O.K., this is going to be really short.
Does anyone remember that geography blog that Uncle Ben did about a week ago with the challenge to name all 50 states as quick as you can? He said that the smack-talking time to beat was 3 minutes and 26 seconds.
Well, I beat it. HOLLA!!!!
I did it in 3 minutes and 10 seconds!!!
That will be all.
Ciao for now.
On the heels of the first anniversary of the Scottish smoking ban, it may not be long before the next ghillie drops. An article in The Scotsman today bemoans the cost of the “obesity epidemic,” including a 16 percent increase in the prescribing of anti-obesity drugs to citizens. The cost of the obesity pills to treat this “epidemic” (watch out, it’s contagious) represents an annual additional cost to the Scottish taxpayer of £500 (about $1,000).
It won’t be long now (if it hasn’t already occurred) that the nannies will be calling for bans on fatty foods as a matter of health and national interest.
This is a problem on two levels in Scotland: one, the nanny-state mentality that holds sway and makes such bans not only conceivable but likely; and two, the fact that healthcare in Scotland is nationalized in the first place, which simultaneously puts the government in charge of extracting the costs from all citizens while also being in position to ration what care is provided and deciding who is “worthy.” And is it any surprise that obesity is increasing when the government stands ready to pass out anti-obesity pills? The pills might be effective but they’re no match for the principle that you get more of whatever you subsidize.
This is also an issue that also points out the challenges ahead for Minnesota as we are on the verge of enacting our own state-wide smoking ban (in public places, for now) and where our current legislature can’t wait for the opportunity to pass single-payer healthcare provisions. (By the way, the population of Scotland is about the same as Minnesota’s; according to 2005 estimates there are 5.09 million people in Scotland and 5.13 million in Minnesota).
The article didn’t expressly call for a ban on selling unhealthy foods, but it’s the next logical step from a system that has, ironically, force-fed its citizens with a never-ending platter of entitlements as if they were so many veal calfs or geese being prepared for foie gras , limiting their movement (freedoms) til they were in a dullard’s stupor unable to resist and fit only to be harvested for their taxes.
Snippets from the article include:
… Spending on anti-obesity drugs rocketed to more than £4 million in Scotland last year as GPs doled out 89,000 prescriptions.
…Spending on the two main anti-obesity drugs rose from £3.55 million in 2004-5 to £4.12 million in 2005-6.
…”Being overweight is a disease, and why shouldn’t these patients get these drugs?” she said.
…The World Health Organisation has described obesity as a “worldwide epidemic”, and it is already thought to cause 9,000 premature deaths a year in the UK and costs the NHS £1 billion annually.
…A recent study by the Health and Social Care Information Centre showed that the annual cost for the two main drugs, Orlistat and Sibutramine, has hit almost £38 million in the UK, which means that £1 in every £264 spent on NHS drugs is now being used for obesity medication.
Now I am rather robust of frame myself. If it were, in fact, “raining men” as the old song sang, I’d be my own puddle. Of course, armed with the information from the article I now know that I have a disease and that I am a helpless victim of a worldwide epidemic. I’m sure I caught this disease from using a contaminated spoon while eating ice cream, or from one of those people in line next to me at McDonald’s coughing on me. If only someone would do something to help me!
That’s not to diminish the serious health issues of obesity. If I, myself, am to diminish however it should be up to me, not the government. I can eat less, exercise more and even counter-intuitive as it sounds — sleep more and lose weight. Sleeping more is something that I’ve been trying to do, since studies have shown that getting more than seven hours of sleep a night helps your body control its weight. The problem is, I always wake up after six hours (or less) regardless of when I go to bed, no matter how much I’d like to sleep longer.
Maybe someone should pass a law.
[For other accounts on this blog describing Scotland’s infatuation with running people’s lives, go here and here.]
“It appears we have appointed our worst generals to command forces, and our most gifted and brilliant to edit newspapers! In fact, I discovered by reading newspapers that these journalists/geniuses plainly saw all my strategic defects from the start, yet failed to inform me until it was too late. Accordingly, I’m readily willing to yield my command to these obviously superior intellects, and I’ll, in turn, do my best for the cause by writing editorials–after the fact.”
– Robert E. Lee, 1863
HT: Jroosh at Roosh Five
Last night after I finished my blog post I decided to do a little channel surfing — but I didn’t get far. My thumb was barely warmed up before I came across FSN re-broadcasting Game 5 of the 1987 American League Championship Series between the Twins and the Detroit Tigers. By the time I tuned in the game was in the bottom of the 8th inning but I settled in to watch the exciting conclusion because I’d never seen it before.
