The Year of the Samurai

Quite frankly, 2014 was a crap year, and I'm glad to be putting it behind me.

To start 2015 on the right foot, I skipped over to my local Target this morning to indulge my LEGO habit and picked up a few mystery bags of the newly released Series 13 Collectible Minifigures.  Upon my return home, I took off my hat (a seasonal "life is good" baseball cap that a dear friend gave to me 5+ years ago), when I noticed some text printed inside that I somehow had never noticed before:

Oh, how cute.  I noticed an inspirational tagline on the first day of the year.

 Then, the very first mystery minifigure bag I opened was this fierce female samurai:

I'm pretty sure the universe is telling me to become a samurai.  It's time to embrace my inner warrior and have fun kicking some ass in 2015.


Here's to a new year.  BE A SAMURAI.

Learning from life's missteps

If someone falls down the stairs and no one is there to see it, is it still funny?

My answer is yes, but also terrifying.

Yesterday evening while Will & Kate were out, I attempted to walk downstairs when I stumbled on a dog toy and then moments later found myself in a pile at the bottom of the stairs. 

Fortunately, nothing's broken; I'm just banged up & bruised with a swollen knee.  As I was flying down the stairs, I had the wherewithal to put my arm up which kept me from crashing face first into the table/wall.  This gesture, though, sent a picture crashing to the floor with me.  Once my momentum stopped, I pulled myself forward - like a soldier pulling herself out of wreckage - to get my awkwardly bent leg off the stairs.  As I began looking at the fallen picture and my forearm to check for glass breakage and/or bleeding, our 5 month old puppy (Lofn) thought me being in the floor could only mean one thing:  puppy play time!  As I tried to hold her at bay to keep her from stepping on broken glass, one of our cats (Rue the Ruiner) barreled down the stairs to investigate by sitting on my chest.   The scene looked something like this:

I learned two very important lessons as a result of my fall.

1)  You're never too young to get a LifeAlert system. 

Sure, I'm only 36, I live with two other people, and I am rarely home alone.  But, as the LifeAlert website clearly states:  "In most catastrophic emergencies, the victims are not within reach of a phone, and become totally helpless." 

Amen, LifeAlert, amen.  Helpless and covered in pets.  Which brings me to my second lesson...

2)  Pets are great emotional support, but they're total jerks in a physical crisis.

Rue just sat on my chest, and Lofn didn't even bark to alert neighbors or passersby that something was amiss inside.  Our other cat, Poe, didn't even show up to investigate the scene.  Had I been immobilized, I am certain that Lofn would have eaten my fingers and/or face and gotten herself a nice taste of Tami-meat before anyone found me. 

It's all fun and games...

....until your brick falls off.

Observations from jury duty

I reported to district court for possible jury duty this morning.  Unfortunately, I wasn't selected to sit on the jury.  [Yes, I'm the sort of person who thinks jury duty is exciting.] 

However, I did walk away with a few notable observations.

1. As I walked through the metal detector to enter the building, the security guard called me sir multiple times.  If you're unable to discern my gender during an ocular pat down, I have no faith in your ability to maintain safety.
   
2. There appeared to be a disproportionate number of individuals with neck tattoos in and around the courthouse.  This begs the question:  Does criminal activity lead to neck tattoos, or do neck tattoos lead to criminal behavior?
   
3. The defense attorney for today's trial appeared to be or have been some type of fighter.  He was a short, sinewy little guy with a missing incisor and a cauliflower ear.  I could not stop staring at his ear, so it may be a good thing that I wasn't selected to sit on the jury.
   

Wrap Your Brick: A LEGO PSA

Bricking Bad

This is what happens when I combine 2 seasons of Breaking Bad, a new shipment of LEGO, and benadryl.

Halfothermia: A Childhood of Inadequate Heat

It's currently 2 degrees Fahrenheit outside.  Despite this, I sit inside my own home, all toasty and warm.

