2008, NOVEMBER

November 29

I don’t know what the heck biologists from Duke and the University of Texas at Austin were even doing in a submarine off the Bahamas, but they have turned the world of marine biology on its ear.

They vacuumed up some jawbreaker-sized globs from the ocean floor that they first thought was some kind of sea poop. Not as in “the fog was as thick as sea poop,” but actual poop from some unspecified marine creature. Then they discovered that what they initially called “doo-doo balls” were themselves unspecified marine creatures: single-celled (Wow! That’s some big cell!) organisms that were not only alive, but motile.

Until now, people who think about such things thought being able to move (as opposed to being moved) required much more complexity than one cell could muster. Sea grapes, as they are called, appear to be related to giant amoebae. They don’t move much faster than regular grapes. They only manage about an inch a day, sort of like snails on Seconal. But, like snails, they leave slime trails that allowed researchers who couldn’t watch that slow to figure out they were moving. It turns out they work like tiny jet skis. They have tiny pores and by taking in sediment on one end and excreting it on the other (Sort of like sea poop poop. It’s not actually feces, but I just like saying that.) can propel themselves and even change direction.

Scientists are now trying to figure out where they are going.

November 27

I was listening to a lecture by Marsh McCall, Stanford Professor of Classics. He noted that Plato started out to write the philosophy of Socrates but at some point began to expound his own ideas. Socrates remained the central character in Plato’s writings but the “great, huge, horrible question” is: “when did the figure of Socrates begin to utter the philosophy of Plato?” McCall says it’s a “massive problem,” one “you’ll have to wrestle with your whole life.”

Or not. Wouldn’t it be nice to be in a position to regard that as the crucial question of your existence?

Me, I have more important things to worry about. Like why didn’t the Nobel committee just face facts and refuse to award the prize for Economics this year? And how do they tune the anvil for Verdi’s Anvil Chorus?

Or why does Southwest Airlines play ukelele music in their ad for a flight to Denver? Or why does Honda have a great deal on a lease for a Civic? Nobody leases a Civic: nobody who wants a Civic leases, and nobody who leases wants a Civic.

While we’re asking the Big Questions, what happened to the news? You’re too young to remember, but there was a time when you could turn on the news and get…the news. In the olden days, guys like Cronkite and Sevareid, actual newsmen, would find out was happening and tell you what was what and why it mattered. They only told us the news, not what the current administration wanted us to hear, or even what their bosses wanted to tell us: the news hardly ever included in-depth reporting on the production of the network’s latest sitcom. They didn’t have “anchor partners” with whom to make silly banter, and there were no teases like the weather guy who comes on long enough to tell you that we had weather today and he’ll be back later to tell you what it was.

Then the station owners decided to change the news from a cost center to a revenue center, and News became Entertainment. Not even good entertainment, though it has to be better than “The Mole” or “I Survived A Japanese Game Show.” But entertainment programming has to make a profit, so the evening news became the evening commercial hour, with a few brief interruptions for what passes for information.

Then along came TIVO, and nobody watches the commercials anymore. I haven’t seen this on scripted shows myself, but I am told that they have started integrating ads into the middle of the programming to make it harder to fast forward through the crap. I have seen how news programming is coping with the new technology. I don’t know when it happened, but a car company bought the sports news, which is now “the latest from the KNBC NISSAN Sports Desk.” (Caps theirs.) Is that even legal? And the weather report features the “Mathis Brothers Furniture 7-day outlook.”

Stay tuned for the Exxon Mobil traffic. But, by God, when Katie Couric turns around to reveal the big “Roxy” blazoned across her butt, I’m turning it off. Maybe I’ll read Plato’s Apology instead. Or was that Socrates?

November 24

The Los Angeles Auto Show is this week. It’s not as exciting as in the past, because all the excitement in the automotive world is in Washington, D.C. right now. Nissan is showing a new electric car that they hope to sell in Oregon in a year or so, but that’s about it for innovation. The Green Car of the year is a VW diesel.

