Guest Post: A Guide For Dems

Note: the following is a guest post submitted by Richard Rosa. I have added spacing between paragraphs for ease of reading.

A Guide For Dems In The 2020 Election
 
Stop being nice.
 
Holding your punches is great when you can afford it. We are in a state of constitutional crisis. We can't afford that pleasure. Release your angst in a measured constructive way. Don't hold back. Be real, be relatable and be human.

 
Stop the infighting. 
 
A divided front has weaknesses. Layer the armor. Make them work for any chisel point, any dent. Show a unified face to the country. Back each other up. Remember that we are all in this together and the common enemy has already unified his forces. He will not stop in his attempts to destroy not only us but the Rule of Law and the Constitution which defines who we are as a nation. 
 
Start being proactive. 
 
Getting ahead of the story is essential in media relations. Mueller said in his press conference that his report is his testimony. He proved it in his testimony before Congress. Knowing that, expecting it even, the questioning should have centered around actual violations of law. Maybe not the president himself but those nearest and dearest to him, his immediate family. Start telling the media what you're going to prove and then show them the evidence. Anticipate their lies and state to the media what they can expect to hear because opponents are already anticipating your truths and trying to twist them. 
 
Use their playbook.
 
In the interest of the nation, don't be afraid to play a little dirty, (moral high ground is an ideal, not a rule.) When confronted with an opponent who will say and do anything to disparage their opponents, there comes a time when you have to do what you have to do to preserve the moral fabric of the country. When the ideals enshrined in the constitution are threatened anything goes. This is not to say that this is the norm but should only be the exception and only as a matter of last resort to preserve the integrity of the nation. Sometimes we can only be the better persons by being better at their game. 
 
Work the Constitution.
 
As a nation we have the most amazing set of rules that we define ourselves by. They are fluid in that we are constantly trying to improve them. When someone tries to circumvent those rules we need to instantly and vocally oppose them. We need to explain why it is bad and say who it will hurt. Our founding fathers were smart and conscientious. The amendments are too. They pick up where the founding fathers left off. Our constitution wasn't meant to be static. It was created to be dynamic so that as our nation changes we can become a better people and truly make our nation one combined people of many varied backgrounds who all believe in the simple truth that we are stronger united than divided.
 

How About Trump's New Bible Tax?

What? Haven't you heard? It's really simple.

1: Bibles are no longer printed in the US.
Because...
2: They use special paper and presses so their very thin paper (large book, doncha know) can be printed on both sides and still be legible.
But...
3: All those special presses were exported years ago to ... China!
And...
4: Trump thought it would be a good idea to impose tariffs on Chinese imports.
Therefore...
5: Since Bibles are now Chinese imports, and since tariffs are taxes paid by the country imposing them, Trump has given y'all a Bible tax!

I wonder where the Constitution gets printed.

So Trump Feels "Badly"? Uh...

The chant was, "Send her back!" The video shows him slowly scanning the crowd, letting it continue. Just for contrast, John McCain, when confronted with a supporter who started to say something nasty about Muslims, immediately shut her down, affirming that they are great family people. He didn't wait for the crowd support for her viewpoint to run its course.

Now, with huge backlash over the chant, Trump professes to be feeling "badly" over what he let happen at the rally. All the news anchors are repeating it verbatim. Time for a little comment from the grammar police.

To do something "badly" means to do that thing incompetently. I would do gymnastics badly. I lose weight badly. I draw badly. However, I feel quite well when it comes to emotions. I might describe the emotion of the moment as happy, sad, proud, angry, puzzled, excited, ashamed, and so on. I am very competent at having feelings. Having emotions such as angry, sad, ashamed could be summed up as "feeling bad".  Not badly. Bad.

Feeling "badly" would mean I would be unable to feel emotions. It could be caused by stuffing down those feelings as a result of abuse, where safety is an issue, physically or emotionally. Books are written covering that issue.

It could also be a characteristic of a sociopath, where there is limited or no ability to feel, particularly when it comes to empathy for others. Sociopaths feel badly. Incompetently. Trump has sometimes been described as being a sociopath. He certainly acts like it on occasion. Therefore it is easy to conclude that when he claims he "feels badly", he's perfectly correct.

It's also possible that when the raft of news anchors quote him, they are also perfectly correct.

I wonder how many of them are aware of it.

