Cake Eater Chronicles

Best. Gag. Ever.

This is going to seem a lot like inside baseball talk to those of you who don't read the FT on Thursdays---or ever---but this has just been so incredibly well done, I have to comment on it. Last week, we had some delivery issues and I was only informed this morning that I missed the resolution I'd been waiting for! I'm kind of pisssed off that, of all days, the delivery routine was goofed, but alas, there is this wonderful thing called the Internet and, fortunately, the resolution has been archived.

Every Thursday, Martin Lukes' column is published in the FT---or at least it was until around Christmas time, when his last column appeared. Until recently, Martin was the freshly-appointed transplant CEO of a-b global, an Atlanta based company, when he was arrested and tried on insider trading charges. Having been found guilty on four counts of insider trading, he was sentenced to two years and three months in a federal correctional facility in Florida. Apparently, his son, Jake, a trader, ratted him out to the Feds to save his own skin.

Now, Martin is quite the innovative business leader, as detailed in this article:

{...}His first - and some would say greatest - contribution to management thinking came in 2001 when he coined the term Creovation™, a deceptively profound hybrid of creativity and innovation. Over the following seven years this concept was much imitated by other leading corporations, though never bettered. Even General Electric, much revered for its management methods, followed Mr Lukes by launching its "Ecomagination" initiative, which experts criticised as a feeble imitation of the original.

Above all Mr Lukes was a man of paradox. He was a master of spin yet understood the power of authenticity - his sign-off to his cult CEO blog Mind Bullets from the Chairman was "Keep it authentic". He was also a world-class communicator. Reuben Smart, founder of the image consultancy ifwhatwhy!?, said: "At the end of the day, Martin Lukes reached out in a uniquely motivational way to set a benchmark for global practitioners in the communications space."{...]

While, undoubtedly, the fact that his ex-wife is now at the helm of a-b global (and is doing quite well with it) stings, at least his current wife and mother of his triplets is sticking by him. Also, according to his co-author, Lucy Kellaway, his post-incarceration prospects look great. He just has to bide his time in prison, and I'm sure he'll come back roaring.

Now, most of you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, are probably wondering, 'why is she calling this the best gag ever?' Well, it's because of this: Martin Lukes doesn't really exist. He's an amalgam of the worst of business speak and corporate leadership, rolled into one fictitious character, meant to skewer the conventional business thought of this particular day and age. He's the creation of Lucy Kellaway, and while I haven't been reading his column as long as some people have, I'm nonetheless going to miss Martin's exploits. (My personal favorite was while he was on a junket to Svalbard, to launch a-b global's green initiative, and he shot a rampaging polar bear. Of course he fired off his shotgun in self-defense, but he managed to escape any serious ramifications by means of his incredible mastery of PR.)

If you've got some time to kill, and are looking for some entertaining reading, I would highly recommend perusing the archive of Martin's past columns. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll claim it was much better than Cats. I swear.

Oops

I read this on Saturday, and meant to post about it, but, well, I kind of forgot all about it. Not that I should have, but you know me, Mrs. Chemo Brain (yes, it's getting better, but I'm still having issues with coming up with names and short term memory stuff), and if I can forget about it, I will. Anyway, without any further ado, I shall hand you over to Christopher Caldwell, from the FT.

The good bits:

The Netherlands has spent the past several weeks in a political crisis out of a novel by Borges. People are worried that a politician might say something he has already said. And they are divided over how to interpret a film that may not exist. Last August, the anti-immigration legislator, Geert Wilders, wrote in the daily De Volkskrant: “I’ve had enough of Islam in the Netherlands – not one more Muslim immigrant. I’ve had enough of Allah and Mohammed in the Netherlands – not one more mosque.” Mr Wilders, whose Freedom party controls nine of the 150 seats in the Dutch lower house, also urged banning the Koran, which he calls “the Islamic Mein Kampf.

But his announcement in late November that he would make a short film to that effect sent the government into a panic. The cabinet met in secret. It ordered foreign embassies to draw up evacuation plans in case of mob violence. It put the mayors of Dutch cities on alert. It arranged meetings with imams and other Muslim representatives, distancing itself from Mr Wilders’ positions. The interior, justice and foreign ministers summoned Mr Wilders to meetings, and the country’s terrorism co-ordinator warned him that he might have to leave the country for his own security. The government reportedly investigated whether it would be possible to block or delay Mr Wilders’s broadcast.

Not that there is anything illogical about taking precautions against radical Islam. ...Each time a gauntlet is thrown down, someone will credibly promise violence in the name of Islam. Mr Wilders’ film idea was no exception. At the European parliament in Strasbourg last week, Ahmad Badr al-Din Hassoun, Grand Mufti of Syria, warned that Mr Wilders would be responsible for any “violence and bloodshed” that resulted from his film – and that the Dutch people would, in turn, be responsible for reining him in. Noor Farida Ariffin, the departing  Malaysian ambassador, told De Volkskrant: “Compared to what I’m expecting, the riots over the Danish cartoons will look like a picnic.”

{...}Mr Wilders wrote a triumphant op-ed in de Volkskrant this week asking people to imagine what would happen if he had made a film describing the Bible as “fascistic”: “Would Dutch embassies in countries where a lot of Christians live, like Germany and Belgium, have notified Dutch residents and dusted off their evacuation plans?”

Was Mr Wilders asserting a right to free speech? Or was he dressing up a gratuitous religious insult in constitutional language? He was doing both, of course. In their eagerness to keep Mr Wilders from airing his argument, the Dutch authorities helped make it for him. They were unable to admit that widespread worries about violence stem from a problem (extremism in the Muslim world) and not just from an approach to a problem (Mr Wilders’s brusqueness). At a speech in Madrid, Maxime Verhagen, the foreign minister, said: “It is difficult to anticipate the content of the film, but freedom of expression doesn’t mean the right to offend.” It doesn’t? Well, if it doesn’t, then freedom of expression is not much of a right.

{...}We have more religious pluralism than the western liberal system was designed to cope with. This does not necessarily mean that liberalism cannot handle pluralism, but certainly we are in the midst of an experiment. Mr Wilders aims to show that the experiment has failed and that one of the ingredients in our system of freedom of religion – either the liberalism or the pluralism – is going to have to go.{...}

Exactly. Go read the whole thing.

Should be interesting to see if this wild haired man's film actually exists, or if rather, as I suspect, this is a stunt.

Warming Your Hearts on a Cold January Day

No, really.

Retired hospital porter Steve Smith, who is suffering from a potentially fatal heart defect, won almost 19 million pounds ($38 million) on Britain's National Lottery -- but said he would give it all up if he could spend a few more years living with his wife Ida.

"I have a one in 10 chance of living. It's like a ticking time bomb," said the 58-year-old Smith, enjoying a bittersweet glass of celebratory champagne with his wife Ida.

Smith, who has an aortic aneurysm, told reporters when collecting his check: "It's Ida I worry for, it's leaving her behind. I would give all that back if I am allowed to still be with her because there are no shops in the cemetery are there?"{...}

It's nice to know in this day and age of people bickering endlessly over pennies on the dollar, that someone's got his priorities straight.

Silly Germans: The Nudist Edition

Eeew.

Travel agency OssiUrlaub.de said it would start taking bookings from Friday for a trial nudist day trip from the eastern German town of Erfurt to the popular Baltic Sea resort of Usedom, planned for July 5 and costing 499 euros ($735).

"It's expensive, I know," managing director Enrico Hess told Reuters by phone. "It's because the plane's very small. There's no real reason why a flight in which one flies naked should be more expensive than any other."

The 55 passengers will have to remain clothed until they board, and dress before disembarking, said Hess. The crew will remain clothed throughout the flight for safety reasons.

"I wish I could say we thought of it ourselves but the idea came from a customer," Hess told Reuters by phone. "It's an unusual gap in the market."{...}

I suppose the really relevant question in all of this is: Will they be steam cleaning the seats in the plane afterward?

Bigger Than...

...your garden variety internet catfight?

It would appear that there are going to be protests in various cities on February 10th.

I have no idea about any of this stuff, but it sure is fascinating to watch. Although that doll in the video is WAY creepy.

Memo Time

To: Any future dischargees I might handle sometime in the near future
From: Moi, your volunteer with the mostest
Re: Behavior

Dudes, seriously. It's not my fault if your ride shows up at the wrong door. Don't take the fact you have to wait a bit while we sort things out on me, eh? I'm just the girl with the wheelchair.

The same goes if your doctor prescribes you a drug with a whopping co-pay. Don't throw a fit in the discharge pharmacy and then lump me in with the pharmacist when you scream, "You're all just a no-good lot of bloodsuckers!"

