I’m depressedoff, or is it pisspressed?

It really seemed at work today like it was 1995 all over again even though I was doing something else during the last government shutdown.

We received a second e-mail in as many days from the cabinet secretary. I’ll leave you guessing which one. The e-mail was kind of an “Idiot’s Guide to the Government Shutdown.” If appropriations fail to exist for the government at 12:01 a.m. Saturday, it seems we will still have to go to work our next scheduled workday for a four-hour “orderly” shutdown. That means we have to make sure everything is where it should be and where it ain’t it is. Got that? What happens if we call in sick?

I guess I am fortunate to work only part-time for Unc Sugar. That way I get screwed only part of the time and not all of the time.

The looming shutdown, if it happens I might add, was so prevalent today that it was hard to get things done but somehow we always do. I am off tomorrow and have an hour’s teleconference on Monday, so I suppose, shutdown or not. So I can only imagine the angst of federal workers on the job tomorrow. I will be following the news and the Internet closely, although I would bet I would have to stay up until midnight tomorrow evening to find out whether or not there is a shutdown.

I am both somewhat depressed and more than just a little pissed off.  Depressedoff or maybe Pisspression. It isn’t just the possibility of a shutdown — actually I would rather have a shutdown than another continuing resolution — it’s the fact that the stupidity of the possible shutdown plus the added fact that I ache and hurt and I was reminded today that I can’t go for the hour-long walks around my neighborhood I once made.

Driving home from work I spotted one of the local crazies whom I hadn’t seen in a long while. It reminded me I have this pain like someone stuck me down the right side of my lower back and on inside my hip when I stand or walk too long. I don’t write this for pity, rather it’s because of a longing for walking that I can’t do these days because of whatever is wrong with my lower back. It’s a longing like when I was in college and miss those first snippets of Spring when the girls started coming out of their dorms with their bikinis and their tan-free bodies. This was before tanning beds, kids. It’s longing for those days I could actually go jogging, when I took it up it was on the beaches of Southern California. That wasn’t bad at all. The present is a longing for the time I didn’t carry all this weight around and a knowledge that I’ve just got to get rid of those added pounds for no other reason than it makes me feel very, very uncomfortable.

My medical practitioners at the Department of Veterans Affairs, a brethren agency which hopefully won’t be hit badly if we get shutdown, need to do something, try something. What physical therapy I’ve tried isn’t working. What a surprise, it never does. Docs say surgery won’t help. What about the pain clinic, try shooting me with steroids or some miracle drug. Hey, the shots I got in my knee are still working.

I wish I could be more upbeat and write something inspiring or at least not in such a foul (fowl, cluck it)  state of mind.

Congress and the Prez coming together on a budget would make me feel a little better. Having an absence of lower back pain would  do even more.

Funny? Maybe. Journalism. Doubtful.

My friend Marcy sent me a story which came from my town’s local daily but was apparently rewritten by the Associated Press.

“A holdup?

Hilarious.

Police say a Southeast Texas bank teller thwarted an attempted robbery when she read the holdup note and started laughing.”

The story which first appeared in the Beaumont Enterprise was basically a rewritten news release from the Beaumont Police Department.

I replied to my friend, the contents of that reply will be a bit less graphic here, that it might have been really funny had the newspaper obtained a copy of the note from the police. “Let us in on the joke,” I wrote.

Now, a spokeswoman for Wells Fargo — whose bank it was which was robbed — said the teller did not laugh and the newspaper story said the video proved it. Of course, the story said it was the Wells Fargo spokeswoman who said surveillance video proved the teller didn’t laugh because the company takes such matters “seriously.” CYA? Maybe. Did the cops who wrote the report or provided the information for the press release, which the Enterprise’s story copied, get it wrong? I would doubt it.

So what’s going on here?  An odd story about a bank robbery that lacked, as far as I can tell, any original reporting? A story the corporate flacks spiked because they are worried about getting sued? Sadly, the folks here in Beaumont will probably never know unless the same would-be robber is arrested and tells all during a confession in a city in which the media actually reports news  rather than acts as a stenographer.

