HinesSight

2009 Oregon State Fair photos: a bit of everything

Armed with a free entry pass, because I was going to participate in a Tai Chi demonstration, I headed off to the Oregon State Fair this morning on my Burgman scooter. What I found was pleasing variety and a fresh vibe that coexisted nicely with traditional fair offerings.

Here's the photographic evidence.

First off, I got a great parking spot right across the street from the entrance. Well, bicycles, motorcycles, and scooters should receive bonuses like this, being more sustainable alternatives to auto energy hogs.

As soon as I enter the fair, I get an oh, yeah feeling. Whether six or sixty (like me) big colorful rides are a turn on.

Whac-a-mole! Beautiful. Reminded me of Iraq terrorist strategy not too long ago. Fairs give us so many wonderful metaphors.

I thought about trying to win a giant stuffed tiger for Laurel. But the chances seemed slim. And I was going to look pretty damn ridiculous driving home with it tied to the rear seat of my scooter, if I did manage to win one.

These are all Christian t-shirts. The whole display was about double what's shown. Jesus was big at many booths. I looked for Lao Tzu t-shirts. Didn't find any.

Over at the Sports and Recreation area, we did bring some Taoism to the fair via a Tai Chi demonstration. The woman in the cowboy hat was a kick. I had a good time talking with her. She's a devout Christian who loves Chinese culture. Had lots of positive energy. Enjoys trying new things.

I found a great way to feed my curly fries addiction without clogging up my veins with excessive heart-stopping cholesterol. Since the smallest order of fries was way more than I wanted to eat, I shared with Warren, our Tai Chi instructor, and two fellow students.

Had to throw in at least one animal photo. This miniature horse was nervous, being its first time at a fair. The owner had to tell it to behave.

This struck me as sheep cruelty. Put a helmet on a kid and have him ride an unwilling animal who got dragged around an arena while being slapped on the rear. It's legs collapsed just after I took the photo. They had to get a replacement sheep. The fair needs to lose this disturbing event.

Part of an order of curly fries wasn't going to sustain me through the whole fair experience. Fortunately, the Vegetarian Gods led me to this booth, the only one of its kind (not surprisingly, given the food most fair-goers were happily chowing down).

Probably wasn't a positioning accident that this booth was right across from the vegetarian fare. I'd already signed a petition to legalize medical marijuana clinics in Oregon, so they didn't want me to sign again.

When the medical marijuana guy saw me taking photos, he said "Here, snap this one." Pretty cool. He tucks the end of his long white beard under his (reversed) baseball cap and puts his dark glasses over it. Perfectly appropriate for a marijuana-related booth.

I really, really wanted to take this home. I have no idea what we'd do with it on our ten acres, and it cost $63,000. But it sure looked like fun.

Waiting for the Youth Rodeo to start.

I like this photo -- yin and yang. The girl carrying the American flag to kick off the rodeo entered from the sunny end of the arena.

This cowgirl and cowboy were sitting on the rails when the National Anthem started to play as the American flag rider rode around the arena. They had to figure out how to stand up on the rails. A nice patriotic moment.

Not your old-style State Fair: a nifty open ride BMX course.

This guy got some serious air. I impressed myself by getting this telephoto shot on a first try.

I heard "Sea World" sorts of talk coming from an arena. Poked my camera over the heads of onlookers and got a nice shot, thanks to my Sony's powerful zoom and tilting viewfinder.

This ride shot people straight up a scary long ways, before dropping them down on bouncy cords. I couldn't capture the screaming. Just some legs.

I become a fearsome (ground squirrel) killer

Hopefully the California ground squirrels who have been driving us nutty have an Internet connection and read my blog.

Because if they do, they'll realize that this mild-mannered PETA-applauding animal-loving long-time vegetarian has been driven over the "aren't they cute?" edge into a kill the bastards! dark hole.

Squirrels, notice: I am not smiling.

This is a photo of a non-natural born killer who has been reluctant to send your furry little souls to squirrel heaven, but was driven to this extreme by all the destructive digging you've been doing around the foundation of our house and garage.

Yesterday, thanks to Amazon, my GAMO Varmint Hunter Air Rifle arrived. A gun-savvy friend gave me some advice about what kind of killing machine to purchase.

This model could be overkill for our needs, so to speak, but I decided to spend a few extra bucks in order to get...

-- An air rifle called "Varmint Hunter." Scary name, isn't it squirrels? (if you're still reading this post and haven't high-tailed it back south to Malibu)

-- A scope that features an attached laser and flashlight. I have no idea why I need these things, since I don't plan to shoot at night, but they give the rifle an added dose of deadly coolness.

-- A 1200 feet per second pellet velocity with GAMO's PBA pellets, 50 of which came with the rifle. The side of the box indicates "supersonic" at this speed. Sounds desirable, though I doubt a squirrel could hear a pellet coming and duck at a lower pellet velocity.

I only have a couple of problems to deal with before squirrel bodies litter our south Salem yard.

One, I'm not a great shot, since I haven't ever owned a real rifle -- just had a pellet and BB gun back when I was a kid, but that (obviously) was a long time ago.

We're trying to find some bales of hay to serve as back-up for practicing purposes. I just ordered a pleasingly realistic target that, when the California ground squirrels see it in use, should further quicken their exodus back to the Sunshine State. 

Two, for some reason we aren't seeing any ground squirrels at the moment.

As soon as I clicked the Amazon "order" button for the air rifle, I figured this would happen, just as annoying noises in a new car always have gone away as soon as I drove it to the dealer's service department to complain.

Laurel trapped a ground squirrel a few days ago, so this is part of the explanation. We've been assuming that there were lots of squirrels doing the digging, since there were so many holes.

But maybe we got the Public Enemy #1 ground squirrel. Regardless, I'm darn confident that this isn't the last we've seen of the pests.

Indeed, I'm almost hoping that this is true, now that the Varmint Rifle is leaning in a corner of our entryway, ready for use now that a neighbor sighted-in the scope for me, which had a decided right-leaning tendency (disturbing, given my progressive tendencies).

Speaking of liberal warmth and fuzziness, I gave up shooting at sentient animal creatures in my pre-teen years when I aimed at a bird in a bush with my pellet gun and, shockingly, killed it.

It fell down, dead. And I felt terrible.

It was a song bird. Not a nuisance. Just a living thing that my kid-brain had decided was fine to convert into a non-living thing. The moment it hit the ground, I'd intuitively realized, not fine. 

This helps explain why it's taken me so long to decide that killing the ground squirrels, rather than live-trapping them (which is difficult to do, though we've gotten eight or so), is the way to go.

