Freedom is Untidy

Remember back when the US first liberated Iraq, and Donal Rumsfeld commented on the looting images flowing back from Baghdad? In case you don't remember, here is what Rummy said: "Freedom’s untidy, and free people are free to make mistakes and commit crimes and do bad things."

Well, now New Orleans looks like something from a John Carpenter movie. Rioting, looting, "armed gangs patrolling the streets." But the right-wingers are not at all happy about these looters. Marshall law has been declared. But, does anyone else besides me wonder about the "looting guns from stores" aspect of this? Could it be that stockpiling lethal weapons and selling them like donuts at a bake sale isn't the wisest policy to pursue?

This country is falling apart. All the loose nuts and bolts are now rolling willy-nilly over the national floorboards. We have a president who is so bad even Pat Buchanan is calling for his impeachment. We have loony religious right leaders proclaiming Christian fatwas against foreign leaders. We have a raging counter-insurgency war roiling the Middle East and costing our national treasury upwards of $300 billion. Meanwhile, gasoline is headed to $4.00 a gallon and the airlines are going broke.

Face it, folks: The wheels have come off and our national Hummer is rolling on bare axels into the roadside ditch of history.

A Fine Day for a Visit

Today, Jan came over for lunch. We had Mimi's excellent food. I had the chicken pot pie, which tastes darn close to homemade.

Tomorrow, I head over to Ray Schimmel's office to get my bankruptcy case started again. No fun, but it's got to be done!

The Wrath of God

So, what is it about the Red States of the South, anyway? Fundamentalists are always warning us that God will bring down a horrible vengeance upon places where sin runs rampant. Pat Robertson warned Miami they might face hurricanes, floods or "possibly a meteor" if they held a gay rights parade in the city. Some warned that those lustful, hedonistic European tourists brought the tsunami on their own heads last year, or that the 911 attack was a punishment of the United States for its godless ways (you know, crack, aborted fetuses in dumpsters, gay marriage, that kind of stuff).

Yet... Why is it that God visits his wrath most often on the denizens of the red states? Tornadoes, hurricanes, floods--every year Ma and Pa Kettle get driven from their trailor by some weather event or another. If God were punishing sinners, why did He steer the hurricane away from New Orleans and its famous Burbon Street to the peaceful hamlets of Alabama? Doesn't make a lot of sense to me!

Maybe God just has a grudge against trucks on blocks in the front yard, or bad Kincade lighthouse paintings.

Afghanistan the Beautiful

Suppose Judge Roy Moore had been born in Afghanistan? No doubt he'd be decrying the moral collapse of the Califate! Taking a litle liberty with Moore's poem, I created the Afghan version.

Afghanistan the Beautiful

-- A Poem by Mullah Royolla Omoor

Afghanistan the Beautiful,

or so you used to be.

Land of the Taliban's pride;

I'm glad they'll never see.

Women dating men,

Un-burqua'd on demand,

Oh, sweet land of Terrorism;

your mosque is on the sand.

Our children wander aimlessly

flaunting Allah's rules for boys

poisoned by kite flying,

Choosing to play with toys.

In Hindu Kush and Kandahar,

From teaching love of camels

our Nation turns away,

Watching television with rebels.

We've knocked Buddha out of Banyan,

yet how indolent we've grown.

When Christians, Jews and infidels

smoke the opium we've sewn.

We've voted in a government

and appointed Godless Judges

who forget to forbid sundaes

and the eating of hot fudges!

Too soft to bury an adulterer

up to her neck in mud,

yet soft enough to buy a CD

of the Rolling Stones or Bee Gees.

You think that Allah's not angry,

that our land's a moral slum?

How much longer must we wait

before slicing off more thumbs?

How are we to face Osama,

whom Americans cannot find?

What then is left for us to do,

but flog an infidel's behind?

If we the chosen few,

can humbly return and spill

The blood of every foreigner

and make them cry most shrill

Then Osama will hear from Pakistan

and impose Sharia law.

One and all must face the lash

Except oilmen with sufficient cash

But, Afghanistan the Beautiful,

if you don't - then you will see,

A sad Mullah Omar

withdraw His scimitar from Thee.

