
Not all women spend their lives grieving for the child they gave up. Some women experience momentary sadness followed by a feeling of satisfaction, because their child has a better family than they could have offered him or her.
Friday, October 10, 2003
Silliness
I'd like to write some children's books. I really would. Today I decided I'd just sit down and blow one out. We're talking 40 pages tops. I can do that in my sleep. (Hell, I do do that in my sleep). There are lots of subjects that could be covered a bit more thoroughly. Like "My Parents Are Pagan"...
My parents are pagan. They pay karmic dues.
Our neighbors are Christian, but all of us wear shoes.
We wear shoes for walking to our temple of choice
For this is America. We all have a voice!
All religions are nifty, each one has it's fan.
Your god looks like Santa, my god's a green man.
The Hindi have Shiva, and gods of that ilk.
They dress up their statues in garments of silk.
The Muslims praise Allah, his prophet is Mohammed.
His words give them guidance to live as god said.
The Hebrews love Yaweh, their history is long.
They've had lots of hardship, but their faith is quite strong.
Budhists have no gods, unusual but true.
Their goal is to live like enlightened men do.
The Christians Have Jesus, who died on a cross.
They also have the Holy Ghost and God, who's the boss.
We all have religion, that's a big thing in common.
It's what makes us the same, It's nothing to frown on.
My point is you're different, but you are not alone.
Your god's where your heart is. Your heart is your home.
I'd like to write some children's books. I really would. Today I decided I'd just sit down and blow one out. We're talking 40 pages tops. I can do that in my sleep. (Hell, I do do that in my sleep). There are lots of subjects that could be covered a bit more thoroughly. Like "My Parents Are Pagan"...
My parents are pagan. They pay karmic dues.
Our neighbors are Christian, but all of us wear shoes.
We wear shoes for walking to our temple of choice
For this is America. We all have a voice!
All religions are nifty, each one has it's fan.
Your god looks like Santa, my god's a green man.
The Hindi have Shiva, and gods of that ilk.
They dress up their statues in garments of silk.
The Muslims praise Allah, his prophet is Mohammed.
His words give them guidance to live as god said.
The Hebrews love Yaweh, their history is long.
They've had lots of hardship, but their faith is quite strong.
Budhists have no gods, unusual but true.
Their goal is to live like enlightened men do.
The Christians Have Jesus, who died on a cross.
They also have the Holy Ghost and God, who's the boss.
We all have religion, that's a big thing in common.
It's what makes us the same, It's nothing to frown on.
My point is you're different, but you are not alone.
Your god's where your heart is. Your heart is your home.
Huh. I
was going to bitch about my heart and the weird freaky dreams I had last night. It all clicked into place, tho. My heart has been acting up since I bought the last batch of Millstone coffee. Perhaps their quality has dropped. Perhaps they're using a new pesticide on their bushes.
Ok. I'll rant about pesticide in coffee instead! Everyone knows that coffee contains caffiene. Not everyone knows (or cares) why. Caffiene is a natural pesticide. It's the plant's defense against bugs and small animals. It works well enough. So why do most coffee growers use pesticides? Because big corporations told them they should.
was going to bitch about my heart and the weird freaky dreams I had last night. It all clicked into place, tho. My heart has been acting up since I bought the last batch of Millstone coffee. Perhaps their quality has dropped. Perhaps they're using a new pesticide on their bushes.
Ok. I'll rant about pesticide in coffee instead! Everyone knows that coffee contains caffiene. Not everyone knows (or cares) why. Caffiene is a natural pesticide. It's the plant's defense against bugs and small animals. It works well enough. So why do most coffee growers use pesticides? Because big corporations told them they should.
Thursday, October 09, 2003
Things I wonder about in the middle of the night
Earlier today I found a link to pics of spider webs that were spun while the arachnid was under the influence of certain drugs. This led me to google search for different "spiders on drugs" pics. This in turn, led me to a site discussing the benefits of LSD. My ever-wandering mind then thinks questions like these...
I once read that shamans use drugs to achieve their trance states. I, personally, do not use drugs to achieve a trance state. Yet, people all over the net yack about their enlightenment, trancendance, (escape), what-have-you, while under the influence of drugs. It makes me wonder what I'm missing, if anything. I've read about LSD causing temporary hallucinations not unlike those experienced by a schizophrenic. I've read the theory that "crazy" people aren't crazy, they're "enlightened". I've read blogs stating you, too can be just as enlightened; albiet temporarily, by doing drugs. The whole concept puzzles me. But then, I was a lame-o in the 80's. I smoked a little pot, did speed once (never again. speed bad.) and that was it. Allright, I drank like a fish, too. Marijuana made me sleepy and dumb. Speed made me angry. Alcohol made me drunk. Nothing external made me trance. As a matter of fact, external things connected me more completely with my body than ever. I had toxins to deal with. Nothing like a little poison to ground ya! ...ha.
An excerpt from the page that started this ramble:
" Mescaline [for example] thus allows us to see a far truer image than the ordered stereotype that our association-fibres normally permit us to apprehend. It lets us see the true shadow-colors--the blue shadow in the snow, the green beneath the red object, and so on, that we normally discountenance; for we can cope with the flux of our complex external world only if objects remain what we expect them to be, if snow is always white and houses are always vertical, irrespective of the tilt of the eye and the slope of the retinal image."
Reading stuff like this causes me to (momentarily) realize my uniqueness. I see blue shadow in the snow whenever it snows. Except in direct bright sunlight, I see the delightful translucency of snow. I see 9 colors when I look at a rainbow, sometimes more. There's non color #1, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, blinding pale purple, and (sometimes) non-color #2. I call them non-colors because I don't have a name for them. They only occur in rainbows and gemstones, as far as I can tell.
So, am I crazy? Is it all in my sad little imagination? Do I need so badly to be "special" that I make stuff up? Am I a walking acid trip? Are my delusions so convincing that I convince others? Or am I genuinely a Shaman? I haven't found tangible, laboratory-conditions proof for the existence of most of it. Yes, some people see more colors in a rainbow. Yes, I've done improbable things in front of witnesses. But most of it is personal. Shared only with a few close friends. I've never moved the refrigerator with just my mind. I can't tell which card you're holding up, and I can't fix you.
These thoughts take me in a circuitous route, ending where I began. I pity the "average" people, then I wonder if I'm the abnormal one; round and round it goes. I can only see life from my own perspective. Thus, my life is "normal".
Earlier today I found a link to pics of spider webs that were spun while the arachnid was under the influence of certain drugs. This led me to google search for different "spiders on drugs" pics. This in turn, led me to a site discussing the benefits of LSD. My ever-wandering mind then thinks questions like these...
