Because I Take Your Procrastination Very, Very Seriously

Reader, if you don't know who Ron Swanson is, may I suggest catching up on Parks and Recreation on Netflix? In one of the funniest episodes, Season 3's "The Fight," the office go to the Snakehole Lounge, where Tom is a part owner. To show their support of Tom's enterprise (involving the ever-delightful Jean-Ralphio) they indulge in a beverage called "Snake Juice." Hijinks ensue, the best of which can be seen here.

In a surprisingly horrible ad campaign, the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine have a bunch of utterly fatphobic billboards taking aim at cheese, of all things. They're apparently up in arms about childhood obesity and want schools to serve fewer dairy products. (Gets on soap box.) Really? We're sure that childhood obesity is caused by cheese, a whole food, and possibly the only whole food in a school lunch, and not by processed, frozen tater tots, pizza, corn dogs, and chicken nuggets? Or soda or food deserts or cuts to physical education? Are we sure it's the cheese? Really? Check out one irate parent's blog about the reality of school lunches.

Note: in the middle of this post, I paused for a cheese break--Gruyere and Havarti. Delicious!

Speaking of cheese, I guess you've all heard by now that Paula Deen was diagnosed with diabetes three years ago. Why is this news now, you ask? Great question! Because the woman who makes her livelihood shilling super fatty and insanely caloric food, who brought you the hamburger topped with bacon and a fried egg, nestled between two glazed donuts, disclosed her diabetes while announcing her new endorsement deal, shilling Novo Nordisk's diabetes drug Victoza. Which btw, terrible drug name. Her health is her business for sure, but something about the timing of this stinks to high heaven. fyi Serious Eats has a whole article series called "Paula Deen is Trying to Kill Us." Here you can find the recipe for deep fried butter you've been searching for.

Extreme Rain, Extreme Couponing

Item 1: This fucking rain. Enough. Already.

Item 2: Extreme Couponing. I grew up with a coupon-clipping mom who took the Sunday ritual of rifling through the circulars seriously. Scissors in hand, she would file coupons into her blue alphabetized accordion file which we were not to touch except to retrieve for her en route to the grocery store.

Extreme Couponing is nothing like this. The goal of extreme couponers is not to save a little on things you need this week but to pay as little as possible for as much as possible, whether or not you need it or can possibly use it within this millennium. Extreme Couponers strategically apply coupons, rebates and grocery store discount cards for things they don't need like bags of Nerds and fistfuls of Mentos to apply savings to things that they do need, like cases of soda, valu-paks of hot dogs and pallets of instant mashed potatoes. The goal of every Extreme Couponer is two-fold: to walk away from the grocery store with hundreds of dollars worth of items for less than $50 (less is ideal) and to grow their stockpile--a beloved collection of neatly arranged items warehoused in spare rooms, closets and garages. This show is like Hoarders cross-pollinated with off-the-grid survivalists with a sprinkling of Oprah fairy dust. The sheer determination and organization of these women made me wonder why they weren't applying their prodigious talents running global businesses instead of amassing bottles of Febreeze and Olay Body Wash, but that question is beyond the scope of this ranty post.

Item 3: The FDA issued new eating guidelines last week to address the growing obesity epidemic, called MyPlate.



Pretty straightforward, right? Much easier to look at how your plate is divided than to figure out how much 3 ounces of meat is or how many green beans are in a half cup. If you've even watched ten minutes of Extreme Couponing you'll know that no one on that show is filling half their grocery carts with fruits and vegetables and the most prominent grocery item featured on the show is soda, nowhere to be seen on MyPlate.

Check out nutritionist and food activist Marion Nestle's reaction to MyPlate but if you're not feeling clicky here's a hint of what might need to change to ensure all Americans have access to affordable fruits and vegetables to cover half their plates:

Pat Tillman

I reluctantly wrapped up the first season of The Walking Dead, leaving the post-zombie apocalypse world to find my next Netflix offering: The Tillman Story. On the surface, reader, this was a queue management fail but I persevered. There was nothing else to watch.

