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Sunday, January 31, 2010

What you say?




I am afraid, I really am,



I know it-
I feel it drowning me-
Beneath rivers that never meet the oceans
Currents pulling me under, not able to breathe,
Perpetually sinking into a world
Lying here patiently for me
As I knew, I really did, 
And this is why I was always afraid.
from "I am afraid" by Spiritus_Frumenti


Why the briefest of sabbaticals? What was sooooo important that I couldn't reach out to my best, most trusted friends? How many of you would believe it was the sound of so many millions of crickets? Okay, that's a bit simplistic and greatly understates the volume of what I refer to. My wife remarked several weeks ago that my hearing seemed worse than normal.

A banal, unromantic, clinical definition:
 

tinnitus |ˈtinitəs; tiˈnī-| noun
ringing or buzzing in the ears.
ORIGIN mid 19th cent.: from Latin, from tinnire ‘to ring, tinkle,’ of imitative origin.

Onomatopoetically, the word means that the sound it makes is like that of the "tinkling" of bells. In my situation, it would be like the definition of murder to someone whose family was butchered by a mad man would read: Verb, to take the life of another without the legal means or justification.

I've suffered from constant tinnitus since an artillery simulator exploded about 2 feet from my right ear during a live fire exercise in basic training. Normally, it's a minor irritant that sets mostly in the background until I'm subjected to complete silence, like at night when I'm reading in bed. However, what happened about 3 weeks ago was NOT mere tinkling of bells.

Are any of you "Spinal Tap" fans? I'm going to assume that if you read my essays you're at least exposed to Spinal Tap. Do you remember the scene when Nigel takes Rob Reiner to see his collection of rare and treasured guitars and Rob points out an amp with controls that measure 0 - 11? Nigel explains that he wanted amps that were "louder" than those that only went to "10" even though they were no louder, he could brag that he was "at 11!"

For argument's sake, let's say my normal tinnitus, which is usually a tone overlapping another, higher tone, is around a 3/10 until suddenly and without warning, the volume crescendoed at an 11/10! And it hasn't changed. It now includes a sound similar to crickets chirping behind 3 or 4 hi-pitched tones...needless to say, it's maddening. Oftentimes, when I'm speaking the sound reverberates back to me like I'm talking in a bathroom. 

I purchased my wife a sound spa for Christmas. One of the settings includes the sounds of a summer evening, frogs and crickets, etc. Last week, I came to bed and figured her machine was on. After reading a while, I got up to get a drink of water when I realized that the sound of her spa was also heard in the kitchen. Guess what? The damn machine wasn't on; it was my tinnitus, so loud that I mistook it for the lullaby of a sound machine. 

And I've yet to reach the funny part of the story. When I called my primary care doctor at the VA, the nurse decided she'd "triage" this over the phone by instructing me to avoid extra salt on my food (which I always do), to protect my ears from "undue noise exposure," etc. Ironically, the nurse wasn't listening to my protests. I finally had to "be firm" so she'd shut her pie-hole long enough to hear what I was trying to tell her. "I've had tinnitus for many years, it is unrelated to my salt intake, the settings on my amp" etc.

"I'm almost totally deaf in my right ear and need to know WHY this has started because I cannot afford to suffer additional hearing loss or I'm screwed! My right cochlea has suffered permanent damage that cannot be surgically repaired! Please, tell Dr. D that I need to be seen by an MD and or an ENT specialist to figure out what has gone wrong. PLEASE!" Message received, Thank God. I'm scheduled to see my primary care doc, "Dr. D", next week and an audiologist in 2 weeks or so.

So it would seem, my friends, that my body has shut down. It is arguable whether my brain has stopped functioning because many have argued, often vociferously, that my brain stopped many years ago. In any event, the combination of the pain in my back, hips, thighs, calfs along with this new "Summer's Eve" lullaby that prevents almost any restful sleep, is enough to drive me over the edge. In contradiction to the famous "M*A*S*H" song, suicide is most definitely NOT painless. I suspect suicide feels like being crushed by a metric ton of crickets and I, for one, think it just sucks any way you look at it.

XOXO
Ernst W.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

My only friend, the end

due to unstable thoughts and emotions and facial hair, Ernst is taking a sabbatical for the time being.

take care,

Ernst Wolfgang

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Lord of the Dance = Lord of the Manse!

