Who Really Wants to Understand?

I seldom agree with Nancy Giles in the opinions she presents on CBS Sunday Morning. By "seldom," I should clarify, I really mean "once." I don't even remember what we agreed on, so stunned was I upon the fact that I didn't talk back to her, as I generally did every Sunday on which she presented a contribution to the show.

Her personal opinion "about this week's Supreme Court decision upholding a personal right to gun ownership" was not—probably needless to say—the subject upon which we agreed. But what struck me about the argument Ms. Giles presented in this case was not so much the points she made, but a slight, almost chance remark that was included, I believe, for comedic effect.

I took it rather poorly, considering its apparent intent, and that made me think.

As an owner of both a handgun and a shotgun—and as one who has hunted, with a rifle, for the explicit purpose of eating my prey—I have more than a considered opinion on the subject ... I have practical experience. This experience is not, however, something I wish to hold up at lofty height and demand BY ITS VIRTUE that others, such as Ms. Giles, cease to expound upon their own considered opinions. But, just as Ms. Giles relayed her experience in "playing a copy in a movie once" as a valid point of argument, I do wish to present my own relevant background, which I will readily admit involves actual firearms.

Have I posed with a gun? Why, yes I have, but not because I thought I was a badass, dressed in my second-hand camouflage and coated in dust and sweat at the end of an arduous day of pronghorn antelope hunting. I posed with my gun because I had successfully completed my hunt for a doe antelope, and as a late-comer to the arena of providing, first-hand, for my family's sustenance, I was proud of my accomplishment—a clean shot, a quick kill, and then to the evening's work of skinning, slicing, and packaging ... converting a once-living creature from "animal" to "meat."

I didn't do more than snort, though, as Nancy Giles proceeded with her thoughts on the subject of gun ownership. I didn't tell her screen-flattened visage that I thought handguns in a city deserved a totally separate treatment from hunting guns, and that I thought her link to Daniel Boone was tenuous as best, particularly when her objection to handguns seemed to be based more on how such weapons made her FEEL than how Daniel Boone might or might not have used them. If, you know, he even HAD a handgun—I confess I do not know, nor care enough to Google.

The thing is, when Ms. Giles said, "... I wonder why some still hunt when you can get meat already wrapped at the supermarket. I'd like to understand them better." (bolded emphasis mine) I went beyond my typical gun-ownership-argument ruminations to being flat-out appalled. Because, you see, I do not believe Nancy Giles has any interest whatsoever in the subject of hunting, and perhaps possesses even less interest regarding hunting for meat than I have about Daniel Boone's guns.

I have known someone who expressed an interest in understanding why people "still" hunt. And I know Surfer Grrrl meant it, because when I offered to loan her an excellent resource on the subject—A Hunter's Heart: Honest Essays on Blood Sport—she accepted my offer and read the book. So it's not that I don't believe that someone personally opposed to hunting for food cannot be interested in understanding those who believe differently ... I just did not find a speck of sincerity in the remark of Ms. Giles. (For the record, Surfer Grrrl has not changed HER opinion of hunting—what she has done is taken the time and made the effort to understand some of the motivations behind those of a different opinion than her own. Which is something that I respect and admire GREATLY about Surfer Grrrl in particular, and other thoughtful individuals like her in general.)

Getting back to my own, strongly-held opinions on the subject of hunting for meat—and my long-standing disagreements with Ms. Giles on, well, practically everything—I will confess I may not be being fair in my hasty judgment of her sincerity of interest. Certainly, a spot on a nationally-televised program has criteria that must be met to support its continued existence, and I can respect that writing for a brief blurb on CBS Sunday Morning leaves a lot less wiggle-room than, say, writing for a low-traffic blog of one's own design.

At the same time, with the resources of CBS at least somewhat at her disposal, I have to believe that Nancy Giles could certainly glean at least a modicum of understanding of "why some still hunt" if she really cared to. And I have to wonder why she is suggesting that this is just so darn perplexing when it's really nothing of the sort. And I personally know members of PETA who agree with me here: people who are going to consume meat really should have a full appreciation of where it comes from, and the sanitized, shrink-wrapped aisle of their local grocery store is NOWHERE NEAR the bleeding, still-warm carcass of an animal. It is extremely important to understand that what you choose to eat has a price that is greater than what's stamped on the sticker—if you can't pay that price, then perhaps you shouldn't be eating meat.

Understanding the opposite viewpoint isn't a difficult thing—or at least it doesn't have to be. But it does involve a certain degree of effort, and a willingness to step outside of the comfortable house from within which you've viewed the world though your favorite picture window. This—not the complexity or stupidity of the opposition—is often what stops us from understanding others. We don't want to accept the idea that how we see isn't the only way to see, or that the reason the argument is going on is that there ARE valid points of view on all sides. Difficult is not, however, the same thing as impossible, and with rare effort and rarer-still willingness to understand, maybe we really could.

After all, if a Wyoming-loving Libertarian like me can "get" that a city—one that contains in 68.3 square miles the entire population of Wyoming (and actually, Wyoming has 97,749.7 more square miles to contain 65,462 FEWER citizens than Washington D.C.)—just MIGHT have reason to insist that there shouldn't be quite so many gun liberties permitted within its city limits, well! Maybe Nancy Giles can understand, just a little, "why some still hunt."

Leeches Suck: Thinking Critically Doesn't

Back in the day—as in, when I was young and impressionable, and didn't even know that when you sent off for the gimmicky bullshit in the back of a comic book, you were supposed to send a check or a money order, NOT coins—I think I had an excuse for my stupidity naïveté stupidity. I mean, when you really don't know any better, that's a pretty good excuse for acting like you don't know any better.

But then you get older and wiser, and you learn that gee, if it really were that easy to change a $5 bill into a $20 bill, YES, everyone WOULD make the $2.95 (plus shipping and handling) investment, and we'd all be rich bastards. Right out of the pages of, and with great thanks to, the entrepreneurs that advertise in the back pages of the comic books.

The other thing you learn—or should learn—as you get old and/or wise is how to THINK beyond what you wish was true. I believe it used to be called "critical thinking," although who knows what they call it now. This is the skill that is beyond readin', writin', and 'rithmetic ... it is what is imperative beyond ALL ELSE that anyone teaches, or is taught. You can learn to read at any age, and writing, well, at least you can learn to text and then you'll be okay. Arithmetic is done by cash registers fairly well these days, but HOLY HELL, people, if you don't learn how to think critically, you, too, might find yourself telling David Letterman about the virtues of "highly trained medical leeches."

(I know it's been awhile since this shit hit the fan, but it's taken me this long to be able to address it at all. It's that freaking ridiculous.)

Now, I like Demi Moore well enough. She looks fantastic, she seems a fine actress, and how can I not like a woman who snags a much-younger man (even if I don't find him even vaguely attractive), because HEY! Why should old men have all the fun with younger women?

But this nonsense about "optimizing your health" with "leech therapy" ... I mean, umm, come on! Did she not stop to consider how a leech knows the difference between "bad" and "good" blood? Granted, leeches have some use as it pertains to removing pooled blood under a skin graft and restoring circulation in blocked veins, but where, may I inquire, is some SPECIFIC MEDICAL DATA to back up the idea that they can "detoxify" blood? (Which, if you are interested in basic biology that you should have learned in middle school, your blood already takes care of waste products quite nicely all by its damn self.)

How DO you "train" a leech? And how does it know your "toxic" blood from your "non-toxic" blood? Because I'm picturing a little leech agility training session, and it's not pretty; nor is the vision of leeches being fed "toxic" blood and "non-toxic" blood, and whipped if they smile little leechy smiles while ingesting "non-toxic" cells instead of SPITTING THEM OUT, like their WELL-TRAINED parasitical brethren would do.

I mean, if one's health were optimized by bleeding for "quite a bit," would it not be more simple to just open your own freakin' vein? Like, OH I DON'T KNOW, when you DONATE BLOOD? Because if Demi thinks it's better going to a herd of well-trained leeches, I'm thinking maybe the Red Cross might beg to freakin' differ, especially NOW, when donations are typically down as we all go off to party during the summer, but tornado-spawning storms and other natural (and non-natural) disasters and accidents and other blood-loss-type situations are UP.

(Granted, Demi was talking about her little leech buddies back in March, when perhaps more people were donating blood, but considering how few do so regularly anyway, I still don't think we've gotten to a point where blood should just be THROWN AWAY TO INVERTEBRATES when we feel like we've got some non-healthy cells to spare.)

Honestly, maybe I didn't wait long enough to address this issue, because I'm feeling absolutely disgusted now, and my blood pressure is probably MUCH higher than it was before I plucked this piece from the potential-posting pile, and seriously, is there anyone out there who went, WOW, I wish *I* had thought of going to Austria to lie in a shallow pool while I paid some UNGODLY sum of money to let LEECHES bite into my flesh and suck out my PERFECTLY GOOD BLOOD?

