The Next Civil Liberties Scare

“Katrina is comparable in intensity to Hurrica...
Image via Wikipedia

I’m amazed at how fast we’re moving to a system where the government controls everything. They’re nationalizing banks, socializing medicine, rewriting property laws and taxing our grandchildren as we speak. Here I thought the loss of property rights from the Kelo decision were bad for America. All this coming from lefties who have said for decades they distrust the government. Apparently that’s true only when they’re not in power.

Here’s the latest: they want to put a GPS in your car. They want to see where you drive, when you drive, how far you drive, and tax you based on your driving habits.

The system would require all cars and trucks be equipped with global satellite positioning technology, a transponder, a clock and other equipment to record how many miles a vehicle was driven, whether it was driven on highways or secondary roads, and even whether it was driven during peak traffic periods or off-peak hours.

The device would tally how much tax motorists owed depending upon their road use. Motorists would pay the amount owed when it was downloaded, probably at gas stations at first, but an alternative eventually would be needed.

Of course we can trust the government not to abuse this information. Just like we can trust them with Katrina cleanup, the IRS, and the banking system.

Next step, no doubt, is to actually implant GPS technology into people.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]
Advertisements

Stimulus Plan Kills Older People

Ok, so that’s a scare title. But not by much.

Buried deep in the so-called Stimulus Plan are new government-mandated health-care restrictions. Here are some snippets –


The bill’s health rules will affect “every individual in the United States” (445, 454, 479). Your medical treatments will be tracked electronically by a federal system.




One new bureaucracy, the National Coordinator of Health Information Technology, will monitor treatments to make sure your doctor is doing what the federal government deems appropriate and cost effective. The goal is to reduce costs and “guide” your doctor’s decisions (442, 446).




Hospitals and doctors that are not “meaningful users” of the new system will face penalties. “Meaningful user” isn’t defined in the bill. That will be left to the HHS secretary, who will be empowered to impose “more stringent measures of meaningful use over time” (511, 518, 540-541)




Hospitals and doctors that are not “meaningful users” of the new system will face penalties. “Meaningful user” isn’t defined in the bill. That will be left to the HHS secretary, who will be empowered to impose “more stringent measures of meaningful use over time” (511, 518, 540-541)




Daschle says health-care reform “will not be pain free.” Seniors should be more accepting of the conditions that come with age instead of treating them. That means the elderly will bear the brunt.




The stimulus bill will affect every part of health care, from medical and nursing education, to how patients are treated and how much hospitals get paid. The bill allocates more funding for this bureaucracy than for the Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force combined (90-92, 174-177, 181).



I think most Americans will object to this being buried in a panic-induced overreaching deficit bill without debate. Why is our Obamanation ramming stuff like this down our throats without debate? If these are so important, why can’t they be voted on individually so each portion can be judged on its own merit?

Please, government, stop helping us. We can’t afford it. Just put the checkbook down, back away, and nobody will get hurt. We don’t need a “stimulus” plan. It’s that’s sort of government “help” that got us into this mess in the first place.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

Rejecting the Arrogance

In this morning’s Washington Post, Obama wrote that the Stimulus Package (which is horrendously misleading as there is far more liberal pet socialist programs than stimulus in the package) must be passed immediately or puppies will die. No time to read it, just sign it.

But then he includes this phrase –

“I reject these theories, and so did the American people when they went to the polls in November and voted resoundingly for change,” he wrote.

I heard him say something similar last week when he refused to implement any conservative suggestions into the negotiations, adding it was because “he won.”

I heard it last night as a significant step toward Marxism was implemented when Obama signed the SCIHP program. Congress is lying about it’s implementation. They raised taxes for the first time in this adminstration by adding 62 cents to a pack of cigarettes, they claim this will fund the socialized medicine program, when in reality they need an additional 24 million smokers to fund it. And then Obama added that the people voted for it because they voted for him.

