HinesSight

A defense of Dr. Lentini

Three weeks ago I wrote about Laurel’s visit to the Salem doctor, Jerome Lentini, who has been accused by the FBI of using unauthorized drugs for Bo-tox treatments on as many as 1,000 patients.

Friday I got an email from a person who apparently worked for Dr. Lentini at one of his “A Younger You” clinics in Tigard and Salem, since her email address was [email protected] She felt that Laurel got the wrong impression of Lentini, saying he “is an ethical man who cares for his patients more than any physician I know.”

I’ll share her entire email in a continuation to this post in the interest of fair and balanced reporting.

However…Laurel still stands by her impressions, though admittedly they are from a single visit to Dr. Lentini. She felt that he was uninformed about bio-identical female hormones even though the “A Younger You” web site claimed Lentini specialized in hormone replacement and cosmetic surgery. Laurel says that he pushed Human Growth Hormone (HGH), which wasn’t at all what she was interested in.

The web site has been taken down, but a Google cache of the “A Younger You” home page still exists. There you can see Lentini’s claim that he is Board-certified by the American Board of Anti-aging Medicine.

However…a January 7 article in the Oregonian says, “Although Lentini's Web site included assertions he is certified by the board, no such certification exists, a board spokesman said Thursday.”

Maybe Lentini really is a competent, caring, ethical doctor, as the message below claims. However, the “howevers” I’ve mentioned—combined with the core accusation of using potentially dangerous Bo-tox—raise quite a few questions that need to be answered before Dr. Lentini opens up a practice again.

“House of Flying Daggers”

It was fitting that my daughter took Laurel and me to see this amazing movie in an amazing movie theatre, Hollywood’s Arclight Cinemas—which inspired me to think “I’m not in Salem anymore!” as soon as I walked into the cavernous lobby.

Of course, spending a few previous days in my promised tourist land of warm sun, exotic cars, organic vegetarian food, a great metaphysical book store, and last but definitely not least, a pleasing display of young fit nattily clad women with larger than normal breasts, had already offered me a few hints that I was cultural light years away from our Oregon home.

Arclight charged us $11 a ticket for a 4:00 pm showing, but it was worth it to (1) have the cinema concierge (“ticket seller” is way too tacky a term) open up a binder and show us the available theatre seats from which we could choose, (2) watch the movie in the most comfortable seats I’ve ever experienced, and (3) have our ears almost blown off by an astoundingly powerful sound system.

Thankfully, Laurel had earplugs in her purse and managed to put them in as soon as the previews started without embarrassing me. When I heard the initial rumblings of the sound system I started to experience some post-traumatic stress stemming from at least two previous movie experiences here in Salem (there could be more; my wounded psyche may be blocking them out).

Once, in a crowded theatre, Laurel watched much of the movie with a finger in each ear. Her fingers, not mine, but I still felt funny sitting next to her, wondering what people in back of us were thinking: “Are they stuck?” “Did she think this was going to be a silent film?” Laurel knows that exposure to even relatively mild loud noise can lead to hearing loss, and she’ll have the last laugh one day when I’m cupping a hand to my ear and asking “Huh, what’d you say?” (“You should have worn ear plugs like me” is what I’ll hear).

The other time, Laurel thought she had ear plugs in her purse, but couldn’t find them. So she ended up dumping the contents of the entire purse in her lap and rummaging through god knows what for what seemed a very long time. At least the sounds she was making weren’t the usual reach-for-popcorn or open-a-candy-bag irritations—more like mice skittering around in the walls, which probably intrigued the people sitting near us in the dark more than it bothered them.

Anyway, once “House of Flying Daggers” got rolling I started wishing that I had earplugs myself. The look and sound of this film are both exceptional. As Ebert observes in his review, the Echo Game scene in the Peony Pavilion brothel is something not easily forgotten. The blind dancer whirls around, hitting drums loudly with her weighted long sleeve, perfectly echoing the sequence of bouncing nuts thrown at the drums by a policeman who will arrest her if she doesn’t win her freedom by playing this game well.

Like the rest of “House of Flying Daggers,” this scene is an immensely pleasing blend of beauty, grace, power, great costuming, impressive set design, and colorful cinematography.

And, displays of other-worldly martial arts prowess. In the spirit of “Hero,” (the two movies have the same director, Zhang Yimou) “House of Flying Daggers” features archery, staff, sword, hand to hand, and knife (of course) fighting that goes beyond unbelievable. Which is as it should be. If you want realism, watch boxing on HBO.

This is a movie that should be enjoyed on a big screen, so don’t wait to see it until it comes out on DVD. Laurel would say, “Just remember to take your earplugs.”

Timid Ted needs some Governator lessons

California’s Gov. Schwarzenegger says he wants to undo or modify three voter-approved measures. Ah, if only our timid Ted had the cajones of the Governator.

So far Kulongoski isn’t willing to even consider raising the low budget for schools by modifying outrageous tax breaks for corporations and wealthy people, much less fiddle with the even more outrageous recently-passed Measure 37.

While we were in West Hollywood last weekend the Los Angeles Times ran an article called “Gov.s Trust is Limited.” Schwarzenegger is looking to make changes to Proposition 42 (requires sales tax on gasoline to be used to build roads and fix freeways), Proposition 98 (sets up a formula for the state schools budget), and Proposition 58 (budget-balancing measure passed just last year).

And why shouldn’t he? Regarding Prop 98, the article quotes a Schwarzenegger spokesman: “There was not necessarily a mistake made by the voters. The governor is just asking, ‘Did you clearly understand the intent of Prop. 98?’ He’s going back to the people and asking them, ‘Do you want to fix it?’”

