"Hey, give these 'poor' doctors a break. They slaved through medical school, stacking supermarket shelves and washed greasy 'common' people's dishes, whilst continually having to remember their high-falutin' edyoocation mantra: 'depression, Prozac. Male pattern baldness, Propecia. High cholesterol, statins. Toenail fungus, Sporanox. Hypertension, AT2 antagonists. Heart failure, beta-blockers, alpha-blockers, diuretics, BNP inhibitors?..and all the while having to keep up with the 'new diseases' and new, increasingly expensive drugs that are flooding the market.
"They couldn't justify 5-6 years of medical school to simply learn that eating well and moderate exercise can maintain good health. 'Your renin-angiotensin-aldosterone system has run amok and will require some highly complicated polypharmacy to get control.' sounds much more important than 'All you need to do Mrs. Smith is to eat a healthy, unprocessed food diet and get some moderate exercise.'"
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Simple Tip Lowers Heart Disease Risk, but Your Doctor Frequently Ignores It
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Michael Fumento.com - Weblog - John Edwards vs. Babies and Moms
John Edwards vs. Babies and Moms
By Michael Fumento
John Edwards, being neither a woman nor a racial minority, isn't doing especially well in his campaign to become his party's candidate for president. Alas for him, if he were half as successful in campaigning for America's top job as he was as a trial lawyer, he might be sworn in tomorrow. As I report in The American Spectator Online, Edwards won at least 94 cases, according to Lawyers Weekly, of which 54 netted more than $1 million each. Normally attorneys take a 40 percent cut of cases that go to trial. In his last year as a practicing attorney, 1997, he reported an adjusted gross income of $11.4 million.
Of course, perhaps he deserved it - but he didn't. He specialized in a particularly scummy area of malpractice, blaming Ob/gyn doctors for cerebral palsy. In fact, a 2003 study evaluated almost 1,000 life births to see if cerebral palsy or other problems could by affected by type of birth. Conclusion: "Delivery mode (whether vaginal or cesarean delivery) was not associated with any of the outcomes that were evaluated."
Yet malpractice suits against doctors with the misfortune to deliver CP babies has caused their insurance rates to rocket and to engage in "defensive medicine," by resorting to cesarean deliveries when they're actually not needed. Other research has shown that cesareans increase the risk of death and other problems for both mother and child; yet such procedures are skyrocketing. Many cesareans are the mother's preference because of convenience of timing or wanting to avoid the pain of labor; but no mother should be given one because trial lawyers roam the land telling all parents that if you didn't get a perfect baby the doctor must have screwed up.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
The Other Side of Kim du Toit - TheOtherSideofKim Front Page
1. Jarlsberg (Norway)—Unquestionably one of the finest cheeses ever made. It’s smooth, with a slight “nutty” flavor and lovely aftertaste, and if I was told I could only ever eat one cheese for the rest of my life, this would be the hands-down winner. Even the “Lite” variant (made not in Norway, but under license in Ohio) is better than most other cheeses.
2. Emmentaler AO (Switzerland)—Almost as good as Jarlsberg, Emmentaler is smoother yet more nutty-flavored, is a superb after-dinner snack, and it’s my cheese of choice if the store has inexplicably run out of Jarlsberg. It’s also kinda spendy, because [duh] it’s made in Switzerland.
3. Wisconsin String Cheese (U.S.A.)—Specifically, I’m referring to the stuff sold at The Brat Stop (at the intersection of I-94 and Hwy 50 in Kenosha, WI). It’s the jerky of dairy foods: dry, chewy and super-salty, comes apart in long threads, and whenever we’re within fifty miles of the place, it’s a mandatory stop. Annoyingly, it’s not branded at all, so finding it is a chore (it’s not even listed on their website). Just go to the Brat Stop and buy a few bags, if that kind of cheese is to your taste. Don’t be surprised if one of the bags doesn’t survive the trip home, because it’s perfect road food.
