SOPA.

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I considered doing a little research and regaling you with Congress’s latest foray into expanding certain intellectual property rights at the expense of other, more important rights (e.g. speech), but instead I’ve just decided to link to Seth Freilich’s very good explanation/critique “The Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and The Protect IP Act (PIPA) Explained. With Profanity” over on Pajiba instead.

As a home brewer, I’m fascinated by the fermentation. And Olympia appears to have a respectably large home brew culture, supporting two beer- and wine-making supply shops (Rocky Top on the Westside, and Healthcrafts on the East). And, well, Olympia as a town has a long-standing beermaking history on a commercial scale, what with Olympia Brewing Company’s long shadow.

But I’ve often wondered why, with the exception of the upwardly mobile Fish, Olympia doesn’t really have much in the way of small scale beer manufacturers. I’m starting to suspect the reason is our local brewers are, well, interested in fermenting other things.

Take, for example, Magic Kombucha, which makes a tasty beverage by letting a fungal mat have its way with sweet tea. Or OlyKraut, which uses fermentation to transform cabbage and other vegetables.

So perhaps trying to capture alcohol as the primary goal of fermentation is no longer so obvious, at least not to my fellow Olympians. Perhaps the reason why there are so few brewpubs and taprooms in the South Sound is the friends of fungus and yeast have developed a taste for bitters other than beer.

I need to find another pharmacy. Or else I need to stop having medical insurance. Or perhaps I need to find a more cost-sensitive dermatologist.

Went to Fred Meyer last week to fill a prescription. Antibiotic. Was told they needed some sort of approval before they could fill the prescription. Had to contact my doctor. Come back in a few days.

So I went back a few days later. By now, I’d run out of the free samples. Was told, well, that the medication is pretty expensive, and apparently my insurance didn’t cover it, so the doctor gave me a coupon of some sort. And I didn’t have the coupon with me. So I should probably come back.

A few days later, I go back. Different pharmacy tech.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I have a prescription to pick up.”

“Name and date of birth?”

Provided.

“Ah. There’s a problem. We need prior authorization.”

“So you didn’t get the prescription order from the doctor?”

“No, we got that. We need authorization from the insurance company.”

“No, you see the prescription isn’t covered by insurance.”

“Are you sure? It’s really expensive. And usually covered.”

“I spoke with the doctor about this. She said it isn’t covered.”

“Isn’t she even going to try?”

“No.”

“Oh, it says here you have a coupon.”

“I do.” I hand it to her.

“It says here that you can’t use this coupon if you don’t have medical insurance.”

“I have medical insurance. It just doesn’t cover this medication. If it did cover this medication, I wouldn’t need the coupon, now would it?”

“Perhaps I could prescribe you a different medication that does the same thing but is covered by your insurance.”

“Wait, you’re a doctor?”

“No. Just a pharmacy technician. What I meant was you could ask your doctor to prescribe something different. After all, this particular medicine is very expensive.”

“So you said. Just how expensive?”

“I can’t tell you. You should go talk to your doctor again about your insurance covering this medication. Or perhaps a different medicine.”

At this point, I walk away. Before I start throwing things at this person, or setting fire to the grocery store.

Question: who is at fault? Is this my fault, for being so meek? The pharmacist’s fault, for being so stupid? The doctor’s fault, for prescribing an expensive medicine that my insurance doesn’t cover? Or the insurance company’s fault for bloating beyond the insurance industry into medical rationing?

Plum.

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Last week, a storm took our beloved flowering plum. Cracked her down the middle, exposing years of rot. Nearly fell on the house, actually, held up by sheer force of personality (and later a synthetic rope) until the tree removal guys could hack her to pieces. Good thing we were in Colorado during the dismantling; I’m not sure I could have taken it.

Now we’re staring at a vacant spot in our front yard, with odd spray paint marks on the stump and lawn, meant to signify the location of underground utilities and gnome burrows, intermingled with still-unraked red leaves. Soon, too, even those last traces of the plum will be gone. And we’ll have to consider what constitutes “too soon” for a replacement.

What is the proper mourning period for a tree?

After reviewing the most popular baby names of last year, I’ve come to a conclusion: I abhor names that contain a “-den” suffix. Especially those with a “ayden” construction. No, more than that. I tend to think people who give their child names like “Jayden” and “Ayden” and “Brayden” and “Hayden” (all top-100 names in 2010) as child abusers who ought to have their children taken away. Or at least forced to take a class about putting milk in the refrigerator (or, barring that, placed in a cool wet sack).

I’m not sure what it is about that suffix, but it grates on me more than other terrible name parts. I’m not a big fan of many name types–especially ones that are “former” nicknames, and those that re-purpose places–but the “-den” signifier bring out the worst in me. Rage. Or at least punchiness. Drown-the-little-bastards impulses.

Maybe I should go see a psychiatrist who pronounces the “p” in his profession.

D got home last night and saw a small dog in our next-door neighbor’s front yard. Knowing the neighbor’s dog isn’t really supposed to be outside of the fenced-in backyard, D picked the pooch up and placed it on the other side of the fence.

Later, when she related this to me, she noted the canine had unexpectantly growled at her. And was black and white. Knowing the neighbor’s dog Tula is straightforwardly gray–looks a bit like the Wicket–I came to think something was amiss.

A few minutes later, I saw the neighbors taking Tula for a walk. All was well. Right?

Nope. We checked the backyard, and were greeted by a similarly-sized, but quite obviously different dog. Black and white. Friendly, but completely unfamiliar. D let it out of the backyard, and it happily bounded toward another neighbor’s house, where its owner greeted it. Ah, mistakes.