Central heat in my home is still a luxury I do not take for granted.  Growing up, I spent every winter in a state of halfothermia.  What is halfothermia, you ask?  Well, it's what happens to you when you have inadequate heating sources, leaving half your body covered in sweat and the other half icy cold. 

If you've experienced the glorious, searing heat of a pot belly stove, a Stokermatic/Combustioneer, or the always indoor safe kerosene heater, you know exactly what I'm talking about.  If not, let me illustrate for you.

Old pot belly stove - a contraption like this heated my grandfather's home

Above is a rough floor plan of my grandfather's house.  The orangish-red circle is where his pot belly stove was located.  The only warm place to sit in the house was in one of the chairs adjacent to the pot belly stove.  However, if you sat there, you would always end up with halfothermia (and stuck to the nearly melted faux leather chair).  You'd also have to set an alarm throughout the night to add more coal to the fire to make sure it didn't go out.  After all, inadequate heat is better than no heat at all.

Stokermatic - an abominable machine similar to the Combustioneer that my parents used to heat their home; the vents in the front blow hot, dry air into the room

   

Here you have a rough diagram of my parents' home.  The red circle shows where their Combustioneer was located.  Given it's large coal hopper and fan to blow heat, this is definitely an improvement over a pot belly stove.  Still, the range was limited.  During really cold times, my parents would sit a kerosene heater in the middle of the kitchen floor and fire it up to warm the back bedrooms while we slept.  This, of course, always lead to halfothermia with a side of carbon monoxide poisoning, as I have no recollection of anyone ever cracking a window while using that kerosene heater indoors.

Come to think of it, I'm just grateful to have survived childhood.  Central heat is a just a pleasant bonus in adulthood.

DreamWorks' Turbo: Speedy Snail, or Transitioning Tale?

Last night, I watched Dreamworks’ Turbo.  This may be my new favorite movie with a transgender theme.

What?  You thought Turbo was just a silly movie about a racing snail?  If you look beyond that façade, you’ll see a film that captures the transitioning process for a transgender person.  Don’t believe me?  Then follow along.

The main character of the film is Theo.  He calls himself Turbo and longs to move at lightning speeds.  On the outside, he’s just another garden snail, but he knows and feels that he is fast.   

Turbo, realizing his true self and his physical self are at odds

He is ridiculed by his peers for the painted race car numbers and checkered flags that adorn his shell.  His brother, Chet, tells him that he is not fast and will never be fast, because that’s not how nature designed him.  He also tells Theo/Turbo that he needs to learn to accept his nature and limitations for his own good and the good of their community.  

Chet telling Turbo it's better to fit in than be one's self.

A despondent Theo/Turbo then ventures away from home, where he undergoes a chemical transformation and suddenly has the ability to move at speeds over 200 mph.  He meets a group of racing snails and societal misfits who help him complete his physical transformation.   

Turbo, realizing for the first time that's he's not alone

He embraces his new, true self and flourishes in the support of others.  Initially, Chet refuses to address him as Turbo and tries to get him to suppress his new found speed.  Eventually, though, Chet embraces his brother for who he really is, and Turbo is able to enjoy the love and respect of his family and his new friends.

Turbo, fully transformed

See what I mean?  Turbo is basically a transitioning story with an “It Gets Better” ending.  And, honestly, I like my animated features to end happily ever after, because life too often doesn't.    

I have found religion

Yesterday, my friend Emily and I had a cat-centric conversation, as we are wont to do.  

Emily:  Happy National Cat Day!

Me:  Yes!

Emily:  We should get to stay home and play with our pets today!

Me:  Maybe we should claim cats as our religion?

Emily:  YES!!

Me:  I mean, like God (and Santa), my cats watch everything I do.  And they judge me.  

Emily:  HAHAHAHAHA

After searching for my own personal pet and savior for years, I have finally come to accept the godly qualities of my beloved Felis catus.  For instance, Felis catus:

1) is ever-present and watchful

2) passes judgment 

3) behaves in strange and mysterious ways

4) often makes its presence known in the dark quiet of the night

5) inconsistently responds to supplication

6) kills indiscriminately

7) demands offerings and unquestioning devotion

8) provides comfort and solace in times of distress. 