4. Old Amsterdam Gouda (Holland)—My favorite aromatic cheese in the world, Old Amsterdam has a wonderful flavor reminiscent of port wine. Dry, it crumbles to the touch, and you can’t eat a big piece of it. Just a few crumbs melted in the mouth will suffice. And then again, a few minutes later. And again, and again… (Old Amsterdam also makes a 5-year-old variant, but that’s too strong, even for me.)
5. Cheddar (England)—Forget those impostors made all over the world, all called “cheddar” but none deserving of the name. The real thing (made in Cheddar, Somerset) is one of those rare cheeses which not only makes a fine snack, but also cooks up well, for example in a grilled ("toasted") cheese sandwich. If I lived in England, there’d be a 5lb block of the stuff in my fridge, and it would never have a chance to go off. Tech Support and I once ended up in a pub in Fulham somewhere, and ordered a cheese sandwich. It was just bread, butter and cheddar, with a side order of chips—a simplicity which would have delighted old G.K.—and it was one of the best light meals we’d ever had.
Now for the “ingredient” cheeses.
1. Burrini (Italy)—I’ve never been able to find this anywhere except Treasure Island in Chicago. Made in the south of Italy, it’s a hard, aromatic Provolone-style pear-shaped cheese, which in turn encases a small ball of sweet, creamy butter. It’s too rich to snack on by itself (although I have), and is best eaten grated over a salad. If you use it thus, you won’t need any salad dressing. If you really want to indulge yourself, a thin slice melted on toast will make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven. The Italians cut it open, spread the butter on their bread, and then add the cheese, so Burrini is like a self-contained sandwich-builder.
2. Beyaz Peynir (Turkey)—A variant of Greek feta cheese. Combine this wonderful stuff with spicy Turkish sausage (made of very finely-ground beef and lamb), throw in some sun-dried tomatoes or roasted sweet red peppers, and you have perhaps the perfect savory appetizer. It’s a combination of sheep- and goat’s milk.
3. Mozzarella (Italy)—Thickly-sliced, with roasted sweet red peppers (again) and an aromatic olive oil sprinkled over it. My second-favorite appetizer after Beyaz Peynir. If anyone’s curious where the term “buffalo mozzarella” comes from, it’s because all mozzarella was once made exclusively from the milk of water buffaloes—but nowadays the Mozzarella di bufala available in the U.S. is made from a mixure of buffalo- and cow’s milk. (Incidentally, Monzeta is a mozzarella-based equivalent of Burrini, but has a blander flavor.)
4. Kasseri (Greece)—Yeah, it’s the basis of saganaki, that flaming dish brought to your table with cries of ”Oppa!” and doused with squeezed lemon. Never mind the ceremony, Stavros, just gimme the damn cheese, which is fabulous. (It’s made purely from goat’s milk, by the way.)
Thursday, March 15, 2007
The Other Side of Kim du Toit - TheOtherSideofKim Front Page
Great Letter!!!
Here’s a letter which made my day, and made me feel quite humble:
Hello Kim. My name is Nick A___. I recently discovered your site and I must say I was shocked.
In the best possible way.
I found a link to your article about the pussification of America from someone’s comment on another blog. The article (and your others which I have read so far) really invigorated me and reminded me of what I am.
I am 18 years old and will very soon (less than a week) be enlisting in the United States Marine Corps Reserve as infantry (LAV Crewman). Undoubtedly I will soon after be activated and deployed to a combat zone on the other side of the world. Needless to say, I have met a LOT of opposition to my decision to join the Corps. Even though everyone is so gung-ho about “supporting the troops”, the second you say you want to join them, everyone looks at you like you should be wearing a straitjacket. Sometimes it is hard to stay true to what I believe and remember what I stand for when it seems everyone else thinks I’m crazy for doing so, even the people who I hold closest, including many of my friends and my entire family. What I call bravery, they call recklessness, lack of foresight, stupidity, or brainwashed. You reminded me that these people are cowards who believe that their own lives are more important than the freedom of their nation.
