Oh, Lord, it's hard!
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way.
I can't wait to look in the mirror 'cause I get better looking each day.
Thus began a fun song by Mac Davis a few years ago. Everyone loved that song - first, because of Mac Davis. Second, because the tongue-in-cheek lyric was so useful.
If, say, you won a sports trivia argument with a buddy and wanted to gloat a bit, just burst into song: "Oh, Lord it's hard to be humble."
I even had a salesman friend who strove to bolster his own self-confidence by wearing a T-shirt that paraphrased Mac Davis by declaring "I Can't Wait Until Tomorrow 'cause I get Better Looking Every Day."
Sadly, it wasn't always tongue-in-cheek. Too many took the Hard To Be Humble attitude seriously. We've all seen the Hard To Be Humble athlete who, having received unspendable millions for his sports prowess, suddenly became an authority on any subject at hand.
But, the entertainment industry is where you most often find it hard to be humble. Hollywood is awash with Hard To Be Humble devotees. Kids are born with a beautiful face. Through luck or training grow into a beautiful adult body, and acquire an acting, or perhaps a musical skill. Then they traipse about the world, spreading their often idiotic views on politics, the economy, or whatever alse you want to discuss.
The most glaring example in this summer of 2008 is Barack Obama. His handlers parade him into a crowd of screaming fans, more interested in having fun than a serious policy discussion. He shouts his teleprompted speech into the microphone, girls faint, and everyone says he is an eloquent speaker.
In an entirely different song, Billy Ray Cyrus worried that the wrong kind of information might cause his Achy Breaky Heart to blow up! Like the sparrow that arrived at the Wedding Chapel just after the big ceremony and gorged itself on rice thrown at the bride. Inside the sparrow's craw, the rice expanded and the poor bird exploded like an Achy Breaky Heart.
With Barack, I worry more about his head. Signs are already showing. He no longer just walks on stage... he swaggers to the podium. He speaks of his promised accomplishments and makes pronouncements that are almost spiritual. Another three and a half months of non-stop adulation by adoring fans; another coronation by the media and poor Obama's head may just become too overloaded and, boom!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Energy, Texas Style.
The people of Texas are remarkable. They look life squarely in the eye and never seem afraid to face a challenge. I have long admired the Texans who put up with smelly oil fields so others can tool around in their sports cars, in cities where the population flatly refuses to allow oil drilling or refinement anywhere near their environs.
Now it is wind turbines. I keep hearing people complain about wind turbines - for any number of reasons - most of which seem frivolous to me. but, in their usual can-do spirit, Texans accept the turbines by the thousands! No exaggeration... there are thousands of these things in Texas.Distance fools the eye, and even when you stand under one of these things and look up at it, it is hard to appreciate its size!
The height of the individual turbines is determined by the prevailing wind patterns, but they appear to vary in height from 200 to 400 feet.
It is not until you look at the base of one of these beauties and see the access port which allows workmen to reach the ladder that takes you to the very top.
Yes, there could be people inside that distant turbine you see. They provide necessary maintenance to keep it churning out the megawatts.
I wondered what a technician might do once they reached the top... until I walked up close to one of the nacels sitting on the ground before it was mounted on its tower.
These things are the size of a motor home, and may contain all the comforts of home, for all I know.
Finally, there are the propellor blades which actually catch the wind and do the work.
Like every other part of this enterprise, they are huge.
When I was a small boy on a Missouri farm, we heated and cooked with wood burning stoves. What drudgery it was for my mother to start, control and clean up after a wood fire in her kitchen stove.
These beautiful, white turbines make it possible for a modern American to just flip a switch and produce heat to cook dinner. How beautiful can that be?
Yes, there are wind turbines in other places. There are none, however, off-shore in Massachusetts. Why spoil that scenery when the Texans are happy to provide them their electricity?
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Sports...where good news is still good.
I spent 25 years in radio broadcasting, much of it reporting news. We had a couple of simple guidelines for deciding if we should cover a story. Does our audience already know this news? Is it important to them? If our audience doesn’t know about it, it is news to them. If it clearly is not important to them... who cares about the story.
Today, good news doesn’t sell... or so the modern journalists tell us. It doesn’t matter if your audience is aware of that good news, or how important it may be to them. If it is good news... forget it, especially if it credits any government at any level.
I have wondered what would happen if there were a big football game scheduled but there were no sports people to do the broadcast? What if they had to pull some people from the regular "hard" news department to do the broadcast! And, what if, (horror of horrors) they had to enlist certain politicians to provide color?
As the home team takes the field. Imagine the newsman/sportscaster decrying the fact that they are not fielding enough players. That they are ill-trained and ill-equipped. Now the color man insists that this game is lost... irretrievably lost. It is foolish to spend the money to keep this team on the field... pull them out and let’s all go home.
The newsman/sportscaster endlessly covers some congestion in the parking lot, and decries the long lines of fans still waiting to get into the stadium. He provides a blow by blow description of a small fight that has broken out somewhere in the stands. He informs us all that there are not enough restrooms and the prices are too high at the concession stands.
The color man accuses the players of bad behavior but fails to substantiate his claims.
The newsman/sportscaster complains about the behavior of the coaches standing on the sidelines. When a sideline reporter interviews a coach, the booth insists that the coach is lying and misleading the public as to why his team is here, what it hopes to accomplish and what it is costing to keep the team on the field. We are never told about the actual playing on the field.
The color man insists that they support the players, but want this team off the field immediately.
No, that will never happen. In sports, alone, it is still okay to cheer for your side. It is still considered prudent to withhold criticism of the team and the coaches until after the game and we have learned the results of their efforts.
Wow. Can we put the sports department in charge of all news?
I spent 25 years in radio broadcasting, much of it reporting news. We had a couple of simple guidelines for deciding if we should cover a story. Does our audience already know this news? Is it important to them? If our audience doesn’t know about it, it is news to them. If it clearly is not important to them... who cares about the story.
Today, good news doesn’t sell... or so the modern journalists tell us. It doesn’t matter if your audience is aware of that good news, or how important it may be to them. If it is good news... forget it, especially if it credits any government at any level.
I have wondered what would happen if there were a big football game scheduled but there were no sports people to do the broadcast? What if they had to pull some people from the regular "hard" news department to do the broadcast! And, what if, (horror of horrors) they had to enlist certain politicians to provide color?
As the home team takes the field. Imagine the newsman/sportscaster decrying the fact that they are not fielding enough players. That they are ill-trained and ill-equipped. Now the color man insists that this game is lost... irretrievably lost. It is foolish to spend the money to keep this team on the field... pull them out and let’s all go home.
The newsman/sportscaster endlessly covers some congestion in the parking lot, and decries the long lines of fans still waiting to get into the stadium. He provides a blow by blow description of a small fight that has broken out somewhere in the stands. He informs us all that there are not enough restrooms and the prices are too high at the concession stands.
The color man accuses the players of bad behavior but fails to substantiate his claims.
The newsman/sportscaster complains about the behavior of the coaches standing on the sidelines. When a sideline reporter interviews a coach, the booth insists that the coach is lying and misleading the public as to why his team is here, what it hopes to accomplish and what it is costing to keep the team on the field. We are never told about the actual playing on the field.
The color man insists that they support the players, but want this team off the field immediately.
No, that will never happen. In sports, alone, it is still okay to cheer for your side. It is still considered prudent to withhold criticism of the team and the coaches until after the game and we have learned the results of their efforts.
Wow. Can we put the sports department in charge of all news?
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Felons in the U.S. Army?
On Monday, June 17, a television station in Kansas City (my old home town) carried a story about volunteers placing sandbags in a flood endangered area. In interviewing the volunteers, they encountered one young man who, in the course of the interview, revealed that he wanted to join the U.S. Army, but was barred because he was a convicted felon.
The station picked up on this and explored the story in more detail, reporting that the Army considers enlistment by convicted felons on a case-by-case basis. The station then went on to post the story on their web site (http://www.kmbc.com/) and even included a survey asking for opinions on the question: Should a convicted felon be permitted to enlist in the U.S. Army?
As of Wednesday, June 18, the results are 35% Yes; 17% No; 48% It depends on the nature of the crime. I say Yes. My wife opted for the third choice, asking if someone who raped and murdered a person should be permitted to enlist in the Armed Forces.
Well, here's my opinion. First, a convicted rapist/murderer is probably a part of the very smallest segment of the population. If ever actually released from prison after being convicted of that crime, they would probably be too old for the Armed Services. So, let's consider lesser crimes.
In the case cited above, the "felon" was involved with marijuana - actually convicted of involvement is some sort of minor drug sale. He was convicted, sentenced to prison and served two years. Thus, in popular jargon, he has "paid his debt to society". Now let's consider his "debt". He is just one of many millions of Americans who have made a bad choice by experimenting with drugs... that list includes such luminaries as former president Bill Clinton and president wannabe Barack Obama. Do they also owe a debt to society? Will they make payment? (Excuse me: Ha! Ha! Ha!)
First, consider there is no big money to be made in the military. There is no easy money! It is hard, dangerous work and the pay is low. There are hard, dangerous jobs which pay very well. The military is not one of them.
So, why would a young man who had served a prison term want to join the military? It appears to me that perhaps he wants to prove his worth as a citizen, maybe he wants to give something to society... something in the way of a meaningful gift... not just the fact that he received and survived the punishment. Isn't that the exact kind of character trait we would like to see in our soldiers? Someone who, for their own very personal reason, wants to serve his fellow Americans?
Finally, remember, the Army is not usually looking for someone to be a school teacher or librarian... they are looking for warriors!
I think they've found one in this young man. I hope he is accepted before despair overrides his patriotic fervor!
On Monday, June 17, a television station in Kansas City (my old home town) carried a story about volunteers placing sandbags in a flood endangered area. In interviewing the volunteers, they encountered one young man who, in the course of the interview, revealed that he wanted to join the U.S. Army, but was barred because he was a convicted felon.
The station picked up on this and explored the story in more detail, reporting that the Army considers enlistment by convicted felons on a case-by-case basis. The station then went on to post the story on their web site (http://www.kmbc.com/) and even included a survey asking for opinions on the question: Should a convicted felon be permitted to enlist in the U.S. Army?
