Botox parties...endurance condoms...A Year of Ideas

Pfizer dye lot 5,735. Normally benign, but not at the experimental dosage levels I think it my duty to investigate.

There, both answers in one.

If Pfizer is the manufactuer of Viagra, should I be calling you Mr. Weisburg?

Ooh, Blatham, I, I'm speechless! And impressed! Oh, oh, oh, I've never been saluted in quite that manner! And you are so cute in blue.....

It so happens that it is bedtime for me. I can hardly wait to find out what my dreams will be tonight. Imbued with blue, and a sizable, well.....

Goodnight dear Blatham. I know my dreams will be sweet.

BTW,does Canada have any medals of honor for you dedicated individuals who are willing to risk all for science? I can picture an award of twelve bagels tied with a blue ribbon, to be worn wherever you please.

Twelve bagels!! My god, woman, your dreams will need inclusion of an entire mead hall of Beowulf ruffians.

An' BLatham may need some surgery to carry twelve bagels an' two cups of coffee . . .

heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee . . .

And what about the cigarettes?

Then off to the mead hall--what are dreams for if not for the wildest of fantasies!

Grendel must by cowering in his cave, having never in his life seen anything like that blue protrusion.

Breakfast, anyone?

Hey, Blatham, get me out of this place!! My imagination is far too vivid--there is no way I can spend any more time in this flea infested hall. I also can't help feeling sorry for Grendel after reading John Gardner's book and I really don't want to have to deal with his mother!

In addition, while I do enjoy mead now and then, I'm more a Chambord or champagne kind of girl. I have to admit that my enthusiasm got the better of me.

Oh, by the way, do you prefer being addressed as Mr. Weisburg, or may I call you Bernie, now that I have been so delightfully introduced to your um, blueness?

Ms Diane

Sure, you're all snooty and superior and want to leave those ruffians, but only AFTER spending the night.

Bernie is just fine. I have to say that because I am missing the Weisburg allusion and, naturally, wish to cover that up.

You do realize that you are flirting outrageously?

Sorry to be on topic, but I saw this thread and have been meaning to post here for a while.

I am fascinated by the Ambulance-Homicide Theory. A crime is committed in an area where the ambulance arrives quickly, the EMS workers are well trained, and the hospital emergency staff is competent. The victim of the crime survives, and the perpetrator is arrested for assault or possibly attempted murder.

The same crime is committed in an area where ambulances are few and far between. Perhaps there are no EMS around. The emergency room is understaffed. The victim dies, and the perpetrator is charged with murder.

Food for thought.

Also, the article mentions that the lower murder rates and higher assault rates reflect this variance in emergency care. In fact the only reason the murder rates are down is because people who would have been killed ten or fifteen years ago are not dying now.

Roberta

It is an odd consequence, isn't it. And a lovely example of how statistics, even where accurate, can lead to mistaken assumptions.

Roberta, That also struck me as interesting and a little frightening. Often, when I've been in NYC during a crowded shopping season, it hasn't been lost on me that, if there were a real emergency, it would be impossible to get help within a reasonable time. As for some of the worst neighborgoods, it is all too clear that emergency vehicles don't respond in the same time as in better neighborgoods.

There are probably several reasons for this in addition to the most obvious one of racism, including a lack of proper markings on street corners and addresses on buildings.

In my little Connecticut town, the police usually know where a house is located, even if it isn't marked. Population size might be the most important factor.

+++++++++++
Bernie, my apologies for not explaining myself, a bad oversight since I took a couple of parts from Setanta's song to make one character for my little fantasy; a lawyer named Mr. Weisburg.

"Down at the courthouse coffee shop
Some stared in disbelief
As a pack of thirsty lawyers
Started filling out their briefs

Old man Weisberg
Took the shower of his life
Then he marched into the kitchen
And he called out to his wife
She knew something was up
As he stood naked at the table
Holding two cups of coffee
And half a dozen bagels
It had been at least a decade
Since the last time he was able"
(In my mind, Mr. Weisburg has undergone several changes in the spirit of creativity.)

Of course you had to bring up the fact that I spent the night before deciding that this particular fantasy isn't for me. Well, I'm as dedicated to science as you are, my dear Bernie. Now, get..me..out..of..here. I'm starting to scratch in a very unladylike manner!!

I'm sure you know of some cozy little places in Canada closer to the source of the experiments.

If you would like some breakfast, I believe there might be a couple of bagels left. Cream cheese, jam?

And yes, I am flirting outrageously!! Haven't had this much fun in years. The mind is a terrible thing to waste.

diane

Yes, of course, I should have made the connection.

There was a wonderful piece in the New Yorker a few years ago in the 'far flung reporter' genre their writers do so well. The lady was writing from France, where she'd been living for a while, and she talked about how the French, far more than we, love to flirt with great abandon in just about every social situation. She loved it too.

Blatham, Yes, the statistics are accurate, but they don't reflect the reality of the situations.

As I've walked or tried to ride around in midtown Manhattan, especially during the holiday season, I've seen ambulances stuck in traffic. I've often thought, "If you're going to have an emergency, have one when it's not rush hour." I've always felt sympathetic to the poor slob in the back of the ambulance, lights swirling, sirens blaring, and going nowhere.

After having read the article, I continue to think about the people who have been tried and convicted of murder, where the same crime would not have been murder somewhere else. Sympathetic? No. I'm more inclined to view it the opposite way. Murderers are getting away with murder because their victims arent' dying. Did I just say that?

Roberta

It's true, but I think it is one of those unsolveables. But if I were to imagine my daughter as victim, the saving of her life clearly appears as far more valuable than a sort of mathematical model of justice. Does that make sense?

Roberta, yes, you did say that and it makes perfect sense, as does Blatham's statement. When it comes to the people we love, their safety automatically overrides our sense of justice and equal treatment for others.

Blatham, Certainly the statistics favor the victims--and that is a good thing. Survival of those we care about or total strangers is far more important than what happens to the criminals. But the irony of the situation keeps rolling around in my head.

I suppose it is similar to people in underdeveloped countries who die of illnesses that people in more developed country don't die of. Access to medical assistance, medication, well-equipped and staffed hospitals all enter into the equation. Of course goims ain't criminals.

Roberta

That's the thing about those damned ironies...they get into you and then they just don't quit! Perhaps you and I can come up with an aerosol spray..."IronyAdieu"...we'll make a zillion bucks and William Bennett will finally feel like he's on the right planet after all.

Blatham, I bet you're on to something and you picked the right person to work with. Roberta is a freelance editor and a former executive editor with (senior moment), anyway, a major company in New York.

"Irony Adieu" has a certain ring, certainly more upbeat than "Compassion Burnout."

Diane

Thank you for the alert. I, and the people around me, have learned the hard way that writers are to be avoided if at all possible, and if that's not possible, then held down, painted like clowns, and fired from cannons into large murals.

Blatham, The foulest language that you might ever hear comes streaming from my lips when I'm editing something that does not deserve to be called writing.

On the other hand, when I'm the one doing the writing (I've had a few books published), writers (well, one anyway) are the salt of the earth.

Diane, McGraw-Hill was the company I worked for.

As for IronyAdieu, an aerosol spray. I like the idea. It sings to me. We'd make a fortune, but I think we'd make a bigger fortune if we called it something less obscure to the masses. How about Life Ain't Fair Fixer?

Doesn't have the same ring as IronyAdieu, but I think it has broader appeal.