Tag Truth

Just the Facts Ma’am

Michael 3 Comments
Welcome to Columbus Day 2019! The holiday everyone loves to hate!!! Personally I’m not thrilled with any holiday outside of Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and the Fourth of July. All the others are just excuses for anybody who works for the government to get an extra day off.
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Columbus Day is also the holiday everyone loves to demonstrate their knowledge of “the facts.”
  • Christopher Columbus didn’t discover America, Amerigo Vespucci discovered it, that’s why we call it America.
  • Christopher Columbus didn’t discover America, Leif Erikson discovered it 500 years before either of those Europeans.
  • Nobody discovered America, there were already people living here!
  • Columbus was a criminal, slave trader, tyrant, and probably didn’t like dogs.
All sort of true (except maybe about the dogs) and all sort of not true, or at least inaccurate. If you’re looking for who actually first landed on the American mainland, whether North, South, or Central, that probably was John Cabot (surprise!) who landed in modern Canada in 1497. Columbus didn’t reach the South American mainland until his third voyage in 1499, and Vespucci landed in South America in 1500. Although the Vikings were known to have reached what is now Greenland as early as before 1100 their presence on mainland America has not been clearly documented before the 16th century. Columbus’s crimes are well-documented, but in 15th century Europe everybody who ran afoul of royalty would be accused and convicted of something, many of those some things quite routine for the rest of the populace.
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20191014_152221The “fact” most people seem to get the most mileage from is that Columbus could not have discovered America because there were already people living here. Again true, there were people living here, but then not true because that’s not what a discovery is. That would be like saying Neil Armstrong discovered the Moon because when he landed on it there were no people there. Of course the discovery of the Moon happened hundreds of thousands of years ago when the first eyes looked to the sky one night and saw a a big round, bright object. It isn’t whether people were here or not, it was a discovery for the Europeans because they did not know that this “it” was here. That discovery led to greatest period of trade and colonization that the world had seen yet or since.
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But of all the facts, suppositions, non facts, and inaccuracies, the one of most importance today is this – you can stop wondering when the mail is going to come.
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Plan, Check, Do

Michael 2 Comments
  In the very nearly eight years that I’ve been sharing my sometimes questionable mind with you I’ve rarely brought up religion. Maybe a half-dozen times and then probably just at Christmas or Easter not that I’m only Christmas or Easter religious, but it’s not a topic I often speak or write about. Today there seems no escaping it, not that it needs escaped from of course.
   Unless you live in a world devoid of internet access and by virtue of you reading this we know that’s not true, or unless you have been out of the country this week and even then you probably still reached back with that internet access that we know you have, you’ve gotten to read about the newest controversy, that is how dare Ellen DeGeneres sit next to President George W. Bush and at a baseball game, a social event even, of all places.
   If you should happen to be scrolling through the archives here you know we’re approaching the one-year anniversary of the mass murders at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, the deadliest such event at any religious setting.
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   I’m sure you’re now asking yourself what do these two events have to do with each other? Less than a year ago people were posting all over social media how we have to love one another, respect one another, live in harmony with each other. In the past few days some of those same people had commented how could someone like Ellen socialize with someone like George W. knowing his past and their differences? And they did it with less than loving, respectful, or harmonious words. Ellen’s initial response to the comments that you don’t have to agree with someone to like him or her or even to be civil to that person or group of people was met with even more outrage. And then a post or two later whether on Twitter or Facebook or in the comments section to a news article, those same people we’re counting the ways they were going to commemorate the Tree of Life tragedy with love and respect, and in the spirit that we are all the same and belong together.
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   It takes so much more than words whether spoken, printed, or typed and sent into the interwebs. It’s the action that matters. No matter if you are agreeing, disagreeing, clarifying, or condemning, some true action is needed if you’re expecting change. Or even love and respect.
   I probably would have just read all of the posts, become frustrated at the consistent contradictory reactions of people, then had a second cup of coffee and let it be forgotten before the day’s end. But then that’s where religion snuck in. It was right there in front of me in today’s Gospel, “…ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be open to you.” (Luke 11:9) These three are interconnected, not independent. It doesn’t stop at ask.
   If you’re having trouble thinking theologically, consider the business maxim, “plan, check, do.” Ask is step one, it’s the plan. What do we want? Do we want to live in harmony? Do we want to punish somebody for past offenses? Do we want to love our neighbor? The second step you seek, or checking the plan. How do we get what we want? How much do we need to be happy? How severe should the punishment be? Can we get away with just liking our neighbor? And then you have to act on it. You have to knock on the door and announce how you will do your plan. Sometimes that plan means you have to change, you have to be more in tune with others, you have to love more. It’s not always going to be the other person who has to adjust to be in harmony with you. In fact, more often than not the one doing the work will be you.
   So whether it’s being civil to someone, loving your neighbor, or rethinking past times when you’ve been less than those, now is probably a good time to plan, check, and do.
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What A Dump