I knew the Pat Tillman story had something to do with the war in Iraq. However, I think I may have been conflating the Tillman family with the Sheehan family. My lack of sports knowledge is entirely to blame. It truly is a cultural handicap for which I require a reasonable accommodation.

Both the Sheehans and the Tillmans are from California. Each had sons killed in war in 2004: Casey Sheehan in Iraq and Pat Tillman in Afghanistan. The mothers of each man were spurred into action following their deaths; the similarities end there.

After Casey Sheehan was killed by enemy fire in Iraq, his mother Cindy subsequently became an outspoken critic of the war and of Bush's and later Obama's foreign and military policies. In 2008, Sheehan launched an unsuccessful bid for Congress in California, although she captured 16% of the vote, which is really pretty good considering she ran against Nancy Pelosi.

If you're anyone other than me, you already know who Pat Tillman was, but humor me: Pat Tillman was a football player for the Arizona Cardinals who famously turned down a $3.6 million contract to enlist in the Army with his brother Kevin shortly after September 11th.

The documentary, directed by Amir Bar-Lev, describes Tillman as disillusioned with the war after his first deployment in Iraq but returned for his second deployment to Afghanistan, where he was killed by friendly fire. This is not what the Army first reported to the family. In fact, as the movie unfolds, it becomes clear that the Army went to great lengths to cover up this incident, then try to cover up their cover-up.

On the one hand, I get it. The country's most famous soldier, a poster boy for patriotism and sacrifice for country, has been killed by another American with no enemy combatants in sight. What a shit show. Yet, this is one of the things that can and does happen during a war. Based on interviews in the film, I bet the Tillmans would have had a lot more respect had the Army simply acknowledged the terrible reality of these kinds of deaths that are part of war. But no, they suppressed the truth and tried to cover it up despite the event being witnessed by a fellow soldier who has consistently maintained what happened that day. I mean my god, if you're really intending to cover-up, then cover up! Kill all the witnesses! It's like the toddler who 'hides' by covering their eyes with their hands.

It gets worse. When responding to the Tillman family-encouraged government investigation of what happened and why, the responses from military leaders were all essentially variations on "I didn't get the memo" that Tillman had been killed by friendly fire.

Really! It makes total sense that when Tillman enlisted, Donald Fucking Rumsfeld sent him a personal thank you letter, but when Tillman was killed by fratricide, Rumsfeld didn't find out. At least not right away. Actually he's not sure when he found out. The memo may have been sent to the wrong office or misfiled by some incompetent clerk. Sure! I believe that! It's so hard to find good help.

The movie doesn't address the question of whether Tillman was actually assassinated. This is odd, because the circumstances surrounding his death are rather questionable--there was no sign of enemies according to the witness, no evidence of enemy gunfire, so what exactly prompted the other Americans to start shooting?

There are lots of articles on interwebs positing that this is exactly what happened. In addition to the lack of the cue for the shooting, Army medical examiners felt the bullet holes in Tillman's head did not support the story as relayed, but rather pointed to a closer-range shooting. Could the Army have been so worried that Tillman, their celebrity soldier who was disillusioned and not afraid to say so, would publicly tarnish the war that they decided to have him killed? I think I need to entertain the possibility.

Weepy Wednesday

Oh, reader. The political shit show in this country rolls on, so my love of Twitter was in full flower last night as I caught the developing hashtag #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement.

Does this phrase ring a bell? No? Allow me to enlighten: it's the response given by his office when idiot Senator Jon Kyl was called out on his Senate floor claim that abortion is "well over 90 percent of what Planned Parenthood does," when it's really 3%.

REALLY? Lying and then avoiding responsibility for lying is behavior a nursery school wouldn't tolerate. What choice did Stephen Colbert have but to launch a Twitter attack, which naturally the Twitterverse picked up gleefully?

Some of my favorites from Colbert:
Jon Kyl was sent from the future to kill Sarah Conner.
Jon Kyl developed his own line of hair care products just so he could test them on bunnies.
Jon Kyl can unhinge his jaw like a python to swallow small rodents whole.

