Sequester the right way

I don’t give two lumps about Congress’s current threats to hurt everyone but themselves.  Like most reality shows, this one has played out, becoming more unwatchable as it becomes more desperate.   What I do care about is the abuse of language.  For the vast majority of people, sequestering is the tucking away of a jury.  There is no other meaning.  To use the word for the general public in any other way is misdirection.  Because this ain’t a magic show in Vegas, that means the misdirection is a con.

Calling sever budget cuts a sequestration both elevates the action – it sounds so official – and obfuscates the impact.  The law should have ben called “Blind Cuts” or the “Mindless Cuts” which would help people better understand the stakes.

As would limiting the use of the word “politics”.  The connotations of the word have become muddied over the years.  It’s become a derogatory term, when in fact, it is necessary, but misunderstood.  If we were to call our elected officials “Compromisers” or better yet “Dealers” maybe everyone would remember what they are supposed to be doing.  They are not supposed to freeze, committed, unwavering on whatever stance they’ve chosen.  We could program iPhones with pat answers and send them to Washington if that’s all it took.

No, as a people we’ve decided to send a group of humans to our capital for the purpose of resolving issues too tough fix themselves.  To decided things.  You know, like a jury.  Sequestered until there is an outcome.

Maybe that’s the answer.  Maybe we should use ‘sequester’ the way most of us understand:  No one leaves that big dome until we’ve got a working government.

A laser upgrade

Laser eye surgery does not give your eyes any kind of energy projection abilities.  I can’t burn holes in books just by staring.  I know because I’ve tried.  This is a great disappointment to me.  I thought a corrective procedure might actually correct that fact that I don’t have any super powers.  I could really use some.  For good, of course.  I would never think of using my powers to swipe a Lichtenstein, even just one, from a Russian oil tsar who couldn’t possibly appreciate it.  Anyway . . .

I had surgery on my eyes last Friday.  Today is the first day I can really stand looking at the computer long enough to write anything.  My eyes were too yucky for a lasik. I had advanced surface ablation.  Instead of cutting a flap and my eyes and lifting them like a hatches, I had the surface of my eyes erased.  They did a chemical peel, which I got to watch because it happened right on my eyes with the lids propped open.  Then they shot lasers into the open pupils, fixed whatever was wrong and told me to stay calm until the surface grows back. 

This is not as painful as it might sound.  Pain is not the correct word.  The experience is like sunburn on your eyeballs.  A tight, sandy agitation that, emanating from your eyes, stays in the forefront of your mind.  My loving wife got me a Jim Butcher audio book.  That helped more than anything.  It put my eyes on the back burner. 

No, the only pain is in knowing that I will not any time soon light a woman’s cigarette with a glance or pop the tires of my pursuers, looking back over my shoulder and winking.

Quoth the Poet, ‘Nevermore’

This last Superbowl, the NFL spent more on confetti than Edgar Allen Poe earned in a lifetime.  Yes, yes, poets are always poor.  It’s part of the mystique.  Who would even trust a wealthy poet?  How would they, you know, poet?  Still, seems a shame that Poe writes a piece that thrives for 168 years, and comes to be appreciated by football fans, no less, and dies destitute.  The professional football/poetry crossover is rare.  The Baltimore Ravens are an exception.  There’s no Los Angles Dream Deferred or Las Vegas Wasteland.  You can’t watch the Portland Road Not Taken vs. the Salt Lake City Seekers of Truth, though that would be pretty cool.

Poe initially sold his poem for $15.  There were further publications, but he never made any real money.  Not football money.  Funny how that works out.  Something enduring like a poem doesn’t generate a lot of income because it’s ubiquitous.  Something momentary, like a football game, brings in huge amounts of cash.  It’s value is based somewhat, in its inability to endure.

I should read my next book aloud and then burn it.  A novel, nevermore.   Mmmm . . . . 

Wait for the beep.

I try not to be too snarky, but this is my next out-of-office message:

"Hi, you’ve reached the desk of Michael Martineck.  I’m out of the office, so please leave a message.  If this is an emergency, please call Jim.  He’s not in the Advertising Department.  He did two combat tours in Iraq and will tell you what a real emergency is."

A first-responder in the advertising world is someone who gets to the meeting ahead of everyone else to get the pick of the muffins. 

End of mini-rant.

Take Pride in Your Gun

There are oodles of things I don’t understand about gun control debate, but one of the most important – and least discussed - is pride of ownership.  Samurais had to earn their swords.  So did medieval knights.  A combination of culture and cost prohibited every yahoo off the farm from possessing the world’s most lethal personal weapons of the time.  A sword became a source of pride and prestige.  What I can’t understand is why gun lovers don’t what a bit of the same.

Getting your racing license is cool because racing cars is dangerous.  That’s why you can’t do it on the streets.  It’s easy to kill other people with a high performance vehicle.  So, there are tracks, sanctioned events and you need a license to race.  You have to take a course, learn the rules and safety protocols and then show proof of proficiency.  Getting your racing license means something.

Getting your gun license should be cool too.  Because firearms are dangerous.  It’s easy to kill people with a high caliber weapon.  You should have to take a course, learn the rules and safety protocols and then show proof of proficiency.  Getting your gun license should mean something too.

I’m betting a lot of true gun lovers feel this way.  Guns are not for everyone.  Access, sure.  Everyone should have the opportunity.  But they ain’t blenders, right? 

The gun lobbies don’t feel this way and that is the real shame of the matter.  Commonsense restrictions are painted as slippery slopes, catastrophes for the firearm enthusiasts, Hell in a handbasket.  Because gun lobbies need enemies to generate cash.  If they win, they loose.  No one sends money to the suffragettes anymore because women got the right to vote.  Gun lobbies need to demonize all gun control legislation, regardless of logic, because people don’t get fired up and write checks to promote reasonable compromise.

At least, they haven’t.  I’m curious to see what happens next.  Racecar drivers don’t want to be on the track with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.  Maybe gun owners will start to say the same thing about the streets.