Fixin' Supper

NSFK, but still, the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h05ZQ7WHw8Y]

Hat tip to Jim Reams.

Here’s what we in Davidson County get to vote on Jan. 22, 2009 — up or down:

“English is the official language of the Metropolitan Government of Nashville and Davidson County, Tennessee. Official actions which bind or commit the government shall be taken only in the English language, and all official government communications and publications shall be in English. No person shall have a right to government services in any other language. All meetings of the Metro Council, Boards, and Commissions of the Metropolitan Government shall be conducted in English. The Metro Council may make specific exceptions to protect public health and safety. Nothing in this measure shall be interpreted to conflict with federal or state law.”

The shell-game part of this is that all official government communications are already in English. The beer board hasn’t suddenly started conducting its meetings in French. The key provision here is the word “only” in the second sentence. Meaning, the government won’t provide for any translation of, well, anything.

I love the last sentence: Nothing shall be interpreted to conflict with federal or state law. Well, it does conflict — for instance, federal law requires voting assistance in other languages if your language minority population reaches a certain percentage. [It's complex, but find the details here. But do note, the DOJ page is out of date -- according to it, you might assume this provision expired in 2007. However, Congress renewed the language minority provisions of the Voting Rights Act in 2006 for 25 more years.] In the 2000 census, 10.1% of Nashville residents didn’t speak English at home. The last document I can find from the census listing areas covered by the federal requirement to provide ballots in other languages [PDF] is from 2002, and no counties in Tennessee were covered. However, you’d think it’s likely Nashville/Davidson County is close to the threshold [detailed in the PDF]. Can I start by saying that a charter amendment that has to contradict itself to comply with federal or state law is, on its face, a bad idea?

I’m assuming that if this amendment passes, the Metro Council will pass requisite “health and safety” provisions as indicated. So that cops and Metro General Hospital employees will still be able to speak to people in Spanish or any other language they see fit. Isn’t that crazy, though? We have to pass legislation to allow cops to speak to people in their own language? So that your doctor can talk to you about your medical history? When we have to make exceptions to our new charter amendment to protect public health and safety, it’s a bad idea.

My great concern is what will happen in the courts. Will the public defender’s office and Metro Courts be prohibited from paying translators? Or prohibited from allowing already-bilingual attorneys to speak Spanish to their clients? Or will this be determined to be a constitutional requirement? And again, if our amendment violates the U.S. Constitution, isn’t that a bad sign?

The issues above would no doubt be sorted out by the courts, should this amendment pass. Here’s a practical issue: Why on earth would we pass an amendment that we know will immediately draw lawsuits the government will have to pay to defend?

But still. If this were the right thing to do, we could justify all the above issues, right? Maybe we’re just on the leading edge of civilization and understanding of human rights. Maybe everywhere, people will shortly be passing English-only provisions.

Let me make the bold suggestion that provisions that serve to divide us are wrong. This provision doesn’t protect anyone. It creates two groups: English-speakers and others. Last time I checked, God didn’t check your passport at heaven’s gate. We are all just people here on this earth. No one better nor worse than their neighbors. Because many of us had the great fortune to be born in the United States, we have the keys to incredible wealth and opportunity unavailable to the vast majority of the world’s population. But we aren’t better than anyone else. How dare we make arbitrary rules that will — in an almost certainty — even prevent other U.S. citizens from receiving health care, an adequate defense in court, or from living in a safe neighborhood, right here in our own city? This amendment would also prevent international tourists from certain access to basic human services. The economy sucks, and we’re thinking about turning away tourists? Never mind them — what about international businesses? I can’t wait to see how Mayor Dean will pitch this to the next carmaker who’s considering Tennessee. “Sure, if your international employees are arrested, or end up in General, we won’t actually talk to them in your native language. But did you see our one light-rail line? Pretty impressive, huh?”

Now, I think proponents of this amendment mean for it to do two things:

• Encourage immigrants [or prospective immigrants] to learn English
• Make Nashville an inhospitable environment for illegal immigrants

No argument from me on the intent of #1. If someone wants to succeed in this country, they will speak English. We won’t have to make them. We could certainly make it easier to learn, but that gets us into a philosophical argument about how welcoming we want to be, exactly, and I’m sure I fall on the opposite end of the spectrum from English-only advocates.

