Life as an Extreme Sport

16 Acres

Sometimes, the problem with internet and internet news is that links eventually die, and thinks you want to document go away. So, although I’m linking to this Olbermann transcript, I’m also quoting it in entirety here. It’s something that should not be forgotten.

Half a lifetime ago, I worked in this now-empty space. And for 40 days after the attacks, I worked here again, trying to make sense of what happened, and was yet to happen, as a reporter.

All the time, I knew that the very air I breathed contained the remains of thousands of people, including four of my friends, two in the planes and — as I discovered from those “missing posters” seared still into my soul — two more in the Towers.

And I knew too, that this was the pyre for hundreds of New York policemen and firemen, of whom my family can claim half a dozen or more, as our ancestors.

I belabor this to emphasize that, for me this was, and is, and always shall be, personal.

And anyone who claims that I and others like me are “soft,”or have “forgotten” the lessons of what happened here is at best a grasping, opportunistic, dilettante and at worst, an idiot whether he is a commentator, or a Vice President, or a President.

However, of all the things those of us who were here five years ago could have forecast — of all the nightmares that unfolded before our eyes, and the others that unfolded only in our minds — none of us could have predicted this.

Five years later this space is still empty.

Five years later there is no memorial to the dead.

Five years later there is no building rising to show with proud defiance that we would not have our America wrung from us, by cowards and criminals.

Five years later this country’s wound is still open.

Five years later this country’s mass grave is still unmarked.

Five years later this is still just a background for a photo-op.

It is beyond shameful.

At the dedication of the Gettysburg Memorial — barely four months after the last soldier staggered from another Pennsylvania field — Mr. Lincoln said, “we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.”

Lincoln used those words to immortalize their sacrifice.

Today our leaders could use those same words to rationalize their reprehensible inaction. “We cannot dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground.” So we won’t.

Instead they bicker and buck pass. They thwart private efforts, and jostle to claim credit for initiatives that go nowhere. They spend the money on irrelevant wars, and elaborate self-congratulations, and buying off columnists to write how good a job they’re doing instead of doing any job at all.

Five years later, Mr. Bush, we are still fighting the terrorists on these streets. And look carefully, sir, on these 16 empty acres. The terrorists are clearly, still winning.

And, in a crime against every victim here and every patriotic sentiment you mouthed but did not enact, you have done nothing about it.

And there is something worse still than this vast gaping hole in this city, and in the fabric of our nation. There is its symbolism of the promise unfulfilled, the urgent oath, reduced to lazy execution.

The only positive on 9/11 and the days and weeks that so slowly and painfully followed it was the unanimous humanity, here, and throughout the country. The government, the President in particular, was given every possible measure of support.

Those who did not belong to his party — tabled that.

Those who doubted the mechanics of his election — ignored that.

Those who wondered of his qualifications — forgot that.

History teaches us that nearly unanimous support of a government cannot be taken away from that government by its critics. It can only be squandered by those who use it not to heal a nation’s wounds, but to take political advantage.

Terrorists did not come and steal our newly-regained sense of being American first, and political, fiftieth. Nor did the Democrats. Nor did the media. Nor did the people.

The President — and those around him — did that.

They promised bi-partisanship, and then showed that to them, “bi-partisanship” meant that their party would rule and the rest would have to follow, or be branded, with ever-escalating hysteria, as morally or intellectually confused, as appeasers, as those who, in the Vice President’s words yesterday, “validate the strategy of the terrorists.”

They promised protection, and then showed that to them “protection” meant going to war against a despot whose hand they had once shaken, a despot who we now learn from our own Senate Intelligence Committee, hated al-Qaida as much as we did.

The polite phrase for how so many of us were duped into supporting a war, on the false premise that it had ‘something to do’ with 9/11 is “lying by implication.”

The impolite phrase is “impeachable offense.”

Not once in now five years has this President ever offered to assume responsibility for the failures that led to this empty space, and to this, the current, curdled, version of our beloved country.

Still, there is a last snapping flame from a final candle of respect and fairness: even his most virulent critics have never suggested he alone bears the full brunt of the blame for 9/11.

Half the time, in fact, this President has been so gently treated, that he has seemed not even to be the man most responsible for anything in his own administration.

Yet what is happening this very night?

A mini-series, created, influenced — possibly financed by — the most radical and cold of domestic political Machiavellis, continues to be televised into our homes.

