A Good News Story
3 hours ago
Thursday, October 19, 2006
#303 - Another Voter Guide
The Fetching One has published her own voter guide. We don't agree on everything, but she has the right idea. Read 'em and decide. Then vote. I tend now to automatically throw away every single election junk mail that comes to my box. Mrs. Woody and I have a tradition of sitting down prior to the election, going through the official pamphlet and making our choices. Then we vote.
#302 - Reactionary Blogging
It always amuses me to see the level of reaction to the published word. My amusement stems from the fact that I happen to be a performer. That is, I spend quite a bit of time on stage (although not as much lately... must be getting old) and am always looking for the right delivery. What works in a visual/audio communication does not always (one might even say generally) translate well into the spoken word.
My previous post is case in point.
Perhaps a little background would be in order. My father was a card-carrying curmudgeon. He could snarl like no one I've ever met, either before or since. Naturally, my brother and I have both taken on aspects of Dad's personality in our own lives, and we both tend to snarl a bit in our communications with others.
As an example, whenever we would watch TV news with Dad, we would listen to some story of wrongdoing and Dad would snarl from his chair, "That's precisely why we need public floggings." I don't believe for a second that Dad would ever have been comfortable with having public floggings reinstated in this country (or anywhere else, for that matter), but we who loved him understood both the genesis and the intent of his comments. What he was really saying was that, as a society, we have gone far too soft on criminals. He knew perfectly well that the Savior advocated hating the sin but loving the sinner. However, when you're at home and in a relaxed (somewhat, anyway) setting, your natural thoughts - the ones you tend to keep locked away when you're in the public eye - will often surface. And with Dad, they surfaced like a submarine doing an emergency breach.
The actor in me loved that curmudgeonly aspect of Dad's personality. I even, on occasion, use it with my kids, but always in a kidding manner. My girls have finally gotten used to that (far fewer meltdowns now when I try it!), and even my co-workers know me well enough to rarely take me seriously unless they see one of the warning signs. If I'm snarling, but my face isn't beet-red, then they're safe.
So back to my post. I wrote that immediately after becoming aware of the incident. A man - one of those leeches whom I am required to love - forced himself upon a 15 month old child. Such an act, if memory serves, ranks among the most heinous of crimes for which some forgiveness can still be expected (at some point), but is still one for which full restitution can never be achieved in this life. Not in my view, at any rate. Hence my rather reactionary post, with all the righteous indignation expressed to me in the comments that followed.
Too bad no one could see me snarl when I wrote that.
There are lessons to be learned here, of course. One is that the written word has a far-reaching impact that goes beyond mere delivery technique. In other words, as an actor I receive immediate feedback from my performance. I can tell whether what I've just said had the desired effect. Most of the time, at any rate. But the written word is different; it stands for all time (especially in this day of the internet!) as evidence of what you think. Whether I was actually serious about the death penalty (and I still think there is some merit to adding crimes of this type to the list) for this person will never be known strictly from reading what was written. Would I myself ever be capable of taking another person's life? I simply don't know. I'd like to think that, if it came down to having to defend my family, I might. But I have no way of knowing, and I really don't want to find out. That's one of the primary reasons why I never joined the military. There was always the thought in the back of my mind that I might actually, at some point, be called upon to take someone else's life. Why I would think that way, yet support having others' lives taken to satisfy the demands of justice is something I cannot explain, but I do.
The other lesson would be knowing the danger that comes from taking even the written word at face value. The primary example here would be the traditional press - the so-called "mainstream media" - that for so long has dominated the world of communication. We learn now that our fears of bias in the press were not only well-founded, but that this bias has grown over the past few decades. It has grown to the point where very little of what they write adds any value to my own life, as I would never espouse the ideals they try to pass off as wisdom. Yet many people do take them at face value, and the result is an ever-increasing polarization in our society.
(I am not naive enough to believe that this is the only reason for that polarization, but it sure counts as one huge factor.)
So it is here at the Woundup. There are three rules for "enjoying" this blog. First, this is a rant blog. I tend to use it to be the public face of my faux-snarling personality that I don't tend to show people in real life. Secondly, as a result of the first rule, I would wish that folks not take this blog any more seriously than they would, say, the World Weekly News. Really. Those that know me well know which posts to take seriously. The rest of you just throw a few grains of salt at the screen and relax. Third, remember, please, that Woody does not ever attempt to claim to be an expert at anything. Not on this blog, at any rate. If I can claim expertise in anything, it's in being a Dad, for which I have a completely different (both in style and in scope) blog. If you want to see Woody's spiritual, family-friendly side, go visit The Inner Dad. The rest of what I do here is strictly my opinion. Or, perhaps more accurately, what my opinion would be if I weren't such a darn'd good ol' Mormon boy.
So, to Curtis, Dan, and a few Anonymous types I would say, "blog on." Heck, I wouldn't write this stuff if I didn't think I could get an occasional rise out of people, and I'm glad to see you guys have got your thought processes well entrenched. If I disagree with you, I hope I at least do so politely.
Cheers, from your loving (and curmudgeonly) Uncle Woody
My previous post is case in point.
Perhaps a little background would be in order. My father was a card-carrying curmudgeon. He could snarl like no one I've ever met, either before or since. Naturally, my brother and I have both taken on aspects of Dad's personality in our own lives, and we both tend to snarl a bit in our communications with others.
As an example, whenever we would watch TV news with Dad, we would listen to some story of wrongdoing and Dad would snarl from his chair, "That's precisely why we need public floggings." I don't believe for a second that Dad would ever have been comfortable with having public floggings reinstated in this country (or anywhere else, for that matter), but we who loved him understood both the genesis and the intent of his comments. What he was really saying was that, as a society, we have gone far too soft on criminals. He knew perfectly well that the Savior advocated hating the sin but loving the sinner. However, when you're at home and in a relaxed (somewhat, anyway) setting, your natural thoughts - the ones you tend to keep locked away when you're in the public eye - will often surface. And with Dad, they surfaced like a submarine doing an emergency breach.
The actor in me loved that curmudgeonly aspect of Dad's personality. I even, on occasion, use it with my kids, but always in a kidding manner. My girls have finally gotten used to that (far fewer meltdowns now when I try it!), and even my co-workers know me well enough to rarely take me seriously unless they see one of the warning signs. If I'm snarling, but my face isn't beet-red, then they're safe.
So back to my post. I wrote that immediately after becoming aware of the incident. A man - one of those leeches whom I am required to love - forced himself upon a 15 month old child. Such an act, if memory serves, ranks among the most heinous of crimes for which some forgiveness can still be expected (at some point), but is still one for which full restitution can never be achieved in this life. Not in my view, at any rate. Hence my rather reactionary post, with all the righteous indignation expressed to me in the comments that followed.
Too bad no one could see me snarl when I wrote that.
There are lessons to be learned here, of course. One is that the written word has a far-reaching impact that goes beyond mere delivery technique. In other words, as an actor I receive immediate feedback from my performance. I can tell whether what I've just said had the desired effect. Most of the time, at any rate. But the written word is different; it stands for all time (especially in this day of the internet!) as evidence of what you think. Whether I was actually serious about the death penalty (and I still think there is some merit to adding crimes of this type to the list) for this person will never be known strictly from reading what was written. Would I myself ever be capable of taking another person's life? I simply don't know. I'd like to think that, if it came down to having to defend my family, I might. But I have no way of knowing, and I really don't want to find out. That's one of the primary reasons why I never joined the military. There was always the thought in the back of my mind that I might actually, at some point, be called upon to take someone else's life. Why I would think that way, yet support having others' lives taken to satisfy the demands of justice is something I cannot explain, but I do.
The other lesson would be knowing the danger that comes from taking even the written word at face value. The primary example here would be the traditional press - the so-called "mainstream media" - that for so long has dominated the world of communication. We learn now that our fears of bias in the press were not only well-founded, but that this bias has grown over the past few decades. It has grown to the point where very little of what they write adds any value to my own life, as I would never espouse the ideals they try to pass off as wisdom. Yet many people do take them at face value, and the result is an ever-increasing polarization in our society.
(I am not naive enough to believe that this is the only reason for that polarization, but it sure counts as one huge factor.)
So it is here at the Woundup. There are three rules for "enjoying" this blog. First, this is a rant blog. I tend to use it to be the public face of my faux-snarling personality that I don't tend to show people in real life. Secondly, as a result of the first rule, I would wish that folks not take this blog any more seriously than they would, say, the World Weekly News. Really. Those that know me well know which posts to take seriously. The rest of you just throw a few grains of salt at the screen and relax. Third, remember, please, that Woody does not ever attempt to claim to be an expert at anything. Not on this blog, at any rate. If I can claim expertise in anything, it's in being a Dad, for which I have a completely different (both in style and in scope) blog. If you want to see Woody's spiritual, family-friendly side, go visit The Inner Dad. The rest of what I do here is strictly my opinion. Or, perhaps more accurately, what my opinion would be if I weren't such a darn'd good ol' Mormon boy.
So, to Curtis, Dan, and a few Anonymous types I would say, "blog on." Heck, I wouldn't write this stuff if I didn't think I could get an occasional rise out of people, and I'm glad to see you guys have got your thought processes well entrenched. If I disagree with you, I hope I at least do so politely.
Cheers, from your loving (and curmudgeonly) Uncle Woody
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
#301 - Why I Still Support the Death Penalty
Via Drudge.
This man would be my Exhibit A. (STRONG WARNING: Do not click unless you're in a mood to be enraged! The man is alleged to have done sick things with a 15 month old, then post it on the internet.)
This presupposes, of course, that the man is actually guilty. If so, you know where Woody stands.
</RANT>
This man would be my Exhibit A. (STRONG WARNING: Do not click unless you're in a mood to be enraged! The man is alleged to have done sick things with a 15 month old, then post it on the internet.)
This presupposes, of course, that the man is actually guilty. If so, you know where Woody stands.
</RANT>
#300 - Concert I Wish I Could Attend
The Los Angeles Bach Festival (73rd annual!) opens this Sunday at the First Congregational Church of Los Angeles, and one of these years I'd like to be able to take the time and just go. If I had my pick of concerts, I'd attend the closer for this year's Festival. Alexander Ruggieri will be conducting the Los Angeles Bach Festival Choir & Orchestra in Bach's "Mass in B-Minor."
The B-minor was my first real experience with Bach as a teenager when I was privileged to perform it with the (then) Ventura County Master Chorale. Quite a way to kick off my career as an amateur choir boy.
The B-minor is possessed of the kinds of stirring polyphonics that Bach reserved for his epic works, and it firmly cemented my desire to pursue classical vocal music as a hobby. (Actually, this is a lie. I had intended to make it a vocation, but let the schooling required for such a task intimidate me. Never got there. So it remains my number one hobby.)
Not coincidentally, one of my favorite works is being conducted by one of my favorite conductors. Alexander Ruggieri is an incredible music director - one I would gladly sing for again given the opportunity. I can only imagine what he'll be able to accomplish with the power of the Festival at his disposal. Alexander is currently the Minister of Music for First Congo, so he also serves as host for the event.
It was under Alexander that I (finally!) reached my vocal prime. Such as it is. It was his ability to teach without condescending that allowed me to learn just enough technique to be able to fake my way through some better-than-average choirs and not make a fool out of myself.
Anyway, if you're anywhere near Los Angeles on the 29th and have $19 to spare ($30, if you want prime seating), I'd attend this one. I would, if time and budget permitted.
The B-minor is not to be missed if it can be helped.
The B-minor was my first real experience with Bach as a teenager when I was privileged to perform it with the (then) Ventura County Master Chorale. Quite a way to kick off my career as an amateur choir boy.
The B-minor is possessed of the kinds of stirring polyphonics that Bach reserved for his epic works, and it firmly cemented my desire to pursue classical vocal music as a hobby. (Actually, this is a lie. I had intended to make it a vocation, but let the schooling required for such a task intimidate me. Never got there. So it remains my number one hobby.)
Not coincidentally, one of my favorite works is being conducted by one of my favorite conductors. Alexander Ruggieri is an incredible music director - one I would gladly sing for again given the opportunity. I can only imagine what he'll be able to accomplish with the power of the Festival at his disposal. Alexander is currently the Minister of Music for First Congo, so he also serves as host for the event.
It was under Alexander that I (finally!) reached my vocal prime. Such as it is. It was his ability to teach without condescending that allowed me to learn just enough technique to be able to fake my way through some better-than-average choirs and not make a fool out of myself.
Anyway, if you're anywhere near Los Angeles on the 29th and have $19 to spare ($30, if you want prime seating), I'd attend this one. I would, if time and budget permitted.
The B-minor is not to be missed if it can be helped.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
#299 - Election Thoughts
I've been reading 'round the blogosphere in the wake of the recent Foley blowout, and find the posts over at Hugh Hewitt to be fairly typical of current Republican fears.
