Paranoia Update

The "cable guy" just left. He insulted my poor little modem and unceremoniously unplugged and abducted it. I'm certain that modem euthanasia is part of his job description. Join me in a moment of silence....

While he was here, the cable guy used his fancy technical thingy to test my cable service. He went outside to "check the signals" which is cable speak for "jiggle the wires". After determining that the problem was with the "little modem that couldn't" he brought in the Big Brother Shiny Scary Modem. It is sleek and black and decidedly sinister. That's why I must warn you to XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX and XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX to protect yourself. Big Brother TW is watching...

L

Time Warner or Big Brother?

I might be becoming paranoid. Now before you jump to the conclusion that I’m just paranoid about being paranoid, hear me out.

Lately I have been having problems signing on to the internet. My modem just can’t initialize… In fact, my computer can’t even find my modem! I have to unplug the whole mess and reboot the computer and then plug it all back in and then maybe I will be able to connect. I struggled with this for a week before finally coming to the conclusion that I was going to have to call the *cue ominous music* cable company!

With trembling fingers, I dialed the number on my exorbitant bill. After a severe warning that they were experiencing a larger than normal amount of traffic (did I call for the traffic report?) I was goaded through several hundred prompts where I was required to press 1, 2, 3 or 4. None of these numbers led me to a real, actual human being, of course, and god forbid I press the wrong number because I could end up listening to a recording informing me to hang up and dial again (in Spanish). After refusing to conform to their evil menus, I pressed “O” repeatedly, allowing me a momentary rush of satisfaction at the sound of ringing before I was placed on hold again.

When at last I spoke to a customer service representative, I was surprised to find him so happy. I guess I was the only person who found their way through the Maze of Menus so I was relieving his loneliness and monotony. I explained my problem and he pleasantly informed me that, while he empathized with my plight, he could not help me. He could, however, transfer me to someone who could. Yep, you got it. More holding.

The next customer service agent was not quite as content as the previous one. Perhaps he was unable to escape outside calls and was jealous of those protected by the Horrible Menu of Death by Boredom and Frustration. At any rate, he listened to my dilemma and… pay close attention, now, I’m getting to the paranoid part… he said, “Let me just check on your hook up.” At first I thought that sounded a little personal, but before I could point out that we hardly knew each other, he said, “Hmm… yes… Your modem signal is weak coming in and going out.”

I was struck by two things. First of all, I was insulted on behalf of my modem, because I am certain it tries very hard and could improve given the chance. Second, how the hell could that guy tell what my modem was doing?

Mechanically I set up the service appointment, but my mind was otherwise engaged. I couldn’t get past the fact that, within seconds, a stranger from the cable company could reach out with wireless fingers and insult my modem. What else was Time Warner checking on? Could they see the condition of my hard drive? I would hate to think that they were all sitting there laughing at the mediocre imaging package I was using; snickering at the variety of children’s educational software installed but rarely used; guffawing at my inferior processor. What if they were checking out what web sites I had visited? Really, it was my youngest son who clicked on the “You are the one millionth visitor” banner!

This same cable company is probably monitoring what I watch on television too! Honestly, I only watched about 15 minutes of that sappy Life Time move and I accidentally left the TV on when that reality show about Hulk Hogan’s family was airing. South Park?! Okay, well, yeah, that was me.

By now you get it. I’m concerned. I hate to rush off but you will have to excuse me while I run out to make a few purchases. I will obviously have to sweep the cable guy for bugs when he comes over. Paranoid? Riiiight. That’s what they want you to think.

L

Post-Christmas Ponderings

As my neighbors and I pile the remains of our bacchanalian orgy of conspicuous consumption by the curb, longing for a Christmas spent before a real fire instead of a video facsimile crackling on the television and conversation with loved ones instead of grunts from family members plugged into various electrical paraphernalia, I am greeted with shouts of that ubiquitous post-holiday question, “Did you get everything you wanted for Christmas?” Although I don’t wish to sound ungrateful, my answer is a heartfelt “No”. I did receive some very thoughtful presents… my husband gave me a fleece turtleneck and pants because I’m always so cold, and an armband radio so that I can retain mobility while listening to my favorite talk-radio shows. My daughters brought tears to my eyes with their handmade offerings of love, and my parents gave me a 1st edition, autographed copy of one of my favorite novels. So what is it that I long for???

