Priorities

So last year, after a contentious debate about raising the debt limit, President Obama and Congressional Republicans reached a grand bargain.  Republicans would agree to raise the debt limit, and Democrats and Republicans would work together to find a way to shave several trillion dollars off the national debt.  In order to ensure that a deal would be reached, the politicians agreed on a plan to punish themselves for failure: If the two sides couldn't agree on a deficit-reduction plan by a certain date, then automatic spending cuts would strike programs near and dear to both parties: Republicans would see cuts to the military while Democrats would see cuts to social programs.  (Only a churl would point out that the Democrats SHOULD have held out for automatic tax increases, and I am not a churl, so you didn't hear that from me.)  This automatic, across-the-board cutting is known as "sequestration."

Surprisingly to no one, Republicans and Democrats could not reach agreement on budget cuts, and the sequester went into effect several weeks ago.  And then a funny thing happened: Nobody cared.  Oh, sure, some poor people might have had a bit more trouble buying food, and perhaps some federally supported childcare programs might have had to shutter themselves.  But nobody who counts was suffering.  Until this week, that is.

This week, at airports across the country, passengers suffered extensive delays as a result of slowdowns caused by furloughed workers.  The workers were furloughed, of course, due to the sequester.  Not to worry, though, Congress was on the case!  This same institution that dithered for four months before not passing minimal gun regulation after a massacre of toddlers sprang into action after some folks had to sit on a runway for thirty extra minutes.

Priorities, people!

Way too tired.  That is all.

Great Moments in Dubious Editing--Unfortunate Alliteration Edition

I don't "get" alliteration.  As a literary device, that is.  Metaphors, yes.  I understand how a clever metaphor can illuminate an idea by showing it in a new and unfamiliar way: fog creeping in on little cat's feet, and all.  Now that's a nice metaphor.  Not least because it has a cat.

Alliteration, on the other hand?  Meh.  So you string a few words together that have the same consonant sound.  Big black bats bounce basketballs behind Bloomingdale's.  There.  Alliteration.  Whoop.

I suppose it can be useful as mnemonic device.  Perhaps a pleasing aural experience, useful for memorizing muscles or selling sausages, but in serious news--particularly in stories about, say, war-torn nations--it should be avoided:

"Information is a strategic weapon in the stalemated conflict, as both sides seek support from suffering Syrians . . . ." ("Syria Campaigns to Persuade U.S. to Change Sides")

"Seeking support," OK.  But "suffering Syrians"?  Images of Sylvester the Cat arise unbidden.  How about "traumatized," "beleaguered," or even "war-weary"?  See, that last one even gives the writer an opportunity to alliterate without unnecessarily distracting the readers with obvious over-writing.

Pop Quiz

I just took this science quiz designed by the Pew Research Center and the Smithsonian Institution.  The purpose is to gauge the scientific literacy of the general population   All in all, it's a pretty easy quiz, featuring questions like, "What is nanotechnology?" and "What is 'fracking'?"  I was cruising along, I think, until I got to this question, "Are you male or female?"  I guess I got flustered.  And, while I'm flattered that the Pew Research Center selected me as a topic for a question on their quiz, I don't see how the general population is expected to just, y'know, know whether some random blogger is male or female.  No wonder the country's scientific literacy is deemed so low.

Advice to New Teachers: Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

One of the greatest dilemmas you are likely to encounter revolves around the question of what to do when a student gives you a gift of food.

The first consideration is whether or not the food is homemade or store-bought.  Avoid homemade at all costs!  I know, I know: "Aw, how sweet.  She baked me cookies."  That's what one of my colleagues thought.  The next time anyone saw her she was running across the Golden Gate Bridge in a tutu screaming about how owls secretly control the Federal Reserve.  You might be OK if a homemade treat is to be shared among your entire class.  Unless of course it's from one of those "loner types."  To be on the safe side, never accept homemade anything from a student who makes a habit of sitting in the back row and wearing a hood.

Pre-packaged food is generally safer, but you should still think carefully about the craziness factor of the student giving the gift.  I once received a package of chocolates from a truly insane student whom I helped with a scholarship essay.  She got the scholarship, which suggests (A) that the gift was meant in a spirit of benevolence and (B) the standards of our scholarship committee should be revisited.  Nevertheless, I felt uneasy about tearing into the package, until I realized that these were raspberry-filled chocolates, which immediately put my mind at ease: No way in HELL was I going to eat those things.

More Great Moments in Dubious Editing

"He flew in to the airport here in Makhachkala, where the plate-glass windows of the arrival hall frame a mosque with twin minarets stretching skyward." ("Search for Home Led Suspect to Land Marred by Strife")

Can't stand those downward-reaching minarets, myself.

From the same article:

"Dagestan is a place where the graffiti outside one mosque says, 'Victory or Paradise.'”

Now, we can't blame the editor for this one--unless graffiti artists have editors.  Still, I couldn't help but wonder: If those are the options, why would anyone choose victory?

What's in a Warning?

Should he ever regain consciousness, alleged Boston Marathon bomber Dzokhar Tsarnaev will face extensive questioning from law-enforcement.  He may or may not receive a Miranda warning before this questioning ("You have the right to remain silent. . . ." yadda yadda yadda),  Authorities may skip the warning in exigent circumstances where aggressive questioning could possibly ward off imminent threats.  But considering the fact that a week has passed since the Marathon bombings, as well as the fact that Tsarnaev will likely remain unconscious for a while yet, I fail to see how a case for "exigent circumstances" can be made.  More to the point, though, I wonder what it would mean for the authorities not to Mirandize the suspect.

The Miranda warning arose in response to a Supreme Court decision where a prisoner's confession (Miranda's confession, coincidentally enough) was disallowed (and his case ultimately dismissed) because police failed to warn him of his constitutional right to remain silent.  In Tsarnaev's case, though, prosecutors are willing to take the chance that they will not be able to use any confession he might give, as they feel they have enough eyewitness and forensic evidence to mount a successful prosecution even without it.

In a sense, the standard Miranda warning is largely superfluous for anyone who has spent a significant amount of time in the United States.  Anyone who has seen an episode of "Law and Order" can recite the whole thing by heart.  As an American citizen and someone who went to Dartmouth (although he didn't do so great in chemistry), Tsarnaev is presumably knowledgeable of his constitutional rights, warning or no.  But does the fact that authorities don't have to Mirandize Tsarnaev mean that Tsarnaev has no right to remain silent?  And if that's the case. . .well then what?  Are we headed for Abu Ghraib in the Bay State?