This is arrogance, and I’m already tired of it. Yes, Obama is my President, but I didn’t vote for that. Nor did the vast majority of Americans request a move to Marxism. Obama promised change, and Americans were tired of Congress lying. Every year they promise to hold back spending and then they spend it like drunken sailors. Obama is doing the exact same thing and there is absolutely no change. Same old same old.

I reject the arrogance. If you want to be bipartisan, Mr. President, show that you have an inkling of understanding for the conservative view point instead of shoving an “I won” down our throats.

May the so-called “Stimulus Package” go down in flames. Defeat is necessary in order to save our country.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

Christian Carnival CCXLIV

Christian Bible, rosary, and crucifix.
Image via Wikipedia

It’s National Bailout Day, seeing as how our illustrious US Congress has allocated $700 billion for Wall Street bankers. As Christians, I think we probably could put $700 billion to better use, don’t you?

But I got to thinking that our lives are not ours, we have been purchased at a cost. How much did it cost for Jesus to bail us out? In that view, $700 is mere paper. The Son of God sacrificed Himself.

Chasing the Wind is please tonight to host the 244th Christian Carnival, this week’s collection of the best Christian writing found on the planet. (Hey, if you find better, at least you’re looking. Halleluiah. 🙂 )

In order they were received, here they are –

And that” wrap up this week’s edition. Submit your blog article to the next edition of christian carnival ii using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

Aftermath of Ike

Card game, 1895Image via Wikipedia We survived; we’re thankful. Not only that, we’re well, we have a nice cool front to bring the temperatures down, and it’s a full moon to illuminate our evenings. All these things we give praise and thanks to God.

Last Friday we tried several places to buy a propane refill tank to no avail. Everything was sold out; even finding a gas station that still had fule was difficult, but we found one still pumping. I made a last minute trip to Walgreens to buy a propane lighter, and then to Specs for some hurricane pinot noir, just in case. Then settled down to watch the news.

We watched until 12:30am and the power flickered off and on; at 1:30am we headed to bed. We lost power at 2:00am which woke us back up; electronic appliances beeped and complained they were without power, so I got up to shut them off.

Around 4:00am, the full force of Ike arrived, howling and shrieking outside. Thunder, lightning, wind, rain blowing sideways. I went back to sleep; because of a head cold, I took some Nyquil with the achy-stuffy-head-so-you-can-sleep-through-a-hurricane medicine.

Around 9:00am Saturday, without power, we took a walk in the light rain to survey the damage. Widespread flooding around our homes, and several large trees were down. We had abut 4 inches of water in the garage; it was expected and we had raised things up. Some trees had uprooted sidewalks; a chimney was damaged and fences were down. Some kind samaritan drove by in a pickup truck, fired up a chainsaw,and cut up the tree blocking our entrance, then drove off again.

Cell phone signal was sporadic; we sent text messages to relatives, and heard back from most of them. Cell phone service went out for good after that. And in the afternoon, we lost water pressure.

Sunday, the rain returned, and this time we had 6 inches of water in the garage. Any desire to find better accomodations had to be postponed, waiting for the water to drop.

Sunday afternoon, we drove to my mother’s, who had a large generator running. We were able to take a hot shower and feel civilized again and cook a hot meal. Monday morning a very nice cool front blew in, dropping the temperatures to a quite pleasant upper 70’s, and the full moon lights up the evening. We play cards and dice and read books during the day, and the in the evening play by candlelight. We have a laptop with enough juice to watch 1 movie.

At work, the building I work with is not yet in service, so I’m in a temporary training room where I can charge the laptop back up and finally see the devastation around me and realize how fortunate I am. I picked up some food to go from Olive Garden last night; some salad and pasta fagioli was tasty. They shut down early, though, because of the curfew still in effect.

Tonight, we can watch 1 more movie, the play games again by full moon and candlelight. We’ve visited more with our neighbors in the last 4 days than we have the last year. All blessings to be thankful for. The water pressure’s back, so we can take cold showers but more importantly we can flush the toilets. It’s sort of funny that everytime we walk into a closet we try to turn on the lights.

