Toys

It would go without saying that with all this car shopping going on there hasn't been time to decide how to refill the small, empty parking spot in front of the house.

No, the pictured bike isn't mine -- well, in my very vivid dreams it is -- but my need for a pair of wheels to help shed some stress while navigating some back road twisties is pressing at the very least.

I sold my motorcycle last June. It was aging, but ran well. It actually needed more than I could easily provide -- that being not only someone who loved it, but someone with the time and expertise to maintain it. I have no qualms about paying for needed service, but at $60 per hour, extensive service adds up quickly.

So I look ahead to the probablility of yet another summer watching everyone else get their ride on. And I'm on the outside, looking in....like a kid outside the toy store, standing at the window, face pressed up against the glass.

Something Blue

We made it to the car dealer yesterday (and back home before "lights out"). I had originally had my eye on a '99 Chevy Blazer that had been on this website for several months. It was everything I was looking for -- 4WD, 6-cyl, 20mpg, asking $5200...and it was blue.

It had sold literally five minutes before we showed up to look at it. What are the chances? I did, however, get a re-education in the finer points of automobile acquisition for those of us without the cash to pay and go.

No, I could not put the vehicle -- or any vehicle at this place -- on my American Express since they would have to kick back 3% to AmEx for the priviledge of accepting the card. Most banks are unwilling to finance a vehicle with over 100,000 miles regardless of age or condition. Most banks are also unwilling to finance anything over five or six years old regardless of condition or mileage.

Then I suggested putting only the down-payment on the card and the salesman winced, "I'm not sure I should be hearing anything about you using a credit card to borrow money to put down on a vehicle that you'll need to borrow money for". Okay...message received. The power of plastic is not all-encompassing.

So the bottom line is that I'll go back in a week with cash in hand and do the deal -- if I so choose. We ran the numbers and I'm approved, no problem. It's now for me to pick out something I can live with...and I'm not picky. The picture of the 2005 Jeep Liberty at the top of this post it what they had in stock that I liked. It's a great price, has a peppy 4cyl, 4WD...and it's blue.

Darkness Falls

Did you participate in Earth Hour? Douse the lights between 8 and 9PM on Saturday? Had I known about this I would have blogged about it sooner, but I only learned about it accidentally when my wife Googled something and saw that Google's page was "dark".

"We've turned out our lights, now it's your turn." Of course, their site was up and they weren't using any less energy than usual, but they had changed their page from white with black or colored lettering to black with white lettering to get the point across.

We dusted off our unused candles and made dinner by candlelight. Taken to the extreme, we shouldn't have used any energy at all during that hour, but we only kept to the spirit and used energy to cook our food.

After that hour, it became all but unbearable. Most of our candles were gifts -- and a house can take only so much mixing of vanilla, lavender, bayberry, and cinnamon before the assault on the senses trumps the savings in electricity. Note to self: stock up on unscented candles.

I'm really hoping that this statement helped to raise awareness across the planet. The energy issues we face transcend race, religion, politics, and geographical boundaries and every little bit helps.

Memories and Anticipation

We're finally heading to an auto dealer tomorrow to look at a few prospects. I'm sure it will be an education since the last time I actually worked with a car dealer and purchased a new car was nearly twenty years ago. The car I acquired was what you see pictured above -- a 1989 Nissan 240SX SE in Platinum Blue Metallic which, to 99 out of 100 people surveyed, looked Silver.

I didn't have a lot of luck with my only new car purchase. I managed to wreck it to the tune of $7200 within the first twenty-five hours of ownership. I then somehow persuaded the credit union that I should be allowed to take the car with me to Germany when I moved there in 1990. The company I had secured a job with went belly-up within six months of my arrival so I could no longer make payments, nor could I afford to ship the car back to the States.

Ultimately, the credit union informed me that they would never make the same mistake again. I had defaulted on the loan due to ill circumstance, not malice or dead-beatery. So I continued to drive the car for another few years until one unfortunate morning when I was pulled over by a grumpy, old German cop who complained every time he saw me about my lack of a proper German license plate.

On that foul day, Karma and circumstance caught up with me as it was revealed that my Passport, residency permit, work permit, registration and insurance were all out of date. Ouch. The last I saw of my car it was being secured on a roll-back at the local police station. I spent only a few hours incarcerated before my company sent down their own lawyer and my friend with 1000DM to spring me.

