I've now posted twice on this topic. At the end of George Bush's presidency, he had the Department of Health and Human Services create a new rule that could allow health care workers, from HMO administrators to your local pharmacist, to deny you access to health care that they personally don't approve of. Yes, this includes family planning services but it also could impact other sensitive medical issues such as, end of life choices.
If you've read my past blog posts, then you know that the Obama administration has started taking the steps required to reverse this rule. Currently, the public comment period is in progress. This is your chance, as a citizen of the United States, to submit a comment to the Department of Health and Human Services. Now, I won't push you to comment the way that I would comment but if you feel the same way that I do about this issue, then click here to comment.
This rule as it stands is an insult to every citizen's freedom and privacy and in particular the freedom and privacy of women. As I've said, it could impact other controversial health care areas, but I believe that it would have the largest impact in the area of health care services for women.
I had a recent commenter who suggested that the patient just find another health care provider. I will restate my response to that now. Some of us Americans live in an area of the United States that is typically referred to as rural America. We don't have access to a lot of the things that people in more urban settings take for granted. I know, I moved here from Kenosha, WI, an urban mecca compared to the sticks I now reside in. Some of use simply do not have the option of finding another provider.
According to the US Census, the average person in my county travels approximately 24 minutes to get to work each day. That's a long way if you consider that we don't have public transportation services available and 13.7% of our population lived below poverty in 2007. I believe that number is much higher now due to our current unemployment rate of 16.4%. It may be easy to discount the 14,976 people that live in my county but every single one of them deserves comprehensive health care no matter how backwoods we may be considered by Detroit, Lansing or even, Washington, DC. In addition, I will add that the Right to Life culture is extremely (I mean EXTREMELY) prevalent here and any foothold that they can get in order to further their mission will be greedily grasped and effectively used against some of the poorest and most undereducated (nearly 22% of adults over the age of 25 have not graduated from high school) people in the state of Michigan.
With all that in mind (and in my mind), it is imperative that the rights of every American are fiercely defended to the inclusion of overturning this rule.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday Treat
Today I'm leaving you with the fabulous treat of one of my published poems (okay, it was in a cheesy, easy-to-get into poetry anthology under the title Fall, which incidentally is not my preferred title, but I retain the rights to it). Now, I know it's a bit morbid, but for a long time I was too (I prefer to consider myself twisted now).
Suicide
Falling downward
arms outstretched
towards angels
that
are not there
Save me
silent screams
pierce the still
night air
and when I land
the earth shudders
breath
rushes out
shakes the end
and
no more
flows back in.
© CMB 1989, 2000
Suicide
Falling downward
arms outstretched
towards angels
that
are not there
Save me
silent screams
pierce the still
night air
and when I land
the earth shudders
breath
rushes out
shakes the end
and
no more
flows back in.
© CMB 1989, 2000
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Do Nothing Day
I'm on strike. I'm not going to do anything today (which is really just wishful thinking, but I like the sound of it, "I'm not doing squat today. Screw that laundry. Dishes, where? Forcing my 7-year-old to fend for himself is neglectful? Says who? He's perfectly capable, just look at him! Besides, he loves cold cereal.").
You may wonder what I'm protesting (then again you may also be wondering why you are wasting your time reading this, hey, I can't help you there). Let me tell you. I returned to the US from Japan this past Wednesday. While in Japan I enjoyed weather that was pretty damn good, even when it rained it was still like 60 degrees out. After the never-ending winter in Michigan I was really basking in that warmth. So, as I mentioned, I returned home last Wednesday and for the most part the snow was gone. Yay! I had these visions in my mind. Things like waving good-bye to the treadmill in favor of actually plodding along outside on the pavement. Ah, such wishful thinking. I had to know it was some sort of cruel trick. I sure do now!
I went to bed last night to the not-so-soothing sounds of the wind blasting across the fields and through the trees and ultimately battering the side of our home. I woke up this morning (at 4:30, still having some time issues as a result of international travel) to a sparkly landscape, welcomed by children in December and cursed by nearly everyone at the end of March. Well, that's it! I'm protesting the snow.
It's still snowing.
Snow plows are out on the roads.
I really cannot take it anymore and therefore declare that today is Do Nothing Day!
