Cranky-D

When I first started hearing about Terri Schiavo, I assumed it was the usual suspects keeping someone from dying when all hope of a life is gone. I assumed that the husband, Michael, had done all he could to determine that Terri was beyond any possibility of recovery from a degenerative mental state. And I was hoping they would let her die, while administering whatever pain killers would be required to make her end as peaceful as possible. Which is what I would want should I ever be a mental vegetable.

Then I read this entry from Steve H.. As it turns out, Michael has done very little for his wife since he won a large monetary judgement in her favor. What really pushed me over the edge was the following:

There is considerable evidence that Mr. Schiavo has no interest in his wife’s welfare. He refuses to permit the physical therapy patients in Terri’s state generally receive. Although a CAT scan of Terri’s brain has been done, he refuses to allow PET and MRI scans, which are the best diagnostic tools for determining whether enough of her brain exists to sustain consciousness. And witnesses claim Terri has lost teeth and developed bedsores as a result of neglect.

and furthermore:

On top of all that, there is a very disturbing affidavit from a former caregiver. Here is a quote from the sworn statement of RN Carla Sauer Iyer:

“Throughout my time at Palm Gardens, Michael Schiavo was focused on Terri’s death,” the RN noted. “Michael would say ‘When is she going to die?’ ‘Has she died yet?’ and ‘When is that bitch gonna die?’”

As a lawyer, I can tell you that a sworn statement is considered much more credible when the statement works against the person who made it. If I swear I owe you money, that statement is automatically more credible than my sworn statement that I don’t owe you money. It appears to me that Ms. Iyer has made a statement that could damage her career very, very badly. Depending on the circumstances under which the statement was made and the purpose for which it was used, she may also have exposed herself to a libel suit or a perjury conviction.

Before getting the facts, which are summarized here, I believed that this was a case in which the husband was fighting for what his wife wanted in the face of opposition of the parents. He claimed that she would never want to be kept alive under these circumstances. No one else in Terri’s life had ever heard her make any statement along those lines. We have to take Michael at his word, in the face of the $800K life insurance policy on Terri. And again, I believed Michael had done everything he could to make sure that the diagnosis was correct. I made the mistake of assuming that it was possible he was acting in good faith.

Michael is obviously not acting in good faith. The monetary judgement provided plenty of money to provide for futher diagnosis and care. Michael does not care at all about Terri. He maintains his marriage to control Terri, and to allow himself to eventually recieve the $800K.

Michael is acting like a monster. His only move right now should be to give up all custodial rights on Terri in favor of her parents. He can always claim as an excuse that he found Jesus and was reborn* and that he realized that he had been wrong, the scales had fallen from his eyes, etc. Then he could receive that 1 million dollars offered up by some kind soul for letting Terri live in leiu of the life insurance policy. I think that would be a win-win situation for him.

I think if the news outlets, including my beloved FoxNewz, had been reporting the facts properly, very few people would be in favor of letting Terri starve to death as things currently stand. However, the media have again failed to report things properly.

As of 3/21/05, 4:30 pm central time, Fox News has reported that the feeding tube will not be reinserted.

*I happen to believe in G-d, and I further believe that some people have been reborn, but I’m cynical enough to believe that many people who claim to have been reborn are hypocrites.

I don’t answer my home phone, ever, unless the person on the other end starts talking. Maybe that’s bad of me, but it’s the way I live. Because, chances are that when my home phone rings, it’s someone who wants to sell me something. Or get me to apply for another credit card (which I really don’t need, trust me).

I have told my family and friends about my policy. Perhaps they don’t all agree, but they know what I will do. If you start leaving a message, and I recognize your voice, I will talk to you if I’m there. Or I will give an immediate call back from my cell phone.

I dont’ mean to be an asshole. This is the only reasonable response to the fact that many institutions will demand a phone number from you while they want to do business with you. Some people are very happy to give out a cell phone number and then tell the caller that they are calling a cell phone and to please desist. Because currently, a cell phone costs you for the connect time whether or not you made the call. Which means you can get people to stop calling you on that line. Me, I don’t want the hassle. Plus, I have DSL, so I have to pay for a phone line anyway. So I use it for the junk phone calls as well.