Roy Moore's Inverse Beatitudes

Last week, my parents forwarded to me a "poem" by Judge Roy Moore. He is the Alabama judge who illegally posted a statue to the 10 Commandments at his courthouse. Then he whined when he was forced to remove the statue, and he eventually resigned over the issue.

I say, good for ex-judge Moore for engaging in civil disobedience. It's our right as Americans to disengage ourselves from public acts of conformity to a society with which we find ourselves morally disaffected. Having engaged in civil disobedience, however, does not negate an individual's obligation to suffer the consequences of his or her actions.

On the other hand... The poem itself is a vile, hate-filled diatribe by a man who evidently thinks being Christian stops with "Biblical" law. The problem with people who support the display of the 10 Commandments in buildings owned by the public is that they are implying a governmental endorsement of religion. Specifically, they prefer the fundamentalist Christianity embraced by a certain portion of the population in the more southerly latitudes of this country to the religious tenets of everyone else.

The 10-Commandmenteers rely upon two arguments to justify their positions. One is that the US government was founded upon Christianity. The 10 Commandments, they argue, are the "basis for our laws." Yet, the Constitution nowhere mentions God or the Christian religion. Ample evidence can be discovered in the writings of Adams, Jefferson and others that they deliberately framed the constitution to avoid a government-religion bond. The laws of the United States are based on two sources: Anglo-Saxon Common Law (dating back to the 4th-7th centuries, when the English were pagans) and Roman law (already well established before Constantine imposed official Christianity upon the Empire). To post the 10 Commandments in government buildings implies a connection between Christianity and law that does not, and has never, existed.

"The Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion" states Article 11 of a late-1700s treaty between the US and the Barbary kingoms that was signed unanimously by Congress and the president of the time (a Founding Father). Jefferson wrote in reference to the Virginia Act of Religious Freedom that its protection covered "the Jew and the Gentile, the Christian and Mohammedan, the Hindoo and infidel of every denomination." The writers of the Act specifically removed from it any reference to Jesus Christ. Quite a tolerant position to take, considering that people were still being tortured and killed in Europe for heresy in the 18th century.

Failing the test of the descent of law, the fundamentalists like Moore fall back upon the idea that having religious monuments is constitutional as a matter of religious freedom. Since Congress is prohibited from making ANY law establishing religion, all religions are welcome in the public space. But, imagine if this idea were carried out! What would Moore, Fallwell, Robertson, et al. say about a Moslem judge's posting of the Koran? Heaven forbid a Wiccan might plant a tree in her courtroom, or a Buddhist post the "Tenfold Path" before his bench! These people are not looking for freedom of religion. If this were truly the issue, then one would expect to see Moslems and Buddhists arguing for display of their sacred symbols in government buildings.

What kind of world does ex-judge Moore seek to bring about? What form of government? Do we need an American Taliban to tell us right from wrong? The issue most sacred to him, judging by its prominence in the "poem," is capital punishment. But, what about sincere Christians who believe capital punishment to be immoral? His Commandments monument clearly seeks to establish a religious sect (or sects) above others. In placing the monument in a courthouse,
he is giving tacit official endorsement to the notion that capital punishment is ethical, in contradiction to Christians and non-believers who may believe otherwise, and be able to quote chapter and verse in favor of their beliefs. Likewise with abortion and homosexuality. Many Christians believe abortion and homosexual acts are a sin. But clearly at this time abortion is the law of the land, and homosexuality is tolerated to one degree or another by people of all faiths. If an Anglican gay bishop had to appear in Moore's court, how impartially could he expect the judge to treat him, given that imposing granite monument in the courthouse? Why is ex-judge Moore's version of Christianity better than everyone else's?

"God's law is higher than man's law," Moore's poem goes to great pains to prove. This is the argument of all fundamelists and extremists from Eric Rudolph to Timothy McVeigh and Mohammed Atta. The United States is a country composed of people of a multitude of faiths,
or none at all. Its constitution and laws do not endorse any religion, or none, but rather leave the people free to choose their own paths to enlightenment. That always has been the way in this country, and it should continue to be so.

Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--

This past week has witnessed some positive events unfold in my life:

Last Wednesday evening I attended the last session of the document design course. My presentation on what I did to improve the bronchiectasis pamphlet was well-received by the class in general and Steve, the instructor, in particular. The class ran long--very long. We went non-stop from 6:30-10:00 without a break. People didn't manage their presentations well. It took an hour to get through the first four--out of a 20-person class! Some folks had done nice work, but didn't know a bloody thing about how to find files in Windows. Some had no clue about how to use PowerPoint; since knowledge of Windows was one of the prerequisites for the course, I found myself wondering how these students got in and how they managed to put their presentations together. It did occur to me to suspect some of the work as canned--perhaps things people brought from their companies.

Anyhow, I was fourth-from last in the presentations, meaning I started mine at precisely 9:25 (class was supposed to be over at 9:30). I was also the fourth student to have selected bronchiectasis as my project, putting me at a distinct disadvantage, since by the time it was my turn to speak, I was well aware that people had had their fill of the topic. There's only so much one can do with a lung-disease brochure!

Luckily, I came prepared. Two things I learned in my teaching days were to overprepare and to include humor intimately within my work. The plan worked flawlessly! I had 'em rolling in the aisles. Even Steve cracked a smile or two. The humor relieved the drudgery of the topic. I assume--though I have not yet received my grade, that I got an "A."

Friday, Harold came over at noon and we made a trip to Caliber, the body shop that had worked on my van last year. I had girded myself for battle--but was pleasantly surprised when the service writer said "No problem" to my demands. I am going to have a guy come and fix my steering column and emergency brake lever this week, and they are going to bill Farmers to purchase the 12-inch steering wheel I need to drive. Also, they will pay for the $121 I spent at City Chevrolet to fix the headlight ground wire on the driver's side.

Then, Harold and I went shoe shopping. I have not worn a fitting pair of shoes since the accident. My foot was too swollen and the arch too high to fit into my 7-year-old Nordstrom's Spanish leather dress shoes. I had been wearing--occasionally--these horrible, white size 10 nursing shoes that Joe had bought for me last Fall when I first started getting out of bed.

The thing is, I wear an odd-sized shoe--size 7 WIDE. Very wide indeed, since the bone-crushing accident last May. We happened to be at the old Mira Mesa Mall already, so we went into the Shoe Pavilion within the mall. I did find a pair of 6 1/2 wide Keds that fit, but they were a horrible chocolate brown color with a bright-orange stripe down the sides. YUCK!

So, then we drove to UTC to try all the shoe stores there (I think they have about 10). Nothing fit. A lot of the shoes--even the athletic ones--were too damn heavy. I felt like I had the mafia-style cement overshoes strapped to my feet. Finally, in desperation, I entered the plush halls of Nordstrom's, the place I had bought my last decent pair of shoes. At least their sales staff seems happy to see you, treats you courteously and tries hard to find something that works.

The salesman, Gabriel, was very friendly and helpful. I'm sure my type of customer--disabled with an obvious foot deformity, is not his favorite--but he never let it show in his dimeanor. He even talked me into a pair of Mephisto black-leather shoes worth $360. He convinced me that I could take them immediately, wear them for the weekend and then return them if dissatisfied. One of Nordstrom's great qualities is their no-questions-asked return policy.

Having taken the shoes home, I decided to keep them on all night, until retiring to bed. When I did remove them, Lo and behold! A miracle! My "fat foot" was thin! It seemed the Nordstrom's shoe had flattened my high arch and squeeze the excess fluid from the foot so that it looked almost normal!

"Let's try your old shoes," Harold said. I did, and they fit too! Only a modest amount of shoe-horn wrangling was necessary. Therefore, on Saturday we returned to N's and I got a refund on my $360 (plus tax). On my roommate's suggestion, we proceeded back to the Mira Mesa Mall and tried Marshall's. And....

Eureka! I found a very light pair of Chinese-slave-labor-made Nike knock-offs for $21.5o! They fit great, feel like nothing on my feet and are something I can wear comfortably all day long. I am therefore going to take my dress shoes into the cobbler's and get them polished up for those "Sunday go to meetin' days."

The greatest miracle is that a lot of the problems I was having with leaning from side to side, such as using the lift to get into my van, have been pretty much solved. I have not needed help getting into the van since putting shoes back on my feet.