Again, I'm just the girl with the wheelchair.

To: The Nurses
From: Moi, your volunteer with the mostest
Re: Transfers

People, I'm more than happy to give someone a wheelchair ride to wherever they need to go---really and truly, I am---but I can't do it if they have an IV attached. It's against regulations---and you know this because the job generally falls to you when this occurs. So, even if the guy is going to have his IV locked off sometime in the next half hour, don't call me until the IV is gone. Otherwise, I'm just standing around, when I could be doing something exciting. Like a blood bank run. The chances that Dracula could intercept me, and whisk me away to Transylvania for an eternity of blood sucking, decrease dramatically when you do this.

Teh Funny: The Monday January 28, 2008 Edition

Damn, that kid's pretty sharp.

{ht: Ace}

This Is Getting Good

Ok, so two things are apparent to me after watching this video:

1. I have until February 10th to stock up on popcorn.

2. Apparently, Steven Hawking is one of the members of "Anonymous" because he's obviously the voice over. Like, duh.

Might want to go a little more covert there, Stevie.

{ht: wwtdd who also has a neato link to some crazy ass shit that the broad from The King of Queens allegedly wrote.}

Atrocious

This is what you get with socialized medicine.

Doctors are calling for NHS treatment to be withheld from patients who are too old or who lead unhealthy lives.

Smokers, heavy drinkers, the obese and the elderly should be barred from receiving some operations, according to doctors, with most saying the health service cannot afford to provide free care to everyone.

£1.7 billion is spent treating diseases caused by smoking, such as lung cancer and emphysema

Fertility treatment and "social" abortions are also on the list of procedures that many doctors say should not be funded by the state.

The findings of a survey conducted by Doctor magazine sparked a fierce row last night, with the British Medical Association and campaign groups describing the recommendations from family and hospital doctors as "out­rageous" and "disgraceful".

About one in 10 hospitals already deny some surgery to obese patients and smokers, with restrictions most common in hospitals battling debt.

Managers defend the policies because of the higher risk of complications on the operating table for unfit patients. But critics believe that patients are being denied care simply to save money.

{...}Among the survey of 870 family and hospital doctors, almost 60 per cent said the NHS could not provide full healthcare to everyone and that some individuals should pay for services.

One in three said that elderly patients should not be given free treatment if it were unlikely to do them good for long. Half thought that smokers should be denied a heart bypass, while a quarter believed that the obese should be denied hip replacements.

{...}Ninety-four per cent said that an alcoholic who refused to stop drinking should not be allowed a liver transplant, while one in five said taxpayers should not pay for "social abortions" and fertility treatment.{...}

Doctors in the UK apparently think the only people they should treat are the people who never get sick.

Well, that would assuredly leave more time for golf.

Throwin' Down

Check this out:

I have absolutely no idea if this is for real, and I suspect it's not, but wouldn't it be super duper suh-weet if it was?

Let me know when the fighting starts. I need to stock up on popcorn.

{ht: wwtdd}

UPDATE from The Husband: I find it curious...that when you enter the following search string into Google (anonymous scientology challenge puppies fish oil), the first result is this {link}.

Why Do They Insist on Torturing Me?

The Bond people are back to their Inquisition-like ways by announcing the title of the twenty-second film in the series: Quantum of Solace

{...}Co-producer Michael Wilson said the title was taken from a short story by Ian Fleming, the author who created Bond.

"We thought it was an intriguing title and referenced what is happening to Bond and what happens in the film," he told reporters.

{...}Several reporters at the press launch questioned whether the film makers should have opted for a snappier title. A blogger for the Guardian newspaper was already asking whether it was the "worst Bond title ever?"

Craig defended the name. "At the end of the last movie his heart's been broken and he doesn't have that quantum of solace, he doesn't have that ... closure on what happened in his life and he needs to find out," he told Reuters in an interview.

"What is great about it is it also applies to something very important in the plot," he said during a break from filming.{...}

I told the husband about the title whilst we were chatting earlier and he said, "{...} undoubtedly the plot will involve some goofy, dumbed down high-end physics - hence the name." Way to call it, darlin'!

This has got to be, hands down, the dumbest Bond film title of any of these films---and that's saying something, because there are some serious, dumbass titles on record already. Anyone remember License to Kill(OB-vious!) or Moonraker (who wants that job?), The Spy Who Loved Me (uh, hate to tell you this, but James isn't into the concept called 'love'.) Tomorrow Never Dies (what the hell is that supposed to mean?) or my personal favorite, Octopussy (let's avoid going there, shall we?)? I could go on, but really. Quantum of Solace? What the hell were you people thinking? I realize that they're taking "Bond back to the beginning" and all that, but there's absolutely no reason why they have to stick with Fleming's title. After all, the man may have created a memorable character in Bond, but, all in all, he was a pretty crappy writer. But maybe I'm worrying over nothing. Five bucks says it won't make it past the focus groups.

Gah. So, the torture has started. Good times. Good times! I simply wish these people would shut the hell up, work on the film and then release it! Stop with the press conferences already!

Plug Plug Pluggity Plug

One of my favorite things is watching people get made over. It's fun and it satisfies my need for instant gratification, like when I want chips and I open up a bag of Fritos and begin to chow down In other words, it's good fun, but, unlike the chips, doesn't add any poundage to my already fine wide arse. Since Trinny and Susannah are no longer the backbone of BBCAmerica, I find myself watching the American version of What Not to Wear on a regular basis, and even though I still feel the need to bitchslap Stacy London for being, well, a monstrously bitchy poseur with waaaay too many pairs of gorgeous Louboutins at her disposal, I find that, if I switch channels when she becomes annoying, it nonetheless satisfies my jones. But I still want more, and fortunately, one of our friends has obliged me.

As I mentioned in this post, the husband is now getting his hair cut by one of his regular (and favorite) customers, Christopher Hopkins. Christopher has earned the moniker "The Makeover Guy" over the years as, well, it's what he does---and he does it well. So well, in fact, that he's got a book coming out at the beginning of May, entitled Staging Your Comeback: A Complete Beauty Revival for Women Over 45. Christopher gets it, to put it simply. He knows that beauty is about maximizing what you've got, and sorting out the fine art of the optical illusion to make you look your best, and with this project he's been working with middle-aged women, who are struggling with what time has done to them and gives them solutions to counteract it, while still managing to look age appropriate and fabulous. Check out this video he's put up on YouTube and see what the man can do.

Amazing, no?

And, yes, he really is as nice and as funny as he appears to be.

The husband and I are very excited and happy that his book is coming out soon and hope it does very, very well---and will do what we can to ensure that outcome---so you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, can expect a few more plugs in the coming months.

What The Hell Were They Thinking?

So, a couple of weeks ago, more spam found its way into the Cake Eater mailbox.

The only thing different about this and the crap that the Minnesotans for Romney and Nigerian oil scammers keep dumping into my mailbox is that it came from a live email address---with a living, breathing human being on the receiving end. The email was from a PR rep, promoting a book, and it was full of information about the author and the work that he was so diligently plugging. I found out that the email was live when I replied and told the guy to take me off his list, because I generally don't comment on books that I haven't read. Thinking nothing of it, I sent the email off into the netherworld. Shortly thereafter, a reply came flying back via the interwebs, and I was surprised to be offered a review copy of the book, along with the promise to make the author available for interviews and podcasts.

Momentarily stunned, I nonetheless jumped on the chance to get a free book. It was even something I might read, so that sweetened the pot a bit, and I gave the guy my address and he said he'd send a copy straight out. I received the copy yesterday and I'm almost done with it. It's not highbrow fiction, but rather a thriller, so it's pretty much right up my alley. While it's definitely not the type of envelope I'm used to receiving from publishing companies (those are usually of the SASE variety, full to the brim with crap I sent them, which they duly recognized as crap and sent back.) it was pretty cool nonetheless.

But all of this begs the question: what the hell were these people thinking when they sent me, of all people, that email in the first place? While I'm all for free swag, and do definitely want to interview the guy, I mean, really. It's not like I'm Instapundit or anything. I have no illusions about my place in the blogging world, and I'm definitely not at the top of the heap, ya dig? But, hell, if someone wants to throw me a bone, I'll yank it out of midair and see what kind of meat I can get off it.

If nothing else, it's a new experience. And that, in the words of our fabulous felony committing housewife of the century, is a good thing.

In Case You Hadn't Heard...

...Aussie actor, Heath Ledger, was found dead in his NY apartment yesterday. He was twenty-eight-years-old, and the father of a two-year-old daughter, Matilda. Rest In Peace.

