Where Did They All "Vanish" To? A Mystery.

Have you noticed, as I have over the last few years, the abundance of articles with the phrase "vanished" in the title, along with "disappearing", "dying", and "perishing" (simply I suppose because writers are just getting tired of the word "vanishing")? Here's a small sample:

"Honeybees Vanish, Leaving Keepers in Peril"
"Chinook Salmon Vanish Without a Trace"
"Saving the World's Vanishing Shark Species"
"Vanishing Chilean Sea Bass"
"On Emptying Seas, A Vanishing Way of Life"
"Vanishing in the Wild, Mountain Gorillas"
"Louisiana's Vanishing Wetlands"
"Coral Reefs Vanishing Faster Than Rain Forests" (they're winning!)
"Vanishing of Frogs, Toads Tied to Global Warming"

and of course,

"The Vanishing Middle Class" (whose relation to Global Warming is the fact that those who control and blindly support big industry are out-sourcing and down-sizing at such a rate that your kids will be the only thing not vanishing, because they'll be living with you, never having found a job.)

More recently I've read about:

"Northeastern Bats Are Perishing and No One Knows Why"

and an update on the frog situation:

"Link to Global Warming in Frogs' Disappearance is Challenged"

The frog article makes the case that perhaps global warming plays a part but in fact it's a fungus that's killing off the frogs. Yes, Virginia, in many cases of these "vanishings" it is true, a mysterious fungus, or a mysterious cancer or a mysterious virus is what is killing off these species (check out the recently documented decimation of Tasmanian Devils).

But that's like saying it's not global warming that is flooding the low-lying parts of the world, it's water! Or it's not global warming that's shrinking glaciers, but excessive heat! It's part of the game that has even purportedly "intelligent" people dodging the issue entirely. "Having lost the argument about whether in fact life forms are disappearing, let's debate about what's making them disappear and make absolutely sure that we don't get blamed for this!" (they cry). "Whatever it is, it's not us!" (they cry) "...and who gives a hoot really whatever it is, as long as we don't have to change our lifestyles or admit we were wrong!!"

I know a few people who have, on principle (the same principle that guides those who believe it is impossible for man to have walked on the moon as well as the principle of "someone else will pick it up"), refused to see the Gore documentary "An Inconvenient Truth". These people believe it to be full of political propaganda and hysteria, and perhaps also, the truth, which, once commonly accepted, won't help any of those who still want to buy a Hummer. And insisting that they will never view the film, they have missed out on the indescribable fascination of watching as, systematically, almost all the catastrophes that Gore predicted 5 years ago when he first started to give his presentation, have come to pass. (If only he could predict the moves of the stock market as accurately!)

I don't know a better argument against the idiocy of denying that global warming is going to cause us some big hurt (and by us, I mean the world, and even rich people who are in another part of the world but whom we still bump into at Starbucks), than the fact that scientists on the side of the deniers never even heard of Global Warming until Gore and the world's environmentalists started yelling about it, and when their predictions started coming true, well, the naysayers (generally the political right) had to get some guys from the same think tank they hired to keep the tobacco companies in the black ("smoking is GOOD for you!") to start saying that Global Warming is natural, periodic, inevitable and has nothing to do with Greenhouse gases, and man-made pollution.

But if that's the case, and now, even these GW deniers say that GW is going to cause problems in the future, then why didn't these scientists (or "scientists") start warning us about it long before Gore? You've noticed that now even some conservatives (e.g., Michael Gerson of WaPo, and The Heritage Foundation) are conceding to the fact of GW. What they won't admit is that it's man-made.

But why, if it's a natural occurrence, did not one scientist on the conservative side predict the destruction of coral reefs, increasingly severe hurricanes, and decimating heat waves that were foretold ten years ago by Global Warming scientists and which we have been seeing the last few years? Wouldn't that have been helpful? I mean, the scientists who deny it now, could have as easily denied it then when the facts emerged and the reasons for the facts were just being promulgated.

Why didn't they (these climate change deniers) notice or predict, as Gore et.al. has and did, that there would be disastrous economic consequences of GW, along with preventable loss of life (remember the 2003 heat wave that killed 14,000 in France alone?), and suggest that perhaps we ought to worry about neighborhoods in low lying areas, along with our record albums stored in the basement?

Doesn't that seem odd?

Why were environmentalists who believe GW is man-made able to predict and warn about the problems that we face today, 40 years ago, but those scientists who are trying to sell us on the "natural cycle theory" totally silent, and caught off guard? Maybe they’re not good scientists.

