Dr. Bob

Behold Dr. Bob (looking more serious than I've ever seen him before). Dr. Bob got his nickname off the side of a Milwaukee County bus, honest to god: There was a side panel advertising the original Bob Newhart show (the one where he was a psychologist), and it said something like "Tune in to Dr. Bob!" and there you are.

Anyway. Dr. Bob is on my mind because of the one thing he taught me that has always stuck with me. (Sorry, pally, it wasn't SAS -- Sue Nord did all my homework. ;-) No, Dr. Bob taught me to ask a question when considering reported research and whatnot. That question is: "So what?"

That's a journo for ya, boiling it down to the absolute essence. No muss, no fuss, just "So what?"

I'm training for a part-time, online-only, copyediting position with a publisher of, among other things, social sciences journals. Today's assignment quoted someone saying "So what?," but in about 30 words instead of two. Simple = good, people. :-) And if you can answer "so what?" as simply as possible, your readers will be better served as well. I'm just sayin'. ;-)

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RIP, Bruce.

One of the most interesting people I've ever met. We should all be so lucky to live this long and this well.

Bruce the gardener

Robert Bruce Attridge, age 96, passed away March 11, 2009, in Wauwatosa. Preceded in death by loving wife, Barbara. Loving father of Judith, Alice, Margaret, and Rob. Grandfather to 8 and great-grandfather to 12. Bruce was an ardent hunter, fisherman and gardener. Private Services will be held.

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"Sicko"

I am not a big cryer. Horribly sensitive, yes, but I don't cry a whole lot. Maybe it stems from the time I was 7 and my sister took me to see Snoopy, Come Home. She swears I bawled my eyes out the whole time because I thought Snoopy was going to live with Lila and not go back to Charlie Brown. (I don't remember that, by the way.) I don't even think I cried at Old Yeller.

Periodically, though, something will get to me. Even though it was more or less fiction, I found myself wiping away tears at the end of "Rudy." The final episode of "Frasier," where he decides to leave Seattle for a job and then ends up following his heart instead, has me sobbing every time, though that's largely because at one point he quotes part of a Tennyson poem that has always cut straight to my core. (Alfie knew something about grief and depression, I assure you.)

I just finished watching Michael Moore's "Sicko." It came out a couple years ago, I know -- that's my typical timetable for catching movies. And yeah, I know Michael Moore skews things, etc. It's kind of the nature of the beast: You can't really piece together endless hours of footage into a coherent story unless you purposely choose the story you want to tell. But man -- to see how people with chronic health issues get treated elsewhere (he went to Canada, France and Britain) -- and then when he took the 9/11 workers to Gitmo and they got phenomenal treatment, for free -- it hit home. I run up a LOT of medical bills. I am one hundred and thirty-two percent uninsurable, in the American system, because I have eleventy-billion pre-existing conditions. And yet, in the rest of the civilized world, I wouldn't have to worry about any of it. And yeah, this weighs on me a lot, especially as I've now been without insurance for several months and I am tired of burdening the free clinic in town, which is always filled to overflowing every time I'm there (which lately has been weekly).

The other thing that made me cry is that during the end credits, when he was running the "thanks to" part, he thanked Kurt Vonnegut "for everything." Kurt's anniversary is coming up fast here. I miss the hell out of him too.

'k, all done -- no more tears/whining, time for a jaunt to Gordy's for some ice cream, I think. ;-)

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Now playing: Track 2
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love it...

Glad I didn't spend $36K/yr (tuition only; room/board/books not included) to go here -- because way back in 1997 when I got in, I had planned my concentration to be in new media.

12 years later, looks like they haven't gotten around to figuring that out yet. ;-)

dinosaurs at the CSJ

crazy Wisconsinites...

Granted, it's usually 20-something males who are guilty of this, so draw your own conclusions. But here's what I want to know: What is to be gained by wearing SHORTS in single-digit temps? Nine friggin' degrees and some maroon was out walking around in shorts. He didn't appear to be coming from the gym.

I made the mistake of not putting on a hat on for my quick trek to the pharmacy, and I'm *still* frozen! Shorts when it's 45 or so? Sure (if the sun's out). Shorts when it's NINE? Sorry -- guess I don't have the brainfreeze the natives do. ;-)

vanity plate of the year (so far).

Passed it on my way home from what has become my usual Tuesday ritual, 4 hours at the free clinic sitting around waiting for stuff that takes 10 minutes. Between that and the farkin' SNOW (aren't we DONE with that yet?!), I found it rather resonant for me.

2 syllables, read it out loud:

YNER.

I hate this time of year. Yesterday it was 46. Today it's snowing. Tomorrow it's going to be a high of 15. Enough, please.

Hmm, what else can I rant about, now that I'm going? :-D

Oh, there's good ol' Wisconsin screwing over single, childless adults again -- the state ins. program was supposed to be open to us April 1, and now it's July 1. I'm eligible for COBRA under Barry O's stimulus bill, since I got laid off after 9-1. The govt. will pay 65% -- yay! It's not retroactive -- boo! So I'm still farked when it comes to getting anyone to cover pre-existing conditions, of which I have zillions.

I had a retired lawyer finagle ways to get me on patient assistance programs for some of my meds, so we'll see how he does. Based on tax returns (this year's or last), I won't qualify -- but neither of them is an accurate depiction of my current financial status.

Recent events have led me to the realization that I am over journalism. Sucks, kinda, being that A) now I have to decide again what I want to be when I grow up; B) I jumped through a billion hoops and went into a lot of debt for my degrees; C) it's all I've wanted to do since I was 9, and I didn't even make it an entire decade before burning out. It's hard to sit by and watch the industry implode, partly because I believe in it still -- I'm just too tired and my passion for it has been too crushed to be the one doing it anymore.
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Now playing: Beck - Qué Onda Guero
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to seek out new life and new civilizations.

Or lack thereof, as the case may be.

I spent a couple of days this week in the booming metropolis of Fergus Falls, MN. I'll post a link to my photos once they're uploaded, but there were plenty of amusing things on the way that I can share now:

-- Sauk Centre, the boyhood home of Sinclair Lewis

-- Freeport, "the city with a smile," where they have a giant smileyface painted on their water tower. On purpose.

-- The Lake Wobegon Trail. Not being a Scandinavian, Minnesotan Lutheran, I freakin' HATE that show. It annoys me. So I didn't stop. ;-)

-- A Kraft cheese plant (which should be heresy -- only GOOD cheese comes from Wisconsin, even when it's a Minnesota-based company that owns Kraft ;-).

-- The World's Largest Otter and Big Ole, which I'm not going to spoil just yet because I have pictures that deserve snarky commentary. ;-) In the meantime, I'm going to go indulge in a little self-loathing for watching America's Next Top Model. (It's so I have something to talk about with people who are as snarky as I am, honest. Call it research. :-D)