Yes, Twins fan that I am, I had missed one of the seminal moments in Twins history; had, in fact, missed all but a few innings of this series. “What, where you out of the country or something?” you might ask. As a matter of fact, the answer is “yes” and “something.” I was honeymooning in Puerto Vallarta with the not-yet Reverend Mother, having gotten married on the same afternoon that the Twins played game three in Detroit (which fortunately caused me to miss the otherwise demoralizing Pat Sheridan homerun off of Jeff Reardon in the 9th).
I knew this team very well, however. I’d been working as a scoreboard operator for the Twins since the Dome opened a few years earlier and had watched this squad come together, working 40-50 games a year and watching most of the others on television (didn’t have a blog to take up my time then). I was the same age as most of the guys on the team and felt a certain identification with them as we came into our own in our respective careers. I could sense there was something coming together with that group, but never anticipated playoffs in the early days of 1987; hence wedding plans were made for October with confidence.
It was spell-binding last night, however, to have those heady days brought back to me on the big screen, to see Rat and Herbie and Puck and Bruno all young again and mighty. To be reminded again of how smooth Gags was in the field and to see Dan Gladden and Steve Lombardozzi on the same field — and to laugh again at the memory of how Gladden would eventually punch Lombo out for being such a putz. Watching Stevie run home with a clinching run in the ninth last night I found myself thinking, “the guy even runs like a jerk.”
I also got a little misty at how natural it seemed to see Kirby at the plate, lashing those practice swings, and to see Joe Niekro on the bench as the camera did a slow and unintentionally nostalgic pan through the dugout: hey, there’s Mark “Country” Davidson, Sal Butera, and Bushie, Baylor and Gene-O, and there’s Al “No-No” Newman (the nickname was one I used whenever Newmie had to come to the plate) and Bert Blyleven when his hair and beard were still orange, watching intensely and, uncharacteristically, not trying to give anyone a hot foot or a shaving cream facial. Finally, the crusty old skipper, Tom Kelly, not looking old and crusty at all back then.
Then there were the shots of the Tigers. My God, did the Twins really beat Jack Morris, Kirk Gibson, Alan Trammel and Lou Whitaker, while Sparky Anderson watched? Did anyone, even Gaetti, look more like a rat than Darrell Evans? And yeah, Sheridan, I saw you, too, you stiff prig with your ridiculous glasses, acting as if you belonged on the same field.
It was a strange sensation watching those two innings. Even though I knew the outcome of the game already there was still a lot of drama — probably because I knew of so many other outcomes still ahead. I also remembered what that time in my life, watching these guys in those seasons leading up to ’87, had meant to me, and I thought about how one of the greatest things that could happen to them was about to happen, just at the time that one of the greatest things that ever happened to me happened. And we were all so young!
This weekend I watched a movie that Princess FlickerFeather let me borrow called “Howl’s Moving Castle”. It is an anime by Hayao Miyazaki that’s based on the book by Diana Wynne Jones. I haven’t really watched much anime aside from the Pokemon craze that hit my school back in 5th or 6th grade, but I liked this movie. It was pretty entertaining. Howl himself is very vain, and at one point he proclaims:
“I give up. I see no reason to go on living if I can’t be beautiful.”
Heehee! I’d recommend it.
I also just finished a book that Princess FlickerFeather(again) let me borrow. See, she’s the one that’s big into movies and books, and she tells me what to read or see, because I really don’t pay that much attention. I haven’t been to the library in forever. Anyway! The book is called “Kissing Adrien”, and its by Siri L. Mitchell. It takes place in France, and its romantic and hilarious! Its the kind of book that I didn’t want to end, but the end was wonderful, so its okay.
And now for something completely different! (Hi, Carol!)
Monday nights are practice nights for the little drama that PFF and I are putting together. Tonight was no different; we drove to church and practiced with about ten other kids. It’s going really well, btw. Anyway, in my car I have this little stuffed elephant with really long arms and legs- you know, the kind with velcro on the feet so that you can hang it around your neck. His name is Winston, and he usually hangs on the armrests between the front seats. Well, tonight after practice I came out and got in my car and something was wrong. Winston was sitting on my steering wheel, his arms wrapped around it to keep him on; his beady little eyes looking at me. It freaked me out. What kind of crazy person would scare a little girl with her own stuffed elephant?? At least they didn’t cut his head off and send it to me.
At this point I know you’re all probably incredibly worried about my safety, but it’s alright, I figured out who did it. And it’s the kind of person that likes to play with other people’s minds like a drunk kitten. I bet you can guess, too.
It was a beautiful spring day – temperatures in the 70s, sunny and still too early for bugs. Of course, I was stuck in an office building all day, but once I got out to my car I wantonly rolled down the windows in wild abandon. I kept my hand near the window button, however, because it is March in Minnesota and it could start snowing in five minutes. Not today, though.
