The feline paradox

13 11 2013

A good cat is a bad cat; a bad cat is a good cat.

Disambiguated: A “good cat” in the first sense refers to the goodness of its behavior in the view of the human in whose home it dwells. A cat who is good, i.e., who does not misbehave, is not acting like a cat; ergo, a “good cat”55 is a bad cat.

A bad cat, that is, one which misbehaves or acts in a manner otherwise indifferent to its human, is behaving as cats do; thus, a bad cat is a good cat.

Possible objections:

What about old cats? Cats of a certain age, who have put in their share of misbehavior over the courses of their lives, are emeritus bad good cats.

Isn’t this a no-true-Scotsman  argument? No.

What about cats which please their humans? If a cat’s pleasing of its  human is in pursuit of its own pleasure, then this is acceptable cat behavior.

For example, many humans enjoy it when their cats jump into their laps, purr and/or knead. The cat does not do so because it wants to make the human smile; the cat jumps into the lap in order to get its ears scritched, which is to say, for its own pleasure.

It should further be noted that master-cats are those which can engage in behavior about which their humans will complain, do nothing to discourage, and may even encourage.

An example: a cat may climb on to its human’s chest in the middle of the night, waking her, and push its head into half-awake human’s face in an effort to prompt the human to pet it, all the while purring so loudly that the human’s grumpiness at having her sleep interrupted will dissipate into a sense of awwwww, how sweeeeet. Human will then almost certainly commence petting.

Does this mean cats are evil? No. Cats are beyond good and evil.

Why would anyone want a cat, if the only good cat is a bad cat? Have you been paying any attention?





Workin’ in the coal mine

12 11 2013

Ha ha ha, right: teaching and freelancing offer a plenitude of opportunities to bitch, but the most I have to worry about is a sore throat, maybe a sore back, not black lung and cave-ins.

Anyway, I’m jammed up with work, which, on the one (lazy) hand is bad, but on the other (money-grubbin’) hand is good. Mostly it’s good.

I should be able to catch up by this weekend, but in the meantime, this is my excuse for no/scrawny posts.

At least, that’s my story, and all that.





What about me?

11 11 2013

Paying attention to me is good; paying attention to someone else is bad:

“It seems he’s focusing on bringing back the left that’s fallen away, but what about the conservatives?” said Kurt, a hospice community educator. “Even when it was discouraging working in prolife, you always felt like Mother Teresa was on your side and the popes were encouraging you. Now I feel kind of thrown under the bus.”

Also, if you agree with me you are right and good, if you disagree you are wrong and bad:

Steve Skojec, vice president of a real estate firm in Virginia and a blogger who has written for several conservative Catholic websites, wrote of Francis’ statements, “Are they explicitly heretical? No. Are they dangerously close? Absolutely. What kind of a Christian tells an atheist he has no intention to convert him? That alone should disturb Catholics everywhere.”

[…]

“There have been bad popes in the history of the Church,” said Skojec, “Popes that murdered, popes that had mistresses. I’m not saying Pope Francis is terrible, but there’s no divine protection that keeps him from being the type of guy who with subtlety undermines the teachings of the Church to bring about a different vision.”