In your face, evil Dr. T! You implied that balance wasn't important for me since I don't walk. WRONG!! Get your arrogant arse back to medical school and put your mind to use. People with muscle weakness like me are NOT the same as quadriplegics with no feeling in their legs. I DO use my legs and need them to help support my body--even in the wheelchair! Not to mention driving, and planting my well-clad foot up some MD's ample backside!

Whew, 'nuff journaling for today, me thinks. Off to church and dinner for my mom's b-day at 4:00.

Virgo, Gladiator et Imperator

I watched the final episode of Empire last night on ABC. Not a bad show at all. At least it was something different from the usual summer fluff.

A few things about the series caught my eye. Why is it that Romans always speak with British accents? And the nobler the patrician, the more upper-crust his dropping of R's? Second, the final battle between Octavius' and Antony's forces took place in the middle of a forest. Antony's forces did not get into formation and use their shields to protect themselves, in the testudo tactic. Instead, both sides charged pell mell into the fray. A soldier was seen shouting "Hold the line!" but there was no line to be held. I suspect two reasons for this undisicplined, un-Roman battle. First, this is a low-budget TV production, and the ubiquitous trees allowed some camera tricks to conceal the paltry amount of extras. Then, there is obvious homage to the forest-fighting scene at the opening of Riddly Scott's Gladiator. The same goes for the jerky, hand-held camera movements during fight scenese. These guys should send Riddly a check!

Other than that, the program had fairly well-developed characters and moved along smoothly. The ill-fated affair between Camane, the Vestal virgin, and Octavius, the future emperor, worked out as forshadowed. Neither character could shirk his or her duty, just as the ex-gladiator Tyrannus could not lay aside his final promise to the dying Ceasar.

In other happenings, tonight is the second-to-last Document Design class. I need to hit the course catalog and figure out what I want to enroll in next.

Finally, Donna Frye won the mayoral election yesterday! But, the evil Republican cabal that runs this town managed to dilute the race with enough of their own candidates that she did not win a 51% majority. So, we'll have a run-off election in November!

Go, Donna!

A Busy Few Weeks

The last few weeks have been busier than usual for me, mostly because the document design class is in high gear. The instructor demands a lot of reading, which is all right--some of it is truly interesting!

This past Wednesday, I got the results back on the exam that was meted out the week before. I scored 105 out of 100 (thanks to a bonus question). Nice to know my brain still works, after all I've put it through in the last year and a half!

This week I've been working on my final project, which will amount to 50% of the final grade. I've been at somewhat of a disadvantage in that I am currently not working for a company. So, I chose one of the suggested topics, which was to take and improve a handout on bronchiectasis that was written (very wordily) by a pulmonologist friend of the instructor. I decided to format the handout as a brochure via MS Publisher. Of course, everything reaches a certain unexpected level of complication.

First, I had to reinstall Publisher. Since Laurie still hasn't given me the Pub 2003 serial number back, I have had to make do with Publisher 2000. Then, I had to find a PostScript printer driver for HP (my InkJet is not a PS printer) and install it. Then I had to find and install Ghostgum and Ghostscript. After saving my .Pub files as PS files, I had trouble with the PS drivers and had to reinstall. The first ones I had were for LaserJet, but those are black and white only. So I had to find and install color LaserJet drivers.... Sheesh.

Anyway, now I've forwarded the brochure on to my friends, who will have to stand in as "users" for this round. I will also send the item to Sue Warner, the nurse for Dr. Landers, to get a real pulmonologist's opinion.

This has put a stall to my creative writing, but I should be able to get back to it tomorrow. Once I get people's feedback, I can finish this silly little project.

One other thing. I have been working with Sheila Johnson, my DR counselor, to get the shift-lever fixed on my van. She told me last week she would have to check with her supervisor about it, as "this is not really related to the repairs we did to your van." Like hell it isn't! I didn't hear from her after her meeting with her boss on Friday, so I will have to contact her on Monday.

A Wednesday in July

The previous weekend was hectic in an unexpected way. A friend of mine managed to crash my computer, necessitating a reinstallation of Windows along with a reformat of the hard drive. At first I was mildly annoyed by this, then was flabbergasted when I realized I had not backed up any of my short stories onto the backup CD! It seems when I dragged and dropped folders onto the CD drive, I missed the short story folder.

