Citizenship Test

While reading the news this morning, I happened upon an example citizenship test at MSNBC. Always one to test my knowledge against the status quo, I decided to take the test just to see how much I know. Here's how it worked out:

Sadly, most native-born Americans perform quite poorly on these tests. Even more frighteningly, those same people vote. That got me thinking (always a dangerous prospect).

We make people take a test before we allow them the privilege of driving. Indeed, most professional career fields require some tested proof of proficiency in the field before one is allowed to practice the trade. Why not require voters to demonstrate a basic knowledge of our system of government as part of the voter registration process?

Pundits will point out that such a system would unfairly burden the poorly educated, those who speak English as a second language, and the mentally "challenged". To those pundits I say this: why unfairly burden the entire nation with ill-informed decision making in the voting booth? Wouldn't the whole world be a little better off if the most powerful nation did a better job of selecting leadership?

Frankly, I think choosing the person who will have the power to change the world is a bit more important than unplugging my toilet. I admit there is a key difference, though. My plumber has to take a test and get a license before he wades into the excrement. Voters do not.

Ed Goes Audio

Okay -- as you may have noticed, there's an audio message embedded above (I'm not sure how that will work out with different RSS readers, so I'm sort of playing it by ear for now).

Apparently, this company has partnered with Google to provide audio blog entries, and so far, it seems pretty cool. From the blogger's point of view, I simply call their number, enter my number and PIN, and record my message. It publishes my message to my blog automatically, which means that blogging just got a lot easier.

As I point out in my audio post, I have no idea what their business model will be (how can you drive revenue when you provide a free service?) but so far, it's pretty exciting.

Weekend Woes

I've had some craptacular weekends in my day, but in that respect, this weekend seems exceptional. Perhaps it goes without saying that you don't spend nearly 7 years in the Army without a blown weekend or two, but even at that I'd have to place this weekend on par with spending some quality time with an IRS auditor in terms of frustration.

First, my wife left for a business trip to New York on Thursday, and she wasn't scheduled to return until Saturday morning. So the weekend lead-in is a little shot -- no biggie, right? She ended up going straight from the airport to her office on Saturday, and basically working a full day. I did get to have dinner with her on Saturday night, though, and it's a good thing, too, because she left for work again on Sunday morning and ended up working straight through until she got home this morning circa 5:30AM.

Now, I try to be understanding when these things happen (I've certainly spent my fair share of time working late). That said, because I'm also in Software Development , there are times when I can't help but feel like some of this stuff falls under the 7 P's. You know: Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.

So I was a bit agitated at not being able to spend a little quality time with the little lady, but I was doing okay with it (sort of -- depending on who you ask). I was managing the increased burden in the form of laundry and chores that most husbands (present company included) balk at. Then, last night, some fun things happened (and I mean the same sort of fun as having a rectal exam by an NBA allstar).

First, the cable went out. I'm not married to TV, so it doesn't seem like a big deal until you realize that with the cable goes the Internet. Okay, no sweat. I'm a man of the new millennium, so I'm just going to rotate that last load of laundry, and then head for the hay. A nice early bedtime is just what I need to get me on track for work on Monday.

I kiss my son good night, and begin my "nighttime maneuver" (this involves stripping down and jumping for the bed so the last of my clothes hit the floor about the same time I'm between the sheets -- hey, I said I was a man of the new millennium...). About midway through the process I notice a big wet spot on the bed.

At first, I think I'm about to relieve some stress with a good old-fashioned cat beating. Then I realize that unless my cat has somehow learned how to stick to the ceiling like a fly, that drip-drip-drip doesn't have feline origins. The damned roof is leaking!

Yes, I realize that roofs sometimes leak. To fully appreciate my frustration, however, you need to understand that since I renewed my lease in April, my air conditioner has broken three times (and each time it rains water into my dining room), and I haven't had the greatest luck with maintenance (which is a blog post in itself). Indeed, they came into my house a few weeks ago without any notice, and without leaving a note, and left my daughter's window all the way open (nice of me to cool the entire neighborhood -- hello electricity bill from hell). It was 10 hours before I got home to close it, and it rained pretty bad, so her floor was soaked. Ironically, maintenance had just removed a big noisy (and no doubt electricity sucking) dehumidifier that they placed after the last air conditioning fiasco.

These things in mind, I think you'll agree that my weekend wasn't so great. There is an up side, though. The best thing about having a lousy weekend is watching the expressions on the faces of the Monday morning busy-bodies in the office. "How was your weekend?" they ask with an all-too-saccharine smile. "It sucked." I tell them, all the while feeling a bit better as I amuse myself with their startled expressions. Maybe there's just a little streak of sadism in me after all.

Time Marches On

Time stands still for no man. It's been a busy 3½ months since my last post, and it occurs to me that I really need to dedicate more time to my blogs. I am now faced with the very daunting question of how to get back in the proverbial saddle with my writing.

I suppose I could start by pointing out the obvious: it's been a very busy three months indeed -- both for me personally, and in the world at large. Among other interesting changes, I accepted a position as the Director of Software Development for a litigation support company in Washington, DC. That being the case, it also seems appropriate to inject the standard caveat: any opinions I express here are entirely my own, and may not accurately reflect the views of my employer or coworkers.

I would also like to point out that, while it's true that most people change jobs because they are not happy, that was not the case here. No, you won't find this move chronicled in any future Jobs that Suck post. In this case, it came down to a simple question of opportunity. While I was treated well by my former employer (and have an invitation to return), here I have the chance to really build something. Call me naive, but I still think I can change the world.

Now that I've cautiously dipped my toe back into the blogging waters and I can see the temperature is fine, I think I'll be more comfortable diving back in. Watch for more rants, raves, and quips in the near future!

Catch Up

It's hard to believe it's been two weeks since the last time I posted. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there have been several "blogworthy" events during this time period.