Finding gas for the cars is rare; most gas stations don’t have power, but we’re ok for another 4-5 days. Some restaurants are opening up; that’s easier than trying to wait in line at grocery stores that are out of everything except canned good. But power is being restored quickly around the city, so we have high hopes that they’ll get to us this week. Almost a shame, though, because the neighborly visits will end, the romantic card games by candlelight will be over. And I bet my electric bill this month will be low.

Thank you for the prayers; we are indeed thankful for them. Continue to pray for those that didn’t weather the storm nearly so well.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

Sham Acupuncture

Something I read today I thought was very interesting – western medicine doesn’t work as well as fake non-medicine, at least for lower back pain. A study found that fake acupuncture worked nearly as well as real acupuncture, and both of those were nearly twice as effective as western medicine.

In the largest experiment on acupuncture for back pain to date, more than 1,100 patients were randomly assigned to receive either acupuncture, sham acupuncture or conventional therapy. For the sham acupuncture, needles were inserted, but not as deeply as for the real thing. The sham acupuncture also did not insert needles in traditional acupuncture points on the body and the needles were not manually moved and rotated.

After six months, patients answered questions about pain and functional ability and their scores determined how well each of the therapies worked.

In the real acupuncture group, 47 percent of patients improved. In the sham acupuncture group, 44 percent did. In the usual care group, 27 percent got relief.

To me it seems obvious that much of the pain relief comes from just *thinking* you’re going to get relief. The next question I’d have is, if you know that going in, do you need treatment at all? Or just think about getting treatment?

Kenya Mission, Day 7

January 2, 2006

Today’s Swahili phrase: hakuna matada, which means “Disney marketing phrase.” No wait, it means “no worries.”

I’ve received a lot of encouragement to continue this series – we’re about halfway through – but this next day was a very important day, full of eye-opening experiences, and frankly, just hard to get a grasp on everything that happened and put it into words. I probably started and stopped this post a half-dozen times in the last month, and I think you’ll see by the end why it took so long. While bathing the orphan children was a revealing experience 2 days ago, today really impressed upon us the great need and problems of the people of Kenya.

Sister FredaToday we went to visit Sister Freda and her hospital, and I met one of this planet’s finest women. Sister Freda runs a hospital near Kitale, Kenya, as well as an orphanage and a school. She told us that only 2 of every hundred patients can afford to pay, so she provides most of the care for free and operates entirely on faith. We had come to serve Sister Freda for the day, but she waited on us hand and foot and humbled us by showing us what a real servant was like. Here is Sister Freda; click the thumbnail to get a full size view.

Sister Freda's HospitalSister Freda first gave us a tour of the hospital. In the US we’re used to gleaming stainless steel so the concrete building didn’t appear exactly state-of-the art, but it was very clean and sterile. Plenty of care was taken to keep things clean and neat. We met some of the patients. A woman with AIDS and malaria who had had an allergic reaction to the drug combination and who’s skin appeared to be disappearing; in her case, the rich black skin of a Kenya had turned an off-white color. We stopped to pray with her. We met a pregnant woman; pre-natal care is almost non-existent here, but this woman had stopped in for a checkup and some vitamins. We met a little girl with sickle cell anemia. Another young child, perhaps 2 years old, was asleep; her mother lived in the nearby forest and had carried her baby in a backpack for so long her legs were folded under and misshapen from the lack of use, and Sister Freda was providing the physical therapy to help her walk. The baby was taken from the mother by other villagers when the mother drowned her eight year old daughter.

Breakfast at Sister Freda'sSister Freda serves breakfast to the orphans Next, we went outside to visit the orphanage and school. In Kenya, they don’t have public schools funded by taxes like the United States; instead, each parent has to provide money to pay for their children’s education. The result is that many children from the poorest families and all orphans remain uneducated. Sister Freda not only has 30+ children she feeds and educates, but she’s been doing this such a long time that some of the earliest orphans have grown up and now work in her medical clinic. Here we visited the children while they were having breakfast.

