The Core Dump

“The Transportation Security Administration says a laptop containing the sensitive personal information of 33,000 applicants to an airport security prescreening program has gone missing.”. Via Slashdot

“It is no longer sufficient to hire a hairstylist and makeup artist to be on hand the day of. Instead, bridal parties are indulging in dermal fillers and tooth-whitening months before the Big Day.”

I suppose it’s better than having an “L” tattooed on your forehead.

We are now at the point where I can hardly read anything in the newspaper but the comics, can’t listen to NPR, and can under no circumstances tolerate even a minute of CNN or MSNBC. It’s even so bad I can’t watch The Daily Show.

Mainstream media these days is like Fellini’s Satyricon.

So how am I disgusted? Let me count the ways:

The latest condescending Bread-and-Circuses idea by both Clinton and McCain about a “gas-tax holiday” is so cynical, pandering and breathtakingly dumb that it will probably end up winning one of them the election.

I don’t like paying high gas prices more than anybody else, but perhaps looking another direction than the purse strings of Uncle Sam could be useful? Like, oh, I don’t know, at the corporations that are making record-breaking profits? Exxon Mobil posted a $10.89 billion with a “B” profit for the first three months of the year.

Sure there’s no give in gas prices? And isn’t the whole idea that the gentle and wise hand of the market will reign in these kinds of profits?

Then there’s the perennial war in Iraq which costs $275 million per day, not to mention the mounting human costs with more people dead and maimed every day. But apparently that’s just become the weather these days, and not something that can be challenged or changed. Turns out there is such a thing as the sunk cost fallacy. Look it up.

To add points to my blood pressure, the talking point that’s been going around now for a while about how it’s all the Iraqis fault the Army can’t be pulled out—they’re not doing their fair share! Whaaa!—sounds a lot like a rapist blaming his victim for his not enjoying himself.

Monstrous and horrible as Saddam and his henchmen were, there are two important facts to bear in mind: 1) Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11; and 2) The Iraqis never asked to be invaded. I’m sure they were happy to get rid of Saddam, but blaming them for not holding up their end on some sort of coerced deal is mind-blowingly disingenuous.

And then there’s the delightful spectacle of democracy in process. If I was working on one of the campaigns I’d care deeply about who raised how much money and in which city the candidates will be on which day and what the polls are showing today. Deeply. But I’m not. I’m a voter. I want to know what positions the candidates are taking on the issues.

Yes, I know, apparently that’s snoresville these days, so call me a freak, but that’s what I’d like to see the media cover.

And speaking of issues, don’t know if you noticed, but the economy is going to hell in a hand basket with the sub-prime mortgage meltdown in the driver’s seat laughing its ass off.

Oh, what shall we ever do to keep from skidding off the road? Hey, I know, let’s bail out the banks that put us in this mess in the first place.

So what caused the mortgage meltdown? Creative banking with zero federal oversight. Simple as that. Putting the whole onus on stupid consumers is narrow-minded to say the least.

How freaking awesome must it be to work at a bank? You can come up with some squirrelly coked-out scheme, make money hand over fist, and then have the fed come bail you out when the hangover starts.

How about in each one of the banks that are getting bailed out, everybody in a managerial position is fired immediately? Oh, wait, no, that’s that “consequence” thing we try to fool our children into believing, isn’t it?

Can I have a cookie whenever I let my greed and arrogance override every ounce of common sense I possess, too? ‘Cause that would be nice.

Santa?

It’s 115 degrees Fahrenheit outside, but it’s comfortable in the air-conditioned cool of the car wash.

In the sun, the car washers, all latino, are working, spraying and wiping, getting the customers’ cars taken care of as quickly as possible.

Next to me sit a woman and her blonde child, perhaps four or five years old. She’s pretty.

“Mom,” the girl says, “I don’t like brown people.”

The mom smiles and puts her finger to her lips, “Shhh.”

