I had a recent conversation with a member of local law enforcement in which we shared brief descriptions of family members with schizophrenia. (It was a friendly conversation, by the way, lest you think I was being arrested.) I told of my recent experiences and the challenges of emotional coping and trying to get help for this person.
Then he told of his first wife, who suffered from severe and violent mood swings that he felt endangered himself and their children. After several years of suffering through this, he explained, he divorced her and has now been in a happy, nonviolent second marriage for a number of years. I'm spotty on the details of this conversation, perhaps because my brain was so overwhelmed by how he concluded it. "You know, they've done research to show that three-quarters of all women have some kind of that schizophrenia PMS stuff."
Well, no. I did not know that. A) I did not know that three-quarters of all women suffered from the same mental illness, and B) (and here's the kicker) I also did not realize there was a single condition known as "that schizophrenia PMS stuff."
This explains a lot.
On one hand, it seems to explain why so many of the women I know are so damn insane -- although it does nothing to explain the comparable insanity among many of the men I know. (This, by the way, comes from my left hand, which possesses only very rudimentary motor skills and is essentially retarded.)
On the other hand (my much more intelligent, rational thinking right hand), this officer's statement goes a long way toward explaining why -- or maybe I should say illustrating how -- so many of the nation's mentally ill end up homeless or in prison, with few or no options for getting the kind of help they truly need. Here's a guy, authorized to carry a gun and decide who should and should not be taken to jail, and he doesn't know the difference between schizophrenia and PMS. Not only does he not fully grasp the details, he apparently doesn't even know that there is a difference. Our conversation was interrupted before I had a chance to try to correct him. But realistically, what could I have said to that?
I've read here and there about efforts by NAMI (the National Alliance on Mental Illness) to host educational seminars for law enforcement officers, in an effort to raise awareness about the mentally ill population. Good for them. And let's hope they get to this guy soon. I hate to think how he might react when his wife hits menopause.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Make a deal with me
I just saw a "news" headline on a popular Internet portal site that read: "Britney's wild, weird week." And I'll be damned if I didn't almost click on it. Call it self respect. Call it wanna-be-intellectual snobbery. Call it whatever you want. But I am pleased to say that something stopped me.
That's not to say I haven't clicked on similar headlines before. Just last week I read a gossip-column-style piece about Britney's new surgically enhanced lips. The article quoted anonymous sources such as "a snitchy friend" and used not-so-clever turns of phrase to deride Britney's ongoing spree of public stupidity and humiliation, even picking on her apparent addiction to frozen coffee treats and ice cream. The whole style and substance of it made me as a semi-serious journalist feel severely devalued -- like the credibility of the whole profession pretty much just went down the toilet. More importantly, as a human, I felt dumber for having read it.
So now we're to the point that we need recaps of Britney's blunders. Even when she hasn't done anything newly idiotic or critique-worthy, the "journalists" who follow the Britney beat feel the need to enlighten us with perspective pieces -- as if what the world really needs now is a better understanding of where Britney has been and where she's headed.
Well I've had enough. I'm not saying I'm above reading celebrity news and gossip. But Britney must go away. So I commit, and I hope anyone who reads this will commit with me, to stop clicking on the Britney headlines, even if they're extra salacious.
Vote with your mouse, folks. Boycott Britney news.
That's not to say I haven't clicked on similar headlines before. Just last week I read a gossip-column-style piece about Britney's new surgically enhanced lips. The article quoted anonymous sources such as "a snitchy friend" and used not-so-clever turns of phrase to deride Britney's ongoing spree of public stupidity and humiliation, even picking on her apparent addiction to frozen coffee treats and ice cream. The whole style and substance of it made me as a semi-serious journalist feel severely devalued -- like the credibility of the whole profession pretty much just went down the toilet. More importantly, as a human, I felt dumber for having read it.
So now we're to the point that we need recaps of Britney's blunders. Even when she hasn't done anything newly idiotic or critique-worthy, the "journalists" who follow the Britney beat feel the need to enlighten us with perspective pieces -- as if what the world really needs now is a better understanding of where Britney has been and where she's headed.
Well I've had enough. I'm not saying I'm above reading celebrity news and gossip. But Britney must go away. So I commit, and I hope anyone who reads this will commit with me, to stop clicking on the Britney headlines, even if they're extra salacious.
Vote with your mouse, folks. Boycott Britney news.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
How big a sellout would I be if I got an MBA?
