Tuesday evening roundup

Our first topic of the evening is... Droids! Shortly after my phone committed suicide in mid-March--upon spending over an hour on hold with United--I quasi-reluctantly upgraded to a smart phone. For the first month or so, to the great annoyance of everyone around me, I was like a kid in a candy shop with that thing. "Look! It makes honey badger noises!" Or, "it doubles as a solar panel!" (except it doesn't; that was a mean joke).

I got a Samsung Galaxy 2 ($10 with contract, baby!) and I love it. I like it better than the other people's iPhones I'd previously availed myself of. So you can imagine my apprehension amid the recent Apple-Samsung kerfuffling. The good news is, no one is coming to take our Droids. The neutral news is, Samsung made a bad bet and some hasty decisions that have come back to bite it.

Our second topic of the day is... kids these days! So those of you who tend to get indignant about these things can ready your indignation muscles, because the Times' Room for Debate on the topic has something for everyone. Here are some choice excerpts:

From Why I don't let kids in my bar:

Businesses have every right to dictate policy regarding children and strollers. Strollers can take up the space of three paying customers and create a hazard when left in high-traffic areas. Parents wrapped up so tightly in their new family world don't realize that their unruly children ruin things for those around them who are trying to enjoy a nice meal or a drink at the bar.

Common sense, right? This woman disagrees:

They think it is parents of young children who have become self-absorbed, but I think it is something else. It’s our society. It’s broken.

We no longer have any tolerance for other people’s needs.

Because people need to bring their children to a bar? And not watch them there while they trip other people? I blogged about accommodation yesterday. Here's her point of view on it:

It’s the same respect I show on the subway when I put up with people of all shapes and sizes who lean into my space or eat garlic potato chips and breathe my way. It’s the same respect I show when I walk down the street and move out the way for people on scooters or who need extra room. I help older women cross the street if they need it or stop in the cross walk for someone who takes a little longer than the light because they are slower. It’s called living in a society.

I, personally, don't feel the need to show respect to people who lean into my space. I give them the same dirty looks that I give parents who let their kids wreak havoc without even trying to rein them in. I also don't get scooters and don't feel the need to give them extra room. I don't think any of those categories are aligned with older women who need to cross the street. She goes on about how her kids have as much right to be on planes as everyone else. True enough, but rights come with responsibilities, and those of us sharing in small spaces like cities and especially smaller spaces like planes have the responsibility to make that shared, compact space comfortable to everyone to the best of our abilities. Your kid has the right to be on a plane; you have the responsibility to bring entertainment for it and try to quiet it down when it screams. I have the decency to cut you some slack if you make that effort, but I also have a right to glare at you as if you're evil incarnate if you don't. And it's not only for everyone else's good that you do that; this guy pretty much explains it brilliantly:

No parents want strangers telling them how to raise their kids. 

But children absorb and internalize how their parents behave. So what happens when a kid sees his mother hogging tight restaurant space with a gigantic baby stroller while anesthetizing him with portable DVD player playing at full volume tableside? What life lessons does he learn when this father lets them run between the legs of servers who are carrying bowls of hot soup? It teaches children that they can do what they want whenever they want and ignore the needs of other people.

and

Watching their moms and dads politely interact with other grown-ups in a restaurant teaches children how to say please and thank you, sit still and appreciate the hard work of servers and busboys hustling to make a dime. Indeed, a restaurant can help raise a child, but only if the parents teach and practice good manners themselves. 

But dragging your screaming tykes into a restaurant at 9 p.m. on Saturday night is inconsiderate: Leave them at home! Other couples are taking break from Dora the Explorer, trying to rekindle the magic which creates children in the first place.

Please understand that I want your kids to learn manners. By all means bring them out with you, within reason, but don't outsource the parenting to the people around you. Yes, yes, sometimes things happen and you can't help having to bring your kids somewhere they're going to be a pain. I understand. Sometimes we all find ourselves in tough positions (but babies at bars are not one of them unless you work at a bar). But the bottom line is that even if you must bring your kid to Barney's and you must also let your kid run around at Barney's, it's still up to you to make sure your kid isn't tripping everyone else up.

Next topic: just days after we talked about the benefits and pitfalls of seeking online medical advice, CNN has come out with a nice analysis on the matter. It echoes what I wrote about my experience: don't let the user groups freak you out.

