I just screamed at the cat, poor thing. She had stepped on my leg.

I strained the medial collateral ligament in my left leg in December.  It did not heal, so in February I started physical therapy.  I got better.

I fell down at a track meet in March, straining my left hamstring and left lateral collateral ligament.  Physical therapy continued, and I got better.

Earlier this week, I slid on a plastic coat hanger I failed to see I had dropped, crashing to my knees.  My left knee seemed swollen and sore, but not too bad until last night and today, when I was almost in tears.

I went to the doctor this afternoon.  I have restrained all three.

He told me to stay off of my feet for several weeks until it healed.  When I told him flatly that that wasn’t going to happen, we agreed on crutches, which I hunt down tomorrow.

This sucks.

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Steve Landsburg is a Menace to Society, Part 3: Dying.

[Parts 1 and 2.]

This post is going to be disturbingly short.  Having read Steven Landsburg’s piece in Slate “Do the Poor Deserve Life Support?” from 2006, I am so outraged and appalled as to be incoherent.  His entire argument is so morally bankrupt, so venal, that I have trouble beginning to pick it apart.

 

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“We effectively set a Google Alert for our soul.”

This piece may well explain why I became so obsessed with my blog states over at Blogger, and why walking away from Facebook was hard.

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For those who like art…

http://www.humo.be/filmpjes/235279/flashmob-brengt-de-nachtwacht-tot-leven

This is freaking brilliant.

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I have not been blogging.

There are my thought about the Boston bombers, which are still tangled.

There are my thoughts about my birthday, and my age, and where I am in my life, which are melancholy and whiny, verging on the morose.

There are my thoughts about other things going on in my  life, which I don’t feel comfortable sharing in open space.

There is other writing that I am doing for other purposes, which will see the light of day in other contexts, perhaps. (Not a context in which any of you are likely to see it.  I am not writing the great American novel.  It would be for a very specific audience.)

There is the cursor on my computer, which is given with no notice to become non-responsive and jump around on the screen and randomly throw me into the Dashboard.  If any one has had this problem with their Macs, and fixed it, let me know.  The genius at the Apple Store checked the trackpad, which is fine, and I did a disk verification, and the disk is fine, and I have reset the PRAM, which seemed to work for all of half a day. It can make writing even simple things difficult.

And, finally, there is work.  I have been expressly forbidden to blog about work for some very good reasons, which I may explain when the job is done. (I do want to say, however, that hearing fax machines through noise canceling headphones hurts.)

So, all in all, not blogging right now.

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Today is my birthday.  But much more importantly, it’s Daffy Duck’s birthday.

As I have gotten older, I have grown to really appreciate Daffy.  Bugs knows all the answers, is always right, and always wins in the end.  Daffy doesn’t know squat usually, but always thinks he does, and ends up the loser.

I like Daffy.

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And, just to note…

It’s another damn mid-April anniversary.

Abraham Lincoln’s death. April 15.
Adolf Hitler’s birth. April 20.
The sinking of the Titanic. April 14.
Tiananmen Square, April 21.
The 1927 floods in Louisiana.
The 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. April 18.
The 2010 West Virginia coal mine explosion. April 5.
The Virginia Polytech shootings. April 16.
The FBI raid on the Branch Davidian compound in Waco. April 19.
Oklahoma City bombing. April 19.
Columbine. April 20.
The Bay of Pigs invasion. April 17.
And now, the Boston Marathon bombings. April 15.
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Memories of Boston.

I thought of writing this yesterday, then thought it might be better to wait a day until my thoughts cleared.

Another act of terrorism on American soil.  Domestic, international… nobody knows yet and in the short term it doesn’t really matter.  What matters are the victims and their families.

9/11 was horrifying, terrifying, and enraging.  The Boston bombings are these… and personal.

Before 9/11, I had never visited New York, other than a brief change of buses at Penn Station.  I have a dim memory of meeting Rob and eating my first knish (at his insistence) but that’s it.  I was in the city less than two hours.  And even if the World Trade Center were attacked today rather than eleven and a half years ago, my memories would still be that of a tourist.