Good for the Governator. He realizes that voter-approved initiatives such as Measure 37 don’t get the sort of detailed consideration that legislatively-approved laws do (in theory, at least). It took much effort by lots of knowledgeable people to frame Oregon’s pioneering land use laws. A single initiative crudely written by a few property rights zealots now threatens to undo those laws.

It makes sense to modify Measure 37 as soon as possible, in this legislative session. Already it is becoming apparent that this measure isn’t going to benefit the “little people” who were prominently featured in pro-Measure 37 ads nearly as much as it will line the pockets of those who want to pave over productive farmland with subdivisions.

Oregonians didn’t realize what they were getting when they voted for Measure 37. I wish Kulongoski was gutsy enough to tell the voters of this state what Schwarzenegger is telling Californians: “I want you to look more closely at what you passed into law.”

The Times piece quotes a scholar who has edited a book on initiatives: “They [initiatives] end up mandating inflexible rules for a process that to be successful must always be flexible. That is the problem: These things are bad ideas that sound good.”

Bad ideas shouldn’t become permanent laws. We need a Governator willing to take a stand on reforming bad ideas like Measure 37.

Wide-eyed on Rodeo Drive

Really short shorts. A model you can stand on. Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake. During our weekend trip to Hollywood and Beverly Hills we were wide-eyed at the never-in-Oregon sights we saw.

Here’s Laurel and my daughter, Celeste Vos, colorfully mixing with the Pacific Design Center. LA is bold and bright. It grew on us this trip, though we aren’t ready to trade in Oregon for southern California.

Speaking of bold, the Gucci store on Rodeo Drive featured these short shorts. Celeste’s husband, Patrick, manages the men’s department. [Note to Gucci security: he didn’t know I snapped the in-store photos] It was an erotic moment fondling the strategically-placed price tag. Which read, I believe, $375.

While I was fondling the shorts, Laurel was ogling Gucci male models strutting their runway stuff on a nearby monitor. I knew Laurel liked to watch TV, but I had never seen her so mesmerized. Must have been the clothes that were so fascinating (yeah, right).

The Prada store lobby featured models in underground grottos you could stand on, plus some headless naked mannequins. Inside, Celeste said the dressing rooms have cameras that show you a 360 degree view of yourself and your potential pricy Prada purchase. Way cool.

Here are some Rodeo Drive babes who were only too happy to pose for me.

Had to prove that we were really there.

I got to visit a place of pilgrimage for me, the renowned Bodhi Tree Bookstore. Since I’m a metaphysical bookaholic, I felt like a drunk set loose in the Jim Beam warehouse. Only bought two books though, a miracle.

Sunday morning Celeste took us for a hike at Runyon Canyon. We ran into Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake. Not literally, but they were just a few feet away coming down as we were going up. I didn’t want to act like a doofus Oregon tourist, so waited until they were past to whip out my camera. The teeny tiny white dot way down the trail is Cameron. Or maybe Justin. People magazine, make me an offer on the photo (minimum bid, 25 cents).

Celeste printed out a trail map from Runyon-Canyon.com. Unfortunately, we didn’t read the part that said “Going anti-clockwise is a much more energetic climb up the steps and steep slopes between Inspiration Point and Clouds Rest.” Here’s Celeste trying to inspire some breath in this very location.

The 50-somethings left the 30-something panting by the side of the trail and zipped up to Cloud’s Rest. We were treated to a beautiful view of the Hollywood hills.

So many amazing southern California sights. But this tops them all: an eleven hundred square foot house on half a lot listed for $800,000. In Salem, you probably could get it for $150,000, maybe less. On Sunday we went to a couple of open houses with Celeste. She says, “Whenever I’m feeling too good and want to get depressed, I go look at houses for sale in the Hollywood area.”

Celeste and Patrick own a condo but want to move up to a home with character for $700,000 or less. If you’ve got one in West Hollywood, I have a buyer for you (as if you didn’t already have a crowd of would-be buyers on your doorstep).

Selling rain to Oregonians

Can you make money selling rain in Oregon? Apparently, yes.

If this venture is a success, the company should branch out to sell sand to Arizonians and bullshit to those who live in Washington, D.C.

Mysteries of “Lost”

“Lost” (ABC, Wednesday, 8 pm) has many mysteries. I’m a bit slow, but I just figured out one: Why have I been missing the last few minutes of the nail-biting endings?

Last night it happened again. Laurel and I were watching “Lost” on the edge of our seats. Then, when our digital video recorder popped up the “program over” screen, we slumped backward, cursing in unison “What the hell??!!”

I had even added three minutes onto the recording time, but at 9:03 pm “Lost” was still on. We probably didn’t miss much, since ABC reportedly is ending the program between 9:01 and 9:03 instead of on the hour. This increasingly common practice clearly should be a federal crime, so much grief does it cause people like us who almost always watch recorded programs.

But now that I’ve solved the mystery of missing “Lost” minutes (a wonderfully appropriate problem for this show), larger enigmas remain. Such as, the whole meaning of this series.

Almost from the beginning Laurel has felt that the survivors of the plane crash who are now stranded on a remote tropical island have somehow chosen their fate. Each main character is struggling to resolve thorny issues from the past. The island’s isolation, and resulting intimate interactions between the survivors, creates a cauldron where simmering personal problems boil over. Sometimes this has the effect of putting out an emotional fire; sometimes the flames are fanned.

