How You Get Your News: Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

I get my news from a Facebook page called Manchvegas Alerts.  It's a nice little play by play of the police scanners, with commentary, sometimes videos of people fighting in the streets of the grim ghetto of the lovely city, in addition to your basic news stuff.  

Yes, I'm serious. It is freaking epic.

                                    Manchester, NH (affectionately referred to as "ManchVegas"

And yes, by the way, little old New Hampshire does in fact have a news channel, the milquetoast WMUR.  They are scooped by Manchvegas Alerts all the time.  It's really kind of awesome.

I'll get an alert from WMUR that I already read on Manchvegas Alerts, sometimes hours before.  

And the staff is extremely funny.

It got me thinking, though ... I used to teach Journalism, and I always started with the concept of communication.  How does one person convey a message to their audience?  Then we play charades for a bit, then we get into cave drawings, and things go upward from there up to the modern day newspaper.

My family got the local newspaper, Foster's Daily Democrat, delivered every day, and I read it cover to cover.  I didn't always understand it, but it certainly generated some conversation.  One day, when I found one of my neighbors on the DUI license revocation list, my parents talked about trying to keep me away from the newspaper.  

As Scout Finch said in To Kill a Mockingbird, "Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read.  One does not love breathing."  

So I guess I should be grateful that my parents considered that, because, while they never followed through, I had learned the lesson that the news--the newspaper or the nightly news and probably even some books, although not the ones I read at the time--was accessible.  

I was also inexcusably nosy.  I still am.

And I still love to get my news.  In fact, I love it more now than ever.  I don't have to read an entire newspaper cover-to-cover, I can scan through headlines on sites of interest.  I do have the app for WMUR, to be fair, and I also read CNN, MSNBC, and Fox (because I actually try to be fair and balance) for national news.  I love People and TMZ because I have an obsession with celebrities.  

And that's just what's reaching out to me ...

If I decided I want to find my ex-husband on the aforementioned DUI license revocation list, for example, Google does it (and I can giggle with glee).  If I want to know about the new medical condition they think I have, I can go to PubMed.

For Pete's sake, Facebook suggests friends based on your friends and sites or pages based on your interest ... the whole Big Brother thing is pretty overwhelming.

I cannot fathom technology and accessing the news any simpler than on my iPhone.  The newspaper as an institution is long dead, and even news sites are losing steam because of pages like Manchvegas Alerts (seriously it's a laugh riot, but it's the news).

What do you think the future holds for journalism?

Legalization of Marijuana: The Philosophy is Different Than What People Think ...

I can't seem to get away from the discussion on legalizing marijuana.  It's on the news, it's on Facebook, it's in casual conversations.  Everyone seems to want to weigh in on this one, yet I can't fully understand why.  I've come to the conclusion that the only people who are going to win on this one are the sociologists.

Realistically, marijuana is less harmful than either alcohol or tobacco, both of which are legal (if heavily regulated).  Using the "it's dangerous" argument is just illogical, unless you're willing to explore making booze and butts illegal.  That whole "gateway drug" theory has long since been disproven.  

So why is it such a big deal?

My theory is that people just like to have something to complain about.  

No, seriously, hear me out.  

I think the idea that pot is this big, bad drug has been pretty much taken off the table.  According to an article I read on WMUR this morning, 60% of New Hampshire taxpayers are in favor of "legal, taxable marijuana sold by licensed stores for recreational use".

The barriers have been eroding for some time, and the legalization of medical marijuana has effectively shown that it's not really that big a deal.

True story ... a man was dying of lung cancer, and chemotherapy was wreaking havoc on his appetite.  His wife was told by the doctor that marijuana therapy would probably help him gain weight, but unfortunately it was illegal in New Hampshire.  His wife was tearfully sharing this with her daughters, and it was quickly pointed out to her that they could run over to UNH and have marijuana for him in about twenty minutes.

So, yeah, it has been moving slowly toward legalization.  The stigma has largely disappeared.  Pot smoking is no longer associated with certain negative stereotypes.

And yet the hold up continues.

Right now, the vocal majority are united in the whole "Let's legalize it" cry.  People from all walks of life are joined against the government, either by speaking out publicly or through regular tokes in the privacy of their homes.  These voices run the gamut of rich and poor, of educated and uneducated, of urban and rural.  In the battle against the government vis a vis legalization of pot, there is a strange equality that has come forth.

As soon as pot is legal for recreational use (and make no mistake, it will be), that unity is going to crumble.

Watching this unfold is a sociologist's dream, really ...

Republicans are going to start slamming Democrats about how this is just one more thing the government is trying to control.  Democrats are going to try to make pot taxes exorbitantly high to finance some sort of social issue du jour.  The wealthy are going to complain about taxes on pot.  The poor are going to complain about taxes on pot.

The same people that sell untaxed cigarettes and alcohol are going to get in on the action afforded by marijuana.  Cops are going to be paid off to overlook the difference between the legal ounce and possession of two or three ounces.  Crooked politicians are going to finance underground pot farms and receive kickbacks from illegal sales.

