Reeking Havoc's Lair

Last weekend was the 50th anniversary reunion of GPGC. The last time I saw these friends of mine, we were all about 14 years old. That was in 1967, forty years ago!.
I wasn't sure what to expect: would anybody I knew be there? Would anyone even  remember me? In fact, they welcomed me with open arms.

This was a wonderful encounter. As someone said, "At other reunions it's 'Who's got the Porsche? The big job? Still looks the best? Here, nobody cares about all that." I felt that here, too. I think we all knew the pain of being outsiders. We were the nerds with glasses everywhere else, but in GPGC we were among like-minded kids and adults, and it was a slice of heaven (and it was another slice this past weekend!).

 Saturday was the graduation ceremony for this year's crop of gifties, with performances by the gifties classical orchestra and the chorus. They were stellar, and at the end all the alumni and retired faculty were called onstage to sing one of Dr Middleton's favorites, "The Impossible Dream". Ordinarily I would ignore any music that lacks electric guitars, but this was downright touching!



Some of the Class of 1967, L to R:
Me, Robert, Nancy, Dan, "Junior", Ross, Zart, David, Susan

Found a coffee mug in my late mother-in-law's attic. It belonged to my late brother-in-law and is a "Burma Shave" mug.
What a find! I took it home, ran it through the dish washer, poured myself a cup of coffee....ecchh! Tastes like soap!
So I washed it three more times in the washer. That did the trick. Now it's one of my favorite coffee cups.
Remember the Burma-Shave signs? Humorous rhyming verses on a series of little red signs you could all read aloud together as the car sped along on vacation. They stopped putting those up in 1963. Here's a link where you can get a Burma-Shave rhyme daily in your email.

Here are some pictures of something I grew in my bathroom. If you want to try your hand at this, I suggest a growth medium composted of dead skin cells and Irish Spring soap. Sprinkle with water daily in a dark place and wait...Great on salads! Doesn't do anything if you eat it, though...


(click to enlarge)

Experimental research points to psilocybin, the active ingredient in "magic mushrooms", as a promoter of spiritual experiences.

My own research decades ago found the same result, and the same warnings...

The charts are telling, but even more so are the descriptive comments. Here is the link.

...where I was blogging for a while as "Church of Some Other Way" until technical problems kept me from accessing my own page. You can visit it, but I can't add anything to it anymore. Now I'm blogging as "Jahweh" there, trying to stay in character...

People frequently call me "Ma'am" on the phone, so often I don't even blink anymore. It's not even uncommon for them to say it while conversing in the same room. My voice must sound female outside my head. I do know that my verbal inflections are like my Mom's.

There's more to it than this. Men open doors for me, sometimes looking a bit startled or mildly puzzled as I walk through. This despite me having thinned hair on top and a mustache! Maybe my walk and my "energy" are feminine. I do not know. Heaven knows what they think when they see my sunflower tattoo in the men's locker room at the gym. Hoo-hah!

Anyway, my sexual experience is definitely male, as is my love of cars, gadgets, and metal music. Yet in some ways I'm more comfortable with the company of women than men. I have decided that I am androgynous.

From Merriam-Webster:
 an·drog·y·nous 

Pronunciation:

\an-ˈdrä-jə-nəs\

Function:

adjective

Etymology:

Latin androgynus hermaphrodite, from Greek androgynos, from andr- + gynē woman

Have you heard about the community of African Jews who are apparently one of the lost tribes of Israel? I understand there is Jewish DNA among them, and that their practices, held in their isolation over thousands of years, are still obviously Hebrew.

Well here's an unrelated (except by faith) community of Black Jews in Chicago.

I have feelings about this that are not comfortable, a little like having bees living in your head (but there they are).   I hope they run the Chinese out.
I realize that probably won't happen. There was never any reality to the Chinese rationale for invading Tibet and stealing the country from its' rightful tenants.

Now that I think about it, I'm angry that the Chinese have tormented these gentle people into striking back. Now they have begun to lose not just their home, but also their identity as a peaceful people. More so than Zen Buddhists, Tibetan Buddhists have extensive bodies of teachings about harmlessness, and equanimity in adversity. Had this been Japan instead of Tibet, I suspect the backlash would not have taken decades. I picture monks in black with katanas, mindfully carving-up Chinese soldiers, in respectful awareness that these enemies are human beings.

