Drowning in credit

A couple of weeks ago, I watched Maxed Out, a documentary highlighting America's out-of-control problem with governmental and personal debt — how we live in a society where one's ability to actually pay bills is less important than the ability to obtain credit from which those bills are generated. The film correctly argues that the latter is not difficult anymore. In fact, credit card companies actively seek those who won't be able to make full and timely payments on their bills — and, consequently, those to whom credit will often have greatest appeal. Maxed Out includes an interview with two mothers whose children committed suicide in college after producing insurmountable debts to the credit card providers who solicited business from these young, financially insecure students in the first place. The documentary is a troubling account of a deep-rooted societal problem, and I highly recommend it.

So, when I received in the mail this week a letter from my credit card company, informing me that my credit limit had been increased by more than $3,000 because of my "excellent history," I was less than surprised to also find attached a series of blank checks with my name on them. The letter instructed me to "do [with these checks] what you want, when you want. Simply use the checks to make your dreams a reality.*" In other words, I could write a seven-figure sum on one of these checks and buy a mansion on Seattle's Queen Anne Hill, right?

The tiny asterisk at the end, of course, makes all the difference. It directs you to fine print on the back side of the page, where a disclaimer indicates that these checks are subject to credit availability and finance charges from the date of transaction. In other words, my credit provider would be happy to charge an additional fee if I exceed my credit line, and will be making a profit from my blissful ignorance, regardless. But go ahead, spend all the money you want on us, they say.

The underlying premise of Maxed Out is that America's obsession with credit and debt is slowly destroying the middle class. Creditors obviously don't seek consumers who pay bills in full, on time, all the time. They won't make a profit from these people. They seek the young, the unemployed, the irresponsible, or those who have no other choice — people they know won't pay off debts on time, and people they know will unintentionally provide them with a handsome monetary reward. Under this dubious system, the rich get richer, the poor get poorer, and America gradually heads toward financial collapse.

More Moore not the answer

Scheduled to release in theaters this week is Michael Moore's latest high-profile documentary, "Sicko," a film detailing the ever-declining condition of America's already pathetic (and hugely profitable) health-care system, and how it compares to that of other nations, including Cuba.

I've always applauded the focus of Moore's documentaries; indeed, he inspires dialogue on issues of significance in our society — whether it's the aforementioned, or gun control, or large corporations screwing over blue-collar employees, or the president lying to the American people to justify war. Health care is an especially pressing domestic-policy concern. It's inexcusable that the wealthiest and most resourceful nation on the planet refuses to provide a basic human right to citizens who need it the most. While countless Americans face bankruptcy or even homelessness in the face of crippling medical bills, pharmaceutical companies, health-insurance providers, and doctors become wealthier by the minute. It's disgusting, and it cannot continue.

Yes, I applaud the topics of Moore's documentaries, but I've always disliked Moore himself. He's nauseatingly vain. Michael Moore's films always turn out to be more about Michael Moore than they are about the issue at hand. Check out the cover for "Sicko." Just like every other documentary he's produced or book he's written, his large face is prominently featured with his name, such that the first thought of viewers is not America's health-care crisis, but rather Moore's celebrity. Has he ever produced a documentary on whose cover his photo was not the main focus?

This is what strips Moore's work of its credibility. It's hard to take seriously the words of someone who is so obviously concerned with personal promotion and image. "Sicko" will no doubt do wonderfully at the box office — Moore's films always do — but sadly, it'll do little to fix America's health-care woes. Critics will understandably pounce on Moore's motives, just like they did with "Fahrenheit 9/11," and just like "Fahrenheit 9/11," his latest documentary most likely won't change a thing about the status quo.

If Moore truly cares about the issues he addresses, my advice to him would be to exercise a bit more humility: Take your face off the cover, Michael, and stop playing the star in all your films. It doesn't help in the least.

Give Bush a quiz — for real

I'll admit up front that I know almost nothing about embryonic stem-cell research, and thus offer no credibility as to whether it's an ethical scientific practice.