It's going to be a giant clusterfuck, in other words.

This sounds awful, but I am kind of looking forward to it, just because it will be interesting.  

I have no vested interest in marijuana being legal.  I mean, my own personal relationship with cannabis has ended; high school and college were ages ago.  I feel like it should be legal because there is no compelling reason for it not to be, but it doesn't really matter that much to me.  The truth is, if I wanted to get my hands on pot, it would be easy; however, if pot was legal, I would have no interest in buying any.  That ship has sailed for me.  When I am at social gatherings when bowls are passed, I choose to say no, yet I have no issue with those that choose to say yes.  (This is an awkward paragraph, yet I feel like it needs to be included)     

I am reminded of that old adage, "Be careful what you wish for."  I think, in the case of legalization of pot, it's going to lead to another saying ... "May you live in interesting times." 

I think we will be.

When the Media Passes Judgment ...

Part of being human is the capacity for making judgments.  For better or worse, whether it's right or wrong, all human beings judge.  The best among us look at all the facts and don't come to conclusions about other people, social issues, or whatever based solely on emotion.

I am as guilty of making knee-jerk judgments as anybody, and I have a tendency to give more credence to emotion than I perhaps should.  I also have a tendency to never forget a wrong that has been done to those I love.  I can (and do) forgive, but I never forget, and you'd better believe that past history plays a role in how I view a person or a social issue or a given situation.

I think everybody has their own set of rules, their own moral compass, to use a tired old expression.  That's our right and privilege as human beings, and I'd be shocked if any two compasses were 100% synchronized.  I'm good with that.

What bothers me, though, is when we are told what our morals and values should be...and even more so when we, lemming-like, follow those directions without thinking about them for ourselves and applying our own set of beliefs.

And it is especially deplorable when it's the media doing the judging.

This is a picture of Elizabeth "Lizzi" Marriott, a first-year student at the University of New Hampshire.

When Lizzi Marriott was reported missing on a Tuesday in October, New Hampshire's lone news station went crazy reporting on it.  Lizzi's family was making posters, volunteers were searching, she was a "good kid", a marine biology major, a Harry Potter fan, basically the quintessential "girl next door".  Daily updates of the search for Lizzi focused on what a tragedy it was, how her family was holding out hope, the volunteer turnout to look for her.

On Friday night, police began searching the waters off of Peirce Island in Portsmouth.  The heroics of the rescue team, the fact that evidence had in fact been discovered and was being acted upon, and, yes, the continued tragedy of Lizzi's absence were all over the news.

On Saturday, October 13th, 30-year-old Seth Mazzaglia was arrested and charged with second-degree murder.  New Hampshire news venues once again exploded; after all, now there was a clear-cut "bad guy".  Mazzaglia was described as an odd duck, a loner, a martial arts experts, a man with a college degree in theatre (and the media took pains to find and quote people as saying a pretty crappy actor).

Rumbles of a Fifty Shades of Grey-esque encounter gone terribly wrong began to circulate, although good old WMUR didn't report on this.  Instead, they quickly tapered off coverage of Lizzi Marriott over the course of a few days, briefly mentioning that the search continued for her body but essentially eliminating any coverage of Lizzi as a person.

If you wanted details on the sexual bondage aspects of the case, you could find them on national sites, but New Hampshire's media had pretty much washed its hands of Lizzi Marriott...and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that someone made a decision that her participation in what many would consider a deviant sex act placed some of the blame for her death on Lizzi's own shoulders.  

Does the fact that Lizzi Marriott was "either strangled or suffocated" by Seth Mazzaglia when S&M sex went too far change the fact that her death was a tragedy?  Does it make her any less dead?  Does her family feel any less pain?

Apparently the "murder victim" line blurs when the saga twists in a direction that will raise the "morals and values" hackles on the necks of some viewers.

Better to just let Lizzi Marriott disappear into the woodwork.

And that is the media passing silent judgment on Lizzi Marriott, which is terribly wrong.

On Christmas Eve, 19-year-old Kat McDonough was arrested on charges connected to Lizzi Marriott's disappearance.  Gone were the personal anecdotes about the young woman who'd volunteered with marine animals and was loved by friends and family in her hometown.

Instead, WMUR's reference to Lizzi Marriott was formal and technical.

A second arrest has been made in the disappearance and death of a University of New Hampshire student.
Michael A. Delaney, New Hampshire attorney general, Dover Police Chief Anthony F. Colarusso Jr., and Col. Robert C. Quinn of the New Hampshire State Police made the announcement on Monday. The officials said that Kathryn McDonough, 19, of Portsmouth, was arrested Monday and charged with two felony counts in connection with the disappearance and death of Elizabeth "Lizzi" Marriott, 19, whose body has not been found.