I hereby proclaim myself a faithful Feliscatusian.  My primary worship activities shall include napping, eating, and licking.  All new converts shall receive a ceremonial catnip sachet. 

Coal: Mining for Truth

I have mixed feelings about the purported war on coal.  I grew up in eastern Kentucky, and my father was an underground miner for over 30 years.  The coal industry is responsible for feeding and clothing me as a kid.  However, I'm also acutely aware of the environmental impact the industry has had on the region -- especially via mountain-top removal mining, or strip-mining.  Although the coal industry provides some of the best paying jobs in the region, the industry has a long history of profiting at the expense of the region's inhabitants.

I don't support the whole "Friends of Coal" movement.  I really don't care about coal, but I do care about hard working men and women who rely on coal jobs. I worry about regions that rely heavily on the coal industry for jobs.  I worry how those regions will adapt to inevitable changes in the energy industry.   

Leading up to the recent presidential election, I saw lots of vitriol directed at Obama regarding coal.  I saw posts on facebook that Obama was bad for coal and that he hated coal miners (see examples below). 

Given the mixed feelings that I have, I decided to do a little mining of my own to see if Obama really has been as bad for coal as his opponents have claimed.  I reviewed the Annual Coal Report from the U.S. Energy Information Administration for 2009, 2010, and 2011.  I wanted to see what has happened to coal mines, production, and jobs since Obama took office.  I also looked at data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics for trends in wages in the coal industry. 

As you can see in the graph below, both coal production and the number of operating mines have decreased since Obama took office.  However, mining jobs have actually increased both nationally and in the Appalachian region.  Eastern Kentucky, though, has seen significant decreases in mining jobs, as well as more drastic reductions in productions and mining operations.

In the three graphs below, I broke the above data into yearly changes.  Although there have been net decreases in coal production and number of operating mines, production and mines have actually seen increases nationally between 2010 and 2011.  Again, however, you can see that eastern Kentucky has suffered more severe decreases and smaller increases than Appalachia or the nation.

 

Finally, the graph below shows changes in average annual salaries in the coal mining industry since Obama took office.  Here, I have presented averages for the nation, for the entire state, and for a selected county in eastern Kentucky.  I chose Perry County because of it's rich coal history and because that's where my father worked in the mines.  Unlike other trends, Kentucky and Perry County saw greater than average increases in wages since Obama took office.  However, mining wages in Kentucky and Perry County still lag behind the national average.

Based on the actual numbers, I don't think anyone can honestly claim that Obama has wreaked havoc on miners.  Despite decreases in productivity and mining operations, the number of miners in the U.S. has actually increased since Obama was first elected.  I think the real question for both our government leaders and for coal companies is this:  Why has eastern Kentucky suffered more decreases in coal production and employment than Appalachia and the nation?


I can't help but wonder if the data in the graph below has something to do with eastern Kentucky's negative mining trend.

Stop whining and pay your taxes

I know I've mentioned this before, but can we finally stop demonizing poor people? 

Although the election is over, the rants about our entitlement culture are still raging.  But here's a simple fact:  All Americans - regardless of social class, race, gender, or age - have a sense of entitlement.  It's part of being American.  It's also part of living in a relatively affluent country.  We all benefit from the multitude of things provided by our government - federal, state, and local.  Whether it's food stamps, public schools, libraries, or roads and bridges, we all benefit.  And every disparate group of us wants to keep benefiting in whatever ways we've become accustomed to benefiting.

For some reason, though, many folks like to place their collective ire on poor people, who they label as entitled, undeserving, and greedily sucking from the government teat.  Being naturally curious, I wanted to now how much income goes to fund programs for the poor.    