So, as a journalist, I'm supposed to be committed to truth and watchdogging and the defense of American liberties, etc., right? And in that spirit, I still recall how viciously my fellow communication majors and I made fun of the business majors in college -- those future capitalist pigs. Well now -- as these things conveniently work out sometimes -- I am now reporting on business and the financial world, as I have been for the last few years.
And what do you know if now I am not personally interested in business, to the point of considering pursuing a master's degree in the rotten field. I've thought about it before (but in the past mostly because I was desperate to escape the soul-sucking life of a newspaper journalist, working at a particularly soul-sucking newspaper). Now, I'm actually considering how interesting it would be to learn about business in an academic setting and how it would open up my career opportunities -- whether I wanted to continue in financial journalism or move into the business field itself someday. The prospects of going after my master's are only improved by the fact that my wife, Meaghan, now works for my alma mater, Berry College, which means I could get a big discount on tuition.
So, consider this a poll (of the four of you who read this): on a scale of 1 to 10, how big a sellout would I be if I got an MBA?
1 = not at all a sellout; it was silly of me to make fun of business majors to begin with, because for all the greedy scandals we hear about businesspeople actually do a lot of good in the world
5 = a moderate sellout; it's possible some overall good could come from this, but there's also a good chance I'll end up making my living by killing three African children for every pound of diamonds harvested from my mine
10 = total sellout; why don't I just go do public relations for the tobacco industry and call it a day
And what do you know if now I am not personally interested in business, to the point of considering pursuing a master's degree in the rotten field. I've thought about it before (but in the past mostly because I was desperate to escape the soul-sucking life of a newspaper journalist, working at a particularly soul-sucking newspaper). Now, I'm actually considering how interesting it would be to learn about business in an academic setting and how it would open up my career opportunities -- whether I wanted to continue in financial journalism or move into the business field itself someday. The prospects of going after my master's are only improved by the fact that my wife, Meaghan, now works for my alma mater, Berry College, which means I could get a big discount on tuition.
So, consider this a poll (of the four of you who read this): on a scale of 1 to 10, how big a sellout would I be if I got an MBA?
1 = not at all a sellout; it was silly of me to make fun of business majors to begin with, because for all the greedy scandals we hear about businesspeople actually do a lot of good in the world
5 = a moderate sellout; it's possible some overall good could come from this, but there's also a good chance I'll end up making my living by killing three African children for every pound of diamonds harvested from my mine
10 = total sellout; why don't I just go do public relations for the tobacco industry and call it a day
Monday, September 24, 2007
Let's ban saggy white pants after Labor Day
You might have read about a push in several cities to enact local ordinances (or expand existing ones) to essentially ban the wearing of saggy pants. Among the locales considering such a move are Atlanta and its little-buddy neighbor to the northwest: Rome, Georgia.
People who support these bans claim that the offenders often wear pants sagging so low that their underwear is visible -- or in some cases, even the upper buttocks. This is effectively indecent exposure, they claim. Those who oppose the bans argue that such a move by city or county commissions is uncalled for, amounting to an intrusion on a person's freedom of expression. The naysayers (in addition to 'nay') say the local governments would be overstepping their bounds by enacting such rules, that the governments must have better things to do with their time and that such rules would be unenforceable.
While I respect the arguments of all parties involved, I must disagree. I say: the governments aren't going far enough! Of course saggy pants should be banned. They're tacky and lewd, just like the young scoundrels who don them. But they're not the only ones. How about those teenagers at the mall who wear green and yellow John Deere hats, just trying to be cool. Those little twits have never used a tractor. It's a mockery to the hard-working farmers who make our lives possible in this great nation. So I say: ban people from wearing John Deere hats unless they can prove they own and regularly operate farming equipment, preferably of the John Deere brand.
Next, we need to put a stop to those homemade T-shirts with the big screen-printed photos on the front. Frankly, they just make me want to puke. And then those Red Hat ladies. They know the purple dresses and red hats don't go together -- it says so right in their motto. So ban them, already. School systems ban gang attire, and everyone thinks that's perfectly reasonable. Well, I'm telling you: there's no group better poised to steal the hearts and minds of our youth and overthrow our communities than these Red Hatters. If we can't outright stop them, at least we can drive them underground with some carefully crafted public dress codes.
While we're at it, let's officially ban the wearing of white after Labor Day. Everybody knows they shouldn't, but some people just won't take a basic societal rule seriously until it is codified in the law.
