Wednesday, March 31, 2004
April Fool's Day will bring thousands upon thousands of acceptance or rejection letters to the doorsteps of thousands and thousands of prospective college freshman. Shaky hands will hope upon hope that the wispy thin letter doesn't hold dashed dreams while thick 8 1/2 by 11 packets promise a final summer at home envisaging a new reality at a place sheer fate hath picked for thee.
The suggested number of colleges to apply to is six: two safety, two realistic, and two reach schools. The daughter more or less kept to this rule of thumb. She applied to eight, albeit five really tough ones. A fellow student of hers, who just happens to be the son of a Representative at the State House where Anna Bloviation's works, applied to eighteen.... So let's do some math here before I get to my potentially great idea. At $50 an application, the Rep has already forked over $900 for the privilege of even being considered. I happen to know that he also spent some $1500 on an SAT prep course for said son. I also happen to know that the son's college essays were edited and fine-tuned by others. But that is an ethical vs. economical matter for a later discussion. The bottom line is that this kid has already received a number of acceptance letters (he plays football) to some REALLY GOOD COLLEGES that others would kill to go to but which only illicit a yawn from said kid. This kid also happens to be competing for some of the same schools the daughter has applied to.
Are you still with me guys? OK by tomorrow this kid and my own daughter will have in hand a certain number of acceptance/rejection letters from a certain number of colleges. To varying degrees, both of these kids have worked hard to get where they are (some more independently than others but that's not the point). Given the astronomical costs of college tuition, why shouldn't these students be able to auction off their discarded choices to students on the wait list dying to get into the colleges they are passing over? Why should the colleges profit when it is the student who earned the slot? Let's bring on E-BAY for college hopefuls! Do I hear $1,000 for a slot at Tufts University? Time remaining to bid: 28 hours and 52 minutes.... Or I'll trade you UPenn for Stanford...James Madison for the University of San Diego...
The suggested number of colleges to apply to is six: two safety, two realistic, and two reach schools. The daughter more or less kept to this rule of thumb. She applied to eight, albeit five really tough ones. A fellow student of hers, who just happens to be the son of a Representative at the State House where Anna Bloviation's works, applied to eighteen.... So let's do some math here before I get to my potentially great idea. At $50 an application, the Rep has already forked over $900 for the privilege of even being considered. I happen to know that he also spent some $1500 on an SAT prep course for said son. I also happen to know that the son's college essays were edited and fine-tuned by others. But that is an ethical vs. economical matter for a later discussion. The bottom line is that this kid has already received a number of acceptance letters (he plays football) to some REALLY GOOD COLLEGES that others would kill to go to but which only illicit a yawn from said kid. This kid also happens to be competing for some of the same schools the daughter has applied to.
Are you still with me guys? OK by tomorrow this kid and my own daughter will have in hand a certain number of acceptance/rejection letters from a certain number of colleges. To varying degrees, both of these kids have worked hard to get where they are (some more independently than others but that's not the point). Given the astronomical costs of college tuition, why shouldn't these students be able to auction off their discarded choices to students on the wait list dying to get into the colleges they are passing over? Why should the colleges profit when it is the student who earned the slot? Let's bring on E-BAY for college hopefuls! Do I hear $1,000 for a slot at Tufts University? Time remaining to bid: 28 hours and 52 minutes.... Or I'll trade you UPenn for Stanford...James Madison for the University of San Diego...
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
One of the colleges to which the daughter has applied posted this 'freshman profile' on their website to describe the kind of kids the school just yesterday sent acceptance letters to. Good god as if the stress of trying to beat out 20,000 other kids wasn't enough, you find out that someone forgot to tell you that your competition is on the verge of a Nobel prize!!
“…They [the accepted students] have implemented recycling programs for their schools, won poetry slams, led anti-tobacco efforts in their communities and worked to foster peace and understanding in such global hot spots as the Middle East, Afghanistan and Cyprus. Our inventors have developed groundbreaking software in face recognition and have designed tools to increase online security. One student created her own written and spoken language, while another works as one of 80 worldwide maintainers of the Linux operating system. Several students have produced award-winning documentaries and one hosted her own show on Jamaican television. One admit has a patent for his innovative pen design, while another has discovered how to construct microchips using a molecular pencil. Clearly, these students already exhibit the initiative, entrepreneurial spirit and curiosity that have come to define the XXX community.
Today's high school seniors sure are a different animal than the pot-smoking seniors I hung out with, I'll tell you what. This NY Times Op-Ed puts the whole college thing into healthy perspective...
“…They [the accepted students] have implemented recycling programs for their schools, won poetry slams, led anti-tobacco efforts in their communities and worked to foster peace and understanding in such global hot spots as the Middle East, Afghanistan and Cyprus. Our inventors have developed groundbreaking software in face recognition and have designed tools to increase online security. One student created her own written and spoken language, while another works as one of 80 worldwide maintainers of the Linux operating system. Several students have produced award-winning documentaries and one hosted her own show on Jamaican television. One admit has a patent for his innovative pen design, while another has discovered how to construct microchips using a molecular pencil. Clearly, these students already exhibit the initiative, entrepreneurial spirit and curiosity that have come to define the XXX community.
Today's high school seniors sure are a different animal than the pot-smoking seniors I hung out with, I'll tell you what. This NY Times Op-Ed puts the whole college thing into healthy perspective...
Monday, March 29, 2004
At the Radio and Television Correspondents' Association 60th annual dinner, Bush poked fun at himself by beaming up a slide showing himself looking
under a couch. Caption: "Those weapons of mass destruction have to be here somewhere."
I wonder if the grieving families of soldiers killed in Iraq think that this was so funny.
But I digress. Let's hash an old story and blame it all on the French again. Bad French. And the Russians too while we're at it. Bad Russians. It will deflect from Halliburton and be good for Bush in the upcoming election.
BAD, BAD FRENCH. BAD, BAD RUSSIANS
More on BAD
under a couch. Caption: "Those weapons of mass destruction have to be here somewhere."
I wonder if the grieving families of soldiers killed in Iraq think that this was so funny.
But I digress. Let's hash an old story and blame it all on the French again. Bad French. And the Russians too while we're at it. Bad Russians. It will deflect from Halliburton and be good for Bush in the upcoming election.
BAD, BAD FRENCH. BAD, BAD RUSSIANS
More on BAD
Friday, March 26, 2004
On a slow day at the State House, I decide to return three of the seven prom dresses the daughter has wheedled down to. I'd been keeping these 'No-I-don't-think-so' dresses in my office for over a week waiting for just such a day. Nieman Marcus bag in hand, I head out an hour-and-a-half ahead of the lunch crowd. A light drizzle drives me underground to catch the subway over to the Back Bay station.
The crowds traversing the bowels of Boston bear no resemblance to the crowds you see during the commute hours. Not to mention that riding on a different subway line brings out an assortment in new flavors of mankind. By my observations, it looks like a lot of Boston's fifty-some-odd colleges use the subway system as a moving study hall during the mid-day hours. Headphones donned, students sit in corners of the train reading or writing out papers. I'm only speculating here but I sadly think a lot of the city's unemployed are traveling the underground as well. Baseball hats or hoods pulled down over their eyes, they sit like unhappy zombies staring down hard at the train's floor. Or maybe they are sleeping; it's hard to tell. Another large contingency consists of (and again I'm conjecturing here) older divorcees. The husband has left her for a younger woman, the children are grown, and she rides with an aimless lonely ache to the Copley Plaza mall with me. If I moved in closer, I might smell alcohol on her breath. She is well-dressed with the clothes her married lifestyle once afforded her.