I never saw my car again. A German friend accompanied me to the Customs Office where they seemed a bit more than happy to inform me that it would cost thousands to get my car out of impound. Apparently, if I had declared the car as a personal possession when I moved to Germany, it wouldn't have been an issue. Instead, they viewed it as something of value I brought into Germany and hadn't paid import tax.

So my car was sold at a police auction to a cop and was seen here and there around Hamburg for a few years after my return to the States. I harbored a secret hope that the new owner would get an unpleasant surprise his first time on the Autobahn when he discovered that the car had a governor that kicks in at 114MPH -- practically a crawl.

My new secret hope is that this purchase won't delay my acquiring a Harley....much.

Last Legs

I'm contemplating the demise of an old friend. Ten years we've been together through thick and thin. Where is the love? The honeymoon is over. It's time to move on.

I acquired my current chariot ten years ago -- when it was already ten years old -- and drove it up from Texas. In these last ten years I've added not only another 100,000 miles, but a second engine, a new braking system, and a few other little touches that have been relentlessly nickel and diming me to death for the last three years.

In the first five or six years of owning this truck, I would have argued that it was the best $4500 I'd ever spent on a vehicle. After all, I hate having car payments and a good used vehicle makes more sense to me than most new purchases. The utility has been invaluable and I can't see ever being without some kind of SUV/truck/crossover vehicle in the family.

So that's what I'm looking for -- something the same only different. Gas mileage is key. My current behemoth has a thirty-five gallon tank feeding a 5.2liter (318ci) V8 that is now barely getting nine or ten MPG as it inhales ballparks of air whenever I step on the accelerator -- and that's provided it's down hill with a tail wind. At $112 per tank every two weeks, it adds up quickly -- and that's just to drive the thirty mile round trip to work for ten days.

I ranted in an earlier post about not getting anything back at tax time, so I'm looking for something really cheap (doesn't have a good ring to it) or really affordable that's nearly new. Wish me luck. If the stars are aligned, I'll find something in my favorite color -- blue.

Pray for the Dying

Submitted for your infuriation: the sad case of eleven year old Kara Neumann, a Wisconsin girl who became ill some 30 days ago suffering from a treatable form of Type 1 diabetes and finally slipped into a coma and died while her family did nothing. Here's CNN's Nancy Grace reporting on the story.

Her family claims they prayed for her to get better. In my book that's criminal neglect that lead directly to her death. Religious freedom? The family doesn't identify with any particular religious group, so I guess they're claiming the right to be divinely ignorant? Help me out here, I can't seem to remember which religious group that they're not affiliated with that teaches that a child be allowed to die as a result of parental stupidity.

Anyone remember "God helps those who help themselves"? It's like the story of the man who was trapped on his roof during a flood. Someone came by in a boat and offered to rescue him. "No thanks", he replied, "I'll wait. God will save me". The flood waters rise almost to his roof and a helicopter comes by and offers to pick him up. "I'll wait", insists the man,"God will save me". The waters rise and the man drowns. Upon his arrival in Heaven he asks God why He didn't save him. God tells him, "I came to you twice, in the boat and then in the helicopter, and you refused me both times".

I believe in the power of prayer, but what about the power of God-given rational thought to go along with it? I'm earnestly hoping that charges be swiftly brought against these morons who believe that their neglect of an innocent that resulted in her death can be hidden behind the veil of religious freedom.

It would be one thing if they chose to do nothing about their own demise, then they would simply be eligible for a Darwin Award (given posthumously to those who improve the human gene pool by removing themselves from it), but this despicable inaction only makes them eligible for prison.

But maybe if they pray really hard for a good lawyer....

Apollo 18

Here lies Apollo 18.... I know, there was no Apollo 18 mission. It was abandoned before its time because of budget cuts fueled by public apathy. Great minds still occasionally debate how we could have pulled the plug on the greatest endeavor in human history.

My hope is that the Constellation Program -- the successor to the Shuttle Program -- which gets underway in 2015 will be a worthy progeny of our manned space flight legacy.

I came across this article on NPR.org about Florida's Space Coast and it got me thinking about the short-sighted individuals who believe that spending money on space exploration is a waste. To that I respond with an appropriately chosen video.

A brilliantly conceived and written space opera, Babylon 5 often addressed issues regarding the human condition. Here's what was said about mankind's quest for the stars:

Long Distance (Time) Travel

I love little science and technology blurbs like this one. Who needs a time machine when we can look into the heavens and see billions of years into the past?

Some 7.5 Billion years ago, a star -- halfway to the edge of the Universe -- exploded in a huge burst of Gamma radiation and the light is just reaching us now.