I e-mailed all my friends who might have a copy of a story lying around their hard drives, and after much prayer, recovered most of my work, though not in the latest form. So far, I have finished rewriting my "spider story," which I hope to send out soon. Luckily, my novel folder was backed up succesfully.

Also on Saturday, I went to see "The Fantastic Four," which was more or less a poor man's "X Men." The characters were pretty faithful to the original comic book, but the story was flat, with a dull villain who had similar powers to Magneto in X Men.

Tonight, I have another Information Design class, along with a test. Let's hope Clarence arrives on time!

Back to Class

Tonight I will head back to the document design class.

The 3 elements of document design (Carliner): Physical, Cognitive, Affective

Woo hoo! O.o

Less Verbosity, More Design

I have been reading the textbook for my document design course. To say it's interesting would be to exaggerate slightly. It's not that the subject matter is without appeal; but what really annoys me is the annoying American sense of Positivism that pervades the pages.

In the chapter I was reading, the author describes three types of document design approaches: 1) Classifying
2) Intuiting
3) Listening

Now, the astute reader can discern immediately which approach the author favors. "Listening," listed last, comes first in the author's mind. Classifiers do audience analysis based on statistics, intuitors frame the text around the "invoked reader," while listeners ASK the intended audience about their reactions to proposed document types. Seems clear enough. The remainder of the chapter then discusses a "user study" the author and her collaborators performed on teenagers who had to look at anti-drug brochures. Not surprisingly, the teens had trouble with the various brochures.

The textbook is riddled with side notes on every page, mostly explaining how "Johnson and Smith (1968) analyzed ...." Even when the author admits somewhat later in the book that many readers just look at the headlines and skim charts (exactly what I found myself doing), she proceeds ad nauseam to show how this or that study "proves" or "demonstrates" or "indicates" this or that fact.

Let me stipulate--All text is fiction. Studies do not make facts. Studies reinforce the authors' own Weltanshauung. When you repeatedly rely on some professor of technical communications to reinforce your point, you succeed only in reminding me that your "facts" are argument by authority. In other words, the educational and psychological establishment have overtaken the universe of "textual artifacts."

Those teens were more or less forced to give their reactions to the brochures. Their time was taken up by the authors for the latters' own career purposes. Did it not occur to anyone that the teens' reactions would be coerced and therefore suspect?

"If we just perform enough studies, we can think our way out of this problem," seems to be what the edu/psych establishment wants to accomplish. If we break a subject into its components and then observe them, we can discover the Truth. But it's all a contstruct; if you break matter down far enough, you discover not more matter, but empty space. If you rely too much on studies and reports, you will find yourself constructing a reality based on a web of pre-known and forced experience.

Holy Coma, Batman!

Last night I attended the first Document Design class at UCSD. One down, five more to go! I got there late, since Clarence didn't show up to drive me until almost 6, and the class starts at 6:30. If this keeps up, I am petitioning my Rehab counselor for a driver/personal assistant.

The class itself is full to the gills. Not an inch to spare, body to body in little rows of desks. I am hoping to learn from the course, what makes a compelling, attractive document. Last night was mostly about theory, which might be summed up as, "what is document design and why is it important?" The instructor seems like a knowledgable, decent guy. The tiny slides he kept pointing to were not highly visible from the back of the class, unfortunately.

I didn't really achieve the feeling I was amongst a collegial group of writers. For one thing, when I returned from our 10-minute break, only two people besides me brought coffee back with them! The rest had their bland little bottles of water poised neatly by their books. No coffee, no writer! Sayeth my hero, Honoré de Balzac!

At the Zoo

Yesterday morning, Joe and I took a drive downtown to the zoo in Balboa Park. We left my home in Mira Mesa about 10:30 and got to the zoo around 11:00. After a half hour of standing in line to renew my membership, we finally passed through the zoo's opening gates and strolled around. The first thing we did was head to the Treehouse restaurant and have lunch. We ate the chili, which was served in one of those sourdough breat bowls. Tasty enough, for restaurant-zoo food.

Lacking a lot of time after the lunch, we went part-way down the next hill, past the bear and lion enclosures, but did not make it as far as the new tiger exhibit. Passed the monkeys along the way, but did not stay to observe them. We got back home around 2:00 and Joe left.

