Charles Krauthammer you've got your head up - uhh- in the sand!

An opinion piece by Washington Post columnist Dr. Charles Krauthammer appeared in The (Charleston, SC) Post and Courier titled "We owe Muslims no apology". That is quite an incendiary title. I infer that "we" means all Americans. The title and article offend me for several reasons.

According to the US State department, two to three million of "we" Americans are Muslims, making it the third largest religious affiliation in America after Christianity and Judaism. I have worked with Muslims. My best friend when I was a young man was an Egyptian Muslim. He saw me through a lengthy slump when I was unemployed and dumped by my girlfriend. He and his wife eventually introduced me to the fabulous woman to whom I have been married for thirty two years. I attended his funeral and burial in a large Islamic section of an old Seattle cemetery. We non-Muslims were welcomed there with kindness and appreciation by the Muslim community. All my direct experiences with Muslims strongly support former President Bush's often repeated assertion that "Islam is a Peaceful Religion."

So what about Dr. Krauthammer's claim that we don't owe Muslims an apology? We have been sticking our American nose into Middle Eastern countries and insinuating ourselves into their political conflicts and civil wars for a long time. Our noble humanitarian mission usually synchronizes better with American economic interests and majority religious beliefs than with neutral peacekeeping. Many Muslim civilians have been killed by Americans and other Middle Eastern groups armed and funded by Americans.

I know first hand of one Muslim who deserves a gigantic apology. I had the privilege of meeting Chaplain James Yee's Palestinian wife when Chaplain Yee was a prisoner in the Charleston Navy Brig. He was there on trumped up charges stemming from his kindness to Guantanamo detainees to whom he ministered as a US Army Islamic Chaplain. I learned first hand of the FBI's terrifying intrusion into Mrs. Yee's home and their refusal to tell her where he was or of what he was accused. Chaplain Yee was cleared of all charges.

Dr. Krauthammer argues that we not only have not harmed Muslims, we have done them a long list of big favors. One example he cites was the military campaign for the liberation of Iraq. Give me a break! This liberation began with a vicious shock and awe bombing assault, precipitated a civil war, destroyed priceless antiquities, and has taken the lives of well over a hundred thousand Iraqi civilians. Surveys of Iraqi citizens reveal that virtually all of them feel less secure now than before we liberated them.

The audacity that Dr. Krauthammer shows in his commentary is beyond belief. How would we respond to a title claiming "we" owe Jews or Christians no apology? All of the big three religions have at various times and places defamed the others, spilled innocent blood, violated their rights, or seized their land. The sooner we all quit keeping score and start apologizing the better off we will be.

Here is an afterword for those readers who can't see past the fact that Osama Bin Laden is a Muslim. Yes of course he is and he is arguably the most evil man of the twenty first century. Several Popes of the fifteenth and sixteenth century were notorious war-mongering fornicating torturers. They were Christians. You shouldn't tarnish a whole religion by the excesses of their most notorious intolerant leaders.

Octuplets: Are you kidding?!

This source of intellectual commentary usually eschews popular tabloid fodder like, "Greed Crazed Fertility Doctor Assists Single Mother in Having Fourteen Children". But, that's exactly what this post is about. It was too tempting to pass up. By now we've all read about the woman who had octuplets and (Oh yeah) already had six other children. It turns out she was single and living with her mother.

I don't know much about this mother of octuplets. It is kind of being kept hush hush but apparently her own mother has said her daughter is obsessed with having babies. For goodness sake; there are over six billion people on this planet eating it up and heating it up. Why should we not be aghast that a woman wants to have fourteen children by extraordinary methods? OK, I don't know the whole story. Maybe she is an Olympic athlete with an IQ of 180, the beauty of Cleopatra, and assets of 20 million bucks to birth her exceptional babies, raise them, and educate them. Maybe her genes are just so fabulous they need to be spread for the betterment of the human race. But, I doubt it.

This blessed multiple birth event has led to some criticism of the fertility medical practitioner community. They have responded with "Who us? Why should we question a woman's personal choice about what to do with her body and her life?" I don't buy that. Doctors see all kinds of people. Many are mentally disturbed, poorly educated, suffering from various obsessions, and incapable of acting in their own best interest. Johnny's Rants believes unequivocally that doctors have absolute responsibility to not exploit these people by cutting on their bodies, impregnating them, or anything else that takes away their money and/or alters their mind or body in a way contrary to their best interest. See also my sensitive essay on exploitive cosmetic elective surgery, Coping with Cleavage.