"But It's A DRY Heat"

Heat warnings range across most of the country. The feels-like temperatures are still cooler than ours. We hit 115 yesterday, and yes, it's brutal. Coming from Minnesota, I'm well aware of how uncomfortable the humidity makes you, much more, actually, than a "feel-like" rating of, say, 102 compared to a dry 102. In humidity you feel greasy, like you need to shower 5 times a day. I get it. So though our high temperatures feel like a blast oven, well before we feel greasy, we feel like we're ready to pass out. And some do.

But this is not really about "mine is bigger than yours." This zeros in on a local news item from TV last night which, frankly, shocked me. Power was struggling over small segments of the metro yesterday, nothing drastic like Manhattan the night before, but even so. Lots of information on how to keep cool, keep your dogs comfy, where to go for AC, free water, etc.

But along came a story about the challenges of keeping cool even with power and AC. Somebody was featured suffering with a system which was struggling so hard that she could't get the temperature down below 82.

82!!!

That's a whole degree above where our thermostat sits when we need to turn on the AC. I like 82 a bit less than I like 81, but even so. One degree. Not a hardship. Given the air flow in this house, I know parts of it are even a few degrees warmer than the thermostat, just like in winter they are cooler. What stood out in this story - her severe hardship - was how she couldn't get the house to cool to its usual 65!

Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Awww, poor dear. And yes, that was sarcastic. Was I nasty? I mean, am I missing something basic here? Or is this just, as I first thought, another example of how much we waste energy in this culture?

65?

Watchman Device

Just got back from the cardiologist to verify whether my pacemaker was doing exactly what it should be. It is. Then the conversation changed to getting me off Warfarin.

There is a way. It's 94+ % successful, and it's permanent. It's an implanted device called a Watchman. In techno-speak, it's described as a left atrial appendage and closure device. In addition to its existence, I learned why A-fib can cause strokes from blood clots. Nobody ever really told me, beyond the fact that it can happen.

There is a pouch, known as LAA or left atrial appendage, in the muscle wall of the left atrium. It's shaped like an ear. Blood can pool in there and not get expelled properly during A-fib. That's where the possible clot forms, and it can exit once the heart is back doing its merry thing properly and lodge elsewhere. If the lung, it's a pulmonary embolism. If the brain, a stroke. Preventing it is helped by blood thinners, Warafrin being one. Blood thinners carry their own risks, bleeding from injury, even a brain bleed - the other kind of stroke.

With risks either way, an alternative has been developed, used in EU and China, now here with FDA approval. The Watchman is inserted via a tube through the groin and fed up into that pouch in the atrium. Once inside, it expands into a ball shape, and lodges in place. Overnight in the hospital, avoidance of pool and shower for a bit, then normal. Well, as normal as I ever am. Within a few weeks the body encases it, blocking the pouch from being able to pool blood which can clot. Once closure is confirmed, blood thinners can be discontinued.

For the curious, or those confuddled by my description, there are videos online. I got to see one before leaving the cardiologist's office. I'd never heard of this, and I'm guessing some of you will be new to it also.

Since Steve and I are still trying to get north before fall, and both need to be back in early October, any activity on this will be postponed till then. Warfarin is still my go-to for now. Even without this, I'm feeling 100%, energy wise, breathing wise, emotion wise. I'm good.

Now we finish fixing Steve.

If This Were YELP About AZ Pain Clinic

Another week, another screw-up by AZ Pain Clinic. Yep, I'm naming them now. I'm also advising anyone at all contemplating using them - perhaps because your insurance think's it's a good idea - think twice and go elsewhere.

When it started out as performing a procedure that not only wasn't helpful but created new levels of constant pain, it was possible to shrug it off as one of cases where one particular body didn't react exactly the same as others do. It happens. Unfortunate squared, but c'est la vie.

But add in extremely rude staff when you inquire when results not coming in a few hours as touted, first telling you you needed more patience, try back in three days, repeated after those 3 to be another week, and then outright yell at you for being so impatient with them. Oh, and would you like another treatment yet? Only another set of three $175 co-pays, after several others "needed" before the procedure.

Then they cancel an appointment without informing you, nevermind the bumpy ride to their not-so-close office also aggravates your back pain, and claim after you arrive that they "lost" your phone number.  Uh huh, sure. Of course they did. Cynical? Me? Actually, considering stuff that came later, they might have been that incompetent.