I remember years ago, back when I used to read Vanity Fair on a monthly basis, they put Ledger on the cover and called him, "the next big thing," or something similarly asinine and completely out of perspective for a young actor who didn't really have anything remarkable under his belt. Which, of course, doesn't really mean anything other than that he'd had the good sense to hire a PR person who had access to the likes of Graydon Carter. Whoo. Big hairy deal. Vanity Fair is notorious for this sort of stuff. They do it all the time, and many a promising actor's career has gone up in flames (Gretchen Mol, thy name is legend). Surprisingly, Ledger slowly carved out a body of work that did, indeed, live up to the hype. While I never saw Brokeback Mountain, everyone who did and who talked to me about it said he was absolutely remarkable in it. I was---and am---sincerely looking forward to his portrayal of The Joker in The Dark Knight. If the trailer is anything to go by, well, it should be astonishing.

The coverage of his death isn't surprising, nor is the fact that he, probably, died of a drug overdose. What is surprising, although it shouldn't be, is that the Westboro Baptist Church is announcing that, yes, indeed, they will be picketing his funeral because of his portrayal of a gay cowboy in Brokeback Mountain. (I would rather die than link the church, so here's a photo of the press release. If you want to go find them, type "G0d Hates Fags" into Google and see what pops up.)

{press release found at WWTDD, along with scintillating commentary}

Yes, these are the same people who regularly picket the funerals of soldiers, because, by their reasoning, the soldiers deserved to die in Iraq because America loves gays, hence America deserves to be punished with dead soldiers. They show up at the funerals to make this known, you know, in case someone couldn't follow their math.

Now they're going to picket a man's funeral because of a character he portrayed.

You know, I'm not a big fan of church bombings. Really, I'm not. I find them atrocious, reprehensible, ad nauseam, ad infinitum. But I might be willing to put aside that loathing for a minute or two if, perhaps, someone would put a big chunk of C4 under their foundation and blow them all to Kingdom Come during a Sunday service.

I mean, look at it this way: they could finally find out if God really is as pissed off about gays as they say He is. It's more about sending them on a fact finding mission than domestic terrorism. Really and truly.*

This is a work of satire, ok? Don't take it seriously.

The Unlikely Disenfranchisers

Bleeping Unions:

{...}About 114,000 registered Democrats – a record for Nevada - turned out to caucus in the state. With Barack Obama securing the endorsement of the powerful Culinary Workers Union, which represents 60,000 casino workers, members of Hillary Clinton’s campaign team had gone into Saturday’s vote fearing their candidate would be outgunned.

They need not have worried. Mrs Clinton’s supporters, particularly Latino voters, were out in force in Nevada and helped their candidate win the state. At the New York, New York, many union members openly defied CWU instructions to support Mr Obama and instead backed Mrs Clinton.

Some, such as Qumar Faridi, a union shop steward at the nearby Monte Carlo casino, voted with the union and supported Mr Obama. “We have to stick together…we can’t break away,” he said. Mrs Clinton, he added, was “not union-friendly”.

But Santiago Espinoza and Maria Abiles, CWU members who also work at the Monte Carlo, said they had come to support Mrs Clinton. “It’s a private decision…I will back whoever I like,” said Mr Espinoza. Mrs Clinton, he added, was “the best person to become president…she has the most experience”.

About 80 per cent of the 2,800 employees at the New York, New York are members of the CWU, which in the days leading up to the vote was accused of voter intimidation by the Clinton camp. In the Staten Island room before the caucus, Toni Mitchels, who also works at the Monte Carlo, said union officials had spread misinformation about the voting process.

“A lot of the union representatives were lying to the employees in the cafeteria,” she said. “They were telling them they could only come to this caucus if they voted for Obama.”

Ms Mitchels, who said she decided to back Mr Obama before the Illinois senator was endorsed by the union, said the tactics “bothered me…[the union] didn’t need to bully anyone”.

{my emphasis}

I'm seriously beginning to wonder, if Obama gets the nomination, how many spontaneous resurrections will happen in Cook County come late October-early November.

Teh Funny

From my friend, Janelle, via email.

Every year, English teachers from across the USA submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year's winners:

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli, and he was room temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

George Clooney: Cheap and Dumber Than I Thought He Was

I think most people remember this moment.

An actor schooled the UN on its priorities, and it worked, in many ways. Because Clooney had the temerity to point out the truth of the UN, that it has, and does, allow genocide to occur, even though its charter explicitly states the opposite, people in developed countries, around the world, finally got a clue as to how the UN was avoiding its duties. While I'm generally of the opinion that celebrities should stay the fuck out of politics, this is one of the extremely rare exceptions to that rule. In this instance, George hasn't really gotten what he was asking for, UN peacekeepers on the ground in Darfur, to protect refugees and keep the relief workers safe. Shocker. The African Union is still doing that job, and they're having a hard time with it, because everyone and their brother seems to be working against them. But he did push in the right direction, mentioning the phrase "right and wrong" whilst doing so, and for that he gets some points from me.

I respect George for fighting for Darfur. It's a worthy cause and he uses his voice and celebrity in a good way to fight for the people there. But that respect I have for George took a big hit when I found out he could be bought cheaply:

UNITED NATIONS (Reuters) - Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon named actor George Clooney, who has campaigned for refugees in Darfur, as a U.N. "messenger of peace" on Friday to promote the world body's peacekeeping efforts.

Clooney is the ninth U.N. messenger -- people chosen from the fields of art, music, literature and sports who have agreed to help focus attention on the United Nations' work.

U.N. spokeswoman Michele Montas said Clooney would have a special emphasis on peacekeeping. She said he had been "recognized for focusing public attention on crucial international political and social issues."{...}

What did they promise you, George, to get you to do this? Peacekeepers? Boots on the ground? I know there's some quid pro quo going on here. What is it, Georgie Porgy Puddin' and Pie? You have to know that you just got the shit end of the stick, eh? They're going to use you and you're not going to get a damn thing out of them. I'm sure you think you're doing a good thing here; that you're simply killing two birds with one stone, but you've just signed up to be an agent of an agency that doesn't give a damn about solving the problem that is Darfur.

Good work, bud! I'm sure that'll save some refugees from dying.

OhBoyOhBoyOhBoy! Part Deux

More batshit fucking loco for your edification/entertainment.

I highly recommend checking out the second video, to hear about how Tom Cruise "saved" all the firefighters in NYC after 9/11. The third one focuses on his mission (impossible) to get psychiatry banned.

Good times, my devoted Cake Eater readers. Good times!

Carefree Hair

Yesterday, whilst I was volunteering at the hospital, I was in the employee-only elevator, a wheelchair before me, on my way to the third floor, to give someone a ride to freedom. A lady got on on the fifth floor and in the time it took to travel one floor, she gave me a thorough vetting and decided to open a conversation.

"I really like your hair. It's so carefree! It must be so easy to manage. I often think about cutting mine all off and starting fresh, like you."

The woman's hair was about three or four inches longer than mine.

"Uh," I replied, not really knowing what to say. "Thanks, but I'm in the process of growing it out. I lost all my hair when I went through chemo."

I didn't look at her face when, mercifully, the elevator arrived at my floor and I got out, but the volunteer I was with, who was charged with my continued training, was chuckling, so it must have been good.

A New New (And Super Duper Coo-el)Thing

The husband, internet God that he is, recently found this super duper coo-el tool: Pandora Radio.

This is radio that puts the Music Genome Project to work. To Wit:

A given song is represented by a vector containing approximately 150 genes. Each gene corresponds to a characteristic of the music, for example, gender of lead vocalist, level of distortion on the electric guitar, type of background vocals, etc. Rock and pop songs have 150 genes, rap songs have 350, and jazz songs have approximately 400. Other genres of music, such as world and classical, have 300-500 genes. The system depends on a sufficient number of genes to render useful results. Each gene is assigned a number between 1 and 5, and fractional values are allowed but are limited to half integers.[1] (The term genome is borrowed from genetics.)

Given the vector of one or more songs, a list of other similar songs is constructed using a distance function.

To create a song's genome, it is analyzed by a musician in a process that takes 20 to 30 minutes per song. Ten percent of songs are analyzed by more than one technician to ensure conformity with the standards, i.e., reliability.

Basically what you do is enter in an artist that you like, and it finds more artists with similar music and creates a playlist around that. I currently have my Nicola Conte Radio playing---so I'm not only listening to songs by Nicola Conte, but also, The Herbaliser, Juan Tutrifo---and many, many more. It's a lot of fun to see what comes up and there's nothing random, or computerized, about the song selections. The first fits in with the second, the third, and so on and so forth.