As of Wednesday, June 18, the results are 35% Yes; 17% No; 48% It depends on the nature of the crime. I say Yes. My wife opted for the third choice, asking if someone who raped and murdered a person should be permitted to enlist in the Armed Forces.
Well, here's my opinion. First, a convicted rapist/murderer is probably a part of the very smallest segment of the population. If ever actually released from prison after being convicted of that crime, they would probably be too old for the Armed Services. So, let's consider lesser crimes.
In the case cited above, the "felon" was involved with marijuana - actually convicted of involvement is some sort of minor drug sale. He was convicted, sentenced to prison and served two years. Thus, in popular jargon, he has "paid his debt to society". Now let's consider his "debt". He is just one of many millions of Americans who have made a bad choice by experimenting with drugs... that list includes such luminaries as former president Bill Clinton and president wannabe Barack Obama. Do they also owe a debt to society? Will they make payment? (Excuse me: Ha! Ha! Ha!)
First, consider there is no big money to be made in the military. There is no easy money! It is hard, dangerous work and the pay is low. There are hard, dangerous jobs which pay very well. The military is not one of them.
So, why would a young man who had served a prison term want to join the military? It appears to me that perhaps he wants to prove his worth as a citizen, maybe he wants to give something to society... something in the way of a meaningful gift... not just the fact that he received and survived the punishment. Isn't that the exact kind of character trait we would like to see in our soldiers? Someone who, for their own very personal reason, wants to serve his fellow Americans?
Finally, remember, the Army is not usually looking for someone to be a school teacher or librarian... they are looking for warriors!
I think they've found one in this young man. I hope he is accepted before despair overrides his patriotic fervor!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Tipping Cows
One early evening about 15 years ago, I stood in front of an Arizona classroom enjoying a break in a two-hour archaeology class. I forget the thread of the conversation that preceded it, but at one point a student started talking about tipping cows in rural areas not far from his Chicago home.
Another student, obviously another city boy, listened in wide-eyed wonder. "Really?", he asked. "I've always heard those stories and wondered if they were true." I started to intervene, but remembered Dale Carnegie's warning of the price in lost friendship one may pay for winning an argument with a colleague.
I wanted to say, "Cows? We're going to talk about cows? I grew up with cows. I was raised on a dairy farm. I know something about cows! I milked cows every morning before school and every afternoon before supper. I have shoveled their manure and pitched their hay. I have sprayed their flies, washed their udders before milking, tended their wounds when they cut themselves on a barbed wire fence, reaching for the always-greener grass on the other side.
"I have led cows to the bull's pen when it was time for breeding. I have assisted young cows experiencing problems with the birth of their first calf. I have picked corn for them and stood for hours in attendance of a hammer mill, grinding the corn to make the feed that was their reward for standing patiently in their stalls during milking time.
"I have cared for cows and their calves in every imaginable way. As a small boy, I watched a young calf wander onto the frozen surface of a little pond. Before my mother or I could intervene, the ice broke and suddenly all that was seen of the calf was its nostrils and its panic filled eyes held above the icy water. We were unable to rescue the calf and by the time adult male help arrived, the animal was nearly frozen. It shivered so violently its whole body shook.
"My father carried the calf back to the barn where it was sheltered from the bitterly cold wind. He built a fire and heated bricks which we wrapped in burlap bags and stacked against the calf's body. He continued this far into the night, until he, too, was cold and exhausted.
"The next morning I ran to the barn to check on the calf. When I opened the door I was nearly bowled over by the escaping calf, as lively and frisky as ever.
Cows? Yes, I know somethng about cows, but apparently not everything. For example. I have never seen a cow sleeping while standing. Horses sleep standing up. Cows lie down to sleep. And, I have never seen a cow so sound asleep that you could sneak up on it. You can walk into a pasture full of cows in the middle of the night and every one of them will be alert and watching you... not with hostility, but rather with curiosity, trying to determine if you are hostile.
You cannot just walk over and scratch the back of a cow's head, either. If you walk up to a cow that is lying on the ground, it will immediately stand.
I wanted to say that "tipping cows" is the product of some cartoonist's imagination, and a subject for a bragging 19-year-old city boy. But, I was there to learn a little about archaeology, not to embarrass a fellow student. I said nothing.
One early evening about 15 years ago, I stood in front of an Arizona classroom enjoying a break in a two-hour archaeology class. I forget the thread of the conversation that preceded it, but at one point a student started talking about tipping cows in rural areas not far from his Chicago home.
Another student, obviously another city boy, listened in wide-eyed wonder. "Really?", he asked. "I've always heard those stories and wondered if they were true." I started to intervene, but remembered Dale Carnegie's warning of the price in lost friendship one may pay for winning an argument with a colleague.
I wanted to say, "Cows? We're going to talk about cows? I grew up with cows. I was raised on a dairy farm. I know something about cows! I milked cows every morning before school and every afternoon before supper. I have shoveled their manure and pitched their hay. I have sprayed their flies, washed their udders before milking, tended their wounds when they cut themselves on a barbed wire fence, reaching for the always-greener grass on the other side.
"I have led cows to the bull's pen when it was time for breeding. I have assisted young cows experiencing problems with the birth of their first calf. I have picked corn for them and stood for hours in attendance of a hammer mill, grinding the corn to make the feed that was their reward for standing patiently in their stalls during milking time.
"I have cared for cows and their calves in every imaginable way. As a small boy, I watched a young calf wander onto the frozen surface of a little pond. Before my mother or I could intervene, the ice broke and suddenly all that was seen of the calf was its nostrils and its panic filled eyes held above the icy water. We were unable to rescue the calf and by the time adult male help arrived, the animal was nearly frozen. It shivered so violently its whole body shook.
"My father carried the calf back to the barn where it was sheltered from the bitterly cold wind. He built a fire and heated bricks which we wrapped in burlap bags and stacked against the calf's body. He continued this far into the night, until he, too, was cold and exhausted.
"The next morning I ran to the barn to check on the calf. When I opened the door I was nearly bowled over by the escaping calf, as lively and frisky as ever.
Cows? Yes, I know somethng about cows, but apparently not everything. For example. I have never seen a cow sleeping while standing. Horses sleep standing up. Cows lie down to sleep. And, I have never seen a cow so sound asleep that you could sneak up on it. You can walk into a pasture full of cows in the middle of the night and every one of them will be alert and watching you... not with hostility, but rather with curiosity, trying to determine if you are hostile.
You cannot just walk over and scratch the back of a cow's head, either. If you walk up to a cow that is lying on the ground, it will immediately stand.
I wanted to say that "tipping cows" is the product of some cartoonist's imagination, and a subject for a bragging 19-year-old city boy. But, I was there to learn a little about archaeology, not to embarrass a fellow student. I said nothing.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Obama's Tricks.
Recent political news has enlightened the world as to the attitudes of Rev. Jeremiah Wright toward White America (as though that were a place!)
I'll be the first to acknowledge that a lot of Africans were treated badly on American soil. And, that a lot of non-African Americans still hold some sort of grudge against anyone who seems to have African heritage. (I, personally, believe we all have African heritage, but that is for another discussion.)
Not all Americans hold that hatred in their hearts, and for those of us who do not, it is easy to assume the haters, black or white, are largely uneducated bigots. So, it is curious to see someone with a Doctorate who does hate. Wondering exactly where Obama, himself, stands on the subject, I read his book, "Dreams From My Father".
In the book, Obama reveals a deep-seated, life long resentment of all white people. Recounting that his own white mother once asked about the arrest of one of his friends (what mother wouldn't ask if her son's friend was arrested?), Obama said (page 94) "I had given her a reassuring smile and patted her hand - - - another one of those tricks I had learned: People were satisfied so long as you were courteous and smiled and made no sudden moves. They were more than satisfied; they were relieved--such a pleasant surprise to find a well-mannered young black man who didn't seem angry all the time."
Smiling and not appearing angry is just a trick?
Out on the campaign trail, Senator Obama is patting a lot of hands and smiling a lot. Seems the trick still works.
Recent political news has enlightened the world as to the attitudes of Rev. Jeremiah Wright toward White America (as though that were a place!)
I'll be the first to acknowledge that a lot of Africans were treated badly on American soil. And, that a lot of non-African Americans still hold some sort of grudge against anyone who seems to have African heritage. (I, personally, believe we all have African heritage, but that is for another discussion.)
Not all Americans hold that hatred in their hearts, and for those of us who do not, it is easy to assume the haters, black or white, are largely uneducated bigots. So, it is curious to see someone with a Doctorate who does hate. Wondering exactly where Obama, himself, stands on the subject, I read his book, "Dreams From My Father".
In the book, Obama reveals a deep-seated, life long resentment of all white people. Recounting that his own white mother once asked about the arrest of one of his friends (what mother wouldn't ask if her son's friend was arrested?), Obama said (page 94) "I had given her a reassuring smile and patted her hand - - - another one of those tricks I had learned: People were satisfied so long as you were courteous and smiled and made no sudden moves. They were more than satisfied; they were relieved--such a pleasant surprise to find a well-mannered young black man who didn't seem angry all the time."
Smiling and not appearing angry is just a trick?
Out on the campaign trail, Senator Obama is patting a lot of hands and smiling a lot. Seems the trick still works.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
"A Walk To Beautiful"
This past week, the PBS Science Program "Nova" aired a program titled "A Walk To Beautiful". It was about young women in Ethiopia receiving care at a Fistula Hospital in Addis Ababa.
Essentially the story was about very young girls, starting at around age nine, who are required to perform very strenuous labor.
Okay, that is a bad thing - against the law, in fact, in the United States. But that is only the first step. A worse fate awaits these girls. Forced to marry at this age, they become pregnant before their bodies are developed. The result of the pregnancy and birth is severe tissue damage. In the case of the girl whose story was the feature of the program, the fistula was a rip in the tissues dividing her colon, bladder and vaginal canal. (Forgive me if my medical terms are not exact.) While it may turn your stomach, it is easy to imagine the results of this injury.
When her body attempted to deliver, it was impossible. After five days in labor the infant died, but was still not delivered. Unbelievably, this child received no sympathy from her family. Instead she was reviled and forced to live in a lean-to she had constructed on the back of her family's house.
