#308 - Why We Homeschool (Reason 429)

Bullet-proof textbooks.

I'm serious. A candidate for Oklahoma State School Superintendent by the name of Bill Crozier really wants to pursue this idea, whether he wins the election or not.

My first reaction was to laugh out loud. I really couldn't help myself. The thought of kids and teachers in a Columbine-type setting crouching behind their textbooks or trying to decide which vital body part to cover with them was just a little too ludicrous for my warped sense of humor.

Then, of course, as I related this story to Mrs. Woody, I realized that it's really my sense of horror that we even need to consider such a thing that is my overriding reaction. In fact, it was the memory of Columbine and numerous other shooting tragedies that sobered me up pretty quickly.

I just can't see this idea adding any real protection to kids around the country. For one thing, it will drive the already prohibitive cost of educational texts sky high. Can you just hear the order clerk? "Will that be with or without the armor-piercing-resistant cover?" For another, I have a hard time imagining that kids are going to take time to think about hiding behind a textbook while in the midst of an all-out panic. How much would a bullet-resistant textbook weigh in comparison with today's glorified paper-weights? Think the kids are having back pains today? Just wait.

All I know is that guns are not an issue here at Wonderwood Academy. Neither, fortunately, are bullet-proof textbooks.

#307 - In Case You Missed It

Yesterday was declared by our president as "United Nations Day 2006." I know there may have been a few of you who missed that important date, so let me just say that we here at the Woundup celebrated by waking up, getting showered and dressed, and driving twenty six miles to Seal Beach to give a fifteen minute briefing on a tool that I, er, we did not build. How's that for international diplomacy?

In all seriousness, let's pause for a few moments to recognize the U. N. for everything they've contributed over the past six decades:

1. They, um, they... give me a minute... Okay, they've been squatting on perfectly good land in New York City that otherwise would have become tenement apartments by now. They are welcome.

2. They also get nifty license plates that pretty much allow them to park on the same sidewalks where NY taxis are trying to drive.

3. They spend a fair amount of time vetoing anything the United States puts forward for discussion.

4. They keep Kofi Annan from participating directly in his family scandals.

5. Let's not forget serving as a platform for every U.S.-hating socialist who carries a grudge and a picture of Cindy Sheehan in his wallet.

I know I sure feel grateful.

#306 - There's Gambling, and Then...

Cox and Forkum's latest.

So the Fed is restricting online gambling. Big hairy deal. Hey, it's no skin off my teeth since I'm no fan of gambling. It's not entertainment, it's an addiction. Period. (For you who disagree, please refer to Woody's Woundup Rules of Engagement, section 3, paragraph 12 which states, "My blog... my opinion. Your opinion? Your blog.")

That said, here's the ironic quote of the day: (from the evidently omniscient Ayn Rand Institute)

"Why do supporters of the law deny individuals the freedom to spend their hard-earned money on gambling? Because, they say, people will bet and lose more than they can afford. In other words, individuals are inherently incapable of making rational decisions, and thus it is the government's job to protect us from ourselves. This vicious, paternalistic idea has no place in a free society."

I'll lay odds that whoever wrote that has a standing account with Trump in Atlantic City.

So, let me get this straight. People apparently want to restrict some people's rights to gamble away their hard-earned money. This I understand. But they turn to the Federal Government to do that? This is a "rational decision?"

Isn't that, like, fighting fire with gasoline?

Just askin'.

#305 - Campaign Wall of Shame

So it's not just the water in New York. Here in Orange County we have our own candidates who are guilty by association (or otherwise).

Part of the problem is that these turkeys are so intent on hitting all the current political "hot buttons," that they conveniently forget to keep their collective noses clean during the campaign.

Or could it be (he wonders out loud) that the GOP are really just executing a cleverly designed exit strategy so they can blame the Dems when nothing works as advertised in the next two years?

Nah... that's too cynical, even for a life-long Republican.

#304 - Another One Bites the Dust...

(via Drudge)

John Spencer, the GOP challenger to Hillary Clinton, just proved two maxims of mine:

1. Politicians are physiologically incapable of shutting their mouths when it's absolutely necessary. If there's any space in a politician's mouth, his or her foot will be inserted at the most inopportune (or, if you're on the other side of the argument, opportune) time.