That old phrase “more Catholic than the Pope” seems relevant, here.

~~~

Bonus whining, Obamacare version. (h/t Scott Lemieux, Lawyers, Guns &Money)





The birds all sing as if they knew

10 11 2013

Yeah, they did it. Surprise, surprise: did anyone really think a mere church burning would stop them?

I’m talking about Brennan and Booth on Bones, of course. They got married. Of course. After numerous obstacles (because psycho-killer Pelant wasn’t enough of one) they married in a white tent, with Cindy Lauper singing “At Last.” Of course.

It wasn’t terrible, as these things go, but utterly entirely predictably predictable. I mean, why introduce the former-priest pal-o’-Booth at the beginning of the season unless he’d be the one to perform the ceremony?

Oh, about that: If these two were so tight, why didn’t we meet Mister Former Priest Bartender before this? And where were Jared and Russ? Did these brothers not even merit a mention?

Bitch bitch bitch, I know. I’m not hate-watching Bones—really! I’m not!—but it is true that I’m grumpy after almost every episode. Why am I even bothering?

One, even though it’s nowhere near as good as it was in the first 4 or 5 seasons, it’s still not bad. The plots have gotten pro forma, but the writing is still pretty good.

Two, I like the characters. Hodgins is my favorite, and I like his relationship with Angela (even if he is a bit too moony), and I like Cam quite a bit. Booth & Brennan may both be a bit stale, and Caroline has been softened too much, but she still gets some good zingers.

Sweets is all right, still slightly annoying, and Daisy is still very annoying—which kinda endears her to me. The rest of the interns are, whatever, interns, and it seems as if they dropped Mr. Southern Gothic from the line-up, which is fine with me. (I liked the actor just fine, but Edgar-Allan-Poe they overheated the character’s backstory.)

Three come Friday night I am not at all ambitious, so sitting down to watch Bones, even in its exhausted state, works for me. I’m mildly entertained, which most Fridays is enough.

That last may be the most important reason I’m still watching the show. There are other shows I will theoretically check out (Orange is the New Black, Scandal, Top of the Lake, The Bridge, Misfits), but I’m just really. . . lazy when it comes to getting to know a new cast & set of storylines.

Anyway, I keep thinking This season will be the last, so the coda-reason is that I want to be there not just at the end, but through the end.

If it ever ends. *Sigh*





One hundred years of absurdism

7 11 2013

Okay, not really: Camus didn’t begin writing out of the womb.

Still, if Sartre gave us the better line—Hell is other people—and sought to hero-ize our existence, Camus gave us the ache of meaning amidst meaningless-ness. He gave us absurdity.

I’d read The Myth of Sisyphus a couple of times when I was in my self-destructive cups, and, honestly, it didn’t do anything for me. Too much exhortation. Too much hero-izing.

But The Plague, well, that crept in. Yes, there is speechifying, but rather than inflating the speaker, it undercuts him. It is the speech of undoing, of peeling away.

I have realized that we all have the plague, and I have lost my peace. And today I am still trying to find it; still trying to understand all those others and not to be the mortal enemy of anyone. I only know that one must do what one can to cease being plague-stricken, and that’s the only way in which we can hope for some peace, or, failing that, a decent death. This, and only this, can bring relief to men and, if not save them, at least do them the least harm possible and even, sometimes, a little good.

Just so—absurdly so.





Riddle me this

6 11 2013

Running shorts come equipped with a handy-dandy key pocket.

Running skins (tights) do not come equipped with that handy-dandy key pocket.

WHY NOT?!!





What if God was one of us

5 11 2013

I’m one of those don’t-hate-religion non-religious types. Most of the time.

And then I read smug shit like this:

To a person, the new atheists hold that God is some being in the world, the maximum instance, if you want, of the category of “being.” But this is precisely what Aquinas and serious thinkers in all of the great theistic traditions hold that God is not. Thomas explicitly states that God is not in any genus, including that most generic genus of all, namely being. He is not one thing or individual — however supreme — among many. Rather, God is, in Aquinas’s pithy Latin phrase, esse ipsum subsistens, the sheer act of being itself.

I’m all about being, so you’d think I’d be all over this. You’d be wrong.

Hell, I’ve read Heidegger, and even if I can’t stop myself from muttering “Nazi gasbag” every time I pick him up, I do think he is worth picking up. It’s tough to talk being without talking nonsense, and while ol’ Martin (that “Nazi gasbag”) peddles his share of nonsense, he does also manage to make sense. Unlike Robert Barron.

