Overheard: "Of course prices are going up next year. It's normal......."
Unspoken reply: As long as we allow them to make us pay their gambling debts........
Friday, November 30, 2012
deletions
I have deleted a few recent posts. Let's just say that my view of things has changed.
It is, of course, a great sin to jump to conclusions. However, it is also a great relief to express one's evovling view of a situation. My views have changed, but I can't say more by way of details just now.
If I can stay in a quiet place and get some work done, then I shall have an altogether fresher, and more open outlook......and even time to notice things which would otherwise go unnoticed..............
It is, of course, a great sin to jump to conclusions. However, it is also a great relief to express one's evovling view of a situation. My views have changed, but I can't say more by way of details just now.
If I can stay in a quiet place and get some work done, then I shall have an altogether fresher, and more open outlook......and even time to notice things which would otherwise go unnoticed..............
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
notes for regular readers
I've moved to a new location. Here I hear the hum of machines and the noise of traffic. That is not disturbing. The noise of voices coming through the wall, women shouting in the hall, heels striking an uncarpeted hall---all those noises are disturbing and strangely intimate.
In my classes I've been commenting upon the textbooks claim that enterprises move to places where labor is cheap and production is "efficient". It would appear that Apple and other manufacturers do not merely employ Chinese labor because it is cheaper, but also because laws are weaker or not enforced---laws to do with workplace safety. And I've told students of the famous USA tragedy---"tragedy"???, Shouldn't I say crime?----- , the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire.....
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triangle_Shirtwaist_Factory_fire
And, how odd that the recent fire in a Bangladesh factory is so similar.......the exit doors were locked....http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/nov/27/bangladesh-factory-fire-started-believe
Is it also a "law" of economics that factory owners must lock the exit doors? Or, is it a law of economics that companies which use aluminum cannot have proper ventilation?
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/26/business/ieconomy-apples-ipad-and-the-human-costs-for-workers-in-china.html?pagewanted=all
In my classes I've been commenting upon the textbooks claim that enterprises move to places where labor is cheap and production is "efficient". It would appear that Apple and other manufacturers do not merely employ Chinese labor because it is cheaper, but also because laws are weaker or not enforced---laws to do with workplace safety. And I've told students of the famous USA tragedy---"tragedy"???, Shouldn't I say crime?----- , the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire.....
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triangle_Shirtwaist_Factory_fire
And, how odd that the recent fire in a Bangladesh factory is so similar.......the exit doors were locked....http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/nov/27/bangladesh-factory-fire-started-believe
Is it also a "law" of economics that factory owners must lock the exit doors? Or, is it a law of economics that companies which use aluminum cannot have proper ventilation?
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/26/business/ieconomy-apples-ipad-and-the-human-costs-for-workers-in-china.html?pagewanted=all
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Late November
There is a man below
His voice is stupidly confident, and arrogant,
But, what,then, would I do with the silly girls,
whose voices come late at night,
from above me?
they seem to live inside the walls,
and their voices also resonate,
growing stronger with the help
pausing to enjoy their lives,
or pausing to think,
Life is no joy,
and much pain;
It is full of everyday irritations
and the overwhelming presence of other people,
unwanted and strange voices,
entering unwanted univinted into my consciousness.
And that's even before I've gone out the door.
Once I've opened the door,
and gone outside,
I am even less safe,
less free from penetrating wants:
I may be accosted by the apartment manager,
with her demands.
--But she only wants to help,
and save me from homelessness!
I don't care how polite she is;
approximately forty five degrees below
whether I am in bed or in the chair
beside the bed,
his voice follows me,
bothers me,
destroys me.
his voice follows me,
bothers me,
destroys me.
His voice is stupidly confident, and arrogant,
demanding.
I suppose he thinks he knows who he is,
as there is little of hesitation in
the noise,
the stream of sound pouring out of him.
I hate him.
I could také a machine gun and end his
life,
without a moment's hesitation,
but not if I could see him.
If I could see him,
I might shout at him to shut up,
pointlessly,
because he would stare at me open-mouthed,
incapable of imagining that I need silence,
not chatter,
and not slamming doors,
squeaking doors,
or echoing voices.
But, what,then, would I do with the silly girls,
whose voices come late at night,
from above me?
they seem to live inside the walls,
and their voices also resonate,
growing stronger with the help
of the materials out of
which this wretched building has been built,
laughing and breathing,pausing to enjoy their lives,
or pausing to think,
they are all too audible and irritating.
Life is no joy,
and much pain;
It is full of everyday irritations
and the overwhelming presence of other people,
unwanted and strange voices,
entering unwanted univinted into my consciousness.
And that's even before I've gone out the door.
Once I've opened the door,
and gone outside,
I am even less safe,
less free from penetrating wants:
I may be accosted by the apartment manager,
with her demands.
--But she only wants to help,
and save me from homelessness!
I don't care how polite she is;
I want to be left alone.
I have things to say,
and not to her!
things to read,
thoughts to think,
but I can't begin to think before I've been stopped:
everyone insists upon pushing,
penetrating, poking me.
Thoughtlessly,
insistently,
callously.
Why can't they all just leave me alone?
Because this building is nothing more
than a torture chamber?
Because our lives were designed by some
cruel student of Guantanamo?
Late November
Pardubice
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The Cruelty of the USA DON"T care system
My mother is, once again, without her needed pain killer.
She has a degenerative condition which causes excessive pain. She can hardly walk.
She needs her pain killer merely to have a level of bearable pain. The pain does not go away when she has her medication.
Yet, the doctor, knowing that, has now jerked her around--changed her scheduled appointment in an arbitrary, and (I would say) arrogant way.
And the default position of my mother's health insurance company is to DENY a request for medication.
Note well: My mother is eighty-six years old. Her problems won't go away. Today or tomorrow. She will only need that pain-killer more, not less.
So, when the Health Insurance Company (a for-profit, capitalist firm) requires that the doctor approve her request every six months (or whenever it is) this is a pointless extra wheel added to an already not-smoothly-functioning machine.
This extra requirement makes it easier for it to happen, as it has now happened now, that my mother is without pain relief----and is, therefore, quite simply miserable.
Would that there were a hell in which such doctors and insurance companies (their Wall Street owners) could burn in agony. I dare say those pampered assholes couldn't bare half the pain my mother has endured without whining and screaming out. But, unlike her, they would deserve it...........
She has a degenerative condition which causes excessive pain. She can hardly walk.
She needs her pain killer merely to have a level of bearable pain. The pain does not go away when she has her medication.
Yet, the doctor, knowing that, has now jerked her around--changed her scheduled appointment in an arbitrary, and (I would say) arrogant way.
And the default position of my mother's health insurance company is to DENY a request for medication.