In many ways, the Marathon bombings feel not so much like 9/11 as they do they Centennial Park bombings in 1996.  Aside from the fact that they are very much of the same scale (and so much smaller than the WTC attacks), they were attacks on places that have been home, that matter to me in ways that New York did not and does not.

The Boston area was my home for four of the most transformative years of  my life.  There are real memories there.

Most of those memories are places other than Boston itself: Wellesley. Newton, where the Green line ended. Cambridge, across the Harvard Bridge from Back Bay. Kendall, Central, Harvard Square. Mass Ave.  The Infinite Corridor. Steve’s in Somerville. Senior House.

But there are memories of Boston, proper, as well.  Some of those are, like my memories of New York, tourist memories: Old North Church, the Commons, The Freedom Trail.

Others are not.  Rob’s Back Bay apartment (on the same street as the Cheer’s bar, really called the Bull and Finch), where I met the skinniest, geekiest kid I had ever met in my life. (I later married him.)  The theater — I can’t recall which one — where Sherene and I went to see Godspell, in her beat up old VW station wagon, the one that threatened to collapse completely underneath us. Sitting in front of the band shell for hours waiting for the Fourth of July Boston Pops concert.  The butcher in Haymarket where the Rocket Scientist and I would get our meat the summer we lived together before my junior year. Eric  talking about dropping acid and watching the bricks on the plaza in front of Government Center rotate in concentric circles.

No-name’s clam chowder. Not having enough money for T fare once and walking through the red light district at midnight, trying to look tough and mean and not in the least scared out of my wits. Gleefully hopping across the entrance to the Callahan Tunnel on crutches in front of oncoming traffic.

And the cabbies! There was mine, who very early on a frigid December morning, offered me Shakespeare and hot chocolate.  And Vickie’s, who said “Let me get this straight.  For fifty bucks, you want me to get you from the MIT Student Center to Logan in half-an-hour at rush hour and you don’t care how I do it?”  He got the fifty bucks (which was a lot more thirty years ago than it is today),  mainly by driving at high speed the wrong way down one-way streets. I think he probably was in it for the challenge as much as for the fifty.

Boston cabbies. Gotta love ’em.

The Marathon was special. It was run on Patriot’s Day (the real Patriot’s Day, not that made up name for September 11th*), to celebrate the battles at Lexington and Concord and the start of the Revolutionary War.  I never saw the Marathon in Boston.

I saw the Marathon out at Wellesley, the halfway point, where there was a school tradition of lining the route next to the college, and screaming for (and offering kisses to!) every single runner, from the world champions to the guy from Des Moines who ran a five hour race.  Every single one.

There will be other Boston Marathons.  Bostonians are tough cookies; they’re not going to let some scumball end over a century of tradition.

But for now, this hurts.

*The use of Patriot Day for September 11th irks me.  There is nothing patriotic about simply being murdered with no notice — as opposed to fighting for your country.  I would be all behind a movement to call it “Heroic First Responders Day,” however.

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Before I went to work, I was sitting in a McDonald’s – one of those retro ones that pretend to look like the “original” – eating my Sweet Chili Premium Snack Wrap and Oreo Mcflurry and drinking sweet tea and listening to tunes from the fifties – Buddy Holly, Little Richard, the Chiffons, Sam Cooke — and reading … Ulysses.  On my smart phone.

And I was struck, suddenly, by how surreal the world is.

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Steven Landsburg Is a Menace to Society, Part 2: It’s my body, not an asset to be exploited.

[Warning: rape triggers.]

 

There is a misguided belief out there that anything can be questioned if it is done in the name of academic enquiry.  Wrong.

There are questions that, simply by the asking, demonstrate callousness or disregard for others. There are questions that, simply by the asking, show an almost pathological lack of empathy. There are concepts that should be givens, that should be beyond debate.

Bodily integrity and the right to feel safe from rape should be one of those.