Wait, there's more!! Some dingalings on Fox and Friends tried to convince their audience that the services offered at Planned Parenthood like breast exams and pap smears could be obtained at your neighborhood Walgreens. The normally poker-faced Colbert could barely keep it together for this absurd turn of reality:



Jesus wept. Here's a balm for your weary soul: Cute Roulette! Like Chat Roulette without the penises!

You'll Fume, But Will Be Glad You Did

Reader, I put off seeing Inside Job, the Academy Award-winning documentary about the financial crisis, for a long time knowing it would make me blood boilingly, teeth gnashingly cra-zay. However this weekend I broke down, largely because I forgot to keep moving it to the bottom of my Netflix queue, it subsequently appeared in my mailbox and I didn't think I could stomach the guilt of returning it unwatched.

So yes, it was just as I imagined it would be--awful, maddening, heart-breaking, but excellent. Director Charles Ferguson did a great job of breaking down all the contributing factors that led to the entirely foreseeable and totally preventable shit storm, with a minimum of Michael Moore-style inflammatory shennanigans.

Here's Ferguson, on why he made the film and why you should watch it, despite the good possibility that you'll be thrown into a state of rageful despair:



On an unrelated note, last week the Associated Press officially dropped the hyphen in 'e-mail' in their style book. I guess this was kind of a big deal.

Golden Globes: Recap

That red carpet was a fucking disaster. A few rays of light in the fashion darkness:

Dianna Agron looked stunning, as she usually does. Pulls off the fair skin, blond hair, champagne dress beautifully.

Though I would have preferred another color, navy maybe, Claire Danes was a knockout in her simple yet elegant column dress.

Kyra Sedgwick looked lovely in a gauzy orange gown. What can I say? I sort of love her.

I am heartily sick of the one shouldered gown but Mila Kunis looked fantastic.

And though many, indeed most dresses were quite bad, here are some of the worst offenders:

Natalie Portman, you usually look so pretty. Has your unborn child sucked all the style out of you? I can otherwise make no sense of this cheap looking fabric, the flower trying to beat your baby to breastfeeding, and your awful, tacky shoes.

January Jones, between this 'dress' fashioned from Band Aids and your nude Versace ads I feel like a baby seal being clubbed over the head--I GET IT, YOU'RE SEXY.

Michelle Williams: Just no. NO.

Turkeydaze

Reader, I thought I would be writing a scathing commentary about the incessant marketing of "Black Friday" and "Cyber Monday." How we can't possibly allow our gratitude to spill over into the day after Thanksgiving because what we really care about is stuff. Cheap stuff.

But then I encountered this clip and thought, this is disgusting. What in the world did black folks ever to do Sandra Lee?

The Rise and Fall of the Paycheck Fairness Act

Reader, I had not even heard of the Paycheck Fairness Act until a few days ago. Unfortunately, the bill which passed in the House of Representatives in January of 2009 was shot down by the Senate Wednesday.

Why are we still fretting about gender income disparity in 2010? This is a non-issue, right? Reader, brace yourself for this nugget of sadness:

The American Civil Liberties Union supports S.182, citing the fact that 2008 data from the United States Census Bureau showed that women earned 77 cents for each dollar earned by a man, while the corresponding ratios were 61 cents for African-American women and 52 cents for Hispanic women as compared to wages of white males.

Head, meet desk. How can it be that the gender income gap is still so large?

But, wait! We can explain these numbers, reader! It's because ladies make individual choices of flexible, family friendly work, which is naturally worth less because raising the next generation of workers is not important. Don't even get me started on how ridiculous this justification is, but it turns out the "individual choices" theory isn't even true:

From Newsweek:

Consider this survey from Catalyst, which found that female M.B.A.s who’ve made exactly the “right” life choices—no intention to have children, top-tier schools, high aspirations—still earn $4,600 less per year in their first jobs out of business school. Or U.S. Department of Education data, which separated pay by job sector to determine that whether women who go into teaching or business, social work or science—and before they’ve had the chance to cripple themselves by “life choices” (these are young, childless women we’re talking about)—they will still make roughly 20 percent less than the men they work with.