Oh, it's been a while since I've updated you. It's now Day 12 and I'm essentially back to normal, except that I still feel the need to rinse with baking-soda'ed water after every meal and I still haven't reintroduced crumby foods to my diet (if I'm going to gain weight to assuage concerned friends, I'm going to do it by way of Newman's O's (non-dairy, mint)). Like I said yesterday, I still have a few pounds to spare, but in the event that those pounds come off thanks to my deliciously high-carb diet, and I make an effort to bring them back, the Newman's O's are going to have to wait another week or two.

***

Lastly but not leastly, the following conversation transpired in my cubicle today:

B.: Oh! For a second I thought that was the Kazakhstani flag.

 

(Pause)

 

A.: Huh. I've never gotten that before.

B. was referring to my (light blue) camping towel, which was hanging to dry (I biked to work and used it to dry off after showering). And it was momentarily mistaken for the flag of Kazakhstan. Who knew.

Have I shared my feelings re: children on planes?

At the airport, to my surprise, I was ushered into the much shorter First/Business Class security line, because I've attained Gold Status. I wasn't in any hurry... which is a good thing, because the line wasn't moving any faster, although there was only one family instead of the twenty people in the other line. It's amazing how long it takes to get small children through anything... so there I was, watching a line of twenty people go by, while in front of me this excessively blond family tried to get their kids to sit still or walk still. Blond... annoying... in first class... oh, no! Was I getting a preview of the next generation of the Hilton sisters? Yes, I know, I too was blond when I was a child (see photo of me already having an attitude problem)... but at least my parents had the decency to only have one of me.

And I don't recall crying on planes (my mom said I was a very calm child, doesn't know what happened).

My hostility to children has grown out of control. I realized that again when I couldn't help but laugh, upon reading about the parents who had to argue over whether it was their dog or ferret that chewed off their kid's toes. I know it's not funny, but you have to admit... it's a little funny. But don't worry, I won't let any dogs or ferrets near my own children, or yours should you choose to trust me with them.

On that note, Happy New Year!

Sunday morning roundup

London's show of solidarity.

Desmond Tutu on Myanmar.

Judicial reform in China?

The world's top industries are mooching off of you, the tax payer, by sticking you with the environmental costs of their business activities.

Alan Alda teaches scientists to better communicate with mere mortals.

This is a no-brainer, since everyone hates screaming children on planes, and dirty diapers will make a kid scream: make it easier to change babies on planes.

Glutton for punishment that I am, I'm actually considering refinancing again, for the fourth(!) time since I bought my house. Rates are so low that I have to think about it.

Sigh... I guess this is part of that same Grist series on going vegan for a month. Not that anyone asked me, but I'd recommend against freaking out over an Andes mint that you didn't specifically order, anyway. Being orthodox about veganism is a sure way to crash and burn. It's much more effective, if you actually want to be vegan--and if you don't, don't--to pick your battles. That means lowering your standards when you travel. The no-pun-intended guinea pigs did write the following, to their credit:

Among the top benefits for all four of us: the expansion of our cooking and dining horizons. Who knew cheeseless pizza could be so satisfying? It probably wouldn’t have occurred to me to try it without being compelled to, but yum. Laura and Matt found vegan enlightenment in a pine-nut spread. “Thinking of it as a cheese replacement is no good,” Laura warned us. “But as a pine-nut spread that’s delicious on everything, très wonderful.” Other surprises: portobello burgers with guacamole, non-dairy chocolate shakes, and vegan carrot cake that was pronounced “the best I’ve ever had” by four out of four samplers.

Again, if you are interested in trying to be vegan, do focus on new foods you'd never thought to try before (rather than focus on what's off-limits) and don't think of perfectly good foods in terms of meat- or cheese-replacement value.

some people's sense of entitlement!

I'm sorry but I just don't sympathize with this guy's predicament:

For Mark Klepper, 50, who lives in Miami, buying a big house was a way to establish credit to start a business. In 2004 he bought a home for $585,000, and watched its value rise to $1.4 million. After refinancing twice, he owes $1,064,000. But the home is now worth a little more than he paid for it, and his income has fallen by 40 percent. He stopped paying his mortgage in January. If he were to continue paying, he said, the drain would crush his business. The government’s plan does not help him.