Anyone?

You know, if you've got money AND blood to throw away, there ARE blood donation services who would be more than happy to help you with both of these problems. You will be optimizing the health of OTHERS along with making yourself feel warm and fuzzy (not to mention, these kind folks who are HIGHLY TRAINED in taking your blood to help others will frequently FEED you after you donate) and it won't cost you anything but a little time reclining in the donation chair and a pint of blood that your body will be more than happy to regenerate.

And instead of giving millions of critical thinkers something to laugh and shake their heads over, you can SAVE A LIFE. (Think about it. And then tell Demi Moore. Everybody but the leeches will thank you, but they'll find some other sucker to suck, in their oh-so-highly trained ways.)

Products and Services

It was just one of many news blurbs during the morning commute—typically, they splattered against my ear drums like heavy rain onto pavement, visibly discoloring the surface but causing no real damage in the process. THIS one, however, distinguished itself immediately: not because the newscaster and attendant disc jockeys mocked it (they mock everything, and that's why I was still listening to them instead of pressing PLAY on some mood-lifting metal-raging) but rather because of its legal significance.

What should have been insignificance, in my opinion, was worth arguing in the Arizona state Senate and—oh yes indeed—creating a LAW (or trying to; I have not bothered to see how this bill did in the House, and I'm not sure I want to know). And while it irked my Libertarian sensibilities to hear about what seemed to me to be a colossal waste of time and unnecessary government involvement, it also tweaked my sense of the ridiculous and made me bristle with the same indignation sparked by the alteration of common terms to suit the politics of the time.

And so I made a note—first mental and then physical, because I don't know where I keep putting them, but it doesn't really matter because those damn mental notes need WAY better adhesive anyway—to find more information on the Internet, and eventually, that's what I did. (As an aside, I'd like to note that when a site, such as the one in the preceding link, demands for you to REGISTER with them—"It's FREE!"—for the privilege of printing their fine article on the political debate over whether a breast implant consitutes a "product" or a "service," then do not fall for it, but go ahead and use that fine tool known as COPY-PASTE, right into another program that cares not for the registration of people it will likely never see again.)

Anyway, here are the words of Senator Pamela Gorman, R-Anthem, on the subject:

"We're just trying to say: 'Listen. If you have surgery and they have to put anything in your body that wasn't original to when you were born, it doesn't make it a product,'" Gorman said.

"It's still a service," she continued. "And we're just trying to clarify that."

See, this more than anything else—like the fact that previously, the law made a distinction between breast implants put in "for strictly cosmetic reasons" and those inserted "to correct a medical problem"—is what bothers me. Let's say, for example, that I hire "Dirt Sucks" to come clean my home. I think we can all agree that if they clean it and leave nothing behind but dust mites trapped deep underneath the disgusting surface of the carpet, then what "Dirt Sucks" provides is a SERVICE.

However, if "Dirt Sucks" comes and installs a central vacuum system in my house and leaves that behind for me, I would have to say that they had provided me with a PRODUCT. Sure, you could argue that the installation itself was a service, and I'd be okay with that, but that GREAT BIG HONKING DEVICE that remains, THAT, my friends, IS A FREAKING PRODUCT.

I can understand the state of Arizona wanting to do the right thing here, and I have to agree with Ms. Gorman that there CAN be a "gray area" between what constitutes "purely cosmetic" and "reconstructive." Granted, I would guess that it's not all that difficult to see the difference, but hey, maybe I just don't know boobs as intimately as I think I do. Regardless, I simply do not understand how it can possibly be argued that a THING is a "service" ... it's not! IT'S A PRODUCT.

Which brings me to my beef with the tax system as it currently stands in general. Fairness is a noble goal, and I would not argue against it as a principle if my life depended on it, although, if there were cheesecake involved, I might have to rethink that stand. But if, in our zeal to create more fairness in a world which admittedly doesn't seem to give a shit about the concept, we start weaving a hideous web of "exceptions" that require so much maintenance (i.e., TIME and MONEY) to maintain and enforce by virtue of sheer complexity, are we really promoting fairness, or are we serving to create chaos out of simplicity?

When we start redefining inherently obvious terminology to provide a small tax break on an item that—whatever else it may be—is, in fact, an ITEM, I have to believe there's something wrong with the picture. The inherent unfairness of our existing taxation system aside—and, really, the code's ever-increasing exception list only serves to emphasize the disparities and general sloppiness of the massive beast—it isn't fair to anyone with common sense to present an argument that shouldn't need to be made in the first place: because regardless of your reason for getting it, surgery is a service, and a "medical device" is a product.

And there is just no way that those definitions should constitute "news" to anyone.

Old News

I know this is old news—and repetitive old news at that—but I haven't quite figured out the next chapter of my novel and yet, I MUST WRITE NOW, so here I go, retreating back a month or two, to address the giant screw-up that was ABC's editing of Kathy Griffin's remarks upon winning a Creative arts Emmy for her reality show, My Life on the D-List.

If you somehow managed to miss the big brouhaha—and I find that difficult to imagine, because if I heard about it, way out in the boonies of UnemployedLand as I still was, clearly the entire world must have heard more—the gist of it was that Kathy Griffin mentioned Jesus in her acceptance speech, only it was rather quite unlike any mentioning of Jesus ever before heard in an acceptance speech. It must have been, because why else so much fecal matter would fly off the oscillating air-motion device otherwise, I simply cannot imagine.

Anyway, here's what she said, exactly, as quoted by Kathy Griffin herself in a post-media-frenzy interview, which I will cheerfully provide a link to here as soon as I can find the damn reference page in my stack o' notes:

"A lot of people get up here and thank Jesus for helping them win this award, but I have to say that nobody has been less helpful in getting me to this moment than Jesus. I don't know what I ever did to him, but I think he just doesn't like me that much, and if he had his way, Caesar Milan would be holding this statue right now, but he's not and I am! So I guess all I can really say is, 'Suck it, Jesus! This statue is my God now!'"

Now, even as an unwashed heathen, I can see that this statement—particularly, that last little bit—could be a whole lot less than pleasant to hear if one were a Christian. I understand that completely, I really, really do, and I should like to prove my point by listing just one other statement that can be taken as unpleasant when one is a member of the lump-sum group being spoken of:

“No, I don't know that atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered as patriots. This is one nation under God.” (George Bush, Senior)

I know. It's just NASTY, isn't it.

The thing about all of these remarks, though, is that they are not only equal in their potential to offend, but they are also equal in their full and protected expression by the American Constitution, particularly, the very first Amendment, which states:

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging 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."

It's not "hate speech," as the sweet-tempered Bill Donohue, President of the Catholic League, would have us believe, and it's not "slander," as The Miracle Theater in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee would like to proclaim, along with a pre-emptive strike against anyone who would say that this is about free speech or that the money spent on an ad in USA Today could have been put to better use (it's all here, minus the exact sum of the cost of running a full-page ad in USA Today, and that's here). And excuse me, but how is it possible that the Supreme Being who created the whole universe is incapable of His own defense against unbelievers, which, BY THE WAY, Kathy Griffin is NOT one of, but rather she is a COMEDIAN, hence her remarks, HELLO?? IS THIS THING ON?

I'm sure I don't take kindly to being referred to as less than the rest of the American citizenry, but within reason, we DO get to say what we like here, and the determination of whether it's acceptable or not is not made by the number or vocal strength of the people offended by a given remark—it's just not. I am just as free to tell you to go suck it as you are to tell me the same, and likewise, Kathy Griffin can tell Jesus that, too. Is it polite? No. Is it nice? No. Is it RIGHT? Yes it is, and if you don't like that, then you simply do not understand the implications of free speech, belief notwithstanding, because if an unbeliever HAD told Jesus to "suck it," it would be damn difficult to prove malicious intent, because it's hard to be malicious to an entity that you don't believe exists in the first place.

What bothers me most about this situation, I think, is that rather than simply refuting statements with which they disagree, the parties who have taken offense at the verbal commentary—never mind that they were supposed to be humorous remarks and not representative of an official position—have also taken the position that such words should simply not be said in the first place. At all. And yes, they HAVE, despite fluffy words to the contrary, because when you start labeling it as "hate speech" or "slander," you have drawn a line in the sand that's more than disagreement. No, really, YOU shut up because I don't like what you're saying. It's "hate speech" (never mind that it doesn't fit even that very loose definition), although I should really enjoy seeing Bill Donohue argue the point that God—the Creator of, well, EVERYTHING—Kathy Griffin, again, a COMEDIAN, managed to "foster hatred and discrimination" against Him with her remarks, when the same could not be proved in a case involving the KKK (refer to the preceding link).