Hypocrisy is what caused the Varmint Hunter Air Rifle to be delivered by UPS. My hypocrisy.

We've been urging our dog to chase the squirrels and kill them. When we were out of town for a while, we invited a friend who hunts to come over with his own air rifle and knock some off. He said he got one. We were pleased.

I've been happy to have the squirrels killed. I just didn't want to do it myself, so I could continue to tell myself, "I don't kill animals." That's hypocritical.

Here's a video about the Varmint Hunter rifle. It seems to be a quality product, based on my one day's use. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to "plink" at a target, even (or especially) when it isn't alive.

Ground squirrels, be warned: move out before my shooting skills improve.

A good day's digging in the Internet mother lode

Some days I turn up more interesting Internet riches than others. Today was one of those days.

-- San Franciso Chronicle columnist Mark Morford runs hot and cold for me. But his writing style always is entertaining. I loved his tale of visiting a Vegas bar and coming to see lions and lionesses rather than a Dude and his mini-skirted admirers.

And there he is, the big male lion, strong and haggard and terrible, watching over his pride of lionesses and sniffing the air for potential adversaries who might dare threaten his leadership position, take his women and gobble up his portion of raw antelope thigh.

-- Nailed it! I wonder how many of the crazies who've been screaming "liar, liar!" at congresspeople who hold health care forums would get eight out of eight correct on a CNN Test Your Health Care Debate Knowledge quiz. I did. 

-- I use a Macintosh now. Stories like this one in the New York Times make me so happy I'm no longer in the clutches of the evil Microsoft operating system. Apple's Snow Leopard upgrade is about to be introduced. I've got a copy on advance order with Amazon. $30. What a deal.

Either way, the big story here isn’t really Snow Leopard. It’s the radical concept of a software update that’s smaller, faster and better — instead of bigger, slower and more bloated. May the rest of the industry take the hint.

-- Finally! A reason to grow older than 60: I'm less likely to get swine flu than those otherwise annoyingly youthful young people. 

-- According to the fascinating Social Security Administration baby name popularity site, "Brian" has been hanging in there at an 80'ish rank since I was born. Check out your name and see how unique you are.

-- I'm #1 on You Tube! In an admittedly rather obscure category. And not in terms of views yet, because my video only was posted a few days ago. But if someone is searching for "dog stalking chipmunk," our Serena is at the top of the results.

Most boring You Tube video ever? Not to chipmunks.

Everyone wants to be known for something. I'm hoping that my new You Tube video, "Dog stalking chipmunk," will become anti-viral. (see video below, after these explanatory remarks)

Meaning, anyone with an adorable cat can make a You Tube production that will garner millions of views. To be exact, 4,502,374 (until you click on "adorable cat" and add to the count).

But it takes a special dog, and owner, to make a five minute video that, depending on your sensibilities, is either (1) the most boring ever, or (2) a Zen-like exploration of the dynamics of motionlessness.

Immediately after uploading the video, naturally I entered "dog stalking chipmunk" into the You Tube search box to check out the competition. 

There's only two. And they are fakes, poseurs! Their dogs are not, repeat not, stalking chipmunks. They are chasing chipmunks!

This -- right here, seemingly for the first time on You Tube, hot off my FlipVideo -- is 100% genuine chipmunk stalking. With narration, to boot.

What else could you ask for? (unacceptable answer: "something interesting")

Riding a scooter or motorcycle is good for your health

Now, so far the title of this blog post doesn't find much support on the Internet, judging from a comprehensive two-minute Google search that I just performed.

But I wanted to be one of the first -- heck, maybe the absolute first! -- to point out the undeniable health benefits of riding a scooter or motorcycle. By "undeniable," naturally I mean my personal opinion -- par for the course in the blogging world.

I will, however, back up that claim with some solid evidence from a trustworthy source, TIME magazine. Here's what I read in the August 17, 2009 issue, in an article about why exercise doesn't make you thin:

But there's some confusion about whether it is exercise -- sweaty, exhausting, hunger-producing bursts of activity done exclusively to benefit our health -- that leads to all these benefits or something simpler: regularly moving during our waking hours.

...Many obesity researchers now believe that frequent, low-level physical activity -- the kind humans did for tens of thousands of years before the leaf blower was invented -- may actually work better for us than the occasional bouts of exercise you get as a gym rat.

I've been enjoying the Suzuki Burgman 650 Executive scooter that I got last June much more than I thought I would. And I expected to enjoy it a lot.

Much of the appeal of scootering, as with motorcycling, is the increased physicality -- compared to getting around in a car.

Starting off, I need to rock the rather heavy Burgman off of its center stand. Then I push it backward out of its narrow carport parking area using my feet (no reverse gear). Motoring along, there's some pushing on the handlebars into and out of turns, plus movement of my upper body as the scooter leans.

Coming to a stop, I put my feet down, balancing the scooter while I'm at a standstill. Taking off again, the reverse. At low speeds, creeping along, it's a lot like balancing a bicycle -- adjusting my weight slightly this way and that to keep the scooter upright. Parking downtown, I pull past a space, then push the Burgman backwards while turning the handlebars until it's properly positioned against the curb.

All in all, quite a bit of physical activity, involving considerable acts of coordination. Certainly much more than when I'm driving a car.

Being an avid Tai Chi student, I recognize that much of what I'm doing on my scooter (not to be confused with this very different kind) is the sort of balancing and muscular movements that have been proven to be beneficial to seniors and younger people alike.

"Use it or lose it" is an especially important adage for those of us over 60. Sure, there are risks associated with riding a motorcycle or scooter. But there also are health benefits, not the least of which are mental.

As soon as I get on my Burgman 650, I feel happier. More relaxed. Centered. Focused on the here and now. In touch with nature. Energized.

Scooters and motorcycles aren't for everybody. I seem to have a scooter personality, because I've driven our cars as minimally as possible since I got the Burgman, only when I need to do some errands, like grocery shopping, that require me to carry around a large amount of stuff.

When the Oregon rain and cold hits, I'll probably return to driving a car most of the time. But to stay healthy, both mentally and physically, I'll get on my scooter as often as I can.

Here's an article about the accommodations some senior motorcycle riders need to make as they grow older. Motorcycles are less disability-friendly than scooters, given that you have to step over them to get on, and few have automatic transmissions, like scooters do.

