Monthly Archives: October 2005

Morally Indefensible Morals

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BBC NEWS | Health | Women’s health fuelling poverty

For every woman who dies, roughly 20 more suffer serious injury or disability – between 8 million and 20 million a year.

Experts agree that the majority of maternal deaths are preventable through family planning to reduce unintended pregnancies, skilled attendance at all deliveries and timely emergency obstetric care in all cases where complications arise.

And our own government’s moralizing policies are a big part of this problem. We refuse to give aid to countries and charities without strings attached. Which is morally indefensible, if you ask me (but they won’t).

A Creepy Thing I heard The Other Day

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I’ve been troubled by something I heard in conversation yesterday. It’s really bothering me, and I’m wondering if I had an obligation to register my discomfort or disapproval of the comment. Or not, as this was at work, and a complaint might be raised about me.

Here’s the deal: I was talking to a client about hotel accomodations for that night, somewhere in the southeastern US in an area not far from where Katrina and Rita raised a little hell a few weeks back. Hotel availability in the area is really, really hard to come by, and every time I get a call from someone looking for a place to stay in the area, I groan inwardly. So the client and I were discussing the various, rather limited choices that were open to him and whether they followed his company’s travel policy.

One choice was very, very cheap, and the other choice was kind of expensive and a little “above policy.” Several times during the call, the traveler mentioned that one or another property probably still had “FEMA refugees” staying there, as apparently a lot of people have been put up at hotels in outlying areas. Okay, I finally found the two choices after the guy rejected a couple of others on the grounds they’d be full of noisy, discontented people (or so I thought).

Then when I offered the cheaper hotel as being within policy, he rejected it outright, saying “I don’t want to stay in a hotel with anybody from the Ninth Ward.”

Uh….okay. My stunned silence was about all the criticism I could afford to levy, seeing as our calls are recorded and sometimes monitored “live.” So after a short pause, I booked him at the other place.

I thought about saying “Actually, I go to church with somebody whose grandfather is from there,” but that would have (probably) been a lie. So I let it be and booked the guy and got him the hell off my line. And it’s been bugging me ever since: should I have said something, or was I right to give tacit approval of that statement by my silence?

The Not So Amazing Race: Spaceballs!

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I already knew where this episode was supposedly headed; spoilers had been floating around since the day they filmed at today’s location, because it’s been just about impossible to keep people from all over the country from saying “Hey! I think they filmed an episode of TAR in my area! I saw Racers/clue boxes/flags/production crew.” The spoilers are showing up in news articles and TV Guide-type websites, too, so I’m not feeling too much doubt about where we’re going. Of course, if we go somewhere else, I’m not the only one with egg on my face.

Apparently, tonight we’re going to Huntsville, AL and we’re going to do SPACE CAMP STUFF! This is pretty much confirmed based on the previews we saw last week, and based on the plethora of SUV-and-family-and-crew sightings in the Huntsville, AL area. They are sure proud of their NASA Flight Center! Wooo, etc. Actually, I’d be really excited about this, but only if I actually got to go up into orbit and only if I knew for a fact that the O-rings and the belly tiles were totally A-OK.

So this week, aside from any Road Block/Detour/Clueless deviations (ooh!), the Amazing Blue Line gives us a pretty good idea of what we’re up against:

amazingblueline.jpg

And the first thing you’ll notice, if you are looking at Google Maps, is that the beginning point and end point are 14 hours of drive time apart. Not including rest time, eat time, and TAR time. So are they really going to Huntsville tonight, or will the endpoint actually be at some intermediate (and much lamer) destination? Would they actually fly them rather than have them drive that far? Scheduled (yeesh) or charter (meh?).

See? The logistics are more interesting than the actual show at this point.

So here’s the starting lineup. I make no promises about whether I’ll end up watching Commander-in-Chief later if this Family Roadtrip from Hell gets too boring. Their order of departure, and their totally arbitrary nicknames, are as follows:

Weaver: “Screaming Jebus Weavers” or SJW’s

Linz: “Team Farty-not-so-fast”

Godlewski: “Pink Ladies,” “Shrieking in Pink”

Schroeder: “Team AssDad”

Aiello: “Team SIL”

Bransen: “Daddy-Daughters”

Gaghan: “Wheelies”

Paolo: “Team Throw Momma From The SUV”

I’ll add their arrival order at the Pit Stop just before I publish.