The children of Sister Freda in schoolThe children of Sister Freda in schoolWhen breakfast was over, the children returned to the classrooms. I think there were three rooms, each about 20’x20′ with a door, a window, and a blackboard, and not enough chairs for the children. That didn’t seem to be a problem for them, though, as the children happily sat on each other when necessary. The children sang “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and “If You’re Happy and You Know It” in English and were genuinely surprised that we knew the words, too.

Bananas from Sister Freda's orchardSister Freda presents fruit from her orchardSister Freda also has a fruit orchard and we toured the bananas, papayas, and avocados growing there. Many of the medicines prescribed are supposed to be taken with food, and for many of the patients food can be difficult to come by. Sister Freda solves that problem by growing her own food and cooking in her own kitchen. We were blessed by lunch with her as she served a meat stew with ugali and some of the most wonderful bread I’ve ever had called chapati, made by rolling whole wheat flour and salt into a circle, browning in a pan, then held briefly over an open flame to puff up.

Sister Freda was a fabulous host, and we found out the reason our day of service in the town of Mbasagan was cancelled was because of a funeral being held that day. On a moonless night, dark black men are hard to see, and such a recent night saw the murder of six people in town. Possibly in retaliation for a tribal disagreement, the six were murdered in their homes. We were reminded that we were far away from home and not necessarily as safe as we felt. Sister Freda instead served us lunch and presented each of us with a rungu, an African fighting stick. (I’ve tried to look this up on a web search, but the rungus I found don’t look like the ones we received. Ours look more like a samburu war club.)

Kenya girl carrying brown waterAfter lunch, we went to Mbasagan town to visit. When Mzungus like us visit, we cause a stir, and all the children turn out. The children are incredibly friendly and have none of that “stranger danger” has ever been taught to them. They walked right up along side and took our hand – those that were brave enough to come so close to a mzungu, that is. They ask for nothing but their needs are great. Some of the children would hold our hands for a while as we walked… then would also help us hold our water bottles. One by one we relinquished all of our water to the children, for we knew we could just get fresh water bottles later. What were the children drinking? The children save their bottles and walk to the river daily to refill it. Take a good look at the color of the water in this water bottle this young girl was carrying. How could we refuse? We only had maybe 6 or 8 bottles among us and there were two dozen children and I didn’t know how to choose, but that was my western materialism at play again. It didn’t matter which child we gave the water to, all the bottles ended up in the hands of a single, older girl. We were told once they had collected all the water, she’d divide it among the children fairly so they could all have a taste of fresh water.

One of the women we met showed us some maize that was at the foot of her house. It didn’t look like much, and it wasn’t. She told us that it was all she had to eat until October, but she wasn’t going to eat it. She was saving it for the rainy season to plant. She was an educated woman with a university education, and then married a local Mbasagan man. There was no opportunity to use her education and said matter-of-factly that this was just her lot in life. Her husband provided the living, carrying fruit from the market to the highway for about 35 shillings a day, about 50 cents. With that, they bought food daily. It was her job to collect firewood and water every day.

She told us of the needs of the town; many of the adults and children were dying of dysentery, cholera and malaria. The town shared a latrine, dug by hand 30 feet down, then covered with a board with a hole in it. The only well in town was also dug 30 feet down, and waste seepage had long ago contaminated the well. As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was no cemetery, so people buried their dead on their own land, about a 20′ x 20′ piece of land. They only buried them two or three feet deep, so heavy rains would wash remains into their neighbor’s yard where they cooked. They asked to get word to a group like Living Water who could drill water wells 200 feet, well below the contaminated layer of ground.

We walked back to Sister Freda’s in a somber thoughtful mood, but our day was just beginning. When we got there, a man on a bicycle had carried a woman to see Sister Freda. The woman was in obvious pain; her ankle was very swollen, she could not move her arm, and she was bleeding from one ear. She had been riding on a boda-boda, a bicycle, and had a bicycle accident. She had leaped off at the last moment. Sister Freda took her inside, cleaned her up, but said she needed x-rays, something Sister Freda could not provide. We had a van, so we split into two groups. One group went back home, picking up groceries for the night. The rest of us gave the injured woman – her name was Rosa – a ride to the Kitale hospital. Our experience here convinced us of two things. One, I would never complain about US hospitals, and two, if we became injured in Kenya, please ship us to England for emergency care.