If you're interested in the basic details, Kat McDonough was evidently dating Seth Mazzaglia.  She and Lizzi Marriott worked together at a nearby Target store and were friends.  Lizzi had plans with McDonough the night she disappeared, and we can infer that those plans involved sexual activity that was more likely than not a bondage-based ménage a trois where something went terribly wrong.

We know that a young woman died when she'd barely had time to experience and enjoy life as an adult.

If you want to judge Lizzi Marriott's sex life, that is your prerogative.  After all, when you put the facts of this sad story into the matrix of your own moral compass, you'll more likely than not feel a little bit differently than if Lizzi had, say, been savagely stabbed by a stranger while walking to class.

What is not okay with me, though, is how the media coverage passed its own judgment.  It is their job to report the news, the facts.  If news outlets had matter-of-factly reported on Lizzi Marriott's disappearance in a hands-off manner from the start and continued in this vein as less-than-savory details emerged, that would be one thing.

What they did, though, is put her into the hearts of viewers initially.  We heard wonderful, personal, touching anecdotes about Lizzi Marriott as a person, as a volunteer, as a hardworking college student.  That angle disappeared as suddenly and shockingly as Lizzi herself, though, when it came to light that she had evidently made a choice to participate in a potentially deadly activity.

And that is just wrong.

Passing judgment is something human beings will always do, no matter what.  However, in the case of Lizzi Marriott, the media took away the rights of viewers to think about what happened and apply it to their own sliding scale of morality.  It skewed our perception of a young woman, first by putting her on a pedestal as "Girl Next Door of the Year, 2012" and then by coldly and callously knocking it away because she let a guy tie her up and choke her during sex.

This post is not about my opinions on Lizzi Marriott and the circumstances leading to her death, although I should probably mention that my older daughter is a college freshman, which makes the young woman more personally accessible to me than she might be to others.      

Instead, it is about the concept of passing judgment.  Do you agree that it's an integral part of being human, or am I way off base there?  What elements should be involved in judgments you make, even if you never say them aloud to anyone?  And does the media have the right to push the morals and values of its parent company when allegedly reporting news?

I'm curious to see what people think about this one ...   

"Legitimate Rape" and the Crazy Sheriff Candidate: Oh, What a World

Like most people with an IQ and a heart, I am still reeling from insensitive, untrue, and utterly disgusting comments made by Missouri Senate wannabe Todd Akin.  To wit, Akin basically analogized being raped to stubbing your toe.

And, according to Akin, those extremely rare occasions (sense the sarcasm here) where "legitimate rape" occurs almost never result in unwanted pregnancies because "the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down."

Yeah, this ignorant, insensitive buffoon could arguably be elected to the legislative branch of the United States Government ... scary.

Let me tell you about rape.

It's probably the worst crime that can possible be committed.  Let me list the ways ...

1.  It hurts.  Unspeakably.  And, if you're unlucky, you deal with the physical repercussions for many years.
2.  It is arguably the most under-reported crime because, let's face it, how humiliating would it be to go to a police officer and say, "I was raped?"  It shouldn't be, but it is ... 
3.  Even if you do have the guts to go to the police, it's very difficult to "prove" rape.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but how are authorities to put a judgment call on consensual sex vs. rape when there are so many variables?  So even those who do come forward are often told by authorities, "Yeah, too bad, so sad, there's not a lot we can do."
4.  Years later, you still break out in a cold sweat and get nauseous and remember when it happened to you when you hear the word "rape" or read about it in a book or see a news story or whatever.
5.  You feel dirty, ashamed, and as though you did something wrong ... even when you know intellectually that the only mistake you made was getting a drink with a friend of a friend of a friend that you didn't know.
6.  It destroys your trust in everyone and everything, and it permeates its ugliness into all facets of your life.  If I have to deal with a male in a position of authority (a bank manager, a boss, a police officer) and it gets remotely acrimonious, I am back to being intimidated by a man ... and I do not act my best.

Yes, as you've probably figured out, I have some personal experiences with this subject.  I have alluded before, both on this site and on Zelda Lily, to the fact that I was raped when I was twenty-one, but this crap with Todd Akin has made it important to me that I don't just say, "This guy's an idiot" but explain why his words are so painful.

Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan, by the way, have publicly stated that their ticket would not oppose abortion in cases of rape or incest (good for them, I say ... they did not hesitate to come down on what I believe to be the right side--pun not intended--and I commend them for that), and virtually every Republican in the country is calling for Akin to step down.

But this is a little bit more complicated than just some nutjob from Missouri making inflammatory remarks about rape victims and using them as pawns in the abortion debate.

See, New Hampshire has its own nutjob at the moment, and he's running for Sheriff of Hillsborough County.

[Sheriff Candidate Frank] Szabo may have inflamed the issue further when asked if he would use deadly force to prevent an abortion.

"I would respond specifically by saying that if someone is under threat, a full-grown human being, if they're under threat, what should the sheriff do? Everything in their power to prevent them from being harmed," he said.

