why i'm a cynic

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[part 1 in what'll probably be a series--and yeah i know this post has nothing to do with what's going on in the life of mkf right now but it's what i wanna talk about tonight so read it anyway]

see that group of smiling idiots up there--have you ever seen a more staged picture in your life?  they're smiling because they think their recent discovery is actually gonna change things.

see, this group of princeton researchers just found out that

male rats given water sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup in addition to a standard diet of rat chow gained much more weight than male rats that received water sweetened with table sugar, or sucrose, in conjunction with the standard diet.

as interesting as that might be, it's the next sentence in the paragraph that's the grabber:

The concentration of sugar in the sucrose solution was the same as is found in some commercial soft drinks, while the high-fructose corn syrup solution was half as concentrated as most sodas.

which would make high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS), what--twice, three times as fattening as sugar?

but the other reason these idiots are smiling--and the reason for this post--is because they think that what they've discovered is new.

the truth is, from the day HFCS was introduced into the food supply over 40 years ago, endless variations of this experiment have been carried out and reported in countless scholastic venues with similar results, only to be buried--just like this one will be.

meanwhile, americans just get fatter and sicker by the year while the pundits and politicians scratch their heads in puzzlement and make a great show of wondering why.

in a perfect [or even reasonable] world, here's what would happen:

1. this study by a reputable university would garner the attention of at least one national news source which, recognizing the implications to the health of all fat-ass americans everywhere, would report it on its front page;
 
2. other media outlets would pick up the story and broadcast it far and wide;
 
3. the resulting public outrage would cause our politicians in washington to hold hearings and commission blue-ribbon panels which would ultimately result in the banning of HFCS from the food supply; and
 
4. americans everywhere, regardless of what they stuffed in their mouths, would immediately start getting thinner--and consequently, healthier.

of course, none of this'll happen, because (a) the lobbyists for the giant food conglomerates like monsanto and archer daniels midland who produce this cheap corn-based sugar substitute will take care of the politicians; while (b) the ad agencies for corporations like kraft and coca-cola who buy this cheap corn-based sugar substitute will keep the media in line--not to mention that (c) corn-based iowa is where every presidential candidate of each party first lines up to get his dick measured in each primary season.

which is why this princeton study that every american should see will never see the light of day.

*     *     *     *     *

politicians would have you believe the issues are complicated, when they're really not.

healthcare, shmealthcare--these bastards claim they're fighting for your health, while they take the money and give a pass to the corporations who are destroying it.

don't believe me?  fine--look for this princeton study to show up in the new york times, cnn or good morning america in the next week or two, and then get back to me.

what i hate most about the whole thing is becoming a goddam statistic

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so today before i even have time to drop my shit and sit down, the phone starts ringing--display tells me it's the office manager.

hmm.

"hey connie, how are ya?"

"mike, can you come down and touch base with susan [human resources] and me for a minute?"

"sure."

uh oh.

i take a deep breath, head downstairs, walk into connie's office.  she and susan have each chosen black ensembles for the day's wet work, which strikes me as funny.

"this one's a closed-door, i presume?"  they nod in unison.

i close the door and then spend most of the next half-hour reassuring these women, both of whom i love, that it's ok--i knew it was coming.

[which is true: for way too long, i've been paid insanely well for doing little more than showing up--if it hadn't been for connie and susan standing up to chicago on my behalf, my talented-yet-lazy ass woulda been gone at least a year ago, and we all know it.]

once we get past all the condolences and paperwork, i ask, "who else?"

they give me the names, and i'm shocked:  five key people [but then after three rounds of layoffs, all that's left is key people, so what did i expect?].

the severance package is unexpectedly generous--gives me a few months to plan my next move.

i spend the rest of the afternoon packing [five boxes--who the fuck keeps five boxes' worth of useless shit at work?  everybody, the guy who helps me down to my car tells me later], burning stuff onto cd's, consoling my fellow shell-shocked layoff-ees and saying goodbye to the spooked survivors [of this round, anyway].

and all the while [and unlike so many of my fellow americans to whom this shit is happening with increasing regularity] thinking to myself, "thank god i was at least halfway prepared."

the whole fake-prom thing

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as regular readers know, i don't spend much time on gay-rights issues here--there are lots of bloggers out there who do that kinda shit better [and, frankly, care more] than i do--but constance mcmillen's story caught my attention early, and i've been following it closely.

