Oscar's Gift

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Life and Death

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Waiting for ObamaCare

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Psycho

If you didn't have enough proof that corporations fit every description of  "psychopath", here's the latest:

Energizer Holdingsthe consumer goods conglomerate that produces Banana Boat products, announced Friday that certain of the brand's sunscreen sprays may potentially burst into flames on users' skin if they come in contact with a flame or spark before the spray is completely dry.
Energizer said it has received reports of four "adverse events" in which the sprays have caused burns in the U.S., and one in Canada."Adverse events"??? How else would you categorize someone responsible for causing a human being to suddenly and without warning burst into flames and calling it an "adverse event", if not a psychopath?

"Mr. Browne, this is County Hospital calling. I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your 16 year old daughter was sunbathing and she had a um, 'adverse event'."

"Dang--that girl seems to be allergic to just about everything. How bad is it?"

"Well, let's just say that if she wanted to be cremated, she saved you a little cash."

Full Story.


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Breaking news!

There were no mass killings in the United States, today. Oh, wait--yes, there was.

A shotgun-toting man in suburban Milwaukee, Wisconsin killed three women and injured four others before turning the gun on himself.

There have been at least seven separate incidents of mass murders in the U.S. so far this year, with 110 killed or injured. Has anyone ever stopped to ask why such actions occur with seemingly increasing frequency? I don't mean asking yourself a rhetorical question about it as if there is no known answer to the situation. I mean sitting down and analyzing why a country touted as the land of milk and honey, where opportunities abound, and where the American dream can come true for anyone, has violence on the scale one expects from a third world country steeped in poverty?

Sit down right now and make a list of all the ways in which the U.S. is quite different from most developed countries. The answer will be in front of you. Some of the items may seem counter intuitive to spurring deadly violence on a large scale, but if you think outside the box, you may come to understand the connections.

Then go out and preach the message.

Some of you will think I'm talking nonsense. Others of you won't care, because as long as you're getting yours, so what if (other) people are dying. It's the cost of doing business, right? Wrong. People living in other places in the world are consistently shown to be healthier, happier, more content than Americans, and with a fraction of the threat of violence. It boggles the mind what some people accept as normal and hardly ever give it a thought.

Once again, police respond to a multiple shooting-death scene.

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Life is ebbing away

I'm 54 years old and I'm dying. I don't have cancer. I don't have heart disease. I don't have any terminal affliction at all. As I was watching a documentary about the making of the 1957 movie Sweet Smell of Success (starring Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis and Martin Milner, best known for Adam-12), something I've been feeling for a few years now suddenly became clear. Every time another celebrity from my early life passes away, so too does a piece of me. I have seen hundreds of heroes and villains alike go to the great beyond. This evening, it felt like there's very little left of me to die.

It doesn't help that I have lost interest in some of the things that used to inspire, enlighten and fill my life with joy. I haven't been to the movie theatre in four years, before that, it was ten years. Between the years I was five and twelve years old (early 60's), I used to go to the movies once a week. It shaped my early impressions of life. Later, when I was about 20, I returned to my weekly habit of movie-going. That lasted about 10 years. It seems that the biggest draw became special effects.

I had the misfortune of having a formative mind just at the time that rock and roll was born. Misfortune, because once the explosion and subsequent wave of incomprehensibly historic music waned, for me, it was as if music had died altogether. Hip hop just doesn't cut it after living through Elvis, The Twist, Beatle Mania, The British Invasion, Woodstock, Heavy Rock, etc.

I never realized how much some of the celebrities who were a part of my life meant to me until they were gone. I don't even understand now why watching an episode of the Dean Martin Roast series on YouTube practically brings me to tears even though I might have a huge grin on my face. I mean other than the fact that probably about half the guests from those shows are ghosts now. It's as if the death of each figure from my childhood takes a little of the colour of my soul away and soon I will be invisible...like them.

I wasn't ready for it, although it's perfectly logical that a point would be reached where the rate of dying celebs from any era would reach a crescendo. At my current age, many of the actors, musicians, comics, etc. that I watched, listened to, laughed at and idolized in my early life, who were just establishing themselves are now about 65-75 years old--right about life expectancy for them. I have mourned so many of the older ones already; I feel I don't have the heart to endure any more. Here is just a sample of the prominent figures who met their maker in 2008...