If you are interested in the history of pay disparity in the US and you've taken your blood pressure pill, you can read more here.

Reader, I've got lots of bones to pick with the President, but I couldn't be more aligned with his message on Wednesday:

I am deeply disappointed that a minority of Senators have prevented the Paycheck Fairness Act from finally being brought up for a debate and receiving a vote. This bill passed in the House almost two years ago; today, it had 58 votes to move forward, the support of the majority of Senate, and the support of the majority of Americans. As we emerge from one of the worst recessions in history, this bill would ensure that American women and their families aren’t bringing home smaller paychecks because of discrimination. It also helps businesses that pay equal wages as they struggle to compete against discriminatory competition. But a partisan minority of Senators blocked this commonsense law. Despite today’s vote, my Administration will continue to fight for a woman’s right to equal pay for equal work.

Can I get an amen?

Another Celeb Couple Calls It Quits, Plus

Oh, reader. I'm no better than US Weekly with my gossipy ways. However, I will make a commitment to never broadcast anyone's cellulite. There's a standard for you.

Moving right along. The incredibly talented and gorgeous Rachel Weisz and her husband director Darren Aronfsky have split after nine years of marriage. Can it be true that she's with Daniel Craig? He seems too old for her. Nope, I'm wrong. He's 42 to her 40 but check him out. Weathered, no?

I'm not sure why gay rumors have been swirling around Jake Gyllenhall for years. Is it solely because he played a gay cowboy in Brokeback Mountain? Interwebs search yields one Austin Nichols, actor and friend of Gyllenhalls's since high school and prime suspect boyfriend. Here they are at a Lakers game. If they are together, they are unbearably cute. I would pick this guy over Taylor Swift any day of the week.

Reader, if a train wreck had a wreck with another train wreck, it would be a lot like Married to Rock, the new reality tv show on E! about rock star wives. Wreckiest of all is Josie Stevens, wife of Steve Stevens. What can I say? My jaw dropped the moment she hit the screen ad pretty much never closed. Here's a clip for your viewing torture.

Sexism to Conquer Homophobia? I Think Not.

Reader, sigh. Like every other thoughtful progressive person, I am in favor of repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell. It's discriminatory. It's reactionary. Oh, and active military members aren't supporting it, either:

“Service members said the most important factors for unit cohesion and readiness were the quality of their officers, training, and equipment,’’ said Laura Miller, a military sociologist at the RAND Corporation, a private research group that has long advised the Pentagon, which conducted the study along with the University of Florida. “Serving with another service member who was gay or lesbian was not a significant factor that affected unit cohesion or readiness to fight.’’

Can I get a DUH!? So why did Dan Choi, poster child of the DADT repeal movement, decide to invoke sexism to battle homophobia by calling Harry Reid "a pussy [who] bleeds once a month" in a recent Village Voice profile?

The Service Women's Action Network (SWAN) quickly called out this dumbass move in an open letter to Choi, excerpted below:

Your comments about women are irresponsible, indefensible and inexcusable, and you should publicly acknowledge that fact. As a human rights advocate, you should know that degrading one group of people to promote the rights of another disserves everyone. Your sexist comments also undermine SWAN”s efforts to achieve our policy objectives, which include promoting equality for all servicemembers.

As an organization that advocates for equal opportunity for all servicemembers and veterans, SWAN is keenly aware that there is still a tremendous amount of misogyny both within the military and the LGBTQ community, and that misogynistic and homophobic language is rampant in the military.

Comments denigrating women's bodies, or suggesting that simply being a woman is abhorrent, are unacceptable. Unfortunately, this type of language is all too familiar to women in the military.

As a direct result of misogynistic language, a hostile work environment for servicewomen–both heterosexual and lesbian–is allowed to thrive. Hate crimes, sexual harassment, lesbian-baiting, gay-bashing and sexual assault have flourished. Adopting and promulgating hate-filled speech against women only serves to increase the danger that servicewomen and LGBTQ servicemembers face on a daily basis.