Note well: My mother is eighty-six years old. Her problems won't go away. Today or tomorrow. She will only need that pain-killer more, not less.
So, when the Health Insurance Company (a for-profit, capitalist firm) requires that the doctor approve her request every six months (or whenever it is) this is a pointless extra wheel added to an already not-smoothly-functioning machine.
This extra requirement makes it easier for it to happen, as it has now happened now, that my mother is without pain relief----and is, therefore, quite simply miserable.
Would that there were a hell in which such doctors and insurance companies (their Wall Street owners) could burn in agony. I dare say those pampered assholes couldn't bare half the pain my mother has endured without whining and screaming out. But, unlike her, they would deserve it...........
workplace mottoes
The motto of the cleaners in the "Hotel" located at Studentska 22, Blok D,
might well be:
WE DO THE JOB!!
and
WE MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE WHILE DOING SO!
WE MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE WHILE DOING SO!
I say this after being rudely woken up this morning.....again....
And, for what it's worth, once upon the time I lived in a similar facility,
a "hotel" in a student dormitory in the neighboring land of Slovakia,
and it was NOT so noisy, not at all...........
(So, I have some grounds for comparison, I think...............)
might well be:
WE DO THE JOB!!
and
WE MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE WHILE DOING SO!
WE MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE WHILE DOING SO!
I say this after being rudely woken up this morning.....again....
And, for what it's worth, once upon the time I lived in a similar facility,
a "hotel" in a student dormitory in the neighboring land of Slovakia,
and it was NOT so noisy, not at all...........
(So, I have some grounds for comparison, I think...............)
emotional truth
The Grouch Reads: about emotions.........
I've been reading Ronald deSousa's book, "Emotional Truth", and something occurs to me.
deSousa's Plato is a cardboard image derived from the work of Gregory Vlastos---or, so I surmise. (If anyone really knows otherwise, feel free to tell me.)
(That is, if anyone has reason to think that deSousa's view is anything more than a reduplication of GV's, let me know. I don't need someone to tell me the view is more than a cardboard image. I recognize that is a provocative and controversial statement and I could not say it in a respectable professional context without extensive argument and textual analysis. However, you see, this is a blog and not a refereed journal. However, you find a brief gesture in the direction of more professional work below.)
So, for example, on this version of Plato, the weakness of the human intellect consists, more or less,
in our separation from a world of "perfect" objects. (yccch)
However, a similar stress on the limits of our knowledge is itself present in deSousa's positive views.
deSousa thinks every individual has unique emotions and that emotions are infinitely multiple.
And deSousa (as I read him) likes or even enjoys the multiplicity of it all. I want to comment: for me that is perfectly Platonic.
On my reading of Plato, if deSousa thinks that our actual knowledge of emotions is dwarfed by the multiplicity of individual emotions, then that is much like what Plato thought about our ability to understand reality---and there's no need to talk about "another world" (yccch).
(Quick pain of conscience: how independent of human activities are deSousa's emotions? To what extent are individual emotional histories constructed on deSousa's account? Doesn't he say that we can mistake our emotions? Is that enough? Should I be satisfied?)
However, deSousa believes in a version of the multiplicity of values which allows that there are genuinely irreconcilable conflicts---no determinate answer to questions about what's good or bad.
(I might say 'right' or 'wrong'---but those are not my preferred terms.)
The question for me as I continue to read deSousa is this: what sort of communication between individuals can exist if their emotional histories are so diverse as deSousa says. And, a further subject of continual interest is how to reconcile a respectable sort of objectivity with facts about variation in culture and language. (The latter a general question, here applied to this particular book.)
In conclusion,
The Grouch Must Read Further.............
NOTE
How is it that scientist put it? Well, I've received no funding or any payment whatsoever to express my opinions. Nonetheless, I feel I should confess up front that Terry Penner was my teacher, and he has argued at length for the inadequacy of the view of Plato's metaphysics which deSousa assumes. (See, e.g. his "The Ascent from Nominalism". A shorter (IMHO more accessible) essay about Plato's "Forms" appears in a recent volume of essays devoted to Plato's "Republic".)
I've been reading Ronald deSousa's book, "Emotional Truth", and something occurs to me.
deSousa's Plato is a cardboard image derived from the work of Gregory Vlastos---or, so I surmise. (If anyone really knows otherwise, feel free to tell me.)
(That is, if anyone has reason to think that deSousa's view is anything more than a reduplication of GV's, let me know. I don't need someone to tell me the view is more than a cardboard image. I recognize that is a provocative and controversial statement and I could not say it in a respectable professional context without extensive argument and textual analysis. However, you see, this is a blog and not a refereed journal. However, you find a brief gesture in the direction of more professional work below.)
So, for example, on this version of Plato, the weakness of the human intellect consists, more or less,
in our separation from a world of "perfect" objects. (yccch)
However, a similar stress on the limits of our knowledge is itself present in deSousa's positive views.
deSousa thinks every individual has unique emotions and that emotions are infinitely multiple.
And deSousa (as I read him) likes or even enjoys the multiplicity of it all. I want to comment: for me that is perfectly Platonic.
On my reading of Plato, if deSousa thinks that our actual knowledge of emotions is dwarfed by the multiplicity of individual emotions, then that is much like what Plato thought about our ability to understand reality---and there's no need to talk about "another world" (yccch).
(Quick pain of conscience: how independent of human activities are deSousa's emotions? To what extent are individual emotional histories constructed on deSousa's account? Doesn't he say that we can mistake our emotions? Is that enough? Should I be satisfied?)
However, deSousa believes in a version of the multiplicity of values which allows that there are genuinely irreconcilable conflicts---no determinate answer to questions about what's good or bad.
(I might say 'right' or 'wrong'---but those are not my preferred terms.)
The question for me as I continue to read deSousa is this: what sort of communication between individuals can exist if their emotional histories are so diverse as deSousa says. And, a further subject of continual interest is how to reconcile a respectable sort of objectivity with facts about variation in culture and language. (The latter a general question, here applied to this particular book.)
In conclusion,
The Grouch Must Read Further.............
NOTE
How is it that scientist put it? Well, I've received no funding or any payment whatsoever to express my opinions. Nonetheless, I feel I should confess up front that Terry Penner was my teacher, and he has argued at length for the inadequacy of the view of Plato's metaphysics which deSousa assumes. (See, e.g. his "The Ascent from Nominalism". A shorter (IMHO more accessible) essay about Plato's "Forms" appears in a recent volume of essays devoted to Plato's "Republic".)
Friday, November 23, 2012
ressentiment in Blok D
I had hoped that I would have a week of peace. After all, I had agreed with the head cleaning lady that I would clean the room myself, and so they need not disturb me.
