BEST IDEA I've heard in a long time!

Double A mentioned this on our radio show today, and I am all for it.

We need to make the politicians wear suits advertising their commercial endorsements, just like the NASCAR drivers do. The more money contributed, the bigger the logo!

In the case of BigPharma, the logo should be that of the most popular, best-selling drug of any given company. For instance, Eli Lilly's biggest seller last year was CYMBALTA, so that word should be suitably emblazoned on the jackets of any and all politicians who took Eli Lilly's generous corporate donations. (This could well have a subliminal effect: Perhaps people will wonder if the politician-in-question is making them depressed?) I personally can't wait for conservative Senator Tom Coburn, who took $7000 from Purdue Pharma, to wear the giant word OXYCONTIN on his belly, as he addresses his constituents. Likewise, how funny would it be if Obama wore the logo ADDERALL XR at his next press conference? (Would he seem more or less authoritative?)

Here are some fashion-forward ideas I discovered, when I searched the web.

From Crooks and Liars:



Like I said, no cheating with PFIZER... it has to say VIAGRA, so everyone will recognize the product. (And frankly, this move might not sell the product as well as playing them sexee blues songs on TV commercials, but maybe Pfizer should start thinking about IMAGE?)

~*~



~*~

From Good.is:



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~*~

Somebody named Captain Obvious contributed this to a political forum, the new Supreme Court robes:



~*~

And from Political Irony:

The AA ballad of Hugo Schwyzer

My enduring silence on this past summer's Hugo Schwyzer debacle, has been wholly deliberate. For those who need the background, check it out HERE, HERE and HERE. (Warnings out the wazoo, as we say here in the South.)





One of those primary "recovery rules" is that you do not judge another addict, or doubt that they are sober.

Just look at the fallout here when I (correctly) called the cause of Brittany Murphy's death before it was official. I was considered ableist and out of line. (And when I was proven right, none of these people apologized to me either.) I learned from that, and decided I would be more circumspect the next time.

And so initially, I did not plan on saying anything at all about Hugo's now-famous, bizarre meltdown. But since then, folks have pointedly asked me for my opinion, since I mentioned him in my post about my own AA anniversary... and so I have now decided to comment at length.

~*~

At some point, I think after I read the famous jizz piece, I decided feminist-professor Hugo was using and/or drinking again.

The problem was (see Brittany Murphy, Michael Jackson, et al), these were undoubtedly perfectly-legal, professionally-vetted, prescribed meds that he had started abusing again... and this is one reason hard-core Alcoholics Anonymous people like my sponsor were so categorically anti-drug. Prescription drugs are still drugs. Of course there are always "good reasons" for them; I got a million Rxs in my life, with no trouble. Had good reasons for them all. Primary among these reasons: I was an addict, I wanted them, and I knew how to get them.

The onslaught of anti-depressants, sleeping aids and anti-anxiety meds for recovering addicts/alcoholics, has been an unmitigated disaster. Its also an old feud within AA and NA (Narcotics Anonymous), as well as within other recovery circles. The concept is that people were "self-medicating" with alcohol (and so what else is new) and so they just needed the "correct" meds and ... then they somehow magically won't want those naughty "bad" drugs anymore. This is self-serving, narcissistic, addict-apologist bullshit. Always has been. Thing is, those of us who clung to this uncool, supposedly-outmoded view (that it's bullshit), invariably lost the war. Drugs flooded into recovery circles like the proverbial tidal wave. (NOTE: I have been alcohol-free for 32 years, and I refer to the advent of Prozac and similar drugs in the early 90s.)

At one point, I refused to sponsor people who were using prescription drugs to 'cushion their fall' into reality. And I learned (to my alarm) that I could spot them fairly easily. They didn't LEARN anything. They retained many/most of their negative personality-issues and character defects. They didn't "work on themselves"--and I think it's because, frankly, they didn't feel enough pain to find it necessary to change. Pain is instructional. Depression is instructional. Guilt and shame are instructional. When you do not allow yourself to FEEL these emotions/states of mind (self-medicating, the reason you drank in the first place), you do not learn the REASONS for them, which are usually: personality disorders, erroneous views of reality, childhood traumas left to fester and infect the psyche, self-esteem in the toilet, PTSD run amok, a puritanical/punitive world-view, etc. Drugs are a band-aid solution. As soon as I would get close to any of these issues in a sponsoree, they would have a meltdown (much like Hugo's!) and then go robotic; that particular, tell-tale type of robotic-reaction that is made possible by the psychological BUFFER OF CHEMICALS that is DRUGS.

No work could get done.

"I think I have PTSD," says the recovering person.

"Let's work on it," I'd say.

(((HYSTERIA))) followed by the robotic, predictably drugged-up countenance.

Like clockwork.

I would finally cut them loose, and I'd say, get another sponsor or come back to me when you cut out the drugs. I don't care if Sigmund fucking Freud himself gave them to you, NO. I will not work with people who are buffering the world with drugs. WON'T DO IT. And most of these people would hang around awhile, then leave. This has become known as the "revolving door of recovery"--because it just happens over and over and these people never learn to DO WITHOUT SUBSTANCES. TOTALLY.

At this point, readers are thinking/saying, "You are not a professional! Danger, Will Robinson, danger!" And they are right. I am not. That is how AA works, and how it worked for me. I do not go to professionals, I do not BELIEVE in bullshit elitist, over-educated professionals, who have over-prescribed drugs to the point that we now have multiple-epidemics of junkies on the level we have never before had in history. PROFESSIONALS ARE PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM. I believe in peers, I believe in equality, I believe in people who have been through what I have been through, I believe in the power of regular human beings connecting with each other. That is what worked for me, and I still believe in it. Professionals pretty much destroyed AA, as did the courts forcing people to attend meetings after being arrested for drunken driving or drug possession (in direct violation of the 11th Tradition, which originally stated that AA membership should be based on "attraction rather than promotion"). The overarching resentment of these court-ordered maybe-alcoholics just smoldered, and their anger was palpable in many meetings, destroying the cozy family-atmosphere we once enjoyed. Meanwhile, the professionals brought in all kinds of psychobabble and Dr Feelgood jargon, correcting the scruffy street-people and (ever so politely!) reinterpreting their experience for them with big words and medical concepts, alienating them even further.

As I said, unmitigated disaster.

In short, old style AA might have helped Hugo. The moment I learned he was still "on meds" (which I'm sure were duly prescribed by one of the all-holy and infallible professionals) --I knew the implosion was just a matter of time. I just waited for it, wincing, because I figured it would be a flame-out of Biblical proportions. (I have also been waiting for something like this from Glenn Beck, and he has disappointed me so far, unless he has been able to keep it out of the media.) I have seen countless of these in AA. It usually manifests in these kinds of people (Hugo and Glenn Beck), who make "recovery" part of their identity. It's okay to do this for awhile, even necessary at first. (e.g. I once saw myself as party animal, so it was necessary at first to see myself as recovery animal; I had to put something IN ITS PLACE as a substitution.) But eventually, the idea should be that we MOVE ON. (I have not been to an AA meeting in about a dozen years now.) After a decent length of time has passed, we should even be able to figure out if indeed a certain drug might be helpful and/or good for us. I am old, and my joints are falling apart; there ARE good drugs, and I fully understand that now. Similarly, a toke at the bluegrass concert, did not hurt me. I have learned the MIDDLE PATH at long last, but only because I made learning that a priority. I did not want to be dependent on AA (or drugs) my whole life. I know the important thing: my drug of choice, alcohol, and highly addictive drugs (Valium, sleeping pills, Oxys, opiates, meth, questionable "appetite suppressants" such as the now-disgraced Preludin, which I ate like candy) are totally off limits for me. I avoid them like the plague. I do not take any psych meds daily, since I believe they interfere with my judgement and make it more likely that I will forget this personal boundary and break this rule. I have managed to maintain my sobriety, although sometimes tenuous, through remembering my triggers: bad temper, familial stress (and attendant co-dependency; trying to run other people's lives to my specifications), feelings of inadequacy, hypochondria... and more importantly, I know where all of these traits came from and how they originated in my life (meaning: I no longer hate myself for them).