If you’re wondering just how bad the Phoenix real estate market really is, here’s what happened right after I got home today:

Door bell rings, it’s a tired-looking middle-aged realtor going door to door. He hands me a flyer.

“Are you in the market to sell or buy a home?”

“Hell no.”

“Uh. Hell no, huh?”

“Yeah, not in this market.”

He looked like he lost a little wind, but then gathered himself: “Oh, the market isn’t that bad! The credit market is improving and …”

“Yeah, no. Sorry.”

And according to his flyer, the FHA has raised the loan limit, so “you can buy a property, mortgage up to $346,250. [sic] With 0 down and a 580 credit score.”

Golly gee, Batman, that sure sounds like nothing can go wrong…

Now, snarky as I am, I don’t mean to denigrate the guy—he’s out on the street trying to hustle up business. I respect that. But the situation is completely disgusting.

One of the most offensive actions surrounding the tragic Terry Schiavo case was when Senator Bill Frist, a Medical Doctor, watched a few minutes of video of the brain-damaged Mrs. Sciavo and declared, in his infinite wisdown, that Mrs. Schiavo was not brain dead and that she “responded to visual stimuli“. Mr. Frist’s insta-diagnosis of course contradicted the one made by doctors who had spent years caring for Mrs. Schiavo.

Turns out the autopsy of Mrs. Schiavo has revealed that “she was in a persistent vegetative state [and] had massive and irreversible brain damage and was blind.”

So, Mr. Frist, are you going to apologize for your blatant mis-diagnosis and for dragging the reputation of your medical colleagues through the mud? And are you going to practice medicine again?

Soundtrack: “Harvester Of Sorrow” by Metallica

In further proof that Western society is teetering perilously close to the brink, here is the opening paragraph from a piece of spam I just received:

As seen on NBC, CBS, and CNN, and even Oprah! The health discovery that actually reverses aging while burning fat, without dieting or exercise! This proven discovery has even been reported on by major Science Journals. Forget aging and dieting forever! And It’s Guaranteed!

Apart from being stunningly grammatical and well spelled for a piece of spam, the part here that has the Four Horsemen oiling their saddles is the priority of the pitch: Major networks, that’s kinda good, isn’t it? But heeelllloooo seen on Oprah! Oprah likes this product! Get it! Oooooopraaaahhhhh.

Oh, and some science-type people wrote something about the product. Oooooopraaaahhh. Buy it!

Most spam is dumb to the point of vexation, but to take it up a notch here is the full text of a message with the charming subject line “re: oedipal”:

%CUSTOM_GREETING

%CUSTOM_LINE_A

%CUSTOM_LINE_B

%CUSTOM_LINE_C

%CUSTOM_LINE_D

%CUSTOM_LINE_E

%CUSTOM_LINE_F

%CUSTOM_LINE_G

%CUSTOM_POSTAL

%CUSTOM_ENDING

Good job there, Cha-Cha. Thanks for not wasting bandwidth and mail server resources.

Listening To: “It Just Won’t Do” by Tim Deluxe

One of the scars left upon my soul by doing too much reading and writing at an early age is a proof-reader mode always stuck at eleven, which is constantly triggered by the epidemic of brutal and callous apostrophe abuse going on in the world today, even among people who should know better. Take for instance this .sig file from an email that just landed in my inbox a few seconds ago:

This e-mail, and it’s attachment(s), if any, have been scanned by Norton Anti-Virus 2003 Professional

Aaaargh! “it’s attachments?”

Another insidious and equally disturbing mutilation that’s cropped up on more PowerPoint slides than useless bar graphs is the use of apostrophes to signify plurals. So we get “We will scan the URL’s contents,” “We will buy many CD’s,” etc.

Looking around the web for other victims of apostrophe abuse, found a post on Dive Into Mark where he laments this abuse, and finds that the apostrophe is the modern day Shibboleth.

Interestingly, the word Shibboleth comes from one of those ultra-violent ethnic-cleansing passages that so liven up the Bible.

Listening To: “Vyce Grypp” by Mix Master Mike