:: Ray's Periodic Rantings ::

:: Saturday, June 25, 2005 ::

Burning Man 2004

After several months of procrastination (I'm a pro), I have finally posted the pictures from our Burning Man 2004 expedition. Live the adventure here. Enjoy!
:: Ray 8:02 PM [+] ::
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Cow madness

Despite the assurances of the USDA, every time I eat beef from an unknown source, I feel like I am playing Russian roulette. After the first wave of mad cow concerns several years ago, beef producers in this country were banned from feeding cattle ground up bits of cattle. Since then, however, my understanding has been that practices remained that made a mockery of this ban. In today's NY Times, an article titled Testing Changes Ordered After U.S. Mad Cow Case clarified and reinforced my suspcions. It mentions critics of the industry calling..."for bans on feeding poultry litter that has spilled cattle meal in it back to cattle, giving calves 'milk replacer' made from cattle blood and letting cows eat dried restaurant 'plate waste.'"

Mad cow concerns aside, does anybody really want to eat cows that have eaten other cows? They are vegetarians! In fact they are among nature's wonder machines, using four stomachs to turn plain old grass, which is undigestible to us, into milk and meat. Making them eat animal protein at all is bad enough. Turning them into cannibals is just plain disgusting. Sadly, it makes them grow faster, increasing the profitablilty of raising them for meat. Hmm. Does that mean that people would grow faster if we ate other people? It's a good thing there is no profit potential there, or I am sure someone would be feeding us soylent green by now.

Returning to the mad cow concerns, it turns out that mad cow disease is passed on though messed up proteins called prions. The good news is that prions are not contagious. That being the case, it should be easy to eliminate them from the food supply, right? Well, prions are passed on by eating them. So if you feed infected cattle to other cattle, you get more infected cattle. And feeding cattle to cattle is what the beef industry continues to do to this day, for the sake of profitability. They are gambling with our health and our lives, and I don't like the odds.

I don't want my brain to turn to goo in 20 years because of something I ate. So I buy organic beef at home, and I enjoy home grown beef from my mother's ranch. But it burns me up that I have to spend all that money on the organics, and the ranch is in Florida, so I can't get the home grown all the time, and I am still taking a risk when I eat beef in a restaurant. Why can't the vaunted US beef industry sell me guaranteed vegetarian beef at a reasonable price? I don't care about organics. Just give me cows that haven't eaten other cows. Or cows' blood. Or chicken shit. Is that really too much to ask?
:: Ray 10:22 AM [+] ::
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Dick Durbin speaks for me

I like Dick Durbin, one of my senators from Illinois. His politics are in the right (which is to say, left) place, and he is an amazingly eloquent unscripted speaker. He has taken some flack from Republicans and the circular Democratic firing squad over remarks he made last week about conditions at Guantanamo, where the United States has imprisoned "enemy combatants" in circumstances and conditions that make a mockery of the Geneva Conventions. If you read or listen to his words in their entirety, including his lengthy quote of the FBI agent's report on those conditions, his words sound fine to me. Any right wingers out there can blow it out their ear.

If you are a right winger and you are still reading, tell me this: how did we get from 60 years ago, when German soldiers went out of their way to surrender to American soldiers rather than the Russians, knowing how badly they treated their prisoners, to today where right wing media gasbags are howling over how we don't treat our prisoners as badly as the Nazis or the Soviets? We used to be proud that we treated our prisoners among the most humanely in the world...now we whine that we not as bad as the worst regimes in history. That's a stunning and sad turnaround, if you ask me.

Finally, to anyone who says the Geneva Conventions don't apply to these prisoners (this includes you, Mr President, and your administration):
1) Bite me.
2) Tell it to our soldiers when they are captured and tortured or treated like crap in reprisal for Guantanamo. I don't suspect it will be much consolation to them.
:: Ray 11:47 PM [+] ::
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Trauma and the clock

I am just reading that Florida Gov. Jeb Bush has asked an investigator to look into the Terry Schiavo case one more time. AP reports: "In a letter he faxed to Pinellas-Pasco County State Attorney Bernie McCabe, Bush said Michael Schiavo testified in a 1992 medical malpractice trial that he found his wife collapsed at 5 a.m. and he said in a 2003 television interview that he found her at about 4:30 a.m. He called 911 at about 5:40 a.m." Bush questions the delay of 40 to 70 minutes before the call was made.

Of course, I have something to say about this.

Dear Governor Bush,

My wife, Mary Clevidence, died of asthma three and a half years ago, in an attack that began while I was not at home. Though the sequence of events that I experienced that evening was fairly complicated, I can recount it in great detail, except for the exact time. I wasn't looking at the clock, as I had more important things on my mind at the time, like what has happened to my wife! When people asked me what happened, I guesstimated the time. I have no idea whether I was right or wrong...Mary's call to 911 would be the concrete record.