2. Career politicians are rarely worth the money they print. Really. Incendiary members of Congress have never (repeat: never) been good for anything except a media circus. Spencer may as well go back to being a local crime party boss, or whatever it was he did for a living before becoming a professional idiot.

Freedom of speech occasionally can and will work against the speaker.

#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

#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>

#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.

#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.

#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.

#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.

#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:

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.

#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.

#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.

#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? ;-)

#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.

#291 - Way Off Bass, As Usual

Cam does liberal math. As usual, he gets it spot on.

#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.

#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.

#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.

#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.

#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.

#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!

#283 - Math: New and Improved?

I've seen this story numerous times, but the punch line gave me a good laugh. I believe it really has gotten this bad. (Note: I took math in 1970, and I don't remember it being quite that forgiving.)

Last week I purchased a burger and fries at McDonalds for $3.58.

The counter girl took my $4.00 and I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies. While looking at the screen on her register, I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.

Why do I tell you this?

Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s.

Teaching Math In 1950

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?


Teaching Math In 1960

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?


Teaching Math In 1970

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?


Teaching Math In 1980

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20 Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math In 1990

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers.)


Teaching Math In 2006

Un ranchero vende una carretera de madera para $100. El cuesto de la producción era $80. ¿Cuantos tortillas se puede comprar?

#282 - Angelides vs. Trust

I've never trusted Phil Angelides. I have a natural dislike for most developers simply because they represent irresponsible growth in any community. Developers live by the "growth at any cost, but mostly in my pocketbook" credo that makes them such natural politicians. Angelides has always seemed to fit that mold.

Fetching Jen, who lives in the same neighborhood with the Angelides', gives me all the reason I need never to trust the man with my vote.

Not that I ever would have, anyway.

#281 - Gray Cells Still Dying Off...

I guess as anniversaries go this one deserves a decidedly low priority. Still, one might think that I would try to remember my own blogiversary. It was 2 years back on June 21.

And I'm still enjoying the ride.

You may have guessed by now that, beyond the usual bloggy reasons, I keep these blogs more as a form of personal history than anything else. I'm not the caliber of writer that might expect to sway public opinion through my clever use of word and phrase. Neither do I tend to wade into those areas of discussion that are so controversial as to guarantee much of an audience.

Hence the Woundup remains, as it always has been, my. own. space.

#280 - Touché

Baby Sis plays John Adams to my John Dickinson.

Guess I'd better stick with "bland" or "manilla" instead, hm?

#279 - Because We Can't Get Links Any Other Way

A very nice review from my brother, which naturally leads to one for my brother:

Cam has the benefit of a) the memory of a younger sibling, especially where sins of the elder sibling are concerned, and b) not being quite as close to 50 as I am. So it shouldn't really surprise me that he remembers my taking him for driving practice to Moorpark College. For those unfamiliar with the Simi Valley/Moorpark area, it's hilly country. In fact, one of Moorpark's more endearing nicknames is "Harvard on the Hill." Along the eastern border of the campus is an overflow parking area that was (note: past tense) perfect for kids with learner's permits. Especially kids with Volkswagens who were trying desperately to learn how to operate a clutch without rolling the car over in a turn.

It was only natural that I would take Cam out there for a couple of reasons. First, it was traditional. That's where Dad had taken me when I was learning how to drive. But Dad had maxed out on such fun the moment I got my actual license, so the job of training my siblings fell to me and Mom. And I usually wheedled Mom to let me do it because I was still enjoying being able to drive anywhere I wanted to go, so long as Mom or Dad would let me borrow a vehicle. So, I took my sister up there when it was her turn, and Cam was next in line. Then Moorpark College hired their own rent-a-cop agency and the tradition died on the vine.

Of course, I also remember letting Cam drive Box Canyon one day, and I do believe that was the first time my life actually flashed before me. Story for another day, perhaps.