Marion Gordon "Pat" Robertson is a well-known televangelist who has made numerous verbal/mental blunders and missteps over the years that are euphemistically called "controversies." Lord knows he wouldn't pass up an opportunity like a devastating earthquake in the poorest country in our hemisphere to put the blame where it belongs: on the Haitian people themselves! 
"It may be a blessing in disguise. ... Something happened a long time ago in Haiti, and people might not want to talk about it. Haitians were originally under the heel of the French. You know, Napoleon the third, or whatever. And they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said, we will serve you if you will get us free from the French. True story. And so, the devil said, okay it's a deal. Ever since they have been cursed by one thing after the other." –Pat Robertson, on the earthquake in Haiti that destroyed the capital and killed tens of thousands of people, Jan. 13, 2010 

As an old Army buddy of mine, Paul McGraw, a man of uncommon intelligence and a survivor of one of the most harrowing childhoods I've ever heard of, says of Pat Robertson: He could make an excuse for the Inquisition.

And for all you veterans out there who apologize for Pat Robertson's many, many faux pas', you should read about his "war experiences" in Korea. You see, he decided to run for President in 1988, of the USA, not 700 Club or Kiwanis Bake Club, POTUS! As with many people who decide to run, they forget that whatever sway they held over the media before they ran (see Palin, Sarah) is IMMEDIATELY extinguished the second they declare their candidacy.

Pat, being the humble. multi-millionaire, & man of God he is, started flapping his "not-quite-attached-to-the-skullcap-lips"  about his "combat" service in Korea! Problem was, of course, that the people who were in Korea actually fighting the enemy didn't remember seeing Marion do the things he claimed to have done...Over the years, he's also been caught lying about being accepted into Phi Beta Kappa, is an advocate of Christian dominionism (Christians have a Right to Rule this country), blamed the death and destruction wrought by Hurricane Katrina on America's abortion laws, has used non-profit resources "dedicated to missionary work and relief supplies" to pursue so-called "blood diamonds" in Africa, and has, among other things, accused the US government (under Bill Clinton, of course) of going after "good Christians" like Charles Taylor of Liberia who has been indicted by the War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague and has provided shelter for known al-Qaeda operatives.

Closer to home, just the other day on Facebook, one of my wife's old high school friends who is an unapologetic evangelical Christian came out and flatly stated that his comments about Haiti were wrong and "embarrassing" to her as a Christian. My wife was heartened to see her friend step up and draw the line, so to speak. Unfortunately, another person became embroiled in the discussion whether Robertson's statements were based in fact and defensible, which she obviously did. She indicated that she had visited "his site" and found his testimony of Haiti making a pact with the devil in 1791, thusly offering credible proof that the Haitian people were being punished for their pact with the devil. In the mysterious half-words of a devil-worshipping texters: "compelling???? OMFG!!!!"  

And some people--despite his loooong history of blaming the victim, requesting "on air" that someone assassinate the president of Venezuela because that person, a blowhard-of-the-people type, called George W. Bush "the devil," advising women to become subservient to their husband's as men are subservient to the Lord because the Bible states unequivocally that the "Lord is Our Father;" therefore, the omniscient, omnipotent, and timeless entity that is The Creator of all that we see and knows all that can be known, must have "a package" or genitals that reside mostly on the outside of "His" "body", or in other words, God is a Dude--STILL defend and apologize for him.

Now, call me crazy (and more than a few have, especially those who lean toward narcissistic personality disorders or obsessive hyper-religiosity), but I refuse, REFUSE to believe that the Bible is bereft of the cultural language and sensitivities of the peoples who recorded the "inspired word of God" (vice the multiple "gods" that existed prior) beginning about 18th or 19th century BCE. Think about this if you dare:

Women, in this country, a country founded on such high-falutin' ideals as equality before the law (if you were a white, land-owning male, that is) and the inalienable right (meaning no one could take it away once it was established that you were a full citizen--as well as human from birth) to live your life as you saw fit and didn't intrude on someone else's rights (unless, at first anyway, you were not a white, land-owning male), etc, et al. Still, WOMEN COULD NOT VOTE until the beginning of the 3rd decade of the 20th century!!! (Congress passed the 19th Amendment in 1919; but, it was not ratified by the states until 1920. And before some snarky shark starts yapping about the 2nd decade, remember that the 1st decade of the 20th century started Jan 1st, 1900, not 1910. I think.)