I'll share an excerpt, that I agree with obviously, since I have a Suzuki Burgman (I think this was written some time ago, since much of what he forecasts has come to pass):

Have you seen the new large Honda and Suzuki Scooters? With automatic transmissions and easy highway speed, they can ride two up with maximum weather protection and little effort. Many of the older riders, especially those with physical limitations, such as a bad back, have been riding the Honda Helix, a 250cc automatic scooter that easily cruises at 65, sold in the U.S. since the mid-80's.

My look at the future shows a blending of the scooter and the motorcycle. Are you ready for a 100-hp scooter/cycle like Vetter's Defiant, with automatic transmission, very low seat height, low weight, and a big Harley engine? How about the Suzuki Burgman scooter with its 650cc twin cylinder engine, 5-speed push button automatic transmission, and over 100-mph top speed? Look at the new Honda FSC 600 Silverwing scooter; displacing 600 cc it will easily cruise with most motorcycles. Or Dan Gurney's scooter-like Alligator motorcycle with its lightweight and low seating position.

Put a Honda Goldwing (which is almost a scooter now) on a strict diet, reducing its weight to 500 pounds, add an optional automatic transmission, and you would have a perfect motorcycle/motor scooter. I don't know what to call it--a cyclescoot, a scootcycle?

I have a "what are the chances..." moment

Being philosophically minded, I wonder whether what are the chances... means what we think it does. A few days ago I met someone who made me exclaim, "No way! This is unbelievable."

But believe it I did, because I was experiencing it. So what are the chances?

Well, after something happens, it is obviously 100%. Before Tuesday, though, I wouldn't have bet that I'd ever have the conversation I did.

A couple of guys from the water treatment company we use, Pacific Mist, came out to check the complicated system in our garage: Jeff, plus his 87 year old father, James.

They were instantly interested in a vehicular addition to our carport that hadn't been there on previous visits -- my Suzuki Burgman 650 scooter. We chatted about motorcycling and scootering for a while, then James and I moved on to other topics while Jeff checked out our softener and some other equipment.

Fingering an oak leaf from the tree that hangs over our driveway, James asked me if I knew what variety of oak this was.

"I don't know," I told him. "Guess I should, since I grew up in a part of California where there were lots of oak trees."

"Where?"

"Central California. Do you know where Sequoia National Park is?"

"Yes, I do," James said. 

"Well," I told him, "I grew up in Three Rivers, which is near the entrance to the park."

"Oh, my gosh," he said, "that's where my family lived."

Interesting enough conversation up to this point, for sure. When my mother and I lived in Three Rivers, the population was about 800. Not surprisingly, I'd never met anyone from my home town who I didn't know while I was growing up there.

My next question took us over the cliff of what are the chances.

"What's your last name?"

"Packard."

That name rang a loud bell for me. I told James, "Hey, we lived next to some Packards -- Rosemary, Hal, and their kids."

"Hal is my brother," James said.

For the next 45 minutes or so James and I played a fun game of "did you know...?" His family moved to Three Rivers in the 1940s, if I recall correctly. My mother and I arrived in 1955, just about the time James left.

He was amazed that my 8th grade teacher, Mary McDowell, was one of his teachers. And that I knew Mr. Loverin (my high school principal, I believe), who was a classmate of his.

We both got pretty emotional by the time Jeff had finished his work and was ready to leave. I have a lot of fondness for Three Rivers. So does James. A place like this has a way of imprinting itself on a child's psyche. For the rest of your life, you're looking at places and people through the eyes of the small town kid who you once were, and always will be -- no matter how old you are.

Two men meet in rural south Salem in 2009 and learn that each of them lived in the same little California town some fifty years earlier. Not only that, the older guy is the brother of the man the younger guy lived next door to.

What are the chances? I have no idea. I'm just happy that James and I were able to reminisce about some very good old days (and some not-so-good, because that's how life is).

Oregonian front page ad is disgusting!

There are plenty of outrages in the world for me to be incensed about.

But today I choose to focus my disgust on Oregon's largest newspaper, the Portland Oregonian -- to which we subscribe, though we live in the wilds of rural south Salem.

The past two days I've walked up our driveway to get the paper and have been met with an infuriating sight when I take a look at the front page.

What doesn't boil over? I want to know! Now!

I'm holding two newspapers in my hands, the Oregonian and the Salem Statesman Journal. I haven't had a cup of coffee yet, because it's brewing while I get the papers. I don't need to start my day with this goddamn freaking advertising insert covering up half of the front page!

Yes, it's clever how neatly the top part of the insert blends with the real front page. But Safeway (and before you, Fred Meyer), here's what you should know before you spend more big bucks on this affront to journalistic decency.

I hate the insert. I detest it. I have to expend valuable pre-caffeine caloric energy to remove the insert and reveal the front page that I've been accustomed to reading ad-less.

And my irritation transfers over to the source of the insert.

That's you, Safeway and Fred Meyer. I have less than zero interest in what your ad says, because my anger at the medium blots out your message.

In the good old days of journalism, front page advertising was a big no-no. Now it isn't, as the American Journalism Review's "A Fading Taboo" discusses.

Given the tone of this blog post, naturally I heartily agree with this excerpt from the article:

Page-one placement can spark visceral reactions not only from journalists but also from readers. Take the case in March of the fluorescent advertising stickers (for a motor oil company and a carpet-and-flooring company) pasted atop the front page of the Hartford Courant.

Reader Representative Karen Hunter received several indignant comments on her blog. "That is disgusting to have advertising on the front page of my newspaper," wrote one woman. Said another: "This has got to stop." One reader took it further, accusing the Tribune Co., the Courant's parent, of "absolutely whoring for advertising... It screams, 'We're desperate!' It screams, 'Ethics be damned!'"

Oregonian, please can the inserts. Pretty please. Raise subscription rates a bit. Switch to cheaper coffee in the newsroom. Whatever. Just give me back an unobstructed front page.

Marion County sheriff reveals affair. So what?

This doesn't feel right. Like so much else that goes on in the unduly uptight and moralistic United States. Even pleasantly looser Oregon.

The Marion County sheriff, Russ Isham, has admitted to an affair. He also has submitted his resignation. 

Why?

The investigation determined that there was substantial evidence to support a charge of misconduct — a misdemeanor — based on the sheriff’s efforts to hide a personal impropriety, Green told the Statesman Journal.

"If convicted of this misdemeanor, a defendant likely would receive probation with time in jail," Green said. "There is no evidence the sheriff used his position for personal financial gain."

Given the evidence and the likely result of a successful prosecution, Sheriff Isham agreed to resign from his post and surrender his public safety certification, Green said.