I DID THE WORK, SO I KNOW THESE THINGS.

Hugo didn't. So he doesn't.

One of his triggers: WOMEN. He should have been forbidden from any and all relationships for a period of time, until his sponsor told him it was safe, and then the sponsor should have properly vetted the relationship. No sex; celibacy until you figure out what sex is doing to your life and why you compulsively seek it out. (This is true for MEN AND WOMEN regarding what is called "sex addiction" --which often goes hand-in-hand with other addictions, just as co-dependency and eating disorders do.) I know, this sounds cultish, but THAT IS WHAT I MEAN: Hugo went to the new, improved (snark), Rxs-for-everybody AA, not the cold-showers-and-root-canal version I went to in 1982. When I entered AA, NOT cooperating was really not an option if you wanted to hang around for an extended length of time. The Alcoholics Anonymous I went to was categorical: No serious decisions for a year. This rule includes jobs (if you are employed, do not change jobs or quit your job; if unemployed, try to stretch this out as long as you can), relationships (no changing them, no divorces, no "falling in love", no fucking around), and living arrangements, unless you are in an emergency situation (and many addicts are). Every stress-making decision was talked over carefully first, in meetings or with your sponsor. Everything you did and thought was thoroughly interrogated and examined, first by yourself, and if you still weren't sure, you brought it to "group conscience." [When I was faced with attending my grandmother's wake in Indiana, after only six slim months of sobriety, I fully realized this would be a rowdy and hyper-emotional occasion in MY hard-drinking family. The group counseled me, en masse, do not stay with a family member, stay in a motel instead. Wow, I said, isn't that RUDE? Someone replied, "Is getting howling drunk and fucking everything up rude?" Hmm, good point. I stayed in the motel. I managed. It was okay. I got through it, and the group's collective wisdom was the reason why.]

It was a hard-ass approach, but it is the one I think is necessary, because ADDICTS LIE TO THEMSELVES EVEN MORE THAN THEY DO TO EVERYONE ELSE.

And that way of life now seems extinct. I mourn its loss. It might have saved Hugo.

This is why I did not initially comment on Hugo's flame-out, because I knew I would have to say all of this. I think recovery itself FAILED HUGO, because it got soft.

In fact, let me be clear: the new and improved (snark again) recovery was TAILOR MADE for attention-whores like him. He then could use the fact of recovery to become a star and pump up his self-importance and toxic ego even more. For some of us, particularly down here in the working classes, addiction and alcoholism are still stigmatized; even admitting it is in your past, is still stigmatized. I often do not tell people, unless they finally ask me if there is a reason I never drink.

We don't have "stars" in the working classes (who do not eventually become recovery professionals themselves)... you have to be an academic or writer or media-figure to be a "recovery star"--and Hugo was. He used this fact about himself to boost his star-appeal, which tells me that he still hadn't worked on one of his major personality defects: attention-whoredom.

This has been difficult to write. In AA circles, what I have just done is called "taking Hugo's inventory" and is considered really bad form. I apologize, but felt it was necessary after I was asked the 6th or 7th time, and by people I deeply respect. I "defended" Hugo the last time (actually I just said he needed to be able to write honestly about what had happened--although interestingly, I don't). After his most recent flip-out, a couple of people got nasty with me and asked me if I had rescinded that post. No, I haven't--but then, I was writing it about someone I thought was actually recovering. (Notably: I had not seen the infamous jizz piece at that time.)

I would issue a warning, just in general: If you see people leave AA and then take up with some hard-core religion? Warning. DANGER. This person needs rules and boundaries, and they feel they are not getting them. So, they/we go where there are rules, lots and lots of rules. I did, my sponsor did, Glenn Beck did, and I notice, Hugo did. It is NEVER a good sign. It can work for some of us, as a sort of "transition out" of AA, a halfway-house into the regular world. But for others, it just means CARTE BLANCHE and gives them a whole new playground to play in. Aha, they think, I just needed GOD! I was never an alcoholic, I just needed JEEZUS! (And since we know that now, why not have a drink to celebrate?)

Watch out. As the Grateful Dead song said, trouble ahead, trouble behind. Hugo easily found the trouble, and took a nice long bath in it.

If AA had stayed true to itself, the revolving door of recovery would not exist, and the revolving door into the Church/Synagogue/Mosque/Ashram wouldn't either. As it is, we have all been betrayed, and Big Pharm bears a lot of the blame. But we have also lost our way, we have also declined the rougher, more unpleasant aspects of recovery, such as taking a big, bold look at ourselves as we really and truly are, putting all those pesky psychic-dramas under the microscope for close inspection. We have not wanted to look at the damage we have done--at least I never did. This means people like Hugo can write dramatic accounts of almost-murder/suicides and make them sound like Movies-of-the-Week, instead of the horrific, desperate acts they actually are (if his dramatic tale is true at all, of course. I have come to doubt it, or at least, wonder what parts of the story were edited/left out/trumped up, etc.)

I hope this is a satisfactory reply to the people who have asked me to comment on Hugo. I did not mean it to be so long... but then again, that is why I didn't want to write about him in the first place. I do see Hugo as a casualty of his own hubris... but the difference is, in the old days, he couldn't have used recovery as an excuse to GET WORSE. And now, it seems to be a rather common phenomenon.

I weep for those of us who will never recover. I hope Hugo can. But first, he needs to shut up, and for a good long time, too. Attention is his enemy. Although for some, it is a balm, since they were often totally ignored and relegated to the back of the room. That's the thing: One size does not fit all.

And once upon a time, AA knew that and counseled us accordingly.

I miss those days.

Tuesday linkage

Stuff you should be reading:


flyover or drivethrough country? a little about class and air travel: And how do you feel about that snotty term, "flyover country"?

Josh Horwitz on the Secret Market Segments of the Gun Manufacturers: Mike asks the pertinent question, if the gun lobby and gun manufacturers are going to such great lengths to conceal the exact numbers of sales, what are they up to?

Behold the most racist political ad of the year: You've been warned. It appears they managed to locate Charlie Chan's long-lost daughter, to do this awful commercial.

Merck pays a pittance for mass deaths: Question: Who killed more Americans —al Qaeda crashing airplanes into the World Trade Center, or Merck pushing Vioxx? Answer: Merck, by a factor of 18. Are you surprised?

Human Rights Campaign's New York Gala Dinner Protested By Queer Occupy Wall Street Group: On Saturday, a subset of Occupy Wall Street protesters calling themselves "Queer/LGBTIQA2Z Occupy Wall Street" protested the Human Rights Campaign (HRC) gala dinner at New York's Waldorf Astoria hotel because the organization was honoring Goldman Sachs.

Dennis Kucinich v. Marcy Kaptur: How GOP Redistricting Will Force Out a Top Progressive Congressmember: Two of the best in congress, which one would you choose? I have much empathy for my home state on this one.

Chris Hayes: Why Clint Eastwood’s commercial devastates Republicans: For the life of me, I can't figure out all the hoopla over the SuperBowl Clint Eastwood commercial. Hayes explains it.

Madonna, M.I.A., 'Bad Girls': The Dangers of Co-Opting Cool: As I stated yesterday, there were more tweets about M.I.A. flipping the audience the bird during the SuperBowl, than about the entire war in Afghanistan. I mean, you know, a star flipping the bird on live TV is big news. Everybody wants to know why she did it, and Joshua Ostroff explains why. (Although I did have to leave a post, correcting his iconography.) In addition, she may face a hefty a FCC fine.

Newt Gingrich's last comeback: (screams) Oh no, not another one.

I have always intended to link this great blog that you should visit every day: A PHOTO A DAY FROM PLANET EARTH. They're always outstanding!

And we end with another incisive observation from the Dalai Lama, courtesy of Mills River Progressive.

~*~

Sitting in an old Midwestern dining room with curtains flapping in the breeze. Where was it? Not my house. But it was dusk and the strong spring scent of lilacs flowed through the room. I remember peering out the window, but I don't remember the view. I do remember the song. :)

Warning: it's old and was obviously recorded right off the psychedelic teevee. This version (with embedding disabled) is more listenable than the one below, which ain't saying much.