Talk centers around voters having a long memory where scandals are concerned, although I would assert that Democrats must have much shorter memories, given their continuing love affairs with Clinton and his cronies. Still, I'm hopeful that in this election, people like Foley (who has already stepped down) will be less on the minds of the electorate than a certain Nuclear Loon who sits across the ocean playing with a particularly dangerous set of Tinker Toys.
Bottom line, folks: If you have any concern for our national defense, voting Democrat is not the way to go. While there a few (VERY few) exceptions, they do not have the defense of our borders or our way of life uppermost on their minds. They have only retreat and appeasement on their agenda. I've worked in the defense industry for over 20 years, and I have never found Democrats to be a friend to the industry unless we threatened to take jobs out of their districts.
Neither party has a lock on ethics. Neither party can claim the upper hand on morals or virtue. If I had my way, the entire Congress would be booted out and handed over to people who can make such claims. But that's not likely to happen in my lifetime, so I'll continue to vote for those who come closest to guaranteeing my safety.
So vote for whom you will in November. Chances are you'll get exactly what you deserve.
Talk centers around voters having a long memory where scandals are concerned, although I would assert that Democrats must have much shorter memories, given their continuing love affairs with Clinton and his cronies. Still, I'm hopeful that in this election, people like Foley (who has already stepped down) will be less on the minds of the electorate than a certain Nuclear Loon who sits across the ocean playing with a particularly dangerous set of Tinker Toys.
Bottom line, folks: If you have any concern for our national defense, voting Democrat is not the way to go. While there a few (VERY few) exceptions, they do not have the defense of our borders or our way of life uppermost on their minds. They have only retreat and appeasement on their agenda. I've worked in the defense industry for over 20 years, and I have never found Democrats to be a friend to the industry unless we threatened to take jobs out of their districts.
Neither party has a lock on ethics. Neither party can claim the upper hand on morals or virtue. If I had my way, the entire Congress would be booted out and handed over to people who can make such claims. But that's not likely to happen in my lifetime, so I'll continue to vote for those who come closest to guaranteeing my safety.
So vote for whom you will in November. Chances are you'll get exactly what you deserve.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
#298 - Curmudgeon's Guide for Young Conservative Voters - 2006 Edition
Updated for the February 5 Primary here.
[As the election looms ever near, I suddenly find that many people come here having searched for a "conservative voter guide" in, I'm assuming, California. No doubt you were looking for a responsible, well-researched, knowledgeable guide. This is not that guide. You could try Flash Report, but only if you understand lawyers. Heaven knows I don't.
This guide is merely my own missive detailing how I - a lone conservative voice in the wilderness - intend to vote this Tuesday. If it provides any entertainment value, you're welcome. If it annoys you, I apologize.]
Election time is upon us once again, boys and girls. I know you all look forward to this election with as much joy and anticipation as that root canal you'll be getting next week, and Uncle Woody wants to share in that joy with you.
Of course, living in California, we have what we call "Propositions" or ballot initiatives. We have propositions because our legislature and governor are incapable of doing their jobs, so they need us to do it for them. There are only thirteen initiatives this year (lucky 13!), so Uncle Woody once again offers his "Curmudgeon's Guide for Young Conservative Voters" for this 2006 mid-term election.
Of course, this is only a guide, boys and girls. You may feel differently about some of these initiatives than Uncle Woody does, and that's okay. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, no matter how wrong-headed their thinking may be. Uncle Woody should also mention that he has not yet run this guide by Auntie Mrs. Woody, so his own opinions may change before we actually have the chance to vote.
So, boys and girls, pop some Reddenbacher®, sit back, and let Uncle Woody guide you through the mysteries of this year's ballot measures:
1A - Transportation Funding Protection
1B - Highway Safety, Traffic Reduction, Air Quality, and Port Security Bond Act of 2006
1C - Housing and Emergency Shelter Trust Fund Act of 2006
1D - Kindergarten-University Public Education Facilities Bond Act of 2006
1E - Disaster Preparedness and Flood Prevention Bond Act of 2006
Uncle Woody wants to like the 1A through 1E initiatives; he really does. They sound like very important measures that will provide some desperately needed money for our crumbling infrastructure. Of the bunch, though, the only one Uncle Woody can support is 1A. Why, you ask? Because 1A is the only one that doesn't require issuing bonds to fund it.
Uncle Woody doesn't much care for bond measures, because bonds are really just a way of deferring the debt for a period of time, with no real guarantees that we'll have the money to pay them off later. And if investors got cranky enough, they could cause the state a lot of grief. Did you boys and girls happen to read the "Overview of State Bond Debt" in the voter information guide? Well, Uncle Woody did, and for him it reads like the screenplay for "Fatal Attraction." And Uncle Woody never even saw the movie.
Bond measures are, for the most part, evil, boys and girls, and Uncle Woody advises against them. Especially in this election. Uncle Woody really wants to know what the state has been doing with all the money that California voters have been giving or granting them for the past several decades. Until they can reassure Uncle Woody that they're really doing what they promised to do, Uncle Woody thinks they need to sell a few more of their personal Hummers to finance some of these measures, if you get Uncle Woody's drift.
83 - Sex Offenders, Sexually Violent Predators, Punishment, Residence Restrictions and Monitoring
Yes! Yes! Yes! A hundred times YES! Uncle Woody thinks that, in the absence of public castrations, tougher restrictions on registered offenders will have to do. The only thing Uncle Woody could see that would improve this measure is physically welding those GPS locators on some sensitive portion of the offenders' anatomy, but you can't have everything.
84 - Water Quality, Safety and Supply. Flood Control. Natural Resource Protection. Park Improvements. Bonds.
Can you boys and girls guess how Uncle Woody might vote here? NO, of course. Listen, Uncle Woody is all for improving our water quality. Uncle Woody has been purchasing bottled water for years now (since moving to Anaheim, where Disney has done nothing to improve the water in this area!), and will continue to do so for as long as local water tastes like something that should have stayed flushed the first time. Flood control? You bet. Uncle Woody happens to live in a flood zone, and does worry about that. Protecting our "natural resources" (Hollywood does NOT count), and improving our parks? Go team. But, here again, BONDS are required to do all of this. Hey, Uncle Woody has a better suggestion: Let's just add another 3 or 4 dollars' tax onto every bottle of beer sold in this state, and see what that does. You boys and girls shouldn't be drinking that stuff, anyway. You'll thank Uncle Woody in the long run. Really.
85 - Waiting Period and Parental Notification Before Termination of Minor's Pregnancy.
The fact that we even need such a measure bothers Uncle Woody. A lot. And the worst part is that it does not deny the performance of an abortion, it only defers it for 48 hours. Abortion is something that makes Uncle Woody very, very sad, boys and girls. Uncle Woody would much rather talk about abstinence, personal responsibility, and improving adoption laws already on the books. But no, we have to decide whether to make teenagers wait for 48 hours before going ahead with an abortion, whether Mom and Dad agree or not.
Uncle Woody votes NO. Not because Uncle Woody thinks his girls should have immediate access to an abortion, but because anyone would think that such an abortion is acceptable under any but the most grievous circumstances. Uncle Woody thinks we should be spending much more energy on helping our girls stay pure until they're old enough to truly decide for themselves.
86 - Tax on Cigarettes
See Uncle Woody's comments regarding such a tax on beer under Proposition 84 above. Of course Uncle Woody wants to tax someone $2.60 extra per pack. Uncle Woody is not altogether convinced that the money will end up where they say it will (Uncle Woody hasn't believed our money ever goes where it's promised since we approved the Lottery in this state), but Uncle Woody will think it's worth it if it drives one more person to for heaven's sake GIVE UP THE HABIT.
87 - Alternative Energy. Research, Production, Incentives. Tax on California Oil Producers
Uncle Woody votes NO on Prop 87, but not for the reasons put foward by the oil industry. Remember Uncle Woody's basic premise: governments and bureaucracies need to be more accountable with the money we already give them. Taxing the oil companies an additional $4 billion with no guaranteed reductions on fossil fuel use is really just pie-in-the-sky thinking. In other words, if Uncle Woody's going to get hit at the pump (and, despite assurances by pro-87 forces to the contrary, we will get hit at the pump), Uncle Woody wants it to be for some actual project. Say, for example, the $4 billion were specifically earmarked for building more hydrogen refueling stations across the state, with a portion used to incentivize car makers in developing lower-cost hydrogen fuel cell vehicles. THAT Uncle Woody would vote for. For now... no plan, no vote.
88 - Education Funding. Real Property Parcel Tax
Uncle Woody is of two minds on this one, boys and girls. Uncle Woody wants you young people to stay in school, certainly, and Uncle Woody would love to know that you boys and girls are in a safe, moderate environment where you get plenty of attention from your teachers. This measure is supposed to raise Uncle Woody's property taxes by $50 a year, which would raise something like $450 million to be distributed throughout the state. Big hairy deal. Uncle Woody is pretty sure that $450 million a year would barely cover the costs of all those whiny commercials that the California Teachers Association put out begging for more money every week.
Still, even though Uncle Woody is a homeschooler and doesn't have union troubles to deal with, Uncle Woody also feels it to be his civic duty to make sure that we have public schools available, and that they are as current and safe as can be. Uncle Woody votes YES for this one. You're welcome.
89 - Political Campaigns. Public Financing. Corporate Tax Increase. Campaign Contribution and Expenditure Limits
Uncle Woody smells dead fish here, boys and girls. Campaign reform laws have not worked at the national level, and Uncle Woody sure as heck can't see them working at a state level, either. Uncle Woody recognizes that holding candidates responsible for their ethics (or, more generally, lack thereof) is very important, but here's the lesson: If you boys and girls want to have a reputation for being honorable and responsible, don't become politicians.
Uncle Woody votes NO. The fish ain't getting any deader.
90 - Government Acquisition, Regulation of Private Property
Uncle Woody supports this initiative. Strongly. For the past several years, Uncle Woody has looked on in horror while people have had their lives turned upside down merely because a city wants to "revitalize" some portion of the town. Uncle Woody thinks that eminent domain has its place, but that place should only be for extraordinary circumstances. Certainly they should have the option of condemning properties that pose a threat to the health or safety of the community. But taking a person's property merely to "develop" that property for revenue is - among other things - selfish, greedy, and unnecessary. Don't be like the government, boys and girls. Care about your neighbors. Uncle Woody votes NO.
That's it, boys and girls. You can cut this guide out and take with you for something to read while you wait in line to vote next month. (Like that's ever happened where you live.) Uncle Woody is proud of you for voting this year. (You are voting this year, right??) Uncle and Auntie Mrs. Woody want you to be responsible voters. Of course, where candidates are concerned, you boys and girls are on your own. Whichever sex-scandal-plagued, ethically-breached candidate or party you belong to, you have your Aunt and Uncle's condolences. Do your best, and Uncle Woody will still love you.
Unless you vote against Uncle Woody. Then you're out of the will.
[As the election looms ever near, I suddenly find that many people come here having searched for a "conservative voter guide" in, I'm assuming, California. No doubt you were looking for a responsible, well-researched, knowledgeable guide. This is not that guide. You could try Flash Report, but only if you understand lawyers. Heaven knows I don't.
This guide is merely my own missive detailing how I - a lone conservative voice in the wilderness - intend to vote this Tuesday. If it provides any entertainment value, you're welcome. If it annoys you, I apologize.]
Election time is upon us once again, boys and girls. I know you all look forward to this election with as much joy and anticipation as that root canal you'll be getting next week, and Uncle Woody wants to share in that joy with you.
Of course, living in California, we have what we call "Propositions" or ballot initiatives. We have propositions because our legislature and governor are incapable of doing their jobs, so they need us to do it for them. There are only thirteen initiatives this year (lucky 13!), so Uncle Woody once again offers his "Curmudgeon's Guide for Young Conservative Voters" for this 2006 mid-term election.
Of course, this is only a guide, boys and girls. You may feel differently about some of these initiatives than Uncle Woody does, and that's okay. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, no matter how wrong-headed their thinking may be. Uncle Woody should also mention that he has not yet run this guide by Auntie Mrs. Woody, so his own opinions may change before we actually have the chance to vote.
So, boys and girls, pop some Reddenbacher®, sit back, and let Uncle Woody guide you through the mysteries of this year's ballot measures:
1A - Transportation Funding Protection
1B - Highway Safety, Traffic Reduction, Air Quality, and Port Security Bond Act of 2006
1C - Housing and Emergency Shelter Trust Fund Act of 2006
1D - Kindergarten-University Public Education Facilities Bond Act of 2006
1E - Disaster Preparedness and Flood Prevention Bond Act of 2006
Uncle Woody wants to like the 1A through 1E initiatives; he really does. They sound like very important measures that will provide some desperately needed money for our crumbling infrastructure. Of the bunch, though, the only one Uncle Woody can support is 1A. Why, you ask? Because 1A is the only one that doesn't require issuing bonds to fund it.
Uncle Woody doesn't much care for bond measures, because bonds are really just a way of deferring the debt for a period of time, with no real guarantees that we'll have the money to pay them off later. And if investors got cranky enough, they could cause the state a lot of grief. Did you boys and girls happen to read the "Overview of State Bond Debt" in the voter information guide? Well, Uncle Woody did, and for him it reads like the screenplay for "Fatal Attraction." And Uncle Woody never even saw the movie.