First, if you're considering taking a cruise, I would not recommend Carnival. Although I could (and probably will) dedicate an entire blog post to this topic, for now I'll simply say that you'd be better off going with another cruise line. You can watch for complete details on entire sordid event on a new Website I created, aptly titled Cruise Horrors. Also, I'd appreciate any Google juice my fellow bloggers can spare.

Also over the past two weeks, the Bush administration has continued to provide a steady diet of interesting blunders for the blogging community to feast upon. I may post my opinion on a topic or two in the near future if it strikes my fancy.

Finally, for those who read my blog on a regular basis, let me say thank you. The feedback I get always brightens my day, and it's a lot easier to write when you know someone is going to read it.

Katrina Pity Party

CNN ran a segment this morning about a family who was displaced by Hurricane Katrina. It was a boiler plate human interest bit, complete with emotional scenes designed to invoke empathy in even the most stone-hearted viewer. Except it didn't work -- at least not on me.

I'm sick and tired of hearing the Katrina sob stories. There are a few simple truths about the situation that seem to have escaped the media, so I'll point them out here.

First, New Orleans is below the water line. When you build below the water, you accept a certain risk. Period. There is a reason why the insurance companies won't give you flood insurance -- the risks are too great.

It used to make me angry when people would live in the Mississippi flood plain and expect FEMA to bail them out year after year (pun intended). Why, I wondered, would people continue to move back in when they knew damn good and well it was going to flood again? Because they also knew FEMA would bail them out again, and they would get a new house and new stuff. They had plenty of incentive to stay, and none to leave.

Now take a look at this cross-section of New Orleans prepared by the Army Corps of Engineers. Notice anything peculiar?

Cross-section of New Orleans ground elevations.
(United States Army Corps of Engineers)

The whole damned city is under the water line!

As reported by the Washington Post in January, FEMA is now paying rental assistance to 685,635 families who were displaced by either Katrina or Rita.

President Bush is reportedly now seeking another $19.8 billion for the Katrina efforts. This is on top of the $10.5 billion approved in September, which was in addition to FEMA's normal budget for these types of things. So what we're really talking about is an additional $30.3 billion beyond normal budget.

At $30.3 billion, that works out to $44,192 for each household displaced by the storm. Since the cost of living can vary widely from place to place, you should note that the 2000 census recorded the per capita income for New Orleans as $17,258. That means that we're spending more than two and a half times the per capita income for each displaced family!

Okay, so we're blowing a wad of money. What does it mean to you? How about this: going by GAO estimates, that comes out to about $568 per taxpayer in the United States. For my family, that means this nonsense is costing me $1,136. There are a lot of things I could do with $1,136 that don't involve enabling people to get flooded again.

This money must be important, though. I'm sure these people are spending it wisely, right? Wrong. The GAO recently conducted several investigations into abuses. I'm sure everyone has heard the stories about FEMA debit cards being used for strip clubs, expensive purses, jewelry, and even a tattoo. We also know about people fraudulently receiving these cards. What I want to know is why isn't there more outrage about this?

Another thing that really boils my blood is the number of people who are now pulling an Oliver Twist. ("Please, sir, I want some more.") It has been nearly 6 months since Katrina. Six months is plenty of time rebuild your life.

In six months, you can start over from scratch with absolutely nothing, and build a decent little life for yourself. I know, because I've done it. Twice. All it takes is something a lot of these people know nothing about: hard work.

Living in the Moment

When I was a child, I once hypothesized to my mom that perhaps physical incarnation is static, and the human conscience merely passes from static moment to static moment. "If that's true", she told me, "then tomorrow's Ed is living in Las Vegas."

It turns out that tomorrow's Ed (which is now 20 years ago's Ed) didn't end up in Vegas until much later, but that's another story.

If you're having a hard time visualizing what I'm talking about, think of it like one of those little cartoon flip books -- each moment is fixed, and the only thing that changes is the page you're viewing. Collectively, moving from moment to moment in a flip book yields animation. Philosophically, your conscience moving from moment to moment equates to life.

If my original hypothesis is true, then arguably all time exist continuously in parallel -- past, present, and future. My body from 10 minutes ago is still eating a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, while my conscience has moved on to the Ed that is writing this blog post. It's a tough concept to wrap your mind around, but it's quite fascinating if you can.

Anyone who has ever procrastinated can appreciate a small bit of this concept. How many times have you said "I'll worry about that later", and then when later comes, you're angry at yourself? How many times have regretted something you did earlier, or been grateful that "at least I didn't 'xyz'"? (Insert whatever is appropriate for "xyz".)

What will people think of this post? Will they think I'm crazy? Who cares? That's Tomorrow Ed's problem!

Shut Up and Be Quiet

I received an email from an old friend today. It was one of those classic forwarded messages that makes the rounds (I get these all the time). Normally, I simply deposit them neatly into the trash. This time, I decided to respond.

The original message read:

I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE FLAG, OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, AND TO THE REPUBLIC, FOR WHICH IT STANDS, ONE NATION UNDER GOD, INDIVISIBLE, WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL!

I was asked to send this on if I agree or delete if I don't.

It is said that 86% of Americans believe in God.

Therefore I have a very hard time understanding why there is such a problem in having "In God! We Trust" on our money and having "God" in the Pledge of Allegiance.

Why don't we just tell the 14% to Shut Up and BE QUIET!!!

If you agree, pass this on, if not delete.

I AGREE !!!!

"God Bless America."

I carefully wrote a reply to all of the original recipients, and BCC'd everyone to protect their privacy. Here's what I had to say about it:

Why is it always so much easier to appeal to emotion rather than logic and reason?

If you're receiving this email, it's because you were included in the same original distribution that I was, or that I've added you because I thought you might take an interest and might want to pass this along. In any event, I've removed everybody's original email addresses and blind copied everyone in order to protect privacy.