To those who say the rules would be unenforceable: that couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, what could be easier to enforce than a dress code? All police officers have to do is look at someone to know if they are breaking the rules. And when they see offenders, I say arrest them on the spot. No warnings.
Some will say: 'Oh, but our jails are already so overcrowded. There won't be room for inmates arrested because of dress code violations.' Well boo, freakin', hoo. People better think about that before they sag their pants or go outside in their plastic red fedoras. They can stack 'em three deep at the jail for all I care.
Oh, and mullets. Can someone please do something about mullets?
People who support these bans claim that the offenders often wear pants sagging so low that their underwear is visible -- or in some cases, even the upper buttocks. This is effectively indecent exposure, they claim. Those who oppose the bans argue that such a move by city or county commissions is uncalled for, amounting to an intrusion on a person's freedom of expression. The naysayers (in addition to 'nay') say the local governments would be overstepping their bounds by enacting such rules, that the governments must have better things to do with their time and that such rules would be unenforceable.
While I respect the arguments of all parties involved, I must disagree. I say: the governments aren't going far enough! Of course saggy pants should be banned. They're tacky and lewd, just like the young scoundrels who don them. But they're not the only ones. How about those teenagers at the mall who wear green and yellow John Deere hats, just trying to be cool. Those little twits have never used a tractor. It's a mockery to the hard-working farmers who make our lives possible in this great nation. So I say: ban people from wearing John Deere hats unless they can prove they own and regularly operate farming equipment, preferably of the John Deere brand.
Next, we need to put a stop to those homemade T-shirts with the big screen-printed photos on the front. Frankly, they just make me want to puke. And then those Red Hat ladies. They know the purple dresses and red hats don't go together -- it says so right in their motto. So ban them, already. School systems ban gang attire, and everyone thinks that's perfectly reasonable. Well, I'm telling you: there's no group better poised to steal the hearts and minds of our youth and overthrow our communities than these Red Hatters. If we can't outright stop them, at least we can drive them underground with some carefully crafted public dress codes.
While we're at it, let's officially ban the wearing of white after Labor Day. Everybody knows they shouldn't, but some people just won't take a basic societal rule seriously until it is codified in the law.
To those who say the rules would be unenforceable: that couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, what could be easier to enforce than a dress code? All police officers have to do is look at someone to know if they are breaking the rules. And when they see offenders, I say arrest them on the spot. No warnings.
Some will say: 'Oh, but our jails are already so overcrowded. There won't be room for inmates arrested because of dress code violations.' Well boo, freakin', hoo. People better think about that before they sag their pants or go outside in their plastic red fedoras. They can stack 'em three deep at the jail for all I care.
Oh, and mullets. Can someone please do something about mullets?
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
What if...
UPDATE: Here's an online quiz I came across to test your pirate knowledge: Encarta pirate quiz
A funny coincidence has occurred to me on this date for the last few years. Today, my dad's birthday, is also International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Perhaps this is just dumb luck on his part. He's probably entitled to free admission to various pirate-themed amusement parks and entertainment venues today, not to mention free meals (or at least pirate-ship-shaped desserts) at the many related restaurants across the land. But I wonder if there isn't more to this: perhaps my father was a pirate in a previous life, or earlier in this life for that matter.
I do recall an occasion when I cheekily sent him an e-mail teasing him about the fact that his birthday coincided with Talk Like a Pirate Day. He never responded to the e-mail, which could lead to only two logical conclusions: either he was too busy to write back and didn't really care, or he was avoiding the subject because of some secret he feared I might mine out of him.
I don't know why he would be ashamed or hide such a past from me and the rest of the family. I would openly embrace his former life of seafaring and enemy ship raiding, not to mention take more than a passing interest in my heritage, perhaps enlisting in the nearest Sons of Reformed Pirates chapter. I can just picture him, one foot propped on the side of an old wooden ship as it bounced along in the waves, donning his billowy pants and bearing his now farmer-tanned torso to full sunlight in the days of his pirating youth.
Well, I suppose now as a Baptist minister, he couldn't very well let his earlier days of raping and pillaging be known, if that were the sort of marauder band with which he had been affiliated. On the other hand, I'd like to think maybe he was of the Dread Pirate Roberts variety -- developing notoriety and a legend to be feared and revered, yet in reality sparing the lives of doe-eyed young men in the name of true love. And then that would also explain why he must keep his past a secret, as now the individual who has taken over the role of said legendary pirate would not want it known that the name is actually a mere legend passed from one man to another over history.