because i can't help but admire her--not only for mustering the courage to buck the status quo in her backwoods little corner of mississippi, but for the quiet maturity, grace and restraint she's shown throughout what has become a very public spectacle.

brief background for those of you who haven't been paying attention:  constance wanted to bring her girlfriend as her date to her prom, and, rather than acceding to her request, her school district ended up cancelling the prom altogether, infuriating everybody and making constance the bad-guy pariah of her high school.  the ACLU got involved, tried to force the district to hold an all-inclusive prom anyway, was denied.  the parents of the heartbroken prom-deprived kids banded together and vowed to throw a private prom, to which constance and her date were putatively invited.

and this is where it gets interesting.

see, on prom night, constance and her date showed up at the country club as directed--and found, to their surprise, that there were actually two proms that night.  from constance's account in the advocate story:

"The one that I went to had seven people there, and everyone went to the other one I wasn’t invited to."

as for constance's prom? again, from the advocate story:

Two students with learning difficulties were among the seven people at the country club event, McMillen recalls.

"They had the time of their lives," McMillen says. "That's the one good thing that came out of this, [these kids] didn't have to worry about people making fun of them [at their prom]."

and that last quote is why you gotta love constance--but here's my favorite quote from the article, and the reason for this post:

Her school principal and teachers served as chaperones, but clearly there wasn't much to keep an eye on.

you get the implication here?  everybody was in on this cruel little hoax--every parent, every kid, every school administrator, the principal, every teacher, every country club employee, every employee of the venue where the "real" prom was held--everybody.  a perfect conspiracy of hundreds, and not one of 'em broke.

my question:  who was on the committee of supposed grown-ups that picked the five other clueless retards and rejects who were deemed sufficiently worthless to join the lesbian and her girlfriend at their private prom?

*     *     *     *     *

back when i was in high school, my friends and i did a lot of crazy shit, but i think the thing that allowed us all to have faith in the future was the unspoken but universally-held belief that at some point we'd abandon all the petty, mean-spirited bullshit of youth and morph into responsible, do-the-right-thing adults like our parents and teachers.

shame the kids of itawamba county, mississippi no longer have that illusion to cling to.

the early-warning windex test

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contrary to what a casual observer of the seemingly random landscape of mkf's cluttered domain on the 26th floor might believe, the dusty half-empty bottle of windex that's been sitting on the back left corner of mkf's credenza for the last five years is there for a good goddam reason, and it served its purpose admirably today.

see, whenever the building starts to move [as it often does], mkf's eyes always flash straight to that windex bottle--if the level of the blue liquid stays mostly calm [as it mostly always does], then so does mkf.

if, on the other hand, mkf is all alone on easter sunday on the 26th floor and the building starts to move and the blue liquid in that bottle suddenly starts to slosh wildly back and forth as it did today...

whatever--whether or not bracing myself in the reinforced-steel doorway of my office woulda really saved me had it been the big one, it was kinda nice hearing from virtually every non-californian i know today asking me if i was ok, ya know?

tales of the shuttle

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so today i heard that jaime escalante died, which got me thinking about his movie, which got me thinking about a job i once had shortly after arriving in los angeles, which left me once again with the realization that just when mkf thinks he's tapped out, there's always one more story--or three.
 

1.

i recognize him immediately--little guy with a canvas duffle almost as big as he is, flagging me down at terminal 7 just as i'm getting ready to head outta the airport--could it be?

i jump out to help him with his bag, and as he climbs into the van, all doubts are erased--there's the logo for his latest movie emblazoned across the back of his jacket, big as life.

as soon as he's settled in--he's all alone in the wayback--i ease into traffic and resume my conversation with the two delightful english ladies in the middle row i had just picked up at terminal 2.  it's their first trip to america and they're beside themselves with excitement--from the moment they entered the van, they've been peppering me with questions about hollywood.

as we drive, i give 'em everything i know, try to point out some landmarks--problem is, the bleak drive from LAX to hollywood is as about as far from glamorous as you can get, so to keep 'em happy (and thinking, as always, of my tip), i start making shit up.

every time i make some outlandish pronouncement for the benefit of my ladies--point out some anonymous hovel and tell 'em charlie chaplin used to keep his mistresses there, for instance, or "see that pretty girl at the corner? she's really a man."--i check the rear-view mirror, catch the eye of my passenger in the back row.  he's smiling, enjoying the show.

until, that is, the inevitable "where can we find celebrities?" question comes up.