A herd of us follow the labyrinth of stairs and corridors to the Orange Line. I turn a hairpin corner to find a man ahead of me filing one side of the staircase with his immenseness. He is dragging a small cart that seems to hold his entire worldly belongings. I presume he is homeless but on closer inspection perhaps not. His long black leather jacket doesn't fit Anna Bloviation's profile of a homeless person. He steps up to the next stair and pulls up his cart with him. He is visibly winded. A young black man jaunts up the stairs and takes the man's cart from him. "Heh thanks man," calls the gentleman in the black leather coat.
I reach the platform just in time for the doors to close in my face. This reminds me of the movie with Gwyneth Paltrow called Sliding Doors . The one storyline follows her day had she caught her train; the other follows her day had she missed it.
Out of nowhere come notes from an electronic keyboard that admonish the rudely departing train I have just missed. It is the man in the black leather coat. I see his face now. It is a wizened face with many stories to tell. The mixed crowd on the platform recognizes talent when they hear it and heads turn toward the gorgeous sorrow-filled voice singing New Orleans blues. His song will be short-lived. The tunnel exhales a gush of wind and belches forth a metallic screech to announce the next approaching train. A few people drop coins into the man's hat. I didn't bring my purse and so only have only a $5- and a $10-bill in my pocket. A bagel with cream cheese will do for today and I drop the $10 into his hat. I'm a sucker for good street musicians. He nods his head and continues singing. I would like to know about his stories but instead I step onto the train. The doors whoosh close. And that's that.
The crowds traversing the bowels of Boston bear no resemblance to the crowds you see during the commute hours. Not to mention that riding on a different subway line brings out an assortment in new flavors of mankind. By my observations, it looks like a lot of Boston's fifty-some-odd colleges use the subway system as a moving study hall during the mid-day hours. Headphones donned, students sit in corners of the train reading or writing out papers. I'm only speculating here but I sadly think a lot of the city's unemployed are traveling the underground as well. Baseball hats or hoods pulled down over their eyes, they sit like unhappy zombies staring down hard at the train's floor. Or maybe they are sleeping; it's hard to tell. Another large contingency consists of (and again I'm conjecturing here) older divorcees. The husband has left her for a younger woman, the children are grown, and she rides with an aimless lonely ache to the Copley Plaza mall with me. If I moved in closer, I might smell alcohol on her breath. She is well-dressed with the clothes her married lifestyle once afforded her.
A herd of us follow the labyrinth of stairs and corridors to the Orange Line. I turn a hairpin corner to find a man ahead of me filing one side of the staircase with his immenseness. He is dragging a small cart that seems to hold his entire worldly belongings. I presume he is homeless but on closer inspection perhaps not. His long black leather jacket doesn't fit Anna Bloviation's profile of a homeless person. He steps up to the next stair and pulls up his cart with him. He is visibly winded. A young black man jaunts up the stairs and takes the man's cart from him. "Heh thanks man," calls the gentleman in the black leather coat.
I reach the platform just in time for the doors to close in my face. This reminds me of the movie with Gwyneth Paltrow called Sliding Doors . The one storyline follows her day had she caught her train; the other follows her day had she missed it.
Out of nowhere come notes from an electronic keyboard that admonish the rudely departing train I have just missed. It is the man in the black leather coat. I see his face now. It is a wizened face with many stories to tell. The mixed crowd on the platform recognizes talent when they hear it and heads turn toward the gorgeous sorrow-filled voice singing New Orleans blues. His song will be short-lived. The tunnel exhales a gush of wind and belches forth a metallic screech to announce the next approaching train. A few people drop coins into the man's hat. I didn't bring my purse and so only have only a $5- and a $10-bill in my pocket. A bagel with cream cheese will do for today and I drop the $10 into his hat. I'm a sucker for good street musicians. He nods his head and continues singing. I would like to know about his stories but instead I step onto the train. The doors whoosh close. And that's that.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
OH NO it's worse than we thought. According to Reuters, "U.S. children are UNDER THREAT FROM THEIR OWN FAT, with obesity so common that its effects have wiped out many other health gains...."
I REALLY WANT THIS JOB... Hmmm. How to get it. How to get it.
I REALLY WANT THIS JOB... Hmmm. How to get it. How to get it.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
So about that blurb on the back of the cereal box -- the one I read this morning again whilst eating my organic flakes. -- the one which sounds like an orange alert from a Homeland Security memo:
EATING LEAN IN A LAND OF PLENTY. First, let's have some plain talk about weight management. To begin with, WE'RE LOSING THE WAR ON FAT. The U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention recently reported that from 1991 to 2000, the percentage of overweight adult Americans has increased 61%. Lean people are actually a minority today. Second, there is no mystery to fat. If you're packing a few pounds too many it's because your caloric intake exceeds your caloric needs. Third, is it any wonder? Food is everywhere. Gas stations are now food stores. You can buy a bag of cookies in any drugstore. And when did a visit to a zoo or a ballpark become an occasion for a meal? Fourth, you are not helpless.
I didn't know we were at war with fat so I did a little cursory research on the matter. Sure enough President Bush declared a War on Fat in early 2002. I guess this means that in addition to our war on terrorism, we must also be wary of the FOOD that lies in wait to ambush us at every corner. "Sorry honey. Can't pick up your anti-biotic prescription. We're on high alert from salted peanuts skulking around in aisle fourteen."
There's nothing like fretting about potential acts of aggression by food before one has even had a morning shower.... All I can say is that if Bush declares chocolate as part of the axis of evil I'm moving to Canada. Or maybe Massachusetts and Vermont could just secede and become a part of Canada. Wouldn't be quite so cold that way.
EATING LEAN IN A LAND OF PLENTY. First, let's have some plain talk about weight management. To begin with, WE'RE LOSING THE WAR ON FAT. The U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention recently reported that from 1991 to 2000, the percentage of overweight adult Americans has increased 61%. Lean people are actually a minority today. Second, there is no mystery to fat. If you're packing a few pounds too many it's because your caloric intake exceeds your caloric needs. Third, is it any wonder? Food is everywhere. Gas stations are now food stores. You can buy a bag of cookies in any drugstore. And when did a visit to a zoo or a ballpark become an occasion for a meal? Fourth, you are not helpless.
I didn't know we were at war with fat so I did a little cursory research on the matter. Sure enough President Bush declared a War on Fat in early 2002. I guess this means that in addition to our war on terrorism, we must also be wary of the FOOD that lies in wait to ambush us at every corner. "Sorry honey. Can't pick up your anti-biotic prescription. We're on high alert from salted peanuts skulking around in aisle fourteen."
There's nothing like fretting about potential acts of aggression by food before one has even had a morning shower.... All I can say is that if Bush declares chocolate as part of the axis of evil I'm moving to Canada. Or maybe Massachusetts and Vermont could just secede and become a part of Canada. Wouldn't be quite so cold that way.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
With no disrespect to the son's abilities (...), I always wonder if he would have been accepted to a Washington D.C.-based college were it not for 9/11. How many prospective students nixed the idea of applying to Washington D.C. colleges based on the proximity to the horrid events of September 11th? Or to NYU? This year I can't help but ponder if prospective applicants from Massachusetts will be affected by the MA Supreme Judicial Court ruling on gay marriage. This may seem far fetched but as I have mentioned in previous blogs, constituents calling the State House against gay marriage tend to be adamantly and vociferously against it. I can only imagine what people towards the Midwest and Bible-belt think about the whole thing. So say you were an admission's director born and raised in a conservative state. If you came across an applicant from Massachusetts would it be possible that at least on a sub-conscious level you would want to try and keep a pinko-liberal-probably-pro-gay marriage student the hell out of your state? "Dear Student from Massachusetts. Thank you for your application. We regret to inform you that at this time we do not...." Just a thought. We'll see once we start hearing back from all of the colleges over the next few weeks if there is any pattern...