Steve heard about another procedure which worked for a cousin. Yep, they do that at AZ Pain. First he needed an appointment with a shrink. (Say what?) As that appointment rolled around, suddenly the news came through of another cancelled appointment, since that Doc didn't work there anymore, but we could reschedule for later at a location about as far away across the extended metro area as it's possible to go. Another pair of painful rides. Lonnnnng ones. So, done. Passed. Go back for the procedure.

You think it's that simple? First they gave him an appointment which we thought was for the preliminary work by the surgeon, but turned out to be a "medication evaluation" to see if he needed more narcotics. Not what we asked for. Another co-pay, of course. The one good thing we thought came out of this visit was her informing us he was fully approved for the procedure. Just go home and wait for the scheduler to call.

And wait. And wait. Finally impatience won. After a long round of voicemail maze, he was finally connected. He'd never heard of Steve. He was waiting for approval to come through.

Wait, what? Callback to the person Steve saw who told him it was a done deal. Oh shucks, she's no longer working here. So, OK, who in the office would have access to those records so we could see just where in the process we were stuck. Apparently the three monkeys work there. Nobody knew anything, nobody had a clue who might know the answer, nobody was willing to check, and we were referred back to the scheduler for the information he said he didn't have.

Holiday mess. Weekend mess. Monday morning Steve makes two calls. Scheduler still hasn't heard anything. Insurance company searches Steve's records and find absolutely no indication anybody has called, emailed, faxed, sent smoke signals or drummed any kind of request for their approval.

Steve, Rich and I had been working to make plans based on whatever contingencies came out of the morning's calls. Part of this process was my questioning whether this change would put us further behind than sticking to the original mess. I decided to check out YELP, for the first time in my life. Yep, they did medical reviews. Yep, AZ Pain was in there.  Lots of entries. Let's see, out of 5 possible stars, their rating was ... Whoa! ... Just over 1??? Time to read some of those reviews.  Several comments wished there were a lower level to rate them. Time to read on. Yep, I recognized that problem... and that one ... and that... and that.... Oh, and look at this: they named Steve's Doc doing the procedures specifically. I was now convinced the change was the way to go.

Armed with the current information, Steve first called the the insurance company for other approved clinics, contacted them for information, picked one, called his Primary for the proper referral, had me drive him to the old clinic for the paperwork - signed on-spot - for voluntary cessation of their services, and put in his request for his medical records.

Steve had found out the new clinic could fit him in as quickly as 3 days later, provided everything was ready in time. Naturally, as we expected by now, AZ Pain put a stall on his records. I reminded them (I was getting into the middle of this now) that all the records are electronic, all that's needed is call up his file, insert a disc, and press a button. They agreed, but claimed that would still take 5 days. Not good enough. OK, maybe put a STAT on it and it might, just possibly, be ready in three. Could they mail his records out to us?

HELL NO! Not another  few days of delay, not acceptable. I'll come pick them up as soon as they're ready.

I'm holding my breath, doncha know?

Lovin' That Paint Smell

After the last posting, I suppose I should clarify that this time I'm talking real paint. Latex, in fact. Interior paint.

We've done such a good job recently of clearing out, sorting through, and organizing all the stuff crammed into the third bedroom - aka library - closet, most of which has been sitting there since it was moved in way back in October of 2012. Several trips to Goodwill have found much of it new homes. Reorganizing the shelves has made homes for other stuff. A bunch will be transported up north if/when we manage to clear out of here. And some we keep there.

The "we" of course means Rich and myself. Steve is in no way up to moving his back around in all the contortions that would take. Rich is making good on his offer to help up out once he came down here. And now that my health is basically normal again, I've lots of energy combined with a strong itch to put this place into the order we actually want to live in.

Part of that is the wish to turn that closet in the library to a computer office. Now not everything will come out of that closet. Some space is still needed to some of what was in there.  But that itch pushed for something not so inconvenient as what had been. Besides three walls of bookshelves, we have a table holding my old laptop and printer. I had to replace the laptop when it decided it wasn't going to connect to the wifi anymore. It still worked otherwise, and turned out to be the only thing which still coordinated with my old faithful Hewlett Packard 1200 printer. My computer skills have increased to the point where I can convert (most) files into PDFs, pop them onto a thumb drive, pop that in the old laptop, and print away. Oh, and all the cleaning and sorting revealed the existence of nearly three reams of paper for it.