Here's some nothing to consume at least twenty minutes of your day:
Hell of Sand
You may wonder what I'm protesting (then again you may also be wondering why you are wasting your time reading this, hey, I can't help you there). Let me tell you. I returned to the US from Japan this past Wednesday. While in Japan I enjoyed weather that was pretty damn good, even when it rained it was still like 60 degrees out. After the never-ending winter in Michigan I was really basking in that warmth. So, as I mentioned, I returned home last Wednesday and for the most part the snow was gone. Yay! I had these visions in my mind. Things like waving good-bye to the treadmill in favor of actually plodding along outside on the pavement. Ah, such wishful thinking. I had to know it was some sort of cruel trick. I sure do now!
I went to bed last night to the not-so-soothing sounds of the wind blasting across the fields and through the trees and ultimately battering the side of our home. I woke up this morning (at 4:30, still having some time issues as a result of international travel) to a sparkly landscape, welcomed by children in December and cursed by nearly everyone at the end of March. Well, that's it! I'm protesting the snow.
It's still snowing.
Snow plows are out on the roads.
I really cannot take it anymore and therefore declare that today is Do Nothing Day!
Here's some nothing to consume at least twenty minutes of your day:
Hell of Sand
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Today is Earth Hour!
Turn out your lights tonight at 8:30 p.m. for one hour to celebrate Earth Hour. By turning out the lights for just one hour we can make a huge impact on global warming.
Go to the website now to pledge your support, download a toolkit, write to President Obama, spread the word...
There are Earth Hour communities on all the major social sites: Flickr, YouTube, Facebook, MySpace...
Sunday, March 15, 2009
BookWyrme
Often times I find that I do not really have the opportunity to immerse myself in a trashy novel, or even good literature, while I'm at home. To borrow a bit from Prince, "2 get through this thing called life" I sometimes find that all the time that it takes to take care of family, work and farm does not allow me the lazy day afternoons that it takes to get through a book (in one setting, my preferred route).
Currently I find myself traveling and residing in a hotel, which gives me all the time I need for reading. I started at the Cherry Capital Airport where I picked up a trashy little thing called Lost Souls by Lisa Jackson. Now, Lisa Jackson is a New York Times bestselling author with more than 75 novels under her belt. Well, gee, her resume enticed me into this purchase as did the liner notes which indicated that it was a murder mystery with a vampire plot going on. Well, now, I'd like to take it back for a refund. Apparently being a New York Times bestseller is quite what it used to be.
I found this book to be a total disappointment. The plot was ultra-cheesy and had about as many twists and turns as a ruler though, of course, the obvious attempt was at a maze that would keep the reader on the edge of his/her seat. It was like putting together one of those wooden puzzles made for small toddlers (apparently they are called "Lift Out" puzzles.
The most annoying bit of her writing was her obvious infatuation with writing about how a body's hips rest on desks, counters, tables, cars, or anything that someone can lean their ass against. I even read the excerpt from her next novel Malice that was conveniently provided in the rear of Lost Souls and found even more gratuitous hip resting. I understand literary style but this is like a permanent tattoo on the face. I suggest compiling a couple of other tricks to juggle, it would make it just a tad bit more interesting for an ultra-nerd like myself.
Other very annoying things were the convenience of plot and character building. The heroine, Kristi Bentz, conveniently has been the victim of some sickos (apparently) a couple of times already. So she's a pro at getting in trouble. She's not a cop, that's her super-star dad, Rick, or any other profession that would make her past plausible. Seriously, if you are standing in the book store looking for some femmy murder mystery trash stick with Patricia Cornwell, that lady can write (I see she's got some Scarpetta cookbooks out even). If she's not available Kathy Reichs or Tami Hoag are acceptable substitutes.
Now, back to Chuck Palahniuk.
Currently I find myself traveling and residing in a hotel, which gives me all the time I need for reading. I started at the Cherry Capital Airport where I picked up a trashy little thing called Lost Souls by Lisa Jackson. Now, Lisa Jackson is a New York Times bestselling author with more than 75 novels under her belt. Well, gee, her resume enticed me into this purchase as did the liner notes which indicated that it was a murder mystery with a vampire plot going on. Well, now, I'd like to take it back for a refund. Apparently being a New York Times bestseller is quite what it used to be.
I found this book to be a total disappointment. The plot was ultra-cheesy and had about as many twists and turns as a ruler though, of course, the obvious attempt was at a maze that would keep the reader on the edge of his/her seat. It was like putting together one of those wooden puzzles made for small toddlers (apparently they are called "Lift Out" puzzles.