If you're curious like me, check out this Federal Taxpayer Receipt application.  Since my illegally-wed wife and I can't file joint tax returns, I entered our tax information separately then added our individual tax contributions to get our household totals.  In 2011, my spouse and I paid a total of $17,543 in federal income and payroll taxes.  Fortunately for me, I like paying taxes, because I like most of things my taxes provide to me and my fellow Americans.  I don't like everything my tax dollars support, but that's just part of the compromise required for our social contract.   Still, the nifty thing about the taxpayer receipt is that it shows you how much of your income and payroll taxes go to various programs. 

To put my tax dollars in context, I compared them to two areas of discretionary personal spending in my household -- cable TV and Indian food - to see if I'm really over-taxed.  I looked at all areas of national defense spending, and I looked at programs I think most folks would consider "welfare" programs (TANF, SSI, food stamps, WIC, unemployment benefits, and Medicaid).  

In this first chart, you can see that more of my household's hard-earned money went to national defense programs than to welfare programs or to tasty Indian food and cable. 

In the second chart, I've broken things down more. 

 
In 2011, my spouse and I spent $1,257.89 on food at our favorite Indian restaurants.  Comparatively, only $429.46 of our federal income taxes went to support various food assistance programs (food stamps, WIC, and school lunch programs).  Let me help you with that math:  we spent nearly 3 times as much on curry as we contributed to food for the poorest inhabitants of our great country.  Additionally, we spent nearly 15 times as much on cable TV as we contributed to the temporary assistance for needy families (TANF) program. 

I'm an atheist, but even I think it would be immoral of me to complain about my tax dollars funding social safety net programs when my household has the discretionary income to spend $200 a month on curry and cable.  I could not possibly feel good about my life if I begrudged the least among us access to basic needs like food and shelter. 

So, if you have the good fortune to spend money on things that you want instead of just on things that you need, I have this to say to you:  Stop whining and pay your taxes! 

Need Affordable Healthcare? Grow a Tail.

Yesterday, my wife dropped our two young cats off at the vet to get spayed.  Our vet keeps animals overnight for observation with this procedure, so we picked them up from the vet this morning.

As I typically do, I reviewed our bill from the vet.  It cost us $124 to spay one cat.  Here's what we got for $124:

• Anesthesia
• An ovariohysterectomy
• Pain medications during surgery
• Medications for post-surgery pain
• Overnight care

So, basically, we got a hysterectomy and a 24 hour hospital stay for $124.

This begs the question:  Why the hell is healthcare for humans so damned expensive?

The cost for a human hysterectomy is typically $8,000 - $10,000.  That means it costs at least 65 times more for a human hysterectomy than an animal hysterectomy. 

Back in 2008, our shih tzu, Lexi, mysteriously punctured her eye.  Our regular vet performed emergency surgery to save her eye by suturing her cornea and covering it with a conjuctival flap.  She stayed in the hospital for 3 days.  The surgery, hospitalization, and all medications cost us $360.80.

The average cost of a day of inpatient hospital care for humans in Kentucky is around $1,500.   If Lexi had been human, her hospital say alone would have cost $4,500.

I'm not saying that the cost to treat humans should be as low as it is to treat animals.  But the gap in cost should not be so wide.  Humans are animals, after all.  Vets and doctors use many of the same basic medications and procedures.

The next time I'm sick or need surgery, I think I'm going to borrow a tail from my ex-husband and go to my vet instead of my doctor.  It couldn't hurt to try, right?

Low T

Maybe I've been watching too many late night infomercials, but I think I might be suffering from low T.  Over the past few months, I've found myself suffering from increased empathy. caring, and emotionality.  I've had multiple friends express concerns about my loss of butch vigor and credibility.  During the past 24 hours, though, it's become abundantly clear to me that I have a problem.

Currently, the wife and I are dog-sitting for our best friends.  They brought them over yesterday evening before leaving town.  The wife worked last night, so I was left to care for the dogs myself.  We have a two-story home, and one of the dogs has health problems that prevent her from going upstairs.  As bedtime drew near, I started feeling bad about going upstairs and leaving the dogs alone downstairs on their first night with us.  So what did I do?  I grabbed a pillow and blanket and slept on the couch in the living room, with one of the dogs sleeping on my feet and one of our cats sleeping on my chest. 