So in principal it all worked. The drawback is that the table they sit on is always in the wrong place, blocking access to two columns of shelves no matter how it was laid out. It probably got relocated every couple of months. Clearing out the closet revealed there was going to be more work needed than just rearranging the furniture. While we had taken off the broken closet doors when we moved in, the bottom track they slid across had not been removed. There just was not enough time to get everything done while we had the family crew down here. It was ignored while everything got stacked up behind it.

After the recent sorting out, I decided that the closet could still hold its smaller amount of stuff and still allow the back legs of the table to recess into it a small amount, enough to make it convenient for use and not disrupt the flow of the rest of the room. It's light enough to be moved if something behind it needs to be accessed. I should know! But for now it had to be completely cleared...
       And painted...
       With wall holes spackled first...
       And illogical wood braces (we think) removed...
       And those strips holding long-removed carpet in place with all their nails pointing up removed also...
       And the occasional nail driven into the concrete floor which still remained with a bit of carpet attached pulled out as well.

Now everything could be cleaned and prepped for painting. Another coat over the concrete floor would cover the white paint drips from the shelves being painted back when they were installed, custom made by my other son, Paul. Of course, his short visit didn't leave time for simple repainting, and we hadn't made any ourselves.

Now, however, I'm loving the smell of the paint drying. White inside the closet captures the light and tosses it back into the room. The grey is simply practical, and I was kicked out before any of it went down. I'm still banned. It may be a few days before the rug I just picked up goes down to add its touch to the mood and we can start putting everything back in that's supposed to go in.

So while we all wait for the paint to dry, I'm loving that smell. It's the smell of making a house our home. If I need something else to do, I can still wonder what on earth happened to that box which contained all those wind chimes we've been waiting to put back up out over the patio.

Painting Water

Now that I'm back in the pool, I'm finding some things to be different. There are more often people there I know to talk to. More of us seem... uh, less slim than in former years. More tattoos show, though that can fool you: what I was sure was a leaf and ferns pattern over a shoulder blade became, on closer look, a bruise. I'm guessing there is a story there, probably one all too common in a population acquainted with falls and blood thinners.

The fact that we're here in the summer, when our typical pool hours are still in daylight, creates difference as well. At first it used to be just that we were out seeing whatever sunsets the desert skies were producing. Some are still blah, but if it's spectacular we're not busy indoors. But today was something extraordinary. Sunday means the pool closes earlier, so we were in the water while the sun was still about an hour from setting. It made all the difference.

It's all in how the pool is constructed. The sky is open, but it has two-story walls of the community center on two sides, with short walls with decorative iron bar railings offering views out the other two sides. It's more open north and west, more surrounded east and south. Taking advantage of southwest traditions, all the exterior walls are stucco, and in this case a bit more brownish than what's common. That made what happened possible.

As the sun was setting, its light climbed up the two stories of the eastern side. It hinted at turning it golden, but when the eye is used to seeing brown either nighttime-dark or daytime-light, color changes are easily dismissed. It's much like taking a photo of snow in both sun and shade, and finding out later that shaded snow is blue. The eye says it's just a less bright white, but still white. The photo says otherwise.

 Water does interesting things with colors too.

The surface of the pool catching reflections was adding it's magic,  turning lighter brown into a blindingly bright marigold. What really set it off were the other two colors it picked up, the intense blue reflected from the late day cloudless sky directly above, and the aqua of the pool from below squeezing between reflections.  The currents in the water and disturbances of passing pool walkers separated the colors into dancing ovals or shimmers in endless motion, tossing colors around wildly, never blending them into each other but just moving them dizzyingly, soothingly, hypnotically.

I needed my pool walking exercise, and while hating to lose that color feast, it did prompt me to follow the path around until its curves brought me to the next spot where the angles lined up to repeat the display. And again. And again. In all it lasted for over 20 minutes, the quantity of gold slowly diminishing as the shade crept its inevitable way up the side of the building until the sun finally set. With that, the deep blue also changed, giving way to nondescript lighter and darker shapes more likely attributable to lights coming on, with the aqua now the preeminent color.

I'd had plenty of time to observe my fellow walkers. Nobody seemed to notice this great gift. Conversations about kids, neighbors, coyote sightings, health and home states went on without a falter. I was the only one to stop occasionally in the right spot to soak it all in. How could they not see it?

What a night it would have been to have brought along a camera!