My apologies for poor quality, but of COURSE it would have poor quality. :)

Blues Magoos - We Ain't Got Nothin Yet

SAVE THE INTERNET!

The SOPA hearings are today, and of course you all are writing and emailing and calling your government representatives to let them know that YOU READ BLOGS and BLOGS ARE UNDER ATTACK! SAVE THE BLOGGERS! THIS IS HORRIBLE! Free speech is under attack by corporations.

I can't say it any clearer than that. Please help.

SOPA is the Stop Internet Piracy Act introduced in Congress. This will keep people like me and you from reproducing forgotten 70s songs or peace symbols or movie reviews or (ahhhh, here it is) political criticism on our blogs. Here is the Judiciary Committee description, from the horse's mouth, so to speak:

The purpose of this legislative hearing is to examine issues that relate to H.R. 3261, the Stop Online Piracy Act, which was introduced October 26, 2011. The Stop Online Piracy Act (H.R. 3261) builds on the Pro IP Act of 2008 and the Senate’s Protect IP Act introduced earlier this year. The bill modernizes our criminal and civil statutes to meet new IP enforcement challenges and protect American jobs. The proposal reflects a bipartisan and bicameral commitment toward ensuring that law enforcement and job creators have the necessary tools to protect American intellectual property from counterfeiting and piracy

...

Twenty-one Members have joined House Judiciary Committee Chairman Lamar Smith (R-Texas), Ranking Member John Conyers (D-Mich.), IP Subcommittee Chairman Bob Goodlatte (R-Va.) and Rep. Howard Berman (D-Calif.) in sponsoring the bill. Additional information about the bill can be found on the House Judiciary Committee website here.

And check out that list of corporate sponsors. Is that the 1% or what? When I see BigPharma, I know what side my bread is buttered on, as my grandma used to say.

You can't criticize something if you can't directly quote it. And of course, this is primarily what is intended, despite the okey-doke from the mega-rich supporters of this bill. In fact, my quote above is an example of exactly what could be legally blocked: Quoting the powerful at length (and possibly even linking).

Ironically, something bloggers invented to make SURE we got it right, that we were using people's actual words, the veritable lingua franca of the internet, would be seriously curtailed or even abolished. In practice, big blogs with lawyers and money (HuffPo, DailyKos, etc) would probably be allowed to continue, but small blogs like mine? Badly harmed, and possibly blocked for good. Needless to say, small blogs are mostly local. My blog is possibly the only left-wing blog in upstate South Carolina, surely the only one that has been around for years. (Do the words "sitting duck" mean anything to you?)


At left: The late Ben Masel, free speech activist and Yippie extraordinaire, who would have been in Washington today, if he'd heard about this. (We miss you, man.)



Email your Senator and Congressperson NOW. I just emailed Senator Lindsey Graham (regarding the related IP law introduced in the Senate) and got this predictable, canned response:

Thank you for taking the time to contact me. I appreciate the opportunity to hear from you.

In spite of the high volume of mail I receive daily, I look forward to reviewing your correspondence and providing a personal response as soon as possible.

As we continue our work in the 112th Congress, I look forward to supporting our troops in the War on Terror, repairing our economy and creating jobs, strengthening Social Security, lowering the tax burden on American families, and making the federal government more accountable and efficient.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if I may be of further assistance to you or your family, and if you need immediate assistance, please call my office at 202-224-5972. If your correspondence pertains to a scheduling request, please fax your request to (202) 224-3808.

Sincerely,

Lindsey Graham

So helpful, as always.

Or maybe he wants us shut down too. I can certainly see why. ;)

Other blogs participating include Boing Boing (who tipped us all off! They deserve a medal!), Daily Kos, Feminist Critics (HI BALLGAME!), Tech dirt (who point out that sports bloggers will be particularly harmed), Huffington Post, Law Librarian Blog, threat post, DO THE WINDY THING, Blogowogo, Electronic Frontier Foundation, AVAAZ.org (sign their petition), Kittywampus, Fight for the Future, and many more. You should read them all.

Ballgame also links this gem: Lying on the Internet could soon be a federal crime. Good Lord, I think THAT could shut the whole internet down good and proper, wouldn't it? Will it include politicians? Entertainers who claim their product is good, when it's shit? Wait, will OPINIONS be judged true or false too? I see this going down scary Orwellian paths.

And I reserve the right to lie about my weight online! They CAN'T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!!!

If Men Had Hot Flashes

Of course, we know that hot flashes are caused by menopause. But what causes them? Why do they continue in some women and not in others? Why do some foods seem to precipitate them? Why do they occur in the dead of night?

As you may or may not know, if you look up "causes of hot flashes"--HOW they happen, the physiological mechanism--you repeatedly read the following:

The exact cause of hot flashes isn't known, but the signs and symptoms point to factors affecting the function of your body's thermostat — the hypothalamus. This area at the base of your brain regulates body temperature and other basic processes. The estrogen reduction you experience during menopause may disrupt hypothalamic function, leading to hot flashes.

Well, duh!

I could have written that. I know what the hypothalamus does. Most of us who wake up soaking wet, have figured out that it's something like that.

But what CAUSES the hypothalamus to go wacky? What is the exact way lowered-estrogen affects the hypothalamus? How and why does hormone-level impact it?

(((crickets)))

Wait, they can figure out how to make hard-on drugs for old guys, but they still don't know what causes hot flashes?????

Now, let me guess. Why do you suppose that is?

Are women, specifically OLDER women, just not that important? Why has some high-end study not been conducted? THIS IS 2011!

Wait, let me guess again. Someone tried to fund a study, and couldn't get funded. The pharmaceutical industry specialized in giving women cancer for decades, and that was judged good enough. It was only when various medical studies came out, definitively condemning Hormone Replacement Therapy as a medical risk, that many women started studying the issue for ourselves. After all, our mothers and grandmothers had used HRT, and we assumed we might also.

But my mother had breast cancer (when she was exactly my age) and my grandmother had fibrocystic breast disease (to such an extent that she had several large, but benign, breast cysts surgically removed). Hm, thought the baby-boomer women. Maybe they're right, and we shouldn't use astronomical levels of hormones? (And why didn't they study the safety of hormones, before dosing millions of women with them? Well, why would they?)

Okay, we thought, let's study the condition, and figure out what might help; first, the cause of hot flashes. If we can isolate the cause, we can figure out what natural or alternative treatments might be. At the very least, we can figure out catalysts and try to minimize their occurrence.

(((crickets)))

They. Don't. Know.

They put a man on the moon (man on the moooooon) -- so yes, it is reasonable to assume they might care about their moms' discomfort. Isn't it?

Ha!

I started menopause in 2006, and as regular readers know, I celebrated my postmenopausal self (defined as one year of not menstruating) by starting this blog in June of 2007. I still have hot flashes, although not the wretched slow-boil kind (known as "ember flashes"), which are mercifully behind me. Some women continue to have those, too, though. Why? And why are they notably less common in Asian women? Is this cultural, and possibly diet-related? A good way to determine this would be to study hot flashes in Asian women still living in Asian countries and eating Asian diets, vs Asian women who live in the USA and eat the usual American diet of processed foods, salty snacks and Taco Bell. Is there a difference in number of hot flashes? Or perhaps there is a genetic component.

And have they done this? I have no college degree, and yet, I can figure out this much.

(((crickets)))

Last night--BANG, in the middle of the night, I woke up and wiped off the sweat. I wondered if it was something I ate at a wedding reception, and then... was instantly peeved: I SHOULD KNOW THIS! I SHOULD KNOW WHAT FOODS TO AVOID, DAMMIT! WHERE IS MY GUIDE FOR THE MENOPAUSAL SWEATY WOMAN, WRITTEN BY SOME ASSOCIATION???!!! As the diabetic associations and the gluten-intolerance associations and the salt-free associations offer guides for their people.

No, they can't provide this, since they are clueless.

Women have lived on this planet as long as men, and yet--? Hot flashes are still described as a "mystery."

And so, in a nod to Gloria Steinem's witty piece titled "If Men Could Menstruate"--here is what occurred to me in the dead of night.