"In exchange, the DOJ agreed not to bring this misdemeanor charge to court," he said.

Surrendering his public safety certification means Isham cannot be a law enforcement official in Oregon again.

Isham was accused of attempting to persuade a subordinate not to report the subordinate’s discovery of the sheriff’s personal impropriety, Green said.

Isham lives next to our neighborhood. I've met him. He seems like a great guy. By all accounts he's been a good sheriff.

Yet because he wanted to keep his personal life private, Marion County has lost a highly qualified law enforcement official.

Something is wrong here. And part of that wrongness is how many people would disagree with me saying, something is wrong here.

Salem's fenced-in 2009 "Summer in the City"

Yesterday I hopped on my beloved Suzuki Burgman scooter and two-wheeled to downtown Salem, wanting to check out the 2009 Summer in the City vibe.

I'd read in the paper that Pepe and the Bottle Blondes were playing on one of the pavilion stages at 2 pm. And also that this year it was going to cost $7.50 to get in.

But in to what? I was curious.

Because this music and wine festival was being held on a couple of blocked-off streets. I guess my progressive politics has a libertarian side, because I wondered how it'd be possible to charge $7.50 to access public property.

When I got to Court Street and heard Pepe's salsa-style beat, I understood.

Standing on the sidewalk, I could hear the band just fine. I also had a decent view of the Bottle Blondes (I guess Pepe was with them; wasn't paying much attention to him) over a chain link fence that enclosed one of the three "pavilions."

Which is a pretty fancy term for rectangular chain link fencing that separated the wine and beer tasting in-crowd, who were willing to pay $7.50 ($10 on Saturday) for the privilege, from the common people like me who wandered the public sidewalks and streets freely.

The whole setup had a funny feel to it. Typical of Salem.

I appreciate the effort that went into planning and putting on the 2009 Summer in the City. However, walling off the center of downtown streets didn't produce a friendly, welcoming, inclusive atmosphere.

OK, maybe there is some sort of rule that wine and beer tasting can't happen in a public setting where, god forbid, a teenager might cop a sip of alcohol (which is probably the least consciousness-altering substance he or she would have imbibed last weekend).

If so, I wish the under-21 and over-21 separation could have been accomplished in a less chain link'y manner. The Salem Art Fair manages to do this in a much less obtrusive and prison-like fashion.

Heading down Court Street with some friends to eat at Venti's, which thankfully was accessible at no charge (and is my favorite downtown dining spot), I was struck by how empty "Summer in the City" looked. Almost depressing.

While we ate, the four of us dissected this year's downtown event. One woman had paid to sit in the Pepe and the Bottle Blondes pavilion while the rest of us cheapskates stood on the sidewalk outside.

She said that not one single person, not one, got up to dance. Would this have happened in Eugene or Portland? I doubt it. Only in Salem, where people sit on their hands to Latin music.

And chain-link off the center of their downtown streets for a city celebration. (Lisa Anne, another Salem blogger, had the same reaction to this that I did.)

I'm proud of my mid-life crisis

Being analytically-minded, before deciding on the title to this post I needed to figure out if "mid-life" defined my crisis, since I'm 60.

Ever since I got my Suzuki Burgman 650 Executive scooter, I've been pre-emptively telling people, "Yes, it's an end-of-life crisis purchase. The scooter is either going to bring a lot of joy to my increasingly aged life, or end it prematurely. Could be both, I suppose."

However, yesterday my wife said mid-life crisis when, in tidying up the house for a get-together this evening, she picked up an article about surfing on the Oregon coast that I'd torn out of the newspaper.

"What's this? You're not thinking of learning how to surf, are you?"
"Well, sure, it's something I've always wanted to do. Why not?"
"Sharks! Cold water! Undertows! Big waves! That's why! First the scooter, and now surfing. You're having a mid-life crisis!"

Laurel said that I should blog about it. I'm not sure why. Maybe she's hoping that the blogosphere will organize some sort of intervention for me.

Except, I don't feel in any need of one.

First, I can't be having that serious of a mid-life crisis if I meekly obey my wife's command to write a blog post about it. Second, I'm just about to pass out of the most common age range for a mid-life crisis, 40-60.

I guess when I turn sixty-one in a few months I'll officially be having an end-of-life crisis. Fine, bring it on.

I like to say, "Older people should be the ones riding motorcycles and scooters, because they have the fewest years left to live." Along that line, my wife also told me yesterday:

You've realized that you're getting closer to death, so you're running toward it.

Hmmmm. Interesting observation. Which is what I'd expect from a retired psychotherapist: a sort of counseling koan.

She may be right. But aren't we all getting closer to death? And a lot of wise sages have said that we should live every day as if it is our last, which sure sounds like advice to run toward death.

Anyway, the only thing I regret about my mid-life crisis, assuming I've having one, is that I didn't get into crisis mode much earlier in life. Yes, I readily admit that from my sixty-year-old vantage point, death appears closer than it did a decade or two ago.

Though I'm still in excellent health, with few medical complaints, I can see the aging handwriting on the wall of my body. Such as those damn age spots on my right hand, which is starting to bear a disturbing resemblance to how my grandmother's hands looked.

The time to do what I want to do is...now.

If someone wants to call this realization a mid-life crisis, go right ahead. Like I said, I just wish this simple fact had dawned on me much sooner with the intensity I now feel.

I feel good that I'm still entirely capable of surfing large waves on the Oregon coast. Or of skillfully riding the world's largest scooter. I may be 60 chronologically, but I feel more like 40 -- which, of course, is what the new 60 is.

Philosophically, what I said in an earlier post still stands:

I don't believe in life after death. I don't disbelieve in it, either. There's just no evidence to support the notion that we keep on living after our last breath, so I assume that whatever I want to do with my life, it had damn well better happen in this one.

When people hear that I'm getting a scooter, a common response is the same as what motorcyclists hear: But they're so dangerous!

Well, yes. So is climbing Mt. Everest. Much more so.

The death rate has remained at one death for every 10 successful attempts to climb Everest for many years, the British Medical Journal report states.

Yet we admire people who contemplate the mountaineering risk-to-reward ratio, and decide to place their bet on living life fully, with 29,029 feet of passionate gusto.

Others set out to ride a motorcycle or scooter. Or whatever. Why? Because -- no why's required, though they can be supplied upon request.

Life can end for any of us at any moment, some moments being more likely than others (when I turned sixty last year, this decade'al birthday helped me realize that I'm getting uncomfortably close to the higher probability phase of life -- so I'm justified in saying, "To hell with a mid-life crisis; I'm signing up for an end-of-life crisis").

