nobody asked…

Dateline: Nashville, TN, September 28, 2005

Headline: Metro’s big question: Where is FEMA?

The City Paper reports today that “Hundreds of displaced families from Houston and Baton Rouge are waiting for Nashville agencies to find interim housing in Middle Tennessee, but local organizations’ hands are tied until they hear from the federal government.”

The article goes on to quote officials from government and various agencies charged with responsibility for tending the needs of the displaced families, some of which have been living in mass shelters for going on 4 weeks! While it is not entirely clear where the responsibility and blame should be directed, it is increasingly clear that FEMA has failed once again to live up to the grandiose vote-getting promises made by the Bush administration.

Everything Bush has said and done, or rather said and not done, seems to confirm his philosophy of “Promise them anything to shut them up and then forget about it. We’ve got wells to drill, countries to invade, and wars to fight.”

Hundreds and thousands of homeless families thank you with all they have Mr. Bush! And what they have is absolutely nothing. Are you so determined to keep them that way that you can’t pull a string or two in Washington to get these folks out of the shelters and into homes. They don’t ask for or need anything fancy right now — just a place to call home!

UPDATE: September 30, 2005

Thanks to Ronni Bennett at Time Goes By for the link to this NY Times article which amplifies and underscores the severity of FEMA’s ineptitude and stumbling. The problems are far broader in geographic scope than my original post covered based on the local source I referenced at that time. No suprise there!

Be brave enough to live creatively. The creative is the place where no one else has ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. You can’t get there by bus, only by hard work, risking, and not quite knowing what you’re doing. What you’ll discover will be wonderful: yourself. — Alan Alda

Experts agree that the best type of computer for your individual needs is one that comes on the market about two days after you actually purchase some other computer. — Dave Barry

Andy at Older, But No Wiser has found the answer to how and why government is so perfect at screwing up everything. Hmmmm…wonder if the noble professions of doctors and lawyers qualify? After all, they never do anything for real or for keeps…it’s always “practice, practice, practice.” If I told a customer that I wanted to “practice” on their network server, they would run me out the door so fast it would make my floppy flop.

Has there ever been a more hauntingly mystical song than this one by Sting? The imagery, the metaphors within metaphors, the statements, the questions, the answers, no answers, the ending, the beginning, the circular thoughts, the imagery… Using a line from it as the title of a previous post has caused one of those sing-it-between-the-ears- until-you-go-insane kind of things. Maybe printing it here will cure it for a little while. Each verse is different so it is a worthwhile read. Think about the meanings of the words as you read…or sing…along. Good luck getting it out of your head!

THE WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND

Written by: Alan Bergman, Michel Jean Legrand
Artist: Sting

Round like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it’s face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it’s own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Like the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it’s face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?

Pictures hanging in a hallway
And the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the colour of her hair!
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circle that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Imagine watching your own death and destruction live on TV. That was the experience of the 146 passengers and crew of JetBlue Flight 292 which avoided a tragic ending thanks to the incredible competence and heroic efforts of Pilot Scott Burke.

The CNN story based on the AP feed starts:

The airliner circled Southern California for hours, crippled by a faulty landing gear, while inside its cabin 140 passengers watched their own life-and-death drama unfolding on live television.

While satellite TV sets aboard JetBlue Flight 292 were tuned to news broadcasts, some passengers cried. Others tried to telephone relatives and one woman sent a text message to her mother in Florida attempting to comfort her in the event she died.

“It was very weird. It would’ve been so much calmer without” the televisions, Pia Varma of Los Angeles said after the plane skidded to a safe landing Wednesday evening in a stream of sparks and burning tires. No one was hurt.

Very little notice has been given to the fact reported in Toronto’s Globe and Mail that…

…this kind of incident had happened on Airbus 320s at least four times before. The most recent was in 1999, which resulted in a mandatory airworthiness directive to all airlines operating the aircraft to fix possible faults with O-ring seals in the landing-gear steering module.

This time the ultimate tragedy was avoided. A change in procedure or equipment or priority is needed to make sure there is not a next time. On the issue of live news feeds to the cabin so passengers can watch their own demise, there will undoubtedly be a long ongoing debate. My own feelings are mixed. I personally would want the most information I could get, but I also readily acknowledge there are others who not only would not want to know, but are not emotionally equipped to cope with the stark reality of such a situation.

My only trepidation is that just as the critical moment of my demise was about to occur, the network would break for a commercial to sell us insurance or tires or a Caribbean vacation cruise.

Head nod to Amba for the original link and thought for this post. And thanks to the amazing Richard for the name of the pilot; I have yet to find that factoid anywhere else. Which begs the question: How does Richard know? Did he make it up? Naaaahhhhh…

My grandfather once told me that there are two kinds of people: those who work and those who take the credit. He told me to try to be in the first group; there was less competition there. — Indira Gandhi

W was recently asked what he thought about Roe vs. Wade.

His response: “I don’t care if they row, wade, or swim, they just need to get out of New Orleans fast.”

Note: This wiggled through my spam filter one day this week. At first I took it to be a joke. It is…isn’t it?

