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“It is much more important to know what sort of a patient has a disease than what sort of a disease a patient has.” - Sir William Osler






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    Friday, January 21, 2011
     
    Now With Extra Funny

    The Monkeys You Ordered takes cartoons from the New Yorker and recaptions them. That's all, but it's hilarious. Those droll, cerebral, unfunny cartoons have been paired with literal captions that simply state what is going on in the drawing. You might think this doesn't sound funny, but you'd be wrong. Take a look.

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    A Good Cause

    If you've got any spare cash lying around and you're wondering what to do with it, may I suggest you donate to this couple. Long story short, they're newlyweds and he was diagnosed a few months after their marriage with glioblastoma multiforme stage four. This is about as bad as a brain tumor gets. Their full story can be read here. I first heard of them through Jo (who runs a great blog, BTW). Tashi had to quit her job to take care of her husband and they have only state aid, and not much of that.

    It's hard to believe life can be so unfair.

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    Tuesday, January 18, 2011
     
    Retirement Secrets of a 107 Year Old

    Personal finance has always been a topic of interest to me. I am no expert, but love to read about it. (I think it's the fantasy of retirement that intrigues me.) Via Instapundit, here is a story of a 107 year old man retired since 1969. He never made more than $10,000 in a year but still has savings left. His advice: be thrifty and buy real estate. He was never a big investor and did not buy commercial real estate, but did buy and sell several houses, making a bit on each. His financial instruments of choice are bonds and CDs; he never invested in stocks. (His son pointed out that after the market collapse in 2008, he was left a lot better off than the majority of investors.)

    Amazingly he's still sharp and pretty healthy. Perhaps the challenge of managing money is good for the brain cells.

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    Monday, January 17, 2011
     
    If You Bought These In the First Place, You Deserve What You Get


    A candy bar called Toxic Waste Nuclear Sludge Bars? What could possibly go wrong?


    Almost 28,000 prophetically named Toxic Waste Nuclear Sludge bars have been pulled from the market for lead levels that are more than twice the U.S. government's tolerance. The problem was found after tests by the California Department of Public Health.

    Oh, here's the kicker: they're imported from Pakistan.

    (h/t Dave Barry)

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    Conformity Trumps Iconoclasty


    So last night at The Golden Globes Glee picked up several awards. I know several people who love this show; I am not one of them. It's like The West Wing set to music, combining arch, rapid-fire dialogue with an overwhelming sense of political correctness. Multiethnic cast? Check. Kid in wheelchair? Check. Gay character who's "proud of being different?" Check. Character who dresses Goth and is persecuted by those in authority? Check.

    These days the gestalt presented by the Glee characters is neither groundbreaking nor courageous. It's all over the airwaves. It's par for the course. You know what would have made the show brave and original? Casting a bunch of untalented Caucasians who can't dance. I'm serious: A show that reenacted the whole Lawrence Welk/ "Up with People" nightmare that was the Seventies (and, incidentally, is still true of Glee clubs all over the country today) would be as watchable as a slow-motion car crash and ten times more fun than the hectoring, nanny-minded show we're stuck with.

    The real problem with Glee, in my opinion, is that it propagates the dirty lie that Being Yourself is all you need to do. Why work an after-school job to save up for college when you can dress up like Lady Gaga and prance around instead? Guess what, kids. Those thuggish football players mocking your artistic statements? They're the ones going to college -- on scholarships. You are not. Studying and sports practice may be a drag, but they're investments in your future which will pay off much, much more than waving your freak flag high will ever do.

    But Alice, we're talking about a one-hour diversion once a week. Aren't you reading too much into a harmless TV show? I don't think so and I'll tell you why. I know people who center their lives around Glee and other TV shows. Instead of getting out into the world and being themselves, they're watching shows that tell them to celebrate The Wonder That Is You. Their personal lives have narrowed to an incredibly small circle of similar thinkers, both in real life and online. Instead of (dare I say it?) working for a living, they live in semipoverty and spend huge chunks of time on work no one in their senses would ever reimburse them for - like fan websites and fanfiction. Don't get me wrong, these things are fine for a hobby. But at some point, you have to turn the modem off and go make a living. Join the real world!

    Oh, and when their parents try to intervene? My family doesn't understand me! Only (sob) you guys do! Yeah, right, only your fellow navel-gazers really "get" the real you. Now let's get back to that Battlestar Galactica fanfic and forget about your mean family, who want you to get a job. News flash: being understood is not as important as you think it is. Too often, in my experience, this phrase translates to "If you don't appreciate me exactly as I am, there must be something wrong with you."

    Full disclosure here: I write fan fiction myself. And I know, either in person or online, plenty of people with iconoclastic interests - one of whom is a Star Wars fan who leads a squadron of Imperial Stormtroopers. (Yes, they have all the armor and look completely authentic.) The difference? We do this stuff in our spare time. It adds fun to our lives; it has not become the center of our lives. The Stormtroopers, for instance, show up at the kids' section of the library every once in a while to entertain them. They volunteer their time to help the wider community.

    Who sounds more attractive to you: the buttoned-up banker with the stormtrooper soul or the guy who lives in his parents' basement, collecting action figurines and defending the "vision" of George Lucas against all who dare to question it? I know which one I'd choose.

    Oh, and to the characters of Glee, I close with the immortal words of William Shatner: GET A LIFE!

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