Juvenile... justice?

Who would have thunk it... people are actually talking about the failure of punishment and incapacitation as a means for making kids better citizens. I suppose this has been something known by mothers whose children don't respond to long time-outs without an insightful discussion into the offending behavior and reasons why it was inappropriate. Well, it looks like California could certainly use a little help from a Super Nanny.

If the Division of Juvenile Justice had the assistance of such a pal on its staff, they would learn that, among other things, treating children who commit crimes like adults who commit crimes will generally teach these children to become adults who also commit crimes. On the other hand, I'm sure the Super Nanny would instruct, if you teach a child who does bad things that they bad things will not be tolerated but the child still has an intrinsic value to society despite some mistakes, the child will respond in kind.

In the youth facilities, education, mental health care and counseling are often neglected because the correctional officers would rather put the kids on 23 hour lockdown to avoid the eruption of gang violence inside the facility. It happens. Gang violence happens, and is perpetuated by the horrid conditions these kids must endure because they committed a crime. In other places, like Missouri, the juvenile facilities that look like prisons are no more. Instead, kids stay in small houses and go to school and learn how their mistakes should not be repeated, not just why. In Missouri, when kids do something wrong, and have to atone for their acts, they go to training schools whose mandate makes the care and guidance of the kids an educational endeavor, rather than a punitive one.

The Nation wrote about the failure of the DJJ in California just a few days ago, right here. The Center on Juvenile and Criminal Justice is also releasing a report about the declining youth crime and incarceration rates in California. It will be released here, and is a pretty decent read.

They Framed the Picture of a Dead Terrorist

Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to write anymore letters to the President. But this one is really more of a note. Just a postcard. And I'm not sending it.

Dear POTUS: Was it really necessary to frame the picture of a dead Zarqawi? Aside from the miserable enormity of the picture, its content was eerily similar in format to the first portrait of a newborn, naked, eyes closed, head turned on a stark white sheet. This snapshot of birth's opposite, actually birth's nemesis, did not need an unfinished pine frame and mat job to make it's point. He's dead. Some bombs got him. Point taken. No need to celebrate. Save the money on the half-ass Aaron Brothers job and put it toward something worthwhile, like, say, poverty eradication.

Signed, Me.

Not suitable for framing

Testing Self-Reference

Test, will this go to a site?

Me

The Wonderful World of Medicine

Yeah, so anyone who has seen my face will know (and I'm sorry to blow a dream if you haven't) that I still have pimples though I've reached the ripe age of 31. What's worse? I've had pimples, sometimes I think the same damn ones, since I was 13. So, let's see, if we do the math, cross out the three, make it a two, 1 becomes 11 and then it's 8, and 1 okay, that's 18 fucking years. Yeah. For 18 years of my life, I've had pimples. Fun.

People don't get how much it sucks. It's embarrassing to have marks on your face. When you have food or shmeg stuck to your cheek, usually a nice friend will slyly signal to you that you might want to... just... get... a little higher... yeah, get it off. Same with spinach in your teeth, or mascara running off your eyes. When you have pimples, I maintain, the same instinct applies. Friends want to encourage you to get it off, but of course, there is no way to get it off except to angrily wait for the healing process to complete, and to resist picking dry skin and covering it with oily fingers or slapping it in disgust because you're 31 and you really shouldn't be suffering through this any longer.

It also hurts. Sometimes it aches. It's a wound, on your face. And it bleeds. It's also somewhat shameful because lots of folks think that I just don't wash. Well, I wash. I wash more than anybody I know, except the few others I have met in my life who also still get pimples in their 30s. As a group, adults with acne probably use a pretty decent share of the world water supply on their faces.

I went to a doctor yesterday. I sat down. And then I waited for 20 minutes. The doctor, Dr. Binstock, (I have no interest in preserving his anonymity since he was so friggin' unhelpful), said, "you're here for acne?" I said yes. He said, "take antibiotics and that will do it." And then he started to leave the room. "No no no no, that's not going to work. I have 18 years experience in this field. How much time have you been dealing with acne? Antibiotics are not going to work for me, and neither are the following treatments." And I listed every remedy currently known to and used by humans, whether they live in America, Europe, Australia, New Zealand, India, Africa. Dr. Binstock, maybe impatient to get back to his People magazine with those pricey Brangelina spawn pix, had his hand on the doorknob while he said, "if you want to keep your acne, then you don't have to listent to me."

So, I cried. And I left. I had three prescriptions for medicine that didn't work the first two times I tried them. I also got doxycycline so you can count on me to stand up to cholera, malaria and chlamydia with one or two less pimples. I cried to the front desk who finally offered some help. They said, "it doesn't look bad you know." But that was all they had. I can have facials, scrubs, light therapy, water therapy, whatever, but nothing is likely to stop my face from erupting daily. Well, there it is. I'll report back in another 18 years to see if there's been any progress.

The next story...

Two weeks passed? Did someone just tell me that two weeks have really gone by?

In these two weeks, because I know you are absolutely needing to know, I've done quite a few little this n' thats. I got word, from my horoscope, that I should take the job that seems like the opportunity of a lifetime. I did that, and it's good. Thank goodness I'm a Libra and not a Taurus or some other sign that recommended otherwise, huh?

Now that I'm employed, or will be as of July 5, I really should change my blog. I'm just not the same person anymore. I have a title and an extension. I have to call people and make appointments and stuff. Phew, what a world.

During my new off-hours, since I'm now pretending to work despite my future start date, I have discovered a show called "So You Think You Can Dance." It's on Fox, of course. I liked it immediately because the first show I saw was all about the people who just loved dancing, whether or not they could do the fancy stuff. Now, all the folks have skills (or skillz, I guess). I miss the real dancers, the wedding dancers, the bar mitzvah dancers. Bring them back and let's see what they can do.