When pressed about what he would do if he learned that a doctor was about to perform an elective abortion, Szabo replied he would do what it took to prevent that from happening.
"Absolutely," he said. "Well, I would hope that it wouldn't come to that, as with any situation where someone is in danger, but again, specifically talking about elective abortions and late-term abortions, that is an act that needs to be stopped."

So an abortion that happens as the result of a rape should lead to prosecution ... of the doctor?  Clearly Frank Szabo, Todd Akin, and their ilk have never been raped.  

I understand that abortion is a high-emotion issue; trust me, I understand that, and I would never judge anybody for their opinions on this.  I know and love people that are vehemently pro-choice, vehemently anti-abortion, and everywhere in between.  

Abortion is not the point of this post.  No, the point is the sick depths to which people will sink in politics ... and I guess the realization that it doesn't matter as much to you if it doesn't hit close to home.  When it does strike you where you live, so to speak, though, it is one thing to internalize it and be angry and bitter and so on.

It is something else entirely to say, "Not only are these men ignorant and dangerous in terms of the policies they would obviously be lobbying for, but they have no concept of the surprisingly large number of people they are hurting with this."

I didn't have the courage to speak out almost fifteen years ago.  It took me over ten years to tell anyone about what happened to me.  

But I cannot keep my mouth (or my laptop) closed on this one ... rape survivors have a voice, and I have kept mine silent for too long.  Out of honor and respect for those who are not able to do so, I say this now: speak out against Frank Szabo and Todd Akin, and certainly do not vote for them.  

Their insensitivity is telling of their leadership skills ... or lack thereof.

I had a pretty rough day yesterday ... with all of this on my mind (and the things it brought back), I guess it's no wonder ... maybe I should stop watching the news ;-).  Writing this has made me feel much better, though, even as I know I'm nearing the end of it and have to debate whether or not to hit the "Publish" button or just keep it to myself.  If you're reading this, I guess you'll know ...

It's Easier to Complain Than to Say, "Good Job!" ... and How Sad is That?

I had an interesting epiphany about human nature yesterday ... and it wasn't exactly one that speaks well to us, at least when you make a basic generalization that's unfortunately all too easy to make.

Why is it that, if something goes wrong in a restaurant or grocery store or autobody shop or whatever, people are very quick to complain, but it's fairly rare for customers to go out of their way to point out exceptional work?

I've worked many a customer service job over the years--Chuck E. Cheese's, Water Country, Cumberland Farms, and so on.  If the pizza had a bubble on it or an item was accidentally priced wrong, many people had a knee jerk reaction to go utterly nuclear.

I was fifteen when I started working at Water Country, a local water amusement park, and one of my first jobs was "bag checker".  There were signs all over the place outside the admissions area stating that no glass is allowed inside.  I mean, picture a bunch of little kids in bathing suits running around with bare feet and you can probably imagine why this policy existed.  And, I repeat, there were signs before you even walked into the park clearly stating this.

On my first day at work, a woman came up to my checking station, and her cooler was full of glass.  It was almost like she'd gone out of her way to locate glass containers of everything.  When I told her that she couldn't bring it into the park, she hit the roof.  I suggested that we had paper cups with lids that she could transfer her mayonnaise and stuff into, and then ...

Well, she hit me.  Yup, she grabbed a bag of hamburger buns out of her bag and threw it in my face.  She had excellent aim, and I suspect she could throw a decent fastball.  

She also had a pretty good selection of wine coolers that she'd hidden under her baby in the poor kid's stroller (security picked up on this when they were removing her from the park ... I hadn't gotten a chance to look at the stroller for contraband, and I wasn't getting any closer to her after the hamburger bun incident).

And yet, as she was forcibly removed from the park, she was screaming about what a horrible place Water Country was, how shabbily she'd been treated, and so forth.  It was just crazy--she didn't get what she wanted, so she was going to complain (and loudly--I'm pretty sure she'd already dipped into the wine coolers).

Remember the woman who sued McDonald's for quite a chunk of change after getting burned from coffee purchased at a drive up window?  God forgive me, all I could think about was that she sounded like the kind of customer that would have been freaking out, demanding her money back, and possibly throwing any available bags of hamburger buns if her coffee had come out cold.  And while I feel badly for her (third-degree burns in the vaginal region ... *shiver*), she ordered hot coffee ... what the heck did she expect?  And this woman was pulled over adding cream and sugar when she spilled the coffee ... it's not like the Mickey D's employee dumped it in her lap.

But I'm veering quite far afield of my point.

There is nothing wrong with an expectation of competency by employees in any field.  In fact, customers should be treated with respect and given what they are paying for.  

But why is it so less common for exceptionally good work to be lauded than for exceptionally poor work to be noted?

I got a flat tire yesterday, and it was a bad scene.  My car has all wheel drive, so the traction control went kerflooey once the spare tire was on ... the speedometer didn't move, emergency lights telling me that the brake system failed flashing, just a horrible experience.

Anyway, I called the VIP store I do business with (VIP is an auto parts, tires, and service chain, based primarily in the northeastern United States, I believe).  The experience I had was so exceptional that I sent the following e-mail to John Quirk, the company's president and CEO.