Bond measures are, for the most part, evil, boys and girls, and Uncle Woody advises against them. Especially in this election. Uncle Woody really wants to know what the state has been doing with all the money that California voters have been giving or granting them for the past several decades. Until they can reassure Uncle Woody that they're really doing what they promised to do, Uncle Woody thinks they need to sell a few more of their personal Hummers to finance some of these measures, if you get Uncle Woody's drift.
83 - Sex Offenders, Sexually Violent Predators, Punishment, Residence Restrictions and Monitoring
Yes! Yes! Yes! A hundred times YES! Uncle Woody thinks that, in the absence of public castrations, tougher restrictions on registered offenders will have to do. The only thing Uncle Woody could see that would improve this measure is physically welding those GPS locators on some sensitive portion of the offenders' anatomy, but you can't have everything.
84 - Water Quality, Safety and Supply. Flood Control. Natural Resource Protection. Park Improvements. Bonds.
Can you boys and girls guess how Uncle Woody might vote here? NO, of course. Listen, Uncle Woody is all for improving our water quality. Uncle Woody has been purchasing bottled water for years now (since moving to Anaheim, where Disney has done nothing to improve the water in this area!), and will continue to do so for as long as local water tastes like something that should have stayed flushed the first time. Flood control? You bet. Uncle Woody happens to live in a flood zone, and does worry about that. Protecting our "natural resources" (Hollywood does NOT count), and improving our parks? Go team. But, here again, BONDS are required to do all of this. Hey, Uncle Woody has a better suggestion: Let's just add another 3 or 4 dollars' tax onto every bottle of beer sold in this state, and see what that does. You boys and girls shouldn't be drinking that stuff, anyway. You'll thank Uncle Woody in the long run. Really.
85 - Waiting Period and Parental Notification Before Termination of Minor's Pregnancy.
The fact that we even need such a measure bothers Uncle Woody. A lot. And the worst part is that it does not deny the performance of an abortion, it only defers it for 48 hours. Abortion is something that makes Uncle Woody very, very sad, boys and girls. Uncle Woody would much rather talk about abstinence, personal responsibility, and improving adoption laws already on the books. But no, we have to decide whether to make teenagers wait for 48 hours before going ahead with an abortion, whether Mom and Dad agree or not.
Uncle Woody votes NO. Not because Uncle Woody thinks his girls should have immediate access to an abortion, but because anyone would think that such an abortion is acceptable under any but the most grievous circumstances. Uncle Woody thinks we should be spending much more energy on helping our girls stay pure until they're old enough to truly decide for themselves.
86 - Tax on Cigarettes
See Uncle Woody's comments regarding such a tax on beer under Proposition 84 above. Of course Uncle Woody wants to tax someone $2.60 extra per pack. Uncle Woody is not altogether convinced that the money will end up where they say it will (Uncle Woody hasn't believed our money ever goes where it's promised since we approved the Lottery in this state), but Uncle Woody will think it's worth it if it drives one more person to for heaven's sake GIVE UP THE HABIT.
87 - Alternative Energy. Research, Production, Incentives. Tax on California Oil Producers
Uncle Woody votes NO on Prop 87, but not for the reasons put foward by the oil industry. Remember Uncle Woody's basic premise: governments and bureaucracies need to be more accountable with the money we already give them. Taxing the oil companies an additional $4 billion with no guaranteed reductions on fossil fuel use is really just pie-in-the-sky thinking. In other words, if Uncle Woody's going to get hit at the pump (and, despite assurances by pro-87 forces to the contrary, we will get hit at the pump), Uncle Woody wants it to be for some actual project. Say, for example, the $4 billion were specifically earmarked for building more hydrogen refueling stations across the state, with a portion used to incentivize car makers in developing lower-cost hydrogen fuel cell vehicles. THAT Uncle Woody would vote for. For now... no plan, no vote.
88 - Education Funding. Real Property Parcel Tax
Uncle Woody is of two minds on this one, boys and girls. Uncle Woody wants you young people to stay in school, certainly, and Uncle Woody would love to know that you boys and girls are in a safe, moderate environment where you get plenty of attention from your teachers. This measure is supposed to raise Uncle Woody's property taxes by $50 a year, which would raise something like $450 million to be distributed throughout the state. Big hairy deal. Uncle Woody is pretty sure that $450 million a year would barely cover the costs of all those whiny commercials that the California Teachers Association put out begging for more money every week.
Still, even though Uncle Woody is a homeschooler and doesn't have union troubles to deal with, Uncle Woody also feels it to be his civic duty to make sure that we have public schools available, and that they are as current and safe as can be. Uncle Woody votes YES for this one. You're welcome.
89 - Political Campaigns. Public Financing. Corporate Tax Increase. Campaign Contribution and Expenditure Limits
Uncle Woody smells dead fish here, boys and girls. Campaign reform laws have not worked at the national level, and Uncle Woody sure as heck can't see them working at a state level, either. Uncle Woody recognizes that holding candidates responsible for their ethics (or, more generally, lack thereof) is very important, but here's the lesson: If you boys and girls want to have a reputation for being honorable and responsible, don't become politicians.
Uncle Woody votes NO. The fish ain't getting any deader.
90 - Government Acquisition, Regulation of Private Property
Uncle Woody supports this initiative. Strongly. For the past several years, Uncle Woody has looked on in horror while people have had their lives turned upside down merely because a city wants to "revitalize" some portion of the town. Uncle Woody thinks that eminent domain has its place, but that place should only be for extraordinary circumstances. Certainly they should have the option of condemning properties that pose a threat to the health or safety of the community. But taking a person's property merely to "develop" that property for revenue is - among other things - selfish, greedy, and unnecessary. Don't be like the government, boys and girls. Care about your neighbors. Uncle Woody votes NO.
That's it, boys and girls. You can cut this guide out and take with you for something to read while you wait in line to vote next month. (Like that's ever happened where you live.) Uncle Woody is proud of you for voting this year. (You are voting this year, right??) Uncle and Auntie Mrs. Woody want you to be responsible voters. Of course, where candidates are concerned, you boys and girls are on your own. Whichever sex-scandal-plagued, ethically-breached candidate or party you belong to, you have your Aunt and Uncle's condolences. Do your best, and Uncle Woody will still love you.
Unless you vote against Uncle Woody. Then you're out of the will.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
#297 - Questions Republican Candidates Must Ask (UPDATED)
Fetching Jen comes up with 15 questions for liberals, and receives some interesting responses. How would you answer them?
UPDATE: I get answers, too. Interesting how my more innocuous pieces - pieces where I do none of the work - generate more comment traffic than the ones to which I actually give some thought.
UPDATE: I get answers, too. Interesting how my more innocuous pieces - pieces where I do none of the work - generate more comment traffic than the ones to which I actually give some thought.
#296 - The NEA (National Educators Anonymous) - UPDATED
Mrs. Woody is plugged into a homeschool news list that keeps track of items of interest to homeschoolers, or educators in general. We, of course, are "dedicated" (read: insane) homeschoolers, which means that we are constantly looking over our shoulders to see what our state and local officials are up to. We watch them nearly to the exclusion of all other agencies and it's sometimes easy to forget that one group in particular - the national union - has more of a say in educational matters than I will ever be comfortable with. I refer, of course, to the National Education Association, and they are (for my taste) more dangerous than Hoffa's Teamsters have ever been.
Their current hot-button campaign is related to dropout rates among the nation's high schools. (At some point, I guess, they might address the nation's junior high dropout rates, but we have to credit them for starting somewhere.) They have developed - get your wallets out! - a twelve point action plan that, given enough resources (read: your tax dollars) should go a long way toward improving students' chances for graduation.
Allow me to summarize the 12-Step Program... um, 12-step...
Boy, does that sound familiar...
Sorry. Anyway, here is a summarized version of:
The only thing worse than compelling a child to learn at a government standard pace is compelling them to graduate by a federally mandated age. I have never liked "No Child Left Behind" precisely because I don't believe the government is smart enough to determine just how old Johnny should be when he begins to read. Or do math. Or dissect frogs. I homeschool precisely because I know my children well enough to know when they're ready to learn those things. The government will never be that smart. Ever.
Aaaah. Everyone say it with me: "More schools require more teachers! More teachers require more funding! More funding requires that some other program(s) be cut from the budget!" No matter, so long as their almighty union grows. The NEA uses the term "specialized instruction" to describe this step. Specialists tend to cost even more money than generalists, last time I paid any attention. Speaking of which:
Now they want to push lower class sizes all the way to down to 18. Can't do that without MORE TEACHERS, ER, MONEY. Can you?
Hm. Whenever I see the phrases "creative partnerships" and "alternative schools" in the same paragraph, I instantly think of "designer graduation requirements." The professional educators have shown themselves incapable of standardizing on a single set of graduation requirements. What makes them think they'll be any more successful in managing multiple standards?
This puts me in mind of the old "Career Development" programs they tried on us in the 70's. I kept taking so-called "aptitude" tests, and consistently (I mean, every single year) those tests told me I should be a physical therapist. Either I was lying, or they were. Now I'm a computer geek. Whom do I blame for that??
Ya think?? That's a brilliant line of thought, except for one small problem. This is where they continue to tout "universal preschool" and "full-day kindergarten" (high quality, of course!) along with any number of other programs designed to rob a child of its childhood forever. For heaven's sake, what is wrong with letting a kid be a kid?
This sounds suspiciously like something we in the church tout all the time, except for two worries: First, they use the term "new and creative ways" which always means "more expensive." Second, nowhere do they address any of the real societal pressures that make involvement so difficult. Things like: both parents working outside of the home; gang influences; self-destructive popular culture, and so on. Show me a comprehensive, sensible solution to those problems, and then I'll be impressed.
Haven't schools been trying to do just this for decades now? I mean, it hasn't worked so far... what makes the NEA so sure it'll work now? If anything, the word "monitor" in union-speak always (and I mean: always) means "bureaucracy." Which, I'm sure, would be staffed by more professional educators, yes?
By the way, read the full paragraph for step 9 carefully. Is it just me, or doesn't that smack a little of profiling?
Give the NEA an A+ for effort on this one. This step I can actually get behind and enthusiastically support. I'm all for making it easier for parents to attend conferences with teachers, and community involvement in the learning process. I've seen examples of such things in many communities, and think some things (like the release time from work policy) ought to be encouraged nationally. Go team.
Well, duh. Nothing new here... that's what we send educators to school to learn, no? As for resources... well, as my ex-teacher wife might say, there's never enough of those. However, using my ex-teacher wife as an example, I could also say that the best resources she brought to the classroom were the ones she created herself, using little more than her imagination, her talents, and some relatively inexpensive materials. I'm not saying she didn't spend a lot of money as a teacher - certainly she never made more than a pittance compared to many industries. However, what she did, she did out of love for her students. That made all the difference. It makes even more of a difference in our little completely-self-funded homeschool today.
Finally we get to the bottom line where the NEA is concerned. Give us $10 billion a year for the next 10 years or you'll never see your education again! And if your state doesn't toe our nationally-mandated line, we'll withhold your funding! BWAAHAHAhAHahahahah! All your education are belong to us!
Sorry.
Really, if they wanted to build a twelve step program, whatever happened to admitting you have a problem, praying to God to know his will concerning the problem, and having a spiritual awakening?
Now, that's a twelve step program!
BY THE WAY... lest you get the impression that Mrs. Woody is not actually still a teacher; nothing could be further from the truth. When I called her an "ex-teacher," what I meant was "ex-professional-teacher." Now, as a homeschooler, she has found a much more rewarding career as an educator, and her credentials have never held more power than they do today. The only difference is that we don't call her "teacher." We call her "Mom."
UPDATE: Mrs. Woody gently reminds me that, love me though she does, she is most definitely a professional educator. It is, after all, her life's calling. What she really is, she still gently reminds me, is an ex-public school-teacher. One might even call her a recovering public school teacher, if I may further flog the overworked analogy.
Their current hot-button campaign is related to dropout rates among the nation's high schools. (At some point, I guess, they might address the nation's junior high dropout rates, but we have to credit them for starting somewhere.) They have developed - get your wallets out! - a twelve point action plan that, given enough resources (read: your tax dollars) should go a long way toward improving students' chances for graduation.
Allow me to summarize the 12-Step Program... um, 12-step...
Boy, does that sound familiar...
Sorry. Anyway, here is a summarized version of:
NEA's 12 Dropout Action Steps:
1. Mandate high school graduation or equivalency as compulsory for everyone below the age of 21.
The only thing worse than compelling a child to learn at a government standard pace is compelling them to graduate by a federally mandated age. I have never liked "No Child Left Behind" precisely because I don't believe the government is smart enough to determine just how old Johnny should be when he begins to read. Or do math. Or dissect frogs. I homeschool precisely because I know my children well enough to know when they're ready to learn those things. The government will never be that smart. Ever.
