Clever state folks just trying to help

CDOT and state troopers are joining together this week to fight "distracted driving." To help with that, you can get tweets on the topic direct to your cell phone, so you can consider this while driving. http://twitter.com/csp_news. Oy.

Somebody with guts needs to kick some health-insurance butts today

 I could think of little but extreme profanity when I found out this week that our health insurance here at the Aurora Sentinel was going to skyrocket 17 percent this year.
Whether we're in good company, we're in plentiful company. The average screaming rate hike for health insurance in the region is about 15 percent.
So much for health care reform without real government control and a public option.
The Denver Post this week reported that health insurance company profits this year for Big Health are up 56 percent over the previous year. Big Health pooh poohs all of that, saying  2008 was a "bad year."
Make no mistake. We are being soaked, to use words acceptable at the dinner table. Mentally, my description of what the health-care industry is doing to us is much more energetic.
I now agree with right-wing conservatives. Repeal Obamacare. Now. It's become nothing more than a license for insurance companies to fleece Americans while we all stand helplessly by because gutless Democrats and disingenuous Republicans refused to legislate real insurance controls to prevent what's happening this very minute. We have been betrayed by our own.
But Congress must not repeal what has become not only bad, but dangerous, legislation, they must force insurance companies to roll back rates to 2007 levels. And then start over.
This time, Congress must create either an expansion of programs like Medicare or Medicaid, or create a new non-profit insurance system. It would obviously attract a tidal wave of consumers anxious to see their health-care dollars go for health-care and not the bloated health-insurance bureaucracy made fat with big salaries and even bigger corporate profits.
These greedy, shady companies would either be forced to lower costs and improve services, or go the hell away.
Americans must stand together on this. It's laughable that so many conservative and liberal Americans alike scream bloody murder at the idea of any kind of a tax increase, especially when the economy and individual Americans are so economically vulnerable. But these same people willingly fork over giant annual hikes of 15 percent for health insurance, whopping hikes in home-heating bills and even bigger blows to the wallet at the gas pump, because, hey, it's a free-market country.
Like hell it is. This is nothing more than the biggest, legally protected anti-trust scam ever pulled on the country.
Get with it, America. It doesn't matter who we send to Congress next year. If they don't protect Americans from health-insurance companies, throw their sorry asses out and get someone there who will.
I have had enough, and I hope the rest of you have, too.

Bucking the truth

Ack. Can poor Ken Buck make himself look any more weird to mainstream Colorado?

The Fort Collins Coloradoan reported  that U.S. Senate candidate Ken Buck continued with his flat-earther campaign strategy, referring to the overwhelming evidence and the global scientific community conclusion that human activity is heating up the planet.

In a public forum Buck lauded moon-howling Republican Sen. James Inhofe of Oklahoma for his stance on global warming. Buck said the senator "was the first person to stand up and say this global warming is the greatest hoax that has been perpetrated," the Coloradoan reported. "The evidence just keeps supporting his view, and more and more people's view, of what's going on."

No, it's not.  The evidence that Buck and Inhofe say is crap comes from the Pentagon, NASA, Exxon Oil, MIT and, and, and. And the truth is, the picture looks consistently grimmer, not better.

Even Big Oil agrees that the human use of so much carbon fuel is driving global warming. HELLO? Big Oil. And Inhofe and Buck apparently now believe that Big Oil is in on a conspiracy with the United Nations and GreenPeace. And WHY does Inhofe believe that the whole world is conspiring to pull off a hoax about global warming? For grant money.

Ding dong. Nobody home, folks.

It seems Buck is falling back on the neo-con concept of telling any lie you wish and repeat as often as you can and sooner or later people will begin to believe it. But it's only because people want to believe it.

I would love to believe that I can go buy a giant SUV to haul all my pals to the slopes and back each weekend without giving a second thought to foreign-oil dependence, super-heating the planet and killing ourselves, or helping to launch cancer in those who live near the highways I motor on. It would be so much easier to just say, "Aaaah, screw it. It's just a hoax."