I’d like more time spent together as a family. I’d like to be able to play more games, take more walks, be silly, lay in the grass with my children, count the stars, and commit more random acts of kindness for complete strangers.

I think back to the Christmas my daughters and I spent alone while my husband served in Iraq and wish that I could wrap my arms around each and every family spending this Christmas apart from their loved one and tell them that their sacrifice is acknowledged and appreciated , just as we appreciate the sacrifice their soldier makes in service to our country.

I’d like to reach out and eliminate all the hurt and pain that leads to hate so that we can realize that, though we may call Him by different names and worship Him in different ways, we are all children of the same God.

So my wish for us all next Christmas is that we get what we really need- a dumpster for all those extraneous material possessions we have that blind us to what is truly important- time together , family, forgiveness, friendship, compassion, tolerance , faith, peace, and love.

E

Have a Merry (insert politically correct holiday here)

You Didn't Think We Would Avoid Talking About Religion, Did You?

As a Catholic I attend mass every Sunday. Sunday after Sunday after Sunday I sit, stand, kneel, and pray in unison with all the other dutiful parishioners. Every mass follows the same formula. No surprises, no variations. Often I sit and wonder how many other people are sitting and wondering about what they will do after mass, what’s for lunch, or how quickly they will be able to get to their car after the final prayer. After all, when you are on Mass Autopilot, it is sometimes difficult to keep your eyes on the road.

Why do we feel this way? Obviously many of us feel compelled to attend. Why aren’t we engaged? Could it be the outdated views of Catholicism? I’m sorry, but the rhythm method just doesn’t cut it for most women these days. Birth control is a practical matter. Socioeconomics plays a factor as does emotional well being. How about priests? I won’t sink to citing the statistics of sexual abusers and voyeurs of child pornography. I will, however pose this question: Would the priesthood be more effective if a priest was allowed to marry? I, for one, would much rather see a priest for family/marital counseling if he had some first hand knowledge. Maybe more well-balanced individuals would be swayed to follow a religious calling… maybe even some women? Confession is another sticky subject. If God can hear my prayers, why can’t I just confess to him directly? Why, exactly, do I need a middle man? Every single week the Catholic homily either tells us we had better become better Christians, confess our sins, or give money for the repair of the week/mission of the week/appeal of the week because we have not yet made our “fair share” to the diocese. (That one burns me. One year we were told that the diocese was charging interest on our “debt” because we didn’t cough up our fair share. This, after we pledged over $2 million for the new parish center!)

Unfortunately the Church continues on as it has for centuries, with minor tweaks and adjustments, keeping us captive by guilt, obligation and the need to include religion in our lives, even if we don’t agree with 100% of the rules. Still, many don’t actually engage, or if they do, it is on their own unique terms.

Let’s talk about some of the parishioners who do attend.

So many fair-weather Catholics flock to masses during Advent and Lent, the senior citizens who traditionally park in the Getaway Lane… um, I mean the Fire Lane… are put out with having to park in an actual delineated space in the confines of the parking lot. But don’t worry too much, when the holiday is past, or if it’s sunny or there’s a football game being televised or anything more than a flurry of snow, the lot will be deserted once again.

There are also the “take the communion and run” Catholics. You’ve seen them. They carry their coat/hat/purse with them and as soon as the body of Christ hits their tongue they are out the door before “amen” leaves their lips.

One of my favorites is the “recessional caboose”. The priest, servers, and readers have just begun their exit when someone who just cannot wait to leave, joins in behind the group as if they are the last float in the parade.

Those who actually stay through the end of the mass seem to view the final notes of the last hymn as a starting gun. They race to the exits, jump in their cars and are very un-Christian in their approach to leaving the parking lot. Do NOT try to ease in front of these people. Any feelings of good will towards men were left in the pew.

What can the Church do about any of these things? How about changing things up once in awhile? Give a homily that explains how the scriptures relate to real life. Let priests marry and have families so that they may understand the needs of the parishioners. Make us want to attend Church to be closer to God and to enjoy the service. Hmmm… I don’t know, but I’m thinking it may have to be an act of God.