That’s not to say that there weren’t white-out conditions, however. I drove home via the University and those crazy kids there couldn’t wait to bare arms, legs and pasty torsos to the thin sunshine. The co-eds had that kind of vulnerable, bedraggled look of a Monarch butterfly just out of the cocoon. A sign of spring, all the same, and I can’t blame them — around here if you get a nice day this early you’ve got to jump on it.
I had in mind to blog about something much darker today, but I’m going to let that notion pass for now. It’s been too nice a day and I don’t really feel like going to that place right now. We’re sure to have rain sometime this week, and maybe I’ll do it then. Driving home today about the only metaphorical cloud in the sky was the fact that I couldn’t seem to find a radio station that wasn’t in the middle of a bank of commercials.
Normally during my evening drive time I bounce between KFAN, The Patriot and KTLK. I’ll listen until they come to a commercial and then my itchy finger moves on down the line. Today, for some reason — perhaps a meteorological one that delivered us an unseasonably warm day but also mysteriously synchronized radio signals — every station was paying bills, and two of them were playing the same commercial. It was like being chased through Dinkytown by Tom Shane. Now I’ve been told that I have a face for radio, but if there’s anyone who does not have a voice for radio it’s Tom Shane. I know it’s hard to hear that, Tom, but you’re my friend (albeit in the diamond business) and I’ve got to level with you. Your voice is scary, and the only way you’d sell me any jewelry is if you cornered me in a dark alley, which by the way, I wouldn’t be surprised to find you in.
Ok, switch to plan D — rather, plan CD — to get some tunes going lest I be seduced into getting my basement waterproofed. I couldn’t remember what the last thing was I had playing in the CD player, but I figured I’d give it a shot. Uh-oh, Tom Waits. What had been perfect musical accompaniment on a cold, rainy night last week seemed jarringly out of place on a soft spring evening. Of course, Tom Waits can be jarring anytime. There was an amusing incongruity, however, in hearing him croak about something being as cold as a gut-shot wolf-bitch with nine sucking pups pulling a number 8 trap up a mountain in a snowstorm with a mouthful of porcupine quills. Now that’s cold. And that’s probably the forecast for next week.
*Ahem*
I haven’t posted for awhile. I have almost nothing to post about, sooo… I know! I’ll post about dinner!
Tonight’s dinner was chicken and al dente rice (courtesy of Reverend Mother and Mall Diva. I helped, too — I was the Chicken Transportation). Mom had mixed some white rice and some brown rice together, then realized that brown rice cooks very s-l-o-w. Thus, “al dente.”
So there we were, sitting at our peninsula, munching away. (Oh, and just for all you smart-alecks out there who read my sister’s last post, just because I am assumed to speak the chicken language doesn’t mean that I don’t eat chicken.) After awhile, MD said, “You know, I don’t think that I like crunchy rice.”
“Yeah, me neither,” I said. “Is there any more?”
…is going on over at Solid Rocks.
Scotland is now one year into it’s nation-wide smoking ban, something that I could see Robert the Bruce agreeing to but never William Wallace.
Personally, I’m a lifelong non-smoker. In my youth I considered the economies and relative “coolness” of smoking vs. driving and decided to use that money to put gas in my car. Furthermore, the last few years I haven’t gone to many bars, but when I did I preferred to go to ones that had no-smoking sections. Nevertheless, I enjoyed going to Keegan’s (pre-Minneapolis ban) for Trivia Night even though I knew I’d come home reeking of smoke. It was a trade-off I was willing to make for the socializing. I draw the line at socialism, however, and other people telling a private business how it ought to operate through laws rather than the marketplace. That’s not because the marketplace is any kinder or gentler than the government, but it is a lot more grounded in reality. Not that the marketplace can’t be a cruel master, but at least its focus is on finding ways to entice me to give it money voluntarily while the government is dedicated to finding ways to take more money, preferably while giving me as little say in the process as possible.
Anyway, because of a news thread I’ve been following on a business matter I occasionally come across news stories about the effects of the smoking ban in Scotland (unrelated to my original news search). An article in today’s The Publican, a UK pub-trade publication, takes a look at the results of the past year. It notes that many pubs have been hurt and are even going out of business since the ban went into effect, but that this may not be tied solely to the ban, and that other pubs have not been as affected.
One year on: the Scottish smoking ban
22 March, 2007Licensees there have faced the new laws with varying success, Roy Beers investigates
Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days into the smoking ban, pubs north of the border are experiencing mixed fortunes.