God is not a supreme item within the universe or alongside of it; rather, God is the sheer ocean of being from whose fullness the universe in its entirety exists.

Actually, this does make a kind of sense: God is everything, such that without God, there is nothing. It’s a handy bit of sleight-o-hand: How does one know God exist? Because without God, there would be nothing. Easy-peasy.

It’s not a bad tautology, as tautologies go, but, like Pascal’s wager or Lewis’s trilemma, it seeks to lock down not just the answer to a question, but the questions themselves. This is THE question, one is told, and no follow-ups and no other possible interpretations, which might lead to other possible responses, are allowed. No questioning the question.

Barron allows that science allows us to learn a great deal about our material reality. The problem, he says, is that these materials are themselves “contingent”, i.e., dependent upon another reality rather than being real in and of themselves. How does he know this? God-is-everything!

We are surrounded on all sides by things that exist but that don’t have to exist.

[…]

Now a moment’s meditation reveals that all of the conditioning elements that I mentioned are themselves, in similar ways, contingent. They don’t explain their existence any more than the computer does. Therefore, unless we permanently postpone the explanation, we have to come, by logical deduction, to some reality which is not contingent and whose very nature is to exist.

Um, no. Perhaps the explanation is that everything is contingent, nothing is necessary, and existence itself a kind of chance, nothing more.

Barron accuses skeptics of incurosity and irrationality for not bothering with the question of why is there something rather than nothing, but not having an answer doesn’t mean the question isn’t asked; not all questions are contingent upon an answer.

As for Why should the universe exist at all? Who says anything about “should”? It does, for now, and for awhile longer. If it someday ends, it doesn’t mean it never existed at all.

Same goes for us. We don’t have to be here, and yet we are, for now. So what are we to do with this chance?

That, to me, is the real question, and wonder, of being.





Baby you can drive my car

4 11 2013

Scapegoats are incredibly useful.

Not when they’re people—then scapegoating is horrible—but when they’re an event or a thing, they allow you to compartmentalize and carry away a whole carload of bad feelings.

Emily Chapman scapegoats Taylor Swift, in particular Swifts’s song “Twenty Two.”

The first time I heard Taylor Swift singing about the carefree fun of being 22 after I realized that my mother was really going to die, I punched the radio off. Like, actually hit my radio dial with some force. I regretted this later, since I drive a Civic and it’s not really built for punching.

“Fuck you,” I yelled at her, at the song, at the stupid top-40 radio station that was playing it. For good measure, I repeated it: “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” Then, in the parking lot of the Tex-Mex restaurant nearest to what was still my parents’ house, I broke down and cried.

A pop song is a fine target for one’s anguish: plenty of opportunities to express one’s loathing, and to deal, however indirectly, with whatever drives that hate.

I was mad at the cancer for killing my mom, and I was mad at myself for not being better at helping my family take care of her, and I was mad at Taylor Swift for reminding me of all of that.

But I couldn’t fix any of that. So instead I developed intense fantasies of stealing Taylor Swift’s weird smashed birthday cake, and continued to bruise my hands on my car’s dash.

I created a scapegoat to deal with my far-less-traumatizing memories of New Mexico. I don’t regret my year-long sojourn in Albuquerque, but it was a terrible decision to move there, and I dealt with all kinds of (relatively minor) shit while living there.

I also had a lot of fun and met some great people, so how to keep the shit from stinking up the good memories? I put them in a car—a Volkswagon, to be exact.

I’d bought a 1973 Volkswagon while I lived there—3 or 4 gears, I can’t remember—and sold it before moving back to Minneapolis. I was a jumble during this entire period, and didn’t know how to deal with that jumbledness.

The solution? Pack all of my negative New Mexico experiences into that Volkswagon, and get my hate on for that brand.

And it worked, beautifully. I could hate VWs to my heart’s content: I no longer owned a car and was in no position to buy one, and the car I did regularly drive, one borrowed from my friend J., was a Nissan.

“I hate Volkswagons/Volkswagons suck/blah blah/mumble/snore.” It kept me from letting any anxiety over that terrible decision bleed into, well, into the regular anxiety I had in returning to grad school. It was a useful distraction.

And then, after awhile (okay, some years), the hate faded, and VWs became just another car. The scapegoat served its purpose.

It allowed me to offload some dread, and kept that dread away from me long enough for it to shrink into a kind of bemused rue.