“I feel if there’s a plan out there, there shouldn’t be a limit,” Mr. Klepper said. “If the government is helping these lenders, they need to take some principal write-downs.”

Could I have some free money, too? Seriously, could I just borrow a lot of money and demand that the government subsidize or forgive the debt later on?

However, Gail Collins makes a good point:

Given the competition, I can’t get all that worked up about defaulting homeowners who are looking to the government for a rescue. True, a lot of them got in over their heads betting that housing prices would rise forever. But when it comes to stupid financial decisions to vent about, I’m sticking with Alan Greenspan.

***
In a more important note, Nicholas Kristof says it's time for some serious balls:

The first step is to insist that aid groups be reinstated immediately to prevent this genocide in slow motion. A second step could be to destroy one of Mr. Bashir’s military planes with a warning that if he takes his genocide to a new level by depriving Darfuris of food and medical care, he will lose the rest of his air force.

I Love AirTran

For the record, I have been hit and kicked by someone else's child, while his father, in the next seat over, flipped through his sky mall catalog.


Worcester Telegram & Gazette
Article published Jan 21, 2007
Jan 21, 2007

3-year-old unnerves airline

Girl taken off flight for crying too much

Dianne Williamson
dwilliamson@telegram.com

Meet Elly Kulesza, Terror Toddler.

In her finer moments—mainly when she’s on land — 3-year-old Elly is an adorable and sweet-mannered child, a blue-eyed charmer who likes to dance and harbors a particular fondness for Thomas the Tank Engine.

“She’s a typical 3-year-old,” said her mother, Julie Kulesza of 7 Primrose St. in Worcester. “She has her moments like all 3-year-olds, but she’s not like one of those ‘Nanny 911’ children you see on TV.”


Elly’s dad, Gerald Kulesza, is a full-time EMT in Boston who also attends nursing school full time, and he did so well last semester that Elly’s mom surprised her husband with a trip to Florida to visit his parents, who live in Bonita Springs. So on Jan. 11, the family flew from Logan Airport to Fort Meyers on AirTran Airways, and even though it was Elly’s first plane trip she behaved like a dream and spent most of the flight coloring in her coloring book and watching movies on a portable DVD player.

“She was great,” her mom remembered. “When we made our descent into Florida we could see the water and she shouted, ‘Look, mommy, there’s the beach where we go swimming,’ and everyone laughed.”

Yes, it was a heartwarming moment for all concerned, and the trip was great, too. The family swam and went sightseeing, and on Jan 14 they drove back to the airport for the return trip home. They checked their luggage — a suitcase and a car seat. As they waited for their flight to be called, Elly contentedly munched on a bag of Cheetos and watched out the window as the planes took off and landed.

Then came … The Boarding. Suddenly and without warning, angelic little Elly morphed into every parents’ nightmare.

Her mom thinks it may have been because of the ear surgery Elly underwent earlier this month, and perhaps her memory of the discomfort and ear pressure she endured during the plane’s descent into Florida. For whatever reason, when they got on the plane, Elly started to cry and wouldn’t stop. Nor would she sit down — she plopped herself down on the floor in front of her seat and proceeded to throw a temper tantrum.

“I was trying to console her and the stewardess came over and said, ‘Did you buy that seat for her?’ remembers Ms. Kulesza, 31, who is four months pregnant. “I said yes, and she told me my daughter needs to sit in it. I told her I was trying.”

Moments later, an AirTran Airways employee armed with a walkie-talkie addressed Mr. Kulesza.

“Sir, you need to get her under control,” she said.

“We’re trying,” Mr. Kulesza noted.

The passengers, meanwhile, were quite understanding and one of them offered the toddler a lollipop, which she rejected. Then the walkie-talkie woman returned to the Kuleszas’ aisle and displayed the raw tact and diplomacy of Donald Trump.

“Sir, you need to get off the plane,” she announced.

“What?” a stunned Mr. Kulesza asked. “Are you serious?”

“Sir, you need to get off the plane now.”

They got off the plane, while their luggage and car seat flew on to Boston. In the terminal they were directed to an AirTran supervisor, who told the couple that the stewardess was uncomfortable “because you have an unruly child who struck a woman on board.”

Mr. Kulesza was incredulous. “That was her mother,” he explained. “She hit her on the arm. Lady, this is a 3-year-old child we’re talking about.”