But the second point — well, here’s where I start to get angry. [All this heretofore has just been a warmup. :) ] Nashville is already inhospitable to illegal immigrants. We arrest pregnant women on minor traffic violations and make them labor and deliver a child while shackled to a hospital bed. [Can you imagine the uproar if such a thing happened to a U.S. citizen in Mexico? Honestly.] We make our police officers de facto immigration agents via our participation in the 287g program, giving all immigrants a reason to fear the police, instead of viewing them as public safety officers.

But look what’s happened in 2008. Immigrants are not coming to the U.S. in the great numbers they have been, and in fact, many have even returned home. Why? Again, the economy sucks. There’s no longer such a substantial economic benefit to someone to come here illegally. Sadly for English-only proponents, the economy sucks for regular Americans, too. I know programs like 287g and all the workplace-interventions we’ve seen by the federal government — never mind that massive wall they’re building on our Southern border — are all to protect the spoils of this economy for citizens. News flash: It doesn’t work. Our immigration policy is broken, and until we fix it, no wall or government program, not even an English-only mandate, will stop people from coming here illegally, if the economic opportunity is greater than in their home countries.

Because the whole point of the last post was originally going to be the dream I had last night. But after all that TMI about my medical history, I couldn’t remember last night’s dream. So I stopped with the painted baby dream from the night before.

But I’ve just remembered! OK, here we go.

Like many other people, we’re trying to economize this year for Christmas. I’m starting a business [more on this topic very shortly!!] to consult with organizations on their web strategy. I’m really thrilled about this new venture, but suffice it to say, Two weeks into starting your own business, and you shouldn’t expect to be making $1 million a day. So we’re being careful. And I’m more than content with that. In years past, I’ve had a very hard time balancing what I assumed were my kids’ outsized expectations about gifts, and my own internal clock that said, Really, if you get more than one present, isn’t that Christmas automatically? And what’s the point here, after all? And I always erred on the side of my kids’ expectations. This year, I’m leaning much more toward my own inclinations.

So Ashby and I agreed we’d be low-key with our gifts for each other. Maybe not get any, even. [OK, OK, I have a few things hidden back for him. But none are what I would have defined as Christmas-present-worthy in previous years. Just some small things I think he'll appreciate.]

But the WPLN newsletter arrived the other day, and there it was, on the cover — Garrison Keillor and Prairie Home Companion would be at the Ryman in early May. My love of Garrison Keillor knows few bounds. So I handed the newsletter to Ashby and said, This is all I want for Christmas. He agreed, and so this morning, I’ll be online right when the member ticket presale begins.

We have no reason to expect we won’t make the show…but. The baby is due May 20, nearly 3 weeks after the show. So I guess there is a really outside chance that the baby could come early, like, the day of the show. We have absolutely no reason to suspect this will happen. Everything appears perfectly normal so far. But I guess there’s a small chance.

So, last night, I dreamed that Garrison Keillor called me up just before leaving to come to Nashville in May. And he was asking how I was feeling, if I was sure we’d make it to the show. It was quite a long conversation, with him offering some advice about babies and kids. But mostly, he was concerned that we’d be at the show.

I was quite flattered, even in my dream.

In two weeks, we have the ultrasound to find out if this baby is a boy or a girl. Well, as I had to explain to the 9yo [who, to her credit, didn't understand why you would go to so much trouble to find out the sex], the test is actually to make sure the baby looks OK — no gross abnormalities. All arms, legs, etc., just one head, blah blah blah. But while you’re poking around, you can find out the baby’s sex.

I know that there are at least two schools of thought on finding out the sex in advance. I am firmly, 100% in the no-surprises camp. You may find this strange when I also tell you I’ve turned down all of the tests they offer those of us who are “AMA” — advanced maternal age. No nuchal screen. No CVS. No amnio. No quad screen. No nothin’. At first, I was contemplating the nuchal screen. [Let Blonde Mom explain the nuchal screen to you. Excellent info.] My doctor asked me, Well, what do you plan to do with the information?

Hmm. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Even if the baby were more likely to have Down Syndrome, I knew I wouldn’t be having CVS or an amnio, both invasive tests that carry a slight risk of miscarriage. I would just know that there’s a slightly greater than normal chance the baby had Down Syndrome. And my doctor pointed out, she’s seen lots of parents spend the next several months worrying, to no real effect. Either the baby has Down’s or it doesn’t. You already know that.