Not since the infamous “stick shift” mishap during the fourth Season of “Gilmore Girls” have I been as jarred by a lack of understanding in a piece of popular fiction as I was by the treatment of the card game pinochle in Rick Riordan’s The Lighting Thief. News flash, Mr. Riordan: there’s no such thing as a “straight” in pinochle. And, perhaps more importantly, the melding process is not the core of the game, but simply a precursor to the actual play. Which, if you had done even a little homework, would have revealed itself as trick-based play. Ugh.

I’ve been a vegetarian for a very long time. Sixteen years, more or less. One thing that I’ve still never managed to get around is the desire for beef or chicken bouillon in cooking. I’ve tried every vegetarian and vegan alternative the local groceries and food coops have to offer, and tried a number of online-purchased options, and have been routinely disappointed.

The best of the bunch–and also one of the most expensive–was the Rapunzel brand. So a couple of years back, I purchased a box from Amazon, just to make sure I was well-covered for recipe making for a while. Spent $50 or so.

Made the mistake, however, of purchasing the “no salt” variety. Of course I can add my own salt, and lord knows I get too much salt in my diet anyway, so you wouldn’t think this would be a big deal. Problem? The no salt vegetable flavored rectangular prisms don’t break up very quickly. I’ve cooked the bouillon in hot water for quite a while, resorting to smashing the damned things with spoons, and still not had anything approaching a uniform consistency. Chunky bouillon doesn’t work well in, say, risotto.

Real mistake, though? Buying in bulk. Because now I’ve been stuck with the stuff for years, and I’m still not done. Oh well.

That time of year again. Time to vote. Time to blog about voting. From Northeast Olympia.

First up, we have Initiative Measure No. 1125. Not wanting to bind the hands of DOT to set tolls, and not wanting to kill light rail, and being generally skeptical of micromanaging how funding revenues are used, I’m voting no.

Next, Initiative Measure No. 1163. I voted no when this question was posed in 2008. The only thing that’s changed is there is even less money available to pay for training these independent contractors. If I had my druthers, many long term care workers would be state employees, and thereby trained. I’d also be down with paying more to contractees, and mandating training. But this hybrid bullshit makes me angry. And, again, this is terrible initiative fodder. So, no.

I bemoaned the idiocy of the proponents of 2010’s Initiatives 1100 and 1105 in confusing the issues with two similar but not identical measures. And I suppose part of me was concerned about both those Initiatives’ impact on the bottom line, tax wise. Initiative Measure No. 1183. seems to solve those problems. I’m not sure why, but I really get my blood boiling at the position of the “preserve the status quo” crowd. Of course the State shouldn’t run liquor stores. The very idea is insane, what with retail liquor being just about the most perfectly suited industry suited to the Invisible Hand if there ever was one. State-run retail clothing stores make more sense, because at least then perhaps we’d see women’s clothing lines come out of the Dark Ages by requiring actual measurements, and we might be able to curb the incidence of child labor in clothing manufacturing. But liquor? Nigga, please. So, yes on 1183.

Senate Joint Resolution No. 8205 appears to be primarily concerned with removing surplusage from the State Constitution. Noble goal. Approved.

Revenue spikes being diverted to the rainy day fund? That’s the topic of Senate Joint Resolution No. 8206. Where “spike” means “growth in general sate revenue that is more than one-third greater than the” “average biennial percentage growth in the general state revenues over the preceding five biennia.” Sounds like a good idea to me. Might prevent budgets from being based upon unrealistic numbers. Approved.

George L. Barner, Jr. is running unopposed for Port Commissioner District No. 1, so I’m not bothering to vote for this position.

City of Olympia Mayor, on the other hand, has Stephen Buxbaum and Dick Pust. I warmed on came-in-third-during-the-primary-and-so-is-no-longer-on-the-ballot Karen Rogers over the years, most recently when she attended a Stonewall Youth event. I’m not much of a Buxbaum fan, but I like Pust even less. So, reluctantly, Buxbaum.

As a small-r republican and criminal defense attorney–dealing frequently with, shall we say, a class of very poor decisionmakers–I despise the idea of direct democracy. Thus, Democritus Blantayre, the self-proclaimed “anti-politician,” sort of running for City Council Position No. 2 is out. And Steve Langer is in.

Rhenda Iris Strub came to my door and asked me to vote for her for Position No. 3. Nathanial Jones did not. Both candidates seem just fine, if unexceptional. So, Strub.

Position No. 7 has Brian Tomlinson, who seems proud of his refusal to participate in the political process. He doesn’t seek newspaper endorsements, participate in candidate surveys, or create campaign literature. Another anti-candidate, along the lines of Position 2’s Blantayre? Sort of. I can at least grasp what someone like Blantayre is trying to accomplish. But Tomlinson is more of an Outsider without a Cause. Unfortunate. So although I’m not entirely on board with TOGETHER!–the nonprofit for which opponent Jim Cooper is executive director–because of its “youth shouldn’t experiment with alcohol and other recreational drugs” stance, I suppose he’ll do.

All of the School Board Director District candidates are running unopposed. And I won’t stand in their way.

I’m of mixed thoughts about Proposition No. 1, which bans fireworks within City limits. On the one hand, I’m sort of sympathetic to the idea that fireworks are needlessly dangerous, especially in an uncontrolled, relatively urban setting. On the other hand, I hope to one day blow shit up legally with a small male child. Thus, no.

For those of you that live in Olympia, you may have noticed the Occupy folks have been camping out over the recent past in Heritage Park along Capitol Lake. Where Lakefest usually sets up shop.

As an occasional reader of Olympia history, I knew that before the folks responsible for designing and constructing the capitol campus dammed up the Deschutes, mudflats had lived there. Which made that rather unattractive real estate. So during the depression, folks set up a shanty town called Little Hollywood on and near the mudflats.

Superimpose the two, and it makes for a striking image, no?

[From Olympia Time.]


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