Michael Leave a comment

It’s that time again, the time when if you don’t pull the mental chain your brain will back up and then you’ll have to get out the big plunger.

Misunderstanding

You’ll recall my recent discussion on non-dairy butter, not the concept but that the package read “butter.” Not “plant butter,” not “soy butter,” not “butter tasting butter substitute,” but “butter.” I guess I have a wider readership than even I could have imagined. Shortly after that post – ummm – posted the ACLU filed suit against Arkansas claiming the state’s new labeling law stipulating that only meat can be called meat, only milk can be called milk, only rice can be called rice, and presumably only butter can be called butter violates the manufacturers’ of the ersatz products free speech. Hmm. Now this is just a thought, but if American chicken and hog farmers actually came up with green eggs and ham and attempted to market them as “broccoli” and “kale” would that same ACLU step in to protect them?

Although I don’t like it and have said so, there is no stopping American stores from running back to school sales in July. I’m sorry but in my mind that is just way too early. And I’ve been one of those parents with a calendar on the kitchen wall crossing off the days until those kids go back to school! But I get it, it’s a once a year marketing opportunity and they have to make hay, or money, while the sun shines. But now I have a real issue with those stores. Two days ago I was in the local supermarket and at the end of the “seasonal” aisle where all the back to school items were located was a big display of Halloween candy. Come on now!

This morning a man was stopped at the local airport for carrying a loaded gun in his carry on bag. It was the 23rd such seizure this year. Today is the 210th day of 2019 so a little more frequently than once every 10 days somebody is trying to sneak a gun into the secure area of the airport. Ours is not a particularly large airport with about 400 departures a day. I can’t imagine what TSA agents at a big airport find. I said those people carrying weapons are trying to sneak a gun past security. They claim they “forgot” the gun was in their carryon or they “had it when they were at the range last week.” Did they really? Did they really bring their travel carryon to the range last week? The gun confiscated this morning had 14 bullets in the clip, the clip in the gun, and an additional bullet in the chamber. Doesn’t seem like something one could, or should “forget.”

The lawyers at Publishers Clearing House are really good. You’re not going to see them okay an ad that calls margarine butter, I mean that says “You are a winner!” No, they say you could be a winner or you might be holding the winning entry. They ain’t gonna get sued for stretching the truth. I got another one of those mailings last week. Not from PCH. From the dealership where I bought my car and have it serviced. That would be Car #2, not the daily driver although the last letter I got was in reference to my everyday vehicle. Car #1 is a ten year old Chevrolet Malibu and earlier this year the dealer sent me a notice that it was time to “exchange” that car for a new model. I agreed with them but when I went over to swap keys and registrations they really wanted me to exchange money for a new car! I knew all along they weren’t serious but I had to go over for a state inspection anyway so I thought I’d see how much I could get out of them. Not much it turned out. Last week’s letter was from a different dealer about a different car. I know it’s a marketing tool just like back to school sales in July but the letter says they need cars like mine to “fulfill special used vehicle requests.” This particular car is not a 10 year old Chevy. It’s a 20 year old Mazda Miata with not quite 31,000 miles. I bought it from this dealer and they have serviced it since it was in the internal combustion engine equivalent of diapers. They might very well have a request for such a car. But when they say “We would like to exchange your 2000 Mazda MX-5 Miata for any new or Certified Pre-Owned Mazda from our inventory,” I doubt their sincerity. But as fate would have it, Wednesday I have a service appointment there for that very car. I know just the new Miata in their inventory that would make a dandy exchange!

