Swine Flu: CAFO Smithfield Foods implicated; must come clean

"Pobre Mexico--tan lejos de Diós; tan circa á los Estados Unidos."
- Mexican saying
Poor Mexico--so far from God; so close to the United States

From the latest edition of Mexico City's La Jornada (I've translated this for you):

Granjas Carrol, protected by authorities*

We are mistaken to believe that authorities responsible for guaranteeing public health and protecting the quality of our natural resources (especially water) have acted to avoid a situation where Granjas Carrol, one of the largest pork processors in the country [Mexico], would negatively affect thousands of people as well as the surrounding environment.

It has been three years since we reported here about the population of Perote, Veracruz, and the hardships they suffer owing to the protection that officials [to whom we] issued requests give to said business. Granjas Carrol was established 15 years ago in Perote because it was an ideal site for pork-processing: a good climate, close proximity to the country's central market, the availability of cheap manual labor, and the ease with which to bring in the agricultural supplies required to process nearly a million pigs per year and maintain 40,000 breeding animals.

Carrol is distinguished for its high consumption of water and the resources that allow the pigs to grow rapidly and to be "healthy". But the waste that originates from this breeder is dangerous: pig excrement, chemical and biological residues, wastewater leaching into in the water we use ourselves. For [the violation of] contaminating [the water and environment] with waste, the United States fined the powerful enterprise Smithfield, majority owner of Carrol. Here, in contrast, everything is allowed, as demonstrated in public reports, last week, by correspondent Andrés Timoteo Morales. Furthermore, he notes how local authorities persecute those who fight for the environment and for health. And the federal authorities?

Another matter that marches at the pace of a turtle: the cleaning-up of beaches. According to the government, they have invested 2 thousand-million pesos into water treatment plants in the main tourist-destination cities of the coast. The secretaries of Health and Environment give priority to the water-quality monitoring--for critical contamination--of some 21 beaches; these are in Jalisco, Campeche, Veracruz, Chiapas and Guerrero. But there is much more going on, according to the association El Poder del Consumador [the Power of the Consumer]. For its part, Greenpeace states that authorities do not inform the public in a timely way, or with proven data, about the water quality issues at the beaches.

A short summary, then; one that doesn't even require reading between the lines: American-owned interests in Mexico--from pork processing giants built alongside villages to water-treatment facilities serving the fancy hotels in coastal cities--are largely unregulated by Mexican officials.

This much is fairly well-known, I think--certainly it's well-known in agribusiness circles.

And my own between-the-lines take, offered herein with a sad shrug of my shoulders that will be well-understood by those who have even a passing familiarity with how business is done, ah, elswhere: the article's headline itself, protected by authorities, which can also be read/translated as protegé of the authorities. *

-----

By now you've all heard about the virulent H1N1 strain of influenza, currently referred to as swine flu, and perhaps you saw Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano on television explaining to America that declaring a state of emergency, as she was doing, was just a precaution--a preparatory step, just in case--so that Federal money was made available. Just in case.

Consider this post a case presented, then.

At this point, beyond America's borders, people are somewhere between rightly worried and seriously panicked, and that's just the government officials. The state legislature in Veracruz, widely thought to be the outbreak's epicenter--certainly it is the largest "hot spot"--has already demanded that Granjas Carrol, the Mexican-based subsidiary of giant U.S. pork processor Smithfield Foods, come clean, so to speak:

The state legislature of Veracruz has demanded that the Smithfield subsidiary turn over all documents and environmental certifications on its three massive waste lagoons, but so far, the company has only supplied information on one of them, news reports said today.

As part of normal (!) operations, Granjas Carrol dumps many tons of the hogs' waste into what are essentially sewage lagoons, referred to as lagunas de oxidación (oxidation ponds) and these constantly emit clouds of waste droplets and flies; this in turn befouls the air and water of adjacent La Gloria, the residents of which have long complained about respiratory infections they feel are related to this "pollution of the water and wind".

Then, in March, those respiratory infections began killing residents. Mexican authorities are quietly exhuming the bodies of two La Gloria children believed to have died of this new strain of flu, and officials have declared a cordon sanitario--literally, a sanitary cord; in this case, a public health barricade or quarantine--be placed around the Granjas Carrol and other pork and poultry CAFO's (Confined Animal Feeding Operation) in the area, and around bus terminals and airports.

When reading about and reporting on swine flu--a virus--it's important to bear a couple of things in mind.

First, this swine flu virus contains elements of avian, human, and swine influenza. According to the CDC's partner website PandemicFlu.gov, avian (bird) flu is transmitted thus (emphasis mine):

Infected birds shed influenza virus in their saliva, nasal secretions, and feces. Susceptible birds become infected when they have contact with contaminated excretions or with surfaces that are contaminated with excretions or secretions. Wild bird avian influenza viruses of low pathogenicity mix with avian viruses in domesticated birds and become highly pathogenic in poultry. Domestic poultry may become infected with avian influenza virus through direct contact with infected waterfowl or other infected poultry or through contact with surfaces (such as dirt or cages) or materials (such as feces or feed) that have been contaminated with droppings that harbor the low-pathogenicity virus.

In other words, low pathogenic avian influenza, which naturally occurs in wild birds, can spread to domestic birds; the relatively mildly-pathogenic flu can become "highly pathogenic" when domestic poultry come in contact with infected birds--or with feed or feces that has been contaminated by the droppings of wild birds. And from there, other animals can contract the virus. For example, during the last major flu outbreak, the H5N1 avian flu virus also infected cats in Europe.

Second, the aforementioned CAFO--Granjas Carrol, subsidiary of Smithfield Foods--is essentially an enormous, concentrated hog farm, and while hog farms are not what anyone would call the cleanest places in the world, one would expect the massive doses of antibiotics CAFO's routinely administer to confined livestock would keep infections at bay, right?

In a word, NO.

Influenza is a virus, not a bacteria, and antibiotics treat, and prevent the spread of, bacterial infections--this is likely why the drugged-up pigs didn't get sick all that time, meanwhile the unprotected residents of nearby La Gloria constantly complained of respiratory infections, most likely bacterial--at first. At some point in the recent past, however, a new mutation of the flu virus, the triple-whammy H1N1 bird-pig-human combo bug, found its way to the infamous clouds of pig waste and flies drifting across--and spreading outward from--the "oxidation ponds" about which Granjas Carrol/Smithfield released only partial information, and about which they are still remaining (mostly) quiet. Even as people have begun dying of those infections in what are, quite frankly, alarming numbers.

Finally, a question: what of the connection between avian flu and this new swine flu, with its human, avian, and swine DNA--is there one?

