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Scaring People Out of Their Wits Over Pseudo-Pandemics (Swine Flu, Avian Flu, SARS, Ebola and now Zika)

 

Why Aren’t Public Health Organizations Like CIDRAP Warning Pregnant Women to Abstain from Aluminum or Mercury-containing Vaccines?”

 

A few days ago, I emailed out what I consider overwhelming evidence that debunks the Zika Virus/Microcephaly thesis (that is fast becoming “conventional wisdom”) that we have all been bombarded with over the past month. The email was in the form of an open letter, with documentation, primarily addressed to one of the leading thought leaders in epidemiology in America over the past generation, Dr Michael Osterholm.

 

Jesse Owens on a field

Speaking to a reporter before a screening of Race at OSU’s Mershon Auditorium, one of Jesse Owens’s daughters said several changes were made to the script for the sake of historical accuracy.

That’s nice to hear. The tale of Owens’s participation in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin is intrinsically so dramatic and inspiring that it would be a shame to sully it with blatant inaccuracies.

As you probably know, Owens was the African-American track and field star who symbolically thumbed his nose at Hitler’s theory of Aryan superiority at the pre-World War II Olympics. For Central Ohioans, he also was a hometown hero. After racking up an impressive record as a high school athlete in Cleveland, he came to Ohio State and fell under the tutelage of track coach Larry Snyder.

This is where director Stephen Hopkins’s film takes up the story. Snyder (Jason Sudeikis) calls Owens (Stephen James) into his office and demands to know whether he’s ready to work hard. He also begins plying him with the notion that track records are made to be broken, but medals are forever. In no time, it seems, the two are setting their sights on the 1936 Olympics.

For at least the last four decades now I feel like I’ve been living in Beached America: a nation that has lost its values, even as it writhes in violent agitation, inflicting its military on the vulnerable regions of the planet.

It does so in the name of those lost values . . . democracy, freedom, equality. These are just dead words at this point, public relations blather, silently followed by a sigh: yada, yada, yada. Then we send in the drones.

This is the behavior of a nation that is spiritually beached. Ideas that could open up the future have long been gagged, mocked and marginalized, locked in a closet somewhere. No way can they be allowed to have political influence. Thanks, mainstream media.

 

Your new movie, Where to Invade Next, is very powerful, your best so far for certain.

Get well.

Fast.

We need you.

You've packed a great many issues into this film, with visuals, with personalities, with entertainment. If people will watch this, they'll learn what many of us have struggled to tell them and more, as there was plenty that I learned as well.

I must assume that when U.S. audiences watch scenes that dramatically clash with their world yet seem humane and reasonable they'll be brought to the point of thinking.


Enlistment exam provides alternate pathway to graduation

Thousands of New Jersey high school seniors may be taking the military’s enlistment exam to fulfill a graduation requirement because they opted out of the controversial PARCC tests when they were juniors.

Spiderman lounging

Fans of Deadpool-the-character are an odd mix of fratbros and social justice types. He's a violent antihero mercenary straight from the Xtreme days of early 90s comics whose repartee tends toward adolescent humor, but he's also a mentally ill canon omnisexual whose superpower is also a disability. There was a concern that, with Hollywood involved, a Deadpool movie would pander too much to the former group at the expense of the latter.

Fortunately, that's not the case at all. While Deadpool-the-movie is even more full of filthy language, crude innuendos, and bloody violence than the comics – Parents, this is NOT Avengers! – most of its humor is as its own expense rather than punching down. It doesn't quite bat a thousand on social decency – there are a couple blink-and-you'll-miss-them trans jokes at the expense of a super-strong woman villain – but it comes a lot closer than one might expect from a Hollywood action movie, especially a hard-R one immersed in adolescent humor.

Maybe if we declared “war” on poison water, we’d find a way to invest money in its “defeat.”

David Rosner and Gerald Markowitz, writing at Tom Dispatch this week about what they called “The United States of Flint,” make this point: “The price tag for replacing the lead pipes that contaminated its drinking water, thanks to the corrosive toxins found in the Flint River, is now estimated at up to $1.5 billion. No one knows where that money will come from or when it will arrive. In the meantime, the cost to the children of Flint has been and will be incalculable.”

I sit with these words: “No one knows where the money will come from.”

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