Choi issued an apology via Twitter. Which is also lame. C'mon Choi, get it together. Because in 2007 women made up less than 20 percent of the Army and Air Force, but accounted for nearly half of DADT’s discharges.

My mind remains boggled that still, STILL! the very worst thing you can call a man is a woman.

Fail.

Too Good Not to Post

What it is, reader. Today I learned of a new must have ladies' garment as seen on Jezebel. It's the Camelflage, underwear that erase any hints of the pushy labia lurking under your pants. Camelflage, the "original visual privacy undergament."

Who needs Camelflage? According to their website, this woman:


Because the only problem with wearing skin-tight white pants is camel toe. Right?

As I perused the Camelflage website, I was instantly reminded of last month's Vanity Fair, whose cover story featured a portrait of the world's most famous soccer (yes, yes: football) players, their prominently displayed junk straining against tiny nylon football panties.

This was no Ken-doll bulge, reader. You'll have to trust me on this one since Vanity Fair online doesn't show all the photos. I felt like I had stumbled onto gay porn. No worries about "smoothing over" man parts, or being the man "everyone is laughing at behind your back." Sigh.

Hippos, Lesbos and Gizmodos

Reader, my LORD.



Check out the rest of the baby hippo pictures from Zoo Antwerp here.

I wonder if that hippo babe looks so happy and well adjusted because he has two moms? If this study has anything to say about it, maybe so. No doubt this will send "family values" folks into a right tizz.

Confession: I have no idea who Justin Bieber is.

Apparently Alanis Morisette got married to rapper Mario "MC Souleye" Treadway. And I have no idea who he is, either. But mostly I was just mesmerized by her boobs in this picture.

Gizmodo continues their panting coverage of the new iphone 4. But it's still AT+T so I say maybe wait for another carrier? That we keep hearing about? Unless you can't. Which I totally understand. But don't forget that AT+T is putting the kibosh on unlimited data for new contracts. A move that is full of suck and too typical.

Yellow Jackets Are Bitchy Assholes

What it is, reader! I write this from a Bendryl induced haze so I apologize in advance if I don't make a lick of sense.

Friday afternoon at work as I was reaching into my bag to get some gum I felt a painful pinch. I yanked my hand out of my bag and this was attached to my finger:



I flung my hand to get it off of me and nearly cried like a baby. It was surprisingly, awfully painful so I took some Benadryl and ibuprofen and iced it for a while. It seemed to work so I thought that was the end of it. A few hours later, though, my finger started swelling up, was red, hot and ridiculously itchy. It wasn't quite this bad, but it was pretty close:



The next day was worse so I ended up calling the advice nurse who asked me if I was drooling or having difficulty breathing. I wasn't--would I wait on hold for ten minutes if I couldn't breathe?--but they asked me to come in anyway. Not sure why since all the doctor did was tell me I was having a normal reaction to a yellow jacket sting and that swelling and itching could go all the way up to my shoulder. I kid you not.

Today is 72 hours post-sting and my entire hand is still crazy itchy. This can last up to a week. Weep.


This is a yellow jacket's ass. Ouchy.

What Not To Wear: Cutting Deeper

Reader, today was my birthday. I am OLD years old. So I wanted to look, you know, a little nicer. I pulled out a lovely 3/4 sleeve ballerina style wrap sweater with crochet detail that I bought at Filene's Basement about six months ago but had yet to wear. This would be the right occasion to finally take the tags off!

Reader, it looked TERRIBLE. Whatever possessed me to buy a sweater that looked this bad? I clearly remember standing in front of the mirror at Filene's, tying the sweater this way and that, trying to get it to look the way it did in my head. You know, like Debbie Allen in Fame:



My efforts were in vain, but I bought it anyway, of course. I fell into Big Clothing Myth #1: If you love it, it must look good. Never mind what your reflection is actually telling you.