And I complain about my commute to work.

Security For All

I came across this clip from the 1951 SciFi classic "The Day The Earth Stood Still". With the problems this planet faces every day from war and aggression and it's fallout, it's too bad that we can't just have a benevolent alien show up, take the reins, and tell us what's what. Sometimes I wonder what it would actually take for us to stop killing each other and if that's even possible.

Right Of Spring

One of my favorite things about the beginning of Spring -- other than it no longer being Winter -- is that I'm within three months of Summer and scenes like this.

Early evening in late July on the water in Maryland, this seemed to me like a staged Chamber of Commerce brochure -- the hotel on the water, the quaint and clever Hard Crab Cafe, the silent speed boat slumbering until braving the waves with tomorrow's crowd of tourists. For me, it was the perfect unforced cliche. I had to have it.

I never saw this scene again, never patronized the Assateague House, never tamed the tide in the Patriot, nor savored seafood at the Hard Crab Cafe. But I enjoy all of them every time I see this picture.

Driven to Drink: Part 2 -- The Payment of Attention

This Time article gave me a chuckle -- although it ended up being short-lived. In what ended up being a clever public relations ploy, a British directory assistance company, 118118, and Living Streets padded the lamp posts -- with white, fluffy rugby goalpoast cushions -- on East London's Brick Lane to protect mobile phone users from injuries incurred by running into objects while walking and texting.

Although I am in constant marvel at the complexities of the human brain and its ability to multi-task, the simple truth is that my eyes can only focus on one thing at a time, and that's usually where my attention is focused as well.

In his excellent book and subsequent video on motorcycle safety "A Twist of the Wrist", Keith Code puts it something like this: Imagine your attention is a ten dollar bill. It's not unlimited and you have to spend it wisely. If you spend it all in one place, you'll have nothing left for anything else. When attention must be paid, how will you spend yours?

Here's the ITN video that was posted on YouTube that is the companion to the Time article. These same people that are oblivious to objects in their path are surely the same ones we have to look out for when we drive. Some of the video looks staged, but some of it clearly isn't.

To Be Or....

Two unrelated stories caught my attention today, but they highlight a common theme. This story from Australia is about an 81 year old man who built a suicide robot to end his life as he "struggled to come to terms with demands by interstate relatives that he move out [of] his home and into care". And in this headline from France, a severely disfigured woman was found dead just two days after a court had rejected her request for assisted suicide.

Must our governments and our laws deny us the dignity we would afford ourselves? I don't know all the details of the elderly man in Australia and the article reporting his death was a short one, but how must he have felt to decide that his only way to peace was by ending his life?

I can only imagine. Having lived for some years in a home that he once shared with a spouse, perhaps, was he relentlessly pressured by family who only "wanted what was best"? Best for whom? Were they impatient waiting for their share of his estate? Were they tired of helping him out because he could no longer care for himself or the property? I can only speculate, but maybe he just couldn't live knowing he wouldn't die in his own home. Perhaps he didn't want to be someone else's burden -- even if they were a paid health care worker.

The heartbreaking story of the woman in France was considerably more detailed. She was severely disfigured and in constant excruciating pain -- a combination that would probably lead anyone to consider death a viable alternative. In this world of humans who make over ninety percent of our decisions based on what we see, she would have been shunned, avoided, stared at, and completely unable to lead anything resembling a normal life -- even without the pain.

Yet her pleas fell on the deaf and unyielding ears of the courts who believe they know better than we what is best for us. It's almost a sick punchline that the medical examiners and prosecutors are looking into whether her death was illegal. What? Excuse me if I must quote Jack Kevorkian who said that, "Dying is not a crime". Illegal was denying her the right to end her life on her own terms with what dignity she had left.

I don't support giving everyone a blank check to off themselves at any time for any reason, but for those of sound mind at the end of their life, whether by illness or infirmity, or those whose wishes have been made clear in writing or to an advocate, the right to die should be implicit -- not dragged endlessly through the courts or fought over by "well meaning" relatives or used as a publicity tool for self-serving politicians.

That won't be me. Hopefully I have several decades ahead of me at the very least, but I'm a realist. When it comes time for me to shuffle off this mortal coil there are a hundred scenarios that could make it the adventure of a lifetime.

But for the unsavory eventualities that I haven't thought of, can't imagine, or don't want to believe could befall me, I'll already have a plan in place. If the last hand in life dealt to me is from the bottom of the deck, I won't need the mercy of the courts or a contemporary Doctor Death to help me on my way. I'll cash in my chips at a time of my own choosing with the only banker I can trust -- and that will be me.

