Slow Posting

I haven’t been around much, I know. And that’s not going to get better within the next 30 days.

Truthfully, I’ve hit the wall when it comes to the outrages and scandals and just plain willful ignorance on the part of the administration and far too many CongressCritters – Dems included – and the large percentage of the American people who think bombing Iran might be a good idea.

As Upton Sinclair wrote: “It is very difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on not understanding it.” And that’s where we are today, folks.

Amerika.

Where the Constitution has been shredded and your government listens to or reads your every word, where dissent is unpatriotic and stifled by the administration, where your money and your life (and the stock market) is dependent on your remaining an ignoramus.

Eventually, something new will spark my outrage once again, and I’ll be back to tell you all just how much it pisses me off.

November’s postings will be spotty (even more so than this month) as I’ll be busy with writing of another type. National Novel Writing Month begins at midnight!

Once again, I’m gathering, sorting, and collating notes that will (Goddess and the keyboard willing) become 50,000 words (or more!) by 11:59pm on November 30th.

*

Oh, and a little reminder from your friendly Minority Inspector of Elections: Go Vote on Tuesday, November 6th!!

Parachutes – Healthcare in America

La Lubu at Feministe details the hell she went through after her daughter was born at 25 weeks gestation, weighing just one pound, ten ounces. From the neonatalogist’s practiced speech and her daughter’s health crises to being pink-slipped by her employer and fighting to retain her insurance coverage while fighting for her daughter’s life.

What Color Are the Holes in Your Parachute?

[...] A couple of weeks later, the honeymoon period ended. Her bowel was perforated, she went into sepsis, acquired the aforementioned NEC and a particularly gruesome complication—Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation, or DIC for short. Known as “Death Is Coming” to experienced medical personnel. I did not know how bad DIC was at the time; when I tell her NICU story to medical people, and tell them she had it, their jaws tend to drop and their eyes bug out. Surviving DIC isn’t the norm. I held her little hand and quietly sang songs to her, mostly Etta James and Koko Taylor, but some vintage Elton John, Rolling Stones, even some Mary J. Blige. Just, whatever I could think of at the time. I told her what sunsets looked like, ‘cuz her pod was facing west, but the windows were too high for her to see. I told her, just in case she was wondering why the light changed during the day as it moved into night. I tried to describe the taste of salsiccia and stuffed shells to her, piping hot rigatoni with rich, spicy sugu and fresh grated parmesan on top. What the wind felt like on the face and in the hair. All the places we would go and see when she got healthy and got outta there. I wanted to give her something to fight for. And just like on that first day, her respiratory and heart rate, and her oxygen saturation rate would improve as I spoke. It was a battle, and at one point a nurse told me point blank that if I was thinking about getting her baptized, perhaps I’d like to call a priest.

“The Most Insidious of Traitors”

Evil Incarnate forced himself out of his undisclosed location to give a speech in which he threatens the US will take action against Iran.

Once again, the misAdministration proves that it only goes after o-i-l and countries that do not already have nuclear weapons. North Korea, anyone? China? Israel? Britain? Pakistan, where Mr. Bin Forgotten is getting his groove on and encouraging his Taliban buddies?

From the Associated Press:

The United States and other nations will not allow Iran to obtain a nuclear weapon, Vice President Dick Cheney said Sunday.

[snip]

He said Iran’s efforts to pursue technology that would allow it to build a nuclear weapon are obvious and that “the regime continues to practice delay and deceit in an obvious effort to buy time.” [Not that the Big Dick would know anything about practicing delay and deceit ... - Jenn]

If Iran continues on its current course, Cheney said the U.S. and other nations are prepared to take action. The vice president made no specific reference to military action.

“We will not allow Iran to have a nuclear weapon,” he said.

Gee, Mr. Vice-President, wouldn’t that have been easier if you and your minions hadn’t decided that Valerie Plame was “fair game”?

From ThinkProgress:

PLAME: Our mission was to make sure that the bad guys, basically, did not get nuclear weapons.