If you’re old enough, you may remember reading about Harold Bate, the Devonshire chicken farmer who converted his old Hillman Minx (that’s a car) to run on chicken shit. He was way ahead of his time, having achieved this in the ‘60s after becoming alarmed when Britain’s petrol supplies were threatened by Egypt’s closing of the Suez Canal in 1953. He claimed he produced methane at a petrol-equivalent cost of 3p (that’s thruppence, the American equivalent of bupkis) per gallon. Imperial gallon, at that. But I suppose he didn’t count the cost of the chickens, since he already had them around.

Except in Detroit, the rest of the world seems to be coming around at last, with engines being made to run on Mazola, natural gas, and anything else that seems relatively plentiful. I am having my car modified to burn paper, so I can just stuff dollar bills into the tank and save all the hassle.

I don’t really have any use for dollar bills any more, anyway. Who uses cash nowadays? I have one of those credit cards that pays you back a percent or two when you use it. It may be a pittance, but it’s a pittance better than nothing, and it beats paying a fee for the card.

The rebate system for credit cards has become pretty widespread, and now the Bank of America is even starting to offer it with their debit cards. Why anybody would want a debit card in the first place is beyond me, but that’s a question for another day. B of A has this promotion called something like Keep The Change: if you buy something with the debit card, they round the price up to the next dollar and deposit the difference in your savings account. This seems like a pretty good deal, though I need to think about it. I’ve always been confused by high finance—futures and derivatives, puts and c… HEY! THAT’S MY MONEY! The bank wants to entice me to use their card by letting me keep my own money.

I’m buying stock in Bank of America. I’m not putting my money there, but I’m buying the stock.

November 21

More stuff I just don’t get.The list of things I don’t understand is virtually—no, literally—without end. I have mentioned some of them before. Here are a few more.

Moisturizer. I don’t get the whole concept. You buy all kinds of expensive creams to make your skin wet. You never heard of a shower?

I was at Marie Callender’s the other night, leafing through the pie menu (of course I don’t actually eat them, but I like to look at the pictures—it’s sort of like Playboy), and I discovered an interesting thing: you can order apple pie any time, but sour cream apple is listed as “seasonal.” So, when is sour cream season?

Coors has come up with a beer bottle that changes color to let you know it’s cold. Personally, I never thought it was that difficult to tell. Maybe it’s just something that comes with experience.

A gun question that won’t even offend the NRA:

When I was a kid and made a pistol with my hand, my hammer/thumb was always pointed straight up. Nowadays everybody on TV or in movies holds his gun sideways. What’s up with that?

More people went to see “Saw V” and “Zack & Miri Make A Porno” than Clint Eastwood’s “Changeling.” That seems somehow telling. I’m just not sure what it’s telling.

I stretch every morning. Shouldn’t I be getting taller instead of shorter? (My brother the doctor explained this one to me. When you stretch, all of the spacers fall out, so when you stop stretching, you get shorter.)

We learned a while ago that thousands of criminal cases will have to be dismissed because the Los Angeles Police Department’s crime lab has been unable to get the DNA results in what is called “a timely fashion.” Today the Sheriff’s office has added another few thousand cases from their office that will be dismissed because they are likewise unable to process DNA samples. Why not just subcontract the work to CBS, which manages to get results on the most miniscule samples during the commercial?

When the state of Washington finally yanks the medical licenses of all the characters on Grey’s Anatomy, can they still go to work for House?

November 18

Tony’s an elderly (i.e. older than me) guy who retired from the New York fire department, moved across the country and took a job as county fire inspector, retired again and now has time to come to the gym every morning to do battle against a severe physical handicap: an Italian wife. To tip the scales, so to speak, in his favor, he enters his weight on the treadmill as 400 pounds. He’s about my size, maybe not as tall but wide enough to make up the difference, but says he burns more calories if the machine thinks he’s heavier.

Maybe it’s my expectations that need modifying, but his outlook seems far more progressive than I’d have thought—which is to say he mostly agrees with me. Except he thinks GWB should be stood up against a wall and shot, whereas I have advocated a more moderate approach. My preferred scenario would include a trial for war crimes, conviction by a jury of his peers (jerks or better to open), and then hanging—though admittedly that would take a long time and cost a lot of money. Maybe Tony’s approach is more practical at that.