Finally, through some miraculous turn of events, she was directed to the Fistula Hospital, a 23-hour journey by bus and by foot.
There, caring medical professionals performed several surgeries and managed to restore her health.
"Normal" again, this little girl refused to return to her home where she had been treated so badly. Instead she went to another African city where she was given a home and employed as a sort of nanny caring for orphaned children, mostly by parents who died from AIDS.
I must tell you that I have four sisters, three daughters and seven grand daughters. I happen to believe that little girls are the most fragile and most precious segment of human existence. I shed a good many tears watching "A Walk To Beautiful".
At the end of the program, I was very angry, as I imagine many of this particular program's viewers were. I was angry at a culture that permits such treatment of its children. Angry at the adults who commit these crimes. Angry at a government that cannot protect its most vulnerable citizens.
And, I have to tell you that I was also angry at one political candidate's wife who said she had never been proud of her country.
Don't get me wrong, I know abuses occur in our country. But they are not the norm. They are against the law. Perpetrators who are identified are sent to jail.
Anyone who is not proud of a country that makes a noble effort on behalf of its children is sadly out of touch with reality.
This past week, the PBS Science Program "Nova" aired a program titled "A Walk To Beautiful". It was about young women in Ethiopia receiving care at a Fistula Hospital in Addis Ababa.
Essentially the story was about very young girls, starting at around age nine, who are required to perform very strenuous labor.
Okay, that is a bad thing - against the law, in fact, in the United States. But that is only the first step. A worse fate awaits these girls. Forced to marry at this age, they become pregnant before their bodies are developed. The result of the pregnancy and birth is severe tissue damage. In the case of the girl whose story was the feature of the program, the fistula was a rip in the tissues dividing her colon, bladder and vaginal canal. (Forgive me if my medical terms are not exact.) While it may turn your stomach, it is easy to imagine the results of this injury.
When her body attempted to deliver, it was impossible. After five days in labor the infant died, but was still not delivered. Unbelievably, this child received no sympathy from her family. Instead she was reviled and forced to live in a lean-to she had constructed on the back of her family's house.
Finally, through some miraculous turn of events, she was directed to the Fistula Hospital, a 23-hour journey by bus and by foot.
There, caring medical professionals performed several surgeries and managed to restore her health.
"Normal" again, this little girl refused to return to her home where she had been treated so badly. Instead she went to another African city where she was given a home and employed as a sort of nanny caring for orphaned children, mostly by parents who died from AIDS.
I must tell you that I have four sisters, three daughters and seven grand daughters. I happen to believe that little girls are the most fragile and most precious segment of human existence. I shed a good many tears watching "A Walk To Beautiful".
At the end of the program, I was very angry, as I imagine many of this particular program's viewers were. I was angry at a culture that permits such treatment of its children. Angry at the adults who commit these crimes. Angry at a government that cannot protect its most vulnerable citizens.
And, I have to tell you that I was also angry at one political candidate's wife who said she had never been proud of her country.
Don't get me wrong, I know abuses occur in our country. But they are not the norm. They are against the law. Perpetrators who are identified are sent to jail.
Anyone who is not proud of a country that makes a noble effort on behalf of its children is sadly out of touch with reality.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Trinity Site
Trinity Site, the spot on the New Mexico desert where the first test atomic weapon was exploded, is open to the public once again this weekend. It is a National Historic Landmark, but because it is located on the White Sands Missle Range, it is closed to the public except on special occasions.
The site is about 150 miles from my home, and I probably will not go this year. I did make the trip a few years ago, on the 50th Anniversary of the test explosion. On that trip, I was surprised at the number of Japanese film crews on hand.
A group of American protestors was also on hand, holding up long banners that read "We are sorry for Hiroshima and Nagasaki". Most researchers have determined that the loss of life in those two Japanese cities was smaller than the expected deaths in an invasion of the Japanese homeland. The protestors obviously did not agree.
This past week I have been watching the PBS presentation of Ken Burn's film, "The War". While this film advises that World War II was fought in too many places to document them all, they are covering most of the major battle locations. Included was the battle for the tiny volcanic atoll named Iwo Jima. It was expected to be an easy invasion but turned out to be the bloodiest single island in the Pacific, taking over 6,000 American's lives.
Iwo Jima was Japanese trerritory before the war. It was part of the Japanese empire. In the invasion of Iwo Jima, the entire Japanese garrison was lost... every single Japanese soldier on the island was killed. The Japanese commanders gave the order to every man to fight to their death, and every one obeyed.
The film also showed footage of Japanese women and children (in Japan) training for combat with swords. They, too, had been ordered to fight to their death when the Americans invaded Japanese soil. There can be no doubt that they, too, would have obeyed their orders.
Can you imagine the spectacle of the modern U.S. Army facing off against a group of school children swinging swords? The atomic bomb was the only thing that prevented that from happening.
The protestors apologizing for the use of the atomic bombs in August, 1945, are a bunch of fools, as protestors often are. They refuse to believe the findings of analysts who have calculated the loss of life that was to come in an invasion of Japan. And, they have no concept of the brutality of the Japanese Army... the people who murdered more innocents in Nanking, China than the total casualties of both Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined.
I was in the South Pacific just one year after the atomic bombs were dropped. I can attest that the Japanese people march to a different drummer. When the Japanese soldiers were told that the war was over and they should now accept the Americans as friends, they obeyed that order, too. I had met some German POWs at Camp Stoneman, California. The Germans displayed no interest in becoming friends with Americans. The Japanese I knew in the Philippines seemed to harbor no hostilities, and, in fact, seemed eagar to participate in the American culture.
Incidentally, there is not much to see at Trinty Site. A marker erected to identify the site and the stubs of a large steel tower that melted in the explosion.
Trinity Site, the spot on the New Mexico desert where the first test atomic weapon was exploded, is open to the public once again this weekend. It is a National Historic Landmark, but because it is located on the White Sands Missle Range, it is closed to the public except on special occasions.
The site is about 150 miles from my home, and I probably will not go this year. I did make the trip a few years ago, on the 50th Anniversary of the test explosion. On that trip, I was surprised at the number of Japanese film crews on hand.
A group of American protestors was also on hand, holding up long banners that read "We are sorry for Hiroshima and Nagasaki". Most researchers have determined that the loss of life in those two Japanese cities was smaller than the expected deaths in an invasion of the Japanese homeland. The protestors obviously did not agree.
This past week I have been watching the PBS presentation of Ken Burn's film, "The War". While this film advises that World War II was fought in too many places to document them all, they are covering most of the major battle locations. Included was the battle for the tiny volcanic atoll named Iwo Jima. It was expected to be an easy invasion but turned out to be the bloodiest single island in the Pacific, taking over 6,000 American's lives.
Iwo Jima was Japanese trerritory before the war. It was part of the Japanese empire. In the invasion of Iwo Jima, the entire Japanese garrison was lost... every single Japanese soldier on the island was killed. The Japanese commanders gave the order to every man to fight to their death, and every one obeyed.
The film also showed footage of Japanese women and children (in Japan) training for combat with swords. They, too, had been ordered to fight to their death when the Americans invaded Japanese soil. There can be no doubt that they, too, would have obeyed their orders.
Can you imagine the spectacle of the modern U.S. Army facing off against a group of school children swinging swords? The atomic bomb was the only thing that prevented that from happening.
The protestors apologizing for the use of the atomic bombs in August, 1945, are a bunch of fools, as protestors often are. They refuse to believe the findings of analysts who have calculated the loss of life that was to come in an invasion of Japan. And, they have no concept of the brutality of the Japanese Army... the people who murdered more innocents in Nanking, China than the total casualties of both Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined.
I was in the South Pacific just one year after the atomic bombs were dropped. I can attest that the Japanese people march to a different drummer. When the Japanese soldiers were told that the war was over and they should now accept the Americans as friends, they obeyed that order, too. I had met some German POWs at Camp Stoneman, California. The Germans displayed no interest in becoming friends with Americans. The Japanese I knew in the Philippines seemed to harbor no hostilities, and, in fact, seemed eagar to participate in the American culture.
Incidentally, there is not much to see at Trinty Site. A marker erected to identify the site and the stubs of a large steel tower that melted in the explosion.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Unforgettable Characters
During my nearly 60 years in broadcasting and advertising, I have been privileged to work with some extraordinary people. Of them, one of the most unforgettable was a radio man named Roch Ulmer.
I worked with Roch at a Kansas City radio station, KUDL. Roch was on the control board, playing the morning deejay role, I did the news during his program. In subsequent years our paths crossed on many occasions as we both continued in various aspects of broadcast advertising. Roch had no inhibitions and usually came to work wearing yellow trousers, yellow shoes, and a broad-brimmed yellow hat.
Roch was a man of small stature - I am going to guess that he was about 5'6" and weighed perhaps 150 pounds. But Roch liked to talk, and he told outlandish stories about his career in radio broadcasting. For some time I thought he was just a blowhard. It turns out that he was not.
One of Roch's favorite subjects was flying. A typical flying story was his "See The Fair From The Air" antics. During late summer in the Dakotas and Minnesota, Roch and a friend would make the rounds of county fairs. They would rent a small plane, land in a pasture adjacent to a county fairgrounds, and put up a big sign that said "See The Fair From The Air". The buddy would stay on the ground and sell tickets. Roch would take off with one or more of his customers (depending on how many seats the plane had), circle one time over the fairgrounds, then land and load the next passenger.
That was an illegal enterprise, to say the very least, and I never really believed the stories until I completed my own flying lessons and gained a private pilot's license. Roch was a diabetic and could no longer fly himself, but he was eager to get in the air. One day I offered to take Roch for a ride in a little two-place tail dragger. When we had cleared the airport and surrounding urban areas, Roch asked if he might take the controls for a few minutes. In spite of some apprehension, I agreed. It was immediately apparent that Roch was, indeed, an experienced pilot... very experienced.
In telling stories about his early radio career, Roch once told me that he had worked for radio station KSTP in St Paul. During that time, he claimed, he lived in a houseboat anchored on the Mississippi River. I didn't believe that story until years later when I was in St Paul to buy a schedule of radio spots for a client of my advertising agency. I met an older member of the KSTP staff and in the course of our conversation asked him if he had ever known a guy named Roch Ulmer. Yes, indeed, he did remember Roch, whom he described as a character. "Believe it or not", he said, "when Roch worked for us he lived in a houseboat, anchored on the Mississippi River."