I once read that shamans use drugs to achieve their trance states. I, personally, do not use drugs to achieve a trance state. Yet, people all over the net yack about their enlightenment, trancendance, (escape), what-have-you, while under the influence of drugs. It makes me wonder what I'm missing, if anything. I've read about LSD causing temporary hallucinations not unlike those experienced by a schizophrenic. I've read the theory that "crazy" people aren't crazy, they're "enlightened". I've read blogs stating you, too can be just as enlightened; albiet temporarily, by doing drugs. The whole concept puzzles me. But then, I was a lame-o in the 80's. I smoked a little pot, did speed once (never again. speed bad.) and that was it. Allright, I drank like a fish, too. Marijuana made me sleepy and dumb. Speed made me angry. Alcohol made me drunk. Nothing external made me trance. As a matter of fact, external things connected me more completely with my body than ever. I had toxins to deal with. Nothing like a little poison to ground ya! ...ha.
An excerpt from the page that started this ramble:
" Mescaline [for example] thus allows us to see a far truer image than the ordered stereotype that our association-fibres normally permit us to apprehend. It lets us see the true shadow-colors--the blue shadow in the snow, the green beneath the red object, and so on, that we normally discountenance; for we can cope with the flux of our complex external world only if objects remain what we expect them to be, if snow is always white and houses are always vertical, irrespective of the tilt of the eye and the slope of the retinal image."
Reading stuff like this causes me to (momentarily) realize my uniqueness. I see blue shadow in the snow whenever it snows. Except in direct bright sunlight, I see the delightful translucency of snow. I see 9 colors when I look at a rainbow, sometimes more. There's non color #1, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, blinding pale purple, and (sometimes) non-color #2. I call them non-colors because I don't have a name for them. They only occur in rainbows and gemstones, as far as I can tell.
So, am I crazy? Is it all in my sad little imagination? Do I need so badly to be "special" that I make stuff up? Am I a walking acid trip? Are my delusions so convincing that I convince others? Or am I genuinely a Shaman? I haven't found tangible, laboratory-conditions proof for the existence of most of it. Yes, some people see more colors in a rainbow. Yes, I've done improbable things in front of witnesses. But most of it is personal. Shared only with a few close friends. I've never moved the refrigerator with just my mind. I can't tell which card you're holding up, and I can't fix you.
These thoughts take me in a circuitous route, ending where I began. I pity the "average" people, then I wonder if I'm the abnormal one; round and round it goes. I can only see life from my own perspective. Thus, my life is "normal".
Why I hate Spaghetti
Every Sunday, we had dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa was born in Sicily, at the turn of the last Century. "Old Fashioned" doesn't even begin to describe him. He served in both World Wars, and was married twice. His first wife died in childbirth. Their son was stillborn. Grandma took cooking lessons from an old Sicilian woman, so she could prepare foods from his homeland. Every other day, she served Italian food, and Sunday was always spaghetti day. I ate spaghetti once a week for 13 years. I will never eat it again.
She would vary the meat to go with the spaghetti. One week we'd cut up 3-5 whole chickens, the next she'd make meatballs. When I was small, I shredded lettuce for the salad. As I grew, I progressed to cutting veggies, skinning tomatoes, and finally, butchering chickens. I'll never forget the day I cut up my first chicken. Grandpa had passed away by this time, so we were only disecting 4 birds. Aunt Petrina told Grandma I was old enough to help cut. They had a little argument, and then Petrina put a nice sharp butcher knife in my 9 year old hands.
I was delighted, but frightened at the same time. I'd seen how cleanly the knife sliced through the chicken. I'd seen how easily it went through the joint between the leg and thigh. And I'd seen numerous Aunts say, "Damn!" and rush off to bandage their hand, because the knife had slipped.
Petrina broke the shoulders of a chicken carcass and showed me where to start. I carefully cut out the wishbone, trying so hard not to crack it prematurely. I succeeded, only to break it as I tried to dislodge it from the breastbone. Petrina told me not to worry. It wasn't my fault. It was a "weak chicken". She said I'd probably need help with the legs too.
Doing the breasts and back were easy. The butcher knife slid right through the rib and back bones. It was easier than cutting cold butter. The legs, however, were a different matter. By the time I had gotten to that point, all the other chickens were done, and all 5 of my uncles were crowded in the doorway to the kitchen, silently watching. I bent the "knee" of the bird over the knife blade, gave a good tug upwards and pop!, I had separated a leg from a thigh. Filled with triumph, I sliced off the other leg and went after the thigh.
If you've never cut up a chicken, let me tell you, there's a trick to removing the thighs. A trick which I didn't know at 9 years of age. You have to break the joint first. The knife wouldn't separate the joint. It slipped to one side, or slid to the other, and would not cut where it was supposed to. So, I sat at the kitchen table stubbornly sawing through the thigh bone. This stupid bird was not going to defeat me! I was totally engrossed in my work, and I didn't hear the smothered giggles of my Uncles at first. Aunt Petrina heard them, however; and she came to my rescue.
She said, "There's a faster way, honey." and picked up the chicken by the thighs. She held it up and gave a quick jerk with both hands, cleanly dislocating the joints. Well, dislocating the joint I hadn't been sawing away at, anyway. What was left of the other one wouldn't pop. I had mutiliated it too badly. She taught me how to wedge the knife between the joints properly, and press down to cut through it. About this time, Mom and J finished the salad and came to see what everyone was looking at. She screamed when she saw her "baby" had a butcher knife, and totally missed seeing me cut the last of the chicken. I triumphantly added the thigh to the pile on the table, just as Mom laid into Petrina for letting me grow up a bit.
That night, someone made sure I got the sorry, mutilated thigh for dinner.
Every Sunday, we had dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa was born in Sicily, at the turn of the last Century. "Old Fashioned" doesn't even begin to describe him. He served in both World Wars, and was married twice. His first wife died in childbirth. Their son was stillborn. Grandma took cooking lessons from an old Sicilian woman, so she could prepare foods from his homeland. Every other day, she served Italian food, and Sunday was always spaghetti day. I ate spaghetti once a week for 13 years. I will never eat it again.
She would vary the meat to go with the spaghetti. One week we'd cut up 3-5 whole chickens, the next she'd make meatballs. When I was small, I shredded lettuce for the salad. As I grew, I progressed to cutting veggies, skinning tomatoes, and finally, butchering chickens. I'll never forget the day I cut up my first chicken. Grandpa had passed away by this time, so we were only disecting 4 birds. Aunt Petrina told Grandma I was old enough to help cut. They had a little argument, and then Petrina put a nice sharp butcher knife in my 9 year old hands.
I was delighted, but frightened at the same time. I'd seen how cleanly the knife sliced through the chicken. I'd seen how easily it went through the joint between the leg and thigh. And I'd seen numerous Aunts say, "Damn!" and rush off to bandage their hand, because the knife had slipped.
Petrina broke the shoulders of a chicken carcass and showed me where to start. I carefully cut out the wishbone, trying so hard not to crack it prematurely. I succeeded, only to break it as I tried to dislodge it from the breastbone. Petrina told me not to worry. It wasn't my fault. It was a "weak chicken". She said I'd probably need help with the legs too.