Or, maybe he was a software pirate.
A funny coincidence has occurred to me on this date for the last few years. Today, my dad's birthday, is also International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Perhaps this is just dumb luck on his part. He's probably entitled to free admission to various pirate-themed amusement parks and entertainment venues today, not to mention free meals (or at least pirate-ship-shaped desserts) at the many related restaurants across the land. But I wonder if there isn't more to this: perhaps my father was a pirate in a previous life, or earlier in this life for that matter.
I do recall an occasion when I cheekily sent him an e-mail teasing him about the fact that his birthday coincided with Talk Like a Pirate Day. He never responded to the e-mail, which could lead to only two logical conclusions: either he was too busy to write back and didn't really care, or he was avoiding the subject because of some secret he feared I might mine out of him.
I don't know why he would be ashamed or hide such a past from me and the rest of the family. I would openly embrace his former life of seafaring and enemy ship raiding, not to mention take more than a passing interest in my heritage, perhaps enlisting in the nearest Sons of Reformed Pirates chapter. I can just picture him, one foot propped on the side of an old wooden ship as it bounced along in the waves, donning his billowy pants and bearing his now farmer-tanned torso to full sunlight in the days of his pirating youth.
Well, I suppose now as a Baptist minister, he couldn't very well let his earlier days of raping and pillaging be known, if that were the sort of marauder band with which he had been affiliated. On the other hand, I'd like to think maybe he was of the Dread Pirate Roberts variety -- developing notoriety and a legend to be feared and revered, yet in reality sparing the lives of doe-eyed young men in the name of true love. And then that would also explain why he must keep his past a secret, as now the individual who has taken over the role of said legendary pirate would not want it known that the name is actually a mere legend passed from one man to another over history.
Or, maybe he was a software pirate.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
My first blog
Wow. This is exciting. Me, a guy with no MySpace account and who has never sent a text message in his life, posting his first blog entry. I hope someone reads it.
I spend most of my days writing about corporate mergers and acquisitions for an online news and info service, so I shall do my darnedest not to clutter this blog with similarly nerdy things. Here, instead, I could share anecdotes about funny things my dog does, right? Is that what blogs are for? (By the way, when she farts, she immediately gets up and runs away from the smell.)
Hm, what else? I could tell all you Conan O'Brien fans out there (I say this as though there are thousands of people reading this entry) that you should check out his Pale Force animated shorts on NBC.com. I just found them today, although it looks like they've been around for several months or longer. They're mildly funny --- about a "tan-challenged" duo of crime-fighting superheroes, including Conan of course. I swear NBC did not pay me to refer to their site.
Well that's pretty much all I've got for now. I really just signed up for this account so I could comment on friends' blogs, but now I'll get sucked into actually writing entries from time to time, I'm sure. When I get fired for spending all my work time doing this, it will be all your fault Blogger. I'll sue your electronic behind, and with Google as your parent company now, I'm sure I can expect a handsome settlement. To be fair, I will consider accepting stock options in lieu of cash. Hm, this is sounding better all the time.
(Just kidding, Google. Don't kill my family.)
I spend most of my days writing about corporate mergers and acquisitions for an online news and info service, so I shall do my darnedest not to clutter this blog with similarly nerdy things. Here, instead, I could share anecdotes about funny things my dog does, right? Is that what blogs are for? (By the way, when she farts, she immediately gets up and runs away from the smell.)
Hm, what else? I could tell all you Conan O'Brien fans out there (I say this as though there are thousands of people reading this entry) that you should check out his Pale Force animated shorts on NBC.com. I just found them today, although it looks like they've been around for several months or longer. They're mildly funny --- about a "tan-challenged" duo of crime-fighting superheroes, including Conan of course. I swear NBC did not pay me to refer to their site.
Well that's pretty much all I've got for now. I really just signed up for this account so I could comment on friends' blogs, but now I'll get sucked into actually writing entries from time to time, I'm sure. When I get fired for spending all my work time doing this, it will be all your fault Blogger. I'll sue your electronic behind, and with Google as your parent company now, I'm sure I can expect a handsome settlement. To be fair, I will consider accepting stock options in lieu of cash. Hm, this is sounding better all the time.
(Just kidding, Google. Don't kill my family.)
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