It isn't good to come to the end of the road and think, I wasn't really ever on it, not the way I wanted to be. The only path that really matters is the one that leads us to ourself. If we're rolling down that Way with our passion throttle open and a smile on our face, excellent.

Nothing more to do. We can't control how long the ride will last. Just how authentically we experience it.

Clearview shield + Burgman 650 = (more) scooter joy

Good things are worth waiting for.

Yesterday the Clearview shield that I'd ordered in June to replace the stock Burgman 650 Executive shield arrived. (Orders have been so heavy, the wait time was long.)

Soon I had the old shield off and the Clearview installed. Which testifies to the product's quality and the clarity of the instructions, because in no way can I be called a mechanically proficient guy.

I got both of the Burgman 650 Clearview options: light grey tint and adjustable vent. In the photo you can see that the tint is pretty minor -- mild darkening of the grass and pavement is all.

After riding in bright Oregon sunshine yesterday (yes, it happens; July-September usually is reliably warm and clear) I was happy that I chose the tint. It takes the edge off of glare, while adding a touch of Harley'esque darkness to my safe and stylish Burgman vibe.

The vent looks like it will be a cool (literally) addition to my scooter come 90 degree plus riding days, which are forecast for early next week. It's adjustable to direct air upwards, to helmet, or straight on, to chest.

In the top photo you can see that the Clearview shield extends out to the edge of the hand grips, more or less. So when colder weather hits, this will be an advantage over the six inch narrower stock shield.

When ordering the shield, I pondered height choices.

The Burgman 650 Exec has an adjustable windshield with 2.5 inches of difference between "low" and "high." At "high," the eyes on my six foot body could just look over the stock windshield, which I liked (dark glasses, plus helmet visor, plus windshield is three things to look through).

But I do a good share of my scootering in town. We live about six miles from the city limits, so have a nice blend of 35-55 mph rural riding and 25-45 mph city riding when I head into Salem.

At lower speeds, for sight distance purposes I like the Burgman shield lower than the stock "high" setting. So if I'd gotten the large (2.5" taller) Clearview, the new "low" would have been the old "high." Which seemed too high.

I'm happy with my medium (1.5" taller) choice.

Now I look through the Clearview shield at the high setting, and have a nice view over it at the low setting. Wind buffeting at 50-70 mph or so, a common problem with the stock shield that bothered me, is much reduced now.

It isn't gone entirely. However, most things in life involve trade offs.

I'm willing to trade some wind noise for more unobstructed visibility over the shield. Reading rider reviews on the Clearview site, it's a "different strokes for different folks" thing. If I was doing a lot of freeway riding, I can see that a taller screen might have been a better choice. But so far in 900 Burgman miles I haven't set a tire on a freeway.

Bottom line: you won't go wrong with a Clearview shield. I've gotten quick answers to my emailed and telephoned questions. These guys have great customer service. And good quality control.

They told me that my order was about to be shipped. Then they said it'd be a couple of days delayed, because the shield didn't pass inspection. They made another one, which appears flawless.

Installation-wise, my only real questioning moment came when I couldn't follow the instructions to only turn the mounting screws 4.5 revolutions, to avoid over-tightening. It seemed like once the screw started to "take," it was still loose 4.5 turns later. So I just tightened until the screw felt snug.

Still, I worried that I'd taken up too much give in the mount and emailed Clearview today, getting this response:

Hello Brian, I think you will be OK......I usually tighten them by feel also and there does get to be a good amount of resistance.....as long as you did not really crank on them to try to get them extremely tight.

Nice reassurance. I'll be riding to my Tai Chi class later today with no worries. Well, about my Clearview shield, at least.

Obama brings sanity to health care craziness

I'm not a believer, but I still thought "thank God we have a president who's so sane and intelligent" after watching Obama's town hall meeting on health care today.

My laptop brought me every live moment.

Like a LA Times blogger, I was disappointed that some right-wing wacko didn't ask one of the WTF questions based on an insane belief that have been so common at other town hall meetings.

And in Sarah Palin's highly deluded mind.

She claims that "Obama wants to kill my baby through his death panels," which is bat-shit crazy. How anyone thinks Palin is qualified to occupy any elected office is beyond me.

Unelected also. Though she wouldn't be bad doing volunteer work as a stand-up comedian in a mental institution (only problem: the patients probably would think she was making sense and take her seriously).

I worked in health planning and health policy analysis for about fifteen years. So I'm more than qualified to assess Obama's grasp of health care issues. My grade: A. Maybe even A+.

Watching him, I kept wondering how thank-god-he's-ex-president Bush would have handled the questions thrown at Obama. It would have been painful for reality admirers to watch.

That's really what going on here: another classic battle between Defenders of Reality and truth-haters whose motto is, "I can make up whatever crap I want." Today Obama provided the country with a much-needed reality check.

Let's face it. Many Americans are clueless about how our health care system works, and how other countries manage to get a lot more health for a lot less money

For example, all of the senior citizens who scream, "The government better keep it's hands off of my Medicare!" Um, somebody needs to tell these people that Medicare is a government health care program. 

Socialized medicine! also is a favorite buzz word of the uninformed.Today Nate Silver put up a clever post showing the obvious differences between the Canadian and British health systems.

Canada provides care through private doctors and hospitals, with payment made through the government (just like Medicare). Great Britain does it differently, through government-paid providers.

Today Obama said that he isn't in favor of a single payer plan like Canada has. So when our health care reform bill passes, and I'm confident it will, the United States won't be anywhere near as socialized medicine'y as Canada, and Canada doesn't have anything like real socialized medicine.

I wish every crazy who has been screaming insanities at town hall meetings would take the time to read the transcript of what Obama said today. 

You'd think they'd be willing to, since they keep asking congresspeople if they've read one of the 1000 page health insurance reform bill drafts. However, truth is a scary thing when you've got your mind made up to embrace falsities.

Here's 10 Health Care Reform Myths, according to CBS News. Almost all of them clearly show that Obama is right and the rabid reform opponents are wrong.

And here's Keith Olbermann demolishing the "death panel" sort of craziness of Sarah Palin and her ilk. I like how he says that this latest bit of Palin'ish nonsense should disqualify her from occupying any position of responsibility, ideally for eternity.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Crazed commenters disrupt my blog

Every blogger has to decide how to handle comments on his or her posts. In my case, I've opted for as much openness as possible. But now that I've gotten a rash of crazed commenters on my other blog, I'm having to rethink my approach.