So when you question Michael Schiavo's story because months and years after the event he named two different times, and neither agreed with the 911 call, I say give the man a break! His wife collapsed and he called 911. You expect him, in the midst of that trauma, to know exactly what time it was and remember it years later? This is your only evidence of wrongdoing in a case that was investigated at the time?

It's a cheap shot, Governor. But then, I have come to expect no less of the Bush clan.

Sincerely,

Ray Koltys
:: Ray 12:11 PM [+] ::
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A house too quiet

Last night I opened a can with a can opener, and for the first time I can remember, no curious cat came to check out the possibility that it was for her. It is unnaturally quiet around the house, and it will take me some time to get used to it.

This past Saturday, Mary and I did something very painful. After a couple of days of special treatment and extra tuna, we had Bucky and Tess, the two cats I have shared my home with for 14 years, put down. Which is, of course, a more gentle way of saying we had them killed.

If you know me or have been reading this blog for a while, then you know that I was married before. My first wife, also Mary, was asthmatic and allergic to cats. We made every attempt we could think of to accomdate her: having the house cleaned weekly, rubbing the cats down with anti-allergy treatment, locking them out of the bedroom, covering the sofas and washing the covers frequently. She never let on that the cats really were troubling her, partly I suspect, because she loved them so much. Ultimately, she died suddenly and unexpectedly of an asthma attack, precipitated by preparing and eating some spicy asian noodle soup.

Were the cats involved in that asthma attack? There is no way to know for certain, but it is hard not to believe that they were affecting her at least somewhat, and that as a result she was at least somewhat more prone to an attack than she would have been otherwise.

So a month ago, I married another Mary. Among her interesting similarities to the first Mary, she is also asthmatic and allergic to cats. She loves them too, but she has lived with me since November and she had a rough time through the winter, which has not eased so much since then, now that the house is open and better ventilated.

We talked about it a while back, and agreed that the cats had to go. But where do you put 14 year old littermates who have lived with the same person since they were weaned, are fairly set in their ways, not socialized with other cats, and one of whom is diabetic and requires two shots a day? A cat shelter was out of the question, and it was more than we were willing to ask anybody to take on. We concluded that the least traumatic option for the cats was an at-home euthanization.

Are we qualified to have made that decision for them? I donŐt know, and here is where I face conflict. In my belief system, humans do not have dominion over animals, but rather they are our brothers and sisters. I have always taken care to refer to them as the cats I share my home with, not as my cats. A situation arose where I could no longer share my home with them, because at a certain point people, especially someone I love, come first. Knowing them as well as I do, I honestly believe I made the best decision for them, even if it isnŐt what they might have decided themselves.

And I have to live with it. I have to live with knowing I betrayed their trust, which had grown so amazingly deep over the years. I have to live without them. No more Bucky draping himself over my shoulders like a stole on a cold winter night. No more Tess sitting impatiently at the bedroom door in the morning, waiting for her tuna. No more teasing Bucky into the perfect jumping lunge at a cat toy, and no more Tess going crazy chasing the reflection of a watch face in the sunlight. No more Bucky greeting me by sharpening his phantom front claws on my shoes when I get home. No more haranguing Tess for licking plastic bags, which she knew irritated me, so she would do it when she wanted attention. No more warm laps and purring balls of fur as I stroke them, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV.

I will miss them.
:: Ray 6:14 PM [+] ::
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A few words about Howard Dean

I have written before of my appreciation for the Rude Pundit. The Rudester is in his finest form today, writing about the Democratic Party's circular firing squad in a post entitled, Howard Dean Will Fuck Your Shit Up (Redux). Atrios writes about this post, "If I were Howard Dean, I'd hire Mr. Pundit to be my speechwriter." Hear, hear!

Anyone offended by the title of the post in question will surely be aghast at its actual content, and is encouraged not to click through. The rest of you, read on and enjoy!
:: Ray 2:28 PM [+] ::
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The quest for sandwich cremes

I have a weakness. I like sandwich cremes...you know, Oreos. Unfortunately, the Nabisco version contains all kinds of stuff that I don't consider to be food, most notably trans-fats. I like to have the occasional handful of cookies and a big glass of milk, but I don't to be consuming a bunch of chemicals in the process. I've already switched to organic milk, not because I give a rat that the cow feed was organic, but because I don't wan't milk from cows that have been shot full of hormones and antibiotics. Now I just need cookies.

