A pinch of the stupid

The New York Times reports that New York City is trying to persuade the makers of processed food to reduce salt content in their products by more than 40 percent over the next 10 years. The hope is that such a reduction in salt consumption would likewise reduce the number of strokes and heart attacks. The article, written by a professor of medicine, argues that there is no proven correlation between salt intake and cardiovascular disease. It points out that in some cases, reduced salt intake can actually cause health problems.

For reasons not entirely clear, I recently cut way back on salt. I don't have high blood pressure or any other indications, but I hear enough about the alleged link to health problems and I do eat a crazy amount of salt. For example, I almost always salted things that were already salted. Even potato chips. How nuts is that?

Anyway, the first thing I noticed once I recovered a normal sense of taste was how much salt is in other foods. I'm not even talking about what we normally consider processed foods. For example, we eat hot sauce on just about everything and I found that there was enough sodium in the hot sauce that no additional salt was needed for the rest of the food. We don't eat a lot of processed foods, but yes, when we do I now taste that they contain way too much salt. And I used to add pretty much the daily recommended allowance on top of that.

So I'm thinking it might not be a bad thing to get government involved. I'm not sure that having government dictate recipes is the best solution, though I'm not sure it's not. But I see no harm at all in requiring big loud warning labels that whatever food contains way, way , way more sodium than is wise for anyone to ingest at one sitting.

Still, I'm not sure, so I ask myself what do right wing idiots think about it? This letter to the Times gives a good indication:

I’m not sure I like the idea of the government’s telling me what to eat. No, let me rephrase that: I do not want the government in my kitchen.

If I want to eat salt, that’s my business. Yes, some people have a problem with salt. Some people also have a problem with cholesterol. Some with sugar. That doesn’t mean the government should be sticking its nose in everyone’s pie, sampling the soup and telling us what we can eat.

Too many cooks spoil the broth. The government is one too many for sure.

I often find it useful to test my beliefs against those of right wing morons and find it disconcerting when they coincide. In this case, note the problem with the wingnut's logic. Limiting the amount of salt a corporation can put in processed food is not telling people they can't eat salt. We would still be free to add as much salt as we please. What such regulation would do would let people make their own choices about how much salt they add to their meal.

That's often the case with wingnut "logic." Their self-deluding rhetoric aside, they pretty much always come down against freedom of choice for individuals. For them it's all about freedom of choice for authority whether that authority be corporate, religious or governmental (as long is they are the ones running the government).

So since my inclination to keep the government out of the kitchen failed the right wing smell test, I guess I'm okay with New York City's crusade against excess salt. And think about it. Why do big corporations put so much salt in everything anyway? I suspect it's more than just making food taste better. I think one of the side effects of excess salt is that it causes people to eat more, and it certainly causes people to drink more. Would McDonald's sell less corn syrup water if their customers were free to salt their own foods? I wouldn't be a bit surprised.

Now let's re-examine the good professor's argument in the Times. He seems to be saying that since there is no definitive proof that salt increases the dangers of cardiovascular disease, and that not getting enough salt may even increase it, then it's okay for McDonald's to decide how much salt people should consume. First, his argument sounds a bit too much like all those tobacco industry scientists who for so many years were unable to definitively prove a link between cigarette smoking and cancer. I would feel much better if the Times were to assure me that their guest columnist is not somehow funded by the processed food industry. Secondly, it still comes back to personal choice. Who is going to decide how much salt goes into our food? Is government going to ensure that we can make our own decisions? Or should we trust the corporations?

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The smell test

The New York Times business section has an article about how many financial supporters of California's Proposition 8 (homo-hatin law) have been harassed due to public disclosure laws that allowed them to be identified as donors. I'll leave it to others to make the argument that the majority of the fear is caused by the threat of boycotts and that it is perfectly legitimate to boycott businesses that support political movements one opposes -- and a good thing for a democracy to have transparency when it comes to money and politics.

What strikes me as wrong is the allegation that people are receiving numerous e-mails containing death threats and that nobody is apparently doing anything about it. Unless the sender is some kind of super hacker, it is a simple matter for police to trace an email. So if people really are sending death threats, why aren't they being arrested? Do the recipients report these alleged threats to their lives to reporters but not to the police? Do the police consider death threats not worth investigating? Do they come from sophisticated internet users who can hide their identities from all but the most thorough investigation? I very much doubt it. If these alleged threats are real, it would be easy to track down and arrest the perps.

