Wednesday, July 30, 2008

And thank you, too.

Thanks to Alex, I know exactly how to avoid ugly traffic on my drive from Sacramento airport to Santa Rosa tomorrow afternoon. Thanks, Alex. Have a margarita on me, with a mango chaser. And I will enjoy myself, thanks, and leave my guilt where it belongs, on the curb.

And thanks, Mimi, for helping my friend get the word to Congress that financial support for lung cancer research is vitally important. Mimi is an alienym (how's that for a word?) for my sister. She did that work not only for my friend, but in memory of my Dad, who died of lung cancer.

I have to thank Nicole, too, for sending me her recipe for Tom Yum Soup. Tom Yum Soup is one of my favorite things in the world (as of today...I am fickle, though). Here is Nicole's recipe. Some among you will find some things odd about the recipe, like the spelling and a few words that are totally unfamiliar. Nicole is from Australia, via Amsterdam and Croatia and places in between. She brings to you things from the world. Her husband does the same.

Tom Yum Soup

  • 1 litre water
  • 2 vegetable stock cubes
  • 3 tablespoons Tom Yum paste
  • 2 stalks fresh lemongrass, lightly pounded, cut into 4cm segments
  • 1/4 cup sliced galangal (John says: I think this is ginger root...right, Nicole?)
  • 6 kaffir lime leaves, chopped in half
  • 3 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 1 cup sliced mushrooms (champignongs, straw or shiitake)
  • 1 tablespoon Prik Pao roasted chillie in oil (you see this thick, oily, deep red hot sauce in lots of Thai restaurants)
  • 20 prawns, medium size
  • fresh coriander, roughly torn
  • 1 fresh red chillie, sliced
  • 2 spring onions, sliced
  • juice of 1-2 limes
  • Boil the water.
  • Add stock cubes and stir to dissolve.
  • Add Tom Yum paste and stir to dissolve.
  • Add lemongrass, galangal, kaffir lime leaves and fish sauce.
  • Add mushrooms and cook for a minute.
  • Add prik pao and stir to dissolve.
  • Add prawns and cook for a minute or two until just done.
  • Turn off heat and stir through fresh chillie, spring onion and lime juice.
  • Sprinkle with coriander.
  • Serve immediately.
    Note: Use as little or as much of the paste, mushrooms, chillie and
    lime juice as suits you. This can all be adjusted to taste. Regarding
    the mushrooms, I like the flavour of the shiitake, even though straw
    mushrooms would be more traditional and a lot of people use the
    easily obtainable fresh champignon. If using dried shiitake, put
    about 4-5 mushrooms into a bowl, pour over boiling water and weigh it
    down with another bowl until the mushrooms have softened, takes about
    15 minutes. Then you can slice them and use in the soup. I usually
    like to add the soaking liquid to the soup as well, as it adds
    flavour. Instead of prawns you can use sliced chicken breast fillet
    or pieces of a firm white fish.


I'm waiting with bated breath for Teresa to tell me what she thinks about some of my writing. Teresa is a new and rare visitor who is an incredibly good writer and someone whose criticism would be very valuable to me. Most of the few of you have not read much, if anything, of mine that I consider truly worth putting on a page. I've actually asked her to give me candid feedback on some of my "favorite" pieces. So what if I'm sacrificing myself to a sharp sword? I want to know.

And thank you, too.

Thanks to Alex, I know exactly how to avoid ugly traffic on my drive from Sacramento airport to Santa Rosa tomorrow afternoon. Thanks, Alex. Have a margarita on me, with a mango chaser. And I will enjoy myself, thanks, and leave my guilt where it belongs, on the curb.

And thanks, Mimi, for helping my friend get the word to Congress that financial support for lung cancer research is vitally important. Mimi is an alienym (how's that for a word?) for my sister. She did that work not only for my friend, but in memory of my Dad, who died of lung cancer.

I have to thank Nicole, too, for sending me her recipe for Tom Yum Soup. Tom Yum Soup is one of my favorite things in the world (as of today...I am fickle, though). Here is Nicole's recipe. Some among you will find some things odd about the recipe, like the spelling and a few words that are totally unfamiliar. Nicole is from Australia, via Amsterdam and Croatia and places in between. She brings to you things from the world. Her husband does the same.