L

A New Way Forward???

So Captain Queeg wants to send an additional 20 to 30 thousand more troops to Iraq in a temporary “surge”? While trying not to focus on the devastation suffered due to the last surge we faced in the form of Katrina, we need to ask ourselves if we can allow this to happen. Operation “A New Way Forward Into The Gaping, Sucking Vortex Of Death And Destruction” has its problems. Yes, the number of attacks has increased. Yes, the number of troop fatalities has steadily risen. But let’s not be too short-sighted.

In addition to certain slaughter, the primary difficulty with our fearless leader’s plan is where to find the warm bodies to ship over when our military leaders have stated that particular well has run dry. Therefore, I propose that every congressman and senator who voted for the war, their children, and their wealthy supporters, should all be sent over as a Christmas present to our country. Of course they would need to submit to the same 5 to 6 month training period that our troops are required to fulfill. We may have to keep an eye on Congressman Jack Kingston though. Remember him? He was exceedingly upset when he learned that the House would begin following a 5 day work week rather than the two day schedule they’d previously been following. As worried as he is about the impact of those three extra work days a week on his marriage, he may run for the hills when he discovers that the training period doesn’t count toward his “boots on the ground” time. Focus on the positive Congressman Kingston. Think of the bragging rights you’ll enjoy! After all, less than 1% of the people in our country can boast about having been on a 500 billion dollar jaunt.

And yes Jenna, this means you and Barbara will have to forego some tequila shots, but your dad promises you’ll only be there for a little while. Don’t worry, you won’t get lonely. Your dad and Uncle “Shooter” will be there too. However, after viewing Wonkette.com’sDecember 19th story regarding Dick’s latest victim (a deer who apparently knew too much), our troops have stipulated that his gun be retrofitted with the breathalyzer unit MADD advocates, as well as a duck call. If Dick manages to sneak alcohol over in a hip flask to wash his meds down with, the device from MADD will prevent him from being able to fire his weapon. In the event that he is able to shoot, the duck call would alert our troops to take cover. After all, you just can’t trust a guy who’d leave a warning like that on his lawn for Santa.

Carl “Minister of Deception” Rove, and Condi “Fiddle While Iraq Burns” Rice will also be packing to join you on your most excellent adventure. Think of it as another in the long series of vacations you both so enjoy. Only in the desert. With people shooting at you.

E

A Book Review from the Verge

A little background: I am currently a member of Simon and Schuster’s Reader’s Advisory Board. I don’t receive monetary compensation, but I do receive free advance reader’s copies as well as the occasional hardcover book. Sometimes the books don’t pique my interest. Luckily, I am sent a variety of genres and am required to review only one out of every three I receive. Intermittently I receive books from Harper Collins as well, as part of their First Look Program. If you are a book lover, I suggest you check it out. http://www.harpercollins.com/members/firstlook/index.aspx

S&S recently sent me a book titled, Him Her Him Again the End of Him by Patricia Marx. The unusual title intrigued me, as did the credentials of the author. Marx is a former Saturday Night Live writer and is a regular contributor to the New York Times as well as the New Yorker magazine. Admittedly, the one line summary, “A brilliantly funny debut novel about one woman’s hilarious obsession with her first boyfriend” worried me. The last thing I needed was another version of Bridget Jones’ Diary. Don’t get me wrong, I love Bridget. It’s just that the three thousand four hundred twelve Bridget wannabes have worn me down. Anyway, the unnamed protagonist turned out to be hilarious, witty, and intelligent. It was a combination that hooked me.

A resident of Baltimore, displaced temporarily to Cambridge University where she was struggling with her thesis (the subject of which was ever changing with her mood), our central character met the “Him” of the title, Eugene Obello. Eugene was egotistical, selfish, and shallow… but still she loved him. Actually “obsessed” might be a better term for how she felt. Why, exactly, she was so taken with a man who carried the Magna Carta in his pocket and uses terms like “anon” and “whilst” and “my ever-new enchantment” with a straight face is beyond me.

Our girl wonder floundered through life, waiting for Eugene as he philandered through an unknown number of women and stroked his own ego. Luckily she had other things to do or I may have had to abandon her. A cadre of interesting friends, a dysfunctional family, and various bizarre jobs rounded out her life nicely, if not for her, for me.