Given that the blog is called Church of the Churchless, it isn't surprising that I attract quite a few religious true believers who are out to challenge my skepticism. 

That's fine with me. I enjoy debating metaphysics and philosophy with fundamentalists, in large part because it is so easy to undercut their arguments.

(One of their favorites: "There's no proof that God does not exist." My stock response: "And there's no proof that gnomes aren't causing the flowers in our garden to grow." Meaning, it isn't up to skeptics to prove that God doesn't exist; it is up to religious believers to provide positive demonstrable evidence.)

I've tolerated rants, preachings, and insults, doing my best to ignore the comment craziness. I even put up an I Hate Church of the Churchless site where those who really despise my blog could vent their irritations and avoid having their heads explode with unexpressed rage.

But a few days ago some crazed commenters sorely tested my quasi-compassionate Buddha nature. I'd been arguing with a guy who went by "Walker" about the Ava Worthington case here in Oregon. 

Our comment conversation revolved around his assertions that nobody knows the root of right or wrong, so what's the matter with sacrificing a child in the name of Jesus by not giving her medical care that would have saved her life? 

I kept telling Walker that a jury found Ava's father guilty of criminal neglect. No reasonable person sanctions child abuse. People have a right to their weird religious beliefs, but not when an innocent child's life is threatened by an irrational interpretation of a Bible verse.

Since I was winning the argument, something must have snapped in Walker. He started leaving more and more bizarre comments. Then he started posting comments in my name, "Brian," pretending he was the Church of the Churchless blogger.

That deeply angered me. Plagiarizing a writer's words is bad enough. But to steal a writer's or blogger's identity, that's horrible.

Most strangely of all, Walker did this after leaving a comment accusing me of engaging in the practice of posting comments on my own blog under assumed names -- which I've never done. Then he does exactly that! Reminds me of all those religious gay-bashers who turn out to be homosexual.

When I discovered that the "Walker" and (fake) "Brian" had come from the same IP address in Germany a few hours apart, I whipped out a "Troll Alert" post. I didn't want blog visitors to think that I'd been posting the comments written by Walker.

The last fake one said that I'd banned Walker from commenting. And it came from Walker! He was trying to look like a martyr, I guess.

When I announced a new comment policy, I ended the post by saying:

Bottom line: if you support the churchless purpose of this blog and want to take part in a comment conversation on some topic, great. Comment away. But if your main goal is to disrupt, insult, disparage, and otherwise try to throw wrenches into the machinery of open discussion, please go away. And realize that any comments you do leave are going to disappear in fairly short order.

That seemed pretty darn reasonable to me. As it did to several other bloggers who commented on the post.

But not to some religious crazies who somehow clung to the belief that the Great God of Internet had decreed that they could preach whatever weirdness they wanted on any blog or web site they chose to.

Like, mine. I was compared to Stalin by one guy because I didn't want fundamentalist comment rantings to fill up my churchless blog. I responded with:

Loved the comparisons of me to Stalin. Nice creativity. So many people nowadays use Hitler as the archetype of authoritarian evil. It's good to see Stalin get some Internet rant time also.

Well, I'm reluctant to go to full-blown comment moderation, where a blogger approves comments before they're posted. When I leave a comment on a blog, I enjoy seeing it appear right away, so I figure other people feel the same way.

I'm taking two steps to help ensure that the crazies don't interfere with the vast majority of blog visitors who want to have respectful, reasoned, and intelligent comment conversations.

(1) From now on, comments on a post need to be on-topic, related to the subject that I wrote about. If they aren't, they'll be deleted.

(2) Off-topic comments can go into an Open Thread post. I won't allow either regular spam (ads) or religious spam (preachiness), but just about anything else will be acceptable.

It's unfortunate that respect for civil discourse has fallen so low.

The way I see it, visiting a personal blog is like being invited into somebody's living room for conversation. If they have a sign on the front door that says, "Please remove shoes before entering," you do it. Or, you don't enter.

Likewise, I keep telling people who can't stand my Church of the Churchless blog, "Why do you keep reading it if it bothers you so much? The rest of the World Wide Web is just a mouse click away."

Lastly, here's another strangeness that I don't get: today I read several comments that said if I criticized a religion, I should expect to be personally attacked -- because true believers don't like having their faith challenged.

Huh? Here's how I replied to that nonsensical notion:

I''m a vegetarian. If you say, "all vegetarians are deluded," I'll want to argue with you about the truth of that statement. But I'm not going to take it personally, because you didn't single me out as a person who is deluded. That is, even though I'm included in that group (of vegetarians), you weren't thinking of me specifically.

However, when some commenters on this blog get upset with my criticism of a religion, they take it very personally and start attacking me, when I didn't attack them. What they should do is attack my arguments, rather than me and my blog.

It's really an individual's problem if they identify so strongly with a certain aspect of themselves -- like religion -- that a criticism of that aspect is taken to be an attack on them. Like I said, I've been a vegetarian for forty years. But I just smile when people make fun of vegetarians because (1) it isn't a huge part of my identity, and (2) I'm convinced vegetarianism is the right thing to do.

...Driving home today I heard a conservative talk show guy, Glenn Beck, ridicule owners of hybrid cars. We own two of them. Why, I should consider that Beck is attacking me personally! Damn the bastard! Except, I didn't feel that way at all. Mainly I felt that Beck is a fool for not understanding the benefits of driving a hybrid.

"Down and dirty" hurt my dancing man, Evan

My wife and I love "So You Think You Can Dance." It was sad to see the current show come to an end last night with Jeanine's triumph.

(How does someone 18 dance so well? Partial answer: she started when she was three.)

Being philosophically minded, I enjoy the more profound sub-texts of the show as much as the overt dancing.

Now, having just written "profound sub-texts," I guess I've got to come up with some -- since like most bloggers I tend to write first and think afterwards.

Wednesday night, for the first time I voted for a couple of the contestants. Usually we watch a recording several days later, but the finals were too much of an attraction to wait for. I picked up a phone and punched in the numbers for Evan and Jeanine.

Evan is a great example of the sometimes-true adage, nice guys finish last. This is a fascinating subject, which, not surprisingly, has earned its own Wikipedia page. 

Of the twenty finalists, Evan clearly was the nicest guy. Including the gals. He was regularly criticized by the judges for being too bland, too non-assertive in his partner dancing, too reluctant to let his personality blaze forth on the dance floor.

I liked Evan. I didn't think he was the best dancer, but I voted for him because I wanted to see the heads of the judges explode if he ended up winning.