But this morning at 9:30, someone was pounding furiously on the door. Note well: they were not knocking. They were pounding. And, as I ignored the pounding, the noise only got louder.
Now, generally speaking, that sounds like aggressive behavior. Maybe you think it was the police? Or a neighbor was going to complain about the noise I was making?
Well, no, it was the manager of the place where I live. She wanted to know when I was moving out.
Of course, she did not put it so directly. Moreover, she had a bureaucratic explanation: This hotel (ha ha ha) is only for short term occupancy.
Well, as a matter of fact, I am planning to move out. However, that's not good enough. She wants to know when,
She did, however, offer another apartment for me in yet another "Blok". Well, I don't think I will be taking this generous offer. (I may be a nuisance, but, at least my money is good.)
In fact, the bossy manager was accompanied by another woman. (Why she was there I cannot imagine as she remained quiet through the whole thing.)
But the other woman was a woman to whom I had complained that the bossy manager and I did not communicate well. And, I also complained about the price I am paying.
Now, as a matter of fact, this second woman took my money when I paid this month's rent, and whilst she gave me a computer-generated document, it actually wasn't a proper bill. It had the amount I paid, but it did not actually specify what I had paid for---how many nights, at what rate.
So, that sort of un-professionalism is what I expect. Just like banging on my door at nine-thirty in the morning didn't really surprise me.
I have no doubt in my mind what really happened. The bossy manager is mad at me. She resents my very presence.
Moreover, she's got permanent employees---the cleaning staff--who I have upset, and she'd like to tell them that she got rid of me.
As I've written before, this apartment is adequate. (But, now that I look around, it does have some weird features----such as a cabinet with glasses and glass doors, evidently designed to allow me to entertain guests with hard liquour. Which is a bit odd considering that such entertaining is not exactly encouraged by the stern ladies (well, one is considerably less stern, and another has shown signs of life) who guard the front door. (Protecting us from who exactly? I'd like to ask....)
Moreover, while this small apartment is clean and freshly painted, it's not really adequate as a workplace----and I do work at home. There is a small table in the kitchen, but it's not really a good place to work. My books are all in the bedroom.
Well, as the bossy manager left, she seemed to nod with satisfaction to her assistant----as if to say, "\well, that took care of him".
Her demand is actually quite odd. She wants me to tell her exactly when I am leaving. But, then I did tell her that I was looking for an apartment. Wouldn't that mean I shall leave as soon as I find an apartment? And wouldn't that mean that I am unable to specify a definite date until I've found a place?
Well, at the very least I can assure her that I won't be here on 1 January 2013. And I have no doubt that she will share this information with the cleaning ladies, who will wag their tongues with delight at the thought that they can continue to shout up and down the hall and slam doors without having a naughty foreigner complain.
Odd how she demanded that I inform her.....Demanded......
Well, she did apologize for pounding madly on my door. But, somehow, as I think about the force and aggression which seemed to be expressed by her pounding, I don't really believe that apology was anything more than a diplomatic ploy.
Oh, I shall be glad to move out of this place!
But this morning at 9:30, someone was pounding furiously on the door. Note well: they were not knocking. They were pounding. And, as I ignored the pounding, the noise only got louder.
Now, generally speaking, that sounds like aggressive behavior. Maybe you think it was the police? Or a neighbor was going to complain about the noise I was making?
Well, no, it was the manager of the place where I live. She wanted to know when I was moving out.
Of course, she did not put it so directly. Moreover, she had a bureaucratic explanation: This hotel (ha ha ha) is only for short term occupancy.
Well, as a matter of fact, I am planning to move out. However, that's not good enough. She wants to know when,
She did, however, offer another apartment for me in yet another "Blok". Well, I don't think I will be taking this generous offer. (I may be a nuisance, but, at least my money is good.)
In fact, the bossy manager was accompanied by another woman. (Why she was there I cannot imagine as she remained quiet through the whole thing.)
But the other woman was a woman to whom I had complained that the bossy manager and I did not communicate well. And, I also complained about the price I am paying.
Now, as a matter of fact, this second woman took my money when I paid this month's rent, and whilst she gave me a computer-generated document, it actually wasn't a proper bill. It had the amount I paid, but it did not actually specify what I had paid for---how many nights, at what rate.
So, that sort of un-professionalism is what I expect. Just like banging on my door at nine-thirty in the morning didn't really surprise me.
I have no doubt in my mind what really happened. The bossy manager is mad at me. She resents my very presence.
Moreover, she's got permanent employees---the cleaning staff--who I have upset, and she'd like to tell them that she got rid of me.
As I've written before, this apartment is adequate. (But, now that I look around, it does have some weird features----such as a cabinet with glasses and glass doors, evidently designed to allow me to entertain guests with hard liquour. Which is a bit odd considering that such entertaining is not exactly encouraged by the stern ladies (well, one is considerably less stern, and another has shown signs of life) who guard the front door. (Protecting us from who exactly? I'd like to ask....)
Moreover, while this small apartment is clean and freshly painted, it's not really adequate as a workplace----and I do work at home. There is a small table in the kitchen, but it's not really a good place to work. My books are all in the bedroom.
Well, as the bossy manager left, she seemed to nod with satisfaction to her assistant----as if to say, "\well, that took care of him".
Her demand is actually quite odd. She wants me to tell her exactly when I am leaving. But, then I did tell her that I was looking for an apartment. Wouldn't that mean I shall leave as soon as I find an apartment? And wouldn't that mean that I am unable to specify a definite date until I've found a place?
Well, at the very least I can assure her that I won't be here on 1 January 2013. And I have no doubt that she will share this information with the cleaning ladies, who will wag their tongues with delight at the thought that they can continue to shout up and down the hall and slam doors without having a naughty foreigner complain.
Odd how she demanded that I inform her.....Demanded......
Well, she did apologize for pounding madly on my door. But, somehow, as I think about the force and aggression which seemed to be expressed by her pounding, I don't really believe that apology was anything more than a diplomatic ploy.
Oh, I shall be glad to move out of this place!
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
I don't believe it.
I DON'T
BELIEVE IT
keywords for
Czechs and Slovaks: upratovačka, uklízečka
I simply
don't believe
that God or
the laws of economics
(which is all
just superstition anyway)
have decreed:
That someone
should get down on her hands and knees,
and clean up
after me.
I don't
believe it;
I'd rather
clean up after myself,
or not clean
up at all.
Monday, November 19, 2012
On hating Blok D
ON HATING BLOK D
I resent and I hate:
the fact that if I want to
wash my dirty clothes,
I have to go downstairs,
and face some woman,
sitting behind a glass
booth,
and I must ask her
permission,
and I must pay her,
before she will give me
the key,
which will open the door,
on the fourth floor,
in the middle of a
god-awful stinky corridor,
which has a room,
within which sits a
nothing-special washing machine,
where I will be allowed,
finally,
to wash my clothes,
which will then take
many days to dry.