Greedy plastic surgeons exploiting persons of low self-esteem may be the poster child of the medical profession sliding from Hippocratic ethics to gutter grubbing. However, exploitive fertility doctors can take it to another level. Making babies grow inside women with insufficient means of supporting them is not only a violation of the mothers' wellbeing but also the wellbeing of the babies and the tax payers who will have to pick up the tab for a lot of food, shelter, medical care and public education. I read one article that alleged that just the prenatal care, birthing, and postnatal care of these octuplets is costing $400,000 PER BABY. If I help a vulnerable woman make babies by personally donating sperm cells (you know in the traditional manner between the sheets) the law will hold me financially responsible for helping to support the resulting babies. Why should we not also hold a fertility doctor financially responsible for his complicity in making babies with a woman obviously unable to sufficiently support those babies through their upbringing and education to independent adults?!

Putting the Toilet Seat Down; NOT!

There is a humanitarian crisis in East Africa and Gaza. There is a collapsing world economy; there are brazen pirate attacks on the high seas which are getting higher by the day because of global warming. Accordingly I intend to address the issue that I know is foremost on the mind of all Americans, LEAVING THE TOILET SEAT UP. Sadly it seems to be the toughest issue in the gender equality quest.

Obviously the best and most equitable solution to this gender war issue is to leave the seat as it was last used. For women, this will be the down position. For men after whizzing, this should be up as shown in the photograph at the right margin…or left or top, wherever BlogSpot puts the photo. The efficiency of this is obvious. Supposed the next necessary function in the toilet is the same act by a person of the same gender such as a male. Imagine if the male had put the seat down following the prior use; he would have to raise it again. These are unnecessary cycles of the seat. Scrink scrawnk; the hinges wear out.

I know my women readers will scream at this suggestion. First let me say that I am very sympathetic with essentially all women's issues such as the need for equal pay for equal work, having the word NO respected, maternity leave, getting better representation in upper management positions, etc. Neurologists have discovered that women actually have more neural connections between the left and right brain hemispheres making them better at multitasking and alliance-building networking, both key management skills. But on this important bathroom issue I have to ask my women friends, "Ladies! What's the big deal?" You just grab the seat between two fingers and put it down before sitting. Yeah yeah, I hear you. You are yelling, "Do you know what it feels like to think it's down when it's not and sit and fall through?!" Well yes I do because so many times I have been host to women or a guest in one's home only to hear a scream then see them come tearing out of the bathroom to grab me by the neck and deliver a scalding lecture on why I should put the toilet seat down after I use it.

Allow me to make a suggestion to my hundreds of women readers. Look before you sit! This should be a no brainer to a person of any gender sitting on anything. There could be a creepy spider on that toilet seat. I have a woman cousin in Florida who once approached the toilet to sit. Fortunately she looked and saw the large land crab that had entered the bowl from the sewerage system and was waiting with raised open claws. I have heard of sewer rats sloshing around in the bowl too. Even sitting places other than a toilet seat, like on a sofa with your pants on warrants a look. Anyone who has a house cat should know this. I don't have one but I learned fast when I visited a friend with a house cat. Anybody who has made it through junior high school where some jerk-head invariably puts a thumbtack in your seat when you come blazing into class late should learn and retain this important safety fact. LOOK BEFORE YOU SIT!

Ladies may I suggest you count your blessings if you have a loving wage-earning male whose only alleged sin is leaving the toilet seat up. There are much worse men. These are the ones that we men must also be wary of. They're the cabbage brains who leave the seat down BEFORE whizzing, sprinkling it with little yellow spots. When I was a little tyke I had trouble remembering to lift the seat before starting. My mother was so intent on training me to raise it before starting that she never even tried to confuse the issue by training me to lower it when I was done.

Now I must confess that there is one situation where a male should lower the toilet seat when he's done whizzing. That's when he's a guest in a lady's home and she requests it. It is her home after all. She has the right. My sister and sister in law will applaud this concession I'm sure. I am working hard to remember when I visit them.

I have a lot of sympathy for the extra hardship a woman faces because she has to sit for a number one. I have often railed with my women friends in support of more stalls in public women's restrooms where lines form because there is not sufficient capacity to accommodate the necessary extra privacy and time required for women to drop their drawers for a tinkle. However, in the quest for gender justice there is one behavior a man must never accede to. Some women actually try to require this behavior. This unmanly act is to sit to make water. I almost never use the term "p-word envy". It is an arrogant accusation usually levied by loser males who can't take it when a woman beats them at their own game. However, to the woman who has the audacity to suggest that males should always sit, I must say, "Madam, you suffer from p-word envy. Get over it."

T-mobile Hotspot at Home - NOT

This is a rant. Everyone should launch a rant when they are a victim of overhyped advertising for a product that doesn't measure up.