The husband and I have, for a very long time, been fans of Soma FM, but...some of their playlists, particularly the Secret Agent Channel (which I adore simply because they throw out quotes from Bond movies between songs) are highly repetitive. If you don't like a song that's playing on Pandora, however, you can skip right past it---and what's more is that Pandora will take your selection into account, and will play the song less, more, or not at all if you so choose.

It's quite a cool tool, and I highly recommend it.

Asshat

Depending upon whom you chat with around here, Garrison Keillor is a savior, or he's a tremendous asshat. I don't think it'll come as a surprise to anyone when I reveal, right here, right now, that I side with those who think he's an asshat.

{...}Keillor and his wife, Jenny Lind Nilsson, are suing their next-door neighbor, Lori Anderson, to stop her from building a two-story addition to her home that would include a three-stall garage and studio.

The lawsuit, filed Monday in Ramsey County District Court, claims the addition would "obstruct the access of light and air to the Nilsson-Keillor property" and "impair or destroy protected historical resources."

Both homes in the 400 block of Portland Avenue are within the Ramsey Hill historic district.

The complaint also said the project would obstruct their view "of open space and beyond" and possibly hurt property value. The estimated market value a year ago for Keillor's home was about $1.2 million, according to property tax records; Anderson's was about $600,000.

The city also is named a defendant in the documents, which said Keillor and his wife were not notified of public hearings before a zoning variance was approved and the project was OK'd by the Heritage Preservation Commission.{...}

Get that? Keillor is not only suing his neighbors for blocking his view of an alley, but he's also suing the city of St. Paul because, ahem, he says he wasn't notified of public hearings.

Hey, jerkweed, public meetings are, by definition, open to the public, which means there was notice. Just because some city employee didn't come up to your door, ring the bell, a copy of Lake Wobegon (that he was just hoping and praying you'd have graciousness to autograph) in his trembling hands, doesn't mean that there wasn't notice. It just wasn't of the personal variety, which you, in your self-proclaimed position as arbiter of all things Minnesotan, would have undoubtedly preferred. This is the way it works for the rest of us. Why would you think you're immune?

"We were heartsick," Anderson said of learning about the suit.

Olson said when he and Anderson decided to marry, they realized their one-car garage wasn't big enough. Even before they hired an architect, the couple said they talked to neighbors. They planned to build three stalls, a storage area and a mudroom on the first floor and a studio for Anderson's business on the second. The addition would be a few feet lower than the existing home and would be attached to the rear.

The project would add about 1,900 finished and unfinished square feet to the home, which now has 2,124 finished square feet. The Keillor-Nilsson home has 5,168 finished square feet, according to tax records.

Anderson and Olson received a zoning variance for a 23-foot rear-yard setback rather than the standard 25 feet and conditional approval from the Heritage Preservation Commission, pending final approval of the plans.

{...}Olson said Monday that Keillor and his wife "couldn't have cared less" when Anderson told them they were building a bigger garage.

"He's a busy guy," Olson said. "We didn't feel obligated to include him in the planning."{...}

See? Dear old Asshat knew that his neighbors were planning a remodel. He just didn't care until it impeded his view of open space---open space that just happens to be owned by his neighbors. And what about that view, eh? Roll that beautiful bean footage!

See, apparently you're only allowed to use all the space on your lot if you're Garrison Keillor. The little people next door shall not, apparently, be allowed to expand upon land they own because it means dear old Garrison might feel claustrophobic, in his residence, in the middle of a historic neighborhood that's not necessarily known for its overwhelmingly gargantuan lots to begin with.

Go read the rest of the article if you can stomach it.

This is becoming one of those issues here in the urban areas of the Twin Cities---people expanding their homes in a large way, or completely knocking older homes down to build a bigger, more modern home on a lot with existing trees. The lots here are not large, and some of these homes, do, indeed, look like they've been shoehorned in, despite most builders best efforts. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. The City of Minneapolis has been toying with the notion of not allowing this to happen anymore, even though it's a proven fact that said homes add to property values. In fact, here in Cake Eater Land, which is one of the older suburbs in the Cities, there is a moratorium on knock-downs in place for one of our older, richer, neighborhoods, until April. Another neighborhood tried to latch onto that moratorium this fall and their measure failed, in part, because contracted home sales were falling through left and right simply at the threat of a moratorium on rebuilds. People want larger houses these days. We lead different lives today than we did when these homes were originally built---and those different lives require more space than what is on offer. I see absolutely no problem with remodeling or knocking down a home on land that you own. The overall aesthetics of a neighborhood should not trump an individual's property rights. It doesn't matter if the proposed house rebuild/remodel is hideous. If someone wants to amend their property, they should be able to do it as they see fit, even if it pisses off the neighbors. That's not going to stop some people, though, Garrison Keillor being one of them.

I have no doubts that, sometime in the future, Keillor will try and make his lawsuit against his neighbors, who have done everything the way they're supposed to do it, part of this larger debate. He throw his weight around, and people who have no cause to be ticked off about this issue, will side with him. Because he's Garrison Keillor, and everyone knows he's a defender of all things good and above average here in Minnesota.

You, know, except for things which restrict his view.

Mystery Solved?

Is thou name actually Lisa?

I don't know that this is in any way, shape or form a definitive answer, but it's interesting nonetheless:

The University of Heidelberg in Germany says it has identified the woman in Leonardo’s “Mona Lisa”, The Associated Press reported. She is Lisa del Giocondo, wife of Francesco del Giocondo, a Florentine businessman. In a statement on Monday, the college said its library expert, Armin Schlechter, found the answer in a copy of the works of Cicero, where, in 1503, Agostino Vespucci, a Florentine official and friend of Leonardo’s, wrote in the margins that the artist was working on a portrait of Lisa del Giocondo. Surprise? For centuries the Mona Lisa has been known in Italian as La Gioconda. Though anecdotal evidence pointed to Giocondo as early as 1550, vague references in 1517, 1525 and 1540 pointed to others.

Although one wonders why some random Florentine official would have been marking up the columns of a perfectly good copy of Cicero with notes regarding DaVinci's latest project, it's still a pretty cool discovery.

OhBoyOhBoyOhBoy!

Go and see the batshit fucking loco.

Swim around in it, until you're so waterlogged you can swim no more.

Then realize, because you're not a member of a freakin' cult, you can laugh your ass off at this. Whereas I'm sure some poor, deluded Scientologists had to pay good money to see this video the first time around and, ahem, undoubtedly took it very seriously.

{ht: Dearest Jonathan}

Slouching Toward Theocracy?

Disturbing. Very, very disturbing.

"[Some of my opponents] do not want to change the Constitution, but I believe it's a lot easier to change the constitution than it would be to change the word of the living God, and that's what we need to do is to amend the Constitution so it's in God's standards rather than try to change God's standards,"{...}

Can you guess who said it? Yes, that's right. It's the Huckajesus.

Ace sez:

I don't have much of a problem with religion-based policy impulses. All of our impulses come from somewhere, after all, and I don't see why a religious person's core beliefs should affect his worldview less than my own secularist/humanist worldview. The left's insistence that only secular beliefs should impel policy stances is inconsistent but convenient in that it would, if accepted, lead to a secularist-only public polity.

However, I prefer such prescriptions to be couched in secularist terms. There are numerous reasons to be pro-life or pro-traditional-marriage that don't have much to do with religion. It's not deceptive, I don't think, to argue in terms of sound policy, without mention of God, even if, at root, it is a belief in God's will that ultimately leads one to embrace those non-religious rationales for one's positions.

I have little doubt that most pro-lifers believe as they do because God, they think, and not 18th century Jeffersonian political thinking, supports the pro-life position. And yet when arguing about this I strongly prefer arguments which do not explicitly invoke an appeal to the ultimate authority, God Himself. {...}

I don't know that I could say it much better than that. While I'm absolutely sure Huckabee was pandering to some Evangelical Christian group in terms of passing a human life amendment and one defining marriage as only between a man and a woman, think about what he said for a moment in broader terms of what he claims to believe in. It's been well established that as Governor of Arkansas, he signed a statement at a Baptist convention in the late-90's stating that women should be submissive to their husbands. So, taking this statement into account, is he now going to try to repeal the nineteenth amendment, which gave women the right to vote? It's a logical jump, even though it may sound (and admittedly is) farfetched?