So why don't our super reporters from the NYT and such prominent publications ask such glaringly obvious questions. Are they incompetent, forced to be incompetent by management or circumstance, or do they have an agenda? Stupid or evil? Or just a bunch of banal tools? The age old questions, eh?

Farm living is the life for me

There's something about chuckling's particular demographic that makes people mistakenly think he's inordinately wealthy and quite possibly a patron of the arts. Due to this demographic anomaly, I'm often invited to events targeted at rich people who may be inclined to write a big check for a good cause. Normally, I politely decline, but I was recently offered the opportunity to dine with two famous authors and, on a whim, accepted.

To tell the truth, I didn't even want to meet the famous authors. Nothing against them, but I am simply not the fan boy type. I am perfectly content to let celebrities and other talented people live their lives without the benefit of my company and astute observations on the merits of their work. But in this case, I accepted. I blame my daughter Jane Bob. She's always ridiculing me for being such a hermit and encouraging me to socialize more. But that wasn't all. It's even worse than you think. I didn't accept the invitation to bask in the glow of the famous, It occurred to me that it might not be a bad idea network with the rich people on the mailing list. In these sweet economic times, knowing some hiring types may come in handy. Could be very soon.

So how did that work out for poor chuckling? I woke up early on the day of the big event, drank too much coffee and then found I had way too much time to kill. Hey, it's Saturday, chuckling is supposed to be some kind of photographer. I figured I'd just walk there and maybe add some images to one or more of my ongoing photo projects. My first mistake was not checking the weather. It's been very cold recently and we're in February, so I bundled up real good. But it turned out to be unseasonably warm and I'm sweating uncomfortably before I get two blocks from the house. And still two more miles to go. Then I choose to work on my evolving Gowanus project. The Gowanus canal is an ecological disaster, one of the filthier places in the United states. I say evolving because it didn't start out as a project. I just walk around there a lot for a variety of reasons and I've usually got cameras so over time I've accumulated quite a few photos. When I'm working I tend to forget about everything else, so I'm kneeling down in some kind of ugly green muck to get a ground level shot and I shimmy up a filthy pole to get a higher perspective. Then I realize I'm going to be late for the lunch and have to walk fast to get there. I arrive, sweat-soaked, filthy and smelling of industrial slime. The famous authors give me some kind of look, then quickly avert their eyes.

It turned out all right though.. Most of the filth was on my coat, which a nice waiter took to a back room and I eventually cooled off. I guess the organizers had figured out that I wasn't on the top of the list because I was seated at a different table from the famous authors, but that was fine with me. The people I dined with were gracious and made interesting conversation, which I've always found to be the case with people who are also on my mailing list. I've never failed to be impressed by the table manners of wealthy art patron types. As far as I can tell, they are genuinely decent people.

And lunch was excellent. We had the entire restaurant to ourselves. It was a four course meal with wine, then coffee. The famous authors read appropriate selections from their work. Personally, I've never cared for literary readings. Well, not entirely. I like doing them, but don't really see why anyone would want to go to one. I guess for most authors it's just an ego gratification thing. It's never been like that for me though. My gratification always came from providing thought provoking entertainment for my appreciative audience.

But I wasn't the star of this show. I was the sweaty guy trying to disappear into the corner. I never even said a word to the famous authors. The wine was free. I'm a real writer. The first rule of an artist is to take free drinks where you can get them. I had a glass of wine. I had another. And another. And another. Not only was I the only person in the room with the stink of Gowanus, which is kind of a sad statement considering the identity of one of the famous authors. I was the only one drinking red wine. Twenty white wine imbibers, four drinkers of sparkling Italian water, and me. That's when I relaxed. Why the fuck should I be intimidated by people who drink white wine? Why the fuck indeed? I felt like proposing a toast to red wine, black women and rot gut fucking whiskey. But somehow, I restrained myself. It was tough, but probably for the best.

Surprisingly, as the event wore on I found I really wanted to talk with Jonathan Lethem. I'd read a lot of Paul Auster's work but hadn't read anything by Lethem Although I'm a great fan of Auster (search this blog if you don't believe me), I have no desire at all to speak with him even, as it turns out, when I'm standing right next to him. But Lethem is roughly my age and we have some things in common. I'd not read any of his books when I accepted the invitation so I picked up “Fortress of Solitude.” It was slow going at first, but turned out to be, I think, a great novel. It's set in a Brooklyn neighborhood I know quite well and is like a funhouse mirror to much of my childhood. I thought he might appreciate my aroma of Gowanus and I was curious how he, a child of Gowanus, felt being in that restaurant in that situation.