He [Mexico's Chairman of the Committee on the Environment, Marco Antonio Núñez López] was referring to another CAFO, this one containing poultry, called Granjas de Bachoco, located near the state capital of Xalapa. He said there was an epidemic of avian flu among the chickens being raised there, but that this was being kept quiet so as not to interfere with exports. Influenza-infected chickens raise the risk of cross-infection to pigs in the same area, scientists say.

I'll be keeping a close eye on developments in this story, both in the US and Mexican media, as I've already noticed some interesting and significant differences in what--and how much--they're saying south of the border versus here in the land of Los Norteños.

Further reading:

The article in Grist, by Tom Philpott, that connects Smithfield to the Swine Flu outbreak
The World Health Organization's Swine Flu information center
The Center for Disease Control's Swine Flu information center

Cogitamus ergo ridemus: Eddie Izzard on Techno-joy and computers ending the world

Because thinking people need to laugh, and Eddie Izzard is a thinking person's laughmaker. (I'd recommend using headphones if the innocent or easily-offended lurk nearby, ahem.)

Bon Weekend, everyone!

"United by a Shared Intolerance, to Protect Dual-Sex Marriage."

Awesome. Via Watertiger.

Good Friday Frank: a Very Special History Repeats Itself Edition

In 1990, Frank Zappa was guest-host for a program called Focus, produced and aired by the long-since-shuttered FNN. In the clips below, he interviews Emmy-award-winning journalist and current NPR news analyst Daniel Schorr, who discusses, among other things, his decision (in the 1970's) to publish the Pike Committee report--which detailed the CIA and FBI's various and many illegal activities at home and abroad--as well as his subsequent "resignation" from his then-employer, CBS (shades of Rathergate?!)





A bit of context, via Wikipedia:

Schorr attracted the anger of the Nixon White House. In 1971, after a dispute with White House aides, Schorr's friends, neighbors, and co-workers were questioned by the FBI about his habits. They were told that Schorr was under consideration for a high-level position in the environmental area. Schorr knew nothing about it. Later, during the Watergate hearings, it was revealed that Nixon aides had drawn up what became known as Nixon's Enemies List, and Daniel Schorr was on that list. Famously, Schorr read the list aloud on live TV, surprised to be reading his own name in that context. Schorr won Emmys for news reporting in 1972, 1973, and 1974.

Schorr provoked intense controversy in 1976 when he received and made public the contents of the secret Pike Committee report on illegal CIA and FBI activities. Called to testify before Congress, he refused to identify his source on First Amendment grounds, risking imprisonment. This did not mollify CBS executives, and Schorr ultimately resigned from his position at CBS in September 1976.

On May 14, 2006, on NPR's Weekend Edition, Schorr mentioned a meeting at the White House that took place with colleague A. M. Rosenthal and president Gerald Ford. Ford mentioned that the Rockefeller Commission had access to various CIA documents, including those referring to political assassinations. Although scolded at first for his television report by former CIA director Richard Helms, Schorr was vindicated by the text of the Pike Committee, which he obtained from an undisclosed source and leaked to The Village Voice.

I was cheered--though completely unsurprised--to learn that Schorr and Zappa were friends:

Though by no means a fan of rock music, Schorr became friends with composer Frank Zappa after the latter contacted him, asking for help with a voter-registration drive. Schorr made an appearance with Zappa on February 10, 1988, where he sang "It Ain't Necessarily So" and "Summertime". Schorr delivered the eulogy on NPR after Zappa's untimely death on December 4, 1993; he professed not to understand Zappa's lengthy discourses on music theory, but he found a kindred spirit—a serious man with a commitment to free speech.

A commenter at YouTube notes: I think when Frank died the world's intelligence level must have dropped by 80%.

Thankfully, we still have Frank Zappa's astounding body of work, and it continues to inspire, amuse, provoke, and, yes, demand. "Pay attention!" it says. "Teach yourself; fight for your ideals; stop accepting mediocrity."

We're trying, Frank. We really are.

Best HuffPo Headline EVER

That screeching you hear is the sound of a thousand feet stomping on the brakes as some of us head down the street toward that billboard and suddenly notice a sea of oddly stationary cars and giddy, wide-eyed pedestrians located directly in front of us.

If we absolutely must have shrinkage, well, bend it like Beckham, I say.

(The actual story about sales of men's undies being an economic indicator is here.)

Shopping the Middle Ages for Bras and Panties

Consider this Reason Number 3,999,999,999 that Deborah is grateful for the moderately-modern mindset of the society in which we live here in the West. Not that I'd be embarrassed to buy undies from a guy, mind you--I'd probably enjoy watching him squirm at whatever extremely naughty jokes I'd made a point of telling him--but I would feel an ongoing need to loudly protest the fact that our Saudi sisters not only are prohibited from driving a car, but can't even turn to a lady bra-fitter to help them when they're seeking comfort and support for The Girls, because their law apparently says only men can be lady bra-fitters. Or store clerks or car-drivers. Or something.

Oh dear. I am imagining a loudly-protesting Me, standing in a lingerie store in Saudi Arabia, assuredly not wearing the forty yards of black wool draping they like to throw all over our Evil Temptress Female bodies, and if it's hot outside (!), probably sporting bare legs, bare arms, and at least one wayward bra strap.

Wait! Wait! I want my lawyer! I want my gift-with-purchase teddy bear! I promise not to name it Mohammed!

Inside All of Us is a Wild Thing

Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are--aka The Tornello family's Favorite Book Ever--is coming to the Big Screen, courtesy of the wonderful Spike Jonze.

I'm thrilled to bits; after all, there are at least three copies of the book lying around my house, and I know we had all the monster puppets at one point (though Heaven help me try to find them right now). And each of us has one variation of the t-shirt or another, even Mama.

Wild Things Fever really took hold when Son One turned six, and we threw him a huge Where the Wild Things Are birthday party. On the morning of his big day, Son One walked into the back garden to find a real, full-sized and red-painted wooden sailboat that Robert and our friend Jeff built, complete with a bamboo mast and a yellow canvas sail sewed by Yours Truly. We also set up a washing-line-and-flowered-sheet tent (just like the one Max plays in) over one of the lower oak branches, and designed a cake that looked like a limb from the scary forest and covered it with plastic creepy-crawlies. I had painstakingly copied the book title's font when making the invitations. And, of course, stuffed versions of the Wild Things were stationed around the house.

Everyone had a ball and no-one was sent to his room--not even Robert, who, later that evening, somehow managed to completely burn off the handle of my favorite wok while BUI (Barbecuing Under the Influence).