So it was stupid to move to Albuquerque. Ah, well. It was worth it.





When the men on the chess board get up and tell you where to go

2 11 2013

I don’t know if I’ve written on this before, but this letter, sent out by Trudo Lemmons at the University of Toronto, pretty well explains the situation:

University of Minnesota Should Investigate Suicide in Clinical Trial, Scholars Argue

Trudo Lemmens

Thursday, October 24, 2013

With colleagues Raymond De Vries (University of Michigan), Alice Dreger (Northwestern University), Lois Shepherd (University of Vriginia), Susan M. Reverby (Wellesley College) and Jerome P. Kassirer (Tufts University), I wrote a letter to the Chair, Vice-Chair and members of the University of Minnesota Senate, to request that the University of Minnesota set up an inquiry to investigate the circumstances surrounding the death of Dan Markingson in a clinical trial at the University of Minnesota Fairview Hospital. More than 170 leading academic colleagues specialized in health law and human rights, research ethics, bioethics, and medical research joined as signatories to the letter.

Dan Markingson was acutely psychotic when University of Minnesota psychiatrists enrolled him into an AstraZeneca-sponsored study of antipsychotic drugs. Prior to enrolling into the study, he had been repeatedly judged incompetent to make his own medical decisions and he was involuntary committed. He obtained a stay of commitment order that legally required him to obey the recommendations of the psychiatrists. They recommended he participate in a clinical trial, to which he was deemed able to consent, just days after he had been declared incapable of making his own treatment decisions. His mother, Mary Weiss, attempted to get her son out of the study for months, warning the research team that he was deteriorating and in danger of killing himself, but her warnings were ignored.  On May 8, 2004, Markingson committed a violent suicide.

2009 investigation of Markingson’s death by the St. Paul Pioneer Press found that the university psychiatrists and the clinical trials unit had received significant payments from the study sponsor. The research contract included also a per patient payment of $ 15,648.  Less than two years before Markingson was recruited, the Contract Research Organization in charge of organizing the trial had put the University of Minnesota site on ‘probation’ for failing to recruit a sufficient number of patients. With colleague Paul Miller, I have written in the past about how payments to investigators, particularly financial recruitment incentives, create significant legal and ethical concerns. This may very well be a case study of how some of the pressures resulting from these incentives can have a devastating outcome. For Dr. Jerome Kassirer, a former editor of the The England Journal of Medicine and a signatory of the letter, “[t]here was an overt conflict of interest, and there is reason to believe that the boy’s death was an indirect consequence of the financial inducements of the study.”

In direct response to Dan Markingson’s suicide, the Minnesota legislature recognized already in 2009 that vulnerable psychiatric patients in Minnesota had to be better protected in clinical trials. It adopted more protective legislation, excluding people who are civilly committed from being enrolled in a clinical trial. In 2012,  the Minnesota Board of Social Work concluded after an investigation that the study coordinator overseeing Markingson’s care had committed an alarming number of professional violations, including falsely initialing for the physicians on study charts and dispensing drugs without a license. The Board issued a “corrective action” towards the social worker. Those in charge of running the clinical trial, however, were not held accountable. The Minnesota Board of Medical Practice looked back in 2009 into complaints against the physicians supervising the clinical trial and involved in the care of Dan Markingson, Dr. Olson and Dr. Schulz, and contrary to the Board of Social Work, it concluded that it did not have a sufficient basis to take action.

We felt the need to write this letter because of the absence of a thorough and independent investigation into what happened. An FDA investigation, which focused on whether FDA procedures were followed, was arguably conducted only superficially, as Carl Elliott has convincingly put forward in a Hastings Center blog article. The FDA investigator failed, for example, to interview Dan Markingson’s mother and did not really address some of the key challenges in the context of this trial, such as those related to potential undue inducement and coercion. It concluded that no FDA regulations were violated. The University suggested that other internal reviews also came to the conclusion that no action was needed. But there are reasons to be worried about the independence of these assessments. The University’s legal counsel suggested, for example, that the IRB–the institution’s research ethics committee–had investigated the death. But so far, while minutes of one IRB meeting show that the case was discussed, no evidence of a solid IRB evaluation has been produced. There are also serious concerns about the independence of the IRB.  