2. Establish high school graduation centers for students 19-21 years old
Aaaah. Everyone say it with me: "More schools require more teachers! More teachers require more funding! More funding requires that some other program(s) be cut from the budget!" No matter, so long as their almighty union grows. The NEA uses the term "specialized instruction" to describe this step. Specialists tend to cost even more money than generalists, last time I paid any attention. Speaking of which:
3. Make sure students receive individual attention
Now they want to push lower class sizes all the way to down to 18. Can't do that without MORE TEACHERS, ER, MONEY. Can you?
4. Expand students' graduation options
Hm. Whenever I see the phrases "creative partnerships" and "alternative schools" in the same paragraph, I instantly think of "designer graduation requirements." The professional educators have shown themselves incapable of standardizing on a single set of graduation requirements. What makes them think they'll be any more successful in managing multiple standards?
5. Increase career education and workforce readiness programs in schools
This puts me in mind of the old "Career Development" programs they tried on us in the 70's. I kept taking so-called "aptitude" tests, and consistently (I mean, every single year) those tests told me I should be a physical therapist. Either I was lying, or they were. Now I'm a computer geek. Whom do I blame for that??
6. Act early so students do not drop out
Ya think?? That's a brilliant line of thought, except for one small problem. This is where they continue to tout "universal preschool" and "full-day kindergarten" (high quality, of course!) along with any number of other programs designed to rob a child of its childhood forever. For heaven's sake, what is wrong with letting a kid be a kid?
7. Involve families in students' learning at school and at home
This sounds suspiciously like something we in the church tout all the time, except for two worries: First, they use the term "new and creative ways" which always means "more expensive." Second, nowhere do they address any of the real societal pressures that make involvement so difficult. Things like: both parents working outside of the home; gang influences; self-destructive popular culture, and so on. Show me a comprehensive, sensible solution to those problems, and then I'll be impressed.
8. Monitor students' academic progress in school
9. Monitor, accurately report, and work to reduce dropout rates
Haven't schools been trying to do just this for decades now? I mean, it hasn't worked so far... what makes the NEA so sure it'll work now? If anything, the word "monitor" in union-speak always (and I mean: always) means "bureaucracy." Which, I'm sure, would be staffed by more professional educators, yes?
By the way, read the full paragraph for step 9 carefully. Is it just me, or doesn't that smack a little of profiling?
10. Involve the entire community in dropout prevention
Give the NEA an A+ for effort on this one. This step I can actually get behind and enthusiastically support. I'm all for making it easier for parents to attend conferences with teachers, and community involvement in the learning process. I've seen examples of such things in many communities, and think some things (like the release time from work policy) ought to be encouraged nationally. Go team.
11. Make sure educators have the training and resources they need to prevent students from dropping out
Well, duh. Nothing new here... that's what we send educators to school to learn, no? As for resources... well, as my ex-teacher wife might say, there's never enough of those. However, using my ex-teacher wife as an example, I could also say that the best resources she brought to the classroom were the ones she created herself, using little more than her imagination, her talents, and some relatively inexpensive materials. I'm not saying she didn't spend a lot of money as a teacher - certainly she never made more than a pittance compared to many industries. However, what she did, she did out of love for her students. That made all the difference. It makes even more of a difference in our little completely-self-funded homeschool today.
12. Make high school graduation a federal priority
Finally we get to the bottom line where the NEA is concerned. Give us $10 billion a year for the next 10 years or you'll never see your education again! And if your state doesn't toe our nationally-mandated line, we'll withhold your funding! BWAAHAHAhAHahahahah! All your education are belong to us!
Sorry.
Really, if they wanted to build a twelve step program, whatever happened to admitting you have a problem, praying to God to know his will concerning the problem, and having a spiritual awakening?
Now, that's a twelve step program!
BY THE WAY... lest you get the impression that Mrs. Woody is not actually still a teacher; nothing could be further from the truth. When I called her an "ex-teacher," what I meant was "ex-professional-teacher." Now, as a homeschooler, she has found a much more rewarding career as an educator, and her credentials have never held more power than they do today. The only difference is that we don't call her "teacher." We call her "Mom."
UPDATE: Mrs. Woody gently reminds me that, love me though she does, she is most definitely a professional educator. It is, after all, her life's calling. What she really is, she still gently reminds me, is an ex-public school-teacher. One might even call her a recovering public school teacher, if I may further flog the overworked analogy.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
#295 - Some Semblance of Justice
Let's all take a quick mid-term election break, shall we? I mean, we can't get much uglier than the powers-that-wanna-be have already gotten, so let's get down to business with something that actually affects regular people.
Many years ago, when disabled parking tags were first introduced to society and disabled parking got (in my immature mind) annoyingly close to building entrances, I realized that there was actual merit to what I still perceived to be overreaching interference from our government at all levels. In fact, within a year or two at most I counted myself one of the ordinance's strictest adherents.
There were reasons, of course. I had elderly grandparents who needed such accomodations. It brought some comfort that they, who were always independently-minded, would be able to park close enough to their destinations that they would have ready access to any services.
Also, I became highly sensitized to the idea of not abusing the disabled parking spaces for any reason. Truly. No matter how desperately I might want that blue-coded space during the Christmas rush, I never took it. I think there was only one instance where I realized belatedly that I had taken such a space, but it was only because the blue paint had all but faded completely away and wasn't clearly visible until I backed out and the sun had shifted. And I was extremely embarrassed about it.
With that for background, you might imagine how incensed I get whenever someone does abuse that parking, for any reason. So imagine now how I felt when I walked out of Rite-Aid this evening (middle ear infection, if you must know) and saw a Sheriff's squad car sitting directly across from where I was parked. (Yeah, okay; I have a guilty conscience. My first reaction was, "what have I done now?") Fortunately, he didn't seem interested in me.
In fact, as I got closer to my car, the deputy got out of his car, walked around the car opposite me, and I finally realized what he was looking at. The SUV ("An SUV! Yeesss!") was parked in a handicapped slot, and did not have the disabled placard properly displayed. I did a cursory look myself as I passed by, and there was nothing hanging from the rear-view mirror.
Of course I exulted. You know how you're driving down the freeway and some nit in a Lexus decides he's rich enough to take the right shoulder while the rest of you peons crawl toward the nearest available exit and the following words race through your brain (and I quote): "Where's the Highway Patrol when you really need 'em?" Well, this was the Highway Patrol chasing the Lexus. This was an officer of the law looking in the window of a much-more-expensive-SUV-than-I-could-ever-afford and not finding an appropriate disabled placard hanging from the mirror.
I have such a placard in my car. Mrs. Woody has some mobility challenges, and her doctor agreed they warranted having a "permanent" placard that we can use. But there are restrictions. It is only to be used when I have Mrs. Woody in the car with me. I can't use it strictly for myself, because I'm not the one who needs it. If I parked in such a spot, hanging the placard as my "Get Out of Jail Free" card, and someone noticed that I didn't look terribly disabled, I could face legal trouble. So I am very scrupulous about not using the placard even though I have one.
Score one for the good guys today, I guess.
But I must tell you: the deputy seemed in no hurry to write a ticket on this vehicle. In fact, after he made that initial walk-around, he stayed parked immediately behind the SUV. As I drove away it occurred to me that he was going to wait for awhile and see if the owner came out. I suspect there would be a conversation to determine the facts. Do you or do you not have a placard? I see. Just forgot to display it? Fine. May I see it? Oh, so you don't have one...? You get the idea.
Perhaps that was it. Maybe it was simply an oversight. I mean, I can't tell you how many times we've parked at church and forgotten to display the placard. Usually one of us remembers after a moment or two and I race back out to display it. Fortunately, everyone there knows us and there's no question that we need the parking.
But I think that, more than the thought that someone may actually have been caught red-handed, it was the thought that this officer cared enough to stop, see the infraction, and then wait to ascertain the actual facts before issuing either a citation or a warning that made me feel good about this scenario. Even if he was called to the scene by someone else, this is something that would be altogether too easy to overlook and take for granted.
I sure try not to, but I know it can happen.
Many years ago, when disabled parking tags were first introduced to society and disabled parking got (in my immature mind) annoyingly close to building entrances, I realized that there was actual merit to what I still perceived to be overreaching interference from our government at all levels. In fact, within a year or two at most I counted myself one of the ordinance's strictest adherents.
There were reasons, of course. I had elderly grandparents who needed such accomodations. It brought some comfort that they, who were always independently-minded, would be able to park close enough to their destinations that they would have ready access to any services.
Also, I became highly sensitized to the idea of not abusing the disabled parking spaces for any reason. Truly. No matter how desperately I might want that blue-coded space during the Christmas rush, I never took it. I think there was only one instance where I realized belatedly that I had taken such a space, but it was only because the blue paint had all but faded completely away and wasn't clearly visible until I backed out and the sun had shifted. And I was extremely embarrassed about it.
With that for background, you might imagine how incensed I get whenever someone does abuse that parking, for any reason. So imagine now how I felt when I walked out of Rite-Aid this evening (middle ear infection, if you must know) and saw a Sheriff's squad car sitting directly across from where I was parked. (Yeah, okay; I have a guilty conscience. My first reaction was, "what have I done now?") Fortunately, he didn't seem interested in me.
In fact, as I got closer to my car, the deputy got out of his car, walked around the car opposite me, and I finally realized what he was looking at. The SUV ("An SUV! Yeesss!") was parked in a handicapped slot, and did not have the disabled placard properly displayed. I did a cursory look myself as I passed by, and there was nothing hanging from the rear-view mirror.
Of course I exulted. You know how you're driving down the freeway and some nit in a Lexus decides he's rich enough to take the right shoulder while the rest of you peons crawl toward the nearest available exit and the following words race through your brain (and I quote): "Where's the Highway Patrol when you really need 'em?" Well, this was the Highway Patrol chasing the Lexus. This was an officer of the law looking in the window of a much-more-expensive-SUV-than-I-could-ever-afford and not finding an appropriate disabled placard hanging from the mirror.
I have such a placard in my car. Mrs. Woody has some mobility challenges, and her doctor agreed they warranted having a "permanent" placard that we can use. But there are restrictions. It is only to be used when I have Mrs. Woody in the car with me. I can't use it strictly for myself, because I'm not the one who needs it. If I parked in such a spot, hanging the placard as my "Get Out of Jail Free" card, and someone noticed that I didn't look terribly disabled, I could face legal trouble. So I am very scrupulous about not using the placard even though I have one.
Score one for the good guys today, I guess.
But I must tell you: the deputy seemed in no hurry to write a ticket on this vehicle. In fact, after he made that initial walk-around, he stayed parked immediately behind the SUV. As I drove away it occurred to me that he was going to wait for awhile and see if the owner came out. I suspect there would be a conversation to determine the facts. Do you or do you not have a placard? I see. Just forgot to display it? Fine. May I see it? Oh, so you don't have one...? You get the idea.
Perhaps that was it. Maybe it was simply an oversight. I mean, I can't tell you how many times we've parked at church and forgotten to display the placard. Usually one of us remembers after a moment or two and I race back out to display it. Fortunately, everyone there knows us and there's no question that we need the parking.
But I think that, more than the thought that someone may actually have been caught red-handed, it was the thought that this officer cared enough to stop, see the infraction, and then wait to ascertain the actual facts before issuing either a citation or a warning that made me feel good about this scenario. Even if he was called to the scene by someone else, this is something that would be altogether too easy to overlook and take for granted.
I sure try not to, but I know it can happen.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
#294 - Big Bad eBay?
I should know better, really. I'm on vacation, doggone it, and I should just know better than to visit email or blogs while I'm trying so hard to relax. (Relaxation, it turns out, is hard work. Go figure.)
Still, this item on WorldNetDaily.com ran me through the gamut of emotional responses, until my relaxation hormones kicked in and I was able to take a deep breath.
Seems the auction "behemoth" eBay (that's WND's description, not mine) has a policy that precludes the selling of teacher's texts, classifying them in the same category as drug paraphenalia and other such nonsense. This is, of course, of major concern to homeschoolers because many of them buy and sell curricula in order to keep their little home-based academies viable. So, on the surface, this policy smacks of prejudice against homeschoolers since most of them have no credentials or "proof of teaching employment."
Big deal.
eBay is, let's face it, a corporation. It has the same pressures to abide by certain rules and regulations as any other corporation, and because it has such high visibility throughout the community, those pressures are even higher than others may experience. In fact, it is widely known that eBay's policies have been modified from time to time precisely because their customer base complain - loudly - every time something questionable appears in an auction. And of course the definition of "questionable" changes every time this comes up.
So I was angry when I first read this article. How dare eBay dictate what we free-stylers can or cannot buy? What gives them the right to impede our God-given and constitution-guaranteed rights to educate our children however we darn well please?
Then I took the deep breath.
Of course eBay would have such a policy. Copyright laws are specific and dictate how certain materials may be transferred from one owner to another. But I don't really think copyright is the issue here. The issue here is guaranteeing that teacher materials - which contain answer keys and discussion texts that student materials don't - stay out of the hands of those students that are required to use their minds and study without such helps. It's really just that simple.