Ready? Let’s hit “play.”

Replays: Odd that NCIS tonight also had some Civil War reenactors. Upshot: Weavers scream, Rogerses get the boot. Who will be eliminated… NEXT? (not tonight? Foreshadowing?)

Hey, it’s Jon Vito and Jill from TAR3! The task was the not-so-amazing Cheese Eating Fast Forward. Remember? They were out the next leg, so fat lot of good that did them.

Commercials. Ooh, Zorro: The Family Edition. Not so much with the ooh.

Departures in broad daylight from Welborne Manor, VA, the second pit stop. UPDATE: Mutterings from TWOP that everyone stayed an extra night, and that it was actually a 36 hour layover due to the presence of kids. Not sure, but everybody looks REALLY tired to begin with.

Mandatory rest period is not specified, but we suspect it’s more than twelve hours.

Weavers: scream at 226am and FLY!!!! 500 miles to CLT from IAD. Choose a car (meh, spoonfed transpo) and go to the Battery.

Linz: 227am. Search for next clue at Gazebo. Girlie, the boys will never listen to you. Travel from “Washington Dulls International.” Man, I love you, Amazing Editors!

Godlewskis: Gabble gabble gabble.

Schroeder: 235am Mom is a step mom. Is she evil or not? Schroeder son seems way out of it.

SILS: do a little dance.

Bransens: 238am DAddy daughters interview how tired.

Gaghans: kids mug for camera. Depart 243am. Man, tight times. Interview kids will not hold them back. BARF! Kids do NOT belong on my race!

Linzes hate wide loads. I think they mean something else.

Bransens work a cell phone from the diver (taxi?). Hmm. Gaghans call USair. Good choice.

Paolos. depart 315am. This is an amazing country, says Tony. Arguing. Phoning. Mom complains “We’re finallhy going somewhere. It’s the Amazing Race American Style.”

Weavers: missed the exit and reverse backwards. This is noticed by Linzes. That is hilarious!

Linzes try DH (independence air) So do Weavers. Arrives 1004am

Bransens yell out to Boston, re US, but they check out DH too.

Man, who are all these strangers? I guess DH is Flight 1.

Oops, running out of seats. Bransens get US – flight 2.

Schroeder: what’s Florida doing? Conflict and sneakiness ensue. Switching?
Damn, the Weavers thank the Lord because they switched to the earlier flight. Everyone else unites in their hatred of all things Weaver. I’m not sure why: the advantage is all of 2 minutes. I had to pause so I could figure out what was going on. Oh, and here come the Paolos, this won’t be pretty.

Teh Evil Weavers point Paolos at a much, much later flight. Nice.

Hunter starts hanging out with Rolly Weaver. “Shut your pie hole, Hunter.”

Schroder, Aiello, Godlewski on Flight 1
Paolos argue about… a map. They dump bags and there’s a general air of “I’m tired, Ma.”
Argue, argue, argue. This week, Ma Paolo’s dead horse is “We have to find a map.” Unbelievable. Constant nagging aggravates the hell out of me.

Man, those Paolo boys are spoiled.

Commercials. Hey, it’s BP! Watch for them to show up in the show.

And: Plane 1 arrives at CLT airport at 1004am. Find the Gazebo or the Battery in your spoonfed SUV. WEavers are following and resented by the leaders. No one seems to know what The Battery is, but they find the clue box in the Gazebo. Exciting parking ensues.

Detour: Forrest Gump – dehead 200 pounds of shrimp, or Muddy Waters: drive a Jeep through a mud bog, up to the axles. If they have monster driving skills, they could finish fast.

“We’re all doing the shrimp togethaaaa!” Oh, joy.

As usual, Paolos complain about being dead last. Oh, please oh please.

Note, there are only 2 mud bogs. So here come the headless shrimp!

Oh, my God! Shrimp juice in my socks. Meanwhile, what a shock, Meghan is RIGHT about something.