Many women – maybe most – don’t have those as a matter of course.  We live in a culture which often excuses or minimizes rape.  See the Steubenville case – and the bemoaning afterwards about how these nice boys had trashed their futures, as if that was more important than the damage done to the victim.

This is the world we live in.  We deal with it.  We do not need some “intellectually bold” economics professor asking “So, what’s the problem here?”

On his personal blog, Landsberg wrote a post titled “Censorship, Environmentalism and Steubenville,” discussing the philosophical issues of restrictions on porn, environmental damage and… being raped while passed out.

“Let’s suppose that you, or I, or someone we love, or someone we care about from afar, is raped while unconscious in a way that causes no direct physical harm — no injury, no pregnancy, no disease transmission. (Note: The Steubenville rape victim, according to all the accounts I’ve read, was not even aware that she’d been sexually assaulted until she learned about it from the Internet some days later.) Despite the lack of physical damage, we are shocked, appalled and horrified at the thought of being treated in this way, and suffer deep trauma as a result. Ought the law discourage such acts of rape? Should they be illegal?” [emphasis mine]

…. I’m having trouble articulating any good reason why [rape of the unconscious] is substantially different from [pornography and environmentalism]. As long as I’m safely unconsious and therefore shielded from the costs of an assault, why SHOULDN’T the rest of the world (or more specifically my attackers) be allowed to reap the benefits? [emphasis mine] …. We’re still talking about strictly psychic harm, right?

It is, I think, a red herring to say that there’s something peculiarly sacred about the boundaries of our bodies. Every time someone on my street turns on a porch light, trillions of photons penetrate my body. They cause me no physical harm and therefore the law does nothing to restrain them. Even if those trillions of tiny penetrations caused me deep psychic distress, the law would continue to ignore them, and I think there’s a case for that (it’s the same as the case for ignoring Bob McCrankypants’s porn aversion). So for the issues we’re discussing here, bodily penetration does not seem to be in some sort of special protected category.

One could of course raise a variety of practical issues. If we legalize the rape of unconscious people, we will create an incentive to render people unconscious. If you answered Question 3 differently than you answered Questions 1 and 2, was it because of this sort of thing? Or do you see some more fundamental difference among the three cases?

Follow up question… would you be willing to legalize the rape of the unconscious in cases where the perpetrators take precautions to ensure the victim never learns about it?*

Scott Lemieux over at Lawyers, Guns and Money is smart and articulate, and was reduced to saying “I…Jesus.”  Which was pretty much my reaction.

To view the rape of the unconscious as an issue of utilitarian economic rights … obscene is the word that comes to mind. I wish I could be more articulate here, but the horridness of someone postulating this hypothetical just outrages me. To say that everything boils down to economics in this case is akin to the Old Testament view that the rape of a virgin was acceptable as long as the rapist paid her father off.

The hypothetical Landsburg raises never happens.  His blithe dismissal of the fact that the young woman in the Steubenville case did not find out until days later – creating only “psychic harm” – ignores just how deep that psychic harm goes.  His further analogizing rape to being bombarded by light against your will shows a man who absolutely no understanding of rape.

If anything, finding out that you were raped while you were unconscious might make it worse. Having dreams about your rapist is horrible – how much worse might it be to be afraid to go to sleep at all because part of your brain fears being raped again?

And that little “practical issue” of the incentive to render people unconscious?  This happens to many young women who happen into college parties, or who go out drinking with men they don’t know.  It crosses the mind of every woman who accepts a drink from a strange man in a bar.

Women are constantly told that our safety is our own responsibility. That strange man may drop rohypnol or GHB in your drink and you’d end up unconscious.  Your male escort may get completely shit-faced at that frat party, but you’d better not, or if you pass out you might get raped. And here is a respected intellectual saying that that should be just fine – it’s not like you were using your body at the time anyway.

Those are the cases where women’s actions led to their states of unconsciousness.  What about a woman in a coma? Should society have no problem with her  being raped? At least, if the rapist used a condom?