So why was she likeable? How can you not love a protagonist who helps write a sketch for a kiddie show titled “The Time-Out Electric Chair”? And as far as intelligence goes, the fact that she even considered calling a chapter of her thesis “How Successful is T.S. Kuhn in Avoiding Problems of Relativism in His Discussion of Paradigms in Natural Sciences” makes her sound clever… even if she never actually finished it. She has a vocabulary to die for, and when in doubt, she can bluff her way through. In other words, the question is: What’s not to like?

Marx has conjured up a hilarious book with thousands of little gems like this one: “My grandmother also told me that she -- my grandmother -- believes everyone has a determined number of footsteps to use up in a lifetime, and, therefore, it is foolhardy to exercise since you will only exhaust your quota sooner and die.” Words to live by, if you ask me.

If you are looking for some light reading after the holidays, I can think of no better novel.

Him Her Him Again the End of Him will be published by Simon and Schuster in January 2007.

L

What Moved Dick To Do It?

Oliver North has been making the rounds of the TV. talk-shows joking about a sniper in Iraq who took a pot-shot at him and missed. He observes that the sniper was “obviously trained by French girl-scouts and not Dick Cheney” thereby confirming what I’ve long suspected; Ollie, White House insider, North is confirming that Dick shot his friend intentionally. The only question left unanswered now is why?

Perhaps the elderly lawyer wondered aloud what the day’s body count was in Iraq. We know Dick doesn’t like that. Or maybe he asked how Dick could be one of the architects of an administration that marginalizes gays when one of his own children is gay. (Congratulations to Dick and Lynne, by the way, on the pregnancy of their daughter Mary and her partner.) He might have even attempted friendly banter about Kellogg, Brown, and Root, part of the Halliburton family that Dick was the head of, and their involvement in human trafficking that was exposed in the Chicago Tribune’s “Pipeline to Peril”. Dick couldn’t have been too pleased about the potential negative impact to the companies’ bottom line. Having to actually house people humanely and pay them fairly? Dick’s blood had to have been boiling. Maybe while belting one back before going out with loaded weapons Dick’s pal brought up the pesky fact that a large percentage of Americans seem to be coming out of their terror-induced stupors. Or could it have simply been that Dick was driven to shoot his buddy in a jealous rage fueled by his chum’s flawlessly smooth complexion?

While we may never know what it was that triggered the shooting, we can at least rest assured that if Dick shoots at you he does it well, unlike that namby-pamby sniper. And if you don’t believe that, you don’t know Dick.

And Dick, just a suggestion, guys with reputations like yours should really insist on being called Richard.

E

Are you LOST?

As a Lost addict, I am jonesing for my favorite castaways. I haven't missed an episode, nor did I miss much of the Alternate Reality Game this summer. Are any of you Losties?

The Bad Twin, a book tie-in to Lost, by Gary Troup (yes, it is an anagram for purgatory) was released this summer and I wrote an analysis for The Society for the Study of Lost. If you are interested, take a look: http://loststudies.com/1.3/bad_twin.html

L

Winning the war on terror: How I learned to love No Child Left Behind

A friend recently shared her story of woe at the hands of the education system. Her son had always gotten solid grades, a dedicated and hard-working kid who worked well with others and colored within the lines. Parent-teacher conferences were a joy. Yet even while basking in the afterglow of the praise heaped on her son, Mrs. X had a niggling doubt that wouldn’t go away. Over the years she had voiced her concern over what she felt was a problem with little Johnny’s reading comprehension. She felt that concepts weren’t “clicking” for him. Shouldn’t such a strong student be capable of more than just the most basic, literal understanding of the text? Year after year her concerns were met with the same answer. Yes, little Johnny was very literal, but he would grow out of it. Not to worry!

The years passed and my friend continued to be reassured both by the teachers and by her son’s state test scores in language arts. Scoring low to mid-range threes on the exams, he was deemed to have “met the learning standards “set by New York State. Not wanting to seem to be a “helicopter parent”, (a term used by those in education circles to denote those parents who “hover” over their children) my friend backed off. Imagine her surprise when her son entered 8th grade and was placed in a service reserved for children with comprehension problems. Why? She was informed that little Johnny was comprehending at a fourth or fifth grade level… three to four grades below his own grade level! How could this happen?

