565 Jacko

565 Jacko

A lot of people are not going to like this....

Michael Jackson's music is flying off the shelves, off the download sites and off the internet at rates not seen in 25 years. Happens a lot at certain times in life -- like at its end. As Salvador Dali once said "a man becomes 10-thousand times greater when he dies." As was true of Dali, and is true of Jacko, 10 thousand times greater really means the sellers of stuff get to sell 10 thousand times more stuff for awhile after he dies.

But there are politically and musically incorrect among you who never had use for the guy or his music. Cute kid, sure. In the same way Chris Evert was a cute kid with a "stage parent" who seemed to force her to widespread recognition. There's a difference. Chrissy had talent.

This is not going to be a tirade about Jackson's private life. There's no need to go into details of his days in court, his money troubles and the little kiddies in his bed -- we know all about that. What we don't seem to realize is that his "art" such as it was, wasn't art and his music wasn't musical. Those dance moves? Not terrible. But you can see as good on streetcorners far and wide. Some critics called him the latter day Fred Astaire. Nope.

The voice? He sounded like a teenage girl, but one who wouldn't make it into the eighth grade chorus in middle school. Without the name and the publicity machinery, who'd listen to someone like that.

Those wonderfully surreal videos WERE art. But Jacko didn't have a whole lot to do with that.

A pal from the 'hood says he ruined R&B. No such thing. R&B music has ruined itself and Jacko wasn't nearly influential enough, especially lately, to accomplish anything that big. It's the musical, pop culture equivalent of saying Reagan brought down the Soviet Union. A carefully crafted myth.

Which Michael Jackson song will still be with us 50 years from now?

Ah! You can't think of one, either.

Jacko was a circus and an open sewer or a highway fender bender. People just couldn't pass by without looking, even if they feared clowns, worked in the cesspool cleaning or auto body repair industries.

It's too bad he died young. But c'mon... let's not turn him into Beethoven or even into Fats Domino.

Shrapnel:

--Billy Mays will liven up things in heaven. The king of cheap bellowed TV commercials dead at the age of 50, will bring his Oxy Clean stuff to the man upstairs and brighten up the dull walls and bathroom fixtures. But he'll have to learn not to shout and that won't be easy.

--Quote from a "friend" on Facebook, and used without permission. "I gave up smoking, drinking and men. It was the hardest 15 minutes of my life."

--This kid has potential. Maybe the next Henny Youngman. If the quote was original, of which there's some doubt.

I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®

©WJR 2009

564 Got Firecrackers?

564 Got Firecrackers?

It's 55 degrees Fahrenheit in Buenos Aires, Argentina as this is written and 92 degrees in Columbia, the capital city of South Carolina. So who can blame Governor Mark Sanford for wanting to get out of the heat with a little jaunt even farther south. Thing is, the heat in the Carolinas went up considerably on Gov. Sanford's return.

Are we or are we not of teary politicians who get found out and publicly confess unfaithfulness to their spouses. Gary Hart, John Edwards, John Ensign, Mark Sanford, Don Sherwood, Tim Mahoney, Vito Fossella, Mark Foley, Larry Craig, Marion Barry, Elliot Spitzer, David Paterson, David Vitter, and earlier, Strom Thurmond, Franklin Roosevelt and -- if the allegations are true, and they well may be, Wilbur Mills (with Fanne Fox, who called herself "The Argentine Firecracker,") George W. Bush and John F. Kennedy. Bill Clinton's in a class by himself.

How many of these were "family values" guys who led double lives? Enough to make you wonder whether nature really DOES trump policy and preaching.

Some people have handled this problem better than others, for example a leading televangelist was found trolling for hookers. He used the Sanford approach, tears. Jesse Jackson, another preacher, admitted an affair and started paying his paramour support for the daughter they produced. Though not elected, both of these fellas had constituencies and in many, if not most cases, the constituents forgave them. But that was an age ago.

As for Bill Clinton? No one ever thought of him as a pillar of prissiness. But Sanford? Mr. Conservative? Mr. Hearth and home? The Carolina cracker had his own Argentine firecracker.

Shrapnel:

--The makers of "Swiffer" sweepers have "improved" refill cleaning cloths. What they did was to smooth out one side of each. That makes it impossible to continue reversing the cloth and forces you to either clean less often or buy twice the number of refills you used to.