Well, I guess I didn't want to speak with him badly enough to actually walk a few feet and speak with him. My rule against bothering celebrities is so strong I don't even have to fight it. But I'm hep to read his other novels. Everyone says “Motherless Brooklyn” is great. And Auster's got several new books I need to catch up on as well. Gives me something to look forward to.

Final Score

Looks like Bruce Springsteen won the super bowl. My football-hatin family are all in agreement. And usually they don't even like Bruce.

More Pics of the day

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Photo of today

More news from nowhere

A new character has appeared on our block. He's an old short fat round guy with typically east European features. I first passed him Sunday as I was walking to the liquor store. He was propped up against a tree eating cake with his fingers. It had white icing and some kind of bright red filling. The white and red were smeared all around his mouth and on the tip of his nose making him look like some kind of debauched clown. Crumbs and a few large chunks clung to his shirt. That's a bit different, I thought. Brooklyn rules.

When I passed him again on the way back he was lying on his side, his puffy right hand stretching for the remains of the cake just out of reach. He wasn't moving but he wasn't dead. Some kind of dull life was apparent in his eyes. I called 911 when I got home. You never know. He was probably just drunk. But maybe he had had a stroke or heart attack. Anyway, it was cold. He could get frostbite or freeze to death. I've heard stories in which a lot of people witness someone in trouble and everyone just assumes someone else called it in. The paramedic told me that several others had called it in, though. Good for them. Brooklyn cares.

I think I've mentioned that at any one time we have two to four ethnic meat markets on the commercial strip between my house and the subway. This is Brooklyn, so there aren't a lot of back alleys. It's not the least bit unusual to see big guys in blood soaked white aprons lugging skinned sheep, goats and other large haunches of meat between the curb and whichever meat market. The kids used to think it was really cool, but these days they don't even notice. Me too, but just when you think you're used to that kind of thing, something new comes along. The other day it was snowing. I half-noticed the guys carrying the skinned sheep. Then I saw a garbage can leaning up against the truck by the curb, one of those big green plastic jobs. It was full of internal bodily organs. Mostly livers, I think. They were kinda sloshing around. Vibrating like. Then, the truck started moving. The garbage can full of livers got hooked on the back of the truck. It looked like it was going to tip over. I instinctively went for my camera. I could see the livers sliding across the snow in a small river of blood. Man, how I wanted that picture. But one of the guys with a sheep caught and steadied it. At least he could drop the sheep. But no. Still, it was a sight to see. If I ever make a big budget movie, I'll find a way to put a garbage can full of livers in it. You can be sure.

The mystery store that's replacing one of the 99 cent stores was finally revealed. Not another 99 cent store. Not a storefront church. Not another Chinese or Mexican restaurant. Not another Russian drugstore. Not a porn palace. No, and this was a giant letdown, it's a T-Mobile store. In retrospect, I should have added that to the speculation. There have been at least three cell phone stores that have opened and closed in the last few years. But this one is big--there are six cash registers--and is only T-Mobile. What a downer. Meanwhile, a few other little stores have gone out of business and we can spend at least a few of our dreary moment wondering who will replace them. Maybe nobody, eh? Maybe the new economy is catching up with New York and these streets will turn into the urban equivalent of abandoned strip malls. We've got a new Ikea nearby. Dominoes are appearing all over. Papa Johns is making a big advertising push. It seems there just can't be too many banks or drugstores. WalMart is knocking insistently on the door. MacDonald s eats our babies. The future seems bleak.

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chuckling digs a deeper hole

You may not know this, but chuckling is a regular reader of Pandagon. If you are unfamiliar with the publication, I think it’s safe to describe Pandagon as a leftist/feminist blog, or maybe feminist/leftist. Virtually all of the posts fall into one or both of those categories. Though I am in general agreement with both leftist and feminist critiques of American society and politics, I don’t read writers simply because they agree with me. I read writers because they write well; writers who are able to make their stories compelling through some combination of story structure, subject knowledge, insight and humor. I never just decide I’m going to read a blog because of its ideological content. It’s the quality of the writing that either draws me back or doesn’t. So I like Pandagon as a publication and Amanda Marcotte as a writer.