An unofficial but highly popular “Lost” message board is filled with page after page of theories and speculation about the series’ meaning. Laurel’s theory seems to be favored by quite a few other people, judging by my quick scan of some of the posts.

One of the more active areas of speculation concerns the unseen monster on the island. I’m greatly impressed with what care and enthusiasm fans are analyzing the clues from each episode concerning the monster’s nature. The first post in this category runs through thirteen clues and a pretty decent review of Hawaiian mythology before ending with the plea, “Anybody an expert on Hawaiian mythology that can tighten up this monster research?”

This is a TV show! How can you research what springs from the mind of the “Lost” writers? Still, I do understand why this show fascinates so many people. Mysteries are a great lure. We crave to touch the unknown, while the fear of what lies hidden just beyond the light prevents us from wholeheartedly embracing Mystery.

For me, the notion of fresh beginnings is the most attractive part of “Lost.” Everyone on the island has, well, lost their previous connections with family, friends, work, and so on. While still being the people that they are, memories intact, they can start fresh on becoming the people they want to be. Titles, degrees, roles, relationships—things that were so important in the pre-crash world mean little, if anything, now.

Lost the survivors are. But what they’re finding out about themselves couldn’t have been achieved any other way.

Measure 37 and societal collapse

Today Laurel asked the Marion County Commissioners a good question: “Should the right to profit from property take precedence over the right to sustain a decent life on the property one owns?” In other words, when a person’s desire for profit conflicts with the right of others to enjoy their properties, which right should take precedence?

Laurel was moved to use the public comment period to speak out on Measure 37 because she attended a meeting last week on Marion County’s implementation of this new law. She felt that the Commissioners didn’t have a good grasp of how Measure 37 threatens the health of Oregon’s environment and social fabric.

Neighbor is going to be pitted against neighbor, since land use rules now can be applied inequitably. If one person bought property in year X, the rules that apply to his or her land may be quite different from those that apply to a neighbor who bought property in year Y.

At the time of purchase the second person reasonably expected that the regulations which he or she has to conform to would apply to everybody in the neighborhood. But Measure 37 created favored classes of landowners. If you bought your property before a land use rule went into effect then you can be exempted from the rule, while those living next to you who bought their property later have to put up with whatever you decide to do with your newfound freedom.

Like, put a factory in a quiet residential neighborhood. Or build a subdivision in the middle of prime farming land. After last week’s hearing Laurel asked one of the county commissioners, Patti Milne, why she was so firmly on the side of people desiring to profit from a Measure 37 exemption, and seemed to be disregarding the effects of such exemptions on other people harmed by these exemptions.

Commissioner Milne said, “If Measure 37 claimants saw that their claims would hurt others, they would probably not go ahead with the claims.” Laurel was amazed and asked if Milne was serious. “Yes, I am optimistic about people.” When Laurel said that this was unrealistic, Milne said that Laurel had a negative view of people. Laurel replied that her thirty years as a social worker and psychotherapist gives her a pretty realistic view of people, and makes her confident in asserting that some people can’t be trusted to do the right thing.

It’s disturbing that an elected official would have such a misunderstanding of human nature. Patti Milne has such a rosy outlook, one might think she believes that society doesn’t need to have rules to curb human greed, ignorance, and selfishness. Does Milne believe that police should be abolished and the armed forces disbanded? Probably not. I bet she would say that we have to protect ourselves from criminals and threats from abroad.

So why isn’t society entitled to protection from people who want to harm the environment and the rights of neighboring property owners? Just as there are law-abiding citizens as well as criminals, so are there property owners with positive development motives as well as owners with negative motives. Land use rules are designed to protect the social fabric from ignorant, selfish people. Measure 37 has created the potential for a massive rip in this fabric. The 2005 Oregon legislature needs to get out needle and thread and fix it.

The January 3 issue of “The New Yorker” has a fascinating book review of “Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed” by Jared Diamond. The author of the review, Malcolm Gladwell, says that Diamond “looks at history’s losers—like the Easter Islanders, the Anasazi of the American Southwest, the Mayans, and the modern-day Rwandans…. ‘Collapse’ is a book about the most prosaic elements of the earth’s ecosystem—soil, trees, and water—because societies fail, in Diamond’s view, when they mismanage those environmental factors.”

Measure 37 gets mentioned at the end of the review as an example of how a society screws up. Gladwell calls the Measure “intellectually incoherent.” He thinks that the debate in Oregon over so-called property rights “values” misses the point:

“One can imagine Diamond writing about the Measure 37 debate, and he wouldn’t be very impressed by how seriously Oregonians wrestled with the problem of squaring their land-use rules with their values, because to him a society’s environmental birthright is not best discussed in those terms. Rivers and streams and forests and soil are a biological resource. They are a tangible, finite thing, and societies collapse when they get so obsessed with addressing the fine points of their history and culture and deeply held beliefs…that they forget that the pastureland is shrinking and the forest cover is gone.”

Read the whole book review to fully understand what Gladwell specifically is talking about (the example of Greenland).

While Patti Milne and other property-rights advocates are fiddling around with their incoherent abstract values, Oregon is burning. Hopefully Oregonians will wake up and douse the conflagration before the structure of our fine state collapses.

Not our dog’s best week

Poor Serena. First, she got cut running her heart out to retrieve the Buddy Glow Ball that I had thrown. Then, she got poisoned (sort of) when Laurel gave her a Gabapentin (Neurontin) pill instead of the Amoxi-capsule antibiotic that the emergency vet prescribed after stitching her up.