I feel better now that I held my occasional brain dump. Thank you for tolerating me. I’d be happy to exchange your new reading for my old writing any day!

Miata

Saving Congress

Michael 1 Comment

Did you get your deal on Amazon Prime Days. Maybe you picked picked up a special price on a Summer Black Friday at Best Buy. Or maybe you’re still cashing in on the Christmas in July savings at Target. As a consumer nation we are nothing if we aren’t a bunch of sheep.

That’s really not a horrible thing. I picked up a collector edition of a book I’ve been eyeing on a Thrift Books this week while grabbing a couple kitchen gadgets at Macy’s.com. Following the path of a bunch of other bargain hunters chasing sales thought up by other companies at another time of the year saved me over $70. That’s a month Internet service.

Unfortunately as a nation we are still a bunch of sheep when it comes to things like political alliances. I’m sure other than for George Washington and probably Gerald Ford, political mudslinging at our highest offices has been going on since the 1700s. (George and Jerry get excluded because neither one really had aspirations of becoming President as much as just were the benefactors (or victims) of circumstances. Recently though through the “miracle” of social media can the common man act as stupid as the ones we elect to office. In the years that started with a “1” it took organized efforts and multiple layers of volunteers to get people to believe their preferred politician was one miracle short of sainthood. Today that happens with blinding speed matched only by the efforts to convince followers that their least favorite politician is two steps ahead of the devil for the race to evil emperor.

We no longer care about right or wrong, truth or lie, sense or nonsense. If we read it on-line, particularly if it was posted by somebody we know well to have had a drink with or want to know well enough to buy a round of drinks for, we eat it up like sugar coated, double dipped, sprinkle laden ice cream in a waffle cone. I’m quite convinced many of not most of us know the tenets of the political party with which we identify or the actual background of its “stars players.” In my state a bill passed by the state legislature that, among other reforms including the purchase of new voting machines (which it could ill afford financially) was vetoed by the governor because it also called for the elimination of the single lever straight party voting option. Considering how Congress has itself voted with a straight party mentality for this century that shouldn’t have been a surprise coming from a politician.

I think I have a solution that can actually result in more amicable relations among all parties (apparent there actually are more than two), eliminate party voting mentality, and save us enough money to actually pay for things like health care, infrastructure, or education.

First we eliminate Congress. That’s not exactly right, we eliminate the Congressional presence in Washington. Since they have clearly demonstrated since 2001 that our elected officials – Representatives and Senators – vote en bloc however the leaders want them to vote there is no need for them in Washington. They can stay in their districts were they can actually serve the people by helping with disability forms, selecting Medicare supplement plans, and going to the occasional Fourth of July picnic. Back in Washington each house gets two representatives, one from each party who can hash out their own deals and compromises without the distraction of party rhetoric.

Second we forbid all elected officials from using social media and prepared press releases. If anybody wants to communicate with their constituents, and it is only their constituents they should be communicating with, they must do it in person. Because all but four representatives will be in their home districts that will not pose any burden. Further, if somebody already elected to an office wants to give up that office to run for another office, then he or she or other must actually give up their office. No ignoring their work so they can apply for another job.

Now here’s where the real fun stuff happens. Did you know the average average salary for the rank and file Congressman is $174,000. Majority and minority leaders of the House and Senate make $193,400. The Speaker of the House is the highest paid member of Congress at $223,500. (These are 2016 figures. A handful of websites reporting these salaries mention these salaries are comparable to mid-level managers in the private sector. They go on to say that Congress has not accepted a raise since 2009. I was firmly in the middle of mid level management and I can tell you I would have had to work almost two full years before I made $174,000 in 2009 dollars.) In addition, Congressmen are permitted to make up to 15% of their salary from outside salary sources like with the law firm they all seem to still belong to. There is no limit on non-salary sources of income such as interest, dividends, and honoraria. And of course they all get money to run their offices.

The staff allowance for members of the House of Representatives depends on the size of his district which is determined by the official U. S. Census but in 2016 the average allowance was $1,268,520. That’s not the total. That’s per representative. That’s almost 1.3 million dollars. Times 435 representatives that’s $551.8 million dollars. That’s over a half a billion dollars. For office expenses. Per year. Senators in 2016 averaged $3,306,570 allowance per Senator. The math here is pretty simple. That comes out to $330,657,000 for the full senate. Every year we spend over $882 million to staff representatives’ offices. If we eliminate half of their offices by limiting Congressional work to the local office that will save us $441 million.