As far as I can determine, there are two possibilities:

The learning standards set by New York State are set abysmally low.
The teachers are doing a spectacular job of teaching the test.

My bet is on the second option, although the first is well within the realm of possibility.

After a completely unscientific poll of neighboring school districts, approximately three months is spent preparing for the state tests in math and language arts. This does not include the time spent prepping for the science and social studies exam. In addition to the time spent in school, some schools even require that students attend 45 minute after-school “study sessions” two or three times a week for the eight weeks preceding the test. This is all done, by the way, while telling students that the tests are nothing to get stressed about. Yeah, okay.

Yet even with all this prepping, many district’s scores stay within the same few percentage points or they drop. Like a stone. I have to wonder, what might happen if the teachers were actually allowed more time to teach the children how to think instead of train them how to answer certain types of test questions.

Ultimately, it is the misguided and under-funded pet white elephant of our president, the No Child Left Behind Act, that is to blame. Determined that not one child will fall behind, our government has chosen to throw them ALL under the bus.

Now the question is how to make the proverbial lemonade from this lemon of an idea. I say we export it in “not-so-smart” bombs to the hostile forces intent on wreaking havoc and destruction in the world. Think about it… not only would they be buried under reams of paperwork and paralyzed by near constant test anxiety, but (after examining the apparent link between frequent testing and low reading and comprehending ability) they would quickly be rendered incapable of reading or comprehending any text that might instruct them in how to cause harm.

Who said no good could ever come from over-testing?

E

Panties for Britney -- Please!

We think we’ve figured out the reason for the recent rash (oops, no pun intended…but did you see that razor burn? That’s gotta hurt!) of Britney Spears sightings sans underwear. After putting our two formidable intellects to work on this perplexing, not to mention unsightly, problem, we’ve concluded that K. Fed took possession of Britney’s panties in the divorce settlement thereby leaving her shame bared to the world.

Therefore, in the true spirit of the holiday season, we would like to propose a “Panties for Britney” drive. As mothers ourselves, we know that now Britney is a single mother, she’ll need to be more careful with her health. Just think, if grandma was right about going outside without your hat helping contribute to you catching a cold, heaven only knows what going out like that could cause you to catch.

“Panties for Britney” would be a public service campaign as well. No longer would the rest of us need to scrub our eyes with steel wool to rid ourselves of the images seared into them after viewing the photos of her five-o-clock shadow.

With your help we can keep this from becoming an annual event. On behalf of Britney and the rest of mankind, give generously… PLEASE!!!!!!!

Post by E

Graphic by L

Taglines from TV - Did you Catch that Phrase?

Catchphrases have been known to make or break a television show. Here’s a list of some new and old favorites. Feel free to comment and add your own favorites.

Who Shot J.R.? – Dallas

Save the Cheerleader, Save the World – Heroes

Everybody Lies – House MD

Oh Snap! – That’s So Raven

Seriously – Grey’s Anatomy

Make It Work – Project Runway

Tell us what you don’t like about yourself – Nip/Tuck

The Truth is Out There/ Trust No one – The X Files

Oh my God, they killed Kenny! You Bastards! – South Park

Yada, Yada, Yada – Seinfeld

Jane, you ignorant slut! - Saturday Night Live

Live Long and Prosper – Star Trek

L

I think I have a fever. Is there a test for that?

Can I ask you a question? If you have a fever, what do you do? Do you continue to take your temperature hourly to make it go down? Or do you actually take some action, like administering an anti-inflammatory medication, to produce the desired result?

Common sense tells us that continuing to suck on the thermometer isn’t going to do anything but produce stress and concern as the fever continues, right? So maybe you can tell me why state departments of education feel that implementing more standardized testing is going to produce more favorable results from our children.

Did someone at the NYS Department of Education actually take a long hard look at our students mediocre English Language Arts (ELA) test results and say, “Hey, they can’t read. We had better do something. I know! Instead of testing them in 4th and 8th grade, we’ll test them every year from 2nd grade on!” Was this individual met with pats on the back and praise? Apparently so, based on the current ELA annual testing schedule.