Then, this evening after work, I felt the sudden, overwhelming urge to go shopping for hair products and scented candles for myself.  And I did.

If this behavioral and emotional trend continues, I'm afraid I'll be wearing dresses by my next birthday.   

I think I'm on the verge of hitting bottom; my butch bottom.  Consider this my cry for help.  Is there a 12 step program for regaining your female masculinity?

 

Coffee vs. Food Stamps

I just spent $5.04 on a venti pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks.

In 2011, the average monthly food stamp benefit per recipient in KY was $127.60. That's $4.25 a day for food.

If you've ever spent more on one cup of coffee than a person on food stamps has to spend on a whole day of food and I hear you bitching about poor people living off the government, I will be inclined to punch you in the face.

Have a good weekend, y'all.

Too Porcine to Put to Death

Obesity leads to death, right?  Except, maybe, if you’re on death row.

I read an article this morning about Ohio death row inmate Ronald Post.  At 480 pounds, his legal defense is trying to avoid execution, arguing that any attempt to kill him via lethal injection would likely result in a “torturous and lingering death.”  From everything I’ve read, his current physical state could be described as a torturous and lingering death.

 

Apparently, the “too fat to be executed” defense has worked on occasion in the past.  In 1994, Mitchell Rupe, at over 400 pounds, was considered too hefty to hang in the state of Washington due to the risk of decapitation.   

Ok.  Let’s start with the obvious.  I’m not sure if the gentlemen mentioned were obese at initial incarceration or if it happened gradually overtime.  I mean, college freshmen tend to pack on 15 pounds during their first year of college.  Since prison is at least ten times worse and even more expensive than college, maybe new inmates pack on 10 times the weight - or 150 pounds - during their first year of incarceration.  But how on earth does someone reach or maintain that kind of weight in prison?  What are they feeding these guys?  Are death row inmates given a weekly ration of a 25 pound bucket of lard and spoon?  

 

Let’s look at Mitchell Rupe.  He actually avoided being hanged and lived another 12 years before dying in prison.  Here’s my question, though:  Is being decapitated really a more cruel and unusual death than just being hanged?  Judicial hanging typically uses a long-drop method, so that the person falls fast enough and long enough to instantly break his neck at the end of the fall.  In this scenario, the person loses consciousness in about a second or so.  Brain death occurs a few minutes later, and the death process is complete in about 15 – 20 minutes.  With decapitation, the brain tends to lose its electrical charge and cease functioning in less than a minute.  Other than it causing a bloody mess, I’m not convinced that decapitation is worse than hanging.

And, finally, let’s get back to the current case of Ronald Post.  Ohio uses lethal injection as its means of judicial execution, but Mr. Post’s defense has argued that lethal injection is too difficult to administer to a man of his size.  For instance, they state that the execution gurney won’t support his weight.  Can’t they borrow a gurney from one of the bariatric surgery centers in nearby Columbus, OH?  They also argue that starting the IV and administering the correct dosage to kill him will be difficult.  These, too, are specious arguments.  If you’re not sure how much pentobarbital to give Mr. Post, just triple or quadruple the amount you gave to last guy you successfully executed and that should do the trick.  If you can’t find someone skilled enough to start an IV in him, call a freakin’ equine vet.  If an equine vet can successfully euthanized an 1,100 pound horse, I’m pretty sure he/she could take out a 480 murderer.   

 

Seriously.  If Texas can executive an intellectually disabled man with an IQ of 61, surely Ohio can figure out how to lethally inject a fat man.

 

If we fat people want social acceptance, we have to stop insisting on special treatment.  Man up, big boy, and take your punishment.

That being said, if his defense works, I'll totally remember to pack on another 150 pounds before planning a killing spree.  

________________________________________

NOTE:  In all seriousness, I favor abolishing the death penalty (and not just for fat criminals).  For more information, check out the NCADP.