V.J. V.J. V.J. Is a man to flustrate the hell out of a forty-something woman. I'm not into personal trainers but my gym was having a special. "This Month Only. Take it to the Next Level. Get a One Hour Consultation with your own Personal Trainer for $25." OK V.J. Take me to the next level... V.J. is from the Philippines. Ebony black eyes. Silky black spiked hair. Gorgeous mahogany skin. A body that doesn't quit. "Anna, I've been watching your workout routine. Your body is in cheat mode. Let's go from good to amazing." OK, never tell a forty-something woman that you have been WATCHING them work out. All kinds of really scary and embarrassing scenarios come to mind. "A body's job is to conserve energy. It will let you keep in shape but ideally it doesn't want to push to the next level because frankly it could care less if you have a little love handle around the middle. It just wants to stay true to its hitherto evolutionary calling to have a couple of months' worth of fat in the event of lean times." The jist of his lecture seemed to be that the body conditions itself to a workout and much like Pavlov's dog, knows exactly what to expect after a while. A thirty minute routine becomes all about the path of least resistance. V.J. lay down sideways next to me on the mat, propped his head up on his hand, and talked me through the perfect stomach crunch. Occasionally he would gently touch a part of my body to emphasize a point. The twenty-five dollars had already paid themselves as far as I was concerned. Good god this was going to provide me with weeks of fantasy fodder. Next, V.J. set me up with a new cardio-vascular routine: X-trainer, rowing, bicycle, stairs. He was right about my body having been in cheat mode. I soon heard little voices trying to drown out my iPod music, "Ummmm. Excuse me. Anna? Excuse me but we seem to be doing something a little different aren't we? "
Cereal Box a la Tom Ridge. You know things are getting bad when the back of your cereal box reads like text from a Homeland Security memo. How about this at 7 a.m. in the morning?:
EATING LEAN IN A LAND OF PLENTY. First, let's have some plain talk about weight management. To begin with, we're losing the war on fat. The U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention recently reported that from 1991 to 2000, the percentage of overweight adult Americans has increased 61%. Lean people are actually a minority today. Second, there is no mystery to fat. If you're packing a few pounds too many it's because your caloric intake exceeds your caloric needs. Third, is it any wonder? Food is everywhere. Gas stations are now food stores. You can buy a bag of cookies in any drugstore. And when did a visit to a zoo or a ballpark become an occasion for a meal? Fourth, you are not helpless.
V.J. V.J. V.J. Is a man to flustrate the hell out of a forty-something woman. I'm not into personal trainers but my gym was having a special. "This Month Only. Take it to the Next Level. Get a One Hour Consultation with your own Personal Trainer for $25." OK V.J. Take me to the next level... V.J. is from the Philippines. Ebony black eyes. Silky black spiked hair. Gorgeous mahogany skin. A body that doesn't quit. "Anna, I've been watching your workout routine. Your body is in cheat mode. Let's go from good to amazing." OK, never tell a forty-something woman that you have been WATCHING them work out. All kinds of really scary and embarrassing scenarios come to mind. "A body's job is to conserve energy. It will let you keep in shape but ideally it doesn't want to push to the next level because frankly it could care less if you have a little love handle around the middle. It just wants to stay true to its hitherto evolutionary calling to have a couple of months' worth of fat in the event of lean times." The jist of his lecture seemed to be that the body conditions itself to a workout and much like Pavlov's dog, knows exactly what to expect after a while. A thirty minute routine becomes all about the path of least resistance. V.J. lay down sideways next to me on the mat, propped his head up on his hand, and talked me through the perfect stomach crunch. Occasionally he would gently touch a part of my body to emphasize a point. The twenty-five dollars had already paid themselves as far as I was concerned. Good god this was going to provide me with weeks of fantasy fodder. Next, V.J. set me up with a new cardio-vascular routine: X-trainer, rowing, bicycle, stairs. He was right about my body having been in cheat mode. I soon heard little voices trying to drown out my iPod music, "Ummmm. Excuse me. Anna? Excuse me but we seem to be doing something a little different aren't we? "
Cereal Box a la Tom Ridge. You know things are getting bad when the back of your cereal box reads like text from a Homeland Security memo. How about this at 7 a.m. in the morning?:
EATING LEAN IN A LAND OF PLENTY. First, let's have some plain talk about weight management. To begin with, we're losing the war on fat. The U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention recently reported that from 1991 to 2000, the percentage of overweight adult Americans has increased 61%. Lean people are actually a minority today. Second, there is no mystery to fat. If you're packing a few pounds too many it's because your caloric intake exceeds your caloric needs. Third, is it any wonder? Food is everywhere. Gas stations are now food stores. You can buy a bag of cookies in any drugstore. And when did a visit to a zoo or a ballpark become an occasion for a meal? Fourth, you are not helpless.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Tables Turned. Extracting revenge proves an elusive goal when one's adversary has inherited the same "luck" genes as the mother. The one's which have helped Anna Bloviations out of plenty a pickle and tight spot believe you me....
All was going well on the revenge front. If you recall, I had made arrangements to have all four of the son's wisdom teeth pulled following his lackluster performance at his very expensive college this semester and really rather irresponsible antics to round out the equation. So there he sat on the couch the first few days -- nursing his sore mouth as opposed to a Corona beer on a beach. None of his friends is around. Even Mother Nature added a nice touch to the set by dumping about eight inches of snow. On the chalkboard of life, I was now clearly zillions of points ahead.
"Boy your friends in Acapulco aren't going to believe it when you tell them we got snow!"
"Funny, Mom. Really funny."
"Heh guess what Mom?" asked the son with a big grin on his face when I got home from work. He was looking suspiciously smug... In fact he seemed to be positively glowing . I should interject here that never before had the dentist seen such a quick and painless recovery from a wisdom teeth extraction as that which the son was demonstrating over the course of the week.
"I just talked to one of my buddies down in Acapulco. Seems when they got down to the Hyatt, the hotel had just gone on strike and the place was boarded up. The only place they could find to stay was a hotel about four miles inland. It's supposedly a dump. And in not a very good neighborhood."
"You're kidding...."
"So I guess this spring break hasn't been so bad after all! I got my wisdom teeth taken care of. Saved a lot of money. I've been eating home-cooked meals. Got all my laundry cleaned. Got some new clothes. And I got to catch up on a lot of movies on this great Plasma TV Papa bought. Is it OK if we eat dinner early tonight? I'm kind of hungry."
So about that chalkboard of life... My only consolation is that even at a dumpy Acapulco hotel you can get a suntan. And near proximity to a beach isn't necessary to getting laid; a flea-bitten bed will do too.