Dear Mr. Quirk,

I am writing to commend three of the employees at your Stratham, NH VIP store.  While I have always had positive experiences at this location, I felt strongly enough about my recent incident to let you know about the outstanding customer service I received from these three gentlemen.

I got a flat tire in Manchester and, while I was able to get the spare tire on, the traction control on my vehicle caused the speedometer to stop working and for emergency brake lights to flash repeatedly.  Needless to say, I was petrified.  I called the Stratham VIP store in a fairly distressed state.  I spoke to an employee named Chris on the phone, who calmed me down and reassured me about the situation.  

When I arrived at the store, Chris assisted me with identifying the tire as a complete loss and explained how I would be able to get some of the warranty I had on the tire based on the tire tread.  The tire was not in stock, but he ordered it immediately and gave me an estimate and a timeline.

I then mentioned a sway bar that had been mentioned as a future concern the last time I'd had my car in for work, and he asked the mechanic looking at the tire situation to look into that.  He then prepared another estimate based on the sway bar.

At this point, the mechanic, a gentleman named Mike came out front quickly to make sure I knew that the tie rod was also a serious concern.  Mike explained that the tie rod was actually a higher priority than the sway bar.

Your employee Robie oversaw the entire lengthy exchange and got right on the phone to parts stores to locate a tie rod for my car (it's evidently a part they had to order from another company because my car has very specific dimensions), and Robie went out of his way to call around and get the best price available.  The initial estimate ("worst case financial scenario") was changed by a fairly significant amount of money because he took the time to make those phone calls.

Robie, Mike, and Chris all told me repeatedly that they were "just doing their job", but the effort they put into creating multiple estimates in my best interest while focusing on other customers was exemplary.  It was a time-consuming process that they apologized for while making it very clear that they were doing everything possible to take care of my car as quickly and financially-friendly as possible.

I am a single mother working two jobs, so I appreciated the lengths they went to in order to keep the necessary work done at the best possible price.  I am also a high school teacher, and these three gentlemen exemplified the morals, values, respect, politeness, and work ethic that I strive to bring out in my students and in my own children.

Customer service is an area that is often overlooked in this day and age, and I wanted to make sure you were aware of the outstanding combination of customer service and obvious knowledge about their work demonstrated by Robie, Mike, and Chris.

I felt so strongly about my positive experience that I asked for a contact person that I could express this to. The gentlemen assured me that I didn't have to let anyone know just how pleased I was by their outstanding work, that they were "just doing their jobs". However, people always seem to want to complain when something isn't done well; it saddens me that it's much rarer for people to take the time to express positive experiences.

Therefore, I wanted to make sure you were aware of the outstanding employees you have in Robie, Mike, and Chris. 

Regards,

Katie Loud

(an extremely satisfied VIP customer)

A bit long-winded, I know, but you cannot imagine how grateful I was.

Even more, though, I think I went a little bit overboard because I spent a lot of time yesterday afternoon and this morning wondering why it is so rare for someone to recognize and commend in some way when service goes above and beyond. 

Why is it so much easier to complain (and often in nit-picky ways) than to take the time to acknowledge the other extreme--which, when you stop and think about it, is a lot more common than we perhaps realize on the surface? 

Standing up for What's Right Vis a Vis Welfare Abuse

I almost put the words "welfare fraud" into the title of this post, but I didn't.  I don't like opening cans of worms, you see.  Plus, technically it's not true.  To be completely fair, technically it's not welfare abuse either, but I guess this is where my bias becomes clear ;-)

Last week, New Hampshire media started reporting the story about a store clerk who refused to let a customer buy cigarettes with his welfare card (they're called "EBT Cards" here in New Hampshire, but I know that's not universal, so I'm calling them welfare cards).  

I guess the point was made that he could just walk over to the ATM, withdraw cash with his welfare card, and buy cigarettes with that.  He didn't think that was fair or right.  Anyway, the media got wind, so now it's out there.  

But interestingly, no one really wants to talk about it.  

So I figured I'd bring it up here, share my thoughts, and find out what you, my brilliant readers, think.

Oh, and for any non-American readers, a welfare card is basically set up to mirror a credit card so recipients don't have to count out food stamps (and cashiers don't have to count them ... or something). If you have an EBT card and you get a "food stamp" allotment, you can only buy "food items" with that money (which, by the way, does include soda, candy, lobster, and filet mignon).  If you receive financial assistance (which is usually tied to either having minor children at home or some sort of disability), you can use that money however you want.

Okay, I understand that people need assistance.  I have absolutely no problem with my taxes going toward families that are unable to find work for a short time.  There are people, lots of people, that receive welfare assistance for a period of time while they're finishing school or trying to find a job or overcome an illness or whatever, and I am totally okay with that.  