My parents came over later in the evening and we had the Italian Feast meal from Taste of Italy, a local restaurant that has been here in Mira Mesa as long as we have (we moved here in 1977 from Clairmont, another San Diego neighborhood). For a movie, we watched the first "Spider Man," which my parents had not seen. Next week, we will watch the second Spider Man film on DVD.

This coming Wednesday, I will start my first technical communications class; the subject matter is document design. The book was already sold out of UCSD's bookstore, so I ordered it from Barnes & Noble and got it delivered by UPS within 4 days, free shipping. I e-mailed Sheila Johnson, my Rehab counselor, so I could get reimbursed for the book's $50.00 cost, but have not heard back from her yet. I hope she is not on leave again!

Father's Day Sunday

I went with my parents to Mass on Sunday and then we went to brunch at Callahan's, the "Irish" pub in Mira Mesa. We sat outside and ate our meals in the pleasant, sunny but not too warm weather. I had a frittata, which is sort of an open-faced omelette filled with cheese, potatoes and bacon. Very good!

L'aventure quotidienne

Today I took a trip over to Barnes & Noble in Mira Mesa with Joe. We arrived about 1:30 and had coffee at the Starbucks inside while Joe perused a Chilton's repair manual for the Ford Taurus. I ate a turkey wrap, which was quite good, drank a latte and enjoyed the time out.

Last night my parents came over and we watched the new DVD release, "Beyond the Sea," which is Kevins Spacey's bio pic of Bobby Darin. Kevin did a great job--he is an actor who can really sing! He also directed the film, as well as starred in it. The movie was a very touching tribute to the late singer, who died of a heart condition in 1973 at the age of 37. Usually those singers of "standards" make me queasy. Something about those violin-laden refrains, the perfectly timed trombones, etc. But Darin went beyond the stereotype. He had an indefinable edge, a heartfelt reality, that transcended the lounge music medium.

The weather today was beautiful. Low 70s, sunny with just a hint of clouds. I love June in San Diego! Last year I could only view it from a hospital window, which made this year even sweeter.

On Thursday I went and saw Dr. Landers at Sharp Memorial. He was pleased with my improvement and promised to speak to an endocrinologist about some kind of treatment that could make my bones denser. As usual, I am unconvinced that any therapy they could offer would be worth the cost, risk and potentential side effects. But, it's worth investigating!

My van is running well; Harold got the steering wheel on straight finally (the nimrods at the body shop had attached it one bolt off-center). The vehicle is filthy on the outside. I want to call my detailer, Clint and get him to scrub off the grime. It hasn't been cleaned since the body shop got done with it, and we had a hell of a winter this year (over 23 inches of rain during the El Nino).

Tomorrow is Father's Day! Go forth and celebrate with your family!

David

Of Violence and the I-Word

I was watching a History Channel program today, part of the network's "Old West Tech" series hosted by David Carradine. This episode was titled "Massacre Tech," and covered several Old West incidents of mass murder. The first incident discussed was a massacre of miners in 1913 by Rockefeller's henchmen and militia troops under the command of the then-governor of Colorado. Later, the program covered the "Mountain Medows Massacre" in Utah in the 1850s.

Earlier on another history channel was the program on Australia, "Beyond the Fatal Shore." It covered how Australia gained its independence through, of all things, democratic elections and a negotiated settlement with British Parliament.

These two programs made me think. Certainly US history has been more "exciting" than Australian. Our history makes for great TV and movies. Civil War epics, Old West sagas, Mel Gibson cavorting through "The Patriot." Bloodshed, massacres, slavery, rebellion, piracy, wars of imperial conquest (Indian Wars, Mexican War, Spanish Amerian War). Ours is a nation founded and sustained by blood. Somewhat like the old Aztecs, we periodically require a blood sacrifice to strengthen and prove our might.

So, in the 2000s we have the Iraq War. A trumped-up disaster wrought by a coalition of the same folks whose ancesters brought us to many of our other wars: Big Money Capitalism, Religious Fundamentalism, Jingoistic Patriotism. All meeting their great "Dark Lord" in the grinning monkey face of George W. Bush.

