Time Going Nowhere

"Too much and too long, we seem to have surrendered community excellence and community values in the mere accumulation of material things. Our gross national product ... if we should judge America by that - counts air pollution and cigarette advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage. It counts special locks for our doors and the jails for those who break them. It counts the destruction of our redwoods and the loss of our natural wonder in chaotic sprawl. It counts napalm and the cost of a nuclear warhead, and armored cars for police who fight riots in our streets. It counts Whitman's rifle and Speck's knife, and the television programs which glorify violence in order to sell toys to our children.

"Yet the gross national product does not allow for the health of our children, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages; the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit nor our courage; neither our wisdom nor our learning; neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country; it measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile. And it tells us everything about America except why we are proud that we are Americans." —Robert F. Kennedy

Some things never change.

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The Queen of Patpong

Tim Hallinan’s The Queen of Patpong arrives in bookstores today and, come to think of it, so should you. Go ahead! Buy a few copies; get an early start on your Christmas shopping. Buy a copy for yourself, get one for your best friend, give one to your brother’s ex-wife’s sister’s boyfriend. Give a copy to your third cousin in Paducah. Or buy a box of them and hand them out to homeless people on a downtown street corner.

Seriously, The Queen of Patpong is a great, good read; Kirkus Reviews liked it enough to give it a star (getting a star out of Kirkus involves about the same amount of effort as squeezing river rock until it bleeds). If I gave out stars with my reviews, The Queen of Patpong would get five of them. Yeah, it’s that good.

Speaking of reviews, you can read my review of The Queen of Patpong here. If you click on the links near the end of the review, you’ll find other reviews, author info, lots of good stuff for dedicated readers and writers of thriller fiction. You won’t be disappointed.

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From the Gulf of Mexico to Coxsackie-Athens High

Regular readers of this blog are well aware that my blogging activities sort of ran off the rails in early April and that my blog posts since then can be counted on the digits of one hand—with a couple of thumbs to spare. Getting my various projects back on the rails and back up to speed has been a long, slow process, so when Barbara O’Brien (The Mahablog) asked me if I could post one of her articles on my other blog (Petey’s Pipeline) I readily agreed. I might be too proud to ask for help, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m too proud to accept help if it’s offered.

After you’ve read Barbara’s most excellent and insightful piece about the Gulf Oil Disaster, do yourself a favor and read Coxsackie-Athens High School valedictorian Erica Goldson’s graduation speech in which she makes a scathing condemnation of institutionalized education. Larry Hamelin (The Barefoot Bum) believes that Erica’s profound and moving speech deserves the widest dissemination, and I concur. It is, after all, hard to be smart if you can’t think.

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Good Intentions, Flimsy Excuses

When good intentions collide head-on with the reality of adverse circumstances, good intentions almost always come out the big loser. To make the point, I’ll cite an example from recent personal experience. While my intention was to do all the things I’d committed to do, the reality was that a sudden downturn in my health—not life-threatening, but life-complicating—forced me to suspend most of my writing activities for the duration. The net result is that I inadvertently ended up screwing the pooch on many of my projects—none of which were more important than my obligation to read and review Portland novelist Bill Cameron’s excellent new thriller, Day One. Oh, the reading part of that project got done in a timely enough fashion; it was the written part of it—you know, the actual review—that couldn’t seem to get written. And for the longest time, it didn’t.

For missing the publishing date, for the long delay in getting my review posted, for missing his book signing at Murder by the Book, I owe Bill Cameron apology on top of apology. Well, Mr. Cameron shall have his apologies (I’m truly sorry, Bill, on all counts), and I shall come away from this debacle thoroughly humbled and with yet another lesson in the application of Murphy’s Law as a permanent part of my résumé.

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Health Care Redux

The following blog post, reprinted here unchanged from the original, comes to us courtesy of Barbara O’Brien (The Mahablog, Crooks and Liars, et al.) Barb asked if I would be interested in helping her out by reposting her article; because I stand ready to enlist the pages of Frieddogleg to any number of worthy progressive causes, I readily agreed. Live and learn, then pay it forward.

Health Care Reform Will Help Everybody

Many Americans assume the new health care reform act will benefit mostly the poor and uninsured and hurt everyone else, according to polls. As Matt Yglesias wrote, “Basically, people see this as a bill that will take resources from people who have health insurance and give it to people who don’t have health insurance.” Those who still oppose the reform say that people ought to pay for their own health care.

