Truly, truly frightening article in the WaPo about the FDA's approval of cefquinome, a new antibiotic for use in cows. Sounds easy enough. But consider the following:
1. The new antibiotic is a close relative of the antibiotic that is the last line of defense for humans in terms of non-resistance. That antibiotic, cefepime, is truly a cancer patient or sick child's only hope when all other antibiotics fail. If cefepime becomes less effective due to the overuse of its related sister cefquinome, humans will pay the price in alarming ways and numbers.
2. The rate of resistant bacteria to a particular antibiotic is proportional to the rate of use of that antibiotic. If you use it less, it has fewer bacteria that are resistant.
3. Cows need these antibiotics because of the way we factory farm in America. If we changed the ways in which cows are penned, fed and transported, the need for the use of antibiotics in cattle would fall dramatically. (Ask me why I'm not upset that Bambina doesn't really like meat. Ask me why she only consumes organic, no-antibiotic milk and dairy).
4. There are already several cattle antibiotics that work perfectly well. There is no established need for a new, hardcore one such as cefquinome.
It's a nightmare in the making, and the FDA is dithering as usual, getting caught up in semantics and generally fiddling while Rome burns.
Although it would be cheeseball funny, I'm too pissed to say it's an "udder disgrace."
WaPo
Sunday, March 04, 2007
You Can't Always Get What You Want
"...and if you try sometime you find, you get what you need..."
--Mick Jagger
Here's a rather disturbing article from the WSJ discussing the costs of raising a child through the age of 17. The first disturbing item is the fact that the government estimate of the cost is a paltry $279,000 (about $16,000 per year). Whaaat?! Did they buy diapers or did the kid pop out potty-trained? Did they purchase a crib? And what did they feed said child? Spaghettios for 17 years? Sixteen grand a year is a minimum, kind of like the government's "poverty level," which is notoriously low if you've ever lived in poverty and tried to qualify for assistance ($17,170 for a family of THREE).
Imagine your life on $17,170 with a kid. Plenty of people do it, but it's not easy. {Especially if you consider that a full-time (40 hours per week/52 weeks per year) worker being paid minimum wage would earn only about $11,000 per year. But that's just my own little dig at people who say that minimum wage increases would hurt business. And at a government that allows, say, a father working 52 weeks a year with no vacation to still earn 40% less than the poverty level. "Then the wife should work," you say. But then how do you pay for decent child care? In some areas of the country, (hello, Washington DC) child care costs can be as much as a mortgage payment.}
Anyhoo. Getting back to the WSJ article. On the one hand, I'm stunned at the lowballing of the government figures. On the other, I'm stunned at the Journal's top estimate for the higher income brackets: $1.6 million. Or perhaps more accurately, I'm stunned that parents would spend so much on their kids. Why does my kid need a (flat panel) TV in her room? Why does she need to take a Berlitz language class and have a language tutor at the age of 7? Why is she getting a brand new IPod Nano? How about *I* get the IPod Nano and give her my old-but-still-completely-functional-although-not-cool one? What happened to parents setting limits? As you know from reading these pages, I didn't grow up with lots of money, so maybe it's easy for me to say that it did me no harm (and perhaps a world of good) to not have had all my wants and dreams as a kid realized. But isn't there something to be said for leaving your kid with some unfulfilled wants? Where's the work ethic development if you never have to think, "I'll have one of those when I grow up," because you already have one? I remember my friend's parents putting a window-unit air conditioner in their bedroom. You know, back in the day when central AC wasn't standard, and air conditioners were a few hundred bucks. My friend was complaining about how hot her room was with just an open window and a fan and how she needed an AC too. Her mom said, "Honey, we can only afford one. And your father and I have worked many years to be able to afford one, and we're the ones who have to go to work to support this family. So it stays in our room. When you're older you can buy one for yourself and tell your kids that you also waited many years to enjoy one." At the time, some of our other friends thought she should call Social Services to report her parents for cruelty. But it did her no harm and made a good point: stuff costs money, and sometimes you just can't get everything you think you want due to money limitations.