Linz: shrimpingl Funky funny music.
Gaghans: decide to mud bog.
Weavers: doing the mud bog. Oooh, pretty Jeep! Bogged down so far by Ma Weaver.
Aiellos: mudbog and they aren’t stopping or turning. They are halfway through. Oh! Stuck at the very finish line! We were goin’ great guns, though!

Bransens: start their first crate of fish.
Paolos: pass the clue box at the gazebo.
Weavers: try again. Bog down again.
Aiellos: try again, try to maintain momentum but bog down again. So disgusted.
Mud fight! Mud fight!

Schroeders: shrimp fight! Shrimp fight! Funky music plays.
Linzes: play with the talking shrimp. That was just not right.
Godlewskis: gabble gabble gabble shrimp.
Bransens: rocking the shrimp. I think we found our calling.
Gaghans: think mudbogging is going to be fun!
Weavers: SIXTH ATTEMPT
Aiellos: DITTO

I can’t do it, it’s just too hard, says Ma Weaver.
Schroeders: Finish first and now head for a …. charter bus to a mystery destination.
Linz: finish second.
Paolos: finally arrive at the shrimp beheading boat.
Bransens: finish 4th
Gaghan: first attempt at mudbogging and they… MAKE IT! Aiellos are HORRIFIED!
Linzes and Schroeders are running for the charter buses.

Linz and Schroeders make Bus 1
Bransens: trudge in. Make Bus 1. Second bus doesn’t depart for another 2 hours.

Aiello: 13th Attempt! Sad music is playing. They bog. Why didn’t they quit 5 tries ago?

Commercials.

Aiello: 14th attempt. CHARGE!! Keep rocking!! They finally do it. Clue please.

Gaghan: arrive in time for Bus 2.

Paolo: finally on their last crate. Fighting. Can you close your mouth for five minutes.
Mom looks PISSED about the charter bus.

Weavers: beheading shrimp and saying how glad they are they bald-snarked the detour.

Weavers are LAST to complete. They make the second bus, all bunched with the other losers. We’re all in last place! Yay!! Wooohoo!!

it’s an EIGHT HOUR bus ride, all smelly and shrimpy and muddy.

Bus 1: We’re going to Huntsville, AL to the Space Center!

Spoonfed SUVS. What could we be doing at the hangar?

Gabbleskis gabble. Clue box! Clue box!

Bransen: go for the big rocket with all the lights on it.

Roadblock: In this family version, they will sometimes be performed by 2 persons. SUCK!!!

Hah! Phil demonstrates the 3.2G Centrifuge. He’s all flat and funny sounding! Whee!!

Bransens: 2 girls will do it. They get briefed on how they’re going to be in a spinning capsule.

Linz: Megan’s been there! two boys take it. Barfing will ensue.

Schroeders: daughter and… somebody take it.

Shots of Bransens: they all look flat. The others laugh at the monitor.

Gabbleskis: gabble about hangars. It’s an airplane. No, it’s what an airplane is IN.
Bransens must run to Rocket Park and find a Saturn V and log on to FUCKING AOL.COM.

FARTING LINZES in the capsule. aHHHHHH!!! The Funny Music Editors are using a piece of Star Trek music – the bit from Amok Time when Spock was in heat! What are they saying about the Fartynotsofasts now???

Bransens: Daddy’s about to have a heart attack.

Linzes complete. Fumes are ventilated.

Schroeder children laugh about how heavy their arms are.

Bransen: daddy chants a cadence.

Linzes: trot capably.

Bransens are first to find the computer. They get their video mail from Phil. “Race from here to Space Shuttle Pathfinder, the Pit Stop. The last team to check in MAY be eliminated.”

Linzes: fart around logging in. “YOU’VE GOT MAIL!”

Wow, a real astronaut at the mat! It’s… someone I don’t know.

Bransens are FIRST!! They win free gas for LIFE for all licensed drivers from FUCKING BP GAS!!! Oh, Miss Alli’s going to be splody.

Linzes: Team number 2.

Bus 2, the Bus of Losers is shown. Smelling bad. Weavers are very nervous and Ma Weaver is a prisoner!

Aiellos interview that the Weavers complain too much.

Weavers: cry, then decide to completely be fake and pretend to be happy, happy, happy at a food stop.