COURIC: When senior administration officials leaked her name to reporters, they may have exposed other spies and damaged operations targeting Iran. CBS News has learned that she was involved in one highly classified mission to deliver fake nuclear weapons blueprints to Tehran. It was called Operation Merlin, and it was first revealed in a book by investigative reporter James Risen. [my emphasis]

Jenn’s Sunday Sermon – Monsters Edition

There is not, and never will be, any reasonable justification for the massacre at Nusoor Square. None. Nor for any of the other atrocities committed by American troops – Abu Ghraib and Haditha, among others – nor those committed by mercenaries, excuse me, “private contractors” paid outrageous amounts by the American government for doing jobs once done by our armed forces.

Those who support or excuse this kind of overkill as being the fault of the Iraqis in the square for “not moving” don’t seem to understand is that Iraqis are being told to follow contradictory rules – don’t drive too fast but don’t drive too slowly either. Don’t pull over to allow a convoy to pass or pull over to allow a convoy to pass. Stop and allow convoys to go around, or don’t stop because the convoy will plow into your vehicle in order to clear the way. They aren’t sure what to do, which rule to follow to prevent bloodshed – and then that hesitation is seen as “threatening.”

And for many, when their family member is killed, their grief and anguish solidifies into a hatred of Americans, and American-sponsored mercenaries private contractors. Some will become active participants in the insurgency, some will help the insurgency with information, weapons, and money, and others will simply give tacit approval while doing nothing for or against the Americans.

Truthfully, I’m not surprised.

Friday Anti-War Song

It’s very simple to understand now. Children of lower-income families whose parents can’t afford insurance for them are not important to Republicans or to the White House. It’s okay to ask for $190 billion to continue a lost cause, but it is not okay to ask for $35 billion over 5 years in order to provide healthcare to children.

It’s okay for a Republican to stand up and deride “socialized medicine” and “government healthcare” while they and their families receive free, taxpayer-funded, government healthcare, but it is not okay to ensure millions of children have access to preventive care and early intervention services.

We learned something about the Republican Party, thanks to the furor over SCHIP:

War = good. Providing lower-income kids with access to healthcare = bad.

Rep. Pete Stark (D-Ca) expressed it well:

Woot. Go Pete!!

Now, maybe you’re wondering what SCHIP has to do with the Friday Anti-War Song. Or maybe you’re a smart, involved, Democratic voter, and you already know. But I’ll lay it out anyway:

40 Days’ Worth of Funding for the Iraq War Would Pay
for Health Insurance for 10 Million American Children.

And, with that, here’s today’s song, from New Songs for Peace:

How Long?

How long will children have to wait
‘Til we stop teaching how to hate
How soon we learn we demonstrate what we believe

How long will children have to wait
‘Til we stop teaching how to hate
How soon we learn we demonstrate what we believe

We drop our bombs we let them go
They fall on people we don’t know
So will we reap just what we sow and too will grieve

How long will children have to wait
‘Til we stop teaching how to hate
How soon we learn we demonstrate what we believe

We cause our terror in the night
To make it easier to fight
I hope our research is all right
How will we know if it ever is

How long will children have to wait
‘Til we stop teaching how to hate
How soon we learn we demonstrate what we believe

How long will children have to wait
‘Til we stop teaching how to hate
How soon we learn we demonstrate what we believe

Written by Martin Thomas & Art Goodtimes
Performed by Joey Lindly

Scranton Police Now Language Cops

There’s a reason or a hundred why I hate the Scranton-Wilkes Barre area, most of them relating to the roads and highways which seem to have been designed and built by drunk, one-eyed men with inner ear problems.

But this takes the cake.

A woman was cited for disorderly conduct — for cursing in her own house.

From the Scranton Times-Tribune, via Shakesville:

A West Scranton woman could face up to 90 days in jail and a fine of up to $300 for allegedly shouting profanities at an overflowing toilet while inside her Luzerne Street home.

Dawn Herb, whose potty mouth caught the attention of an off-duty police officer, was charged with disorderly conduct recently, prompting her to fire off a letter to the editor and vow to fight the charge.