Here's the Dalai Lama's response:

"Hellooo...We're glad you made it! Welcome to....the Future!!"   -Artie Choke and the Whispering Squash.

I used to wonder and make guesses about the future, what it would be like in the year 2000. That was in the 1960s, and the three-plus decades ahead made "the Future" seem like a mysterious and far-off land. What would the cars be like? Would we all be driving sleek levitating vehicles with atomic engines? There wouild surely be abundant energy and wealth for all in the advanced civilization ahead.

Now I know the answer to these and other similar questions, and the answer is: "No."

...is like getting a gynecological exam: it's all speculative.

This ACLU article appears to say the system is not yet fully up and running, but that it will when completed, allow the government to monitor normal daily activities of anyone in the country. Already the banks use software to analyze your every transaction for unusual activity, which is how Eliot Spitzer's use of a call girl service was found out. You may say you have nothing to hide, but that's not my point.

The point is, this system will enable the president and his ruling cadre to monitor you for purposes of learning about your personal political views and activities, and to bring retribution if those do not meet his or her approval.

That is against the constitution, and Congress has forbidden the building of this kind of system. NSA is putting it together anyway...

Here's an item from PBS about the same topic.

Bobby Jindal and then-governor Foster acted to prevent Louisiana from getting a share of the settlement from the tobacco companies, which was to have reimbursed money already spent by the state for treating people suffering from smoking-related illnesses. This is not the way a state officer of healthcare policy should act.

I love this lady's answer to yet another insult from a total stranger. I can't tell you how many times people wounded my late wife to the core with their comments, whether "helpful" or overtly abusive...

A useful phrase for many situations is "Didn' useta" as in: "Jean-Luc didn' useta pee anywhere but his litterbox." Some of his creative venues have been: on the bathroom scales ...on the magazine I put down halfway through an article (now it's kinda tedious reading, having to peel the pages apart).
...on the dirty clothes I left in the corner.
Where have your pets gotten creative? I'll bet they didn' useta do that. We never go barefoot here.

Also: "Garden Clubber". What does that phrase mean to you? I picture something violent...

...and this little gem of a phrase, which is perfect at the bottom of a membership application to the Deaf Romance Club: "Please Sign and Date".

I like some things about Cajun culture, but I hate accordion music.

Remember the Beverly Hillbillies talking about eating "crawdads"? Like it was something they liked to eat? Well, here in South Louisiana we don't have those, and we don't have any crayfish either. Talk about those things here, and all you'll get is a smirk or a stare. We eat crawfish here, by the steaming shoeboxfull!
A typical family gathering will have all the adults (both genders) drinking beer, stripping tails, and sucking heads...

Here's a video interview with Bill Aiken, vice secretary general of Sokka Gakkai of America, a strand of Nichiren Buddhist lineage to which Tina Turner belongs.

Eliot Spitzer, New York attorney general, writes the details. Don't expect to see a rebuttal...

How to get insures to pay the claims.
http://www.health.com/health/article/0,23414,1663353,00.html

Either one would be OK with me, however Hillary's mandated universal health coverage clinches my support. A doctor with whom I work told me this, and now Paul Krugman says it too in the New York Times. His article explains why making the coverage mandatory is so important.

I'll add, when I was a child health insurance was a relatively new thing, and there was none of the "cherry picking" that has over the decades made so many ineligible for insurance or unable to afford it. All the insurers took on all comers, so their customers' risks were distributed over a broader population. The healthy paid more relative to their claims for care than did the less healthy, but since all the companies were doing the same thing, the system worked.

Then someone had the bright idea to weed out the unhealthy and reduce premiums, thus gaining a competitive sales advantage. Eventually all the other companies were forced to follow suit, a trend that has since evolved into the "managed care" nightmare we have today.

No lesser force than the legislative power of government would be able to restore the universality of coverage. No company will volunteer to be the first. It would be grossly unfair to do anything else but make them all do it together.

I suppose all this sounds bizarre and "communistic" to those on the right. The difference in mindset between them and those who think like me is, ours is a desire to benefit the greater number of people. Corporations should exist to serve the greater good, not the narrow and disproportionate interests of a relative few. If corporate executives understood this and would govern accordingly, there would be greater loyalty of employees to their companies, and greater productivity over the long term. Sure, the CEOs wouldn't be making over 400 times as much as their frontline workers, but they would be better human beings for it, and happier. You can't take it with you...