The hospital had an admission room where they grudgingly admitted Rosa because of Sister Freda’s letter, and that’s where the hospital care ceases. There are no orderlies, no nurses, nobody that comes to help. Injured people must be accompanied by friends or relatives to move them around or… they just die. There’s a payment for admission, and all transactions are handled up front with cash. If you don’t have cash… well, I guess you die. We found a metal gurney and lifted Rosa onto it and she yelled in pain; it had been several hours since her accident and she had no painkillers. Then we waited for a doctor to arrive to take the x-rays. He was traveling among other hospitals at the moment, taking x-rays, and nobody was sure when he would arrive at this hospital.

After two or three hours, Rosa lying on the metal gurney in pain, we decided we had waited long enough. It was getting dark and Rosa was getting cold, so we went back into the ward. Beds were available back here, but there were three times as many patients as there were beds, so injured and ill people shared, 2 or 3 to a bed. When we brought in Rosa, one woman moved her injured child into another so three children shared a bed, making room voluntarily for Rosa to have a place. We wheeled her as close as we could, then lifted her to the bed, cringing because she yelled in pain. We felt hopeless, unable to compensate for her hurting.

And 2 minutes later, we found the doctor had arrived. And we lifted Rosa again in pain onto the gurney, bumped her across the concrete walkway back to the x-ray room. Then we lifted her for the 4th time that day onto the x-ray table. The doctor looked at us seriously and asked us some direct questions about whether we were missionaries. I don’t know if that would have been a problem, but we answered truthfully that we were visiting sister Freda. One of us was a pastor, the rest were engineers, accountants, miscellaneous. Not full time missionaries. The doctor looked at us for a while longer, then asked for payment. We paid the doctor and waited outside.

After a few moments, he told us her foot was merely sprained, but her clavicle, her shoulder was broken. The blood from the ears indicated some head injury, but his equipment could not x-ray a skull. There would be no way to tell if her head was damaged seriously, nor any way to treat it.

We lifted Rosa for the 5th time back onto the gurney, wheeled her along the bumpy path, then lifted her for the 6th time back into bed. We now had a prescription for a painkiller, so again we divided up, half walking down the street to get the medicine, the rest staying with Rosa for comfort. We could pray for her, but she spoke no English. Jason translated for us that we had been visiting a local church and would stay with her as long as we could. At a nearby store before they closed we bought a shawl for Rosa to stay warm, milk and fruit for when she became hungry, and made a quick trip home to grab some personal pillows we had brought from the US so she would have something to rest her head on.

In the meantime, the rest of our group, waiting in the van, had spent the afternoon witnessing to the security guard. I didn’t get the whole story, but he was Muslim and afraid of what would happen to him, but then gave his life to Christ. I hope one of our group gets the courage to post in the comments below what happened out there. 🙂

That was all we could do for Rosa that day, so we left, vowing to come back and check on her when we could. Her brother was with her so her needs could be met. The needs of the Kenyan people showed so greatly in even this hospital – no assistance, no food, no medicine, and you had to pay first or you didn’t receive care. The Lord had opened our eyes today on many things, things we would never forget.

Again, I apologize for the length of time it took to write about this day, but it was such a powerful day, and I haven’t had the time at lunch lately to write like I did earlier in the year. If you thought our day of bathing the orphan children was the most emotional experience, today was exponentially more powerful. And tomorrow? In Day 8 we will find that there’s even more needs than we could have possibly imagined. That’ll take a while to write as well, so I hope you’ll be patient. And those of you that went to Kenya with me, and especially those friends still in Kitale, please comment and correct anything I didn’t get quite write, I’ll be happy to fix it. Just comment below or email me.