And in a world where it seems that pink maribou-bedecked books and rhinestone-covered fantasy gear dominate the real estate of children's retail and juvenile publishing, I have to say, thank goodness for Maurice Sendak, as well as Roald Dahl--both are children's authors who wrote brilliantly, sensitively, and unflinchingly about the dark (and funny!) sides of human nature.

Where the Wild Things Are will be in theatres just in time for my own birthday, this October. Hooray!

Incitement In My Sights: Townhall and Worldnet Daily Offer Fearmongering and Free Guns

Gun print by Andy Warhol

incite -- v.t. (from the Latin incitāre): to urge forward;
to stir, encourage, or urge on; to stimulate or prompt to action.

Fresh from my In box: via Townhall comes this risible wad of rubbish breathless and urgent call to action, titled in all-caps (of course) thus:

MILLIONAIRE PATRIOT WANTS YOU ARMED AND TRAINED.

Here's the main body of the e-mail, emphasis mine and inciting links removed (should you be so inclined, you can access the original Townhall link to this offer here):

Dear Reader,

The next four years may prove to be a turning point for all freedom loving Americans.

With the new administration holding party majorities in the House and Senate, we are facing the worst political environment for the passage of unchecked gun control legislation and further erosion of our constitutional right to bear arms than we have previously seen in our lifetimes.

As the nation creeps from recession to depression, the potential for civil unrest in every major city grows more likely. There has never been a more crucial time in our nation's history to make sure you are armed and trained for the protection of yourself and your family.

One man in our country knows this better than most, and I'm proud to tell you, he is doing something about it.

His name is Dr. Ignatius Piazza.

He is the Founder and Director of Front Sight Firearms Training Institute and is known by his hundreds of thousands of students as 'The Millionaire Patriot' because he has literally given away millions of dollars in free and discounted training to law abiding citizens to assist them is securing what he refers to as "The Comfort of Skill at Arms."

Dr. Piazza, the Millionaire Patriot, wants YOU armed and trained and he is putting his money where his mouth is.

He is providing you with the opportunity to attend five days of world class training at his Front Sight Firearms Training Institute with everything you need to secure permits to carry a concealed handgun in over 30 states—all for pennies-on-the-dollar!

Plus, if you act quickly before all the guns he set aside are gone, he will give you, free of charge, a Springfield Armory XD Pistol in your choice of 9mm, .40SW, or .45ACP!

That's right. This is legitimate. Thousands of people have already taken advantage of it AND YOU SHOULD TOO!

I can personally vouch for Dr. Piazza and his Front Sight Firearms Training Institute.

I believe now more than ever before that EVERY American should be armed and trained to the highest levels possible—levels that exceed law enforcement and military standards. Take advantage of the Millionaire Patriot's offer. Get armed and trained to prepare for what may be coming in the next four years!

NOW is the time to get armed and trained. Don't wait until it is too late.

Click for more details about the Millionaire Patriot's amazing offer.

Sincerely,

Joseph Farah
Editor and Chief Executive Officer
www.WorldNetDaily.com

P.S., You have never seen me make such a personal endorsement, so take heed to the fact that I am telling you to take advantage of Dr. Piazza's offer to get five days of world class training at Front Sight, concealed weapon permits good in 30 states, and a FREE Springfield Armory XD Pistol.

Can I get away with pulling a Michelle-Malkin-style single-word comment here? Of course I can. (Because you know I'm usually good for several pages of ranting when it comes to Wingnut Mental Disorders and are thus relieved to only have one word of litbrittery to confront.)

Okay, here it is, then: treasonable.

Greetings From Santa Fe Plus a Must-see South Park

I am a nervous flier, but a confident drinker and valium-swallower.
--Martin Amis

The boys and Boy and I arrived in Santa Fe yesterday (your home state is gorgeous, Stephen!), and I'm taking the morning off to sleep late, read e-mails and blogs, watch a South Park episode with Son One, and generally enjoy the wonderfulness of Not Having To Be Anywhere or Do Anything at Any Time Unless I Feel Like it. This vacation was long overdue--I'd forgotten how much I love being Elsewhere, how much I love mountains, and how funny South Park can be when Matt and Trey are really on their collective game.

Anyway, once I get myself out and about--there is a snowy mountain to be conquered, after all, despite the deceptive blue sky I can see outside the picture window--I'll have some pics and observations to share. (Although I can tell you this right off the bat: Santa Fe appears to be a terrific foodie town, certainly insofar as its Indian cuisine--sampled yesterday--is concerned.)

So, go watch last week's hilarious South Park, The Ring*, in which Eric and company address the hypocrisy of using wholesomeness, purity, and non-badness--you know, Christian Family Values® as demonstrated by the Palins--to sell to little girls what is, at its core, the same old thing everyone else in the entertainment and advertising worlds is trying to sell: sex. I only wish that in the real world, we could similarly retard--or, better yet, completely obstruct--the dread Disneyfication Creep that we in Florida have long been decrying.

I must pay more attention to Son One's teevee recommendations, as it would appear he has inherited his parents' wit, bless his twisty little heart.

Peace, everyone.

*Not even remotely safe for work or small children, as this is the uncensored version (not that the censored versions of South Park are especially safe for small children, but in this case, it might be distressing for kids to hear Mickey Mouse going verbally medieval on the asses of the Jonas Brothers followed by Mickey Mouse bloviating, in Rush-like tones, his true opinion of little girls--and more.)

The Truth-Not-Cherrypicked: Sweet and Quite Delciious

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Pt. 3

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

Here it is, to watch in amazement and watch again. (Is it conceivable, do you suppose, that Jim Cramer really believes that it is all just a big game? I mean, look at the guy and consider how...Nah. Never mind.)

Jon Stewart For the Win

As a follow-up to the previous post, I'm compelled to share this latest bit of Jon Stewart brilliance.

FYI, I'm hearing rumors that Jim Cramer will appear on the Daily Show this Thursday. Ooo-kay.

(Seriously, bringing in Dora the Explorer and her feces-throwing sidekick monkey was awesome stagecraft. Bravo, Daily Show!)

Jim Cramer & Company: 10b* or Not 10b?

That is the question. Not that matters moral and metaphysical would seem to have great relevance in the lives of the Stone-Cold Evildoers of CNBC®.

Honestly (ha!), after the events, revelations, and embarrassing re-broadcasts of Staggering Wrongness that we've witnessed over the last week or so, I've come to think that we ought to view Jim Cramer's ridicule via the Daily Show as a mere warm-up, an amuse-bouche to whet our collective justice-seeking appetite.