We all believe in the virtues of hard work and self-reliance, but these days it’s a fantasy to think that anyone but the mega-wealthy will not, sooner or later, depend on help from others to pay medical bills. And that’s true no matter how hard you work, how much you love America, or how diligently you take care of yourself. The cost of medical care has so skyrocketed that breaking an arm or leg could cost as much as a new car. And if you get cancer or heart disease — which can happen even to people who live healthy lifestyles — forget about it. The disease will not only clean you out; it will leave a whopping debt for your survivors to pay.

And the truth is, we all pay for other peoples’ health care whether we know it or not. When people can’t pay their medical bills, the cost of their health care gets added to everyone else’s bills and insurance premiums. When poor people use emergency rooms as a doctor of last resort, their care is not “free.” You pay for it.

Another common fantasy about medical care is that the “free market” provides incentives for medical companies to develop innovative new drugs and treatments for disease without government subsidy. It’s true that private enterprise is very good at developing profitable health care products. But not all medical care can be made profitable.

For years, the U.S. government has been funding medical research that the big private companies don’t want to do because there is too much cost for the potential profit. This is especially true for diseases that are rare and expensive to treat. An example of a recent advance made possible by government grants include new guidelines for malignant pleural mesothelioma treatment developed by MD Anderson Cancer Center researchers. Another is a blood screening test developed by mesothelioma doctors like thoracic surgeon Dr. David Sugarbaker. The health reform act provides for more dollars for such research, from which even many of the tea party protesters will benefit.

The biggest fantasy of all was that people who had insurance didn’t have to worry about health care costs. But the fact is that in recent years millions of Americans have been bankrupted by medical costs, and three-quarters of the medically bankrupt had health insurance. And yes, insurance companies even dumped hard-working, law-abiding patriots. But the health care reform act will put an end to that, and now America’s hard-working, law-abiding patriots are more financially secure, whether they like it or not.

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Environmental Activism

Over the weekend I learned that I can’t be a good environmentalist because I sometimes eat meat. Alrighty, then, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to stop busting my hump to be a good environmentalist.

First thing on my new agenda is to replace all those CFL and LED light bulbs, purchased at great expense (the LED bulbs cost $30 apiece; I use five of them), with 100w conventional bulbs. I’m no longer satisfied to live in low-light conditions that afford just enough illumination that I’m able to avoid stumbling over the furniture in my humble three-room, 450 sq. ft. apartment. I want light, lots and lots of light.

Now that I’m thinking about my 450 sq.ft. apartment, I’m also thinking that it would probably be a good time to move into something a little larger, say 12,000 sq.ft. and 20-plus rooms. I want room, lots and lots of room. That I’ll be able to sit in the vast expanse of my living room and laugh at all the homeless people straggling by is an added benefit.

When I get moved into my new digs, winters are going to be a lot different than they have been in the recent past, too. No longer will I wear a hoody and thermal socks indoors while I sit huddled under blankets with the temperature somewhat to the south of 70 degrees. 80 degrees is more to my liking, so from now on that’s where I’ll set the thermostat—year ’round. I want comfort, lots and lots of comfort.

Then there’s the matter of the Oklahoma oil and gas leases that have been in my family for at least three generations. Drilling is due to start soon, and expectations are running high. So far, at least three energy companies—Chesapeake, Cobra and Huston—have tendered offers to purchase the leases outright (no sale). My original plan was to donate 90% of my share of the proceeds—if there are any—to worthwhile environmental causes, but of course that plan is now in the crapper. As a failed environmentalist I want toys, lots and lots of toys.

The next thing I’m going to do is sell my mountain bike and buy a car. Make that two cars, both of them gas guzzlers. Maybe a Corvette and a Hummer. There ain’t gonna be no Prius parked in my parking space, I tell ya. I want power, lots and lots of power.

As a former environmentalist, keeping plastic bags out of the environment was important to me. Because I always ride my bike when I go shopping, I always carry my own bags with me; backpack and panniers usually suffice, but I have several reusable cloth bags I can carry with me if I need the extra capacity. Never again. In fact, from now on I’m going to insist that all my groceries be double-bagged in plastic. I want convenience, lots and lots of convenience.

Recycling is another thing I’ve always been conscientious about, but no more. It takes time and energy and a small amount of space dedicated to storing and sorting recyclables until enough has been collected to warrant a trip to the recycling bins. Screw it! From this point forward it’s gonna be “bag it all together” and make one trip to the dumpster. I want to save time, lots and lots of time.

