R Blog

Conspiracy Theories

I’m not much for conspiracy theories. It seems like too many people have to keep secrets to make the conspiracy hold together. Yet, there have been notable conspiracies in our history. Conspiracy theorists have gone crazy over the collapse of the World Trade Center and a third building on 9-11. There is much disagreement about what happened. The official view is that the airplanes caused the collapse. The counter argument is that WTC and Building 7 were imploded by carefully placed demolition charges. You can read about in numerous books and web sites such as  this one and this one and this one

Now a former high official from the Bush administration has joined the conspiracy chorus. Here’s the story from UPI:

Washington, DC, Jun. 13 (UPI) -- Insider notes from United Press International for June 8

A former Bush team member during his first administration is now voicing serious doubts about the collapse of the World Trade Center on 9-11. Former chief economist for the Department of Labor during President George W. Bush's first term Morgan Reynolds comments that the official story about the collapse of the WTC is "bogus" and that it is more likely that a controlled demolition destroyed the Twin Towers and adjacent Building No. 7. Reynolds, who also served as director of the Criminal Justice Center at the National Center for Policy Analysis in Dallas and is now professor emeritus at Texas A&M University said, "If demolition destroyed three steel skyscrapers at the World Trade Center on 9/11, then the case for an 'inside job' and a government attack on America would be compelling." Reynolds commented from his Texas A&M office, "It is hard to exaggerate the importance of a scientific debate over the cause of the collapse of the twin towers and building 7. If the official wisdom on the collapses is wrong, as I believe it is, then policy based on such erroneous engineering analysis is not likely to be correct either. The government's collapse theory is highly vulnerable on its own terms. Only professional demolition appears to account for the full range of facts associated with the collapse of the three buildings."

The implications of the conspiracy theory are quite horrendous. Who could have engineered the implosion? The terrorists? A foreign government? Our government? Not nice to think about.

Allegations of a conspiracy were put to rest yesterday when the autopsy of Terry Schiavo was released.

By MITCH STACY
The Associated Press
Wednesday, June 15, 2005; 1:19 PM

LARGO, Fla. -- An autopsy on Terri Schiavo backed her husband's contention that she was in a persistent vegetative state, finding that she had massive and irreversible brain damage and was blind, the medical examiner's office said Wednesday. It also found no evidence that she was strangled or otherwise abused.

This diabuses the notion of such notables as Dr. Senator Majority Leader Frist who watched poor Terry on video  and decided there was collusion, intrigue and connivance. There wasn’t.

One conspiracy put to rest, hopefully; another fired up and on the newswire.

Locked in the Cabinet by Robert Reich

You’ve seen Robert Reich on television. He’s the tiny man with the close cropped beard who defends his liberal positions with style and humor. Jon Stewart likes him as a guest, probably because Professor Reich makes even Jon look tall. My relative Bob has bought me a number of books at garage sales over the years. He finally scored one I was willing to read. Locked in the Cabinet was a page turner, educational, interesting and funny. Read the review  here.

Supernanny

After nine days tending toddlers I offer hearty congratulations and best wishes to all parents of young children, to day care workers, nursery school teachers, playground aids, volunteers and other grandparents, brothers, sisters, uncles and aunts who are caring for our children. As the wise Preznit 43 is fond of saying, “It’s hard work.”
Our experience reminds me of the old story of the tortoise and the hare. We started off strong. We’re bigger, smarter, more clever and mobile. But the toddlers plod along taking fast little steps and, in the end, wear you down with their inexhaustible supply of energy and persistency. You have to watch them all the time. We enjoyed it; but we are tired. And, we don’t quite know how we did it as young parents. Perhaps we were just too young and stupid to recognize that it was so hard. Of course, our kids weren’t eighteen months apart. Pity those with twins, triplets and worse.
Which brings me to Supernanny, whose show we’ve been watching and whose techniques and principles we have put into action these past days. The Supernanny believes in schedules and rules. That is, she creates boundaries and borders and those who cross are warned once, then sent to the naughty rug. She also believes that both parents must be on the same page and in total agreement. Parents must present a united front on the basic rules and techniques. Any fissure of disagreement will be an opening large enough for the child to walk through.
Supernanny’s warning method is quite simple. One gets down to the level of the child, rather than towering above like some wicked Goliath, obtains eye contact, and in a clear, calm, but commanding voice tells them that their current, specific behavior is not acceptable and that if it continues they will go to the naughty rug, naughty corner, time out or whatever. On continuance of the behavior the child is led firmly but without anger to the “place” and told to stay there for a length of time equivalent to their age. (A two year old stays two minutes). At the end of the timeout one gets down to eye level again and asks for an apology which creates closure to the incident.
Watching Supernanny on TV I believed that the technique would work because I don’t think TV directors or editors can completely manipulate the bahavior of very young kids. It does work. The kids respond, they stay in the corner for the prescribed time, sometimes protesting, but staying nevertheless.
With our little grandsons we only had to go Supernanny on the issue of fighting. They can go at it pretty good. One hits, the other bites and pulls hair. We were able to make some progress in eliminating this behavior. We made it clear that hurting each other was not acceptable.
Little kids are cuter than puppies and it’s easy to get sucked in to their very precocious skills of manipulation. They twist you by crying, by climbing into your lap, by asking for grandma rather than grandpa (or vice versa). It’s easy to fall for it. Easy to melt, to want to throw out the rules, to skip the nap, to let them stay up, to give them the gum or the popsicle. But Supernanny has reinforced for me the concept that your primary motivation with your little kids is not to be liked or loved, but to be a parent responsible for training them to be polite, responsible, empathetic people.
Everyone responds to a certain degree of discipline and order in their lives. We’re not talking the Army here. We are just describing a situation where, unlike what Mr. Cheney promised, the adults are actually in charge.
Here’s hoping all parents of young children can do the Supernanny.