What happens when they change the rules and the caller pays for the connect time? I’ll bet companies would give phone banks cheap rates, and push the whole cost of the call off on the solicitors. The next thing you know, cell phones will have as many junk phone calls as your home phone. And they’ll be just as useless as home phones are now. I would prefer that cell phones be free of telephone solicitation.

The telephone solicitors claim it’s a first amendment issue, which it most surely is not. You have a right to free speech, that is sure. Congress shall make no law abriging free speech (except for McCain-Feingold, which I will cover some other time), etc. But you don’t have that right in my home. You certainly could not barge into my home with your soapbox and stand on top of it and hand out your idiotic opinions. So why do you think you have the right to invade my home via my phone to do the same thing? A phone I have to pay for.

The answer is, you don’t have that right. Too bad the Supreme Court is too stupid to rule in the correct manner. I don’t need anyone calling me to sell me stuff. I already know what I want and where to get it.

Still, as a pessimist, I predict that cell phones will eventually go the way of conventional phones. And then we’ll have to invest in a new technology that will divorce us from junk cell phone calls. However, I’m getting old enough now so that I could do away with the cell phone entirely, except for emergency calls, and not notice the difference.

You can email me, and if you know the correct address, and if it gets through the spam filters, I might reply. Maybe. That will always be true. Calling me is a different matter.

You know, I should make UTI my default for posting. If I knew how. I’m way too lazy to hack into wordpress to change the default from “General” to “Under the Influence.” Even though I could easily do that. I mean, come on, I’m a programming god. I’ve met my match, but have yet to meet my superior in the languages I use. Maybe I will one day. But I doubt it.

It sounds like arrogance unless you know me. In which case, it’s just situation normal. Which does not preclude that it’s still arrogant.

Kelly Clarkson does, “Since You’ve Been Gone.” Just an FYI for one person. It just came on VH-1. Roxy Marquee performs this song. Enough said, really.

Buddy Guy just got inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame this year. It’s bloody well about time. I own two of his albums, with my favorite song being, “Damn right I got the blues.” If you like blues at all you must hear this song. If you are anything like a rock and roll historian, or at least a self-styled historian, you will either already know who Buddy Guy is or you will immediately find out who he is before you get called out for the idiot you are.

From memory:
Damn right I got the blues,
from my head down to my shoes,
Damn right I got the blues,
from my head down to my shoes.,
You know I just can’t win,
cuz I ain’t got nothin’ to lose.

I dropped by my daughter’s house,
I just wanted to use the phone,
I dropped by my daughter’s house,
I just wanted to use the phone,
My grandbaby said (*paraphrased, not correct by a long shot)
Grandpappy there’s no one at home.

Oh, look out…
(followed by a very cool solo)

Buddy is a blues guy. Eric Clapton stated that Buddy is the player he feels closest to. Buddy plays guitar. He bends notes into the stratosphere. Pun intended, though only guitar geeks will get it. Buddy is definitely one of the roots players, but he came after T-bone and BB. He still gets the statesman status.

I saw Buddy perform only once. He was traveling with B.B. King in the summer of 2000 when I saw him. I will admit his performance wasn’t as good as I would’ve hoped, but he felt constrained by the amount of time he was allowed and made it known to all of us. He was still great.

I’ll write about B.B. King in another post some time. However, if you like the blues at all and you haven’t seen B.B. King perform, you are stupid and are wasting an opportunity. B.B. is not going to be around for too much longer (I hope I’m wrong but I doubt it). You must see him play as soon as possible. In fact, if you’re not sure if you like blues, go see B.B. anyway. Also, see Buddy Guy while you can.

Either way, you won’t be sorry.