When I was pregnant with the 9yo, my situation was a lot different. I had developed epilepsy at 25 or so. By the time I got pregnant several years later, my seizures were completely controlled with medication. But my neurologist and my ob/gyn were both reluctant to take me off medicine, since, as they wisely pointed out, my having a seizure was much more dangerous to the baby than my taking medicine. But I had had the misfortune to run into a nurse practitioner just before I became pregnant — who, upon learning of our plans to conceive in a routine background questionnaire, proceeded to lecture me on “how bad Tegretol is for babies.” Well, no shit, lady. I knew that. I also knew the slightly increased chance of birth defects with Tegretol [basically, during that pregnancy, I had the birth defect risk of a woman maybe 10 years older than I was] was negligible compared to the risks of having a seizure while pregnant. And that both my neurologist and my ob/gyn were thrilled and supportive of my decision to get pregnant.

Nonetheless, the nurse’s judgmental words and attitude stuck with me. And I worried myself half to death. The ex and I had not been planning to find out the baby’s sex — most of our friends had not, and it was a fun surprise at birth. But the day of the ultrasound, I remember very clearly saying to him: “I need some happy news. The sex is fine either way, but I need something tangible to know about this baby.” So we found out. And indeed, it was a very happy, certain thing to cling to the next few months.

From the time I got pregnant with the 9yo, I have never had another seizure. I continued to take medicine for several more years, but in the last couple of years, I convinced my neurologist that I didn’t need the meds anymore. Actually, I think what I convinced him of was that I wouldn’t be taking the meds anymore. I’m sure he and his attorney still think I need them. :)

In the intervening years, I also developed rheumatoid arthritis — kind of a 30th-birthday-present-from-hell is how I’ve come to regard it. [I'm a regular laugh riot today, I know.] I have been extraordinarily lucky with that disease as well. I took medicine for 5 or 6 years, and after a while, the disease was clearly in remission. In this case, my doctor convinced me to go off the meds, assuring me I could start up again with no ill effects if symptoms returned. Except for having the knees of a 50- or 60-year-old — residual damage from the first months after diagnosis when we had trouble getting the disease under control — I appear to be completely in remission. So, no harmful meds there, either.

All that to say — I no longer have the medical reason I wanted happy news the first time around. But I’m still thrilled to find out what the baby is. Because it’s just fun to know. That’s it.

All along, I have been convinced this baby is a girl. I realized about a month ago that I had begun thinking of it as a girl. I figured this is a really, really stupid thing to do, since it could just as easily be a boy. Nonetheless, my thoughts persist in that direction.

But two nights ago, I dreamed that we were at the ultrasound. And it wasn’t just a regular ultrasound. It was a high-tech, CNN-hologram, Star-Wars inspired ultrasound, where the image of the baby displayed not on a computer screen, but in a hologram suspended above my abdomen. And the baby was clearly a boy. Except right at the end, his face [previously black and white, like an ultrasound] was splashed with pink — like, Pepto Bismol paint.

What does THAT mean? I guess we’ll find out in two weeks!

I hardly ever watch anything on YouTube. If you post videos on your blog, I can almost guarantee you I don’t watch them. I get that I’m weird in that way — if I were advising you on your website, I’d tell you, definitely use video. Because everyone ELSE is watching it.

But every once in a while, something catches my eye. Today, over at Newscoma, just such a rare occurrence happened. [Occurrence: I always take three tries to spell that word. And I'm a very, very good speller. But every time, I write: occurance. Then: occurrance. Then: [Slaps forehead] OCCURRENCE!]

Check out this clip from Louis CK on Conan that Newscoma had posted. Talking about how incredible technology is, and how much we all suck for being so unappreciative.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbIGbZ6gq_Y]

I just went to the park for a walk. When I got out of my car and started on the trail, I thought, “Man, I shoulda brought my sunglasses.” That thought was joined instantly with, “I’ll Tweet that.” Then I realized I hadn’t brought my phone, or anything else I could access Twitter with. On purpose.

And then I had to spend some length of time thinking about why I needed to post on Twitter that I’d forgotten my sunglasses. Twitter is a hyper-extension of the ability to create an online persona. I’ve lived and worked online for years, and my persona there has developed dramatically from my first reviews on Amazon to my blog, my Flickr photos, my Facebook and Twitter accounts and much more.

I don’t think I’ve ever posted anything untrue about myself online. But almost everything I post only displays a part of my real-life personality. For years, until very recently, I’ve written very little about politics, though I love politics more than most other things in this world. For professional reasons, I felt it impolitic [haha] to broadcast my personal views online. And frankly, I still think it’s better not to do so very often. I’ve found very little helpful online about politics. So few people can be rational about it. Those who are [Roger Abramson, Patrick Ruffini, ACK all come to mind -- though I don't vote the way any of them do very often] have my admiration.