It's time Congress begin impeachment proceedings against both Bush and the Vice President. Our blood and treasure is being drained away in a Neo-Con crusade that has not made us safer. Osama and his pals want us out of the Middle East. I say, why not oblige him? We should leave those countries to themselves. (By this I do not mean that Bin Laden and Al Qaeda should escape just retribution. But we need to face the unwelcome fact that violence alone will not solve the conundrums facing East nor West). They eventually will sort out their problems in a way suitable for their cultures. We should also divest ourselves from Israel. I am personally very sympathetic towards Israel and its cause. But our undue protection of that tiny country has led directly to our present-day crises.

For more on the Downing Street Memos, check out the following Web sites:

http://www.michaelmoore.com/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/

http://www.thenation.com/

http://www.rawstory.com/

Stuff and Nonsense

It's June here in San Diego, and the month always brings its own special characteristic grayness. For those who think in terms of the typical seasons they might have experienced on the East Coast or Midwest, San Diego "has no seasons." Actually it has two: a rainy season and a dry season. But, there are buffer seasons, like late-Spring "May Gray" and "June Gloom." Right now we are full-on into June Gloom. The sun has not peeked out from behind the gray marine layer all day, and probably won't. This weather, which some might call depressing, I enjoy. I'll miss it in July!

Meanwhile, I'm continuing to work on my novel and do all the usual things, like call doctors' billing agencies to straighten out medical invoices. As soon as I get new postage stamps, I will be sending out more short fiction to various markets.

No Man Is Just a Number

Last night, ABC reran the first episode of "Lost." I still haven't figured out the show, and that's frustrating. I can usually detect a plot within the first 5-20 minutes of any movie or television program. I think the main reason why is that the whole series spends so much time backtracking, via flashbacks, rather than projecting the story though ongoing action in the fictional present.

Anyway, thinking about "Lost" also got me to considering an old series from the 60s, "The Prisoner," starring and created by Patrick McGoohan. There are similarities, whether intentional or not, I cannot say. I bet the writers of "Lost" have seen a few "Prisoner" episodes, however.

First of all, both stories take place in a mysterious "Erewhon" environment. An Island that seems out of place and out of time. In both series, the island is not the simple place it appears to be at first contact. Machiavellian, Darwinian and Kafka-esque forces pull the strings behind the curtain. The castaways and Number 6 are there for a reason--a reason not revealed. In both cases, they cannot escape their emprisonment. "Rover" lurks the Village; the mysterious, as yet unseen "Monster" prowls the castaways' terrain. The Monster is a security system; that much has been revealed.

More thoughts on this later. Dinner is served at the Chez David.

Of Neanderthal Boobs and Such

The other day, I was watching a program on Discovery Channel called "Species Journey," or something similar. It purported to show the saga of the development of Homo Sapiens, starting with the days of Lucy the australopithecus afarensis.

Anyway, the show was moving spritedly along, like most Discovery prehistory shows, giving the viewer a rather condensed and anthropomorphic scenario of early man's life. All went well until the program got to Homo Ergaster, an early tool-using hominid with distinctive human features. I noticed that a lot of the shots of female Ergasters had blurred-out areas over the breasts. What the hell! Have we retreated so far in this culture that we now have to protect children's sensitivities by blurring caveman "naughty parts"? What are we so afraid of, in this country? I remember seeing the program over a year ago and am reasonably sure the female breasts of the hirsute madonnas were displayed in all their simian glory during the first airing.

Who is Discovery trying to protect? The folks most likely to be offended by a cavewoman's knockers are the same ones who want to push creationism through the public schools. The chances of those religiosos watching a program on evolution are only slightly greater than zero. Even in the rather tame 1960s, when I was in elementary school, the only "live" boobs we got to see were in the National Geographic specials and between the gold-clad covers of the magazine. As I recall, none of us impressionable minds was traumatized from the occasional glimpse of flopping and flapping human anatomy. I don't think any of us grew up to lust after pygmy demoiselles or low-browed cave women.

The Decline and Fall of Western Civilization, Part II. Brought to you by Edward Gibbon (Ape).

Spam Poetry Once More

Siegfried's Anger

Siegfried angers meetings
Afghan Volvo edifices
Arabianize unforeseen submerging sadists
traveling salesgirls flail skirts
bridegrooms rename genies
spotters baseline Lucretia
clockers blankly query