Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Follow up questions for Tony-the-Snow-Man

An article in today's Washington Post, White House Softens Tone On Embryo Use

by Peter Baker, quotes Tony-the-Snow-Man backing off from the strong language he used earlier in which he described stem cell research as a form of "murder". Baker writes:

"White House press secretary Tony Snow said yesterday that he "overstated the president's position" during a briefing last week but said Bush rejected the bill because "he does have objections with spending federal money on something that is morally objectionable to many Americans."

So my follow up questions:
(1) When did the president start making decisions based on the poll numbers? and
(2) What about the millions of Americans who believe that the war in Iraq is morally objectionable?

Back to the Bottle Again


Everyone is probably familiar with Steve Winwood's 1980s hit, "Back in the High Life Again". You may have also heard Warren Zevon's cover, which apparently is the preferred version according to the results of Cover-vs-Original . And if you've not heard Zevon's cover, try to because it is dry, eerie and poetic, nothing like the pop hit put out by Winwood.


While the melody for the filk comes from Winwood and the mood comes from Zevon, the story for the song comes from Dr. Justin Frank's, M.D. book entitled Bush on the Couch: Inside the Mind of the President (2004).

It is an excellent book, well written and well argued. Frankin adopts the family psychology theories of Melanie Klein to explore George's current psychological condition. The most amazing fact I learned was that the Bush family lost a child. George's younger sister Robin was diagnosed with leukemia in the spring of 1953 when he was six and when she was just three years old. The diagnosis

"...set into motion a series of extended East Coast trips by parents and child in the ultimately fruitless pursuit of treatment. Critically, however, young George was never informed of the reason for the sudden absences; unaware that his sister was ill, he was simply told not to play with the girl, to whom he and grown quite close, on her occasional visits home. Robin died in New York in October 1953; her parents spent the next day golfing in Rye, attending a small memorial service the following day before flying back to Texas. George learned of his sister's illness only after her death, when his parents returned to Texas, where the family remained while the child's body was buried in a Connecticut family plot. There was no funeral." (p.3)

Whoa…that’s rough, not easily dry walled over, even with George’s nearly twenty year’s of sobreity.

So it is with some tactlessness and anger that I indulged myself with this little filk.

Back to the bottle again

It used to seem to George
He could never drive too fast
Coke and booze and mary jane
It must have been a gas
But you’re your daddy’s son
And there’s a battle to be won
Goin’ mano-a-mano in the driveway
Who’s gonna be the one?

He’ll go back to the bottle again
All the prayers he has said will
go up in smoke again

He’ll go back to the bottle again
All the anger and hatred is too
much to hold in

And now you’ve shown your hand
Made war across the land
You beat Sadam and the Taliban
Who could doubt your plan?

But fate is a measured rope
That can wrap around your neck
Pulling tight in a choke-hold
Man, it’s gotta hurt like heck

So he’ll go back to the bottle again
All the prayers he has said will
go up in smoke again

He’ll go back to the bottle again
All the anger and hatred is too
much to hold in

And he’ll drink and smoke with both hands free
Ignore the wife and loose his keys
Oh he’ll be a sight to see
Back in the bottle again

Doping referees?

What if we could give drugs to referees that would allow them to see and hear better, dramatically improving their abilities to detect infractions on the field? Would this be considered doping? What if we learned that some referees were already doing this? Would it be an international incident?

Quote of the day

The only principle that does not inhibit progress is: anything goes.
-Paul Feyerabend, Against Method: Outline of an anarchistic theory of knowledge (1975)


Sunday, July 23, 2006

Support the Truth: Civil War in Iraq

A few months back, there seemed to be a major debate in the Internet-press about whether it was appropriate to call the situation in Iraq a “civil war”. While the rhetoric meant nothing to the millions of Iraqis directly and indirectly affected by the day-to-day violence, the matter seemed very important in the domestic battle for the “hearts and minds” of Americans. Since then the world has moved on and no one seems to think it so important anymore. Recently, however, it occurred to me that it was easy enough to compare the current situation Iraq, which has only gotten worse since the spring, to the US’s own record with civil war to get a sense of the accuracy or absurdity of this statement.

The table below presents the numbers in detail, but I'll just cut to the chase: between April 1861 and April 1865 the US lost 184,594 American lives, or about 0.13 percent of the total US population each year. In Iraq today, assuming that the death rate of 75 persons per day continues for another 12 months, the country will have lost 0.11 percent of its total population. The 75 persons per day maybe a high estimate and the population estimate may be a bit low, but even so the impact clearly puts the situation in Iraq today in the same ball park as the US Civil War.