The documented truths of the last fifteen years are replaced by bald-faced lies; the talking points of the current regime parroted; the whole sorry story blurred, by spin, to make the party out of office seem vacillating and impotent, and the party in office, seem like the only option.

How dare you, Mr. President, after taking cynical advantage of the unanimity and love, and transmuting it into fraudulent war and needless death, after monstrously transforming it into fear and suspicion and turning that fear into the campaign slogan of three elections? How dare you — or those around you — ever “spin” 9/11?

Just as the terrorists have succeeded — are still succeeding — as long as there is no memorial and no construction here at Ground Zero.

So, too, have they succeeded, and are still succeeding as long as this government uses 9/11 as a wedge to pit Americans against Americans.

This is an odd point to cite a television program, especially one from March of 1960. But as Disney’s continuing sell-out of the truth (and this country) suggests, even television programs can be powerful things.

And long ago, a series called “The Twilight Zone” broadcast a riveting episode entitled “The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street.”

In brief: a meteor sparks rumors of an invasion by extra-terrestrials disguised as humans. The electricity goes out. A neighbor pleads for calm. Suddenly his car — and only his car — starts. Someone suggests he must be the alien. Then another man’s lights go on. As charges and suspicion and panic overtake the street, guns are inevitably produced. An “alien” is shot — but he turns out to be just another neighbor, returning from going for help. The camera pulls back to a near-by hill, where two extra-terrestrials are seen manipulating a small device that can jam electricity. The veteran tells his novice that there’s no need to actually attack, that you just turn off a few of the human machines and then, “they pick the most dangerous enemy they can find, and it’s themselves.”

And then, in perhaps his finest piece of writing, Rod Serling sums it up with words of remarkable prescience, given where we find ourselves tonight: “The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men.

“For the record, prejudices can kill and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all its own — for the children, and the children yet unborn.”

When those who dissent are told time and time again — as we will be, if not tonight by the President, then tomorrow by his portable public chorus — that he is preserving our freedom, but that if we use any of it, we are somehow un-American…When we are scolded, that if we merely question, we have “forgotten the lessons of 9/11″… look into this empty space behind me and the bi-partisanship upon which this administration also did not build, and tell me:

Who has left this hole in the ground?

We have not forgotten, Mr. President.

You have.

May this country forgive you.

Thunderstorms Today

It’s been humid for much of the day, culminating in thunderstorms – brilliant, fast downpours interspersed with humid, muggy sunshine, then shut down with lightning. Rinse and repeat; I suppose right now is a rinse period, as it’s downpouring and from the signs isn’t stopping soon.

I’m all over the map right now. I can be happy and excited one moment, and the next want to do nothing more than tuck in a corner, close my eyes, and wish my way home. A lot of this is a function of not having the best pain managment going – which should ease out in a few days of consistent medicine-taking. But it’s also the new kid in town thing – hard to meet people, and takes time. I really sort of have the advantage in this one, as I’m not the only new person in the department. I do appear to be the only one who moved here alone, though. Still – everyone has been very nice, chatty, and going out of their way to make me at home. I’m lucky to be here, and am not regretting it a moment.

Still, it’s hard not to have a day like this and be wistful for hills, Seattle’s Best, QFC, Jesus Christ Making Seattle Under Protest, markets and flowers and most of all, my friends.

Friday Ethics Roundup

The good folks over at the AJOB blog have been a bit busy lately, and thus there’s not been as much discussion going on in the blog. However, Sean is apparently superhuman, requiring no sleep, and has been keeping up the Bioethics Newsfeed. I’ve been wanting to chitchat about some of the articles that he’s been finding, and although I’m basically talking to myself here, this is going to have to do.

First up is the whole Merck/Vioxx chaoscluster. It seems that Merck hired an independent firm to look over the Vioxx scandal, and see if Merck should have done things differently. Perhaps not at all surprising, the hired and paid for by Merck “independent council” found that Merck did no wrong, and couldn’t have known before 2004 that there were heart risks with Vioxx. Nevermind that the “investigation” didn’t find, discuss or disclose any documents, emails, or etc that hasn’t already been in the public domain these last two years. Or the fact that what is available to the public shows internal scientists worrying about the negative side effects of Vioxx as far back as 1997. Nope, Merck did a bangup job, and will continue operating as they have been.

