He was not a day over 35; actually, he looked younger to me; almost childlike. He rattled off everything they had brainwashed him with in the military. Yes, brainwashed.  Do you actually think young men would go into combat if they were not convinced it is fun and glorious?  Really, I do not think we have come all that far from the Romans who would say sometime early in their service “dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” (“It is sweet and beautiful to die for one’s country”) The hard part comes after the combat.  Maybe some painful wounds, treated by an overextended medical system, but the memorized ideology remains.  The young and impressionable repeat what they have been told so often that they believe it.

“The military teaches self-discipline.  It is a fine preparation for the working world.” Wrong.  It teaches following orders, stamping out individual ideas and initiatives like so many cockroaches who have dared to enter the kitchen.  They could appreciate if you find a faster way to process internal paperwork.  They neither encourage nor reward the kind of initiative that makes entrepreneurs, a pretty good way to rise like cream. (more…)

People told me I would have troubles in France because it was a “Catholic” country.  I do not think any trouble I can remember came from the few people who actually attended church regularly. But back to politics.  The parties were grouped into “left,” “right,” and “center.”  The left included the commies, whom I had to reassure that even though I was an American I did not hate them.  I found “rightists” fearing change as obsessively as any conservative (read “ultra-republican” American ever could. (more…)

I started wondering when I first heard that the First Lady, Michelle Obama, was out to conquer childhood obesity. I am not obsessive about a lot of things — such as fashion and politics — that seem to ignite public passions like a match nearby a gas jet.

Journalist Jane Fryer with the 3 1/2 lb burger at Hillbilly Hotdogs in Huntington, WV

I suppose I can forgive Mrs. Obama for sublimating her true identity as a Harvard-trained lawyer who probably could have been some kind of a government official in her own rite. After all, a lot of people call themselves conservatives and suffer some kind of painful convulsions with any evidence that the world has changed since their own childhoods. They want the comfort of mother’s breast from their First Lady, although they want that breast to be glamorous enough to fit into some kind of designer dress. (more…)

Life is fragile at best.  At worst it is undervalued.  Prolonging it and maintaining its quality is something most doctors have at least thought about.

Me — I was brought up by family values as well as institutional values to venerate the academic system as a seeker of truth, guardian of highest ethics.

I thought that the institutions that regulated clinical research, whether they were academic or not, were at least trying to be ethical in the face of mounting economic pressures from those who develop substances to be used for the human body, to prolong and maintain life. Some people still believe in this.

Some people, even some I can call “friend,” consider me a failed academic, someone who could have contributed more to society had she written more papers that somebody thought were good enough to publish in medical journals.

All of the above is unadulterated lies and total BS that has kept many competent minds devoting their lives to ideals that are later sold to the highest bidder.

I don’t think I have any lingering doubts that my running from academics, yelling and screaming, was the best decision I ever made.

The story of Polyheme – developed as a synthetic substitute for human blood — is perhaps the worst example of human rights having been sold down the river for development of something of serious danger (if you believe the publically published academic results) and at best, unproven help (are they really keeping this kind of secrets from us so the company developing this junk can make money?) to either prolonging or maintaining life.

The story is complicated, but basically, here it is.

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I have sat silent for a long time, waiting for the news to come in from Fort Hood, waiting for people to understand and explain.  Now, I have read and seen enough that I think I understand.

As always, my own life and experiences have been so rich and so diverse that I have an overwhelming memory or vision.

It was a California state prison; I have worked in a few.  Religion was always especially popular within the prisons where I worked.  I assumed, as did the mental health personnel in general, that it was because inmates felt so dehumanized and downtrodden that they could be expected to grasp onto anything that made them feel good.  We knew and understood this.

I certainly maintained friendly associations with all chaplains.  I considered them a bit idealistic, a bit naive, but I also considered myself that way.  And in that feeling, that belief, that “give them the extra mile” feeling, I got some peace.

Still, I remember the day I was scared.  I rarely ventured into the areas of religious worship, but once, just once, I happened to be out crossing the yard during one of the five daily times of Muslim prayer.  I could not count the number of inmates, as they covered the yard.

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