~*~

If Men Had Hot Flashes, there would be a Hot Flashes Association (HFA) with foods marked "HFA" (logo inside a macho male symbol), the way Cheerios have a little heart on them, for "heart healthy." Needless to say, they would KNOW which foods to eat and which not to eat, since extensive research and causality studies would exist.

If Men Had Hot Flashes, the Weather Channel would feature a daily Hot Flash Report, instructing men with maps of Hot Flash Regions for the day (since extensive research will show that weather is a factor). Men at work will ask each other (not in whispers, either), what the Hot Flash Report said that morning: "Did anyone catch the Hot Flash report? Whew, is it hot in here?" Raucous laughter and high-fives.

If Men Had Hot Flashes, there would be hot-flash drugs tomorrow morning. And they would be advertised in pricey, cutesy TV ads, just like Viagra, Cialis, etc. (Drugs with NO female equivalent, BTW, since older women's sexual enjoyment is as low-priority in this culture as the dilemma of hot flashes is.)

If Men Had Hot Flashes, when it's time to toast at the wedding and they flush unexpectedly, they will stand up boldly and proudly announce, "I AM HAVING A HOT FLASH!"--and all men in the room will applaud, laugh and cheer. It will be like announcing which team is going to the Orange Bowl. No shame, no apologies. No giggling by anybody when they turn beet-red. What is to apologize for? It's a sign of MANHOOD, isn't it? And therefore, it would be roundly celebrated.

If Men Had Hot Flashes, women would hear how we really don't understand the mysteries of the human body, the stages of life, the natural progression of age. We would hear jokes about "women menopause"--how women suddenly have to acquire sports cars and young hottie-boys in old age. Or is that just too funny to think about? Yes, you're right, never mind. (Let's skip this one, too sci-fi to be believable.)

If Men Had Hot Flashes, they would brag about how hot it was, how long it lasted, and who had the biggest. They would institute suitable competitions and a Champion thus installed: Hot Flash Champion. And everyone would know this man's name.

If Men Had Hot Flashes, they would probably wake up their wives at night and demand to be taken to the ER. Some Nice Guys(tm) would quietly and politely not wake the Missus, take a cold shower, and go back to sleep... only to be called MANGINA, WIMP, WUSS, PUSSY-WHIPPED and such, by his fellow males. Suitably chastened, Nice Guy(tm) will attempt to make a big fuss next time, like a proper man should.

If Men Had Hot Flashes, there would be literary works throughout history about Hot Flashes. Shakespeare's Henry V would have given a rousing speech, "We happy Few! We who burn on the pyre manhood!" (Males thrust weapons into the air and shout in response: AGGGHHH!!!!) TS Eliot would write great poems about his hot flashes, while Hemingway would turn it into an existential drama about hunting. And we would have to study all of this in school, and it would be nothing to take lightly or laugh about. THIS IS MANHOOD WE ARE TALKING ABOUT, people!

If Men Had Hot Flashes, John Wayne would have said: "I gotta hot flash, pilgrim, whats it to ya?" This famous manly comment, shrugging off the tortures of the damned, will make it into Bartlett's Quotations.

If Men Had Hot Flashes, well, I wouldn't even have to write this. ;)

Open Letter to Governor Haley from Occupy Columbia

The following is an open letter to South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley from Occupy Columbia:


On Thursday, Governor Nikki Haley said that unions are behind the Occupy Wall Street movement. We contest that accusation. This is a leaderless movement that welcomes participation from all groups, but neither bows down nor endorses any. We’ve publicly invited all people or organizations, whether they be Unions or the Tea Party, to come take part in a conversation about economic injustice and a system that is rigged to benefit the 1% at the direct expense of the 99%.

We challenge Governor Haley to produce evidence to back up her claim. If she would attend one of our General Assemblies (held every day at 10:00am and 7:00pm), she would realize that all decicions made by Occupy Columbia are voted on by those in attendence. We require a 90% threshold for consensus, and no group, Union or otherwise, has the ability to control that.

On the other hand, it was the Governor herself who said, earlier this morning, that she is the “number one employee” of a pharmaceutical company and that their success is her “number one goal.” This company, Nephron Pharmaceuticals is the same company whose private jet she used to fly to a fundraiser in Dallas, TX last month, according to Fits News.

We had members in attendance for this morning’s announcement, one holding a sign reading “Who owns you?” Her number one priority should be the success of the people of South Carolina, not the non-body person that is a major pharmaceutical company.

By her statement, she is the personification of the merger of state and corporate interests. We applaud her bold honesty, but find it hard to believe that she can be expected to be accountable after such a declarative pledge of allegiance to the highest bidder.



Dated October 28, 2011. Most emphatically and enthusiastically seconded.

Gladly reprinted from Occupy Columbia.

Never Say Die: The Myth and Marketing of the New Old Age by Susan Jacoby

First of all, I want to make it clear that it is sheer coincidence that I am criticizing another atheist today; this makes two-in-a-row, and I realize that looks bad. As I have said many times, I love the atheists for keeping us honest and forcing us (okay: me) to cut the perpetual starry-eyed routine. However, I have just read a very good book by an atheist, but I'm afraid her atheism has compromised the book, so I have to say so.

Susan Jacoby's fascinating NEVER SAY DIE: The Myth and Marketing of the New Old Age, is one of those books I have been waiting for, and didn't quite realize it until I found myself hungrily turning pages and consuming it all in one afternoon. Interestingly, I finished it right after my doctor-visit and a lecture (not the first) about my cholesterol.

Do I see the numbers? Yes.

My weight and glucose are way down... but that damn LDL number creeps up and up. "If diet and exercise are not enough..." echo those damn TV ads from evillll BigPharma. Yes, they mean ME, now.

My 35-40 lb weight loss over the past 18 months, coupled with my devoted Swamp Rabbit Trail hiking, was supposed to magically make my cholesterol number go down and... (stares uncomprehendingly at the printed lab results that announce my HDL/LDL) well, it didn't work. I am pleased I am no longer a diabetes risk, but... well, shit, it's always something.

And that is a very good description of aging, "it's always something"... in this hard-nosed book that debunks and deconstructs the various Hallmark-greeting-card myths of aging, Jacoby plows right in. As one of those dedicated atheist-rationalists that takes no prisoners, she decimates several of the major aging myths, and not a few of the minor ones. For example, if you are an asshole in your youth, there is no reason to think you will age gracefully into a nice person with appropriate old-age "wisdom" -- and vice versa. As evidence, she offers (on one hand) Henry Kissinger, who is ancient but still defending genocide with aplomb. On the other hand, she offers Jimmy Carter, who continues to contribute to and enrich our world in so many ways. Certainly, these are excellent examples, and she has no argument from me. My grandmother always said old age simply made you "more of what you are"--and Jacoby seems to agree.

Jacoby is careful to use the terms "young old" (which would be me) and "old old"--which are people in their 80s-90s. She believes the "young old" are used for propaganda purposes, so that (basically young and middle-aged) people can point to them/us with relieved sighs and reassure themselves they can "stay active" while growing old and spry. By contrast, nobody puts the "old old" in TV commercials and nobody seems very glad to see them. They are carefully segregated from the rest of us. She writes at length about the problem of loneliness in old people, as their friends and loved ones die off all around them.

One thing I found disturbing in Jacoby's book, is the casual way she accepts this. She does NOT accept other states-of-affairs as unchanging (in fact, she tells us she intends to go out as an "angry old lady"), without thorough questioning--so why is this particular fact just offered as a given? Perhaps because she simply states that she would not change her life for her aging mother, just as her mother had not changed her lifestyle for her aging mother. However, she does note that her grandmother DID take care of her great-grandmother. Somewhere along the way, "we" (there's that famous punchline: "Whatcha mean We?") stopped doing that. We did? (Did someone mention economic class?) Actually, lots of people didn't. The professional classes, the educated class to which Jacoby belongs, people who have book contracts and write regular columns for the Washington Post, did that first. People with important careers found that they could not (would not) be bothered with aging relatives. That was a deliberate choice that Jacoby made, but it is in no way a given.

"Old old" people are more segregated than ever, and that is because advanced capitalism demands total mobility from everyone, so we end up moving all over the world to get and keep jobs. Of course old people are warehoused, who else is going to look after them? (A possible good side effect of the economy tanking, might be that fewer people are forced to move around so much, and old people might actually be able to stay in real homes.)