And I
hate the fact
that
when I enter this building
I meet
the face of some woman
who I
don't know
staring
at me from behind a glass partition
as if
she were guarding the entrance
to Fort
Knox,
wherein
is stored the nation's gold,
or as
if she were protecting the Vestal Virgins
from
violation by barbarian intruders!
---and
I want to say:
This
isn't so very different from those dark days
that
you like to call “communism”.
and they didn't even knock!
As I have written before, I pay a pretty penny to live in this so-called hotel, which is nothing but a Communist-era student dormitory----a noisy place due to the habits of the cleaning ladies, and the lack of carpet on the floor.
But, the cleaning ladies do not even knock before entering!
As I just noticed when I chased two of them away.
As I sat reading, I heard a scratching noise at my door. I opened it to see two cleaning ladies outside, "May I help you?", "Good day" , one said, as she started to enter my rented apartment.--enter? She started to rush in like a dog desperate to go outside and pee......
I stopped her and shouted, telling her to go away. "I need privacy. Do you know what privacy is? We con't have communism any more."
They both stared at me with blank looks.
The problem in this country is not the official communist party. It is the inner communism in the minds and souls of these poor women.
And, let me be clear. They do a job that is poorly paid, and they receive little respect. My behavior was nothing to be proud of. They deserve more.
But I am perfectly well able to wipe down my own counter tops and throw away my own garbage.
I am not grateful merely to have a place protected from the weather. I want a quiet place where I can work without interruptions. And I don't think that's too much to ask. (Even if,as I know, many people in the world do not have that.)
To enter without knocking is simply disrespectful. It means that nothing could be happening on the other side of the door which should be respected.
Studentska 202, Blok D
Pardubice,
Czech Republic
Note:
In theory, if I don't teach until ten or eleven, I should be able to stay home and prepare. But with the noise here, that's difficult. And, today's upset is a perfect example of why this living accomodation is simply intolerable.
Nonetheless, it seems the regular cleaning lady is home with a heart problem. (Shouldn't she be in the hospital?) So, the two ladies who attempted to enter my apartment were, I assume, filling in for her. And that means, they've got extra work today.
And, I, like a buffoon, have just shouted at them. Why?
In truth, my place is a bit of a mess. If I had known they were coming, I would have cleaned up first.
But here it is not yet ten o'clock and I've just been angry and upset. This is no way to start a day, no way to start a week.................
after-thought (20.11.2012)
Don't get me wrong. I have seen these ladies down on their hands and knees washing the stairs where students walk.---and I don't think that anyone should have to do that---Or, at the very least, students should help with the cleaning up at least once a week.---after all, it's the mess that THEY have made......
But, the cleaning ladies do not even knock before entering!
As I just noticed when I chased two of them away.
As I sat reading, I heard a scratching noise at my door. I opened it to see two cleaning ladies outside, "May I help you?", "Good day" , one said, as she started to enter my rented apartment.--enter? She started to rush in like a dog desperate to go outside and pee......
I stopped her and shouted, telling her to go away. "I need privacy. Do you know what privacy is? We con't have communism any more."
They both stared at me with blank looks.
The problem in this country is not the official communist party. It is the inner communism in the minds and souls of these poor women.
And, let me be clear. They do a job that is poorly paid, and they receive little respect. My behavior was nothing to be proud of. They deserve more.
But I am perfectly well able to wipe down my own counter tops and throw away my own garbage.
I am not grateful merely to have a place protected from the weather. I want a quiet place where I can work without interruptions. And I don't think that's too much to ask. (Even if,as I know, many people in the world do not have that.)
To enter without knocking is simply disrespectful. It means that nothing could be happening on the other side of the door which should be respected.
Studentska 202, Blok D
Pardubice,
Czech Republic
Note:
In theory, if I don't teach until ten or eleven, I should be able to stay home and prepare. But with the noise here, that's difficult. And, today's upset is a perfect example of why this living accomodation is simply intolerable.
Nonetheless, it seems the regular cleaning lady is home with a heart problem. (Shouldn't she be in the hospital?) So, the two ladies who attempted to enter my apartment were, I assume, filling in for her. And that means, they've got extra work today.
And, I, like a buffoon, have just shouted at them. Why?
In truth, my place is a bit of a mess. If I had known they were coming, I would have cleaned up first.
But here it is not yet ten o'clock and I've just been angry and upset. This is no way to start a day, no way to start a week.................
after-thought (20.11.2012)
Don't get me wrong. I have seen these ladies down on their hands and knees washing the stairs where students walk.---and I don't think that anyone should have to do that---Or, at the very least, students should help with the cleaning up at least once a week.---after all, it's the mess that THEY have made......
Sunday, November 18, 2012
grotesque excuse making
Re-Packaging the Harmful Effects of Capitalism
Key words
for Czechs and Slovaks: bagatelizovat,
kapitalismus
A friend recently sent me a link to two professors who are in the business of justifying the consequences of capitalism.
Women today are choosing not to marry. They find that men lack the attributes needed in a committed relationship. At any rate, that is one way to describe it.
Another way is this: due
to the demands of the workplace, and the psychic shocks of
unemployment, men are increasingly unable to cope---not through any
inner failure or inner incapacity, but due to the genuine stress of
their real situation. This is not an individual failure, but a
social failure. The structures which allow men to develop
emotionally do not exist.
Brave new women who make
such choices!
Well, not really. Both
men and women are reacting to fundamental changes which have their
source in the decisions of a small minority of (mostly) men who own
the wealth of our society. This „new social trend“ is nothing
but the consequence of decisions made by a small group of people;
it's got nothing to do with a new „freedom“.
Nor is it anything new. In the past, the poor male could not afford to marry. We can see the fragile economic life of families in nineteenth century novels. My choice to make the point now would be George Elliot's „Mill on the Floss“. The father wants nothing but that his son should have the vocabulary and intelligence to do battle with lawyers, but the father cannot choose wisely. His choice of an education for his son is overly influenced by the opinions of a richer man, and the father's bankruptcy sets into motion a series of steps which destroy his children.
This is a tale about
parents and children---parents who want their children to be happy.
And it depicts a family which is destroyed by inequality, injustice
which is at the heart of that society.
Nor are the new apologists
for the social and emotional consequences of capitalism seeing
through the appearance to the essence of things. The destruction of
the 1950s style family is not merely the destruction of an artificial
form of organization; it is also the destruction of the life-hopes of
millions of people.