As you might expect, Amanda’s writing attracts a lot of right wing kooks and anti-feminist misogynists. Because she is so effective a writer, she is one of the most hated characters on the political internets and has taken a sickening amount of abuse over the years. Of course I’m not in agreement with her, or anyone else, about everything. But given the amount of abuse she gets from nutzis of various stripes, I am hesitant to publicly argue with her. I have, for the most part, stayed out of Pandagon’s comments section even though I am often tempted to write something.

Anyway, by now you’ve probably figured out that all this explication is a preamble to me criticizing something on Pandagon. Yep.

As you would no doubt expect from a feminist blog, abortion is not an uncommon topic. Amanda regularly observes that most, if not all, of the men she has interacted with who are opposed to legalized abortion are also misogynists. And the way I read it, she goes further and argues that it is not possible to be opposed to legalized abortion without being a misogynist.

An important premise of that argument is that there are no rational secular arguments against abortion.

One of the reasons I suspect this issue fascinates me so much is because it’s one of those issues where there’s not actually a legitimate disagreement, so long as everyone in the debate accepts the idea that ours is a secular government and religious oppression is wrong. There are no rational (secular) arguments against legal abortion …especially with current restrictions that protect the fetus after it really has developed into a baby that feels things and could survive outside the womb.

Well, I disagree with that. Although I am pro-legalized abortion, I can see how someone could make a rational, secular argument against it. All it requires is the premise that a fetus is a living human at the time of the abortion. If that premise is true and is coupled with the premise that killing innocent humans is wrong, then it logically follows that legalized abortion is wrong. That is a rational argument. It may not be valid. The first premise may not be true. But the argument is both logically sound and secular.

From there, the argument at Pandagon moves to the question of whether a fetus is a living human. Or more precisely; when a fetus becomes a living human. I think it’s safe to say that the general agreement is that a fetus becomes a human when it is able to feel things, and possibly when it would be able to survive outside the womb. And that makes for a logically sound argument as well. If the premise is that a fetus that cannot feel things is not a human, then one can believe that it’s wrong to kill innocent humans and still rationally believe that legalized abortion is not wrong.

Note two things: One, in both examples, the agreement is that it’s wrong to kill an innocent human. Two, the first premise in both cases requires a definition of what constitutes the beginning of life.

As far as I know, the identification of the precise sequence of events that must occur for human life to begin has not been settled scientifically. "Somewhere around 29 weeks" is neither precise nor anywhere close to being universally agreed upon in the scientific community. Hence, it is a matter of educated opinion and well-meaning people can disagree without the burden of any kind of religious mumbo jumbo.

My personal opinion is that life begins before a fetus can feel or survive outside the womb. Admittedly, since science is not definitive, I base that opinion largely on what it felt like to take part in an abortion. I favor legalized abortion because I reject the second premise that it’s necessarily wrong to kill an innocent human. In the case of an unwanted fetus, I think it’s often a greater wrong to bring it into the world. That, plus the same logic that was used in Vietnam when they gave new recruits the most dangerous combat assignments. The veterans, it was reasoned, had already suffered and deserved a chance to return to a regular life more than someone who had yet to suffer.

But even if I didn’t believe those rationalizations, greater principles are at stake. Given that so many issues surrounding the abortion argument are ultimately a matter of opinion, it would be wrong for me, and certainly for the government, to dictate what people, particularly women in this case, should do with their lives. I recognize abortion as a matter of privacy and personal conscience.

Nevertheless, it’s clear that one can make a rational, secular argument against it. I just did.

The question then, in Amanda’s framework, becomes whether having that opinion marks one as a de facto misogynist.

Anti-choicers like to defend themselves against the charge of misogyny by saying they simply believe that life begins at conception. What they fail to understand is that “life begins at conception” is a misogynist statement.

Why is that a misogynist statement?

It’s the erasure of a woman’s role in making new people, and a claim that the only effort that counts is the effort a man put into ejaculating. Abortion is horrifying because it’s a reminder that men do not actually make babies, but that women do through a 9 month process, and that if a woman chooses to interrupt that process, there will not be a baby. Which is pretty conclusive proof that men don’t make babies. Which directly contradicts the misogynist belief that only men are capable of really doing jobs worth doing. Really, it should be blatantly obvious that women make babies, not men, but psychologically distracting ourselves from this truth is the whole reason we even have a patriarchy and traditions like naming children after their fathers and not their mothers, as if the fathers were the ones who deserve the credit for making the baby. Even writing this paragraph is hard for me, because I know that saying something like, “Obviously, babies come from women supplying every bit of the material and energy except for 50% of the DNA,” will not be a statement that’s greeted with open arms. It may be a bona fide taboo.

