There was a fire on the set of Little Rascals, but it wasn't how Mr. Trump described it. What happened was, Penelope Spheeris, the director, had a crush on George "Dreamboat" Wendt. We all did, to be honest. Every day he wore a red taffeta dickey—and nothing else. When it was time to shoot a scene George would weep in his trailer because he'd have to change into his character's clothes. He wouldn't leave his trailer. Eventually Penelope said he could wear his taffeta dickey under his shirt, and that seemed to make him happy.

Anyway, Trump was jealous that Penelope was into Dickey Wendt and not into him. So in order to try and impress her, Trump got all hopped up on the Steve Coogan moonshine and had one of his underlings light a fire next to Penelope's ponytail. Then he "heroically" appeared with a copy of the Trump board game and put the fire out. No one was impressed. We saw him as a nuisance. One day he even showed up in a chiffon Trump dickey but everyone thought it was so lame and he wasn't allowed near the craft services table until after the PA's had eaten. There was nothing left but two packets of relish and a radish rose, and he pretended to enjoy it! He kept saying real loud, "Mmm, now that's a good radish! I enjoy this radish! Such a tasty radish!" He was so pathetic. A few years later, when he found out I was going to be Eddie Munster in the made-for-TV movie The Munsters' Scary Little Christmas, he sent me steaks around the clock. He wanted me to put in a good word with Norm Liebmann—he wanted to play Grandpa Munster!

What a lout.

Penelope Spheeris, that bitch—that’s why I’m glum. I was the best fucking part of 1994’s Little Rascals. You ask a hundred people on the street, you couldn’t find person one who remembers that Bug Hall played Alfalfa—but ask them who played Waldo’s father. Trump, goddamnit, that’s what they’ll tell you.

So why is it that Penelope isn’t casting me in Little Rascals 2: All Grow’d Up? How could she forget that on the set of Little Rascals I put out the fire that threatened to consume her dangling blonde ponytail? She didn’t even see the damn fire, she was so busy making eyes at George Wendt, a.k.a Norm from Cheers, a.k.a. Dickey “No Dick” Wendt, a.k.a fine I admit it he’s kind of a dreambarge. Boat? The expression is dreamboat? Thought it was barge. Fuck off, it’s dreambarge now. Point is Penelope’d be dead if it weren’t for me. I walloped out that fucking fire with 1989’s Trump - The Board Game that the grips were playing with. Lost my fucking eyebrows, thank God they’re flesh colored so no one noticed. But whatever, Penelope, 1998’s Senseless sucked—only good part was Brad “Dickie” Dourif.

Send a dozen Trump Steaks to all of Penelope’s enemies. Around the clock.

Ah, mon ami, won’t you come over to this bench of agony? How it hurts your back, but what a beautiful pain it is. Cigarette? Très bien. I can see from your outfit that you’re a plumber. Me, I toil in a similar vineyard—you may not realize it, but we both ensure that bad stuff goes down and what rises is as clear and pure as spring rain.

Mon frère, allow this humble poet to tell you a story. Allow me to take you to Montreal in 1964 when I moved like a Semitic apparition through jazz clubs and cafes, staying long enough to be espied but not so long that my absence would disrupt the fragile meditations of the assembled spirits. One evening, drunk on cheap wine, two women followed me to my tiny dwelling, my cramped and unfortunate cold-water flat. What they sought was shelter, in the Old Testament meaning of the word. I said to these twin angels, these impossible creatures of the night, “Girls, if you do not mind the faucet’s mythological drip into the destroying porcelain sink, my home is yours.”

Ah, the love we made that night! They pursued, and I was coy—I was coy, and they pursued. The love burned long, but of course, in the end, all that is left is ash. Comme l’oiseau sur la branche, comme l’ivrogne dans le choeur de la nuit, j’ai cherche ma liberte. How rusty my French sounds—I can get by, but it’s not a tongue I could ever move around in in a way that would satisfy the appetites of the mind or the heart. Oh, the heart.

Goodness, how low hangs the sun. Mon ami, I bid your farewell. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Jared Fogle here, folks. You probably know me as the guy famous for holding up pants. It’s a hard racket, actually—forearms get tired. But there’s one thing that keeps me holding up pants day in day out: wearing my other pants. My khakis, man! Fucking love ‘em! Shit, I get so sexy in my khakis. I throw on my pager (pictured) and the women of GIA (greater Indianapolis area) get soaked. This one time, I went to this real casual Bar Mitzvah, right, and it said “black tie optional.” I was like, “black tie optional? More like khakis MANDATORY!” God, I loved it. I got so sexy in my khakis. Threw on a purple polo, a brown belt, and my beloved khaks. Showed up a little late to the service but the minute I walked into shul Cantor Weintraub stopped the service—stopped right smack in the middle of Ein Keloheinu—and he goes, “Yahweh in heaven! That’s what we talk about when we talk about khakis. Come up to the bimah!”

