the political email forward, dividing families since 1996

I sometimes wonder who my parents think that I am. They sent me an email forward the other day that sorta blew my mind. Basically the gist of the email was wondering "where did Barack Obama get all of his money?" The email was just the height of well-thought-out, reasoned thinking. Citing damning facts such as "he had Pakistani roommates in college" and "he went to Columbia and Harvard law school" and "his advisor is Valeria Jarrett and she was born in (cue sinister music) Iran! (gasp!!)" I suppose the email wants the reader to believe that Obama is a Hamas-funded sleeper agent that will kill us all in our sleep if we elect him president.

While I understand that the majority of these types of fake news emails are just political effluvium, designed to shock and anger, "OMG - could Barack Obama be accepting tainted, evil, Middle Eastern MONEY??", I am still somewhat perplexed when my own parents send me this shit. I consider my parents to be pretty smart people, maybe a bit encapsulated by their own world views, but who isn't? My family trends conservative, but not fundamentalist. So when I get this kind of email from them, an email that relies on racial prejudices and fear mongering to try and prove a link where none exists (the email even states, "Why haven't the media picked up on this?!") I never know what an appropriate response is. Then the horrible thought came to me: this is a no-win situation.

If I respond, here are some possible outcomes:

1.) i further convince my parents that I am now firmly entrenched in northeastern conspiracy against 'merican values, god, and liberty. They decide, after much fist shaking at the sky, that their only daughter is dead to them. The funeral is lovely, closed casket of course. The obit write up focuses heavily on my time spent working at the RNC and my love of state's rights. They start a scholarship in my name at Baylor and make a large donation to the McCain/Palin ticket in my memory.

2.) i further convince my parents that I am now so far into slimy liberal territory that my sense of right and wrong has become horribly corrupted. My dad dusts off his special forces camo belt, complete with grappling hook, cyanide tablets, 12 inch bowie knife, and signed print of Ronald Reagan and sets out to rescue me from myself. He rappels off the roof of my row house at 3am, but neglects to factor in the anti-theft bars over our windows. After failing to light his portable welding torch, he retreats, only to show up on my door step the next day with a cloth soaked in chloroform. When I come to, I am strapped down in a room while water is dripped slowly on my forehead to the tune of "Yankee Doodle Dandy". A continuous montage of flying fighter jets, waving flags, smiling white children, and gutted deer plays on the ceiling over my bed. After 6 days, I finally bite off my tongue and choke myself to death. My parents have a lovely funeral, closed casket of course, and my obit mentions that I admired John McCain so much that I spent the last days of my life in imitation of his POW experience. My story is used to catapult McCain/Palin into the White House. Four months later, Palin slips wolf poison in McCain's Metamucil. The nation is forced to buy its own rape kit.

3.) My parents are finally completely convinced that I am being held against my will by rogue journalists from the New York Times, Washington Post and the Chicago Tribune. They imagine the horrors that await my every belabored breath as I am forced to write such obvious lies in defense of a man that any true terrorist hating American must despise. They weep as they picture me, barely able to choke down a cup of steaming fair trade coffee, the warm reusable ceramic mug my only warmth in the cold, barren, modular workspace, the Lawrence Weiner and Richard Serra sculptures menacing from gallery-lit alcoves. In this horror-scape, my parents picture me helpless, heavily guarded by free range chickens outfitted with razor sharp cockspurs and small PETA hoodies. My eyes reflecting the dim light of my Mac book, foxnews.com permanently blocked. My parents begin to recruit other parents whose children went out "there" to the godless northeast for school and never came back. At first a small group, ten, then twelve. The group, called "Save The Future USA" or STFU, is featured on the local cable news channel then picked up by an angry talk show host and launched nation wide. STFU grows like a cancerous tumor, lobbying for the immediate return of illegally held offspring, as well as the abolishment of the estate tax and a return of the 15 cent McDonald's hamburger. STFU eventually becomes the most powerful lobbying machine in the history of the United States. Running the behemoth consumes my parents until they entirely forget that I exist. In 20 years, my mom will find an old report card with my name on it. She'll wonder why the teacher misspelled my brother's name.

4.) My well reasoned response actually convinces my parents to vote for Obama. Obama wins Texas by two votes. Global warming is suddenly reversed, peace settles on the middle east like a fine dust, someone discovers how to make a non polluting energy source from discarded coffee cups, plastic containers, and used condoms. Previously extinct species spring back into life. A 65 million year-old pterodactyl collides with Sarah Palin's helicopter while she is out wolf hunting. A small but tasteful memorial plaque is dedicated to the pterodactyl. A vaccine is created against the common cold, the flu, and fundamentalism. The scourge of dryer lint is eradicated. Everyone shakes hands and makes up in Africa. Vladimir Putin wins the last season of Dancing with the Stars and reality t.v. fades into oblivion. My parents stop sending me ridiculous politically themed forwards thus ending the only communication we ever had. The years pass, the world secure, peaceful, prosperous, but I never talk to my parents again. Without something to argue about, it turns out, we had nothing to talk about at all.