At his new Dry Bones Blog, Yaakov “Bones” Kirschen delivers from Israel a regular dose of his celebrated Dry Bones editorial cartoon strip accompanied by the intriguing stories and facts behind the ‘toons. Bones, or “Yak” to some, is literally a yuk a minute. Do yourself a favor and click on over there and welcome him to Planet Blog.

Hat tip to Ronni Bennett for the heads-up on Bones. Any friend of Ronni’s must be OK!

Years ago I developed several new friends and acquaintances after moving to a new condo. One of the most interesting was the one people jokingly referred to as “the bird lady.” She sauntered around the loop of the Versailles complex every evening, with a cigarette in one hand, a drink, usually scotch-on-the-rocks or coffee, in the other, and a beautiful parrot sitting untethered on her shoulder. She smiled and nodded and spoke to all she passed but never became engaged in conversation. The neighbors just rolled their eyes knowingly, smiled secretly, muffled their laughter, and continued what they were doing.

On a particularly pleasant Sunday afternoon I decided to wash the crud off my car. Washing and rinsing and chamois drying at a leisurely pace, paying no attention to my surroundings, lost deep in thought about some mysterious subject like “why cauliflower?”, I was startled when a nearby voice said “When you’re done there you can wash mine.” There was “bird lady” right behind me, not ten feet away, smiling, then cackling at my surprised look. That was good for a couple of laughs and the start of a conversation and friendship.

Volumes could be written about her and that relationship — but maybe another time. This is about the four rules she lived by and passed on to me. I found them to be quite adequate, neatly summarizing in few words the complexity that had over the years become my own personal philosophy of life and code of conduct. Originally intended for interpersonal relationships, the four rules needed enhancement or expansion for application to business and worklife. So I added my own four rules to make a total of eight. They have served me well over the years and I recommend them here for your consideration.

Show Up
Pay Attention
Be Honest
Play Fair

Work Hard
Take Responsibility
Honor Commitments
Mind Your Own Business

I have no idea what ever happened to “the bird lady of Versailles,” but I am grateful for having known her and for her simple but elegant rules for living.

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

My favorite activity (with clothes on) is eating. My favorite city for eating has always been New Orleans, with the heart and soul of the city in the French Quarter (Vieux Carré — “Old Quarter” in French). The devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina and the subsequent breach of the levees has triggered a lot of reminiscing about my many trips to New Orleans, the restaurants I frequented, and the wonderfully unique cuisine of the area.
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Regardless of what activity we may be involved with at any given time, there is a piece of us that drifts back and forth between our conscious existence and the mysterious realm of the subconscious. It is there grinding away at varying speeds, doing what it does, day and night, whether we realize it or not. We spend most of our waking hours and some of our sleeping time (dreams) noodling around in the sandbox of our mind.

The sandbox of our mind helps keep most of us reasonably sane and able to function in the reality of a world turned upside down by natural disasters, greedy politicians, idiotic bureaucrats, militant religious nuts intent on self-destruction, sports heroes on steroids, and entertainment superstars whacked out on drugs and booze. In the sandbox we are safe. There we can do and think whatever and be whoever we wish at the moment. There we can play games, make plans, have secret loves, you name it.

Much of what happens there is different from the reality outside the sandbox. Some of what happens there becomes reality. Our individual codes of conduct (moral, ethical, legal) balanced by our individual priorities (needs, wants, desires) determine what stays in the sandbox and what emerges to become a component of reality. The ability to maintain that balance determines in large part our sanity and functioning as members of our culture and society.

Next…what determines our ability to maintain that balance? Genetics? Vitamin E? Regular flossing? Comment with your ideas…

Is there anyone who can lay out the truth as succinctly as Bill Maher? This excerpt is from his HBO: Real Time presentation, September 9, 2005:

… but seriously, Mr. President, this job can’t be fun for you anymore. There’s no more money to spend. You used up all of that. You can’t start another war because you also used up the army. And now, darn the luck, the rest of your term has become the Bush family nightmare: helping poor people.

Yeah, listen to your mom. The cupboard’s bare, the credit card’s maxed out, and no one is speaking to you: mission accomplished! Now it’s time to do what you’ve always done best: lose interest and walk away. Like you did with your military service. And the oil company. And the baseball team. It’s time. Time to move on and try the next fantasy job. How about cowboy or spaceman?!

Now, I know what you’re saying. You’re saying that there’s so many other things that you, as president, could involve yourself in…Please don’t. I know, I know, there’s a lot left to do. There’s a war with Venezuela, and eliminating the sales tax on yachts. Turning the space program over to the church. And Social Security to Fannie Mae. Giving embryos the vote. But, sir, none of that is going to happen now. Why? Because you govern like Billy Joel drives. You’ve performed so poorly I’m surprised you haven’t given yourself a medal. You’re a catastrophe that walks like a man.

Herbert Hoover was a shitty president, but even he never conceded an entire metropolis to rising water and snakes.

On your watch, we’ve lost almost all of our allies, the surplus, four airliners, two Trade Centers, a piece of the Pentagon and the City of New Orleans…Maybe you’re just not lucky!

I’m not saying you don’t love this country. I’m just wondering how much worse it could be if you were on the other side. So, yes, God does speak to you, and what he’s saying is, “Take a hint.”