I feel for the students in Landsburg’s class, that “Teacher of The Year” award he won a few years back notwithstanding.  I especially feel for any young women (or young men, since men are subject to sexual assault as well) who have been raped – and given the statistics on sexual assault, there are sure to be a few of them.  I worry as well about any student who fails to see through this piece of intellectual assault.  There are bound to be many of those, as well.  I fear for the pain they might inflict on the world around them.

My body is my own.  I have – or should have, and do have under the law – to consent to having sex, and to withhold that consent where I want to.  That consent is not a property right to be exploited by anyone who finds me unconscious and therefore supposedly not exercising that property right.

I am not an object; my sexuality is not a natural resource for anyone else who wants it.

*This is from the actual post, not news stories about it.  Reading the actual post is worse, because of the number of commenters who treat the rape hypothetical as being acceptable.  It is not until comment 17 that someone calls this as being the outrage that it is.

Posted in Politics, Social Issues | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Well, well.

I had a very productive day yesterday.

I straightened the house so the housekeeper could come in.  I did a load of laundry.  I went to my Thursday afternoon group.  I went to the post office to mail off the kids’ tax returns. I pruned the roses back from the edge of the sidewalk so that we won’t get cited by the city.  I made fusilli with fennel, carrots and spring onions for dinner.

And I got a job.

It’s on a political campaign, with the same people I worked with last fall, doing phone banking again.  One of the best parts about it was that I was contacted out of the blue; it was not a job I applied for.

And, in the “It Never Rains But It Pours” department:  I got a call this morning from a woman who is seeking someone to help write immigration affidavits (a job I had applied for in February).  Since I had just literally signed the paperwork for the first job, I felt I did not want to run out on them — especially as I was planning to ask my boss how to get involved in campaigns at a higher level.  However, talking to the woman, I may be able to work a few hours a week, and she said they did not see the (suddenly exploding due to changes in federal regs) workload letting up any time soon.   That means I may be able to get work with them after the campaign gig.  Which is great — it sounds like very interesting work.

So let’s recap: after years of job hunting, when simply getting a rejection letter felt like an accomplishment, since mid-March I have had three interviews for jobs I did not get, a second interview for one of them (and a consolation prize!), one job, and a strong possibility of another.

Next time I say nothing good ever happens to me? Thwap me, then remind me of this post.

It’s been a long time coming, and I am grateful that all of this is happening.

Posted in My life and times, Work! | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Steve Landsburg is a menace to society, Part 1: Yes, voting matters.

Thanks to Scott Lemieux over at LGM, I have become aware of the work of University of Rochester Economics Professor Steve Landsburg.  The man is … reprehensible is the word that most quickly comes to mind.  I have found at least three different articles by or about him that indicates he’s someone who neither lives in the real world nor gives a rat’s ass about those who do.

I plan to tackle this in several parts, mainly because each of them makes me mad enough that I cannot concentrate on the others. I am going to start with the least objectionable, mainly because it deals simply with the political process, not death.  Or rape.

In 2004, Lansburg wrote a piece called “Don’t Vote: It makes more sense to play the lottery.” We have seen this piece of idiocy before, from Steven D. Leavitt.

I am not going to recap that post here — I think I covered it well the first time and would be merely repeating myself. However, I would like to add a little more perspective.

Some results from the November, 2012 elections in Santa Clara County:

In the Campbell Unified School District, two candidates out of four were elected to the School Board.  Out of over 104,000 votes cast, only 554 separated second — elected — from third — not elected.  In the Mountain View-Whisman District, my elementary school district, the difference between being elected and not was 708 votes out of over 41,000 cast.

There were several other very close school district races in Santa Clara County.  Oh, you say, those are just school board races… You think those aren’t important?  Ask any parent of school age kids how important the school board is, especially in California, which has been underfunding education for decades and is forcing districts to make harder and harder decisions.

In the Measure M race, which would control the salaries of the local hospital board, less than 2100 out of 68,000 votes cast determined the outcome.  This measure would affect the ability of the district to attract and keep qualified executives.