Tom Yum Soup

  • 1 litre water
  • 2 vegetable stock cubes
  • 3 tablespoons Tom Yum paste
  • 2 stalks fresh lemongrass, lightly pounded, cut into 4cm segments
  • 1/4 cup sliced galangal (John says: I think this is ginger root...right, Nicole?)
  • 6 kaffir lime leaves, chopped in half
  • 3 tablespoons fish sauce
  • 1 cup sliced mushrooms (champignongs, straw or shiitake)
  • 1 tablespoon Prik Pao roasted chillie in oil (you see this thick, oily, deep red hot sauce in lots of Thai restaurants)
  • 20 prawns, medium size
  • fresh coriander, roughly torn
  • 1 fresh red chillie, sliced
  • 2 spring onions, sliced
  • juice of 1-2 limes
  • Boil the water.
  • Add stock cubes and stir to dissolve.
  • Add Tom Yum paste and stir to dissolve.
  • Add lemongrass, galangal, kaffir lime leaves and fish sauce.
  • Add mushrooms and cook for a minute.
  • Add prik pao and stir to dissolve.
  • Add prawns and cook for a minute or two until just done.
  • Turn off heat and stir through fresh chillie, spring onion and lime juice.
  • Sprinkle with coriander.
  • Serve immediately.
    Note: Use as little or as much of the paste, mushrooms, chillie and lime juice as suits you. This can all be adjusted to taste. Regarding the mushrooms, I like the flavour of the shiitake, even though straw mushrooms would be more traditional and a lot of people use the easily obtainable fresh champignon. If using dried shiitake, put about 4-5 mushrooms into a bowl, pour over boiling water and weigh it down with another bowl until the mushrooms have softened, takes about 15 minutes. Then you can slice them and use in the soup. I usually like to add the soaking liquid to the soup as well, as it adds flavour. Instead of prawns you can use sliced chicken breast fillet or pieces of a firm white fish.


I'm waiting with bated breath for Teresa to tell me what she thinks about some of my writing. Teresa is a new and rare visitor who is an incredibly good writer and someone whose criticism would be very valuable to me. Most of the few of you have not read much, if anything, of mine that I consider truly worth putting on a page. I've actually asked her to give me candid feedback on some of my "favorite" pieces. So what if I'm sacrificing myself to a sharp sword? I want to know.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Help Fight Cancer

A blogger friend I've never met face-to-face but who I consider one of my closest friends in some fundamental ways, has asked me to help spread the word about the Lung Cancer Alliance. My friend's husband is dealing with cancer (and he's never been a smoker) and she is understandably focused on his illness and how it can be addressed. More than that, she is working hard to get support from others who can use their voices to help ensure support for efforts to find treatments and cures.

The Lung Cancer Alliance - a group that does a lot of advocacy in raising awareness of lung cancer issues, is asking for help in getting people motivated to write to their senators in support Bill S.3187, the Lung Cancer Mortality Reduction Act, which was introduced by Senators Dianne Feinstein and Chuck Hagel. The legislation would authorize at least $75 million for lung cancer research under a comprehensive program aimed at reducing lung cancer mortality. Unfortunately, it seems that not enough people are aware of this bill, or are apathetic about contacting their senators to urge them to support the bill. Why? We don't know. Maybe they don't think lung cancer is a big issue because they think that lung cancer is a "smoker's disease" and doesn't deserve any funding (WRONG!!! see statistics down below - plenty of non- and never-smokers get it too!). Anyhow, at last count, only about 400 people had visited the webpage below to send an email to their senators. In an attempt to get more support for this bill, some of us are sending out personal messages to our friends asking them to go to this page and take a moment to fill out and send the form that should appear at this URL (the form is quick and easy to fill and send)
http://capwiz.com/lungcanceralliance/issues/alert/?alertid=11623916

My friend usually doesn't like to bother people about signing such petitions, etc. but would appreciate it very much if you folks would add your support, and if you know of anyone else who might be willing to sign it, to forward this message or the text of it along to others. Hopefully, with enough support, this legislation will pass and lung cancer research will start to get the funding that it deserves. What is needed is a Manhattan Project to find a way to reduce or stop the incredible number of lives being taken by this cancer. Below, I've included some facts about lung cancer -- some statistics that most people don't seem to be aware of but that ought to spur just about anyone to take action.

From the Lung Cancer Alliance's "Facts"
** Lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer death in the United States among every ethnic group. 1 in every 3 cancer deaths is from lung cancer. An average of 439 people die from Lung cancer in the U.S. every day. (my note: That's about equivalent to all of the passengers on a large commercial airline jet dying in a crash each and every day.)


** Lung cancer will kill more people than breast, prostate, colon, liver, kidney, and melanoma cancers... combined.

** Lung cancer kills nearly twice as many women as breast cancer.

** Lung cancer kills over three times as many men as prostate cancer.

** One in five women and one in twelve men diagnosed with lung cancer have never smoked.

** Over 60% of new lung cancer cases are never smokers or former smokers, many of whom quit decades ago.

** Only 16% of lung cancer cases are diagnosed at its earliest and most curable stage.


** The majority of lung cancer patients are being diagnosed so late that they will die within a year.


** National Cancer Institute (NCI) : Over the past 35 years, NCI’s budget has grown from $380 million a year to $4.8 billion a year in fiscal year 2007 (FY07) – an increase of 1265% - and NCI has complete control over how to spend the money. Even though lung cancer causes one in every three cancer deaths, lung cancer research received less than 5% of NCI’s budget in FY07.

** Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC): Congress also earmarks funding within CDC for specific cancers. The CDC budget for FY07 includes $201 million for breast and cervical cancer initiatives, $13.9 million for prostate cancer and $14.4 million for colon cancer. CDC budget for FY07 included $0 for lung cancer initiatives. Yes.. you read that right.... $0.00 for Lung cancer, even though one in three who die from cancer will die from lung cancer.

No Rest for the Wicked?

I just finished making the reservations. Thursday morning, my wife and I will fly a circuitous route to Sacramento, California, where we will rent a dull car and drive about two hours to Santa Rosa. We'll arrive in Sacramento about 1:30 pm; with luggage, unfamiliarity with highways, and other such intrusions, I imagine we'll be in Santa Rosa by 3:30 or 4:00.

There, we'll visit the house where my mother-in-law lived before she died. We'll go through boxes, look for photos, and shred papers that have no meaning but could be used by criminals to do harm or steal identities that are no more.

We've set aside Friday through Sunday to go through "stuff" and then arrange for shipping any significant amounts of paperwork back home. We'll drive back to Sacramento on Sunday evening and will fly back to Dallas on Monday.

This will be my wife's first trip back since her mother died. There's a battle going on between three siblings and it bothers me. My wife is not inclined to be one who wants her "due," but there is some fighting going on between other siblings and, in the finaly analysis, there is some bad blood there. It makes me sad to see people argue and fight over who "gets" what. It doesn't belong to them. They don't "deserve" it. It's just what's left and there's upset that one sibling took advantage of the mother and got all the value, while the others were left out.

Repeat: it wasn't the children's property to start with...the mother could have, and perhaps should have, used it all up during her lifetime, leaving nothing for the vultures to fight over.

I'm being unkind, and I shouldn't. I didn't grow up in that family. I don't know the history that's never been told. But I think back to when my parents died and there was none of this "I deserve what's mine." We just mourned their passing and disposed of what little was left of their lives, then went on about our own.

Despite the somber reason for going to Santa Rosa, I hope we have a chance to have some fun. A little trip back to the Russian River Pub would be nice...I loved their hot wings and beer and relaxed attitudes when I was there last. My wife started to mention it tonight and I knew before she spoke about it what she was thinking. We've come to know ourselves so incredibly well in some ways. We don't just complete one another's thoughts, we complete one another's wishes.

We haven't told staff we're going, other than a cryptic message that we might be out of the office on personal business on Thursday and Friday.

We'll be gone and I'll feel guilty for enjoying a trip that shouldn't be enjoyed.

Prison Bars

With a just a little more technical know-how, cajones of steel, and the right connections, I could have become the Bill Gates of the illicit drug trade. Let me explain why I believe this could have been.

During a meeting recently, I was having a conversation with a woman who is very entrepreneurial. I often like people who are entrepreneurial, though I frequently come to loathe them shortly thereafter for their deep Republican views and their psychopathic love of material things. But that's beside the point.

This woman and I were chatting about Internet wonders who had made a killing by introducing bad ideas, selling them quickly as raw brilliance, and then taking the money and getting out before reality set in. I offered my own concept of something that might have the potential of making me a very wealthy and very wanted man. The way this particular idea came about, incidentally, was that she mentioned something about an news story about someone who had been caught making and selling crystal meth, after he had made an enormous pot of money. He was doing it the old fashioned way. I had an idea.

"What about this," I said. "Meth, as I understand it, is very easy to make with readily available products, right? People seem to get caught when the meth labs blow up or catch fire. What if you were to minimize the risk of spontaneous combustion on your premises and, even better, have the product made directly by the end user? What if you changed the entire business model for drug distribution? What if you really turned it on its ear?!"

By this time, my mind was in overdrive, dreaming up all sorts of ways to take manufacturing technology into the 24th century. "Imagine this. You carefully and safely prepackage the individual chemical ingredients that today's meth labs mix. But instead of mixing them and risk explosions and fire, you create a device that will allow the end-user to do that."

I went on to describe, as best I could, the way ink-jet printers work> They mix the black ink and the magenta and yellow and blue, using precise instructions delivered to the printer by the computer, using printer-driver instructions unique to that printer. "What if our little device mixed the meth components with similar precision and, instead of jetting the ink onto a page, the device jets the mixed chemicals into a little packet desiged to capture and seal them?"

"We could call it the Meth-Jet," I said. "We could distribute it only to prequalified buyers and we'd only sell over the Internet."

"We could establish assembly plants for the Meth-Jet devices all over the country. We'd exhibit it at trade shows for more "mainstream" products. There's no question there would be other uses than for meth production," I enthused. "We could quickly leave the modest risk of imprisonment behind us as we mainstreamed the product and began collecting royalties, which would of course be sent to our offshore accounts"

As I finally returned to my surroundings from the flight of fancy in which I had been engaged, I saw that my acquaintance was looking at me with wide eyes and a sense of stark terror about her. She laughed nervously and cleared her throat, saying "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Let me know how it goes. I have to catch a plane." With that, she turned and walked away, wheeling her carry-on bag behind her.

