Operators Are Standing By

When I was in college, I was once unable to be present during the registration period and asked my roommate to do it for me. It was for that reason that I spent the spring semester of 1981 studying Bioethics in Public Policy. It did nothing toward satisfying the requirements for my degree, but after the first week of class, I was intrigued by the subject and decided to stick it out. I think I got a “B.” In class, we talked about legalizing suicide, Karen Ann Quinlan, eugenics and human experimentation.

It was the first year of the Reagan administration and while it is perhaps difficult to think of those days as a more innocent time, we had not yet heard of AIDS, Baby M, Jack Kervorkian or designer embryos. The most recent of those trends, designer embryos, jumped at me from the front page of the Sunday New York Times a few weeks ago. Here’s how it works: a woman who cannot produce fertile eggs of her own pays a fertile woman to allow herself to be pumped full of hormones and produce an extraordinary number of eggs. Some of these eggs are used to impregnate the infertile woman. Because this is an imprecise technology, there is frequently a surplus of fertile eggs. These fertile human eggs are the hottest item to hit the commodities market since pork bellies. The eggs, however, are perishable. For reasons beyond my comprehension, human eggs cannot be easily frozen, but human embryos can. So the eggs are fertilized with sperm from various men and the embryos are placed in a freezer and onto the markets, where they can be purchased for slightly less then $3,000 by people who’ve had their name on a waiting list for quite some time.
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There is No Santa Claus

Happy Thanksgiving. As this is the most American of holidays, it is fitting that its meaning should evolve and take on different significance for each passing generation. Where settlers once gave thanks for the sustaining gifts of the harvest, Americans in later years paused to celebrate freedom from want in this much-blessed land and later still we used Thanksgiving as an opportunity to gather far-flung relations together again at the family homestead.

Today, many of us commemorate Thanksgiving by fortifying our bodies with carbohydrates so we may endure a three-day ordeal of shopping which will commence at 10 a.m. tomorrow. I’m going to give in to that; I’m going to acknowledge the hegemony Christmas swings over the head of Thanksgiving in the hierarchy of holidays. I could, and possibly should, launch into a dirge about the commercialization of Christmas and inveigh against all the cash we’ll spend in the next five weeks. But I’m not going to do that. I just want to give your Christmas shopping a little nudge and this is it: I’m going to ask you not to shop at “Toys R Us.”
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Tell It to the Marines

The US Army suffered another casualty last week at the hands of its long-term foe. I’m not talking about the biological weapons of Saddam Hussein; I’m talking about the political allies of the United States Marine Corps.

It seems last month, Assistant Secretary of the Army Sara Lister said some unkind things about the Marines. She called them extremists who are out of touch with society. That hit a nerve among the former Marines in Congress – who knew these leathernecks were so sensitive? The Marines called for, and got, Lister’s resignation. She said she was going to quit anyway. Sour grapes.
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The Uses of Subtlety

As time goes by, I find I have a greater and greater appreciation for the uses of subtlety. I’m not the only one and I’ve had some powerful teachers along the way.

The first was Mohandas Gandhi, who held that unjust laws must be disobeyed. In return for breaking those laws, the British governors of India incarcerated Gandhi for years at a stretch, demonstrating that they understood nothing of subtlety. In fact, so out of proportion to Gandhi’s actions were the British reactions that they assisted Gandhi in his cause and hastened the day of Indian independence.
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The Art of the Plausible

Tuesday was election day, an off-year election. I didn’t vote this year, not as a protest, but only as an expression of my rootless circumstance. In lieu of voting, I’d like to take a few moments to meditate on the state of American politics in 1997.

The phrase that keeps rolling through my mind is, “Gosh darn it all to heck.” The keys words in that phrase – “gosh,” “darn” and “heck” – are all mitigated oaths. They are safer, nicer alternatives to words once found offensive in polite company. While some aspects of American life are plagued by litigation, the current urge for mitigation is no less strong. We are mitigating many of our vices – decaffeinated coffee, non-alcoholic beer, turkey bologna, fat-free ice cream. I know any number of people who pass their days in the constant presence of light cigarettes and diet soda. You take away the caffeine, the nicotine, the sugar – what’s the point? Why not just give it up altogether? I think it’s because we’re addicted not to the chemicals, but to the act of drinking any kind of soda, smoking any kind of cigarette. We’re hooked on the process rather than the substance, so we continually mitigate the substance to assuage our guilt about continuing the process.
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Trick or Treat

Tomorrow is Halloween, which has become a fairly harmless holiday, unless you’re one of those people who think Halloween is an unholy alliance between Satan worshippers and Hallmark cards. After all witches, goblins and the occasional headless horseman are nothing to get upset over compared to say, the conniption fits Wall Street has been through in the past week.

Trick or treating isn’t what it used to be, either. Sure it’s still hazardous for the kids’ teeth to eat all that candy at once, but it isn’t really trick or treat because everyone gives out treats; very few of those little goblins out there have a repertoire of tricks anymore.
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The Fall Classic

Did you see the last game of the American League Championship Series last week? In the bottom of the 11th inning, with a runner on first and two out, Roberto Alomar of the Orioles is standing in the batter’s box facing a full count. Cleveland Indian pitcher Jose Mesa throws a pitch that is way inside, but the home plate umpire, who the box scores identify only as “Reilly” calls “Strike Three” and suddenly the game, and the Orioles season, is over.

Lemme tell you what I think. I think this Reilly umpire decided to call a strike before the pitch was ever thrown – because Roberto Alomar was the batter and Roberto Alomar spit at an umpire at the end of the 1996 season.
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