And that’s why I do it. That’s why I hold up pants all day long.

I make fantastic fucking moonshine.

That story is nothing but fanciful bullshit. Except for the part about the Steve Coogan moonshine.

I know. I'm 25. It's ridiculous for me to even mention that. But in a few years, there will be kids who will see the 90s like we saw the 70s, so retro and far-out. I miss the 90s. That was my "home" era. I think everybody has one. That God-given decade of your youth that you subliminally get stuck in. I'm still on the look out for the return of grunge by the way. You know: white Hanes T-shirt, long-sleeved flannel top, yellow stitched Docs and leather bracelets. You can imagine my disappointment at the mild 80s revival currently hitting the scene. No offense to the kids of that generation (No wait...I will not dress this up. Acid washed jeans anyone? Shoulder pads? Stun gun me). With grunge came sarcasm and rage. If it makes a comeback, I don't even have to try. I'm already in.

Does anybody remember Nirvana? Pearl Jam? Silverchair (Clare. wink, wink)? Garbage? That series on RPN 9 My So-called Life with Claire Danes and this goofy-looking curly haired dude? There's Something About Mary? Romy and Michelle's Highschool Reunion? I Still Know What You Did Last Summer and will needlessly be informed of all the subsequent summers of your lifetime? No Doubt back when Gwen Stefanie wasn't the über-famous have-my-own-clothing-line pop culture monstrosity she is now? Speaking of which, I saw them play the Don't Speak video on classic MTV once. I froze in my seat. Classic MTV?!! Case in point. See paragraph 1, sentences 3 and 4.

Alanis "I'm going to decapitate you with my harmonica and ridiculously long hair" Morissette?

Whatever happened to them?

Yes, there was this big hoo-ha over the recent Spice Girls reunion but let's face it. They're in their 30s making music videos that are really just glorified lingerie ads. It's not the same. Sporty Spice is now posh looking? Where are the backflips? And if for some far-flung reason, time becomes non-linear and they came out now as opposed to when I was 14 and gullible, I will go into my eyeball routine, no question.

Anyway, here's to that decade. If only for the high-cut DMs, I will pray for a resurrection.

This open letter is a dedication to Jun from SEED at Mid Valley.

For the shrewdness, suggestions, and sagacious comments.

---------------------------

Dear Jun,

As I walked into the store, all I thought of was to pick up something worthy of my cash, test its compatibility with my physique, make an expensive decision, and head to the counter. And then walk out like how I walked in.

You were quick to greet me with the affable facade that you probably were forced to put on, but it didn't take long before I realized I was wrong and found myself at the receiving end of your passion with the capital P to serve people, when you made attempts to understand my circumstances while actively seeking suggestions for me, and even went as far as providing fashion tips to compensate for my woefully inadequate knowledge of the fashion world.

You may be a salesman, but your shrewdness and maturity torpedoed all the previous negative associative tags that I shamefully tagged onto my perception of a sales personnel. At the threshold of my question, "You've been working here for long?" (because you are such a nice person and I felt bad not showing mutual interest), I ended up listening to you waxing lyrical about your job in a no-holds-barred evasion-free personal account.

You are an unhappy lot. You lamented with zeal the lack of opportunities for personal growth in your job, exarcebated by the management practices in your firm that you found sublimely unacceptable. Our relatively brief exchange had in turn taught me, got me thinking elaborately and drew my attention on a few important issues:

1. Status-conscious culture. I have long condemned this as I see this as a means for the those in power to feel good about themselves for the attention and respect bestowed upon them, whether or not they (the attention and respect) come with sincerity. It is an interesting anecdote of how you were frustrated with your immediate supervisors and audaciously bypassed various levels of management in an attempt to get what you want, only to end up receiving the cold treatment from the people on top, reminding you of your status as a mere sales personnel.