Suzanne Pleshette - Emily on The Bob Newhart Show.

Roy Scheider - French Connection, Jaws

Sir Arthur C. Clarke - 2001-A space Odyssey

Richard Widmark - Judgement at Nuremberg

Charleton Heston - Ben Hur, Planet of the Apes

Dick Martin - Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In

Harvey Korman - Carol Burnett Show, Blazing Saddles

George Carlin - Comic

Larry Harmon - You probably know him by his "other name"--Bozo the Clown

Isaac Hayes - Wrote the theme from Shaft, the chef on South Park

Jerry Reed - When You're Hot, You're Hot, Amos Moses, Smokey and the Bandit

Paul Newman - List too long

Bettie Page - 50's pin-up model, early Playboy centrefold

Van Johnson - Actor

Rock and Roll Heaven

Ripped from the headlines

Portland Tribune - Fort McMurray, Alberta

A man has been charged with marijuana possession and cruelty to animals in an unusual case in this sleepy Canadian town. Fred Ketchup will be arraigned in court on Monday after police received a call about the suspicious death of a beaver.

A man walking along a ravine came upon the remains of the animal. The scene appeared suspicious and police were summoned. While authorities were investigating, incredibly, Mr. Ketchup, whose property backs onto the ravine, appeared at his back fence nonchalantly smoking a joint.

Police smelled the pot and went to speak with Fred. After a few minutes he was taken into custody and driven to the station where he allegedly confessed that he had stashed a bag of marijuana at the foot of a tree by the ravine.

Police released this photo as a warning to area beavers of the dangers of marijuana.

How ironic is it?

How ironic is it that a video game about death, destruction and war is rated "M"? I don't know about you, but what I would call someone purchasing such a game is definitely not "Mature". Maybe the "M" rating stands for "Moron"?

Caught in a web

I spotted what appeared to be a dead housefly on the floor beside my
dresser. As I bent down to have a look, I saw that it was caught in a
web with lines so thin, they were virtually invisible. Nearby, a very
tiny spider sat patiently. The fly struggled to free itself, but it was
in vain. After a few moments, the spider moved in. The fly was about
100 times the size of the spider. Nonetheless, he grappled with the
fly for a while and suddenly the fly was still.

Surprisingly, that minuscule arachnid managed to drag the fly away
behind the dresser. I stood up and tried to think what I should do. My
first inclination would be to move the dresser, and sweep up the web,
fly and spider, not necessarily in that order, and dump the mess in
the garbage can. That was about a week ago. In the meantime, I looked
in on my house guests several times by moving the dresser slightly,
and though it is too dark to see spider or web, the fly remains.

I feel powerless to make a difference even to a dead fly, a
microscopic spider and the web and dust that is collecting back there.
I don't want to kill the spider or remove his source of food, even
though I cannot tell if he is even still there. The crazy thing is
that this inconvenience to me, a clean freak, weighs on me. For another
reason. It seems this spider has more influence in the universe than
I do. After all, he took down a monster 100 times his size and I can't
seem to take down a speck which is him that is one billionth the size
of me.

A thought suddenly strikes me: How much "humanitarian" currency am I earning for this?
How much did I earn when I made a sizable donation to the Southeast
Asia Tsunami relief fund when it was I who was in need of funds? How
much did I earn when I gave to The hospital For Sick Children in
Toronto when it was I who was in need of care? How much did I earn
when I walked 30 miles for The United Way charity while I now walk alone? Like my
existence in this world, the answers don't make a lick of difference.
The truth is, whatever good I have done, and admittedly, it wasn't
enough, I would do it and more, again, regardless of the outcomes. I
just reserve the right to bitch about it. For you see, it is I who is caught in a web.