Although some form of that logic may be valid when limited to strict biology; the myriad realities of human interactions introduce a staggering number of complexities based on the perceptions of individuals, individual couples, and the legal apparatus of the state. And that ability to divorce biological from social truth is a big part of what separates humans from other mammals. The social truth is that society functions better and people are generally happier when men take personal responsibility for their offspring and participate in their development. And legally, that is a very good thing. Without the perception that men are as responsible for pregnancy as women, there would be no such thing as child support. If the biological truth of the matter were enshrined in law, women would be a helluva lot worse off. We all would. I don’t see how that argument is misogynist?

I think a big part of the problem is that the definition of “misogynist” is a bit slippery. As far as I know, the only universally agreed upon definition is “someone who hates women.” I suspect a lot of people, particularly over at Pandagon, use the term “misogynist” when the mean “sexist,” which is commonly defined as prejudice or discrimination based on sex ; especially discrimination against women; or behavior, conditions, or attitudes that foster stereotypes of social roles based on sex.

I can see several ways in which someone could rationally make the argument that shared responsibility for pregnancy is sexist. Same thing with being opposed to legalized abortion. But necessarily misogynist? And theocratic? I don't see any valid logic to support those theses.

So then, perhaps, the question becomes: why do I care enough to spend so much time arguing these points? Am I just another insecure male with an incurable need to put a strong woman down? Am I like all those other nutzis trolling over at Pandagon?

Well, you can argue amongst yourselves on that one. But I don’t think so. You know I’m a sucker for questions regarding logic and rationality and Amanda provides an interesting context in which to play those games. I also have some personal experience in the matter which has caused me to think deeper about these issues than I otherwise might. And as I stated at the outset, I like to read good writing. One of the common aspects of good writing is the presentation of an argument that raises important questions and causes the reader to think more deeply about the given subject. That’s why I enjoy reading it. That’s why I enjoy responding to it.

Sheer heart attack

I saw "The Wrestler" last night. I'm not exactly the fanboy type, especially towards actors or actresses, but Mickey Roarke was always a bit of an exception. I'm not qualified to make statements such as "greatest performance ever," but Roarke's work in "Barfly" has to be up there. And I think "Angel Heart" would rank somewhere among the better films of all time had they not cast Lisa Bonet in such a crucial role. Roarke has a tragedian charm that, at least for me, is unmatched by any other actor. At the moment, I can't think of anyone who comes close.

So I was naturally interested in seeing "The Wrestler." But I was beginning to be put off by the hype. Had I waited another day or two, I might not have seen it until it played on FX or AMC. I'll bet you, reader, have heard all about it as well. A stunning comeback performance. Roarke inhabits the character. Roarke is the character. A tale of redemption in which real life mirrors fiction. I think if I would have read another glowing review of his performance, I'd start calling it "Barf Fly."

Nevertheless, I was able to overcome my revulsion at all the hype and see the movie. And I'm glad I did, even though it's not exactly what I'd call a pleasant experience. The earlier wrestling sequences rank among the most gruesomely violent that I can recall. The lead-up to the wrestler's heart attack was so intense that a member of the audience had some kind of medical emergency at the same time the Wrestler vomited and fell to the floor. At first everyone thought it was a heart attack. 911 must have received 100 calls. The lights went up, theater security appeared. The paramedics were on their way. But the guy recovered enough to walk out and the movie continued. Did that episode color my perception of how intense and disturbing that film sequence was? I don't think so. It's really that disturbing. Not pleasant at all.

I'm not sure what I think of Roarke's oh-so-famous and hyped performance. I guess it hinges on the extent to which he really is such a burned out shell of his former self versus the extent to which he was just acting that way. The Mickey Roarke of old appears trapped in an immense, and immensely grotesque body only capable of communicating anything beyond the sheer tragedy of its existence by lumbering and wheezing. Roarke's charm of old only comes out in a few scenes. There's one in which he and Marisa Tomei flirt in a bar that is just sublime in a film appreciation kinda way. And a few other flashes, but for the most part, the Wrestler's face is frozen and his eyes are dead. His body tells most of the story.