And finally, because they all like to remind us of what our founding fathers meant when they said something, they should be paid like them. Not in 1789 dollars. That would be cruel. In 1789 a Senator only made $50 a day and had to cover his own expenses except for postage for official correspondence. They did get lunch though. Note that salary was not per year or per session, it was per day. Today’s Congress should be paid likewise. When a member shows up he or she or undecided can punch a clock and get paid for the days worked. Assuming 225 working days per year. That’s $773 per day. I think that’s more than fair. But since 2001 Congress has average only 138 legislative days per year the average Congressman can expect to take in about $107,000 per year. This will save us $35,845,000. Added to the $441 million we already saved we are now $477 million ahead.

That’s close enough to a half a billion for me. That’s about as much as the CDC gets for immunization research. Congress  might not still be worth the trouble they cause but maybe now we can find a cure for them!

Coming soon…Fixing the Presidency.

Capitol

To Tell the Truth

Michael Leave a comment

I hate liars. Everybody tells a little fib now and then. (That’s the best cauliflower rice dough pizza. You can’t even tell it has no gluten, cholesterol, fat, calories, taste, or appreciation for a life worth living.) But outright “I know this is blatantly false and I’m saying it only because I want to trick your ass” falsehoods are just wrong. And professional lying like done by every politician and used car salesman since 1959 is the worst.

Those professional liars are getting really good at it. Much of their lying is so subtle we don’t even recognize it as not true. Take the word “free,” a perfectly good word. I think if you ask anybody what the word means you would be told “enjoying personal liberty as in freedom” or “given without cost.” Lexicographers would differ. Well … not so much differ as embellish, just like the liars. Dictionary dot com list 40 definitions for “free,” Cambridge English has 24, Merriam Webster 20, and even the venerable OED lists 14 definitions of the word. That’s why people can take a perfectly good word like “free,” put it in front of another word like “shipping” and feel justified telling you how much it will cost to ship your purchase if it doesn’t meet a minimum amount spent.

The local supermarket where I do most of my grocery shopping has taken to telling the truth. I must tell you, it confuses me sometimes. If you join their loyalty program you get a weekly e-mail offering some incredible value at not just a ridiculously low price but almost always free. A couple weeks ago this deal was a case of their bottled water for 49 cents. This week it’s a can of Coca-Cola for free. And they really mean free. Not with the purchase of another can. Not with a minimum total spent. It’s free. You go into the store, grab a can and take it to the checkout lane where someone will scan the can and scan your loyalty card, then the cash register will total up $0.00 and off you go. Of course they hope you buy something else but you don’t have to. Free means free.

exchangeAnother perfectly good word is “exchange.” This word even has the dictionaries agreeing there is little room for ambiguity. “An act of giving one thing and receiving another (especially of the same type or value) in return” is the number one definition in the Oxford English Dictionary, and except for references to where stocks are traded and a short conservation or argument, every reference to “exchange” is pretty much the giving and getting of something similar. Our general use of the word confirms that. Next week, if next week was fifty years ago, elementary school kids across the country will hold a “Valentine Exchange” at school and everybody gives and gets happy heart shaped cards. (Who knows what they do today.) Just a couple months ago at Christmas time you may have participated in a “Holiday Gift Exchange” at work when to keep in the spirit of exchange a dollar amount was stipulated. Even businesses know that to be an exchange a transaction must be of equal value. Gold and jewelry exchanges all over swap fresh money for old gold at a specifically noted “rate of exchange.”

So when I got a card in the mail from the local Chevy dealer saying it was time to exchange my 9 year old Malibu for a new one I rushed right over!