One of their greatest compliments after a dance performance is, "That was so dirty!" Meaning, sexy, passionate, dangerous, edgy.

What this points to, philosophically, is Yin-Yang.

People may claim allegiance to light, truth, love, and God, but most of us also are attracted to dark, false, hate, and Devil. We distrust one-sided nice guys or gals as being out of balance.

There is, of course, a lot of sexuality percolating in this sub-text of So You Think You Can Dance. Jeanine oozed it. Janette did. Brandon did. Evan didn't.

The Wikipedia article discusses evidence pro and con on the question, "Are women attracted more to nice guys or bad boys?" Whichever, it's clear that dancing judges are much more inclined to get in bed with the latter.

So are voters. Jimmy Carter was our nicest guy president in recent memory. And also one of the most vilified (or at least disrespected). Bill Clinton, a classic bad boy president, is still highly popular.

Because he appeared to be real in a way that Carter wasn't. Which is unfair, just as Evan's being dissed for his nice-guy persona also is.

If someone is genuinely nice, that's their real. However, this also is reality: most people enjoy some dark-side spice with their life, not unalloyed bland sweetness and light. This is what doomed Evan.

He deserves a lot of credit for getting to the final three. It just wasn't surprising that Evan failed to make it to the So You Think You Can Dance winner's circle.

Nice guys have a lot going for them. On the dance floor, though, niceness only gets you so far.

Here's an example of going beyond -- way beyond -- nice into Oh, yeah! joy. This video makes me feel great every time I watch the terrific boogie-woogie dancers.

Wow! A warm and fuzzy health insurance moment.

It's hard to believe, given my antipathy toward health insurance companies, but yesterday I actually felt warm and fuzzy toward one -- for a few moments.

I've been arguing with Regence BlueCross BlueShield of Oregon about its denial of my application to change from an individual Plus plan to the Premier plan. I fell into the dreaded pre-existing condition black hole, even though I'm an unusually healthy 60-year-old guy.

After sending the Regence underwriting department records of my last two physical exams, I got a phone call from a manager. She told me that the denial was being reversed, as the two minor health problems I listed on my application weren't serious.

Good news.

People in a similar situation, take heart: you can appeal a screwy health insurance company decision and win. It just takes some persistence (two letters and three phone calls, in my case).

The Regence manager was quite pleasant. I found myself saying some quasi-nice things about health insurance companies during our conversation.

"When I browsed through your web site," I told her, "I liked that Regence supports the notion that someone's medical condition shouldn't affect their ability to get health insurance. Hopefully in a few years all this pre-existing condition stuff won't be an issue. But for now I realize that if Regence stopped considering pre-existing conditions, and other companies still did, you'd end up with the sickest people, which would hurt your bottom line."

Talking with a real live health insurance company manager, I realized that she was trying to do the best job she could and wasn't an evil person.

"It's too bad, I said, "that the health care reform debate in this debate has become so angry and hateful. People screaming at congressional representatives at town hall meetings isn't the way toward a better functioning health care system."

On that subject...

I did my share of Vietnam War protesting in the late '60s. Which involved some screaming, I'm pretty sure (can't recall precisely; as they say, "if you can remember the '60s, you weren't there").

Conservatives back in that era were fond of talking about the Silent Majority: the bulk of Americans who were at home raising families and at work making a living -- not out on the streets raising hell at protests.

Now, more than a little strangely, it is the right-wingers who are disrupting meetings with angry shouting, trying to drown out calm, reasoned discourse about an important national problem.

What happened to the acclaim given to the Silent Majority, Republicans? And the disdain given to those who engaged in raucous rage-filled protests?

Here's evidence that the majority of Americans do want health care reform legislation passed by Congress:

Percentage of those polled who believe the current health care system needs major reform: 55%. Percentage of those polled who believe that it is important to pass a major health care reform bill in the next few months: 69%.
Download TIME health care poll

Why? Well, many reasons, both personal and policy-related. On the latter front, I came across this graph in a recent issue of New Scientist.
Download Health costs and life expectancy

It shows that the United States spends hugely more money on health care per capita than the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, or Japan, but our life expectancy at birth is considerably lower.

Pay more. Get less. That's a recipe for major reform.

Of health insurance companies. Of individual lifestyle choices. Of how doctors and hospitals are reimbursed for the services they provide. Of how we determine which health care options are most effective.

I'm hoping that our congressman, Rep. Kurt Schrader, has a town hall meeting in our area this month.

I'm eager to attend, so I could tell any right-wing crazies who try to take over the meeting with a screaming fit, "Hey, you're acting just like we hippies did in the '60s. Welcome, brother. Got any weed?"

Sartre, scootering, and sensuality

I didn't realize until today -- while happily riding around on my Suzuki Burgman 650 scooter, naturally -- that I had an overwhelming desire to use "Sartre" and "scootering" together in a blog post title.

Well, why not?

I've been re-reading John Paul Sartre's "Being and Nothingness." And I ride a  scooter. There's got to be a connection between existentialist philosophy and the joy I feel zipping around on two motorized wheels.

To me, it is sensuality. Which is why that word earned a place in the title also.

Since I got my Burgman in June, I've been leaving our Toyota Prius and Highlander in the garage whenever I can. Driving a car just seems so boring, so detached from the natural world, so insulated from sensual reality.

On the scooter I feel every bump in the road and each change of temperature. I'm much more aware of smells, sounds, sights.

Going around a turn, even at slow speed, isn't the bland routine two-dimensional experience that a car offers. A scooter or motorcycle adds a third vertical dimension of being: leaning, which is barely noticeable in most four-wheeled transportation.

For many people, and this certainly included me at one time, the meaning of life is to be found in something other than what is directly experienced. 

Abstractions -- love, honor, truth, divinity, god, or whatever -- are viewed as the real thing, while physical appearances are considered to be distractions, veils, coverings that hide the Platonic essence of life.

Sartre disagrees. So do I.

Riding on my scooter, I don't feel that reality could be any more real. Here's some quotes from Sartre's "The Pursuit of Being" chapter (Hazel Barnes translation).

The obvious conclusion is that the dualism of being and appearance is no longer entitled to any legal status within philosophy...For the being of an existent is exactly what it appears...The duality of potency and act falls by the same stroke. The act is everything. 

...That is why we can equally well reject the dualism of appearance and essence. The appearance does not hide the essence, it reveals it; it is the essence. 

Pleasure can not be distinguished -- even logically -- from consciousness of pleasure. Consciousness (of) pleasure is constitutive of the pleasure as the very mode of its own existence, as the material of which it is made, and not as a form which is imposed by a blow upon a hedonistic material.