Doing the breasts and back were easy. The butcher knife slid right through the rib and back bones. It was easier than cutting cold butter. The legs, however, were a different matter. By the time I had gotten to that point, all the other chickens were done, and all 5 of my uncles were crowded in the doorway to the kitchen, silently watching. I bent the "knee" of the bird over the knife blade, gave a good tug upwards and pop!, I had separated a leg from a thigh. Filled with triumph, I sliced off the other leg and went after the thigh.
If you've never cut up a chicken, let me tell you, there's a trick to removing the thighs. A trick which I didn't know at 9 years of age. You have to break the joint first. The knife wouldn't separate the joint. It slipped to one side, or slid to the other, and would not cut where it was supposed to. So, I sat at the kitchen table stubbornly sawing through the thigh bone. This stupid bird was not going to defeat me! I was totally engrossed in my work, and I didn't hear the smothered giggles of my Uncles at first. Aunt Petrina heard them, however; and she came to my rescue.
She said, "There's a faster way, honey." and picked up the chicken by the thighs. She held it up and gave a quick jerk with both hands, cleanly dislocating the joints. Well, dislocating the joint I hadn't been sawing away at, anyway. What was left of the other one wouldn't pop. I had mutiliated it too badly. She taught me how to wedge the knife between the joints properly, and press down to cut through it. About this time, Mom and J finished the salad and came to see what everyone was looking at. She screamed when she saw her "baby" had a butcher knife, and totally missed seeing me cut the last of the chicken. I triumphantly added the thigh to the pile on the table, just as Mom laid into Petrina for letting me grow up a bit.
That night, someone made sure I got the sorry, mutilated thigh for dinner.
Random entry of the day
The recipie for my Grandmother's geniune Sicilian Meatballs:
I watched my grandma make these every other sunday for 7 years, longer if you count the years I was too young to pay attention. At the height of her family growth, she made meatballs for 14 people, and there were always leftovers. Feel free to substitute beef for turkey or soy, eggs for fake, joyless, egg substitute, etc. It's your tastebuds!
What you'll need:
For every 2 lbs ground beef
use 3 large eggs
1 cup italian style breadcrumbs (cheaters) plus a bit of garlic, oregano and salt
or approx. 1 cup breadcrumbs, 3 tablespoons dry parsley, 2 tablespoons powdered garlic, 2 tablespoons oregano, 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and a tablespoon of basil. do not overdo the basil, you'll have plenty in the sauce, and the meatballs should be earthy, not sweet.)
and a big pot of spaghetti sauce.
Combine all dry ingredients and set aside.
Mix the meat and eggs thoroughly. It will end up looking like very slimy meat. Don't worry. That's what the dry stuff is for.
Add your breadcrumb mixture to the meat, and knead it in.
When everything is mixed, start pulling off 2-3 inch chunks and rolling them into balls. Works best with 2 or more people. One to roll and one to cook.
When you have about a quarter pound of meatballs, put them in a hot skillet.
. . . .(There's 2 ways to do this. Grandma put them in her big cast iron skillet with a lot of grease and fried the hell outta the buggers. My hubby and I use a dash of olive oil for the first batch and constantly rotate the pan. Grandma's would come out rather square and burned on one side. Ours come out round and evenly cooked, but it's more work.)
Brown the meatballs in quarter pound batches, then add them to your sauce. Small batches make it easier to drain off excess grease.
When all meatballs are browned and added to the sauce, cover the pot and let it simmer at least an hour. (Grandma's minimum was 3 hours. You could smell them all day...sigh)
The purpose in the long simmer time is to let the beefy/spicy flavors seep into the sauce, and to ensure the meatballs are thoroughly cooked. It has the added benefit of making everyone hungry enough to eat spaghetti (yuck)
The recipie for my Grandmother's geniune Sicilian Meatballs:
I watched my grandma make these every other sunday for 7 years, longer if you count the years I was too young to pay attention. At the height of her family growth, she made meatballs for 14 people, and there were always leftovers. Feel free to substitute beef for turkey or soy, eggs for fake, joyless, egg substitute, etc. It's your tastebuds!
What you'll need:
For every 2 lbs ground beef
use 3 large eggs
1 cup italian style breadcrumbs (cheaters) plus a bit of garlic, oregano and salt
or approx. 1 cup breadcrumbs, 3 tablespoons dry parsley, 2 tablespoons powdered garlic, 2 tablespoons oregano, 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and a tablespoon of basil. do not overdo the basil, you'll have plenty in the sauce, and the meatballs should be earthy, not sweet.)
and a big pot of spaghetti sauce.
Combine all dry ingredients and set aside.
Mix the meat and eggs thoroughly. It will end up looking like very slimy meat. Don't worry. That's what the dry stuff is for.
Add your breadcrumb mixture to the meat, and knead it in.
When everything is mixed, start pulling off 2-3 inch chunks and rolling them into balls. Works best with 2 or more people. One to roll and one to cook.
When you have about a quarter pound of meatballs, put them in a hot skillet.
. . . .(There's 2 ways to do this. Grandma put them in her big cast iron skillet with a lot of grease and fried the hell outta the buggers. My hubby and I use a dash of olive oil for the first batch and constantly rotate the pan. Grandma's would come out rather square and burned on one side. Ours come out round and evenly cooked, but it's more work.)
Brown the meatballs in quarter pound batches, then add them to your sauce. Small batches make it easier to drain off excess grease.
When all meatballs are browned and added to the sauce, cover the pot and let it simmer at least an hour. (Grandma's minimum was 3 hours. You could smell them all day...sigh)
The purpose in the long simmer time is to let the beefy/spicy flavors seep into the sauce, and to ensure the meatballs are thoroughly cooked. It has the added benefit of making everyone hungry enough to eat spaghetti (yuck)
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Geology stuff I didn't know
From Serendipity comes this nifty tidbit. The element Uranium degrades into Lead. Neat, huh? Also, I would love to get my hands on some of the green glass created by the first detonation of an atomic bomb on American soil. It would be an interesting addition to my collection of ugly rocks.
Here's an excerpt from the article:
" Most natural elements have very stable atoms which are impossible to split except by bombardment by particle accelerators. For all practical purposes, the one true element whose atoms can be split comparatively easily is the metal Uranium. Uranium's atoms are unusually large, henceforth, it is hard for them to hold together firmly. This makes Uranium-235 an exceptional candidate for nuclear fission.
Uranium is a heavy metal, heavier than gold, and not only does it have the largest atoms of any natural element, the atoms that comprise Uranium have far more neutrons than protons. This does not enhance their capacity to split, but it does have an important bearing on their capacity to facilitate an explosion.
There are two isotopes of Uranium. Natural Uranium consists mostly of isotope U-238, which has 92 protons and 146 neutrons (92+146=238). Mixed with this isotope, one will find a 0.6% accumulation of U-235, which has only 143 neutrons. This isotope, unlike U-238, has atoms that can be split, thus it is termed "fissionable" and useful in making atomic bombs. Being that U-238 is neutron-heavy, it reflects neutrons, rather than absorbing them like its brother isotope, U-235.
