It continues to amaze me that professional performers, those individuals PAID to recite words, make absolute ill-prepared asses of themselves on the Oscar stage. How hard is it to REQUIRE that every single nominee presents a prepared, timed response to the Oscars' committee, and that those responses are recited when the Oscar is handed to the recipient? With all the technology available to the entertainment industry, surely there is an app that would allow the recipient's acceptance speech to appear immediately on the tele-prompter screen so that when the person finally makes it to the mic, s/he has prepared remarks to deliver.
The f-bomb response was not funny or cute; it was offensive, especially coming from an actor at the top of her profession being honored by her peers on a world stage. The constant "Oh, my God" response from recipients becomes annoying when it's all one can think to say. Do the nominees really think that we believe they didn't think/believe they would win, so they did not prepare anything to say when/if they did? For crying out loud: believe you'll win and know what you're going to say BEFORE one step is taken onto the red carpet.
Perhaps the Oscars really is all about the fashion, as audiences have been led to believe. It matters not who one is or what one has accomplished if one is not a hit on the red carpet. Who are you wearing is the new how are you? or congratulations for your nomination. Really? CoJo gets to decide who wins the fashion parade, while Joan is allowed to disrespect any and all contestants in the world's most expensive fashion show? Why?
What has happened to dignity and respect? What has happened to formal events that showcase our manners to the world? Why do our most important public figures stand in front of an open mic and revel in their personal lives, rather than honor their professional accomplishments? I like solemnity in solemn occasions and dislike the tactless show of crassness that substitutes for it in today's public events. I stopped going to graduation ceremonies when they became "beach parties" in the 1990s, with alcohol in abundance, beach balls being tossed throughout the graduating class, Hawaiian leis and floral bouquets, and decorated caps and gowns replacing decorum. I dislike weddings that are all about the couple's personal eccentricities ... to the dismay of the guests who are subjected to bridezillas' whims in proper attire and the huge after-parties that have replaced the reception. Just because the bride is a tattooed Goth does not mean that all of the wedding guests share her enthusiasm for either that lifestyle or the public manifestation of it at a wedding, including a black wedding cake topped with a skull.
This Oscar show was intended to honor the long years of its history, to showcase the progression of the profession; instead, it highlighted how far from the dignity of the past this production has swerved. Young kids hosting the event, being cool and making punked remarks about one another, probably reaches an advertiser's demographic, but it sure turned me off to watching the event. I watched the tributes, heard the winner's announced, but spent the rest of the show with the mute button, beginning with the f-bomb thank you speech.
It's challenging for me to believe that this Oscar event is what the original Oscar committee foresaw, and I'd like to go back in time to a more meaningful event that honors the professionals. I'd like to hear the hosts simply keep the show moving, rather than interject their own style/sense of humor into the program. I'd like to hear the presenters acknowledge the professionalism of the actor, rather than bring up their past indiscretions. I'd like the winners to thank the Academy for the honor, rather than gush over the co-star who impregnated her and/or another male winner's new boyfriend. I'd like to enjoy watching the Oscars, rather than cringe my way through it, wondering who's going to say what next.
If Oscar were not just a statue, he'd be turning over in his grave!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
No is Just Another Word if I Don't Mean It
It's not enough to know when to say no, but (1) I have to actually say the word "no," and (2) I have to mean it. I remember a time many years ago when I literally posted a sign above my kitchen phone that said, "THE ANSWER IS NO, AND I DO NOT HAVE TO PROVIDE A REASON." Perhaps it's time for me to remake the sign and remember to just say no.
This past week I began my new life, a life freed from wanting to fulfill other people's needs because somehow that validates my own life. Especially when I absolutely do NOT want to do something, I find myself saying yes because somehow I convince myself that it's not right/fair for me to say no. What hit me while driving home from my visit to my SoCal Coastal friend is that I feed the land sharks Dr. Laura warns me not to feed. Dr. Laura has recently published a book dealing with this issue, so I'm going to purchase it, read it, and change my methods of dealing with people/times when I want to say no, but say yes and then berate myself.
There are far too many sharks in my life, people who tear off pieces of me and bloody the waters in which I live my life. Other sharks, people who feed off other people, pick up the scent and come into my life so they can feed off me. A prime generational example is the mother who turned her own life into shit and passed on all the perceived wrongs done by others to her daughter, who now, at a very young age, feels entitled to live a life based on the world's need to justify the wrongs done to her mother and, by extension, to her. Taking another look, however, at the situation, and it becomes clear that I have no part in either the dysfunction or the resolution. Thus, when I am called upon to engage in the controversies of other people's lives, they begin with the assumption that it is my responsibility not just to do so, but to provide a solution. Because I am wary of racism, the accusations of which seldom seem to require proof, I step lightly in some situations. However, it does not matter to me the color of the skin, but the depth of the "all about me" attitude and entitlement that is being used to manipulate me.
My entire life has been spent trying to fix my world, beginning with my own shortcomings, flaws that were not just pointed out to me since early childhood, but reinforced with constant criticism and punishment. When I am not able to fix whatever is wrong in anyone else's life, not only does that person tell me in no uncertain terms what a failure I am, but then bemoans how I have damaged his/her life in the process of failing to fix their life. It's not my life, it's not my issue, and it's not my responsibility, but when I fail to say "NO" and mean it, I own what is not mine as if it were. Believe me, I have enough of my own dysfunctional life and issues to carry with me, so I have no need to add anyone else's to my life. However, when anyone comes to me, I think how much I would appreciate having someone to help me with my times of need, and I willingly jump right into something I should run from if I had any sense.
I've stopped answering my phone unless it is a person with whom I want to talk and at a time I want to converse. I am working on not offering advice, just listening and walking away, leaving one's personal problems with the person who actually owns them. I am reaching out to people who are important to me, rather than spending time with people who simply feed on me. I've never been a taker, but I really need to become more able to take than to give because the giving is beginning to feel as if I am paying ransom to other people's need. I am slowly convincing myself that it's okay for me to decide not just what to give, but to whom, and equally okay to simply say no.
I've given myself the month of March to "march" on my own path and see if I can turn this negativity around and/or shut it off. I am practicing saying "no" without offering the explanation, but that's going to take time. I am working on not feeling obligated to share what I have with others who make their own spending decisions and thus cannot afford to own what I own. My goal is to find a series of things/ events/ people important to me and then include them/it in my life, instead of telling myself no so I am available to do unto others what I never do for myself.
It's a work in process, but I also hope it's work that will progress.
This past week I began my new life, a life freed from wanting to fulfill other people's needs because somehow that validates my own life. Especially when I absolutely do NOT want to do something, I find myself saying yes because somehow I convince myself that it's not right/fair for me to say no. What hit me while driving home from my visit to my SoCal Coastal friend is that I feed the land sharks Dr. Laura warns me not to feed. Dr. Laura has recently published a book dealing with this issue, so I'm going to purchase it, read it, and change my methods of dealing with people/times when I want to say no, but say yes and then berate myself.
There are far too many sharks in my life, people who tear off pieces of me and bloody the waters in which I live my life. Other sharks, people who feed off other people, pick up the scent and come into my life so they can feed off me. A prime generational example is the mother who turned her own life into shit and passed on all the perceived wrongs done by others to her daughter, who now, at a very young age, feels entitled to live a life based on the world's need to justify the wrongs done to her mother and, by extension, to her. Taking another look, however, at the situation, and it becomes clear that I have no part in either the dysfunction or the resolution. Thus, when I am called upon to engage in the controversies of other people's lives, they begin with the assumption that it is my responsibility not just to do so, but to provide a solution. Because I am wary of racism, the accusations of which seldom seem to require proof, I step lightly in some situations. However, it does not matter to me the color of the skin, but the depth of the "all about me" attitude and entitlement that is being used to manipulate me.
My entire life has been spent trying to fix my world, beginning with my own shortcomings, flaws that were not just pointed out to me since early childhood, but reinforced with constant criticism and punishment. When I am not able to fix whatever is wrong in anyone else's life, not only does that person tell me in no uncertain terms what a failure I am, but then bemoans how I have damaged his/her life in the process of failing to fix their life. It's not my life, it's not my issue, and it's not my responsibility, but when I fail to say "NO" and mean it, I own what is not mine as if it were. Believe me, I have enough of my own dysfunctional life and issues to carry with me, so I have no need to add anyone else's to my life. However, when anyone comes to me, I think how much I would appreciate having someone to help me with my times of need, and I willingly jump right into something I should run from if I had any sense.
I've stopped answering my phone unless it is a person with whom I want to talk and at a time I want to converse. I am working on not offering advice, just listening and walking away, leaving one's personal problems with the person who actually owns them. I am reaching out to people who are important to me, rather than spending time with people who simply feed on me. I've never been a taker, but I really need to become more able to take than to give because the giving is beginning to feel as if I am paying ransom to other people's need. I am slowly convincing myself that it's okay for me to decide not just what to give, but to whom, and equally okay to simply say no.
I've given myself the month of March to "march" on my own path and see if I can turn this negativity around and/or shut it off. I am practicing saying "no" without offering the explanation, but that's going to take time. I am working on not feeling obligated to share what I have with others who make their own spending decisions and thus cannot afford to own what I own. My goal is to find a series of things/ events/ people important to me and then include them/it in my life, instead of telling myself no so I am available to do unto others what I never do for myself.
It's a work in process, but I also hope it's work that will progress.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Means Justify the End?