For the longest time I defended our local paper, but I can no longer do that. The Enterprise, a Hearst newspaper, has fallen to its lowest point that I can remember and I have been reading the paper for the majority of my reading life. More and more it seems as if the editors are content with stories which are sent out via an e-mail alert from the  police and fire department. I know about the content of the stories as opposed to that of the press releases because I also receive the same e-mail alert and read the same releases.

At least from the time I worked as a reporter until recently, the Beaumont Police Department would not have won any “sunshine in open government” awards. I will give it to the Enterprise that they have fought the law and the law didn’t win when it came to open records in a few cases. But in reality, using open records laws to gain information is like shooting fish in a barrel. The Beaumont police have had some embarrassing events lately although the public would have hardly known about it were it not for lawsuits in which the information freely flows.

I am not saying that the Enterprise does not have good journalists. I know of a few who are both good reporters and writers. I might know more were they either allowed to report or made to do so.

Good reporters can get information, the real skinny, if they have one iota of  talent. That is no matter how stingy a police department is with its newsworthy intel. I have worked in places where one would have thought the police owned and had copyrights on information. Even more though, I worked where cops and prosecutors told me everything. That’s not always good either, but I was hooked.

I have a few other beefs with my local newspaper. One is that I can’t stand the stupid, race-baiting blog on their Web site. I will not give it any notice by mentioning its name on my blog although I am ashamed to see that once again the writer of that poor excuse for journalism won first place in the state’s Associated Press Managing Editors Assn. awards. Then again, I’ve won a couple of first place awards from that same organization. Newspaper awards mean more to newspaper publishers and editors and reporters’ egos than anything of substance.

The other beef and it is a major one is that I bought a newspaper one day last week for the first time in a year or so and I was disturbed to find stuffed inside was the Southeast Texas Record. The Record is a weekly newspaper that reports from all the local courts in the area and in the federal Eastern District of Texas. When I say report, I mostly mean its reporters draw information from court records.  The only problem I have is that the Record is one of several papers in the country published by the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. Why would the U.S. Chamber of Commerce publish a paper in Beaumont, Texas, you might ask? That is because this area has garnered a reputation — rightfully or wrongly — of being a “judicial hellhole” or a place in which juries and sometimes judges are plaintiff-friendly.

I do not have the time nor patience to debate the whole “frivolous lawsuit” issue. In fact, the U.S. Chamber’s part in trying to deny an American citizen’s right to a civil trial as specified under the 7th Amendment is only one area in which that behemoth of American commerce is a threat to the average citizen. The chamber is also exceedingly anti-union and pro-Republican. If you want to do some research into donors to the Republican party, you just might find a great deal of those dollars coming from the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.

Obviously, I have a bunch of pent-up anger toward my local newspaper. There are various reasons why. But I would much rather someone at the top start kicking some ass and taking names to make the Enterprise a real newspaper once more than to read press releases I can get at my own fingertips.

The Enterprise has pointed out that it just stuffs the Record inside and it has no “marriage of convenience.” Nevertheless, the BE has long been an editorially-conservative newspaper and its stuffing the U.S. Chamber of Commerce inside it just too much for a moderately liberal union guy to bear.

Doctors say: “Work will kill you dead, white boy!”

Sooner or later I knew the truth would finally emerge. Now we know. Working too much will kill ya.

A study in England, of all places, discovered that office workers who toiled more than 11 hours a day were almost 70 percent more likely to have heart disease than those who logged seven or eight hours.

Doctors made the “no s**t” link for the higher likelihood due to workers not having enough time to exercise, having more stress and drinking pints and smoking ciggies like there was no tomorrow. No pun intended.

Of course, the vast majority of those studied where white men. It’s always the white man isn’t it? It makes you want to pull a John Howard Griffin and go “Black Like Me. I suppose I have a little darkness on my side though. A black suite mate at my Navy service school in Meridian, Miss., upon hearing some of my Edgar Winter’s White Trash “really white blues” records, said that I “had a little n*****r in me.” That was the 70s, I didn’t give the comment a second thought except to laugh. Today, that sort of remark would touch off a national summit on the state of race in America.

“Blah, blah, blah … this is just a start … we’re not sure … we were lying our asses off … ” This genre of news story always makes sure to warn you as if you were looking at the fine print for some pharmaceutical advertisement. ” … might cause a condition known as “hot dog finger. … “

Those type of stories are enough to give you heart disease, or at least heartburn. But yeah, I think anything that makes the case that too much work is bad for you is good.