Finding someone out there who shares my views in such a clear and frank manner was, as I said, a shocking thing to find in today’s world of appeasers.
Thank you very much for your site, and thank you for showing me that I am not alone. Stay strong and stay healthy.
I responded to him thus:
Nick,
Never mind me. YOU take care of yourself.
Just oblige me with with this one favor: tell everyone you meet in the USMC that we support them, utterly and without reservation. Ignore the Murthas and Pelosis of this world: they are less than the mud you’re going to get on your boots.
And never mind all the whiners and cowards: you’re going on to bigger and better things, and you’re going to be associating with a better class of person.
Don’t bother trying to convert those who think otherwise, because it’s a waste of your time. Instead, think of us—me, and the many thousands of Readers of this website, who not only appreciate what you’re doing, but applaud your decision, loudly and enthusiastically.
I just wish I could go in your place.
Thank you for realizing that honor, duty and courage are important: so important, in fact, that they are worth more than your own life.
You hold the future of this wonderful country in your hands, and as long as you do, the rest of us can sleep soundly at night. Always remember that.
And keep in touch. Please.
Kim
Those of you who are God-fearing folks, you know what to do for young Nick.
We are not worthy.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
R-Squared Energy Blog: When Will Saudi Arabian Oil Production Peak?
Contrarian view to some degree. However
"I believe that by summer (barring recession) we should know one way or another, because the market looks to be undersupplied at the moment. I think Saudi will be called upon to open the taps by summer. If they can't, look out."
The Oil Drum | Saudi Arabia and that $1000 bet
Basically Saudi will not have prod in excess of 10 MM BPD ever again!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Random Roger's Big Picture: 25%!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Energy Roundup - WSJ.com : The New Seven Sisters
The New Seven Sisters
The Financial Times writes today that the world’s oil industry is dominated by a new group of “Seven Sisters,” a reference to the old lineup of oil giants that dominated the world before OPEC rose to prominence: Esso (now Exxon Mobil), BP, Royal Dutch Shell, Chevron, Mobil (now part of Exxon Mobil), Gulf Oil (now split between BP and Chevron) and Texaco (now also part of Chevron).
The new Seven, per the FT, are Saudi Aramco, Russia’s Gazprom, CNPC of China (parent of PetroChina), NIOC of Iran, Venezuela’s PDVSA, Brazil’s Petrobras and Petronas of Malaysia.
All are state-controlled. A few are owned by governments that are less-than-friendly, if not downright hostile, toward the U.S. Many are flexing their “resource nationalism,” wresting control of lucrative oil and gas projects from foreign companies, including the old Sisters.
Together, the FT points out, the new Sisters control more than 10 times the oil reserves of the old Sisters. They produce more than twice as much oil as the old Sisters.
The new Sisters only lag the old Sisters in net income. But the new group will likely control the world’s production for decades to come, so they should make up that ground soon. And investors have already bid up their shares on the world’s stock markets, lifting the market capitalizations of the biggest New Sisters past those of most of their developed-world rivals. The Old Sisters may never make up that lost ground.
Badgers Forward: Badgers Down: Memorial Day
Monday, March 12, 2007
Badgers Down: Memorial Day
Some days you dread. Some days you hope will never arrive, or if they are inevitable, you hope you do not know exactly when that day will arrive or in what guise. Then there are days you dread and you know exactly when they are going to arrive. Following the deaths of SGT Holtom, SGT Clevenger, and PFC Werner, this day had become an inevitability: Memorial Day, 13 February 2007.
I awoke just before 0600, before my alarm went off. I was immediately wide awake, fully aware that this was going to be a day filled with emotion and I was doggedly determined to get through it with dignity and strength. I was determined to honor our fallen with the same professionalism they demonstrated on the field of battle.
Coffee made, I checked my email and the significant actions overnight to see if there was anything I need to be immediately aware of. Team Badger had been completely in the wire since early afternoon the previous day. There was nothing I needed to know.