[sigh]

 

 

 

Every Day Is a Great Day

Michael 4 Comments
Hockey season started yesterday. I was there for it. In my seat, the one I’ve occupied for the past couple of years. It’s not a bad seat. Over the years I’ve sat in several spots around the arena. Lower bowl, upper bowl, center ice, behind the net, on the dots. In the old arena. In the new arena. None are bad seats. Amidst a handful of people in my little section amidst the 19,000 or so seats all occupied by people in their little sections we sat in not bad seats there just to see a hockey game. No other agenda, hidden, assumed, obvious, or imagined. Just hockey.
But before the game we stopped to pay respects to those who lost lives and loved ones in Las Vegas and all 19,000 were silent. Every one. Silent. Then we paid respects to the flag and all 19,000 sang. Every one. Singing. And I thought how once again all I know about being a gentleman I learned from hockey and how I was once so moved by that realization that I posted my thoughts on it right here. And I thought, just as “Badger” Bob Johnson knew every day is a great day for hockey, that every day is a great day to learn from hockey.
So I’m doing today something I’ve never done before. I’m reprinting “Everything I Know About Being a Gentleman I Learned From Hockey.”

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EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT BEING A GENTLEMAN I LEARNED FROM HOCKEY

Originally posted November 26, 2016

When I was at the hockey game this weekend I got to thinking how much as a society we can learn from hockey. Yes, the sport that is the butt of the joke “I went to a fight last night and a hockey game broke out,” is the same sport that can be our pattern for good behavior.

Stay with me for a minute or two and think about this. It started at the singing of the national anthem. I’ve been to many hockey, baseball, football, and soccer games. Only at the hockey games have I ever been in an arena filled with people actually singing along. Only at the hockey games are all of the players reverent to the tradition of honoring the country where they just happen to be playing even though they come from around the world – Canada, Russia, Germany, Sweden, Finland, even a few Americans.

A decent dose of nationalism notwithstanding, hockey has much to offer the gentility. Even those fights. Or rather any infraction. If a player breaks the rules he is personally penalized for it. Ground isn’t given or relinquished like on a battlefield, free throws or kicks aren’t awarded to the aggrieved party like victors in a tort battle. Nope, if you do something wrong you pay the consequences and are removed from play for a specified period in segregation from the rest of your teammates. No challenges, no arguments, no time off for good behavior. Do the crime. Pay the time. In the penalty box. Try doing that to a school child who bullies and you’ll have some civil liberty group claiming you’re hurting the bully by singling him out.

Hockey is good at singling out people but in a good way. At last Saturday’s game the opposing team has two members who had previously played for the home team. During a short break in the action a short montage of those two players was shown on the scoreboard screens and they were welcomed back by the PA announcer. And were cheered and applauded by the fans in attendance. There weren’t seen as “the enemy.” Rather they were friends who had moved away to take another job and were greeted as friends back for a day.

While play is going on in a hockey game play goes on in a hockey game. Only if the puck is shot outside the playing ice, at a rules infraction, or after a goal is scored does play stop. Otherwise, the clock keeps moving and play continues. Much like life. If you’re lucky you might get to ask for one time out but mostly you’re at the mercy of the march of time. Play begins. After a while play ends. If you play well between them, you’ll be ok.

The point of hockey is to score goals. Sometimes goals are scored ridiculously easily, sometimes goals seem to be scored only because of divine intervention. Most times, goals are a result of working together, paying attention to details, and wanting to score more than the opposing team wants to stop you from scoring. There is no rule that says after one team scores the other team gets to try. It all goes back to center ice and starts out with a new drop of the puck. If the team that just scored controls the puck and immediately scores again, oh well.

Since we’re talking about scoring, the rules of hockey recognize that it takes more than an individual to score goals. Hockey is the only sport where players are equally recognized not just for scoring goals but for assisting others who score goals. Maybe you should remember that the next time someone at work says you’ve done a good job.

handshakeThe ultimate good job is winning the championship. The NHL hockey championship tournament is a grueling event. After an 82 game regular season, the top 16 teams (8 from each conference) play a four round best of seven elimination tournament. It takes twenty winning games to win the championship. That’s nearly 25% as long as the regular season. It could take as long as 28 games to play to the finish. That’s like playing another third of a season. After each round only one team moves on. And for each round, every year, for as many years as the tournament has ever been played, and for as many years as the tournament will ever be played, when that one team wins that fourth game and is ready to move on, they and the team whose season has ended meet at center ice and every player on each team shakes the hand of his opponent player and coach, wishing them well as they move on and thanking them for a game well played. No gloating. No whining. No whimpering. Only accepting.