All was going well on the revenge front. If you recall, I had made arrangements to have all four of the son's wisdom teeth pulled following his lackluster performance at his very expensive college this semester and really rather irresponsible antics to round out the equation. So there he sat on the couch the first few days -- nursing his sore mouth as opposed to a Corona beer on a beach. None of his friends is around. Even Mother Nature added a nice touch to the set by dumping about eight inches of snow. On the chalkboard of life, I was now clearly zillions of points ahead.
"Boy your friends in Acapulco aren't going to believe it when you tell them we got snow!"
"Funny, Mom. Really funny."
"Heh guess what Mom?" asked the son with a big grin on his face when I got home from work. He was looking suspiciously smug... In fact he seemed to be positively glowing . I should interject here that never before had the dentist seen such a quick and painless recovery from a wisdom teeth extraction as that which the son was demonstrating over the course of the week.
"I just talked to one of my buddies down in Acapulco. Seems when they got down to the Hyatt, the hotel had just gone on strike and the place was boarded up. The only place they could find to stay was a hotel about four miles inland. It's supposedly a dump. And in not a very good neighborhood."
"You're kidding...."
"So I guess this spring break hasn't been so bad after all! I got my wisdom teeth taken care of. Saved a lot of money. I've been eating home-cooked meals. Got all my laundry cleaned. Got some new clothes. And I got to catch up on a lot of movies on this great Plasma TV Papa bought. Is it OK if we eat dinner early tonight? I'm kind of hungry."
So about that chalkboard of life... My only consolation is that even at a dumpy Acapulco hotel you can get a suntan. And near proximity to a beach isn't necessary to getting laid; a flea-bitten bed will do too.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Wow... I got a lot of email responses to my comments about spam in my last blog posting. A few of note:
1) "Don't take me off of your list. I don't mind your dumb jokes and
ridiculously far-left commentary."
2) "Hey Anna-I think instead of sending all the junk e-mail you should spend
more time in the kitchen. This recipe is a good place to start. Your family will love you for it! I will be sending you a daily recipe. You should report back to me on how it came out..."
3) "Well, I have to weigh in here for the argument about a little discrimination in these vast mailings. If I get one more chain letter with bunnies, angels or cute pictures of kittens I am going to scream! Often these files are huge and block my slow mailbox for ages while all the furry cuddlies are being downloaded. And truly, life is too short. So yes, email is the most wonderful thing to have happened in my lifetime. But, please a little restraint when it comes to filling mailboxes endlessly. Or maybe more than one mailing list? Politics list, jokes list? personal friends list? And don't tell me that you think of me when you hit send to list, it simply isn't true...and tell me how you are?"
My answers to comments two and three:
2) OK deal! Send me a recipe every day. Heh, it's never too late to teach an
old dog a new trick, right? But they have to be EASY and QUICK. So that I can get back to my computer to send emails...
3) I agree that I would probably feel differently about emails if I didn't have
a high-speed connection. In fact I might not use the computer at all if that
were the case. As to bunnies and angels, chain letters and kitties, NO WAY have I ever sent you such sentimental subject matter. Nor to anyone else on my other
distribution lists (ok I sent a chain letter ONCE). I do have my standards! The
only bunny I MIGHT send would be if Ann Coulter posed for a Playboy centerfold
(Subject: Conservative Boob). As to angels, I have yet to come across one. And yes, I do so think of you!
1) "Don't take me off of your list. I don't mind your dumb jokes and
ridiculously far-left commentary."
2) "Hey Anna-I think instead of sending all the junk e-mail you should spend
more time in the kitchen. This recipe is a good place to start. Your family will love you for it! I will be sending you a daily recipe. You should report back to me on how it came out..."
3) "Well, I have to weigh in here for the argument about a little discrimination in these vast mailings. If I get one more chain letter with bunnies, angels or cute pictures of kittens I am going to scream! Often these files are huge and block my slow mailbox for ages while all the furry cuddlies are being downloaded. And truly, life is too short. So yes, email is the most wonderful thing to have happened in my lifetime. But, please a little restraint when it comes to filling mailboxes endlessly. Or maybe more than one mailing list? Politics list, jokes list? personal friends list? And don't tell me that you think of me when you hit send to list, it simply isn't true...and tell me how you are?"
My answers to comments two and three:
2) OK deal! Send me a recipe every day. Heh, it's never too late to teach an
old dog a new trick, right? But they have to be EASY and QUICK. So that I can get back to my computer to send emails...
3) I agree that I would probably feel differently about emails if I didn't have
a high-speed connection. In fact I might not use the computer at all if that
were the case. As to bunnies and angels, chain letters and kitties, NO WAY have I ever sent you such sentimental subject matter. Nor to anyone else on my other
distribution lists (ok I sent a chain letter ONCE). I do have my standards! The
only bunny I MIGHT send would be if Ann Coulter posed for a Playboy centerfold
(Subject: Conservative Boob). As to angels, I have yet to come across one. And yes, I do so think of you!
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Today state employees are celebrating Evacuation Day, the day when on March 26, 1776, the British fleet left Boston. So this state employee is home thinking the government paycheck might be lousy but you can't beat these little perks. How fortuitous that Evacuation Day just happens to also fall on St. Patrick's Day. Certainly works out great for all of those 50-something white-Boston-Irish-Catholic-male legislators who recently voted to write discrimination into the constitution by banning gay marriage. Cheers. And speaking of beer...
Three people within a span of a month have told that me I should remove them from my email distribution list. The latest wrote, "Please remove me from your distribution list. Recently our company has been heavily attacked by viruses, worms, IP-spoofing and so on and security measures have increased. E-Mails are scanned and marked as spam, partly destroyed. I´d be very pleased to receive a few personal words here and then."
Another request I received came from a good acquaintance. There was no greeting or salutation. Just: "Please remove me from your spam list."
You know the world is just becoming not a very fun place to live in these days when you can't even send a few dumb email jokes or political commentary to friends and family without 'security issues' or fuddy-duddy recipients spoiling the gesture. In the first instance, a few unscrupulous hackers are just plain wrecking things for those who don't mind a dumb joke or funny link now and again but who feel they have to opt out of distribution lists because of potential viruses and worms. As to the fuddy-duddy's who are simply too busy and self-absorbed to have patience for double-clicking on a dumb joke or a link, well I just feel sorry for them is all. Is it really so awful having an email from someone you know in your Inbox every couple of days that may or may not be funny? I think it's actually rather pleasant to be pinged. Firstly, it's always nice to know that someone is thinking of you (no matter how indirectly). And secondly I must say that some of these emails can lead to rich, revealing, and raucus conversations well worth the nuisance of the 80% that end up in the Trash box. All you have to do is click Reply to All and weigh in... But if you're not into 'spam' (I like to call it lighthearted enlightenment), how about just not opening the damn email rather than offending the sender with a terse request to be removed from the distribution list? Shutting someone down like that means there will be just one less person sending you dumb jokes or interesting links/articles when you're old, lonely, and decrepit. Which is sad because judging by the conversations I have with the old, lonely, and decrepit constituents who call our office, they would be all too happy to receive a dumb-joke email. From anybody.
Speaking of age, I absolutely love Andy Rooney's response to Bill O'Reilly. O'Reilly was amongst the 30,000 or so who voiced their mostly negative opinion of Rooney's recent 60 Minutes commentary on Mel Gibson's Passion of Christ. Said O'Reilly, “I THINK ROONEY IS AT THE END OF THE ROAD.”
Responded Rooney, "That wasn’t nice, Bill. I didn’t get old on purpose, it just happened. If you’re lucky, it could happen to you."