I can appreciate that outside legal folk are saying that don’t look at an internal investigation skeptically (which, as an aside, is a word like awkward, so far as spelling goes) ’til you’ve looked at the data, but in this case, the outside legal person hasn’t seen the data, either. And how can you not take a look at the public evidence already available and go “wow, the company screwed the pooch, and then went back for seconds” ?

According to the NYTimes,

The main body of the report runs 180 pages, with 20 appendixes that include another 1,500 pages. Lawyers for Debevoise reviewed millions of pages of documents and interviewed more than 150 witnesses, including some outside scientists who consulted for the company. The investigation took 53,000 hours, according to Debevoise.

The report, however, has no narrative explaining how Raymond V. Gilmartin, Merck’s former chief executive, communicated with Dr. Edward M. Scolnick, its former chief scientist, or other senior scientists and executives at Vioxx during the years it was under development and then on the market.

Instead, it essentially consists of point-by-point rebuttals of the criticisms that scientists and plaintiffs’ lawyers have made against Merck since the company withdrew the drug, including contentions that Merck misled federal regulators and marketed the drug without properly disclosing its heart risks.

The specifics of the rebuttals are almost exactly the same as those offered by Merck’s defense team in the civil suits against the company. Hmm. Does that sound independent to you? ‘Scuz me whilst I wipe the sarcasm off my desk…

~*~

New Scientist has an interesting article about the link between psychological cleanliness and physical cleanliness. Basically, we have the urge to scrub sin away – physically. Called “the Macbeth effect”, for darlin’ Lady Macbeth’s “out damned spot” soliloquy (I need to get my wifi router set up – it’s amazing how much I rely on the ‘net for spelling), it was prompted by noticing that pop culture makes sinners wash (especially murderers). Their methodology as described in the article was certainly interesting, but it really raises more questions for me than simply saying “voila! we have a clear link and thus it shall be”; or in less dramatic terms, as Philip Tetlock said, “this final experiment establishes a link between moral and physical cleanliness.” That, I just don’t buy.

I’d like to see what level of “sin” (or shall we call it unethical or personally immoral behaviour?) is necessary to instigate this washing effect. Do we need to clean ourselves off when we lie? How big a lie? Is it only for something worse? Do people convicted of murder, the so called professionals, wash? What about people who rape? Rape victims certainly wash, scrub violently in an attempt to clean themselves, but is this their own perceived sin they’re washing away – guilt complex gone awry – or someone elses?

It simply seems too soon to tie a bow around this idea. It’s definitely intriguing, and I love it when culture and science slam together to provide something new, but I simply don’t see it as a finished, locked up and down, conclusion.

~*~

And finally, and personally, the DEA finally did something right for once, proposing

a formal rule that would allow doctors with patients who need a constant supply of morphine-based painkillers to write multiple prescriptions in a single office visit. Under the new rule, a doctor can write three 30-day prescriptions at a time — two of them future-dated — to be filled a month apart.

This means my life just got a lot easier. I cannot stress what a bitch it is to try to get into a busy specialists office every month, be charged for a 20 minute visit, all so the following conversation, which takes less than 5 minutes, can be had:
Doctor: So, how’s the pain?
Me: About the same. Not well managed, but I’m functioning.
Doctor: Okay, no prescription issues?
Me: Just running low.
Doctor: Okay, here ya go – see you next month.
Me: Danke!

This way I’ll be able to walk out with three months of prescription at once, and be responsible for filling and treating my pain on my own – which is how it should be. I’m the one who lives with this daily, and am the one who should be deciding how much and what I need, medicine-wise, to function. Three month visits are what’s recommended for most chronic pain problems, and now I can actually do that realistically and comfortably, instead of having to do the counting-ration once a month. Halle-fucking-lujah!

Late and Early

Insomnia struck tonight – I guess that’s what happens when I don’t take something to help me fall asleep. I’m running low on that arsenal, though, and can’t afford to pick up Lunesta on my own. I have to wait for both finaid and my prescription card to get here, and who knows how long that will take. So I thought, since I was sleepy, I’d just wait for the sleepy to become the sort of sleepy where, well, you go to sleep.

It’s 5:15am, and that hasn’t happened yet.

So on the one hand it’s late. I had a full day, too – the first day of class. I think I’ll enjoy it; phenomenology with Ron. It looks like it will be a good blend of familiar while also pushing what I know.

After class, I wandered through the graduate student office, chatted with a couple of people, and started to meet the other students. By some weird twist of fate, everyone I talked with today was also new, and we all seem to hit it off well. An added plus? We all have slightly overlapping, but very different interests. This means we compliment one another well; N~ will be able to help me with, say, political philosophy, while I can probably help Sa~ with phenomenology.