If you didn't receive the original message, you may want to scroll to the end and read it before you continue. Suffice to say it was an inflammatory bit about the phrases "under God" and "in God we trust" that will no doubt enrage and incite people based upon emotional reaction. With this email, I seek to use logic and reasoning. If you're a bigot, a zealot, or just plain stupid, you might as well not read any further. You won't be able to comprehend the message anyway.

If, on the other hand, you want to know facts rather than conjecture, please read on, and let us begin our journey. You may not agree with my side of the issue, but at the end of this email, I promise you'll have a better understanding of the facts.

By now you may have realized that I respectfully disagree with the original author who so elegantly asserted, " Why don't we just tell the 14% to Shut Up and BE QUIET!!!" That said, I expect his or her viewpoint would be quite revered and admired in places like Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Palestine and Iran, whom all impose a state-sponsored religion. Nevertheless, since we're speaking of the United States, I'll limit my commentary to the issues here at home -- specifically, the original author's revulsion at the prospect of removing phrases that refer to God from the pledge and our national currency.

Arguments in favor of references to God range from academic ("we're preserving history") to belligerence ("we're a Christian nation so deal with it"). Unfortunately, statements made in support of these arguments are most often factually incorrect.

It is worth noting that the Pledge of Allegiance, originally written by Francis Bellamy in 1892, did not contain the phrase "under God". That phrase was added by Congress in 1954 after heavy lobbying by the Knights of Columbus during a time when professing a belief in a supreme being was synonymous with denouncing communism. (Full history of the pledge here: http://history.vineyard.net/pledge.htm) Thus, the historical argument is not valid -- at least in the case of the pledge. But what about the national motto?

Our national motto, as written by the framers (or "founding fathers", if you prefer), was the Latin phrase "E Pluribus Unum", which translates to "One from many" or "One from many parts". Unquestionably, "E Pluribus Unum" was a uniting phrase designed to showcase one of the strengths of America. As such, it accurately reflects the inclusive nature of our great country. This motto stood for almost 175 years until on July 30th, 1956, during the height of the Cold War and the McCarthy "communist witch hunt", the motto was changed to its current form: "In God We Trust". With one stroke of the pen, we undid more than a hundred years of history, ergo the historic preservation argument does not hold water for the national motto either. (Full history of the national motto here: http://www.religioustolerance.org/nat_mott.htm )

As for the religious majority cited by the original author, the exact numbers are relatively easy to find. Perhaps unsurprisingly, as of 2001, 76.5% of Americans self-identified their religious beliefs as falling under the umbrella of Christianity. The next highest category, with 13.2% was "Nonreligious/Secular". Judaism was third with 1.3%, and every other category gleaned less than 1%. (Source: http://www.adherents.com/rel_USA.html )

The latest study on the topic of religion's role in the United States, however, was published by The Pew Research Center in 2002 (complete study here: http://pewforum.org/publications/reports/poll2002.pdf).

Interestingly, even given the undeniably large majority enjoyed by Christianity, when asked "Can you be a good American without Religious faith?" fully 84% of the respondents said yes. Similarly, when asked "[Is] belief in God needed to be moral?" only 47% answered yes.

Thus, most Americans generally do not believe that professing a belief in "God" is a litmus test for patriotism, being a "good American", or even being moral.

Another thing I would point out is that the framers had ample opportunity to include references to God in the documents they drafted. It may surprise you to learn that the word "God" never appears in the United States Constitution - not in the original text, not in the Bill of Rights (the first 10 amendments), and not in any other amendment.

The closest the framers came to including God was in the Declaration of Independence. Everyone is familiar with the phrase "...endowed by their Creator...", which is remarkably neutral, but the word "God" actually does appear in the text. That states, even in the one instance when the word "God" was explicitly used, our framers did so tenuously, writing the phrase "...equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them,...".

Now, I'm neither a Theologian nor a Historian, but it seems to me that if our forefathers had intended this to be a "Christian Nation", they would have been a bit more explicit about it. What they intended, I believe, is to live and let live, and part of that means not telling a large segment of the population to simply "SHUT UP AND BE QUIET!!!" when you don't agree with them.

As for "why there is such a problem in having 'In God! We Trust' on our money and having 'God' in the Pledge of Allegiance" I would simply question why the original author thinks they should be there. Furthermore, would he or she tolerate professions of other religious viewpoints in public schools or on public currency? Would this author see a problem with "one nation under Goddess"? Would that be offensive to the author? How about you? Do you find that offensive? What about "one nation under No god"?

The whole point is that our government should neither be in the business of endorsing nor disclaiming religion.

Auctioning God

I had just responded to an email on the topic of religion today when I got to thinking. If I Googled for God, what would be the first site to come up? I decided to find out.

The search results themselves (totaling 480 million) were much as expected. Closer examination, however, revealed a wonderful little glitch with the Ad Sense algorithm. The top sponsored ad was for Ebay, with an ad that read "Looking for God? Find exactly what you want today www.eBay.com".

I never thought an online auction could be a religious experience.

Horrible Superbowl Performance

Am I the only one who noticed a horrible performance at the Superbowl yesterday? No, I'm not talking about the Sea Hawks, who lost to the Steelers. The disgusting display I speak of was the halftime show put on by the Rolling Stones.

Frankly, I found it a bit less entertaining than adding Exlax to the Metamucil in a Geriatric Ward, although I think the dancing and writhing displayed would be about on par with the resulting rush to the bathroom.

I was rather looking forward to seeing someone mention what an abysmal job they did, but this morning some idiot on CNN was raving about what a great performance it was. Come on, people! Am I the only one who can see that ship sailed 20 years ago? Frankly, I found it pathetic.

Comments, anyone?

GM Should Eat Its Own Dog Food

"Buy American." That's what U.S. car manufacturers have been telling us for years. "Ignore the price tag, the rapid depreciation, and the inferior quality, and support the good ol' U.S. of A! Keep those dollars in the country! Save American jobs!"