If it weren't for those damned, annoying facts. 

Democratic leaders fire into the feet of fellow fools

 Shameless. Democrats are pitching an old story as news in hopes of snagging a few needy seniors on the edge of voting for Republicans.

Congressional officials are re-suggesting that Congress pay out $250 "bonuses" to Social Security recipients since the agency has determined it will not pay out a cost of living increase next year.

It's nothing more than ploy for votes. Congress has already turned back the idea on more than one occasion earlier this year. The reasons were varied, but the biggest problem is: no money. If federal lawmakers are going to bang the drum about no more deficit spending, it means they can't do it to lure votes either.

Democratic leaders are being more than disingenuous about the issue, they're lying.


"The only thing standing in the way of America's seniors receiving this critical support are Senate Republicans," saidSenate Majority Leader Harry Reid.

No. That's a lie.  A dozen  Democratic senators  joined Republicans to kill the bonus measure last March, according to an Associated Press story.  One of those senators was Colorado's own Michael Bennet. Most of the opposition to the measure was based on not wanting to borrow money to provide the bonuses.

Democrats have lost the higher ground on this issue now, which is too bad since the real cost of everything that matters has most certainly gone up in the last year, including the cost of fuel, home heating, medication and health insurance.

Rather than try to explain away their tawdry behavior, best to apologize, back away and look for real issues to tackle that they can be truthful about.

The Buck Stops Here

Three strikes and senate hopeful Ken Buck is outta here.

In front of God and the whole TV world Ken Buck said Sunday on Meet the Press that he's certain that homosexuality is a choice, not a biological variant, and that any biological roots are similar to those that are associated with alcoholism.

Oh, yes, he went there. He showed that he's anxious to lead all right, he wants to lead the growing number of conservative flat-earthers, birthers and other assorted fruit cocktail who prefer their own brand of science and facts to those grounded in reality.

Like so many homophobic neo-cons, Buck refuses to accept that for decades now, credible scientists, psychologists, psychiatrists and researchers have understood that in almost every instance, homosexuality is a congenital condition, just like heterosexuality.

But there's so much more to Buck's New Science. He also refuses to believe that the 6.8 billion people on this planet driving cars, heating and lighting homes, clearing forests and manufacturing up a storm are also heating up the planet by producing so much carbon dioxide. While there are thousands, upon thousands of brilliant, dedicated and prolific scientists who agree that human activities are changing the global climate, Buck is among those who point to a dwindling handful of scientists who are holding out for more proof. Really, Mr. Buck, the odds are better that we'll turn up Santa Claus before we turn up proof that global warming is just a hoax pulled off by satanic liberals who don't like a healthy economy.

And Buck is just as obstinate when it comes to his rabid anti-abortion stance. Buck takes the Roman Catholic Church approach to abortion, insisting that even victims of rape and incest must be forced to carry their pregnancies to term, no matter how early the pregnancy is when it's detected. It's the kind of logic that leads to the end of emergency contraception for rape victims because in theory, it could terminate a "pregnancy" that is a few hours old.

I don't know about you, but I think this is a return to the kind of dark ages that condones insecure bullies picking on gays and pushing them toward suicide, justifying the monopolistic death grip that Big Oil and Big Coal have on this country, and supporting a mentality that will steal reproductive rights from women, sending them to back-alley abortionists just like the "good ol' days" that the Tea Party seems to be driving its candidates toward.

Any one of these political planks would be enough to make any mainstream Colorado voter wince. But Buck's triple play is enough to make even the most casual voter insist that Buck stay in the dugout.

Silence is a loud reminder of the loss of a pet

 

It’s the quiet I notice more than anything else now that Daisy is gone.

After almost 11 years of perfecting her role as the most stubborn dog on Earth, our family bichon frise fell victim to some mysterious doggy infection and died over the holiday weekend.

She was an uncommonly smart little dog, which was her problem. Actually, her high level of intelligence became our problem.

We picked her out from a litter of white puff-balls in early spring one year, as a birthday present for my kindergartner daughter. While the other pups wandered around their pen, Daisy charged over and wouldn’t be put off when we looked at the other pups.