But even where there are no financial limitations (such as the top bracket in this WSJ article), shouldn't a competent parent invent another kind of limitation just for appropriate human development? Should you give your kid everything just because you can? My opinion is hell, no, but I'm not sure how widespread that view is anymore. Even among just the "comfortably middle class" of my friends, some are spending unbelievable amounts of money in order to send their kid to the right pre-pre-school program, give her language lessons, make sure her feet are only in appropriate footwear for her kiddie orthopedic needs ($60 a pair), and throw the most wonderful party for their three year-old who will not remember it.
Don't get me wrong. Bambina is not deprived in any way. We're not eating government cheese out of principle. It's not my intent to withhold things she needs and that are good for her. The challenge, at least in our neighborhood, is being really vigilant about what starts to meet the criteria of "what she needs and is good for her." The definition is very easily expanded if you're not careful. It's a slippery slope that I feel like I'm trying to avoid on a daily basis, not judging where she is/what she has based on the decisions of other parents for their own kids. We don't have an $800 stroller, but most people here do. It's easy to feel like you need one too, until you remind yourself that as long as it's got wheels and is safe, we're all good. Some other moms at the park are kind of amused that at 2 1/2, Bambina is not in some kind of Montessori program or somesuch that can "get her prepared." Helllloooo? Isn't that the definition of Preschool? Which she will go to when she's three. Which, in our case, is a little homey but educationally sound one that operates out of the classrooms in a church basement. She already knows her letters and numbers and colors, so she'll be getting what she'll need most: the opportunity to learn to work in a group with other kids. And maybe make a rigatoni necklace and draw pictures of dinosaurs. Stuff we all did when we were kids and we turned out just fine.
As a kid, I wanted so many things that I couldn't have because they just were not affordable, and I imagine, not gonna be given to me regardless. Yeah, it felt miserable at the time to be wearing clothes from Sears instead of Lord & Taylor. I hated that my sneakers were no-name brand and all my friends had Nikes. I hated that me and my brother and sister all had to share one car (a broken down '76 caddy) for high school because my parents insisted we pay for it if we wanted it. I hated that other kids went on study-away programs in college when I couldn't because I was on financial aid. Did I miss out on something valuable? No doubt. But did I turn out fine regardless? Sure did. My horrible job at a Friendly's restaurant (the one where the manager would give you a day off if you gave him a blow job in his office the size of a parking-lot fotomat)--at which I never asked for a day off, I hasten to add!--paid for my books the first semester of my sophomore year at college. Could a young woman need any better incentive to succeed than that? The other women who worked there were stuck. I knew I was never coming back. That job taught me more than three summers on the Yucatan and I wouldn't trade its lessons for anything. There is no doubt that I'd have learned a lot on the Mexican peninsula as well, but there's the crux of the issue: a motivated kid will take the life lessons from any experience she has, be it making fribbles or building huts.
Which is my ultimate point after all my rambling. As parents, we spend so much money and give so many things to our kids, I suspect, out of some latent fear that they will not succeed financially and professionally, and the fault will somehow be traced back to us. It's hard-wired in a good parent to want your kid to succeed in life, to make a good living, to find happiness in a profession, to not worry about money or live in poverty. But sometimes the best thing you can give your kid is the gift of missing out on something they really, really want.
WSJ
--Mick Jagger
Here's a rather disturbing article from the WSJ discussing the costs of raising a child through the age of 17. The first disturbing item is the fact that the government estimate of the cost is a paltry $279,000 (about $16,000 per year). Whaaat?! Did they buy diapers or did the kid pop out potty-trained? Did they purchase a crib? And what did they feed said child? Spaghettios for 17 years? Sixteen grand a year is a minimum, kind of like the government's "poverty level," which is notoriously low if you've ever lived in poverty and tried to qualify for assistance ($17,170 for a family of THREE).