Because look at this. Go on, watch it. And then tell me why these folks--Cramer, in this case--are different from any other mid-level criminal-for-hire. Exactly--they're not. They're just garden-variety perps with manicures and pinpoint Oxford shirts. They're Money Honeys and Street Sweeties who've finally caused enough bottomless cavities that their eroded metiér is now collapsing in on itself.

Via the HuffPo comes this footage of a Jim Cramer interview, aired on TheStreet.com TV in 2006:




The money quotes (so to speak) (emphasis mine):

On manipulating the market: "A lot of times when I was short at my hedge fund, and I was positioned short, meaning I needed it down, I would create a level of activity before hand that could drive the futures."

On falsely creating the impression a stock is down (what he calls "fomenting"): "You can't foment. That's a violation... But you do it anyway because the SEC doesn't understand it." He adds, "When you have six days and your company may be in doubt because you are down, I think it is really important to foment."

On the truth: "What's important when you are in that hedge fund mode is to not be doing anything that is remotely truthful, because the truth is so against your view - it is important to create a new truth to develop a fiction," Cramer advises.

*It's been more than twenty years since I got my Series 7 License, but Rule 10B-5 of the Securities Exchange Act of 1934 is not something you tend to forget, and Wiki is always there to remind you of the precise language:

Rule 10b-5: Employment of Manipulative and Deceptive Practices

It shall be unlawful for any person, directly or indirectly, by the use of any means or instrumentality of interstate commerce, or of the mails or of any facility of any national securities exchange,

(a) To employ any device, scheme, or artifice to defraud,

(b) To make any untrue statement of a material fact or to omit to state a material fact necessary in order to make the statements made, in the light of the circumstances under which they were made, not misleading, or

(c) To engage in any act, practice, or course of business which operates or would operate as a fraud or deceit upon any person,

in connection with the purchase or sale of any security.

So, what do you think--paper or plastic? I'm referring to the question of prison-issue coffee-cups. Plastic can leach chemicals into the java, and paper tends to burn the hand (unless the coffee is lukewarm). Metal is probably not a good idea--they'll be rattling them against the bars all night long, something I wouldn't wish on even the meanest privately-contracted warden.

Is it Fun, Being a Billionaire? F*ck YOU!

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

CNBC Gives Financial Advice

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things With Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Joke of the Day

Everyone needs to watch--and share--this clip from The Daily Show that Sir C (along with countless others in the 'Sphere) linked to last night. Jon Stewart absolutely eviscerates the oblivious, villainous, egomaniacal morons so-called financial experts at CNBC. And then feeds their sorry entrails to the metaphorical lions while making the viewer laugh and cry simultaneously.

I'm going to go out on a limb and pronounce this one of Stewart's best and most important pieces of social commentary to date. Yes, it is that spot-on. Kudos to Stewart's writers, too, for the Dow stats and dates that really sledgehammer the point home: that these cocksure men (and a few women) are, at best, incredibly stupid and irresponsible people. At worst, well, let's just say these characters are stone-cold evil, and they're craven enough that if this were another time and place, they'd be changing their haircolor, packing up their protein bars and bulletproof vests, and heading for the hills, hoping madly that someone among them had, at some point, learned how to forage and cook.

Meh, a wealth-reduced girl can dream. Go watch it!

Friday Wednesday Frank: My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama; Dweezil & Friends

Something to cure the mid-week blues (and a serious treat for fellow guitar-heads): Frank Zappa's classic, solo-inspiring My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama, brought to you by Steve Vai, Dweezil Zappa, Eric Sardinas, Tony MacAlpine, Dave Weiner, and Billy Sheehan (on bass).

Enjoy, and Happy Wednesday.

David Bowie and The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Long-haired Men

This was a find and then some: old BBC footage of a seventeen-year-old David Bowie and his friends declaring their solidarity as long-haired men in Britain who will not stand for any more persecution and ridicule.

We're one big gathering of long-haired males (and female) in my house, so we heartily and retroactively endorse the work of this David Bowie person and hope that we'll be hearing more from the bright young man in the years to follow 1964.

(The clip has a Python-esque absurdist feel to it, no?)

I Want Angelina's Earrings: Assorted Oscar Fashion Thoughts

litbrit's favorite dress: Beyoncé Knowles' breathtakingly well-fitted black-and-gold brocade mermaid gown by House of Deron. Notice Beyoncé's gorgeous posture, simple hairdo, and minimal accessories (small earrings, actually). Really, what could one add to this? She's perfection.

While looking at last night's fashion parade (People's slide show is here--go look; we'll wait), I came to the conclusion that if I were in charge of such things, I'd institute an outright ban on the wearing of diaphanous, pale-to-colorless evening gowns by waifish, pale-to-colorless women (myself included) (*cough* Anne Hathaway, Sarah Jessica Parker, Nicole Kidman *cough*). Michelle Obama's queenly white Inaugural gown looked so fabulous precisely because she is not a waifish, pale-to-colorless woman. That said, I did love Tina Fey's slinky silver-beaded Zack Posen dress and Jennifer Aniston's strapless, white-and-silver Art Deco beaded Valentino gown.

Really, though, give me color, please! And as long you're shopping for me, you can start with this lovely shade of green, as worn last night by the incomparable actor (and SextoMom) Angelina Jolie:

These sweet little emerald baubles would set off my eyes quite nicely, and you know,
I just happen to have the perfect dress...

Friday Saturday Frank: Father O'Blivion; Stockholm, 1973

Here you go, then: one smoking solo after another, posted for your listening pleasure this chilly Saturday morning. Frank Zappa performs with his infamous 1973 lineup (and jacket), including Ruth Underwood, Jean-Luc Ponty, Tom Fowler, Ralph Humphrey, Ian Underwood, George Duke, and Bruce Fowler. Enjoy.

Bon Weekend, everyone.

Friday Frank: The Returning! Budapest; (Televised); 1991

While browsing through YouTube, looking for an interesting Frank Zappa clip to post after too many weeks of abstinence, I stumbled upon this thrilling piece, which I'd never seen before and which apparently aired on Hungarian television back in 1991. In it, a graying and clearly-unwell Zappa plays some heartbreakingly beautiful guitar--I don't recognize the composition, and I'm afraid I don't speak or read Hungarian, either; can any readers identify this piece for me? Anyway, interspersed with the music is footage of Zappa speaking with an unidentified (but English-speaking) man in what I will describe as a fascinating, classic Zappa interview brimming with timeless political observations. Below, I've transcribed the money quotes for you (emphasis mine):

FZ: "I am in the process of doing what we call a feasibility study to see if it's possible for me to run for President in the United States against George Bush*."

Interviewer: That's quite a comment--do you feel there's a chance?