There's a new trend in funeral notices: families request that, in lieu of flowers, "donations to be sent directly to the family." What a concept! A spouse, a sibling, a child, a somewhat related family member dies and the survivors see a business opportunity. Talk about putting a new face on tradition, the ME-ME-ME generation develops yet another way to generate revenue.
The concept could be expanded to include beloved pets. I will be distraught when my dog(s) die, so why shouldn't someone pay for my grief? Perhaps it would help me through the grieving process if I ... went to Las Vegas for an extended weekend ... or ... booked a cruise ... or ... spent a relaxing day at a local luxury spa. I sure don't have the money to pay for any of those extravagances, but maybe I could afford a little something extra during my time of need if strangers pony up some cash.
When my mother died, I had already paid in full the cost of her cremation. I believe in planning ahead so I don't get caught short on cash when it's important that I have it. When a local former gang member was killed on the streets by some upcoming bangers making their bones, people stood on corners to collect cash for the family, as well as to pay for the funeral services that included a very expensive, all-white casket bedecked with lush floral tributes, and a parade of limos to transport the grieving mourners to the cemetery and back home. Now, I agree that death is devastating and we all have to deal with the finality and the shock of losing a loved one, but if I cannot afford to pay for the funeral expenses, the funeral is too expensive. It offends me that ANYONE actually believes that it is someone else's responsibility to pick up the tab for a death in my area of responsibility.
I don't send flowers, and I sure as heck don't send cash to the family, but I always make a donation to a charity when someone I know dies. My charitable donations are part of my annual budget, too, to assure that legitimate organizations receive money to carry on important work. Hospice is one of the most important services to any family dealing with a terminally ill individual, so that organization always gets my first check, followed by the American Cancer Society, the RA Foundation, and an organization that supports diabetes research. The only organization that I refuse to support is the American Red Cross, which is a cash cow for the Red Cross and its employees, but a rip-off for anyone who ever needs their services -- and later receives a bill for what the public is led to believe is free.
We used to honor the family's wishes about funeral tributes, but, in this case, there is no honor in asking strangers to send money.
The concept could be expanded to include beloved pets. I will be distraught when my dog(s) die, so why shouldn't someone pay for my grief? Perhaps it would help me through the grieving process if I ... went to Las Vegas for an extended weekend ... or ... booked a cruise ... or ... spent a relaxing day at a local luxury spa. I sure don't have the money to pay for any of those extravagances, but maybe I could afford a little something extra during my time of need if strangers pony up some cash.
When my mother died, I had already paid in full the cost of her cremation. I believe in planning ahead so I don't get caught short on cash when it's important that I have it. When a local former gang member was killed on the streets by some upcoming bangers making their bones, people stood on corners to collect cash for the family, as well as to pay for the funeral services that included a very expensive, all-white casket bedecked with lush floral tributes, and a parade of limos to transport the grieving mourners to the cemetery and back home. Now, I agree that death is devastating and we all have to deal with the finality and the shock of losing a loved one, but if I cannot afford to pay for the funeral expenses, the funeral is too expensive. It offends me that ANYONE actually believes that it is someone else's responsibility to pick up the tab for a death in my area of responsibility.
I don't send flowers, and I sure as heck don't send cash to the family, but I always make a donation to a charity when someone I know dies. My charitable donations are part of my annual budget, too, to assure that legitimate organizations receive money to carry on important work. Hospice is one of the most important services to any family dealing with a terminally ill individual, so that organization always gets my first check, followed by the American Cancer Society, the RA Foundation, and an organization that supports diabetes research. The only organization that I refuse to support is the American Red Cross, which is a cash cow for the Red Cross and its employees, but a rip-off for anyone who ever needs their services -- and later receives a bill for what the public is led to believe is free.
We used to honor the family's wishes about funeral tributes, but, in this case, there is no honor in asking strangers to send money.
Monday, February 21, 2011
WOW: I TAKE IT ALL BACK ...
The neighbor girl called and asked if she could come over because her mother left to go visit a with a "friend." I said sure, and she brought along both her dog and her homework. My dogs were glad to see her little fella, but she was obviously in a bitchy mood from the surly look on her face. She told me she had to finish the project I helped her with last week, so I asked her to tell me about it.
When she brought me up-to-date, I offered suggestions that were met with a whine. When she started bitching out my dogs for sharing space with her, I told her to stop it. When she again got in my face and again bitched out my dogs, I told her to knock it off or go home. She picked up her things and her dog and stormed to the garage door.
I stopped her there and told her that she knows how to behave, so if she wants to behave properly, she can stay and I'll help her. "Nooooo," she whined, "I don't need you to help me! Just tell me what to write!"
"Really?" I responded. "Doing the project is your homework, not mine."
"Oh, forget it," she yelled, "I'll just fail like I always do," and stomped out of the garage.
Buh-bye. I guess our 4 days together are ancient history and any future shared time seriously in doubt. Whatever.
When she brought me up-to-date, I offered suggestions that were met with a whine. When she started bitching out my dogs for sharing space with her, I told her to stop it. When she again got in my face and again bitched out my dogs, I told her to knock it off or go home. She picked up her things and her dog and stormed to the garage door.
I stopped her there and told her that she knows how to behave, so if she wants to behave properly, she can stay and I'll help her. "Nooooo," she whined, "I don't need you to help me! Just tell me what to write!"
"Really?" I responded. "Doing the project is your homework, not mine."
"Oh, forget it," she yelled, "I'll just fail like I always do," and stomped out of the garage.
Buh-bye. I guess our 4 days together are ancient history and any future shared time seriously in doubt. Whatever.
4 x 14 = 96
The younger generation has a sense of entitlement that takes some getting used to, including the teen next door informing her mother, who then informed me, that while her mother was out-of-state, the girl would be staying with me. I often fumble when caught unprepared, and I stood there, mouth agape, and could not think of one single reason to say no, although I really, really did not want to say yes. It’s not that I do not like the girl, but dealing with teens is a challenge for a senior citizen who has done just that for the past 35 years of her professional life.
But, because anyone who knows me also knows that I seldom say no, I agreed. Her mother was leaving Thursday evening and returning late Sunday evening, so I faced 4 days with a 14-year-old girl, a long 96 hours looming large. Making matters even more ominous, I started sneezing during my class Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning feeling awful: raw throat, coughing, sneezing, pounding headache, the typical symptoms portrayed by actors in cold/flu/seasonal allergy commercials. I called the mother and told her that I was sick, but the mother had no options, so we were all in for the weekend.
I am pleased to say that it went well. While my guest went to school Friday, I spent the day in bed with my dogs keeping me both company and warm. I gulped Night-Quil and cough medicine, chased with a couple of Aleve, and toughed it out. When the phone call came at 4 pm to tell me that my guest was staying after school, it took me a minute to realize that she should already have been here: school lets out at 3:00 pm. A bit slow on the uptake, I said okay because there was no choice. I am used to being asked for parental permission, not being told a child’s plan after the fact, but this was not a battle I was going to have with a fatigued body, a befuddled mind, and a box of Kleenex in my hand!
Saturday was a much better day, but I was still woozy. We went to the grocery store and bought the ingredients for a chicken casserole and assembled it prior to heading out to a movie and lunch. During lunch we chatted, me carrying the conversational ball more often than she, but had a nice time. I sent her to an age-appropriate comedy, while I enjoyed a much more serious The King’s Speech. When we returned home, I told her I had Netflix available, so she settled down for the duration. Her dog came with her, which made for a lot of fun as the 3 dogs played, then protected their respective owner. However, when her dog decided to settle on my ample warm lap, he backed off both of my female dogs with a low, steady growl. Realizing the dominant 4-pound male Cheewahwah was going to win that battle, my dogs settled for staking their claim on his owner’s lap.
Sunday morning was our confrontation: when my guest told me she was going home, but would be back in a few minutes, I said fine and off she went. My phone began ringing and it was her mother, obviously upset and wanting to talk to her daughter, who was not answering her phone. I told her that her girl had gone home, but would be back in a few minutes. She wasn’t. I finally realized that her phone was again ringing and found it in the guestroom bed, buried under a heap of blankets. That’s when I had my ah-ha moment: my guest had been gone for over an hour, not a few minutes, and could be in distress without any way to communicate that to me.
In a panic, I threw on some clothes, then headed for the garage door on my way to the house next door. As I raised the garage door, she came into view and I went for the “typical Mom” response: where the HELL have you been? You TOLD me you would be gone a few minutes, and you’ve been gone an hour! Your MOM has been calling and she’s worried sick because you haven’t been answering your PHONE!
If looks could kill, I’d have keeled over dead on my garage floor. She was pissed at me for challenging her because she told me where she was and it was no big deal. Yes, she’d left her phone at my house, but so what? She was watching a movie and, when it was finished, she came back. She brought me a carton of eggs because we were going to make waffles (an hour earlier) and stalked into the house.
Well, that took me aback, but I followed her in and told her that I was worried about her safety, especially when I realized that she did not have her phone with her. I explained to her that I’m not her “babysitter,” but that she is a guest in my home and owes me basic common courtesy while she’s under my care. She stewed for a while, but I made the waffles as promised. While we were eating, she apologized, breaking the tension. We chatted a bit, then retired to the sofas for some serious Sunday TV viewing, including programs I had DVRd and her newly-discovered Netflix option. We made a batch of brownies, ate PF Chang left-overs and chicken casserole, and just enjoyed doing a whole lot of nothing.
I woke her up at 9:30 pm last night so she could toddle home to her own bed: Mom was en route and missed her daughter. This was the first time that Mom had left her little girl with anyone other than family, so she was concerned about how things had gone and wanted to tuck her girl in herself. I shared that feeling 100%, having raised my own two children back when. I was happy to tell her mom truthfully that it went well.