“Sir, we don’t differentiate between 3 and 33,” the AirTran supervisor replied. Mr. Kulesza said the woman proceeded to lecture him about child discipline, and how she would never tolerate her children behaving in such a manner, at which point Mr. Kulesza said, “You really need to stop talking now.”

The couple were also told that, since they had been ejected from the plane, they were banned from flying with AirTran for 24 hours. So they were forced to return to Bonita Springs for the night, and Mr. Kulesza missed a 16-hour work shift, and the next day they returned to the airport and can surely be forgiven if they fed their daughter enough Children’s Benadryl to fell a stallion. I exaggerate, perhaps, but it’s certainly what I would have done. In any case, Elly slept through the return flight home.

The incident has sparked varied responses from those who heard the story. While many people — mostly parents — sympathize with the Kuleszas, others are less inclined. For example, when I related the tale to an unnamed colleague and asked if he had ever heard of an airline bouncing a child from a flight he said, “No, but I’m all for it. Couldn’t they have checked her with the baggage?”

This colleague, as it happens, has no kids.

AirTran, meanwhile, has apparently had a change of heart. After the airline received a phone call Thursday from yours truly, an AirTran customer service rep called the Kuleszas, apologized profusely for the incident and refunded them the $595 cost of their tickets.

“We do believe the situation could have been handled differently,” said AirTran spokeswoman Judy Graham-Weaver. “We will use this case as a means to train our agents on dealing with this type of situation on our flights … While there are FAA regulations that mandate all passengers have to be securely fastened in their seat belts before a plane can depart, we need to work with our customers in situations like this to help them — and that is what we will focus on.”

Ms. Kulesza is appreciative of the response, but believes she could have calmed her daughter down, if given the chance.

“It wasn’t like she had a bomb strapped to her waist,” she noted.

AirTran also extended another offer to the Kuleszas — free airline tickets to the destination of their choosing. The offer has been declined.

“I said I appreciated it, but I told them not to bother,” Ms. Kulesza said. “We won’t ever be flying with that airline again.”

Contact Dianne Williamson by e-mail at dwilliamson@telegram.com


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Xmas eve roundup--religion edition

Two books on the origins of European and Christian anti-semitism.

Our schools ought to be able to educate about religion and rituals without teaching religion.

I can see how thanking god can come off as self-centered at best and insensitive at worst, but it doesn't have to. It can also come off as a statement of humility (in victories and successes--acknowledging that outside forces contributed to them, rather than just one person). I use the words "blessing" and "blessed" to mean exactly as much. "I'm blessed to be healthy and to have a roof over my head" does not imply that god is less concerned with cancer patients or the homeless; it is merely an acknowledgement that I am grateful for these things--and these things cannot be attributed to any particular person to whom I can express that gratitude. Similarly, "there but for the grace of god go I" doesn't mean he or she there isn't worthy of god's grace; it merely means that I could have been there, and it wasn't (at least not entirely) my own doing that kept me out of there. And maybe it wasn't a single person or set of people; maybe there were circumstances, for which I'm grateful, and for which "god" is shorthand. It means, precisely, that I'm no more deserving of these blessings than someone who doesn't share in them.

Now, it's another thing to count your blessings out loud in front of those who don't share them, which is definitely a $hitty thing to do, even when the intention is to relate or connect. You can stop at, "I'm sorry you're going through this $hitty thing" without tacking on, "I'm lucky I've never had to deal with that" (or, worse: "let me tell you about when I had to deal with something similar").

I find this column even more objectionable, which isn't surprising, since it's objectivist, but I agree with some of it. For example, I don't see why giving need be seasonal, so I can support the idea that this shouldn't be the season of giving. I'd also agree that, generally speaking, nobody owes anyone anything. Just because someone needs or wants something, and you may have it, it doesn't mean you're under any obligation to hand it over. This goes for aisle seats on planes, or conversations with strangers, or even spare change. But I draw the line (see above, re: "there but for the grace of god go I") at deeming anybody else worthy. This is where I'll use "god" as shorthand: we're all god's children. Every human being is worthy of a roof over his or her head. 

But how you go about contributing to that--which the writer argues is not something you have to do--is debatable. I don't think giving money to homeless people on the street is generally a good idea or the best use of that money, but I do donate money to shelters and if I were better at keeping myself in cash, I'd be better about buying Spare Change.