Three people within a span of a month have told that me I should remove them from my email distribution list. The latest wrote, "Please remove me from your distribution list. Recently our company has been heavily attacked by viruses, worms, IP-spoofing and so on and security measures have increased. E-Mails are scanned and marked as spam, partly destroyed. I´d be very pleased to receive a few personal words here and then."
Another request I received came from a good acquaintance. There was no greeting or salutation. Just: "Please remove me from your spam list."
You know the world is just becoming not a very fun place to live in these days when you can't even send a few dumb email jokes or political commentary to friends and family without 'security issues' or fuddy-duddy recipients spoiling the gesture. In the first instance, a few unscrupulous hackers are just plain wrecking things for those who don't mind a dumb joke or funny link now and again but who feel they have to opt out of distribution lists because of potential viruses and worms. As to the fuddy-duddy's who are simply too busy and self-absorbed to have patience for double-clicking on a dumb joke or a link, well I just feel sorry for them is all. Is it really so awful having an email from someone you know in your Inbox every couple of days that may or may not be funny? I think it's actually rather pleasant to be pinged. Firstly, it's always nice to know that someone is thinking of you (no matter how indirectly). And secondly I must say that some of these emails can lead to rich, revealing, and raucus conversations well worth the nuisance of the 80% that end up in the Trash box. All you have to do is click Reply to All and weigh in... But if you're not into 'spam' (I like to call it lighthearted enlightenment), how about just not opening the damn email rather than offending the sender with a terse request to be removed from the distribution list? Shutting someone down like that means there will be just one less person sending you dumb jokes or interesting links/articles when you're old, lonely, and decrepit. Which is sad because judging by the conversations I have with the old, lonely, and decrepit constituents who call our office, they would be all too happy to receive a dumb-joke email. From anybody.
Speaking of age, I absolutely love Andy Rooney's response to Bill O'Reilly. O'Reilly was amongst the 30,000 or so who voiced their mostly negative opinion of Rooney's recent 60 Minutes commentary on Mel Gibson's Passion of Christ. Said O'Reilly, “I THINK ROONEY IS AT THE END OF THE ROAD.”
Responded Rooney, "That wasn’t nice, Bill. I didn’t get old on purpose, it just happened. If you’re lucky, it could happen to you."
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
My evil plot to make the son's life miserable during spring break was mildly foiled by the dentist who took pity and administered anesthesia while pulling out all four wisdom teeth. Fortunately there are other methods to ensure his suffering. I find myself saying things like, "Gee, I wonder what your friends are doing in Acapulco right now?" or "Think how nice that white t-shirt would have looked against a suntan." He swears his college grades are up again but until I see his final report card, I'm not letting up i.e. I've been looking online at other possible elective surgeries I could possibly inflict upon him. My girlfriends are planning a special luncheon for me in which I will be honored with a Most Creative and Effective Punishment Award. Only a mom would understand...
Speaking of torture, the daughter is suffering the last two excruciating weeks before hearing back from the colleges she has applied to. Unfortunately, all of her hard work, SAT scores and GPA are dwarfed by today's odds. If you look at the number of applicants (on average 20,000 applicants for every 1000 available freshman slots), the chances of being accepted have become truly lotteryesque. Plus, when and if you do get accepted, what then? According to the NY Times, the percentage of all college graduates 25 and older who hold jobs fell from just over 78 percent in 2000 to just under 76 percent in 2003 -- the lowest figure in 25 years. In This Recovery, a College Education Backfires. In other words, there are no guarantees at the end of the tuition-sucking rainbow.
But some college experiences promise to endure no matter what the economy and circumstances. Like laundry. Yesterday, the Clorox bottle I keep in the cabinet of the laundry room ran away at the sight of the son's college-returned dirty white wash. "Gross! I'm not touching that stuff. Even I can't get those socks clean." The washing machine allied with the Clorox bottle by stating that it refused to be contaminated by such vileness. Wearing a rubber glove, I pulled one sock out and performed an experiment to see if you really can get a dirt-caked, sweat-hardened sock to stand up. Sure enough -- sock sculpture. So I took the duffle bag, turned it upside down over a garbage bag, and headed to Marshall's. Case closed.
Speaking of torture, the daughter is suffering the last two excruciating weeks before hearing back from the colleges she has applied to. Unfortunately, all of her hard work, SAT scores and GPA are dwarfed by today's odds. If you look at the number of applicants (on average 20,000 applicants for every 1000 available freshman slots), the chances of being accepted have become truly lotteryesque. Plus, when and if you do get accepted, what then? According to the NY Times, the percentage of all college graduates 25 and older who hold jobs fell from just over 78 percent in 2000 to just under 76 percent in 2003 -- the lowest figure in 25 years. In This Recovery, a College Education Backfires. In other words, there are no guarantees at the end of the tuition-sucking rainbow.
But some college experiences promise to endure no matter what the economy and circumstances. Like laundry. Yesterday, the Clorox bottle I keep in the cabinet of the laundry room ran away at the sight of the son's college-returned dirty white wash. "Gross! I'm not touching that stuff. Even I can't get those socks clean." The washing machine allied with the Clorox bottle by stating that it refused to be contaminated by such vileness. Wearing a rubber glove, I pulled one sock out and performed an experiment to see if you really can get a dirt-caked, sweat-hardened sock to stand up. Sure enough -- sock sculpture. So I took the duffle bag, turned it upside down over a garbage bag, and headed to Marshall's. Case closed.
Friday, March 12, 2004
Queer Oyster Cult. Only Paul Reidinger can somehow combine food and political observations to create a superb souffle of delectable social commentary.
The Massachusetts State House was an indescribable scene at yesterday's Constitutional Convention. Four thousand activists converged here to sing and chant their hearts out -- either for or against gay marriage. They also took turns dropping off impassioned leaflets onto our desks until everyone in the building had a mountain of them spilling off onto the floor (I give both sides an F in the environmental-friendly department). Many would stare into my eyes before leaving as if I might somehow be able to exert magical influence onto the outcome of the convention. "Sorry," I'd think to myself. "My boss is one of those fifty-something white Catholic males who just barely squeaks by as a Democrat..."
I will really have to save all the pro/con literature and emails that have come my way over the last few months. Maybe some history buff will want to buy it on eBay for historical posterity purposes or something. Anyway, all was good, fine, and civil until I stumbled across one of the hearing rooms in the basement. Inside was an eclectic group of Pentecostalists screaming in tongues, weeping, and rolling on the floor. "Homosexuality is a SIN!! Amen. Amen. Hallelujah." Good grief. Who ARE these people?
From an entirely save-my-hide political perspective the proposed “Leadership” amendment put forth to a vote last night in the House Chambers is brilliant. It gives every Senator and Rep the opportunity to go home to their constituents with a message that should please almost everyone (thus enabling them to hang on to their day jobs come November). On the one side, the amendment to the constitution upholds marriage as being a unique relationship between a man and a woman, and on the other, includes the recognition of civil unions replete with all the benefits afforded to married heterosexual couples.
The good news for gays who are dismayed that Massachusetts voted to write discrimination into the constitution is that if and when the amendment actually gets on the ballot (not until 2006), there will likely be a lot more acceptance around the idea of gay marriage. Especially that there will quite literally be gays married and living in the Bay State starting May 17th of this year (the bad news is that an obscure residency clause will make it difficult for out-of-state couples to wed here in Massachusetts). By then too, there will be that many more old-foogie retired-folks who have kicked the bucket and will no longer be around to vote against gay marriage. They'll likely be turning over in their Puritan graves instead. Either that or they'll be in the hot condo next to mine -- the one with a view to boy-diddling Catholic priests roasting on spits.