So you go to a fight and a hockey game breaks out. It could be a lot worse.

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So there you go. Everything you need to know about being a gentleman, or a lady. Courtesy of the folks who brought you hockey. They’re not bad lessons if I say so myself. And I think even Badger Bob would agree.

 

Fire Sale

Michael 24 Comments

If your house was on fire and you could carry one thing out of it with you, what would it be? A question like that has been asked for ages. In philosophy classes, on psych papers, over drinks at happy hour, in bible groups, at marriage counseling. It should be getting easier to answer. Or maybe not.

When asked the question, in public the answers all sound very altruistic. My baby. My pet. The picture of my long dead parents, long suffering spouse, long loved child. In private we’d probably say, grab the tablet, CD, or memory stick with all our family financial info and maybe the one with pictures too if possible, or the purse or wallet with driver’s license and the credit cards because who wants that replacement hassle right after the house burns down. No! Get the phone!

I really was thinking about this recently. If I could save just one thing, what one thing would I want above all that I may risk my life to get?

My grandparents might have had a really hard time answering. Both trunks of my family tree started their branches in this country during World War I. Although not yet the depression Era as far as the United States was concerned, the European bank scare of 1914 had a dramatic effect on the Italian economy and its people. When they emigrated they took their distrust for banks with them. If it was of value, it was in the house. A fire would be devastating to the future of the family unless all of the children, 12 on my mother’s side, were old enough, big enough, and strong enough to each bring at least one item with no room for sentiment.

By the time my parents were contributing boomed babies to the landscape, the American economy was on an upswing and even middle class families had nest eggs that could be proudly secured by the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation. Up to $10,000 per depositor at the time. Like now though, nobody but the very rich had $10,000 nest eggs. But they still didn’t trust everything to the banks. Safety deposit boxes were for rich people. Personal treasures and savings bonds purchased almost painlessly through the Payroll Savings Plan were secreted in a strong box, itself cached away at the back of a linen drawer, the bottom of a cedar chest or top shelf of a closet, or among the pantry items in the newfangled built-in kitchen cabinets. In case of evacuation, a responsible adult, probably the dad, was in charge of collecting the canned collectibles, while another adult of authority went after more sentimental treasures.

My generation was the tween of generations. Everything from the first half of my life is on paper, the last 2 or 3 decades could and does fit easily on a flash drive. I have a strong box but other than my passport almost nothing in there is irreplaceable. Almost nothing else in there is probably worth trying to replace. If I was running from a fire I have to pleasure of knowing that I could grab all the sentimental items like the picture album filled with a record of the daughter’s formative years and perhaps a cherished bobble head.

But wait! I should go get that passport. I doubt I’ll be doing much travelling in the future but just in case I win one of those crazy on line raffles for an all-expense paid trip to Iceland, I’d hate to have to decline because I’m waiting on replacement documents proving who I am and what I look like. So that settles it, pictures, passport, and a cherished bobble head.

My essentials

My essentials

Oh no. But wait again (he says somberly). Forget the albums. Forget the bobble head. Forget the passport. (I’m going to have to find a more readily reachable place for that.) I forgot even more essential, if not sentimental items that I have to have. I have them with me all the time so I sometimes don’t consider that I actually have to carry them for them to be with me all the time. One is my cane. I can walk without it. For about 20 or 30 yards. About 50 to 100 feet depending on the day. That might get me as far as across the street from the theoretical blaze, but unless I’m planning on camping there forever, or unless I want to live the rest of my life 100 feet at a time, I better grab the cane.

That still leaves one hand free. Why not snag that cherished bobble head? Well…this a little personal. So much so that I don’t even tell people what’s in the bag I always have if someone who even suspects that it’s anything other than just a small day bag should ask. It’s a small bag but it’s huge in what it means to me.

You might recall from two posts ago that I am pretty much running on spare parts and that some of those parts actually are performing functions they were not originally designed to. And they require some help. That ever present bag carries the external pieces my spare-parted body needs to perform some otherwise routine internal functions. Yeah, that’s more than a little cryptic, but let’s say I can’t go but about 6 hours without it.