So, there you have it. I suppose I'll just let this particular email slide.

Domestic Abuse

So I watched the 1st Presidential debate last night and I can't say that I thought either candidate came away with a decisive victory. But this debate was on foreign policy and I feel that this was McCain's debate to take and the fact that he didn't walk away with it...well, I don't think he'll be happy with all of the polling results today. To be clear- I support Obama. I just thought that if McCain was going to have an opportunity to do an end-zone victory dance, it would be after this particular debate.

During the debates, McCain said that he would consider a freeze on all domestic spending except for certain programs like VA and entitlement programs. I have a major problem with this statement. Ok, several major problems:

1. Entitlement spending (Medicare, Medicaid) is the fastest growing chunk of the federal budget. Entitlement spending accounts for anywhere between 50 - 60% of all federal spending. Not having a plan in place that takes into account the rapidly growing money suck that is entitlement spending is not going to help reduce government spending.

2. Domestic spending includes programs like the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the Food and Drug Administration (which we can all agree needs more money, not a budget freeze), the National Institutes of Health (in the spirit of full disclosure, I work at NIH so I have a vested interest in not seeing the budget cut) where medical research is conducted. Other domestic programs include the Environmental Protection Agency, The Education department, the Small Business Administration, the Transportation Department, The Army Corps of Engineers, and the Department of the Interior. Despite the vast width and breadth of domestic, non-defense, non-entitlement spending, these programs only account for roughly 15% of the federal budget. Saying he'll freeze 15% of the budget as a way to get government spending under control is like saying, "Here, apply light pressure to this arterial wound. That should help."

3. Inflation dramatically reduces the purchasing power of federal agencies. This means, even if there is a budget freeze and agencies are kept at previous year funding levels, these agencies can not fund as much research, screen as many people, test as many drugs, etc, as they could the year before. The budget numbers might look the same on paper but the power of the budget decreases. What does this mean in real terms? A frozen budget = a cut budget.

Personally, I think it is the height of irresponsibility to suggest a spending freeze for domestic programs. And that's all I've got to say about that.

goal oriented

So I am reading 'The Last Lecture' by Randy Pausch on recommendation from a kindly therapist that thought perhaps I needed a little perspective in my life so that these seemingly random bouts of debilitating depression become a little less frequent.

I'd watched through the actual last lecture on YouTube and thought it was pretty slick, as in my desk and keyboard were slick with the tears that I unabashedly shed everywhere during Dr. Pausch's hour long presentation. The book expands on the themes of the lecture, concentrating the tear jerking power of the original into a compact and handy book so that emotion can be wrought forth on trains, in beds, on couches, and at lunch tables all across the world.

I bring all of this up not to launch a discussion about my over-worked nasolacrimal ducts, although that could be an interesting topic, to be sure. I bring this up because Dr. Pausch talks about setting and achieving his childhood dreams and this has prompted me to really think about what my dreams in life are. So, I've thought about them and I think I have three that in some way, shape or form, have been with me since childhood.

The first dream will come as no surprise to anyone who even remotely knows me.
1.) Write a book and get it published.
I've always wanted to be a writer. Due to a lot of reasons, I've sort of run away from writing as a career, but lately I've begun to embrace and explore it a little more.

My second dream is not one that I've discusses with many people but might not seem too far out in left field.
2.) Teach at the University level.

My third dream is something I've never discussed with anyone.
3.) Swim in the Olympics.
This will probably come a total shock to everyone. Consider I never took swimming all that seriously when I did swim competitively and couple that with the fact that I am not swimming now and the chances of achieving this dream are very very very small. Think 10 to the negative a lot of zeros. But, the fact remains, this is a dream that I have had since I was maybe 14 and I never gave voice to it, but it was always there, tucked away in journal entries and day dreams.

So there they are - my childhood dreams. They may seem silly to some, unobtainable to most, but there they are none the less.

I've currently got an idea for a book that I think has some promise and I am organizing my schedule so that I can start swimming with a Master's swim team starting in October. I'm working on a plan regarding the University teaching appointment. Who knows what will happen? But I wanted to publicly state my dreams, and in doing so, perhaps take the first step in making them a reality.

climbing the ladder of success

The alarm went off at some ungodly hour this morning, I think it was close to 5am. I seriously considered calling in sick just so I could sleep for, you know, four or five more hours, which is messed up because I went to bed around 10pm last night. However, calling in sick after taking off for a week to go to Tokyo didn't strike me as the best career move.

