Numbers

What's in a number?

Today I heard a couple of numbers that caught my attention:

45% of men will get cancer, and

35% of women will.

Think about that for a moment while you are with your friends and family.  Nearly half of all the men in your circle of friends are statistically likely to face cancer, most likely prostate cancer.  Over a third of all the women you care about are at risk, mainly from breast cancer.

And yet, my impression is that cancer is rising but still affects only a relative few.  That if we don't smoke and abstain from binge drinking our risk is very low.  I'll bet that's your impression too.

But those numbers say our impressions are dead wrong.

I heard another set of numbers on the news as well.  70% of young men and women in Greece are unemployed - whether they have a college degree or not.  The overall jobless rate exceeds 40%.

Take a moment to wrap you head around that.  Now add on top of that unemployment, the austerity budget the Greek government had to adopt to get EU bailout money.

Now stop a moment and figure what the current odds are for a Greek man: about half are likely to be unemployed and doomed to face cancer too.

No wonder the news reports say the Greeks are depressed.

So why am I telling you about these depressing numbers?  Am  I depressed? Am I Greek?  (No and No)

I give these numbers for your consideration, because they mean so much but we pay so little attention to them.  They come at us in the news, fast but not furious, as if meant to draw us in but then allow us to easily forget and move on to lighter fare.

Let's try to remember the important numbers we hear in 2014.  A lot may count on it.

Isolationist Me?

World politics has never been an easy concept for me to grasp.  The interconnectivity that runs behind the confrontational scenes and in parallel reality to the harsh public words is difficult to comprehend, but nonetheless is there.

How the US can have so many economic ties to China and still shake a public stick at them over the squabbles with Japan amazes me.  But I just don't get those multiple facets of business and diplomacy.

So, it shouldn't surprise anyone if I say that I'm tending towards isolationism these days.

Not the old-fashioned kind, though, in which we hide inside our borders and don't engage at all.  More of a revised model, in which we engage culturally and economically but drop the Team American World Police attitude.

I feel this way based on the observation that we don't get things right that often.  We might actually make events worse through our actions than if we didn't do anything at all.

I say it also because I am starting to believe that the main reason there is such opposition to World Trade agreements and the like is not so much the economic aspects but the power-politics involved.  No agreement ever seems to be just about making money and creating jobs, two concepts few people can really complain about.  There always seem to be power and influence additions that sour the deal for many of us.

So, can we actually have an economic and cultural open house, while keeping our noses out of other countries internal affairs?  Can we buy VWs and sell Fords to Germany without bugging Angela Merkel's phone?

I think so.  After all Canada pulls it off, so how hard can it be?  (No offense, Canada)

Now, there will be some situations we can't ignore, like genocides, ethnic cleansing, and Dennis Rodman.  No isolationist worldview is absolute, I'm just asking for a little restraint.

Doodle Hair

It's a clear and beautiful mid-Saturday here in Los Angeles.  Our air is fresh after last week's welcome rain, and our collective Angeleno Spirits are up.

So why have I been sitting and staring at the furry conundrum that is our Dog, instead of running about outside in that freshy air?

Well, he's a Doodle, which to other owners of such stock is 'nuff said, but to the blissfully ignorant requires a bit of explanation:

Doodles do not shed.  They don't have 'fur', but instead have 'hair', which much like our own continues growing and growing until someone cuts it.  (I stop here to look longingly at our other dog, a short-haired traditional-style dachshund, who NEVER needs grooming).

For owners expert in grooming by interest - or who have become so by necessity, this is no biggie.  (Get out the Shears, Ma!).  But to the rest of us who are first-time Doodlers, we find ourselves owners of a canine Gordian Knot, with our only option paying our local grooming Alexanders to wield their mighty swords.

This is not an easy choice for those on a budget, or who like long-hair on dogs.  These Doodles have lots of hair and it is expensive to cut; well, at least it is if you are so reluctant to cut the stuff that you unintentionally leave it so long your Dog resembles a giant rasta-hairdooed lint ball rather than something four-legged.  Once in such a state, the groomers roll their eyes and give just one choice - total annil-hair-ation.

Once groomed, the formerly glorious hound looks like a badly-sheared sheep.  (Hey, I wonder if taking your Doodle to a sheep-shearing is cheaper?)

So, I am sitting here, mentally exploring alternatives to a buzz-cut.  And, of course, I begin to see metaphors to other parts of (my) life.

The most immediate being meetings.  Too many meetings, of the corporate type involving many invitees and frequent recurrences planned in advance for months on end.  And the endless reams of communications and declarations and agendas and minutes that come from all of them.

Show me the inbox of a typical mid-level corporate wonk and I'll show you meetings and their swirl.  You'd be hard-pressed to find the 'skin of the dog'.

Maybe if I can suss out the best approach to our Doodle, I may be able to apply the lessons to my corporate life.  Barring any business Alexanders wielding efficiency swords who may pop up, I could be my company's only hope.

But only if I can get a handle on this Doodle.

Android Dreams

Analisa threw a look over her shoulder at James as she slipped out the door.  In the movement he caught the glisten of not-yet-dried tears on her cheek.  He gave a half-wave and a painful smile.

"See you tomorrow.  Things'll look better then."

From the front step Analisa groaned in response, "Yeah, Right".  And away she went.

James looked down at the newspage glowing on his iPad.  He ran his finger across the headline they had both just read, sitting close together in the way people in shared distress do,

'Wozniac Says to Apple, Build An Android Phone'

With a choked sob, he slapped the smartcover shut, blotting out the hateful text.

"She's right, nothing will ever look as good again.  The Woz has betrayed his Oz"

Dry Ice

What a wonderful introduction to 2014 we've had, weather-wise.  I think we'll all remember 'Polar Vortex'; even those of us living in the West, which, until this past week brought us something that looks very much like rain, has been dry and warm: even more than a typical SoCal 'Winter'.

To be honest, I'm still failing to understand what causes a 'Polar Vortex'.  All I can fathom is that a lot of very cold air is rushing down from the North Pole, sweeping across Canada, and plunging deep into the US of A's solar plexus.  Exactly WHY this air is rushing down I don't know, although I am willing to lay blame on the jet stream - that puppy is always stirring up trouble.  If the weather stinks its because a stratospheric river of air has done something naughty.  It's even a worse actor than El Nino, or La Nina, whichever of those two flavors of lukewarm of lukecold Sea Rivers are in play.  Not that I've heard either mentioned lately, what with that new, fashionable Vortex Kid in town.

I also don't understand why we here in the West have been so very dry and warm while the rest of You have been buried under varying layers of ice.  You get 'Ice Age' and we get 'Lawrence of Arabia'.

Maybe all that cold, wet air being blown down from the Pole was sucked up from somewhere far out in the Pacific, and pulled completely up and over us.

Whatever, it seems to have broken down now, and we're getting a little wet.  Which is OK, because it eases my conscience for enjoying the perfect motorcycle riding weather the dare-I-say 'drought' has brought with it.  My penance for feeling smug about my year-round biking while my Northern and Eastern brothers and sisters have to live on magazines, online forums, and dreams from Thanksgiving to Easter, is that I now have to do some of the same, if only for a short time.