Outwardly, these companies appeal to our sense of patriotism. Inside the company, however, there seems to be a drastically different attitude. A glimpse of that attitude came to light today when General Motors announced that it will spend about $15 billion over the next 5 years outsourcing its Information Technology work.

Arguably, a generous portion of that work will continue to be done by Americans. Eight hundred million of those bucks (that's $800,000,000, or eight tenths of a billion dollars), however will go to two foreign companies: Cap Gemini, and Wipro.

Wipro Technologies, India's 3rd largest software exporter whose Website title reads "Offshore Outsourcing | IT Services", will get a $300 million piece of the pie. So what do you buy with $300 million? An article in the Hindu News Update Services described it this way:

"As part of the contract, Wipro would be providing application development and maintenance and data integration and migration services to GM."

Whew! I'm sure glad I don't know anyone who does "application development and maintenance". Hey! Wait a minute -- that's my job! So basically, GM wants me to buy their over-priced cars, and in exchange for this, they send my job to India. Outrageous!

How can GM expect people to "buy American" when the company itself doesn't practice what it preaches?

In fairness, GM isn't the only company who does this. Indeed, Wipro has quite an interesting customer list, including a number of "proud to be American" companies. Still, the automakers have been quite vocal in trying to dissuade consumers from purchasing the fruits of foreign labor. Hypocrisy in action. When will people learn?

An Open Letter to My Daughter

Dear [Daddy's Girl],

We spoke with your guidance counselor at school today, and although report cards don't officially come home until tomorrow, she confirmed what we suspected: you got perfect straight-A's. I cannot even begin to express how proud you make me.

I realize that you're taking advanced (GT) classes, and that you're even getting High School credit for some of your courses. To my way of thinking, that makes your 4.0 G.P.A. even more significant.

Although you may find this hard to believe, I can remember what it was to be 14. I know all too well the social pressures teens place on one another, and how frustrating it can be when you're no longer a child, but not quite an adult. That you're able to effectively manage those pressures and grab your own piece of success fills me with tremendous pride, and a certain sense of relief. I also think it foreshadows wonderful things in your future.

As you go forward, I'd like you to keep a few things in mind. Perhaps most importantly is that with precious few exceptions, the real value in education is not necessarily the material you learn. I'll let you in on a little secret: you really won't have to do any algebra when you're an adult. What's more, you'll probably never have to make anything out of poster board unless you're helping your own children with their silly little assignments.

No, the true value of education is not in the facts that you learn, but in the problem-solving skills that the learning process teaches you. It may sound cliche, but what school really teaches you is how to learn, how to seek new information, how to figure out which questions to ask, how to follow somebody else's rules - no matter how silly they might seem, and perhaps most importantly, how to make the most of any situation. These are the skills that are important for life, and proficiency in them is measured by the grades you receive. That you received perfect grades tells me that you've learned how to play the game we call life.

People often feel proud of their children because they believe they are directly responsible for any outstanding results. The simple truth, however, is that there are no schools to teach someone how to be a good parent. Figuring out what works and what doesn't is largely a question of trial and error.

With that in mind, it probably won't surprise to you find out that your father was a little nervous at the prospect of becoming a parent. Then, on the day you were born, I saw a sign hanging on the wall in the maternity ward. I don't remember the exact verbiage, but the message was clear: "If you're nervous because you've never had a baby before, don't worry - your baby has never had a parent before, either!"

While I would happily take credit for all of your successes, I don't think that would be fair. Was it that I taught you valuable life skills that are now key to your success, or was it more likely that you taught me how to be the parent you needed? Indeed, you broke nearly all my preconceived notions of parenting. For example, when you were little, I never really had to spank you. A stern look was all it took for you to understand my disappointment, and you always immediately corrected your behavior. It seemed that disappointing your father was more painful to you than any corporal punishment could have been.

Regardless of why you're successful, the simple truth is that you are, and I'm very proud of you. Keep up the great work!

Love Always,

Dad

People Are Dumb

Apparently, businesses can be dumb, too (ostensibly because they are run by people). Check out this list of the 101 Dumbest Moments in Business for 2005. Some of the items listed are pretty funny, if not obviously bad decisions (painfully so in some cases). A lot of them I already knew; some of them I'd never heard of.

Not Supporting Our Troops

Hang on for the ride - I'm bound to piss some people off with this post.

Joel Stein really got the ire of a lot of people with his Op-Ed piece Warriors and Wusses in the LA Times yesterday in which he expressed his opinion on the War in Iraq, and more specifically, whether or not to support the individual soldiers who are fighting it.

Throughout the article, the message was largely that if you don't agree with the war, you shouldn't feel obligated to support the troops. As if to illustrate this, he points out that "we shouldn't be celebrating people for doing something we don't think was a good idea".

To say these ideas upset people would be a gross understatement. For example, reflective of popular sentiments on the topic, Hugh Hewitt writes:

"As I suspected, Mr. Stein really doesn't know anyone on active duty, hasn't been to any bases or any of the service academies, hasn't met with wounded or returning troops, and generally admits to being blissfully ignorant of the military. He could not recount a single book he has read about the military, and doesn't even know how big it is. He thinks the soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines who have died in the GWOT have died in vain. He does not feel grateful for their service."

Many of the comments left at the LA Times were far less flattering and succint. Nevertheless, when did military service become a precursor to having an opinion as a citizen? Is this man not entitled to have his say? Is he a bad guy for having an unpopular opinion? I don't think so.

Absent military credentials on Mr. Stein's part, I'd like to make a few observations as someone who does happen to have modest military credentials.

People have gotten extremely wrapped up with comparing what's going on now with Vietnam, particularly as it relates to how the troops are treated when they return home. Most people are overlooking some important points, though.