In Austin, Texas, Roch got himself in a bit of trouble for riding his motorcycle up and down the steps on the front of the state capitol. Another motorcycle tale recounted his living in an apartment building that had a long hallway with rooms on either side - like a motel. Roch worked the morning shift at a radio station and left for work before 5:00 am each day. There were so many complaints about Roch roaring off on his motorcycle so early in the morning, that he was evicted. The first morning after Roch had moved his belongings from the apartment, he propped open the front door of the building and quietly pushed his motorcycle backwards to the far end of the hallway. There he started his engine, roared it a few times, then went blasting down the hallway and out the front door, never to return.
In later years, Roch worked as an announcer on commercials for various Kansas City automobile dealers. He used a sort of country accent and called himself Uncle Virgil. One of his clients was a Cadillac dealer whom Roch visited frequently in the process of preparing advertising copy. In the back of the shop, this dealer had an old Cadillac... possibly from the late 1930s. Roch loved that old Cadillac and whenever he had the time, he would look over the car, often sitting in the driver's seat and checking out the controls and instrumentation.
The dealer's sales manager noted this activity and came up with an idea... instead of paying Roch a talent fee for each commercial, he offered to give Roch the old car in return for recording a certain number of radio spots. Roch was delighted.
Shortly after he acquired the car he went for a drive out on the highway. A carload of teenage boys overtook Roch and were greatly amused at the sight of this small man in his broad-brimmed yellow hat, driving this antique car. They pulled alongside, shouting and honking, then cut sharply in front of Roch. Among his other pursuits, Roch had also been a race car driver and had no problem handling this situation.
The boys would slow down in front of Roch until he passed them. Then they would overtake him and cut him off again. This went on for several miles. Finally Roch had had enough. As the boy's car cut in front of him, Roch accelerated the old Cadillac and swerved sharply to the left. The front bumper on the Caddy (built of really heavy steel) caught the right rear fender of the boys car and badly ripped their car.
They swung sideways, blocking the road, and poured out of their car. Roch stopped, kept his seat and just cracked his window a few inches. They immediately began yelling all sorts of threats as to what they were going to do to him. Suddenly a masculine voice interrupted and said they were going to do no such thing. It was a Missouri Highway Patrol officer who had been following, unnoticed, long enough to have a clear view of what was going on.
Roch died some years ago, and few people alive today had the opportunity to know Roch as I did. I could tell many more stories about Roch, but it is sufficient to say that he was a very talented man who enjoyed life immensely. Part of Roch's pleasure came in breaking rules which he thought were, well, a bit foolish.
During my nearly 60 years in broadcasting and advertising, I have been privileged to work with some extraordinary people. Of them, one of the most unforgettable was a radio man named Roch Ulmer.
I worked with Roch at a Kansas City radio station, KUDL. Roch was on the control board, playing the morning deejay role, I did the news during his program. In subsequent years our paths crossed on many occasions as we both continued in various aspects of broadcast advertising. Roch had no inhibitions and usually came to work wearing yellow trousers, yellow shoes, and a broad-brimmed yellow hat.
Roch was a man of small stature - I am going to guess that he was about 5'6" and weighed perhaps 150 pounds. But Roch liked to talk, and he told outlandish stories about his career in radio broadcasting. For some time I thought he was just a blowhard. It turns out that he was not.
One of Roch's favorite subjects was flying. A typical flying story was his "See The Fair From The Air" antics. During late summer in the Dakotas and Minnesota, Roch and a friend would make the rounds of county fairs. They would rent a small plane, land in a pasture adjacent to a county fairgrounds, and put up a big sign that said "See The Fair From The Air". The buddy would stay on the ground and sell tickets. Roch would take off with one or more of his customers (depending on how many seats the plane had), circle one time over the fairgrounds, then land and load the next passenger.
That was an illegal enterprise, to say the very least, and I never really believed the stories until I completed my own flying lessons and gained a private pilot's license. Roch was a diabetic and could no longer fly himself, but he was eager to get in the air. One day I offered to take Roch for a ride in a little two-place tail dragger. When we had cleared the airport and surrounding urban areas, Roch asked if he might take the controls for a few minutes. In spite of some apprehension, I agreed. It was immediately apparent that Roch was, indeed, an experienced pilot... very experienced.
In telling stories about his early radio career, Roch once told me that he had worked for radio station KSTP in St Paul. During that time, he claimed, he lived in a houseboat anchored on the Mississippi River. I didn't believe that story until years later when I was in St Paul to buy a schedule of radio spots for a client of my advertising agency. I met an older member of the KSTP staff and in the course of our conversation asked him if he had ever known a guy named Roch Ulmer. Yes, indeed, he did remember Roch, whom he described as a character. "Believe it or not", he said, "when Roch worked for us he lived in a houseboat, anchored on the Mississippi River."
In Austin, Texas, Roch got himself in a bit of trouble for riding his motorcycle up and down the steps on the front of the state capitol. Another motorcycle tale recounted his living in an apartment building that had a long hallway with rooms on either side - like a motel. Roch worked the morning shift at a radio station and left for work before 5:00 am each day. There were so many complaints about Roch roaring off on his motorcycle so early in the morning, that he was evicted. The first morning after Roch had moved his belongings from the apartment, he propped open the front door of the building and quietly pushed his motorcycle backwards to the far end of the hallway. There he started his engine, roared it a few times, then went blasting down the hallway and out the front door, never to return.
In later years, Roch worked as an announcer on commercials for various Kansas City automobile dealers. He used a sort of country accent and called himself Uncle Virgil. One of his clients was a Cadillac dealer whom Roch visited frequently in the process of preparing advertising copy. In the back of the shop, this dealer had an old Cadillac... possibly from the late 1930s. Roch loved that old Cadillac and whenever he had the time, he would look over the car, often sitting in the driver's seat and checking out the controls and instrumentation.
The dealer's sales manager noted this activity and came up with an idea... instead of paying Roch a talent fee for each commercial, he offered to give Roch the old car in return for recording a certain number of radio spots. Roch was delighted.
Shortly after he acquired the car he went for a drive out on the highway. A carload of teenage boys overtook Roch and were greatly amused at the sight of this small man in his broad-brimmed yellow hat, driving this antique car. They pulled alongside, shouting and honking, then cut sharply in front of Roch. Among his other pursuits, Roch had also been a race car driver and had no problem handling this situation.
The boys would slow down in front of Roch until he passed them. Then they would overtake him and cut him off again. This went on for several miles. Finally Roch had had enough. As the boy's car cut in front of him, Roch accelerated the old Cadillac and swerved sharply to the left. The front bumper on the Caddy (built of really heavy steel) caught the right rear fender of the boys car and badly ripped their car.
They swung sideways, blocking the road, and poured out of their car. Roch stopped, kept his seat and just cracked his window a few inches. They immediately began yelling all sorts of threats as to what they were going to do to him. Suddenly a masculine voice interrupted and said they were going to do no such thing. It was a Missouri Highway Patrol officer who had been following, unnoticed, long enough to have a clear view of what was going on.
Roch died some years ago, and few people alive today had the opportunity to know Roch as I did. I could tell many more stories about Roch, but it is sufficient to say that he was a very talented man who enjoyed life immensely. Part of Roch's pleasure came in breaking rules which he thought were, well, a bit foolish.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
The Unforgivable Sin of The 21`st Century
Michael Vick is in bigger trouble than he may realize... he is accused of committing the new unforgivable sin. It is worse than child abuse or spousal abuse. Worse than using steroids or selling dope. Worse than gambling on games or shaving points. He is accused of abusing dogs!
The world has gone whacko over dogs. Dogs can do no wrong, and treating them in any way less than the way you should treat your children is not permissable. The news media is in a froth over what they are calling Vick's cruel and inhumane treatment of dogs. (Guess what? Dogs are not human!)
In our town, a sheriff's deputy, on official business, was badly mauled by pit bulls. This professional law enforcement officer was armed, but refused to use his gun to protect himself. He understood the risk associated with firing the weapon in a crowded residential neighborhood. No community gratitude afforded this real hero. Folks seemed to think it was all his fault.
More recently, a toddler saw a dog chained to the rear of a pickup truck. Approaching to pet the animal, the child was badly mauled. No community outcry here, either. A couple of people sent comments to the newspaper blaming the dog's owner for chaining the animal.
Our city has banned certain aerial & ground audible fireworks because they frighten dogs. No more private July 4 celebrations. (The dog lovers supported the ban because they say it will prevent fires. They do not tell you that the only household fire started by fireworks in recent history was started when two small boys played with sparklers inside their home. Sparklers are not banned.)
Now our city is planning to spend $150,000 for a Dog park. A city park for dogs??? Yep! Dogs are banned from City sponsored events in public parks, but not from the parks when no such event is in progress. And the ban does not include the local Farmer's Market where my wife was recently frightened when some idiot wandered up to her with two pit bulls on leashes.
Because animal control is forced to euthanize thousands of dogs each year, some level-headed people are proposing a mandatory spay/neuter law. Now comes the community outcry. Again, they oppose this cruel and inhumane violence against dogs.
Dogs are not human.
Dogs are Running, barking, snarling, slobbering, smelly flea farms. Can you even begin to imagine what Americans spend on dog food, dog medical care and dog toys? Can you begin to imagine how many tons of dog feces are left each day in the streets, parks and yards of America?
I am in favor of keeping guide dogs for the blind; dogs that are used by law enforcement to sniff drugs, cadavers or explosives; dogs that are trained to work livestock and certain hunting dogs. All other dogs are a public nuisance.
Man's best friend? That honor belongs to goats which have provided man with meat, milk, hair and skin for millenia. Ever hear of a goat biting a child or mauling a police officer?
Don't bet on Vick to win this one. Unforgivable sins are not forgiven.
Michael Vick is in bigger trouble than he may realize... he is accused of committing the new unforgivable sin. It is worse than child abuse or spousal abuse. Worse than using steroids or selling dope. Worse than gambling on games or shaving points. He is accused of abusing dogs!