The most annoying bit of her writing was her obvious infatuation with writing about how a body's hips rest on desks, counters, tables, cars, or anything that someone can lean their ass against. I even read the excerpt from her next novel Malice that was conveniently provided in the rear of Lost Souls and found even more gratuitous hip resting. I understand literary style but this is like a permanent tattoo on the face. I suggest compiling a couple of other tricks to juggle, it would make it just a tad bit more interesting for an ultra-nerd like myself.
Other very annoying things were the convenience of plot and character building. The heroine, Kristi Bentz, conveniently has been the victim of some sickos (apparently) a couple of times already. So she's a pro at getting in trouble. She's not a cop, that's her super-star dad, Rick, or any other profession that would make her past plausible. Seriously, if you are standing in the book store looking for some femmy murder mystery trash stick with Patricia Cornwell, that lady can write (I see she's got some Scarpetta cookbooks out even). If she's not available Kathy Reichs or Tami Hoag are acceptable substitutes.
Now, back to Chuck Palahniuk.
Friday, March 13, 2009
I Really Think So
As I made my way down the steps, slick/saturated after hours of light rain, I relished the cool night air and looked about in wonder at the buildings/lights/bustle of a thousand feet. Just once I felt the step fall away from under me or my foot slid across the edge and I grabbed the wet rail just in time. In my shock I laughed as the owlish face, so close to mine, hoo-hoo-hooted in the only revenge available against this green-eyed, red-haired, tall, white woman who reminds him ever of that word, "Surrender."
The words in my mind are Thai, Indian, Tempura, Sushi...I must be hungry. Hungry for the variety I cannot hold in that little town in northern Michigan. Appalled at the constant reminder that our countrymen are abrasive. Aside from that it is a break from the constant reminder of our current troubles though a steady stream of CNN invades my room.
School shootings in Germany. I laugh as journalists attempt to revive the gun debate where clearly it cannot be brought. The laws there are strict and I admire their application yet still when a mind has an inkling that foments into an obsession it is clear that no law will prevent it (though I still support those laws that place some semblance of control on the possession of weapons). The journalists return to the usual: prior treatment of depression; pulling away from friends; alleged chat-room conversations. And none of it, none of it, will bring back the dead. There is something broken in a mind that turns to murder as a solution. Since when does murder relieve hurt feelings?
Bernie Madoff's jail cell. Again, I laugh...as he saves us a buck with his plea. What a snake. Over and over, the personal stories of those who lost so much and they have to start over again. Many, many must start over again, not just those in Bernie's wake. We need the assistance of the media to tell us that it is okay to start over and remind us that when we start over, we start at the bottom (not the top).
Four English soccer teams prepare for world domination. Damn and Hell-Yah!
Every morning I wake up to the closing bell on Wall Street. For three days in a row there are cheers and applause. Is this a return of confidence or just a belch in the market?
The rain continues, into another day. I know that the Buddha awaits me in Kamakura but today is not his. Perhaps tomorrow.
While my inclination is to ramble I'll just remember the immortal words of David Bowie, "Just you shut your mouse."
The words in my mind are Thai, Indian, Tempura, Sushi...I must be hungry. Hungry for the variety I cannot hold in that little town in northern Michigan. Appalled at the constant reminder that our countrymen are abrasive. Aside from that it is a break from the constant reminder of our current troubles though a steady stream of CNN invades my room.
School shootings in Germany. I laugh as journalists attempt to revive the gun debate where clearly it cannot be brought. The laws there are strict and I admire their application yet still when a mind has an inkling that foments into an obsession it is clear that no law will prevent it (though I still support those laws that place some semblance of control on the possession of weapons). The journalists return to the usual: prior treatment of depression; pulling away from friends; alleged chat-room conversations. And none of it, none of it, will bring back the dead. There is something broken in a mind that turns to murder as a solution. Since when does murder relieve hurt feelings?
Bernie Madoff's jail cell. Again, I laugh...as he saves us a buck with his plea. What a snake. Over and over, the personal stories of those who lost so much and they have to start over again. Many, many must start over again, not just those in Bernie's wake. We need the assistance of the media to tell us that it is okay to start over and remind us that when we start over, we start at the bottom (not the top).
Four English soccer teams prepare for world domination. Damn and Hell-Yah!