It's also important to note (getting back to Cam's post) that, although I lived in that area for more than twenty years of my life, I never once hiked some of these trails that Cam has been trying out. It's a sad statement, I suppose, and the truth is that I now regret not having taken advantage of the opportunity when I had it. Simi Valley used to be a beautiful town. Back in the day it wasn't hard to find groves and orchards mingled in with the neat suburban tracts, and just to the west of our house were miles of trackless expanse, filled with enough tumble weeds to keep any young boy busy for days on end. And I don't mean clearing them. I mean making forts and clubhouses out of them. There was a wash running behind our tract that yielded more than a few attempts to turn pollywogs into frogs. (Far more failures than successes, I'm afraid.)

Those days are, of course, gone forever. Now Simi Valley is just another over-developed bedroom community. It has a "mall" now, along with its usual collection of strip malls and shopping centers. It has two or three primary industrial centers. What used to be a tiny, grass-covered air field has long since given way to several vanilla box-like warehouses.

Thus Cam has to head south to find trails that are still worth the effort. I would guess - in part from the photos he links - that once you're clear of the more civilized climes it's easier to imagine what Simi was like in its heyday, before the tracts that stretch literally from one end of the valley to the other, and before the freeway introduced us to the noisier, less refined elements of neighboring society.

So I applaud my little brother, and hope he continues to find peace in his travels. I certainly can't argue with his method. The time I spent in Guatemala, hiking up and down mountains that would swallow Simi Valley several times over actually gave me that kind of peace in my own life. I needed it, since I had companions that ranged from (literally) professional Boy Scouts, to KISS fans, to anti-Gringo Salvadorans. Peace did not always come easy, but a good hike was always sure to clear both head and heart.

Go, Bro!

#278 - Patriotism Is as Patriotism Does

I didn't think anything of the plastic flags that lined the walk leading to the church. They were just those cheesy little plastic flags that have become ubiquitous in cemeteries during holidays, and this was billed, after all, as a patriotic concert. Barely gave them a second glance as I hurried inside. My call was 5:30 for the concert, and I was already a half hour late.

Musically, the concert was unremarkable, really. Stuff I'd either done before, or was of the type that I could sight-read and perform after about two run-throughs. The choir was one of those pick-up choirs where folks volunteer (or, in my case, are guilted into volunteering), attend three or four rehearsals, and perform for a bunch of flag-wavers in your community. In other words, you weren't looking to hear the Dale Warland Singers here; you were more likely to think of Spike Jones.

The dividers at the back of the chapel open directly into the cultural hall, which had been decorated with a few dozen depictions of the American flag at various stages of design and purpose. Several of the "Don't Tread on Me" flags festooned one wall, while many versions of Old Glory up to and including our current 50 state flag surrounded the rest of the hall. At the back sat several tables where an honest-to-gosh ice cream social would await the audience.

The concert was hosted by our local LDS stake, but it was truly a community event. The chairperson of the event reminded me strongly of Eulalie McKecknie Shinn from "The Music Man." She had the kind of bearing that spoke to long hours of heading various committees - some probably by default - and getting the job done, or else. She gave all the appropriate recognitions, changed the program as required by circumstance ("The DVD honoring our Mr. and Ms. Senior Anaheim Hills has finally arrived, so we'll go ahead and show it now!"), and got the audience to clap as she announced every single committee chair and deputy chair ("And our fifth vice-chairman for the Arrangements Committee...!") that has had anything to do with this community's July 4th preparations.

Then came something that I knew was coming, but the intensity of which surprised me, I'm ashamed to admit. A sergeant wearing the beret of the 82nd, and who'd recently returned from Iraq, was introduced to the audience. The standing ovation he received was not entirely unexpected; this is, after all, a highly conservative part of a conservative county. But the ovation lasted for several minutes. Longer, indeed, than I would have predicted beforehand, and something that resonated with me for the remainder of the evening.

Suddenly, our little "Patriotic Community Concert" didn't seem so insignificant. Next up for the choir was a medley of all the anthems from the five major branches of the armed forces, wherein veterans of those who have served in those branches are invited to stand and be appreciated by the audience. And they were. There were vets from all five branches in attendance last night. Every one of them received hearty applause and even cheers from the audience. Personally, I have rarely been unable to articulate a piece of music because of a lump in my throat, but this certainly was the case during this part of the program. I was close to tears as we began each familiar anthem (excepting "Semper Paratus" for the Coasties... don't hear that one too frequently), and heard the clapping while watching several members of the audience stand to receive the praise and thanks of their neighbors. This sort of thing doesn't happen to me, darnit. I'm too professional to allow silly emotions to overwhelm a performance.