Here’s a phone number that every animal owner should have ready at hand: the ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center, 1-800-548-2423 (or 1-888-426-4435). Our local vet said that if we wanted to pay $50 for a consultation, we should call the center and learn how serious taking 100 mg of Gabapentin would be for a dog.

Both medications were in similar green bottles, so Laurel absent-mindedly picked up the wrong bottle as she was in the midst of telling me something. It wasn’t until after Serena had swallowed the butter-encased Gabapentin and she took a glance at the container that a cry of “Oh my god I gave her the wrong pill what are we going to do!” echoed in our kitchen.

While Laurel phoned our vet I raced off to my computer to Google “Gabapentin dog.” I quickly learned that Gabapentin/Neurontin was used to treat dog seizures with doses of 100 to 300 mg every eight hours. The only problem was, Serena doesn’t have seizures. So our vet advised that she be given a quarter cup of hydrogen peroxide to make her throw up both the pill and a full meal that she had just eaten.

All three of us felt terrible as Serena retched on the linoleum after a few minutes. Well, two of us felt worse than the third, since Serena was the one throwing up, Laurel was the one poking through vomit looking for the pill, and I was merely still searching for information on the Internet about how Gabapentin would affect a healthy dog. Once we reached the Poison Control Center (after being on hold for several minutes--not desirable for such an entity) we were told that the Gabapentin dose was so mild, the vomiting wasn't necessary. Well, we can't blame the vet for playing it safe.

A couple of lessons can be gained from this experience. One, if you have a pet, be sure to have a poison safety kit on hand. Fortunately we had some hydrogen peroxide that wasn’t too far past its expiration date, because it worked. There must be other ways to make a dog throw up, but giving Serena the quarter cup of hydrogen peroxide was easy and effective. Sticking a finger down a dog’s throat seems like a decidedly less desirable option (especially if you’re interested in keeping all of your fingers).

Two, practice mindfulness. Laurel wasn’t fully conscious of what she was doing when she opened the pill container. I act similarly, often. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve parked the car, started to walk away, and then thought, “Did I lock the car?” I always go back to check. And I always find that I’ve locked the car. But I wasn’t conscious of locking the car even though I was pressing the “lock” button.

How much do we do without really knowing what we’re doing? Life is too short to be gone through unaware. And unawareness also is too dangerous for dogs and other living things, as evidenced by what a difference picking up one pill bottle rather than another makes.

Serena is fine. Her cuts are healing and she’s even back to playing some Buddy Ball (I’ve put cushioning around the edges of the well house roof in case our dog ever is unaware again of where she’s running).

[Note: the original version of this post had the Poison Control Center recommending that Serena be made to throw up, whereas actually it was our local vet. I've corrected what I mistakenly first wrote because I didn't want to leave an impression that the Center failed to realize that 100 mg of Gabapentin is a mild dose for a dog.]

Is Al Qaeda a myth?

An article in the Oregonian yesterday was based on a BBC documentary that argues the threat to the West of Islamic terrorism is a politically-inspired fantasy. Robert Scheer of the Los Angeles Times asks the provocative question, “Is Al Qaeda just a Bush Boogeyman?”

The three-part BBC documentary is called “The Power of Nightmares.” Hopefully it will be shown in this country soon. Do you think the Sinclair Group is freeing up time in its schedule for this series? Or will Fox News, the self-styled paragon of “fair and balanced” reporting, air this counterpoint to the Bush administration’s portrayal of Osama Bin Laden as the real-life equivalent of Dr. Evil? (or, for those with a longer cinematic memory, Dr. No).

I usually enjoy pooh-poohing conspiracy theories. For example, I don’t think voting machines were rigged to elect Bush. But the producer of “The Power of Nightmares,” Adam Curtis, makes some eminently believable arguments in his response to comments from British viewers.

When you think about it, both Al Qaeda and the Bush administration have a mutual interest in fostering a belief in the existence of a world-wide Islamic organization which is powerful enough to rattle the foundation of Western civilization. Such a belief aids Al Qaeda recruiting (who wants to join a wimpy terrorist group?) and also is a great support for neo-conservative policies (if you’re not with us, you die).

Finding no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq because they didn’t exist is a big story—one largely ignored by the docile American media (motto: "Pat us and we'll purr"). Discovering that the Al Qaeda threat has been vastly exaggerated by the Bush and Blair administrations would be an even bigger story. It’s too bad that the BBC was the first to raise this possibility, ahead of ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox and CNN.

The United States may be #1 in many regards, but not when it comes to investigative reporting of questionable Bush administration policies.

Kerry voters are smarter than Bush voters

I vowed to let the past presidential election pass from my mind as much as possible, so I could devote my brain cells to immediate important matters—such as watching the Golden Globe Awards tonight. However, reading a quote from Bush’s interview with the Washington Post in today’s paper has gotten my indignation fired up again.

When asked about whether anyone would be held accountable for mistakes and misjudgments such as (1) not being welcomed as liberators in Iraq, (2) not finding weapons of mass destruction, and (3) problems in the post-war process, Bush said: “Well, we had an accountability moment, and that's called the 2004 election. And the American people listened to different assessments made about what was taking place in Iraq, and they looked at the two candidates, and chose me, for which I'm grateful.”

That answer is so irritating. It denigrates the honor of all the Americans and Iraqis who have died because of the Bush administration’s missteps, miscalculations, and mistakes. And now our President says that nobody needs to be held accountable for over a thousand American deaths and tens of thousands of Iraqi deaths.

Bush is grateful. Well, isn’t that wonderful? Since he was elected by a slim majority, there’s no need to study the reasons for what’s gone wrong in Iraq since the invasion, or to learn what caused the abject failure of pre-war intelligence that predicted WMD’s surely would be found.