2. Open door policy. Being a strong advocate in an ODP as you are, I initially had moments of inspired concordance while listening to you as I too concurred that an ODP is the immediate solution to address the status conscious culture. However on a second thought I found that the ODP, sooner or later, will train employees to bypass their immediate supervisors or managers and in turn develop a culture where employees believe that to accomplish their goals, they need to bypass their immediate supervisors and seek out the ear of the more senior managers. I fear the positions of the immediate supervisors and managers might appeared to be redundant, and thus undermines the functioning of a successful organization. I believed that employees should attempt to solve problems with their direct supervisors. And the ODP should be applied if and only if there is an irreconcilable difference or unsolvable problem between the employee and his/her direct supervisors, be it communication barriers between the two or something else that could possibly be the impediment to solving problems together.

3. The hierarchical organizational structure. I listened with keen interest how an organizational structure, by design, can bring the much despicable office politics. Having a direct supervisor who sees you as a pain in the a** spells "trouble", as words can be improvised, stories can be distorted, truth can be spun and meaning can easily "lost in translation" as they make their way to the top via the various levels of the hierarchical organizational structure. Not to mention the red tape and the slow decision making process that ensue.

4. Lack of transparency. While you talked about your own supervisors keeping secrets from you, I further realized that the lack of transparency totally undermines the spirit of team-work and a dynamic organization. Hearing how serious an impact this could be on you (an employee), I realized that transparency and an honest communication is really the very thing that bonds people as an organization.

Your rhetoric - further enhanced by your constant repetition of the issues - immortalized in my mind, getting me thinking about the mental notes that I have taken as you were spilling your thoughts, even as I am writing this. I shall always remember your words and pay attention to the employees' conundrum, should I one day own an organization, manage a department, or merely lead a small team. I am utterly glad you chose me to share this with, for I did not walk out like how I walked in.

As I adjusted my bearings to face the exit sign, I approached the anti-theft device with anxiety - I did not pay for something valuable that I took out of the store.

Inspired and invoked,

Aaron Lo

Tonight, after a bit of a stressful day, I felt tired and heavy. However, when I got home I realized that my pace had been better then imagined, even though at about the mid-way point I picked up a wicked stitch that was sufficiently painful enough to bring me to walking pace until it passed. As I ran my thoughts wondered back to a TV program on an ascent of Everest that went wrong, that we watched the previous evening. The story was a poignant follow on from my post Why bother? An incredible feature of the story, was that as it was told by the survivors, there was an almost casual acceptance that many decisions on the 'day' had lead to their tragedy. Some of the climbers that were featured, had lost their fingers (on both hands) to frost bite, yet they still smiled as they told their story!

A few years ago I read an account of two polar explorers who were attempting to walk unaided across Antarctica. A few days into their trek they pitched camp and settled down to make dinner. Their stove ran out of gas and as they replaced the cylinder, they discovered they hadn't brought an replacement gaskets to seal them at the connection with the stove. They tried to make some but they weren't very effective. On more than one occasion, they came close to burning down their tent, of which they only had one and this was their only protection from the elements! They completed the journey, but for the sake of a few simple rubber seals, they could easily have died. It was incredible to think that despite all the planning to make the trip happen, someone had overlooked one small detail.

At the end of tonight's run, I sat and waited for Guthrie on our new deck. The previous one was hopelessly rotten and over the past week, a local builder has been replacing it. The new one is deeper with a step about two thirds out from the house. The evening was cool but still and it was nice to sit and listen to the stream below while I reflected on my run and the day generally.

Over dinner, we watched a program about the Adirondacks. The stress of the day melted away to be replaced with thoughts of maybe next year we should find the time to explore that region a little bit more. Instead of ultra distance races, I have an inkling to try a few multi-day adventures.

Adventure is just bad planning.

Roald Amundsen

Look, folks: I’m not happy about that baby I ate. But I had to. I was too damn hungry and he was too damn honey-slicked. Now I can’t apologize for something I can’t uneat, but let me just—if I may—tell a quick story in my defense. This one time, when we were working on Seed of Chucky, John Waters took a dump in the middle of the room. It was just wild. He said he did it to get us refocused, because Jennifer Tilly was hopped up on the Steve Coogan moonshine and started yelling at Redman because she thought he was Method Man and I guess Method Man once tried to smoke Corky, her cat, or something? So it was just chaos, and the director Don Mancini just could not keep it together. And boom, Waters, the fucking genius, takes a dump to refocus us. Let me tell you, it worked. It was just wild.