Paolos: interview that the Weavers went freakin’ nuts.

Yeah, that’s some strategery: act crazy and completely off your head so people “underestimate” you. I think the other teams have got the Weavers pegged as untrustworthy – Ma Weaver turned her back on a team that would have helped them at the airport and got her brood on the “earlier” flight and basically thumbed her nose at the Aiellos. Now the Aiellos are enjoying their seeming breakdown on the bus.

Well, after the commercials are done, we’ll see. There’s not a lot of options for passing another team at this location, since the Pit Stop is walking distance… oh, wait a minute. We’ll see.

Weavers: wigging out in the parking lot, pretending to be happy. They’re actually scared of not knowing.

Singing on the “bus that never ends”

Schroeders complete the 3G centrifuge.

Gabbleskis gabble on the monitor and complete. They gabble on the way to the next clue about how cool that was. Gabble, gabble, gabble.

Meanwhile, Smelly Bus, oh Smelly Bus, What Are They Pumping Into You pulls in.

Confusion. Weavers get their car. Paolos grouse. Road directions. Location is noted on the map. Young master Gaghan sees it.

Schroeders: know where the Shuttle is and get to the Mat. Team 3!

Gabbleskis: Let’s go! AAAAH Wooo!! Gabble! Oh, yeah!

Weavers: spot the hangar and see the box. Rolly and another weaver take it.

Gaghans and Paolos and Aiellos arrive. First come first serve go go go! Paolos (what??) grab first, followed by Gaghans (wheels!) and slow Pa Aiello drags the rest of his family into last at the “grab a ticket” box.

Aiellos should NOT have gone to the side to confer about the clue and try to decide.

Paolos actually were quick off the mark.

Weavers complete 3G in 5th place. Mom reads really slow. they thank Jesus for finding the computer and the mail. Fifth place.

Paolos whirl.

Geez, Ma Weaver is weird looking.

Paolos complete. Argue about which way the rocket park is.

Gaghans and Aiellos wait.

Gaghans finish in 7th place. Go this way, honey.

Aiellos are in last.

Gaghans are WANDERING AROUND AGAIN.

Paolos are LOST TOO.

Suddenly they’re supportive of Mama Paolo?

Look at Carissa going!

Aiellos are trying to make up ground.

Paolos get email. Meanwhile, Carissa spots the sign for the computers.

GASP! RAce on foot to the shuttle against the Paolos!!

Aiellos are still out finding the computer.

Swearing.

Fuck, Paolos are still in it. They arrive sixth.

Gaghans: arrive seventh. Kids are happy.

Aiellos: sad music plays. Non elimination? Sad music but we’re due.

You’re the last team to arrive. I’m sorry to tell you you have been eliminated from the race. Damn, I liked them. They’re choked up at the mat. They never, never, never should have stuck with the mudbog Detour as long as they did, but they’re guys and they didn’t want to de-head shrimp. DAMN.

Next week: Weavers must go to a RACE TRACK. They look extremely upset. One of the kids, the blondest girl, said something interesting about earlier about how she was kind of tired of all the emotional highs and lows, heh. Well, here’s another one. Gabbleskis melt down, scream, gabble at each other in a car.

Apparently they’re going to Talledega Race Track – surely the race designers knew the Weavers history? Their father/Ma Weaver’s husband died in an accident while working at a race track.

Oh, and the Amazing Blue Line wasn’t so far off – Charlotte, NC (CLT) is shown there to the east of Huntsville AL (HSV).

Aaaaand that’s probably the last time I’ll get to use airport codes in a while, until they finally get the frickin’ heck out of the country.

Bleh.

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I felt “bleh” yesterday and took off early. Sunday I picked up all the prescriptions from Walgreens that my doctor had re-prescribed for me, after admonishing me not to simply “go off them after a while.”

I’d been pretty good about taking the blood pressure one, but some of the others I had let lapse. So after scoring an appointment on Saturday, before taking Riley down to the vet, I loaded up on the prescriptions.

I felt like they all kicked in about 2pm yesterday… I dragged through the day for a while, started to feel a little whifty, and decided to head home. Crashed out within minutes of lying down.