Kerry must be entirely happy by this turn of events. "See, see! Massachusetts isn't so pinky liberal as everyone makes them out to be! We just voted against gay marriage!" Bush, on the other hand, is going to have a much harder time. The Arlington Group, a who’s who of influential conservatives, is as in favor of a one-man, one-woman marriage amendment to the U.S. constitution as it is opposed to civil unions. If Bush takes as hard a line as they want him to, he most definitely will alienate any moderates he had hoped to court given that already the tide is turning in favor of the idea of civil unions. He has already alienated the Log Cabin Republicans, an organized coalition of about one million gay Republicans who are now working to prevent discrimination being written into the constitution. View the Commercial they are Running.
I will really have to save all the pro/con literature and emails that have come my way over the last few months. Maybe some history buff will want to buy it on eBay for historical posterity purposes or something. Anyway, all was good, fine, and civil until I stumbled across one of the hearing rooms in the basement. Inside was an eclectic group of Pentecostalists screaming in tongues, weeping, and rolling on the floor. "Homosexuality is a SIN!! Amen. Amen. Hallelujah." Good grief. Who ARE these people?
From an entirely save-my-hide political perspective the proposed “Leadership” amendment put forth to a vote last night in the House Chambers is brilliant. It gives every Senator and Rep the opportunity to go home to their constituents with a message that should please almost everyone (thus enabling them to hang on to their day jobs come November). On the one side, the amendment to the constitution upholds marriage as being a unique relationship between a man and a woman, and on the other, includes the recognition of civil unions replete with all the benefits afforded to married heterosexual couples.
The good news for gays who are dismayed that Massachusetts voted to write discrimination into the constitution is that if and when the amendment actually gets on the ballot (not until 2006), there will likely be a lot more acceptance around the idea of gay marriage. Especially that there will quite literally be gays married and living in the Bay State starting May 17th of this year (the bad news is that an obscure residency clause will make it difficult for out-of-state couples to wed here in Massachusetts). By then too, there will be that many more old-foogie retired-folks who have kicked the bucket and will no longer be around to vote against gay marriage. They'll likely be turning over in their Puritan graves instead. Either that or they'll be in the hot condo next to mine -- the one with a view to boy-diddling Catholic priests roasting on spits.
Kerry must be entirely happy by this turn of events. "See, see! Massachusetts isn't so pinky liberal as everyone makes them out to be! We just voted against gay marriage!" Bush, on the other hand, is going to have a much harder time. The Arlington Group, a who’s who of influential conservatives, is as in favor of a one-man, one-woman marriage amendment to the U.S. constitution as it is opposed to civil unions. If Bush takes as hard a line as they want him to, he most definitely will alienate any moderates he had hoped to court given that already the tide is turning in favor of the idea of civil unions. He has already alienated the Log Cabin Republicans, an organized coalition of about one million gay Republicans who are now working to prevent discrimination being written into the constitution. View the Commercial they are Running.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
I thought I would pass along this email sent to me regarding marriage...:The Presidential Prayer Team is currently urging us to: "Pray for the President as he seeks wisdom on how to legally codify the definition of marriage. Pray that it will be according to Biblical principles. With many forces insisting on variant definitions of marriage, pray that God's Word and His standards will be honored by our government."
Any good religious person believes prayer should be balanced by action. So here, in support of the Prayer Team's admirable goals, is a proposed Constitutional Amendment codifying marriage entirely on Biblical principles:
A. Marriage in the United States shall consist of a union between one man and one or more women. (Gen 29:17-28; II Sam 3:2-5.)
B. Marriage shall not impede a man's right to take concubines in addition to his wife or wives. (II Sam 5:13; I Kings 11:3; II Chron 11:21)
C. A marriage shall be considered valid only if the wife is a virgin. If the wife is not a virgin, she shall be executed. (Deut 22:13-21)
D. Marriage between a believer and a nonbeliever shall be forbidden. (Gen 24:3; Num 25:1-9; Ezra 9:12; Neh 10:30)
E. Since marriage is for life, neither this Constitution nor the constitution of any State, nor any state or federal law, shall be construed to permit divorce. (Deut 22:19; Mark 10:9)
F. If a married man dies without children, his brother shall marry the widow. If he refuses to marry his brother's widow or deliberately does not give her children, he shall pay a fine of one shoe and be otherwise punished in a manner to be determined by law. (Gen. 38:6-10; Deut25:5-10 )
Any good religious person believes prayer should be balanced by action. So here, in support of the Prayer Team's admirable goals, is a proposed Constitutional Amendment codifying marriage entirely on Biblical principles:
A. Marriage in the United States shall consist of a union between one man and one or more women. (Gen 29:17-28; II Sam 3:2-5.)
B. Marriage shall not impede a man's right to take concubines in addition to his wife or wives. (II Sam 5:13; I Kings 11:3; II Chron 11:21)
C. A marriage shall be considered valid only if the wife is a virgin. If the wife is not a virgin, she shall be executed. (Deut 22:13-21)
D. Marriage between a believer and a nonbeliever shall be forbidden. (Gen 24:3; Num 25:1-9; Ezra 9:12; Neh 10:30)
E. Since marriage is for life, neither this Constitution nor the constitution of any State, nor any state or federal law, shall be construed to permit divorce. (Deut 22:19; Mark 10:9)
F. If a married man dies without children, his brother shall marry the widow. If he refuses to marry his brother's widow or deliberately does not give her children, he shall pay a fine of one shoe and be otherwise punished in a manner to be determined by law. (Gen. 38:6-10; Deut25:5-10 )
Monday, March 08, 2004
On Cadavers. Not to harp on cadavers but... if you recall recently I blogged about the lucrative business of human parts (see March 1). Well you gotta' love America. Wouldn't you know we already have a black market in the sale of torsos, fingernails, and vaginas (with clits). U.C.L.A. jumps on the cadaver bandwagon.
The one day I believe in God. I'm usually an agnostic. A friend of mine likes to remind me that an agnostic is simply someone too chicken to be an atheist. Very true. Anyway, there is one day a year I believe in God. It's the day we manage to find the daughter's prom dress i.e. "thank you God...thank you..." I thought we had that day this Saturday when the daughter, friend, hubby, and I went prom-dress shopping. I immediately found the daughter's friend's dress. Coral pink. Nice neckline. Flattering to her wide hips. She loves it. I also thought I had found the daughter's dress come to find it seems to make her 'hips too wide.' So on my lunch break today I bogeyed over to the Copley Plaza mall. I hit Saks, Lord & Taylor, and Nieman Marcus to 'expand our search'. I found some 'potentials' at Nieman Marcus only to find out that they don't accept Visa and, no, I couldn't open a Nieman Marcus account because I hadn't brought my driver's license with me. So... I trudged back after work, bought three 'potentials' and brought them home. All were rejected. She liked the dresses well enough but they 'just didn't look right.' So now I am back to square one and praying to my once-a-year god.