So, with that information in mind, there exists approximately 3,800 years (or so, give or take a coupla-three hundred years,) between the initial assembling of what would become the First books of the Judaic tradition in which One God is recognized as THE Timeless, All-knowing, All-seeing, All-powerful Entity and this "enlightened" country's legalization of the Right to Vote for all citizens (in good standing, i.e., non-felons.)

Soooooo, do you think it's possible, probable even, that the vestiges of any male-dominated society from 3,800 years ago may (ironically) have "had some legs," by which I mean to say that its societal norms would have been the familiar source from which to "erect" (get it? ;-) ) a symbolic construct that everyone would've been both familiar and willing to accept? In other words, how do we make this "new" religious thought understandable and accessible to its adherents, i.e., its "target audience?"

By all accounts, men were the leaders of all key institutions in the ancient world--schools, religious rites/teaching, courts, business trade and regulation, military, etc.--why would the concept of a God being powerful, forceful, decisive (a.k.a., acting but not always thinking it through, "ya know, followin' yer gut!" like the war in Iraq) be attributed to a woman? The teachings of Christ, himself a Jewish man of very humble origins, were iconoclastic enough to have revolutionized western Europe within 500 years of his death.

Stereotypically speaking, the qualities shown above have always been associated--in a positive sense-- with men; therefore, God HAD TO BE A MAN! Women aren't forceful unless it's a negative connotation ("Bitch!"), they aren't physically powerful unless they're butch lesbians, and they are RARELY decisive unless they're "bitchy," again. And I'm applying the language of TODAY because, oddly enough, the perception of these dynamics are still stereotypically acceptable in many forums of discussion.

SPOILER ALERT: If anyone is familiar with the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the use of language in a similar way led to the undoing of the ultimate bad guy (Sarimon, Suaromin, Rico Suave, whatever his dumb name was) because it had been prophesied that "no MAN" could kill Rico Suave! Therefore, when only a strong woman was left to defend her stricken father, she had no choice but to plunge her sword into the icky, gooey blackness that served as Rico's "face." Fortunately for her, Rico had failed to pick up on the exact wording of the prophesy.

Remember what was said? No, I'm serious because I can't remember it word for word. OK, I'll paraphrase but I don't wanna hear a bunch of caterwauling about it later, got it?  

Rico, standing about 15' tall, taunted his adversary after breaking the shield and the hand that held the teensy-weensy shield, telling "him" that it was no use fighting Rico...Ssssuuuuaaaavvvee because no MAN could defeat him. This in turn cued our little battle axe-toting beauty to doff the helmet that kept her true identity a secret, saying in her huskiest voice that this was different precisely because she was "NO MAN!" thereby prompting her to stab Rico in the gunk that served as his "face"...did the shit hit the fan after that little gender-bending scene!!! The orcs couldn't run away fast enough after "SHE" killed "HIM"! Of course, it never occurs to anyone that perhaps a female elf could've hidden away, or worn a man's uniform...I hope I haven't spoiled the ending for anyone. If I have, tough toenails.

I'm almost certain to have made a point here about something. It's not that the Hobbit who ruins his life and any good looks he may have had by craving gold and having an oddly Jewish-sounding name (Gollom), whose lust for his "preshious" nearly trips up the entire story at the very end. I just think it was in poor taste to make your anti-Semitic point the way the author did. But, I digress.

The point is for anyone to point at the use of the word denoting a male as "The Lord God" from a text written 3500 to 4000 years ago and continue to use that word assignment like the text to a play, as reason to instruct women that they are to be subservient to the "lord" of the house is preposterous. (We don't use that word nearly enough despite the ample opportunities modernity and the last 10 years have extended to the opportune and quick-thinking.)

The brilliant observer and commentator Chris Rock noted in a comedy routine several years ago: the religious prohibition on the consumption of shellfish should've been repealed when modern refrigeration hit the Holy Lands. Of course, anyone who eats a shellfish that has "turned" runs the risk of introducing powerful toxins into their system that could kill them. However, keeping shellfish on ice delays the development of the toxins that are the natural by-product of the breakdown of tissues in the now ex-shellfish.

So, what do you think the chances are that Abrahamic religious traditions will revisit the idea that God must be "male" in light of the mounting evidence that women are just as capable, intelligent, and compassionate despite, or because of, their abject lack of male reproductive organs? Or is this just a power play by men to ensure their pre-eminent role in the household, their individual accomplishments and deeds, or lack thereof, notwithstanding?