I have no wish to worship
or justify the peculiar sort of family structure which Americans
wrongly believed to be the essence of social relationships. However,
the changes in capitalism which have forced a change in sexual
relationships have also made it harder simply to have deep
friendships. It is not merely the 1950's style family which is under
attack. It is our very personal lives themselves---and there is no
better example of this than „Facebook“--which makes your
friendships and your “free time”
commodities whereby already existing class
divisions are intensified.
18 November 2012
An
after-thought: Communism and Social Relationships
Living in
Central Europe, I have heard people say, and I have read that during
the period called “communism”, there was more time for personal
relationships and families. Today everyone is busier. They may be,
in some sense, freer, but overall they have less time to enjoy
friends and families.
And, I have
to add immediately that I am in no way desirous that that old form of
society should return. What is called “communism” was not
democratic and it meant great suffering for many people.
Nonetheless,
our current social and economic system also has its victims, and they
are uncounted and countless.
However, my
point now is to speak about, write about, think about the character
of “Tomas”in Kundera's novel, “The Unbearable Lightness of
Being.”Tomas loses his job as a surgeon because he was outspoken about the hypocrisy of communists.
He agrees with his wife to
move to a small village to save her from the intrusions
of the secret police.
And, in the
end, he has a sort of life in a small village, a life which provides
him a degree of happiness or contentment. As he says at the book's
end, when asked by Tereza, his wife, whether he regrets the fact that
he gave up his career: a career is bullshit.
But, the same
terrible system which prevented him from realizing his skills as a
surgeon also allowed him to escape to a village. He didn't have to
worry about whether he would earn enough money to pay his bills and
pay for health insurance. A certain minimum standard was maintained.
Nothing of that sort is available today for men who lose their jobs.
And I simply
don't believe that the choices are: either the repressive system
called “communism”or a totally insecure life within capitalism. I
can't see why people cannot be guaranteed a decent life. However, I
do not see that we are heading in that direction today. Rather,
things are getting worse. The only sign of hope is the willingness
of people to go into the streets to express their dissatisfaction
with the status quo.
Appendix
“If dating
and mating is in fact a market place---and of course it is......”
----added
emphasis, Kate Bolick, “All the Single Ladies”, Atlantic
Monthly 2011, accessed on line 18.11.2012;
Of course, dating and mating are not a market place...........
Homework
assignment for Professor Bolick:
Read and
study Chapter Four of Robin Hahnel's The ABC's of Political
Economy; A Modern Approach; Pluto Books, London and
Sterling VA, 2002.
In brief, the
argument I would make is that dating and mating simply are not
markets because the conceptual apparatus of markets does not allow
for justice, or fairness or anything that a civilized human being
cares about. You can conceive of your relationships with human
beings in that manner, but you will thereby narrowly reduce
(distort/over-simplify) yourself and your friends—and what you are
really feeling, thinking.
Recommended
Reading
I continue to
believe that the most enlightened account of this trend is provided
by the therapist, Harriet Fraad.
http://rdwolff.com/content/letters-and-politics-economist-richard-wolff-and-psychotherapist-harriet-fraad
http://rdwolff.com/content/letters-and-politics-economist-richard-wolff-and-psychotherapist-harriet-fraad
Friday, November 16, 2012
A Nurse Supervisor who Abuses the Elderly
I've just hung up the phone. And my eighty-six year old mother was very, very upset.
She had a very unpleasant experience with the Nurse Supervisor who has a habit of showing up, giving nonsense orders, and then leaving.
I, too, was abused by this terrible woman--not just once. And, I have blogged about it. The worst incident was when she sternly ordered me to buy some pill containers---this day!----and then later, it turned out they were totally unnecessary. But I had to make a special trip to buy them. (And then a couple of days later I returned them to get my money back---since they were completely unnecessary.)
And the bitch never even apologized or admitted her mistake.
Now, the same awful so-called nurse has been verbally abusing my mother. And my mother is very upset.
I've told my mother that she has the right to refuse to allow the woman to enter her home. It's part of the bill of rights of those who receive in-home care.
But what this particular nurse deserves....well, to start with, she should be banned from working with any elderly people whatsoever....She should have her license or professional qualification taken away........ She consistently and frequently abuses her position. There is no excuse for this.
She had a very unpleasant experience with the Nurse Supervisor who has a habit of showing up, giving nonsense orders, and then leaving.
I, too, was abused by this terrible woman--not just once. And, I have blogged about it. The worst incident was when she sternly ordered me to buy some pill containers---this day!----and then later, it turned out they were totally unnecessary. But I had to make a special trip to buy them. (And then a couple of days later I returned them to get my money back---since they were completely unnecessary.)
And the bitch never even apologized or admitted her mistake.
Now, the same awful so-called nurse has been verbally abusing my mother. And my mother is very upset.
I've told my mother that she has the right to refuse to allow the woman to enter her home. It's part of the bill of rights of those who receive in-home care.
But what this particular nurse deserves....well, to start with, she should be banned from working with any elderly people whatsoever....She should have her license or professional qualification taken away........ She consistently and frequently abuses her position. There is no excuse for this.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
My BLOK D nightmare continues..............
rumble rumble rumble
I hear the wheels and the rumbling of the cleaning lady's cart.......
I hear the wheels and the rumbling of the cleaning lady's cart.......
|My Blok D Nightmare
Last month I paid 7,700 Czech Crowns
for what is, in effect, a modest (but noisy) apartment. (Not a luxury apartment---a small, recently painted, clean, but very noisy apartment, where I have no privacy and am inspected when I come or go---inspected by a woman sitting at the front door behind a glass booth.....)
It is clean, but it does not actually
have a stove---only a hotplate.
But it is a two-room apartment.
For the price, I could easily rent a
decent private flat. (If I had the time to look.....)
But, to add insult to injury (to add
Capitalist greed/austerity to a communist lack of privacy plus
communist austerity) I've just learned that I can't even have an
overnight guest---unless I pay more!
That minimum level of privacy is not
available to me----even though I paid 7,700 Crowns.
They figure that two students could
live in this room--after all, it's got two (primitive) beds---and they are (therefore) losing money when I'm here all by myself!
Two students because it's got two
beds!---two primitve communist beds accompanied by TOO SHORT
inadequate bed clothes---I often wake up at six am with cold feet because the periny do not cover my feet---- not to mention the TINY COMMUNIST AUSTERITY
bath towels!
The worst possible combination:
Capitalist austerity/greed plus never-dying communist habits!
Heaven forbid the University should
miss a chance to make a couple of extra crowns from a student or
teacher! Now that would be a crime!
What a bunch of *****!!!!!**** cheapskates!
Sunday, November 11, 2012
let's distinguish
Recently I was reassured by a nurse. She made it clear to me that she was willing to help my mother, whenever my mother needs help.