Since I couldn't put my finger on why exactly I didn't look like graceful Debbie Allen but possibly more like homeless woman, I chalked it up to things that I could change. With better pants, better hair, better lighting, in a different time zone, I was going to wear the shit out of this sweater.

But now, it will join the ranks of the discarded, unworn. With eyes unclouded by visions of Debbie Allen, I can see the problems, and they are legion: the sweater terminates at maximum love handle. The back is too loose and boxy, the opposite of what a slim ballerina sweater should be. Though interesting, the color is somewhat difficult. And it is highly likely that my cats would have snagged the crap out of all that crochet work.

Oh well, reader. Chalk it up to a learning experience.

What Not to Wear: Oakland Edition

I live in a one bedroom apartment with a pretty good amount of closet space but no other storage to speak of. Hence, the trunk of my car serves as a closet annex where I store camping gear and other outside/dirty stuff that would otherwise go in a garage like the grill, beach chairs, etc. But even with this storage on wheels, my bedroom closet was getting over-full and yet I still felt that I had nothing to wear. It was with this sense of frustration that I plowed through my closet this weekend. My mission: ditch anything that hadn't been worn in a year, was not flattering, or didn't fit properly. And be ruthless.

What I learned from today's exercise:

1. It doesn't matter how nice or expensive they are: unless I lose significant inches from my hips, stomach and butt, or grow four inches I must never EVER wear pleated pants again. I have seen tall, lanky women rock pleated pants in that fabulous gender-bending Greta Garbo way. But on my short, short-waisted, muffin-topped self? Schlumpy librarian. Goodbye.

2. Long dresses/skirts: disaster. Skirts should end anywhere in the zone between right above the knee and mid calf. Period. Though I would make an exception for a fabulous muumuu should one ever cross my path. I decided to spend some money shortening my very favorite skirt, an awesome Goodwill find, and a dress that I love, so that I look more fabulous and less like an extra on Big Love.

3. Boxy sweaters make me look like the Liberty Bell. Goodbye.

4. Despite the media blitz on the ropy muscular arms of Michelle Obama, Madonna and Sheryl Crow, I must admit defeat to my gene pool. I have the sausagey upper arms of the Russian/Italian/Irish peasant stock from which I come and am definitely not willing to go to the lengths it would take to overcome it. Instead, I ditched a half dozen shirts whose sleeves were too snug in that critical top third of the upper arm.

5. My sister recently met Stacey London of What Not to Wear and she gave the audience a lot of grief about capri pants, especially for the petite. I'm still on the fence about capris, or as my mom called them, "clam diggers." Done well, they seem to work on even semi-midgets like myself but I did ditch a few pairs today. I'm not sure if I understand yet what causes one pair of capris to be great and the other to be weirdly Munchkin-like. Thoughts, reader?

6. I've got quite a bit of junk in the trunk, as they say. Just like Sir Mix a Lot, I don't think it's possible for a woman's ass to look too big.



The downfall for the callipygian? Poor pocket placement, overly high-waisted, or both. To wit:



Poor Jessica Simpson got slaughtered for being fat in those last two pictures. Sure, she had gained some weight since sporting the Daisy Dukes, but the weight wasn't the problem. It was the damn high-waisted, weirdly-pocketed jeans. (Though that belt didn't help matters.) I said goodbye to a few of those today, too.

Reader, I filled four bags within an hour, brought them to the sidewalk outside my building, and they were gone almost instantly. I love city living! Not only does this save me a trip to the thrift store but I am thus prevented from having second thoughts and putting stuff back in the closet.

There are still some items in my closet that ought not be there according to the rules of my purge, but I made enough space so that I can open the closet door without all manners of clothing, blankets and lampshades falling on my head, so I'm satisfied for now.

Also? The older I get the more it becomes clear that I have exactly the same body shape as my mother. To think of all the times I mocked her unyielding shapewear, or compared her giant undies to a sail! Sorry I was such a brat.

Tuesday Recap

What it is reader! I'm just back from vacay, tan but fighting off a cold. I'm hopelessly out of date with all things interwebby, so let's do a quick recap of the week's events, shall we?