Hi. My name's Emily and I'm 14. I've been athiest for about a year. I haven't told my parents, and I still go to church with them. I don't have the heart to tell them. Anyway, I've found one other atheist, my best friend. All of my other friends are very religious. I'm afraid to tell them, because a few will probably dump me right off, but I really want to keep them as friends. I want to tell them, but it will get spread around school, and I see what happens to others. I always stay out of religous discussions. What should I do?

Well, Emily, you might be asking the wrong person about this, because I'm not one of those very vocal, "I'm an atheist and everyone knows it!" types. But since you asked, I'll give you my perspective.

As I've mentioned before, I follow a "Don't ask, don't tell" policy when it comes to my atheism, except when the person is very close to me and I can feel that he or she wouldn't turn on me upon finding out. I'm not ashamed of my atheism, mind you, it's just very annoying to have to be armed with counters to various inane arguments all the time ("Then where did the universe come from?" "That's just a phase, right?" "Why is this world that we live in so beautiful?" and other fun crap). There's also the risk of making your relationship awkward with whoever it is you're talking to. Even with people you've just met, like what happened with me a week ago at a movie premiere:

TA: "I think this movie would appeal to all denominations. I mean, I'm an atheist and I'm totally interested in seeing this."

Elderly Woman: "Ah."

TA: "And what did you say your job was again?"

Elderly Woman: "I'm an organizer at our local parish."

TA: "I see. Cool."

[awkward silence ensues; TA and Elderly Woman eventually excuse themselves to go talk to other people]

Let me tell you, though, it's very liberating to be open about your beliefs, which is why I'm slowly becoming more confident in discussing my atheism with others. I think that's what you could do, too. You don't have to have a big "Coming Out" party or anything, just try to work your way into becoming more comfortable about your beliefs.

If you feel like your friends will reject you for being an atheist, you don't have to tell them just yet. You can approach the friends you feel closer to and try to get a feel of how they might react; for example, you could start by asking them about their thoughts on religion and atheism. This is actually what I did with my religious friend, Martha ("How do you feel about atheists?"), and that went pretty well. I also told my friends from school about my atheism after a long discussion on religion (I had a post here, around November 2007, but I deleted it by accident. *cries*).

I don't want to resort to cliches here, but I do believe you'll know the right time when it comes. It's when you feel like there are a million things you'd rather do with your sixty minutes than go to Mass with your parents. It's when your upper lip starts to twitch when your friends all agree that "all fags should go to hell."

It's all a matter of priorities, Emily. If you feel like preserving your friendships at the expense of keeping your beliefs hidden is the better idea, no one's stopping you. If you can't stand it anymore and you feel like you need to speak up, that's okay, too. There is no right or wrong answer here, it's completely dependent on what you feel would be better for you.

Let me know how it turns out! And if you feel like my advice isn't enough, feel free to browse through the comments section, because my readers usually have better ideas than I do. :)

If you're wondering, that little introductory sketch is largely due to my reoccuring shortage of material and also a way to segue to my elbow grease of a topic. I  resolved to share the little things I have learned since the day I took the Manila-bound bus with nothing but a bayong-full of patola and live chickens. Ok...Maybe not those items exactly but I bet it gave you an appropriate mental picture of who I was at the time.

I would like to think of this as my little contribution to humanity. To have some other kid out there benefit from the wisdom garnered from the shitty. The grimy. The embarrassing. The frustrating, beat-me-up-with-a-two-by-four pool of experiences that I have gained this past decade.

Here are a few of my personal I-ching, Art of War bits and I will try not to come off sounding like the Dr. Phil cult of self-help:

1. In life, there are some things that need to be chucked. Just make sure you chuck what is yours or you will end up with a very angry roommate.

2. There will be times you will feel like you're the only fuck-up in a room full of achievers. It could be worse. Some people remain completely unaware of their idiocy and remain fuck-ups the rest of their lives. At least you have a shot at changing the status quo.

3. Karma is digital. 

4. When it comes to money, go old school. Forego the convenience of ATMs and online banking. Get a passbook account at bank with a penchant for long lines.  A withdrawal will be such a pain that you will end up not touching your funds until absolutely necessary.

5. Don't formulate an opinion of someone or something based solely on what you were told. Investigate. Chances are, you will have an entirely different point of view. Besides, curiousity was not the only thing that killed the cat. Ignorance did too.

6. The most difficult people to deal with are the ones who know exactly what's wrong and yet choose to do nothing. If you encounter one, it is best to leave it to the cosmos and keep your advice to yourself.

7. Trust is a badge of honor that needs to be earned. Give it only to a handful. That way, it is easier to keep track of who to run to and who to blame.