Of course, it didn’t help that the “vile perfume” part of today’s rant went off with a bang practically right in my face just before I headed out the door. I talked to the perpetrator afterwards, who was surprised that I practically tripped over everybody’s purses in my haste to get the hell away from a lungful of wheeze after she sprayed herself. Apparently she thought last week’s email about “no strong fragrances in the workplace” didn’t apply, because she’d checked with her seatmates. I only occasionally wander to that section, but had to fix one of the “frequent flier” computers.

In a way it was kind of like a cascade failure. The blast of freesia-scented nerve gas was the error that kicked off my personal Blue Screen of Death sort of wooziness, and so I pooped off home.

ComedySportz!

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We went to ComedySportz to see my husband David’s brother Mitch perform. Hi, Mitch! Mitch takes improv classes now and then, and had reached the point where he had a class performance. We all had an excellent time, and laughed very loudly (this is to remind Mitch’s mom of the time she shushed us when we laughed at another of Mitch’s shows).

The best part was when my brother-in-law Dan won a free improv class. I suspect the fix was in, because all the other entries were for ComedySportz employees or class members. It was very funny how the “vote early, vote often” ruse was disclosed. It was amusing, but maybe it’s a Chicago thing.

These Are A Few Of My Unfav’rite Things

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People who wear vile scents to work.
People who keep breaking their computers.
People who use speakerphones, at either end of the conversation.
People who are remorselessly chipper far too early in the morning.
People who must say “Hi! Hi! Hi! every time they walk past your area.
People whose every conversation is broadcast AT ELEVEN. IT GOES TO ELEVEN.
People who act in real life like they’d bloviate endlessly online.

Oh, this is so not good.

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What Did Rove Tell Dobson?

Dobson, the influential founder of the conservative evangelical group Focus on the Family, has said he is supporting Miers’ nomination in part because of something he has been told but cannot divulge.

He has acknowledged speaking with Karl Rove, Bush’s political adviser, about the president’s pick before it was announced.

Fortunately, Sen. Arlen Specter is going to get to the bottom of this.

Rove’s making his secret phone calls in support of Miers? So not good. But not unexpected. Some folks, however, think Dobson may be calling off the rightmost dogs and hedging his bets. And others think Miers is a particularly nasty and insidious kind of cipher.

via ***Dave

At the kitty doctor

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Whew. First of all, I’m fine. My monkeylady stuck me in a carrier today and we drove for a long time. I continually begged to be let out and for us to go back to the little building, but the world just kept moving around us.

Eventually, we got to this big, noisy echoing place that was absolutely full of dogs (yuck). They kept coming up to my little cage and sniffing at me. Finally, my monkey moved so her hind legs were in front of the cage, and that was better. After along wait, we went in a little room, and they let me out of the cage. The table I was on smelt of wet dogs (yuck).

After an even longer wait, during which I eventually relaxed and played with the catnip pillow thing, a very young male monkey came in. He felt me all over, looked in my ears, and looked at my teeth. I was horrified! I thought once again that I was being turned back in to the prison system! However, after my monkey and the doctor monkey chattered for a while, I was invited to re-enter my cage, which was an improvement.

And then we left, high-dee-ho, and we’re back again in the little building.

The fuzzy one came back from somewhere and petting and playing ensued. So it seems my little excursion today was no big deal.

It’s good to be “home.”
This image was sent from Flickr as a blog entry, email or cameraphone image.

Via: Flickr
Title: At the kitty doctor

By: GinnyRED57

Originally uploaded: 8 Oct ’05, 6.54pm PST

I Am In Charge Here

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My day yesterday was wonderful and also a little frightening. For some reason the woman monkey didn’t make a big noise and go away in the morning. She went around the little building we all live in, putting things away and generally making it look much less interesting, with fewer things to scatter or knock over.

Eventually, she settled down on the couch with a little flat computer. I know about those from my brief career as a Web celebrity, you see.

A monkey man’s voice chattered senselessly on and on; it was coming out of the big loud-box but there were no pictures of moving monkeys on the front of it. Weird. Occasionally she chattered back to the loud-box, as if the senseless man-monkey was in there or something. She did not chatter in the special warm tone she and the fuzzy one reserve for “talking” to me.