Clearly, it's that much more difficult to argue a point in a mature and reasonable manner than it is to scream about discrimination by and the WRONGNESS OF someone else's stance on any given issue. Kinda makes you wonder what Jesus Himself would do in this situation, doesn't it? I'm no expert, but from what I've read, I rather doubt He would be following the leads of Bill Donohue or The Miracle Theater group.

Comprehensive Conundrum

Especially in instances of great tragedy or great triumph, people who believe in a Creator of some sort often feel inspired or obligated or both to issue a statement of thanks to that Being. As a non-believer, I've never been especially fond of the verbalization of such non-specific (to me) gratitude, although over the years I've come to understand its seriousness and richly deep meaning for those who engage in it.

It was a surprise to me, then, to feel my heart JUMP at the provocation of whatever hormones go flying into the bloodstream upon sudden, violent, surging rage when something of that nature was said, and duly reported, on the news the other day. Even though I know the words cannot have been meant to imply what they seemed to imply, I was absolutely appalled that there it was, AGAIN, when there were surely any number of other, non-clichéd methods by which it could have been said so much better, and so less hurtfully.

Given the reverence with which the Creator of the Universe is generally addressed or even considered, I wonder why this sort of phrase hasn't been shot down in flames by clergy or religious scholars already. Maybe it has, and I have just never heard about it; as well-read as I like to think I am, I have to honestly admit that I'm really not NEARLY "all that"—hell, the world is a Big Place and full to overflowing with ideas, big and small, and there isn't anyone of its inhabitants who can possibly know it all, or even most of it.

And with all the poorly-worded and largely meaningless crap that's spewed every day, surely there is a long, long line of words and phrases behind which this—and its closest cousins—should stand in line for execution. As with gifts, I suppose, it should be the thought that counts, and not the exact wording, or the implication-laden delivery. But I remember all too well what it's like to be teased so harshly as a child that one truly wishes it was "sticks and stones" that were being directed at one, because broken bones would heal, but there was no splint or cast suitable to mend a heart broken by thoughtlessly cruel words. And then I know I can't be the only one who sees the flip side of this—I can't be the only one who feels its vicious slap of a sting, albeit entirely unintentional.

Of course, Believers whose lives have been "spared" in some dire situation feel grateful, and of course they should share that feeling with whomever they wish, whenever they wish. But especially when others—even other Believers—have perished in the same or similar situations, I cannot imagine why they shouldn't spare a thought for those people as well, and their loss-suffering loved ones, and see that when they simply say, "God was there with ME" or "God must've saved ME" or even "God was watching over ME" ... that the direct implication is that He wasn't there with someone else, didn't feel inclined to save someone else, or didn't even WATCH someone else's final, tragic moments of life.

I know this isn't stated, and I can't imagine that all but a few sick, twisted souls feel that it's true, but it directly follows, at least from an Unbeliever's perspective, and it is so awful, hideous, and HEINOUS that it has the capacity to sit and fester once it's perceived, and block out the understanding that it was not at all meant. Hopefully. SEE?

It isn't so difficult a thing to rephrase, and it shouldn't—I would think—be so hard to mitigate, either. It could be easily followed by, "I know God was there with those who died, too" or "God must've taken those others to Heaven" or, better still, "I pray that God is watching over the families of those who did not survive." And with the focus and sincerity with which religious texts exhort followers to care for others, is it not appropriate to do that FIRST? To think of others before ourselves and behave accordingly?

The obvious flaw in this argument is, I suppose, the fact that human nature being what it is—natural—the survival of the individual IS what comes to mind first, no matter the strength or honest intent to display deity- or otherwise-inspired altruism. Even among the biologically-minded, survival of the species isn't something that often gets touted as a motivational force, even if it might be an underlying force, and perhaps the same is true of directives along the lines of "love one another."

But is there anyone who cannot remember what it's like when words slice right through reason and physicality and even logic? Is there anyone who can't agree that a time or situation of death and loss calls for THE most sensitive and considerate and carefully-chosen words possible, regardless of one's own personal situation? Is there anyone who wouldn't want their own family considered, if it had been the one to lose a loved one instead of retain her/him, for whatever reason?

Don't answer that. There's no telling what I could read into your words, after all.

The Rest Of The Story

I casually clicked the link because it was going to lead me to still more information about the glorious, miraculous, healing power of Omega-3 fatty acids, but if I'd've known that it also included an update to a news story I'd followed until the trail frittered away into nothingness, I would have injured myself in my haste. Yeah? Well, if you're not clumsy enough to trip yourself up with your own fingers, then good for you.

One of many problems I have with the purveyors of "The News" is that they do too much when a particular segment is in the spotlight, and exponentially too little when it has been forced out by the next spotlighted thing. I understand that the world moves fast and reporters feel great and crushing pressure to move just as fast, but surely I can't be the only person who's followed some story or other—right up until it disappears altogether—and then wondered, from time to time, What. The HELL. HAPPENED? Next?

An example that comes to mind from the fairly-recent past was when a teenaged girl had her legs severed below the knee by a snapped cable on an amusement park ride, and the national media was all over it. I can't tell you how many times I heard about how horrible it was on the television, or read a headline referencing an eye-witness account of how gruesome it was. The number of times the news covered the fact that the severed portions of her legs had been found and she'd been taken to surgery were somewhat less, and the number of times I heard if the surgery was successful was flat-out absolute ZERO.

Excuse me, but how about a little freakin' closure here? I don't expect to follow her the rest of her life like an anonymous stalker and I don't even need to know her name, but I would like to hear that she's in rehab now, or that she's regained some feeling in her legs, or even if the surgery did not work. I want to know the rest of the story, if only in a brief snippet here and there, and it just seems like common decency for the media to deliver it, especially since they are so vigilant in the immediacy of a disaster. Surely some attention paid to the less-heinous, long-lasting recovery after a traumatic experience is more appropriate than vulture-like circling in the "glamorous" early moments?

I want to know about the tiny little girl who was found locked in a closet in Texas—she was twice the age of my little girl at that time, but weighed the same amount. The last I'd heard, they'd been ready to prosecute the girl's "parents" right up to the maximum possible charge and time, and the girl had been placed in a foster home. It's been at least two years, and probably more like five ... how is she now? And have those monsters who locked her up been justifiably condemned for their appalling actions and punished? Even if the poor child has not been able to fully recover from the tragedy, knowing she has been well-cared for—and hopefully well-loved—would go a long way towards my peace of mind, and give me an actual appreciation for the news media's ability to see a report through.

These are just two examples off the top of my head—things I have wondered especially about—and are nowhere near a conclusive list of stories I would like to have heard more about. With the rampant rage of gibbering news media all salivating to get the "latest and greatest" news—and none of them managing to distinguish themselves from the screaming hoard—I would think one lousy innovator could step up and bring humanity and continuity and perhaps the smallest sense of completeness to the table.

But back to the article about Omega-3 fatty acids—yes, that which SPARKED this whole tirade about the media and their inability to follow through ... it was a great article, referencing both supporting studies and information that has been called into question. And it also addressed another case I'd thought of from time to time: that of Randal McCloy, the lone survivor of the Sago, West Virginia mining disaster. The last I'd heard, he was expected to have severe brain damage, even though he'd been dubbed a miracle for the second time, for coming out of his coma at all.

In addition to oxygen infusions in a hyperbaric chamber, Mr. McCloy was given 15,000 mg of DHA and EPA (Omega-3 fatty acids) daily, a prescription which Julian Bailes, M.D., the neurosurgeon assigned to his case, says "... helped rebuild the damaged gray and white matter of his brain." Now, the potential fabulousness of Omega-3s aside, why the HELL couldn't someone have popped this tidbit into the evening news? Because they managed to work it into an article about fish oil for crying out loud:

... he [Randal McCloy] stunned even the most optimistic experts by recovering his memory and gradually regaining his ability to walk, talk, and see, a turnaround that many in the medical field called miraculous."

HELLO? Is this not NEWS?

It's a busy, scary world, and of course there are decisions to be made about what is newsworthy and what is not. Time is limited, and ratings are (sadly, I think) high on the scale of importance, at least to network executives. But following stories past their sudden impacts and on to their lasting effects is important, too. In fact, it's VITAL to our humanity and our ability to behave humanely ... we need to know the rest of the story so that we can care enough to follow through in regular, daily life. We need to know to stop seeing others as news stories and see everyone as PEOPLE. We need to know that struggles are not solved in news bytes, but they ARE solved, one way or another, eventually.

Don't stop telling the story, but don't ever forget about the rest of it, either.


Addendum: A fairly quick Google search did turn up a local news article that said that one of the girl's feet had been successfully reattached (referencing the amusement-park amuptation). But I've never been able to find out what happened to the little girl in Texas, though I did search for more information in the months following the initial report.