8. If you suffer from a weak short-term memory, never lie. Resort to selective truth telling if you must.

9. Your college degree will NOT define your entire life. It will go in directions that will make you eat your words. So having a strict 10-year plan is bullshit and you know it. What's important is that you don't get stuck with something mindnumbing.

10. The best way to ensure that a cockroach does not mysteriously revive itself after repeated whacks of a newspaper: tatlong patak ng Joy liquid detergent.

11. When you truly love something, no pain, no effort, no mess will keep you from doing it. If it is something that will not in anyway get you arrested, then by all means, jump.

12. When on a date and after fifteen minutes you run out of things to talk about, get up and run away.

A close friend of mine works in a grocery store, and tells me that there are a number of people who say they are cutting back on groceries and saving much of their money in order to buy fuel through the coming winter.  Most of these, he says, are elderly people who talk to him as he puts out produce.  They tend to be SSI receipients who, instead of spending $150 on groceries, are only spending $75 and are banking the rest in order to buy fuel next winter.  One old woman wanted to haggle over a bag of carrots.  Carrots, mind you, cost under $1.50 last time I checked. 

"I only want to buy one carrot."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but the smallest we have is this one pound bag of carrots."

"But I only want one.  It's just me.  The rest will go bad!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't do anything.  You can talk to the manager if you like, right over there."

So she did, and then tried to get the cashier to sell her just one carrot.  According to my friend, she was extremely distraught. 

Over a bag of carrots. 

For those unfamiliar with Vermont winters, they can be gentle, or they can be brutal.  Last year was actually not that bad of a winter for many Vermonters, even though we reached near record levels of snow.  The Ice Storm of 1998 lingers long in every Vermonter's mind, when we were not merely covered, but encased in ice.  Norm's car was literally buried in ice overnight, and we couldn't get it out until spring.  (Thankfully it was a Ford escort, so no big loss there.)

The prospect of not affording feul this next winter is very real for many Vermonters, myself included.  The cost of living is so high here to begin with (thanks to all you flatlanders paying exorbitant fees and buying up the land for your summer homes) that the increase in fuel and food costs is particularly scary.  I will most likely have to get a second job very soon in order to ensure enough funds for winter feul.  I've already begun chopping wood and gathering deadwood to burn in the woodstove. 

But I'll get by.  Not only do I have the best family support system in the world, but we are taking proactive measures at home in order to not just save, but to change our way of living.  I'm hoping to post some videos soon (we'll see) of the land around the house.  We've planted some of our garden, and cultivated some wildflowers that are growing out back.  The ground here is so fertile that we have ten birch saplings that sprouted this year and are at least 3 feet tall already.  We mow the area where they grow, so I know they're new this year.  And last year our tomato plants grew to the top of our ranch home.  (That's not an exaggeration in the least.)  We've transplanted the seedlings, and two maple seedlings from the back are going into the front yard.  If they grow this much every year, I may start selling them.  As well as eggs and veggies in the summer.   

We're going to see how much we can actually grow this summer, and if we get enough we intend to sell some, and make a roadside stand.  If we do well enough, I'm going to try building a small greenhouse so that we can get an early start next fall.  As for the eggs, we already get a few dozen extra a month from the 3 hens we have, and we're going to get another 3 in order to have more to sell.  It's really cheaper and easier than buying eggs at the store, especially when I do my baking (God, I sound like Catherine Engalls right about now), and with only the few chickens, it doesn't stink.  (And, you know, we have horses, so . . . )

We're also going to do some canning.  I know, what a hick.  I don't care what you think.  I've got a man; who do I need to impress?  Besides, I make some damned fine soup with hamburg, pasta, and home-canned tomatoes that would knock your socks off.  (There are many other ingredients, but if I choose to share the recipe it'll be later on.) 

Within the next couple of years I hope to install some solar panels.  Electricity is at a premium here, and VT's contract for cheap electricity with Hydro-Quebec doesn't have long left to it.  We're attempting to reduce our waste, composting, and using less gas by going to the grocery store less often.  

Why the change?  Because when my friend told me what one man said, it chilled me to the bone: "We're buying less food to save for fuel this winter.  My wife isn't going to freeze to death.  I may starve, but she's not going to freeze to death.  No sir." 

And yeah, Vermonters really talk like that. 