So maybe I should give Mick the benefit of the doubt? He was always a great physical actor--"Barfly" being exhibit A--but perhaps that was overshadowed somewhat by his immense charm? Hopefully, the Roarke of old is still in there somewhere, and could come out for more than a few brief flashes. It will be great if he can keep his shit together and get a lot more prominent roles in quality movies. I hate to think what he did to his body for that part. Hopefully, there was a lot of Hollywood magic making him look that pumped, but it sure appears he took a lot steroids. It sure as hell didn't come natural.

Normally, I care much, much more about the story than the acting, really only noticing the acting if it's abominably bad. "The Wrestler" is a great story in a collective unconscious-kinda-way. It's been told over and over and over again in many, many similar forms. Down-and-out hero makes a comeback. That's it. Story-wise, nothing in "The Wrestler" will surprise you. It all hinges on how well the filmmakers pull it off. Roarke comes through. And Marisa Tomei is good as well. She plays an older stripper who is losing her allure. My only criticism of her part might be that she looks way too good for that role. Yep, if you're some kinda crazed Marisa Tomei fan dying to see her spend extended time dancing in a G-string, this is the movie for you. She certainly takes some risks.

Anyway, I thought the filmmakers were doing a good job pulling off the age-old story comeback story until the very end. The final image was too predictable and abrupt, though I guess just about any believable ending would have been predictable at that point. Still, I would have handled it differently.

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chuckling rues a good thing

Apparently, Supreme Court "Justice" Samuel Alito is a petty little prick as well as a constitutional disaster. It seems he snubbed the President-elect because Obama voted against his confirmation to the court:

But when you look at his record - when it comes to his understanding of the Constitution, I have found that in almost every case, he consistently sides on behalf of the powerful against the powerless; on behalf of a strong government or corporation against upholding American's individual rights.

To put it mildly.

Delving deeper into the Obama's speech, we see that the President-elect is not right 100 percent of the time:

I have no doubt that Judge Alito has the training and qualifications necessary to serve. He's an intelligent man and an accomplished jurist. And there's no indication he's not a man of great character.

Well, he's obviously not a man of great character. He is, as both his official and private actions demonstrate, a small-minded, insecure little man of low character who detests the constitution and most of the rights normal decent Americans hold to be sell-evident.

I trust Obama is right to be publicly gracious to Alito and all the other pathetic right wing gits who have done so much damage to our country and the world, but sometimes I can't help wishing he were not such a better man than I. How great would it be for Obama to respond to Alito's snub by saying that it's a perfect illustration why the man has no business on the Supreme Court? Just say I toldya so. It would be great, I tell ya. Rub their fucking noses in it till they have no noses left to rub. Goddammed miserable failures. Why should anyone treat them with even a farthing's worth of respect? No reason, that's why.

Okay, no reason unless you want to govern effectively. And good luck with that B. Sincerely. But if all that honorable behavior fails, a great opportunity to put those fucking fuckers in their place will have been missed and they'll use the respect you've accorded them to fuck us all over again. And it will no doubt be worse next time. The only thing those fucks ever learn from their failures is to double their bets on the losing strategy.

But perhaps it won't play out that way. If Obama maintains his public graciousness while directing the justice department to thoroughly investigate any crimes that occurred under the Bush administration and relentlessly prosecute any criminals, then perhaps the damage can be contained. But if these scumbags are allowed to get away with it, the Bush-Obama years will, at best, be described as 1078 steps backwards, two steps forward. Then we'll have someone like Palin or another Bush to take us another thousand steps backwards. All that, and without the benefit of a helluva lotta well-earned payback.

Notes on the new economy

A passel of bills arrived at the chuckling household yesterday. A close examination found that Verizon had, yet again, added services which we did not request. For a small fee, of course. And we noticed that Citibank was playing games with our Visa card. Although the interest rate that was listed on the bill had not increased, the actual amount of money we were paying in interest had gone up significantly with no upward change in the balance.

A couple phone calls took care of these matters. Verizon grudgingly reverted us back to the plan for which we actually agreed to pay. Citibank explained that our interest rate actually had gone up, but it wasn't on the bill and they didn't tell us about it because, well, you know, the economy... They grudgingly put us back to the old rate. So, obviously, the policy is to blatantly rip people off and reluctantly make good on it if anyone notices.