1. Folks' undies all in a twist about healthcare rationing. Really? Never had a doctor prescribe something for you that wasn't on your insurance formulary? You know, that list of drugs your insurance company will pay for?

2. Same folks undies all wadded up about socialized medicine? Expecting MediCare when you're 65? Socialized medicine. Like to get a response when you call 911? Socialized public safety. Like to borrow books from the library gratis? Socialized public services. Expect your kids to get a free education through grade 12? Socialized education. So STFU already! My patience for this non-argument has left the building.

3. Annie Liebovitz is broke. I care, a little, maybe.

4. Jet Blue has an interesting deal: fly all you want between September 8th and October 8th for $599. Offer ends Friday, so step on it.

5. Men can sport a gut and still be considered hip and attractive. This is news?

6. PETA takes sexism and fatphobia to stunning new heights. FAIL. Check out some of the links to other grody PETA ads at Feministing.

7. The third season premier of Mad Men was Sunday. You can read all about it here.

And I'm tired. Happy Tuesday, reader!

Oy and Then ...

Reader, preeminent African-American scholar and Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. was arrested on his own front porch for allegedly breaking into his own house last week. NOT GOOD. Then James Hannaham from Salon writes that the incident has made him "proud of America" because Gates was only arrested and not actually lynched by the police? Umm ... hooray? You can read more about this fiasco here and here.

Let's take a break from racial profiling and cancer to watch a clip from 30 Rock. This particular segment has got to be one of the damn funniest moments of this show and one of the many times I am absolutely mesmerized by Alec Baldwin:

Getting Sliced by Occam's Razor/Public Service Announcement

What it is, reader! Hope everyone's weekend was filled with thrills and chills or you at least finished the laundry.

Reader, have you heard of Occam's Razor? If not, you're surely familiar with the everyday translation: the simplest explanation that takes all the facts into account is usually the right one.

This is the theory hypochondriacs struggle with but Occam's Razor was made for you: in the absence of any other symptom, a headache is not brain cancer, but simply the need for a glass of water, a better night's sleep, maybe an aspirin.

But once in a while, really not all that often, the simplest explanation is not the right one at all.

And so we move on to the public service announcement component to this post, oral cancer awareness! How FUN!! Oral cancers in the young and healthy are on the rise. According to the Oral Cancer Foundation there was an 11% jump in cases in 2007 alone, thought to be due to a strain of HPV. Remember HPV? We talked about HPV a while back, when it leads to cervical cancer but HPV gets up to other mischief in your noggin, when mischief = sucky cancer.

So, reader: ask your dentist to screen you (which s/he should be doing anyway), don't ignore sores in your mouth that won't heal or any of these symptoms either.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. DUH.

Disclaimer: Sorry if this post freaks your shit out.


I can haz oral cancer screening?

Sexual Violence in the Congo and That Thing Attached to Your Ear

Reader, I'm not sure of the sequence of events that led me from watching episodes of Alice on YouTube to this clip from Raise Hope for Congo:



I've heard of conflict diamonds, sat through the not-so-stellar Blood Diamond, but never conflict minerals. I couldn't connect the dots between the Congo, cell phones and rape. It's like this: three critical minerals used to make cell phones (and computers) are tin, tungsten and tantalum. (That last one I had never heard of until today. Yay for the humanities!) Which are all mined in the Congo. And to maintain control of natural resources in the area, the militia uses rape. Vile.

Raise Hope for Congo is packed with interesting stuff, but check out some nifty learning resources here.

What can you do, short of embracing your inner Luddite?

1. Urge manufacturers to sign the Conflict Minerals Pledge here.
2. Tell a friend.
3. Tell all your friends.
4. Check on the current policies of companies you buy products from. Apple addresses this in their corporate site, which you can see here. Way at the bottom, "In addition, we require Apple suppliers using Tantalum or Tungsten, metals used in a small number of components, to declare that the metals are not sourced from illegal mining in the Democratic Republic of Congo."


Not sure what mineral this is, but it sure looks dramatic, doesn't it?