Like Ace, I don't have any issues with people getting their morality from whatever religion they choose to practice. Religion, for whatever else it might be, is simply a morality delivery system. That's nothing new in the scheme of things, but anyone who tries to argue that this sort of crap is what the Founding Fathers had in mind when they wrote the Constitution has lost it entirely. You can try and argue otherwise, but the history is clear: the Founding Fathers might have been Christian and had their morals developed by their respective religions, but they also sure as hell knew what a divisive thing religion could be, and hence they said, in effect, no state religion in this country...ever. Huckabee seems to want to ignore that bit. He seems to be stating that religious morality is the only type of morality that should inform public policy, ergo the only person who can safely, and morally, guide public policy is someone of staunch religious beliefs. Like, perhaps, a former Baptist minister?

I am sick and tired of this crap. When did "secular" become such a dirty word, eh? I don't find it wholly incompatible that you can be a religious person, yet be for a secular government as well. Why do so many people think otherwise, and in Huckabee's case, seem to think that the only way to go is to create a de facto theocracy? What is the matter with wanting to keep your church out of my government, and vice versa? This country was founded on the principle of religious freedom. It was also founded on the principle that there would be no state sponsored religion---even of the de facto variety. You can argue that a return to God would do this country some good, but I would simply challenge you to try and shove that genie back in is bottle. It's not going to happen. This is where we are at in the early 21st Century. Deal with it. Go to church if you want. I don't have an issue with it. I don't have an issue with your morality, either. But when people argue that the only person that can lead this country out of the pit of moral decrepitude it finds itself in is an ex-minister of a religion I don't much care for, you can be pretty sure I'm going to vote for the other guy.

After all, I already have found my religious savior---and I don't need Him in the oval office.

Haven't Done One of These in a While

Because I've got nothing right now. I just got back from working out and I'm waiting for that much ballyhooed energy boost (!) to kick in. Which means it won't, probably.

The Privilege Meme

Premise: bold each of the statements that applies.
Original source: The list is based on an exercise developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. The exercise developers ask that if you participate in this blog game, you acknowledge their copyright.

Father went to college

Father finished college

Mother went to college---Mother didn't even finish high school. But that doesn't mean she's not a smart cookie.

Mother finished college

Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor

Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers

Had more than 50 books in your childhood home

Had more than 500 books in your childhood home

Were read children's books by a parent

Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18---Not because my parents weren't willing to shell out for them, oh, who am I kidding? They wouldn't because I was the eighth kid and they didn't want to bother with paying for something I'd probably quit anyway.

Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18

The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively

Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18

Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs---HA! I wish!

Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs

Went to a private high school Does it make me privileged if I was the one who paid for it?

Went to summer camp

Had a private tutor before you turned 18---No, but I didn't really need one, either. You know, if you're not counting fourth and fifth grade math, when Miss Benda ruled my after school hours. God Rest Her Soul, but she was not a nice woman.

Family vacations involved staying at hotels For, like, a night on the way to someplace or on the way back.

Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18

Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them---No, but I did pretty much have free reign of my mother's LeBaron when I was the last kid left at home.

There was original art in your house when you were a child

Had a phone in your room before you turned 18---I wish.

You and your family lived in a single family house

Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home---they would have had certain things not gone horribly awry.

You had your own room as a child From age twelve on. Before that, well, there wasn't enough room to do so.

Participated in an SAT/ACT prep course---I don't even think they had SAT/ACT prep courses when I took the ACT.

Had your own TV in your room in High School---Nope, but had one down the hall in the spare bedroom that I hogged aplenty. It was easier to watch MTV there and not get busted for it.

Owned a mutual fund or IRA in High School or College

Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16

Went on a cruise with your family

Went on more than one cruise with your family

Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up---King Tut at age five was just the beginning.

You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family---I just knew that they were A LOT and it was in my best interest to keep the bills down by wearing sweaters.

I suppose, by this, it doesn't look as if I was privileged when I was growing up. But I was. I had a home, a family that loved me, and a good education, even if I had to pay for it. And that's all you really need when it comes right down to it.

{ht: Phoenix}

Damn Steve McQueen to Hell: Redux

Just for the record, I finally saw the beginning of The Great Escape last night.

It's too bad I didn't get to see the rest of it because it started at 12:15 am.

(Sooper Sekrit Note to Russ: Dude, you would not believe the number of hits I get from people googling in on the phrase "Harvey Mushman." In fact, I'm the number one reference for it. And people say I've got a lot of useless information rattling around in my brain.)

Yes, Fred, Even Non-Politically Correct Speech Is Free Speech

Ezra Levant, publisher of The Western Standard, a magazine in Alberta that printed the Mohammed Cartoons two years ago, has been brought up in front of the Canadian Human Rights Council because, by publishing the cartoons, he offended some Islamofascists.

Check out his testimony in front of a representative of said Human Rights Council---and watch her body language morph during his opening statement. She goes from politely crossed hands to full-on crossed arms---which, as my mother will tell you, repeatedly, (particularly when you're a teenager with bad posture) puts people off.

Amazingly enough, it's still on YouTube, but the sound is way down low, so you'll have to use headphones to actually hear what he has to say. Coincidence? Given YouTube's past history in these things, sadly, I think not.

You can find the rest of his testimony here. I would highly recommend going and checking it out. Before YouTube yanks the things entirely. Because you know that will happen sooner rather than later.

{ht: Ace---or one of his open blog evil minions}

Gag

Yuck.

Twins separated at birth and adopted by separate parents later married each other without realising they were brother and sister.

The siblings were recently granted an annulment in the high court's family division.

The judge ruled that the marriage had never validly existed. Marriages can be annulled if one of the parties was under 16 at the time, if it is a bigamous union, or if the couple are closely related.

The identities of the British pair and the details of the relationship have been kept secret, but it is known that they were separated soon after birth and were never told they were twins. They did not discover they were blood relatives until after the wedding.{...}

On a somewhat related note, I've always thought there was a decent sci-fi book/movie to be written about the future consequences of sperm/egg donation. As in, epidemiologists notice there's a uptake in hemophilia cases/exceedingly stupid children, etc. Once they figure it out, they try to take their case to the public, advocating DNA tests before people get married, to try and stop this sort of thing from going any further and start being murdered/chased around by big bad guys hired by multinational sperm banks/infertility clinics, who, of course, want to stop them.

If anyone wants to run with it, go to town. I'm, obviously, not going to write it. But I would like, at the very least, a thank you in the "Author's Note" section.

{ht: Steve-O)

This Could Be Interesting

I had to pick up a new prescription today.

One of the lasting side effects of the chemo is nerve damage, or neuropathies in fancy medical speak. I've been having issues, to varying degrees, with numbness and shooting pains in my hands and feet since my last taxol treatment, way back in the middle of July. The numbness has resolved itself, but unfortunately the shooting pains have not. Dr. Academic is sure they'll go away, eventually, but he can't give me an estimate on when "eventually" might be. I have faith that they will go away, though, so it's just a matter of suffering through them until that happy day comes along.

The problem with nerve damage is that temperature shifts can bring the pain out, and the fact that the weather keeps switching from above freezing to well below isn't helping matters any. It's just a simple fact: if my hands and feet get cold, well, out come the little pains that shoot down said appendages. I hadn't been expecting winter to be so bad that I would work my way up to a two vicodin a day habit, but I have. That I've started working out isn't helping matters any, either. Yesterday, I called in to chat with the nurse to see if there was anything else I could do for the neuropathies other than swallowing more narcotic pain killers than I would like. She said, yes, let's try neurontin, which originally was developed as an anti-convulsant for epileptics, but turns out to work fairly well on nerve pain. Or so they say.

I picked up the prescription today and I was reading through the possible side effects. I quoteth from the sheet that came with the bottle of prison jumpsuit-orange capsules:

Side effects that may occur while taking this medicine include tiredness, drowsiness, dizziness, tremor, back pain, dry mouth, constipation, increased appetite or an upset stomach. If they continue or are bothersome, check with your doctor. CHECK WITH YOUR DOCTOR AS SOON AS POSSIBLE if you experience decreased coordination, changes in vision (double or blurred vision), back and forth eye movements, flu-like symptoms, persistent sore throat or fever, swelling of ankles, mental or mood changes, memory loss, or trouble speaking. If you notice other effects not listed above contact your doctor, nurse or pharmacist.

Why am I again getting the feeling that the cure is worse than the disease?

Given this, the vicodin might actually be the better option.

Busted!

Dumbasses.

Eden Prairie High School administrators have reprimanded more than 100 students and suspended some from sports and other extracurricular activities after obtaining Facebook photos of students partying, several students said Tuesday.

School administrators and the district's spokeswoman didn't return phone calls, but students called in by their deans over the past two days said they were being reprimanded for the Facebook party photos, which administrators had printed out. It's likely, they said, that other students among the 3,300 who attend Eden Prairie will be questioned throughout the week.