The memorial was to be at 1015 in the Dining Facility. Memorial services on Camp Ramadi are always at the DFAC. One section has been set aside to be turned from a large dining room a hall for a ceremony whenever the need arises.
We needed to be there at 0900 for a full rehearsal. We had rehearsed the previous day, but we did not have the firing party. They rehearsed separately after they came back from a mission.
Those early morning hours flew by, filled with ordinary tasks. At 0850, I announced to the TOC, “I’m going to the DFAC. Let the First Sergeant know. I’ll see you all over there.”
“Roger that sir.”
Carrying what should be the final version of my remarks, I had a final few minutes alone to steel myself and reflect on the Soldiers we were getting ready to honor.
A five-minute walk and I was at the hall. Thanks to some very helpful people the room was almost completely set up.
The front of the room contained the display. In the center, there were three two-tier stands. M-16 rifles were inverted on bayonets and stuck into the upper tiers. The rifles were topped with Army Combat Helmets with camouflage coverings. Silver dog tags dangled from the rifles’ pistol grips. Dusty, well-worn, tan canvas boots were placed to create a V at the point where there bayonet entered the stand.
The lower tiers held the awards they have received. All three were awarded the Bronze Star for service, the Purple Heart for wounds received in combat, and the Combat Action Badge for engaging the enemy in close combat. Behind the stands, the Flag of the United States of America and the Battalion Colors stood crossed.
To the left were three large portraits of the fallen set up on easels. Further to the left, there was a speaker’s podium and seats for the Chaplain, the Task Force Commander, myself, the Platoon Leader, 3-6, and the three Soldiers who will speak about their fallen friends.
To the right of the center display stands was a large screen, now blank but soon would display a video tribute .
0900. We perfrom the final rehearsal. The mood is somber. The Company struggles between presenting a military demeanor and the overwelming grief we all feel. The rehearsal is executed well though and we are ready.
1000. With the rehearsal complete, the doors were opened. Generic instrumental funeral home music drifted from the loud speakers as people moved to their seats. The seats were arranged in two sets of 10-person fronts that extend back for at least 30 rows. Even with 600+ seats, the service was standing room only. I am both anxious for this to begin and dread it at the same time. When this is over we need to start getting on with our missions again and it all seems too fast.
1015. Everyone was in place. The Brigade Commander had arrived as had the Senior Commanders on Camp Ramadi. Time to execute the mission.
The Chaplain spoke first. He asked everyone to stand for the Invocation and said a few words about why we were there. He then asked us to remain standing for the National Anthem. Some of the services I have attended used recorded music. In our task force, we are fortunate to have an excellent singer who volunteered to do the National Anthem acapella. He gave a moving rendition.
Next, 3-6 (the Platoon Leader) delivered the Service Record of his three Soldiers. Sitting next to me, he stood and we subtly bumped fists as we do before every mission. Delivery of the Service Record can be tricky. The speaker needs to recite a sketch of the fallen’s life, place of birth, the circumstances that led to the Soldier’s entry into service, military education, awards and honors, the bare circumstances of the action leading to the Soldier’s death, the Soldier’s survivors. In this case, 3-6 had to do this three times. It is one of those things that can easily fall into a monotone statico that leaves the listener bored. About the only thing a speaker can do is to use inflection and change some words from person to person. 3-6 had rehearsed this and did it well. As he took his seat, we bumped fists again.
The Task Force Commander spoke next. A tough job anyway you slice it. He commands almost 800 Soldiers and his effort to get to know all them is overwhelmed by shear numbers. He took the time to learn as much about them as possible and talked with their loved ones. His comments are concise, appropriate, and well directed.
I was next. I started working on this speech the day we got back to Ramadi. I want to do this right. I have tried to talk about them as Soldiers and as men with familes and loved one’s back home. I have rehearsed this at least a dozen times to familiarize myelf with my material, both for good delivery and to make it the status quo so I will not break down delivering the speech.