Every morning I wake up to the closing bell on Wall Street. For three days in a row there are cheers and applause. Is this a return of confidence or just a belch in the market?
The rain continues, into another day. I know that the Buddha awaits me in Kamakura but today is not his. Perhaps tomorrow.
While my inclination is to ramble I'll just remember the immortal words of David Bowie, "Just you shut your mouse."
I Think I'm Turning Japanese
Childhood stains one's memories like grapejuice on the upper lip of a five-year-old (and that is definately not how I want to say that but I want you to understand what I mean). My childhood is splattered with elephants on a platter; rice on a spoon; hot peppers scrunched between fingers; stink fish; tiger balm...whatever. Life is an endless quest for the comfort of childhood and my comfort is a woman named Sunee, wife of Buck, who saved her from a abrupt adulthood of prostitution and relinquished her to a marriage founded on love destined to be ever childless. A victim of a world in which it is absolutely acceptable to sell your daughter into slavery. A world in which a parent may profit from their daughter's body. A world that seems far from ours but is just right next door.
Because it was easy for my mother to forget me, she was not able to profit (at least, I don't think so), I lived and grew in Sunee's home. I watched her as she balled up rice into a bite-sized morsel ready to be dipped in the savory, sweet-hot red-pepper spice that scented her home. She was a child-woman who played with me and took care of her adult man in the same breath. I listened to the traditional music of her home and fell in love with the twanginess of it just as her husband enjoyed the twanginess of the country music that colored his rodeo rides. In my mind he was a rodeo star and I'm sure it was so. The cowboy savior.
I spent days in the doghouse with their Golden Retreiver, Pee Dee, or in the spare bedroom (which would have been their child's room) listening to Thai music and turning the elephant dais to garner the best view. Now, I spend days, seeking the sense of safety and love that I experienced in Sunee's home. I spend my days in Japan seeking Thai restaurants because this is the closest I can get to Thailand. I seek Thailand in the way that Americans do; the only way I can.
Because it was easy for my mother to forget me, she was not able to profit (at least, I don't think so), I lived and grew in Sunee's home. I watched her as she balled up rice into a bite-sized morsel ready to be dipped in the savory, sweet-hot red-pepper spice that scented her home. She was a child-woman who played with me and took care of her adult man in the same breath. I listened to the traditional music of her home and fell in love with the twanginess of it just as her husband enjoyed the twanginess of the country music that colored his rodeo rides. In my mind he was a rodeo star and I'm sure it was so. The cowboy savior.
I spent days in the doghouse with their Golden Retreiver, Pee Dee, or in the spare bedroom (which would have been their child's room) listening to Thai music and turning the elephant dais to garner the best view. Now, I spend days, seeking the sense of safety and love that I experienced in Sunee's home. I spend my days in Japan seeking Thai restaurants because this is the closest I can get to Thailand. I seek Thailand in the way that Americans do; the only way I can.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Republican Secret Uncovered
Well, I was disgusted at RNC Chairman Michael Steele's apology to Rush Limbaugh. The Republican Party should be proud; their leadership bows to a radio personality. This is the best thing to happen to the Democrats since, oh, I don't know, last week when Bobby Jindal sounded like a blathering idiot.
I can no longer consider the GOP to be a real political party. Seriously, doesn't anyone else think that what we've seen lately just has to be the cast of Saturday Night Live spoofing them? It has to be, right? I mean, a political party that is supposed to be taken seriously by the voting public doesn't parade it's new leadership as a regular-Joe-not-really-a-plumber and a hate-mongering radio host, or does it?
Anyway, if you've noticed that the apologies to Rush seem canned, it's because they are:
I can no longer consider the GOP to be a real political party. Seriously, doesn't anyone else think that what we've seen lately just has to be the cast of Saturday Night Live spoofing them? It has to be, right? I mean, a political party that is supposed to be taken seriously by the voting public doesn't parade it's new leadership as a regular-Joe-not-really-a-plumber and a hate-mongering radio host, or does it?
Anyway, if you've noticed that the apologies to Rush seem canned, it's because they are:
Ever wonder how Republicans are able to tuck their tail between their legs and apologize to Rush Limbaugh so quickly after they’ve offend their leader?
The DCCC has uncovered the secret Republican Apology Machine. Give it a try!
Go to http://www.dccc.org/sorry and see the Secret Republican Apology Machine today!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)