Oh, well. I didn't really want to take the risk, anyway. But I did think it was a clever idea. And when I learn that someone has taken it and run with it, I'll be annoyed with myself. But I'll be on the outside of the prison bars.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Single Malt Advice

I'm standing way off to the side of the precipice. If I got closer I know I could just lunge off, just to see what it feels like. And I know that's a stupid move. So, instead, I'm drinking a piss-poor maragarita (out of a bottle, no less),improved only slightly with a kick in the butt...a shot or two of not-bad reposado tequila that wishes it were the real thing.

The inevitable is temporarily delayed, which means in simple terms that I've taken the loss on my own corporate account. Someone has to go, but I keep hoping another month might bring on some new business to turn it all around. Fucking dreamer!

That's what everyone wants me to do, of course. Hope hard enough and the world will succumb to my desires. I wish it were that simple.

No, I need to be the bad ass bastard, the guy who fires a 10-year employee. It really needs to be done, but I think I absolutely have to have some powerful tequila to make it acceptable. Maybe it will wait until the end of the month.

At least my sister is OK. I can knock one bad swing of the knife out of the way.

I did get a phone call today from a guy who is just starting an association and wants some advice. Inevitably, that's the sort of thing that takes my time, gives the volunteer valuable advice, and then turns quickly and kicks me hard in the face. But I keep coming back for more.

If there aren't people out there who will give me a house in Nova Scotia, how about a hug and a high-top snifter of single malt scotch?

I'm sniffling again, hoping for a swig of sympathy. Pathetic, isn't it?

Old Friends

Life's a lot better than it was. I spoke to my sister tonight and she's feeling much better than she was. No serious blockage, no significant stents, no bypass. But the docs told her she probably had a heart attack, which is not good. But she got moved out of cardiac ICU tonight to a "regular" room, so things are looking up.

I didn't get down to see her, for many reasons (not the least of which was the fact I couldn't be sure they'd let me see her), but may visit soon. But, of course, I have a client commitment this weekend. Again.

My concerns about my house and my car and my clothes suddenly lost the urgency they had...and they didn't have much urgency before.

Ellie, I'm really glad they assuuuuuumed we were old friends. Maybe we are. Maybe that's exactly what we are.

Monday, July 21, 2008

To Sleep, Perchance to Decompress

It's after 3:00 a.m. on Monday morning. I finally got home from an out-of-town meeting. Thanks to the idiocies of airline pricing, I did not have a direct flight. Rather, I had to fly first to Chicago, where I waited almost five hours for the second leg of my flight. It's not that there were no direct flights from Pittsburgh; it's just that they would have cost me $600+ instead of $400+. For a flight that not so long ago cost less than $200.

The flight was delayed, I was told, by weather, although no one could say where the "weather" had been that delayed literally dozens of flights in and out of O'Hare.

Just before I left for the meeting, I learned that my sister had been admitted to the E.R. of a Houston hospital. Heart problems. I've been getting bits and pieces of news, the latest being that she will undergo an angioplasty, probably later this morning. Then, either her heart blockage will be repaired with stents or she will undergo bypass surgery. She's been in cardiac ICU for five or six days now. I'm worried and I'm finally home and I may leave again after a few hours sleep so I can see her after she wakes up following surgery.

Before I started writing this, I read KathyR's blog post, and its corresponding comments, about end-of-life issues. Both these things together have put me very much on edge. I wonder if I'll be able to sleep a few hours. I'll only find out if I try.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Thanks in Advance for Your House

I'm not likely to blog much for the next week or so...maybe a bit more. Two client board meetings, a conference, some proposals for new business, trying to get new telephone service for the new offices, getting quotes from movers, impending client financial black hole...lots on my mind. That tends to stifle what little creativity I seem to have lately.

I read something tonight in the current issue of the Texas Observer about the perceptions of place from a guy who moved from Austin, Texas to Portland, Maine. I'd like to drop everything and give Portland, Maine or Halifax, Nova Scotia a few months to see if I could fit in. If you have a house in either place you'd let me borrow for a few months, I'll be most grateful for your kindness.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Lyrics: The Animal of Man

I couldn't find the music, but here are the lyrics to Roger Miller's "The Animal of Man:"

His footprints can be found
On the graves of dead young soldiers
On the amber covered plains
Killed by radio-active rains

And his traces can be found
In the dying streams and meadows
And he'll kill you if he can
He's the animal of man

Yes his traces can be found
In the scars of red-skin children
That have never fully healed
Ask a black man how he feels

He's a nervous gifted child
He's an old man been forgotten
He's a military band
He's the animal of man

I don't know when he wrote this, but it carries a very uncommon sentiment for country music of its day...amazingly uncommon for its time.