Guest columnist: An abortion changed her life forever Cynthia L.....a On June 4, 1980, my life changed forever. I had an abortion. A friend recommended the abortionist. She had seven abortions at his clinic and said he was very good. The Metairie, Louisiana clinic was in a small, white wooden house on Veterans‘ Blvd.. The interior walls were made of dark wood. A few chairs were scattered around the waiting room. There were two black women sitting stone faced with several children running around. We exchanged dark glances. After a short wait, a nurse called me into a conference room where she asked me a few basic medical questions and took my temperature and blood pressure. As you can imagine, it was a bit high and they gave me something to calm me down. It failed. I was prepped in a room with a very strange smell. The wooden walls and floors were scuffed and did not appear to be sterile. My jaws were clenched together and a sound a didn’t recognize was coming out of my mouth. About this time, they began to give me Demerol. My body was so taut that it took three times the amount that was normally administered. The abortionist looked into my eyes and told me that he’d never get anyone else back there if I didn’t be quiet. His hands probed my stomach and his face lit up. “She’s pregnant!” he exclaimed to his nurse. It was if he were approaching the abortion with delight. This made me even more nervous. The doctor began to tell my how he was a scientist and dedicated to helping women. I should have left but I couldn’t move. The procedure began. When they say that the suction machine sounds like a vacuum cleaner, they are really telling the truth. It had a dark hose on it that began to gurgle. The pain I felt in my abdomen was nothing compared to the agony of hearing the sounds coming from the machine. No description would be sufficient. As the nurse gave me an envelope with five antibiotics to take, she told me that if I ran a temperature, I should see the doctor. There was no discussion of any side effects or how I might feel once I got home. As “he” helped me into the car, I began to cry. I repeated and repeated “I killed my baby…. “ Only several weeks beforehand, I was pregnant at my college graduation - on Mother’s Day. To this day, I can’t bear to look at the photographs. My friends kept telling me that I had a bright future ahead of me in art history. I fully intended to move on to graduate school. I didn’t. I began to have headaches. My parents wanted me to marry and have a family. I didn’t trust men anymore so I partied instead. Since trust was gone, no meaningful relationship materialized. It was impossible for me. With time, I realized that the only man I could really trust was Jesus and that He had all the answers for me if I’d only ask. It was time for a sincere return to the faith to which I had converted only a few short years before. The Catholic Church provided a safe environment in which to attempt to resolve my interior crisis. Time before the Blessed Sacrament gave me what little comfort I was able to obtain. While involved in ministry to the mentally handicapped, I met my future husband. He knew about the abortion from the very beginning. By that time, I was a pro life activist. We married in 1989. Disaster struck within two months. I had my first miscarriage. It was so sudden, I didn’t even realize what had happened until the problems began. Minor surgery was involved to correct them. God had mercy on me and in 1990, I gave birth to my first child, a daughter, by caesarian section, and when she was eleven months old, I discovered that I was pregnant with my son who was born in 1992. It was a real blessing to be able to nurse both children; I nursed both of them for six months - until I was forced to wean my two year old daughter. It was very difficult but I’d do it all over again. In 1996, I had my second miscarriage. My husband had to help me walk across the room. During an abortion, a woman’s cervix is artificially dilated. This causes damage to the tissue which can make it difficult to maintain a pregnancy. Abortionists do not warn you about this. Nor do they tell you that the hormonal changes in the breasts brought about by pregnancy remain unresolved after abortion and can later develop into breast cancer. I only pray that my years of breastfeeding will protect me from this indignity. And over time, the headaches got much, much worse. It is said by some experts that the unresolved hormonal changes brought about by abortion can cause many problems that still remain unknown. Through the ministry of the Church, I have found reconciliation with my dead children and the taste of peace in my soul. I write this essay in their memory to warn other women who might be considering abortion of these dangers. Don’t gamble with your health and that of the children you might bear in the future. Protect yourself and them by choosing life. Cynthia L.....a lives in (same town as Reeking Havoc) with her husband and two teenagers.