People who criticize my culinary choices—especially those people who still feel the need to drive everywhere they go—need to get a grip. My ancestors evolved as meat eaters, so my need for meat is deeply ingrained. I’ve managed to cut my meat consumption by some 60% or better, but each of two attempts to eliminate all traces of meat from my diet caused a loss of appetite—with predictable outcomes associated with poor nutrition.

In closing, I’ll caution anyone who sees fit to criticize my dietary choices to first lower their standard of living—and their carbon footprint—to a level that matches or betters mine. Until then, just shut up and concentrate on getting your environment-destroying habits under control; worry about mine when you’ve achieved environmental perfection in your own life.

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Addiction Affliction (Part 3)

As we know, convenience food and pharmaceutical industries are two of the most prolific advertisers of consumer products to which Americans have become addicted. Automobile manufacturers—whose products are as ubiquitous in American culture as Big Macs, telephones, TVs and computers—round out the top three.

Let's face it! We’re addicted to our cars. We need our cars so we can get to our jobs so we can earn the money to pay for the cars, for the insurance for the cars, for the licensing fees, maintenance costs, fuel, and highway tolls and taxes, all for the cars.

We need our cars so we can run down to the corner grocery to buy another six-pack, or to drive halfway across town to save a buck on a carton of cigarettes. We need our cars so we can get to the fast-food joint because the jobs we need to pay for the cars have stolen our time and sapped our strength and we don't have enough time or energy left over to cook a meal from scratch. We need our cars to make those routine trips to the discount drug store (you know, the one that drove your neighborhood pharmacy out of business) to pick up whatever pharmaceuticals we depend on to get us through another week. Finally, we need our cars for the ritual weekend getaway because we haven't yet learned how to live in, and enjoy, those outrageously expensive homes we work so hard to pay for.

Does all of this seem as crazy to you as it does to me?

Cars—and the cheap oil needed to run them—made possible the expansion of industries that might never have survived without them. Affordable, accessible transportation made it possible for the employees of many companies to live in neighborhoods far removed from the places where they worked, and for employers to draw from a workforce scattered over hundreds of square miles.

As car ownership proliferated into all areas of American society, the practice of travel as cheap entertainment became a cultural norm. It was no longer enough to have transportation to and from the workplace close at hand; once people realized that cars were synonymous with freedom and mobility and expanded access to recreational opportunities, multi-car families, traffic congestion and eventual gridlock became absolute certainties.

Not only does dad have a car, but mom does, too—as do each of their 2.4 children when they reach driving age. Forget “… a chicken in every pot, a car in every garage.” Now, it's a 10-piece bucket of KFC chicken, a car in the garage, two cars in the driveway, and two more parked on the street.

Our cars are status symbols; they reveal our personality, define our character, reflect our social standing in the community, afford mobility with a degree of anonymity, and ensure our independence and autonomy. Lacking an overriding incentive to break our car addiction, the addiction is certain to continue.

Being addicted to cars, Americans are also addicted to oil—or, rather, the cheap energy derived from oil. Because of those addictions, an addiction to war was inevitable; war is currently the preferred means of ensuring unfettered American access to foreign oil.

Cheap energy fueled an explosive growth of technology, to which we also became addicted. Our addiction to technology begot us an addiction to gadgetry of all kinds; cell phones, iPods and iPads, Blackberries, MP-3 players, Kindles and laptop computers accumulate on or about our persons. And if this weren't enough, throw in pagers and various remote-control devices—including TV controls, garage door openers and remote-controlled automobile door lock openers—to make the clutter complete.

We rely on cheap energy to heat our oversized homes (which we need to store all our stuff), power our oversized cars and SUVs, and to fuel our motor homes, cabin cruisers, motorcycles, jet skis, ATVs, snowmobiles, lawn and garden equipment, and all the other energy consuming, recreational and/or laborsaving devices to which we've become addicted.

We covet laborsaving devices such as electric shavers, electric can openers, electric carving knives, electric mixers, electric toothbrushes and electric nose-pickers because they make our lives easier, then gladly work our asses off, through overtime or a second job (overtime without overtime pay), to pay for them.

Stuff accumulates. We buy the latest doodads, gizmos and gadgets because they're cool, use them until the novelty wears off or the next iteration comes along, then consign them to garage sales or relegate them to storage in ever more crowded basements, closets, attics or garages.

It seems no convenience is too impractical for us. Lexus advertises a model with a windshield so sensitive that it reacts to a single raindrop by turning on the windshield wipers. But how many dry wipes across a dirty windshield does it take before the scars of abrasion render it opaque? Do we really need conveniences that do our thinking for us?