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor

I debated as to whether or not I should write this particular post since I don't want to be just another purveyor of bombast rambling endlessly about pop culture.

But it relates indirectly to my previous post, Pop-Up Poignards, regarding the intrusion of advertising into every possible aspect of our lives.

One of the few (two, in fact) reality shows I watch is American Idol. It's a show as stuffed full of commercial breaks as any on television. Last night, the remaining eleven finalists had just one minute forty seconds each for their performances over the two hour live broadcast. That's under twenty minutes of singing talent in one hundred twenty, leaving plenty of time for banter among the host, the judges, and the contestants. The rest of the time is sold to the all-powerful advertisers.

Thanks to my TiVo, I can sit down at any time to watch a program and unceremoniously skip over every last commercial (except for the pop-ups). It's a beautiful thing. Well, it's evidently occurred to someone that there may be some DVR users in TV land that aren't getting the benefit of the regularly scheduled advertising. So after returning from a commercial break the host, Ryan Seacrest, addresses an audience member and asks to, "see that for a minute". The audience member hands him an Apple iPhone and Seacrest procedes to plug the iPhone in what can only be called a live, on-air, in-show commercial -- just like the old, old, old days.

As I watched, I found myself running out of breath -- because I had forgotten to breathe. There really is no escape, it seems. Seacrest MCs the show with his usual wit and aplomb, but I could have sworn that he looked uncomfortable -- probably wondering if this was buried in the fine print of his contract that he really should have read.

Two Mile Island

This shocking development was the top story in the Northeast today. A nearly two mile section of I-95 was completely shut down for emergency repairs because of a cracked support column, and the headaches to commuters may continue for two to four days.

Wow. Breaking news, that. One of the 6007 structurally deficient bridges in Pennsylvania is actually being repaired. I guess it's the nearly 200,000 inconvenienced drivers that use the roadway who make it a story. The various news agencies managed to interview most of the gridlocked victims who all kept repeating the same word -- Nightmare.

Well at least we all agree on something. The collapse of our Nation's infrastructure from neglect and indifference is definitely a nightmare. That people lost their lives in the Minnesota bridge collapse and our government didn't launch into a spending frenzy to protect its citizens is a nightmare. Again we're back to a place where the Federal government needs to, as PA Governor Ed Rendell says, "get off their butts and institute a nationwide plan to repair our infrastructure".

Dena responded to Here's Mud In Your I with two links that warrant a closer look. As reported by the American Society of Civil Engineers (ASCE) -- Here are the 2005 grades for the Infrastructure Report. And here is the Updated 2008 Action Plan. Besides the overall poor grade of D, note the dollar figure needed over the next five years to correct the issues in all of the fifteen Subject areas: $1.6 Trillion.

We've spent nearly twice that in the last five years in the Middle East. I'm not suggesting I have a grand plan for budgeting the war, but I think we need to figure out how to make sure our troops get what they need to finish cleaning up the mess we've made while keeping our own country from falling into disrepair. I'd just like to see a little more balanced perspective. As important as what we're doing over in Iraq may be, it's not more important than maintaining the vital systems of our own country.

My fear is that this will be just another reactive phase with an all too brief duration as agencies and officials scamper about in an effort to show us that they're really concerned and are doing something about this situation. Then the bridge will be repaired, the hype will die down and everyone will go back to their wait-and-see routine until the next piece of infrastructure cracks, falls down, or injures people -- at which time the reactive phase will restart all over again.

Until then, I'm going to check the news again for an aerial image of the barren stretch of I-95 next to the motionless sea of diverted traffic that's still snaking around it. It's like a scene from The Day The Earth Stood Still and that's one of my favorite movies.

The Orange and the Green

"My father, he was Orange and me mother, she was green" -Traditional

I couldn't let St. Paddy's Day go by without a nod to some of the Isle's recent history. Northern Ireland's violent past was, like many police actions (wars), all at once the news of the world even as images from Belfast were being supressed.

On a side note, I find it an unfortunate literary coincidence that the term "assonance" -- the alliterative rhyming of words based on their sharing the same vowel and/or consonant sounds -- makes Belfast and Beirut ideal poetic companions.

The first Police album I ever purchased -- yes, a vinyl album -- was 1981's "Ghost in the Machine". Despite the first single released in the United Kingdom, Invisible Sun, reaching number 2 on the charts, the BBC banned the video because of its subject matter -- the depiction of the conflict in Northern Ireland -- demonstrating another sad instance of the media acting as government's propaganda arm to choke the release of information.