What's Good For The Goose Should Be Good For The Gander*

And now for something completely different: a blog entry that does NOT include the "Unemployed" label! Woohoo! For my next act, I'll try to not even USE that word in a post, although you doubtless expect that delightful day to actually arrive right about when Hell becomes entirely encased in a thick layer of ice and/or buttercream frosting. I vote for buttercream!

But I digress.

The headline read Giuliani Rejects Medical Marijuana Use and so I clicked. Because you know there are few things that I love more than someone talking out of her/his posterior, and politicians seem to do that almost as much as She Who Shall Not Be Named But Who Resembles A Bleach-Blonde Barbie Doll Both In Appearance And Composition.

Anyway, the first paragraph met my expectations so completely that I almost quit reading right there. I probably should have, because especially at this particular point in my life, I need a rise in blood pressure just about as much as I need buttercream-frosted Hell—sure the rush would be delicious, but the danger to my health is both imminent and potentially deadly.

Thus you are forewarned, and here is what Psychic Giuliani is said to have said:

Presidential hopeful Rudy Giuliani said Tuesday that people who want to legalize marijuana for medical purposes really just want to make the drug available to everyone.

Oh yes? So I suppose everyone who wants to have ambulances available to people who are critically ill or injured really wants to provide ambulance-rides to anyone? And everyone who wants amoxicillin available to children with serious ear infections really wants to provide amoxicillin to any child?

One problem with this argument is, of course, as obvious as the stench of a roadkilled skunk: generalizing might be a superfun way to endear you to those who agree with you, but it makes you look like an idiot to those who do not. I'm sure there ARE some people who regard legalization of marijuana for medical purposes as a first step to legalization of the humble little weed across the board, but to say that this is the purpose of ALL proponents is disingenuous at best, and utterly disgraceful at worst.

There are people who are legitimately suffering from chronic and/or terminal illnesses who know from practical experience that marijuana can instantly alleviate their symptoms. From past exposure to televised documentaries featuring such people—and their doctors—and being presented with a laundry list of their painfully debilitating symptoms, I am pretty well convinced that they should be able to smoke whatever the hell they want. They are not asking for some societal miracle, for crying out loud; what they ARE crying out for is TREATMENT.

However, when someone like Doctor Giuliani authoritatively proclaims:

"You can accomplish everything you want to accomplish with things other than marijuana, probably better. There are pain medications much superior to marijuana."

then we come to the second problem, and honestly? What we need here is a second opinion, say, from an actual doctor and not just a politician posing as such. Which, when you think about it, would really make it a first opinion.

And why we should take as the gospel truth the efficacy of marijuana—which I understand does a number of things other than serve as a "pain medication" free of painful or additional-medication-necessitating side-effects—when he apparently had no idea that a former state campaign chairman of his, Treasurer Thomas Ravenel, was all into cocaine—I'm not at all certain.

I guess at least one good thing has come out of Mr. Giuliani's statements regarding the medical use of marijuana, though. Since he's distinctly and directly said that he used gun control as mayor [of New York City], he can now obviously understand and sympathize with the NRA's complaints about how people who want any level of gun control are, in fact, out to ban guns altogether.


* In cases in which the goose doesn't want anyone to smoke pot and the gander doesn't want any gun to be unavailable. Hey, geese have come a lonnnnng way, baby.

Uncomfortable Commonalities

I've outright bitched about Paris Hilton before, and although it's always made me feel a little dirty to do so, I can't quite seem to stop. Maybe it's simply because she supplies an apparently boundless stream of annoying, blog-feeding rantortunities—that, by the way, is my new word for "opportunities for rants," and no, I don't think it's all THAT clever, but it is kinda fun to type—with nary a counterbalancing act or trait ... at least, not any that make news.

But I've also tried to make the point that people are more alike than they are different, at least in the ways that really matter. I've claimed to be good at discerning this, and I have done both this and bitching about Ms. Hilton way more times than those two individual links would indicate, but you're not going to click them anyway, so I don't feel obligated to provide the entire, damning reference list—I think my admission is enough.

So, given that I am a Right Nasty Hypocrite, what is it about Ms. Hilton that mows over my deeply held Warm Fuzzies about how nice it would be if we could all see the good in each other and focus on our commonalities rather than our differences? I don't suppose it really matters, although knowing the specifics might help me to stamp out this sick habit once and for all. Because even as I try to focus my efforts on truth and honesty—no matter how unpleasant the road to these may be, nor how much rigorously painful self-analysis is involved—I find myself just wanting to not only vent my spleen against Paris YET AGAIN, but to douse it with lighter fluid, toss in a match, and THEN open the vents.

(Also, to mix a deadly cocktail of metaphors and hyperbole, and drink it down in a single gulp. But you knew that, and I digress. Which you also knew. Sorry.)

I've heard it said that the traits we most despise in others are also those that we most despise in ourselves, and with that foul stench of an idea held firmly in mind—at neutron's length—I attempted to think of that which most irritates me about Ms. Hilton. What I came up with was a whole lot of nausea-inducing characteristics, led by these two: 1) she wastes valuable resources, and 2) she downplays her shortcomings.

I did not arrive at these conclusions neatly; I had to fight off a herd of rabid false justifications and crazed rationalizations for why I couldn't have ANYthing in common with Paris Hilton, or why it was okay, because the degree to which I exhibit these things has GOT to be much lesser than the degree to which Ms. Hilton does. But really, if you come home and find dog crap on the kitchen floor, is the size of the turd seriously relevant when addressing the point of whether or not you should clean the shit up? Didn't think so, because even if you want to make a case for allowing for more time to clean up the lesser excrement, it still stinks and it should not be left to attract flies and stuff.

Even now that I've exhausted that shitty analogy, I find myself still trying to make a case for crowing gleefully about Paris's reincarceration, that she claimed to be ready to face, snorting at the very idea that she IS suffering from that still-undisclosed "medical condition," and/or viciously sniping about how she should suck it up and deal, as would any non-celebrity faced with the same set of circumstances. I mean, she deserves it, right? Wake up and smell the coffee, face the music, put on your big girl panties ... it's all fair, right?

I think so—yes I do. But I also think that I have just very clearly exhibited the two points I cited as those which most annoy me about Paris Hilton. And I just deleted an entire paragraph in which I unnecessarily elaborated on exactly how I did/do that.

Will this pointed introspection stick with me and result in a neat—if hard-fought—turnaround? Honestly? I wish it would, but I doubt it will do more than influence me for a little while. Either way, in the end, I am just as human as (*OMG, DO I REALLY HAVE TO MAKE THIS COMPARISON?*) Paris Hilton (*CRINGE*), although at least she can get "her people" to help clean up her metaphorical dog shit ... if she notices it at all.

Taking My Toys and Going Home

I heard about it from my parents, who were also fans of the show, before I read the clipped statement online from the President of CBS Entertainment. Actually, hearing about it is what inspired me to seek out whatever explanation there might be for the fact that, once again, the ONLY show of the season for which I would submit myself to the indignity of attempting to work my bass-ackwardly wired VCR for had been summarily dismissed: cut down in its unique, creative, and enthralling prime-time slot as if were a scrawny, unwanted dandelion instead of a lush, inviting rose.

When it happened—even before the end of the season that time—with the last such show I adored, Threshold, I'd commemorated the sad occasion by blasting the network for its conformism, lack of character, cruelty, and outright stupidity. I'd ranted a good storm, all alone in my living room, and the walls had offered me the same, stoic response that I would likely get from any actual, living person with any sort of power at CBS—if I had even been able to meet and hold one's attention—and that knowledge infuriated me all the more.

It's not like I don't understand that it doesn't matter what I—or an army of people like me, assuming such a terrifying group could possibly be assembled—think; it's not MY show, even if I feel like it is. It isn't my decision or my monetary support that has any bearing on the continuation of this or any other television series. Like it or not, I am entirely negligible in this equation, because I have no investment in it: no financial investment, that is ... I sure the hell was emotionally invested.

And despite Nina Tassler's terse claim to "the fans of Jericho" that "[We] ... have been touched by the depth and passion with which you have expressed your disappointment [at the cancellation of the series]," I'm just not convinced she really gets it. It's not unique to any occupation to get caught up in the rigors of it and forget what it looks like from the outside, or forget what it feels like to dream of having such a job—if, indeed, one ever dreamed of such a thing at all. I'm sure from where Ms. Tassler sits, the cancellation of Jericho made perfect sense. "Bottom line" and all that.