Or, perhaps, not.

The audience stood to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" and "America the Beautiful." Many of them were still able to sing all the verses from memory. The rest of the concert blurred its way past, and we suddenly found ourselves in the cultural hall, knocking back a cup or two of chocolate ice cream and mingling with friends. The first question on everyone's lips: "Where is everybody?"

It was a valid question. We've been advertising this concert for the last several weeks in our ward meetings, and several of us committed to join the choir after being informed that this was a chance to "mingle with the community" and demonstrate our commitment both to our town and our country. Four of us participated from our ward. About twice that many more showed up to listen. It's not that no one came; certainly there were plenty of people in attendance. But I had fully expected more from our own ward to come and support the concert. "Where is everybody," indeed.

Up to that point, I had been feeling somewhat redeemed. As a blogger who occasionally strays into socio-political discourse, it becomes so easy to take a cynical view of the world around me. I get bone-weary of the constant fights between conservative and liberal idealogues who couldn't have a reasoning discussion on any topic if their lives depended on it (which, fortunately for them, is not the case). I even wondered idly to myself in the minutes before the concert began whether we would be visited by protestors who would try to disrupt our goodwill for the sake of making themselves look silly while they got hauled off to jail.

People should have been there to hear the (short!) talk given by one of our city councilmen. He appreciated having this concert in a church, he said, because it serves to remind us that this country was founded on principles given to man by God (gasp!). He said the word "Creator" in the Declaration of Independence was not capitalized by accident. And these rights, endowed on us by Him, are being protected by the troops we were saluting that very evening.

A better speech I have rarely heard. He mentioned God no fewer than 10 different times in a talk that lasted barely 10 minutes. And he sounded like he meant it, too. It made me realize that I can't take responsibility for how other people view their citizenship in this country. I need to focus on my own efforts. I either support this nation, or I don't. But I can only improve my own efforts, and pray for others to see their own way clear to help.

As we left the building last night, we proudly sported our new blinking flag pins. They cost us $5 each, but the money was needed to offset the slight budget shortfall for all of the events planned for the 4th. They were only $1500 short as of last night. I hope we got them much closer to zero with our donations.

Walking out into the still-warm evening air, I noticed the flags lining the walkway. Simple, plastic, cheesy flags.

They've never looked better.

#278 - Benedict Would Be So Proud

Tensions are high in this country. It has been said that the country hasn't been this divided since the days of the Civil War. Indeed, I speak today of a crime that should offend the sensibilities of all who consider themselves to be loyal to this country. Patriots should publish tales of this crime in the highest courts of justice, and denounce the perpetrators in the halls of Congress. The Chief Executive of the nation should demand that punishment be swift and terrible; a warning to those who would also provide aid and comfort to the enemy.

Treason, you say? Absolutely. Those responsible are well deserving of the epithet "traitor." They have openly despised the country to which they owe their allegiance. They have endangered our democratic way of life, and may even have placed lives in jeopardy.

The criminal?

Albertson's.

The crime?

Giving in to the marketing Nazis who decided that Americans would be satisfied with half gallons of ice cream that are not true half gallons.

It started with the big name labels. Dreyer's. Breyers. Haagen Daaz. Over the last several years they have gone from true half-gallon sizes to a container that holds (prepare to be enraged) one cup shy of a true half gallon! And what are we paying for this privilege? Surely you can guess. More than we paid for a full two quarts! Unless they're on sale.

I had for some time taken comfort in the thought that the grocery stores were holding out. Even though the name brands had long since gone to this new marketing nightmare, the store brands remained at the good ol' American half gallon size. The container itself was comforting; akin to scoring a round number in bowling (preferably 300), or having round numbers in your bank account (preferably $5 million). Having a half gallon in the freezer meant being able to say, "You want some ice cream? Well, I've got a half gallon in the freezer." Now what do I tell my guest? "Ice cream? Sure. I think I've got a one and three-quarters of a quart container in the freezer."