But the reason, unfortunately, is more than simple incompetence. It’s because these anti-GW "experts" are pushing a theory purely to protect conservatives' investments in big industry. You don't hear them reminding us that they predicted melting glaciers and poles and killing heat waves, and that these phenomena were all completely expected in the grand scheme of things. Because those who deny global warming now, or even those who admit its reality now, never saw it coming.

It was the environmentalists who noticed that glaciers were receding, heat waves were becoming more frequent and increasingly lethal, droughts, devastating fires and floods were increasing in severity, and suggesting that, even if you lived on the prairie you might still consider investing in a row boat to tool around main street. The average environmentalist has been predicting issues related to GW for about 40 years. And in the last few years, the only brakes on this environmental juggernaut have been applied by those crazy tree-huggers and their insistence on truth.

Those nuts!

So what can you do with naive ignoramuses who continue to ignore and downplay this issue? Same thing you have always done - argue as much as you can stand, and then when they start getting all emotional and start attacking your virtue, your patriotism and your hairstyle, walk away.

Unfortunately sometimes you're sitting across a dinner table from them and although you may have the impulse to pass the mashed potatoes - to their heads! - you must not, because that's rude and not worth the loss of perhaps a very good side dish.

And you know what eventually happens? As much as these deniers argue and huff and puff and make fun, they quietly come around. They come over to our side of the argument so surreptitiously that we who have been warning and doom-saying never get to gloat (darn!). But that's OK, because even better than gloating is to have people convinced that this is a real issue and has to be addressed.

And people who were once in denial, once they "get it" become really passionate! People who convert (to anything) are typically even more devout than those who were raised with a certain set of beliefs. You know how people who quit smoking are absolute vigilantes when it comes to smokers? And become much more hardline than people who never smoked? Well that's how converts to environmentalism are. Guilt, more even than greed, is good!

So I welcome naysayers. I have to. I know they will eventually see the light (one more violent hurricane or drought or devastating flood in the red states ought to do it). Now we just have to work on the ones who don't believe in evolution. Forget about the ones who don't believe we walked on the moon. Let them hold onto something!

I Can't Get This Fucking CD Open...

In keeping with my theme of not being able to understand anything anymore (your shower, my thong), I explore the American specialty of sealing things so that you cannot open them without breaking into tears.

It’s a typical day at dcvdickens’ house. I rise and head for the kitchen where I put up water to boil for the coffee and figure out how I want to break the fast (sleeping being the only way I can manage that particular diet strategy of not constantly eating).

A box of cereal (purchased on sale – perhaps a “remainder”) so that instead of the usual $4.95, I got it for $2.99 – a steal when it comes to a box of flakes, let me tell you. Why the price of cereal follows so closely the price of a gallon of gas I don’t know, but it certainly seems to. But I digress. Because that’s sort of what I do. Sometimes my mind wanders and I forget the whole thread of what I’m trying to discuss as I find a pile of cracker crumbs on the cutting board and go to brush them off and notice that I don’t have any paper towels and start looking for the grocery list to add it and then realize I also need Cumin, which is a great, versatile spice that you can put not only in Indian food but many other… anyhoo.



The cereal box looms large, protective. It seems to sense I’m going to try to open it up and separate its contents from its container and it’s going to do whatever it can not to let that happen.

Somehow, since approximately 1998, cereal makers have decided it’s not enough just to want to have a bowl of cereal – you have to really, REALLY want it – and they now use a sort of Super Glue on that top seal that impedes easy entry, so much so that you have to be wiling to wrestle that plastic interior bag to the ground and pummel it to get to the goods. This is what happens.



So you end up opening the bag from the side upwards, rather than from the top down, leaving a giant cereal bag rip on the side. This wouldn’t be so bad in itself IF the cereal makers glued the bag to the inside of the box keeping the bag in there while you poured. This no longer is the case. They need all that glue for the top of the bag, so when you pour your cereal, the whole friggin’ thing slides out into your bowl.





Now you have enough cereal for 9 people. If there aren’t 9 people waiting for cereal, you must shovel the extra 8 servings of those flakes back in the ripped bag and stuff the ill-fitting bag back into the box (use your foot if you have to).

Milk.



The American fashion of hermetically sealing everything but your Stock portfolio continues when you try to get that milk carton open.



My “Milk Carton Open” knife. Can be found in most hardware stores.



Now that it’s open, it will easily pour, and I mean everywhere because the spout is totally deformed and weird, so make sure you have some of those paper towels handy!

