During a recent interview, Prime Minister Tony Blair of Great Britain was quoted giving the following answer to one his parliament members as to why he believes so much in America and its President; and does he think they are on the right track?

Blair’s reply: “A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at… how many want in… and how many want to get out.”

Touché, Mr. Blair

We got a new car (well, really it’s an SUV and there’s nothing “new” about it, except that it now sits in my driveway instead of someone else’s.) Regardless, I logged on to the website of my insurance company to inform them we now had a new vehicle. I filled out a lengthy form, diligently including all of the information on the SUV, up to and including the VIN. You know the one I mean, it looks something like 3,000 random letters and numbers jumbled up and stamped on a piece of metal in a method that makes them nearly illegible.

So a few days later, I get an e-mail from my company informing me that they received my request to change my policy and instructed me to call them. So I did. And whilst on the phone with them, they ask, “Do you have the VIN?”

“Sure I do. And you do too, I sent it to you using your web site,” I replied.

“We don’t have it here. Can you provide it to me?”

Well, yes, but not right now. It’s on the truck. Which my wife drives, which is not with me because I’m at work, getting ever more irritated by the minute. Why make me include it on Lengthy Insurance Form 100-AA if they aren’t going to be using said form for the purposes of providing my insurance? Very irritating. Which reminds me of this…

So I called the phone company (SBC) the other day because I was having trouble with my Internet connection. When prompted, I entered my home phone number, my account number, and followed any number of prompts… “Press 7 to be connected with someone in a distant Asian call center who really couldn’t give a damn about your DSL line…”

When I finally began speaking with a human – who, in fact, actually was in a distant Asian call center and really didn’t give a damn about my DSL line. Who says you can’t trust a big corporation? – he asked me for my phone number and my account number. Why do I have to enter it using my touchpad if they’re going to ignore it completely? I suspect it has something to do with keeping me busy while they route the call from central Indiana to central India.

This happened again later when I called another company to report a problem.
“Press 1 if your faucet’s leaky.”
“Press 2 if you don’t like cabbage.”
“Press 3 if you can’t remember why you called.”

I went through the entire process (literally, several menus of selections) when the “human” picked up the phone and asked me (after I gave them my account number – again) what problems I was experiencing.

I told them I was experiencing an overwhelming desire to buy an foghorn and have it installed next to the phone, primarily for occasions just like these.

In case you don’t know (and, likely, you don’t), Martin Frank is with the non-profit American Physiological Society and he raised my ire this morning. Here’s why:

The National Institutes of Health (NIH) uses taxpayer money (read: yours and mine) to fund as many as 60,000 scientific studies every year. In the State of the Union address last night, President Bush praised Congress for doubling the NIH budget, so we can assume this number will only grow.

At the end of each study, the scientists publish their findings. Until now, it could cost $20 and more to get your hands on a copy. Sharon Terry, who runs a patient advocacy group called The Genetic Alliance, says she has spoken with parents who have used information from these studies to make a difference in the care of their children, many of whom have devastating diseases. Sadly, she says, without access some parents have watched doctors make grave mistakes in the treatment of their kids.

The NIH, in an attempt to make this information more accessible (and in a nod to the current state of technology), will be asking its scientists to make their findings available freely available to anyone by uploading them into an Internet archive. Good news, right?

Well, there are some companies out there that make a profit from publishing these papers, and they don’t like it at all. Some of them are non-profit organizations who use the revenue to fund really important things, like meetings and copy paper.

So, Martin Frank. Martin is with a non-profit group called the American Physiological Society. This group sells research papers and Martin doesn’t really want you to have access to the results of scientific studies that you paid for.

Martin says, “I think the government is trying to extend its reach beyond where it should be.”

My message to Martin?

Screw you, buddy.

The father of my brother-in-law died a few days ago after a prolonged battle with illness. Yesterday we went to visitation and today we’ll be attending his funeral. Here’s the conversation that took place in the car yesterday as we were leaving the funeral home:

Lily: “I didn’t get to say goodbye to Karen!”
Me: “That’s okay, honey. You’ll get to see her tomorrow at the funeral.”
Lily: “What’s a funeral?”
Me: “Well, Dave’s dad died and his funeral is tomorrow. It’s a chance for everyone to say goodbye.”
Lily: “Dave’s dad died?”
Jack: “How did he die? Did snakes get him?”

I went to a funeral today for the husband of a girl I’ve known for almost 25 years. He died over the weekend when the truck he was driving ran into a snow plow. I’m told the impact of the crash knocked the rear axle off the plow and sheared nearly the entire roof off the truck. I’m also told his blood alcohol content was .28; more than three times the legal limit in the state of Indiana. In simple terms, he was very drunk.

He left behind his grieving wife, his five-year-old daughter, and an extended family that loved him very much.

I don’t have a lot of wiggle room to talk when it comes to things like this. Twelve years ago I sailed off a windy road into an abrupt meeting with a large tree. Luckily, God clearly had other things planned for me… the tree I hit was largely rotted out from the inside and broke off at about ground level, fell over and crushed the car. Had I not been alone, anyone else in the car would have been killed. As it was, I suffered minor injuries, a totaled car, skyrocketing insurance rates, and a bruised ego that has long borne the lessons I learned that day.

The point is that all of us should reach a point in our lives when we stop (or at least try to stop) doing really stupid things. As if the obvious argument of “right v. wrong” isn’t enough, when you have a family that depends on you, when you have children who need you, driving drunk should be unthinkable. The truth is, with one phone call, almost anyone you know would come pick you up and take you home. Anyone.

The saddest part of the day was watching this young widow struggle with her emotions. It was obvious there was an inner struggle taking place, a battle between lonliness and abandonment; between grieving loss and anger. You could just tell that she was trying hard not to be really pissed at him, but it’s a losing battle. How can you not be angry at someone for doing something so obviously wrong – so incredibly stupid – as literally taking his own life for granted and, in turn, taking for granted the impact of his actions on those who love him, need him, and miss him?