First, it is questionable whether in-house IRBs can really act independently when important institutional interests are at stake and when high ranked institutional officials are involved. But more troubling is the recent revelation that the IRB that approved and was supposedly monitoring the clinical trial appears to have been affected by significant conflicts of interest. The IRB chair was the director of the ambulatory research center which housed the clinical trial; he also reported in the department of psychiatry to Dr. Schulz, chair of the department and co-investigator in the study; and he had financial relations with the company sponsoring the trial. Another internal University assessment which apparently took place can also hardly be characterized as an independent investigation, particularly since the University had dug its heels in the sand and took a strong position against further review of what happened. The University filed, for example, a ‘notice to assess costs’ against the mother of Dan Markingson, around the time that she wanted to appeal a partial summary judgment by a district court judge. With this notice, the University requested that she pay its legal expenses.  The district court had ruled that there was no legal basis to sue the University and its IRB, since the IRB had statutory immunity for its ‘discretionary decisions’, but had accepted that a negligence claim against one of the doctors, Dr. Olson, could proceed. The University dropped this legal action for costs after Dan Markingson’s mother dropped her appeal against the interim decision.

In short: this appears to be a case that raises substantial concerns about the enrollment of extremely vulnerable and potentially incompetent research subjects in clinical trials, the appropriateness of specific informed consent and capacity assessment procedures in mental health research, the potential impact of financial conflicts of interest on the behavior of clinical investigators, university administrators, and institutional actors, the qualifications of research personnel, and the overall integrity of medical research at major medical schools and their hospitals. And it raises concerns about the legal tactics used by a public University in the context of a troubling case.

The signers of the letter include Susan Reverby, a historian, who uncovered the notorious Guatemala syphilis studies that led to a formal apology by President Obama in 2010; Marcia Angell of Harvard University, also a former editor of the New England Journal of Medicine; Richard Smith, a former editor of the British Medical Journal; Ron Patterson, the former Health and Disability Commissioner of New Zealand; George Annas, a leading Health Law and Human Rights scholar from Boston University; Daniel Callahan, the co-founder of The Hastings Center; Renee C. Fox, professor emeritus of the University of Pennsylvania and author of Experiment Perilous, one of the classic sociological texts on the ethics of medical research; several Canadian colleagues (including  Nancy Olivieri, James Robert Brown, and Joel Lexchin of the University of Toronto; Laurence Kirmayer of McGill University; Jocelyn Downie, co-author of the CAUT Olivieri Report  and Françoise Baylis, both Canada Research Chairs at Dalhousie University; Arthur Shafer, director of the Centre for Professional and Applied Ethics of the University of Mannitoba;  Louis Charland of the University of Western Ontario; and Udo Schuklenk, Canada Research Chair at Queen’s University) and various other leading scholars from the United States, Europe, Australia and New Zealand.

Various blogs and media reports have been raising concerns about the case in the past.

For more information on our action and on the case, see:

The media release about the letter

Pharmalot: Academics Want University to Probe a Suicide in Seroquel Trial

Edward Davies, in a recent article in the British Medical Journal

Jeremy Olsen & Paul Tosto, with a series of 3 articles in the St. Paul’s Pioneer Press.

A series of articles by Judy Stone in the online Scientific American, with as first article “A Clinical Trial and Suicide Leave Many Questions: Part 1” (links to following articles at the end of part 1)

Carl Elliott, on the Bioethics Forum of the Hastings Center; and in an article for Mother Jones.

On Thursday 14 November, Carl Elliott will be giving the inaugural Olivieri Lecture at the University of Toronto in which he will talk about the case.

(I signed a change.org petition some time back on this matter, and received the link to Lemmons’s letter via an e-mail update from the original petitioners.)

~~~

If you’re anywhere near Toronto on November 14, I strongly urge you to attend Carl’s lecture.  The man gives good speech.