David was back in Toronto for Mother's Day, his week-long visit providing Jasmina with a bit of time to catch up on sleep. Jasmina was happy to tell me that on Mother's Day, the three of them participated in Megan's Walk, creating - with nearly 1000 other people - a huge hug around the SickKids hospital. "Even David was really touched." Jasmina told me. "It was the first time he participated. Kids in the hospital showed posters thanking the participants outside, and kids outside were given chalk to draw messages on the sidewalk for the kids inside."

Wishing you all a lovely week! And good luck, little Monkey, for today's procedure!

The contents are padded with last year's results, directions for crews between aid stations and a sundry of other details regarding the pre-race buildup. Finally it feels like the races are more than an imaginary goal that I've been working towards. The opening page contains an interesting quotation by the late Sir Edmund Hillary.

I believe that if you set out on an adventure and you're absolutely convinced you are going to be successful, why bother starting?

We train in order to prepare ourselves for these adventures yet, it is true, there can be no guarantees of reaching the finish line. I mentioned to someone recently that I had entered the Slam this year and the reply was; "So, you're going to run all four?", to which I replied; "No, I'm going to run one at a time." That element of doubt is a balance between confidence to take on the challenge and a respect of the task that doesn't lead to complacency.

A different form of adventure also took a step closer to reality today. Liability insurance certificates arrived for the Bluff 50k race I'm directing later in the fall. Hopefully, for the majority of the entrants (I hope) who enter this event, it will be an adventure that holds no certainty of completion! For me the uncertainty will be whether enough people rise to the challenge and then to provide an environment where they can be tested yet experience success.

After all, if it was going to be easy, why bother? 

.

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I told my friend about my last entry, "Weird Medical News - Powerful Tomatoes Leave More Than 20 Dead" and we fell into our usual banter.

.

she - "There should be tomato warnings."

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me - "There should be weekly tomato drills."

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Then, she told me that she almost told someone last week that she had to get off the computer because of tomato warnings. I said, "You said TOMATO warnings?" and she said yes.

.

That was funny, interesting. We both thought TOMATO when thinking about TORNADOS. She had used it as a joke before the tornados hit. I thought it as a misread of headlines after they hit.

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It puts a totally different spin on the news if you use the wrong word.

"Tomatoes touch down in several NC Piedmont communities"

"Tomatoes push three 18-wheelers off I-40"

"Tomatoes snap trees in half and tip airplanes on their wing at GSO airport."

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Does this sort of thing happen to other people? Do you switch words when you read or exchange words when talking? We do it all the time in the normal music of conversation (playing riffs on similar words).

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I'm talking to that friend now. She just pointed out that we're using malapropisms.

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A malapropism is the incorrect use of a word by substituting a similar-sounding word with different meaning, usually with comic effect.

I just read this post to the friend mentioned in it, and she laughed and said, "It's a malapriapism." You'll have to look up the definition to that one. (hint: It's a made up word, but priapism is a word.)

[UPDATE 0045 May 12, 2008 I just talked with a family member and read her this post. She pointed out that malapropism usually refers to people mixing up words without meaning to. Our word exchanges are intentional, playing on the similar sound yet different meaning.]

.

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Weird Brain Stuff

I glanced at this headline:

Powerful Tornadoes Leave More Than 20 Dead

And, read it as:

Powerful Tomatoes Leave More Than 20 Dead

=====================================

A woman who can't forget anything:

Jill Price's book details what it's like to carry around

decades of highly detailed memories about her daily life.

=====================================

Health Risks by Profession

Jobs at Risk For Disease

Professional firefighters have higher-than-average risk of contracting colon and brain cancer, a study by the Massachusetts Department of Public Health found. Evidence also indicated that firefighers may be more susceptible to bladder and kidney cancers, and Hodgkin's lymphoma.

A separate Australian study recently revealed that health and community workers -- including doctors, nurses and social workers -- were twice as likely to suffer from cardiovascular conditions such as heart disease and stroke. The study was based on data tracking 4,000 people between the ages of 45 and 65.

Restaurant workers were twice as likely than the average worker to get bronchitis as well as musculoskeletal, cardiovascular and endocrine conditions such as diabetes, the Australian study found.

Retail workers faced higher rates of musculoskeletal conditions, such as shoulder or ankle injuries.

The Australian study also found that office workers were less likely to suffer from cancer. Workers in other industries including education, transportation, construction and agriculture did not show significantly higher rates of chronic illness. Sources: theage.com.au, Reuters

=====================================

Suicidal Doctors

Know-How Raises Suicide Risk for Doctors
By LINDSEY TANNER,
AP
Posted: 2008-05-10 00:09:45
Filed Under: Health News
CHICAGO (May 8) - There's a grim, rarely talked-about twist to all that medical know-how doctors learn to save lives: It makes them especially good at ending their own. An estimated 300 to 400 U.S. doctors kill themselves each year - a suicide rate thought to be higher than in the general population, although exact figures are hard to come by.