It's important to draw a distinction between the troops in Iraq now and those who fought in Vietnam. In Vietnam, soldiers were drafted. It didn't matter what your opinion was -- if your number came up, you had to go. Today's military is an all-volunteer force. Anyone serving is doing so in consequence of a conscious decision to serve, knowing full well the implications of his or her service. This is even more true for those who joined the service after September 11th.

That said, I certainly do not advocate spitting on troops, booing them, or otherwise using our troops as a venue to express frustration with the current administration. The other side of that, though, is that I also see no reason to arbitrarily be "grateful" or "appreciative". Neither of these things define someone as being a great American.

I remember when I returned from Desert Storm on April 1st, 1991. We landed at Pope Air Force Base, which adjoins Fort Bragg. I walked down the steps from the airplane, and I was met by a large brass band playing some military parade tune, and an even larger gathering of people cheering. We were "heroes", or so I'm told.

What impact did this "hero's welcome" have on me as a soldier? What feelings did it elicit from my little warrior heart? In a word: guilt. That's right, I felt guilty.

I didn't have any family or friends greeting me, but I remember this girl -- a complete stranger -- approached me and asked if anyone was there to welcome me home. I explained that there was nobody there to greet me.

"Well, " she said, "I'm not here to meet anyone in particular, so I'll welcome you home."

And with that, she hugged me.

During all of this, those feelings of guilt persisted. Had I been born a mere 20 years earlier than I was, a similar girl might have greeted me, but in a very different way. Further, I don't feel like we went through anywhere near the horrors experienced by most who fought in Vietnam.

You won't find any of those cheesy magnets on my vehicles. Frankly, I find them distasteful. Instead, I express my gratitude on an individual basis. When I meet a Veteran, I shake his hand, introduce myself, and welcome him home.

If you really want to support the troops, do it at the polls. Elect officials who will not place them in harms way unless it truly is necessary. Vote for people like Senator John McCain who have the proper experience from which to draw when making the decision whether or not to send our sons and daughters into harms way.

To those who will no doubt paint Joel Stein as anti-American, I say get off his back. The right to freely express dissent and unpopular opinions is fundamental to our way of life in this country. Those who would silence him need look no further than the mirror to see someone who is truly un-American.

Hanging it Out There

I've never been good at biting my tongue. In fact, I have this horrible tendency toward being a bit too honest, and letting people know when something bothers me. Sometimes it gets me in trouble.

Years ago, after serving a number of years in the 82nd, I found myself assigned as the S-3 Schools NCOIC for 50th Signal Battalion. Although I was a staff puke riding a desk, I quickly discovered that "you can take the soldier out of the 82nd, but you can't take the 82nd out of the soldier". Even as a young Private in the 82nd I had been encouraged to speak my mind, and be aggressive. Those traits became ingrained in me.

During my tenure at 50th Signal Battalion, we got a new Battalion XO. His name is not important; what's important is that he quickly developed a reputation for being hard-nosed, outspoken, and aggressive. Officers treated him with obsequience, NCO's feared him, and the soldiers, for the most part, tried to avoid him. In the vernacular, this guy would "eat your lunch".

One of this Major's first tasks was to write a new policy. I don't remember exactly what the policy was, except that it really annoyed me. I had discussed it privately with several of the senior NCO's (it's worth mentioning that I was the most junior in rank), and the consensus was unilateral: it was a bad idea.

A few days later, the XO dropped into the office (a big open room with grey government desks neatly lined up in rows). He planted himself in front of my desk, surveyed the room, and began asking people what they thought of the new policy. Response after response either acquiesced to his position, or praised it outright as people withered under his mighty presence.

He nodded thoughtfully while accepting this glowing feedback, then looked me right in the eye and said, "What do you think, Sergeant Mooers?"

Drat! I'm on the spot, and on the hook for an answer. Now, I know I should either agree, or make a polite excuse to not say anything, but I have years of training coupled with my distaste for sycophants working against me.

"Can I speak freely, sir?" I responded.

"Always!" he blurted as if insulted that I would even ask.

"Well, sir, it's the dumbest f*cking thing I've ever seen."

His eyebrows went up in disbelieve, and I decided I had better make a hasty explanation if I wanted to keep my chevrons, so I continued.

"You have to think about what you're doing to the soldiers. Sure, it will make your job easier, but you're really screwing the soldiers down on the line."

The room grew uncharacteristically quiet as those around me waited to watch me be devoured whole by this man. Certainly he would put me in my place -- this young punk who dared question his judgment.

"You know, " he said, "I never thought about it that way, but you're right." Then he actually smiled.

From that point on, my word was gold with this man, and we ultimately became staunch allies if not friends (assuming, of course, that friendship might exist between a field grade officer and an NCO).

Years later, that aggressive honesty came through again, much to the chagrin of my wife, while we were negotiating the purchase of a car from a dealership. We had been haggling for a while, and found ourselves in a bit of a stalemate.

It's pretty common for car salesmen to bring in the "Sales Manager" when they are having a tough time closing the deal. The problem with that, is that I don't respond well to the high pressure sales tactics. I especially don't respond well when I don't like the "Sales Manager".

After negotiating with this guy for 5 minutes or so, I decided I'd had enough.

"You know, " I told him, "we have a problem. We have a personality conflict."

"A personality conflict?" he asked.

"That's right. I don't like you, and I want you to leave. If you don't, I will."

Although my wife was embarrassed, he did leave, and we ended up getting the deal we wanted on the vehicle.

I wish I could say I've never gotten myself into trouble with my, um, "honesty". I wish I could say that, but it wouldn't be true. I've gotten myself into a fair number of jams (and indeed, I may be in one even as I write this), but I guess all's well that ends well. At least I can look at myself in the mirror.

Regardless of whether you agree with my approach, or just think I'm a jerk with no tact, you can be assured that you'll always know exactly where you stand with me, and exactly how I feel. Now please don't ask me if I think you look fat in those pants.

Evolution

Chantay found this on the Internet and it definitely seemed worthy of passing on. Unfortunately, I'm inclined to agree with this assertion.