My son was riddled with test anxiety in 3rd grade. It seemed that every teacher in the school must “teach to the test”, a strategy that consists of drilling our children with old ELA test questions and a multitude of exercises designed to drive test scores upward. Continuous instruction centers on the “big test” and causes intense pressure on the students and teachers. I was sorely tempted to tell my son to put his name on his paper, turn it over, and take out a book to read in silent protest.

This rigorous testing schedule is, in reality, doing very little for the students. They are cramming test taking knowledge for weeks before the exams and when the ELA is over they start studying for the next state exam.

So I have to ask: If the kids can’t read, is continuous testing the answer? I have another idea. This is where I may get a little politically incorrect, so bear with me.

1. Get rid of tenure. Tenure is an antiquated form of job security for teachers who have successfully completed a probationary period. Unfortunately, this security can lead to teachers who feel so safe that they no longer feel the need to provide a quality education to our children. No other profession has this security. Professionals are evaluated annually and if they are not performing to expectations, they are given goals and support and if they continue to fail, they are let go. Our teachers are responsible for educating the future doctors, executives, technology gurus and teachers. They should be held responsible, like everyone else.

2. Instead of tenure, administrators should regularly evaluate all teachers throughout the school year and give support, recommendations, and discipline where necessary. Parents and students should be given the opportunity to “grade the teacher” at intervals throughout the year. It is inevitable that there will be personality conflicts and the occasional inconsistently negative review, but if a teacher received 20/25 negative reviews, administration should get the message that something is not right.

3. Back off of the rigorous testing schedule. The teachers are well versed in the State Learning Standards. Allow them the freedom to teach our students without the constraints of teaching to the test. Yes, some testing is necessary, but excessive testing is not.

4. Provide more academic intervention services, but base eligibility not only on test results, but on overall student performance.

5. Encourage teachers to be creative and to make learning a fun, confidence building activity.

This is in no way a slight to our teachers. At my children’s schools, we have been blessed with many wonderful, dedicated teachers who have been handcuffed by the demands of the NYS testing schedule.

I just can’t help but wonder how much smarter and happier we would all be if weren’t suffering from incessant test anxiety. Is this issue only a problem in NY? Do you see it where you are, whatever the state or country? Do you have a solution?

While I’m waiting for you comments, maybe I’ll take my temperature.

L

Happy Global Warming Feet?

I admit it. I was never properly suspicious of that purple, homosexual indoctrinator of children, Tinky Winky. Remember the Teletubby who had the unfortunate habit of carrying a purse? Never mind that these creatures didn’t possess any characteristics that might clue the viewer in as to what gender they were, or if they even possessed a gender.

Well, apparently I’ve missed the point again with the animated children’s movie Happy Feet. I’ll admit I was actually looking forward to what appeared to be an uplifting, cute movie about those adorable denizens of the Antarctic. Who doesn’t love penguins? With their feathered tuxedoes and lurching gait they remind you of that uncle who got slightly tipsy at your wedding.

Unfortunately, about the best thing that I can say about the experience was that I was able to sit through the movie without chewing my leg off.

I’ve read the rabid reactions from certain factions of the media for the movie’s supposed stance on global warming. One pundit went so far as to characterize the protagonist as an animated penguin version of Al Gore. I wish! Believe me , it would have been far more entertaining. During the eighty-six minutes the movie runs for ( and I counted each excruciating minute until my torment would end), I never once heard or saw any reference to global warming. Over-fishing? Yes. Pollution ? Check. Global- warming? Nada. Were my eyes bleeding at the end of the eighty-six minutes? Absolutely! The plot was thinner than a tomato slice at a cut-rate deli and it was definitely not like an onion. No layers. Just as sometimes a cigar is truly just a cigar, sometimes a bad movie is truly just a bad movie and not part of some vast left-wing conspiracy to brainwash wide-eyed, chipmunk – cheeked children.

However, I’m not going to be fooled again like I was by that purple tubby with the come-hither red purse. A male penguin intent on spreading the joys of tap- dancing to other male penguins? Move over Tinky Winky, my eye’s on the penguin now…

E