I started my quest a couple of years ago, and was lucky to run into Matt's sandwich cremes. They were perfect...locally produced from quality ingredients, they had no trans-fats, and they had great taste, weight, and texture. I consumed many packages over that couple of years. Then one day they weren't on the shelf at my local store. They weren't at the other store, either. I was troubled. Finally, I wrote to Matt, only to learn, to my dismay, that they had discountinued the product. [sigh]

Since then, I have tried every alternative sandwich creme I could find, other than the cheap off brand ones. Whole Foods 365 brand, Newman O's, Back to Nature brand...they all have something wrong with them. Taste is wrong or texture is off. The Back to Nature brand was so bad I didn't even finish the bag.

Then, this past weekend, I spotted a new bag on the shelf at the store: Health Valley Cookie Cremes. They hit all the high points: no trans-fats, some organic ingredients, good taste, good texture. They capture the sandwich creme experience with a big glass of milk. I am happy, with one small exception. They ain't cheap. For $3.69, I got 12 oz, which translated into two rows of cookies. Compare that to the 16 oz or more (3 rows) of a regular brand that you would get for a similar price. I won't be indulging very often.

Finally, a word about Matt's. They make a few varieties of cookies, most of which don't do much for me, but if you like Fig Newtons, try Matt's Fig Bars. They are more moist and the cake part is cakier. I consider them vastly superior. I would even go so far as to call them the best fig bars on the market. You are all free to nominate a contender, however. I am open to suggestions for sandwich cremes, too.
:: Ray 11:16 PM [+] ::
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Our Friends, the Saudis

Salon published a wire report today entitled Saudis outraged over women-drive proposal. The gist of it is that a member of their legislative branch submitted a proposal in writing that they "discuss the possibility of conducting a study into the feasibility of reversing the ban on women drivers -- the only prohibition of its kind in the world." His reward for so assertively suggesting that they discuss the possibility of conducting a study of such a controversial thing has been calls to kick him off the council and strip him of Saudi citizenship, along witha deluge with complaints by cell phone and text message. My favorite is the one that calls on Allah to freeze his blood.

Saudi men may be all worked up about this, but I have little sympathy. They can hide behind their religion (though nowhere in the Koran does it say that women ought not to drive), but I think there is something a bit more shallow at work here. To my observation, in sexist cultures, the men scorn as weak the men in cultures where women have achieved some level of parity. Look at us here in the United States. How can we possibly see these baby machines as equal and allow them to run free and have rights? Why do we allow our wives and daughters to expose themselves to other men, tempting them to commit all manner of wicked sins?

The way I see it is sort of the opposite of that mindframe. I am not weak because I let my wife drive a car and wear cleavage-revealing tops. I am not afraid for her safety in casual contact with other men. I trust the fabric of my society. I trust my fellow men to keep their pants zipped. I am strong and secure enough in my relationship with my wife that I do not fear she will cheat on me. I am strong enough to not feel threatened by the freedom of women with whom I am not in a committed relationship to do what they wish and have sexual relations with whom they wish.

It is Saudi men like those calling for Allah to freeze the council member's blood who are weak. Oh, they may be physically strong and virile, but their masculinity is quite fragile and their opinion of themselves and their fellow men is very poor. They can't even trust that their wives and daughters won't be somehow molested unless the cover themselves completely when they go out and avoid contact with all men! They don't trust men (and, it follows, themselves) not to act appropriately in response to a little temptation. And they must be lousy husbands and know it, even if they won't acknowledge it...why else would they assume that their wives would throw themselves at other men if they were given the chance?

I would not want to live in a society like that, among such pathetic men. I prefer it right here, where women and men dress and act as they like, and my wife and I can both ogle and be ogled, with no fear that either of us will stray.

Interestingly, the hardcore religious conservatives here in the United States seem to think that sex and temptation are bad things, and are doing their best to make it as much here like Saudi Arabia as they can get away with. Despite their piousness, their very outlook on sex and women makes me trust them less than I would any casual stranger, clothed strangely or not at all, that I meet at Burning Man.
:: Ray 11:31 AM [+] ::
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Nuptials

If I am to write about personal issues of any kind in this blog, then it merits mention that Mary and I tied the knot on Sunday, May 15 in front of a few friends and family. Two and a half weeks into married life, I have no complaints thus far. Now that I am wed again, I am not certain what that means for my widower status. Does it go away entirely, or am I a remarried widower? Or in Yoda-speak: "A widower remarried am I." Fortunate am I to have a bride as giddy as I was at the prospect of plugging Episode IV into the VCR as soon as we got home from Revenge of the Sith (it is a surprisingly smooth transition, considering one film was made 28 years before the other). My lovely spouse was also dismayed by the end of the Star Trek TV franchise, and eagerly awaits the new seasons of Battlestar Galactica and the two Stargates. And she is a babe, too! Life is good.

More marital adventures to come (at least, the ones that won't get me in trouble).
:: Ray 4:22 PM [+] ::
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