Star Wars

Haven’t seen the new Lucas film yet but did catch Store Wars featuring Cuke Skywalker and a cast of amazing and clever organic characters who are trying to spread the seeds of the organic rebellion against the forces of the dark side. Watch the film here.
May the farm be with you.

Pirate Games/Baby Blogging cont.

For the last several hours I’ve been the Green Pirate and I’m okay with that. “Pirate” is a much better game than “Tiko the Dog.” With Tiko there is really only one part—Tiko, of course. And, Cole gets to be Tiko and all he does is yap, yap, yap and bounce around on his knees. But in Pirate there are parts for everyone—the Pink Pirate, the Yellow Pirate, the Red Pirate, the Black Pirate, etc. (all named by the color of their tee shirts). Plus, there are lots of “aarrrgghhs” and “mateys” and discussion of gang planks. In short, more opportunity for creative dialogue. The fire truck monkey bars in the park becomes a pirate ship and we cruise the South Seas looking for Captain Shawn and his mate Kirsten who abandoned their children, left them alone with pirates; turned them into pirates, actually, and who must be found to answer for their crimes. Pirate justice is severe and summary. Pirate play takes us out of the normal reality of sibling rivalry, time-outs, naughty rugs and other Supernanny concerns. When one is a pirate one is expected to salt one’s language with lots of “stinky butts” and “farts.” There are no recriminations for pirates. To be a pirate, after all, is to be beyond repair; beyond rehabilitation. Pirates are free and uncorrectible. “Pirate” is just about the best game there is. Pirates have to know lots of new words like “hammock” and “homeport” and “jetty” and “vast you lubbers.” Pirates can go anywhere and terrorize whomever they please. And when pirates have returned to their homeport and enjoyed a traditional pirate dinner of blueberry waffles, they can climb into their hammocks and...what? Tiko the Dog is back. “Yap, yap, yap.” Arrrgghh!

Felled in Mud

In the last post I reported Cole’s remark that he knew where he was. “I’m here,” he told me. And, he’s right. He is present, in the moment, at all times. The really little kids are, essentially pre-historic. Very little past and no thought of the future. They should be putting on the personal growth, be-in-the-moment workshops. You can learn much from observing them. However, I have no inclination to be philosophical. This blog is dedicated to observation and short on deep thoughts.
Today our outing was to Lithia Park and all went well until little Kenneth, high on ducks, slipped and rolled into a puddle of composting muck.
We had made our way to the Upper Duck Pond after stopping next to Ashland Creek for a lovely snack of Cliff Bar and cantaloupe. We sat on the edge of the creek and looked for fishies but that got boring when we didn’t see any. At the Duck Pond a large flock of ducks were on the lawn above the pond led by a huge white goose who, as we approached, tried to take a bite out of another three year old who was feeding him grain. This dampened our ardor for duck watching a bit but we circled the flock and studied them without being attacked. (This was a day for birding as on our morning walk we saw a wild scrub jay land on the hand of a lady who was offering it peanuts and she invited us all to come watch but the bird would not return.) So, now this vicious goose was screwing up the party.
We adjourned to the big lawn which runs from the old mulberry tree to the tennis courts and I had the idea to run some more races to frazzle the boys a bit. They are pretty game when it comes to racing and did several hundred yard dashes with Cole winning them all until Kenneth saw the two mallards and veered off to chase them a bit. It is hard to relate how funny this was.  However, it was sort of like watching three ducks. Kenneth, or ‘Keth’ as Cole calls him, runs like a duck and at nearly the same speed and when they quack he quacks too. Watching this scene brings you right into the moment and if Cole had asked me if I knew where I was I would have been able to honestly say, “I’m right here.”
Cole who shows the makings of a weatherman suggested that a storm was coming. We decided he was right and began to head towards the car. The boys were literally running in circles and we were having trouble getting them herded. That’s when I suggested taking a diversion through the “jungle” which is narrow paved walk that helps encircle Lithia Park’s giant rhodies. It was at that moment we noticed that Keth was walking even more like a duck and discovered that his diaper had slipped completely off his little ass and was wadded deep down in the liner. “No wonder you lost all those races,” I told him.
We decide to make the diaper change right there on the path on a little terry cloth blanket that Kirsten provides in her outing kit. Both boys were within arm’s length. But just off the walk was a little sump of rotting leaves and rhody blossoms. As we were rooting around in the jogger for the diaper Keth stepped back, slipped, lost his balance and fell hard on his back in the soft, black, stinky puddle making an oozing splash. I grabbed his arm and lifted him out but he was black as a tar baby on his backside from head to tiny toes and screaming like a banshee in his outrage. The rest of us were trying not to laugh as Linda and I stripped him naked, diapered him standing and strapped him into the jogger. He hugged a pillow for warmth and modesty and we made it back to the car with a muddy baby and a pile of slimy clothes.
Another good day.
Kenneth’s journal entry: “I felled in mud.”
One accident; no injuries; minimal crying.