Bush claims to be an education president. Actually, he’s the non-education president. He shows no interest in improving the knowledge of himself, his advisors, or his administration. All that he feels he needs is faith, I guess, faith in wrong-headed policies that are driving this country over economic, environmental, national security, and foreign policy cliffs.

Our president considers that he’s been given a mandate by the voters. What he doesn’t consider is that he was elected by uninformed voters, which makes this an unconvincing mandate. A poll by the Program on International Policy Attitudes (PIPA) found that a majority of Bush supporters were clueless that WMDs hadn't been found in Iraq, or that there was no substantive connection between Al Qaeda and Iraq, while a majority of Kerry supporters were correctly informed.

Yes, “Win or Lose, Kerry Voters are Smarter than Bush Voters.” This humorous yet depressingly accurate article by Ted Rall appeared in the January issue of Funny Times, a wonderful progressive publication that we keep in the bathroom for not-so-serious reading.

If you voted for Kerry, read the article and smile, knowing that you did the right thing. “If you voted for Bush,” says Rall, “we accept that we have to share the country with you. We’re adjusting to the possibility that there may be more of you than there are of us. But don’t demand our respect. You lost it on November 2.”

Serena needs “Extreme Makeover, Dog Edition”

Laurel has started to call Serena “Frankendog.” The stitches she got last night at the Salem Emergency Vet clinic do indeed have a Frankensteinian quality, but we’ve been told that she should be left with only a slight scar.

Serena got hurt when she ran into the metal roof of our well enclosure. Caught up in the spirit of our litigious age, I’ve been wondering whether the Buddy Glow Ball that I was throwing in the dark for Serena to retrieve contained a consumer warning on the original packaging: “Caution. While this dog toy is designed for nighttime play, do not throw in the direction of sharp objects.”

I suppose we should have thought of this ourselves, though, so I’ll let the Buddy Glow Ball manufacturer off the hook. During our regular evening dog outings frequently I would hear the ball hit the well enclosure with a “thunk” as Serena bounded off to fetch it. Last night I heard a louder “thunk” than usual, but assumed it was due to the clear cold air.

Actually, it was due to Serena running head first into a corner of the roof. I didn’t know she was hurt, so I kept on throwing the ball a few more times. When we got to the light by the front door I noticed cuts and blood on her face, so off to the Emergency Vet she went.

The vet on duty said that dogs are amazingly tough and resistant to pain. A person who suffered such an injury, such as me, would be crying like a baby. Serena didn’t even seem to know that anything was wrong. I guess this is an artifact of dogs’ wolf heritage: if you want to survive in the wild, it’s good to have a high pain threshold.

Serena is still the beautiful Wonder Dog to us, stitches and all. Yet if we get a call for her to be on “Extreme Makeover, Dog Edition” as a result of this posting, we’ll answer it gladly. Of course, first ABC has to realize that an animal plastic surgery show would be a great idea (if they pass on the concept, we’ll pitch it to Animal Planet).

This isn’t an original idea, though. A vet in Sao Paulo, Brazil, already has a thriving cosmetic dog surgery practice. If you ever open up a branch in Salem, Dr. Brito, be sure to let us know.

Follow-up: Salem City Council shenanigans

In mid-December I wrote about two members of the Salem City Council and the Mayor having been accused of a conflict of interest cover-up. Jim Randall, Dan Clem, and Janet Taylor didn’t report receiving contributions from William Colson, a local developer, before hearing testimony on changes to the city’s annexation code that would benefit a Colson project.

Today the Statesman-Journal reported that the city’s Board of Ethics found that Randall and Clem did indeed violate Salem’s ethics laws. Taylor got off only because mayors are required to disclose contributions received in the past two years, whereas for councilors it is four years.

Unfortunately, the Board of Ethics is going to allow Randall and Clem to vote on the annexation code changes that were discussed at the public hearing where they violated the ethics law. Says the Statesman-Journal, “The four board members found that the contributions do not create a reasonable appearance of bias or impropriety.”

Is it any wonder that people have so little confidence either in public officials or in the governmental “watch dogs” that have so little teeth, and barely a bark? Randall got $6,000 from Colson and Clem got $2,000. I think they’d remember such sizable contributions when the Colson-benefiting proposal came up for a hearing.

The chair of the Board of Ethics, Robert Winningham, said, “I don't assume the councilors are going to be bought for $501” (the minimum amount needed to be reported). Well, that’s debatable. Politicians have been bought for less, I strongly suspect. And this was $6,000 and $2,000, not $501, a fact conveniently ignored by Winningham.

So, the beat goes on. Money buys influence, and politicians try to hide how they are being bought. We’re fortunate that Oregon is as clean a state as it is, but stories like this one make me think that there is more dirty laundry in our political hamper than we’d ever suspect.

Majnun, madness, and blog writing

Bloggers want to know that people read what they write. I’ve followed with interest Betsy’s (“My Whim is Law”) passionate call for comments on her posts, and Michael’s (“Michael J. Totten”) desire to have an accurate count of how many visits are made to his blog.

I too am happiest when I am noticed. Every morning I peruse the daily statistics TypePad keeps on my two weblogs, my spirits rising when a post reaps lots of clicks and falling when the world fails to beat a path to my HinesSight and Church of the Churchless doors.

And yet…the madness of blog writing cuts two ways. There is the lesser madness (as in “angry”) of not getting the reader responses that you want. Then there is the greater madness (as in “crazy”) of not caring a whit about how anyone responds to what you’re saying.