But here's what it looked like from where I sat: it looked like a network that seemed to want to distinguish itself, by offering a fare other than a formulaic comedy, "reality" show, or JUST ONE MORE alternate location for the same freakin' CSI-style horror-show, had curled up and DIED—a budding individualist who had caved to the reigning high-school clique, taken the wild color out of her hair and bleached it blonde, put away her progressive-rock collection and started listening to the same pop-machine-manufactured music as everyone else, buried her eclectic style and put on a damn cheerleading costume—all in the name of POPULARITY.

It looked like a network that seemed to want to create an admirable set of characters—who, for once, were motivated by more than themselves and their very own needs—had done a complete about-face and waved to the crowd around them as if the crowd would just be okay with that. Sure, because I get enough characters with clear, clumsy humanity in them, who frequently screwed up—sometimes with tragic consequence—but still manage to band TOGETHER after an event that would seem capable only of ripping people apart on shows like ... oh, say, something that was deemed worthy of SEVEN seasons: The King of Queens. Yeah, I'm sure Doug and Carrie could do such a fine job of striving to do MORE than simply survive an apocalypse; I'm sure their flat—figurative, okay?—one-dimensional selves would have revealed depth of character and constantly developed, instead of stagnating with dull, laugh-track-style "humor."

(In case it's not blatantly obvious, I really, really LOATHED The King of Queens. It was the one show that I refused to have on, EVER, even as a backdrop, and even if I WAS engaged in a completely boring task and longed for distraction. It was, I believe, the Country Music of CBS's television lineup, and regardless of what critics might say about the acting in it, I never could stop hearing the twang and moan and "poooooor me" theme behind it. And by God, if I want twang and moan and "poooooor me," I WILL WRITE IT MY DAMN SELF.

But, shockingly, I digress. I shall endeavor not to do so for the duration of this piece: may the Force be with me, because that's a pretty majorly-difficult proposition.)

From where I sat—or stood, or paced and ranted, or ... oops; so much for not digressing—it looked like a network that likes to tout, with shamelessly self-promoting ads covering everything from depression to HIV, saying in words along with the Tinkerbell-esque, musical "TING!" at the end: "CBS Cares!" that they did NOT, in fact, care about anything but what would make them the most money. Oh yes, values and creativity and character are GREAT, but only if they attract "enough" of the viewing audience to suit CBS's needs—as if they didn't already have enough formulaic powerponies of The King of Queens's ilk—or perhaps CBS's collective, management ego. It looked like LIP SERVICE instead of caring, CRUELTY instead of kindness, and BULLSHIT instead of compost.

And it looked like outright stupidity to me, because although I am naive enough to fall for their scheme twice, there is no way in hell I'm going to do it again. I may only be one person—and NO, they do NOT care what I think (and I know that)—but I am also one sucker who has been suckered TWO too many times. You can trot out whatever unique, winged-horses you like, CBS, but if it's not mainstream, I will never watch it enough to get hooked on it, because like an unsympathetic drug-pusher, you will only YANK my supply away and LAUGH while I endure the symptoms of withdrawal, and while that may be fine and fun for you—assuming you give even the CONCEPT of me one tiny little IOTA of your "consideration"—it pretty well sucks ass for me.

OH YES, I am taking MY toys and going home, too: to my bookshelf. So there.

ps Fuck you, CBS.


Addendum: Of course, the day after I write this, something like THIS has to break. I decided to post my rant anyway, as I don't believe CBS really IS reconsidering. And they damn well deserve every ounce of those 50,000 pounds of peanuts. "NUTS!" Indeed.

And A Better Reason Would Be ... ?

Recently, I came upon a rather provoking headline: "Woman defends decision to give birth at 60." The second line was not much less emotion-inducing: "Frieda Birnbaum, oldest new mom in U.S., says she wants to be role model." But of course, you can read all of this—and more!—for yourself if you just click here.

What I found interesting in the whole, sensationalistic blurb—and I frankly blame the apparently publicity-seeking "new" mom more than I do the media in this case, regardless of whether or not that's fair, 'cause, DAMMIT, I have issues too!—was not so much the age of the parent in question. I mean, 60! Well, whatever; it's not like MEN haven't fathered children at even more advanced ages, and anyone who knows anything about the many and sundry means of treating infertility these days knows that the potential, at least, for this sort of thing has been around for some time. Furthermore, the age of the father in this case was not specifically mentioned, either, in the article, or in the reader comments that followed it.

And that is, in fact, what got to me: the comments left by readers that I only just barely dived into, but which were—to the point I read, anyway—rather strongly opposed to this woman's personal decision, with her husband (of 38 years, so we must presume, I think, that HE, TOO, was no spring chicken), and his full support. These comments were quite vehement in some cases, and nearly all of They Who Were Opposed used the same, barbed word to disdain the choice to have a child at such an "advanced" age:

SELFISH.

They spat this word out like it was equivalent to "cockroach" or "blasphemer" or "stupid bitch." They pontificated on it like they'd never heard of anything more illustrative of its most basic, vile, and heinous nature. They used it like it was a knife and they were Jack the Ripper, cutting and slicing and probably feeling quite self-satisfiedly superior as they did so.

So selfish. HOW DARE SHE? The nerve! THINKING ONLY OF HERSELF! What unmitigated gall; what a sad commentary on our immoral, hedonistic, PLEASURE-SEEKING society. WHAT SELFISHNESS.

Perhaps I exaggerate, but if I do, it's not by much. The venom that some of these commentors spewed out in response to a (admittedly non-traditional) mother having a child—two children, actually: she delivered two healthy twin boys—at age 60, when she knew FULL AND WELL what would be required of her, having had THREE other children earlier in life, and one as recently as age 54, was really quite shocking to me.

Because—and I ask this in all sincerity—what BETTER reason is there for having a child, other than YOU WANT ONE? I'll admit it 100%; I had my child because I wanted her with a deep, abiding, and selfish longing, the likes of which I had never known before or since. Forgive me, but I honestly don't see how this is a bad thing? I WANTED my child, so I took great care to safely deliver her into this world, and I'm still taking great care with her. And I loved her, even before she was more than a potentiality; in actuality, I love her more than anyone else, and I will always love her like that.

But it IS selfish, because I didn't have her to perpetuate the species, or glorify a higher power, or ... I can't even think of another reason I've ever heard! I didn't even have her for HER sake, so that she could experience this world, this life. No, I had my child because I wanted to. And contrary to those who would attach "selfish" to an age or a stage, I think that there aren't any qualifiers that apply here: when you have a baby because you want one, you simply can't get more selfish than that.

What I think people are missing, though, is how great selfishness can be. When you want something that way, you WORK for it. You prepare and you make your decisions with that goal in mind and you APPRECIATE the culmination of your dreams—every screaming, thrashing, dependent-on-you ounce of your dreams, embodied in another human being—with all of your heart, mind, body, and soul. No, I really cannot think of a better reason to have a child than that.

Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Birnbaum. Whatever else may happen, surely none of your children will ever doubt how very much they were wanted and loved.

Redefining Real & Manufacturing Natural

There's this commercial I sometimes see, bright and early in the morning—or, more correctly, just "early"—that struck me as pretty damn funny in an ironic sort of way the first few times I saw it, but which has grown increasingly irritating over time ... not unlike people who blog on a fairly regular basis, then disappear pretty much without warning, and upon rematerialization into the Blog Realm, say NOTHING WHATSOEVER about their absence.

But I digress.

Anyhoo, the sweet-faced, smiling girlie with the manufactured or otherwise affected TINY little lisp is informing us semi-comatose early risers that "everybody else got braces with they were 10 or 11," and because SHE is the grand old age of 16, she doesn't want to have "big metal bands" in her senior picture, or at her prom, or what have you. All of which is fine and good, and I think most people can recall the overangstful teenage years well enough to summon a sympathetic twinge or two, even if we might also be snidely thinking, "Oh, sweetie, you ain't seen NOTHIN' yet."

So the commercial is for some invisible, sneaky, hide-away type of braces, which she's apparently wearing—hence the lisp?—but none of that, nor the aforementioned, is what got to me like a spike into the brain of a dissection-bound frog. Rather, it was the bit where the girl explained how she "wanted to be HERSELF" in the situations she'd cited. Like the somewhat-lesserly annoying commercial for men's haircoloring that RIDICULOUSLY croons "Ain't Nothin' Like the REAL THING, Baby" in the background, it was this idea that by ARTIFICIALLY presenting ourselves, we are not actually faking it: we're being natural. We're being "real." We're being US.

As I'm sure you've surmised, oh intelligent, invisible reader, wearing braces of ANY kind, or coloring one's hair, or wearing makeup and bras and having zits ZAPPED right out of one's senior picture—along with whatever scars or other "flaws" may be—is pretty much the polar opposite of "real." And yet, people race headlong down this path of pretense with nary a qualm, and instead they demonstrate a typically strong, inverse sort of gleeful, unrestrained abandon.