Here's the video.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

To everyone who is just a little bit Irish, at least on St. Paddy's Day, I raise a pint of the finest stout in a toast to the Emerald Isle and fellow Irish everywhere -- metaphorically, that is. The consumption of alcoholic beverages here in the office during work hours is frowned upon.

But it was not always so. My first job after high school was in a restaurant and bar called Huckleberry's -- long since closed and demolished, now a parking lot. My introduction to Guinness came from an Irishman who was putting them away like it was his job. The encounter forever changed my taste in beer.

"What is that?" "Guinness Stout -- try it" He offered me his freshly pulled pint and I was too curious to refuse. The customer is always right, after all. *Yum*. "That's really good." "It's delicious", he corrected me, "Drink a six pack of that and you'll shit black for a week." Charming. I wondered if that's how all of the Irish enticed you to drink with them.

As for my own nationality, I'm a potpourri of many things -- English, Irish, Scottish, Italian, French-Indian (Huron, maybe?) and German-Dutch. So I'm a mutt, but I'm a quarter Irish -- a pretty good percentage by American standards -- with some MacEntees and McGeehans in my family history.

Some years back, I had visited a friend in Chicago for the St. Patrick's Day parade. I remember it being cold, windy (of course) and the Chicago River was dyed its usual shade of green. The parade was terrific -- my favorite bits were the pipes and drums. Few things stir my blood like the skirl of the bagpipes, but traditional Irish music comes close.

And with that, I offer up a slice of one of my faves, The Chieftans. This is a scene I would enjoy tremendously -- sitting around the pub with friends, all with traditional acoustic instruments and half-enjoyed pints of Guinness on the table. Enjoy.

Still Dreaming....

After yesterday's post, I realized I couldn't very well write about Paris without showcasing my own captured version of its most recognizable icon. As I previously mentioned, the day ended at Le Tour d'Eiffel shortly before closing time and, although a bit cliche, I knew I had to record my own interpretation for posterity.

I remember the warm air being still and humid and many of the locals had returned home for the evening. Armed with my constant companion, a Canon A1 that was a gift from my parents before my emigration to Germany, I hiked about a quarter mile from the base and turned around to frame my picture.

It was nearly eleven o'clock and I found myself mesmerized by the Eiffel's ascent piercing the obsidian sky. It seemed fitting to deliberately overexpose the frame to accentuate the tower's brilliance. [For you shutterbugs, I used a 28 - 85mm lens, ASA 400 film and overexposed the image by one f-stop.]

It would be weeks before I developed my rolls of film after returning to Hamburg, but this image became an immediate favorite when I saw the Eiffel brilliantly radiating with near living luminescence. It's a reminder to me that my heart has found its home in many parts of the world and I'm happy occasionally losing myself in the exciting uncertainty of another culture in half-remembered surroundings.

Parisian Dreams

That the above black & white image seems nothing more than a forgotten old postcard does nothing to diminish its charm for me. Struck momentarily by the scene's relaxed simplicity, I captured this frame on a whim crossing the Seine River in August of 1991 while on the way to the best little ice cream cafe in Paris. I'm afraid I don't remember the name of it and certainly couldn't spell it if I did, let alone pronounce it.

Magnifique -- which I can pronounce -- is how I would later describe not only the ice cream, but the City of Lights itself despite our introduction being all too brief. While living in Hamburg, I had accompanied my best friend, his wife, and their three year old daughter in a cramped RV across Germany, Luxembourg, and France to a rustic campground at Biscarosse Plage. We spent one day in Paris. I might as well have tried to enjoy Epcot Center in forty-five minutes.

But what an exceptional day it was. Up with the sun and on a train into the city to arrive at the gates of Le Louvre at its opening so we could see the Mona Lisa for ourselves. I don't recall how many wings Le Louvre has -- five, I think -- but we kept up a brisk pace for five hours to get through one of them. Would I do it all over again? Of course not. I'd want to explore a different wing.

From Le Louvre we headed to Notre Dame, Pont Neuf, and ultimately ended our day at the Eiffel Tower just before it stopped welcoming visitors. By then I was on cultural overload, even more so because my friend's wife was the only one of us who spoke French -- stranger in a strange land indeed.

I think of that vacation often and the brief, delicious slice of international flavor that warms my palette to this day. I've been back to Europe a few times since then, but not to Paris -- not yet, anyway. It's near the top of my "Must Revisit" list. It's going to have to be soon, I think. I have a craving for that amazing ice cream.