Wear Sunscreen

I was talking to my mom on the phone this morning, mainly commiserating on everything that's wrong right now (corrupt politicians, a huge deficit, eroding civil rights, etc.) and I was reminded of a phrase from a Baz Lurman song several years ago.

Purportedly, this song came from a commencement address, and has been attributed to a number of different people, including Kurt Vonnegut. Always one to seek the facts, I did a little research and found out that the speech in question was actually not a speech at all. Rather, it was a column written by Mary Schmich for the Chicago Tribune.

Regardless of how her work has been misrepresented over the years, Schmich made some very valid points that bear repeating. With that in mind, I've decided to reproduce the entire text here.

Wear Sunscreen

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97.

Wear Sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday. Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself. Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how. Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year- olds I know still don't. Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone. Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody's else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths. Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85. Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

New Search Engine

If you've been following the stories in the press lately, you'll know that our courageous government has been working hard to protect us from terrorists, but has been continually thwarted or annoyed by those who think "privacy" or "free speech" are important. Really, do you think an honorable red-blooded American law enforcement officer should have to take the time to explain himself to some puke who rides a court bench all day just to get a warrant? Certainly not! The government knows best; obtaining a warrant only slows things down and helps the terrorists!

I read an article today that pointed out that only 4 out of 5 search engines voluntarily gave the government their search records. Those do-gooders at Google, unpatriotic as they are, refused under the guise of "protecting privacy".

Take heart - there's something you can do to help. Instead of using Google, use the new Patriot Search. Just read this excerpt from the Patriot Search Mission Statement, and you'll know why it's important:

"Only at Patriot Search can you be certain that you're helping the government the way you are supposed to -- as a patriotic, obedient, and honest citizen."

So be an obedient citizen, stop crying about "civil rights", and start using the new Patriot Search Engine.

Fiscal Irresponsibility

Following up on my Excise Tax post, I've done a little reading on the subject of taxes and how the money is spent. Specifically, I took a little time to read the GAO report from December 15, 2005. (Special thanks to my good friend Anton for finding this and posting the URL as part of a follow-up comment to my original post.)

Although my last post promised a new tone, some things are simply too interesting to pass up. (That didn't last long, eh?) As I read the information from the GAO, I found myself having a harder and harder time containing my rage at the ignorance of the Bush Administration, and to a certain extent, the general population.

If you have a strong stomach, I strongly encourage you to read this report. One part I found particularly interesting, if not infuriating, reads:

"...the federal government's fiscal exposures now total more than $46 trillion, up from about $20 trillion in 2000. This translates into a burden of about $156,000 per American or approximately $375,000 per full-time worker, up from $72,000 and $165,000 respectively, in 2000. These amounts do not include future costs resulting from Hurricane Katrina or the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. Continuing on this unsustainable path will gradually erode, if not suddenly damage, our economy, our standard of living, and ultimately our national security. " (emphasis added)

(- page 32 in the PDF file, labeled page 28 in the report)

Let's put that into perspective. Assuming that someone earns $45,000 per year, if he were to pay 100% of his paycheck towards repaying the debt, it would take him 12 years to pay off his portion. Twelve years! Do you believe that?

Those with calculators are probably already wondering how I came up with that number. Regular taxes to the tune of at least 30% will still have to be paid just to keep the government running. That being the case, the number I used for a $45,000 annual salary was $31,500, which represents 70% of $45K. Furthermore, the 12-year prediction assumes that no additional interest will accrue on the debt, and that is certainly not the reality. A more reasonable number is probably more like 20 or 30 years, and without any money to eat, I don't think our poor protagonist will last that long.

Maybe I should consider offshore investment opportunities for retirement?

Changing the Tone

Today I was going to write about Mercury News and others reporting how the Bush administration is trying to force Google to give up some of their data. Then I realized that my posts have taken somewhat of a negative turn. (I also have a rant about Pyramid scams, and another on my thoughts about the pledge, the founding fathers, and US Constitution currently in draft.)

Unquestionably, there are plenty of news items that merit concern. Nevertheless, the news is not always all bad. Sometimes we just need to focus a bit more on the positive.

The economy seems to have come back to life, and most experts now see another boom just over the horizon. Personally, I've noticed that the VC funding is flowing again, and the IT industry is excited about Web 2.0.

Apart from technology, the shortest day of the year is now behind us, and the days are getting longer again. Plus, you're reading my blog, which makes me happy.

Excise Tax

The latest buzz (that interests me) is about the "excise tax" that you pay on your cell phone bill, or more specifically, a call to repeal it. As reported by an Ohio TV station, it seems that the tax in question was actually instituted 107 years ago (long before cell phones) in order to fund the Spanish American War.

There's more information on the Federal Excise Tax, or FET, at MyWireless.org, and apparently, you can request a refund of everything you've paid in FET for the past 107 years by filling out a form from the IRS. A word of warning, however: you have to itemize on a quarter-by-quarter basis. Frankly, I think the burden of a refund should be on the IRS and the carriers.

Every year at tax time I say the same thing: I want some accountability! I would like to see how my tax money is being spent. Oh, I don't expect them to account for every dollar individually, but I would like to see a summary. For example, where is the majority of the tax revenue spent? National defense? If so, what percentage of my taxes are going towards that? What percentage of my taxes go towards education? What about welfare? Healthcare? Law Enforcement? Congressional Salaries? Anything over 1% should be accounted for.

Unfortunately, I really don't think the IRS will ever provide statistics on where the money goes. Like me, they realize that if people knew where the money was going, they would be outraged. Most people, though, are too stupid to question anything, so we'll continue to be milked for things like the Spanish American War in the years to come.

Best Blonde Joke Ever

Some people will no doubt think it tasteless of me to reproduce this, but frankly, I think it's really funny. Scobleizer today blogged about the best blonde joke ever. I'm still laughing.