Danny O'Leary, a senior who plays lacrosse, said his dean displayed four Facebook photos of O'Leary holding drinks and told him he was in "a bit of trouble." One photo shows him holding a can of Coors beer, another a shot of rum, he said. In yet another, O'Leary is pictured holding his friend's 40-ounce container of beer.

"I wasn't drinking that night," O'Leary said. But that apparently doesn't matter. "I was told each picture was equal to a two-game suspension,'' he said.

O'Leary said he intends to meet with the director of student activities today to discuss the suspensions. He said he will point out that two of the photos were taken two years ago, before he joined the lacrosse team and signed a pledge not to drink.

"I'm personally pretty upset and wondering why someone would collect these photos and turn them in," O'Leary said. "A lot of kids' lives are going to be ruined as far as scholarships and sports are concerned."{...}

I sense the fine and skilled hand of geeks on a mission of retaliation and retribution. Teenage Rambos, only without firepower and without being slathered in baby oil, but who have mad Facebook searching skillz! I mean, seriously, this is pretty sweet retribution simply because it probably didn't take too much time. I would suspect that whomever the mad genius is, they hit a proxy server, obtained new IP number, set up an anonymous Gmail account, loaded up an email with the Facebook links in question and---poof!---hit send. That's efficiency for ya, kids.

Mitt: The Soul-Glo Days

The question remains: will the Minnesotans for Romney bastards (who spammed me THREE times on Tuesday, and who, apparently, are confused as to just what state we live in. Because, let me give ya a hint kids, it ain't New Hampshire.) get a freakin' clue or will they keep spamming me?

Should we start a pool?

{previous entries here and here}

Honey?

I'd throw this one in the Silly Germans file, but alas, it's a pair of Polacks* who've caught my eye this time round.

WARSAW (Reuters) - A Polish man got the shock of his life when he visited a brothel and spotted his wife among the establishment's employees. Polish tabloid Super Express said the woman had been making some extra money on the side while telling her husband she worked at a store in a nearby town.

"I was dumfounded.{sic} I thought I was dreaming," the husband told the newspaper Wednesday.

The couple, married for 14 years, are now divorcing, the newspaper reported.

So, do you think he was more dumbfounded at seeing his wife at a brothel, or knowing he'd just gotten busted, big time, for visiting one?

*And, yes, I can use the term 'Polack'---because I'm half Polish. Anyone else who's not Polish who tries to use it will get their ass beat by me. Got it?

Heh

This Post Will Make Absolutely No Sense To People Who Don't Live in the Twin Cities

Reason #342 Why It's Good Not to Have a Car At Times.

The Crosstown, or as it's regularly denoted on the map State Highway 62, is a mess. Has been for years. It is the most illogically constructed bit of freeway in a town where logical construction of freeways is not a highly valued concept. Now, to be fair, when they originally constructed the Crosstown, they got the location just right, which is why it's one of the most highly utilized freeways in town. It shoots straight across from the southwest suburb of Eden Prairie, all the way over to el aeroporto, on the far fringes of east Bloomington. It runs right through highly populated areas and, theoretically speaking, it can (and does) save you boatloads of time on the road, simply because you're not going out of your way just to travel at freeway speeds. It also hooks up with just about all of the major north-south highways, so it's very convenient. The problem is that they goofed---and goofed badly---when they put it together.

Now, I can understand where they thought three lanes would be sufficient for the level of traffic at the time of building. But, the problem is, if you're on the road during rush hour, the thing pretty much slows to a crawl for six hours of a twenty-four hour day, and that's because some genius decided to merge it with 35W north for about a mile, and when it merges, it narrows down to one lane. If Lileks had shot that video at rush hour---which he obviously did not---it would have run for over an hour. Now, this is if you're going west to east; if you're going the opposite direction, you merge with 35W south, and then have to move over one to two lanes, depending on the traffic and where you want to get off, instantaneously to continue traveling west on 62. And when I mean instantaneously, I'm not exaggerating. The split between 62 and 35W south happens in, oh, about a quarter of a mile and you've got to beat cheeks to make it all happen or you're on your way to Albert Lea. It's a nerve wracking experience, because, for some strange reason, no one barreling down the 35W south pike is going to move an inch to let you in. This interchange is, by far, my least favorite in the Twin Cities---and there are lots of other horrendous interchanges in this town. It makes me break into a cold sweat every time I have to drive it, and I am glad, to a certain extent, that they're actually doing something about it---even though it seems as if most of the MNDOT budget has been shifted to fixing the 35W bridge in downtown.

But am I ever happy I don't have to drive it regularly during the construction period! Woohoo! No car=no traveling on in-progress freeways! Yippeee! I knew they'd started work on it, but I'm somewhat surprised at the amount of progress they've achieved, particularly with the bridge collapse. (No car also means not seeing how far they've come with things.) At one point in time, the legislature had the brilliant idea of asking contractors to bid for the job of putting the fixes in place, but since there wasn't any funding for the project, they asked the contractors to foot the bill entirely until they could finally find the money to pay for it. Not surprisingly, no one applied for the job. People want to get paid, and they don't want to have to shell out millions of dollars for supplies and labor, with the hope that the stupid, dysfunctional state government would, at some undetermined point in the future, finally get around to funding the damn job. Apparently, however, they found some coin and work has commenced. This thing is going to be a mess for years to come, and for the time being, I'm ever so happy I don't have to travel through it.

Mitt: The Beehive Years

{previous entry}

Keeping the Karma Flowing

Since we are without a car, we rely on public transportation and the odd cab and car service ride (which I really wished happened more often than what it actually does) to get us where we need to go. Usually the bus does a fine job transporting us from point A to point B, and in the case of my cancer treatment, actually made things easier. The bus runs about every fifteen minutes or so and dropped me off right in front of the hospital, from whence I would make my way through a lobby, down a long hallway, into an elevator, down one floor and then down a long hallway, from whence I would enter a tunnel which took me to Dr. Academic's office building. It was a pretty sweet situation, and it actually worked out better than if I'd driven down to the office, because all the parking at the hospital and Dr. Academic's office is pay. (Which, if you ask me, is just adding insult to injury when you find yourself in the hospital or stuck in a recliner receiving chemo for five hours at a shot.) Right before entering the tunnel, I would pass by the volunteer office, and every single time, I noticed it. I couldn't have told you what else was in that hallway, but I knew precisely where the volunteer's office was.

It's like someone was trying to tell me something.

For once, I listened.

A few days before Christmas, I was down at the mall, which isn't very far from the hospital, and I had some time before my bus came, and the idea that I should finally hop over to the hospital and look into volunteering came to mind. So, I meandered my way over there, entered the office and asked how one came to be a volunteer for the hospital. I was promptly handed a fat envelope, and was told to fill out the application and to mail it back. The week after Christmas, a lady called and asked met to come in for an interview, which I did. I was approved for service, obviously, and last week had an orientation session where I was shown around with a young girl, who is obviously only volunteering to add it to the "community service" section of her resume for her college applications. I received a maroon smock, had a horrific picture taken for my ID, and was given the barest of tours. The girl and I had a good laugh as we were made to watch a volunteering video circa 1985. ("Were you even born when people were wearing shoulder pads that large?" I asked. "No, thank God," she replied. "Yeah, the eighties were pretty heinous in terms of fashion." "How old were you when this was made?" she asked. "About your age." I spied her Uggs and thought she might regret them when she got to be around my age, just like I regret my old moon boots.) When the videos were done and we were quizzed about how to do blood bank runs, HIPPA regulations, and what the various hospital codes were, we were scheduled for our training shifts.

I had my first one today. I'm now a "Step Force" volunteer, which means, if someone needs something run around, you're the one to do it. We discharge patients, we do blood bank runs, we run samples to the lab and pathology, we pick-up patients from X-Ray and ultrasound and the like. The gentleman who is training me in has got to be around seventy-five or so and is completely spry and knows every single person in the hospital---I swear to God there wasn't a moment on every run we made that he didn't say 'hi' to someone or even joke around with them. Chattiness aside, he was apparently the right person to show me around as he knows the hospital like the back of his hand. I got the hang of it pretty quickly, and he had me discharging patients by myself well before the end of my shift---something I'm not supposed to be doing for two more shifts. He thought I did rather well, for the most part, but encouraged me to come down and walk around the place in my off hours to get my bearings better. I kept getting turned around every time I stepped off the elevator---and I stepped off the elevator a lot today.