--News of Walter Cronkite's illness at the age of 92 reminds us of how few broadcast news men and women remain who were first part of the golden age of United Press and United Press International. Cronkite, William Shirer, Howard K. Smith and many others learned their trade at UP or UPI. The wire service is now owned by the Washington Times, which in turn is owned by the Unification Church, the Moonies and a shadow of its former self.

--We at the Associated Press looked down our noses at UPI -- thought them a bunch of sensationalist interlopers, and we were wrong. In its prime, the competition gave us a good run for our money and with far fewer resources. And it's virtual demise made the AP grow flabby, it's present state.

--Michael Jackson dead at 50? Love him or hate him, think of him as a freak and a child molester or just a pitiable self-hating brat, he changed music at a time when there still was music to change. As opposed to what now passes for it.

I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®

©WJR 2009

563 Irradiated

563 Irradiated

A local supermarket chain is having delusions. It thinks it's Whole Foods, the natural food emporium that sprouted (to coin an expression) in Texas and since has spread to almost every part of the country where people routinely recycle, eat whole grain breads and fight cholesterol with oat muffins and oatmeal. (Parenthetically, what would a store called "Half Foods" look like or feature?)

There is a difference between Whole and the local wannabee, and it ain't price. On price they can agree. More is better. The Wannabee brags that it sells irradiated meat. Not admits. Brags. It's fresher! It lasts longer! No E-Coli! And they advertise it as if it were health food. Is it safe? Maybe. Is it harmful? We Report You Decide, to coin another expression.

Here are some things to consider. The FDA lets processors beam 450,000 rads of gamma rays, electrons or x-rays at each piece of food. That's 150,000,000 times the radiation in a typical chest x-ray. Of course, you'll be assured that the cow you're eating did not have lung cancer. And, no, there won't be any malicious bugs in your burger.

The government, the WHO and the processing industry all will tell you this is a health benefit.

Well, then, why don't we just irradiate the air to get rid of greenhouse gases and pollution. Oh. Wait. It probably would put more pollution in the air than it removes.

It's like the doc who advises a patient with a cold to take a shower and stand in front of an open window because "we can't cure the cold, but we CAN cure pneumonia."

Well, we can't seem to kill e-coli. But we CAN cure radiation sickness. And it's almost a sure bet that your health insurance will cover that.

We could also zap water and flour. The water will be a bigggggg seller if bottled. The irradiated flour? Mix it with the irradiated water and that green glow in your Wonder Bread? That's not mold.

Shrapnel:

--When you hear about "States' Rights," worry. Governor Sanford of South Carolina went on a mystery vacation, Governor Schwarzenegger of California can't bail the leaky scow fast enough, the New York State Legislature is in some bizarre gridlock because of party switching. Maybe "State" is an outmoded concept.

--JD Power ranks the Mini Cooper last on the list of 37 cars in its owner satisfaction survey. The car sure is cute, an attention getter. But it's not so cute when things go wrong, despite its ever-so-British heritage and it's ...um, German engineering.

--The fatal crash of two commuter subway-like trains in DC had to have a mechanical or electrical cause. But when the pilot of a plane or the engineer of a train dies in a crash, the cause always is labeled "human error." This might be, too, when they finally figure out who has jurisdiction over the investigation.

I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®

©WJR 2009

562 Hi, It's Me

562 "Hi, It's Me."

Ah yes, another way technology changes our thinking and behavior. Well, not technology, but the way we use it and consider it.

Two radio announcers are attending an event. "A" has not seen "B" in several years and B's appearance has changed radically. B approaches A and greets him by name. At first, A doesn't recognize B, but then he hears the voice and does. B's appearance changed, but his sound didn't. Some of us call this capacity "disc jockey ears." It's something people enamored of sound acquire -- or already have when they reach adulthood.

But not everyone has disc jockey ears. And we have developed a way of greeting people on the telephone by saying "Hi, it's me." Okay if it's someone you talk with often. Not so okay if it's someone who is not a telephone regular.

In the past several months "Hi, it's me" calls or voice messages have come in from a fair number of people. Two adult children, three former colleagues, a near neighbor an employer and two complete strangers.

The kids are easy enough to recognize. The colleagues and the neighbor, not so much. And what of the strangers?

We've slipped into this sloppiness over the past decade or so and it's not going to change, but it should. (Ought the first stone be thrown from this blog? Probably not.)