This is my BEST guess as a man, which means it will ALWAYS be superior to anything my wife (harumph!) could come up with: men, being stereotypical men and all, will NEVER allow women to usurp the man's traditional role as the avatar for "Our Lord God," i.e.,

"Lord of the Dance = Lord of the Manse!" :-(  
"I know this is painful for the ladies to hear, but if you get married, you have accepted the headship of a man, your husband. Christ is the head of the household and the husband is the head of the wife, and that's the way it is, period." --Pat Robertson
To think that some of our citizens--most of who cherish their rights to vote, own property, and pursue their own happiness--would allow the cultural norms of an extinct civilization from 3,800 years ago define our most fundamental, familial relationships is, to put it mildly, mind-boggling. And sad. Try as I might, I cannot speak to stupidity of such breath-taking depth and breadth.

XOXO,
Ernst Wolfgang, a.k.a. J.R.

ps-I do not hate Christ or Christianity. I believe that many positive, spiritual traditions help people
get through the day, week, death of a loved one, a terminal illness, or provide context for their life are valuable and life-affirming. Christ and Buddha have approaches to several ideas that are striking in their simplicity and similarities that cannot be explained away easily.

I do not trust any religious or spiritual tradition that claims to have special or lone access to the mysteries of the universe and God's role in them. Lastly, any religious tradition that strays from its original path of spirituality and comfort for people who reside in difficult, dangerous, and disaster-laden worlds are doomed to failure and cataclysmic errors. See the history of the Catholic Church from the creation of the Holy Roman Empire to the end of the 30-Year War and the Holocaust perpetrated by Nazi madmen and Eugenicists for a better perspective. EW/JR
        

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Group Therapy Time!!! It's a Party!

Woo-hoo! The day is finally here! I was so excited that I fell asleep in my recliner, aka "home base," until Ell called and woke me up...30 minutes before I had to be north of the river that must be traversed thru the most heavily policed highway since we attacked the Baghdad airport road in 2003. I'm not kidding. I-65 from the Ohio River through Jeffersonville, IN has at least 40 cars of the Indiana Constabulary dedicated to speed control. In fact, I saw 3 semi's pulled over within the first 5 minutes of my passing into the Twilight Zone called "Southern Indiana."

 Coming home I didn't see any...but they were there, the nasty bastards! I'm pretty sure they use stealth technology because you NEVER see them until they are approximately 3-mm from your rear bumper, an occurrence that calls for that sudden, instinctive "soiling" of your shorts not unlike hippopotamuses flinging feces with their windshield wiper-like tails when two large males start fighting for mating rights. Considering the public and voluble bathroom habits of the locals, it must be quite thrilling to actually turn one's attention to the 1 to 3-ton incontinent beauties instead of white tourists in canoes.*

*Digression Warning  Did you know that hippos kill more people in Africa (the continent, not the state) than Nile crocodiles, lions, and Cape Buffalo?  Usually, the killers are males who are forced to live on the margins of hippo society because they are not strong enough to defeat the local "King of the River." Despite their overwhelming desire to get some hippo tail (ewww! gross!) they suffer a whoopin' from the local bad boy whenever they show up for "some action." As a result, when dumb, white tourists with pasty white legs take canoe rides into areas that serve as a refuge for the luckless losers (who are looking to kick somebody, ANYBODY'S ass), bad things can happen to the owners of those pasty white legs.  

"Ooh, that floaty thing with the pasty complexioned candies in it don't look so tough! 

Maybe we can make some sweet hippo love...if not, KILL IT!" !Tragedy ensues!



(Does anyone think I watch too many NatGeo or Discovery Channel TV shows? That was a rhetorical question, so you don't really hafta answer it, Meathead. And you know who you are, don'tcha!)

Anywho...I made it to the first meeting of a group therapy called: The Chronic Pain Group Therapy. Creative flair notwithstanding, the name could serve as a double entendre ( |änˈtändrə| noun  A word or phrase open to two interpretations, one of which is usually risqué or indecent)  since "chronic pain" could describe the state of one's pain. Or, it could be used to identify some asshole with whom nobody wants to interact. 


Either way (and depending on whom you ask), I was at the appropriate meeting. Specifically, we introduced ourselves, discussed "pain" as it relates to "suffering,"filled out some questionnaires, got some handouts that included daily tracking sheets of the type of pain and its impact, and we have to detail the efforts used to manage the pain over the years. Funny, the tracking/detail sheet didn't include any pictures chainsaws or handguns; therefore, I must conclude that the person who made it has never had chronic pain.  