What I will argue, however, is that George W. Bush surely doesn't, either. Yet just today, he vetoed for the second time a bill that would have expanded federal funding for the research, claiming it would compel American taxpayers to fund the destruction of human life. (I'll courteously leave out any discussion of whether that might be precisely what we're doing with Bush's war of choice in Iraq.)

Indeed, I offer no expertise on embryonic stem-cell research, but there are countless members of America's mainstream medical community who do — and who rigorously support the research over its potential to save lives. Through today's veto, Bush loudly and arrogantly proclaimed to these professionals — and to an overwhelming majority of the American people — that he knows better.

There's an easy way to solve this conflict, I believe, since Bush likes to trumpet both his scientific expertise and moral highness. A group of seasoned medical professionals and scientists — representing all sides of this debate — should collaborate to produce a quiz for Bush. The quiz should consist of roughly 15-20 questions covering only the most rudimentary aspects of embryonic stem-cell research. They should then make a deal with Bush: If he takes the quiz and is able to answer even half of the questions correctly, his veto stands. If not, well, I think the results will speak for themselves.

How many believe he would pass such a quiz? How many believe he knows one single detail about this issue beyond what his political sidekicks tell him? How many believe he has actually read books, or consulted with experts of varying views (apart from his own)? I surely do not. And, no, I wouldn't pass the quiz, either. But then, I'm not the one obstructing federal funding for research that could save people's lives — and that is backed by professionals who actually know what they're talking about.

The various identities of Mitt Romney

In an expanding field of remarkably embarrassing 2008 presidential candidates from either major political party, former Gov. Mitt Romney, R-Mass., may easily win first prize. Sure, Sen. Sam Brownback, R-Kan., is also a disgrace, but at least he's honest about who he is. Who is Mitt Romney? many are asking. The answer evidently depends upon what's politically convenient.

He's spent more time touting his very recently self-proclaimed opposition to abortion — surprise, surprise — than he has on discussion of any other issue. (After all, why waste time with petty matters like global warming, the AIDS pandemic, or the Darfur genocide, when it's so much easier to use abortion to piss people off and lure at least some of them to your side?) Critics have aptly pointed out that Romney's current stance in no way matches the one he held as recently as two years ago when he was still governor of Massachusetts. Romney claims he has since realized that his position was "wrong," according to the Kansas City Star, and told attendees of the National Right to Life Convention that he was "evidence" that their efforts pay off. How blind does he think they are?

In 2004, also when he was governor, his state's Supreme Court became the first to legalize same-sex marriage. Presumably because this was also about the time he had made up his mind to run for president, Romney made sure to vociferously publicize his disdain for the ruling. Never mind that, just 10 years earlier, he told the Log Cabin Republicans that he'd be a stronger advocate for gay rights than Sen. Edward Kennedy, D-Mass., according to the New York Times. Was this another error in judgment, Mitt? (By the way, how many people have died in Massachusetts as a result of legalized gay unions? Has anarchy broken out there yet?)

I've always admired politicians who can acknowledge that, as human beings, they make mistakes and change course accordingly. This admiration does not extend to political opportunists like Romney, whose campaign hinges on the hope that the American people are stupid and won't realize how phony he is. Who is Mitt Romney? Even for Romney himself to answer that question, he'd first need to know where he is and to whom he's speaking. Is it a group of young voters in Boston, or is it an anti-abortion group in Kansas City? Without that information, I'm convinced that he'd be at a loss. Mitt Romney is pretty hard to take seriously.

Learning to expect the unexpected

Inspired by my recent abrupt relocation to the Pacific Northwest to start a new job — and a far less robust social life that has resulted — I've been thinking a lot lately about the past year and how I ended up here. To recap:

• Four months ago, I was in Chicago with my parents and a large group of friends to see the play "Twelve Angry Men." The temperature that weekend dipped below zero. Walking down Michigan Avenue on the way to dinner at Buca di Beppo, I remember thinking that I had rarely felt so cold in my life. I also remember never thinking even once at the time that I might be moving so far away from these people in a period of fewer than 100 days. The idea of relocating, yes — but so far away and so quickly, not a chance.
• Six months ago, I wrote a blog post (Dec. 30, 2006) that, in retrospect, was somewhat prophetic. It was a look back at the year 2006 and a look forward to 2007. Reading it now messes with my mind.
• Ten months ago, I was in Madison, Wis., enjoying beer samples with like-minded friends at my second annual Great Taste of the Midwest (regrettably, I'll be missing out this year). At the time, my only thought apart from the beer was moving to Madison to learn to how to brew.
• One year ago this week, I started a new full-time position at my previous employer, transitioning away from roles at the same company that included scoring essays on standardized exams and checking test booklets for ink smudges. Pessimism through negative experiences had effectively convinced me that this would be my line of work forever. Had there been a capacity at the time for me to see a glimpse of my life one year henceforth, I would have been shocked.

The life lesson to be gleaned from all of this, I suppose, is that life is a lesson that never stops, replete with discouragement and joy, expectation and surprise. The only constant that exists is a force greater than ourselves who directs in methods we can neither predict nor understand. In my case, there has to be — I would never have done what I just did in such a short period of time solely through my wisdom and judgement. Both told me I was crazy. I'm still not quite through persuading myself otherwise, but I'm working on it.

Back in touch with reality

This is a picture of me during a recent visit to Mount Rainier National Park. To view the entire album, click here.

It's been some time since I left the "honeymoon" phase of my move to the Northwest, when everything was fresh and exciting and I was thrilled simply to be in a new place with new opportunities. This was quickly replaced by a much more stark reality — the reality of living in a place where I have neither friends nor family; the reality of a place where a monthly swimming pass at the local recreation center alone costs more than $50 (I paid $11 at home); and the reality of repeatedly questioning the wisdom of my choice to move more than 2,000 miles away from my roots.

Living in the Seattle area is a trade-off (as is true with most places). It's irrefutably one of the most beautiful places in the world. There are few locations on this planet where snowcapped, glaciated peaks are within a day's drive from oceans, lakes, active volcanoes, river gorges, evergreen-covered islands, wilderness areas, cosmopolitan cities, rainforests, and deserts. There's so much to see and do around here that it's quite difficult to be bored. But all of these attractive attributes are what draw too many people and create the usual problems: terrible traffic, stress, suburban sprawl, and an astronomical cost of living. (For those of you interested in Portland, be careful: It's about fifteen years behind Seattle, but headed in the very same direction. It's already hideously expensive to live there, and despite the city's best efforts, its popularity is its pain — just like Seattle, albeit on a less advanced scale.)

Work is going well. It's the first job I've ever had that has personal meaning to me apart from a paycheck. It's work that helps people in the world who don't otherwise have a voice — the people who are forgotten behind a slew of headlines about Paris Hilton going to jail or Don Imus making offensive remarks on air. I've already learned a great deal from this job.

I worry about losing touch with those near and dear to me back at home. If you're reading this, please drop me line at some point. I'd love to hear from everyone. I could really use it now.

A lane for the special folks

The state of Washington uses HOV (High Occupancy Vehicle) lanes on its urban freeways, typically marked with a diamond shape on the pavement and situated closest to the median. Signs are posted alongside the lanes, indicating that they are restricted to carpools of at least two people, buses, or motorcycles. A phone number is provided to call and report violators of this policy.

The idea, of course, is to provide a lane where traffic will theoretically move faster at all times, and by encouraging people to carpool and thus entitle themselves to use of said lane, the overall number of cars on the highway will be reduced. It seems logical, at least to some degree.

Like the color copier that can detect money, however, this concept brings to mind a number of questions. For instance, some people will no doubt actually place manikins in the passenger seats of their cars for the sole purpose of cheating; and if they're buzzing by at 70 miles per hour, who will really know? On the flip side, there are those who will travel in the HOV lane with passengers who are so small (infants, for example) that they'll be reported erroneously. What if you're able to see the passenger, but not the driver? Does that constitute a violator?

And what about that phone number you call to tattle on abusers of the HOV lane? Do they actually hire people to answer those calls? What do they ask? If someone reports you as a violator, you could simply respond by saying that they did so in retaliation or as a prank, and that you weren't really breaking the law (even if you were). It's the word of one person versus another.

The HOV lane is a novel concept, environmentally and economically, but its rules seem relatively unenforceable.