One of Jacoby's chapters is alarmingly titled, Women: Eventually the Only Sex. Women overwhemingly overpopulate the "old old" ... social and political concerns about aging are basically about the future of women and how we will live in our final decades; as we all know, the guys check out earlier. Jacoby echoes my own feelings in how modern feminism, profoundly uncomfortable with aging, does not see the economic debates over Social Security and Medicaid to be directly concerned with women, even though WE are primarily who these programs are about... young feminists are preoccupied with sex, reproduction and other youthful pursuits, and it is unlikely we will get them to understand that this is THEIR future too. And that reminds me of another thing I disliked in the book, Jacoby's request that we lay off older men who prefer younger women, using some half-baked pseudo-Darwinian excuse about how men are visual and require more and more to turn them on as they age. Excuse me, but so? It takes me more and more too. If I can refrain (as most women do) from pinching boys on the ass and/or asking them to get married, I think most older men can show some restraint as well. The fact that they don't is because men don't need to exercise restraint... RESTRAINT is not masculine, after all. I am not sure why feminist Jacoby found it necessary to cut men slack in this one area in which they decidedly DON'T NEED ANY, but ... (yeesh)

From Jacoby's website, a summary of the book:

The author offers powerful evidence that America has always been a “youth culture” and that the plight of the neglected old dates from the early years of the republic. Today, it is urgent to distinguish between marketing hype and realistic hope about what lies ahead for more than 70 million Americans who will be over 65 in just twenty years. This wide-ranging reappraisal examines the explosion of Alzheimer’s cases, the uncertain economic future of aging boomers in a shaky economy, the predicament of women who make up an overwhelming majority of the oldest—and poorest—old; and the absence of control over dying in a society that devotes a huge proportion of its health care resources to medical intervention in the last year of life—even when there is no hope that the person will ever recover.

One amazing fact she offers is that even among Catholics, a majority support assisted suicide.

Since I am giving this book a (mostly) good review, where do I think Jacoby got it wrong? Exactly where an atheist would get it wrong: In not covering the role of religion in the lives of very old people. ESPECIALLY when she discusses depression and loneliness and other negative emotional states. Does religion help with these? (they do in young people) She totally avoids the question. I realize the answer may well be "no"--but I would like to see an honest airing of the question, preferably accompanied by some stats (which I realize would be difficult to obtain; like a nice meal, religion is a subjective experience, pleasant for some and pure hell for others)... but I am intelligent and self-aware enough to know that *I* will become a religious fanatic of some sort in my old age. I am trying to work it out so that I will not be an annoying type of religious fanatic, but a benign presence or (at best) one that people might take some comfort from. But I know already, that religion is my opiate, and at the end of my life, I will be administering opiates (all kinds) in spades.

What does atheism offer? I think yall might consider "atheist congregations" of one kind or another, for the social needs of atheists. Sweet Mormon, Baptist and Catholic ladies will come to visit you when you are old... In fact, I visited the late Monsignor Baum myself, about a week before his death (he gave me a blessing in Latin, he seemed to have forgotten the words in English, which I actually found charming) --even though I barely had time to wipe my butt in those days. But I made visiting him a religious priority.

Question: Do the atheists have ladies with angel-food cakes standing ready to visit the old atheists? (If not, yall really need to get to work on that.)

And if the atheists say, fuck angel-food cakes, we don't need people to visit us when we're old, well, maybe that is the major difference between them and the rest of us. They expect us all to be as hard-assed as they are, and we just can't do it.

Does religion make old age better or worse? And I don't simply refer to the religious practices of the old person in question, I also refer to religion as a social force; do not underestimate the importance of hundreds of Sunday School classes going to visit the old people and sing them songs.

I know I'll just love seeing them, when it's my turn.

Random complaining

I don't like:

...people who live in apartments and insist upon owning gigantic dogs that can't be exercised on a damn patio, so they bark all day long from boredom.

...southerners who claim various pot-luck offerings are vegetarian, but when pressed, admit said vegetable was fried in bacon grease.

...people who say the radiation in Japan is waaaay over there, so don't you worry yourself over it. The earth doesn't turn and the air never blows and water all stays in one place, so there's no way radiation can spread... oh, wait.

...de-clawing kitties. DON'T DO THAT. And I have the torn-up couches to prove that I don't believe in it. But I can also attest that torn-up couches are a small price to pay for well-mannered, happy felines.

...the way Farmville is always trying to separate you from your credit card, to purchase much-ballyhooed "Farm Cash"--with which you can buy cartoon lakes and donkeys and other dopey shit you don't need... hey, it's just like REAL LIFE!

...And finally...(((drum roll))

Male "enhancement" ads, like the endless infomercial I am listening to right now, wherein a dynamite sex-supplement promises to make you BIGGER and BETTER. It's probably just L-Arginine, an amino acid that can be taken by itself in large doses; up to 3 grams safely. (Works on women too! :D ) And it's lots cheaper than these TV-boosted supplements, which likely include Yohimbe, something that can adversely affect men with hypertension. (The difference between simple L-Arginine and these hotshot supplements can be as much as 100 bucks, so buyer beware.) I also hate the Viagra commercials for using the legendary and fabulous song "Spoonful" in the ads. The not-so-subtle racism of using a well-known black blues song directed at suburban white men with nice cars (not to mention the comprehensive medical insurance that covers these pricey Rx drugs; some insurers don't) seems a little obvious: If you take Viagra/Cialis/etc, you will be as sexy as black men, seems to be the significance of the blues-man message. And then there is the additional subtlety of the title and concept: you only need a spoonful of Viagra.

But even without music, all the winky-winky stuff in the ads (any moment can turn into a Cialis moment!) is offensive and junior high school. Yes, we all know how we get horny just by hammering nails (think about the Freudian implications of that for a second) and hanging out with the mister, as he does his manly household tasks. And then, a knowing look is exchanged, pecks on the mouth, and they leave the room together, arm in arm. We all know that our sexual experiences are EXACTLY like that, now don't we? (((rolls eyes)))

I do appreciate that the women in the ads are the same age as the men. In fact, these ads might be the only place on TV that this is true! Mostly, hot new actresses are paired with older, non-hotties. (Think about LAW AND ORDER and the age disparities.. gray hair and such are standard, but the women are all young.) This is true in movies as well. What can we surmise from this?: That BigPharma is aware they should try to be realistic in these ads--no Lolitas anywhere. And besides, maybe that is intimidating to older men? Or do they (as I suspect) just find the idea silly? (All they want is some familiar intimacy with the wife, not the babysitter.)

The CARS in the ads, and the fact that Viagra now sponsors NASCAR, well, that shouldn't be surprising. PERFORMANCE is a big word in all advertising related to men: Stereos, cell phones, cars, musical instruments, razor blades, athletic shoes, all promise various wonderful levels of PERFORMANCE, a word you rarely hear in commercials for women's products.

Now, I wonder why that is.

SAD (but three-dimensional!) update

So there I was on Sunday night, idly flipping channels as usual, and I suddenly came upon numerous hotshot CELEBRITIES with million-dollar winter-tans, trillion-dollar designer-gowns, thousand-dollar botoxed facial expressions (or lack of them) and fancy upswept hairdos, wearing... what?! 3-D glasses! They looked like my dearly departed grandpa at the drive-in movie! (In fact, it was a segment of the Grammy Awards.)

I admit, I laughed my ass off and made Mr Daisy come look at the spectacle of rich people with astronomically-expensive faces, hair and makeup, wearing cheap-ass 3-D glasses that looked like they came out of a Crackerjack box. HAHAHAHA! Did they know how stupid they looked? DEAD AIR certainly hopes so!

Interestingly, I can't find any photos of this humorous event online... did the stars agree to do it only if nobody took photos of audience-members while they looked dopey? If I'd known that, I woulda grabbed my camera for a video capture...


EDIT: In response to this post, skinner.fm has helpfully provided us with video captures of celebs in 3-D glasses at the Grammy Awards.--DD

~*~

In other news, blogging is becoming an old people's thang (something I have long suspected!):

Could it be that blogs have become online fodder for the — gasp! — more mature reader?