I will consider saying yes if I’m asked again. Really. Not that I want to be asked right away or anything, but if it does come up again … well, I'll at least think about saying yes, even though I may say no if I have something else on my schedule.
But, because anyone who knows me also knows that I seldom say no, I agreed. Her mother was leaving Thursday evening and returning late Sunday evening, so I faced 4 days with a 14-year-old girl, a long 96 hours looming large. Making matters even more ominous, I started sneezing during my class Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning feeling awful: raw throat, coughing, sneezing, pounding headache, the typical symptoms portrayed by actors in cold/flu/seasonal allergy commercials. I called the mother and told her that I was sick, but the mother had no options, so we were all in for the weekend.
I am pleased to say that it went well. While my guest went to school Friday, I spent the day in bed with my dogs keeping me both company and warm. I gulped Night-Quil and cough medicine, chased with a couple of Aleve, and toughed it out. When the phone call came at 4 pm to tell me that my guest was staying after school, it took me a minute to realize that she should already have been here: school lets out at 3:00 pm. A bit slow on the uptake, I said okay because there was no choice. I am used to being asked for parental permission, not being told a child’s plan after the fact, but this was not a battle I was going to have with a fatigued body, a befuddled mind, and a box of Kleenex in my hand!
Saturday was a much better day, but I was still woozy. We went to the grocery store and bought the ingredients for a chicken casserole and assembled it prior to heading out to a movie and lunch. During lunch we chatted, me carrying the conversational ball more often than she, but had a nice time. I sent her to an age-appropriate comedy, while I enjoyed a much more serious The King’s Speech. When we returned home, I told her I had Netflix available, so she settled down for the duration. Her dog came with her, which made for a lot of fun as the 3 dogs played, then protected their respective owner. However, when her dog decided to settle on my ample warm lap, he backed off both of my female dogs with a low, steady growl. Realizing the dominant 4-pound male Cheewahwah was going to win that battle, my dogs settled for staking their claim on his owner’s lap.
Sunday morning was our confrontation: when my guest told me she was going home, but would be back in a few minutes, I said fine and off she went. My phone began ringing and it was her mother, obviously upset and wanting to talk to her daughter, who was not answering her phone. I told her that her girl had gone home, but would be back in a few minutes. She wasn’t. I finally realized that her phone was again ringing and found it in the guestroom bed, buried under a heap of blankets. That’s when I had my ah-ha moment: my guest had been gone for over an hour, not a few minutes, and could be in distress without any way to communicate that to me.
In a panic, I threw on some clothes, then headed for the garage door on my way to the house next door. As I raised the garage door, she came into view and I went for the “typical Mom” response: where the HELL have you been? You TOLD me you would be gone a few minutes, and you’ve been gone an hour! Your MOM has been calling and she’s worried sick because you haven’t been answering your PHONE!
If looks could kill, I’d have keeled over dead on my garage floor. She was pissed at me for challenging her because she told me where she was and it was no big deal. Yes, she’d left her phone at my house, but so what? She was watching a movie and, when it was finished, she came back. She brought me a carton of eggs because we were going to make waffles (an hour earlier) and stalked into the house.
Well, that took me aback, but I followed her in and told her that I was worried about her safety, especially when I realized that she did not have her phone with her. I explained to her that I’m not her “babysitter,” but that she is a guest in my home and owes me basic common courtesy while she’s under my care. She stewed for a while, but I made the waffles as promised. While we were eating, she apologized, breaking the tension. We chatted a bit, then retired to the sofas for some serious Sunday TV viewing, including programs I had DVRd and her newly-discovered Netflix option. We made a batch of brownies, ate PF Chang left-overs and chicken casserole, and just enjoyed doing a whole lot of nothing.
I woke her up at 9:30 pm last night so she could toddle home to her own bed: Mom was en route and missed her daughter. This was the first time that Mom had left her little girl with anyone other than family, so she was concerned about how things had gone and wanted to tuck her girl in herself. I shared that feeling 100%, having raised my own two children back when. I was happy to tell her mom truthfully that it went well.
I will consider saying yes if I’m asked again. Really. Not that I want to be asked right away or anything, but if it does come up again … well, I'll at least think about saying yes, even though I may say no if I have something else on my schedule.
On Being Common
Those of us who are not royal are known as commoners, a slang term for the common people, the ones without titles, without lands, without wealth, without all things regal. The concept was part of a popular commercial film several years ago based on the precept from a royal princess that the King of Denmark could not find happiness with a mere "common." 'Tis better to have a comfortable marriage without real love/passion with a person of one's station in life than it is to have a passionate marriage between a royal and a "common" who can never truly understand the depth of the royal lifestyle. Royals understand without being told, while commons can never understand no matter how often they are told.
The same theme emerges from the riveting Academy-nominated film, The King's Speech, when Bertie seeks professional help for his stammer, but feels violently betrayed when he is told that his speech therapist is a common man. Bertie does not take into account that it was his assumption that Lionel is a doctor, not that Lionel ever professed to be anything other than who he is. Although Lionel's treatment of the King's stammer is effective, the intimacy Bertie shares with a common tears their relationship asunder.
There are always deeply-seated reasons for who we are, what we believe, and how we live our lives. Sometimes, it is the little things that make a huge pile of self-doubt, and other times, it is one event, one person, one time in our lives that covers our world with a dense layer of concrete that no one can ever penetrate. For the King, it is his very existence as a royal that undermines his life and manifests as a stammer. Add to that an overly-critical father, a demanding, remote, affectionless mother, and a brother whose lifestyle is both envied and dismayed as he approaches his destiny as the next King of England. Bertie is the solid one, the planner and plodder, but the one for whom confrontation is anathema. His stammer lessens in a comforting environment and escalates in a threatening environment, and there is no environment more threatening than being crowned King of England when that is the last station in life that the individual wants to achieve.
The film is absolutely incredible: it feels real because the actors don't portray their characters, but are the characters. The anguish of the King is juxtaposed with the calm strength of the common man who keeps his confidence, as well as builds it. Many times, in the midst of deep, important scenes on the screen, the well-timed laugh loosens up both the King and the audience so the story can continue. When the King breaks through his royal reserve and inserts "fuckfuckfuck" into his speech to stop his stammer, it relieves not just his tension about the next word to come out of his mouth, but the audiences' tension for him to get past the word, as well as the stammer. The audience wants the stammer to be conquered so the man can become the King the people need him to be, not a King whose every word is an elocution contest.
Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush shine in this film because they are actors, not stars. Actors portray characters; stars portray themselves with a variety of character names in a variety of films. (I am tired of watching films wherein "upstarts" are given "starring" roles because they draw great "box office." Translation: put in a name the younger crowd will recognize so this dog earns enough revenue to pay the bills, commercialism at its worst.) Firth and Rush shine in a film that is gritty, that is real, that is important on levels that are important to the audience. Imagine a film without sex, without violence, without commercialism -- and what you see is an important film, a film with a message for even the most common viewer. The supporting cast creates the dichotomy between a common man who is born royal, and a scene after Bertie's confirmation as the new King drives the message home as his two young daughters meet him the hallway with a curtsey and address him as "Your Majesty." The King is no longer just "father" to the girls, but King to all his subjects, including his own intimate family.
It makes me a bit sad to realize that I sent my young guest to see Tyler Perry's latest film, which I knew she'd enjoy because it's much easier, while I sat in a theatre filled with my peers, all of whom experienced an uncommonly great film. Because there is no way to put an old head onto young shoulders, I'm sure I made the right decision this time, but I long for the days when movie-goers are less common and more regal in their box office decisions, especially while making the decision to go for the cheap laugh or engage in the experience.
The same theme emerges from the riveting Academy-nominated film, The King's Speech, when Bertie seeks professional help for his stammer, but feels violently betrayed when he is told that his speech therapist is a common man. Bertie does not take into account that it was his assumption that Lionel is a doctor, not that Lionel ever professed to be anything other than who he is. Although Lionel's treatment of the King's stammer is effective, the intimacy Bertie shares with a common tears their relationship asunder.
There are always deeply-seated reasons for who we are, what we believe, and how we live our lives. Sometimes, it is the little things that make a huge pile of self-doubt, and other times, it is one event, one person, one time in our lives that covers our world with a dense layer of concrete that no one can ever penetrate. For the King, it is his very existence as a royal that undermines his life and manifests as a stammer. Add to that an overly-critical father, a demanding, remote, affectionless mother, and a brother whose lifestyle is both envied and dismayed as he approaches his destiny as the next King of England. Bertie is the solid one, the planner and plodder, but the one for whom confrontation is anathema. His stammer lessens in a comforting environment and escalates in a threatening environment, and there is no environment more threatening than being crowned King of England when that is the last station in life that the individual wants to achieve.
The film is absolutely incredible: it feels real because the actors don't portray their characters, but are the characters. The anguish of the King is juxtaposed with the calm strength of the common man who keeps his confidence, as well as builds it. Many times, in the midst of deep, important scenes on the screen, the well-timed laugh loosens up both the King and the audience so the story can continue. When the King breaks through his royal reserve and inserts "fuckfuckfuck" into his speech to stop his stammer, it relieves not just his tension about the next word to come out of his mouth, but the audiences' tension for him to get past the word, as well as the stammer. The audience wants the stammer to be conquered so the man can become the King the people need him to be, not a King whose every word is an elocution contest.
Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush shine in this film because they are actors, not stars. Actors portray characters; stars portray themselves with a variety of character names in a variety of films. (I am tired of watching films wherein "upstarts" are given "starring" roles because they draw great "box office." Translation: put in a name the younger crowd will recognize so this dog earns enough revenue to pay the bills, commercialism at its worst.) Firth and Rush shine in a film that is gritty, that is real, that is important on levels that are important to the audience. Imagine a film without sex, without violence, without commercialism -- and what you see is an important film, a film with a message for even the most common viewer. The supporting cast creates the dichotomy between a common man who is born royal, and a scene after Bertie's confirmation as the new King drives the message home as his two young daughters meet him the hallway with a curtsey and address him as "Your Majesty." The King is no longer just "father" to the girls, but King to all his subjects, including his own intimate family.
It makes me a bit sad to realize that I sent my young guest to see Tyler Perry's latest film, which I knew she'd enjoy because it's much easier, while I sat in a theatre filled with my peers, all of whom experienced an uncommonly great film. Because there is no way to put an old head onto young shoulders, I'm sure I made the right decision this time, but I long for the days when movie-goers are less common and more regal in their box office decisions, especially while making the decision to go for the cheap laugh or engage in the experience.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Redundancy
Is redundancy another world for inefficiency? Honest to pete, this past week has been a run-around to top all runs-around because people simply DO NOT LISTEN. Here's the process:
I went to the ortho surgeon who redid my right knee surgery as I completed physical therapy and needed to be released from care, perhaps more so the insurance companies can pay the bills than for any other reason. Our post-surgery/post-therapy conference included an in-depth conversation about my left hip/back, the area I hurt when I fell late at night Dec 15 and ended up in the ER in the wee hours of Dec 16. The knee surgeon explained that we can only deal with one procedure at a time, but now that the knee seems to be healing nicely, it's time for the referral for the back/hip surgeon.
Yippee was MY reaction: my back, although much better than it was, is not good. Sometimes, I can stand; mostly, I can sit; seldom can I sleep through the night because I cannot find a comfortable position that allows both the pain in my right knee and the pain in my left hip/back area to calm enough to allow uninterrupted sleep. The knee ortho told me that the back ortho would contact me to set up the appointment, and I received the call from Esther the first of this week. She asked a few questions and included a request for the bone x-rays from the fall that resulted in the trip to the ER before the new doc would decide whether to take me on as a new patient.
I explained to her that the fall resulted in a trip to the ER at JFK at the east end of the Valley. I told her that the bone ex-rays did NOT show a fracture, but the ER doc did not order an MRI. I added that I had knee surgery at JFK the following Tues (the trip to the ER was in the wee hours of the previous TH) and asked if she needed either those films or a written report.
No, she responded. All she required was the ER doctor's report of the bone x-rays done at JFK in the wee hours of Dec 16, but I should also pick up the bone x-rays and bring them with me if/when the doctor decided that he would take me on as a new patient.
Not a problem, I told Esther, and I made the phone call to the knee surgeon's office after I finished the call with Esther. I asked for the nurse, explained that although I had knee surgery Dec 22 with the knee doctor, I had bone x-rays at JFK the week prior -- and my knee doctor had both the bone x-rays and the written report from the attending ER doctor. I requested that the written report be faxed to the referral back/hip doctor, and said I would drive to the east Valley area to pick up the bone x-rays when they were ready for me to do so. She confirmed by repeating to me that she exactly understood what I needed and did, indeed, fax the written report to the referral doctor.
The written report for the knee surgery, NOT the written report from the ER doctor re: my injury to my left back/hip area.
Okay, so it's already screwed up, but then it got tricky. The knee doc's nurse called to confirm that she had faxed the ER doc's report to the back/hip doc, but she had the bone ex-rays at the office and I would have to pick them up from her. No, I contradicted her, you faxed the report of the KNEE surgery to the back doc, not the report from the ER visit re: my back/hip. This conversation was followed by a reminder that the back doc needs a copy of the ER doc's written report re: the bone x-rays of my left back/hip area, as well as the films at my first appointment, scheduled for the first week in March. This was followed by a recorded phone call from the knee doctor's staff the next day that the films I requested were available at the doc's office -- which is a 50-mile-round trip for me that I made yesterday to pick up said films.
I called to confirm that these are the bone x-rays from JFK of my left back/hip area, NOT the surgery films from my knee surgery at the same facility a week later. Yep, they assured me, they have what I requested, so come on down. No one in the knee doc's office could find the films when I asked for them, but spent almost half an hour looking for them. Finally, one of the office staff took my phone number and said that someone would call me Friday to clarify where the films are so I can fetch them.
That call came this morning: there are no films because ... I told the nurse that I needed the written report/films from the KNEE surgery performed at a different hospital in a different community, a conversation we never shared about a surgery that never happened at a facility in another locale. Because this was not the nurse with whom I originally had the conversation, I clarified that I did NOT have had that conversation. I then explained, again, that what I need to pick up from either her or the nearby hospital is the x-ray series of my back/hip taken in the wee hours of Dec 16, 2010. After putting me on hold, she came back on-line to tell me that she cannot find a record of my back surgery on that date at that facility.
After counting to 10, I asked a different question: will you please tell me where to pick up copies of x-rays taken on Dec 16 at the ER at JFK? Her response: I'm not sure what you are asking me; did you have surgery at that facility on that date? No, I replied, I did not -- I was in the ER for another reason and need a copy of the x-rays taken at that time.
The bottom line is that she's going to request those films from that facility under my name taken on that date -- and I can pick them up Monday. I completely avoided telling her that I absolutely do NOT want/need the films taken during my knee surgery the following week, so maybe, just maybe, I will arrive at JFK next Monday and pick up what I need for appointment with the back surgeon. If I don't get the back/hip x-rays, perhaps I can order the x-rays I've been trying to get for the past week by dealing with the radiology department directly -- myself.
I went to the ortho surgeon who redid my right knee surgery as I completed physical therapy and needed to be released from care, perhaps more so the insurance companies can pay the bills than for any other reason. Our post-surgery/post-therapy conference included an in-depth conversation about my left hip/back, the area I hurt when I fell late at night Dec 15 and ended up in the ER in the wee hours of Dec 16. The knee surgeon explained that we can only deal with one procedure at a time, but now that the knee seems to be healing nicely, it's time for the referral for the back/hip surgeon.
Yippee was MY reaction: my back, although much better than it was, is not good. Sometimes, I can stand; mostly, I can sit; seldom can I sleep through the night because I cannot find a comfortable position that allows both the pain in my right knee and the pain in my left hip/back area to calm enough to allow uninterrupted sleep. The knee ortho told me that the back ortho would contact me to set up the appointment, and I received the call from Esther the first of this week. She asked a few questions and included a request for the bone x-rays from the fall that resulted in the trip to the ER before the new doc would decide whether to take me on as a new patient.
I explained to her that the fall resulted in a trip to the ER at JFK at the east end of the Valley. I told her that the bone ex-rays did NOT show a fracture, but the ER doc did not order an MRI. I added that I had knee surgery at JFK the following Tues (the trip to the ER was in the wee hours of the previous TH) and asked if she needed either those films or a written report.
No, she responded. All she required was the ER doctor's report of the bone x-rays done at JFK in the wee hours of Dec 16, but I should also pick up the bone x-rays and bring them with me if/when the doctor decided that he would take me on as a new patient.
Not a problem, I told Esther, and I made the phone call to the knee surgeon's office after I finished the call with Esther. I asked for the nurse, explained that although I had knee surgery Dec 22 with the knee doctor, I had bone x-rays at JFK the week prior -- and my knee doctor had both the bone x-rays and the written report from the attending ER doctor. I requested that the written report be faxed to the referral back/hip doctor, and said I would drive to the east Valley area to pick up the bone x-rays when they were ready for me to do so. She confirmed by repeating to me that she exactly understood what I needed and did, indeed, fax the written report to the referral doctor.
The written report for the knee surgery, NOT the written report from the ER doctor re: my injury to my left back/hip area.
Okay, so it's already screwed up, but then it got tricky. The knee doc's nurse called to confirm that she had faxed the ER doc's report to the back/hip doc, but she had the bone ex-rays at the office and I would have to pick them up from her. No, I contradicted her, you faxed the report of the KNEE surgery to the back doc, not the report from the ER visit re: my back/hip. This conversation was followed by a reminder that the back doc needs a copy of the ER doc's written report re: the bone x-rays of my left back/hip area, as well as the films at my first appointment, scheduled for the first week in March. This was followed by a recorded phone call from the knee doctor's staff the next day that the films I requested were available at the doc's office -- which is a 50-mile-round trip for me that I made yesterday to pick up said films.
I called to confirm that these are the bone x-rays from JFK of my left back/hip area, NOT the surgery films from my knee surgery at the same facility a week later. Yep, they assured me, they have what I requested, so come on down. No one in the knee doc's office could find the films when I asked for them, but spent almost half an hour looking for them. Finally, one of the office staff took my phone number and said that someone would call me Friday to clarify where the films are so I can fetch them.
That call came this morning: there are no films because ... I told the nurse that I needed the written report/films from the KNEE surgery performed at a different hospital in a different community, a conversation we never shared about a surgery that never happened at a facility in another locale. Because this was not the nurse with whom I originally had the conversation, I clarified that I did NOT have had that conversation. I then explained, again, that what I need to pick up from either her or the nearby hospital is the x-ray series of my back/hip taken in the wee hours of Dec 16, 2010. After putting me on hold, she came back on-line to tell me that she cannot find a record of my back surgery on that date at that facility.