The ban in Scotland has hit some pubs and clubs even harder than trade pessimists expected, according to the country’s biggest licensee organisation. However, on-trade multiple operators, for example Mitchells & Butlers and Belhaven (now part of Greene King), have reported only minor damage to their Scottish pubs’ drinks sales.
The Scottish Licensed Trade Association’s (SLTA) chief executive, Paul Waterson, says independent commissioned research showed overall pub turnover slumped 11 per cent last year, a more serious decline than the organisation’s own original estimate of seven per cent.
He told The Publican a combination of the ban and discount beer offers in supermarkets was driving many pubs to the wall.
He has warned publicans in England that even some of those pubs that “do everything possible” - for example enhance food business and provide smoking areas - are still certain to lose trade.
In Scotland traditional wet-led community pubs are said to have been hardest hit, along with community-based social clubs. Bingo halls have suffered a wave of closures. Scotland’s growing pub leasing sector is also said to be under particular pressure.
Making the lease unworkable
James Hickman, lessee of Scottish & Newcastle Pub Enterprises (S&NPE) McEwans Ale House, in the Newington area of Edinburgh, said last week that the ban had been “the major factor in making the lease unworkable” as he prepared to wind up his business with major debts. “Besides the ban driving people away, you see people passing all the time with carryouts from cheap supermarket deals - they’re the students who would be our customers, but who can now drink cheaply as well as smoke freely in their flats,” he added.
S&NPE operations and sales director for Scotland, Ken McGown, said: “In addition to the impact of the smoking ban, for which we have sympathy with the lessee, there were a number of other factors which ultimately led to him deciding to move on.”
Loyal customers
“Some (S&NPE) pubs you would imagine would suffer have actually borne up due to a loyal customer base, and pubs with good food offers are reporting a positive response to the smoking ban,” said McGown.
In Fife, some community-based registered social clubs have shut, while others have seen annual takings and charity donations slashed. Davie Nelson of the Coal Industry Social Work Organisation in Glenrothes, said:
“We’re losing £1,000 per week, and two other clubs have closed - some pubs are in trouble too. Local charities will be getting only around half the usual amounts because of the ban and a local wheelchair users’ club has been forced to close for lack of money.” In addition to falling sales, licensees around the country have been dogged by complaints about noise and litter created by outdoor smokers: a North-East councillor last year tried unsuccessfully to ban smoking at outdoor tables.
…
“We were promised a massive influx of customers when smoking was banned - and it simply hasn’t happened.”
Read the whole thing.
What a pleasure to step outside this morning to get the newspaper and instead of getting a nose full of frozen hair I had it filled with the smell of warm, moist earth and impending rain. It won’t be long now before I can take down the Christmas lights, pull up the orange driveway stakes, or find a place in the back yard to bury the cat (wrapped and boxed in our deep-freeze). I don’t think it’s going to take me four hours to finish that task.
The snow is almost gone, revealing all the goodies the city plows deposited in my front yard and the tire tracks of the yahoos who drove across my lawn over the winter. It’s good to see the snow go, but I’m a little disappointed. Our sump-pump started acting up last year and I had gone most of the winter without replacing it because there wasn’t a pressing need. When the 16″ of snow fell a few weeks ago, followed by the 40+ degree temperatures, I knew procrastination was no longer an option. I pulled up the old pump and went to Menard’s for a new one and other necessary parts (only two trips!) and got it hooked up, then sat back waiting for the deluge. Nothing! The ground has absorbed everything and nothing has made it into the drain tiles. Oh well, at least the job is done.
Without that to worry about (for the time being, anyway) I can focus on the Twins’ preparations for the upcoming season. The team looks a lot more promising this year than last year at this time, what with the League MVP, Cy Young Winner and Batting Champ all on the roster. Now the biggest concerns are who will be the back-up infielder and whether desperate veteran pitching acquisitions Ramon Ortiz and/or Sidney Ponson can fill spots in the rotation allowing our host of promising but young pitchers an opportunity to season a little longer.
It strikes me as a dubious proposition; Ortiz reportedly has the ability to focus like a shotgun when the going gets tough and the portly Ponson has a reputation for bizarre and aggressive off-field behavior. This has been attributed to excessive drinking, but supposedly that’s no longer a concern because Sid is limiting himself to just a little wine with dinner. Uh-huh. I expect to see a report any day now that Ponson has eaten a bat-boy with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Twins management is hopeful that he’ll work out, of course, saying they expect that Carlos Silva’s work ethic would be a positive influence on him. This is like saying Paris Hilton could be a good influence on Britney Spears.
Oh well, it may be spring, but it’s early in the spring when things still look a little gritty and messy. Soon the grass will be green, the flowers will be out, the sump pump will be humming along and Opening Day will be here.