Caller ID goes a long way to solving the problem of who "me" is. You may know only one person, for example, in Oklahoma. So when the caller ID shows a 405 area code, you kind of know who it is. If your caller is in your electronic phone book and when the phone rings it shows "Candy LaZonga," you pretty well can expect that Candy LaZonga is on the other end of the line.

But a lot of calls show "restricted" or other words that tell you the caller doesn't want to be identified. So when that pops up, or a number with which you're unfamiliar pops up and the message starts "Hi, it's me!" ... then what?

How tough is it to say "Hi, Joe, it's Bob...." Maybe that's too many syllables. "Hi, it's me" is three syllables, while "Hi, Joe, it's Bob" has four. Maybe Bob could say "Bob here," -- even shorter -- and continue the message.

The chief worry in this circumstance is telemarketers; many have learned to work around the "do not call" list.

When the cable company calls and leaves a message that starts "Hi, it's me..." you're likely to try to figure out who "me" is while listening to the rest of the message. And that means you listen to the rest of the message, which is what "me" wants.

It's time to fight this menace. Or to put the song "You Don't Know Me" on your outgoing message.

Shrapnel:

--Disc jockey ears isn't the only condition of its kind. There also is "TV Eyes." With this ability, you have the power to identify people who've changed their appearance by simply staring at them.

I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®

©WJR 2009

561 The Holy Brothers

561 The Holy Brothers

This nut ball Carter? You hear a guy like that braying about the middle east and you have to think "who's paying this guy off?" And another thing, who thinks this guy's words are worth a payoff?

Jimmy of giant rabbit and lusting heart fame is fast becoming almost as atrocious as Bush II. They share plenty. Hyper-moralizing, holier than thou-ism, for example. A myopic view of the middle east, though apparently not on the same side. And each has an advanced case of the smarmies.

Jimmuh was over in the desert the other day. While he was there, the very people he supports so vigorously were reported as trying to assassinate him. Didn't bother Mr. Peanut. Plus a spokesman for whichever mob of terrorists was thought to be ready to pull the trigger or blow up the limo denied they had any such intentions.

While the assassin was reported strapping on the suicide bomb, Carter was busy telling his co-freedom-fighters to recognize Israel. Brilliant. Immediately thereafter, he told the unrecognized Israel to stop bombing Hamas controlled territory, which they already had. Jimmuh called it "abuse," conveniently leaving out the reasons that Israel counterattacked in the first place. Oh, well, no one's perfect. Just a little oversight.

But what are the roots of what some of us have begun to call the Carter Problem? Pretty simple, really. Myopia. He sees the world as what he is: a religious cuckoo who figures he can impose his will (which he mistakes for God's will) on people who will have none of it. Jimbo -- and most of the rest of us -- haven't a clue about how things work over there -- to the extent they work at all.

The Washington Post of 6/17/09 quotes Jimmuh as saying "Palestinians" in Gaza are being treated more like animals than human beings. Um... Mr. President, who started?

Carter says in his latest book that the Israelis have to work to cool Arab animosity. Um... Mr. President, who started?

It appears that the Israelis saw Bush's America as friend and it's no secret that this week's Israeli government thinks the opposite today. Who can blame them?

Carter and Bush, two peanuts fighting in a shell.

Then, there's the Palin factor. She said something about being able to see Russia from her house. Russia is not going to attack Palin's house any time soon. But if you stand on the southern tip of Israel, all of nine miles wide, you can see Egypt, Jordan and Saudi Arabia. If you stand on the extreme northern tip, you can see Jordan, Syria and Lebanon.

Surrounded by friends like that, Mr. Peanut, what would you do?

Shrapnel:

--Don't you love assurances like this? The supreme leader of Iran says the rigged election there wasn't really rigged. You say you were expecting reform? Increase your meds.

--Let's hear it for Allen Stanford, the billionaire from Texas. He sold phony certificates of deposits which turned out to be worthless. A big fraud, but not of the kind or scope that Bernie Madoff, unless you were one of his investors.

--Cranky old ex CBS editor Larry McCoy has written a book called "Everyone Needs an Editor (Some Of Us More Than Others.)" Larry is the snapping turtle of newsmen. And the book is worth your time.

--

I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®

©WJR 2009

560 Health Care Blues

560 Health Care Blues

A lot of the present debate about who pays for health care is focused on the uninsured, and it should be. But what about the under insured?

Blue Cross sends out a mountain of propaganda about preventive care. That, too, is as it should be, or at least the attitude is, if not the expense of producing and mailing said mountain.