I must distinguish between her sincerity and the behavior of supervising nurses, or nurses who come on a brief visit with a chiefly bureaucratic purpose.
There is a clear difference between those with more (so-called) responsibility and those who really do the job.
It's no different than teaching. Administrators live in a world of their own........
I was genuinely grateful to this caring nurse. And, I am genuinely disgusted and angry, fed up with the other sort...................
I must distinguish between her sincerity and the behavior of supervising nurses, or nurses who come on a brief visit with a chiefly bureaucratic purpose.
There is a clear difference between those with more (so-called) responsibility and those who really do the job.
It's no different than teaching. Administrators live in a world of their own........
I was genuinely grateful to this caring nurse. And, I am genuinely disgusted and angry, fed up with the other sort...................
orgies of cheerfulness/descriptions of an illness
Noted in passing:
Capitalism seems to produce momentary (and lengthier) orgies of joyful cynicism, based upon no real thought or reflection. --Surely not based upon logic or "empirical" research---resulting in joyful outbursts, exclamations of the obvious truth that it's "all" about money, or that someone's behavior---and the individual is never anyone we know or have even met----is surely based upon the most selfish or profit-seeking of motives.......
Capitalism seems to produce momentary (and lengthier) orgies of joyful cynicism, based upon no real thought or reflection. --Surely not based upon logic or "empirical" research---resulting in joyful outbursts, exclamations of the obvious truth that it's "all" about money, or that someone's behavior---and the individual is never anyone we know or have even met----is surely based upon the most selfish or profit-seeking of motives.......
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Blok D on a Saturday evening
I've just finished an exhausting stint of Saturday teaching, and can only gaze in wonder at the energy displayed, e.g., at a blog like Robert Paul Wolff's.
I am exhausted, and will be happy to do a little reading.
In the meantime, true to form, doors have slammed, people have shouted up and down the doors of the uncarpeted corridor---their voices echoing sharply--and number plates have clinked mercilessly against keys.
Best of all, someone in the kitchen down the hall cooked some sort of stinking greasy mess that I could smell very well in the nearby apartment.
I miss the Italians who stayed her very briefly. They never cooked anything that stank.
I've gained some appreciation of why Czechs long for (what they call) 'real capitalism'. They've gullibly swallowed a dogmatic form of economics called "neo classical", but, more than that,
what they long for (I now think) is to be given a fair chance. (I say that neo-classical is a dogmatic form of economics in large measure because I am convinced by arguments offered by the likes of Robin Hahnel, to the effect that externalities make it impossible for markets to produce anything like happiness or justice for all, or even most of us.)
Czechs are right to want to be give a fair chance; but that sincere desire has got nothing to do with tying one's self to a dogmatic form of failed economic theorizing.
I was told today that no less an authority than Vaclav Klaus denies global warming. If that's true, then it's evidence of the diminished mental powers which come from habitually thinking according to the dogmatic form of economics, the "zombie" variety..... Klaus is evidently no sort of scientist. Sad the nation that looks to him for wisdom.
I am exhausted, and will be happy to do a little reading.
In the meantime, true to form, doors have slammed, people have shouted up and down the doors of the uncarpeted corridor---their voices echoing sharply--and number plates have clinked mercilessly against keys.
Best of all, someone in the kitchen down the hall cooked some sort of stinking greasy mess that I could smell very well in the nearby apartment.
I miss the Italians who stayed her very briefly. They never cooked anything that stank.
I've gained some appreciation of why Czechs long for (what they call) 'real capitalism'. They've gullibly swallowed a dogmatic form of economics called "neo classical", but, more than that,
what they long for (I now think) is to be given a fair chance. (I say that neo-classical is a dogmatic form of economics in large measure because I am convinced by arguments offered by the likes of Robin Hahnel, to the effect that externalities make it impossible for markets to produce anything like happiness or justice for all, or even most of us.)
Czechs are right to want to be give a fair chance; but that sincere desire has got nothing to do with tying one's self to a dogmatic form of failed economic theorizing.
I was told today that no less an authority than Vaclav Klaus denies global warming. If that's true, then it's evidence of the diminished mental powers which come from habitually thinking according to the dogmatic form of economics, the "zombie" variety..... Klaus is evidently no sort of scientist. Sad the nation that looks to him for wisdom.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Blok D
Blok |D
The students have gone home, dragging their wheeled suitcases up and down halls.
But one sturdy fellow remains here.
Above or below me, maybe to the side of me, his voice has been talking for two or three hours now. Is it a monotone? Is that what you call it? He seems to hover about one tone, which is just suited for making a pipe or some piece of metal in the wall vibrate.
He has been talking for two or three hours.
I would like to strangle him.
His voice accompanied me as I fell asleep two hours ago.
His voice was there when I woke with sandpaper eyes.
When will he stop?
The students have gone home, but the students are not noisy.
The cleaning ladies are noisy when they do teamwork. One shouts loudly from the end of the hall to her sister three or four doors away. Doors slam loudly.
All noises are amplified by the empty walls and empty halls free from carpets or unneeded niceties.
Then someone slams down a bucket
The student is still talking.
There is, as well, the four-wheeled cart of one cleaning lady, our local queen. The wheels resonate loudly and rattle a tiny bit on the uncarpeted floor. Most days there are no lights in the halls and it is dark. There is a light switch but we practice a form of austerity here. I like to think of it as ancient austerity, dating from the dark days of Communism.
Our local queen of the cleaning ladies might shout too. And, she has the trick of slamming doors down to an art.
Best of all, though is her cart. You hear it rattling, coming towards you from far away.
On a good day you can even hear a cart moving on the floor above. The wheels spin as the body rattles and the sounds on top of the non-smooth motion forward make for an echoing sound in the naked halls.
Not to be surpassed. Those staying in the halls bring their own wheeled contraptions which hum and rattle and create an unlovely cacaphony no less painful than the cleaner's machines.
And then there are the ladies whose heels strike and echo up and down the empty halls: CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK
With luck the lady drags as suitcase behind her so that her wheels can roll and scream too.
But then there are the keys with their metal number plates. They too click, but it is a metallic click all their own--echoing on their own before they resonate in the empty, dark, halls......You cannot open a door or even begin to think about opening or lock a door without setting them in motion, and creating the awful sound of the key being hit by the number plate. No mad genius could have better invented a device of aural torture which was easier to use and more effective in reducing an audience to idiocy. (Thus the origin of my current mental state.)
The mad cleaning lady riding her skateboard could not be noisier. If only the wheels are metal or
hard, but not in any way covered by rubber--that, too, a kind of Communist style austerity.....