because i can't resist.  "ladies, in this town, you never know where you're gonna run into a celebrity.  it could happen on a street corner, in a cafe--heck, you might look up and find yourselves sitting right next to one at any moment."

i glance up--the once-smiling eyes in my rear-view mirror are wide and pleading now.  i just wink and drive.

the first stop is his--chateau marmont.  as i drag out his bag, he hands me an extra twenty, says "thanks for not giving me away."

turning back toward my van, i toss over my shoulder the line i've had the entire ride from the airport to perfect: "next time, do the right thing--hire a limo."  this earns me a laugh.

as i prepare to pull back onto the strip, i turn back to my ladies and breathlessly ask, "my gosh, do you have any idea who you just shared a ride from the airport with?"

this bit of theatre would net me my second big tip of the night.

2.

one of the first things the other drivers tell me: "cops hate shuttle drivers--be extra-careful when you're anywhere near LAX."  being me, i don't pay much attention to this advice.

one night shortly thereafter, returning from a run and anxious to get back to the airport, i ignore the "no right turn on red" sign at the 405/la tijera off-ramp and am promptly rewarded with flashing red-and-blue lights in my rear-view mirror.

fuck.  i pull over, brace myself for another ticket--i've had more than a few in my life.

this one will be different.

i sense it right away--cop walking toward me has about ten times the attitude i've ever gotten from a cop before.  i offer him my driver's license through the open window and he loudly orders me out--and when i comply, gets all up in my face and, spittle flying, backs me up against the side of the van and tells me to move not a goddam inch until he returns.

he then snatches my ID outta my trembling hand and retreats to his car, trains the full force of his spotlight upon my scared, miserable person.  as looky-lou traffic slows, through the humiliating glare i can see him on the radio, calling me in--it takes forever.  in the meantime, i nervously pull a cigarette outta my pocket and await my ticket.

eventually he comes back, scribbling in his ticket book, takes one look at the cigarette in my hand, screams, "DID I SAY YOU COULD SMOKE?  DROP IT--NOW!"  i immediately do as he says.

he then flips a page on his pad, scribbles some more and eventually hands me not one ticket to sign, but two:  the first, for illegal right turn; the second, for littering.

later in the locker-room, red-faced, foaming at the mouth, shrieking about outrage and injustice and fucking goddam motherfucking cops, i'm oblivious of the snickering from the little circle of black drivers until one of 'em walks up to me with a grin, pats me on the cheek and says, "congratulations, white boy--you just got to be a nigger for a night. now, shut your mouth, change outta that uniform and go be white again."

on the drive home i remember thinking how if I had to go through that shit on a regular basis, cop killer would probably be pounding outta my subwoofer on high rotation, too.

3.

it's a dead airport and as i make my third and final round, i resign myself to the fact that the fare i picked up on round 1 is gonna be my only one for this run.  and not only that, but it's montebello--jesus, the trip to east LA and back will eat up half my night.

she's nice, though--rather than bitching like most people do when told we're gonna have to go around twice more, she'd smiled, settled back in her seat and enjoyed the ride.

once LAX is behind us, we make the most of the trip, this lady and i--we talk about her family; we talk about mine.  before i know it, we're pulling up in front of her house--a neat little stucco bungalow with a single porchlight burning.

i insist on carrying her bags--by this time i'm totally taken with this little woman who, even though she's nothing like her, somehow reminds me of my own mother.

she unlocks the front door, steps inside, flips a switch, and i walk into...not a living room, but a shrine.

seriously:  every square inch of every wall, every table, every horizontal and vertical surface extending even unto the dining room beyond--is covered with pictures, posters, plaques, trophies, awards, ribbons, citations--documentation of a life well-lived.

and each one featuring the same familiar name and/or face.

i turn to her with my mouth open and she positively radiates with pride as she says, "this is my son i was telling you about."

fuck most celebrities, but i'd like to meet mrs. olmos's son one day, if only to tell him how his mother's face lit up when she talked about him.

and as for that other life well-lived, the one that inspired this post:  may you rest in peace, mr. escalante.

an interesting chart

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because you know i'm all about the charts.

the money quote:

Barring an about face by nature or adjustments, it appears that for the first time since 2001, Arctic Sea ice will hit the “normal” line as defined by the National Snow and Ice Data Center (NSIDC) for this time of year.

i fully expect al gore to call a news conference at any moment expressing his jubilant relief, don't you?

a guttermorality news round-up

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i know, i know--i've got a story to finish.  problem is,  i'm white-knuckling my way through a week of sobriety currently off my medication, which means that all warm, fuzzy thoughts of the past have evaporated and i've found myself forced screaming into the random ugliness and stupidity that constitutes the present--which fact would explain not only my last several posts, but this one as well.

whatever--let's begin.