They get enough dough for their individual coverage. Plenty dough. Three years worth would buy you a new car or a decent down payment on a house. Such are things in 21st century America.

But they don't put your money where their mouth is.

Comes time for the annual physical and the claim bounces back. "We don't cover annual physicals." What? Common sense leads you to believe that if a doc spots something early, fixing it will be faster, less invasive and cheaper than waiting until the patient can't walk or can't breathe or can't digest. You'd think that, right?

Blue Cross (and probably other plans) beg to differ. Well, not exactly beg. They just won't pay for it. Apparently, they have some clout behind them. If you put the phrase "annual physical as preventive medicine" into a search engine, you'll get pages of stuff that "prove" the concept is outdated, costly and ineffective.

But wait. Look a little closer. Where are all these web pages from? They're from insurance companies and their lobbyists and apologists. Shocking, right? If so, you sure shock easily.

"Oh, there are other ways to get preventive tests we DO cover," they'll tell you. How do you know what to look for? What to test? You don't. Mammograms, sure (most are covered,) colonoscopies likewise. Then what?

Maybe they figure you'll croak before you need treatment. That will "rob" them of your premiums. But what's one lost customer in a sea of millions?

The bill for the annual comes in the mail. You call the doctor. They tell you to call the insurance company. You call the insurance company. They tell you "that's not covered, sorry for the inconvenience."

Those exams are not cheap. So you pay the bill if you can and stall them if you can't.

You send an e-mail, "what's better preventive medicine than a doctor's exam? Wouldn't that save you money in the long run?"

No answer. That's because there IS no answer, at least not a rational one. Maybe they should be called Blue Double Cross.

Shrapnel:

--Found a good use for "Twitter." It forces you to edit your thoughts. Concise is beautiful.

--India has asked Pakistan to stop terrorism. Nice thought, guys, but not much use. Kind of like when the Pope offers public prayers for peace -- or you do.

--Letterman made a joke in iffy taste about Sarah Palin's daughter, then apologized. She accepted "on behalf of all... women." Which means she thinks she represents "all women." Which seems about as iffy as the joke.

I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®

©WJR 2009

559 The Start Button

559 The Start Button and Other Contradictions

You think you have it all figured out, right? To start a machine going, you push "on," or "start." And to stop it, you push "off" or "end." Seems like a no-brainer, and at one time, it was.

But in a world of Microsoft and mobile telephones, off can be on and on can be... well, something.

Start with the computer programs. Vista and its predecessors have a "start" button. But you can't start the computer with it because it's invisible until you start the computer. Brilliant! To turn the computer off, you push the start button, which IS visible but really isn't a button, but more like a picture of a start button. Brilliant (squared.)

So you have to use something other than the start button to start the computer, but to stop it, you use... the start button.

Same thing on the cell phone. There is no "on." But there is an "end" button. And (will wonders never cease?) It’s an actual button. Of course, you can't just push it. You have to push and hold it. Then your phone turns on. Yes, it turns on by using the off button.

To turn it off, you start and hold the "end" button. Someone has obviously not thought this completely through. If you're looking to get things backward, you need to have an "on" button that turns the phone off. Next generation of phones, maybe.

What if this lunacy catches on? What would that mean for, say, the light switches on your wall, or the TV remote? Or the little gizmo that opens and locks your car doors?

What would it mean for your kitchen cabinets, your padlock or the laces on your shoes? Or your alarm clock? How about your checkbook, your supply of medicine, your blood pressure, your automotive forward speed or your blood alcohol level?

Getting things backward is one of the hallmarks of the era.

Backward is beautiful.

But it's confusing.

Shrapnel:

--Very few businesses put their street address on the front of their buildings. But a local Walmart just renovated and put up ITS address in big numbers, which seems kind of supererogatory. Especially since... who can miss seeing a 200,000 square foot Walmart sitting alone in a parking lot with little else around it?

--The builder of the Wessays Secret Mountain Laboratory put the address on the front of the building. But it's a trick. The number and the plaque in which the number is engraved are the same color and therefore cannot be seen from more than two feet away, kind of a stealth address sign.

--The former Wessays Secret Seaside Laboratory had a two digit address. But no one paid any attention and no one was able to spot it. That's because the buildings on either side of it had four digit addresses, and when you see four digits on one building, you're unlikely to guess the next one has only two. (It's true. You can't make this stuff up.)

I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®

©WJR 2009