The student is still talking? Perhaps he is mad and he has no audience. I don't care. I'd still like to strangle him.
Studentska 22
Blok D
Pardubice,
The Czech Republic
"But we gave you our nicest flat!."
Addendum:
I neglected to mention (as a sound now reminds me) of another beauty of BLOKD
Scraping, dragging furniture:
Itself a chapter in torture
We can drag chairs, briefly,
or drag larger items,
and doors can squeak as well.
Some days, the doors squeak at five or six,
accompanied by the sound of empty boots marching,
-must be ghosts---
And then the chairs scrape above my bed
at five am
at six am
at ten pm
or even at ten or eleven pm
there's a girl too who I can hear talking
and laughing
at all hours
It seems that this new mad male has replaced her
All in all
it
is
driving
me
MAD!
The students have gone home, dragging their wheeled suitcases up and down halls.
But one sturdy fellow remains here.
Above or below me, maybe to the side of me, his voice has been talking for two or three hours now. Is it a monotone? Is that what you call it? He seems to hover about one tone, which is just suited for making a pipe or some piece of metal in the wall vibrate.
He has been talking for two or three hours.
I would like to strangle him.
His voice accompanied me as I fell asleep two hours ago.
His voice was there when I woke with sandpaper eyes.
When will he stop?
The students have gone home, but the students are not noisy.
The cleaning ladies are noisy when they do teamwork. One shouts loudly from the end of the hall to her sister three or four doors away. Doors slam loudly.
All noises are amplified by the empty walls and empty halls free from carpets or unneeded niceties.
Then someone slams down a bucket
The student is still talking.
There is, as well, the four-wheeled cart of one cleaning lady, our local queen. The wheels resonate loudly and rattle a tiny bit on the uncarpeted floor. Most days there are no lights in the halls and it is dark. There is a light switch but we practice a form of austerity here. I like to think of it as ancient austerity, dating from the dark days of Communism.
Our local queen of the cleaning ladies might shout too. And, she has the trick of slamming doors down to an art.
Best of all, though is her cart. You hear it rattling, coming towards you from far away.
On a good day you can even hear a cart moving on the floor above. The wheels spin as the body rattles and the sounds on top of the non-smooth motion forward make for an echoing sound in the naked halls.
Not to be surpassed. Those staying in the halls bring their own wheeled contraptions which hum and rattle and create an unlovely cacaphony no less painful than the cleaner's machines.
And then there are the ladies whose heels strike and echo up and down the empty halls: CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK
With luck the lady drags as suitcase behind her so that her wheels can roll and scream too.
But then there are the keys with their metal number plates. They too click, but it is a metallic click all their own--echoing on their own before they resonate in the empty, dark, halls......You cannot open a door or even begin to think about opening or lock a door without setting them in motion, and creating the awful sound of the key being hit by the number plate. No mad genius could have better invented a device of aural torture which was easier to use and more effective in reducing an audience to idiocy. (Thus the origin of my current mental state.)
The mad cleaning lady riding her skateboard could not be noisier. If only the wheels are metal or
hard, but not in any way covered by rubber--that, too, a kind of Communist style austerity.....
The student is still talking? Perhaps he is mad and he has no audience. I don't care. I'd still like to strangle him.
Studentska 22
Blok D
Pardubice,
The Czech Republic
"But we gave you our nicest flat!."
Addendum:
I neglected to mention (as a sound now reminds me) of another beauty of BLOKD
Scraping, dragging furniture:
Itself a chapter in torture
We can drag chairs, briefly,
or drag larger items,
and doors can squeak as well.
Some days, the doors squeak at five or six,
accompanied by the sound of empty boots marching,
-must be ghosts---
And then the chairs scrape above my bed
at five am
at six am
at ten pm
or even at ten or eleven pm
there's a girl too who I can hear talking
and laughing
at all hours
It seems that this new mad male has replaced her
All in all
it
is
driving
me
MAD!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Emotional Diary
Emotional Diary; Emotional Confession
Slightly revised, but not perfected, of a Friday
Today I saw a middle-aged--certainly not young woman--lady, bending over to wipe the stairs with a wet cloth. She was cleaning in the dorm where I currently live. That is her life, her job.
My mother, no longer young, or even middle-aged, today cares for my father. She has never retired. My father retired long ago..................
My grumbling can seem insignificant in comparison to their difficult lives, but nothing comes from nothing: heedlessness happens at every level in an unjust society (such as ours). Heedlessness means indifference to noise as well as indifference to human suffering on a more destructive scale.
And capitalism is nothing if not heedless and indifferent to my discomfort,my mother's sacrifice, and the hard lives of Czech cleaning ladies working in a student dormitory...................
Slightly revised, but not perfected, of a Friday
Today I saw a middle-aged--certainly not young woman--lady, bending over to wipe the stairs with a wet cloth. She was cleaning in the dorm where I currently live. That is her life, her job.
My mother, no longer young, or even middle-aged, today cares for my father. She has never retired. My father retired long ago..................
My grumbling can seem insignificant in comparison to their difficult lives, but nothing comes from nothing: heedlessness happens at every level in an unjust society (such as ours). Heedlessness means indifference to noise as well as indifference to human suffering on a more destructive scale.
And capitalism is nothing if not heedless and indifferent to my discomfort,my mother's sacrifice, and the hard lives of Czech cleaning ladies working in a student dormitory...................
I am acutely aware of the fact that we
all deserve respect and consideration.
I am also willing to grant that a woman
who works as a cleaner in a student dormitory, or its hotel portion, deserves at
least as much respect as I do—possibly more, in virtue of the
physically demanding nature of the work, and the low status accorded
it.
Moreover, I am vividly aware of the
fact that Capitalist society produces such monstrosities as
bullet-proof glass in banks which makes it hard to speak to a teller
on the other side of the glass, and that this is very unfriendly.
But it is also unfriendly when I enter
my accomodation to view a woman peering at me (friendly or not)
behind a pane of glass in a booth set up as a sort of observation
post, immediately opposite the front door
That structure all by itself creates an atmosphere.
I am, however, still upset and angry—with a mixture of confusion and pure upset. What triggered it? Something trivial, of course. Yesterday, as I rushed home--between classes, after being on my feet for several hours--and hoping to get off my feet, and possibly take a short nap, I found that things had been moved in my kitchen---the kitchen of a flat which I rent.
Of course, no damage was done. Bottles
and containers had been pushed to one side, evidently to make it
possible to wipe down the counter. But this upset me. I felt as
though my privacy had been taken away.
And, even worse, I imagined that a
plastic bag had been thrown away---a useful bag if I go swimming.
It had not been thrown away. I'd only put it away in an unusual
place—which, in fact, had done hoping to ward off any potential
problems with a cleaning lady?Problems with a cleaning lady? Well, they come at irregular intervals, and I would not like to leave a total mess for them.