I wish I had more of the latter madness, and less of the former. What I love most about blogs is coming across a post that is written from the heart: raw, open, honest, unfiltered. This sort of writing flows from a passion to speak, not to be heard.

I’ve only taken one writing workshop in my life. I don’t remember a thing about it except a question I asked the workshop leader while we were eating lunch together: “How do you decide what to write about?” She looked at me as if the question was so ridiculously easy to answer, I was a fool for asking it: “Why, you write about what you feel passion for.” End of discussion.

“The Story of Layla and Majnun” by Nizami is the tale of a classic Persian love story dating from the seventh century and retold many times in various forms. I often think about Majnun when I click the “post” button and send something I’ve written off into the blogosphere.

There are many twists and turns in the telling of the star-crossed love between Majnun and Layla. They come together, and then are parted. When Majnun is unable to be with Layla, he wanders around the wilderness composing love songs to her:

Desperately longing to speak to Layla, but unable to reach her, he engaged the wind as his messenger, and many were the verses he sent to her. The wind obligingly carried his lines away, but response there was none. Bitter is the wine of lonely love, yet, if sometimes in his grief Majnun doubted Layla, his own passion did not abate. So he went on singing.

Sequestered, Layla doesn’t hear him directly, and can’t speak to him directly. But Nizami tells us:

Yet her lover’s voice reached her. Was he not a poet? No tent curtain was woven so closely as to keep out his poems. Every child from the bazaar was singing his verses; every passer-by was humming one of his love-songs, bringing Layla a message from her beloved, whether he knew it or not.

The Internet always has existed, though only recently in electronic form. Passionate voices from the heart will be communicated by a network of people who pass them on; no power can stop them. It isn’t necessary to force the hearing; simply speaking will suffice.

Layla secretly collects Majnun’s songs, memorizes them, and composes her answers. She writes them down on little scraps of paper and entrusts them to the wind—the ancient equivalent of the info-breezes that blow today through the atmosphere of cyberspace.

It happened often that someone found one of these little papers, and guessed the hidden meaning, realizing for whom they were intended….And true enough, there was no veil which could hide his beloved from Majnun. He answered at once, in verse, and whoever received the message saw to it that Layla should hear it at once. Thus many a melody passed to and fro between the two nightingales, drunk with their passion.

Whenever I hear from someone who comments on, or expresses appreciation for, a scrap of prose that I released into the blogosphere, I feel good. But I also feel good just from the releasing itself, whether or not I learn that the message has been received.

Such is the love of writing: when requited, it is wonderful; yet even when unrequited, it is still as strong.

Fred Meyer’s “Questionable Content” sign

I don’t quite know what to make of this sign that I saw affixed to several shelves in the book and magazine section of the South Salem Fred Meyer store.

It reads: “From time to time, certain publications contain material that may be offensive to you, while being acceptable to others. It has been our longstanding policy that you determine what is acceptable, and what is not, by what you purchase or refuse to purchase. Your opinions and views on personally offensive products are welcome. Your refusal to buy any product for personal or religious reasons is always respected and honored.”

This reminds me a car salesman who keeps saying during our purchase negotiations, “I’m going to give you a really great deal on this car.” So why don’t you stop talking about your wonderful intentions and simply give me the great deal? Me thinketh that thou protesteth too much.

I’m pleased to see that Fred Meyer has stopped putting plastic shields over the cover of “Cosmopolitan.” This had the effect of drawing my attention to the magazine, as I’m sure was true of many others. Attempts at censorship in this country almost always backfire because the effort to repress creates a buzz of publicity that draws curious buyers to the product.

Not knowing at first whether this notice was purposely placed next to a certain paperback book, I rushed to thumb through the pages and look for offensive content. I couldn’t find any. Then I went down the next aisle and saw another notice similarly located at the end of the shelving. “Heck!,” I thought. For a moment it seemed that Fred Meyer was going to make it easy to locate books with explicit sex and gratuitous violence, just as they had put a spotlight on “Cosmopolitan” with those ridiculous plastic shields.

Laurel and I may be overly paranoid about the increasing influence of the religious right, but I see this notice as a harbinger of attempts by fundamentalists to control what the general citizenry reads and views. Fred Meyer feels the need to both (1) assure customers that they will let people purchase whatever products they want, and (2) invite the same customers to share their views on what products they find personally offensive.

Something doesn’t compute between (1) and (2). If I determine what is acceptable by what I purchase or refuse to purchase, then where is the need for me to tell Fred Meyer management what I find offensive? Haven’t I just conveyed this by my non-purchase of “Cosmopolitian” or whatever? And why is it necessary to assure me that my “refusal to buy any product for personal or religious reasons is always respected and honored”?

The First Amendment refers to freedom of speech and freedom of the press. Sure, we Americans also have the freedom not to speak and not to write, but so do people in totalitarian regimes. Thus it is disturbing that Fred Meyer chose to focus on the respect and honor they have for those who don’t buy books or magazines that they find offensive, instead of the respect and honor they have for the exercise of the First Amendment.

Hopefully neither Fred Meyer in particular nor the United States in general will be going further down the path of putting the right to be silent and blind above the right to speak out and see.

Laurel escapes Botox bungler

It isn’t exactly Silence of the Lambs, but Laurel does feel fortunate that she got out of a Salem doctor’s office safe and sound. The doctor, Jerome Lentini, has been accused of using unapproved drugs for Botox treatments.