Big, red flag was ignored.

She loved being around people. She loved playing with kids, even little ones who got way too rough with her. In almost 11 years, she never once snapped or snarled or gave me one moment to worry that she would hurt anyone or anything. She loved any kind of attention, and she really loved her dinner.

Second big, red flag.

If you’ve ever seen one of these dogs, you would immediately think, “priss,” and that she probably spent most of her time on the end of a shiny, pink vinyl leash hooked to a sparkling collar. When groomed, these dogs are electric-white puff balls. But those who’ve spent any time with the breed know that they’re funny and determined pigs in a white blanket, which is rarely ever white.

Daisy’s favorite couture was grayish dreadlocks adorned with a few smatterings of squirrel poop and something that died under the rose bushes. She was the queen of eye gunk and had an uncanny talent for getting little balls of doodie stuck in the fur under her tail.

For almost 11 years I had to do things to orifices on that dog that I wouldn’t do for my own kid, or even myself. Even a hint of moisture could set off a chain reaction of smells that could make you stagger. I never ceased to be amazed that something so cute and furry after a grooming could be such a doggy Dorian Gray by nightfall.

And there was no preventing it. She would lie faithfully alongside us in the backyard, pristine and pet-able for hours at a time. But the second we were out of sight, the rolling, the rooting and the romping would begin.

She was like that with everything, even as a puppy. My wife, Melody, was determined that Daisy was going to be a well-behaved pet. Daisy was determined that we were going to be well-behaved humans. The battle lasted for all of her 10 years, leading to little more than an occasional truce and an inevitable detente.

Melody insisted that our dog never jump up on people, sit on furniture or beg for food or attention. Daisy insisted on the left side of the sofa, to be picked up rather than having to jump and fresh cheese on her eggs on the weekend, extra sugar in the coffee, please.

I insisted the dog stay out of the vegetable garden. Daisy insisted on pooping there out of plain sight but always in a place where I would eventually step in it. She would occasionally sneak out of the backyard if there was a gate left open, only to come to the front porch and bang on the door to be let in. She loved to play fetch, as long as I was the fetcher. She loved being outdoors, even in the winter. She had a pillow that she would drag from place to place all day long to get the best place in the yard for sun in the winter and shade in the summer. She loved to laugh at the backyard birds and drink from the side of a dribbling ceramic fountain, as if we’d installed it there just for her pleasure.

The party came to an end several years ago after a particularly ugly episode involving some patio table dancing, and Melody insisted that Daisy go to the women’s prison in Cañon City. The sentence was one month. It’s a remarkable program where inmates live and work with dogs around the clock to teach them what’s what.

When Daisy came home, she cussed like a sailor and slept with her paws hanging out of the grate of her kennel. The prison people taught us how to make this awful guttural “barking” like sound that was supposed to be “the sign” to behave. It worked amazingly well, for a while. After two more trips to prison and years of faithfully grunting for compliance, Daisy agreed to stay away from the table when we ate, and she instead gave us crusty looks and long, loud, annoyed sighs. After the last trip to prison, I found what looked like a shank made out of chicken bone in her kennel. She made her point.

I never got the feeling that we ever won with her; instead, she would go all Queen Elizabeth and patronizingly acquiesce to make us think we won. After every meal, there would be a few moments of obligatory disdain, but then we were all friends again.

Over the years, we each became accustomed to all our weirdnesses. I tolerated her pooping right outside the back door when it was icy. She tolerated my singing and my penchant for digging up her backyard.

My morning routine is suddenly different now. No thumping tail sounds from the inside of her kennel when I shuffle into the kitchen in the dark. No huffy sighs when I coax her out to go outside. No barking at the neighbor’s dog. No tinkling sound of her kibble hitting the porcelain breakfast bowl and her looking at me every day as if to say, “Would you eat this crap?”

Just quiet.

Dave Perry is editor of The Aurora Sentinel. Reach him at 303-750-7555 or dperry@aurorasentinel.com.