Imagine your life on $17,170 with a kid. Plenty of people do it, but it's not easy. {Especially if you consider that a full-time (40 hours per week/52 weeks per year) worker being paid minimum wage would earn only about $11,000 per year. But that's just my own little dig at people who say that minimum wage increases would hurt business. And at a government that allows, say, a father working 52 weeks a year with no vacation to still earn 40% less than the poverty level. "Then the wife should work," you say. But then how do you pay for decent child care? In some areas of the country, (hello, Washington DC) child care costs can be as much as a mortgage payment.}
Anyhoo. Getting back to the WSJ article. On the one hand, I'm stunned at the lowballing of the government figures. On the other, I'm stunned at the Journal's top estimate for the higher income brackets: $1.6 million. Or perhaps more accurately, I'm stunned that parents would spend so much on their kids. Why does my kid need a (flat panel) TV in her room? Why does she need to take a Berlitz language class and have a language tutor at the age of 7? Why is she getting a brand new IPod Nano? How about *I* get the IPod Nano and give her my old-but-still-completely-functional-although-not-cool one? What happened to parents setting limits? As you know from reading these pages, I didn't grow up with lots of money, so maybe it's easy for me to say that it did me no harm (and perhaps a world of good) to not have had all my wants and dreams as a kid realized. But isn't there something to be said for leaving your kid with some unfulfilled wants? Where's the work ethic development if you never have to think, "I'll have one of those when I grow up," because you already have one? I remember my friend's parents putting a window-unit air conditioner in their bedroom. You know, back in the day when central AC wasn't standard, and air conditioners were a few hundred bucks. My friend was complaining about how hot her room was with just an open window and a fan and how she needed an AC too. Her mom said, "Honey, we can only afford one. And your father and I have worked many years to be able to afford one, and we're the ones who have to go to work to support this family. So it stays in our room. When you're older you can buy one for yourself and tell your kids that you also waited many years to enjoy one." At the time, some of our other friends thought she should call Social Services to report her parents for cruelty. But it did her no harm and made a good point: stuff costs money, and sometimes you just can't get everything you think you want due to money limitations.
But even where there are no financial limitations (such as the top bracket in this WSJ article), shouldn't a competent parent invent another kind of limitation just for appropriate human development? Should you give your kid everything just because you can? My opinion is hell, no, but I'm not sure how widespread that view is anymore. Even among just the "comfortably middle class" of my friends, some are spending unbelievable amounts of money in order to send their kid to the right pre-pre-school program, give her language lessons, make sure her feet are only in appropriate footwear for her kiddie orthopedic needs ($60 a pair), and throw the most wonderful party for their three year-old who will not remember it.
Don't get me wrong. Bambina is not deprived in any way. We're not eating government cheese out of principle. It's not my intent to withhold things she needs and that are good for her. The challenge, at least in our neighborhood, is being really vigilant about what starts to meet the criteria of "what she needs and is good for her." The definition is very easily expanded if you're not careful. It's a slippery slope that I feel like I'm trying to avoid on a daily basis, not judging where she is/what she has based on the decisions of other parents for their own kids. We don't have an $800 stroller, but most people here do. It's easy to feel like you need one too, until you remind yourself that as long as it's got wheels and is safe, we're all good. Some other moms at the park are kind of amused that at 2 1/2, Bambina is not in some kind of Montessori program or somesuch that can "get her prepared." Helllloooo? Isn't that the definition of Preschool? Which she will go to when she's three. Which, in our case, is a little homey but educationally sound one that operates out of the classrooms in a church basement. She already knows her letters and numbers and colors, so she'll be getting what she'll need most: the opportunity to learn to work in a group with other kids. And maybe make a rigatoni necklace and draw pictures of dinosaurs. Stuff we all did when we were kids and we turned out just fine.
As a kid, I wanted so many things that I couldn't have because they just were not affordable, and I imagine, not gonna be given to me regardless. Yeah, it felt miserable at the time to be wearing clothes from Sears instead of Lord & Taylor. I hated that my sneakers were no-name brand and all my friends had Nikes. I hated that me and my brother and sister all had to share one car (a broken down '76 caddy) for high school because my parents insisted we pay for it if we wanted it. I hated that other kids went on study-away programs in college when I couldn't because I was on financial aid. Did I miss out on something valuable? No doubt. But did I turn out fine regardless? Sure did. My horrible job at a Friendly's restaurant (the one where the manager would give you a day off if you gave him a blow job in his office the size of a parking-lot fotomat)--at which I never asked for a day off, I hasten to add!--paid for my books the first semester of my sophomore year at college. Could a young woman need any better incentive to succeed than that? The other women who worked there were stuck. I knew I was never coming back. That job taught me more than three summers on the Yucatan and I wouldn't trade its lessons for anything. There is no doubt that I'd have learned a lot on the Mexican peninsula as well, but there's the crux of the issue: a motivated kid will take the life lessons from any experience she has, be it making fribbles or building huts.