There were a lot of other races where less than 5,000 votes determined the outcome.

The mistake fools like Leavitt and Landsburg make is to act as though the only vote that matters is that for president.  That’s important, yes (mostly for whom he or she nominates for the Supreme Court), but the place where things really happen is at the state and local level.  Regulations from Washington may or may not affect your average individual in San Jose immediately, but that voter-mandated citywide raise of the minimum wage to $10 per hour sure will. Not to mention the local eighth-cent sales tax increase.  Or the quarter-cent state sales tax increase.

School boards, city councils, planning commissions, water or hospital districts…. all of these matter immensely to most people. Are you worried about the effect that subdivision that they are putting up down the street will have on traffic?  You fight that in planning commission meetings.  Concerned about the stadium going up? That’s the purview of the county commission.  (When I was campaigning for candidates for the Santa Clara City Council, one of the most often asked questions was — were they for the stadium? The answer, “yes,” usually resulted in a statement that the candidate had just lost that vote.)

By definition, all local races are decided by a small electorate. One vote really can make a difference.  Rather than being one in many millions casting a vote — which to the blindly unthinking like Leavitt and Landsburg can seem unimportant — each voter is one of hundreds or tens of thousands, or less.

And each of those matters.  A lot.

[Edited to correct my misspelling of Landsburg’s name.]

Posted in Politics, Social Issues | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

A couple of good things happened today.  One of them was a very nice lunch with a friend, who told me some things that will be helpful in my job hunt, and the other…. may be a new job.  I am hesitant to talk about it because it may not happen, but I am keeping my fingers crossed.  It would not be the most spectacular job in the world, but it would be work, and work that I know that I can do.

Posted on by Pat Greene | 2 Comments

Another study refuting any link whatsoever between immunizations and autism.  HO HUM.

Or it would be except for the naive, shortsighted, panicky, or just plain stupid parents out there.  Selfish parents who would prefer to take medical advice from actresses and quacks rather than doctors and researchers. Parents who place a misguided belief above their responsibility not only to their children but to society.

Let’s run down the claims, shall we?

1. Vaccines, specifically the MMR, cause autism.  The doctor who conducted this study later lost his license because it was found to be fraudulent. Subsequent studies showed no correlation.

2.  Thimerosol (a mercury-based additive) causes autism.  Studies show no correlation — the biggest spikes in autism rates occurred after thimerosol was removed.

3.  Kids receive too many vaccines at once and it overwhelms their systems. This is the subject of the most recent study which says, no it doesn’t.

Then there are standard conspiracy theories: the real evidence is being covered up by the pharmaceutical industry, that sort of thing.

Meanwhile, there are children and adults who die from entirely preventable diseases.  The fact that we in the United States have the luxury of viewing measles as simply another minor risk of childhood staggers the imagination.

Yes, there are occasionally people who are injured by vaccines.  We as a nation decided that vaccination was so important that we would indemnify vaccine makers from lawsuit. A young life adversely affected by a vaccine is a tragedy.  Young lives (note the plural on that) dangerously hurt or killed because they were not vaccinated is an outrage.

One of the Time articles I read talked about how to persuade anti-vaxers. You can’t.  They are in the same camp as creationists and people who deny that humans play any role in global change.

The science — the real, honest to God science — is out there and has been. These people just do not care.

Also, on a personal note?  The idea that autism is worse than death (because these “childhood diseases” can kill) offends me beyond measure.

More and more parents are refusing to vaccinate their children — getting by on “philosophical exemptions” to get their kids into public schools. Vermont is considering abolishing them.

Good.  You don’t want to vaccinate your kids?  Keep them away from everybody else.

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My first project.

I have not done anything cool with my TechShop membership yet.  But they do have workrooms with nice very bright lights which make doing beadwork easy.  I finished one bracelet, pictured below, and most of a pair of earrings (with which I was very dissatisfied) before I discovered that I did  not have any more niobium earwires. Pooh.TS Bracelet 1

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