Power windows? Power seats? Power door locks? Hell, why not power everything, as long as we don't have to use any of our own muscle power to achieve the desired results? Besides, we need all these labor-saving conveniences so we can conserve our energy for the jobs we need in order to pay for them.

At some point, we're going to have to admit that our addictions are killing us. At some point, we're going to have to take whatever steps we need take to break those addictions. Soon, we must awaken from our blissful stupor and realize that survival of our species—of all species—is more important than individual comfort and ease, more important, even, than the acquisition of superfluous possessions.

Our addictions are symptomatic of the fatal flaws inherent in capitalist consumer culture, not the causes of them. Corporate advertisers push our buttons, and we respond accordingly. As humans, we’re wired to do unconsciously whatever it takes to feed our addictions—or create new ones. Still, we must realize that there are undesirable consequences to our incessant striving for material possessions and what we perceive to be comfortable lifestyles.

Unable to admit that ours is a broken society—and that the extent of our brokenness is driving us insane—we persist in the belief that trading long-term values for short-term conveniences makes sense. It’s increasingly clear that our failure to break the brutal cycles of our addictions bears a heavy price. What we stand to lose if we don’t change our ways is easily summed up in one word: Everything!

*This article is a rewrite of the original, which was published on April 3, 2006, in Issue #28 of Petey’s Pipeline E-zine.

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Addiction Affliction (Part 2)*

We Americans depend on our addiction to conspicuous consumerism and consumption to appease our addiction to instant gratification, which we finance with our addiction to credit. An addiction to television begets addictions to convenience food and a plethora of over-the-counter and prescription drugs, which give us the illusion of good health and energy enough to pursue mind-numbing jobs that earn us the money to pay for our other addictions. And it seems there's no end to our other addictions.

Television (junk food for the mind) is the mouthpiece for crass commercialism. It's no accident that many large corporations, and more than a few small ones, spend the bulk of their advertising budget on television ads. TV is a popular medium, and it guarantees maximum product exposure to an audience that numbers in the millions.

Natural companions, snack food and television create mutually reinforcing positive feedback loops that entice people of all ages to engage in addictive, self-destructive behavior. A high percentage of TV commercial ads feature snack foods or convenience foods, which encourage people to eat while they watch TV. Nothing stimulates the appetite quite like seeing your favorite junk food rendered in mouth-watering, larger-than-life images. With 1/3 of Americans currently defined as clinically obese and another third described as merely overweight, we should all be thankful that ubiquitous smellevision is not yet a reality.

Junk food, fast food and convenience food—not that there's any distinction between them—provide comfort, satisfaction and pleasure to minds and bodies that crave instant gratification. We like the idea that fast foods save us time and effort, but we also like to indulge our appetite for guilty pleasures.

TV commercials depict svelte young women gorging on candy, pastries and other "comfort" foods. But how realistic is this? Were these bits of hype grounded in reality, they would show people who are dangerously overweight and flirting with diabetes, heart attack, or stroke.

Mesmerized, we sit in front of our big screen TVs, too wired to sleep, too tired to do anything else but watch the mindless entertainment of various "reality" shows. Fear Factor? Disgust Factor is more like it. There's nothing like trying to choke down a TV dinner while some pathetic loser on TV is trying to choke down a bucket of worms. What most people don't realize, though, is that it's probably healthier to eat the worms than it is to eat the TV dinner.

However, should we end up with acute indigestion or chronic insomnia it's likely we'll find the remedy in the next commercial. Collectively, pharmaceutical companies make up another big block of TV advertisers. Prescription and over-the-counter drugs promise relief from all that ails us. We're addicted to medications that put us to sleep, wake us up, calm us down, increase our energy, steady our nerves, cure our colds, treat our allergies, stimulate our libidos, or alleviate our pain. There's a medication to treat just about everything except stupidity.

Face it! Americans are the most drug-addicted people on Earth. We show great tolerance for addictions to legal drugs, but zero tolerance for even the most casual use of illegal ones. How hypocritical is that?

American consumers spend many billions annually on legal drug purchases, a few billions more on illegal drugs, and upwards of $40 billion to fight the war on (some) drugs. Never mind that a lucrative market for illegal drugs can only maintain in a climate of prohibition. We're not only addicted to drugs, we're addicted to failed drug policies, too.

Disclaimers and warnings of serious side effects always accompany prescription drug ads:

Uncle Festus' Hangnail Remover has been shown to cause headache, nausea, vomiting, bleeding ulcers, hair loss, loose teeth, diarrhea, rectal hemorrhaging, and bad breath. Some people may be at increased risk for heart attack, stroke, liver or kidney failure, athlete's foot or dementia. Deaths have been known to occur. Use only as directed. If symptoms persist or become worse, contact your doctor.