Both isotopes of Uranium are naturally radioactive. Their bulky atoms disintegrate over a period of time. Given enough time (over 100,000 years or more) Uranium will eventually lose so many particles that it will turn into the metal Lead."
From Serendipity comes this nifty tidbit. The element Uranium degrades into Lead. Neat, huh? Also, I would love to get my hands on some of the green glass created by the first detonation of an atomic bomb on American soil. It would be an interesting addition to my collection of ugly rocks.
Here's an excerpt from the article:
" Most natural elements have very stable atoms which are impossible to split except by bombardment by particle accelerators. For all practical purposes, the one true element whose atoms can be split comparatively easily is the metal Uranium. Uranium's atoms are unusually large, henceforth, it is hard for them to hold together firmly. This makes Uranium-235 an exceptional candidate for nuclear fission.
Uranium is a heavy metal, heavier than gold, and not only does it have the largest atoms of any natural element, the atoms that comprise Uranium have far more neutrons than protons. This does not enhance their capacity to split, but it does have an important bearing on their capacity to facilitate an explosion.
There are two isotopes of Uranium. Natural Uranium consists mostly of isotope U-238, which has 92 protons and 146 neutrons (92+146=238). Mixed with this isotope, one will find a 0.6% accumulation of U-235, which has only 143 neutrons. This isotope, unlike U-238, has atoms that can be split, thus it is termed "fissionable" and useful in making atomic bombs. Being that U-238 is neutron-heavy, it reflects neutrons, rather than absorbing them like its brother isotope, U-235.
Both isotopes of Uranium are naturally radioactive. Their bulky atoms disintegrate over a period of time. Given enough time (over 100,000 years or more) Uranium will eventually lose so many particles that it will turn into the metal Lead."
Just so you know, I like Dean and Clark.
Great Dean soundbites:
"The bottom line is, though George Bush may choose his words to appeal to America’s heartland, his actions are starving it."
"I will appoint an Attorney General who sees our constitution not just as a document to be manipulated, ignored, and violated, but who recognizes and respects it as the fabric that binds the American community together."
"A healthy environment and a healthy economy go hand in hand."
Great Clark Soundbites:
"There are two big legacies we leave to our children: Constitutional government, and the environment itself. Every day we wait the problems accumulate and get worse. We should work right now on clean air, clean water, and climate change. We need to support upgrades to air pollution controls, for example -- a lot of measures have been rolled back by the Administration."
"If you want to fire an assault weapon," he said, "join the army, we've got plenty of them."
Great Dean soundbites:
"The bottom line is, though George Bush may choose his words to appeal to America’s heartland, his actions are starving it."
"I will appoint an Attorney General who sees our constitution not just as a document to be manipulated, ignored, and violated, but who recognizes and respects it as the fabric that binds the American community together."
"A healthy environment and a healthy economy go hand in hand."
Great Clark Soundbites:
"There are two big legacies we leave to our children: Constitutional government, and the environment itself. Every day we wait the problems accumulate and get worse. We should work right now on clean air, clean water, and climate change. We need to support upgrades to air pollution controls, for example -- a lot of measures have been rolled back by the Administration."
"If you want to fire an assault weapon," he said, "join the army, we've got plenty of them."
There is a St. Louis medic who recently was called to Iraq. He sent a wish list to an e-mail list I'm on. I've met him. He's a great guy. I know our troops are disgustingly under supplied. I know Iraqis are, in certain areas, selling food to the soldiers. Food they pay out of pocket for, because our government can't get the supply (Halliburton) lines working. It hits you a lot harder when someone you know has to send requests for the most basic of items, tho.
(edit)'s wish list if anyone is interested in sending things.
I'm doing pretty well out here, there are a few things that would make life a bit easier. this is a compiled list, from several shop members, friends so with no particular order, here is the list.
* Velcro straps, the kind used to secure electrical cords, about 15 inches long, this is available at Lowes, runs about $6 a pack I think
* 8-15 foot extension cord grounded (3 prong) if possible
* decent size box of trash bags, 13-20 gallon best, think kitchen trash can size.
* lots of real Kleenex, flu season right around the corner, and we are the flight medicine office so we see everybody.
* beef jerky, peppered 1st choice, teriyaki 2nd choice, local stuff lousy
* sweat pants and zip up sweat jacket, size large to xlarge, losing a little weight
* sets of crayons... we get local kids in here as patients some times, colouring books as well if possible, nothing religious though. Muslim country
* Halloween supplies... candy as long as not chocolate, it will be far past melted when it gets here, please send this part soon.. so it gets here in time please!
* looking for White Castle mustard packs, and Taco Bell sauce packs. lots of requests for those...
* the jug of peppermint soap, but I don't think I need that big of a bottle, I got that at Wild Oats, actually need pint-quart size
* dryer sheets would be good , unscented, so I don't attract bugs.
almost any non perishable food, chips count as non perishable , we tend to share our care packages with the folks around here, (edit) you work in Hospital, you know how it is.
sorry to ramble, hope everybody is doing well
hope to see you before tooo long
(edit)
(edit)'s wish list if anyone is interested in sending things.
I'm doing pretty well out here, there are a few things that would make life a bit easier. this is a compiled list, from several shop members, friends so with no particular order, here is the list.
* Velcro straps, the kind used to secure electrical cords, about 15 inches long, this is available at Lowes, runs about $6 a pack I think
* 8-15 foot extension cord grounded (3 prong) if possible
* decent size box of trash bags, 13-20 gallon best, think kitchen trash can size.
* lots of real Kleenex, flu season right around the corner, and we are the flight medicine office so we see everybody.
* beef jerky, peppered 1st choice, teriyaki 2nd choice, local stuff lousy
* sweat pants and zip up sweat jacket, size large to xlarge, losing a little weight
* sets of crayons... we get local kids in here as patients some times, colouring books as well if possible, nothing religious though. Muslim country
* Halloween supplies... candy as long as not chocolate, it will be far past melted when it gets here, please send this part soon.. so it gets here in time please!
* looking for White Castle mustard packs, and Taco Bell sauce packs. lots of requests for those...
* the jug of peppermint soap, but I don't think I need that big of a bottle, I got that at Wild Oats, actually need pint-quart size
* dryer sheets would be good , unscented, so I don't attract bugs.
almost any non perishable food, chips count as non perishable , we tend to share our care packages with the folks around here, (edit) you work in Hospital, you know how it is.
sorry to ramble, hope everybody is doing well
hope to see you before tooo long
(edit)
Found on Free Range Human,
" Nothing but class
The Christian Fundamentalists are on the warpath again. Christianity is a religion centered around a man who told us that if we love each other and love God, we will get into heaven. Period. How that translates into Matthew Shepard going to hell, I'm not entirely sure."