I certainly understand the concerns of homeschoolers who use eBay so widely to find those obscure hard-to-find texts, many of which are now out of print and unavailable elsewhere. The truth is, it would just be too hard for eBay to implement the kind of controls that would indicate who is buying what (privacy issues!), and whether the material is, in fact, sellable.
So homeschoolers must resort to other methods.
Mrs. Woody, for instance, has found many materials by dealing directly with other homeschoolers. Many of them advertise on their own personal websites and they assume responsibility for the appropriateness of their sales. Also, as the WND article pointed out, there are other sites that are more dedicated to curriculum sales that need - and deserve - homeschooler business. eBay is not going to lose sleep over a few thousand homeschoolers going elsewhere to find their textbooks.
What's needed here is a paradigm shift, and it doesn't need to be painful one. The homeschool community is not, by design, homogenous. We are joined only by our mutual desire to teach our children in ways that public schools either can't or won't. Otherwise, we tend to work alone or in very small groups. No one homeschool or group is exactly like another. There are as many ways to teach our children as there are children to teach, and no one method or curriculum is the most correct. What we need, as homeschoolers, is a better way of networking to keep our options open and available when it comes to keeping ourselves supplied with materials.
Such things have begun to take root. What's needed is better coordination, without the burdens of commercialism that inflict many of the bigger homeschool-themed organizations. Even the Homeschool Legal Defense Association suffers from this commercialism. Once you begin to act in behalf of the greater good, it seems, your altruism tends to disappear and you begin looking and acting like a corporation. "We are actively working on a solution," they say. Big hairy deal. Give me some detail, guys.
Anyway, I have no specific answers at the moment, but give me time. Paradigms don't shift overnight. Those texts are out there, begging to be used, and needed desperately by homeschoolers around the world. Let's get them into play as soon as possible.
Still, this item on WorldNetDaily.com ran me through the gamut of emotional responses, until my relaxation hormones kicked in and I was able to take a deep breath.
Seems the auction "behemoth" eBay (that's WND's description, not mine) has a policy that precludes the selling of teacher's texts, classifying them in the same category as drug paraphenalia and other such nonsense. This is, of course, of major concern to homeschoolers because many of them buy and sell curricula in order to keep their little home-based academies viable. So, on the surface, this policy smacks of prejudice against homeschoolers since most of them have no credentials or "proof of teaching employment."
Big deal.
eBay is, let's face it, a corporation. It has the same pressures to abide by certain rules and regulations as any other corporation, and because it has such high visibility throughout the community, those pressures are even higher than others may experience. In fact, it is widely known that eBay's policies have been modified from time to time precisely because their customer base complain - loudly - every time something questionable appears in an auction. And of course the definition of "questionable" changes every time this comes up.
So I was angry when I first read this article. How dare eBay dictate what we free-stylers can or cannot buy? What gives them the right to impede our God-given and constitution-guaranteed rights to educate our children however we darn well please?
Then I took the deep breath.
Of course eBay would have such a policy. Copyright laws are specific and dictate how certain materials may be transferred from one owner to another. But I don't really think copyright is the issue here. The issue here is guaranteeing that teacher materials - which contain answer keys and discussion texts that student materials don't - stay out of the hands of those students that are required to use their minds and study without such helps. It's really just that simple.
I certainly understand the concerns of homeschoolers who use eBay so widely to find those obscure hard-to-find texts, many of which are now out of print and unavailable elsewhere. The truth is, it would just be too hard for eBay to implement the kind of controls that would indicate who is buying what (privacy issues!), and whether the material is, in fact, sellable.
So homeschoolers must resort to other methods.
Mrs. Woody, for instance, has found many materials by dealing directly with other homeschoolers. Many of them advertise on their own personal websites and they assume responsibility for the appropriateness of their sales. Also, as the WND article pointed out, there are other sites that are more dedicated to curriculum sales that need - and deserve - homeschooler business. eBay is not going to lose sleep over a few thousand homeschoolers going elsewhere to find their textbooks.
What's needed here is a paradigm shift, and it doesn't need to be painful one. The homeschool community is not, by design, homogenous. We are joined only by our mutual desire to teach our children in ways that public schools either can't or won't. Otherwise, we tend to work alone or in very small groups. No one homeschool or group is exactly like another. There are as many ways to teach our children as there are children to teach, and no one method or curriculum is the most correct. What we need, as homeschoolers, is a better way of networking to keep our options open and available when it comes to keeping ourselves supplied with materials.
Such things have begun to take root. What's needed is better coordination, without the burdens of commercialism that inflict many of the bigger homeschool-themed organizations. Even the Homeschool Legal Defense Association suffers from this commercialism. Once you begin to act in behalf of the greater good, it seems, your altruism tends to disappear and you begin looking and acting like a corporation. "We are actively working on a solution," they say. Big hairy deal. Give me some detail, guys.
Anyway, I have no specific answers at the moment, but give me time. Paradigms don't shift overnight. Those texts are out there, begging to be used, and needed desperately by homeschoolers around the world. Let's get them into play as soon as possible.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
#293 - When Is Equality Not a Good Thing?
Depends more or less on how one defines "equality," I suppose.
Kim Swygert (or whatever her name is these days) is guest-blogging over at Joanne Jacobs whilst Joanne pursues wedded bliss. She returns to a subject that has been discussed many times before. We get so concerned that childrens' self esteem will suffer should they ever find themselves disappointed about something, that we educate the drive to succeed right out of them. Or so it seems to me.
The idea that we can "protect" children by never singling out anyone for extraordinary achievement (or, conversely, by singling out everyone) is probably one of the more damaging principles to creep into public education over the past several years.
Hey, don't get me wrong; I went through my fair share of disappointment as a youngster. I was a skinny, geeky little kid, and the butt of more than a few jokes throughout my scholastic career. Valentine's Day was especially bitter for me, because I can probably count on one hand the number of Valentines I received in elementary school. Ever. Now, that could be a blow to the ol' ego, but (so far as I can tell) it didn't turn me into a bitter young man with dreams of becoming a disgruntled postal worker.
I was never the most popular kid in the class. My academic achievements were limited to showing up to class, except for those days when I could convince Mom that I was stricken with Dengue Fever. Nor was I a natural athlete. Any team on which I played generally lost. In fact, the only way I could be on a winning team was to play with kids that were at least two years younger than I was.
I'd say that I spent time in grade school dreaming of being the best at something. But I don't think I spent so much time dwelling on it that it became a crippling problem for me later in life. Truth be told, it just took me awhile to figure out where I did excel, and then to become comfortable that these achievements were indeed of worth. This isn't to say that I didn't spend some days crying on Mom's shoulder, but that's what Moms are for, and she always knew the right things to say.
It just so happened that public schools, especially thirty five years ago, weren't terribly well equipped to help with my peculiar abilities. Once or twice a week, some gracious lady would come to the school and take a few of us out of class. This started in the fourth grade for me, and I would take along my quarter-sized violin, sit in the cafeteria, and try to learn about playing violin while this same lady also taught kids with clarinets, flutes, trumpets, drums, or whatever. Mom and Dad knew that if I was to succeed as a violinist, I would need much more help than that. So they arranged private lessons with the concert-mistress of the Conejo Symphony, who also happened to be a friend of theirs.
My talent had begun to sneak out.
Of course, even with that knowledge I was still years away from being recognized for anything except underachieving. During the first Open House after I entered junior high school Dad (who had been a stud athlete in high school himself) walked up to my gym teacher and asked how his son, Woody, was doing in class. "Woody who?" was the response. I mostly excelled at being invisible to my teachers.
It was because of the local high school, really, that I began to earn some modicum of respect for my talents. I was still highly overrated as a student by any and all measures. Any report card that did not feature at least one "D" was viewed by my parents as worthy of being framed. But, I had some talent and was finally being recognized - even sought after - for it.
I was a performer.
I had started acting at age 11, taking advantage of a local summer drama workshop. I think probably I got in mostly because they needed Mom to play piano for rehearsals, but the die was cast. I took to the stage like deer take to running, and was recognized fairly early on by cast and crew alike as a natural. Unfortunately, these opportunities were, at first, limited to summer workshops. The junior high just didn't have much of a drama department to speak of. And then it happened.
The high school was about to do a performance of "Amahl and the Night Visitors," by Gian Carlo Menotti. To do "Amahl" one must have a boy soprano. And that boy had better be able to sing his way through an entire show. The director and music director had both worked with Mom in the workshops, and, just as importantly, they remembered me. Would I be willing to audition, they asked Mom. Oh, I'm sure he would, she replied. And so at the age of 12 I performed my first starring role as a crippled boy in the Holy Land who finds his life changed by a King he has never met. I also received more recognition than I had ever received in my entire life. And it felt good.
By the time I hit high school, I was a stage veteran. I was also the youngest kid to audition for and be accepted in the Madrigal Singers. (Later I would learn that this is because tenors are always at a premium. This is still true today.) So I did my plays and sang my concerts, and basked in the warmth of recognition (and even a little envy) showered on me by my contemporaries. None of this helped me land a girlfriend until my senior year (I was still a geeky-looking kid), but I had finally learned what it was that I was good at.
Once that part of me was defined, it was easier to find recognition by employing those talents. I was the go-to kid in Church for music and acting duties. I could, it transpired, even conduct choruses. I acted in roadshows and Stake musicals. I was never truly a Boy Scout, because the Scouts quite frankly didn't know how to handle me. But that was okay, too. I was developing different survival skills; skills that would serve me well on my mission and in countless situations since.
There is nothing at all wrong with striving to excel at something in life, although I know some people who would rather not. For those who wish to, there are so many different areas in which to excel, and public school cannot possibly prepare us for each and every one. But there's nothing wrong with recognizing achievement. Even if others may not get recognized. Not this year, anyway. Their times will come later. Perhaps much later. But they will come.
The idea that we need to make everyone "special" only dilutes the power of that word. That idea is useful in the context of a Special Olympics, where even to participate is tantamount to scaling Mt. Everest. But to believe that everyone is equally special has little value anywhere else. Even in religion.
That may sound funny, but it's still true. The apostle Paul knew this principle when he taught that the Lord "gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ." (Eph. 4:11-12) In other words, there are many different offices in the Church. Each calling is unique and carries with it different responsibilities. Those who serve in those offices use the talents given to them to help them serve. We can't all be prophets because we don't all have the prophetic gift, but we can still minister to others. The talents we possess carry with them the ability to uniquely bless the lives of others.
So recognizing someone for having a unique gift is nothing from which to shy away. No, unique abilities should be recognized, and even encouraged, so long as those abilities are used to bless, rather than curse.
Note to Chris Blomquist: Yeah. That was a lot of typing. Lose my message? ;-)
Kim Swygert (or whatever her name is these days) is guest-blogging over at Joanne Jacobs whilst Joanne pursues wedded bliss. She returns to a subject that has been discussed many times before. We get so concerned that childrens' self esteem will suffer should they ever find themselves disappointed about something, that we educate the drive to succeed right out of them. Or so it seems to me.
The idea that we can "protect" children by never singling out anyone for extraordinary achievement (or, conversely, by singling out everyone) is probably one of the more damaging principles to creep into public education over the past several years.
Hey, don't get me wrong; I went through my fair share of disappointment as a youngster. I was a skinny, geeky little kid, and the butt of more than a few jokes throughout my scholastic career. Valentine's Day was especially bitter for me, because I can probably count on one hand the number of Valentines I received in elementary school. Ever. Now, that could be a blow to the ol' ego, but (so far as I can tell) it didn't turn me into a bitter young man with dreams of becoming a disgruntled postal worker.
I was never the most popular kid in the class. My academic achievements were limited to showing up to class, except for those days when I could convince Mom that I was stricken with Dengue Fever. Nor was I a natural athlete. Any team on which I played generally lost. In fact, the only way I could be on a winning team was to play with kids that were at least two years younger than I was.
I'd say that I spent time in grade school dreaming of being the best at something. But I don't think I spent so much time dwelling on it that it became a crippling problem for me later in life. Truth be told, it just took me awhile to figure out where I did excel, and then to become comfortable that these achievements were indeed of worth. This isn't to say that I didn't spend some days crying on Mom's shoulder, but that's what Moms are for, and she always knew the right things to say.
It just so happened that public schools, especially thirty five years ago, weren't terribly well equipped to help with my peculiar abilities. Once or twice a week, some gracious lady would come to the school and take a few of us out of class. This started in the fourth grade for me, and I would take along my quarter-sized violin, sit in the cafeteria, and try to learn about playing violin while this same lady also taught kids with clarinets, flutes, trumpets, drums, or whatever. Mom and Dad knew that if I was to succeed as a violinist, I would need much more help than that. So they arranged private lessons with the concert-mistress of the Conejo Symphony, who also happened to be a friend of theirs.
My talent had begun to sneak out.