Anyway, that got boring after a while, so I curled up next to her and was petted and occasionally held while she drank some stuff that she made with hot water. It didn’t smell good, but that’s monkeys for you – they’re inscrutable sometimes.

It’s hard to describe things when you’re completely happy and contented. Somehow it’s easier to describe horrible scary things. So just take it as read that I’m indescribably happy.

My monkeylady then played a new game with me, which I’m going to call “STRING!! ATTACK!!1!!” which was very enjoyable. Basically, she walks around with a long piece of string trailing after her, and I stalk and chase and kill it over and over. Sometimes the string goes very fast so I ran and caught up with it. This activity was somewhat tiring but I went very fast anyway, which seemed to make my monkeylady happy. She encouraged me in this activity until finally I signalled that it was concluded by plopping down and sneezing.

Not long after that, 2 more monkey ladies came in the door! I ran so fast and hid behind the “sofa” in the “living room.” I thought they were caremonkeys, come to take me back to prison, or to some other jail.

I peeked warily at them. “o nononono!” I thought. “you’ll never take me alive, monkeys!”

However, after a bit of soft chatter with the one I think of as “MY” monkey, they all went to different parts of the little building and started doing things. It sounded and smelled like when my old cell used to be cleaned.

I came out of my refuge and dared one of them to try and capture me, but “my” monkey just laughed at me and picked me up and petted me. So it was a false alarm. Ho, hum, I went back and napped for a while and tried to ignore the horrible rumpus that was going on all over.

Then the two new monkeyladies left, and it was just my own monkey and me. More cuddling and petting. I felt much, much better. Then we played Sock and “STRING!!1!” some more and I felt even better.

The fuzzy one got home and we all had our dinners – mine is served in attractive bowls, much nicer than I’ve ever had. I must try not to knock them over.

More petting ensued. The fuzzy one likes head-bumps a lot, so I indulged him. He’s funny.

Then he and I played a game of “Get Out, Red Spot,” which is another new favorite. I cannot for the life of me figure out how that little red spot can move so fast, and why I can never seem to get my paws on it.

A while after that, the fuzzy one got out my MOST FAVORITE NEW FUN TOY EVARRR.

It was a mouse on a stick. When he flicked the stick, the mouse flew away, then mysteriously crept back toward the fuzzy one. This was irresistable. I threw myself into the game with great abandon. The monkeys hooted in that way they do when they’re entertained.

Then the fuzzy one let the mouse dangle above my head, just out of reach. I batted it briskly with my paw, and it came back around and hit me in the head. Outrageous! So I batted it right back, and it did the same thing from the other direction. It was time for me to FREAK OUT, whirling around and batting away, and still the mouse came back for more! Insolent little rodent.

The monkeys appeared to be having convulsions or something, so I stopped. They petted me and seemed to be assuring me that they were all right and they hoped I was enjoying my epic battle with the mouse.

Truth be told, I was.

There was more cuddling and so on before sleeptime, and again more cuddling this morning when they awakened which is now our settled routine. I do enjoy that so much.

However, because I suspected the monkeys were actually laughing at me last night and not having convulsions at all, I left them a little present on one of the soft green sit-things downstairs.

That’ll teach them to laugh at Riley. They must be taught to respect my authority.

This image was sent from Flickr as a blog entry, email or cameraphone image.

Via: Flickr
Title: I Am In Charge Here

By: GinnyRED57

Originally uploaded: 2 Oct ’05, 10.18pm PST

Fun With George

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Discovered with relish and and an extra helping of schadenfraude at Clack:

Funwithgeorge.jpg

Man, falling approvals in the polls really suck!

I’ve seen these “falling figure” animations before, but this one made me laugh – every now and then, George gets stuck. You can use the mouse pointer to drag him between spheres and set him on his downward course again, or you can just drag him every which-a-way on the winds of change or public opinion polls or whatever. But when he gets stuck, it’s often in some anatomically impossible and rather disturbing position, and if you don’t drag him out of there, he just quivers slightly.

I also notice he tends to fall feet first most of the time – most of the weight is at the end farthest from his head. Which makes sense to me.