Historical note, taken from Wikipedia:
Shortly after midnight on October 7, 1998, 21-year-old Shepard met McKinney and Henderson in a bar. According to McKinney, Shepard asked them for a ride home. Subsequently, Shepard was robbed, severely beaten, tied to a fence and left to die. McKinney and Henderson also found out his address, intending to burglarize his home. Shepard was discovered by a bicyclist 18 hours later, still alive but unconscious.
Shepard suffered a fracture from the back of his head to the front of his right ear. He also had severe brain stem damage, which affected his body's ability to regulate heart rate, body temperature and other vital signs. There were also about a dozen small lacerations around his head, face and neck. His injuries were deemed too severe for doctors to operate. Shepard never regained consciousness and remained on full life support. He was pronounced dead at 12:53 a.m. on October 12 at Poudre Valley Hospital in Fort Collins, Colorado. Police arrested McKinney and Henderson shortly thereafter, finding the bloody gun as well as the victim's shoes and wallet in their truck. The two men had attempted to get their girlfriends to provide alibis.
After the attack, the prosecutor told reporters that Shepard's friends had been vocal about Shepard's sexuality: "They were calling the County Attorney's office, they were calling the media and indicating Matthew Shepard is gay and we don't want the fact that he is gay to go unnoticed."
During court cases both of the defendants used varying stories to defend their actions. They attempted to use the "gay panic defense", arguing that they were driven to temporary insanity by Shepard's alleged sexual advances toward them. At another point they stated that they had only wanted to rob Shepard and never intended to kill him.
The prosecutor in the case charged that McKinney and Henderson pretended to be gay in order to gain Matthew's trust to rob him.[8] During the trial, Chastity Pasley and Kristen Price (the pair's then-girlfriends) testified under oath that Henderson and McKinney both plotted beforehand to rob a gay man. McKinney and Henderson then went to the Fireside Lounge, a gay hangout, and selected Shepard as their target. After befriending him, they took him to a remote area of Laramie where they robbed him, beat him severely (media reports often contained the graphic account of the pistol whipping and his smashed skull) and tied him to a fence with his own shoe laces. Both girlfriends also testified that neither McKinney nor Henderson were on drugs at the time.
Several years after the guilty verdict, Price gave her third different account of the night (the first time she provided her boyfriend with an alibi until learning that Matthew had died and that she could be charged as an accessory to murder; the second time she said Matthew was selected because he was gay). She said the motive for the attack was solely related to drugs and money. She added, "I don't think it was a hate crime at all. I never did."
Henderson pleaded guilty on April 5, 1999 and agreed to testify against McKinney to avoid the death penalty; he received two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. The jury in McKinney's trial found him guilty of 2 counts of felony murder. As it began to deliberate on the death penalty, Shepard's parents brokered a deal, resulting in McKinney also receiving two consecutive life terms without the possibility of parole. Shepard's parents stated, "We are giving him life in the memory of one who no longer lives."
As Shepard lay in intensive care, candle-light vigils were held in support around the world. The public reaction and media attention focused on Shepard's sexuality.
The anti-gay Fred Phelps and his family picketed Shepard's funeral as well as the trial of his assailants. They displayed signs typical of their protests, with slogans such as "Matt Shepard rots in Hell", "AIDS Kills Fags Dead" and "God Hates Fags".
As a counterprotest during Henderson's trial, Romaine Patterson, a friend of Shepard's, organized a group of individuals who assembled in a circle around the Phelps group wearing white robes and gigantic wings that literally blocked the protesters (who were confined to a small protest square by police) from the view of passers-by.
After the incident, President Bill Clinton renewed attempts to extend federal hate crime legislation to include gay and lesbian individuals, women and people with disabilities. These efforts were rejected by the House of Representatives in 1999. In 2000, both houses of Congress passed such legislation, but it was stripped out in conference committee.
" Nothing but class
The Christian Fundamentalists are on the warpath again. Christianity is a religion centered around a man who told us that if we love each other and love God, we will get into heaven. Period. How that translates into Matthew Shepard going to hell, I'm not entirely sure."
Historical note, taken from Wikipedia:
Shortly after midnight on October 7, 1998, 21-year-old Shepard met McKinney and Henderson in a bar. According to McKinney, Shepard asked them for a ride home. Subsequently, Shepard was robbed, severely beaten, tied to a fence and left to die. McKinney and Henderson also found out his address, intending to burglarize his home. Shepard was discovered by a bicyclist 18 hours later, still alive but unconscious.
Shepard suffered a fracture from the back of his head to the front of his right ear. He also had severe brain stem damage, which affected his body's ability to regulate heart rate, body temperature and other vital signs. There were also about a dozen small lacerations around his head, face and neck. His injuries were deemed too severe for doctors to operate. Shepard never regained consciousness and remained on full life support. He was pronounced dead at 12:53 a.m. on October 12 at Poudre Valley Hospital in Fort Collins, Colorado. Police arrested McKinney and Henderson shortly thereafter, finding the bloody gun as well as the victim's shoes and wallet in their truck. The two men had attempted to get their girlfriends to provide alibis.
After the attack, the prosecutor told reporters that Shepard's friends had been vocal about Shepard's sexuality: "They were calling the County Attorney's office, they were calling the media and indicating Matthew Shepard is gay and we don't want the fact that he is gay to go unnoticed."
During court cases both of the defendants used varying stories to defend their actions. They attempted to use the "gay panic defense", arguing that they were driven to temporary insanity by Shepard's alleged sexual advances toward them. At another point they stated that they had only wanted to rob Shepard and never intended to kill him.
The prosecutor in the case charged that McKinney and Henderson pretended to be gay in order to gain Matthew's trust to rob him.[8] During the trial, Chastity Pasley and Kristen Price (the pair's then-girlfriends) testified under oath that Henderson and McKinney both plotted beforehand to rob a gay man. McKinney and Henderson then went to the Fireside Lounge, a gay hangout, and selected Shepard as their target. After befriending him, they took him to a remote area of Laramie where they robbed him, beat him severely (media reports often contained the graphic account of the pistol whipping and his smashed skull) and tied him to a fence with his own shoe laces. Both girlfriends also testified that neither McKinney nor Henderson were on drugs at the time.
Several years after the guilty verdict, Price gave her third different account of the night (the first time she provided her boyfriend with an alibi until learning that Matthew had died and that she could be charged as an accessory to murder; the second time she said Matthew was selected because he was gay). She said the motive for the attack was solely related to drugs and money. She added, "I don't think it was a hate crime at all. I never did."
Henderson pleaded guilty on April 5, 1999 and agreed to testify against McKinney to avoid the death penalty; he received two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. The jury in McKinney's trial found him guilty of 2 counts of felony murder. As it began to deliberate on the death penalty, Shepard's parents brokered a deal, resulting in McKinney also receiving two consecutive life terms without the possibility of parole. Shepard's parents stated, "We are giving him life in the memory of one who no longer lives."