After counting to 10, I asked a different question: will you please tell me where to pick up copies of x-rays taken on Dec 16 at the ER at JFK? Her response: I'm not sure what you are asking me; did you have surgery at that facility on that date? No, I replied, I did not -- I was in the ER for another reason and need a copy of the x-rays taken at that time.
The bottom line is that she's going to request those films from that facility under my name taken on that date -- and I can pick them up Monday. I completely avoided telling her that I absolutely do NOT want/need the films taken during my knee surgery the following week, so maybe, just maybe, I will arrive at JFK next Monday and pick up what I need for appointment with the back surgeon. If I don't get the back/hip x-rays, perhaps I can order the x-rays I've been trying to get for the past week by dealing with the radiology department directly -- myself.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
A Teachable Moment
A young female teacher is on administrative leave in Pennsylvania for blogging about education. She has not identified her school site nor specific students, but has captured the frustration of dealing with today’s teens in a frank manner often portrayed publicly on talk TV, radio programs, as well as in print media, and discussed daily in the staff lounge. I doubt that many adults disagree that today’s youth are out of control, arrogant, poorly motivated, mouthy, and disrespectful of adult direction, a frustration expressed centuries ago by Sophocles, whose ancient Greek students also ran amok. Hence, the plethora of talk shows, such as Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, The View, Regis and Kelly, as well as the comedians, including Conan, Letterman, Leno, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, SNL, all finding adequate fodder for filling their airtime by discussing today's youth and challenging adults to find a way to turn the trend around before it's too late.
Consider an adult engaged in a career/activity that deals with young people, such as law enforcement, educators, psychologists, social workers, counselors, employers, parents, friends, coaches, neighbors, business owners -– and you will probably discover the list of adults who share this educator’s perspective is long. Will all who express a similar opinion about today’s youth also jeopardize their jobs? Who better than educators, whose sole profession is to be locked inside a room with a random assortment of various ages, nationalities, languages, faiths, political viewpoints, family values, educational backgrounds, and electronic devices, to sound the alarm about the failure of students to engage in the educational process? Teachers seldom have a classroom assistant, nor a security officer, but have to contain, and then attempt to teach, as many as 40+ bundles of raging teenage hormones with the constant threat of negative parental/public/political reaction to the performance of their professional duties.
Why is a teacher relieved of duty for simply confirming what is already not just well-known, but supported by professionals other than educators? Have we gone so far that no one can express either an opinion or a frustration without being taken to the woodshed? Perhaps that is what the children want: if I make enough noise, I take the onus off my bad behavior and put the teacher on the hot seat to explain him/herself. After all, if it works at home, it'll work in the classroom.
Why rail at children's behavior when parents are responsible for teaching their children not just how to act at home, but in public venues that include a classroom? Recently, Dr. Laura talked to a young mother (on SAT radio), a mother who bemoaned the fact that her 3-year-old daughter won't do anything she's told to do and throws a temper-tantrum if anyone tries to make her either do or not do something. The mother confessed that she has started bribing her 3-year-old to comply with reasonable requests, such as "put on your jammies and get ready for bedtime." Dr. Laura pointed out that the child has all the power in the family dynamic, and, if the parents don't regain control over the child, that child will continue to dictate to the parents what she will/will not do -- and find many other demands to make as she holds her parents hostage to her temper tantrums.
The difference between that 3-year-old tyrant and a high school student is about 12 years of honing the tyranny.
Unfortunately, students have become more empowered to be more disrespectful in today’s society because that is the role model provided for them not just in their own homes, but in the media, including the instant internet sensationalization of what used to be called one's private life in TV "reality" shows, such as The Kardashians, a family that has no boundary between appropriate and inappropriate private/public behavior. Watch some “teen TV,” or listen to the lyrics of "teen music" while watching a music video on MTV, or check out your child's Facebook/ MySpace page, and judge for yourself the role models available for today's young people. Teens hardly blink at the nudity, the profanity, or the sexual activity portrayed in the media because their demographic programming, such as The Kardashians, depends on drama, drugs/alcohol, and sex to stay on the air. After all, it’s what their parents are watching, too, only with a nicer program title: Two and a Half Men is not funny, it’s filth, and its star, Charlie Sheen, carries the role into his personal life, whoring, drinking, drugging, and disrespecting every family institution that used to be valued in this country--and the audience laughs hilariously at his "antics," while upping his salary to become the highest paid actor in a TV sitcom. Bachelors and Bachelorettes construct intimate relationships on public TV with what begins as a group of 2 dozen complete strangers, but is narrowed down to the "perfect" mate by booze, raunchy sex, manipulation, deceit, and really high TV ratings.
We live what we learn; what society teaches young people is that there are few boundaries because there are few consequences. If we want to hold children accountable for their behavior, we have to admit that the adults are accountable first for it. I know few parents who are willing to accept that their children live what they learn at home, and practice it both in public and in the public classroom.
I hope that the teacher union stands up for this blogger and supports her right to express herself freely, to ask difficult questions and to lament the challenging situations that are so much a part of today’s classroom. Students know what’s going on because they are the ones behaving badly; however, it’s a rare event for a student to return home at the end of the day and admit to a parent that s/he was badly behaved, cussed out a teacher, left campus, and spent the rest of the day hanging out with friends off-campus. Far too often, the student doesn’t see anything wrong with so doing because it was "all the teacher's fault," and, regretably, the parent falls into the same faulty reasoning. However, when the parent supports the child by blaming the school and/or attacking the teacher, the student adds yet another skill set to their toolbox for avoiding responsibility for their actions.
And, if the student is really on his/her game, someone in the classroom caught the bad behavior on a cellphone and posted it to You Tube, adding to the "you are there" viral video power base of children behaving badly -- and the instant world-wide fame -- to prove it.
Consider an adult engaged in a career/activity that deals with young people, such as law enforcement, educators, psychologists, social workers, counselors, employers, parents, friends, coaches, neighbors, business owners -– and you will probably discover the list of adults who share this educator’s perspective is long. Will all who express a similar opinion about today’s youth also jeopardize their jobs? Who better than educators, whose sole profession is to be locked inside a room with a random assortment of various ages, nationalities, languages, faiths, political viewpoints, family values, educational backgrounds, and electronic devices, to sound the alarm about the failure of students to engage in the educational process? Teachers seldom have a classroom assistant, nor a security officer, but have to contain, and then attempt to teach, as many as 40+ bundles of raging teenage hormones with the constant threat of negative parental/public/political reaction to the performance of their professional duties.
Why is a teacher relieved of duty for simply confirming what is already not just well-known, but supported by professionals other than educators? Have we gone so far that no one can express either an opinion or a frustration without being taken to the woodshed? Perhaps that is what the children want: if I make enough noise, I take the onus off my bad behavior and put the teacher on the hot seat to explain him/herself. After all, if it works at home, it'll work in the classroom.
Why rail at children's behavior when parents are responsible for teaching their children not just how to act at home, but in public venues that include a classroom? Recently, Dr. Laura talked to a young mother (on SAT radio), a mother who bemoaned the fact that her 3-year-old daughter won't do anything she's told to do and throws a temper-tantrum if anyone tries to make her either do or not do something. The mother confessed that she has started bribing her 3-year-old to comply with reasonable requests, such as "put on your jammies and get ready for bedtime." Dr. Laura pointed out that the child has all the power in the family dynamic, and, if the parents don't regain control over the child, that child will continue to dictate to the parents what she will/will not do -- and find many other demands to make as she holds her parents hostage to her temper tantrums.
The difference between that 3-year-old tyrant and a high school student is about 12 years of honing the tyranny.
Unfortunately, students have become more empowered to be more disrespectful in today’s society because that is the role model provided for them not just in their own homes, but in the media, including the instant internet sensationalization of what used to be called one's private life in TV "reality" shows, such as The Kardashians, a family that has no boundary between appropriate and inappropriate private/public behavior. Watch some “teen TV,” or listen to the lyrics of "teen music" while watching a music video on MTV, or check out your child's Facebook/ MySpace page, and judge for yourself the role models available for today's young people. Teens hardly blink at the nudity, the profanity, or the sexual activity portrayed in the media because their demographic programming, such as The Kardashians, depends on drama, drugs/alcohol, and sex to stay on the air. After all, it’s what their parents are watching, too, only with a nicer program title: Two and a Half Men is not funny, it’s filth, and its star, Charlie Sheen, carries the role into his personal life, whoring, drinking, drugging, and disrespecting every family institution that used to be valued in this country--and the audience laughs hilariously at his "antics," while upping his salary to become the highest paid actor in a TV sitcom. Bachelors and Bachelorettes construct intimate relationships on public TV with what begins as a group of 2 dozen complete strangers, but is narrowed down to the "perfect" mate by booze, raunchy sex, manipulation, deceit, and really high TV ratings.
We live what we learn; what society teaches young people is that there are few boundaries because there are few consequences. If we want to hold children accountable for their behavior, we have to admit that the adults are accountable first for it. I know few parents who are willing to accept that their children live what they learn at home, and practice it both in public and in the public classroom.
I hope that the teacher union stands up for this blogger and supports her right to express herself freely, to ask difficult questions and to lament the challenging situations that are so much a part of today’s classroom. Students know what’s going on because they are the ones behaving badly; however, it’s a rare event for a student to return home at the end of the day and admit to a parent that s/he was badly behaved, cussed out a teacher, left campus, and spent the rest of the day hanging out with friends off-campus. Far too often, the student doesn’t see anything wrong with so doing because it was "all the teacher's fault," and, regretably, the parent falls into the same faulty reasoning. However, when the parent supports the child by blaming the school and/or attacking the teacher, the student adds yet another skill set to their toolbox for avoiding responsibility for their actions.