...Being is. Being is in-itself. Being is what it is.

When I drive a car, I feel a duality akin to a hypothesized "being" and "appearance." Meaning, what really counts for me is getting to where I'm going. Then, I think, my day will finally get going.

Once I get to the store. Or my Tai Chi class. Or the coffeehouse. (I'm retired, so getting to work isn't on my list of to-do's.)

On my scooter, though, I enjoy the traveling as much, or more, as the destination. The Burgman is faster and more maneuverable than my car. Yet I find myself in the slow lane more often, because I don't care if it takes me a little bit longer to get somewhere.

The getting is as much my where as the place I'm headed toward. 

Which leads to the nothingness side of Sartre's "Being and Nothingness." He talks about walking along a precipice. It is something to be avoided, a danger, because of deterministic causes outside of himself.

Loose pebbles. Crumbling earth.

Through these various anticipations, I am given to myself as a thing; I am passive in relation to these possibilities; they come to me from without; in so far as I am also an object in the world, subject to gravitation, they are my possibilities. 

Some people are afraid of riding a scooter or motorcycle. But the truth is that motorcycling or scootering is as dangerous as you make it. 

You. The world is what it is. Like Sartre said, "Being is." There's a lot to be afraid of in life. Dangers abound if we view ourselves as objects capable of being hurt or destroyed by other objects.

Such as cars, if you're on a scooter. Here's what Sartre has to say about dealing with a precipice -- of any sort, really.

My reaction will be of the reflective order; I will pay attention to the stones in the road; I will keep myself as far as possible from the edge of the path. I realize myself as pushing away the threatening situation with all my strength, and I project before myself a certain number of future conducts destined to keep the threats of the world at a distance from me.

These conducts are my possibilities. I escape fear by the very fact that I am placing myself on a plane where my own possibilities are substituted for the transcendent probabilities where human action had no place.

That's just how I feel on my scooter. A whole lot more me than when I'm driving a car. In the car I'm surrounded by airbags, crumple zones, roof pillars, a whole lot of metal.

Scootering, my safety depends mostly on how well I pay attention to what's going on around and within me. I'm much more actively involved in creating my possibilities -- moving from one side of a lane to the other as traffic circumstances change, for example. 

Sartre calls this sense of freedom, "anguish."

Yes, choosing what to do can have an anguish'y quality. But I think this French existentialist was unduly negative, or maybe something has been lost in the translation that produces the English "anguish."

On my scooter I feel that I'm making many more choices than I do while driving a car. That's part of why scootering is so much fun!

To stop or slow down I've got two brakes to squeeze (front and back), not just one pedal. I have to pay more attention to sight distance, the radius of curves, which way a parking space slopes. Like Sartre says, I'm creating my own possibilities through action, not largely passively motoring along.

I think a lot less on my scooter. I'm sensing a lot more. The natural world is very much with me, not the conceptual world of talk radio and PBS, which used to often be a focus of my attention as I coped with boring car driving with audio stimulation.

Now, what is right around me, is enough. Sartre would understand that, I'm pretty sure.

Why nobody likes health insurance companies

President Obama has started saying "health insurance reform" instead of "health care reform." Smart move.

My post title is slightly inaccurate. A few people in the United States like health insurance companies.

Namely, people who are employed by them.

As for the rest of us, when's the last (or first) time you had a wonderful customer service experience interacting with a provider of health insurance? They seem to have replaced lawyers as the most maligned profession in America.

Yesterday I went into my doctor's office to get copies from the "chart," now electronic, of my last two physical exams.

As related in an earlier post, I've been fussing with Regence BlueCross of Oregon over their denial of my application to switch from one plan to another. Though I'm in excellent health for a 60 year old, or any age for that matter, a couple of minor pre-existing conditions are being used as an excuse for Regence's "No" to my request.

At first I was told the denial was because I'd been prescribed two medications for an enlarged prostate, and that showed I was at higher risk for surgery.

I wrote back to Regence, enclosing evidence that Avodart and Flomax, when taken together, are more effective than either alone. So logically that eliminated this reason for denial. However, I got a phone call from the individual underwriting head honcho. Now she talked about my "heart problem," the sum total of which consisted of a mildly elevated cholesterol reading in 2005.

She asked for the physical exam records, partly to check my blood pressure (which is normal, by the way) as that is a risk factor for heart disease. I sent the records off to her today, saying in a cover letter:

It’s difficult not to come to the conclusion that Regence is casting about for a reason to deny my application, rather than fairly assessing my health status. I hope this isn’t true, but that’s how it seems to me. Recently I made a change to our State Farm auto insurance and found that the agent’s assistant was dedicated to customer service. Meaning, I didn’t feel an adversarial insurer-insured relationship as I do with Regence.

What happened to "the customer is always right"?

With health insurance companies, providers and patients are made to feel that something is wrong with them if, god forbid, someone actually wants to use their insurance for some health care.

I was curious to see what the receptionist in my doctor's office thought about health insurance companies. I told her that opponents of health insurance/care reform keep saying, "We don't want the government to come between us and our doctor..."

Before I could continue with that thought, she replied with considerable passion:

"Health insurance companies already do that! They tell people what doctors they can see, what services they can and can't get, what health conditions are covered and which aren't. They interfere in patient care a lot."

She and I agreed that if someone has to come between a patient and his or her doctor, it'd be better to have government do it.

Insurance companies aren't accountable to anybody. Underwriting and coverage decisions often are made secretly without transparent publicly available criteria, as in my case. So it's no wonder that health insurance companies have few friends among both health care providers and consumers.

They do, however, fork out a lot of money for lobbyists.

Who are trying to convince Congress that a public option which would compete with insurance companies is bad, bad, bad -- even though polls show that a public option is favored by a clear majority of Americans.

Hopefully their scare tactics won't work -- which are being aided and abetted by the usual crew of right-wing talk show wackos, such as Portland, Oregon's own Lars Larson, who has never met a fact that he couldn't mangle in service of his arch-conservative world view.

Here's a great example: Lars complelely distorting Rep. Earl Blumenauer's proposal for Medicare to reimburse doctors if patients request a visit to discuss living wills, end of life care, and such. 

It's amazing that Larson is able to bill himself as being on the side of "values voters." This interview shows that one of his core values is lying. He knows damn well that no government bureaucrat is going to demand that Medicare cut off care to an old person in order to save money.

But he spouts the lie anyway. Just as so many others are doing when it comes to denying the facts about health insurance reform.