What drives me crazy is that those are in the minority.  A huge percentage of people that receive welfare benefits have figured out how to beat the system (continuing to have children so your benefits don't end even when you're then trying to raise nine kids, for example, or my personal nomination for the hall of shame, one of my former friends--he had a shitty little food stand, and he bought the food and drinks he sold with food stamps because he could make five or six times what the state had given him to keep his children fed, and turn it into cash...that is utterly deplorable, in my opinion).  

But back to the cigarette situation.  

I want to go shake that cashier's hand.  Seriously, if someone needs money to survive on, cigarettes should not be included in that package.  It is like flipping off the system that has kindly given you money, and furthermore it's adding to the increasing likelihood that this guy will end up with some long-term medical condition that will entitle him to stay on assistance forever.  

It really burns me up.

With that being said, though, technically the cashier was in the wrong.  I mean, it's not up to any of us that work long hours and sacrifice much so that some guy can go buy a pack of butts with money that he didn't earn.  

A besides, if the scrub can then just go to the ATM and take out the equivalent cash, the problem still exists.

So while I think it is so cool that the cashier stuck to her moral guns, we're dealing with a system that is not set up to be judged by the morals of others.  And so she was wrong in the sense that, Constitutionally speaking, the guy has the right to buy cigarettes with money that the State of New Hampshire opined was necessary to his (or, God forbid, his children's) survival.

But it still sucks.

Considering where I fall on the political spectrum, my vehement distaste for the welfare system and the need for it to be overhauled sooner rather than later is pretty funny for people that know me well.  In fact, when it comes up in conversations and I go all, "Welfare recipients should have to be drug-tested every week ... there should be required to have hysterectomies after six consecutive kids ... they should have to provide evidence on a weekly basis that they are legitimately seeking employment ... they should NOT be allowed to buy tobacco or alcohol (or lobster)", my friends nearly pee themselves.     

The problem is, this whole mess brings up the question of, "Who decides morality?"  And the answer is ... well, it's not really the government's business to say what is right or wrong in terms of morals.  And if I want to say that same sex marriage should be legal because who the hell am I to judge or that women should be able to choose whether or not to have an abortion because it's none of my business and so on, then I certainly don't have the right to get all bent out of shape over some dude scamming the system over a pack of butts.

Yet I find that I am, and I am incredibly proud of Jackie Whiton, a woman I have never met and probably never will as she was fired for her refusal to allow the loser to buy cigarettes with state-given money.

His response to the whole situation was, as stated to the media, "Clearly I was in the right, because she was fired" after he called the store's company and complained that he'd been discriminated against.  He then went on to say--and yes, I am serious--"I barely qualify for it, and for me to use the few dollars I get on cigarettes, that's considered a treat."

A treat.  

So, yeah, enjoy your treat, buddy.  I'll continue to work my butt off and eschew any treats so I can save up any remaining money after paying the monthly bills so that my daughter won't be buried in student loans when she graduates from college.  

Sounds like you're perfectly happy to sit around collecting, and since the government continues to entitle that mentality, go for it.  I'm sure a self-aggrandizing twit like you doesn't care about the impact your smug little actions might have for people that use the welfare system legitimately.

Teachers and Relativity ... and Masochism

I figured out today that my standard "workweek" is somewhere near 80 hours.  Yes, I'm serious.  (I'm also something of a masochist when it comes to work, so to be fair you should probably figure that in)

This is why I'm wondering why teachers, who work incredibly hard and are entrusted, via in loco parentis, with the safety and, yeah, upraising of a veritable battalion of students, always seem to be on the political defecation list.

I don't want to hear, "You have every summer off."  No, I don't ... I'm working a second job (usually summer school ... this year, it might be flipping burgers) for the full month and parts of two others that I'm not teaching.

I don't want to hear the downright scary stuff coming down on teachers from the New Hampshire legislature ... walk in my shoes for a day.  In fact, never mind MY shoes ... my shoes are pretty comfortable as I am very fortunate in many, MANY aspects of my job (such as the fact that I have the most amazing students).  Put on the wingtips or sensible pumps of some of my colleagues ...

Sorry about the incoherent rant ... I've had Ambien and it's clearly showing, but this one's been coming for awhile.  I'll write a more ... well, coherent post about it soon.

Until then ... thank a teacher.  Seriously.  It totally means the world!

I Do Believe in Kangaroos in New Hampshire

I can't stand cynicism.

While I have had moments of being bitter and cynical myself, I still can't stand it.  There is so much in the world that is noble and fine, interesting and thought-provoking, funny and even a little bit magical.

I got thinking about this today on the way home from picking Belle up.

As usual, she was gabbing away a mile a minute (and nope, I have no idea where she gets that from :-p).  She plowed through what she did at school today (drew an illustration for the children's book adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera that she read in music class), her proposed attire for tomorrow (it's red white and blue day ... she wants to wear a sundress ... sigh), and why the tortilla chips at her afterschool program are superior to the ones we have at home before she got down to the real business at hand.

Halloween, of course.

