Memory Machine

(quoted by Nate Silver:)

"How to get 63% of Americans to support gay marriage. (Maybe.)

"Back when I used to do high school debate, there were all sorts of esoteric arguments related to the notion of positive and negative rights. The distinction, to simplify the matter greatly, is that a positive right is something that permits you to act a certain way -- something granted to you -- whereas a negative right is a claim to noninterference -- something that precludes action from being taken against you, either by government or by other people. [...]

"Take for example the issue of gay marriage. When gay marriage is polled, it is almost always framed as a positive right, as in: "should the government permit Adam and Steve to get married?" [...] But there is a different way to frame the question that is no less fair, and flips the issue on its head. Namely: "should the government be allowed to prohibit Adam and Steve from getting married?". This is closer to the logic embodied by the court decisions in Iowa, California, Massachusetts, and other states. [...]

"And it turns out that if you frame a polling question in this particular way, as Gallup and USA Today did recently, you get a very different set of responses. [...] When USA Today asks whether gay marriage is a private decision, or rather whether government has the right to pass laws which regulate it, 63 percent say it's a private decision. [...]

"[L]ook at what Equality California said on its website at the time:

Every Californian should have the choice to marry the person they love. It’s a personal and fundamental freedom guaranteed by the California Constitution.

[...]
"What if Equality California had instead said this:

California's government should not have the right to interfere with the decision of two loving adults to get married. It’s a personal and fundamental freedom protected by the California Constitution.

"You see the distinction? Equality California was still stuck in the positive rights paradigm."

(there's more)

I'm home, after eight months of hospitalization and rehabilitation. I'm out, I'm free, I'm terrified. Now I've got to figure out how, well, everything by my myself. Of course, Velma is here, mornings and evenings and weekends, and I've got a home care attendant every day. But I want to do it by myself.

Good news and bad news: I got social security disability, but it's not enough. I figure I can work again in about six months; at least, I hope so. In the meantime, I am asking for charity.

Thank you. I really wish to not have to do this anymore.

"Water-boarding is torture... It's drowning. It gives you the complete sensation that you are drowning. It is no good, because you -- I'll put it to you this way; you give me a water board, Dick Cheney and one hour, and I'll have him confess to the Sharon Tate murders."

-- Former Minnesota Governor Jesse Ventura, an ex-Seal who endured water-boarding as part of his training

[posted to the Well by Joe Flower]

Lauren -- my social worker -- says we're asking for SSI, not SSD. She's called, and they assured her that I am still eligible. In fact, Lauren has the papers that Buddavarapu (my doctor) is supposed to sign, and that's it. She's confident, in fact. So: again, we wait.

I got back my social security SSI application. They turned it down. So now I appeal.

Look at me. I'm disabled, every which way. There's no way I can make any money. I am furious, and helpless.

America: it sucks.

I am depressed. I fight, but sometimes I lose. You see, everything I can accomplish is now trash. Everything. Maybe someday I will gain some of them; but it's a long, long way. For now, it's lost:

Writing. The big one. Especially humor; I can't figure out anything. I admire humor, and it's frustrating. I look back at humor pieces in my past, and I can't do it. Not even close.

Also, arguing.

Juggling.

Singing.

Even whistling. (Yes, I used to be good at whistling.)

Basically, everything I used to accomplish. I've left with listening to music and reading: that's nice, but it's not accomplishing something. I'm, well, helpless. Except maybe, one day, two years or three, maybe I'll figure out writing. I used to be good at it, to the point of never thinking about it. Well, I thought about it, but I figured out stuff. It was fun. Not every day, every hour, every second, torture.

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