So. Two hands. Two things I sort of need more than pictures, bobble heads, or even passport. It looks like for me, like it was a couple of generations ago, there’s no room for sentiment.

Now I’m curious. What would you carry out?

 

Looking Good

Michael 6 Comments

I’m going to do something today that I usually don’t. I’m ranting. Well…not exactly ranting. A rant implies wild and impassioned speech. I may be passionate about a bunch of stuff but I’m not wild. I’m not even undomesticated. So I’m not exactly ranting but I am upset. Maybe even a little annoyed.

I just read a post – no, that’s not true either – I just read two-thirds of a post, supposedly to make me, as one with a chronic illness, feel magnanimous towards those who have the nerve to say to me,  “You look good.”  Apparently before I had the benefit of the sensitivity of whoever wrote that drivel, err…. that post, I was supposed to be bothered, irked, and/or insulted by that comment. Really?!?

Yes, I have a chronic condition. Three actually. If you’ve read this for a time you know I have kidney disease and am on dialysis (and the specific target of the aforementioned post). I am also told that I am a cancer survivor though one really never survives as much as finds a way to eliminate its immediate danger. For me that meant the physical removal of the cancer and along with it two and parts of third internal organ while now still learning how to live without otherwise vital body parts. The third is a one of those rare diseases that is so rare you don’t even get to see commercials on TV for drugs that might or not might not improve my chance at a normal life. Instead that one has been kept at bay for 15 years or so by a relatively dangerous drug regimen that probably helped me join the ranks of the first two chronic conditions that I mentioned but at least it kept me alive long enough to develop them. Anyway, when someone tells me that I look good I say thank you. Apparently I’ve been doing that wrong.

If I read the part of the article that I read correctly, I read that first I should consider that the person who is telling me how wonderful I appear doesn’t mean anything insensitive by it. He or she probably doesn’t know how painful and depressing my ailment is. Ailments are. Next I should consider exactly how well I know this person. Perhaps some people are mistaking my healthy appearance for a healthy appearance because they don’t know the full extent of my painful and depressing ailment. Or ailments. Then I should thank them for their thoughtfulness but gently remind them how painful and depressing my ailment really is. Are. Is. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do after that because that’s when I threw my tablet across the room. (After making sure I was aiming it at a very soft pillow. I might have been annoyed but I’m not crazy.) (Not even wild.)

So, since I was unable to finish that drivel, err…. that post, let me tell you how to respond when someone comes up to you, whether or not you have a chronic condition, and whether or not he or she does, and says, “You look good.”  Say thank you and repay the compliment.

By that way, you’re looking pretty good. Have a nice day.

A Healthy Rant

Michael Leave a comment

You know how much I hate fine print. It’s right up there with insurance companies, banks, ads for prescription drugs, car sales and lease restrictions, cable TV and cell phone service disclaimers, and lawyers. Most of those I can all sort of let go. If somebody wants to really believe he or she can save $500 switching insurance, will actually pay only $49 for phone service, or can qualify for that $99 lease that’s on them for taking tooth fairy believability to life. Well, caveat emptor and all that. Except for lawyers. I still haven’t figured out if they actually serve any sort of redeeming purpose. But that’s a post for a different time. This post is all about a new line of fine print I saw on an ad and I could have died when I saw it. Actually I could have wished death on the person who came up with it and the other ones who willingly went along with it.

I had the television on the other afternoon. It’s annoying as hell to watch television during the afternoon but not because of the programming, because of the ads. All three of them. No matter what the show or what the channel, if it’s between 11am and 4pm you will get a steady diet of commercials touting credit repair, Medicare supplement insurances, and denture adhesives.  And every now and then something completely different.

The something different I saw was an ad for a hospital. Not a donation request asking for $19 a month but an ad designed to make you want to go to a particular hospital.  Not a local hospital for your general hospital needs. This was an ad for a national specialty hospital where cancer is all they treat. There were patients and patients’ families, doctors, and professional voice-over actors all promoting their brand of care resulting in their kind of success. As a cancer survivor and a health care professional I took interest in that ad for as much as I can take interest in any ad between 11am and 4pm. But my interest waned when they got to the end and those teeny words crawled across the bottom on the screen. “You should not expect a similar outcome.”