I don't think so.

It also means I can never again satisfy my wife when I go shopping. "Be sure to get a half gallon of ice cream, Honey," she'll say. But can I deliver? I can not. "Sorry, Honey, I could only find those wimpy faux half gallons that are really one cup shy of the mark."

I'm sorry, but this is tantamount to the old communist plot to convert everything in this country to the metric system. Young readers will not remember this farce. We were suddenly required to remember what a "kilometer" was (not as long as a mile, I can tell you). Fortunately, we got smart after about five years of a half-hearted effort to be more like Canada. I mean, think about it:

Half Gallon

• Sounds American


• More bang for the buck


• Conservative

1.75 Quarts

• Sounds Canadian


• More buck for the bang


• Probably Communist

I of course recommend that the Attorney General immediately begin an investigation. Probably Congress should get Albertson's executives in closed session and ask about price gouging. And none of this namby-pamby "whatever the market will bear" nonsense that we let the oil execs claim, either. This has nothing to do with economics. This is a declared war against traditional American values.

Now, before I get lots of bleeding-heart comments telling me how insensitive I am to the environment, or whatever, let me remind you of one thing:

I don't care. I want my half gallon back.

Now.

#277 - A Traitor By Any Other Name

Or, really, just two. The New York Times and the Los Angeles Times. Heaven forbid we should question their patriotism, but this crossed far too many lines.

This has nothing - repeat, NOTHING - to do with the public interest. This is about selling papers. Their desire to become their own headline has once again compromised national security, and they should be treated as enemy combatants.

On a more personal note, at least now I have some fresh ammo to use the next time a Slimes-outsourced solicitor contacts me about subscribing. "No, sorry, it's against my religion to subscribe to a paper that endangers national security."

#276 - Way Off Bass Coins New Phrase

"Elevator Savant."

And you just know that most of the idjits who write that stuff get play time on "smooth jazz" stations.

#275 - Al Qaeda Replaces al-Zarqawi

Al Qaeda in Iraq have appointed a new leader to replace retiring leader Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, it was announced by al-Jazeera yesterday. To make for a smooth transition and avoid a possible leadership vacuum, Al Qaeda yesterday turned to U. S. Democratic Party Chair Howard "The Duck" Dean. Dean, coming off of stunning primary victories last Tuesday wherein no Democratic party candidates were caught vandalizing their opponents' offices or vehicles, quietly assumed control of the misunderstood insurgency last night in a simple ceremony.

"Avoid these safe-houses," he was told, having been handed a map with several large red X's on it. "We're pretty sure the ones circled in green are still ok." Three green circles were visible, according to sources close to the ceremony.

Dean was characteristically enthusiastic about his new duties. "This is a real opportunity to galvanize young insurgents to make their voices heard. Or, failing that, to blow themselves to kingdom come and blame the failed Bush administration for it."

Dean indicated that at least part of the $3 million being offered by deep-pockets Democratic supporters in the United States to encourage young Americans to vote Democratic would, instead, be diverted to special Swiss accounts earmarked for support of training camps in the Iraqi desert. "We need to show these young terrorists that the United States cares about them, and wants them to have every opportunity to succeed. If their vision of success is 72 virgins in Paradise, who are we to judge?" Dean told reporters after his swearing in.

Dean's appointment comes as a surprise to many Al Qaeda experts, particularly in Iraq. "It makes absolutely no sense," said one Iraqi observer. "Dean is the Infidel of infidels. He represents one of the worst Zionist nations on earth. Of course, he's no friend to Israel, but how can we possibly trust this capitalist dog?" Others were more cautious. "Give him time, I say," said one young college student. "He may turn out to be the best weapon against the Zionist American administration yet."

Still others were less gracious. "This man has failed every campaign he's run since his disasterous run for President," one man told al-Jazeera. "What makes him think he can fill al-Zarqawi's shoes?"

The White House has declined comment.

#274 - Attention, Dave Barry:

We're not absolutely certain, but we'd like to bet that Government grants were involved.

(Hat tip: Mrs. Woody)