As Shepard lay in intensive care, candle-light vigils were held in support around the world. The public reaction and media attention focused on Shepard's sexuality.
The anti-gay Fred Phelps and his family picketed Shepard's funeral as well as the trial of his assailants. They displayed signs typical of their protests, with slogans such as "Matt Shepard rots in Hell", "AIDS Kills Fags Dead" and "God Hates Fags".
As a counterprotest during Henderson's trial, Romaine Patterson, a friend of Shepard's, organized a group of individuals who assembled in a circle around the Phelps group wearing white robes and gigantic wings that literally blocked the protesters (who were confined to a small protest square by police) from the view of passers-by.
After the incident, President Bill Clinton renewed attempts to extend federal hate crime legislation to include gay and lesbian individuals, women and people with disabilities. These efforts were rejected by the House of Representatives in 1999. In 2000, both houses of Congress passed such legislation, but it was stripped out in conference committee.
Monday, October 06, 2003
More things I don't believe in
ok, before I get to that, I want to type about this: I did a google search for "November 8, 2003" including the quotes. I was looking for more goofy thoughts on Harmonic Concordances and other ways to get off the planet without comiting suicide. heh.
I found that there will be a lunar eclipse in that day. Unfortunately, the best viewing will be in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. (sigh) I also found an events page for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. It had some interesting stuff on it, but it also had *** NOT FOR PUBLIC DISTRIBUTION *** printed all over the place. I'm a good citizen, so I won't distribute the link. ;)
I also don't recommend reading the NRC bulletin. Some of it's scary, if you're of a mind to be scared by nuclear power. I was actually comforted by reading it. On a side note, did you know that BLUE TOPAZ falls under the control of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission? It's true! White Topaz is heated, then irradiated to turn it blue. Some countries do this by leaving parcels of gemstones in a nuclear reactor for a while. Different radioactive materials cause the topaz to turn different shades. The darkest, London Blue, is caused by plutonium. But don't worry. Thanks to the NRC, you can be assured they're not radioactive. The stones are quarantined until the NRC gives the all-clear.
Now then... things I don't believe in:
Any of these UFO photos.
That the U.S. government is run by Grey Aliens.
That there are good guy aliens waiting for us to dismantle our nuclear arsenal before they get rid of the Greys.
That wearing a miniature satellite dish on a chain will make the good guy aliens move faster in getting my butt off the planet.
Things I Question
If we have access to advanced technology, why are we using 30 year old, inefficient space shuttles?
If there were once civilizations as (or more) advanced than we have currently, where's the trash from them?
Assuming our ancestors became advanced enough to dig up their landfills and recycle everything, where is the evidence of landfill digs, advanced mining technology, pollution layers in core samples, etc.?
ok, before I get to that, I want to type about this: I did a google search for "November 8, 2003" including the quotes. I was looking for more goofy thoughts on Harmonic Concordances and other ways to get off the planet without comiting suicide. heh.
I found that there will be a lunar eclipse in that day. Unfortunately, the best viewing will be in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. (sigh) I also found an events page for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. It had some interesting stuff on it, but it also had *** NOT FOR PUBLIC DISTRIBUTION *** printed all over the place. I'm a good citizen, so I won't distribute the link. ;)
I also don't recommend reading the NRC bulletin. Some of it's scary, if you're of a mind to be scared by nuclear power. I was actually comforted by reading it. On a side note, did you know that BLUE TOPAZ falls under the control of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission? It's true! White Topaz is heated, then irradiated to turn it blue. Some countries do this by leaving parcels of gemstones in a nuclear reactor for a while. Different radioactive materials cause the topaz to turn different shades. The darkest, London Blue, is caused by plutonium. But don't worry. Thanks to the NRC, you can be assured they're not radioactive. The stones are quarantined until the NRC gives the all-clear.
Now then... things I don't believe in:
Any of these UFO photos.
That the U.S. government is run by Grey Aliens.
That there are good guy aliens waiting for us to dismantle our nuclear arsenal before they get rid of the Greys.
That wearing a miniature satellite dish on a chain will make the good guy aliens move faster in getting my butt off the planet.
Things I Question
If we have access to advanced technology, why are we using 30 year old, inefficient space shuttles?
If there were once civilizations as (or more) advanced than we have currently, where's the trash from them?
Assuming our ancestors became advanced enough to dig up their landfills and recycle everything, where is the evidence of landfill digs, advanced mining technology, pollution layers in core samples, etc.?
Sceptical
Anyone actively reading this blog knows that I'm a practicing shaman. That means I'm rather into the whole "new agey" thing, although I hate to describe it that way. I believe in the ability to predict the future, I've done it. I believe in ghosts, I've relayed information for them. I believe in reincarnation, astral projection, localized time modification, soul retrieval, healing by presence, etc, etc, etc.
I do not believe that on November 8th, 2003, a harmonic concordance will open the gateways to heaven or hell and everybody in the world will be able to create matter with their thoughts. Why don't I believe this silly fru-fru thing, when I believe so many other silly fru-fru things? Because I believe people work together to create reality. If I were able to manifest my fondest wish of the minute, I wouldn't be able to interact with the rest of the world. If my 12 year old son were able to think things into existence, he'd be buried under a mountain of toys. If a newborn had this talent, he or she would never mature by even a minute.
I don't understand how people can be so short sighted sometimes. I don't want to live in a world of fluffy-bunny-happy-joy.
If I did, I'd spend time in a universe that supports it.
Anyone actively reading this blog knows that I'm a practicing shaman. That means I'm rather into the whole "new agey" thing, although I hate to describe it that way. I believe in the ability to predict the future, I've done it. I believe in ghosts, I've relayed information for them. I believe in reincarnation, astral projection, localized time modification, soul retrieval, healing by presence, etc, etc, etc.
I do not believe that on November 8th, 2003, a harmonic concordance will open the gateways to heaven or hell and everybody in the world will be able to create matter with their thoughts. Why don't I believe this silly fru-fru thing, when I believe so many other silly fru-fru things? Because I believe people work together to create reality. If I were able to manifest my fondest wish of the minute, I wouldn't be able to interact with the rest of the world. If my 12 year old son were able to think things into existence, he'd be buried under a mountain of toys. If a newborn had this talent, he or she would never mature by even a minute.
I don't understand how people can be so short sighted sometimes. I don't want to live in a world of fluffy-bunny-happy-joy.
If I did, I'd spend time in a universe that supports it.
Sunday, October 05, 2003
Went to Archon tonight and had a rather good time. There were a few things that disturbed me, however. I saw someone barf at 11:00 at night. Most people who drink too much at a Con have the decency to barf after midnight. Driving home, we saw the same guy being transported to St. Louis in an ambulance. They didn't have their lights or siren going, but he was in bad shape. I also heard a gaggle of girls in the bathroom discussing how to fix their too-drunk friend. This is what I overheard:
Girl 1 "Anything we give her won't stay down."