I've been thinking about it, and I believe that it's not "reality" we're pursuing here, per se, but more like the way we think reality SHOULD be. We don't think we "should" have braces, acne, gray hair, weak eyelashes, saggy boobs, or any number of other very, very real—and very, very natural—conditions ... we think we should be as we would LIKE to be. This desire to attain, or at least present, our imagined pseudo-reality to the rest of the world has become so societally strong that it is, perhaps more than anything else, the driving force behind the increasingly popular and disturbingly pervasive explosion of cosmetic plastic surgery procedures.

Take Ashlee Simpson, for example. Girlfriend is somewhere around the grand old age of 20 and already she's gone and gotten herself a brand new nose. Not only that, but she says she's "always been confident" in "who she is" and "how she looks" ... well, call me an idiot, but I don't quite see how it is that confident people feel the need to invite the risks that inherently accompany surgery for a PURELY COSMETIC procedure. Unless we really are approaching the age and mentality where changing our profiles is as commonplace as changing our haircolor—and as comparable to that, too—and Ashlee really DOES mean to imply that she liked her "real" profile just as much as she likes her "new real" profile. Not unlike, I suppose, how I love my (actual) emerging Pepé Le Pew gray steak JUST AS MUCH as I would love my (imagined) Marilyn Monroe blondeness.

Not to pick on Ashlee Simpson, except that I truly do not see how she can make the claims that she does with the expectation that we'll all just swallow that bitter-ass horse-sized snake-oil-filled pill. *COUGH* She would do better, I think, to emulate Dolly Parton's honest approach to plastic-surgery fakery. But again I digress.

It seems to be basic human nature to want to present oneself at one's best, but what also seems irrefutable is that we have some pretty weird ideas of what our own personal "best" really is. We seem to want to remember ourselves NOT as we are, or have been, but how we want to be instead. And as "natural" as that may be to desire, it is becoming increasingly UNnatural as we manifest our desires upon ourselves with exponentially rising determination and permanence.

But if you think I'm working up a good snit to say how WRONG this is, you're not quite with the continuously-digressing program here, and perhaps you don't know that I've got a couple of tattoos inked into my aging hide as well. Regardless, I do NOT think that imposing our unnaturalness upon ourselves is necessarily wrong; what I DO think is that our failure to admit it as the pretensive, manufactured, ARITIFICIALITY that it is, IS wrong. The level of self-deception that we are, societally and often personally, engaging in is not only detrimental to ourselves—for if we cannot be honest with our own damn selves, who CAN we really be honest with—but to the next generation as well. As it is, the ante is already being upped as if it were taking massive doses of steroids AND erectile dysfunction medications, and it becomes rather horrific to imagine where our children might take this personal unnaturalness, having OUR example to follow. How much will THEY have lie to themselves to convince themselves that they're "real?"

In my own senior pictures, I freely confess to having my zits magically zapped, and I admit that I didn't give it a second thought. Even when I look at those falsely-glowing photos NOW I don't feel an ounce of remorse for modifying my appearance in the static world of photography as it had NEVER been modified in the moving picture of reality. I am surprised, though, that while I had the presence of mind and strength of self to refuse the photographer's suggestion that a prominent mole by my right eye and a prominent divot from a former mole on my left cheek be removed as well. Even as a self-confidence-free adolescent, I confidently told my mom that I didn't think I would "look like me" without those two imperfections. But yet I was not able to extend the idea to my other flaws, even if they WERE more transient, and perhaps were therefore more expendable in my mind.

I hate to use the expression "slippery slope" in regards to anything but a backyard waterslide, but it does seem to me like the path of self-deception certainly is just that. We're careening wildly as we redefine "transient" and we're falling all over ourselves to more falsely express the formerly concrete terms, "natural" and "real." Certainly there are those like the aforementioned Ms. Parton—a class act of a consummate performer if there ever was one—but these rugged individualists are few and far between, with the vast majority of people preferring to be vague, coy, or brazenly denialistic (not to be confused with idealistic) with regard to everything from hair extensions to gastric bypass surgery to schnozz-downsizing.

Again, it's not what we do to ourselves that's the problem; it really isn't. But when we pretend that it's not pretense, that IS a problem, because it blurs the lines between reality and imagination, not to mention beating the shit out of honesty with lies.

Now if all one of you will excuse me, I need to build up my weak eyelashes with three to four coats of mascara, and trace around my eyes with purple eyeliner to enhance and complement their recessed greenness.

To Complain Or Not To Complain

So as to neatly avoid any confusion as to where I stand—or, sit, I guess, if you are, like me, a bit of a literalist—I will say straight up, my peeps (and how's THAT for a seasonal reference?), that the basic premise behind a "complaint-free world" IS a good one, even if they did forget that hyphen there.

In the March 12, 2007 issue of People magazine, which has long since graduated "on stands NOW" status and is, likely as not, currently relegated to bathroom-reader stands everywhere by this point, a Missouri pastor confronted the issue that "There's way too much complaining in the world," and resolved to do something about it.

His idea, which he originally presented to his own "flock" (I don't know about you, but I'm totally obsessing over Peeps® now), was to put on a purple bracelet, and keep it on the same wrist for 21 days. Sounds easy enough, doesn't it? Until you add the caveat that "each time a person groused or gossiped, he or she had to switch the bracelet to the other wrist, then start the three-week countdown again."

Once again, just for clarity, I will say that I think this is a good, wholesome idea overall. I, myself, have noticed that there IS too much complaining in the world, and not near enough kindness.

Hell, there's not even enough HONEST GIVING OF THANKS, although I have noticed that people are quick to take offense, like, say, when the cashier at the local convenience store doesn't hand over their change fast enough to suit them. That's why I've recently started to try to say more good things, like sending a heartfelt note of thanks to the lady who made the SUPER AWESOME RECYCLED WOOL MITTENS I bought for myself and Little Girl this year.

That's also why I can't say that I think that simply trying to stop COMPLAINING—and, really, HOW did gossiping manage to sneak in there with complaining? the bracelets don't say "A Complaint- and Gossip-Free World," after all, they ONLY say "A Complaint Free World"—is a valid solution. For one thing, it strikes me that, like SINNING in general, this is a totally unattainable goal, particularly if you are literalist enough to believe that THINKING of a complaint is the same as saying it.

Do you really mean to tell me that there is a SINGLE PERSON OUT THERE who is capable, for THREE WEEKS, of not even thinking of something like, "Okay, Entertainment Tonight, Anna Nicole Smith is STILL DEAD; can you POSSIBLY find someone ELSE to talk about for ONE FREAKING NIGHT?" Well, okay, bad example, as it's both a complaint AND gossip. Or is that a good example?

Maybe it's just me, but I strongly suspect that even if I gave it my all, I would not—now or EVER—be able to make the three-week goal without also including a vow of silence, and that includes from blogging, which, HEY, might not be that bad of an idea! You know, if I WANTED to explode from having all the toxicity of my complaining thoughts build up in my head like sewer gasses when a water trap runs dry.

I know. I'm rather proud of that (gruesome but illustrative) comparison myself. *preens*

Anyway, self-defeating impossible goals aside, why would the challenge not be to work more COMPLIMENTS into one's three-week tour, rather than simply abstaining from complaints? I would think that looking for the good in situations, rather than simply failing to verbally acknowledge the bad—which, NEWS FLASH, is NOT going to go away simply because we don't talk about it—would have a similar effect, only it would serve the added purpose of getting people to talk about what IS there, rather than (as I see it) overlooking what also is.

Yes, people whine too much. But then again, we all have something, SOMEtime, that is worth whining about, and moreover, at times like those, NOT whining can be more detrimental than whining. I have to think that complaining and even gossiping, like most other things, CAN serve a worthwhile purpose, and AGAIN as with most other things, moderation—NOT abstinence—is the key.

But maybe I'm just trying to rationalize this blog, huh? ;)

The End of the Hook, Line, AND Sinker

Remember when I was waiting out the FOUR MONTHS it could statistically take for me to "feel" the difference made by the medication that supplants my now-defunct thyroid gland? Yeah, well, if you don't, feel free to click the link, but I've kind of just neatly summarized my overall impatience with the fun symptoms of my hypthyroidism, which has allegedly been under control since right around the end of SEPTEMBER, but for which the symptoms thereof—I had read—could linger for up to four months after hormone normalization.

Four months, as I'm sure you're aware, is a LONG-ASS TIME. Hell, if you're a woman and have the participation of a willing male, you can construct 1/3 of a WHOLE NEW PERSON in that time! You can, even at the conservative rate of one pound a week, diet and/or exercise your way out of SIXTEEN POUNDS in four months. Why, you can do PRACTICALLY ANYTHING in all that time, but what I canNOT do in four months, is feel substantially better, even when the last two those months are spent trying wackadoodle "alternative" treatments that are, from what I can tell, far, FAR better at reducing the "excess" bulk in my wallet than they are at alleviating my purportedly hypothyroidism-related symptoms.