The important thing, though, is meeting people I like, and that I can talk to.

I played in the library after that, and I ended up bringing home a stack of books, a stack of books I don’t have to return until 2007. Anyone who remembers my bitching about the UW library policy for undergraduates doing research (essentially, nothing) will know how much this fills me with joy. And even better, I can have up to 200 books out at a time! Delicious freedom!

Anyhow, I did a couple of other things, and got home in time to eat dinner before my Weds night entertainment. I figured I’d be in bed around midnight, 1am at the latest. But that didn’t happen, and now it’s late.

It’s also early. We’ve ventured into and are soaking in that time of the morning I love, when the world is quiet and soft, and it seems like it can’t be complete without a cup of tea and perhaps a few biscuits at hand. It’s the dawn version of the gloaming, the world holding its breath as it waits for the sun. This is a wonderful time of day for me, and I’m always extremely productive during it. (So you’d think I’d consistently get up at this hour. The problem, of course, is that there’s so much on in the evening I enjoy, and I truly am still a night owl. What I need to do is be able to sleep from 8am – 2pm!) So I feel like I should do things, unpack things, organize and make right. I’d love to have everything set up here by Monday at the latest, but I don’t see that happening without serious energy or help. Naturally I feel like I should take advantage of this time of day and the energy and wholeness that comes with it.

Except, of course, the fact that my arm hurts when I even flex it (yet I still type; I know, I know), and the more base fact that I appear to have slipped into hallucinating slightly. It’s that sort of watery world hallucination, where you are suddenly seeing everything through 5 feet of slightly waving water. My senses are hyperalert, just…wrongly so. So in addition to the natural wonder of this time of day, I have the crystalline perceptions of a world slightly distant, shot with electric pain at every twitch.

And now, two cats, both insistently cuddling and purring. Perhaps I should rearrange things so that they have more room than the computer, and contemplate how I’d like to arrange my books – maybe I’ll get better perspective from a horizontal position. One that includes a squishy thing other than cat, and a a shawl knit from love and friendship.

The Return of House

House returns tonight, and I’m politely delaying this post for my West Coast friends. However, y’all are SOL after 12am EST. If you haven’t watched the show yet, don’t read the rest of this entry.

Anyhow, the much anticipated return of House, and perhaps this year I’ll actually start making more thoughtful posts about it. I do seem to start the beginning of school optimistic that I’ll be intelligent and thoughtful about what I’m watching; always seems to devolve quickly. Of course, the difference is that I’m going to be taking a lot fewer credit hours now, not to mention not teaching or doing anything else – this should lend itself more to thougthful analysis. Tonight’s episode, for example, is an excellent illustration of cost benefit analysis and hospital administraion (Cuddy) versus doctor desire for treatment. Of course, since this is a television drama, at the end Cuddy bends and does what’s right – which is not always what is just, ethical, or beneficial – and heals the patient with House’s cure. It was a beautiful, touching scene, and I’m a big softie so of course I cried.

And then Cuddy didn’t tell House, per Wilson. Because Wilson feels House needs to learn “no”, and this is the way he will – by not having an evidence-based reason for treatment, being told no, and learning that he must always have a scientific reason, nevermind that his entire job is predicated upon seeing clues no one else does, and he not even always understands. Ahem.

I’m not certain I’ve ever been clear just how conflicted the character of Wilson leaves me. He’s an oncologist, he should understand chronic pain. And yet he has, for the past three years, scorned House his pain, refused to help, challenged him to go without medication, and generally been a complete ass. Yet at the same time he’s endearing – a funny sense of humour, wry, sarcatic, and the perfect foil to House. But over the last year, they’ve started making Wilson into something I don’t quite like, and this episode seals it. Thankfully, it looks like the following episode will blow it right open.

There is a scene about 50 minutes in to the episode that I ache in resonance to. House is running, trying to enjoy the feeling, the floating, the freedom that comes when you’re not in pain. He overheats, and stands in a fountain to cool down. But he’s finding that high, the bliss, the feeling of adrenaline and endorphins that, if you have nastyass chronic pain, you get when you’ve pain relief and no other way.

I can’t remember the last time I felt that way without the assistance of chemical aid. The last time I’ve been able to push my body to extremes and feel joy, instead of fire.