Of course, even with that knowledge I was still years away from being recognized for anything except underachieving. During the first Open House after I entered junior high school Dad (who had been a stud athlete in high school himself) walked up to my gym teacher and asked how his son, Woody, was doing in class. "Woody who?" was the response. I mostly excelled at being invisible to my teachers.
It was because of the local high school, really, that I began to earn some modicum of respect for my talents. I was still highly overrated as a student by any and all measures. Any report card that did not feature at least one "D" was viewed by my parents as worthy of being framed. But, I had some talent and was finally being recognized - even sought after - for it.
I was a performer.
I had started acting at age 11, taking advantage of a local summer drama workshop. I think probably I got in mostly because they needed Mom to play piano for rehearsals, but the die was cast. I took to the stage like deer take to running, and was recognized fairly early on by cast and crew alike as a natural. Unfortunately, these opportunities were, at first, limited to summer workshops. The junior high just didn't have much of a drama department to speak of. And then it happened.
The high school was about to do a performance of "Amahl and the Night Visitors," by Gian Carlo Menotti. To do "Amahl" one must have a boy soprano. And that boy had better be able to sing his way through an entire show. The director and music director had both worked with Mom in the workshops, and, just as importantly, they remembered me. Would I be willing to audition, they asked Mom. Oh, I'm sure he would, she replied. And so at the age of 12 I performed my first starring role as a crippled boy in the Holy Land who finds his life changed by a King he has never met. I also received more recognition than I had ever received in my entire life. And it felt good.
By the time I hit high school, I was a stage veteran. I was also the youngest kid to audition for and be accepted in the Madrigal Singers. (Later I would learn that this is because tenors are always at a premium. This is still true today.) So I did my plays and sang my concerts, and basked in the warmth of recognition (and even a little envy) showered on me by my contemporaries. None of this helped me land a girlfriend until my senior year (I was still a geeky-looking kid), but I had finally learned what it was that I was good at.
Once that part of me was defined, it was easier to find recognition by employing those talents. I was the go-to kid in Church for music and acting duties. I could, it transpired, even conduct choruses. I acted in roadshows and Stake musicals. I was never truly a Boy Scout, because the Scouts quite frankly didn't know how to handle me. But that was okay, too. I was developing different survival skills; skills that would serve me well on my mission and in countless situations since.
There is nothing at all wrong with striving to excel at something in life, although I know some people who would rather not. For those who wish to, there are so many different areas in which to excel, and public school cannot possibly prepare us for each and every one. But there's nothing wrong with recognizing achievement. Even if others may not get recognized. Not this year, anyway. Their times will come later. Perhaps much later. But they will come.
The idea that we need to make everyone "special" only dilutes the power of that word. That idea is useful in the context of a Special Olympics, where even to participate is tantamount to scaling Mt. Everest. But to believe that everyone is equally special has little value anywhere else. Even in religion.
That may sound funny, but it's still true. The apostle Paul knew this principle when he taught that the Lord "gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ." (Eph. 4:11-12) In other words, there are many different offices in the Church. Each calling is unique and carries with it different responsibilities. Those who serve in those offices use the talents given to them to help them serve. We can't all be prophets because we don't all have the prophetic gift, but we can still minister to others. The talents we possess carry with them the ability to uniquely bless the lives of others.
So recognizing someone for having a unique gift is nothing from which to shy away. No, unique abilities should be recognized, and even encouraged, so long as those abilities are used to bless, rather than curse.
Note to Chris Blomquist: Yeah. That was a lot of typing. Lose my message? ;-)
Saturday, August 12, 2006
#292 - Thoughts on The Plot
With the thwarting of another terrorist plot to blow more Americans into Mohammedan confetti, I see four possible responses:
1. Conservatives will shudder at how close we were to losing more lives to terrorists, and will continue to support those who fight against terrorism.
2. Liberals will assume the whole thing smacks of "interesting timing" [insert favorite Rovian conspiracy here] and blame the administration.
3. The New York Times will not rest until the intelligence used to break up this plot is fully exposed, thus rendering it completely unable to thwart any future attempts. They have a reputation to protect, after all.
4. Dave Barry will blame the squirrels.
1. Conservatives will shudder at how close we were to losing more lives to terrorists, and will continue to support those who fight against terrorism.
2. Liberals will assume the whole thing smacks of "interesting timing" [insert favorite Rovian conspiracy here] and blame the administration.
3. The New York Times will not rest until the intelligence used to break up this plot is fully exposed, thus rendering it completely unable to thwart any future attempts. They have a reputation to protect, after all.
4. Dave Barry will blame the squirrels.
#290 - It Doesn't Say That in My Bible!
I've been watching the emasculation of press photo agencies with great interest these past several days. Between the blatant Photoshop®-ing and the customizable photos to dress up any war story, the mainstreamers actually remind me of certain fundamental Christians in their attitudes.
One of the hazards of being a missionary for the LDS church is the fact that, given our rather unique qualities, someone, somewhere, is going to disagree with you. Perhaps even vociferously. The classic story is told about having a discussion with, probably, an ultra-conservative Southern Baptist and quoting various Bible verses (they won't listen to anything else) to prove our doctrine. During the rather heated exchange, the missionary says, "But that's what it says in the Bible! Right here!" The other participant reaches down, rips a page out of his own Bible and says, "Well, it doesn't say that in my Bible!"
Now, I'll grant you this story may be squarely placed in the realm of LDS lore and legend, but the attitude still rings true of many people's feelings regarding what we teach.
To refute us, LDS Salvationists (they are "concerned" for us, doncha know?) always - but ALWAYS - quote scripture out of context to show just how wrong-headed we Saints are. They reach waaaay out to obscure quotes - also generally taken out of context - to show that some of our leaders weren't exactly consistent in what they taught. Brigham Young is a favorite target because, let's face it, Brother Brigham could occasionally be a bit - oh - colorful in his descriptions of eternal principles. And so we find that many of our detractors really have to work hard to manufacture a version of our teachings that ably demonstrates just how quickly we're going to Heck, and which routes we'll be taking. (Mine will likely be through the Mojave Desert. Never been closer to ol' Scratch than I was there.)
So how does this compare to the current "fauxtography" scandals we've been entertained with of late? Well, let's consider:
The media - those bastions of objectivity and reality - have a paper to sell. Ostensibly their only purpose is to be the eyes and ears of the public interest so that we can be informed. After that it should be our own responsibility as to what, exactly, we do with this knowledge. In reality, however, the mainstreamers have a problem: the very public in whose interest they work has become so jaded over time to the horrors of war, disease, and poverty which have been so relentlessly described to us that we no longer react to the stories when told in bald detail. We've seen it all, and not just in the news. As Hollywood's descriptive powers become more digitally enhanced with each passing year, their ability to literally shock-and-awe their audiences is overwhelming. We find ourselves working harder and harder to remind ourselves that these images are just computer-generated madness. We suspend the suspension of disbelief so frequently now that it becomes second nature. When confronted with any horrible image, even a live one, we block it from our minds, or stick our fingers in our ears and hum. Whatever it takes to remind ourselves that it simply isn't real.
So the media resorts to trickery similar to the Hollywood (or bible-thumping) approach of manufacturing a reality that fits with the kind of image they want us to see. They need us to believe their reports, or all is lost. Whether they do it for idealistic reasons or merely to sell papers makes no difference. Like Tinkerbell and other fairies, they need us to believe or their light is forever extinguished. So what if it means enhancing an already horrible image so long as we understand how horrible war is? Who cares if they have to stage the pulling of bodies from rubble, so long as we remember that to fight a war is to destroy life? Obfuscating the story is their way of ripping a page out of scripture just so they can say, "That's not what it says in my reality!"
Unfortunately, whether they ever intended to or not, the real message we get from these shenanigans is that integrity is not as important as telling the story. And the minute we understand that message, the Old Media (and any other media that uses the same tactics) has already lost their moral high ground. For, instead of being properly horrified at the killing of souls, we become even more disgusted at the prostitution of a news organization's integrity.
And their message is forever lost in the fallout.
One of the hazards of being a missionary for the LDS church is the fact that, given our rather unique qualities, someone, somewhere, is going to disagree with you. Perhaps even vociferously. The classic story is told about having a discussion with, probably, an ultra-conservative Southern Baptist and quoting various Bible verses (they won't listen to anything else) to prove our doctrine. During the rather heated exchange, the missionary says, "But that's what it says in the Bible! Right here!" The other participant reaches down, rips a page out of his own Bible and says, "Well, it doesn't say that in my Bible!"
Now, I'll grant you this story may be squarely placed in the realm of LDS lore and legend, but the attitude still rings true of many people's feelings regarding what we teach.
To refute us, LDS Salvationists (they are "concerned" for us, doncha know?) always - but ALWAYS - quote scripture out of context to show just how wrong-headed we Saints are. They reach waaaay out to obscure quotes - also generally taken out of context - to show that some of our leaders weren't exactly consistent in what they taught. Brigham Young is a favorite target because, let's face it, Brother Brigham could occasionally be a bit - oh - colorful in his descriptions of eternal principles. And so we find that many of our detractors really have to work hard to manufacture a version of our teachings that ably demonstrates just how quickly we're going to Heck, and which routes we'll be taking. (Mine will likely be through the Mojave Desert. Never been closer to ol' Scratch than I was there.)
So how does this compare to the current "fauxtography" scandals we've been entertained with of late? Well, let's consider:
The media - those bastions of objectivity and reality - have a paper to sell. Ostensibly their only purpose is to be the eyes and ears of the public interest so that we can be informed. After that it should be our own responsibility as to what, exactly, we do with this knowledge. In reality, however, the mainstreamers have a problem: the very public in whose interest they work has become so jaded over time to the horrors of war, disease, and poverty which have been so relentlessly described to us that we no longer react to the stories when told in bald detail. We've seen it all, and not just in the news. As Hollywood's descriptive powers become more digitally enhanced with each passing year, their ability to literally shock-and-awe their audiences is overwhelming. We find ourselves working harder and harder to remind ourselves that these images are just computer-generated madness. We suspend the suspension of disbelief so frequently now that it becomes second nature. When confronted with any horrible image, even a live one, we block it from our minds, or stick our fingers in our ears and hum. Whatever it takes to remind ourselves that it simply isn't real.
So the media resorts to trickery similar to the Hollywood (or bible-thumping) approach of manufacturing a reality that fits with the kind of image they want us to see. They need us to believe their reports, or all is lost. Whether they do it for idealistic reasons or merely to sell papers makes no difference. Like Tinkerbell and other fairies, they need us to believe or their light is forever extinguished. So what if it means enhancing an already horrible image so long as we understand how horrible war is? Who cares if they have to stage the pulling of bodies from rubble, so long as we remember that to fight a war is to destroy life? Obfuscating the story is their way of ripping a page out of scripture just so they can say, "That's not what it says in my reality!"
Unfortunately, whether they ever intended to or not, the real message we get from these shenanigans is that integrity is not as important as telling the story. And the minute we understand that message, the Old Media (and any other media that uses the same tactics) has already lost their moral high ground. For, instead of being properly horrified at the killing of souls, we become even more disgusted at the prostitution of a news organization's integrity.
And their message is forever lost in the fallout.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
#289 - Ok, NOW I Miss the Eighties
Attention Scion owners: You're driving a box.
Sorry to break it to you, but it's true. That xB model you think is making a statement is in fact stating that you are driving in a box that appears to have all the aerodynamic properties of a brick. With windows.
That's why I miss the 80's. Not for the poofy hair, or even necessarily the music, but for the aerodynamics. Because suddenly, just in the past couple of years, the entire country seems to be buying cars that look like they were losers in last year's Technology Fair at the local high school.
Not that I should talk. I bought my first car in 1982 with Mom and Dad's help. Oh, it was aerodynamic enough. It was the legendary (notorious? infamous? nefarious?) Chevy Vega; a car capable of speeds of upwards of 26 miles an hour before the aluminum engine block warped and various fluids and smoke (not steam) began issuing from the hood. Perhaps it should have tipped me off that I courted my ex-wife in that car. No marriage could have survived that thing.
The Vega had a unique ignition system. To start the car, you simply put the key in the ignition, turned it to the "Acc" position, popped the hood, took the screwdriver that is always kept in the glove box out, shorted the solenoid to actually start the engine, ran back to pump the accelerator a time or two to let the car know you were serious about going somewhere, then closed the hood and drove off. Sometimes you made it, sometimes you were calling Triple-A. But it was a car and it was mine. And, as I say, it was aerodynamic. This was a good thing, because it needed all the help it could get.
I paid $900 for it and sold it to the junk dealer who towed it off the freeway for $35 cash two years later. I consider that a respectable return for a '74 Vega Hatchback.
With the exception of my '81 Chevy Blazer - Tahoe Edition, which was an even more gutless wonder than the Vega but failed to entirely sour my relationship with Chevrolet, each car I've bought in my adult life has had an aerodynamic look to it. Even my old Chevy station wagon had a sleeker hood and body than the old fake wood-panelled wagons of the 60's and 70's. (Ok, that one finally soured me on Chevy. I will probably never buy another one in this lifetime, if I can at all help it.)