When Laurel saw the front page story about Lentini in the Salem Statesman-Journal yesterday, she said “I knew he was a sleaze!” Laurel had gone to see him around Christmas not out of an interest in Botox, but because he was listed as an “anti-aging” doctor (I note he now has been removed from the listing, as he should be; the preceding link is a historic Google cache).

Lentini supposedly specialized in bio-identical female hormones, a subject that Laurel knows a lot about since she has been grappling with menopause for quite a few years. Yet she went to her first (and thankfully, only) visit with some qualms, since the parking lot of Lentini’s office in a strip mall on Commercial Street featured cheesy folding signs that said something like “Botox: $129.”

Laurel wasn’t reassured when Lentini had to leave the exam room three times during her consultation, apparently to look something up in a reference book. She got the impression that she knew more about bio-identical hormones than he did, which I’m sure is true. “He didn’t seem very knowledgeable,” reported my source.

Apparently sensing that Laurel had lost faith in his hormone expertise, Lentini asked, “Are you interested in anything else?” She inquired about the price of Botox and how long the injections lasted. Lentini urged her to get Botox right then. Fortunately, she passed on the offer.

Laurel asked Lentini about what kind of Botox he used, since she had read about people in Florida getting botulism from raw, unapproved toxin. He assured her that it was FDA approved, but the FBI has accused him of using unapproved toxin for as many as 1,000 patients at his clinics in Salem and Tigard.

His last stab at sucking some money out of Laurel came when he suggested lip injections and showed her some before and after photos of a woman he had treated that day. She had to admit that the woman’s lips looked, well, lippier, but by this time she didn’t have any confidence in Lentini. “He didn’t have a good demeanor,” she told me. “He had a puffy face and looked like an alcoholic.”

We have watched a lot of Nip/Tuck episodes, the TV show about two Florida plastic surgeons. So we know how a plastic surgeon’s office should appear (cool), what the doctor should look like (handsome), and the first words he utters to a new patient (“Tell me what you don’t like about yourself"). Lentini didn’t pass any of these criteria.

We all want to look and feel younger, but if that’s the goal, getting botulism from a Botox bungler would be a decided step in the wrong direction. The lesson here is to check out a doctor’s credentials before you let him or her do anything to you, and to trust your gut feeling when you feel that something isn’t right about the treatment being suggested.

Vote! Everyone! Now!

Periodically there is a vote that is so important, it determines the state of our civilization. My friends, such a vote is at hand. It is your civic duty to cast your ballot—hopefully exactly as we advise. I am speaking, of course, about the Oregonian’s comics survey.

Laurel is a serious student of the comics, just as I analyze in depth the sports section each day, rejoicing when I note that the Trailblazers have a worse record than the Clippers. I pay much less attention to the comics, leaving it to Laurel to show me worthy amusement that falls outside of my habitual Doonesbury/Dilbert/Cathy purview.

Laurel reads almost every comic, so when she saw the headline, “The Oregonian’s comics: Help us strip out a few,” this grabbed her attention. Four comics are being considered for elimination: “Sylvia,” “Judge Parker,” “Cathy,” and “Peanuts.” Whatever comics are dropped will be replaced by new comics beginning January 10.

So time is of the essence! I have already dawdled too long in bringing this vital issue to your attention. Vote now, and preferably exactly as Laurel instructs: “Judge Parker” is terrible, so is fine to go, but “Sylvia,” “Cathy,” and “Peanuts” are better than her choices to send to the comics trash bin: “Hagar the Horrible” (truly horrible), “Mutts,” (disgustingly sickly sweet), “and “Family Circus” (one panel instead of four, best thing about it).

Send an email to [email protected] To make things easy, just copy and paste this perfectly composed message:
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Comics editor, with all my heart and soul I beg you to get rid of these comics instead of the four you are mistakenly contemplating for removal (“Judge Parker” should indeed go, but not the other three). Please send these unworthy comics to oblivion: “Hagar the Horrible,” “Mutts,” “Family Circus,” and “Judge Parker.”
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Also on the comics front, back in December a letter trashing “Doonesbury” appeared in the Salem Statesman-Journal. Laurel got out her frequently used husband-whip and made me write a response in defense of one of our favorite comics. For some reason the newspaper hasn’t printed my letter, which either was too acerbic or (more likely) was submitted too soon after one of my anti-Measure 37 letters was printed.

I’ll share my so-far-ignored letter so at least a few people can read my short but sage answer to the Doonesbury hater:

Stephen Buck (letters, Dec. 22) complains that the Doonesbury comic strip insults the intelligence of a “huge number” of Statesman-Journal readers, presumably Bush voters. Well, polls show that two-thirds of Bush voters believe that God created humans in our present form, and three-fourths believe Saddam Hussein provided substantial support to al-Qaeda or was involved in the 9/11 attacks. Since the scientific evidence for evolution is beyond dispute, and the 9/11 Commission found no strong Iraq ties to al-Qaeda nor any involvement with the attacks, I have to ask: Who really is responsible for insulting the intelligence of Bush voters? Is it Garry Trudeau or the voters themselves?

Laurel gets published

“I’m at LifeSource and I can’t believe it!” So began Laurel’s cell phone call to me this afternoon. I immediately thought that, for the second week in a row, our regular “save us a loaf” order for Alpine Bakery’s 2 Seed Sourdough Whole Wheat bread hadn’t come in (great bread, by the way).

But no, it was good news. Laurel had picked up the January issue of Salem Monthly from a stand outside of the store and her “Religion Should Unite, Not Divide” article had been published! This was a surprise, as the Salem Monthly folks had never responded after Laurel emailed in the article, so we assumed that the article had been rejected.