But there are good reasons for moderation, and let me say to everyone including any uninvited guests representing various government agencies that I personally do NOT think George W. Bush should be taken out and shot.

In the first place, it’s too late. Although untold damage and thousands of lives might have been saved if it had been done eight years ago, there is no longer any point.

In the second place, capital punishment is reserved for those who have been convicted of the most heinous crimes. In a court of law. By a jury of their peers (jerks or better to open).

But most of all, he ought to be forced to live long enough to see what he has wrought.

With regard to the war, unfortunately he will never see it. W. will always believe he could have Brought Democracy To The Middle East if only that damned Democrat hadn’t been elected. And Bush will never see his own hand in the current economic disaster, which he will blame on Greedy Investment Bankers who were gulled by Irresponsible, Dishonest Homebuyers.

He can’t ignore the fact that the loss of American prestige and moral authority throughout the world is his personal handiwork, but he probably doesn’t care: as long as he knows he’s right, why should he care what others think?

Katrina? That’s ol’ Heckuva job Brownie’s fault.

The marginalization (or the exportation) of science? He doesn’t see it now, he won’t see it in the future.

The environment? He gutted the EPA and has probably caused more damage to the planet than any single human in history. He denied the existence of global warming until it was too late (it may not be not mathematically too late, but it’s not mathematically impossible for the Clippers to win the NBA Championship, either. It’s too late), but since he has recently reversed his position (at least in his public statements), any coming environmental catastrophe will become the fault of shortsighted world leaders. The next world leaders.

Always remember, it isn’t whether you win or lose, it’s how you place the blame.

Maybe it’s not too late, after all. For some things.

November 15

Frightening thought: I agree with Henry Paulson. Or, since I expressed the opinion first, I suppose I should say that he has come around to my way of thinking. Either way, we have decided that buying up toxic mortgages (Don’t you love that term? It makes me think we were buying the fields where tanneries secretly dump their waste in the middle of the night.) isn’t going to work.

The new plan to “unlimber the dysfunctional apparatus” of lending institutions should be interesting to watch. It involves the government buying an equity share in banks amounting to 25-30%. In preferred, non-voting shares. These shares do not currently exist, so it amounts to a dilution in the equity of current shareholders by that amount—or actually somewhat more, since the preferred shareholders are paid first when the bank becomes insolvent. This will not be heavily publicized, but I suppose it’s better than the 100% dilution of a collapse.

The banks are supposed to take this money and lend it out, thus “unlimbering” the credit system. But if I ran (and owned shares in) a bank that was precarious (i.e. any bank) and I suddenly got a bunch of money that would go preferentially to the government if things got a lot worse, I would be tempted to move that money somewhere Uncle couldn’t reach it—in private hands. Mine.

As a condition of this bailout the banks are supposed to make some concessions about executive pay, golden parachutes, “failure bonuses,” and the like. But if the government has no vote and no seat on the board, I believe the term used for such concessions is “just a suggestion.”

So what is supposed to be a stimulus to lend is likely to become a stimulus to “redistribute” as much as possible as quickly as possible. Call me a cynic. Or a CEO.

November 13

I like wine. I don’t have a great nose (metaphorically—or more properly, metonymically—speaking, that is. Anatomically I can hold my own with two hands), but I can generally tell a four-dollar bottle (vile) from a ten-dollar bottle, and sometimes a ten-dollar bottle from a fifty-dollar bottle (sublime). But the subtle nuances escape me. The labels tell me I should detect flavors of apple, pear, and “citrus” (I guess even the great connoisseurs can’t tell lemon from lime if neither is really there). Or maybe chocolate and tobacco. I don’t register any of that—it tastes like wine to me. I think I could tell red from white blindfolded, but there’s a trick to that: the cold one is white.