So I do see charitable giving--as much as I hate the word "charity, for reasons apparent once I'm done here--not as generosity but as outsourcing. Just as I pay someone to replace my flue pipe, because I can't do it myself, we can help pay aid workers for humanitarian work, because they're doing it on our behalf. I don't have the skills to do anything about ebola, but I can help support those who do. I guess I don't have to, but--here I go again--they're doing god's work. I guess you don't have to support organizations just because there's a need (in fact, none of us can support all of them); you certainly don't have to support anything because "it's the season." But if you lament the imperfect world we live in as well as your own limitations in manually making it better, giving is a way to help other people make it better. It's not charity; it's payment for services rendered.

Fourth of July ramble

A few months ago I went to see "Black Panther" with a dear (white) friend who has spent a lot of time in Africa. She found it tedious and inauthentic. I knew even at the time that her assessment was counter to that of many Africans, but shrugged. Last week I watched the movie again--in a much less appealing setting, but more on that later. Among the group gathered were a handful of actual Africans who not only loved it, but told me that in their respective countries it was sold out for weeks at a time and that a lot of people were going looking for holes to poke, gaffes to criticize--and those people were pleasantly surprised at how well done the movie was.

I had a blast Friday night at the screening--mostly at the pre-movie gathering for my friend's birthday. A good, boozy picnic is a wonderful thing. And I enjoyed seeing the movie the second time, but if I hadn't seen it before I would've been lost. And everything I hate about cinemas was there times a thousand: talking, cell phones, and other douchey behaviors. The screen was small, and there were bright streetlights all around it. The movie didn't start until late (mid-June is the worst time for an outdoor screening in the northern hemisphere) and ended late. All this to say, this is why I look forward to watching movies on planes.

***
I bought something expensive today and felt vaguely guilty about it. Guilty as in irresponsible. Which is bananas because it was a very responsible purchase. But I was so conditioned by my mother to think of any large purchase as indulgent. There's a word in her language, our language for being so indulgent; she last used it on me when she learned I'd be paying $40 for a haircut. I may as well have dipped my proverbial balls in gold. To some extent she was genuine, but to a greater extent it was just another way of finding fault with everything I did. Another thing to nag me about, another topic for the shit fairy, another source of drama for someone who fed on drama. I'm almost disappointed that my mother is in no condition to argue about the new oven and  dishwasher I just ordered. To be clear, I'm very disappointed about the condition she's in and not just because it precludes her from receiving the giant fuck-you that comes with these purchases. Not out of spite; out of hard-won independence. I mean, why is guilt even an issue here (answer: because my mother trained me to be guilty). The oven I have now came with the house, which I bought nearly ten years ago, and who knows how long it had been there. It was always missing a rack, and I've made due with a makeshift one. It's filthy AF (and it was in the process of trying to clean it that I broke one of the burners, so now I have three--only one in front). I've been baking in the toaster oven since I got the solar panels, which is ridiculous (I'll run the oven in winter, not in summer). It's time for an electric oven, a clean one. An efficient double-oven. The dishwasher also came with the house (new, but I didn't choose it). I could do with something more efficient and much more quiet.

Replacing appliances after ten years is not unreasonable. It's not dipping your balls in gold. Investing in quality appliances isn't irresponsible. Why am I even questioning the decision? The reason I'm broke is that I've been paying a 15-year mortgage for 8 years. That's also not irresponsible. And I'm not that broke--I've never been less broke. I can afford to live well. I can afford to invest in new mid-range appliances after ten years. I'm also not going to sweat the kitchen remodel I'll be undertaking now that the attached appliances have to be removed anyway. I've never liked my kitchen floor, but I've lived with the cheap-ass, uneven laminate for nearly a decade. My counters are hideous. It's time. I didn't create the situation in which doing what I have to do is a statement to the woman my mother once was, that she doesn't control me. She created that situation and I'm doing what I have to do.

Tuesday evening roundup

No offense to some of you, but I'm all for anything that deters parents from bringing babies on planes.