Another way to look at the current situation in Iraq is to project the violent death rate there onto the US and adjust for population differences. Using this approach, if Americans were dying at the same rate as Iraqis we would be experiencing about 325,000 violent deaths per year, compared to our actual annual murder rate of about 16,000 per year. In other words, we’d be experiencing 26,796 murders each month instead of 1,345; or, 881 per day instead of 44 per day. And if you want an even more macabre way to understand these numbers, imagine one September 11th every three-and-a-half days.

By these metrics, it seems to me unconscionable that anyone could describe the situation in Iraq as anything other than a tragedy for humanity, a complete failure of neoconservative foreigh policy, and another victory for the red horse of the apocalypse.

Iraqi Civil War

Deaths per day 75

Deaths per year (projected) 27,375

Population (est.) 25,000,000

Annualized deaths as pct. of population 0.11%

US Civil War

US Civil War combat deaths (1) (a) 184,594

US population est. at the time (1) 34,300,000

Annualized death rate (April 1861 to April 1865) (b) 0.13%

Iraq's Violent Death Rate in the US

US Murders in 2004 (2) 16,137

Iraqi murder rate/100,000 population (est.) 109.5

US Population (2004) (3) 293,656,842

US Equivalent of Iraqi murder rate 321,554

Notes:

(a) The usual number of deaths estimated in the Civil War is 620,000. Combat deaths, however, vary from the low reported above to as many as 204,000.

See http://www.civilwarhome.com/casualties.htm for this higher estimate.

(b) Wikipedia

Sources:

(1)The US Civil War Center at LSU. http://www.cwc.lsu.edu/other/stats/warcost.htm

(2) Dept. of Justice, FBI. http://www.fbi.gov/ucr/cius_04/offenses_reported/violent_crime/murder.html

(3) Population Division, U.S. Census Bureau. http://www.census.gov/popest/national/asrh/NC-EST2005-sa.html

Excitable Boy, Part II

I'm not one to follow celebrity trials and murder stories in the news, but this one on CNN jumped out at me because it reminded me of one of the greatest songs of the 1970s, if not of all time, Warren Zevon's Exciteable Boy. (Warren Zevon).

Grounded teen killed family before going to prom.

I have no idea if the guy is guilty or innocent. The line of reasoning taken by the defense, as briefly described in the article, seems plausible to me. And the fact that the local police actually decided not to search for finger prints on the crime scene, doesn't help the prosecutor's case. On the other hand, the guy was living in Dade County, Florida when he was picked up, which, in my experience, is the layman's version of the federal Witness Protection Program.

The story also raises a question about whether we need to start recognizing that "faith-placed" violence doesn't just happen in Iraq.

Bidding farewell

I would have liked to have started this blog a few days ago and thus commemorate a great event in the history of human dignity, July 19th, 1946--the day my uncle Walter was born. But things are rarely the way we want them to be and so I am starting today. In fact, Walter may have been the world's first blogger even before the concept was discovered, in the same way that Bob Dylan, another obvious inspiration for this blog, was the inventor of rap music long before it had a name. (cf. SUBTERRANEAN HOMESICK BLUES).

Walter was a first rate complainer. He was master of the pithy statement, an encyclopedia of aphorisms, a lifetime guardian of “J’accuse”. Above all else, he was blessed with the ablity to believe anything that he wanted.

One afternoon Walter was on the Long Island Rail Road heading out to Stony Brook where he and his partner lived. It was rush hour and the train was crowded. The three-seat rows on the LIRR have a particular design where the seat closest to the aisle has a lowered backrest. Walter was seated in the middle seat, another passenger was next him in the window seat. A woman boarded the train and quickly took the empty aisle seat next to Walter. The train started up and after a moment the woman turned to Walter and said: “Excuse me, could we please switch seats?”

“No thank you,” Walter replied, “I am comfortable where I am.”

Surprised by his refusal the woman turned back. After a couple of minutes back and forth in the seat trying to get comfortable, she tried again:

“Excuse me but I have a back problem and these aisle seats are not good for it. Could we please switch seats so that I don’t hurt my back?”

“No thank you,” Walter replied again, adding that there were other cars and other seats if she wanted to look elsewhere.

The woman turned back again, but now the pot was on the front burner. She pushed this way and that all over the seat trying to make the best of the diminutive backrest. But physical comfort was impossible given the emotional stress and the explosive logic of fight or flight.

After a few more minutes of elevated heart rate and swirling interior monologue, she boiled over.

“You know, I can’t believe you. Someone with a bad back asks you to switch seats so that they are not in pain and you are so selfish as to say no. I feel sorry for you. ”

To which Walter calmly replied, “You know, I feel sorry for me too.”

Realizing that this was no ordinary mad man, the woman had no option but to gather her things and march off in a huff. After she had left the car a passenger in the row behind who had been following the drama tapped Walter on the shoulder.

Walter turned around and the man said to him, “That was beautiful.”