Here’s what I don’t get: the oenophiles stick their noses into the glass, swirl it (the wine, not the nose) around, sip a bit and declaim about the aromas of oak, cranberry, currants, God knows what. But nobody ever says “Ahh: grapes.”

November 10

They recently began moving patients into the new L.A.County hospital, and the newspaper described some of the improvements in the new building. My favorite innovation was the automated transport system, a dedicated corridor using laser-guided carts to transport biohazardous waste and patient meals. The article didn’t state whether these would be treated separately, or whether the patients were likely to be able to tell the difference.

November 8

For a refreshing change, let’s talk about sex.

I’m not sure if there are any anti-sodomy laws left on the books elsewhere in this country, but certainly in California you can do whatever you want with whomever you want as long as you both want to do it. And you’re both over 18.

The state also officially approves of same-sex couples adopting and raising children.

So the only rationale I can see in formally, constitutionally, defining marriage as between a man and a woman is that marriage constitutes a license to procreate. Whether you agree with it or not, that’s an entirely reasonable approach. I have long favored the requirement of a license for parenthood, though I think prospective parents should be required to pass a test.

But it seems to me that if we are going to regard a marriage license as a permit to have children, we ought to have a consistent policy about it. So women who become pregnant out of wedlock should be required to have an abortion. And none of this namby-pamby shotgun wedding stuff, either; if you’re not married when you get pregnant, that is conclusive evidence of your unsuitability and abortion is mandatory. The sanctity of the family demands it.

I’m all for post-menopausal widows finding a new companion, but if they’re beyond the child-bearing years, it will have to be one of those “civil unions.” No marriage for old folks. Just to be clear, we should define a person’s sex (not gender; “gender” is a grammatical term, not a biological one, and has been improperly co-opted by people who want to talk about people without saying “sex.”) by hormones rather than plumbing.

The people who promote this limited definition of marriage will doubtless agree that a couple that obtains a license to reproduce ought to be required to reproduce: otherwise, what’s the point? And I’m sure no one would want to go back to the days when divorce was virtually impossible, but remarriage poses something of a problem. If you are divorced or widowed without issue through no fault of your own, I suppose an argument could be made that you should be allowed to try again. But if there are children from the first marriage, that’s it. We can’t go granting fecundity licenses ad seriatum; that would negate the whole point of the thing.

Legally married couples who prove infertile should be allowed to remain married, if only because one never knows. But obviously people who have been artificially sterilized would have to have their licenses revoked, or downgraded to contracts of civil union.

Then there’s the matter of adoption. It seems to me that adoption should be limited to persons who do not have a reproduction license. It’s logically inconsistent to allow some people to do both while denying rights to others.

November 5 What election?

Lycopene. Niacin. B12. Vitamins C, E, D. Fish oil. Chromium. Folic Acid. Lutein. Estrogen, especially my personal favorite, Premarin (an acronym for “pregnant mare’s urine”). Bromelain. Omega 3 fatty acids. I’ll bet you have a whole shelf of bottles half full of vitamins, minerals, and various supplements that were going to cure cancer and prevent heart disease. For about two weeks, until the next study came out.

It’s not really fair to blame the researchers, at least not entirely. They are expected to publish their work. Unfortunately, a premature report of preliminary, unconfirmed, and inconclusive results intended only to suggest a direction for further investigation may appear today in an obscure scientific journal and be reported tomorrow in the Health Tabloids as the Latest Breakthrough in an article beginning: “Doctors now believe….” Within a week, new pills appear on the shelves bearing the banner: “Now Contains Absurdia! May help prevent coronary heart disease!” I wonder how much they would sell if they used the equally factual but more accurate phrasing: “Probably doesn’t help prevent coronary heart disease.”

I’ve had to give up trying to take everything that’s supposed to be good for me, except red wine, of course. If I managed to swallow all those pills, I wouldn’t have any room left for food. And although there is still some controversy, Doctors Now Believe that food, taken in moderation, may be good for you.

November 1

November has finally come for real, which means Hallowe’en has come, along with all the local pre-diabetic kids. We have a lot of kids in the neighborhood, from the wee toddlers who don’t understand why all these people are giving them candy to the teenagers who seize the opportunity for a legal shakedown and can’t even be bothered to put on a costume different from their usual.