Creepy

Few would argue that I have a pretty unusual name. First, the way my last name is spelled quite uncommon -- so uncommon, in fact, that it has been the cause of frequent confusion in the past. That unusualness is compounded by the fact that my full first name is actually Edison.

Every once in a while I Google myself just to see what comes up. The results change from time to time, which I suppose is not too surprising. What was a little surprising was what came up today. The first page that comes up if you search Google for Edison Mooers is this page. You'll notice that I have the exact same name (even down to the middle initial) as someone listed there. (Hint: look for "Mooers, Edison L".)

Frankly, I find it a bit creepy -- particularly since my name is so uncommon. I think there's a cool short story in there somewhere.

Sprint and Big Brother

Reuters recently reported on a story about a county in California being outraged that Sprint would not fork over location information to the police, stating in part that:

"A Sprint operator declined to provide Riverside police with global positioning system coordinates, that would have helped locate the car and the child, without first getting a subpoena."

What got peoples' ire was that the car in question had been stolen, and there was a 10-month old baby in it at the time.

Apparently, Sprint has apologized for the incident, and is now working with the county to see how this can be avoided in the future. In return, the county has decided not to "slap a moratorium on new cellular towers".

Frankly, I think Sprint acted correctly in not providing the information -- to do otherwise would have run afoul of the Fourth Amendment. Police do not have the right to search your home simply because they feel like it, and likewise they should not be able to arbitrarily retrieve the whereabouts of any citizen simply by telling the telephone carrier that there is a need to know. That is what Judges are for.

Clearly, the presence of a baby in the car in this particular situation makes this an exceptional case, which is one reason why it is so thorny. Nobody wants to be viewed as unsympathetic to a parent or baby; however, the possibility exists to set precedent that will bind even when there is nothing exceptional.

It's also wrong of the county to abuse their zoning privilege simply to bully a corporation. Obviously, they seek to pressure Sprint to provide location information voluntarily and thereby make an end run around the constitutional issues. Shame on them!

When will people learn?

Annoying Law

As CNET News reported on Monday, our elected idiots just passed a new law that essentially makes it a federal crime to annoy someone on the Internet if your identity is anonymous. I'll leave the debate on the finer points to other people, but there are a few things I'd like to say about this nonsense.

First, let me say that I doubt very seriously that anyone will be charged under the annoyance clause of this new law. The First Amendment implications all but beg for a constitutional challenge, and it is very unlikely that this law would stand up against one. Prosecutors know this, but that's not the point.

The way in which this little gem managed to get slipped in is yet another illustration of how our system of government can be effectively gamed. The trick is as tired and abused as it is simple: tack on your garbage to something else that would be political suicide to vote against. I'm always amazed (even if unsurprised) at the amount of unrelated legislation attached to budget bills.

This is a sad time for America. Our officials should be ashamed of themselves, and I hope they are annoyed if they read my post. For the record, my name is plainly visible on this blog. I point that out not because I'm afraid of some new federal law, but because I want each of them to easily know whose ass they are invited to kiss.

Preferences

The human mind is a fascinating thing. Some argue that we are each the sum of our experiences, and for the most part, I agree. Still, I wonder how personal preferences can sometimes be so different between people who otherwise have very much in common. This morning, I encountered a situation that made me reflect on this.

When it was time to take my shower, I ended up with a big fluffy towel (Hobson's Choice). Now, my wife and daughter both love this particular towel, and they'll no doubt be disappointed when they discover it has been retired to the laundry hamper for the week. I, on the other hand, happen to hate big fluffy towels.

I like my towels lean, mean, and damned near thread-bare. When it comes to towel selection, I take a pragmatic approach: if the purpose of a towel is to dry me off, then I should select a towel that will best do that job. Fluffy towels smear the water around, and generally do a very poor job of absorbing it. By contrast, old thin towels may not feel as nice against your skin, but they do a phenomenal job of soaking up the water. (They're also better for snapping people.) I guess you could say I take a utilitarian approach to towel selection.

I also think a good towel is like a fine wine -- it has to be properly aged. Among my very favorite towels are a few tattered old Army-issued brown towels that are now so thin you can see through them in spots. Since I've been out of the Army for nearly 9 years now, those towels have to be at least 10 or 15 years old. (On a side note, a lot of people insist that women, not towels, age like wine, but my experience has been that most women age more like milk.)

Whatever your towel preference, I'm sure you'll agree that having the right towel for you is essential to starting the day off right. The fact that my day began with a fluffy towel makes me nervous. I may get home today and find that all of my clothes are hanging in the closet facing right instead of left, or worse, that I have to eat dinner with a small fork.

Clean Bill of Health

Okay, I did my due diligence and went to the doctor after work yesterday. While I appreciate all of the genuine concern and well wishes by friends and family, I'm somewhat embarrassed (even if relieved) to say that it was really nothing too serious.

During the course of my examination, Doc Johnson invited me to lie on the probulator, and much to my relief, the only poking he needed to do was on my abdomen. When he asked me about what happened, I resisted the temptation to tell him to just read my blog, and recounted the events of Sunday night. His prognosis: I most likely popped a small vein or something with the dry heaves.

The good doctor wrote me a prescription for Prevacid, and gave me a referral to one of those gastro-endo-intesti-specialist types who probably costs an exhorbitent amount. I went on my merry way to Safeway to have the script filled, and that is when the really fun part started.

After offering up my prescription, and waiting a half hour, I found out that my insurance company had a computer outage or something such that they couldn't authorize the claim. Having waited for 30 minutes in a grocery store during grocery rush hour, I just wanted to go home, so I told them I'd pick up the prescription the next day. Then I realized that since I have a $45 co-pay (because there is no generic for Prevacid), it might not cost that much more to just pay for the entire thing myself. How expensive can 30 pills be? I was appalled at the answer: $155. That's right, folks, more than $5 a pill.