Parasitically Speaking...

Bugs give me the heebie-jeebies -- not every identifiable species, but in general. I appreciate their role in the ecology and the food chain, their adaptability and legacy on this planet, but prefer to appreciate them at a distance.

Parasites are something else entirely. From viruses to vampire bats, although indeed a part of the food chain, their life is sustained only by draining that of their host, often to its death -- which is what makes computer viruses so utterly contemptible.

Being an I.T. professional, I work up close and personal with technology and with the ultimate goal of keeping everyone happy, productive, and working smoothly on our trouble-free and fully functional network. That someone else of obviously above average intelligence is working just as diligently as I with the diametrically opposed goal is both disheartening and infuriating.

Unlike smallpox, polio, and the bubonic plague which sprung from the primordial goo and evolved over eons in an instinctive effort to survive, computer viruses are Frankensteined together out of ones and zeros in just the right dastardly sequence to create a unique malicious code.

In the past it was enough to simply keep my virus protection updated and be mindful of the kinds of things I downloaded from the Internet. Now I have to be prepared to defend myself from threats that lay in wait within the gadgets available from reputable retailers: iPods, Tom-Tom navigation systems, and digital picture frames manufactured in China as reported in this article.

Despite their apparent lax quality controls, I don't blame the Chinese per se. These threats are coming from individuals who develop and unleash them. What compels talented programmers with highly marketable skills to focus their efforts in this way is beyond me. The better they are, the more likely they will earn not a paycheck, but a place on law enforcement's most wanted.

A mind might be a terrible thing to waste, but minds with this intent are better wasted than allowed to proliferate.

Our American Work (to Death) Ethic

What are your vacation plans this year? Do you have vacation plans? Do you even get any paid vacation? Sadly, many Americans don't. And the ones who do are lucky to get a few weeks at best. We are the unchallenged losers when it comes to the understanding that time away from work is important and healthy -- socially, physically and psychologically. The above chart speaks for itself. This article is a pretty comprehensive summation as well.

To cite a few examples from my own circle: A close relative got three weeks vacation from the privately held company where he worked, but he would always get a sideways look from the owner and the attitude that he was practically stealing from the company when he had the audacity to take it. My wife recently joined a company in a well-paying, middle management position. She's been in the workforce longer than I, but was only given two weeks. Despite her position, salary, expertise and years of paying her dues, she got the company rhetoric, "New hires get two weeks. No negotiation." I get three weeks off, but that's because I've been here over five years. I don't get another week until I've got ten years under my belt. Another is a friend who is considered highly skilled labor, but starting fresh at most machine shops she usually gets nothing for the first six months. Or it's necessary for her to accrue her one or two weeks before she can take it.

Granted, the above examples don't take into account all forms of PTO -- sick days, personal days, paid holidays -- but that's assuming that's even part of the package. Some companies don't have policies in place for sick days. That means, depending of the changeable mood of your supervisor, you could be suspect for calling out with a cold.

Also, the chart only accounts for federally mandated vacation time. I've only lived in a few states, but so far none of them had mandated any minimum vacation time for the common man. I'm not familiar with whether or not there are more liberal, forward-thinking States that do.

What this tells me is that the governments of most every other industrialized nation are comprised of people who respect their workforce and understand the necessity to protect them from the inevitable exploitation of big business which -- evidently -- will jump at the chance to live down to its lowest impulses.

So what's wrong with us? Are we not getting the message through to our representatives? Or do they simply not care because they've got their six figure incomes and six weeks of vacation and we should just keep quiet, not rock the boat and be happy that we have a job?

It's one of my mantras that I'll work to live, but I won't live to work. I count myself as one of the fortunate. In addition to my fifteen vacation days, I have ten sick and four personal -- twenty nine days in total. By sobering comparison, a first year intern at nearly any company in Europe would have as much and then some his first day on the job. In fact, most companies over there will voluntarily far exceed the federal mandates.

It shouldn't be a surprise among us that there are so many instances of stress, depression and heart attacks as we are ground into dusty submission by the daily grind. With no end in sight and no light at the end of the tunnel for a majority of workers, it's clear where much of the drain on the healthcare and social service systems comes from.

Our American work ethic is ethically un-American. For citizens in the land of the free and the home of the brave, we are slaves to the bottom line and to the corporations that have us in their grips, and we've become fearful for our jobs, that we are replaceable and therefore obligated to our selves, our families and to our communities that we become not a burden.

"Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...."