Hubby wants to buy a super-sized plasma flat-screen, state-of-the-art T.V. At the end-of-the-day, we're talking a $7,000 entertainment center. Hmmmm. He asks me if I want such a thing. I tell him I have personally spent zero time thinking about an improved at-home entertainment experience. By the same token, were it not for hubby, we wouldn't have computers in the house (which I enjoy), we wouldn't have a digital camera (which I think is great), I wouldn't have an iPod (which I love for my gym work-outs), and we certainly wouldn't be considering a plasma ultra-super-sized flat-screened-whatever. My argument against this investment is the following: I already get extremely upset by 90% of what I see on television. Why would I want to see O'Reilly and dumb T.V. MAGNIFIED even bigger onto my consiousness? If it's about enjoying 'movies' better, let's be realistic...there are only about five or six movies a year worth watching. The rest of the movies are mediocre. Is it worth a $7,000 investment to watch six great movies whilst the rest would be an annoying array of watching bad plots and bad actors on a great big 48" screen?
Hubby sees things differently. The daughter will be off to college soon. Life is going to change dramatically. Career-wise it looks like we will be here another five or six years. In fact he will be traveling a lot and I will be at home alone... Wouldn't it be good to sit in our beautiful living room to watch a movie, HBO, or CSPAN sans jumbo-sized, popcorn-eating slob-patrons at a nearby movie mall?
I don't know, I don't know.
The one day I believe in God. I'm usually an agnostic. A friend of mine likes to remind me that an agnostic is simply someone too chicken to be an atheist. Very true. Anyway, there is one day a year I believe in God. It's the day we manage to find the daughter's prom dress i.e. "thank you God...thank you..." I thought we had that day this Saturday when the daughter, friend, hubby, and I went prom-dress shopping. I immediately found the daughter's friend's dress. Coral pink. Nice neckline. Flattering to her wide hips. She loves it. I also thought I had found the daughter's dress come to find it seems to make her 'hips too wide.' So on my lunch break today I bogeyed over to the Copley Plaza mall. I hit Saks, Lord & Taylor, and Nieman Marcus to 'expand our search'. I found some 'potentials' at Nieman Marcus only to find out that they don't accept Visa and, no, I couldn't open a Nieman Marcus account because I hadn't brought my driver's license with me. So... I trudged back after work, bought three 'potentials' and brought them home. All were rejected. She liked the dresses well enough but they 'just didn't look right.' So now I am back to square one and praying to my once-a-year god.
Hubby wants to buy a super-sized plasma flat-screen, state-of-the-art T.V. At the end-of-the-day, we're talking a $7,000 entertainment center. Hmmmm. He asks me if I want such a thing. I tell him I have personally spent zero time thinking about an improved at-home entertainment experience. By the same token, were it not for hubby, we wouldn't have computers in the house (which I enjoy), we wouldn't have a digital camera (which I think is great), I wouldn't have an iPod (which I love for my gym work-outs), and we certainly wouldn't be considering a plasma ultra-super-sized flat-screened-whatever. My argument against this investment is the following: I already get extremely upset by 90% of what I see on television. Why would I want to see O'Reilly and dumb T.V. MAGNIFIED even bigger onto my consiousness? If it's about enjoying 'movies' better, let's be realistic...there are only about five or six movies a year worth watching. The rest of the movies are mediocre. Is it worth a $7,000 investment to watch six great movies whilst the rest would be an annoying array of watching bad plots and bad actors on a great big 48" screen?
Hubby sees things differently. The daughter will be off to college soon. Life is going to change dramatically. Career-wise it looks like we will be here another five or six years. In fact he will be traveling a lot and I will be at home alone... Wouldn't it be good to sit in our beautiful living room to watch a movie, HBO, or CSPAN sans jumbo-sized, popcorn-eating slob-patrons at a nearby movie mall?
I don't know, I don't know.
Friday, March 05, 2004
Kudos to Magistrate Judge Jacob P. Hart of the federal district court in Philadelphia. In a humorous interview on NPR's All Things Considered, he conveys how appalled he is by the number of attorneys who submit sloppy, typo-riddled briefs. In one recent case, the attorney's brief was so bad that Hart cut in half the attorney fees awarded to the plaintiff. Said Hart, the brief in question was "careless to the point of being disrespectful."
Unfortunately for Magistrate Hart, there are Lemmings-numbers' worth of REALLY BAD WRITERS coming up through the hallowed halls of $40K-per-year college institutions. Take for instance one of our last year's summer interns -- a voluptuous, ditzy Greek goddess named Zina who I-kid-you-not bears a striking Greek-version-resemblance to Monica Lewinsky. And no, this forty-something liberal isn't being catty because she's jealous of Zina's youth. Heh, we had another drop-dead gorgeous intern whom I would recommend in a heart beat. OK, OK so he was a guy.
But I have to hand it to voluptuous Zina. She may not be able to find her way out of a paper bag but her audacious self-confidence will no doubt more than make up for her intellectual short-comings. Zina emailed us that she wants to do a summer internship with none other than Senator Kennedy or Congressman Tierney. She also added Senators Sarbanes or Mikulski to her list only because I think she figures these two must be Greek (Sarbanes is but Mikulski is Polish...). Needless to say, her attached 'resume' was riddled with typos, fragment sentences, alignment issues, and the misspelling of my Rep's name from whom she wants a recommendation!
In a merit-based institution, I would have politely told dear Zina, "sorry-no-chance." But this is where the NEPOSTISM-FACTOR comes in. Zina is the daughter of a good friend of the Rep's family, blah-blah-blah. So a letter we must write. But what to impart without one of these Senators or the Congressman calling us back up to say "What the hell did I ever do to you to deserve this??" Well actually Kennedy might call and say, "Wow, thanks Rep! What did I do to deserve this?"
Here's the most generic wording I could come up with for said letter:
Dear Senator XXX,
I am writing to you on behalf of Ms. Zina XXX, of XXX, Massachusetts, who has informed me that she has applied to be an intern in your office for the summer of 2004.
Ms. XXX volunteered as an intern for one week in my office at the State House last summer. Her duties included a number of clerical tasks such as filing and database entry.
Ms. XXX is currently a student at XXX College, where she is studying international relations. She is a member of the National Society of Collegiate Scholars. At her previous school, XXX College, she was the Vice President of the Middle Eastern Club, as well as a member of the Greek Club and African American Club. I would also note that she was also a member of the XXX College women's rugby team.
Please feel free to contact me at your convenience if you have any questions about Ms. XXX. Thank you in advance for your consideration of Ms. XXX's candidacy.
Unfortunately for Magistrate Hart, there are Lemmings-numbers' worth of REALLY BAD WRITERS coming up through the hallowed halls of $40K-per-year college institutions. Take for instance one of our last year's summer interns -- a voluptuous, ditzy Greek goddess named Zina who I-kid-you-not bears a striking Greek-version-resemblance to Monica Lewinsky. And no, this forty-something liberal isn't being catty because she's jealous of Zina's youth. Heh, we had another drop-dead gorgeous intern whom I would recommend in a heart beat. OK, OK so he was a guy.
But I have to hand it to voluptuous Zina. She may not be able to find her way out of a paper bag but her audacious self-confidence will no doubt more than make up for her intellectual short-comings. Zina emailed us that she wants to do a summer internship with none other than Senator Kennedy or Congressman Tierney. She also added Senators Sarbanes or Mikulski to her list only because I think she figures these two must be Greek (Sarbanes is but Mikulski is Polish...). Needless to say, her attached 'resume' was riddled with typos, fragment sentences, alignment issues, and the misspelling of my Rep's name from whom she wants a recommendation!