A new study has found that young people are losing interest in long-form blogging, as their communication habits have become increasingly brief, and mobile. Tech experts say it doesn't mean blogging is going away. Rather, it's gone the way of the telephone and e-mail — still useful, just not sexy.

...

The study, released Wednesday by the Pew Internet & American Life Project, found that 14 percent of Internet youths, ages 12 to 17, now say they blog, compared with just over a quarter who did so in 2006. And only about half in that age group say they comment on friends' blogs, down from three-quarters who did so four years ago.

Pew found a similar drop in blogging among 18- to 29-year-olds.

Overall, Pew estimates that roughly one in 10 online adults maintain a blog — a number that has remained consistent since 2005, when blogs became a more mainstream activity. In the U.S., that would mean there are more than 30 million adults who blog.

"That's a pretty remarkable thing to have gone from zero to 30 million in the last 10 years," says David Sifry, founder of blog search site Technorati.

But according to the data, that population is aging.

The Pew study found, for instance, that the percentage of Internet users age 30 and older who maintain a blog increased from 7 percent in 2007 to 11 percent in 2009.

Pew's over-18 data, collected in the last half of last year, were based on interviews with 2,253 adults and have a margin of error of plus or minus 2.7 percentage points. The under-18 data came from phone interviews with 800 12- to 17-year-olds and their parents. The margin of error for that data was plus or minus 3.8 percentage points.

So why are young people less interested in blogging?

The explosion of social networking is one obvious answer. The Pew survey found that nearly three-quarters of 12- to 17-year-olds who have access to the Internet use social networking sites, such as Facebook. That compares with 55 percent four years ago.

With social networking has come the ability to do a quick status update and that has "kind of sucked the life out of long-form blogging," says Amanda Lenhart, a Pew senior researcher and lead author of the latest study.

More young people are also accessing the Internet from their mobile phones, only increasing the need for brevity. The survey found, for instance, that half of 18- to 29-year-olds had done so.

All of that rings true to Sarah Rondeau, a freshman at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass.

"It's a matter of typing quickly. People these days don't find reading that fun," the 18-year-old student says.

I can't improve on that last line. ;)

(Thanks to Vanessa for the link!)

~*~

Pardon my spotty blogging over the past month, sports fans. I have had a pretty pronounced bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) this year, and my reliable herbal standbys, Rhodiola, Ashwanghanda and Ginseng have not helped me as much as they usually do. And then I read the Newsweek article, about how all of these BigPharma anti-depressants may be just as good as a placebo (OR AN HERB, Daisy interjected):

The research had shown that antidepressants help about three quarters of people with depression who take them, a consistent finding that serves as the basis for the oft-repeated mantra "There is no question that the safety and efficacy of antidepressants rest on solid scientific evidence," as psychiatry professor Richard Friedman of Weill Cornell Medical College recently wrote in The New York Times. But ever since a seminal study in 1998, whose findings were reinforced by landmark research in The Journal of the American Medical Association last month, that evidence has come with a big asterisk. Yes, the drugs are effective, in that they lift depression in most patients. But that benefit is hardly more than what patients get when they, unknowingly and as part of a study, take a dummy pill—a placebo. As more and more scientists who study depression and the drugs that treat it are concluding, that suggests that antidepressants are basically expensive Tic Tacs.

Hence the moral dilemma. The placebo effect—that is, a medical benefit you get from an inert pill or other sham treatment—rests on the holy trinity of belief, expectation, and hope. But telling someone with depression who is being helped by antidepressants, or who (like my friend) hopes to be helped, threatens to topple the whole house of cards. Explain that it's all in their heads, that the reason they're benefiting is the same reason why Disney's Dumbo could initially fly only with a feather clutched in his trunk—believing makes it so—and the magic dissipates like fairy dust in a windstorm. So rather than tell my friend all this, I chickened out. Sure, I said, there's lots of research showing that a new kind of antidepressant might help you. Come, let me show you the studies on PubMed.

It seems I am not alone in having moral qualms about blowing the whistle on antidepressants. That first analysis, in 1998, examined 38 manufacturer-sponsored studies involving just over 3,000 depressed patients. The authors, psychology researchers Irving Kirsch and Guy Sapirstein of the University of Connecticut, saw—as everyone else had—that patients did improve, often substantially, on SSRIs, tricyclics, and even MAO inhibitors, a class of antidepressants that dates from the 1950s. This improvement, demonstrated in scores of clinical trials, is the basis for the ubiquitous claim that antidepressants work. But when Kirsch compared the improvement in patients taking the drugs with the improvement in those taking dummy pills—clinical trials typically compare an experimental drug with a placebo—he saw that the difference was minuscule. Patients on a placebo improved about 75 percent as much as those on drugs. Put another way, three quarters of the benefit from antidepressants seems to be a placebo effect. "We wondered, what's going on?" recalls Kirsch, who is now at the University of Hull in England. "These are supposed to be wonder drugs and have huge effects."

The study's impact? The number of Americans taking antidepressants doubled in a decade, from 13.3 million in 1996 to 27 million in 2005.

To be sure, the drugs have helped tens of millions of people, and Kirsch certainly does not advocate that patients suffering from depression stop taking the drugs. On the contrary. But they are not necessarily the best first choice. Psychotherapy, for instance, works for moderate, severe, and even very severe depression. And although for some patients, psychotherapy in combination with an initial course of prescription antidepressants works even better, the question is, how do the drugs work? Kirsch's study and, now, others conclude that the lion's share of the drugs' effect comes from the fact that patients expect to be helped by them, and not from any direct chemical action on the brain, especially for anything short of very severe depression.

As the inexorable rise in the use of antidepressants suggests, that conclusion can't hold a candle to the simplistic "antidepressants work!" (unstated corollary: "but don't ask how") message. Part of the resistance to Kirsch's findings has been due to his less-than-retiring nature. He didn't win many friends with the cheeky title of the paper, "Listening to Prozac but Hearing Placebo." Nor did it inspire confidence that the editors of the journal Prevention & Treatment ran a warning with his paper, saying it used meta-analysis "controversially." Al-though some of the six invited commentaries agreed with Kirsch, others were scathing, accusing him of bias and saying the studies he analyzed were flawed (an odd charge for defenders of antidepressants, since the studies were the basis for the Food and Drug Administration's approval of the drugs). One criticism, however, could not be refuted: Kirsch had analyzed only some studies of antidepressants. Maybe if he included them all, the drugs would emerge head and shoulders superior to placebos.

Now, we need to talk about placebos and why they work. I think, you know, it's something quaintly known to some of us as FAITH.

Which leads me to...

~*~

Left: Cross by Wes-Wilson (1968)



And finally, more brawling over Jesus, Krishna, Moses, and all their friends. Good God (joke deliberate)--will I never learn? Why do I do this? I should know by now to listen to myself and what I hear myself saying: The atheists are as intractable as the fundamentalists. Buddha's extremely sane Middle Path will never go over with either party, so why on Earth do I bother?

I quit arguing with the fundies, since I decided their minds were already closed, but I really hate giving up on the atheists. I thought they were supposed to be SMART? If they are, do they honestly believe that the VAST MAJORITY of people in the ENTIRE WORLD will give up our magic talismans and superstitions?

Barefoot Bum, in above link, keeps lambasting me unmercifully as superstitious... but what he doesn't seem to understand is that I fully grant him the point. Now, in his perfect religionless world, what is he going to do with all of us incurably-superstitious people? Psychiatric hospitals? Gulags? Collective farming in the countryside? It's all been done. Didn't work. Now what?

Honest question, not at all rhetorical, and I put it out there for all "militant atheists" (name of thread wherein aforementioned brawl took place) to answer. I know what the fundies think. What do you think? You can't consign us to hell, since you don't believe in it, so would you lock us up? Barefoot Bum says no, of course not. But if you think certain people are DANGEROUS and spread evil and ignorance simply by existing, don't you think they should be locked up? If not, you must not really think we're that bad and it's all an exercise in advanced rhetorical hubris.