Girl 2 "I think we should give her water anyway."
Girl 3 "What we should do is, when she wakes up tomorrow, give her lots of bread to soak up the alcohol in her stomach."
Girl 1 "Yeah, 'cause right now nothing stays down."
That having been decided, they brought the too-drunk girl out of the handicapped stall they'd been occupying. She was actually green. She looked ready to die. She also looked about 16. Her friends didn't have the foggiest idea how to care for her. They passed me as I was washing my hands, but didn't make it out the door. They had to turn around and guide her back to a stall. All the toilets were in use, and us grown-ups hastily vacated the sinks for her. I don't know if or where she vomited, because I got out the door as quickly as I could. A few minutes later, her friends brought her out of the bathroom and hustled her toward the hotel room they were staying in. I saw the poor girl being mostly carried by her pals, and started looking for security. Clearly, these teenagers could not care for their friend. They had no idea what dangers alcohol poisoning might hold. That 16 year old needed help, and I didn't care if they all lost their con badges and got kicked out. There's some mother out there who would thank the gods for her daughter's life the next day.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find anyone working security. Apparently they were all busy handcuffing a guy who had thrown a ball of tape in a hallway. There were way too many people, way too drunk, way too early in the evening. I think this one might go down in the history books.
Girl 1 "Anything we give her won't stay down."
Girl 2 "I think we should give her water anyway."
Girl 3 "What we should do is, when she wakes up tomorrow, give her lots of bread to soak up the alcohol in her stomach."
Girl 1 "Yeah, 'cause right now nothing stays down."
That having been decided, they brought the too-drunk girl out of the handicapped stall they'd been occupying. She was actually green. She looked ready to die. She also looked about 16. Her friends didn't have the foggiest idea how to care for her. They passed me as I was washing my hands, but didn't make it out the door. They had to turn around and guide her back to a stall. All the toilets were in use, and us grown-ups hastily vacated the sinks for her. I don't know if or where she vomited, because I got out the door as quickly as I could. A few minutes later, her friends brought her out of the bathroom and hustled her toward the hotel room they were staying in. I saw the poor girl being mostly carried by her pals, and started looking for security. Clearly, these teenagers could not care for their friend. They had no idea what dangers alcohol poisoning might hold. That 16 year old needed help, and I didn't care if they all lost their con badges and got kicked out. There's some mother out there who would thank the gods for her daughter's life the next day.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find anyone working security. Apparently they were all busy handcuffing a guy who had thrown a ball of tape in a hallway. There were way too many people, way too drunk, way too early in the evening. I think this one might go down in the history books.
Friday, October 03, 2003
The Ghost Kitty
Back in the year 2000, we bought a cute little 1960's bungalow that sits atop a hill, with a magnificent view of the Mississippi River. We closed in October, on Friday the 13th. On our final walkthrough of the home, we found a cat hiding in the basement ceiling. We were pretty disturbed by this, and called the realtor, asking if the (soon to be) former owners had abandoned their cat. It turns out they hadn't. The cat hid during the move, so they figured they'd come back for her later, after she had calmed down. (which they did)
After we closed, Amy and I scrubbed the house from top to bottom. Every wall and doorway, floors and ceiling got touched my my hands. I was removing any energy from the old occupants, and replacing it with my own. When we finished, I had more than a home. I had a brick rectangle of dragon treasure. :)
Now, I like ghosties. That's one reason I wanted to live in the Carondolet neighborhood. There are houses here from the early 1800's. My next door neighbor has a garage that was a blacksmith's shop 150 years ago. The history here is amazing, and with history comes ghosties. I've woken several times at night because a ghostie has walked through our front window and come straight down the hallway then disappeared. They don't enter our bedrooms. It's as if their ability to materialize ends with our hallway. They don't see us. They probably don't even see the house. They're just passing through. The first year we lived here, a barge worker fell overboard and died in the river. His spirit used our hallway on his way to the afterlife. Freaky but cool.
Anyway, about a week after we'd moved in, I saw a cat in the kitchen. Our cat was orange, this cat was grey. It had manifested so thoroughly, I thought the cat in the ceiling had returned. It sat in the kitchen for a few seconds, then just faded away. When Hubby-man came home, I excitedly told him all about it. He thought it was cool, and regretted that he couldn't see it too. The ghost kitty came and went over the next few weeks. Once he brought a friend, thus in early November I had 2 hypo allergenic cats in my kitchen! It was great. Then the ghost kitty stopped coming around.
I figured, "Well, that was neat, but I'm glad he moved on. I'll miss him," and forgot about it. The next October, I'm still pretty messed up over 9-11. I've shut down my empathy, and probably wouldn't notice a ghost freight train if it passed right through me. I hear "maow!" from the kitchen. I glance at Yellow Kitty's usual sleeping spot, and both he and Friday are curled up asleep. Hmm. I hear "maow!" again, and think perhaps there's an injured cat outside. The voice sounded rather insistent. I go out the front door and walk all around the house, listening for the distressed cat. I tally our finances in my head, trying to find money in our budget for a trip to the vet. There's no cat outside.
I know I heard it, so I enter the house and decide to check the basement. Maybe the cat got inside somehow? I go into the kitchen and practically walk through the grey ghost kitty that's between me and the basement door. He stared at me for a few seconds, then faded away. Cool! The ghost kitty has returned! He made sporadic appearances throughout October and November, and then he was gone. 2002 saw him again, along with an assortment of other ghostly felines. Our house had become a gathering place for the kitty dead, and I was loving it. He always came in October, but this spring he reappeared. He stalked the hallways and laid in the sun. One day I spend nearly 40 minutes watching him fade in and out of this material world as he slept in a patch of sunlight. I could always feel him, but I couldn't always see him. He's been appearing for my Hubby with some regularity since Yellow Kitty died. (-sadness-) He jumped up on the bed once, right where Yellow used to sleep. For a second, I thought it was Yellow Kitty, but it wasn't. It was just our usual ghost kitty.
It just occured to me that I sound like I'm someone special. I don't think I am, beyond that I can see things. I do however, consider myself blessed that the ghost kitty chooses our house as the place-to-be a few months out of the year.
Back in the year 2000, we bought a cute little 1960's bungalow that sits atop a hill, with a magnificent view of the Mississippi River. We closed in October, on Friday the 13th. On our final walkthrough of the home, we found a cat hiding in the basement ceiling. We were pretty disturbed by this, and called the realtor, asking if the (soon to be) former owners had abandoned their cat. It turns out they hadn't. The cat hid during the move, so they figured they'd come back for her later, after she had calmed down. (which they did)
After we closed, Amy and I scrubbed the house from top to bottom. Every wall and doorway, floors and ceiling got touched my my hands. I was removing any energy from the old occupants, and replacing it with my own. When we finished, I had more than a home. I had a brick rectangle of dragon treasure. :)
Now, I like ghosties. That's one reason I wanted to live in the Carondolet neighborhood. There are houses here from the early 1800's. My next door neighbor has a garage that was a blacksmith's shop 150 years ago. The history here is amazing, and with history comes ghosties. I've woken several times at night because a ghostie has walked through our front window and come straight down the hallway then disappeared. They don't enter our bedrooms. It's as if their ability to materialize ends with our hallway. They don't see us. They probably don't even see the house. They're just passing through. The first year we lived here, a barge worker fell overboard and died in the river. His spirit used our hallway on his way to the afterlife. Freaky but cool.