She's going trick or treating with her friend on the next street over.  Addie and her best friend are taking the little girls door to door as a sort of farewell to another childhood ritual, and Belle started telling me how relieved she is that "the big girls" are coming since they have to walk on a path where there might be wild animals.

Okay, I wasn't paying 100% attention until she got to the wild animals.

ME: Wild animals?  What sort of wild animals?
BELLE: You know, tigers, bears, lions.
ME: Oh my.
BELLE: You're so funny, Mommy.
ME: There aren't any lions or tigers here.
BELLE: There could be bears, though.
ME: True, I guess there could be.
BELLE: Probably not, though.
ME: Nope, probably not.
BELLE: Maybe gorillas.  Or toucans.  Or flying monkeys.
ME: You never know.
BELLE: Kangaroos? Wild turkeys? Boa constrictors?
ME: I love your vivid imagination, sweetheart.
BELLE: There really might be bears, though.
ME: Yes, baby, I know.

Believe it or not, the word that most resonated with me from this entire exchange was "kangaroo".

Yes, I'll explain myself ...

Last fall, I was driving Addie to school one morning when an animal jumped out in front of my car.  Addie and I separately thought it was a kangaroo, although neither one of us was willing to state it aloud for a couple of minutes.  It jumped on large legs, the size was right, and ... well, it just looked like a kangaroo.

I never really publicized my, "I saw a kangaroo on a highway in New Hampshire" experience because, really, who would believe it?  It seemed like an interesting little event to break up the monotony on that long-ago day, not something I would ever really talk about and certainly not an encounter that would impact my thought process a year later.

But when I heard "kangaroo" this afternoon, I remembered that day.  I remembered how hard Addie and I laughed over the absurdity of the situation.

And I remembered that damn kangaroo.

Here's the thing--I would not have said a year ago that I saw a kangaroo.  I might have said, "I think I might have seen a kangaroo, but ... it MUST have been something else.  I mean, a kangaroo in New Hampshire?  No way!", but I wouldn't have gone any further than that.

I would have doubted what I saw, tried to force my mind to bend into logical and rational ways that it doesn't naturally go in, and in general convinced myself that it must have been a rabbit, a dog, something other than a kangaroo.

Today, I am stating with certainty that I saw a kangaroo hopping across Route 101 a year ago.  I don't know how it got there.  I don't know why it decided to jump into my life for a matter of seconds.  I don't know where it ended up.

I do know, however, that the mindset allowing me to believe--and believe fully, at that--in the possibility of the impossible is a magical thing, a freeing feeling, a general impression that keeping your eyes and heart and mind ever open for the remarkable will be the only thing that allows the remarkable to come to you.

When something bizarre and, on the surface, utterly ridiculous comes up, consider giving yourself a moment of contemplation ...

You might be surprised what an existential experience it can be (even a year after the fact).

Blogoversary Giveaway: Living, Thinking, Writing, and Reading in New Hampshire!

As of March 8, 2011, I have been writing this blog for two years. Many things have changed in my life since then, but one thing that hasn't is my location. I have lived in New Hampshire my entire life, and it's safe to say that the beautiful state I live in (and the interesting people I get the chance to interact with on a regular basis--can we say "Old Yankee", anyone?) has shaped the person I am, both as a human being and as a writer.

To celebrate, I'm holding my first giveaway!!!!

Living, Thinking, Writing, and Reading in New Hampshire

So, if you're interested in these lovely items ...

A Prayer for Owen Meany [Mass Market Paperback] by John Irving, a wonderful book that will make you laugh, cry, and ... think (it also has the distinction of taking place not just in New Hampshire but in my little part of New Hampshire)

Delicious maple sugar candy made right here in the Granite State

REAL maple syrup, also made right here in NH

Dunkin' Donuts coffee, because it is one of my favorite things in the world






and, finally, a mystery prize ;-)

Enter the giveaway to win :-)

To enter, you must be a follower of this blog. Please leave a comment on this site with your e-mail address. This gets you one entry.

For additional entries, you can:

Follow me on Twitter (+1)

Tweet about this giveaway (+1)

Add The Philosophy of KLo as a Networked Blog (+1)

Read through the prologue to my completed novel, Unbreakable, recently posted on this blog (yes, I know it's long ...) and leave a comment with feedback (+2)

Mention this giveaway on your blog and leave a link to it in the comments here. (+1)

The contest will close at 12:00 a.m. (EST) on March 8th (my blogoversary, if I hadn't mentioned that ;-)). The winner will be selected from random.org.

Good luck!

Why do People Always Complain About the Weather ?

I have probably said this before, but it probably bears repeating. The weather is an ever-changing state, a difference in temperature and precipitation and cloud cover. As such, it seems to be a solid last-ditch conversation piece.

I'm good with that. I talk about the weather as much as anyone. One of the reasons I love living in New England, in fact, is that we have four definitive seasons. Weather conditions are always changing, never the same.