The participants, all veterans and all men, ranged in age from my 46 to probably 65. One was a Marine rifleman in Vietnam, another was a Navy Corpsman (the Army equivalent of a medic) in Vietnam who later became an RN. Another guy wanted to be a SeaBee (CB for "construction battalion" because they were Navy guys who built roads, airstrips, etc., often while under enemy fire) but they wanted him to enlist for 10 years. He declined their "offer" and ended up...in Vietnam on a destroyer in the "brown water" Navy. This means his boat would deploy up rivers and other inland waterways (brown water) instead of the ocean (blue water). Remember John Kerry before the Swift Boaters went about assassinating his character? No matter where one's political loyalties/proclivities lie, most people who served on "brown water" boats in Vietnam saw combat. 


All in all, they are an interesting group of veterans who suffer from debilitating, chronic pain. I look forward to meeting with these guys for the next 9 Thursdays. I want, nay NEED, to explore other ways I can improve the quality of my life and become more accessible to my wife and children as well as my siblings and friends. In many ways, I want to become "the old me," flawed though it was. I doubt that is entirely possible, but the trek will most likely include opportunities for personal and spiritual growth that I must recognize and grasp when they present themselves. 


Now, if only I could find a way around those Speed Nazis on I-65...


XOXO
Ernst W.


ps-please find a way to contribute to the effort to aid the unfortunate souls in Haiti. It was the poorest country in the entire hemisphere before the awful earthquake hit a day and a half ago. Peace--JR

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Chronic pain...in the Ass

I know, I know! You've been starved for several weeks because I failed to fill your life with the sweet nectar of my melodious word smithing...yeah, right. Liars. This begs the obvious: "Why write now? We were just getting used to not having to respond to your pathetic pleas for comments and stuff about the shit you write, you dick!"

Well, hopefully it's not that bad, you unwashed ingrates. I pick up the poisoned pen to report some shocking news. Believe it or not, even after the unsuccessful bid for Family Man of the Year, I've been acting the fool, the boor, the unquestioned Pain in the Ass. Fortunately, with the singular exception of the new bag boy at Kroger who refused to respond to my pleas that he NOT break my loaf of Italian bread, the only real victims have been the people closest to me. Despite my pointing out my surly and sour mood on Facebook this evening, Ell and the kids are close to getting an EPO* on me.

"Why?" you ask in unison. Primarily, after stepping up to help Ell (and Erin) get back and forth to school and work as Ell's driving (or right) ankle heals after her serious sprain, the pain in my back and--particularly--my right hip has reached new levels of agony. Hurting like this, with muscle spasms a regular event on a daily, if not hourly, basis makes sleeping extremely difficult. Not that this excuses my boorish and difficult behaviors and moods. But I must not forget that that my anxiety, my interrupted sleep schedule, my irregular everything else, is not the fault of the people I love and need the most.

This is not to say that the kids--being kids and all, one of them a teen to boot--weren't more annoying than normal because I wouldn't let them go sledding b/c it was, a) late in the day, b) meant I would have to drive them down to the hill when I ALSO had to pick up Mom from work, and c) they had no safe way to return home because our street was not plowed and they had no place to safely avoid traffic.

"THOSE ARE STUPID REASONS!"

"WHY CAN'T WE GO ANYWAY?"

"IT'LL BE TOO COLD TO GO TOMORROW!"

"WHY DO YOU HATE US TO BE HAPPY?!?!"

Et cetera. Ho-hum. Kinda makes you wanna feed 'em to tigers, don't it? That was rhetorical.

The truth of the matter is that these are wonderful, caring, sweet kids who care for me everyday. Same for Ell, who often must shoulder most of the day-to-day load IN ADDITION TO her stressful and demanding job. As a group of people, I couldn't ask for better. In fact, as my friend SusanMig reminded me recently, I'm blessed to have such people in my life. And I am. What they need are more reasons to be thankful that I'm in their lives.

That's my task, to try my damnedest to make my presence in their lives a consistently positive, loving, and caring experience. They're worth the effort. What I need to do is convince myself of this: I'm worth it, too. That, my friends, is the battle, albeit an uphill one. Did I mention that I've been a pain in the ass?

XOXO
Ernst W.

*= Emergency Protective Order