And then, as quickly as I started, I am done. I kept my composure. I looked my Soldiers in the eyes and told them how we would go on as Soldiers, a family, friends, and by doing so how we honor the men for whom we gathered this day to remember.
After I sat down, it was time for their fellow Soldiers to talk about the men they knew. Three Soldiers, two Specialists and a Private First Class, prepared and rehearsed for this. To me this the most moving part of these memorial services. These young men, usually not experienced in public speaking, have the opportunity to lay out a memory of their friends and fellow Soldiers. Sometimes it is ribald and off-color, but it always true. I suppose this is what makes it real and what makes it special. All three of my Soldiers get through their remarks well and complete the mission.
An 8-minute video tribute prepared by 3rd Platoon played on the large screen. Set to Johnny Cash’s version of “Hurt” and “When I’m Gone” by 3 Doors Down.
The Chaplain took to the podium again and asked everyone to stand and he delivered the Benediction.
My First Sergeant, who has been an absolute rock through this entire event, and who deserves so much credit for the success of the company, strides purposefully to the front of the hall and begins the roll call.
“Private Brown.”
“Here, First Sergeant.”
“Specialist Jones.”
“Here, First Sergeant.”
“Sergeant Black.”
“Here, First Sergeant.” When he had called all the names of the Company Soldiers present, he called the names of the fallen.
“Private Werner.”
“Private First Class Raymond Werner.”
“Private First Class Raymond Mitchell Werner.”
“Sergeant Clevenger.”
“Sergeant Ross Clevenger.”
“Sergeant Ross Aaron Clevenger.”
“Sergeant Holtom.”
“Sergeant James Holtom.”
“Sergeant James Joseph Holtom.”
And the First Sergeant moved off.
“Firing party, fire three volleys,” came from the unseen firing party commander just outside the hall.
“Ready . . . Aim . . . Fire.”
CRACK
“Ready . . . Aim . . . Fire.”
CRACK
“Ready . . . Aim . . . Fire.”
CRACK
Then taps played by a bugler.
When taps came to a close, the Task Force Commander and the Task Force Command Sergeant Major moved to the front of the hall and render present arms to the displays with the inverted rifles. The Commander placed a Battalion Coin on one boot of each Soldier. They did a right face and moved off.
My First Sergeant and I walked toward the stands. As we closed in on the stands, with our backs to the crowd, I see a single small tear streak down his cheek, the only real emotion I have seen from my stoic right hand man. We presented arms. When we come to order arms, I moved forward and touched the helmets and the dog tags. I said goodbye and thank you.
I executed a right face and moved off to join the receiving line where I thanked everyone for coming. I think I hugged everyone in the company and much of the Task Force. The Company spent the rest of the day together, talking about our brothers. We rarely have the opportunity for all of us to be together in one place and we wanted to spend as much time together as possible. The next day we were back on mission.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
The Braden Files : Rontrell's choice
Great story about a boy's efforts to improve his lot.
also
"It appears we have appointed our worst generals to command forces, and our most gifted and brilliant to edit newspapers! In fact, I discovered by reading newspapers that these editor/geniuses plainly saw all my strategic defects from the start, yet failed to inform me until it was too late.
Accordingly, I'm readily willing to yield my command to these obviously superior intellects, and I'll, in turn, do my best for the Cause by writing editorials - after the fact."
Robert E. Lee, 1863
One last class before graduation at the Naval Academy the Instructor gave out one final assignment.
"Given one metal pole, two bags of cement, a selection of shovels, a wheel barrow, and any other tools you find necessary, AND One Chief, one Petty Officer and a selection of Seamen, DESCRIBE The process you will take to erect the pole so that a flag hung from it can be seen from XX number of feet away.
You have two hours. Begin."
The near-Ensigns began to write with concentration. At the end of two hours, the Instructor called time and collected the papers.
Quickly paging through them, he announced the grades.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, there are some thorough and detailed responses here, but only one "A". I would like to read it to you.
"In order to erect the flag pole, I would do the following: I would say: 'Chief, put up the flagpole.' "