But lately, I've noticed that more and more manufacturers, even the luxury makers, are going for the "box" look made so popular by Hummer. I don't know if you've noticed, but even Cadillac, which has always struggled with a boxy look, is more and more resembling a steam locomotive these days. Why pay upwards of thirty thousand dollars for the privilege of driving around in something that looks like you could convert it into a duplex? ("Cadillac: Still Built Like a Box so You'll Know It's a Cad!")
I guess it was my having lived through the Energy Crisis of the 70's. Detroit finally responded to hordes of American consumers snapping up every cretin import to come along (anyone remember Yugo?) by designing their lead-sleds with sleeker, more aerodynamic looks to them. Thus was born an entire generation of American automobile that looked great, but still had mileages comparable to Sherman tanks. But we didn't care; we were buying American Cars again, and proud of it, too.
I suppose it was only the fact that these cars started breaking down about two weeks after you drove them off the lot that once again pushed American consumers in the direction of Japanese imports that (at the time) looked funny but lasted for decades rather than days. At least, that was how I responded. I owned a '79 Toyota Corolla that was my pride and joy for several years. It was a little sluggish for a Toyota by the time I bought it, but it was a sporty car and worked fine for the entire time I owned it. Likewise, Mrs. Woody brought to our marriage the '84 Honda Accord that she bought in '83 brand new, and now has over 212,000 miles on it. This is the car we will trade in for a mini-van sometime in the next year or so, but only because it doesn't have air conditioning. In my advancing age I must have air conditioning, so the Saturn stays.
The Saturn, too, is a sleek looking little car. It's a '97 model year car, and qualifies as the only "brand new" car I've ever owned (although we bought it in Mrs. Woody's name for reasons that are, frankly, none of your business). It has lasted nearly 10 years now and just rolled 100,000 on the odometer a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, it follows in the same tradition as its ancestors by being mostly a gutless wonder. But it has been our vacation vehicle nearly every vacation we've ever driven, and it has earned every one of those 100K miles.
As I say, we'll be in the market for a mini-van soon. My sister-in-law is trying to sell me on Dodge, but I'm still eyeing the imports. They're just built better, in my opinion, and you don't have to pay so much overhead to cover union negotiations.
Although, should Detroit ever return to their aerodynamic roots, I might just bite. Maybe build a van with fins. Yeah, and maybe a spoiler on the back end.
Whatever they do, just so they don't make it look like a brick.
Sorry to break it to you, but it's true. That xB model you think is making a statement is in fact stating that you are driving in a box that appears to have all the aerodynamic properties of a brick. With windows.
That's why I miss the 80's. Not for the poofy hair, or even necessarily the music, but for the aerodynamics. Because suddenly, just in the past couple of years, the entire country seems to be buying cars that look like they were losers in last year's Technology Fair at the local high school.
Not that I should talk. I bought my first car in 1982 with Mom and Dad's help. Oh, it was aerodynamic enough. It was the legendary (notorious? infamous? nefarious?) Chevy Vega; a car capable of speeds of upwards of 26 miles an hour before the aluminum engine block warped and various fluids and smoke (not steam) began issuing from the hood. Perhaps it should have tipped me off that I courted my ex-wife in that car. No marriage could have survived that thing.
The Vega had a unique ignition system. To start the car, you simply put the key in the ignition, turned it to the "Acc" position, popped the hood, took the screwdriver that is always kept in the glove box out, shorted the solenoid to actually start the engine, ran back to pump the accelerator a time or two to let the car know you were serious about going somewhere, then closed the hood and drove off. Sometimes you made it, sometimes you were calling Triple-A. But it was a car and it was mine. And, as I say, it was aerodynamic. This was a good thing, because it needed all the help it could get.
I paid $900 for it and sold it to the junk dealer who towed it off the freeway for $35 cash two years later. I consider that a respectable return for a '74 Vega Hatchback.
With the exception of my '81 Chevy Blazer - Tahoe Edition, which was an even more gutless wonder than the Vega but failed to entirely sour my relationship with Chevrolet, each car I've bought in my adult life has had an aerodynamic look to it. Even my old Chevy station wagon had a sleeker hood and body than the old fake wood-panelled wagons of the 60's and 70's. (Ok, that one finally soured me on Chevy. I will probably never buy another one in this lifetime, if I can at all help it.)
But lately, I've noticed that more and more manufacturers, even the luxury makers, are going for the "box" look made so popular by Hummer. I don't know if you've noticed, but even Cadillac, which has always struggled with a boxy look, is more and more resembling a steam locomotive these days. Why pay upwards of thirty thousand dollars for the privilege of driving around in something that looks like you could convert it into a duplex? ("Cadillac: Still Built Like a Box so You'll Know It's a Cad!")
I guess it was my having lived through the Energy Crisis of the 70's. Detroit finally responded to hordes of American consumers snapping up every cretin import to come along (anyone remember Yugo?) by designing their lead-sleds with sleeker, more aerodynamic looks to them. Thus was born an entire generation of American automobile that looked great, but still had mileages comparable to Sherman tanks. But we didn't care; we were buying American Cars again, and proud of it, too.
I suppose it was only the fact that these cars started breaking down about two weeks after you drove them off the lot that once again pushed American consumers in the direction of Japanese imports that (at the time) looked funny but lasted for decades rather than days. At least, that was how I responded. I owned a '79 Toyota Corolla that was my pride and joy for several years. It was a little sluggish for a Toyota by the time I bought it, but it was a sporty car and worked fine for the entire time I owned it. Likewise, Mrs. Woody brought to our marriage the '84 Honda Accord that she bought in '83 brand new, and now has over 212,000 miles on it. This is the car we will trade in for a mini-van sometime in the next year or so, but only because it doesn't have air conditioning. In my advancing age I must have air conditioning, so the Saturn stays.
The Saturn, too, is a sleek looking little car. It's a '97 model year car, and qualifies as the only "brand new" car I've ever owned (although we bought it in Mrs. Woody's name for reasons that are, frankly, none of your business). It has lasted nearly 10 years now and just rolled 100,000 on the odometer a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, it follows in the same tradition as its ancestors by being mostly a gutless wonder. But it has been our vacation vehicle nearly every vacation we've ever driven, and it has earned every one of those 100K miles.
As I say, we'll be in the market for a mini-van soon. My sister-in-law is trying to sell me on Dodge, but I'm still eyeing the imports. They're just built better, in my opinion, and you don't have to pay so much overhead to cover union negotiations.
Although, should Detroit ever return to their aerodynamic roots, I might just bite. Maybe build a van with fins. Yeah, and maybe a spoiler on the back end.
Whatever they do, just so they don't make it look like a brick.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
#288 - Why I Don't War-Blog
Cameron, who is back to form over at Way Off Bass, has a fairly decent sampling of current Middle East blogging. Cam spends way more time than I do going after the more thoughtful (or, at least, thought provoking) commentaries out on the 'sphere, so I don't have to.
Generally speaking, I am not a war blogger. Two things about me are pretty much all you need to know concerning my feelings about the Middle East today:
1. I absolutely believe that the Middle East generally represents the worst of extremist thinking, and therefore we can expect conflict there to continue pretty much until one race or religion has virtually wiped out all others. (When I was called to serve a mission in Central America, Dad snorted and said something about revolution being the national sport down there. He hadn't seen nothin' yet.)
2. I can support the idea of a war against terrorism, especially since terrorism has decided to attack us on our own shores. We spent an entire Cold War making sure we were protected from the Big Bad Commies, only to have lives destroyed on American soil by crazed Islamic extremists who learned how to use our own lifestyles and systems against us.
Since these two thoughts are basically conjoined twins, and since we have continually demonstrated that we in this country are more interested in fighting amongst ourselves than in prosecuting a war against a dangerous idealism, I also don't expect this "problem" to be resolved within my lifetime.
One might argue that I lived to see the fall of the Soviet Union, and that we therefore Won the Cold War.
I might argue in return that we have not won the Cold War; that the Cold War does, in fact, still exist and that we have lost our focus on such loose cannons as North Korea, China, and of course Cuba. Oh, they turn our heads from time to time. North Korea gets a little testosterone in a bottle and starts test firing badly designed rockets to make everyone nervous for a few weeks. Then everyone calms down and re-focuses on something More Important - something like Cindy Sheehan and her Mushroom Induced Jihad Against Bush. Before long, North Korea gleefully rubs its collective hands and plans its next test firing which will then remind us that there's still at least one nut job out there who does not thump a Q'uran but who nevertheless still wants to eradicate us.
So tell me again how we "won" the Cold War. And then explain to me how appeasement is ever going to resolve anything in the Middle East.
Here's the bottom line: Israel and Lebanon should by now have amply demonstrated that, American presence or not, fighting will continue in the Middle East. (And don't give me all that "moral equivalency" nonsense about Israel using American made war materiel. You really think we're the only game in town that Israel would buy from?) Iran and Iraq had been at each other's throats long before we ever established a "No-Fly Zone." Syria has been a breeding ground for terrorists of all stripes for decades; Jihadists, Sinn Fein, you name it.
Imagine for a moment that the more liberal elements of our nation get their way. Yippee, Murtha and Kerry have their moral mandate. Even if we pulled completely out of that region and said to the infant Iraqi government "fare thee well," does this solve anything? Not yet? Oh, that's right... we still need to cut off all ties with Israel. Ok, fine. We have Murtha-Kerryites running things now, that shouldn't be a problem. Sorry, Israel, you're on your own now. Does this mean that bin Laden will release another bunker tape, finally proclaiming that the Jihad against American imperialists is finally over?
Or will we all profess shock when the next bomb goes off in a major U.S. city, even after we did everything that bin Laden and Hezbollah ever wanted? I mean, hey, we still have all those Jews living in the United States. We still haven't done enough to satisfy Osama.
Appeasement: Recreational pharmaceutical of the new millenium.
Generally speaking, I am not a war blogger. Two things about me are pretty much all you need to know concerning my feelings about the Middle East today:
1. I absolutely believe that the Middle East generally represents the worst of extremist thinking, and therefore we can expect conflict there to continue pretty much until one race or religion has virtually wiped out all others. (When I was called to serve a mission in Central America, Dad snorted and said something about revolution being the national sport down there. He hadn't seen nothin' yet.)
2. I can support the idea of a war against terrorism, especially since terrorism has decided to attack us on our own shores. We spent an entire Cold War making sure we were protected from the Big Bad Commies, only to have lives destroyed on American soil by crazed Islamic extremists who learned how to use our own lifestyles and systems against us.
Since these two thoughts are basically conjoined twins, and since we have continually demonstrated that we in this country are more interested in fighting amongst ourselves than in prosecuting a war against a dangerous idealism, I also don't expect this "problem" to be resolved within my lifetime.
One might argue that I lived to see the fall of the Soviet Union, and that we therefore Won the Cold War.
I might argue in return that we have not won the Cold War; that the Cold War does, in fact, still exist and that we have lost our focus on such loose cannons as North Korea, China, and of course Cuba. Oh, they turn our heads from time to time. North Korea gets a little testosterone in a bottle and starts test firing badly designed rockets to make everyone nervous for a few weeks. Then everyone calms down and re-focuses on something More Important - something like Cindy Sheehan and her Mushroom Induced Jihad Against Bush. Before long, North Korea gleefully rubs its collective hands and plans its next test firing which will then remind us that there's still at least one nut job out there who does not thump a Q'uran but who nevertheless still wants to eradicate us.
So tell me again how we "won" the Cold War. And then explain to me how appeasement is ever going to resolve anything in the Middle East.
Here's the bottom line: Israel and Lebanon should by now have amply demonstrated that, American presence or not, fighting will continue in the Middle East. (And don't give me all that "moral equivalency" nonsense about Israel using American made war materiel. You really think we're the only game in town that Israel would buy from?) Iran and Iraq had been at each other's throats long before we ever established a "No-Fly Zone." Syria has been a breeding ground for terrorists of all stripes for decades; Jihadists, Sinn Fein, you name it.
Imagine for a moment that the more liberal elements of our nation get their way. Yippee, Murtha and Kerry have their moral mandate. Even if we pulled completely out of that region and said to the infant Iraqi government "fare thee well," does this solve anything? Not yet? Oh, that's right... we still need to cut off all ties with Israel. Ok, fine. We have Murtha-Kerryites running things now, that shouldn't be a problem. Sorry, Israel, you're on your own now. Does this mean that bin Laden will release another bunker tape, finally proclaiming that the Jihad against American imperialists is finally over?
Or will we all profess shock when the next bomb goes off in a major U.S. city, even after we did everything that bin Laden and Hezbollah ever wanted? I mean, hey, we still have all those Jews living in the United States. We still haven't done enough to satisfy Osama.
Appeasement: Recreational pharmaceutical of the new millenium.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
#287 - Mel Gibson: Roadkill
Fodder for a made-for-TV movie, I suppose.
Mel Gibson gets drunk, races around Malibu (where all the chic Hollywood alcoholics can be fashionably arrested these days), blurts out a few drunken slurs against Jews, and will now end up being more heavily analyzed in the media than OJ Simpson.