The above argument was borrowed from Michael Kinsley, who used to demand (during his stint on CNN's Crossfire) that pro-lifers answer the question: Would you put all women in jail who obtain abortions? If you say no, you must not truly believe abortion constitutes the crime of murder, as you SAY you do. Gotcha.

If Christians are dangerous wackos, it seems you would believe we should be locked up in hospitals for wackos. If you think we are spreading vicious awfulness and engaging in horrific hate-speech, you would of course want us to at least be ARRESTED, yes? And you don't?

Excuse me, radical atheists, I call bullshit.

City of Tiny Lites

Greenville, facing southwest from Richardson Street.




It appears I will spend most of my day off haggling with stubborn insurance companies, so not much brilliance from me. President Obama, I tirelessly backed you, now if you would be so kind, please fix our dilapidated health care system? (At least I have WNCW's stellar radio broadcast, Frank on Friday, to keep me company... which of course is where today's blog post title is from.) My heart goes out to everyone else currently in Medical Insurance Hell, such as Renegade Evolution.

I haven't written about the AIG scandal, mostly because I don't really understand it very well. I am patently unable to rant and rave about things I don't fully get in the first place. I mostly end up scratching my poor little head. (I have a hard time even fathoming that kind of money.) However, I do see a similarity in the AIG bail-out fiasco and our health-care system dilemma: Nobody wants to reward AIG with millions of dollars for their mismanagement, and likewise, nobody wants to fund a health care system that has as many bloated items in their inventory as the Pentagon and its once-legendary hundred-dollar hammers. How can a single monthly prescription cost over $250? This is obscene. Who wants government to pay Big Pharm and support their continued robbery of the American people? Not me. I want the drug companies fleeced, not the government!

These are deep systemic problems, and they make my head hurt.

~*~

Some stuff to check out:

Sylvia Plath's son, Nicholas Hughes, has committed suicide:

The son of the poets Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath has taken his own life, 46 years after his mother gassed herself while he slept.

Nicholas Hughes hanged himself at his home in Alaska after battling against depression for some time, his sister Frieda said yesterday.

He was 47, unmarried with no children of his own and had until recently been a professor of fisheries and ocean sciences at the University of Alaska Fairbanks.

What can you say?

~*~

Obama pissed me off yesterday, with his much-ballyhooed "online town meeting", as he impatiently and arrogantly waved away questions about marijuana legalization, which you know (duh!) might bail the economy out of this horrible mess. Obama seemed to find the question amusing, possibly flashing back to the days when he enjoyed a blunt or two himself.

By way of Salon's Drug War Rant, comes this perceptive observation from a commenter at Daily Kos:

But did he have to be so.... Amused with it? I'm sorry, I understand that it's marijuana, ha ha funny funny...but it was a serious question asked by a lot of people and I really think it deserved just as serious of an answer as the rest of them did [...] it was a JARRING difference from how he approached all the other questions. [...] I found the use of this particular question, and using it as a mechanism - an excuse to laugh off serious questions about the myriad of issues about pot - to be very disingenuous.

And from Andrew Sullivan, of all people:

Obama's Pathetic Pot Answer. The chuckle suggests a man of his generation. The dismissiveness toward the question of ending Prohibition as both a good in itself and a form of tax revenue is, however, depressing. His answer was a non-answer. I'm tired of having the Prohibition issue treated as if it's trivial or a joke. It is neither. It is about freedom and it's deadly serious. As for your online audience, Mr president, have you forgotten who got you elected?

Chris Selley in the NATIONAL POST writes:

In other words: get a job, ya bunch of hippies. He couldn’t really have sounded any more condescending unless he’d thanked contributors, complete with air quotes, for their “groovy” questions. I’m sure the audience would have lapped it up.

Now, admittedly, the President might well be right about what legalization would do for the economy. Imagine all the out-of-work drug enforcement workers, prison guards and support staff, the mass suicides from correctional industry lobbyists, and the tens of thousands of newly released inmates thrust into an already terrible job market. But that’s hardly the point he was trying to make. Rather, he was aiming for laughs.

Selley's piece is titled Obama on the War on Drugs—status quo we can believe in, which also made my head hurt. (As we've always heard, the truth hurts.)

Direct hit, Chris.

~*~

To the astute but anonymous reader who asks me via email, why do I link so many people who won't link me back? Hmm, good question. Mostly, it's so I can have the links handy when I switch computers around...I can't have my bookmarks everywhere, and this is the next best thing. My blogroll is composed of people I enjoy reading, whether they like me or not. And I think it might compromise some people's reputations (I'm lookin at you, lefty atheists!) to include me on their blogrolls.

And then again, as I closely examine some of the blogrolls in question, I also believe only women under 50 are permitted. Or at least, no women over 50 are represented. We don't exist and are invisible.

That's probably why.

~*~

Miss Jackie is writing about IRON over at The Vegan Diet... check out her recipes, you animal rights purists! Particularly her wonderful Iron Booster Fruit Smoothie... I am allergic to bananas but I've found strawberries and blueberries work well. Also, here is a great liquid iron supplement from Floradix, but 1) it tastes like cherry rust and 2) it's expensive (but certainly, not as expensive as red meat) and 3) it only keeps about a month after opening (refrigerated), so you have to use it up fairly quickly. But you can add it to smoothies and the rust taste isn't as noticeable.

A small price to pay for not eating animals.

~*~

I loves you guys, and hope to be back here before this evening, depending on the cooperation of the aforementioned insurance companies. (Ha!)

On drugs, herbs, antidepressants, addiction, mothers and other things...

We interrupt our ongoing South Carolina primary coverage to cover a recent controversy in Blogdonia over--DRUGS.

George Carlin used to joke about the signs once visible on city street corners, notably absent in the last decade or so. We now have Walgreens and CVS selling baby formula, hair goo and toilet paper, but once upon a time, the drug store was a drug store, just like Mr Gower's in It's a Wonderful Life. Maybe you could get a banana split while you waited for the druggist (as we called them) to fill your prescription. You could buy cokes and root beers and hang out. Lana Turner would be "discovered" in a Hollywood drug store, according to myth, which made the drug store cool.

And as George Carlin joked in the 70s, go into any self-proclaimed drug store, which prominently featured a huge DRUG sign, and ask (insert stoned voice) "Hey man, gotta any DRUGS?" and the proprietor would likely bark, "Not THOSE kind, go away!"

"Hey, it said DRUGS, okay?"

Indeed, it did. And so we learned: there are good drugs and bad drugs. (As Glinda memorably asked Dorothy, are you a Good Witch, or a Bad Witch?)

~*~

The line between the "good" and "bad" drugs was always very shaky for me. As a youngster, I witnessed progressive addiction in the members of my family. My grandmother became dependent on various and sundry pain meds, Valium, and Miltown, which she would periodically swear off, only to relapse. Such events were not called RELAPSE then; there was no such language available for addiction to prescription drugs. This is why Valley of the Dolls was regarded as such a scandalous, truth-telling book, almost as important as The Feminine Mystique, and certainly, out-selling that book by millions. No one had dared say it out loud in polite, middle-class company. And the word, DOLLS. We love our dolls, we play with our dolls, we dress up our dolls and display them. Calling drugs DOLLS laid the whole enterprise bare. ("Not THOSE kind, go away!") My mother had a seemingly bottomless Rx for Dexedrine 75 mg (gonna let that dosage sink in a minute: 75 mg), which I started pilfering regularly on test days in high school. And my mother never lost a pound, it seemed.

I caught on fast: Dexedrine didn't have shit to do with weight loss. This had to do with her day-job, hard work requiring intense concentration. And then her night-job, her true love, music. She was a singer and musician; amphetamines allowed her to sing late into the twilight after a hard day's work. Songs by Kitty Wells, Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, Wanda Jackson, Tammy Wynette, and so many others...which seemed to go so well with the Dolls. (Maybe because several of these recording artists were also quite attached to the Dolls?) My mother's green eyes glittered, as John Lydon's, Keith Moon's, Natalie Cole's, Linda Ronstadt's and Elvis's used to twinkle and shine; an unmistakable chemically-glazed glitter that I can still spot anywhere. (Although, interestingly, I didn't seem to notice it when I looked in the mirror.)