FZ: "Umm, yes. Not a good one--because, you know, he has more balloons than I do. [laughs] But I certainly don't agree with his policies, and I think that the Democrats have nothing to offer. And my idea is, if I do decide to run, to run as an anti-partisan candidate. Because I believe both the political parties in the United States have let the public down, and they generate more rhetoric than results. And it's not often that a voter in the United States gets a clear-cut choice between two candidates, because they tend to resemble each other physically, rhetorically, aesthetically--every other way; it's a choice between Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. And, er, if the feasibility study works out right, I would at least be able to say, If you get tired of those other two guys, you know, take a look at me."

Interviewer: Makes a lot of sense...the next time I interview you, I may be calling you Mr. President instead of Mr. Zappa?

FZ: [Shrugs and smiles] "Maybe..."

Frank Zappa died of prostate cancer in December, 1993. Given that his interest in--and involvement with--American politics was intensifying with every passing year, and knowing that he was both a fierce defender of the First Amendment and an active supporter of voting and participatory democracy, I don't doubt that, had he beaten the cancer, Zappa would have run for office at some point. And I've often wondered what he'd have to say about the nation electing the son of his then-nemesis, George Bush Sr.

Just as I've often wondered what he'd have to say about the condition of the country, the economy, and the Bill of Rights after the eight years during which Bush II lead us perilously close to becoming the "fascist theocracy" Zappa envisioned--and warned us about--during the Reagan years.

And, of course, I continue to muse about what Zappa would have to say about our new president, the unusually-named black son of a single mother. Our new president--he of the non-partisan approach to politics; he, an autodidact from a truly non-elite background. Our new president, who characterizes the philosophies of self-reliance and fiscal responsibility as being complementary to a belief in the power of union and the citizen's duty to community and nation. As did the great conservative president Abraham Lincoln; as did Zappa himself.

Our new president, a man who could hardly be described as resembling--physically, rhetorically, or aesthetically--any U.S. president elected heretofore.

* Zappa is referring to then-president George H. W. Bush, father of George W. Bush.

On Breakfast Champions and Paper Tigers

So this week, cereal giant Kellogg's pulled its endorsement of the greatest, most decorated Olympic swimmer of all time--the amazing fourteen-gold-medals-winning Michael Phelps--because he smoked pot.

Consider this: the cult film Reefer Madness was made--by a church group!--some seventy-three years ago. And so howlingly obvious was the silliness of the film's premise, even then, an exploitation film company saw fit to buy it and sensationalize it further so as to reap maximum profits during a slow economy (hmmm...). Later in the century, the film gained cult status as a comedy of sorts, as it was jam-packed with set bloopers and ridiculous, over-the-top statements ("Women cry for it; Men die for it!"). In 1973, budding rightwing strategerist and future David Gregory dance partner Karl Rove suggested screening Reefer Madness at Young Republicans' fundraisers as a way to attract the kewl kollege kids to what one can only imagine were, er, thrilling, must-attend social events. True story.

It's the year 2009, everyone. I cannot believe we're still debating this. Adults, personal time, private bodies, waste of money and law enforcement personnel, fiscal priorities, and so on and so forth. Then there is the not-insignificant issue of prison overcrowding due to mandatory minimums. Oh, and the fact that, unlike the foamy beers that bring you the Superbowl, the sparkly vodka martinis leaping from the pages of your favorite magazines, and all manner of rainbow-colored prescription pills--Tell your doctor!--the makers of which underwrite your daily televised serving of (bad) economic news, the Evil Weed has not, to date, caused a single overdose death.

Radley Balko of The Agitator wishes Michael Phelps would write this letter. So do I. An excerpt:

Here’s a crazy thought: If I can smoke a little dope and go on to win 14 Olympic gold medals, maybe pot smokers aren’t doomed to lives of couch surfing and video games, as our moronic government would have us believe. In fact, the list of successful pot smokers includes not just world class athletes like me, Howard, Williams, and others, it includes Nobel Prize winners, Pulitzer Prize winners, the last three U.S. presidents, several Supreme Court justices, and luminaries and success stories from all sectors of business and the arts, sciences, and humanities.

So go ahead. Ban me from the next Olympics. Yank my endorsement deals. Stick your collective noses in the air and get all indignant on me. While you’re at it, keep arresting cancer and AIDS patients who dare to smoke the stuff because it deadens their pain, or enables them to eat. Keep sending in goon squads to kick down doors and shoot little old ladies, maim innocent toddlers, handcuff elderly post-polio patients to their beds at gunpoint, and slaughter the family pet.

Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll apologize for smoking pot when every politician who ever did drugs and then voted to uphold or strengthen the drug laws marches his ass off to the nearest federal prison to serve out the sentence he wants to impose on everyone else for committing the same crimes he committed. I’ll apologize when the sons, daughters, and nephews of powerful politicians who get caught possessing or dealing drugs in the frat house or prep school get the same treatment as the no-name, probably black kid caught on the corner or the front stoop doing the same thing.

Hear, hear.

If you're so inclined, please write a note to Kellogg's chief marketing officer, Mark Baynes, and let him know--politely, of course--how you feel about his company siding with the nonsensical so-called "War on Drugs" and against the brilliant, young, multiple, multiple (etc.) gold-medal-winning Phelps.

mark.baynes@kellogg.com

Kellogg Company
1 Kellogg Sq
Battle Creek, MI 49016-3599

(SNL clip via Sully; H/T Michael Hussey)

"The Electronic Newspaper Isn't As Spiffy-looking as the Ads Imply..."

Well, readers, I'm finally back among the living after two weeks during which every family member--male, female, upright-walking, and four-legged and fur-covered alike--fell victim to the dreadful Oh-Nine variant of the 'flu. We've been going through decongestants and aspirins like water, and buying (and using up) coffee-table-sized multi-packs of Kleenex boxes from Costco. Meanwhile, grubby jeans and school uniforms would appear to have been breeding in the dark corners of the laundry room--not exactly the cheerful get-well present I was hoping for, but hey, I'm just grateful to be breathing freely and speaking in my normal baritone, as opposed to the unintelligible frog-croaking I was doing for a while there. Poor Marley, he seemed so insulted and pissed-off at the notion of microbes invading his sovereign feline self: he'd burst into a fit of little kitty-sneezes, then shoot me this withering look, as if I had something to do with it (I didn't; it came home with one of the Offspring and spread outward and downward from there. But try telling that to a cat.)