*     *     *     *     *

from the guttermorality national affairs desk:

wow, it's already starting (part 1)

remember that healthcare bill that obama just signed that's supposed to save us all so much money?

yeah--almost immediately upon its passage into law, company after company came forth announcing huge charge-offs against earnings in order to comply with its provisions--companies like caterpillar [$100 m], john deere [$150 m], 3M [$85 m], and (saving the best for last) AT&T [$1 billion].

this, of course, isn't what makes this story noteworthy--i mean, the fact that this was gonna be a financial disaster for big business was a given, right?  it's the reaction of congress to these companies' announcements that makes me wanna simultaneously laugh and hurl.

wow, it's already starting (part 2)

so the AP has determined that, once the mandatory insurance requirement kicks in in 2014, premiums for young people will probably rise by at least 17%.  a couple paragraphs from their story:

Consider 24-year-old Nils Higdon. The self-employed percussionist and part-time teacher in Chicago pays $140 each month for health insurance. But he's healthy and so far hasn't needed it.

The law relies on Higdon and other young adults to shoulder more of the financial load in new health insurance risk pools. So under the new system, Higdon could expect to pay $300 to $500 a year more. Depending on his income, he might also qualify for tax credits.

now, the jump between nils' present payment of $140/month and the AP's projected payment for nils of up to $640 four years from now is a hell of a lot more than 17%--guess when you go from a bare-bones policy of your own choosing to one the government picks out for you, the hit gets much, much worse.

this story illustrates two points: (a) nils is fuckin adorable; and (b) no shit that when you're forced to buy something, they're gonna jack up the price.

[a personal note to all you young people who voted for hope and change:  as long as you're happy ponying up 5-6 hundred bucks a month for coverage you don't need in order to keep me and my fellow baby-boomers current with the cutting edge of gerontological science, then i assure you, we're happy too.]



from the guttermorality anti-terrorism desk:

this makes you feel safe, right?

the above pic is from a new york post story about american reaction to the moscow subway bombings.

after our scared-rabbit overreaction to 9/11, i long ago postulated that all it would take to plunge this country into total police-state lockdown would be a couple well-placed suicide bombings--say, one at mall of america, another at disneyland and maybe a third at some random chuck e. cheese on a saturday afternoon, all in quick succession--and to this day, i can't for the life of me imagine why they haven't done it.


from the guttermorality world affairs desk:


yeah--it's china's fault

of all the idiocy i've come across this past week [and there's been a lot--the above only scratches the surface], this story from a canadian paper is the one that scares me the most.

a couple featured paragraphs:

More than 100 members of U.S. Congress signed a letter in mid-March urging the Obama administration to label China a currency manipulator when the United States issues its twice-a-year report on currency manipulation on April 15.

Meanwhile, Paul Krugman, the Nobel Prize winning economist, wrote in his New York Times Op-ed column a couple of weeks ago that the United States should slap imports from China with a 25% tariff.

in other words [for those of you who haven't been paying attention these past 25 or so years]:  the very monetary policies china followed in order to keep their shit dirt-cheap so we could afford to bankrupt ourselves buying it from wal-mart whilst simultaneously destroying our domestic industrial/manufacturing base in the process--all the while being cheer-led by administration after administration into doing so--yeah, all of a sudden they're being made the scapegoat for all our problems.

basically, what congress and krugman [and why anybody ever listened to this asshole i can't even begin to imagine] are asking the president to do is try to force china to make the cost of their goods more expensive to the rest of the world, in order to throw a bone to american labor--you know, make 'em think we're doing something to protect their jobs.

i.e., we're demanding china jeopardize its economy in order to pacify our unions before election time rolls around.

what these idiots seem to forget is, we forfeited the right to call the shots with china long ago--hell, they own us.  i mean, it's like a dead-broke junkie trying to dictate terms to his dealer.

today as we speak, the united states of america is borrowing fully 40 cents of every dollar we spend, and we are totally dependent on the goodwill of china to continue this idiocy for as long as they'll let us.

start a trade war with china?  yeah--look back at history, you'll find that's the way shooting wars start.



finally, from the guttermorality fuck-all-the-naysayers desk:

goddamn, what took daylight saving time so long to get here?