In a merit-based institution, I would have politely told dear Zina, "sorry-no-chance." But this is where the NEPOSTISM-FACTOR comes in. Zina is the daughter of a good friend of the Rep's family, blah-blah-blah. So a letter we must write. But what to impart without one of these Senators or the Congressman calling us back up to say "What the hell did I ever do to you to deserve this??" Well actually Kennedy might call and say, "Wow, thanks Rep! What did I do to deserve this?"
Here's the most generic wording I could come up with for said letter:
Dear Senator XXX,
I am writing to you on behalf of Ms. Zina XXX, of XXX, Massachusetts, who has informed me that she has applied to be an intern in your office for the summer of 2004.
Ms. XXX volunteered as an intern for one week in my office at the State House last summer. Her duties included a number of clerical tasks such as filing and database entry.
Ms. XXX is currently a student at XXX College, where she is studying international relations. She is a member of the National Society of Collegiate Scholars. At her previous school, XXX College, she was the Vice President of the Middle Eastern Club, as well as a member of the Greek Club and African American Club. I would also note that she was also a member of the XXX College women's rugby team.
Please feel free to contact me at your convenience if you have any questions about Ms. XXX. Thank you in advance for your consideration of Ms. XXX's candidacy.
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
THIS IS GOOD NEWS FOR ME -- with so little competition, it is only a matter of time before this sassy, 40-something idealistic liberal who wants to save the world's inhabitants whether they want it or not accomplishes her mission....
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
What do you say? Mr. Grandpa Constituent called our office at the State House with one of the more tragic stories I've heard lately. He's trying to gain custody of his four grandchildren from the grandmother (his ex-wife). She has the kids because her son was killed in a fatal brawl with another father at a sporting event. Yes that one. The children's mother is a heroine addict and has been out of the picture for years. These kids have seen nothing but alcoholism, abuse, and shelters their whole lives. Doesn't sound like Grandpa is a saint either. Thirty years ago he served six years in a work release program for manslaughter….I won’t go into the gristly details on that one.
Suddenly my son struggling to pull his grades out of the academic probation abyss following a stint of too much partying and a plateful of lies isn't looking so bad. But don't worry. I won't go soft on him. We pulled his spring-break trip to Acapulco right out from underneath him. And lest he thinks he's going to have any fun at home during that week, I have scheduled to have all four of his wisdom teeth pulled at once. Negotiations with the dentist to go light on the Novocain continue. And the academy award for most evil mother goes to....drum roll.... Anna Bloviations!
Suddenly my son struggling to pull his grades out of the academic probation abyss following a stint of too much partying and a plateful of lies isn't looking so bad. But don't worry. I won't go soft on him. We pulled his spring-break trip to Acapulco right out from underneath him. And lest he thinks he's going to have any fun at home during that week, I have scheduled to have all four of his wisdom teeth pulled at once. Negotiations with the dentist to go light on the Novocain continue. And the academy award for most evil mother goes to....drum roll.... Anna Bloviations!
Monday, March 01, 2004
A while back I talked about Goliath Caskets, a company that makes caskets designed specifically to accomodate the ever growing ranks of over-sized corpses. Suffice to say that sales continue to be brisk for Forrest Davis, founder of the business. Bereaved families may choose from two super-size models (Homstead Style or Harvest Style) where into Uncle Ernie's demised corpulence can spread in peace and comfort. No easy task when you consider that the funeral home must first figure out how to remove the 500-plus lbs. of body from whence it transpired and get it into said satin-lined box. Says Davis, "All I can say here is to ‘be creative’. I had one funeral home tell me that they enlisted the aid of the local fire department. On another occasion, the funeral home used a small front end loader tractor to lift the body. I heard of one situation where the funeral home used an "A frame" engine lift to move the body. The best thing to do is have a plan in mind before you arrive at the hospital. Good luck."
When the Sierra Club called to remind me to renew my membership I admit I had an earnest conversation with the guy on the other end of the phone about this situation. I asked him whether they shouldn't be very concerned that land was being eaten up at twice the rate (an over-sized casket is twice the width of a conventional one). Plus what about all that extra embalming fluid seeping into the soil? Yuk.
But then along came "Augie" Perna, founder of Surgical Body Forms to 'entrepreneurship' the problem away for me. You see Augie is in the business of selling body parts to university researchers, surgical equipment companies, pharmaceutical companies, hospitals, and the like. Augie's forte happens to be torsos for which he can fetch about $1,500 a piece. Based in Pennsylvania, he ships deep-freeze torsos via Fed-Ex to medical seminars throughout the country. Convention rooms at swank hotels are transformed into operating centers where surgeons gather round their respective torsos to practice state-of-the-art surgical techniques from hand-assisted laparoscopic nephrectomy to stomach stapling before they're off for a round of golf in the afternoon.
After a family donates a loved one to science, a good technician 'can strip a human body in a little less than an hour. Like stolen cars and personal computers, cadavers are worth more in pieces than they are intact: a full body costs anywhere from $1,000 to $4,000. Heads go for $550. Brains, $500. Shoulders, $431. Spines $1,500. Knees, $500. Tibias, $400. Femurs, $467.30. Whole legs, $815. Feet, $350. Forearms, $350. Five grams of skin, $803.57. Vaginas (with clitoris), $350. Breasts, $375. Fingernails, $15.'
I admit this all sounds a bit macrabre but I do like the efficacy aspect of this approach to handling corpses. The Swedes have come up with a good idea too. Their method involves freeze-drying the corpse in liquid nitrogen rather than using conventional embalming fluid. Sound vibrations then shatter the brittle remains into a powder that can be "returned to the ecological cycle". Ashes to ashes and dust to dust...
When the Sierra Club called to remind me to renew my membership I admit I had an earnest conversation with the guy on the other end of the phone about this situation. I asked him whether they shouldn't be very concerned that land was being eaten up at twice the rate (an over-sized casket is twice the width of a conventional one). Plus what about all that extra embalming fluid seeping into the soil? Yuk.
But then along came "Augie" Perna, founder of Surgical Body Forms to 'entrepreneurship' the problem away for me. You see Augie is in the business of selling body parts to university researchers, surgical equipment companies, pharmaceutical companies, hospitals, and the like. Augie's forte happens to be torsos for which he can fetch about $1,500 a piece. Based in Pennsylvania, he ships deep-freeze torsos via Fed-Ex to medical seminars throughout the country. Convention rooms at swank hotels are transformed into operating centers where surgeons gather round their respective torsos to practice state-of-the-art surgical techniques from hand-assisted laparoscopic nephrectomy to stomach stapling before they're off for a round of golf in the afternoon.
After a family donates a loved one to science, a good technician 'can strip a human body in a little less than an hour. Like stolen cars and personal computers, cadavers are worth more in pieces than they are intact: a full body costs anywhere from $1,000 to $4,000. Heads go for $550. Brains, $500. Shoulders, $431. Spines $1,500. Knees, $500. Tibias, $400. Femurs, $467.30. Whole legs, $815. Feet, $350. Forearms, $350. Five grams of skin, $803.57. Vaginas (with clitoris), $350. Breasts, $375. Fingernails, $15.'
I admit this all sounds a bit macrabre but I do like the efficacy aspect of this approach to handling corpses. The Swedes have come up with a good idea too. Their method involves freeze-drying the corpse in liquid nitrogen rather than using conventional embalming fluid. Sound vibrations then shatter the brittle remains into a powder that can be "returned to the ecological cycle". Ashes to ashes and dust to dust...