One thing I'll give this non-mosque controversy is there's some excellent commentary out there. Jon Stewart's opening segment was awesome:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Mosque-Erade
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

Response to comment

Ernessa, while you're conscious of minimizing the extent to which your stroller gets in the way, I can assure you that plenty of parents are not. Just like some parents do their best to keep their kids quiet on planes, others do not. I'm in no position to hypothesize on how many of each type of parent, proportionally, are out there. I'm just saying, both are there.

Let me start with the ad hominem aspects of your comment:
--I assure you that no mom rage inspired my post; I actually have no 'mom rage' to speak of. Mom frustration, maybe. Mom wariness, sometimes. But not mom rage. I do have some clueless-stroller-pusher rage. I cede that stroller-pushers have no monopoly on being in the way. It's tourist season in DC, and the clueless are out in droves. They take up entire sidewalks, walking slowly, and standing on the left of escalators. They're also pretty f*ing loud.
--Yes, children who run around knocking people over are more annoying and dangerous than those in a stroller.
--I'm not going to defend the 'don't have kids' argument, because I've never made it. I don't deny the biological urge to have children. I'd like to have children one day. I have a lot of friends who have children, and I often accompany them places, sometimes with strollers. They are conscious of their strollers. And being conscious doesn't mean never imposing on anyone, because no one, including the stroller-less, can do that. It does means not leaving your stroller in the middle of a crowded place, blocking everyone's passage. Nor do I "struggle to comprehend," by virtue of being childless, parents' needs to get things done, just like I don't struggle to comprehend, by virtue of being middle class, poor people's needs to eat. All this to say, I'm not the one who turned this into a parents vs. childless thing, just like I don't think rowdy kids in coffee shops are parents vs. childless issue; parents, too, looking for a quiet morning, are equally annoyed by rowdy kids.
-What I am saying is, stroller-pushers can be clueless. And it's dishonest to accuse me of hating on an entire group of women for pointing that out. Then again, I understand where you're coming from, because I'm sick of people complaining to me about cyclists. We, too, are just trying to get things done. We're just trying to get from place to place. Most of us signal, warn, and obey traffic rules; most of us cycle with your safety in mind. Some cyclists--just like some stroller-pushers--are clueless and aggressive, and they are as much a pain in my ass as they are in yours. I wouldn't want someone to say, 'just f*ing drive.' All this to say, my level of analysis is the behavior, not the group.
--I can also cede that my wording was needlessly provocative, but I'm not going to cede my overall point: when it's your stroller with your kid in it, it's your responsibility.

What I more generally wanted to express is a growing sense of being fed-up with a clueless society. I was thinking, as I walked down the street on Saturday, how horrendously clueless these people were and how they would get stampeded within seconds in New York, or Paris, or Tokyo. I wondered whether it was because many of them came into the city from the suburbs, or from elsewhere in the country where you don't need to be as aware of your surroundings, because you mostly get around by car (see the collectivization debates--I'm making the converse point here). Yet, you've heard me rant about clueless people walking and texting--and those are locals, so I don't know what their excuse is. The general issue is an appropriation of public space for private use. Just last weekend, I was going to rant again about theatergoers, until I realized I'd already exhausted that rant, leaving nothing new to say. What makes people think they can crunch on hard candy in a theater? Do they think no one hears them? Or engage in other behaviors we're they're acting like they're in their own living room? It's so disrespectful not just to the other theatergoers but to the people putting their heart and soul into the performance.

Note that I'm not putting every stroller-pusher in the same category--I'm not saying the act of using a stroller, per se, is an appropriation of public space. I'm saying clueless behavior with a stroller, just like clueless behavior with a smart phone, is an appropriation of public space. I didn't say this initially, because I was just linking to an article, but I'm saying it now. And like the writer of the article I linked to, I appreciate that we all end up eating our words at one point or another. Case in point: You know how I feel about Monsanto, and you know that when it came down to it, those feelings didn't stop me from using RoundUp on my poison ivy. That said, I'm going to be bold and lay out some behaviors I aspire to avoid when I become a parent:

-staying in a restaurant or movie theater while one's child is screaming;
-not trying to quiet a screaming child, or to control one who is harassing passengers, on a plane;
-becoming dull as $hit and thinking even my kids' most basic accomplishments, including their poop, are fascinating topics of conversation.

Notice I didn't say 'keep them from screaming in a restaurant or on a plane' or 'keep them from producing fascinating poop.' I know that all I can control my own behavior. All I'm saying is, I'm going to be conscious of my stroller.