And, if the student is really on his/her game, someone in the classroom caught the bad behavior on a cellphone and posted it to You Tube, adding to the "you are there" viral video power base of children behaving badly -- and the instant world-wide fame -- to prove it.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Generation Gap
Today's younger generations think nothing of discarding what they don't want, don't need, and/or don't like. Those of us enjoying memories from much farther back keep, conserve, reuse, recycle, and pass on to others who may be able to get another use out of whatever it is. My theory is that mine is the first generation after The Great Depression, so our parents learned during their marriages to waste not/want not. I distinctly remember being reminded to scrape the butter wrapper, then store it in the 'fridge to use to grease the baking pans each weekend. We made do, but we also made from scratch almost everything we had/used, including bread.
Even the failed batches, rare, but it did happen, were somehow recycled: sometimes, the worst went to the chickens, ducks, and/or pigs in lieu of purchasing animal food. Our yard dog always ate the scraps and gnawed the meat bones from the Sunday roast dinner and the payday sirloin juicy steak, as we always called it. Bread crumbs fed the birds, but stale bread became French toast. Although we never had too much, we always had what we needed, but little more than that.
Yesterday, I visited Sam's Club for the second time in a week, a rare happening in my world. I purchased what I needed the first visit, but went back and purchased a new paper shredder as it's time to shred past student records and the little machine I've used for the past 5 years simply is not up to the task. I also have a filing cabinet that I can empty of records literally going back into the 1980s. Another failing of my parents' generation was the teaching to save everything because one never knows when one might need it. Of course, I realized a really long time ago that I never need it, but old habits are hard to break.
As I passed the food aisle at Sam's on my way to the register, I spied a pepperoni pizza and my taste buds came to full alert. I'm not a big pizza eater, but I've had a hankering for one, so stopped and took a look. A new, extra-thin crust promised less baking time, and a really big pepperoni pizza was about $6.50, which made it cost-effective. I saved it for my Friday late afternoon meal and by that time, my mouth was watering.
I always cut away half the crust, pile the toppings onto the remaining half, and then bake the half-pizza. As I peeled away the extra half, I thought to myself that the dough resembled a baked cracker prior to baking: really much too thin, perforated with holes, and not all that appetizing. I preheated the oven, then put the half-pizza onto a baking sheet and into the oven for the requisite 15 minutes.
Yuck: the crust burned black all around the edges, but was pasty in the middle. Ditto the toppings, which either burned to inedible or barely heated. The sauce was awful in both taste and texture, and the cheese didn't melt, which means it was probably a cheese product, rather than real cheese. I tasted it, said a nasty word, then ate the first piece. It was not good, but I somehow thought that maybe another piece would taste better/different, so I cut another slice, tasted it, confirmed my initial "nasty" evaluation, but still ate the entire piece. The third piece I donated to the dogs, sans everything but the pepperoni and sausage balls that I deemed okay for the dogs to eat.
When all is said and done, I could not believe that I actually ate 2 big pieces of the worst-tasting pizza ever! If I did not have dogs to eat the meat products off the last slice, I probably would have eaten that slice, too. I was raised not to waste food -- and even long past that need, I was going to eat the pizza, rather than toss it out, which I should have done after the first bite.
It's easy to think that we all should grow past our youth, but those lessons learned young stay for a lifetime, lurking in the background while waiting for a time to pop to the forefront of our lives. I don't save left-overs in little plastic dishes unless I know I have enough to actually eat during a meal. I toss out bread that goes stale for the birds to enjoy, rather than make French toast, as all that butter/syrup is not recommended for my diabetes. I do feed the dogs bits of the meat I eat, as well as give them the bones for gnawing, but don't have the chickens, ducks, or pigs for the rest of the consumable trash products I generate.
And, of course, I do pick up change off the pavement that other people discard because my generation also learned that ... a penny saved is a penny earned. When it's a nickel, dime, or quarter, I feel as if I've hit the trifecta of free money and stash it in a tin can meant for all these treasures.
These are the memories that tie me to my childhood and come calling on an early Saturday morning.
Even the failed batches, rare, but it did happen, were somehow recycled: sometimes, the worst went to the chickens, ducks, and/or pigs in lieu of purchasing animal food. Our yard dog always ate the scraps and gnawed the meat bones from the Sunday roast dinner and the payday sirloin juicy steak, as we always called it. Bread crumbs fed the birds, but stale bread became French toast. Although we never had too much, we always had what we needed, but little more than that.
Yesterday, I visited Sam's Club for the second time in a week, a rare happening in my world. I purchased what I needed the first visit, but went back and purchased a new paper shredder as it's time to shred past student records and the little machine I've used for the past 5 years simply is not up to the task. I also have a filing cabinet that I can empty of records literally going back into the 1980s. Another failing of my parents' generation was the teaching to save everything because one never knows when one might need it. Of course, I realized a really long time ago that I never need it, but old habits are hard to break.
As I passed the food aisle at Sam's on my way to the register, I spied a pepperoni pizza and my taste buds came to full alert. I'm not a big pizza eater, but I've had a hankering for one, so stopped and took a look. A new, extra-thin crust promised less baking time, and a really big pepperoni pizza was about $6.50, which made it cost-effective. I saved it for my Friday late afternoon meal and by that time, my mouth was watering.
I always cut away half the crust, pile the toppings onto the remaining half, and then bake the half-pizza. As I peeled away the extra half, I thought to myself that the dough resembled a baked cracker prior to baking: really much too thin, perforated with holes, and not all that appetizing. I preheated the oven, then put the half-pizza onto a baking sheet and into the oven for the requisite 15 minutes.
Yuck: the crust burned black all around the edges, but was pasty in the middle. Ditto the toppings, which either burned to inedible or barely heated. The sauce was awful in both taste and texture, and the cheese didn't melt, which means it was probably a cheese product, rather than real cheese. I tasted it, said a nasty word, then ate the first piece. It was not good, but I somehow thought that maybe another piece would taste better/different, so I cut another slice, tasted it, confirmed my initial "nasty" evaluation, but still ate the entire piece. The third piece I donated to the dogs, sans everything but the pepperoni and sausage balls that I deemed okay for the dogs to eat.
When all is said and done, I could not believe that I actually ate 2 big pieces of the worst-tasting pizza ever! If I did not have dogs to eat the meat products off the last slice, I probably would have eaten that slice, too. I was raised not to waste food -- and even long past that need, I was going to eat the pizza, rather than toss it out, which I should have done after the first bite.
It's easy to think that we all should grow past our youth, but those lessons learned young stay for a lifetime, lurking in the background while waiting for a time to pop to the forefront of our lives. I don't save left-overs in little plastic dishes unless I know I have enough to actually eat during a meal. I toss out bread that goes stale for the birds to enjoy, rather than make French toast, as all that butter/syrup is not recommended for my diabetes. I do feed the dogs bits of the meat I eat, as well as give them the bones for gnawing, but don't have the chickens, ducks, or pigs for the rest of the consumable trash products I generate.
And, of course, I do pick up change off the pavement that other people discard because my generation also learned that ... a penny saved is a penny earned. When it's a nickel, dime, or quarter, I feel as if I've hit the trifecta of free money and stash it in a tin can meant for all these treasures.
These are the memories that tie me to my childhood and come calling on an early Saturday morning.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Where Do My Rights Begin?
There is a family with a huge working farm in the middle of the CV, growing olives for their commercial enterprise: The Mission Santa Rosa Ranch is an 80-acre Coachella olive farm that's home to our family begins their letter to the editor in today's online newspaper. 
The conflict arises because hot air balloons proliferate in the desert due to ideal "floating above it all" conditions that also allow the balloons to hover directly over the working farm, which has become an unwilling tourist destination. (photo: The Desert Sun)
The owners of the olive farm, the Marrelli family, requested the hot air balloonists not travel over their living quarters at all, a beautiful compound in the Napa Valley style reminiscent of wine country, and also asked that the balloons stay the requisite 500 feet up when they do have to pass over the orchards. This seems like a simple request, especially since the Marrelli family ascertains that the balloonists have made their home a stop on the tour of the Valley, often coming down to the roof line of their residence so passengers on the balloon flights can converse with the family and take endless photos of the property, people, and product!
Where do my rights begin and your rights end? For the Marrelli family, it seems that the public assumes the right to respond to that question: if the balloonists aren't hurting anyone, they have the right to ... .
No, they don't. The property is completely fenced off from ground approach, with security gates designed to permit invited guests onto the property, while keeping unwanted intruders outside. Unfortunately, there is no way to fence off the airspace, but why would anyone assume the right to trespass from the air when it's obvious that trespassing from the ground is a criminal act?
Responses to the Marrelli's family letter are quite firm in the opinion that the Marrelli family should not receive special treatment, including being allowed to post a Letter to the Editor that is, in the responder's opinion, much too long and violates the newspaper's Letter to the Editor stated policy! The Marrelli family, however, rightly states in their letter that they have already received far too much negative press from the local media, most of which is based on erroneous information, and simply want to set the record straight. Quid pro quo?
One balloonist claims that he is now bankrupt solely because he is not allowed to float over the farm. Of course, it follows that he's suing the Marrelli family for his failed business, although there are no legal documents currently on file that the Marrelli family lawyer can locate through the legal system. Thus, the trial is taking place in the media: if the headline is big enough and the accusations made repeatedly, the lies become the truth in the peoples' minds. The rights of the family to protection from an air invasion is obfuscated by the barrage of accusations about "big business" cheating "the little guy" out of his right to make a living.