How about some bacon and eggs?



Forget the bacon. I thought by “going Canadian” I’d have packaging that made sense. Nope. Their culture may have provided us some great comic talents, but we’ve exported our Super Glue.

After breakfast, I decide to blow my nose. This is not inevitable, but for purposes of this blog, must fall here.



The arrow indicates to pull up, easily tearing open the little pack just along those handy perforations. The perforations turn out to be decorative and the arrow is not a separate piece of material that might help with leverage but also purely decorative.



Therefore, ripping it open like you would rip apart a head of lettuce is the only alternative.



Especially if you have allergies and need a tissue before fluids overcome your ability to sniff them back up into your nasal cavities.

Later that same day, I attend a friend’s child’s school play performance. Outside, immediately before the show, we get the camera gear ready. This requires a DV tape.



The kids are massing we hear, it’s about to begin. “Can you get it open?” my friend asks, panic rising.

Not really. Where the fuck is the strip? Is there a strip? Are these corners vulnerable??
We hear the kids starting in the auditorium. This is not as urgent as some things, like say, toilet paper, but it’s up there and my friend is depending on me. Hurry!



As my friend started to get hysterical, I resorted to my teeth. Sparing you the picture, mostly because we didn’t take one as it wasn’t even funny anymore.

Back home, how about some music? This was a good movie, and I got the CD for free and why not load it into iTunes?



Why not? Because I can’t get the thing open. There’s no easy way to open a sealed CD. CD manufacturers have perfected the art of sealing their product, which is the real reason the music industry is in trouble and the reason people have resorted to downloading; because they can’t get their fucking CDs open.



Can't use my special "Milk Carton Knife" because they don't allow us any sharp weapons at work.



And of course, inevitably, later that day:



*Sigh*

Reading is highly underrated and my brother got me a subscription to “Wired”, sort of the last magazine I’d ever want a subscription to (unless they had a special feature on “Getting Your Electronic Products Open Without Losing A Fingernail”), but of course it’s the thought that counts.





That looks promising.



But this is really how I feel.



But you know, reading takes a distant second to having sex!!!



Oy. Remember what I said about toilet paper being an emergency? THIS is an emergency.

Please tune in next week, when I’ll explore the connections in back of my TV set and demonstrate how easy it is to figure out which speaker has blown.

Merry Christmas to all from the world of "House and Garden"!

My Boyfriend is Waiting But My Hands Are Still Wet: a Tragedy in the Theater Bathroom

T'was a date that I wanted to happen and did

With a man whose attentions for which I did bid

Using sweetness and batting of eyelids so coated

In make-up that friends of mine nodded and noted,

I couldn't lift up my own eyelids to see,

The person across in the mirror: it was me.



The lipstick I wore was so pretty and pink,

It said on the advert there'd ne'er be a kink

In approaching a man for his favor to seize,

For as soon as they saw it they'd ask me to "Please,

Kiss me, I beg you!" it said "Guaranteed!"

(And cost me just twenty-two bucks, a small bleed).



So ready I was for the man of my dreams,

That I shaved my legs twice with a number of creams,

And my underarms too, so that they were as bare

T'was if I'd made use of that product called "Nair",

Which stunk to high heaven if one can remember

And always left fuzz on your grill and your fender.



So next up was choosing the outfit to wear,

Something sheerly seductive to lure to the lair,

This man who I'd wanted for more than a week,

Since the first time we'd met and I'd had just a peek

At his talent at kissing which made my face blush.

In fact, in 8 days, I'd developed a crush.



So into the closet I plunged with a passion,

To find the right outfit, no slave me, to fashion!

For when it is up to a girl to seduce,

The clothing one picks must not bag or be loose.

The tighter it fits is the key to the night:

If you cannot breathe, then you've got it just right.



And find it I did! This white blouse made of cotton,

For peasants intended, but that was forgotten

Since women of urban adventure did pick

This pattern for access so blatant and quick,

That neither of you had to wait for too long

To begin the concerto where sex is the song.



I paired it along with a skirt that was slim

(even though my lush hips made the look somewhat grim),

But paired, the two bits set me up for the role;

The sum of these parts, just as great as the whole.

And the very last touch was just that: of perfume,

Like a Siren, this man was to face me: his doom.



The doorbell did ring right on time; I did note

That perhaps he was as happy as me to be smote

By a partner whose skills were so obvious to see,

That perhaps he'd spent 8 days too, thinking of me,

Because that's the best way to approach the first date:

With a hunger and wonder and lust that can't wait.



So open I did (just the door - don't be crude),

Since the guy was outside, and not one to be rude,

I invited him in (the apartment - you pervs),

Having had two white wines just to settle my nerves.

He had eyes just for me (I thanked God, since I noted

The dining room table with dust it was coated…).



And thus it began just as well as I'd hoped

For it seemed into trouble we'd gladly been roped.

It almost seemed pointless to go out to the show,

Since watching most everything else we would know,

That the hero and girlfriend would bond at the end.

Let's just stay home! For themselves they could fend!



But no, the whole point is sweet torture of course;

All the petting and leaning and sexual Code Morse,

(Or at least that's what women are wont to pursue;

For the best way to keep the attraction brand new

Is to drag it as long as one possibly can.

And that is the difference twixt woman and man.)



So off we did go, to the subway we entered,

But toward one another, our eyeballs were centered.

And even though people did bump us and shove,

If you'd looked at we two, you'd have thought "They are in love!"

And finally to the theatre we came,

With hands copping feels (that's the name of the game).



So for hours (just two), we sat close in the dark,

Sharing popcorn and bloodlust and fire and spark,

Touching elbows and fingers and shoulders and thighs,

But respectably so, noting neighboring eyes,

As Solo and Kylo did banter and weave,

And explosions and battles did rumble and heave.



(Just as much as our hearts in our mutual chests;

If they'd read our two minds, we'd be under arrest.)

And so finally, FINALLY, credits do roll,

'Cause the heat and our passion have taken their toll;

He can barely stand up, and me too, I'm not well

(If we're Catholic at this point, we're going to hell...).



So wanting to wash up (from popcorn, my dears!),

I head to the bathroom, to check out the mirrors,

And fix my ridiculous hair since I know

That my partner has mussed it (we were in the last row),

And to pee and prepare for the evening to come,

Anticipation for which caused my body to hum.



And so I did all of those things that I said,

Left my stall to wash hands and to check out my head,

When the worst thing a person can see in that room,

Did appear in my sight, dragging me into gloom.

Instead of the towels of paper you see,

Were those fucking hand blowers that really irk me!



They show up in bathrooms; the last thing you'd wish

For they are as useful as bikes to a fish.

You can stand there with only two drops on your hand

And the blower will blow it all over the land,

But it won't dry you off, because that's not its job

For it only makes noise, like a torch-bearing mob.



And so, there I was, holding hand into space,

Cooking flesh for no reason, as always the case,

And waiting and waiting for drops to disperse,

Which is part of the battle and part of the curse.

Just amazed at the ultimate nothing it dries,

And resenting the option to wipe on my thighs.



So now it's been minutes and longer I fear,

I've lost track of time, in my battle in here,

With the man of my dreams tapping toes right outside,

Yet I can't come out til my hands I have dried.

I'm mad at these things! Wreck my life, will they now?

For decades they've dithered, and I've made it my vow…



… to not let this thing get the better of me,

Yes, I'll stand here as long as the bathroom is free,

Wasting energy, time and the patience of folks

Gathered round with their own hands, awaiting for pokes,

In the air blast which nothing it does, take my word!

So long have I stood there, I feel like a nerd.



And slowly the bathroom does empty of others

No sisters are left (and there never were brothers),

Still shaking and waving my hands at this thing,

‘Til tears in the corners of my eyes do sting.

For I realize that 45 minutes have passed,

And who wouldn’t wonder why his girl is last.



And think as I do of this handsome young man

With blue jeans and white shirt and lovely firm hand,

A-waiting out there as concessions do close,

And he’s getting bored now, and beginning to doze.

But still in the palm of my hands I do find

That the moisture is clinging; to me it does bind.



And finally lights flicker off in the halls,

And all the employees depart with fond calls,

To each other, “is everyone out of this place?”

“Ah, no,” they respond, “there’s a nut in no haste,

To retreat from the bathroom where her hands are wet

From the useless devices in there, I’ll just bet.”



And just as the last light is ready to dim,

I give up the battle so hungry for him

And that body be-clothed in that fitted white shirt,

That I wipe off my hands at the end of my skirt.

And so I emerge worse for wear and still damp

To an empty theatre, a-glow with one lamp.



For my date has decided that this was enough,

After waiting one hour, he's left in a huff,

Thinking I was the one who had cast him aside,

When in fact in my mind I’d imagined the ride

That I’d hoped we would share to the end of the wire.

And so this is the reason I hate the Hand-dryer.