Barack Obama, Worthless Bastard Extraordinaire

My hope that the course of America might change was crushed when "my" candidate was exposed as yet another sleazy politician who cannot be trusted. Obama's promise to fight FISA abuses was only that, a promise, and he broke it, flatly and openly. His astonishingly weak justification for his vote to support Bush's evisceration of the Fourth Amendment was just so much predigested oatmeal. What else did he promise just to get my support and the support of people like me? He's just another hollow, self-serving politician whose only agenda is personal aggrandizement. The worthless bastard!

I'm going to vote for him anyway, because I have no other choice. I certainly wish I did. McCain is the incarnation of evil, in my book, because he is Bush with a different patronizing tone; there is no way I would ever vote for him. The "third party" candidates don't represent my views and, if they did, I would not jeopardize the possibility of getting a Democrat elected by supporting them. I hate that, but until we have much stronger and more attractive alternatives to the Democratic Party, that's where my support will go. It chills me to think I'm backing a person and a party I hold in such contempt.

I wish there were someone on the ballot who shared my beliefs and attitudes and had not made politics a career but...because of the person's principles, capacity to lead, and deep desire to take this country in a completely different direction...had decided a run for the presidency was his or her civic responsibility. Who the hell would that be, though? It's downright terrifying to realize that no one comes to mind as a leader I would trust with this country's future. It's too late now, anyway. Once the two mainstream parties have settled on a candidate, the options virtually disappear.

We desperately need a viable third, and perhaps fourth and fifth, party. As annoying as I find the candidacies of Ralph Nader and Bob Barr and Chuck Baldwin, I understand the frustrations that led to their parties' formation. Frankly, if the Libertarian party would adopt positions on social welfare that more closely mirror my own, I might well explore giving them my support, though I see in them, and in the "other" parties the same inclination toward lifetime politicians as in the mainstream.

While I'm talking politics and Obama, I'll throw in my two cents about the uproar that Jesse Jackson's sotto voce comments caused. WTF? Who cares? Must supporters of every candidate be 100% in lock-step with the candidate? Having witnessed Obama's disingenuousness about FISA, I can well appreciate Jackson's ire at his perception that Obama was selling out his own people. Give it a rest. This kind of sensationalism is absurd. Jackson's comments are not the big story; Obama's abandonment of his principles is the big story.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Should Erasmo Get the Gig?

Erasmo Aranda wants me to pay him to do landscaping around my house. He hasn't given me prices yet, just a door-hanger promoting his business. What do you think? Should Erasmo get the gig?

My Uncle Used to Love Me But She Died

OK, this is a bizarre take off on a Roger Miller song, but I love it! Watch and listen! You'll love it, too, and if you don't, just let me know and I'll arrange for you to win a major lottery drawing the first chance I get:

Roger Miller

I have always admired Roger Miller's music. Here are some videos of a couple of my favorite songs he did. What I'd really like to find is a song he did on his one album that I have, that I have always truly appreciated; that song is called "Animal of Man."

King of the Road


England Swings

Cod a la Decompression

I've decided naps can help rebuild sapped energy. I've never much liked to nap because I feel like I'm frittering away time, which is in limited supply in my lifetime, but then when I finally decide to take one, I'm refreshed. My wife is a professional napper. She's a real pro; can do them daily if given the opportunity. I have brothers and sisters who have the same skill. I didn't get the gene, or at least, in me, it isn't a dominant gene.

It's almost time for dinner, which will consist of baked cod, some butter beans, sliced tomatoes, and a side of a ricearoni sort of dish with a wonderful garlic aroma. Ahhhhhh! A glass of nicely chilled sauvignon blanc will accompany my meal.

And I'll take the rest of the evening off to decompress.

Nap in the Cards

Temperatures are drifting north of 100 degrees F, making it very unpleasant to venture into the garage where temperatures are amplified. We spent several hours at the office today, but left sometime after noon to have lunch. My wife couldn't sleep last night (she only got about 3 hours rest), so when we got home she quickly went about preparing for her nap.

I've been occupying myself with silliness of various kinds, taking this last chance for a couple of weekends to avoid work when I can.

The next two weekends will be dedicated to clients. Next weekend I'll be in Pittsburgh (Thursday through Sunday) and then I'll be a client meetings the following weekend here in town. At least I'll be able to sleep in my own bed during the latter event.

I've been busily preparing for our office move. I have a moving company stopping by on Monday to give us a quote. On the same day, I have 3-4 telephone companies dropping in to gather data to quote on new service when we move. We have 11 voice lines and a partial T-1 (whatever's not in use for phone lines) for Internet access. It's horrifically expensive to have all these lines, but that's life. I dread this next week's meeting. I'm afraid I cannot hope for changing a client's mind about reducing the management fee it's paying; it just doesn't have the money any longer. I keep thinking of the impact that will have on us; layoffs and salary cuts. It's never the right time for such things, but this is worse than most.

I'm feeling worn out today. Maybe a little nap is in the cards for me, too.