We all try to make our place in the world, and we often do it from pretence. “All the world’s a stage,” etc. A passage I believe is completely correct. I approach the world with lots of pretense. It serves me quite well most of the time to have men think that if they piss me off I’m going to fracture their skulls. Every now and then, not so much, but in balance I like the image I project. Because it keeps the flys off, as it were. I would rather project the image of someone who will kick your ass than be someone who appears to be a wuss and be put into the situation of having to actually back that ass-kicking up with force. As I have had to in the past when I backed down rather than handing out a well-deserved smacking. To someone who was smaller than myself and who probably couldn’t have hurt me unless he had an iron bar in his hand.

I still haven’t forgiven myself for that one.

Some of my friends who really know me would probably scoff at the idea of me hurting anyone. And they would be correct in that I have not hurt anyone physically since I was a kid. Even then, it was very rare. Mentally, though, well, I can rip you a new one without any problem. If I know you. And if I’ve been around you long enough, I know you. All your weaknesses. We all have them. Myself included.

It’s all about power, I think. Men play power games with physicality. I’ll play. But I don’t like it. Especially when it’s someone smaller or less agressive getting pushed around. You could not believe how much anger I have towards men who victimize women and non-agressive men. What’s weird is I will take someone pushing me around way before I would take someone pushing around a friend of mine. If it’s still a low-level confrontation, my first thought is, “Do I want to return to this bar in the future?” If I don’t care, the solution is very easy. If I do care, the bouncer is called and involved. Even though I’ve had that backfire in the past.

But if it gets hairy, I don’t care what the repurcussions are. Anyone who is with me is under my protection. That sounds arrogant, and maybe it is, but that’s also the way it is. I’ve endured more pain in the past than you can probably imagine. Maybe I’ll post some past writings some day to give you an idea. Unless I end up with a knife or a bullet in me, there is very little another human can do to me that will keep me from making sure my friends are protected.

Update: This is a very weird post when examined from a non-UTI perspective. I think it’s borderline idiotic, but I’ll leave it here anyway. I did make some edits, though.

Oh, man.

Hey, an FYI, my timestamps are all an hour off because my host is in Florida. Hosting Matters, if you care, provides my services. I figured if it’s good enough for the big boys it’s good enough for someone who has no readers. They rarely barf, and it isn’t costing me all that much. Most of my hits are from search engines and attempted spammers trying to sell Texas Holdem. Then again, my lack of readers is my fault because I don’t post every day. I’m working on that. I’ve been trying to build a backlog of ideas for posts and then dribble them out. It hasn’t been working out that way.

Okay, so more on the new hair. It’s been 8 days now. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of experimental evidence to provide you on the change from being a long-haired hippie freak to having hair like a retired marine. Well, except for the fact that it’s long on top. Which in my case means it will stand straight up unless tamed by gel. I think I look kinda like Elvis, it stands up so high. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” is one of my new catch phrases.

So, there’s a lack of evidence because I got sick after I got my hair cut. I skipped going to the gym until Friday. And I went today (or yesterday, depending on your frame of reference) as well. I can’t really tell if people feel different about me yet or not. Not enough evidence from riding public transportation yet either. For the most part, people avoided sitting next to me before. Now, I’m not sure if things have changed or not. They may have. However, it could just be the cranky look on my face that keeps them away. I really cannot tell.

Also, I feel differently about myself. Since I no longer fit outside the norm of male appearance, I probably act differently. The problem with many experiments is that it is impossible to isolate one factor to determine its effect. This is such a case.

People have generally been positive, but I really cannot trust any of the sources of compliments. Friends will generally not tell you the truth. That’s why they are friends. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Or both ways. The only other sources of opinion have been from people who indirectly derive part of their income from my business. Which means one bartender and many servers. Then again, one drag queen said hello to me for the first time after she (that’s how you refer to them, people) saw me with my new hair for the first time. I’m not sure if she recognized me as being the same person as before. And in any case, while I have a certain affection for drag queens, they don’t provide my primary feedback on my appearance. I have this weird thing about really preferring women who are biologically women. Call me crazy.

No matter what the effect, I kind of like the new me. I can blend in much better with the crowd. The hair no longer defines me. Now I have to live on my own perceived merits. Right now, any such merits are at a low point when perceived by me. But that is no different from my situation when I actually had a lot of hair.