Beneath the large, bold list of their few locations across the country, their phone number and web address, and the insurance plans they accept, after spending 60 seconds telling you how they understand, how much they care, and how they are different, they slipped in at the bottom of the screen at the end of the ad, in a print sized to make an optometrist cringe, “You should not expect a similar outcome.” You should not expect the same result as the patient whose testimonial was presented during the ad. You should not expect to be relieved of your pain and suffering, you should not expect to be returned to your family and loved ones, you should not expect to return to a fulfilling life, you should not expect to be happy and upbeat when your treatment is complete. But please, be sure to break your neck to set off across the country to not get what the ad encourages you to believe in.

Can you imagine if every ad ended with “you should not expect a similar outcome?” Would you ever spend money again on reducing the chance of cavities, removing unsightly grass stains, or eliminating underwear creep? What do you think would happen to you when you pay your rent or mortgage, your utilities and credit cards, and you include the note “don’t expect this every month” with each check?

You know what I think? I think it’s time to forget buyer beware and it’s time for seller be truthful. Quid a conceptu!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

Michael Leave a comment

We were driving down a country-ish road when jogging on the shoulder toward us was this woman, her legs striding, arms pumping, head bobbing, and face frowning.  It was not a look of determination, nor was it one of concentration.  It was one of displeasure.  It was one that said “I am two miles from home in any direction and I want to be there, not here.”  What we knew, from knowing others who jog along the shoulder of country-ish roads, is that when she gets home there will be a husband, a parent, a partner, a child, or maybe a cat or dog who will very innocently ask , “How as your run?”  And then the lies will begin!

It was fine. I had a great run.  It was the perfect morning to get an extra mile in.  And the check’s in the mail, too.  Truth be told, there are some instances that we know have never had the truth be told of them.   Early morning joggers are amateurs when it comes to the really smooth lies.

Whether it’s taking a little blood out for a blood test, a lot of it out at a blood drive, or getting an annual flu shot, “You’ll just feel a little pinch,” is not exactly truthful for any of them.  We are both blood donors.  We’ve both had flu shots.  And we’re ready to tell anybody who comes that close to us with those sharp objects that we know we’re going to feel more than a little pinch.  Save the lies, tell it like it is.  This is going to hurt but just for a little while and once that goes away you’ll feel much better for it.

Every day millions of people ask another millions of people how they are.   We’re not sure why because we know that an answer is neither required nor expected.  If so, no one would ask “Hey, how are you?” of someone who is getting on the elevator one just got off.  Yet it happens.  The appropriate answer to that question at that time should be “buy high, sell low” just to see if anyone is actually listening.  Quite often, then and at the millions of other times when the inquirer can actually hear the answer, the answer is “Oh just fine, thank you.”  You know you aren’t.  No one is ever just fine.  Ever. 

Whether we’re asking or are being ask, almost always “Do you want help with that?” is followed by “Whew!” when the answer comes back or goes out as no thanks.  Nobody ever really wants to help, at least not with physical assistance.   Maybe if the help needed is of the mental type we’d all be helpers and then when someone asks why we’re just sitting there we can answer with another collective lie, “Yes so, I am working.” 

Just a little bit longer.  No, that’s not a commentary on this post, although here it is truthful.  Most other times that one hears those words it is going to be longer but not by a little bit.  We hear this when waiting for a table at a restaurant, for a meeting with the boss, for a refund check coming in the mail, for the doctor to take his or her turn with us, or for an opponent to finish a Scrabble move.  The funny thing is that everybody on the delivery end of “a little bit longer” knows exactly how much longer it will be.  Why not tell us.  We suppose either they aren’t confident that we find their services worth waiting for or that their services aren’t worth waiting for.

It used to be a little more sensible when business was conducted by letters, phones, and secretaries.  Now to tell someone you never got the message, meeting reminder, or new project deadline in the time of email and shared electronic calendars is a bit far-fetched.  Yet not so far-fetched that by personal experience we can say that just about every time a meeting is missed, a deadline goes by, or a message is ignored, the guilty party still tries to claim ignorance.  “Must be something wrong with the server,” is the new “the check is in the mail”

Can you think of any others?  We’d love to hear them!  Ummm, errrr, let’s do lunch.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?