But in real life, I’m a very active campaign volunteer and sometime contributor. I volunteered on my first political campaign before I was eligible to vote. I love good local and state political gossip more than I’d like to admit. I’ve missed only one opportunity to vote since I turned 18 — and I didn’t vote then on purpose. [I couldn't reconcile my opposing views on raising the inhumanely high sales tax in Davidson County further [unconscionable] and on providing needed funding for schools [critical] in the referendum in 2005. So I stayed home, with the knowledge that the proposal would be defeated by a landslide anyway.]

I also don’t talk a lot about work or the people in my life. I’ll share amusing anecdotes about my kids from time to time. Funny things my husband does. But this blog is not about them, and for me, that’s a critical point. I love to read blogs about families, but I think I’m just too private a person to share all my thoughts and feelings about mine here. When I was adopting my son in 2005/2006, I blogged very little about the process — though I have read some fabulous adoption blogs. In part, I believed [and still do] that it is his story to share or keep to himself, as he chooses when he is older. In part, I was reluctant to jinx the process, either literally or karmically, by posting something that adoption authorities in the U.S. or Guatemala could easily find if they Googled me.

I have all kinds of amusing [to me] thoughts about my family, about funny things that my sisters do, about how crazy my mother is [which honestly, I don't post because I'm just like her, not because she'd be mad to read what I wrote]. But none of those are what I share with you online.

Last fall, I re-met on Facebook and fell in love with a college acquaintance — didn’t blog a bit of it til right before we got married.

I haven’t set out to do all these things, to shape a particular persona. But as I started thinking about all of that on my walk, I just considered how powerful all these tools are — to show what we want, to hide what we want. I’m so curious now about what YOU don’t say online, either.

On the other hand, I’m not about to start sharing any more, so I won’t ask more from you, either.

My all-time, favoritest commercial ever in the history of the world is the FedEx golden package TV spot from several Christmases ago. I just realized — it must be on YouTube. The year they used this one, I cried every. single. time. I saw it. And as most of you already know, I am NOT a sap. I’m like, anti-sap.

It no longer makes me cry, but it sure as heck makes me happy.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyq06fuapD0]

Well I may rant and rave, but at least I’m in good company. Thomas Friedman proposes a great idea for fixing the auto industry.

I need someone to explain to me why we should be bailing out the perpetually failing U.S. auto industry. I am only mildly informed about the state of the industry, so I’m willing to say I might not get it. But here’s what I do know:

For decades, the domestic auto industry has been in a self-inflicted death spiral. It’s made bad deals with unions, agreed to overly generous pension and health care plans for both employees and retirees, and it’s (perhaps most critically) lagged far behind foreign manufacturers in both innovation and management practices.

While elements of the Wall Street bailout bother me, Wall Street is not a failing industry. It got into some risky practices that it didn’t understand — a lot of them — but I have no doubt that capitalism isn’t failing.

But I can’t figure out how there would be a long-term negative impact if GM, Chrysler and Ford all went belly-up. Or got bought in pieces/parts by foreign manufacturers. Short-term hell? Absolutely. Even if they were purchased, not closed, there’d be a lot of upheaval nationwide — everyone knows someone who works in a business related to the domestic auto industry. My half-informed suspicion is that part of the problem in the industry is simply bloat — not working as efficiently as it should. But, despite our energy idiocy, I don’t think the domestic demand for cars is just going away. So someone will need to make them. We’ll need more from Toyota and Nissan if Ford dies. It will still make sense to build a lot of those cars here, no matter who owns the means of production.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend a couple of years ago. I said, I don’t get agricultural subsidies. It can’t make economic sense to produce corn or cotton or any number of other things here, unless you’re doing it on a massive agribusiness scale. Why should we keep spending tax dollars on subsidizing farmers? He argued that, while the subsidy programs might be larger than needed, part of it was based on a historical sense of national security — that subsidies had gained a real foothold during World War II, to ensure we produced enough cotton for the military’s needs. But we’re exporting about half the cotton we produce today, so the level of the subsidy doesn’t necessarily make sense to me anymore.

So, I would potentially buy it if you said there’s a national security element to ensuring the survival of some of the domestic auto industry. But I don’t see why we should throw money at an industry that hasn’t figured out how to manage itself. Please help me see.

MSNBC’s Keith Olbermann on Prop 8 in California:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVUecPhQPqY]