Layer Up, Prosecutors; It’s Cold Out There

In this FoxNews.com story, we find (under the heading of “Now, Honey, Do as I Say, Not as I Do”) another example of clever prosecutorial layering:

The 10-minute pursuit Friday morning ended outside Del Mar Pines School with the arrest of Stacy L. Taylor for investigation of evading arrest and child endangerment.

Got that? Child Endangerment. Mother runs off from a ticketing officer, and suddenly she’s under the stormcloud of a nebulous criminal charge.

Any moving violation can now become child endangerment. Speeding? Rolling through a stop? What if someone were to be coming the other way? The Children might have been endangered!

I think this post makes me guilty of conspiracy of child endangerment or perhaps incitement of child endangerment.

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What If Seattle Needs a Wal-Mart?

Kim du Toit is all over a story in the Seattle Workers’ Revolution story about Bill Gates buying properties surrounding his home and letting friends and family members live there. In some cases, the original owners are still there, living in Bill Gates’s house.

And this accumulation of property by a capitalist must be stopped, or so the story implies.

But let’s get to the point of the knife. The municipal government’s worried about its money:

If other residents follow Gates’ lead, that could present some challenges for the city of 3,000, said Medina City Manager Doug Schulze. Much of the money the city gets from the state is based on population. If people buy up surrounding houses and don’t have people living in them, the city’s share of state funding might decline, he said.

Ah, yes. Lest we forget, the government has a right to revenue from property owners. Or so it’s assuming.

That’s why your house is worth less to your local government than a dozen empty parking spaces in a Wal-Mart parking lot, and why this local government is beginning to make noise about preventing a man from acquiring property legally. For the neighborhood, and undoubtedly for the Children.

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Fighting for the Little Guy

Once again, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch issues the clarion and unfurls the banner of fighting for the little guy. In this case, it’s a 412-pound truck driver fired because he couldn’t fit behind the steering wheel of the truck he was supposed to drive.

We covered this in my collegiate class on ethics and contemporary issues. It’s not discrimination if it disqualifies you from the physical duties of the job. You don’t see many 4’8″ centers in the NBA, nor will you see paraplegics as warehouse pickers. If a person just cannot do the job, the employer has no obligation to continue paying that person for nothing.

But this guy, and his mighty champion paper, want him to retain his position and pay without doing the work. Instead of hanging onto the old, perhaps he should look for new opportunities. Like being a dispatcher, where he can sit all day.

That’s forward thinking, and that’s not what people or the Post-Dispatch do.

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Silicon Valley Street Seethes, Whines

(Headline style appropriated from Charles Johnson.)

Speaking of outsourcing, Alan Lacy, CEO of Sears hits the nail on the head, and undoubtedly United States developers will shriek as though it was their collective thumbnails he hit:

But I think, beyond that, to me, a very interesting trend right now is the whole non-U.S. opportunity that’s available, and … if you think about personal intelligence and drive being randomly distributed by population — you know, there are four or five times as many smart, driven people in China than there are in the U.S. And there’s another four or five, three or four times as many people in India that are smarter or as smart or have more drive. And if technology is now going to basically reduce location as a barrier to competition, then essentially you’ve got something like whatever that was, seven or nine times, more smart, committed people that are now competing in this marketplace against certain activities.

Right on, brother. Give the jobs to the cheapest and smartest people you can find.

Don’t like it, fellow IT professional? Get smarter, get faster, get cheaper, or get out of the way.

Never mind. Seething and whining plays better to the id and on the network news.

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Book Review: The Book Wars by James Atlas (1990)

This edition of The Book Wars contains advertisements for Federal Express, now more commonly known as FedEx, facing each chapter. The publisher is Whittle Direct Press, and it’s part of a series entitled “The Larger Agenda Series”. It’s out of print, and Amazon’s never heard of it, so no link for you.

Back in 1990, I was starting college, and I read the academia-critical works of Charles J. Sykes (ProfScam and The Hollow Men). So I served my tour in the Curriculum Wars, participating as appropriate, so I’m familiar with the book’s message and the time period in which Atlas wrote it.

The Sykes books are definitely partisan in tone, written to inflame the passions and mobilize the troops. This book, on the other hand, makes the reasons for the other side clear.

Atlas wrote this book somewhat as a response to Allan Bloom’s Closing of the American Mind, which details the fall of the Great Books Curriculum. I haven’t read the primary text, so I cannot comment on it.

In this book, though, Atlas explores the reasons that some of the new hippie English Department personnel (sorry, I mean resources) want to overturn the canon. Essentially, they want to introduce new ways of relating to literature, including literature from underexplored cultures. Some want new veins of ore from which they can mine publish-or-perish papers. Some want to stick it to The Man. Whatever the reasons, Atlas characterizes them more as misguided than evil. Which differs from Sykes.

Atlas defends the canon, but only slightly. He remembers a time when Joe Suburban bought Everyman’s Library editions (or Colliers Classics) of the canon and read them. Some people might not have understood them, nor picked up all the subtlety that professional interpreters would, but they realized that reading the books could better you.

I attained an epiphany while reading this book. The Curriculum Wars really are meaningless. The Old Booksters and the New Diverse Canoneers fight over the hearts and minds of kids who just don’t care. Those who want to read and better themselves will do so. Case in point: me. I read for pleasure and to keep my numble mind occupied. I survived an English Degree no worse for wear.

The real problem is that people just don’t do that anymore. Perhaps both sides have made the books inaccessible through constant obfuscation for publication, or perhaps… well, this book obviously doesn’t speculate on that.