Brain of Steel

Mon Feb 04, 2008 7:18 pm    Mrs L.....a, your story sounds like it's all about the remorse of someone who took an irrevocable action without first resolving her conflicted feelings in the matter. The apparent consequence of doing so was an irrational assumption that men are not to be trusted. Perhaps you told yourself that men were at fault because a man had gotten you pregnant, and it was a man who did the abortion. Fortunately you found a man who loved you patiently enough to help you get over that fear. I'm glad you've found your peace, but unfortunately it appears to have been bought with a penance (your antiabortion activism) that involves demonizing some doctors who may be more compassionate than you know. It sounds from your own account like you were terrorizing yourself before that doctor even entered the room. I suspect your penance may also involve shaming other young women who would make the same choice you made, and attempting to take from them the option. I simply hope those women will search their own hearts first, and choose what is best for their lives. If you can not see your way clear to let them do so without interference, then I would suggest that you have not truly let go your past after all... If God forgave you, isn't it time to forgive others?

You've probably heard about Britney Spears' hospital stays, including the one in progress which has been extended another 14 days.
The California laws sound similar to those here in Louisiana, which are roughly as follows:

There are three possible criteria for committing a person against their will. Any one of these three can trigger the filing of an order of commitment by a physician, not necessarily a psychiatrist:
1. Danger to self. 
2. Danger to others.
3.  Being in a "gravely disabled" state.
"Gravely disabled" is a blanket term for any of a number of conditions that keep a person from functioning for their survival or wellbeing, such as eating, dressing and hygiene. They may have disorganized thinking, or paranoia, or hallucinations, or delusions, or delirium from a non-psychiatric medical condition.

The person is held while a psychiatric hospital is found and transportation is arranged. Sometimes there is a significant distance to travel to a facility that has an available bed. Meanwhile, the clock has started ticking with the moment of signing of the commitment order. There is a 72 hour window for a "coroner's deputy" (who must be another physician) to assess the patient and confirm or invalidate the commitment.

The ticking clock is also counting down 15 days, the time allotted for treatment. Should more than 15 total days of treatment be needed, the patient must sign his/her agreement to continue or the doctor will be forced either to release the patient, or to file a court petition seeking more time. Only a judge can extend the 15 days if the patient is not willing.

Now, where I work we frequently have patients who arrive believing that they are there for a maximum of 72 hours. Why? Because staff at whatever emergency room told them that. It's not true, and you can bet the ER staff  have been told many times not to say it, but they never seem to learn. It's easier for them to pacify the patient with this fiction than to try to explain the law, but it leaves us at the psych hospital to face the patient's wrath. Try to win their trust for therapy after that!

On some occasions we have had to let someone go at the end of their 15 days, despite their having not been fully stabilized to our clinical satisfaction. If they are not actively suicidal, or imminently dangerous to self or others, or are still unable to function, we can not hold confident expectations of winning more time in court so we can't impose on them any longer.

Sometimes by the end of 15 days they have gotten clearer in their thoughts and have started to have pretty good insight into their need for the care, and so are willing to go along if the doctor calls for more treatment time. Many other times they don't care about their longterm sanity, they just want out to resume their frantic pursuit of whatever business or pleasure they'd been chasing prior to hospital admission.

It's their right under the American constitution, regardless of whether or not it's a foolish decision. Have you ever considered that the constitution protects the right of citizens to make foolish choices? It's true...  Consider how little freedom there'd be in our country if people did not have the right to make foolish decisions... Who would be the arbiter of what everyone must do? (I know, there are those who would offer their services to guide us all.)

Patients also have the right to be at the hearing, and to have an attorney, and to speak  in their own behalf. To this end there is a state attorney in each region whose sole job it is to protect the rights of persons facing involuntary commitment to hospitals or nursing homes. I know, because I've seen in court, that they will shut the proceedings down if we fail to dot the "i"s and cross the "t"s.

Sometimes the patient is the one who makes the strongest case for their continued treatment by their own words or behavior. My late first wife, a psychiatrist, told me years ago about one client who was winning his case... until the moment he started peeing in the courtroom!

Any questions, class?

I'm not the only one, but the Wall Streeters and Repubs wouldn't listen to any of us. Read it here: "most Americans have been living in their own personal recession for years."