“It doesn’t make any sense. I was in my house. It’s not like I was outside or drunk,” said Ms. Herb, who resides at 924 Luzerne St. along with her four young children. “A cop can charge you with disorderly conduct for disrespecting them?”

[snip]

Patrolman Gerald Tallo responded and charged Ms. Herb with disorderly conduct.

The citation accuses the defendant of using obscene language or gestures “with intent to cause public inconvenience, annoyance or alarm or recklessly (creating) a risk …”

Reading farther, I discover that “The use of obscene language or gestures is an offense under the state criminal code.”

What?!

Goddamn. I am in some fuckin’ trouble…. Oops!

Insanity Claims More Republicans

You’ve just gotta see this!

From the website of the House Energy and Commerce Committee Republicans:

Bipartisanship on SCHIP!*

Republican businessman Montgomery Burns today joined with Mayor Joe Quimby, D-Springfield, to support the Senate’s gazillion-dollar SCHIP bill.

Yes, those would be characters from “The Simpsons.” Rich and evil gazillionaire Monty Burns and woman-chasing Mayor Quimby. If they’re for something, it must be bad, right??

So, does this mean Bart and Lisa’s parents are supporters of the President’s veto of SCHIP? Is Apu? What about Moe, or Barney, or Willie? Has anyone spoken to Principal Skinner, or Ms. Crabapple??

Do cartoon characters have trouble paying their health insurance premiums?

Obviously, there are a few disturbing possibilities here.

1) The House Energy and Commerce Committee Republicans had their site hacked. By hackers using copyrighted characters and images.

2) The House Energy and Commerce Committee Republicans, intentionally and with zero forethought, used copyrighted characters and images without permission in a press release designed to gather support for the President’s veto of SCHIP.

3) The House Energy and Commerce Committee Republicans, intentionally and with zero forethought, used copyrighted characters and images with permission in a press release designed to gather support for the President’s veto of SCHIP.

4) The House Energy and Commerce Committee Republicans, intentionally and with not much forethought, used copyrighted characters and images without permission in a press release designed to gather support for the override of the President’s veto of SCHIP.

5) The House Energy and Commerce Committee Republicans, intentionally and with not much forethought, used copyrighted characters and images with permission in a press release designed to gather support for the override of the President’s veto of SCHIP.

Shift Happens

Saturday Puppy Blogging

This has been a rough couple of weeks, so I haven’t gotten much chance to look around the blogosphere. Hopefully, I’ll get back to regular Saturday round-ups next week.

In the meantime, enjoy pictures of my son’s newest addition:

That’s Tank. (I voted for Leonidas, but was overruled.)

If you’ve ever been to I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER you know cats talk and write in a weird, non-native, Instant Messenger-type English. “KTHXBAI” comes to mind. (Come to think of it, it could be toddler-English…)

Dogs probably talk like Cheech and Chong. Can you not see this dog saying, “Du-uude, ‘mon. Get me some of that … that … uh … what’s it called? … y’know … the stuff I eat. I got the munchies like you wouldn’t believe.”

Eddie — 6/11/79 – 10/12/04

In Ancient Greece, it was believed that the souls of the great and good dwelt in the Elysium after their deaths. Heroes, bards, poets, those who’d helped others, those who’d led righteous lives, lived on in a place of peace and beauty, sunlight and joy, where they had no sense of the long separation between themselves and those they loved in the mortal realm. They were able to hear the thoughts of those left behind, whenever they were remembered on earth in memory and story.

I’ve always loved to think of the afterlife like that. With all those I’ve loved and lost sitting and standing and cooking, chatting amongst themselves, hearing us as we remember them with our laughter and our tears – a nice big family reunion, so to speak.

Eddie, we miss you every day.

 

Nicholas Evans, from The Smokejumper:

Walk Within You

[...] For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey,
The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored,
The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
The wordless language of look and touch,
The knowing,
Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade,
Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are they stone,
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.

What we were, we are.
What we had, we have.
A conjoined past imperishably present.

So when you walk the woods where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,

Be still.
Clear your eyes.
Breathe.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.

I am not gone but merely walk within you.