Thanks, but when the known side effects of treatment exceed, in number and severity, the symptoms of the original ailment, a prudent person will either suffer through the original ailment or seek out treatment alternatives.

We humans are versatile creatures and we owe much of our versatility to television. Thanks to our addiction to TV and our susceptibility to the influence it has over our lives, we've become portable disposal units for the fast food industry and mobile toxic waste disposal sites for the pharmaceuticals industry. We should probably aspire to something better, but until we see a suggestion for it in a TV commercial, we probably won’t.

*This article originally appeared, in slightly different form, on March 20, 2006, in Issue #27 of Petey’s Pipeline E-zine.

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Addiction Affliction (Part 1)*

We Americans are habitual addicts. Indoctrinated into consumerism at an early age, most of us base every aspect of our lives on conspicuous consumption. Even when we work at producing something, it's all about being able to consume more. We're so enamored of self-indulgence that we've elevated addiction, per se, to a lifestyle.

Appetite, pleasure, well being, convenience and technology are the main ingredients of most addictions. Add varying amounts of greed, selfishness, indolence and flawed percepts and you have a winning formula for an addiction that's almost impossible to break.

In bygone eras, people worked hard, albeit at a slower pace, to grow, process, preserve and prepare their own food. The labors given over to such activities were part of making a living. Today, people work hard to earn money to buy inferior pre-packaged food that requires only a minimum of preparation. We no longer have the time or energy needed to make a home-cooked meal from scratch.

However, the object of the labor is the same. One must work in order to eat. The difference is that now our labor is co-opted by third parties to the betterment of third-party interests. In effect, we became the unwitting servants of a pervasive corporatocracy.

The same reasoning, the same logic, the same explanations can be applied to all of life's necessities. Houses, clothing, labor saving appliances—whatever it is we need—are all obtained in the same way. We exchange our labor for money, and then we exchange our money for that which we need or want.

Instead of working for a year or two to build a home out of materials that can be had at low cost or for free, we'll buy a pre-existing home and work for thirty years to pay off the mortgage. Credit becomes essential to our lives, and soon we're addicted to it.

Because the price of goods always rises faster than wages, we find ourselves in a classic dilemma. We work harder to increase our productivity, to make ourselves a more valuable commodity in the marketplace so we can earn more money. Often, we work more hours, further limiting the time and energy we have available to pursue personal goals. To free up more time and conserve more of our energy, we buy yet another labor saving device (on credit, of course), further increasing our indebtedness.

As the cost of living increases, we find ourselves lagging farther behind. At some point we discover that our life has become a racing, spinning, not so merry merry-go-round, and that the brass ring is always just beyond our reach. Each revolution of this vicious, whirling circle of insanity digs the rut a little deeper. Soon, the struggle to get ahead becomes a struggle to get caught up.

And so we become addicted to our job, addicted to the daily routine that having a job demands, addicted to the lifestyle we develop because of our job, addicted to our ability to accumulate possessions, addicted to our desire to keep up appearances. It's not just the job we're addicted to; every aspect of our job, everything that influences our job and everything that's influenced by it becomes a part of our addiction because it's a package deal.

Our job title, then, becomes an integral part of our identity. Whether doctor, lawyer, beggar, steelworker, stay-at-home mom, or blogger, we develop a behavior pattern specific to our identity, and we channel our thoughts and actions in ways that reinforce and protect our sense of self.

In essence, the identity we create for ourselves becomes an addiction, too.

*This article originally appeared, in slightly different form, on March 6, 2006, in Issue #26 of Petey’s Pipeline E-zine.

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Universal Health Scare

There are enough “strikes” in the Health Care Reconciliation Bill to take the Major League, the Minor League, and all the Little Leagues through an entire season of baseball. With all the misdirection that is part and parcel of the legislative process, it’s no wonder that legislators find it so easy to deceive the American public into accepting something they shouldn’t.

Maureen was right:

“The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for.” —Maureen Dowd

Without the original bill, the reconciliation bill is absolutely incomprehensible. But, hey, I’m willing to bet that the original bill is pretty much incomprehensible, too. It’s a simple strategy, really; if no one knows what they’re voting for, they won’t know what they’re getting—until they’ve already got it.

The health care bill is just another example, in a long list of examples, of politicians adhering to the old adage, “If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.”

It’s too much to expect that the people who already have health care should give a rat’s ass about the people who don’t.

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