It's a Shame to Waste a Criminal Mind

I've decided to launch a series of related magazines. They will be, to my knowledge, the only magazines of their kind, yet they should have extremely broad appeal. Because the markets toward which they will be directed have been extremely underserved, I anticipate an enormous amount of pent-up demand for the magazines. Just consider some of the magazines after which my new series will be modeled:

Midwifery Today, dedicated to the "heart and science of birth," targets a very distinct, utterly unique marketplace;
World Literature Today, showcases literature and culture from around the globe, also has a unique audience;
Psychology Today, which sprang from an interest in pop psychology, has evolved to focus its attention on an audience with unique reading needs.

After giving the matter considerable thought, then, I have decided to launch the following publications:

Auto Theft Today, targeted toward the professional who finds it increasingly difficult to keep pace with technological developments in automotive theft deterent systems;
Home Invasion Today, a magazine for the discerning criminal who needs to know the latest tips and tricks for avoiding occupied dwellings during his or her professional undertakings;
Mugging Today, aimed at the more violent offender who wishes to keep abreast of current practices in illicit crimes against persons;
Bank Robbery Today, a hard-hitting practical how-to guide that features monthly interviews with professionals who have retired from their careers (they got caught) and with some of the more astute players who continue to astonish the critics.

I am seeking experienced editors for each of the publications. Applicants should have impeccable editorial credentials, a strong work ethic, and experience in the fields of endeavor appropriate to the publication for which they are seeking to serve. We are looking for advertising sales people, as well; they will be paid on commission and must be willing to sign a code of standards and ethics.

To apply, send a PDF file of a series of pages that show your name, Social Security number, full address, credit card numbers and corresponding expiration dates and PINs, and a signed blank bank check to, info@criminalitytoday.com.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Me I Like My Lengua

Today's lunch was tacos de lengua with pico de gallo, rice, and refritos. I failed to make a lunch to take to the office, so I decided to go out instead. Cuquita's is a good little family-owned Mexican place near the office and I enjoy going there, where I'm almost always one of the very few gringos.

Their lengua is fantasticly good, though every time I order it (most of the times I go there, but I don't visit often) the Mexican waitstaff are pleasantly surprised that a gringo would actually order it and like it. Apparently anglos are not deeply into cooked cow tongue, as a rule. But I do love it. Today, one of the owners asked how the meal was and what I had eaten. When I told her it was wonderful, as usual and that I had eaten the lengua, she exclaimed, "Good for you! You like tongue?! It's one of our favorites. At home, we don't dice it like here, we shred it." I asked when I could plan on having dinner with her at home and she laughed. I was serious, but apparently that didn't come through.

I will admit that, conceptually, the idea of eating tongue is not terrifically appetizing. But the proof is in the eating.

If it hadn't been lunch (and I hadn't been obliged to go back to work), I would have had a margarita or six to accompany my wonder-meal. But I didn't. I've actually never had a margarita at the same time I've eaten lengua. I'll have to try that.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

It Takes Kidneys

Saw the doc today. Lab results say my bad voodoo blood has improved, so I am not scheduled to die in the near-term. "Come back in a month for a re-check and renal sonogram. Pay on your way out." Having no insurance in place at the moment (it's coming, just not yet in place), I have to pay for these visits. I think they're giving me discounts when I tell them I'm paying out of my pocket. Just $89 for today's visit, the same as last Thursday's visit. At that rate, I could visit the doctor twice a month from now on (of course I'd have to eat less between visits).

This family practitioner, who I've been seeing for about 6 years, didn't recall that I'd had a double bypass, nor that I'd had surgery many years ago for complications from Crohn's disease. I'm beginning to wonder. Not only did he not recall (which I can understand if he had a patient load of hundreds or thousands), but he didn't seem to have the information at ready access in my charts or in his computer.

Maybe I should become a doctor. My memory seems to be just perfect for the role.

Hhhmmm. One of my brothers used to tell a miserably bad joke, the punchline to which was for the person telling the joke to tap his temple and say, "It takes kidneys." Maybe that's what this whole renal episode is about.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Damn Doctors

Damn doctors. Still no results from blood test, nor from pail of piss test. I'd just rather know what's up than not know. I called today to inquire; I was told someone would call me back. I didn't bother to ask when. If I had, the response might have been "Sometime in 2011."

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Saturday Night

In a surprise development, John decided to experiment wth heavy drinking...

A Pot to Piss In

At least three times yesterday I heard some variation of the phrase, "doesn't have a pot to piss in." I noticed it more than would normally be the case because, as it happpens, I do have a pot to piss in. Well, a bucket. A jug. A plastic container.

My visit to the doctor on Thursday resulted in, among other things, my taking home a large orange plastic "piss jug," which I was directed to use to capture and store all of my urine output during a twenty-four hour period that ends at 8:30 this morning. You wouldn't think a requirement to capture one's piss in an orange piss jug would crimp one's style. Well, it does. I can only imagine how much more of an inconvenience it must be for a woman. I mean, if I chose to do so, I could lug my jug about with me and make deposits on the sly. Not so with a woman. How do they deal with such dictates?

