I’ve spent a lot of the last few days comforting family members, friends, and many of my students who were feeling traumatized. And in comforting them, I’ve realized that I have a small sliver of hope about our future. Perhaps it’s pure naïveté, but I have hope that there’s at least one person in the Republican leadership with a bit of common sense. And I hope this person will be able to slow the knee-jerk agenda of the alt-right or the Freedom Caucus.
It’s a well known fact that 64.7 percent of American physicians spend late August on Martha’s Vineyard, and deserve to. You knew that, but may not know that this year, the percentage unexplainably reached a record 82.4 percent, causing increased pressure on the island’s fragile ecosystem and referring added weight to the ocean floor.
The presidential campaign is far enough along to confidently conclude that the health delivery revolution will not be televised. Instead, it will continue its quiet progress, remaking nearly a fifth of the economy without political, media or public awareness. Such is the course of American revolutions. Continue reading The Silent Healthcare Revolution
You might think an outfit calling itself an academy would be, you know, academic. But as Jon Stewart put it, the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics is as much an academy as the “Pasteurized Prepared Cheese Product” called Kraft Singles is cheese.
The last time the academy was in the news, it was for taking an undisclosed amount of money from Kraft in exchange for giving Kraft permission to put the academy’s “Kids Eat Right” logo on Kraft Singles. When nailed for this, the academy denied that this amounted to putting a stamp of approval on Singles. What it really was, they claimed, was an ad for the academy’s Kids Eat Right initiative. If this were true, it would be the first time in the history of the world that an advertiser received money for placing an ad, instead of paying for it.
The fate of Denmark’s Jews in October, 1943 was an anecdote in a sea of malice. My Danish friend Michael was on one of those boats, the ones wandering around in the Øresund on a dark night in October, lights out lest the Nazi patrols find them, and also lost in an autumn storm, headed possibly for Sweden, but also possibly to Poland or Germany itself.
I asked Michael how it was that night, and he said, “I was two months old.”
Continue reading Overnight to Ystad