The world has gone whacko over dogs. Dogs can do no wrong, and treating them in any way less than the way you should treat your children is not permissable. The news media is in a froth over what they are calling Vick's cruel and inhumane treatment of dogs. (Guess what? Dogs are not human!)
In our town, a sheriff's deputy, on official business, was badly mauled by pit bulls. This professional law enforcement officer was armed, but refused to use his gun to protect himself. He understood the risk associated with firing the weapon in a crowded residential neighborhood. No community gratitude afforded this real hero. Folks seemed to think it was all his fault.
More recently, a toddler saw a dog chained to the rear of a pickup truck. Approaching to pet the animal, the child was badly mauled. No community outcry here, either. A couple of people sent comments to the newspaper blaming the dog's owner for chaining the animal.
Our city has banned certain aerial & ground audible fireworks because they frighten dogs. No more private July 4 celebrations. (The dog lovers supported the ban because they say it will prevent fires. They do not tell you that the only household fire started by fireworks in recent history was started when two small boys played with sparklers inside their home. Sparklers are not banned.)
Now our city is planning to spend $150,000 for a Dog park. A city park for dogs??? Yep! Dogs are banned from City sponsored events in public parks, but not from the parks when no such event is in progress. And the ban does not include the local Farmer's Market where my wife was recently frightened when some idiot wandered up to her with two pit bulls on leashes.
Because animal control is forced to euthanize thousands of dogs each year, some level-headed people are proposing a mandatory spay/neuter law. Now comes the community outcry. Again, they oppose this cruel and inhumane violence against dogs.
Dogs are not human.
Dogs are Running, barking, snarling, slobbering, smelly flea farms. Can you even begin to imagine what Americans spend on dog food, dog medical care and dog toys? Can you begin to imagine how many tons of dog feces are left each day in the streets, parks and yards of America?
I am in favor of keeping guide dogs for the blind; dogs that are used by law enforcement to sniff drugs, cadavers or explosives; dogs that are trained to work livestock and certain hunting dogs. All other dogs are a public nuisance.
Man's best friend? That honor belongs to goats which have provided man with meat, milk, hair and skin for millenia. Ever hear of a goat biting a child or mauling a police officer?
Don't bet on Vick to win this one. Unforgivable sins are not forgiven.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Now we Know!
The terrorist attacks in London have finally put the lie to the proposition that violent Muslims are merely reacting to a life of deprivation. People who go to bed hungry every night are understandably violent, they have told us. If the West had not been so oppressive, had just given these people an equal chance, there would be no such thing as radical Islam.
But, in London, the perpetrators were medical professionals... well educated, affluent people. These educated, successful people were driven, not by hunger or other miseries of poverty, but by their distorted belief that all people must bow to Sharia law. The ridiculous rules set forth, they tell us, by some ancient crackpot who went out from the city to sit in a cave all day where the truth was revealed to him.
How anyone could take the Koran seriously is a puzzle to a thinking person. But, the actions of many American Muslims is a puzzle to me. How can someone with a great talent - one that makes you rich - discard the name given by their mother and drop Cassius Clay in favor of Muhammad Ali. Or swap Lou Alcinder for Kareem Abdul Jabbar? (Wrong spelling? What matter?)
It is one thing to go to church on Sunday and rededicate yourself to your belief in an ancient writing. After all, most who do go back to their worldly ways on Monday morning. But when your devotion to ancient nonsense is so great that you change your name to some mouthful of jibberish, you are, indeed, marching to the beat of a different drummer, and I do not trust you.
Every devout Muslim is suspect. Profiling? You bet. Who would have thought that the MD who treated your child is scheming to find a way to blow him/her and you to bits?
The terrorist attacks in London have finally put the lie to the proposition that violent Muslims are merely reacting to a life of deprivation. People who go to bed hungry every night are understandably violent, they have told us. If the West had not been so oppressive, had just given these people an equal chance, there would be no such thing as radical Islam.
But, in London, the perpetrators were medical professionals... well educated, affluent people. These educated, successful people were driven, not by hunger or other miseries of poverty, but by their distorted belief that all people must bow to Sharia law. The ridiculous rules set forth, they tell us, by some ancient crackpot who went out from the city to sit in a cave all day where the truth was revealed to him.
How anyone could take the Koran seriously is a puzzle to a thinking person. But, the actions of many American Muslims is a puzzle to me. How can someone with a great talent - one that makes you rich - discard the name given by their mother and drop Cassius Clay in favor of Muhammad Ali. Or swap Lou Alcinder for Kareem Abdul Jabbar? (Wrong spelling? What matter?)
It is one thing to go to church on Sunday and rededicate yourself to your belief in an ancient writing. After all, most who do go back to their worldly ways on Monday morning. But when your devotion to ancient nonsense is so great that you change your name to some mouthful of jibberish, you are, indeed, marching to the beat of a different drummer, and I do not trust you.
Every devout Muslim is suspect. Profiling? You bet. Who would have thought that the MD who treated your child is scheming to find a way to blow him/her and you to bits?
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Ties That Bind
It is interesting to me that people thrust together by circumstances of life often develop ties that last a lifetime.
The past few days our local newspaper has published stories about graduation ceremonies at area high schools. One article carried comments from an interview with a graduate. Asked about ending her high school years, the girl said "I miss it already", and dabbed at tears welling in her eyes.
On Friday, the veteran's "Run For The Wall" passed through our town. Somewhere between 150 and 200 motorcycles driven by veterans on their way from California to Washington, D.C. and Memorial Day ceremonies at the Viet Nam Veteran's Memorial Wall. They are remembering American military POWs, MIAs and KIAs. The caravan stopped at our local Veterans' Memorial Park for a brief ceremony honoring an area soldier who died in Iraq.
As we observed the group, I swear you could sense the comradeship among these veterans, most of whom probably never knew each other during their military service. It was immediately apparent to all that these men were bonded for life by memories of their similar experiences.
For a moment I was taken aback by the number of men (and women) with snow white hair. Then I realized that I, too, am an old man with snow white hair.
And, I remembered my own military service which ended sixty years ago. Today I look at snapshots of some of my Army buddies, and am taken aback by how young we were. And I miss them. Those months we spent together were a special time in our lives. We shared a common experience, and my memories of that experience are still strong.
True, we have lost track of each other over the years. Those who are still living are also now white haired old men. But we will always be bound by the comradeship we once experienced. And in those memories, we will always be the young soldiers we once were.
The magic of ties that bind.
It is interesting to me that people thrust together by circumstances of life often develop ties that last a lifetime.
The past few days our local newspaper has published stories about graduation ceremonies at area high schools. One article carried comments from an interview with a graduate. Asked about ending her high school years, the girl said "I miss it already", and dabbed at tears welling in her eyes.
On Friday, the veteran's "Run For The Wall" passed through our town. Somewhere between 150 and 200 motorcycles driven by veterans on their way from California to Washington, D.C. and Memorial Day ceremonies at the Viet Nam Veteran's Memorial Wall. They are remembering American military POWs, MIAs and KIAs. The caravan stopped at our local Veterans' Memorial Park for a brief ceremony honoring an area soldier who died in Iraq.
As we observed the group, I swear you could sense the comradeship among these veterans, most of whom probably never knew each other during their military service. It was immediately apparent to all that these men were bonded for life by memories of their similar experiences.
For a moment I was taken aback by the number of men (and women) with snow white hair. Then I realized that I, too, am an old man with snow white hair.
And, I remembered my own military service which ended sixty years ago. Today I look at snapshots of some of my Army buddies, and am taken aback by how young we were. And I miss them. Those months we spent together were a special time in our lives. We shared a common experience, and my memories of that experience are still strong.
True, we have lost track of each other over the years. Those who are still living are also now white haired old men. But we will always be bound by the comradeship we once experienced. And in those memories, we will always be the young soldiers we once were.
The magic of ties that bind.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Distractions!
When I was running a radio station, I cautioned my advertising salesmen not to let anything distract from their sales presentation. You're not going to get very far explaining rating points, cost per thousand or unduplicated audience, if your propect is wondering why you are wearing that stupid tie which does not match your wardrobe. Or, why in the world you cut your hair in a style that makes your head look misshapen.
Travelers Insurance is currently airing a tongue-in-cheek TV commercial in which a group of scientists brag that they have developed a way to re-attach rabbit's foot good luck charms, to their original owners (the rabbits!).
I don't know any more about the commercial, because I am always distracted.
Roll back to about 1935, when I was a 7 or 8 year old kid on a Missouri farm. Rabbit's foot good luck charms were very popular, and probably cost only a dime or so - still a large sum for a farm kid during the great depression.
Now to digress a moment... on that farm we had no electricity, no running water. On laundry day. my mother carried a wash tub full of dirty laundry to a fresh water spring located on the farm. She built a little half circle formation of stones on which she placed the tub. Then she built a fire under the tub and, using a bucket, filled it with water from the spring.
When the water was hot she added homemade laundry soap, and with a scrub board, washed each item of clothing. This is to explain why I wore a pair of overalls - not jeans, but bib ovreralls - for several days between washings.
One day my dad took me rabbit hunting. While he was dressing the rabbits, I suddenly realized that this was my chance to have a genuine rabbit's foot, free of charge. I took one of the amputated feet and crammed it into my hip pocket.
A couple of days later, my sisters started complaining about a foul smell. It took a few more days for me to realize that my free rabbit's foot had not nicely dried as I expected, but had begun to rot in my hip pocket. No good luck here... this amulet was pitched.
So, each time I see The Traveler's commercial, I go back to the day when I stuck my hand in my hip pocket and discovered the rancid rabbit's foot. I get so tickled that I never see how the commercial turns out!
How could The Traveler's avoid that distraction?
When I was running a radio station, I cautioned my advertising salesmen not to let anything distract from their sales presentation. You're not going to get very far explaining rating points, cost per thousand or unduplicated audience, if your propect is wondering why you are wearing that stupid tie which does not match your wardrobe. Or, why in the world you cut your hair in a style that makes your head look misshapen.
Travelers Insurance is currently airing a tongue-in-cheek TV commercial in which a group of scientists brag that they have developed a way to re-attach rabbit's foot good luck charms, to their original owners (the rabbits!).
I don't know any more about the commercial, because I am always distracted.