Which is my ultimate point after all my rambling. As parents, we spend so much money and give so many things to our kids, I suspect, out of some latent fear that they will not succeed financially and professionally, and the fault will somehow be traced back to us. It's hard-wired in a good parent to want your kid to succeed in life, to make a good living, to find happiness in a profession, to not worry about money or live in poverty. But sometimes the best thing you can give your kid is the gift of missing out on something they really, really want.
WSJ
Friday, March 02, 2007
65 Years Ago...
*Daylight Savings Time went into effect in the US
*Anne Frank received a diary for her birthday
*The movie Casablanca premiered
*Edward Hopper painted his famous 'Nighthawks' painting
*Lou Reed, Tammy Faye Baker, Garrison Keillor, and Jimmy Hendrix were born.
So were you! (Yeah, YOU! You know who you are)!
Happy Belated Birthday!
*Anne Frank received a diary for her birthday
*The movie Casablanca premiered
*Edward Hopper painted his famous 'Nighthawks' painting
*Lou Reed, Tammy Faye Baker, Garrison Keillor, and Jimmy Hendrix were born.
So were you! (Yeah, YOU! You know who you are)!
Happy Belated Birthday!
Purple Prose
One of Bambina's favorite things to do is have me sing to her at bedtime, but always a song on the subject matter of her choosing. It's like a nightly musical version of improv; a kiddie "Who's Line Is It Anyway?" wherein I have to perform on a dime like I'm Wayne Brady. I have total fun doing it, because you haven't experienced real adrenaline mainlining until you have to think of and sing no fewer than 12 songs about "the moon" or "the sun" before lights-out. I end up laughing as hard as she does...until I completely forget who I'm singing to, get caught up in the competitive spirit, and start singing "Blister in the Sun" by the Violent Femmes (a song about a young boy masturbating, for the uninitiated among you). Whoops! Mama didn't mean "I stain my sheets!" She meant to sing, "I like purple beets!"
You see, Bambina LOVES the color purple. It's her favorite color. She loves Jeff Wiggle because he wears the purple shirt (NOT, morons who ask me, Is it because he's the Asian one?). She has a purple shirt that she attempts to wear all day, every day and then to bed as well, but for my entreaties that shirts must not be stinky and therefore must be removed and washed regularly. Purple is where it's at. Which is why I was recently tasked with singing multiple songs about purple as part of the evening improv challenge.
Well, with the Violent Femmes incident, and the startling lack of purple songs, you see the predicament I was in. My mind raced, it searched the recesses of my 70's and 80's music stores. There was that band Deep Purple, but did they have a purple song? Nope. Damn! What else? What else?!
Which is why Bambina's favorite song is now "Purple Rain" by Prince. Having already pulled out that 50's novelty tune about the purple people eater, and having already added the word "purple" to songs having no reference to said color whatsoever, I was left with nothing but The Artist Formerly Known As. You see, the difficulty rating is that they have to be songs she doesn't already know, because then she just shuts you down with, "No Mama, you singing it wrong." So no "Humpty Purple Sat on a Wall" or anything easy like that. So when she said, "One more!" during the Purple Challenge, I just started singing, "I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain! Purple rain! Purple raaaaaaiiiiin! Woo! Purple raiiiin! Purple raaiin! I don't wanna be your weekend lovah! I only want to be some kind of friend! yeah!..." I'm not proud; I'm just saying.
So it is now her anthem, at all of 2 and a half years old. When Prince played the Super Bowl half-time show, Bambina ran up to the TV and shouted, "He know Purple Rain! He sing Purple Rain!" She couldn't believe how cool it was that the guy on TV knew Mama's song. I couldn't believe that I was going to have to explain this to the other mommies someday soon, lest they think I regularly play The Artist for Bambina instead of Laurie Birkner.
My one consolation in all of this is that my kid now also knows how to do that faux hand-in-the-air concert ballad lighter-wave that anyone who's witnessed Bon Jovi in concert knows all too well (I've seen a million purple faces! And I've rocked them all! I'm a purple cowboy! On a purple horse I ride!...).
I Want the "Happy Ending"
An arrested "madam" in DC is threatening to release her list of client phone numbers if she can't find another way to raise money for her defense. This may just be the funniest public extortion scheme ever. Which DC power players do you think are getting out their checkbooks tonight? I can't sleep thinking about all the possibilities!
Wonkette
Wonkette
Neurobics: No Pain, No Gain
My Mom and I have been going through some of my Dad's old stuff, stuff that we either couldn't deal with looking at last year or that didn't seem important enough to warrant immediate attention.
For instance, "Keep Your Brain Alive," a book by Lawrence Katz and Manning Rubin. This is a collection of 83 "neurobic" exercises designed to keep your brain functioning at top capability. I started flipping through it mockingly and then found myself getting pulled into it, starting to think about how I could incorporate some of these exercises into my own life. So, since I just spent some of my brain power reading a book, I figure I'd share my learnings with you, my two dear readers.
Neurobics is a theory of brain exercise involving your dendrites, the elements of your brain that receive information across the synapses. If the dendrites are not used they atrophy. Atrophied dendrites then cause "senior moments," some of which I've experienced myself at the tender age of 34.
So, how to strengthen the dendrites?
Present your brain with nonroutine and unexpected experiences using various combinations of all your senses. For example:
--Shower with your eyes closed. Find the soap, the shampoo, wash yourself only by touch.
--Use your nondominant hand for toothbrushing, makeup, buttoning shirts, eating, whatever.
--Learn touch typing; it uses multiple senses at one time apparently
--Learn a new hobby, something you have never done before
--Get to the outdoors, get off the treadmill and onto a road or trail, force yourself to use multiple senses while exercising, ie, "oh here comes a dog, is the Walk sign illuminated?, don't bump into that tree, etc."
Perhaps most exciting, for all you seniors out there, is the authors' continual return to a favorite method for utilizing multiple senses: sex. Good news!
So. All you spry "still-with-it" octogenarians? We've finally figured you out. You've been doing it with your eyes closed, with your nondominant hand, with a hobby theme, and outdoors.
Finally, the real reason you are called The Greatest Generation.
For instance, "Keep Your Brain Alive," a book by Lawrence Katz and Manning Rubin. This is a collection of 83 "neurobic" exercises designed to keep your brain functioning at top capability. I started flipping through it mockingly and then found myself getting pulled into it, starting to think about how I could incorporate some of these exercises into my own life. So, since I just spent some of my brain power reading a book, I figure I'd share my learnings with you, my two dear readers.
Neurobics is a theory of brain exercise involving your dendrites, the elements of your brain that receive information across the synapses. If the dendrites are not used they atrophy. Atrophied dendrites then cause "senior moments," some of which I've experienced myself at the tender age of 34.
So, how to strengthen the dendrites?
Present your brain with nonroutine and unexpected experiences using various combinations of all your senses. For example:
--Shower with your eyes closed. Find the soap, the shampoo, wash yourself only by touch.
--Use your nondominant hand for toothbrushing, makeup, buttoning shirts, eating, whatever.
--Learn touch typing; it uses multiple senses at one time apparently
--Learn a new hobby, something you have never done before
--Get to the outdoors, get off the treadmill and onto a road or trail, force yourself to use multiple senses while exercising, ie, "oh here comes a dog, is the Walk sign illuminated?, don't bump into that tree, etc."
Perhaps most exciting, for all you seniors out there, is the authors' continual return to a favorite method for utilizing multiple senses: sex. Good news!
So. All you spry "still-with-it" octogenarians? We've finally figured you out. You've been doing it with your eyes closed, with your nondominant hand, with a hobby theme, and outdoors.
Finally, the real reason you are called The Greatest Generation.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Tonight's the Night
Since Thursdays on TV ain't what they used to be (remember Cosby Show, Hill Street Blues, Family Ties?), I am actually going to spend the evening posting to the Haggis. Today, no can do.
Check back later! Thanks!
Check back later! Thanks!
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