Anyway, let's kick off my return to civilization with this little blast from the past--1981, to be specific; it comes via Wayne Garcia, my new boss at Creative Loafing, where I'll be posting my work from time to time, starting this week. (For non-Floridians, CL is an alternative weekly newspaper somewhat akin to the Village Voice. Only it's not, obviously, of that particular Village, not unless you consider the Tampa area to be an extension of New York, which is probably kind of stretching things a bit. We did come close to being, ah, cursed blessed with our very own Trump Tower at one point, though. And you can get some pretty superb pizza here, if you know the right Italians, ahem.)

First, the electronic newspaper; then, what next--a telephone with pictures? Anything seemed possible...

Dr. King's Dream is Rising

photo via Doug Mills, NYT

Come on up for the rising,
Come on up, lay your hands in mine;
Come on up for the rising,
Come on up for the rising tonight!

If you're like me, your eyes are still a bit swollen this morning after weeping with joy during the Obama Inaugural event at the Lincoln Memorial. I also watched the replay on HBO last night, exchanging emails with Lisa Simeone, who'd live-reported the event on NPR radio earlier and was now watching it at home, this time setting aside her no-tears-on-the-air professionalism and reveling in the pleasure of it, just like the rest of us. As one stunning performance followed another, I noted that this was so intense an emotion for me, I could barely find words to describe it. "My heart is exploding and bits of stardust are all over the floor," I wrote.

In one sense, I am deeply envious of my friend T, whose children go to school with mine and whose sister is a brilliant actor and very special liberal activist; accordingly, he and his lucky, lucky family are part of the exciting festivities going on in Washington right now; more saliently, they're in the middle of history as it unfolds. (Say hello to Michelle for me, T!)

In another sense, though, as I bask in our relatively tropical Florida warmth (eek, sorry, snowbound readers), I am not at all jealous of those oceans of excited, bundled-up people who were surely chilled to the bone, from the crowds who stood on the ground to the celebrities who sang onstage. I could tell that the performers, in particular, were really feeling the cold, even with layers of gorgeous scarves and coats swaddling them: if you looked at their lips, you could see that some of them were struggling mightily to keep their mouths flexible in that freezing air so they could form the words. (When I was in high school, my singing group traveled to Europe and performed outdoors in Germany; all I can say is, singing in the falling snow is beyond challenging, not to mention terrible for one's vocal cords.)

Poor Bruce Springsteen displayed, at times, the body language of someone who was looking forward to curling up in front of a warm fire after the concert. And speaking of fire, wasn't that a soul-stirring, body-invigorating rendition of The Rising? Springsteen originally wrote this to honor all the firefighters, many of whom died, for their indescribable bravery at the World Trade Center disaster on that dark and heartbreaking day. With an animated, red-robed gospel choir joining in, its 2009 incarnation was, quite literally, a moving and joyful call to service.

And I was touched and amused by the innocent excitement of Malia Obama, who repeatedly pulled out her little digital camera and snapped photos of all those famous people singing and dancing--and remembering history--just a few feet away. Um, Malia, you're the First Firstborn, darling; those celebrities are all going to want photos of you.

Despite my physical distance from it, I felt tightly bound to the history, pride, and ever-renewed American spirit underpinning the stage at the Lincoln Memorial, and I was electrified and inspired by the unprecedented length and breadth and depth of the creative talent assembled thereupon.

So, what was your favorite part?

Would That Things Were Only This Bad...

Reality is much worse than the future that SNL's writers imagined--save the Great Lakes problem--but Will Farrell's delicious, razor-sharp Dubya impersonation made me laugh out loud just the same. As Sully says, "It could stand for his farewell address as well."

School's...in...for...winter--that ecstatic tapping sound you hear is me doing a little Irish jig around my desk--and I'm back in the saddle again, to juxtapose a little Alice Cooper and Aerosmith on a cold Sunday morning (hey, why not?) Accordingly, there will be posting a-plenty going forward. Because if the tall, calm, grownup Senator President (yeah!) with the beautiful speeches and magnificent mind can't inspire this writer, I might as well hang up the Powerbook and go for an ostrich ride.

Happy Inauguration Weekend, everyone!

(H/T oddjob)

A Fundamental Clash--Not of Religions or Civilizations, but of Eras

This is Syrian-born American psychiatrist Dr. Wafa Sultan, speaking on Al-Jazeera television (English subtitles by Memritv) with Ibrahim Al-Khouli and host Faisal al-Qassem. Dr. Sultan discusses the ongoing battle between the barbarism inherent in the medieval mentality of fundamentalism and the hope and progress--both in scientific and social terms--that modern, tolerant thinking has offered, and continues to offer, humankind.

My thoughts about Dr. Sultan's words are best summed up by fellow Cogblogger Stephen, whose opinions on matters theological and historical I've long respected and to whom I sent this video earlier today. He notes:

"I could say, and have said, many of the same things about Christians that she says about Muslims. In fact, several centuries ago it was the Muslim world that practiced tolerance of other religions and saw great scientific gains; current math, physics, astronomy and medicine are all built upon what they started. The West's philosophical foundation upon Aristotelianism wouldn't have been possible without Muslims holding onto Aristotle's teachings while the Christian idiots were busily destroying anything they felt offended their Christian sensibilities. I guess the main takeaway for me is further confirmation of how similar fundamentalists from all systems of thought are to each other."

Yes.

(H/T Roberto, via Yariv)

Weekend at Bernie's

Work-weeks for the self-employed routinely stretch into seventy and even eighty-hour marathons, as Robert's continue to do these days; accordingly, he tries to ingest a decent amount of protein and vegetables, even at lunchtime, and had just bitten into his grilled chicken breast sandwich with pesto--he's the chef in these parts, not I--when news of Bernie Madoff's latest bit of sociopathic effrontery hit the airwaves.

Robert didn't choke, but I nearly did, and I wasn't even eating. And there they were, the braced-and-bespectacled CNBC crew, nattering away and wondering out loud how someone could possibly be so arrogant and unaware.

"Why are these Wall Street groupies even trying to make sense of this criminal?" I asked, resisting the strong urge to teevee-scream Take the beam out of your own motherfucking eyes first, O Masters of The Universe!

No More Teevee-screaming is my New Year's resolution. Swear.

Instead, I grumbled. "Arrogant? Aware? He's a bloody sociopath--he has no conscience."

"Maybe they feel they have to say something in order to sound smart?" Dear Husband offered.

Hey, it's bad enough that after being caught defrauding all those people, companies, and charities to the tune of many billions, Madoff packed up a million dollars or so worth of watches and jewelry and smuggled them off to the kids, claiming the items have "sentimental value". (It should be easy enough for prosecutors to debunk that one: sociopaths don't have sentiments, you see.) Now we learn he was planning to spirit away some $173 million dollars, too, confirmed by a load of signed checks investigators found during a search of his desk. And this despite being ordered to not dispose of any assets whatsoever, since said assets will, eventually, be used to partially (!) repay at least some investors.