*deep, cleansing breath of allergen-polluted air goes here*

Anyway, so while I was debating whether I should pester my dear Dr. Mark Hamilton about this issue, I decided to try to either debunk or support some of the stuff I had read about in relation to easing my symptoms outside of traditional medicine, and so I began by trying to find some statistically-significant, double-blind-type studies on this gibberish I'd absorbed about how fluoride can be problematic for hypothyroid patients. And as you may have already guessed? I couldn't find ONE. DAMN. THING.

In fact, the thing I did find that at least LOOKED like it came from a reputable, scientific-rather-than-anecdotal source, and would therefore be WORTH REFERENCING, said pretty much exactly the opposite of what my thyroid "bible" had attested: that while fluoride was "once thought" to compete with iodide and could, thusly, cause problems for hypothyroid patients, but that THIS WASN'T ACTUALLY THE CASE (see the last paragraph). And do you know what that means? It means I am a GULLIBLE IDIOT for not checking this sooner, and my dentist will have a FUCKING FIELD DAY in about six months, when I develop a bunch of new rotting holes in my head from cavities I CONJURED INTO BEING during the time when I stupidly quit using fluoridated toothpaste.

Suuuuper.

Thus encouraged discouraged, I next decided that I really should also check out what the ACTUAL MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS had to say, in terms of the latest and greatest scientific research on hypothyroidism, and thus I went to AllThyroid.org, and started poking around in the vicinity of the EASILY ACCESSIBLE—and neatly labeled—"Thyroid Research" (and then "Recently Published Thyroid Research"), and THERE, I found this little gem:

Small changes in thyroxine dose do not alter symptoms or well-being in patients with hypothyroidism (November 2006)

Oh yes, it IS that chipper of a newsbyte, too, but you know what else? IT'S A WELL-DONE, REFERENCEABLE STUDY, and because of THAT? It should be reproducible on a larger scale, which is pretty much TOTALLY unlike those sites that say, "Well, I am being treated for hypothyroidism and THIS is what worked for ME," which is all well and good as far as it goes, but which doesn't do JACK for me, because you know what? I don't BELIEVE <whatever it is that hasn't actually been SCIENTIFICALLY DEMONSTRATED TO HAVE A MEASURABLE EFFECT> works, so for me, IT PROBABLY WOULDN'T, and even though I do feel kinda crappy a lot of the time? I can't afford to throw money into the problem endlessly on the basis of "This Worked For ME!" pieces written on the internet by people who MIGHT AS WELL BE BORED AND MAKING THE WHOLE DAMN THING UP.

Ya know, I did not realize when I started this babble that I was going to rant, but it's working out nicely, so I guess I'll go on.

The thing I think most people overlook when looking for information—particularly, information related to their physical and mental well-being—online is NOT that we are all individuals, and so we may VERY well individually vary from the statistical norm. Most people, myself included, EXCEL at recognizing the lovely little "snowflake" facet of our own personal (SPECIAL!) humanity, but what we don't get is those statistics? They exist because most of us do NOT, in fact, vary that much—IF AT ALL—from those norms. We just don't! THAT'S HOW BELL CURVES GET THEIR BULGE, PEOPLE ... BY MOST OF US FALLING IN A BIG-ASS PILE UNDER THE BIG BUMPY UMBRELLA THERE!

Moreover, I think most of us fail to recognize the POWER of the Suggestion! (Admit it: you thought I was going to say, "the POWER of the DARK SIDE!" didn't you?) If you really think it will work for you, then WHATEVER IT IS, it might well do JUST that. Or appear to do that. At least for a little while. But because suggestion IS, in this case, synonymous WITH the dark side, it is NOT, by and large, capable of sustaining itself in the face of Reality. Which, as we ALL know, BITES. And it bites us IN THE ASS when our great progress is either negated or measurably reduced in the face of those freaking invincible STATISTICAL NORMS.

Specifically, as the study succinctly concluded, "Among patients with hypothyroidism, treatment with different doses of T4 that result in small changes in serum TSH concentrations within or slightly below the normal range do not result in changes in well-being, quality of life, psychological symptoms, or hypothyroid symptoms." And if I had stopped to look at a site that actually analyzes more than one person, I WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT LAST MOTHERFUCKING NOVEMBER.

So while I still would've probably tried the heinously disgusting hempseed bar, but I would NOT have been thinking "I'll feel better in February," which would have at least spared me the crushing frustration and freakish worry when I did NOT feel better, EVEN AFTER four months of being TSH-normalized.

I'm not sorry I've been trying some modestly odd shit; I'm really not. I AM sorry I had unfounded expectations of what that shit would DO for me, and in what time span. While the reality of the fact that being a depressive, lethargic crank who's frequently constipated (I know what you're thinking, and you know what? You're right; that DOES explain a lot!) and who is likely going to have to deal with those symptoms for the rest of her hypothyroidic life, it IS real, and I'd rather KNOW what I'm up against than keep pissing funds I could use to buy cute shoes I don't need away on overpriced, hard-to-find, fluoride-free toothpaste, among other things.

Now, I have noticed that I feel better when I eat better, so the occasional new food and forays into the Wonderful World of Fiber will continue, but you and I both know that a lot of THAT is psychological, because of having something to do OR just doing something. But as for the rest of it? If there isn't at least ONE double-blind, randomized clinical trial to back up the basic premise, I will no longer be taking the bait.

Period.

Holy Redundancy, Batman!

Because I do not know any better, I have decided to write about Holy™ Drinking Water after all. I thought about taking the high road here, but honestly, it's been awhile since I lived at anything more grandiose than a few hundred feet of sea level, and therefore I'm quite sure I'd be running the risk of contracting a severe case of altitude sickness if I did so, so THE LOW ROAD IT IS.

Although, from what I've gathered, the makers—or "blessers," whatever—of Holy™ Drinking Water are just trying to make an honest buck, with a sense of humor. At least it appears moreso that way from their website than from the first article I read about them.

I actually like the fact that the makers/blessers/distributors of this product are seeking a variety of blessings for their water, and even have a handy little online form for those who would like to participate. I think that the acknowledgment of sincerity of believers in other "formats" of divinity beyond whatever their own chosen "flavor" happens to be is quite heartwarming, and hey, the way I see it? The more blessings, the merrier! Or the holier, as the case may be.

On the other hand, I'll admit that despite their careful disclaimer about meaning "no disrespect towards any religion" in regards to their product warning label, which states (as you may see for yourself here): "Warning to sinners: If you are a sinner or evil in nature, this product may cause burning, intense heat, sweating, skin irritations, rashes, itchiness, vomiting, bloodshot and watery eyes, pale skin color, and oral irritations." seems pretty much entirely craptastic, 'cause how could that NOT be taken as offensive by at least some portion of the population? Like, oh, I dunno, say ... those who don't believe "sin" is a valid concept?

Honestly, it's only the fact that my survival, symptom-free, would not necessarily prove my sinlessness and/or moderate goodness—because, to be fair, it only says it MAY cause those things—that stops me from ordering a few cases and running a freakin' bath of the stuff. Because you KNOW that's what I thought of doing. Oh yeah? TAKE THIS!

You also know I have no fear of drinking, bathing, cooking with, or frolicking in Holy™ Drinking Water, and furthermore, I rather do appreciate their Most Excellent marketing ploy—because that IS what I think this "warning" truly is—even if, as I said (but it bears repeating) I have NO idea how it could possibly not be seen as disrespectful towards "any religion," or rather, towards NO religion, but maybe they don't care about THAT. And it's not jut because I am already—RIGHT NOW, at this VERY (unholy, apparently) MOMENT—suffering from sweating (stupid exercise side-effect anyway), itchiness (another random tickly hair, I presume), bloodshot and watery eyes (lack of sleep will do that, sinfulness notwithstanding), pale skin color (winter, DUH), and oral irritations (I have a dental exam today and all that studying, in the form of ACTUALLY FLOSSING, has irritated the HELL out of my gums, thankyouverymuch).

All Most kidding aside, what I find most amusing about this product is the fact that some people WILL take their symptom-free, post-drinking experience to mean that they ARE, in fact, NOT a "sinner" or "evil in nature." Although I suppose if violet eyeliner makes ME happy, I can hardly begrudge someone finding their happiness in eluding the dire conditions described in the warning on a bottle of Holy™ Drinking Water, as our paths to happiness in either case are at least somewhat similar in their silliness.

Still and all, I have to say that I think, at least by the tenants of mainstream Christianity, that the warning in this case is entirely redundant, 'cause you know, of course, that there is not a single, blessed one of us who is without sin.