At any rate, my impending freedom from being chained to an orange piss jug is making me giddy. I woke up early, again, and had enormous amounts of energy moderately more stamina than usual. I washed dishes, made coffee, made a couple of deposits into my jug, and roamed the Internet for a bit.

Now, what to do? I suppose I'll wait around until my doctor's office opens and giddily throw open the doors and ask with a broad smile, "Where shall I deposit my pot to piss in?"

Friday, July 4, 2008

Do Not Tear Out Ceramic Tile While Drinking Tequila

Here I sit, having just had pork roast, corn, lima beans, and a nice slice of tomato (I know, it's not barbeque or fried chicken, but it's today's traditional Fourth of July meal for my wife and me).

Aside from my earlier over the top patriotic post, we did very little today that would have given away that today's the Fourth of July. Because the doctor told me to piss into a plastic container from this morning until tomorrow morning (when I'll deliver the overflowing jug to the doc's office), we couldn't stray far from home. But we did do a bit of wandering in my car. And we stopped at Half Price Books, where I could easily spend all my money and my time. And we went grocery shopping.

I started watching (and listening to) an Independence Day celebration on PBS, but I lost interest fast. So, I poured a little more white sipping tequila and tried to remember how to type. So far, so good.

I'm getting sleepy. Tequila at 5:00 pm tends to do that to me by 8:45 pm. I feel a little like painting something or tearing out some ceramic tile, but I've always believed doing either after a few shots of tequila is against the laws of man and nature.

Patriotic Musings

For all my loathing of the "patriots" who believe that patriotism means loving one's country, right or wrong...for all my disgust at the massive faults that plague not only this nation's politicians, but its people...for all my embarrassment that Americans have collectively allowed our names and our legacies to be used in ruinous ways that put our very existence at risk...for all of that, I am and I shall always be a patriot. I love the principles upon which the the United States of America were founded. I love the fact that this country can be, indeed has been, a beacon of hope for more than two centuries. I love the idea that, if we insist on it, the United States can continue to be an imperfect but striving model of how human beings can come together for their common good, overlooking their disputes and disagreements.

Today, I listened to a moving reading of the Declaration of Independence. If we, as a people, would just take the time to listen to what that amazing document says and reflect on what it means, I think we cannot help but be proud. I know, none of us contributed to the words, but we are all contributing to its intent with every breath we take in support of the principles so eloquently espoused by that magnificent document.

While I believe deeply that George Bush and his administration should be removed from office and tried for crimes against humanity, I do not lay all the blame on the American people and I most certainly do not lay blame on the American system of government. I hold all of us accountable for allowing the man to take and keep office; I hold accountable all the people who have allowed this administration to lie and fabricate and manipulate events to enable their theft of power. I am upset and angry at everyone who continues to allow Bush to embarrass us and present to the world an image of America that is not us. But I am in awe of the radical experiment that has become the United States of America and I am committed to allowing a wonderful idea to eventually reaching fruition. It will be long after I am gone, but if we collectively correct our mistakes, admit our flaws, acknowledge our guilt, and rectify every wrong, the vision of America will be realized.

When that happens, it will have happened around the world. Because until all people, everywhere, have achieved the same "inalienable rights" that we achieve, our experiment will still be just an experiment. When we achieve the goals we set forth in the Declaration of Independence, so will the world.

Happy? Birthday

Today is the day we celebrate our nation's birthday. We have been part of a noble experiment that, for all its ups and downs, has brought us to unparalleled prosperity. Good things can go bad. If this nation and the principles upon which it was founded are to survive, we have to reach back and remember what it is our forefathers fought for. We have to acknowledge our mistakes and our abuses...correct them and move forward. Otherwise, all of the time since the "real" birthday of this nation will have passed by without any meaning, without any real progress. Watch these videos to see just some of the things we must correct. But be careful...the courts have ruled that the identity of viewers of YouTube.com must be revealed...





Thursday, July 3, 2008

Would You Like to Hear About My Bile Ducts, Too?

I was planning on a carefree holiday weekend. It will probably be pretty laid back, but carefree will be hard.

I mentioned a "bad" thing yesterday, i.e., being told by my cardiologist's office to quickly make an appointment with my family doctor because of alarming lab results that suggested "worsening kidney function." I'd already made an appointment with the family doc for next week for a checkup, so I figured I'd wait until then.

But today my family doctor's office called. He's on vacation, but apparently saw the results that my cardiologist had faxed to him and told his staff to call me to tell me to go right away to see a nephrologist. "I have an appointment to see the doctor next week; can't it wait?" I asked. "No, he wants you to see someone today." The nurse said she'd try to get me an appointment and call me back. She called back. She couldn't get me an appointment until the end of July, so she wanted me to come in to see another doctor at the family medical center, just to check me out..."we wouldn't want anything to happen over a long weekend," she said. She made an appointment for me at 1:00 pm and told me to bring in all medications I'm taking, prescription or not.