After all, this is America, and anyone has the right to violate your rights and try the case in the media. Sadly, far too often the violator wins the case, but this time, I hope the Marrelli family's right to privacy from above is affirmed when the case goes to court and the "little guy's" lawsuit is denied.
The conflict arises because hot air balloons proliferate in the desert due to ideal "floating above it all" conditions that also allow the balloons to hover directly over the working farm, which has become an unwilling tourist destination. (photo: The Desert Sun)The owners of the olive farm, the Marrelli family, requested the hot air balloonists not travel over their living quarters at all, a beautiful compound in the Napa Valley style reminiscent of wine country, and also asked that the balloons stay the requisite 500 feet up when they do have to pass over the orchards. This seems like a simple request, especially since the Marrelli family ascertains that the balloonists have made their home a stop on the tour of the Valley, often coming down to the roof line of their residence so passengers on the balloon flights can converse with the family and take endless photos of the property, people, and product!
Where do my rights begin and your rights end? For the Marrelli family, it seems that the public assumes the right to respond to that question: if the balloonists aren't hurting anyone, they have the right to ... .
No, they don't. The property is completely fenced off from ground approach, with security gates designed to permit invited guests onto the property, while keeping unwanted intruders outside. Unfortunately, there is no way to fence off the airspace, but why would anyone assume the right to trespass from the air when it's obvious that trespassing from the ground is a criminal act?
Responses to the Marrelli's family letter are quite firm in the opinion that the Marrelli family should not receive special treatment, including being allowed to post a Letter to the Editor that is, in the responder's opinion, much too long and violates the newspaper's Letter to the Editor stated policy! The Marrelli family, however, rightly states in their letter that they have already received far too much negative press from the local media, most of which is based on erroneous information, and simply want to set the record straight. Quid pro quo?
One balloonist claims that he is now bankrupt solely because he is not allowed to float over the farm. Of course, it follows that he's suing the Marrelli family for his failed business, although there are no legal documents currently on file that the Marrelli family lawyer can locate through the legal system. Thus, the trial is taking place in the media: if the headline is big enough and the accusations made repeatedly, the lies become the truth in the peoples' minds. The rights of the family to protection from an air invasion is obfuscated by the barrage of accusations about "big business" cheating "the little guy" out of his right to make a living.
After all, this is America, and anyone has the right to violate your rights and try the case in the media. Sadly, far too often the violator wins the case, but this time, I hope the Marrelli family's right to privacy from above is affirmed when the case goes to court and the "little guy's" lawsuit is denied.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
the STAR Bangled the Spanner!
OUCH! Didn't Christina Aguilera practice either the music or the words to our national anthem? That was just awful! You would think that she would have at least hummed the tune before taking the stage or done a quick run-through of the words. Has to be at the top of the list for all-time worst performances of the national anthem, especially to a world-wide audience.
Updating After the Game: glad to see the Packers win it as they outplayed the Steelers. Big Ben forgot to wind his clock and missed game time.
Best Part of the SuperBowl: The GLEE special, which was outstanding. However, it must be noted that Sue Sylvester does NOT exist in real schools, nor do any schools anywhere have the performance budget GLEE has, including the wet stage for the Singing in the Rain mash-up and/or the professional make-up for tonight's Thriller, nor the sound system that makes the choir room sound like a sound stage.
But, other than Sue Sylvester being so far over the top that she gives even bad schools a bad reputation, I love GLEE and look forward to the new season, but please -- don't invite Christina Aguilera to be a guest performer. She needs to stay home and learn both the words and the tune for our national anthem just in case anyone ever asks her to perform the song in public again.
Updating After the Game: glad to see the Packers win it as they outplayed the Steelers. Big Ben forgot to wind his clock and missed game time.
Best Part of the SuperBowl: The GLEE special, which was outstanding. However, it must be noted that Sue Sylvester does NOT exist in real schools, nor do any schools anywhere have the performance budget GLEE has, including the wet stage for the Singing in the Rain mash-up and/or the professional make-up for tonight's Thriller, nor the sound system that makes the choir room sound like a sound stage.
But, other than Sue Sylvester being so far over the top that she gives even bad schools a bad reputation, I love GLEE and look forward to the new season, but please -- don't invite Christina Aguilera to be a guest performer. She needs to stay home and learn both the words and the tune for our national anthem just in case anyone ever asks her to perform the song in public again.
Friday, February 4, 2011
CATastrophe!
Mia hates cats, especially when they dare to enter her yard. This week, we've been surrounded by a herd of feral cats who have decided that mi casa es su casa. If the front room windows survive the stand-off, I'll be surprised. This photo shows only the half of the herd that was napping in the shade. Another cat was on the wall, while two others were underneath the shrubbery by the front window, daring the dogs to come on down. 
Evidently one of the cats is in heat, and the screaming sounded like a woman being raped all night long.
The number for Animal Control is no longer a working number (cutbacks), so I was referred to the local animal shelter. The woman with whom I spoke was very nice as she explained that it's my responsibility to "do something" as the Animal Control officer does not handle feral cats because they can be really hard to catch and very aggressive.
"Yeah," I responded, "I know. But the thing is, a herd of 7 of these cats, each one larger than my little Jack Russell terrier, has taken over my front yard. My dogs, who are either inside the house, trying to get out to kill the cats, or in the yard and still trying to get out to kill the cats, are going crazy. My neighbor called to ask me to please stop my dogs' barking last night, but that is not an option as long as the cats are here, especially when one of them is in heat and letting the whole neighborhood know that she's open for business."
"Well," she said again, "we don't deal with cats, but what you can do is ... rent a cat trap (which we have for this purpose) and trap the cats one at a time. Once the cat is in the trap, we'll send someone out to pick it up and euthanize it. We really can't have feral cats in our kennels as they are too aggressive and dangerous, so we have to put them down."
"Yeah," I again responded, "I know they are both aggressive and dangerous because they don't even flinch when the dogs challenge them or I walk outside my front door. However, I have 7 feral cats who have taken up residence in my front yard and I need them to be removed. And, to be blunt, I'm not going to be the one to do that task because, as you've already said, the cats are overly aggressive and dangerous and I don't want to put myself into that situation."
"Oh," she said. "Dear, you really don't have any other choice because we don't have anyone who can do that for you."
I'm thinking a .22 is a whole lot cheaper than the routine she described, and if the cats are going to be euthanized anyway, why not take out the middle man? I also am considering other dire means of dealing with this issue as I have a feeling the cats aren't going to go away by themselves. But the bottom line is that unless I'm willing to pay to rent the traps, catch the cats, then call for removal, I'm going to have cats living wherever they want to live for however long they want to live there.
This totally sucks.
Evidently one of the cats is in heat, and the screaming sounded like a woman being raped all night long.The number for Animal Control is no longer a working number (cutbacks), so I was referred to the local animal shelter. The woman with whom I spoke was very nice as she explained that it's my responsibility to "do something" as the Animal Control officer does not handle feral cats because they can be really hard to catch and very aggressive.
"Yeah," I responded, "I know. But the thing is, a herd of 7 of these cats, each one larger than my little Jack Russell terrier, has taken over my front yard. My dogs, who are either inside the house, trying to get out to kill the cats, or in the yard and still trying to get out to kill the cats, are going crazy. My neighbor called to ask me to please stop my dogs' barking last night, but that is not an option as long as the cats are here, especially when one of them is in heat and letting the whole neighborhood know that she's open for business."
"Well," she said again, "we don't deal with cats, but what you can do is ... rent a cat trap (which we have for this purpose) and trap the cats one at a time. Once the cat is in the trap, we'll send someone out to pick it up and euthanize it. We really can't have feral cats in our kennels as they are too aggressive and dangerous, so we have to put them down."
"Yeah," I again responded, "I know they are both aggressive and dangerous because they don't even flinch when the dogs challenge them or I walk outside my front door. However, I have 7 feral cats who have taken up residence in my front yard and I need them to be removed. And, to be blunt, I'm not going to be the one to do that task because, as you've already said, the cats are overly aggressive and dangerous and I don't want to put myself into that situation."
"Oh," she said. "Dear, you really don't have any other choice because we don't have anyone who can do that for you."
I'm thinking a .22 is a whole lot cheaper than the routine she described, and if the cats are going to be euthanized anyway, why not take out the middle man? I also am considering other dire means of dealing with this issue as I have a feeling the cats aren't going to go away by themselves. But the bottom line is that unless I'm willing to pay to rent the traps, catch the cats, then call for removal, I'm going to have cats living wherever they want to live for however long they want to live there.
This totally sucks.
Followin' the Doc's Orders
Cletus is passing by Billy Bob's hay barn one day when, through a gap in the door, he sees Billy Bob doing a slow and sensual striptease in front of an old green John Deere.
Buttocks clenched, he performs a slow pirouette and gently slides off first the right strap of his overalls, followed by the left. He then hunches his shoulders forward and, in a classic striptease move, lets his overalls fall down to his hips, revealing a torn and frayed plaid shirt. Then, grabbing both sides of his shirt, he rips it apart to reveal his stained T-shirt underneath. With a final flourish, he tears the T-shirt from his body and hurls his baseball cap onto a pile of hay.
Having seen enough, Cletus rushes in and says, "What the heck ya doin, Billy Bob?"
"Good Lord, Cletus, ya scared the bejeezers out of me," says an obviously embarrassed Billy Bob. "Uh, me 'n the Ol' Lady been havin' trouble lately in the bedroom d'partment, and the therapist suggested I do something sexy to a tractor. I'm jus doin' what the doc ordered!"