 

 

Of new computers, underdogs and women’s hoops

Ah, t’is good to be back “online.” My new computer is here, up and running. There is something alluring about a new computer that is not unlike a new car. Or maybe it has just been too very long since I had a new automobile. Eleven years is a lifetime for not buying a new car, at least for me. Of course, this HP is only my second new computer, laptop, notebook, whatchamacallit. I suppose people have a need for a desktop, and although I have an old desktop in storage, I don’t need it. I just don’t think I need anything smaller than this. I have one of those “flip-open” phones with unlimited text. So far, unlimited text just seems like some other electronic wonder I don’t need.

Well, I’m sure no one wants to hear me ruminating (isn’t that something cows do?) on my new laptop.  How about a minute or two of sports.

But, but, but, the Butler did it

I mentioned awhile back that I didn’t plan to watch any of the Final Four unless some of the lowest seeded teams ended up playing. How about 8 and 11? How low can you go? The semi-final between Butler and Virginia Commonwealth was a battle of the midgets but a great game nonetheless. I will watch Butler play UConn for the final, some, tonight. I really hope Butler wins but I won’t jump from any of the high bridges in Southeast Texas if they don’t.

As much as I have been into sports talk radio lately — and believe me I really don’t listen to it very much while in between field work — it gets old hearing constant cheering for Connecticut by most of the sports talk people. As I have mentioned before, the sporta talk folks like the best teams, I get that. They want to win when they put up dollars on sports bets. I get that. They just don’t seem to have any true love when it comes to sports.  The kind of love that makes you root for people like Jim Morris, the small-town West Texas baseball coach turned major-league pitcher, as portrayed by Dennis Quaid in “The Rookie.”

These sports radio shows completely ignore women’s sports. It is as if Title IX was the name of a Scotch single malt whiskey. I probably won’t watch all of the women’s Final Four tomorrow night either but I will tune in and out to see how the Aggie women are doing against Notre Dame. If I could not find any other reason than the several I have to wish Texas A & M well it would be for their coach Gary Blair.

Gary Blair. Only the Fighting Irish Women stand in his Lady Aggies' way.

Blair coached eight seasons at my alma mater, Stephen F. Austin, and took the Ladyjacks to six NCAA tournaments. I don’t know about these days but the Ladyjacks were it back in Blair’s day. Why even before Blair they were hot enough to bounce the Stray Cats — when the rockabilly group was popular in the 80s — from a scheduled performance at the SFA coliseum because the Ladyjacks needed to practice for an NCAA playoff. That still sticks in my craw a might. All of that aside, I used to Blair quite often where I worked. We’d say howdy to each other although we weren’t closer than that. Still, Gary Blair impressed me as a very likable, laid-back guy who just happened to be one of those big names in coaching women’s collegiate basketball. That is even though women’s basketball doesn’t exist in the macho world of sports-talk radio.

Oh well, I only like to listen to sports talk every now and then. It’s certainly not a religion.

Onward and upward.

A nice Spring day yet selfishness screws it all up

Here I am at the public library using the computer just like in the bad old days. The computers seem a lot more human-friendly than they did three years ago. Still, I don’t like sitting here under someone else’s deadline to finish. If I was getting paid to write a story, as in my newspaper days, it would be a different story.

It is a warm, humid Spring day in Southeast Texas. It’s my favorite time of the year. I wish I could get out and ride up into the woods, but I can’t right now.

The death watch for the federal government continues. Whether the doors are shuttered due to the unbelievable stupidity of Congress — elected officials who care about abstract concepts which may or may not bear relativity rather than the lives of people — remains to be seen.

What can be seen is that behind all the haughtiness of the Tea Party types and their ideals and concern for deficits more than individuals. One doesn’t even have to see that their drive is derived from simple selfishness. The individual is all that matters is the mantra of the Sarah Palins and Rand Pauls of the world. If you ask me, neither one matters a whole hell of a lot to me. I guess that is just my difference between those folks and this folk.

As I have said before though, at least I know how to live on the street if it comes to that again. I doubt Rand Paul or Sarah Palin could say that. My hope is that it won’t go there.