Roll back to about 1935, when I was a 7 or 8 year old kid on a Missouri farm. Rabbit's foot good luck charms were very popular, and probably cost only a dime or so - still a large sum for a farm kid during the great depression.
Now to digress a moment... on that farm we had no electricity, no running water. On laundry day. my mother carried a wash tub full of dirty laundry to a fresh water spring located on the farm. She built a little half circle formation of stones on which she placed the tub. Then she built a fire under the tub and, using a bucket, filled it with water from the spring.
When the water was hot she added homemade laundry soap, and with a scrub board, washed each item of clothing. This is to explain why I wore a pair of overalls - not jeans, but bib ovreralls - for several days between washings.
One day my dad took me rabbit hunting. While he was dressing the rabbits, I suddenly realized that this was my chance to have a genuine rabbit's foot, free of charge. I took one of the amputated feet and crammed it into my hip pocket.
A couple of days later, my sisters started complaining about a foul smell. It took a few more days for me to realize that my free rabbit's foot had not nicely dried as I expected, but had begun to rot in my hip pocket. No good luck here... this amulet was pitched.
So, each time I see The Traveler's commercial, I go back to the day when I stuck my hand in my hip pocket and discovered the rancid rabbit's foot. I get so tickled that I never see how the commercial turns out!
How could The Traveler's avoid that distraction?
Monday, March 05, 2007
Prioritizing Issues
This past weekend, I heard several political guessers speculating why this candidate or that candidate was doing well in the polls. Some of their guesses were pretty wild.
Why do Conservatives like Guiliani? He is liberal on some social issues.
Why is McCain falling behind in these ridiculously early polls? He has the name recognition.
No candidate is going to align with all of your views - unless you are that candidate. So, voters decide which issues are most important and choose their candidates by that list. Even though that candidate is clearly opposed to some values they hold dear.
As we watch the goings on in Congress, we become more and more convinced that they are a bunch of ego driven, power hungry idiots. Remember the faces of Pelosi and Reid when they realized the Democrats had gained control of both houses. If you had painted their faces with chalk, you would have thought you were looking at the bleachers in a college football stadium. No serious response to the monumental burden just loaded on their shoulders. They acted like thay had just won a game.
Now consider the fumbling confusion among Democrats since the election. Do you really trust these people with the future of our nation?
American voters are prioritizing their issues. Topping that list seems to be a strong, serious leader whom they believe has the intelligence and the strength to lead this country in a crisis. When we feel safe again, we can consider social issues.
That could all change between now and election day. I hope it will. By November of 2008, I hope world events will find us feeling that the threat of a suicide bomber in our local mall is an impossibility. Perhaps then we can look for a candidate who shares our views on Choice, Gay Marriage, etc.
In the meantime, look to front page headlines to explain poll results.
This past weekend, I heard several political guessers speculating why this candidate or that candidate was doing well in the polls. Some of their guesses were pretty wild.
Why do Conservatives like Guiliani? He is liberal on some social issues.
Why is McCain falling behind in these ridiculously early polls? He has the name recognition.
No candidate is going to align with all of your views - unless you are that candidate. So, voters decide which issues are most important and choose their candidates by that list. Even though that candidate is clearly opposed to some values they hold dear.
As we watch the goings on in Congress, we become more and more convinced that they are a bunch of ego driven, power hungry idiots. Remember the faces of Pelosi and Reid when they realized the Democrats had gained control of both houses. If you had painted their faces with chalk, you would have thought you were looking at the bleachers in a college football stadium. No serious response to the monumental burden just loaded on their shoulders. They acted like thay had just won a game.
Now consider the fumbling confusion among Democrats since the election. Do you really trust these people with the future of our nation?
American voters are prioritizing their issues. Topping that list seems to be a strong, serious leader whom they believe has the intelligence and the strength to lead this country in a crisis. When we feel safe again, we can consider social issues.
That could all change between now and election day. I hope it will. By November of 2008, I hope world events will find us feeling that the threat of a suicide bomber in our local mall is an impossibility. Perhaps then we can look for a candidate who shares our views on Choice, Gay Marriage, etc.
In the meantime, look to front page headlines to explain poll results.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Hospital free - for 60 years (almost).
One Sunday morning in the spring of 1948 I was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. I was released from the hospital the following Tuesday afternoon, went on a date that evening and was back in technical school Wednesday morning. Nothing remarkable about that.
What I believe to be remarkable was the fact that I was not again an overnight guest in any hospital until January 3rd, 2007. On New Year's Day I fainted while taking a shower and took a fall in a hard surface, ceramic tile shower stall. When I finally agreed to go to the hospital, the doctors were more concerned with the reason I fell than the damage incurred in the fall.
The care I was afforded at the hospital seemed first rate to me. Everyone was very polite and courteous and seemed genuinely concerned with my well-being. I was in a "private room" , that is to say, mine was the only bed in the room. It was not very "private" with people rushing in and out at all hours. I had a TV and telephone. I could call for help at any time. The few times I did press the button, the response was immediate. The very worst thing that happened was on my final morning. While eating breakfast, a very nice nurse came in and started asking questions about my condition. Specifically she wanted to know about bowel movements. I tried to answer, but finally had to ask if we could not wait until after breakfast to discuss that particular bodily function. She apologized and left the room.
I can no longer remember details of my 1948 hospital stay. But the shadowy memory I do have is pleasant. I do recall that in the operating room I was placed on a table, naked, with just a sheet to shield me from the view of a room full of nurses. About the time they decided to adminster the anasthesia, I decided I didn't like what was happening. I recall trying to sit up; impossible because I was strapped down. I woke up after the surgery.
I later dated one of the nurses. She refused to provide any details of the OR experience, except to admit that I was not very happy about the situation.
The biggest difference between the two hospitals must surely be the cost. In 1948, I was fresh out of the Army, living with my parents and attending school on the G.I. Bill. I certainly had no health insurance, and I have no idea whether or not my parents had health insurance for me. I do know that at the time, my father's salary was about $100. a week. My income was the $20 weekly sum the government paid veteran's for the first 52 weeks after discharge. We called it the 52-20 Club.
For my 2007 hospital stay, I did have insurance. I paid a $500 co-pay; the insurance company paid over $12,000. I do not yet know what they have paid the physicians who attended to me.
By January, 1952, I was married and on January 8th my wife gave birth to twin girls. The babies were premature. Their weights were 3 lbs 11 oz. and 2 lbs 6 oz. They stayed in the hospital for six weeks before we were permitted to bring them home.
My salary at the time was $160. a month. The total hospital bill was $600. That averaged less than $15 a day. My recent hospitilization cost closer to $4000 a day. That's more than 280 times as much.
Why the big difference? Is it the compensation paid the medical professionals? More people - higher paid? Is it all the high tech equipment every hospital must now own? How much of it goes to cover mal-practice insurance? Whatever the cause... who can fix this problem?
One Sunday morning in the spring of 1948 I was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. I was released from the hospital the following Tuesday afternoon, went on a date that evening and was back in technical school Wednesday morning. Nothing remarkable about that.
What I believe to be remarkable was the fact that I was not again an overnight guest in any hospital until January 3rd, 2007. On New Year's Day I fainted while taking a shower and took a fall in a hard surface, ceramic tile shower stall. When I finally agreed to go to the hospital, the doctors were more concerned with the reason I fell than the damage incurred in the fall.
The care I was afforded at the hospital seemed first rate to me. Everyone was very polite and courteous and seemed genuinely concerned with my well-being. I was in a "private room" , that is to say, mine was the only bed in the room. It was not very "private" with people rushing in and out at all hours. I had a TV and telephone. I could call for help at any time. The few times I did press the button, the response was immediate. The very worst thing that happened was on my final morning. While eating breakfast, a very nice nurse came in and started asking questions about my condition. Specifically she wanted to know about bowel movements. I tried to answer, but finally had to ask if we could not wait until after breakfast to discuss that particular bodily function. She apologized and left the room.
I can no longer remember details of my 1948 hospital stay. But the shadowy memory I do have is pleasant. I do recall that in the operating room I was placed on a table, naked, with just a sheet to shield me from the view of a room full of nurses. About the time they decided to adminster the anasthesia, I decided I didn't like what was happening. I recall trying to sit up; impossible because I was strapped down. I woke up after the surgery.
I later dated one of the nurses. She refused to provide any details of the OR experience, except to admit that I was not very happy about the situation.
The biggest difference between the two hospitals must surely be the cost. In 1948, I was fresh out of the Army, living with my parents and attending school on the G.I. Bill. I certainly had no health insurance, and I have no idea whether or not my parents had health insurance for me. I do know that at the time, my father's salary was about $100. a week. My income was the $20 weekly sum the government paid veteran's for the first 52 weeks after discharge. We called it the 52-20 Club.
For my 2007 hospital stay, I did have insurance. I paid a $500 co-pay; the insurance company paid over $12,000. I do not yet know what they have paid the physicians who attended to me.
By January, 1952, I was married and on January 8th my wife gave birth to twin girls. The babies were premature. Their weights were 3 lbs 11 oz. and 2 lbs 6 oz. They stayed in the hospital for six weeks before we were permitted to bring them home.
My salary at the time was $160. a month. The total hospital bill was $600. That averaged less than $15 a day. My recent hospitilization cost closer to $4000 a day. That's more than 280 times as much.
Why the big difference? Is it the compensation paid the medical professionals? More people - higher paid? Is it all the high tech equipment every hospital must now own? How much of it goes to cover mal-practice insurance? Whatever the cause... who can fix this problem?
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Celebrity.
Harry Truman once remarked that he was amazed at the celebrity accorded the office of the president. He was right. People will wait in the blazing sun on a summer day - or in the rain or snow on a bone-chilling winter day, just to see the president's limosine whiz by.
One can almost understand that... the president is an enormously powerful man, selected for his job by tens of millions of American voters. What I cannot understand is the incredible devotion the American public shows to some shallow people. Like Paris Hilton. Google just announced that Paris Hilton is the most frequently posted name in a Google search! What? More people want information about Paris Hilton than any other person in the world? Talk about shallow? Why in the world are people so interested in Miss Hilton?
It doesn't stop there. The recent wall to wall coverage given what was called the "TomKat" wedding... Tom Cruise and some gal named Katie, I think. Do people really care about these people?
America is awash with physically attractive people who have learned how to stand in front of a camera (TV or movie camera) or on a stage, and pretend they are someone else. That is a wonderful talent, and for that I salute them. But it isn't enough that they are paid obscene amounts for practicing their craft. The public worships these people. Even to the point where they (the public) hangs on every word as the actors/actresses speak on some subject like America's foreign policy... about which they seem to know nothing.
I appreciated Arnold Schwartzenegger some years ago, after he had starred in a movie called "Kindergarten Cop". Someone started questioning him about the care and training of pre-school children. To his great credit, Arnold quickly informed them that he was an actor reading his lines for a movie and was not an expert on kindergartners.
Celebrity does not stop with big name movie stars. People go absolutely ga-ga over anyone on radio or TV. And, they will go to any end to get their own face flashed on TV, if for only a second. The other morning when my wife was flipping through the morning "news" programs on TV , I saw these huge crowds gathered on the streets outside the studio, waving like a bunch of idiots when the cameras panned across the crowd! One can imagine that they had previously notified all the folks back home that they were going to get up early, leave their comfy hotel room, and brave the elements to stand outside the studio for two hours during the morning show.... "please watch... I'll be waving a sign that says 'Hi, Mom & Dad'."
No wonder our critics abroad think we are all nuts.
Harry Truman once remarked that he was amazed at the celebrity accorded the office of the president. He was right. People will wait in the blazing sun on a summer day - or in the rain or snow on a bone-chilling winter day, just to see the president's limosine whiz by.
One can almost understand that... the president is an enormously powerful man, selected for his job by tens of millions of American voters. What I cannot understand is the incredible devotion the American public shows to some shallow people. Like Paris Hilton. Google just announced that Paris Hilton is the most frequently posted name in a Google search! What? More people want information about Paris Hilton than any other person in the world? Talk about shallow? Why in the world are people so interested in Miss Hilton?
It doesn't stop there. The recent wall to wall coverage given what was called the "TomKat" wedding... Tom Cruise and some gal named Katie, I think. Do people really care about these people?
America is awash with physically attractive people who have learned how to stand in front of a camera (TV or movie camera) or on a stage, and pretend they are someone else. That is a wonderful talent, and for that I salute them. But it isn't enough that they are paid obscene amounts for practicing their craft. The public worships these people. Even to the point where they (the public) hangs on every word as the actors/actresses speak on some subject like America's foreign policy... about which they seem to know nothing.
I appreciated Arnold Schwartzenegger some years ago, after he had starred in a movie called "Kindergarten Cop". Someone started questioning him about the care and training of pre-school children. To his great credit, Arnold quickly informed them that he was an actor reading his lines for a movie and was not an expert on kindergartners.
Celebrity does not stop with big name movie stars. People go absolutely ga-ga over anyone on radio or TV. And, they will go to any end to get their own face flashed on TV, if for only a second. The other morning when my wife was flipping through the morning "news" programs on TV , I saw these huge crowds gathered on the streets outside the studio, waving like a bunch of idiots when the cameras panned across the crowd! One can imagine that they had previously notified all the folks back home that they were going to get up early, leave their comfy hotel room, and brave the elements to stand outside the studio for two hours during the morning show.... "please watch... I'll be waving a sign that says 'Hi, Mom & Dad'."
No wonder our critics abroad think we are all nuts.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Political TV Advertising - Another Perspective
That moaning sound you hear is the collective groan of TV viewers who realize that the race for the November, 2008 election has already started. Negative TV ads work and we will see more than ever before.
But there is another group doing some groaning, and for a bit more important reason. Let me explain. To the average viewer, TV commercials may be entertaining, informative, irritating, or (too often) just plain boring.
But remember, apart from PBS, (TV's beggars), our entire TV industry is supported by advertising. All those highly paid actors, the famous news anchors, the wonderful coverage of sports and news events, and much more, are paid with advertising dollars. That gives you an idea of how important TV advertising is to some people.
Many, many businesses cannot survive without their TV advertising campaigns. And, even though a business may survive, individual salesman and other employees with incomes tied to production, may not.
To a viewer, it seems there is a never ending stream of TV commercials. Actually there is an end... a station can schedule only so many commercials, then they are out of time. There is a finite number of commercials which can be scheduled. When they have all been purchased, it is no longer possible to buy TV advertising. Never mind that your very livlihood depends on it.
So, when millions upon millions of dollars in political advertising is thrown into the mix, it puts a serious dent in the inventory of commercial TV time available, forcing many commercial advertisers out. The public hears about the rates charged advertisers for very special programs, like the Super Bowl, and think all TV advertising is very expensive. Not so. We have clients in upstate New York for whom we regularly buy TV commercials for under $40 each. Imagine what happened to the availability of commercial time when Hillary dumped $30 million into her 2006 Senate re-election campaign in New York. Yep, our clients could not buy TV advertising. It hurt them, hurt their salesmen and other workers, and it hurt us.
I am opposed to the idea of campaign finance limits, because that curtails free speech. If you want to spend all of your money promoting a political candidate, you should have the right to do that. I would like to see a law that says a TV station can sell only a certain per cent of their commercial time to political candidates (at whatever rate the political supporters are willing to pay). The rest must be reserved for commercial advertisers, the bread and butter of our economy. Get your political message across if you will. But please do not stop us from making a living.
That moaning sound you hear is the collective groan of TV viewers who realize that the race for the November, 2008 election has already started. Negative TV ads work and we will see more than ever before.
But there is another group doing some groaning, and for a bit more important reason. Let me explain. To the average viewer, TV commercials may be entertaining, informative, irritating, or (too often) just plain boring.
But remember, apart from PBS, (TV's beggars), our entire TV industry is supported by advertising. All those highly paid actors, the famous news anchors, the wonderful coverage of sports and news events, and much more, are paid with advertising dollars. That gives you an idea of how important TV advertising is to some people.
Many, many businesses cannot survive without their TV advertising campaigns. And, even though a business may survive, individual salesman and other employees with incomes tied to production, may not.
To a viewer, it seems there is a never ending stream of TV commercials. Actually there is an end... a station can schedule only so many commercials, then they are out of time. There is a finite number of commercials which can be scheduled. When they have all been purchased, it is no longer possible to buy TV advertising. Never mind that your very livlihood depends on it.
So, when millions upon millions of dollars in political advertising is thrown into the mix, it puts a serious dent in the inventory of commercial TV time available, forcing many commercial advertisers out. The public hears about the rates charged advertisers for very special programs, like the Super Bowl, and think all TV advertising is very expensive. Not so. We have clients in upstate New York for whom we regularly buy TV commercials for under $40 each. Imagine what happened to the availability of commercial time when Hillary dumped $30 million into her 2006 Senate re-election campaign in New York. Yep, our clients could not buy TV advertising. It hurt them, hurt their salesmen and other workers, and it hurt us.
I am opposed to the idea of campaign finance limits, because that curtails free speech. If you want to spend all of your money promoting a political candidate, you should have the right to do that. I would like to see a law that says a TV station can sell only a certain per cent of their commercial time to political candidates (at whatever rate the political supporters are willing to pay). The rest must be reserved for commercial advertisers, the bread and butter of our economy. Get your political message across if you will. But please do not stop us from making a living.
Friday, December 08, 2006
The True Meaning Of Christmas
Every year in December, we hear a lot about the "true" meaning of Christmas. We've all heard it so many times that we instantly know what they are talking about.... that Christmas, as the birthday of Jesus Christ, is really a solemn, sacred event, and we are wrong to observe it as a fun time to hold year-end merchandise sales, exchange gifts and get drunk at office parties.
But, if one really digs into the origin of observing December 25 as "Christmas", you will find it is not quite so simple. A boistrous celebration was staged throughout Europe, near the time of the winter solstice, for centuries. It was often such a wild celebration that, at one time, Christians in England were forbidden to observe the holiday
In the fourth century, the early church, which was more powerful than any government, (even powerful enough to ban the teaching of Galileo's marvelous discoveries) rather arbitrarily chose this period to represent the birth of Christ. In truth, no one knows when Christ was born - or even where he was born, for that matter. The early records from his followers, mention shepherds tending their flocks... grazing is hardly a winter activity.
In the case of Galileo's teaching, there eventualy accumulated such a body of evidence supporting the truth of his discoveries, the church was forced to choose between looking like a bunch of fools for denying him, or to agree that Galileo was right. As the world's early experts of "spin", they then proclaimed that Galileo's discoveries were further proof of God's existence.
Well, things have also changed regarding the meaning of Christmas. (Although the church never backed off its designation as Christ's birthday). This date remains an absolutely wonderful event that brightens and warms the short days and long nights in the cold and dreary month of December, turning it into the most joyous time of the year. How many people have been rescued from winter weather induced depression by some small act of love and caring at Christmas time?
I was a child during the great depression. During most of the 1930s, my father was employed and supported our family of seven on a flat $25. a week. During December my sisters and I were filled with great anticipation of wondrous things to come. The little box of hard candy we were given at our country school. The Christmas tree we decorated with home-made ornaments. The lights that decorated city streets. And, of course, the overwhelming joy we all experienced on Christmas morning when we opened our gifts.
Today, as adults, we experience much of the same joy as we share happiness with our friends and with our grandchildren and other family members. And, indeed, Christmas is celebrated around the world by many who do not consider themselves Christians.
Surely that is the true meaning of Christmas.
And, surely I can wish you a "Merry Christmas" without concern for being politically correct, or a failure to understand the true meaning of what I have said.
Every year in December, we hear a lot about the "true" meaning of Christmas. We've all heard it so many times that we instantly know what they are talking about.... that Christmas, as the birthday of Jesus Christ, is really a solemn, sacred event, and we are wrong to observe it as a fun time to hold year-end merchandise sales, exchange gifts and get drunk at office parties.
But, if one really digs into the origin of observing December 25 as "Christmas", you will find it is not quite so simple. A boistrous celebration was staged throughout Europe, near the time of the winter solstice, for centuries. It was often such a wild celebration that, at one time, Christians in England were forbidden to observe the holiday
In the fourth century, the early church, which was more powerful than any government, (even powerful enough to ban the teaching of Galileo's marvelous discoveries) rather arbitrarily chose this period to represent the birth of Christ. In truth, no one knows when Christ was born - or even where he was born, for that matter. The early records from his followers, mention shepherds tending their flocks... grazing is hardly a winter activity.