My mother began dosing me with supplements and drugs at about the same time, further messing up my already-blurred natural/chemical boundary. She discovered Selenium, Vitamin E, Gotu Kola, and insisted I take these, which I dutifully did. And then, she tsk-tsked over my weight, my thighs, my ass. She took me to her diet-doctor to be properly dosed with the magic skinny-making concoction, the nectar of the gods, Dexedrine. And I took it, as I was told. I didn't need prodding.


My mother was born physically disabled, a fact that she blamed for not being able to become a Big Star. And I believe this has some basis in reality, since she was once asked to sing and play back-up at the Grand Ole Opry by some Nashville talent-scout; the request later withdrawn when her disability was discovered. (I also believe my mother's ferocious drive was partly DUE to her disability and attendant feelings of inferiority, a fact she often confessed to me in her more vulnerable, teary, alcoholic moments.) The Grand Ole Opry debacle plunged her into extreme self-hatred; she took more lovers, she piled her platinum hair even higher on her head, she lopped several alarming inches off of her already-short dresses. And, she decided, she needed to DO SOMETHING with ME: Goddammit, fix your hair, put on make-up, you can't go out like that. At our house, it was hillbilly vs. hippie couture, every day. Lacquered, sprayed, Clairol-bleached hair vs. untamed hair flying in the breeze. Miniskirts vs. jeans. Pointy-Laura-Petrie-bras vs. none at all. She was perpetually furious with me. She believed my hippie-fashion was a personal insult, directed at her, mocking her.


Similarly, my mother couldn't believe I did not want to go onstage, did not want to marry rich, did not want to do the things she believed she could have done if non-disabled: What's the matter with you? she would scream in her many alcohol/amphetamine-induced rages, Don't you understand you could have the whole fucking WORLD?

The whole world? Talk about delusion. I was a pretty average kid, I made average grades, I could sing in harmony if it wasn't too hard, but that's about it. I could write well enough, but you can't be a star doing that. ("Men can, but women can't," she told me.) I didn't realize until years later, how these rages were drug-induced. By then, of course, I was having them myself.

And finally, the weed. My mother found the weed. The rage, the insanity, the screaming, the smashing of delicate objects, the gnashing of teeth, the threats and the reality of violence. I won't dwell on the details. But I confronted her at last: Excuse me, but you have been plying me with DRUGS, you realize? "This is a much less harmful drug than the ones you are taking every fucking day!"

Marijuana, I loudly, proudly and correctly informed her, is an HERB.

~*~

My years in the counterculture continued blurring the drug/herb boundary. I had one of the most profound, spiritual and mystical experiences of my life (and that is saying something) under the influence of a plant, peyote. I also puked my guts out and thought I was dying, which centers the mind amazingly. Consequently, I began to educate myself about the medicinal qualities of herbs, and began a job filling up bulk herbs at the local co-op. I visited communes, and talked about herbs with the back-to-the-land people. And all the while, I never stopped taking drugs. And my focus narrowed. My favorite drug of all? The legal one: alcohol. Which, you will remember, is made from plants, fruits, herbs.

Of course, you all know the story by now. Pretty typical Movie Of The Week stuff: it caught up with me. Down and out in various places... New York City, Oakland, Berkeley, San Francisco, Fort Myers, rural Indiana, urban Ohio... like the expression goes, wherever you go, you take yourself with you. Oh Mama, can this really be the end?

And so, like a convert, I went the other way, seemingly overnight. Straight edge. I was a zealot for recovery. I think this is often necessary for people in trouble, so I won't apologize for it, but I can see the humor in it now... engaging in major self-recriminations and existential angst over whether I should take a wayward antihistamine or single Tylenol. (Usually, I would end up refraining.) I even gave up coffee and tea, although it took me several years to stop smoking tobacco (but yes, I eventually did that, too). And during this time, I also refused all herbs, remembering that yes, marijuana is an herb. Herbs ARE drugs.

And that's the thing...many, many drugs come from herbs. I realized at this point that my boundaries were blurred for a reason. There is no boundary... there is no spoon.

You are ALTERING YOURSELF. With whatever substances you choose, be they "natural" or "unnatural"--and I was zealous in my recovery, in being UNALTERED.

~*~

Perhaps it's because one of my endocrine glands failed on me in my late 30s, and I then needed (deep breath) DRUGS, that I changed my mind. Possibly, just age. Also, a weariness of dogma, as I tried hard at one point to be a doctrinally correct Catholic, and failed at that too. Suddenly worried that I would have a baby in my 40s (not my idea of a good time), I went and got my tubes tied. And then I confessed, like a good Catholic.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked my very cool priest, shocking me. He was supposed to yawn, look at his watch, and wave me out of the confessional while simultaneously making the sign of the cross, like he usually did.

"Huh?" I asked, "Aren't I supposed to tell you?"

"You are supposed to be honest," he sounded tired. I could tell he was weary of parishioners deliberately doing stuff and then scurrying in to tell him about it.

Was he saying I was dishonest? I suddenly felt shame, and then I WAS honestly contrite.

Ashamed of what?--I thought later. And then I knew. Having my cake and eating it too. Having my tubal ligation and fancying myself a "good Catholic." Availing myself of medical science, and then bragging about being ALL NATURAL.

There is not one righteous, said the Apostle Paul, no, not one.

~*~

And so we get to the current ideological scuffle in Blogdonia. In this corner, we have Elaine Vigneault, holding forth on antidepressants. The argument started on FEMINISTE, where she stated:

My theory is that many people’s depression is anger turned inward. Anger is a powerful emotion that can be both destructive and constructive. Anger that is unjustly aimed inward becomes debilitating depression, but justified anger aimed outward towards things like injustice can be a powerful motivator. I think if more people embraced this view and used their anger as a motivator, we’ve have a revolution and possibly a better world.

There’s a saying, “if you’re not mad as hell, you’re not paying attention.” And another one “ignorance is bliss.” I think both are true. I think happy people are people who wear rose-colored glasses and don’t see reality clearly. That’s not to say happiness is ignorance; I’m saying that constant bliss can only be achieved through drugs, ignorance, or some other form of blurred reality. Occasional bliss is available for anyone willing to accept it: puppy pictures, flower bouquets, a compliment to or from a stranger, a familiar tune, a tickle, a love note, a memory… But constant bliss… that’s not real.

And in this corner, we have several people who believe she is behaving like a sanctimonious prig. Plain(s) Feminist writes:

Look - I am skeptical when it comes to the medical monster that is our health care and pharmacological system. I have had anti-depressants practically forced on me and refused them all the same. But I would never take my own experience and decide that it is universal and that everyone else is completely deluded, which is what Vigneault is doing here (to a commenter who says that anti-depressants helped them, she replies "I’d argue about whether they really did the trick or if you just believed they did..."

Life is never Either/Or, except when people make it that way. It doesn't have to be. We all expect to be able to have our tubes tied, our broken bones set, and our nasty tumors surgically excised. Expecting not to cry every minute or cower in the closet of a Motel-6, is a very basic matter of survival, on that level. And yet, we don't quite see it that way, do we? Our modern life causes these problems, Elaine (and many herbalists I have known) like to say. Well, stop the presses. The broken bones, the tumors, the cholesterol, my thyroid, are likely the same. Our environments shape us. Every day, I talk to old people who had their health destroyed in the textile mills; they have odd cancers, tumors, and mesothelioma. Fibers are forever lodged in their bodies. I suppose we might say our modern life, the need for clothing, has caused this, as it surely has. And Elaine is wearing clothes right now, too, as you are, as I am. Someone, somewhere, is paying for that. Their eyes squint and strain; they develop strange spots on their lips from licking dyed threads, every day. Do we deny them health care? Of course, many people would like to. But right now, the American policy seems to be, do it to Julia, don't do it to me. Destroy the health of the people in Mauritius, Mexico or China, do not destroy ours.

~*~

Our modern life has messed us up, no question. But only a cruel philosophy denies comfort to those afflicted, for whatever reason. Yes, we must clean up the system; BigPharm is corrupt, money-grubbing, and lying. But I use it, too. As we all do.

As Dorothy Day said, I am here to comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable. And with all due respect, Elaine, as well as many other people in my own profession, have it very confused.