It was weird being back in the patient areas of the hospital, particularly when the Step Force dispatch center is right down the hall from the room where I was incarcerated for a week after my surgery. It brought back many, many memories, but it was also good in that it reminded of some of the good ones, too. After I was released, it was easy to think of the hospital as the place where I found out I had cancer, and spent a horrible week trying to get better after severe surgery. Now, I'm reminded of the fact that this is the place people go to get better, and where the doctors and nurses and hundreds of other people work hard to achieve just that goal. Once you're out of the place and at home, you forget that the place has a rhythm to it, and that rhythm can be very comforting at times. It may not sound like a big thing, but really it is. When you're like myself, and have had your entire world thrown on its head in such a short space of time, the little things, like simply knowing when your food will be delivered, and when your nurses and nurses' assistants will come in to check your vitals, is, in a very weird way, comforting; it brings some order to your very chaotic world. I'm now a part of that rhythm, and it felt really good to give someone a wheelchair ride to the door, to home, and to the freedom that comes with good health.

When I applied to become a volunteer, they asked why I would want to do this, because they do have requirements and it's not just a job you can show up for when you have free time. You're on a schedule, you have to commit to at least three months worth of work, they have to do a background check, you have to have two Mantoux tests for tuberculosis, and blood tests to make sure you're immunized, etc. It's not a easy volunteering experience, in other words. They count on you to do what you say you're going to do, because things that need doing, even if it is grunt work, won't get done otherwise. I told them that the hospital had been very good to me and I wanted to keep the karma flowing by helping out, if I could. I told them my story and while they all gasped in horror, they understood my desire to give something back, and, fortunately, obliged me.

So, other than the fact that I ran into Dr. Cindy Lou Who three times today and each time she failed to recognize me, and that my feet are now killing me (I wore a pedometer today. Turns out I walked almost five miles.) and I had to take a vicodin to deal with the resulting neuropathies, it was a good day. The karma has started to flow again, and I like that. But most of all, I liked that I helped to keep the hospital's rhythm going, so someone else could benefit from the comfort of it.

Wow

Go and read this NOW.

Not many of us would have the foresight to realize that a. we could die and b. to put down our final thoughts in a post, should that unhappy event come to pass. I'm amazed at what Andrew Olmstead did. Facing your mortality isn't a fun thing to do, whatever the circumstances might be that forced you face facts, but to write a calm, clear and collected post that would get across what you want to say in the event of your death is absolutely amazing.

While I did not even know of Andrew Olmstead's blog before today, and while I'm certain he was a brave man for the simple act of doing what he did, this posthumous post, I have to say, takes the cake for bravery. If you're a blogger, pass this one along. It deserves to be widely read.

Resquiat in Pacem.

{ht: Martini Boy}

So, You Think You're Having a Bad Day?

I think my personal favorite is the dude who brings his monitor over to the copier machine after the printer toner cartridge explodes on him.

Tricksy Legalese

...that, for once, I wholeheartedly support:

{...}Just before Christmas, Congress sent Mr. Bush a $516 billion omnibus spending bill stuffed with 8,993 special-interest earmarks. To make matters worse, most of the earmarks aren't even in the language of the law itself. They were slipped into a 900-page "committee report" that represented the wish-lists of the Senate and House appropriations committees. Almost no one got a chance to read that report before the budget was passed late at night and with barely a day for members to review it.

Mr. Bush agreed to sign the budget but said he was disappointed at Congress's failure to overcome its earmark addiction. He announced he was asking his budget director, Jim Nussle, "to review options for dealing with the wasteful spending in the omnibus bill."

What Mr. Bush knows, and Congress doesn't want the taxpayers to know, is that the vast majority of the offending earmarks--the ones that aren't part of the actual budget law and were instead "air-dropped" into the committee report--aren't legally binding. A Dec. 18 legal analysis by the Congressional Research Service found that most of the committee reports have not been formally passed by both houses and "presented" to the President for signing, and thus have not become law. "President Bush could ignore the 90% of earmarks that never make it to the floor of the House or Senate for a vote," says Sen. Jim DeMint of South Carolina, who has read the CRS report. "He doesn't need a line-item veto."

Federal agencies would still be obligated to spend the dollars appropriated by Congress. But they could use the money higher priorities that would benefit all taxpayers, rather than on favors for special interests or political donors. For example, the $700,000 for a bike trail in Minneapolis could be used to rebuild the collapsed bridge in that city and to strengthen others. In addition, under such an executive order, future earmarks would likely have to go through committee hearings and would receive much greater scrutiny and publicity than they do now. {...}

{my emphasis}

What's needed, apparently, is an Executive Order, signed by President Bush, that would deny funding for all the earmarked pork that, ahem, was never passed into law in the first place. If you would like the president to wield some control over pork-happy members of Congress---you know, because it's his job to do so--I would highly recommend calling the White House at 202-456-1111 or sending an email to comments@whitehouse.gov. The more people that chime in, the better the chances President Bush will actually do something about this.

Bush has nothing to lose by not funding these earmarks, and he could actually strike a lasting blow for fiscal conservatism that would live well beyond his presidency. He has no grand programs making their way through congress this legislative session, so Congress doesn't have anything to hold over him. He could make a bold, legacy-building move here. I sincerely hope he avails himself of it. I always thought Bush has the possibility to turn into a budgetary slash-and-burn president. The war has kept him from keeping many of the promises he made during his election and re-election campaigns, but there's no time like the present for him to step up and live up to his potential in this regard.

Call him or email him and tell him that not funding earmarks that were not passed into law is the right thing to do.

5..4..3..2..1...

Oh, Look, a levee broke.

By afternoon, the Truckee River water flowing into the canal was diverted upstream, said Ernie Schank, president of the Truckee-Carson Irrigation District. As the water receded, Fernley Mayor Todd Cutler said he had reports of damage to at least 300 to 400 homes.

One official suggested burrowing rodents might have contributed to the break in the levee along with the heavy rains, but the cause wasn't clear.

"We have to look at the weather as the culprit right now, but we are not sure of that," Huntley said.

Let me say it first: it's all Bush's fault.

Because we all know that's where it's going, right?

As of 6:40p.m. CST January 5, 2008, I beat the Huff Po and Kos with this *exclusive* observation. To be honest, though, this "Blame Bush" stuff ain't all that hard. Point finger, lay blame, get excessively windy and self righteous. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Maybe I can parlay this exclusive into a job at Newsweek, too. Ya think?

Bitter

The whole world appears to be in an uproar today about the fact that Britney Spears finally lost it.

Sigh.

This chick, for all the wackiness she's displayed over the past year, still can see her kids. Does she have full custody? No, she does not. But, she's allowed supervised visitation. I suppose that will probably change after last night's events, but still... She's squeezed out two kids and she still has the right to see them. Even though she's a complete whacko, her biological right to "mother" her children is all important and no one, apparently, wants to intrude upon that right.

Contrast this with the fact that I, as a cancer survivor, will need to have Dr. Academic state in a letter that I am cancer-free and expect to have a normal life span, with a good quality of life, just to get in the door. Of course, I probably won't need him to write the letter for five years, because that's the average amount of time adoption agencies make cancer survivors wait before they can apply to adopt. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, kids.

I'm just wondering: does the bitterness show? I hope it does, because there is something seriously FUCKED UP about this entire scenario.

"And Ellie Here Will be Looking For..."

"Little green men.*"

Seti@home, the project using personal computers to search for radio signals from alien civilisations, is calling for more volunteers to help crunch a vast surge of new data. An extensive upgrade at the world's largest radiotelescope, Arecibo in Puerto Rico, means that data is flowing 500 times faster than before.

When Seti@home began eight years ago it was the first internet computing project that harnessed spare capacity on private PCs for scientific work, and it is still the largest such network, with 320,000 computers involved. They analyse radio signals from space, looking for patterns that might come from intelligent beings rather than natural sources such as quasars, the distant celestial bodies.

If enough new PC volunteers come forward, "we are 500 times more likely to find ET than with the original Seti@home", said Dan Wertheimer, chief scientist of the project, which is based in Berkeley, California. "We're entering an era when we will be able to scan billions of channels. Arecibo is now optimised for this kind of search, so if there are signals out there, we or our volunteers will find them."

If you, too, perhaps would like to help find the little green men, well, go here and volunteer your home's computing power! It's not like you're going to find anything, but really, you've got some spare gigs of memory that can help the cause, right? Donate them! So we will definitively know that we are alone!

*spot the quote. And it's easy peasy, so I fully expect someone to chime in, in a sing-song voice, with the answer.

Immunity

Yep. And I lived there, so I can testify to the fact that, yes, indeedy, it does suck, but I'm immune from criticism because I have first hand experience. I received an excellent college education courtesy of the state university system, and had a very good time at its bars, but, damn, if I wanted to see a movie that didn't have multiple explosions and chase scenes it was kind of hard to find an alternative without driving long distances. Like to Omaha, or Chicago or Minneapolis. I like chase scenes as much as the next girl, but, damn, sometimes you want a little depth in your movie viewing, eh? It's kind of hard to get that in Iowa.