In the case of Galileo's teaching, there eventualy accumulated such a body of evidence supporting the truth of his discoveries, the church was forced to choose between looking like a bunch of fools for denying him, or to agree that Galileo was right. As the world's early experts of "spin", they then proclaimed that Galileo's discoveries were further proof of God's existence.
Well, things have also changed regarding the meaning of Christmas. (Although the church never backed off its designation as Christ's birthday). This date remains an absolutely wonderful event that brightens and warms the short days and long nights in the cold and dreary month of December, turning it into the most joyous time of the year. How many people have been rescued from winter weather induced depression by some small act of love and caring at Christmas time?
I was a child during the great depression. During most of the 1930s, my father was employed and supported our family of seven on a flat $25. a week. During December my sisters and I were filled with great anticipation of wondrous things to come. The little box of hard candy we were given at our country school. The Christmas tree we decorated with home-made ornaments. The lights that decorated city streets. And, of course, the overwhelming joy we all experienced on Christmas morning when we opened our gifts.
Today, as adults, we experience much of the same joy as we share happiness with our friends and with our grandchildren and other family members. And, indeed, Christmas is celebrated around the world by many who do not consider themselves Christians.
Surely that is the true meaning of Christmas.
And, surely I can wish you a "Merry Christmas" without concern for being politically correct, or a failure to understand the true meaning of what I have said.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Imagine! If only....
...Islam were not involved in the Middle East!
In early summer, 1947, I was on a troop ship bound from Manila, P.I. to San Francisco - by way of Okinawa and Yokohama.
At Okinawa, I remember only some small trucks that pulled up on the dock alongside our ship. We were not long in the port of Naha - just time enough to pick up some other G.I.s bound for San Francisco. I remember local girls climbing onto the back of the truck and, under their dresses, we could see they were wearing G.I., olive drab colored boxer shorts. I yearned for a place where girls wore pink panties!
The night before we arrived in Yokohama, our dinner was some sort of big, link sausage, which almost no one ate. We were probably a bit seasick. Anyway, many sausages were thrown away. On the high seas, troop ships threw their edible garbage overboard. But we were in Japanese territory, and could not dump anything. The next morning we were served pancakes. They were not very good, either, and many were thrown in the garbage.
When we had docked, small boats which looked like very large rowboats, slid in between the dock and the fantail of our ship. (The General A. W. Greely). Our soldiers who were on KP carried big (perhaps 30-gallon) stainless steel pots filled with the edible garbage that had accumulated since we had entered Japanese waters. These "garbage cans" were lined up on deck, alongside the rail.
Japanese workers from the small garbage boats, came on board our troopship and started dumping our garbage over the rail, into the waiting boats. A number of Japanese men gathered on the dock to watch. As soon as the first can of pancakes and sausages hit the boat, these men jumped into the small boats. With garbage raining down on them, they began to stuff both their shirts and their mouths with sausages and pancakes.
When they had eaten all they could eat, and their shirts were stuffed to capacity, they climbed back onto the dock and ran away. It was clear that these people were starving, and they apparently had friends or family somewhere who were also starving.
From that 1947 scene, fast-forward a couple of decades where you will see the Japanese enjoying one of the world's strongest economies. The Japanese people, who so enjoy absolute freshness in their food, live once again as a highly civilized people.
Remember, now, that these were the only people in the world who have experienced the horror of an atom bomb.
But the Japanese, not strangled by some religious ideology that had taught only hatred, went about the business of rebuilding their country. They did a magnificent job of it.
Now fly around the world to Iraq. Coalition forces invaded. Sadam was overthrown in a few days. Rebuilding of the country was undertaken. But Islamic extremists quickly tore down everything that was rebuilt. They permitted neither Coalition nor Iraqi workers to restore power and water, or rebuild any of their infrastructure.
Then followers of the various branches of Islam, started killing each other. Uncounted hundreds have died - for no reason, other than religious bigotry.
Imagine how Iraq would look today if this had not happened. Imagine Iraq without Islam!
...Islam were not involved in the Middle East!
In early summer, 1947, I was on a troop ship bound from Manila, P.I. to San Francisco - by way of Okinawa and Yokohama.
At Okinawa, I remember only some small trucks that pulled up on the dock alongside our ship. We were not long in the port of Naha - just time enough to pick up some other G.I.s bound for San Francisco. I remember local girls climbing onto the back of the truck and, under their dresses, we could see they were wearing G.I., olive drab colored boxer shorts. I yearned for a place where girls wore pink panties!
The night before we arrived in Yokohama, our dinner was some sort of big, link sausage, which almost no one ate. We were probably a bit seasick. Anyway, many sausages were thrown away. On the high seas, troop ships threw their edible garbage overboard. But we were in Japanese territory, and could not dump anything. The next morning we were served pancakes. They were not very good, either, and many were thrown in the garbage.
When we had docked, small boats which looked like very large rowboats, slid in between the dock and the fantail of our ship. (The General A. W. Greely). Our soldiers who were on KP carried big (perhaps 30-gallon) stainless steel pots filled with the edible garbage that had accumulated since we had entered Japanese waters. These "garbage cans" were lined up on deck, alongside the rail.
Japanese workers from the small garbage boats, came on board our troopship and started dumping our garbage over the rail, into the waiting boats. A number of Japanese men gathered on the dock to watch. As soon as the first can of pancakes and sausages hit the boat, these men jumped into the small boats. With garbage raining down on them, they began to stuff both their shirts and their mouths with sausages and pancakes.
When they had eaten all they could eat, and their shirts were stuffed to capacity, they climbed back onto the dock and ran away. It was clear that these people were starving, and they apparently had friends or family somewhere who were also starving.
From that 1947 scene, fast-forward a couple of decades where you will see the Japanese enjoying one of the world's strongest economies. The Japanese people, who so enjoy absolute freshness in their food, live once again as a highly civilized people.
Remember, now, that these were the only people in the world who have experienced the horror of an atom bomb.
But the Japanese, not strangled by some religious ideology that had taught only hatred, went about the business of rebuilding their country. They did a magnificent job of it.
Now fly around the world to Iraq. Coalition forces invaded. Sadam was overthrown in a few days. Rebuilding of the country was undertaken. But Islamic extremists quickly tore down everything that was rebuilt. They permitted neither Coalition nor Iraqi workers to restore power and water, or rebuild any of their infrastructure.
Then followers of the various branches of Islam, started killing each other. Uncounted hundreds have died - for no reason, other than religious bigotry.
Imagine how Iraq would look today if this had not happened. Imagine Iraq without Islam!
Monday, October 30, 2006
Why all the bitter, negative political ads?
They work. So, the question should be, "Why do negative political ads work?" To simplify the answer, it is because our brains retain bad news longer than good news.
Scientists have proven this in numerous ways. Here is a simplification: Show subjects a series of pictures on a TV monitor - like a slide show. The pictures cover all sorts of things: good, bad and indifferent visuals. Then the subjects are shown a second set of pictures, and given a handheld device which they are instructed to click every time they recall that a picture in the second batch also appeared in the first batch. It is a test of which kinds of pictures they recall accurately.
The same is done with audio. Short, abstract sentences read by an announcer. After listening to the first batch of readings, they are asked to listen to a second batch and note each time they hear a sentence which was also in the first group of readings.
In every test, people remember the "bad" stuff much better than the "good" or "neutral" stuff.
I believe the reason is an ancient one, alive and well in our modern brains. Suppose you are an ancient person, a hunter-gatherer, doing your daily round of hunting and gathering food for the day. You see a wide variety of nature's creations. Then, suddenly you discover that a sabre-toothed tiger occupies a certain valley. You may well forget the meadow where you saw a mouse; but you are not going to forget that valley of the tiger.
It may have started by our remembering more accurately those things which were a danger to us. But it isn't limited to that. On the front page of today's local newspaper, there is a story of a small child who was killed in an auto mishap. To be specific, some family member backed a pickup truck over the child. A horrible accident. I read every story on that front page, but that is the only one I now recall. Somehow bad news, even when it happens to someone we do not know, is remembered longest.
This does not mean that the dirtiest, meanest political ads will always get their candidate elected. As in other types of advertising, some political ads are just poorly done. If an attack ad seems implausible, frivolous or just unfair, it may backfire. But it will almost certainly be remembered. And for that reason, people who write political ads will always search for a way to vilify their candidate's opponent.
They work. So, the question should be, "Why do negative political ads work?" To simplify the answer, it is because our brains retain bad news longer than good news.
Scientists have proven this in numerous ways. Here is a simplification: Show subjects a series of pictures on a TV monitor - like a slide show. The pictures cover all sorts of things: good, bad and indifferent visuals. Then the subjects are shown a second set of pictures, and given a handheld device which they are instructed to click every time they recall that a picture in the second batch also appeared in the first batch. It is a test of which kinds of pictures they recall accurately.
The same is done with audio. Short, abstract sentences read by an announcer. After listening to the first batch of readings, they are asked to listen to a second batch and note each time they hear a sentence which was also in the first group of readings.
In every test, people remember the "bad" stuff much better than the "good" or "neutral" stuff.
I believe the reason is an ancient one, alive and well in our modern brains. Suppose you are an ancient person, a hunter-gatherer, doing your daily round of hunting and gathering food for the day. You see a wide variety of nature's creations. Then, suddenly you discover that a sabre-toothed tiger occupies a certain valley. You may well forget the meadow where you saw a mouse; but you are not going to forget that valley of the tiger.
It may have started by our remembering more accurately those things which were a danger to us. But it isn't limited to that. On the front page of today's local newspaper, there is a story of a small child who was killed in an auto mishap. To be specific, some family member backed a pickup truck over the child. A horrible accident. I read every story on that front page, but that is the only one I now recall. Somehow bad news, even when it happens to someone we do not know, is remembered longest.
This does not mean that the dirtiest, meanest political ads will always get their candidate elected. As in other types of advertising, some political ads are just poorly done. If an attack ad seems implausible, frivolous or just unfair, it may backfire. But it will almost certainly be remembered. And for that reason, people who write political ads will always search for a way to vilify their candidate's opponent.
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