On the other hand, I had not expected any cleaning ladies on Thursday the regular cleaner had informed me that she would be off on Wednesday.--And she had just cleaned my bathroom and kitchen.
So, with my imagination inflated and
full of anger, I wrote a complaining letter and sent it to the manager. Worst of all I
remarked that this all reeks of Communism. And that can only be
misunderstood.
I do not think that the USA is a model of anything. I do not think that formerly Socialist countries (so-called) have got to improve and work their way up to freedom and democracy. I don't think that because I don't think that the USA is especially democratic or free.....So, I wouldn't think that Central Europeans have much to learn from the USA.
However, I fear that my hasty use of the C-word might suggest such a false theory.
And I am still upset, even as I write......
unfinished
Thought two days later:
'communist' is right insofar as it reminds one of a certain period; wrong in suggesting that leftist politics inevitably degenerate. But it is right to protest the following: If someone comes to visit me, then he or she must sign their name into a book, and (I presume, since I've not yet had a visitor) produce some form of ID. Thus they are keeping a record of who comes and goes.
They are keeping records of my private life!
They do not merely observe my comings and goings; they also record my visitors!
That is communistic~! (In the vulgar sense.........)
And it is a hangover from the days of the former "regime".............
what do they imagine? Are they protecting business secrets? Not likely.
Are they preventing me from bringing in thiefs or ruffians? The mere suggestion is an insult.
What a pity I cannot write all of this in Czech!
The University of Pardubice
D Block
Studentska 22
The Czech Republic
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Obama
"Obama will repay those who turned out to vote for him by carrying out measures that will devastate their jobs, living standards and social conditions. The “grand bargain” that he has pledged to negotiate with the Republicans will come at the expense of the working class, through trillions in cuts to Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid and other social programs."
--from the website "World Socialism", www.wsws.org
--from the website "World Socialism", www.wsws.org
Friday, November 2, 2012
Capitalism Abhors Simple Solutions
draft--to be updated (hopefully)
I've just screamed at the cleaning lady in the communist-style hotel in which I currently find myself; the cleaning ladies shout at one another up and down the empty, uncarpeted corridors, imagining no one is here.
But I abhor noise just as much as capitalism abhors simple solutions. I've listened to doors slam, heels click, muttering, mumbling, shouting for a month now, and I'm fed up. I've been woken at five or six in the morning by the sound of boots marching, doors squeaking and a thousand mundane manddening noises (such as the wheels of suitcases rolling as an army of visitors arrive at ten or eleven in the evening).....
And I really cannot stand it any more.
but last night.....
My mother cannot get her pain-killers. Her GP wants her to visit him before he renews the prescription. My mother is eighty-six, and suffers from chronic arthritis pain which has entered the lower regions of her spine. The pain which she now suffers is totally predictable and imaginable by a competent GP.
Ergo, he doesn't really care. It is noteworthy that he is something of a businessman, as he owns the building in which he practices---and, like all doctors, employs a staff who is much less well payed than himself.
The simple solution is that the doctor might visit my mother at home and examine her.
In Capitalist America, in Capitalst USA, that solution would never occur to anyone.
Hence, to repeat myself, I describe the USA system of medical care as a "don't care" system.
I've just shouted at the cleaning ladies. I shall have to apologize to them. Perhaps they cannot imagine why I was so upset, but I must try to explain.
And later today I shall start looking for a place to live, off campus, in a quiet street.
This flat is perfectly acceptable, as a flat, but it is located within a tall apartment building (a dormitory) in which every sound travels.....and right now the hum of voices (a normal conversation) from somehwere----up or down, I can't tell---is a genuine distraction, but merely one of a thousand that I endure every day as I try to have a coherent thought....
I've just screamed at the cleaning lady in the communist-style hotel in which I currently find myself; the cleaning ladies shout at one another up and down the empty, uncarpeted corridors, imagining no one is here.
But I abhor noise just as much as capitalism abhors simple solutions. I've listened to doors slam, heels click, muttering, mumbling, shouting for a month now, and I'm fed up. I've been woken at five or six in the morning by the sound of boots marching, doors squeaking and a thousand mundane manddening noises (such as the wheels of suitcases rolling as an army of visitors arrive at ten or eleven in the evening).....
And I really cannot stand it any more.
but last night.....
My mother cannot get her pain-killers. Her GP wants her to visit him before he renews the prescription. My mother is eighty-six, and suffers from chronic arthritis pain which has entered the lower regions of her spine. The pain which she now suffers is totally predictable and imaginable by a competent GP.
Ergo, he doesn't really care. It is noteworthy that he is something of a businessman, as he owns the building in which he practices---and, like all doctors, employs a staff who is much less well payed than himself.
The simple solution is that the doctor might visit my mother at home and examine her.
In Capitalist America, in Capitalst USA, that solution would never occur to anyone.
Hence, to repeat myself, I describe the USA system of medical care as a "don't care" system.
I've just shouted at the cleaning ladies. I shall have to apologize to them. Perhaps they cannot imagine why I was so upset, but I must try to explain.
And later today I shall start looking for a place to live, off campus, in a quiet street.
This flat is perfectly acceptable, as a flat, but it is located within a tall apartment building (a dormitory) in which every sound travels.....and right now the hum of voices (a normal conversation) from somehwere----up or down, I can't tell---is a genuine distraction, but merely one of a thousand that I endure every day as I try to have a coherent thought....
Thursday, November 1, 2012
the visiting Supervising Nurse-Bitch
She just wants my Medicare dollars!, said my mother. And I agreed...
But this Nurse-Bitch has no heart. She doesn't mind if she upsets the whole family.
She doesn't mind if she gives orders to a woman of eighty-six years. She doesn't mind being cold and cruel.
But she will be sure that her company gets those Medicare dollars.
I teach nurses, young nurses, and they are not like that. Of course, they live in a country which has not yet converted to the USA system of medical don't-care.
And, I suppose that next week I shall tell them a little bit of this tale.....as a cautionary tale.
It is a tale which I have told before on the pages of this very blog, and it is a sad, cruel one.
But this Nurse-Bitch has no heart. She doesn't mind if she upsets the whole family.
She doesn't mind if she gives orders to a woman of eighty-six years. She doesn't mind being cold and cruel.
But she will be sure that her company gets those Medicare dollars.
I teach nurses, young nurses, and they are not like that. Of course, they live in a country which has not yet converted to the USA system of medical don't-care.
And, I suppose that next week I shall tell them a little bit of this tale.....as a cautionary tale.
It is a tale which I have told before on the pages of this very blog, and it is a sad, cruel one.
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