Some doctors believe the stigma of mental illness is magnified in a profession that prides itself on stoicism and bravado. Many fear admitting psychiatric problems could be fatal to their careers, so they suffer in silence.

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10 posts in the last 23 days.

Remember "Lean In For A Kiss" is still available free on eFolkMusic.

Click here to get the music

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Check out Nathan Pacheco!

He's going to be a worldwide sensation.

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Rock On, Robin Roberts April 22, 2008

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The Country Bunny Crossed the River Jordan and Came Back With Essential Salts From the Dead Sea April 22, 2008

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Talent, Violin, Juilliard, Paranoia, Rage, Trumpet, Untreated Mental Illness … the story was on NPR’s Fresh Air today April 22, 2008

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Day of Silence April 25, 2008 - Watch Larry King’s Public Service Announcement April 24, 2008

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Top Three Today - Posts, Searches, Most Active April 24, 2008

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Gay PDA on 20/20 … compares public reactions to pda by straights and gays (man-woman, man-man, woman-woman) April 28, 2008

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More Must-See Videos: Stroke/Jill Bolte Taylor, Civil Rights/Dare Not Walk Alone, Self Portraits/Elephant Artisans, Documentary/Story of Stuff, Ellen/”This is personal to me.” May 3, 2008

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And to think I thought that when I moved to North Carolina I would miss the constant wind in Oklahoma. May 9, 2008

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Nathan Pacheco: The Man With the Beautiful Voice Writes and Performs With Yanni May 9, 2008

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Minstrel Boy’s Great Blue Heron May 11, 2008

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Last night I turned on the computer, hoping for a quick read of email and web pages, and I could not get a good connection. "Server could Not Be Found" was all I could find. I wondered if the problem was somehow related to an overhead fan, imagining some electrical distubance might be interrupting the internet access.

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After turning off the fan, I turned my attention to the electrical and rain storm outside, and I wondered if that could be interrupting the service. The sounds of thunder, flashes of light, and beating of rain on my roof and awnings were compelling. It was the kind of storm that's great for watching and sleeping. But, I just wanted to check my mail first. It didn't happen.

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About 1030pm, the lights went out. Within moments, they were back on again. Then, off and on again. Then, off. Not having prepared for a power outage, I was pretty much out of luck in the light department (other than the light from my cell phone and non-internetted battery-fueled computer). I closed them both, and opened the curtains in order to enjoy the rest of the storm.

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I had thought I was wide awake, and would just lie there for hours in the dark. But, I was wrong. After a few moments of watching the flashing sky and listening to the falling rain, I was asleep. When the power returned and the lights came on about 230am, I woke up briefly. At 430am, I awoke again, closed the curtains and tried the internet again. And, here I am. (Yes, I have a little insomnia problem tonight.)

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In the process of logging into email, I saw this news story title:

"Tornado blows vehicles off highway in N. Carolina, kills 1- By JAY REEVES, Associated Press Writer"

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I read the story and was quickly reminded that I don't have to miss all that wind in Oklahoma. We have plenty of it right here.

A tornado touched down late Thursday on the outskirts of Greensboro, N.C., blowing three tractor-trailers off Interstate 40, authorities said. One person was killed and two were injured in the freeway accidents, and a third was hurt when a wall collapsed.

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Two businesses and one house were damaged in Guilford County, said state Department of Crime Control and Public Safety spokeswoman Patty McQuillan. Two houses collapsed in Clemmons, probably because of high winds, and more than 32,000 were without power, officials said.

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[UPDATE: More on this story, posted 9:30am May 9, 2008
Tornado knocks vehicles around in N. Carolina, kills 1]

[UPDATE: 00:45 May 12, 2008 A family member told me that trees beside I-40 were snapped in half for a distance of about 1/2 mile near the GSO airport. The local newspapers showed photos of damage, including an airplane that was blown onto its side, with one wing tip touching the tarmac.]

Then, I was informed that there was a copperhead on the front porch. (For those of you who don't know what a copperhead is: It's a poisonous snake... one you really don't want to mess with.)

Oh.

And that explains why you need a shovel in the kitchen... how?