We had all sorts last night: beggars who were too shy to come out from behind Daddy’s leg, princesses more interested in modeling than collecting. Surprisingly, not a single political figure--unless you count one slavering slime monster with fangs. We had a few boys who could barely stop hopping long enough to thrust both hands into the candy dish and run off with as much as they could grab. They were excited, but I didn’t see anyone (chaperones excluded) I thought had Bipolar Disorder.

Although some experts are skeptical, there has been a surge in the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder in children. It’s a little confusing because some of the characteristics of Bipolar Disorder (like aggression and irritability) are also symptoms of (among other things) Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, about which some experts are also skeptical.

In order to clarify the situation, Dr. Barbara Geller suggests that the key to making the correct diagnosis is the recognition in Bipolar kids of “grandiose” behavior, like running out in traffic, or riding your bike with no hands.

Did you ever see a kid who didn’t demonstrate grandiose behavior? I think it’s an aid to diagnosing childhood.

If that's not enough, researchers have come up with yet another new diagnosis. Using functional MRI, they have determined that bullies derive pleasure from the pain of others. But you can't get a grant to study bullies, so they invented Aggressive Conduct Disorder.

It’s hard to believe that Mark Twain didn’t even know about this when he said:

“Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on, or by imbeciles who really mean it."

All but November

A girl wrote in to an advice columnist, concerned that when she Googled her boyfriend she had discovered that he had been contributing some “not necessarily hateful” postings to a white supremacist web site. Not necessarily hateful???

She had been going with him for 7 months and says she loves him. Now I don’t claim to be an expert on personal relationships (at least nobody writes to me for advice), but it seems to me that if you have been intimate (with or without sex) with someone for that long and think you love him, you ought to have some idea about his core beliefs. “Honey, I was doing your laundry, and I kind of wondered about the eyeholes in your sheets….” Am I missing something? I think the columnist said she should ask him. I think she should run.

Speaking of bigots, they just arrested a couple of guys at the nether end of the definition of humanity who were plotting to kill a lot of black folks, culminating in an Obama drive-by that essentially constitutes Suicide by Secret Service. Although “plotting” may be overly magnanimous, since it suggests organization and these people couldn’t get their shit together with a shovel. But that’s what they had in mind. Although “mind” may be overly….

Anyway. Did you see them on TV? The fuzzhead with the sawed-off shotgun and the skinhead with the lipstick? Could anything be worse for the image of white supremacists than the image of white supremacists?

They hate blacks or reds or yellows, or Jews or Catholics. But if they really want to find a race they can feel superior to, they will have to aim a little lower. I was thinking something like “Vertebrate Supremacy,” but that may not go quite far enough: there are a number of intestinal parasites I’d rather have a beer with than these guys. Maybe pond scum. Yes, they are definitely superior to pond scum. On an evolutionary scale, if not a moral one.

2 days before November 1

At a gun show in Massachusetts the other day, an 8-year-old boy fired an Uzi at a pumpkin. The recoil was too much for him and he lost control and shot himself in the head. His father, who was reaching for his camera at the time, said “This is a horrible event, a horrible travesty, [He meant “tragedy,” but inadvertently hit on the right word.] and I really don’t know why it happened.”

Should we tell him?

Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. Really stupid people.

November 1 (minus 3; I couldn't stand it.)

I stand corrected. Apparently there is nothing to prevent a convicted felon from serving in the United States Senate [see October 21]. Actually, there is: the Senate can expel a member by a two-thirds vote—something that hasn’t happened in over a century. Ted Stevens is continuing his campaign for re-election despite his conviction, and if he wins he will certainly continue to represent Alaska—and Ted Stevens. How likely is it that 67 senators will vote to expel one of their own simply because he got caught?

This leads to an interesting situation. How is it that a man who is not qualified to vote can make the laws?

The opinions expressed herein are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect--well, yes, come to think of it, I guess they do.

all materials on this site ©michael grossman. all rights reserved.

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