T-mobile had the greatest mobile phone idea in years. It's a cell phone that picks up WiFi signals and switches from cell towers to internet (without charging your minutes down) whenever you're in WiFi range. The only problem is it only works erratically.

My wife and I leaped at the idea and signed up for two phones. That was six months ago. We have two homes (We're snowbirds) and we travel a lot. Both our homes are in locations of zero to one bar signal strength so conventional cell service is hit or miss. Unfortunately T-mobile "hotspot at home" is NOT at home half the time. With either phone, no matter how close we are to a wireless router or what router it is, it fails to connect or drops the connection half the time. Often the calls are dropped in mid call. Johnny's Rants give T-mobile hotspot at home a big two thumbs down!

Visiting Granddaughter

Hey, we're in Kansas City spending time with our 7 month old granddaughter and her parents. This is a real treat for us and it's a lot of work. Babies are a lot worse than bosses for making ambiguous demands designed to multitask you to death. The redeeming thing is that they are a lot cuter than bosses.

Our princess seems to be a baby of great robustness and strength. She's in the ninety-something percentile of size in all dimensions such as length, weight, and head size but a little slow in the hair growth department. Despite the pink outfits, our daughter is always receiving dubious compliments from strangers such as, "Great baby. He's going to be a bruiser isn't he."

Ayla is her name. This is a girl's name in both Finnish and Hebrew, so it recognizes respectively her paternal grandfather and grandmother. It is also notably the name of the protagonist in Clan of the Cave Bear, that bright, courageous, and decisive little Cro-Magnon orphan girl who had the misfortune to be found and raised by thick-witted Neanderthals. Our daughter read the book when she was a child and emphatically announced, "If I have a daughter I'm going to name her Ayla." I have suggested to her that she probably identified with Ayla, particularly the part about being raised by thick-witted Neanderthals. Disclaimer: She does not always find my lame attempts to analyze her psyche particularly accurate or amusing.

Back to Ayla. She is in the exploratory stage now. That means she instantly grabs anything in reach and stuffs it in her mouth, with both hands, to assess by gnawing. For instance, she can grab a paper table napkin, stuff the whole thing in her mouth and gum it to shreds in the moments it takes a stiff-backed grandparent to bend over and pick up the spoon she just tossed on the floor. Her two parents, four grandparents, and four surviving great grandparents have provided her with a wealth of colorful, jangly, child-safe baby toys to satisfy her intellectual curiosity but, as her father notes, she definitely prefers the choking-hazard non-toys in her surroundings.

Ayla is impatient to crawl so she can more quickly reach fragile and dangerous articles. She can do push ups and she can stand up on her feet with her face mashed into the floor but she hasn't gotten all four limbs operating in sync yet. Her current traveling method involves the snowmobile technique wherein she uses her face like a sled runner (lubricated by a stream of saliva like a snail track) while her powerful legs serve as the traction propulsion device. Then she takes a couple of rollovers before assuming the snowmobile again. This can get her from the highly engineered baby teething toys to the skull and crossbones hazards as quick as a flash.

We take lots of outings with Ayla. She likes stroller rides, I guess because of the jiggling motion and changing scenery. She even tolerates latte stops if there are enough straws and table napkins to eat. Here are some pictures of some of our weekend outings. One notable stop was at an adult exercise station in one of the parks. This was particularly pleasing to Grandma who seems to be the genetic source of the boundless curiosity and energy passed to her descendants. Click any image for a larger view.

Willy C Becomes Rowdy Beaver

While driving from Liberal, Kansas (actual town name) to Kansas City on Monday my wife and I got hungry about 50 miles before Witchita. This was a natural consequence of the fact that it was two hours past lunch time. I wanted to stop at some reliable convenient place like one of the many golden arches and KFCs. This never works when traveling with my wife. She feels that every meal may be our last or at least our last in that part of the world and thus must be special. It must be delicious, low caloried, and memorably representative of the character and history of the region. This causes her to research all our AAA books and interview numerous passers by in quest of the ultimate dining experience. It drives me nuts.

As we were approaching Wichita, she read all the quick histories and restaurant reviews of Wichita from our AAA and other reference guides. She came up with the "must eat at" restaurant, Willy C's. We dutifully programmed the address of Willy's into our trusty new Garmin GPS. Ms. Garmin got us off at a certain exit then immediately directed "Turn left…" on some street then, "Arriving at destination on right." when we were in the left lane with lots of traffic on the right and no sight of anything called Willy. Almost immediately it was into, "Recalculating: Turn right on Elm St. Recalculating, Turn Left on Oak Street. Oh Golly, Go back". Then my wife starts in with, "No it's got to be on West street; go under the freeway." I respond, "I can't go under the freeway; I'm in the left turn lane." Then all hell breaks loose (this happens all the time) with wife, Ms. Garmin, and me all squawking at each other hysterically and wife insisting that I'm losing my temper and becoming an unsafe drivers so I should stop there in the middle of the freeway ramp and let her drive.