Memories of Sam

We had always thought our cat Sam to be stupid. I'm not sure how he rated compared to other felines since we never had another cat and have never known any others intimately. He just seemed pretty dumb. However, he did have flashes of brilliance. Many years ago, we found that if we hung a rubber band over a (toggle type) light switch, he would jump up and pull it down, and in the process, the light turned off. It was impressive to our guests when we demonstrated this trick as I shouted "Turn off the light, Sam", especially if they didn't notice the rubber band I had placed there ahead of time.

Another thing he did, was close the cupboard door by pushing it with his head after I had poured his food and then put the food bag back in the cupboard. He would only do this if I poured the food into his dish on the counter. If I tried the operation on the floor, a tank couldn't keep him from getting at the food in the dish. He just started doing it all by himself. Occasionally, he didn't do it but if I moved the cupboard door, he'd get the idea and push it closed with his head.

Not long before I had to put him down for health reasons (his not mine), I taught him something else. He used to try and get at his food dish so fast as I was placing it on the floor that sometimes he caused me to spill water onto the floor. To avoid this, I would push down on his back, forcing him to lay down about 18 inches from his "dining area" and I shouted "Stay!". He would usually stay there until I placed the dish down and gave him the order and motioned to "Go!". It sounds sick and cruel, but sometimes, just for fun, I made him stay there for 20 seconds or longer, repeating "Stay!" whenever he started to make a move for the dish. :)

In the end, I got much too used to him. He was such a long-time and close friend that it was like he was human. Once, while on the computer (me, not him), there came a noise from another room. He was laying behind me on the bed where he usually was when I was at the keyboard. I turned to look at him and without thinking, I said "Go and see what that noise is".

More evidence of my lunacy: I put water on the burner and came back to my PC while it was heating up. I suddenly realized that I had left it too long and as I made a dash for the kitchen, I noticed him laying in the hall. As I stepped over him, I angrily said "Why didn't you remind me I had water on the burner?".

RIP, Sam.

On extreme capitalism

I just came across something I posted to a message board a couple of years ago and I like it so much I'm posting it here:

America was founded by people tired of being "oppressed" by others. A nation founded on the principle of freedom. However, with freedom comes competition. And with competition comes great winners and great losers. Those who find ways to win at all costs often destroy weaker competitors, even if only by circumstance. And the strong who acquire power and status are able to circumvent the few rules/laws meant to protect the weak by hiring fast-talking, Harvard-educated, charismatic executives and lawyers. The weak, in desperation, turn to crime or end up on the streets or both. In a dog eat dog world, this polarization is inevitable.

The ultimate example of freedom is nature. And we can learn a lot from observing it. Animals are free to do whatever they please, so long as they are bigger, stronger, have sharper teeth--whatever gives them an advantage over other animals. And what do we see in nature? We see packs of vicious animals preying on the weak, old, young and infirm. And then, even in the winning group, the stronger ones eat first and the most. Pecking order dictates that those most in need, often end up dying.

I contend that while freedom to succeed is a good strategy to promote discovery and invention and therefore a better life for all overall, it does not hold that more freedom means even more success. I believe there is a point that when crossed, it puts people closer to the realm of animal behaviour than we should want. That point is when profit is put ahead of human life.

When pollution is allowed on a scale that causes human illness or death, when water or food supplies are insufficiently tested that threatens human health, when competition is so fierce that the stress causes great numbers to either take meds for life, give up or be unable to find adequate employment, when crime is seen as a viable alternative to the rat race, when landlords have the right to maintain unlivable conditions, when corporations produce defective products that can harm or kill people and do so because lawsuits may be cheaper to settle than the cost of a recall, that point has been crossed. We are behaving like animals.

At the track

I went to my local thoroughbred racing track this past Saturday. I had my usual luck when betting a horse trained by one of the better trainers there. For one reason or another, I have lost every bet save for one that I have ever made on his horses. I always seem to bet the right horse at the wrong time. Horses with proven records never seem to win when I bet on them.

Anyway, on this occasion, a new way was found for the horse I bet on to lose. The horse started out fine around the middle of the pack. By about one third of the length of the race, he had worked himself up to first. Suddenly he pulled up very quickly and went out of camera range, all the horses advancing well past him--not a good sign. A thought popped into my mind of how appropriate the horse's name was given these circumstances--Payday Peril.