So, I went to see the stand-in doctor, a young woman who has seen me before when I've needed to get to a doctor while mine has been enjoying the fruits of his enormous wealth. I actually much prefer her. She's direct but pleasant and there's not a hint of accusatory tone coming out of her mouth.

Anyway, the doctor asked me lots of questions and advised me that one of the drugs I'm taking (an over-the-counter anti-inflammatory for arthritis) could cause problems so I should stop it. From there, I gave them a gift of a little urine and more blood and was given a plastic container the size of a tanker truck in which I was advised to collect all my urine output for 24 hours and bring it in for a huge party at the doctor's office on Saturday. OK, the party thing is stretching it. But, my god, I'd have to drink a couple of cases of see-through lager to be able to even partially fill the tanker truck.

The blood test and urinalysis should tell them something, she said, but she wants me to have a renal sonograph done...that, too, will have to wait until the end of the month.

While she didn't make light of the lab tests and said, indeed, that they could be signs of some very serious stuff, she calmed my nerves by allowing that the elevated urea level could have been caused by my "fasting" before my lab tests. The elevated creatinine, on the other hand, was of more concern. I, of course, don't have a fucking clue what either of them mean, except that they make me nervous.

God, I've done it. I've written an entire blog post about health issues. Shit, I'm getting old. Very, very old. And, at 54, I'm way too young for that.

I just want to be a curmudgeonly geezer. I do not want to be an old curmudgeonly geezer!

P.S. My old insurance shut down 6/30/08. My new insurance, after I select it and fill out the forms, will commence 7/1/08. In the meantime, everything goes on the credit card for reimbursement. Let's all hear it for "universal health care!"

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Good and Bad

Good: I have a fully-executed copy of our lease for our new office space in hand.

Good: We picked out carpet and paint colors today for the new space.

Bad: It's going to cost $310 for the door sign and building directory signs for our clients.

Bad: I'm not sure I can count on a Voice Over Internet Protocol (VOIP) phone system to meet our needs, for various reasons.

Good: My wife and I had Thai food for lunch.

Bad: My cardiologist's office called, urging me to make an immediate appointment with my family doctor due to the fact that my recent lab work revealed "worsening renal function" that commands my family doctor's immediate attention. No other explanation.


Good: Tomorrow (July 3) is a "Friday-equivalent," so we'll all dress casually at the office.

Good: I have two proposals I have to finish ASAP for what could be very good business contracts...but no assurances.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Something There Is That Doesn't Love a Wall, That Wants it Down...

On rare occasion I am confronted with something so upsetting that I cannot find it in me to write about it, at least not for awhile. So it was Sunday.

During a meeting with some neighbors about how to deal with "the wall" (a sculptured concrete wall around parts of our neighborhood...a wall that is about to fall down), I learned of a death in the neighborhood.

A woman in her late 50s inherited her mother's home about 2 blocks from me a year or two ago. I did not know her mother, nor did I know her. Both were described to me by my visiting neighbors as "reclusive."

Within the past two weeks, one of the neighbors who lived next door to the reclusive neighbor complained to the president of the homeowners' association (HOA) that the yard had been neglected and mail hadn't been picked up and flyers were left unattended at the door. A notice from the Post Office, from December, was an alert to the recipient that no more mail would be delivered until the mail box was emptied and the peron came to call at the Post Office. The notice was dated from December, just before Christmas. The HOA president asked if the neighbors had tried to call or knock on the door to see if anyone was home. "No." Have you called the police, since the neighbor might be ill or hurt? "No."

To make a long story short, the complaining neighbor finally called the police and insisted they take a close look to see whether anyone was there. They found the woman dead in her car, in the garage, along with a suicide note, dated in late November. She had been dead for about seven months.

I know nothing about the dead woman other than what I've been told. I find it heartbreaking that the poor woman was so alone that no one cared enough to try to find her after she went missing in November. I don't know whether she worked, but I'd have to assume not. I don't know whether she knew any of her neighbors, but I have to assume not. She must have been completely and uttlerly alone. No one knew her well enough to even notice that she was not around. It was her yard and her mailbox and the commercial flyers that caught someone's attention, not the woman's absence.

How can we not miss someone's presence, even someone who may have been a recluse? How could her next-door neighbors not notice long ago that something was out of place? I wonder if I had lived next door whether I would have cared enough to try to find out if something was wrong.

I suppose what upset me as much as anything was the fact that the people who told me about this seemed so unmoved by it. The telling was a juicy bit of gossip, not a tale of tragedy. I felt myself physically withdraw from the other four people in the room when the story was told and I saw their reactions; not horror or terror or sadness, but distaste and excitement. That made me feel a little closer to the lady I never met who decided to end her life, perhaps because she was so alone in this world. I don't know what the suicide note said, but I can't help but think that isolation may have played a role in a terrible, irreversible decision.