(A tiny part of) the Mekong Delta

After we crossed the border out of Cambodia--after the travel agencies herded us around--it dawned on us that the bus we were on--destination, Saigon--didn't have a dedicated stop at My Tho. My Tho was on the way, and this bus was the travel agency's quickest way of getting rid of us. I was concerned that we'd have to go all the way to Saigon and backtrack. Jay was concerned that they'd drop us at the side of the road and we wouldn't be able to get a cab to the guesthouse. Rick had had it, period, and threatened to get off at Rach Gia. That wasn't an option as far as I was concerned; we were flying out of Saigon the following night. So we stayed on the bus as it honked its way across the Delta. The part of the ride for which we had daylight was, at least, beautiful. But at that point, none of us reacted much to rice paddies, with or without water buffalo. It got dark. I slept intermittently (the seats reclined fully). Around midnight, we stopped at a truck stop for a half-hour break. I marked my territory by way of my very productive coughing.

Around 1am, the bus did indeed drop us off the side of the road at My Tho, but it wasn't long before we saw a cab. We showed the driver where to go... except Google Maps got it wrong, so we took him slightly the wrong way. He had to call the guesthouse, and the owner directed him. We didn't blame him one bit for not speaking English, even though, in practice, it made communication a challenge. But it all worked out. We got there, the hostess and staff showed us to our rooms, we slept it off (or at least I did). I'm a good sleeper; my body will sleep, and if it doesn't for whatever reason, it'll make up for it next time. I set up my mosquito net and used my earplugs. I don't remember whether we were woken up by roosters (we were elsewhere, even in Snooky; in Luang Prabang, it was monks, who drum at 4am).

Indochina: prologue

I needed to go on vacation, badly. I hadn't been on a real vacation in years (2.5 years, precisely), and I'd been agitating. I'd considered joining a friend of mine who was going to Switzerland for work, but I'd been there (lived there, actually), and the timing wouldn't work. But by late October, my report was out and, as Jay's contract would end at the end of 2014, he grew more responsive to my agitating. One morning, as I sat in a meeting--I don't normally bring my phone to meetings, but I knew the one in question would be brutal--we texted back and forth about possible destinations. We were all over the world: Puerto Rico, southern Africa, Macchu Pichu, Yellowstone, Argentina, Indochina... and so on. We started throwing out places in the morning, and by late afternoon, we narrowed it down.

Too hot in Namibia; rainy season in Macchu Pichu. I'd always wanted to go to Indochina. 

So we settled on that and proceeded cautiously and expeditiously. My manager blessed the trip (i.e., my monthlong absense, two-three weeks of which were during the holidays anyway so who cares). We booked flights--Emirates offered the best deal--so we added a stopover in Dubai. The guys wanted to go to Ferrari world, which, by the way, you can see from low-earth orbit. We booked lots more flights, and lots of hotels. We left some arrangements unmade--some things were better arranged in-country--and though we had a rough idea of what to do in each place, we mostly winged it in terms of activities. We made trade-offs: it was an ambitious trip, with four countries in two and a half weeks, and there was so much to see. You can always spend more time somewhere, and it's a matter of personality whether you want to take it slowly and really get into a place or hop around and see a little bit of everything. We were scolded over our choices: you need two weeks just for Vietnam! Skip Laos! You need five days for the Angkor complex!

We probably could have spent two weeks just in Vietnam, but I have no regrets about going to the other places, nor about choosing to visit Hue or Hoi An. We certainly did not need five days in Angkor. I mean, there are advantages to having more time--you can hit more temples first thing in the morning, before the rest of the masses descend on them, and that makes a huge difference--but you can definitely see as much as you (or at least we) want to see before getting templed out, in two days. As for Laos, we didn't want to leave; it was lovely.

It did take a lot out of us to change places, hotels every night or every other night. In fact, the only place where we stayed three nights was the crappiest hotel ever, so it didn't really help. But hopping around was the choice we'd made, and it we saw a lot as a result.