This brings up a plethora of issues that I won't get into here, except to point out the obvious. The pharmaceutical companies are obscenely profitable, and they are able to basically rape the consumer through monopolistic practices that would not be tolerated in other industries. Unfortunately, the pharmaceutical lobby is a force to be reckoned with, so this is not likely to change in the near future.

For now, I'll have to content myself with bitching about it in my blog, and hope I never get sick or find myself without insurance. Oh, and for the record, I've decided not to refill the script. For $5 a day, I'll deal with an upset stomach. It's probably less than that the upset I'll have each time I see one of those pills and think of the cost anyway.

Off to See the Doc

Last night, I didn't feel very well. I suppose that's a bit of an understatement, because in point of fact, I felt more like 10 pounds of crap stuffed into a 1 pound bag. I wouldn't say I was sick; I just didn't feel well (a little stomach cramping followed by those joyful waves of nausea).

At the time, I didn't mention anything to my wife because, as she pointed out the last time I bellyached about it (if you'll forgive the pun), "It seems like you feel bad every night." Now that I think about it, I have felt icky more frequently around bedtime lately, but I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that it's most likely a symptom of the aging processes. Indigestion does happen, after all.

What made last night different was that I threw up. Well, that's not entirely true, either. I've been known to hoark poetically into the bowl from time to time, but usually in consequence of a touchy stomach combined with coughing. This is especially the case in the morning before my gastrointestinal system has had a chance to process the morning coffee.

So I threw up. It happens. On the first heave, I say goodbye to the slice of French bread I had used to escort the chicken we had for dinner on to my fork. "Bon voyage, Frenchy, and say hello to my old goldfish if you run into him down there." With the next heave, the chicken follows, along with a several canned peas (that, incidentally, I didn't want to eat in the first damned place). By the third or fourth heave, my head is bobbing like a teenager at a Metallica concert, and the contents of my stomach have been fully disgorged, so now I'm dry heaving.

The storm seems to pass, and I start the process of mopping up the toilet bowl (I have pretty decent aim, but this stuff splashed) when another heave hits me. This time, I feel the mystery substance roiling up my throat and I'm surprised because it's not scratchy but it feels sort of hot.

When it hits the bowl, I'm startled by what I see. Bobbing up and down is a little ball a bit smaller than an egg, comprised of mostly angry crimson blood and what appears to be saliva. All I could think about was Gene Simmons, and how he used to be able to vomit blood at will while performing for KISS.

About that time, my wife realizes that I've quit yelling for my buddy Ralph, so she asks me that wonderful, obligatory question: "Are you okay?". How do you answer that question? I mean really? What do I say? "Not bad for a human Pez dispenser, dear! Oh, and the flavor today looks like cherry!"

Normally, I would assure her that I'm fine. This time, I'm not sure what to say because I have this little blood ball still bobbing up and down in the toilet mocking me, daring me to proclaim that I'm fine, and that in fact, it's good to let your insides out to roam around once in a while.

I sit there, as slack-jawed as the village idiot, staring at my little red friend until my wife arrives. Then, she asks me again if I'm okay. Always one to articulate my thoughts concisely in any given situation, I have the perfect answer: I point an accusing finger at toilet, and say "I dunno."

Suffice to say, my wife was less than thrilled, and a minor debate over what to do ensued. She wanted me to go to the doctor, whereas I take more of a wait-and-see approach. Experience tells me that more often than not, your body will heal itself (or you'll die of whatever ails you, and therefore not be concerned with the fact that you didn't seek medical attention when you should have).

It's worth noting that I have this minor phobia about medical facilities. I don't like them at all. Period. They make me feel as trapped and out of control as a laboratory rat. I suspect this may be a throwback to my military days. In the Army, you really are trapped and out of control. Doctors are medical professionals, yes, but they are also officers, and they're not afraid to flex that rank.

I spoke with my mom this morning, and she talked to a friend who is a doctor. What the doctor told her merited me getting a call at work from mommy: "Seek medical attention immediately. It may be nothing, or you may be sitting there bleeding to death in front of your computer."

How's that for cheery news? So, I'm scheduled to go see Doc Johnson at 4:45 today (his name is actually Dr. Kelly, but I call him "Doc Johnson" -- maybe I'll tell him about that when I see him, but certainly after he treats me).

We'll see what old Doc Johnson has to say about my little red buddy in the bowl. My fear is that I'll end up being probed like a trailer trash redneck from Roswell, New Mexico, but maybe I'll get lucky. Most likely, he'll tell me to dry my tears, wipe my nose, and stop eating paste. In any event, I'll post my experience here.

A Word from Our Sponsor

Back in November I decided to try a little experiment that involved adding some advertising to my blogs. You may have noticed the Google ads at the top of this very blog. Well, the statistics are in, and surprisingly, I'm actually making a little money. It's not a lot of money (more than $2 but less than $5 for November), but I can definitely see the potential for a pretty consistent revenue stream.

That got me thinking about what I could do to 1. Drive more traffic to my blogs, and 2. encourage people to follow the advertising links. That seemed a little greedy, which got me thinking even more...

Those who know me will attest that me thinking too hard about something can be dangerous. I get crazy ideas (like leading a 3rd world banana republic to greatness -- more on that in another post), and I've settled on just such a crazy idea for my advertising revenue. I've decided to give it all away.

That's right. I'm going to give 100% of anything I make from the advertising on my blogs to a worthy charity. Now the question becomes which charity. I want a charity whose views line up with my own, and who could actually use the money. In other words, I'm looking for a non-prophet non-profit. I do have a few friends working on this, but if anyone has a suggestion, please leave a comment. I'll let you know what I decide in another post.

Also, please take some time to visit some of the sites that you may see advertised. Better yet, really take a look at what they offer. Google's AdSense does a great job of serving up ads that are relevant to the content, so you shouldn't be bothered with ads for Viagra, Mortgages, and other such nonsense.