Regardless, the book’s short–under 100 pages less ads–and it inspired me to redouble my efforts to read those great books and small remaining on my shelf. Sykes’ books incited me, but this one inspired me.

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Book Review: Rumpelstiltskin by Ed McBain (1981)

Rumpelstiltskin is the first Ed McBain book I didn’t like. Not Evan Hunter books–heaven knows the distaste I have for Last Summer–but the first Ed McBain book. I’ve read quite a few.

It’s an early Matthew Hope novel. I don’t like the series as much as the 87th Precinct series, to be honest, and I get all of the Florida color I need from Travis McGee novels. But it’s not the series that does it for me.

The plot of the book’s okay. A former pop sensation (whoops, rock since it was in the 1960s) is going to make a comeback at a small bar. She opens to bad reviews, and then gets killed. Matthew Hope, who spent the hours before her demise having curtain-climbing good sex with her, is briefly a suspect. The deceased had a trust fund due to pay out in a matter of days, so her father and her ex-husband make good suspects, with each standing to benefit depending upon the fate of the dead woman’s daughter, kidnapped at the time of the murder, don’t you know?

No, the plot’s all right, it’s the execution thereof that lacks. The book is paced poorly, and there’s no pressure on Hope. He’s a suspect, but he’s cleared quickly. So he’s got lots of time to meet new people, have a little wall-scarring good sex with another attorney, and jet to New Orleans for….well, his daughter’s around, so no sex, but just foreplay to the blossoming intrattorney relationship.

Meanwhile, the author fits in his characteristic asides, but they’re rather clumsy. There’s a three page treatise about how a woman can have red hair and blonde pubic hair, including the relationship of melanin levels and genetics in the occurrence as well as the difficulty experienced by a woman in the 1960s and 1970s growing up with it and how it impacts her psychological and sexual development. Wow, that’s quite a bit of research, Mr. McBain. Thanks for sharing your report with the class. Fortunately, the three pages end with some lamp-crashing, nightstand-tipping good sex.

It’s a short novel, clocking in at about 215 pages. I slogged through it. If you’re a big fan, you will, too, but I don’t recommend it for someone looking for a good, light read.

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Where There’s No Law but a Prosecutor’s Will, There’s a Way

When a “sexual predator” escaped a Missouri Sexually Violent Predator Unit, he didn’t break a law. According to a story in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch:

It’s a crime in Missouri to escape from a jail or prison, and it’s a crime to escape from a mental health facility if the escapee was sent there in a criminal process, such as found not guilty but insane.

But the state of Missouri, in its hurry to follow other states’ lead into indefinitely extending the finished sentences of certain classes of offenders, managed to create a means of continued incarceration for violent sexual predators, but didn’t make leaving those means of continued, un-sentenced incarceration periods against the law.

Never fear, though. Prosecutors have a myriad of laws available for any occasion.

In fact, the interview is somewhat limited that he could give the Post-Dispatch because:

He said talking about that now could hurt his chances with his current criminal case, a charge of felony property damage for cutting the fence.

What? He must not have dropped the portion of the fence he cut away in his escape or else he would also face a charge of felony littering.

Meanwhile, after releasing himself from indefinite incarceration and a probable unsentenced life term, this guy goes to Florida, gets married, and apparently doesn’t commit another sex crime, or any crime for that matter:

Neither Florida authorities nor investigators here have been able to link Ingrassia to any new sex crimes.

Instead, he’s gone south, gotten a job, and gotten married. Granted, it was his wife who got suspicious of his past and led to his return to Missouri. Hey, I’m not some multiple-degreed, highly-paid state consultant, but that sounds almost reformed to me.

But he’s cheesed off some officials who feel that their power derives from the respect they feel should be paid to them, so they’re going to get him. Instead of a warehouse for undesirables, they’ll throw him back in prison, and when his sentence for vandalism is over, they’ll return him to his indefinite warehouse.

Don’t worry, citizen. It hasn’t happened to you. Yet.

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Fitness Proves Unhealthy

New York Post headline: “MAN CLUBS WIFE TO DEATH WITH DUMBBELL

Apparently, a man beat his estranged wife to death with a five pound dumbbell.

A five pound dumbell? We’ve got dumbbells six times as deadly here in la casa de Heather, but I didn’t want to call the perp nor the victim a wuss. Instead, I wanted to point out the New York angle. The husband tried to kill himself after the murder, and failed.

Did his neighbors characterize him as a quiet man, the last sort of fellow who would do this sort of thing? Not in New York:

“He tried to kill himself, but he didn’t try hard enough,” said neighbor Ralph Watson. “He was a punk son of a gun for hitting her in the head like that, and if he really wanted to kill himself, he should have jumped in front of a train.”

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Damn Esquire Fact Checkers

El Guapo, I thought you said the fact checkers called you. So when Esquire prominantly features you, as well it should, in the February 2004 issue, why does it say you’re from Mizzou?

For crying out loud, brother, you may live in St. Louis, but you’re from somewhere else entirely and you have no relationship with the University of Missouri, commonly referred to those of us here in the Midwest as Mizzou. I guess to the coastal types, Mizzou, Missouri, Nebraska, all the same. Midwest. Nobody in the Midwest reads Esquire since they have Grit.

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Steinberg on Mars

Neil Steinberg, of the Chicago Sun-Times, on Mars:

Myself, I’d ask, “How come nobody applies the same logic to Kennedy? Nobody says, ‘Oh sure, Kennedy committed us to go to the moon and then he up and died and left the hard work to others.”’

He also manages to spank NPR, too. Read it. You will like it.

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