Point is, these giant corporations are unregulated criminal fucking enterprises that will rob us at every given opportunity. Our tax money is simply not enough. Sorry, you knew that. Real point is, better examine your bills carefully.

Blessed be

More than a few survivors of the recent plane crash, and a helluva lot of observers, suspect that an invisible being that purportedly created the universe and wields awesome superpowers was complicit in events surrounding the crash.

One gentlemen fervently believes that the invisible super-being put him on the plane specifically to save a baby. Another woman believes this awesome god softened the landing in order to save her life. Countless others offer the survival of all aboard as proof positive that god guided the pilot's hand.

I share these observations as additional proof that humans are, at best, stupid fucking monkeys. First, these idiots don't notice that the awesome super being either caused the crash or was powerless against an evil super being to stop it. Furthermore, they assume that they themselves are the center of the universe. In the verifiably insane worldview created by their feeble brains, invisible super beings use their awesome power to put little people like themselves in specific situations which often include a lot of death and destruction for other people. The result of this is public praise for the invisible super being who created the mess in the first place. The all-powerful creator of the universe simply lives for flattery, and probably a bucket of blood to boot.

Yea, that all makes sense. But I guess the delusion of starring in a drama in which the creator of the universe arranges all of creation to make you feel important is more more rewarding for a stupid fucking monkey than simply eating one's bananas and liking it.

New tune, same old fiddle

Shorter Peter Beinhart:

People (Liberals) who have been prove right on just about everything are dangerous and should be totally ignored until they admit that the surge worked and kiss the asses of all us serious thinkers who so intelligently shilled for Bush through every crime and travesty.

In related news, an intern here at chuckling on-line magazine did a little genealogical research and found that Beinart is related to the little known Roman thinker, Pieter Beinhartodus. As Rome burned and Nero fiddled, Beinhartodus stood on a box in the middle of Rome and screamed that all those anti-Nero fanatics would have to admit that history had proven Nero right about the fourteenth expedition of the Parthinian campaign before they could criticize him about the destruction of the empire.

Picture of today

chuckling digs a hole

I was in southern Illinois a few years ago. You probably don't know this, but that's one of the wilder parts of America. Coal country. If you're looking for a bar fight, you won't have to look far. Shawneetown is legendary in that respect, I almost lost an eye there, but any little town will do. And the strippers? You wouldn't believe. There used to be this place called Le Maroc down near Carbondale (Carbondale? Think about that name). But let's not go there. Not now.

Anyway, I stopped at a liquor store in some little town pop. 150 or so. The guy behind the counter was exactly the kind of fat slob you see in small towns all across the back country. Dressed in camouflage. Beard. Muddy four wheel drive rusting out around back. If he didn't live in a trailer, he lived in a tumble down shack. The only thing out of place was the little Asian woman scrubbing the floor. She didn't look educated. I assumed he'd gotten her from one of those foreign bride services. Probably got sold to send money back to her family. Slaving for that disgusting asshole. Made me sick. It really did. That image of him behind the counter and her on the floor. It lingers.

A thread on Pandagon brought that image back to me. Amanda's original post was about something completely different, but some of the commenters brought up the phenomena of American men importing foreign women, presumably third world women, to be subservient slave brides, free of any kind of feminist mentality. But you know, I've spent a lot of time abroad and have dated as many foreigners as I have Americans. What do I think?

Now don't jump to conclusions. None of the women I've dated were remotely subservient. The subject came up last summer at Burning Man (you'd be surprised how many men daydream about the subservient Asian bride (well, maybe you wouldn't))and my flippant response was I'd rather be with someone I can enjoy wine, cheese and interesting conversation with than some kind of peasant slave girl who would reliably clean up after me and never say no to a spot of boom boom. Seriously. I don't see how I could possibly have a romantic relationship with a woman who isn't a feminist. Not necessarily an academic feminist, but at least someone who believes in basic equality.

But in my very limited experience (considering the population of the world), I do see a difference between third world women and Americans. Basically, my observation is that foreign women realize that men are dogs and set their expectations accordingly, whereas American women expect men to be women. I don't mean that they expect men to be effeminate. I mean that in the idealized belief in what it means to be a woman, that they expect men to be wise, hard working, and selfless. The result of these unrealistic expectations is often disappointment. Bitter disappointment. Better to be realistic, I say, and count yourself lucky if you're wrong and some guy, against nearly all odds, turns out to be decent. But realistically, you'll rarely go broke betting on the perfidy of the human male.