That said, I'm glad Iowa had its moment in the spotlight and that I sincerely hope they enjoyed it. See you again in four years, or the next time I have to cut through your state to go to Omaha.

But, I will add this small codicil for the Huckabee supporters. Ahem. Enjoy it while it lasts, kids, because it won't last long. And, if on the odd chance that it does and he actually manages to snare the nomination, know that I will defect from the party and will vote Democrat for the first time...ever. I'll have to hold my nose whilst doing it, because, as most people know, I damn well don't want a bunch of mealy-mouthed, pacifist, hippy, Kumbaya-singing, Che-worshipping socialists running the country. But I won't abstain from voting, because I believe you have to make a choice, even if those choices are lacking. People have died for your right to choose your elected representatives. You damn well better not spit on their sacrifice. So, consider yourself warned: if the only choice on offer is Huckabee, then I'm voting for the other side. I simply WILL NOT vote for a man who thinks I should get my bitch ass back in the kitchen to make him some pie. Not. Going. To. Happen. And you can take that to the bank.

If the Republican party wants to alienate most of their female supporters, go right ahead and nominate this whack job. But don't be surprised if said female supporters, like the much prized Soccer Mom demographic, decide to alienate the party in return.

Good Luck With That

Oy.

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - A week after Pakistan opposition leader Benazir Bhutto was killed in a gun and bomb attack, a Jewish human rights group has taken out a full page ad in the New York Times on Friday demanding that the United Nations formally address suicide bombings.

The ad by the Los Angeles based Simon Rosenthal Center features a picture of Bhutto beneath the words "SUICIDE TERROR: What more will it take for the world to act?" and calls on the United Nations for a special session devoted to the issue.

"Unless we put suicide bombing on the top of the international community's agenda, this virulent cancer could engulf us all," it reads. "The looming threat of WMDs in the hands of suicide bombers will dwarf the casualties already suffered in 30 countries."

In the ad, which will also run in the International Herald Tribune, The Simon Rosenthal Center also calls on the United Nations to declare suicide bombings "crimes against humanity."{...}

Ummm, dude, I don't quite know how to tell you this, but the UN regularly has trouble "defining" genocide---to conveniently avoid sending peace keepers to regions without a requisite Four Seasons resort and spa nearby (with lots of young girls to rape)---and regularly puts the worst human rights abusers on its Human Rights Council. Sure, if a suicide bomber were to disturb the liquor and Beluga deliveries to UN headquarters, then you might have a chance of getting it on the agenda. But as it currently stands? Nope.

Good Trailers

...for movies that will undoubtedly disappoint me when I actually get to see them.

First, we have Jumper.

Hey! Hayden Christensen appears to act for the first time in his career as a Jedi! Who knew it was possible!

Then we have The Dark Knight, which I'm really hoping will. not. suck.

I will admit, when I heard that Heath Ledger had been entrusted with the role of The Joker, I was incredibly skeptical as to whether or not he could pull it off. But, after seeing this, I have high hopes Heath will finally live up to his much advertised, but never yet seen, potential.

And, finally, we have Nim's Island, which is family fare, but it's family fare that I would have dug when I was a kid, so I'll give it a go as an adult.

The fact that Gerard Butler is in it has absolutely nothing to do it. Ahem.

While I will admit, it does have a strong Romancing The Stone feel to it, I'm a sucker for a dude in a fedora. You know, so long as it's Harrison Ford or Gerard Butler sporting the fedora, and not Michael Douglas. Bleh.

Is there anything that you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, are looking forward to being disappointed by in the near future?

Who's With Me?

So, the Iowa Caucuses are today.

Whoop-de-freakin' do.

Now, before you think I'm down on the whole process, let me correct that assumption. As someone who has actually participated in said caucuses, I can tell you that, really and truly, it's a neat thing for those involved. You make your way, at the appointed time, to your precinct's caucus location (there's one for Democrats and one for Republicans. In fact, two doors down from our house in Des Moines, there was some sort of hippy learning center that was where all the Birkenstock sportin' moonbats in our precinct gathered.), you take off your coat, and find a seat. The Republican caucus for our precinct was held at the Des Moines Community Playhouse, so, thankfully, we had comfy theater chairs to sit in. A younger gentleman came onto the stage and announced that he was, technically speaking, in charge of this shebang, and asked people who supported the various candidates who were running to stand and explain why they thought their dude was the right one for the job. And, surprisingly enough, people did just that. The guy I remember the most was a Buchanan supporter. He was dressed in bibs, boots, and a snowy-white beard that flowed down to his chest, and spoke rather eloquently, I thought, about why he thought Bucky would make the best Republican nominee for President. Whilst most of the people assembled rolled their eyes, I was surprised by the number of people who applauded. Then it was time to vote. If I'm remembering correctly, when you're asked to place your ballot (which is a piece of paper where you've written your dude's name on it), you did so when they called your candidate's name. So, all the Lamar Alexander people walked up at a different time than did the Bob Dole supporters, etc. There wasn't a secret ballot. You're expected to cast your vote unashamedly, and in full view of your neighbors. Once the tally was over and done with, and the winner announced, more than half the people in the theater fled like rats from a sinking ship. Some people, like the husband and myself, stuck around for what it turns out was a hashing out of the Republican party platform. Every issue that was raised was debated, and then voted upon. Theoretically, these issues were to be raised at the state party level. Whether or not that actually happened, I have no idea. But, on the whole, it was an instructive experience.

The husband, at that point in his varied career choices, was managing a restaurant in West Des Moines (rhymes with "Timmy's") and the place---and the servers who worked there---had been making boatloads of money from all the hungry politicos and media types. While they were all happy for the increased sales, everyone was, really and truly, quite over it by that point in time and the caucuses actually did seem like quite the anti-climax. Everyone was happy when the news trucks---and the obnoxious anchors attached to them---and the politicos moved on to New Hampshire. I was happy the phone stopped ringing at the house, because, in the days leading up to the caucus, it never stopped as people working the phone banks for the various campaigns kept calling, repeatedly. The third time Bob Dole's campaign called, the volunteer on the other end of the line got it with both barrels. I'd had it and let them know it. After that, I turned the ringer off for three straight days. I wasn't surprised when some random soul told me later that there were more unlisted numbers in Iowa than any other state in the country. I don't know if this is true, but I could totally believe it if it was. I can only imagine how much it must have sucked to be on the voter rolls in Iowa this time around, with the various campaigns calling over the holidays.

Whilst I think the process is a good thing, I'm nonetheless sick of all of this crap. I really don't care. Very few people outside of Iowa care. I know this hurts the Iowans, because they really do like their moment in the spotlight, but really, people, the rest of us are sick of it.

Call me after the nomination process is over with.

Who's with me? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

BECAUSE I'M ALL ABOUT BEING FAIR UPDATE: Here's devoted Cake Eater Reader Russ from Winterset's speech supporting Teh Fred.

Yeah, That's Going to Work

Taking a page out of Robert Mugabe's playbook, Lippy McLipster has decided to issue a new currency in an effort to prop up the notion that's there's no inflation in Venezuela.

In an effort to stem record-high inflation, Venezuela launches a new currency on Wednesday – the “strong bolivar” – by slicing three zeroes off the bolivar.

While President Hugo Chávez’s government is hailing the measure as an anti-inflationary measure that will help stabilise the economy, non-government economists fear the strong bolivar will be anything but strong.

“We’re ending a historical cycle of . . . instability in prices,” Rodrigo Cabezas, finance minister, said on Monday, adding that the change aimed to “recover a bolivar that has significant buying capacity”.

“It was necessary to leave behind the consequences of a history of high inflation,” Gaston Parra, central bank president, said in a televised year-end speech. He added that officials aimed “to reinforce confidence in the monetary symbol”.

However, in view of racing inflation, an increasingly unsustainable exchange rate and shortages of basic goods, José Guerra, a former chief economist at Venezuela’s central bank, said: “The monetary ‘reconversion’ is not going to stabilise prices. It’s not going to help reduce inflation, or anything of the kind,” arguing that the new currency could even trigger higher inflation. “It’s a dangerous move,” he said.

{...}José Manuel Puente, an economist at the IESA business school in Caracas, says the exchange rate is at least 20-30 per cent overvalued. But the key problem, he argues, is the gap between the official and the “parallel” exchange rate for the dollar, which recently exceeded triple the official rate of 2,150 bolivars.

You know, just because people can set their farts on fire doesn't necessarily mean that they should. I believe the same principle applies here.