Suffice it to say, I don't think slapping a bit of ankle jewelry on Madoff and sending him upstairs to his Manhattan penthouse is anything close to the sort of lifestyle change he really deserves to undergo right about now.

So, I propose this: until his trial date, let Madoff live off the street--for real. Strip the man down to his Sulka briefs, give him some beaten-up sneakers and an old sweatsuit from the Salvation Army--hell, the pants don't even have to match the hoodie--and point him toward the nearest Dumpster full of cardboard boxes. We got yer penthouse right here, Mister!

Meanwhile...

It's Weekend at Bernie's! All weekend, every weekend. And weekdays too--why not? Open the ultra-luxurious Madoff house to families who've been thrown out onto the streets when their banks foreclosed on their properties. One family per long weekend, I say, and give them access to the Madoff SubZero(s) and the Madoff wine cellar. Let the kids get warm--finally!--in his 1,000-thread-count Pratesi sheets and cashmere blankets and remind the parents to grab a vicuña coat or two when they head out the door and hand the keys to the next homeless family.

As for Madoff being out and about, ah, flight risk, schmight risk. I don't think he'll get too far.

FridayTuesday Frank: Sinister Footwear (Second Movement); NYC, 1981

Inaugural planners take note: setting aside Sinister Footwear's overall musical wonderfulness (and it's not often you'll hear me say that), its title alone makes this Zappa piece the perfect music with which to bid farewell to the Inartful Dodger of Crawford Dallas.

Happy New Year, all!

I Modestly Propose That You Read This

The fabulous Jon Swift has compiled his annual Best Blog Posts of 2008, which is a holiday cornucopia of wit, wailing, and wisdom submitted by the bloggers themselves. Dear Readers, there is so much good stuff there, you might as well set aside some time, make yourself an extra-large coffee with lots of cream and sugar (you're giving all that up tomorrow, right?) and settle in with a cuddly kitteh or two.

(Speaking of cuddly kittehs, Jon has scattered various spot-on lolcats throughout the long, long post. I'd better hurry up and finish this post--if Son Three sees this, he's going to want to sit on my lap and spend the next hour scrolling through I Can Has Cheezburger, and there goes the morning.)

For my part, I submitted a short (one sentence!) post, entitled To Those Who Muse About "Spreading Democracy" on This Day of Fidel Castro's Retirement that I wrote for litbrit back in February (it includes a Pablo Neruda poem). Unbeknown to me at the time, Mr. Swift had linked to that very post in a piece that he wrote, shortly thereafter, about the ridiculous embargo on Cuba. Weird, but unsurprising, given how many similar "weird" things happen when like minds join forces in the ether and...oh, hell, I can't do self-promotion without sounding like a complete New Age ass, so just go and peruse Swift's Hall of Awesomeness, okay?

(P.S. Thank you for taking on this enormous task, Jon; cheers and kisses to you, as always, for promoting us little guys.)

And Sir C, I swiped this one for you, though I'm sincerely hoping it's not one of your '09 resolutions :

Catblogging: Here Comes Marley Claws

They dressed me up like this. And this isn't my coat--it's a false one.

We all love a figgy pudding--or at least, a pudding-shaped cat--so bring us one now.

Merry, merry everyone!

XXX
Deborah

The Rational Actor's Libertarian Fête

[In light of recent disasters stemming from under-regulation and deregulation of various market sectors--the obvious Big Disaster as well as things like Spontaneous Combustion Snow Globes and Renal Failure Seafood--I thought it would be appropriate to re-post this poem I wrote for Ezra's blog and mine last Christmas. Commenter Andrew, responding to a contentious free-market cultist, said it well:

"Pity the poor libertarian. C. Ronnie Capitalist wears his clothes during the day. When the kitchen lights are out, the lobbying and no-bid contracts make scurrying little noises. You can hear them if you listen. Those aren't libertarians."]

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached.
-- from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

The Rational Actor's Libertarian Fête

Come now, the ever-bitterer winter wind
Reminding one and all what season nears,
And with it come the needs and wants of friends;
The plight--the suffering!--told of distant spheres.
Ah, what is there to do but shake one's head
And wonder at the choices people make?
They knew what they were doing. He made his bed.
Some people want to live life on the take.
I suffered; there were sacrifices made.
The roads I chose have led me to this place,
And all my efforts now will be repaid;
My just deserts spread forth before my face.
Let this be, then, the year we celebrate
At the Rational Actor's Libertarian Fête!

Come in, have drinks; we've everything to please--
Our own self-interest, you'll be glad to know,
Means cocktails that are light on antifreeze
And bread with just the faintest melamine glow.
We're reasonably sure the Champagne flute
Won't leach a cloud of lead into each bubble--
Or Christmas-colored plastic cups might suit?
No need to thank the Chinese for their trouble.
It's quite a spread, when all is said and done:
There's corn--and beans--with tortured DNA;
The Monkfish, I am told, will surely stun;
There's penicillin in the shrimp souffle.
It's doubtful that the roasted pig will kill you;
Though, even then, the hospital will bill you.

Come now, the ever-bitterer winter wind,
Reminding one and all that all are one;
And so the needs and wants of nearby friends,
And suffering humans under a distant sun,
Become our needs and wants--it's all-impacting.
Each dollar saved becomes a lead-laced train
That sickens those too young for Rational Acting.
Each weakened law begets a poisoned grain.
And so the guests of honor at their Fête
May find their appetites are somewhat numb;
They'll hope the howling coming from the gate
Is not The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come,
His corrupted chains of debt stretched through the air,
Borne by toxic winds of laissez-faire.

D.N.T. 11/25/07

Friday Frank: A Zappadan Catch-up Post

Wow, what a week. Okay, make that month. Methinks it's high time I posted some fabulous Frank to cap off Zappadan and kick off the pre-Christmas weekend. [ I should point out that as with much of FZ's music, the lyrics might not be especially, er, work-safe--unless, of course, your co-workers and boss are Zappaphiles too.]

Let's travel back in time, then, to 1968, and visit the Royal Festival Hall, where Frank Zappa, the Mothers, and various orchestra members are performing a neoclassical piece entitled This Town is a Sealed Tuna Sandwich, which would later be featured in the film 200 Motels.



Guitar-heads will enjoy the solo in this one, Outside Now, performed in Paris in 1980:



And finally, here's our hero playing Florentine Pogen in L.A. back in 1974:



Bon Weekend, Happy Festivus, and Merry Zappadan everyone!

Minstrel Boy on Jeopardy Today!