We all worried about things. Jay worried that flights would get canceled, or that our Vietnam visas would get confiscated, or that we'd have to bribe someone to get back in the country from Cambodia. He worried that the trains would sell out (well, I kind of did too) or that we wouldn't always be able to get around. He worried about all the cucumbers that might manifest themselves in his food. Rick didn't like small planes, or most boats, so he worried about those. He also worried about food poisoning and malaria. I worried about bad weather--scorching heat in some places, rain in others, and fog in Ha Long Bay. I worried we wouldn't find a good Ha Long Bay cruise, and maybe that we wouldn't find our way around the Mekong Delta. I worried I'd have to eat a lot of seafood. Later, I worried about getting hit by a motorcycle.

But not a lot went wrong, especially not at first. The flights all flew, and the hotels were all fine except one. I lost a tooth (crown) at Ha Long Bay, but a dentist in Hanoi put it back in that evening in ten minutes, for $10. I caught a cold between Luang Prabang and Siem Reap, but it didn't stop me from doing anything. Rick did lose his camera, which super-sucks, but he'd gotten all of his photos off of it beforehand. All in all, as weary as we were upon returning, we had a blast and saw some really cool stuff.

Tuesday evening roundup

Egypt analysis: economic roots; relevant indicators and indexes; and the search for parallels.

Every day I learn of another vegan celebrity (today: Russell Simmons).

Processed food makes kids dumb.

The Onion on the commemorating Reagan.

Oh, Economist: stop teasing me with the prospect of kid-free planes.

Tuesday evening roundup

Okay, how about we start kicking people off planes for legitimate reasons, like screaming children?

Gene Weingarten's column: another argument for anti-Valentine's Day.

Massive Saturday roundup

Holy $hit, the torture report. And the political responses.

Why better policy needs data:

As scholars Dara Kay Cohen and Amelia Hoover Green argued in the Journal of Peace Research in 2012, such figures persist in part because there are incentives for advocacy groups to base their campaigns on dramatic claims. Assuming that a global public is ever more inured to tales of horror, it becomes tempting to choose the most shocking number over the most accurate one. This is not to say that advocacy groups maliciously distort known data, but to warn that the periodic fixation on extreme cases necessarily means that responses are less consistent than they could be, and may fail to address the social and conflict dynamics that lie beneath shock figures.
The challenge for policy professionals is identifying when sexual violence is being orchestrated for the purpose terror, and when it is a spontaneous criminal act. On the one hand, they must deal with gaps in data and the considerable complexity of sexual violence across diverse settings, and on the other, they cannot allow ongoing debates over that complexity to stand in the way of concrete action.
This tension between knowledge and action can in part be resolved by seeing reliable research not as a distraction from, but as in fact integral to, effective policy. Organizations — whether governmental, non-governmental, or inter-governmental — need to invest in knowledge.

It's been a big week for blaming victims, with Bob Jones University coming in worst, followed closely by Princeton Mom. Sexual assault isn't something anyone "deserves" in spite of what you may find even in literature (oh, when writers we admire disappoint). So yeah we can train women to be prepared with language, or we can move toward a yes-means-yes paradigm because the onus is not on them, not on 'no.'

Lena Dunham speaks out on speaking out. Patton Oswald on Bill Cosby.

Also--in reference to some of these comments--it's not up to any of us to tell victims how they should feel.

Ironic that we're talking about what is about ethics in journalism; fact-checking isn't optional.

That's also, as we know, an issue in science, and press releases matter.

Toronto man is arrested for banking while black.

In appreciation of Michel Du Cille.

The cromnibus is bad for food. Organic farming really does deliver, but the certification system is broken. Wheat is very sustainable.

A teacher is fired for speaking out about dairy.

Very few chickens are humanely raised.

This is a more interesting discussion than I have time to address right now, but I've written on these pages about how I don't love the labels vegetarian/vegan not because, as suggested in the article, some vegans are jerks (guess what: some omnivores are jerks, too) but because I choose not to define myself by the way I eat. There's a fine line between "I don't eat animal products" and "I'm a vegan," and it's the line between "this is what I do" and "this is what I am."

Also on atheists and vegetarians.

I'm not advocating baking with animal products, but here's some interesting science-of-baking info.

We're coming up on the year of the pulses.

The prof took it too far, but we should hold restaurants and other establishments more accountable for posted prices.

There's even more plastic in the oceans than you thought.

Note that people who suffer from kids on planes complain about the parents, not the kids. Probably these parents (but not the last one, who is awesome).

What do you call the DC-area airport in Virginia that does not suck.

Penguins with iPads (because they improve their sex lives!)