It’s fun to see your name in print, so I could share in Laurel’s excitement—especially since my name also got in at the end, along with a plug for my Church of the Churchless weblog. The title of her piece was changed to “Fearing Fundamentalism” and several paragraphs got cut, but such is par for the writer’s course.

Salem Monthly is on its way to becoming a valuable Willamette Week-lite countercultural asset for our overly staid community. Congratulations to the paper’s staff, plus whoever redesigned their web site, which is much improved. I found Laurel’s article without any trouble using the site search engine (though the unformatted format leaves something to be desired: paragraphs).

Speaking of search engines, I got the Google bug yesterday morning and managed to figure out how to install a search capability for HinesSight. Now, I realize that any HTML competent person reading this would have been able to get a Google search capability up and running in a few minutes. For HTML challenged me, it was much longer.

Yet when I finally got the search box in the left column to more or less fit in 200 pixels, I felt as excited as Laurel was today. “I’m searching my own weblog and I can’t believe it!”

Wanting to be prepared with a response in case my daughter thought of this, my first two searches were on “Celeste” (23 relevant results) and “Serena” (56 relevant results). And my response is: This doesn’t mean that I love our dog twice as much as I love you, my daughter. Serena simply lives with us, and you don’t, so she gets more press.

But when you and Patrick have your first child (which, gosh, I guess would be my first grandchild—but don’t let this fact put any pressure on you) I guarantee that your HinesSight Google ranking will go way up.

Most beautiful woman in the world

A dream “60 Minutes” program for me last night featured two wonders of the world: a marvelous search engine, Google, and a gorgeous Indian actress, Aishwarya Rai, who CNN says has been named by a British magazine as the most beautiful woman in the world.

You won’t get any argument from me.

And not only beautiful, but unbelievably charming also. Her interview with Bob Simon, who really lucked out to get this “60 Minutes” story rather than, say, a piece on nuclear waste disposal, was a marvel of feminine charm. Several times Simon, rarely tongue-tied, could barely get any words out when Aishwarya flashed her beguiling smile.

I loved the clips they showed from some of her Indian movies. These are erotic without being overtly sexual. Rai and a love interest lean toward each other, lips almost touching, then burst into song and dance. The big question for her fans is, as the CNN story linked above asks, “Will she ever kiss onscreen?” Rai was coy when Simon asked her about this. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

I didn’t want to publish a post with the title, “Most beautiful woman in the world,” without doing sufficient background research. “60 Minutes” said that there are 17,000 web sites devoted to the glories of Aishwarya Rai. With my slow Internet connection I didn’t have time to study as many of them as I would have liked, but I can now release this message into cyberspace with full confidence that my title is eminently defensible.

If there are any doubters, I enter into evidence a classical pose.

And a modern look.

I guess you can make that 17,001 web sites now. (Here's her official web site if you've become a instant fan.)

Oh great, our dog is fatter

I have some bad news for the throngs in the blogosphere who have been anxiously awaiting an update on our dog’s weight reduction program after reading my initial "Oh great, our dog is fat" posting six months ago. Serena just got a new Pet Health Report Card, and things aren’t going so well. All because of me, supposedly.

The green highlighting on the Report Card was put there by Laurel to grab my attention. And the “so no more cheese!” entry in the “Weight (Abnormal)” category also can be attributed to Laurel, since the only way the vet could have found out about this canine nutrition supplement that I have been adding to Serena’s dinner is if someone in our household snitched.

Given that Serena can’t talk (and even if she could, would never do anything to jeopardize his cheese treats) and I didn’t go to the vet appointment, the snitch is pretty easy to identify. I sensed another subtle clue that it was Laurel when she yelled at me, after returning from the Pet Medical Center, “I wish you could have been there to hear what the vet had to say about Serena’s weight!”

Me? Little innocent me? Putting on my most innocent expression, I said: “What do you mean I should have been there? You and I both feed the dog.” “Yes, but you are the only one who adds chunks of cheese to her bowl.”

OK, that’s true. But as I wrote last June, my initial caloric calculations were that Serena would experience a net loss in weight by my giving her some small chunks of cheese each night, per the formula NWC = CC – TWE (in layman’s terms, Net Weight Change equals Cheese Consumption minus Tail Wagging Exertion).

I had figured that the calories Serena burned up wagging her tail while I got the cheese out of the refrigerator, cut a few slices, chopped the slices into tiny chunks, and scattered the chunks on top of her regular dog food would be greater than the calories in the cheese. However, apparently my formula needs some refining, since the experimental results from the vet’s scale show a weight gain of 3.7 pounds from June 21 to December 30.

We had friends over for a New Year’s Eve party last night. I asked the first dog owners who walked in the door, Hans and Laura, if they thought Serena was fat. If I got a “no” from them, then I was going to ask the first lawyer who walked in the door what my chances would be if I filed a malpractice suit against the vet who wrongly diagnosed our dog as obese.

But after both of them felt Serena’s rib cage, I got two responses of “Yes, she’s fat.” So I’ve given up on plans for the lawsuit. Still, I still don’t believe the diagnosis. Doesn’t this look like a wonderfully thin dog to you?

I’m complying with Laurel’s orders though, and have just been putting a miniscule sprinkling of parmesan cheese on Serena’s dinner. This is necessary, I believe, to ease her through the symptoms of cheddar cheese withdrawal. We’re also reducing her regular dog food a bit.

Today is Serena’s birthday. The Millennium Dog is five! She got an extra large chew stick for dessert a little while ago. On your birthday, calories don’t count.