Set your Tivo's and DVR's, since Minstrel Boy of Group News Blog and Harp and Sword is appearing on Jeopardy today (check your local listings).

"I'll take brilliant, irreverent, truffle-making, multiple-language-speaking, massive-amounts-of-history-knowing, more-instruments-than-I've-had-hot-dinners-playing, Vietnam Veteran Irish-Apache Gentlemen and Scholars for a thousand, Alex...".

Go MB!

FridaySaturday Frank: Watermelon in Easter Hay; Barcelona, 1988

I remember reading somewhere that this was one of FZ's favorite pieces (or was it Peaches en Regalia? Hmmm...). Anyway, Watermelon is gorgeous, meditative music that's hard to categorize--so why bother? I'll simply think of it as more beauty and brilliance from an American genius.

Happy Zappadan, everyone!

Today in Very Timely Songs: David Bowie & Gail Ann Dorsey Perform Under Pressure

Two music gods on one stage. Enjoy.

"...It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming 'Let me out!'
Pray tomorrow takes me higher
People people on streets
Turned away from it all
Like a blind man
Sat on fence but it don't work
Keep coming up with love
But it's so slashed and torn
Why, why, why?
Love, love, love, love.

Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can't we give love one more chance?
Why can't we give love, give love, give love,
Give love, give love, give love, give love, give love...

'Cause love's such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care
For people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way
Of caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves under pressure..."

Marriage Equality Rocks!

Via TRex, with whom I was speaking this morning and to whom I said, You know, I love it that our side can fight all this ignorance and bigotry with creative brilliance and joy.

"It's the only way to win, baby," he replied.

(By the way, I'm totally adding Jack Black to my list of Super Best Friends.)

FridaySunday Frank: The Teheran Symphony Orchestra Rehearsing Dog Breath Variations + More Frank Love In Honor of Zappadan

Maestro Zappa's music may not yet be widely-known in these parts--certainly the vast majority of it never hit America's commercial airwaves, save a handful of humor songs--but in Europe, Scandinavia, South America, and even the Middle East, fans and musicians alike listen to, and are inspired by, Zappa's rock, blues, jazz, fusion, and neoclassical compositions.

Tribute bands abound in Finland and the Czech Republic, and some of the world's most talented musicians continue to study and perform challenging classical pieces like Dog Breath Variations (as above, in which video members of the Teheran Symphony Orchestra tackle the complex piece) and Outrage at Valdez.

I'll be posting a goodly amount of Frank Zappa material this month, in honor of Zappadan--December 4-21--when "all our blogs belong to Zappa". (As if I needed an excuse!) Info here:



Finally, here's a double dose (so to speak) of FZ wit: Joe's Garage followed by Why Does it Hurt When I Pee?



Happy Sunday, all.

Simplisitc Drug Testing Kits Yield False Results and Wrongful Arrests

Quod me nutrit me destruit*, indeed.

So, what's in your wallet (or handbag or toiletry kit)? If you're traveling out of the country any time soon--hell, if you're simply driving around in this one--you'd be wise to rid your bags and carryalls of any organic chocolate bars, natural soaps, and health-food-store deodorants. Read this, be horrified, and for goodness' sake, be careful:

For Nadine Artemis and Ron Obadia, August began with plans for a family vacation in Minnesota. The vacation ended with the two Canadian citizens being led through Toronto's airport in handcuffs, locked up and separated from their baby.

"We were dumbfounded," Artemis says. Police told them they could be facing years in prison for exporting narcotics, because 2.5 pounds of material found in their carry-on bag tested positive for hashish. "All we knew was that we didn't have drugs."

They were telling the truth. They didn't have drugs. They had chocolate.

The couple were caught up in what civil libertarians, public defenders and some narcotics experts say is a growing problem: the use of unreliable field drug-test kits as the basis to arrest innocent people on illegal drug charges.

The inexpensive test kits are used by virtually every police department in the country and by federal agents, including Customs officers at the nation's borders. The kits test suspicious materials, and a positive result generally leads to an arrest and court date, pending more sophisticated tests done after the sample is sent to a lab.

The kits use powerful acids that react with the substance in a plastic pouch. If the liquid turns a certain color, it is a considered a positive result. But a number of legal products and plants test positive: chocolate for hashish; rosemary for marijuana; and natural soaps for the "date-rape drug" GHB.

"The tests have no validity," says former FBI narcotics investigator Frederick Whitehurst. And as more organic products come on the market, "the potential for civil rights violations when these presumptive tests are out there is phenomenal."

Although police have been using the field test kits for decades, "there's no regulation, no oversight that these drug tests perform in any way," says Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps President David Bronner, whose products have tested positive for GHB.

With the growth of organic and natural foods and products, experts say arrests may increase.

"We are alarmed by the growing number of people who have been taken to jail for simply possessing organic products," says Ronnie Cummins, director of the Organic Consumers Association.

On Aug. 29, Artemis and Obadia, founders of Living Libations, a company that makes organic and natural food and beauty products in Haliburton, Ontario, were cleared of the charges when lab tests showed they were simply transporting chocolate. [...]

So far, the couple's legal bills have topped $20,000, covered in part by Bronner's company.

As you can see, I'm not joking about the need to be careful. As someone who routinely carries (at least) a bar or two of organic dark chocolate in her handbag--more if I'm flying, in case I need to share it with cranky people during inevitable delayed-on-the-runway scenarios--and furthermore, who has Dr. Bronner's Peppermint Soap in her shower and her travel toiletry kit, let me tell you, this story sent chills down my spine.

No, we shouldn't have to modify our own normal and perfectly legal behavior in order to avoid being falsely accused and expensively imprisoned--this is America, yes? The fault for these outrageous miscarriages of justice lies clearly in the laps of the test-kits' manufacturer(s), as well as those law enforcement and customs personnel who awarded them the lucrative government contracts to make the kits. Kits that don't test for a specific substance, by the way, but rather, just identify a general classification to which a substance belongs.

Poppy-seeds fallen from your morning bagel, or evidence of something more sinister? The test kit will err on the side of un-Constitutional.

On the other hand, I'm certainly not willing to risk being thrown in jail and separated from my sons--and then forced to spend a fortune on legal help to prove my innocence--simply because I love chocolate (which I do, very much) or because I like the wake-me-up scent of mint in my bath products.

Allen Miller of Forensic Source, which makes kits, says they find "families of chemical compounds" and are not meant to be definitive. Any arrest should be the result of good investigative police work, Miller says.

But Adam Wolf of the ACLU says "police officers and drug-test companies should not subject our constitutional rights to a game of chance."

*What nourishes me kills me.