Here are a few things that bother me about this whole affair, listed in no particular order:
1. Mel is an actor for whom I have harbored some respect. I say this strictly as a technician: I am a (strictly amateur, overrated) actor myself, and I like his technique. I'm not always crazy about the material he chooses, but I'm sorry that a good actor can't just stick to what he knows best.
2. For all the coverage I heard on the radio this afternoon, you would never have known that: a) we're still fighting a war in Iraq; b) Israel and Lebanon are fighting (again!); c) global warming may or may not be a problem and is or is not responsible for the current heat wave across vast sectors of the country; d) the price of gas is still ridiculously high with only two and a half weeks remaining before our family vacation this year; and e) President Bush GAINED 4 POUNDS OVER THE PAST YEAR.
That's right, Mel's drunken racial slurs were more important than the Leader of the Free World gaining as much weight in one whole year as I can gain over dinner tonight. Imagine that.
3. Jim Thornton, who is easily the cheesiest of the local talking-head radio news anchors in Los Angeles was positively wetting himself over the thought that they will pursue this story until we are so sick of Mel Gibson that we will offer him in trade for Lebanese prisoners of war. Do us a favor, Jim. Go back to traffic reporting. At least when you anchored the morning commute, traffic actually got covered. Now you guys have that lame "Extended Traffic on the Fives," wherein you never ONCE mention my freeway in the 45 minutes it takes me to drive it. Like today, when my freeway actually had an accident that tied up the 22 for a solid five miles, which is the only reason I had resorted to listening to your station in the first place this afternoon. This is why I listen to KUSC most days. Mmmm. Rachmaninov.
4. Someone needs to explain to me, please, why the idea that the police debated whether to "release" Mel's drunken tirades is evidence of a "cover up." Covering up what, precisely? Does that mean that the police have the responsibility - nay, the duty - to release every drunken tirade by every gangsta, doper, con, prostitute, or murderer that they happen to arrest? Or is this the media's tantrum over not having papparazzi in place to photograph the whole sordid affair so we can be bombarded with this story seventy-two times a day for the next three months? Hint, media guys: WE DON'T CARE. Really. Just drop it. You have our permission. Go back to faking your photos of Qana.
5. NOTE TO JEWISH COMMUNITY LEADERS AND ACTIVISTS: Mel has apologized - profusely, by Hollywood standards - and asked for forgiveness. Don't you people have much more repugnant enemies out there that really need your attention and energy? Move on, for corn's sake.
So, I will have to avoid radio news for the next few weeks, much as I was forced to during the entire Michael Jackson Show Trial. At least this time I'm not worried about Mel sleeping with young boys at his ranch.
But heaven help them if they get in the car with him.
Mel Gibson gets drunk, races around Malibu (where all the chic Hollywood alcoholics can be fashionably arrested these days), blurts out a few drunken slurs against Jews, and will now end up being more heavily analyzed in the media than OJ Simpson.
Here are a few things that bother me about this whole affair, listed in no particular order:
1. Mel is an actor for whom I have harbored some respect. I say this strictly as a technician: I am a (strictly amateur, overrated) actor myself, and I like his technique. I'm not always crazy about the material he chooses, but I'm sorry that a good actor can't just stick to what he knows best.
2. For all the coverage I heard on the radio this afternoon, you would never have known that: a) we're still fighting a war in Iraq; b) Israel and Lebanon are fighting (again!); c) global warming may or may not be a problem and is or is not responsible for the current heat wave across vast sectors of the country; d) the price of gas is still ridiculously high with only two and a half weeks remaining before our family vacation this year; and e) President Bush GAINED 4 POUNDS OVER THE PAST YEAR.
That's right, Mel's drunken racial slurs were more important than the Leader of the Free World gaining as much weight in one whole year as I can gain over dinner tonight. Imagine that.
3. Jim Thornton, who is easily the cheesiest of the local talking-head radio news anchors in Los Angeles was positively wetting himself over the thought that they will pursue this story until we are so sick of Mel Gibson that we will offer him in trade for Lebanese prisoners of war. Do us a favor, Jim. Go back to traffic reporting. At least when you anchored the morning commute, traffic actually got covered. Now you guys have that lame "Extended Traffic on the Fives," wherein you never ONCE mention my freeway in the 45 minutes it takes me to drive it. Like today, when my freeway actually had an accident that tied up the 22 for a solid five miles, which is the only reason I had resorted to listening to your station in the first place this afternoon. This is why I listen to KUSC most days. Mmmm. Rachmaninov.
4. Someone needs to explain to me, please, why the idea that the police debated whether to "release" Mel's drunken tirades is evidence of a "cover up." Covering up what, precisely? Does that mean that the police have the responsibility - nay, the duty - to release every drunken tirade by every gangsta, doper, con, prostitute, or murderer that they happen to arrest? Or is this the media's tantrum over not having papparazzi in place to photograph the whole sordid affair so we can be bombarded with this story seventy-two times a day for the next three months? Hint, media guys: WE DON'T CARE. Really. Just drop it. You have our permission. Go back to faking your photos of Qana.
5. NOTE TO JEWISH COMMUNITY LEADERS AND ACTIVISTS: Mel has apologized - profusely, by Hollywood standards - and asked for forgiveness. Don't you people have much more repugnant enemies out there that really need your attention and energy? Move on, for corn's sake.
So, I will have to avoid radio news for the next few weeks, much as I was forced to during the entire Michael Jackson Show Trial. At least this time I'm not worried about Mel sleeping with young boys at his ranch.
But heaven help them if they get in the car with him.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
#286 - Re: Global Warming
Mission accomplished. Ambient indoor temperature: 74° and dropping! Al Gore is outta luck!
#285 - Mumbai Bombings
India is no stranger to terrorism. Kashmiri militants have been on and off our local radar in times past as they push for an agenda the country simply cannot support. But the militants are, truly, terrorists, just as Islamic extremists and the IRA are also terrorists. Whoever targeted these trains, even if they turn out to be mere wannabes, are terrorists. Neighborhood gangs are, by definition, terrorists.
Thus we are not surprised in the least when no fewer than seven blasts take out commuter trains in the city of Mumbai.
The news simultaneously saddens and enrages. We are deeply saddened by the loss of life (last count was over 160) and the injuries (over 400). The survivors will never be the same. They will relive this terror for the rest of their lives.
We are enraged because it is inevitable that some who profess to be knowledgeable of such things will resort to the (Ward) Churchillian arrogance of labelling these victims as somehow being deserving of their misfortune. Acceptable losses, if we somehow "awaken" to a sense that we must appease those who feel a need to kill their chosen targets in this cavalier fashion.
But we must never appease. We must, instead, hold firm to the principles of defense of our freedoms. There can be no freedom without a fight, as our moral opponents have demonstrated time and time and time again. For the more we stand away from our struggles, the more advantage they take of our inaction.
This is, as was stated elsewhere, the next World War. It is global. We are fighting against terrorism. If anyone out there still doesn't get it, go walk a mile in the shoes of a Mumbai victim.
Then be willing to defend them. It's the only way this war will ever end.
Thus we are not surprised in the least when no fewer than seven blasts take out commuter trains in the city of Mumbai.
The news simultaneously saddens and enrages. We are deeply saddened by the loss of life (last count was over 160) and the injuries (over 400). The survivors will never be the same. They will relive this terror for the rest of their lives.
We are enraged because it is inevitable that some who profess to be knowledgeable of such things will resort to the (Ward) Churchillian arrogance of labelling these victims as somehow being deserving of their misfortune. Acceptable losses, if we somehow "awaken" to a sense that we must appease those who feel a need to kill their chosen targets in this cavalier fashion.
But we must never appease. We must, instead, hold firm to the principles of defense of our freedoms. There can be no freedom without a fight, as our moral opponents have demonstrated time and time and time again. For the more we stand away from our struggles, the more advantage they take of our inaction.
This is, as was stated elsewhere, the next World War. It is global. We are fighting against terrorism. If anyone out there still doesn't get it, go walk a mile in the shoes of a Mumbai victim.
Then be willing to defend them. It's the only way this war will ever end.
Monday, July 10, 2006
#284 - Al Gore Wins One (For Now)
I have finally reached a place in my life where I am ready, even willing to concede that Global Warming is a Serious Issue requiring my Immediate Attention and probably All of My Disposable Income as well.
I say this because it was eighty-eight degrees outside, and only eighty-five degrees inside Hacienda Woody today.
Understand something: I grew up in a town where air conditioning was strictly optional because no one had yet figured out that we couldn't live without it. Our house - large, overpopulated (summer months only), and hot - was cooled by any number of fans that would appear like clockwork in May and be omnipresent right through September. We'd hesitate to put them away after that, because of "Indian Summer" in October.
As an adult, however, since moving away from said town in the 80's, I have come to appreciate the value of air conditioning. In the Mojave Desert we used evaporative coolers (lovingly called "swamp coolers"), which were fine as far as they went. But life with Mrs. Woody has meant never having to be without air conditioning any time we need it.
In fact, thanks to the miracles of middle-age for women, we frequently need it whenever temps rise above forty-five degrees in December. But that's another story that probably will never be written out of respect to Mrs. Woody's privacy and my need to sleep on an honest-to-goodness mattress.
Anyway, imagine our chagrin to find this morning (yes, this morning) that our A/C didn't seem to be blowing any cold air. At first I thought it was just unusually warm, especially for morning. After an hour or two, however, it became clear that our A/C was in trouble. A quick visit from the A/C repair guy confirmed it: our A/C has gone to that great appliance junkyard in the sky. Seems that the $500 part we had them install last summer (after the guy begged and pleaded with us to for heaven's sake please upgrade to a better unit!) literally blew itself into several useless pieces.
This evoked two responses:
1. Can we deal with this and still have a vacation next month? (Yes)
2. Can stress be one of my triggers for heart palpitations? (Yes)
So we're getting a new A/C. But not until tomorrow. No, one can't simply snap his fingers and make a work crew instantly appear. Not without overtime guarantees, one can't. So they come in the morning. Hopefully installation will be smooth and we can crank 'er up in time to feed the missionaries tomorrow night. (Of course the missionaries are coming tomorrow night! We'd had to put them off a couple of months ago, and we're not about to do so again this time!) This means that the House Fairy needs to visit the house tomorrow - in the heat - and make the house look like perfectly normal people live here, as opposed to refugees from Okefenokee Swamp West. I suspect the House Fairy will be taking a VERY cold shower immediately preceding dinner tomorrow evening.
So, Al Gore, I believe everything you say about global warming tonight. Just do me a favor, will ya?
Send a chunk of melting glacier down this way. Thanks!
I say this because it was eighty-eight degrees outside, and only eighty-five degrees inside Hacienda Woody today.
Understand something: I grew up in a town where air conditioning was strictly optional because no one had yet figured out that we couldn't live without it. Our house - large, overpopulated (summer months only), and hot - was cooled by any number of fans that would appear like clockwork in May and be omnipresent right through September. We'd hesitate to put them away after that, because of "Indian Summer" in October.
As an adult, however, since moving away from said town in the 80's, I have come to appreciate the value of air conditioning. In the Mojave Desert we used evaporative coolers (lovingly called "swamp coolers"), which were fine as far as they went. But life with Mrs. Woody has meant never having to be without air conditioning any time we need it.
In fact, thanks to the miracles of middle-age for women, we frequently need it whenever temps rise above forty-five degrees in December. But that's another story that probably will never be written out of respect to Mrs. Woody's privacy and my need to sleep on an honest-to-goodness mattress.
Anyway, imagine our chagrin to find this morning (yes, this morning) that our A/C didn't seem to be blowing any cold air. At first I thought it was just unusually warm, especially for morning. After an hour or two, however, it became clear that our A/C was in trouble. A quick visit from the A/C repair guy confirmed it: our A/C has gone to that great appliance junkyard in the sky. Seems that the $500 part we had them install last summer (after the guy begged and pleaded with us to for heaven's sake please upgrade to a better unit!) literally blew itself into several useless pieces.
This evoked two responses:
1. Can we deal with this and still have a vacation next month? (Yes)
2. Can stress be one of my triggers for heart palpitations? (Yes)
So we're getting a new A/C. But not until tomorrow. No, one can't simply snap his fingers and make a work crew instantly appear. Not without overtime guarantees, one can't. So they come in the morning. Hopefully installation will be smooth and we can crank 'er up in time to feed the missionaries tomorrow night. (Of course the missionaries are coming tomorrow night! We'd had to put them off a couple of months ago, and we're not about to do so again this time!) This means that the House Fairy needs to visit the house tomorrow - in the heat - and make the house look like perfectly normal people live here, as opposed to refugees from Okefenokee Swamp West. I suspect the House Fairy will be taking a VERY cold shower immediately preceding dinner tomorrow evening.
So, Al Gore, I believe everything you say about global warming tonight. Just do me a favor, will ya?
Send a chunk of melting glacier down this way. Thanks!
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