Anyway, about a week after we'd moved in, I saw a cat in the kitchen. Our cat was orange, this cat was grey. It had manifested so thoroughly, I thought the cat in the ceiling had returned. It sat in the kitchen for a few seconds, then just faded away. When Hubby-man came home, I excitedly told him all about it. He thought it was cool, and regretted that he couldn't see it too. The ghost kitty came and went over the next few weeks. Once he brought a friend, thus in early November I had 2 hypo allergenic cats in my kitchen! It was great. Then the ghost kitty stopped coming around.
I figured, "Well, that was neat, but I'm glad he moved on. I'll miss him," and forgot about it. The next October, I'm still pretty messed up over 9-11. I've shut down my empathy, and probably wouldn't notice a ghost freight train if it passed right through me. I hear "maow!" from the kitchen. I glance at Yellow Kitty's usual sleeping spot, and both he and Friday are curled up asleep. Hmm. I hear "maow!" again, and think perhaps there's an injured cat outside. The voice sounded rather insistent. I go out the front door and walk all around the house, listening for the distressed cat. I tally our finances in my head, trying to find money in our budget for a trip to the vet. There's no cat outside.
I know I heard it, so I enter the house and decide to check the basement. Maybe the cat got inside somehow? I go into the kitchen and practically walk through the grey ghost kitty that's between me and the basement door. He stared at me for a few seconds, then faded away. Cool! The ghost kitty has returned! He made sporadic appearances throughout October and November, and then he was gone. 2002 saw him again, along with an assortment of other ghostly felines. Our house had become a gathering place for the kitty dead, and I was loving it. He always came in October, but this spring he reappeared. He stalked the hallways and laid in the sun. One day I spend nearly 40 minutes watching him fade in and out of this material world as he slept in a patch of sunlight. I could always feel him, but I couldn't always see him. He's been appearing for my Hubby with some regularity since Yellow Kitty died. (-sadness-) He jumped up on the bed once, right where Yellow used to sleep. For a second, I thought it was Yellow Kitty, but it wasn't. It was just our usual ghost kitty.
It just occured to me that I sound like I'm someone special. I don't think I am, beyond that I can see things. I do however, consider myself blessed that the ghost kitty chooses our house as the place-to-be a few months out of the year.
Thursday, October 02, 2003
Once upon a time, in a land flowing with milk and honey, there was a war. It was a silent war, with minimal deaths; and it lasted more than 40 years. They called it "The Cold War". The war ended, not through invasion, but through prosperity. It was won with quality of life.
When the war ended, both sides drastically scaled down their armies. After all, there was no longer a need for a large military. The money could be better used on big companies, so they could hire all the men and women who were no longer needed to staff the army. The military switched from active to passive service. They told new recruits that "reserve" was the way to go. 6-9 months of training and 2 weeks a year for the next ten years would buy all the perks of military service without the risks of death or dismemberment. Recruiters told these bright young men and women that they would be called upon to serve only in a time of great need. They implied that the reservists (as they were called) would fill jobs on our own soil, while the regular army would fight the good fight over seas.
They lied.
The United States of America, winner of the Cold War and all around "good guy" needs to prepare for a new (old) problem. We are going to have battle-scarred, shell-shocked, embittered and disillusioned men and women returning to raise the children that their families have been caring for. There will be no place in society for them. There will be no jobs. There will be no help from the military that used them so poorly. And their children will suffer in silence.
When the war ended, both sides drastically scaled down their armies. After all, there was no longer a need for a large military. The money could be better used on big companies, so they could hire all the men and women who were no longer needed to staff the army. The military switched from active to passive service. They told new recruits that "reserve" was the way to go. 6-9 months of training and 2 weeks a year for the next ten years would buy all the perks of military service without the risks of death or dismemberment. Recruiters told these bright young men and women that they would be called upon to serve only in a time of great need. They implied that the reservists (as they were called) would fill jobs on our own soil, while the regular army would fight the good fight over seas.
They lied.
The United States of America, winner of the Cold War and all around "good guy" needs to prepare for a new (old) problem. We are going to have battle-scarred, shell-shocked, embittered and disillusioned men and women returning to raise the children that their families have been caring for. There will be no place in society for them. There will be no jobs. There will be no help from the military that used them so poorly. And their children will suffer in silence.
Written about a long-gone blogger:
.
...Yet he takes truths (horrible enough on their own) and blows them all out of proportion. He tells his growing circle of readers how nasty the common American is. He ignores the efforts of all the grass roots movements that are doing their damnedest to stop this war and get Bush out of office. He actively sends links to bloggers in other countries, hoping they'll spread his nauseating garbage. Note how he doesn't tell Americans that his site exists.
I'll admit, when we first went after Iraq, I thought it was an OK thing. I grieved over the death, destruction and life altering events that were about to take place, yet I believed the purpose behind it was noble. I never thought we were in "imminent danger", I never saw a connection between Iraq and Al-Qaida. My best friend was vehemently opposed to the war, and I said, "Yes, but the atrocities have to stop!" I believed it was worth American lives and American dollars to save so many families in a country I'll never see. Chasmyn told me it was all about corporate profit, and I couldn't understand. How can a corporation make money off of a war, I wondered. It made no sense to me. It still makes no sense to me, but she was right. 100% correct on all counts. The next time she tells me something I can't understand, I'll believe her.
.
...Yet he takes truths (horrible enough on their own) and blows them all out of proportion. He tells his growing circle of readers how nasty the common American is. He ignores the efforts of all the grass roots movements that are doing their damnedest to stop this war and get Bush out of office. He actively sends links to bloggers in other countries, hoping they'll spread his nauseating garbage. Note how he doesn't tell Americans that his site exists.
I'll admit, when we first went after Iraq, I thought it was an OK thing. I grieved over the death, destruction and life altering events that were about to take place, yet I believed the purpose behind it was noble. I never thought we were in "imminent danger", I never saw a connection between Iraq and Al-Qaida. My best friend was vehemently opposed to the war, and I said, "Yes, but the atrocities have to stop!" I believed it was worth American lives and American dollars to save so many families in a country I'll never see. Chasmyn told me it was all about corporate profit, and I couldn't understand. How can a corporation make money off of a war, I wondered. It made no sense to me. It still makes no sense to me, but she was right. 100% correct on all counts. The next time she tells me something I can't understand, I'll believe her.
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