My very first onsen

Yesterday was a busy day for me. I woke up just before 6 am and could not get back to sleep.

I met my friend Dee-san for breakfast at her hotel at 9 am. The buffet overlooks a traditional Japanese garden with cascading water falls and a large Koi pond. It was quite a view. 

After breakfast, Dee-san and I went to Akihabara to get cameras.  I was particularly motivated to get a small point and shoot after lugging around the Nikon D70 for 3 days. I immediately fell in love with the Fuji FinePix J150 but they didn't have an international model (no English instructions or international warranty) and the price was kinda steep (about 300 - 350 yen). A phone call to Norm later and I decided to wait...and sulk. 

Dee-san bought herself a nice early birthday present (Lumix Fs5 by Panasonic). The sales people at Yodobashi Akiba were super nice and helpful - almost too helpful. The clerk suggested an international wall plug because he wasn't sure if the chord to charge the camera would be rated for the U.S. (the plug adaptor was roughly $2.00). He rings up the purchase,  a process that includes little rubber stamps, multiple receipts, stapling things to the pages of Dee-san's passport, and 2 clerks to keep it all straight. Well, it turns out that the chord doesn't need the adaptor, which - whatever, right? It's $2.00. Well, the clerk is just beside himself. To refund the money requires 2 manager-type people, 3 more clerks, new little rubber stamps, additional receipts, the passport, 27 ritualistic bows, a sacrificial white lamb, and about 30 minutes of time. It was a little much.

From Akihabara we took the subway to Asakusa. Asakusa is home to the Sensoo-ji Temple. Sensoo-ji enshrines a golden image of Kannon (the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy) which, legend has it, was fished out of the Sumidagawa river by two fishermen in 628. We approached the temple through the Kaminari-mon (Thunder Gate) which is protected by Fuujin, god of wind (right side); and Raijin, god of thunder (left side). At dusk, when the lights around the temple turn on, the eyes of these two gods seem to glow menacingly. 

In front of the temple there is a large cauldron (for lack of a better word) filled with burning incense. The smoke is supposed to bestow good health and you rub the smoke into your skin before making your way up the temple steps. At the top of the steps, you throw some money (5 yen or so) into a metal grate. I think that the sound of the money hitting the metal signals your presence to the god of the temple. In some temples, you pull a rope and it sounds a gong. At any rate, once you have the god's attention, you pray and then finish by clapping your hands twice.  Sensoo-ji temple complex can also boast to the second tallest pagoda in Japan, an interesting fact to toss around at a dinner party, should you feel so inclined. 

We left the temple by way of Nakamise-doori. Nakamise-doori is a pedestrian walkway that is chock-a-block with stores. I found a blue and white yukata with koi on it, as well as a handmade change purse made of deer skin. Eventually, we wound our way through and found an onsen that we had both read about and wanted to try.

A word about onsens and sentoos - I realize that public bathing is not for everyone but in Japan, taking a break at a sentoo or onsen is practically a national past-time. An onsen gets its water from a natural hot springs (a sento can heat its water) and different onsen have different types of water, depending on the source. The Jakoysu-yu onsen (which is where we went) has mineral rich, dark colored water (like a reddish brown color) and it is hot hot hot - 45 C.  The onsen and sentoos in Japan are subsidized by the government so they are pretty reasonably priced. We paid roughly $4.50 to enter the onsen and we purchased towels and soap for an additional $3 - $4. First we paid the front desk attendant, then we went into the ladies changing room, put everything into a locker, grabbed a senmenki (wash basin) and headed for the women's bathing area.

Before stepping into bath, we washed at a bank of low showers and water spigots. This involved sitting on a low stool, soaping up and scrubbing down. Then you spend about 10 minutes rinsing off, ensuring that there are absolutely zero soap particles left on your body before getting into the bath. There are three baths that you circulate between - the scalding hot, volcanic water bath, the milder simmering bath and the freezing ice bath.  I jumped right into the scalding hot water bath. Dee took a more measured approach and went to the simmering, not as scalding, bath first. Honestly, it was quite pleasant after the initial shock subsided. I actually liked the ice cold bath the best and was pleasantly relaxed by the time we were finished. 

We ended the afternoon with tempura at Daikokuya and for dessert we had purple sweet-potato ice cream. Dee-san was meeting people for dinner so we parted ways around 6 pm. Norm's co-worker, Lester, stopped by the room to see if we wanted to hit up Shibuya for some shopping. We ended up at Loft (a large department store in Shibuya) and they were hosting something called "Pop Box: Popculture Bazaar". Norm and I especially liked the art from Mad Barbarians (www.madbarbarians.com). We looked around for a while then headed back to the hotel. 

And that, as they say, was Wednesday