You Gotta Start Somewhere

As well-established and pervasive as Christianity is now—at least within American culture—it's hard to imagine a time when it was the new kid on the block, religiously speaking. But back in the day when Jesus was assembling His followers and establishing the principles that would be later embodied (and Very Much debated) in The Bible, that was, in fact, the case. Assuming, of course, that you accept that there was a "historical Jesus," even if you may not be certain of His divinity, which seems to be a reasonable-enough proposition, at least for the sake of this discussion (that's right; play along with me for a few minutes here ... it's fun!).

Likewise, with Christianity being the religion in America that has the LEAST amount of poking, prodding, and self-defending to do—by simple virtue of being the Religion of The Majority ... hard to argue the point that you "have" to defend yourself when MOST PEOPLE AGREE WITH YOU, at least on the basic principles of your faith—it is difficult to envision what it surely must have been like when it was but one small fish (if you'll pardon the somewhat punny comparison) in a much bigger sea. But around about two thousand years ago, again, this surely must have been true: most people firmly believed Something Else, and as believers, would have regarded the budding religion with suspicion, at least, and likely even outright loathing.

Two thousand years seems like a long enough time that certainly validity should have been established, although persons belonging to some of the even older religions—and Judaism comes readily to mind, though there are also other, less well-known examples—would likely find a "mere" two thousand years of religious existence to be somewhat laughable. And again, it's easy enough to stick around when you have a lot of supporters, and harder to survive when The Establishment—whatever that may be at any given time—is convinced you are so very mistaken, misled, and misinformed.

Maybe it's only because I am an outsider that I see a comparison between "new" religions and their spokesmen or prophets and early Christianity; even as I try to find the words to express this idea, I am wondering if anyone has recoiled from reading just now, for HOW COULD I compare THE TRUTH to falsity? But is that not EXACTLY how early Judaic leaders must have seen the rising numbers of Christ's followers? Unless they, themselves, were also converts to this brand-new, establishment-bucking religion, would they not have—very reasonably for the time, I would think—have seen this uprising as blasphemous and WRONG?

It is so easy to sit back, two thousand years later, and say, "Yeah, but it wasn't." But if longevity alone were a guarantor of truth, it would not be Christianity that had been proven right. Nor can a believer in whatever faith s/he "feels" to be right claim superior rightness over an equally devout believer of another faith ... and yet, when one is surrounded by throngs of like-minded believers, this is EXACTLY what transpires, and any new faiths are dismissed with varying degrees of distrust and disgust, and their followers condemned as cultish sheep, looking for an "easy" way out of the "real" church.

Although I'm not about to convert, these are the sorts of things I think about when I read the condemnations so apparently casually dropped on newer, smaller religious entities by bigger, older ones, as in this article.

While there appears to be no harm done or implied, no separation or isolation of followers, to really warrant comparisons with people like David Koresh or Jim Jones, who DID—whether they believed themselves to have been genuinely God-inspired in their actions or not—harm people who believed in them, the comparisons are still there. Indeed, the article fails utterly to present an even half-heartedly bias-free discussion of the minister's claims, working the knee-jerk inflammatory "666 tattoo" into the VERY. FIRST. SENTENCE. And that's just for "subtle" starters.

Even the mention of followers of this new church causing harm to Christian churches cannot, in and of itself, establish the "wrongness" of the church itself, or its leader. If the church's leader directed the harm, certainly that would be a problem, but as mainstream followers of EVERY religion are fond of saying, "You cannot judge our church by the actions of a few extremist members."

Indeed, it seems to me—not having ties to any religion at all, and having only this one brief blurb upon which to base my brand-new opinion—that this particular new offshoot is no wackier than any other that has happened in the past. Yes, there are certain aspects that would be difficult for the Christian establishment to tolerate at all, much less swallow whole, but the idea that good and evil are two necessary and complementary aspects, and can be embodied in the same entity, is not exactly new either, nor is the apparent conversion of a religion's leader from a less-than-holy lifestyle to one that revolves around the church.

As much as it seems to be the sleight-of-hand focus of the article, it's not whether or not this particular religious "start-up" is right that interests me, really. I am just very curious why no one else seems to care how their OWN religion may have answered the charges of the more established religions when it, just like THIS religious newbie, was new and starting out. Differences there, I should think, would be perhaps even more telling than the theological fine points in detailing what inspires belief at all, as well as what inspires a particular belief's faithful.

Playing the Odds

Interestingly (to me, if no one else), I thought I had an earlier blather to reference here, but unless I managed to discuss this sort of thing previously without directly referring to "odds" OR "lottery," no, I have not. Which leads me to wonder if I just dreamed about writing about how people seem to have RELATIVE definitions of "good odds" (one set of odds for desirable situations and another entirely for undesirables), or what? Which probably leads you to think, DAMN, girl, if that's even a possibility, you must have some boring-ass dreams.

(And if that is, in fact, what you are thinking? You'd be right.)

Anyway, so I thought I bitched about how we generally think nothing at all of taking a 1/6,498 chance of dying in a car crash JUST THIS YEAR (for a person who was born this year, but give me a break, I didn't want to be Googling ALL day, and this is close enough for my purposes; check it out for yourself), but when we play the lottery, with odds right around 1/80,089,128 of winning "the big one", we actually think we have a shot at winning it. "Well, SOMEbody has to win," you often hear the sheepishly grinning Random Lottery Ticket-Buyer at the local convenience store say, whether or not they're being interviewed because it's a Slow News Day and the big lottery drawing tonight is THE hot ticket of a story, as it were.

(Yeah, but I bet you didn't say, "Well, SOMEbody has to crash." when you got into your car this morning. And your odds of "winning" THAT prize, in your lifetime, are roughly twelve THOUSAND times "better" than when you figured you might stand a chance of splitting multiple millions with your greedy, gambling-fan Uncle Sam. Assuming I did the math right. Which is assuming rather a lot, but what the hell. I'm feeling LUCKY, punk!)

Relativistic odds-interpretation notwithstanding, you may be wondering why this has any sort of relevance whatsoever, especially if you've noticed that this particular, FIRST OF MARCH blog entry here is categorized as "In The News" rather than the "Blather" it seems to richly composed of. And that is good, Grasshopper, because it means you just might thing there's an article tie-in coming up (and there is!), which means that you've read here before, which means YOU, my friend, ARE ONE OF THE INVISIBLE PEOPLE WITHOUT A WINDOWS LIVE ID! So before I toss out the link you're expecting, I want to digress just enough to add that I'm working on a way around that particular hurdle to your visibility, and encourage you to stay tuned, because I just might even manage to post a solution before all those pictures I've been meaning to post.

(I know that's not saying much, but it's more than nothing, so at least it's saying SOMEthing!)

So here's that link, and before you click it ... well, nevermind, you click-happy invisible nut. I was GOING to point out that at least the Earth's odds are better than your odds of getting in a car crash, plus? YOUR odds ON the Earth—which is, as you may have noticed, a Rather Large Place (relatively speaking, of course)—should be pretty good, too. Because that asteroid—Apophis—that they say in the article has a 1/45,000 chance of smashing into the Earth on April 13, 2036 isn't going to hit the WHOLE planet, after all. Though I imagine it would put a pretty damn big dent in one unlucky corner, at least.

I don't know what the speed of news was on February 19 where you are, but it must have been faster than the posted limit here, because I didn't hear ANYthing about Apophis other than what I picked up from CNN.com. Which is to say—DAMN, I have a whole lot of "whiches" stuck into this particular blog entry; WTF is THAT about?—that this little tidbit of apocalyptic fun did NOT manage to make either national or local evening news, or if it did, I was plunging the toilet or something. Which—OMG! THERE IT IS AGAIN!—I don't think I was.

It shouldn't seem odd to me, given the disparately relative beliefs about odds that we seem to harbor in this culture, but it DOES seem odd to me given that the evening news is hooked on Bad News like it's metaphoric methamphetamine. Seriously, the badder the news and the scarier the spin, the MORE AIR TIME IT GETS. Witness, my friends, the endless parade of dire Global Warming scenarios, the horrors of War, and the Politics, which, REALLY, you just can't say anything GOOD about, even if you try. So what's wrong with possible Annihilation by Asteroid, that it fails to make the Bad News cut? Not quite CONCRETE enough for you? Too distant a threat? Or just not "good" enough odds?

I favor the odds theory, myself, and as a pessimist, I'd like to add that if, for some strange reason, I'm not already proverbially six feet under by April 13, 2036—due to all my hard livin' and stuff, or maybe, YOU KNOW, a car crash, 'cause the odds of that are not really so extreme—I'll tell you one thing ... I will NOT be in a particular rush to get my taxes done that year.

Hey, you play the odds your way, and I'll play them mine.