At that point I got up from my chair where I had been watching the race on a big-screen monitor and went outside to see what the matter was. Somehow, the horse had managed to make his way almost a half mile further along the track and was right in front of me where I exited the grandstand. I thought maybe there was hope for the horse since he had gone that far after sustaining whatever ailed him.

He was surrounded by 5-6 people, including his trainer which I recognized. While a couple of men consoled the horse, a couple more were checking out his front legs. My view was slightly obstructed, so I couldn't see exactly what was going on. Just then, the horse reared up and then immediately laid down and suddenly there was no movement. I tried as best I could to look for any signs of breathing. I could not detect any. The horse was very eerily still and I concluded they had euthanized him.

It broke my heart. It made me realize how insignificant my wager on this horse was. This horse who had worked his heart out in perhaps ten races or more, having won three of his last six, including his last two, had earned a small fortune for his connections and had the promise of even more success. I can only hope that he had received the affection and fine treatment he deserved.

They placed a large screen between the horse and onlookers (too late, I thought) and prepared to load the poor creature into the horse ambulance. I retreated back to my seat and remarked to those sitting near me "I think they euthanized that horse". My comment was greeted with stone silence of indifference.

Anyone who has ever entered a horse racing establishment would have immediately noticed how unsavoury many of the patrons are. They are loud, boisterous, rowdy, unkempt, of poor breeding and generally lack proper hygiene. But that day, I found yet another adjective to add to the list: heartless.

Late that night, I googled the horse's name and to my surprise and dismay, I couldn't find a single item relating to the horse's death (or less likely, his condition). I even checked the race track's own website to no avail. The fine career and promise of this horse, and his painful and sad passing had gone by without so much as a footnote.

As I was writing this today, Monday, I checked again for an item on the horse and am glad to see that a few sentences were written in a blog by Jennifer Morrison to mark the gelding's life and death. Jennifer Morrison is the track odds-maker. Kudos to her. The horse racing sport needs more like her.

Here is Jen's blog.

Shazzam!

There is an amusement park that is open 24/7, 365 days a year. The queue for their best ride, Shazzam!, is more or less constant and the average wait time is one hour. Still, people can't resist it's allure. The ride itself lasts five minutes (including two minutes for collecting tickets and safely securing and disembarking passengers). There is only one man servicing passengers. In any given period, the same number of people exit the ride as join the line waiting to get on. Occasionally, the line increases or decreases a bit but not dramatically so.

One day, Freddie, the ride operator, had an idea. He figured that since the line moves pretty well at a constant rate, the reason there is an hour wait is due to the constant backlog. So, he went to management and explained "If you put another man on the job to help me with the passengers until there is no queue left, I could then maintain the same pace as now--same number coming as going, and never have anyone wait longer than the five minutes it takes to operate the ride."

Management agreed and hired a temp for Freddie. Sure enough, within a few days, the line had dwindled, the temp was sent on his way (hopefully to do some equally helpful job) and the ride was operating smoothly. Well, you can guess what happened next. As word spread of the decreased wait time, more and more people wanted to ride Shazzam!, including people who had just gotten off. It wasn't long before the queue reached its previous and constant length and the wait time went back to an hour.

This story is not about an amusement park. It is about hospitals. And Shazzam! is not a ride, it is the Emergency Room. Waiting an hour to go on a ride may be unpleasant, but doing so in the ER waiting room could be life-threatening. People have literally died waiting. Why do we accept the unacceptable? Especially when there is a very simple solution?

"But, Vinny", you may be saying, "won't the wait times eventually go back to where they were as in your example?" Absolutely not. People don't decide whether to go to the hospital based on the wait times (or how much they enjoy "the ride")--they go to the ER when and because they have an emergency. Reduce the backlog and you should be able to maintain much faster service times with the current staff going forward.

This solution may not apply to rural hospitals where the number of ER patients fluctuates greatly, but then wait times are probably not as big an issue there, either. In big cities that don't sleep at night, the ER is almost always jammed. This is where it applies. This is where it's needed. Is anyone listening out there?