So, to make a long story more tolerable we somehow moved wife into the driver's seat and caught a few honks and middle fingers as we headed off with her in pursuit of Willy's. This time she resolved to stop right where Ms. Garmin said, even though it definitely did not say Willy C. (a rare moment of agreement with Ms. Garmin). It turns out that this was not Willy C's but the Rowdy Beaver. We went in and learned that Willy's had gone bust and the Rowdy Beaver had just opened two weeks ago in its place.

In the end it was good. The Rowdy Beaver was my kind of place. They had much paraphernalia for sale including, prominently, manikins with tiny very narrow-fronted thong bikinis that said Rowdy Beaver on the front. They had many micro brew beers and ales to choose from with good names like "Flying Dog Doggy Style pale ale". They had big burgers with thick beef patties and they weren't all soggy with that crappy mayonnaise and pickle relish that runs downs your forearms when you try to eat burgers at most of the fast food chains. There were lots of flies but we were able to swat them with carefully aimed blows of our menus. I really liked the place. I think my wife did too; she figured it was soooo authentic Witchita.

Crazy Woman Takes Charge

Why do I only think up a good response after the incident has passed?

Last week I was driving to the north rim entrance to the Grand Canyon when I saw some people standing in the road flailing their arms up and down. It was in a meadow area so I could clearly see the road beyond them. Other than a couple of parked cars and some more people on the shoulder there was nothing on the road, so this was a bit puzzling. As I approached more closely one woman began running toward me in the center of the road flapping her arms more wildly and looking quite angry. I had to stop because she was completely blocking the road. She ran up to my door still flapping her arms wildly and demanded, "Don't you know what this signal means?!" I tried to get my window open to hear her better but in my nervousness I accidentally had my finger on the wrong button so I kept opening and closing the rear window. Finally I opened my door so I could better communicate with her.

The lady continued raging, raving, and flapping her arms while blurting, "This means SLOW DOWN. There's been an accident up ahead!" Since I could see the roadway was completely clear ahead and I was completely stopped I reasoned that I had slowed down sufficiently soon and thoroughly to satisfy any reasonable person. I just gave her my best Jack Nicholson glower and only slightly snidely asked, "Well what do you want me to do about it?" This really set her off and she yelled, "I want you to SLOW DOWN!" Then she rushed at my door with both hands and tried to slam it. I don't like people getting physical with my car so I held it open until she stopped pushing, then closed it gently and proceeded very slowly on. When I got into the middle of the area she was guarding I saw a crunched up motorcycle off the road in the meadow and I could tell that the people on the shoulder were tending to a man lying on the shoulder, presumably the unfortunate rider.

The rider was wearing one of those pirate-like bandanas that bikers who disapprove of helmets use to protect their hard craniums during an accident. OK, maybe that remark is unfair. Perhaps he was wearing a helmet when the accident happened and Ms. Take Charge had wrenched it off his head oblivious to the dangers of neck injuries. So, anyway I proceeded on, hoping this unfortunate fellow would survive and feeling very annoyed at the bossy rude woman.

What was this woman? My school teacher wife said she was probably a school teacher because they instinctively and aggressively try to take control of any situation that looks like an emergency even if they don’t know what the hell they're doing. I just kept mulling over the answers I should have given her when she demanded, "Don't you know what this signal means?!" Perhaps I should have said, "I'm just back from Venezuela and there it means 'I'm from FARC and I want to kidnap you and hold you hostage for six years'". Or perhaps, "This is a national park so obviously I thought you were a wildly excited German tourist trying to share with the world that you had spotted a cute chipmunk eating a pine nut." Or maybe just, "I thought you were listening to a Rufus Thomas CD and just got an uncontrollable urge to leap out of your car and start doing the Funky Chicken dance in the middle of the road.

Anyway I guess I said the right thing. As it was, it irritated her enough to make her charge my car like a bison bull in rut. By the way, this isn't the first time this has happened to me. The previous time it was an almost identical situation except it was a lady police officer who went berserk. I know there are those who will say I'm from an era when men thought a woman saying "stop" really meant "go further" but this isn't true. In both cases I had female witnesses who attested to the fact that I had slowed sufficiently soon and thoroughly and that the berserk woman was truly delusional.