Don't make me come 'splain this to you!
Have a great weekend.
Buttocks clenched, he performs a slow pirouette and gently slides off first the right strap of his overalls, followed by the left. He then hunches his shoulders forward and, in a classic striptease move, lets his overalls fall down to his hips, revealing a torn and frayed plaid shirt. Then, grabbing both sides of his shirt, he rips it apart to reveal his stained T-shirt underneath. With a final flourish, he tears the T-shirt from his body and hurls his baseball cap onto a pile of hay.
Having seen enough, Cletus rushes in and says, "What the heck ya doin, Billy Bob?"
"Good Lord, Cletus, ya scared the bejeezers out of me," says an obviously embarrassed Billy Bob. "Uh, me 'n the Ol' Lady been havin' trouble lately in the bedroom d'partment, and the therapist suggested I do something sexy to a tractor. I'm jus doin' what the doc ordered!"
Don't make me come 'splain this to you!
Have a great weekend.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Man Up!
The judge ruled on the Warm Sands sex scandal: yes, perhaps the police officers made inappropriate comments about being involved in the gay sex sting, but the comments were not directed at any one individual, so there is no discrimination, harassment, or do-over. As the police officers explained during the trial, it is not easy to pretend to be a gay man if you aren't, especially when it involves encouraging sexual activity with the gay man.
Additionally, the gay men are caught on tape engaging in sexual acts in public, so they did what they are accused of doing and will stand trial unless they accept the plea deal the DA has offered. That deal is very generous: none of the men have to register as sex offenders if they plead out. Don't accept the plea and deal with some stiff consequences, no pun intended.
For once, the judge understood the concept of obfuscating with verbiage: fill the air with enough hot-button discrimination words and the real crime disappears in the media feeding frenzy. Not this time!! Even the protest against the ruling was sparsely attended: the gay community did not show up this time because they probably all know that this time, you do the crime, you do the time -- even if you are gay.
Additionally, the gay men are caught on tape engaging in sexual acts in public, so they did what they are accused of doing and will stand trial unless they accept the plea deal the DA has offered. That deal is very generous: none of the men have to register as sex offenders if they plead out. Don't accept the plea and deal with some stiff consequences, no pun intended.
For once, the judge understood the concept of obfuscating with verbiage: fill the air with enough hot-button discrimination words and the real crime disappears in the media feeding frenzy. Not this time!! Even the protest against the ruling was sparsely attended: the gay community did not show up this time because they probably all know that this time, you do the crime, you do the time -- even if you are gay.
Smart Business Practices
Last Friday, SoCal Edison Co came through the neighborhood and replaced all the old electricity usage monitoring meters with the highly-touted, new, smart meter. I've been following the letters to the editor from customers whose meters were changed in the past several months, and the response has been consistent: electric rates are skyrocketing. I've resided in my current domocile for a full decade, and I have all my past utility bills (I know, I know). It is simple to see that my usage is consistent, as are my bills for service during the past decade. If my cost suddenly escalates, it will be a function of the new monitoring system, not changes in my electric habits, especially after replacing every darned thing in the house I can think to replace with energy-efficient products and curly-que bulbs.
Therefore, to bypass the public utility commissions' legal inability to increase consumer prices, another way has been found: change the equipment and charge the consumer for both the (new, improved, smart) equipment and the (basically unchanged) service. TW Cable does it by refusing to allow customers to install their own wi-fi router and/or DVR: if you want the TW service, you must rent their equipment, paying quickly for the basic cost of the boxes, but then repaying repeatedly over the time of use in the home. Thus, a $100 DVR retail (and TW does NOT pay retail) is paid for within the first 10 months' of use in the customer's home, and all the monthly rental fees after that are pure profit for TW.
SoCal Edison Co, as well as other utility companies, must be taking notes as baseline usage does not take into account either living space or number of occupants; instead, it is a usage baseline that assumes how much an individual utility each consumer should be allowed and how much to sock it to 'em when they naturally exceed that baseline each and every month.
As every consumer will do because the baselines are unrealistic.
Son is having another issue at his home in the other CA: the internet providers are increasing the revenue stream by charging for excessive usage, using their own definition of excessive in the process. Of course, the baseline is set excessively low to ensure that any and all tech usage will be excessive and generate maximum revenue, just as it is locally. The media push is for everyone to spend the bulk of their days online, using electronic devices in their homes, on the job, and as the focus of their discretionary time. Verizon came on-board and is now selling the I-Phone with the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" philosophy alive and well in commerce. Wal-Mart is selling I-Pads, not at a discounted price, but at full retail -- and along with all the "I" products comes the internet connection to support it. And NetFlix is downloading movies directly to your computer and/or TV. They are making their profit margin much, much larger, while diminishing the financial assets of the individual consumer.
Great job, corporate people. But don't YOU also have to pay for skyrocketing costs when you get home? You make decisions to increase the bottom line for the corporation, but forget about the individual consumer. When we cannot pay our bills, we shut down the service, and losing customers eventually can bring down even the biggest corporation.
When I relandscaped every square inch of my property to eco-friendly desert landscaping, my water bill actually increased ... because the water company has a baseline usage and I exceed it every single billing cycle. I shower once a day (and I'm well-known for my 5-minute showers), I do 2 loads of laundry each week (one white, one colors), I handwash dishes once a day (and recycle the wash water outside), and I use an updated watering system that is tuned and timed to the desert. Yes, I do use one of my two toilets several times a day, but they are both low-flow (replaced them, too). With such restricted water usage, how is it possible for me to go over my baseline?
Yes, I'm aware that just one employee earning a base salary of $40,000 annually, as well as an additional $20,000 in overtime, cannot be paid even one year's salary based on my water consumption, much less provide additional revenue to pay for the infrastructure that brings the water to my meter from the aquifer, but ...
where is it going to end?
We all want to live the high life, the American Dream, but we have created a nightmare of costs that we cannot sustain. Increasing the prices to unrealistic levels for the individual consumer reaches the breaking point pretty darned fast, especially when the consumer may be either under-employed or unemployed. There isn't just no money to pay the mortgage, but the other "fixed" expenses on top of that payment tip the scales to giving up and walking away.
All these empty houses? All these unpaid utility bills? "Someone has to pay for them" seems to be the standard response, but I'm darned sick and tired of being the responsible "someone" picking up the tab for all the irresponsible "someones" who have left me holding the bag!
Therefore, to bypass the public utility commissions' legal inability to increase consumer prices, another way has been found: change the equipment and charge the consumer for both the (new, improved, smart) equipment and the (basically unchanged) service. TW Cable does it by refusing to allow customers to install their own wi-fi router and/or DVR: if you want the TW service, you must rent their equipment, paying quickly for the basic cost of the boxes, but then repaying repeatedly over the time of use in the home. Thus, a $100 DVR retail (and TW does NOT pay retail) is paid for within the first 10 months' of use in the customer's home, and all the monthly rental fees after that are pure profit for TW.
SoCal Edison Co, as well as other utility companies, must be taking notes as baseline usage does not take into account either living space or number of occupants; instead, it is a usage baseline that assumes how much an individual utility each consumer should be allowed and how much to sock it to 'em when they naturally exceed that baseline each and every month.
As every consumer will do because the baselines are unrealistic.
Son is having another issue at his home in the other CA: the internet providers are increasing the revenue stream by charging for excessive usage, using their own definition of excessive in the process. Of course, the baseline is set excessively low to ensure that any and all tech usage will be excessive and generate maximum revenue, just as it is locally. The media push is for everyone to spend the bulk of their days online, using electronic devices in their homes, on the job, and as the focus of their discretionary time. Verizon came on-board and is now selling the I-Phone with the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" philosophy alive and well in commerce. Wal-Mart is selling I-Pads, not at a discounted price, but at full retail -- and along with all the "I" products comes the internet connection to support it. And NetFlix is downloading movies directly to your computer and/or TV. They are making their profit margin much, much larger, while diminishing the financial assets of the individual consumer.
Great job, corporate people. But don't YOU also have to pay for skyrocketing costs when you get home? You make decisions to increase the bottom line for the corporation, but forget about the individual consumer. When we cannot pay our bills, we shut down the service, and losing customers eventually can bring down even the biggest corporation.
When I relandscaped every square inch of my property to eco-friendly desert landscaping, my water bill actually increased ... because the water company has a baseline usage and I exceed it every single billing cycle. I shower once a day (and I'm well-known for my 5-minute showers), I do 2 loads of laundry each week (one white, one colors), I handwash dishes once a day (and recycle the wash water outside), and I use an updated watering system that is tuned and timed to the desert. Yes, I do use one of my two toilets several times a day, but they are both low-flow (replaced them, too). With such restricted water usage, how is it possible for me to go over my baseline?
Yes, I'm aware that just one employee earning a base salary of $40,000 annually, as well as an additional $20,000 in overtime, cannot be paid even one year's salary based on my water consumption, much less provide additional revenue to pay for the infrastructure that brings the water to my meter from the aquifer, but ...
where is it going to end?
We all want to live the high life, the American Dream, but we have created a nightmare of costs that we cannot sustain. Increasing the prices to unrealistic levels for the individual consumer reaches the breaking point pretty darned fast, especially when the consumer may be either under-employed or unemployed. There isn't just no money to pay the mortgage, but the other "fixed" expenses on top of that payment tip the scales to giving up and walking away.
All these empty houses? All these unpaid utility bills? "Someone has to pay for them" seems to be the standard response, but I'm darned sick and tired of being the responsible "someone" picking up the tab for all the irresponsible "someones" who have left me holding the bag!
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