My favorite season is fall (or autumn, for the more literary among you). If you've never been to New Hampshire in the fall, I probably can't do it justice. It's long sleeve weather, but you're comfortable. Perfect for going on long walks. Leaves changing to different brilliant colors that Crayola could never reproduce. The scent of apples on the breeze. No humidity. Skies of a blue so deep it could make you cry.

I hate summer, though. Hate it. I hate being hot and sweaty and sticky and miserable. If you're cold in the winter (or even fall or spring), you can put on another sweater or add a blanket or whatever. In summer, even if you walk around naked, you're still going to be hot, sweaty, sticky, and miserable (well, this is true for me, anyway ... not that I walk around naked, but you know what I mean).

But I'm honest about my hatred of summer. The fact is, I'm more than likely going to be a bitch from late June through late August, and I spend extensive time bemoaning the weather and wishing for fall, winter, spring ... anything that isn't horrifically oppressive. I'm probably not a lot of fun to be around when the mercury goes above eighty. On those winter mornings that are below zero, though, while everyone else is complaining about how cold it is, I'm just grateful that it's not summer. Eternally grateful.

What bugs me, though, is the number of people who spend all winter complaining about being cold and wanting summer to come ... but then, when it's summer, they go on and on about how hot, sticky, and uncomfortable they are and how they can't wait for winter. I tend to be rather short-tempered with these people--after all, I feel like I've earned the right to bitch and moan about summer since I don't complain the other nine months of the year.

To be fair, New Hampshire's summer of 2009 has been exceptionally cool (and of course most people have done a lot of complaining about that, but I digress). The last few days have reached the eighties, though, with fairly high humidity. The sort of weather, in other words, that does not bring out the best in me.

Perhaps that's why I've got such a bee in my bonnet about this right now. It just got me thinking, though, about why it seems to be characteristic of human nature to complain all the time ... and then, when your complaints are reversed, complaining about that.

Kind of maddening, if you think about it ...

A Surprise Adventure: Spring in a New Hampshire State Park

Do you ever have those amazing days you aren't expecting? Just, true pleasure from an adventure that came out of the clear blue sky (or a husband saying, "Want to go for a ride, see what happens?)?



Pythagorus and I took Belle to one of the state parks at Lake Winnapasaukee and had a great day. Belle, naturally, wanted to take off her shoes to "see how cold the water was"



Well, you can probably see where this headed. The next thing we knew, she'd discovered a "stick"



And then felt inclined to raise it like a flagpole



Next, of course, was when she "accidentally" fell into the water and got her clothes totally soaked. Do you believe that look on her face for a second? Totally. Staged.



But Belle was a trooper. Dripping wet or not, she continued down the hiking trails (minus her sneakers, which felt "funny" because of the sand inside them ... I love five-year-olds).



Addie is on an adventure of her own which I will expound upon tomorrow, but today was a very special, very necessary bonding day for Pythagorus, Belle, and me.

Question for you: Write about one of those surprise gift days (or gift couple of hours ... I know whole days can be a stretch :-)) that came up when you were least expecting it. Leave it as a comment here so that readers can experience your joy--fleeting as it might have been--with you. Oh, and of course so you can relive it yourself : )

Have fun : )

The Natural Beauty of New Hampshire (It Kind of Sneaks Up On You Sometimes)

When I walked out of work today, the air tasted so good. It was like drinking water from a mountain spring. I know that sounds cheesy, but I don't know how else to say it.

During my ride home, I couldn't seem to get enough of the scenery. Now, I've lived in New Hampshire my whole life; it isn't like there was anything there that I hadn't seen a million times. Perhaps my "drink" of air made me more aware, I don't know. Whatever it was, though, the snow-covered mountains in the distance, the snow dripping from trees, the ice-covered ponds (I randomly drive by a lot of ponds between work and home), it just made me want to be a part of it. I wanted to go snowshoeing or cross-country skiing, neither of which I've done in ages, and just absorb.

When I get caught up in nature, it's usually at or near the ocean. You can taste the salt water in the air, and watching the tides is to me a constant reminder of how miraculous the earth is. There's a state park in Wells, Maine with really cool hiking trails that I very much enjoy, but it's based in an estuary area, so there's still that ocean connection. Then, of course, there's Bar Harbor, where ocean somehow coexists with mountains (this is strange for a New Hampshire beach native like me) and everything is just unspeakably gorgeous.

It's funny, but I got thinking about how I always seem to end up commuting to work. The drive to Nashua was almost all highway--that was the best part of commuting to Nashua, and that was the worst part of commuting to Nashua. Although I'm kind of a vehicular speed demon who truly enjoys highway driving (I know, I'm weird), there's not exactly a lot of impressive scenery on Route 101. My present commute through some legit New Hampshire backwoods takes my breath away every day, even when I get pissed off because I'm stuck behind somebody that feels it necessary to go twenty miles below the speed limit--and there's nothing I can do about it because there isn't a single passing zone.

I don't know if today's epiphany will change my irritation with some of the people that drive my route, but I do know that it was so amazing to be so blown away by nature that I was physically shaking.

It's a beautiful world.