Because I am going to trap it on the front porch from the kitchen window. Once I have it trapped, I need someone to go outside and chop it's head off. Can you, Kristyn?

Um, no. There will be no decapitating of snakes in the morning for me, thanks.

Fine. Just don't go outside and scare it away.

Will do, mom.

My mother proceeds to climb on the kitchen counter and quietly leans out the window, shovel in hand. Oh sweet, there's a bench under the window, she can get more leverage.

She traps/stabs the snake with the shovel.

Kristyn, hand me something to chop it's head off with.

I hand her the bush-axe.

She chops it's head off after many failed attempts and several really awkward blows.

Snake decapitated.

Ok, so can I go outside now?

Yes.

Um, mom. It wasn't a copperhead. It was a corn snake (NOT poisonous, very helpful with rodents and bugs).

All that adrenaline for a corn snake? Shoot.

Later... my mom on the phone with my dad: "When I killed it, it was a copperhead. Now, it's a corn snake."

Chalk another one up to, "What just happened?" And THAT was how I started my day. By the way, 8 hours later, and there are still two snake halves on our front porch.

We hadden toch enige angst dat Checco zijn versnellingen niet had aangepast. Edoch hij had zowel een 39 voor als een 28 achter geinstalleerd. Voorwaar we waren blij verrast, dat zou moeten lukken na al die trainingen op de ATB in Polen.

Wel had hij nog de ouderwetse touclips. 'oal die neie dingen ' , dat was niet besteed. Hier nog enige foto's. Inmiddels heeft ons het bericht bereikt dat Checco is overgestapt op normale pedalen. Zelfs gaf hij aan dat dit toch wel een gemak was en zelfs lekker zat. Ach ja, . . . .

Welcome to BrightWorld!

In 2006 I copyrighted a social marketing project I dubbed as BrighWorld! At that moment of project conceptualization, my aura was going through some changes which made me extremely sensitive to negative vibrations of whatever kind.

As a yogi and mystic, I already felt such sensitivity to vibrations before. Sometimes, when traversing  the Taft Avenue route of Manila at night, I feel weakened by the negative vibrations accumulated in that portion of the city for the day. I feel the vibes everywhere, but most specially on the concrete pavement below.

Way back in the 1990s yet, when my path towards the mystical accelerated, I began to feel weakened whenever the persons I’m talking too stress too much on the negative, keep on recycling gossips and worn-out intrigues about their supposed office nemesis, and engage in limitless braggadocio and arrogant chatter.

But this decade, as my own meditation practice heightened, my sensitivity to negative imaging by the tri-media got added to my list of sensitivities. Wars, pestilence, pandemics, gossips, political intrigues and noise, crimes, drugs and related texts and images were proving to be too much for my chakras particularly my heart and crown chakras.

It was getting clearer to me that I do not belong to those people who thrive on the negative-pessimistic-destructive images. I clearly belong to those people who were attuned to the positive-optimistic-creative vibrations and images, and these were, to my mind, the harbingers of the new world unfolding.

Incidentally, there were people on the mass media, including the internet and book writers, who were conscious of the need to project positive imaging. Just a few minutes of exposure, for instance, to very positive images on TV about wonderful crafts, tour sites, historical sites and ecology tours can brighten the day for the viewer or text reader.

I now strongly opine that there has to be more concerted efforts to project the positive-optimistic-creative or POC images as a powerful current that can offset the psyche-destroying impact of negative-pessimistic-destructive imaging. The convergence of individual ‘social marketeers’ that highlight POC images, or LightWorker groups interconnecting through the internet, all bespeak of these efforts.

As my own version of response to the challenges of the moment, I copyrighted in Manila the BrightWorld! I originally intended this project as POC social marketing centered on Philippine reality, particularly macro-reality. The additional highlight was on the economic life.

In this blogosphere version of the project, the scope will be expanded to micro reality and non-economic life as well. It will also seek to cover positive experiences from other countries and those with an international-global character.

So, dear readers, welcome aboard the BrightWorld ship!

[Writ 03 April 2008, Quezon City, MetroManila]

“Vlasic gets it up…”

“He’s got to ram it home!”

“He pulls it out and loses it…”

“Prison rules!”

“Fistric two hands it…”

“He saved it with the top of his crack!” (This was not innuendo. He literally meant that Marty Turco saved a shot with the top of his butt crack.)

“They are like shriveled sausages rolling around in their own grease…”

And that is what playoff hockey is all about!

Vaya con Dios, amigos.

The Judge