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Insurance Companies Are Not Qualified to Make Medical Diagnoses

Canada’s CBC News reports on a Quebec woman with severe depression, Nathalie Blanchard, being denied sick-leave benefits after her insurer, Manulife, found pictures of her on Facebook smiling and engaging in social activities.

I’ve been going to Depression/Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA) meetings for over a year now, in Los Angeles and Maine. (Think of a support group, then subtract the woo, jargon, god and other b.s.) I have my own experiences with depression, and I know people who’ve had it far worse.

According to the article, Blanchard is diagnosed with major depression. A running joke in DBSA groups is that you can tell the new people with depression from those with bipolar because they crack the most jokes. Without the high and low cycles of bipolar, one tends to grasp at any moment of levity that can be attained or generated. There’s a common misconception that depression is a flat, constant low mood. This is rare. Typically one varies between extreme lows and more functional periods, with stops everywhere in between. One also gets very good at faking it for short periods of time.

Meds aren’t a magic bullet either, more a set of blunt tools whose effects on any given person will be highly variable. Beginning treatment often means a period of medication roulette, where the prescriber and patient work to balance efficacy, side-effects and (in the U.S. at least) costs. In the long term, lifestyle adjustments, especially increased social involvement, are essential.

The bottom line is, if Blanchard wants to return to the working world, she’s been doing exactly what she should be.

Manulife Insurance, on the other hand, took a very small risk, which makes perfect market sense. The chances of Blanchard fighting back the way she has were slim, and the financial savings for the company miniscule but real. Faced with the loss of their emergency income, many people with major depression would have retreated further into their shells. Some might have attempted suicide.

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Building the Shack, Part 9

Decided to sawtooth the rafters and use overlaid planks for roofing.

Recut the tops of the rafters with a jigsaw.

Put in a temporary floor to work on. Left a gap for the door frame. Had to cover the gap when the chipmunks started getting under the floor.

Tried to pound the ridge into place with a rubber mallet. Found that I’d placed one of the rafters wrong, and had to unscrew and move it. Height of the westernmost rafter about half an inch too short. Not going to worry about it.

Hard to tell from the picture, but the first snow of the season came, and I don’t have the roof on. Will need to hurry it up.

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Building the Shack, Part 10

Scrounged some old planks for the roof. Condition was poorer than I expected. Cut boards to size. Filled gouges, nail holes and cracks with wood filler.

Duct-taped vinyl gloves to my sleeves and painted roof planks with Coppercoat wood preservative. Smell didn’t dissipate for weeks.

Hammered all but the topmost planks into place on a stepladder. Height difference of the westernmost rafter causing problems. Should be able to solve it later with trim.

Cross-braced the rafters to make sure the roof would support my weight. Strapped an extension ladder to the frame of the shack to get access to the roof — wanted the frame to be holding my weight, not the ground at the base of the ladder.

Nailed final sections of roofing in.

Offered to haul off some aluminum rain gutters my friends had been meaning to take to the dump. Hacksawed and hammered a roof peak out of one. Pounded nail holes in the workshop. Covered nail holes on the underside with Gorilla Tape as an additional water stop. Nailed roof peak into place.

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More on the Gay Marriage Ban Referendum

You go up to Appleton; you get your hair cut. You see a “No on 1” sign down on the verge. You park, you put it back up next to the “Yes on 1” sign. The grass was just mowed. You figure maybe they both got knocked over by the mower and the Yes people are just more vigilant about getting their signs back up.

You drive back to 131. You see another “No on 1” sign down at the intersection. You park, you fix it. You figure, hey, we had some rain and wind, maybe they both went down and the Yes people are just more vigilant about getting their signs back up.

You learn better as you pass the sign at the intersection of route 17, which has been spray painted. Not just marked, either: Someone had a stencil. Looks like they bugged out halfway through though; it’s just a big yellow overspray mess unless you look closely.

On the common — in your hometown — you find a “No on 1” sign down. The stakes have been pulled out of the ground. One’s been stolen. You come back with a hammer. You put the sign back up next to the “Yes on 1” sign. You’d be happy to do this for the Yes signs as well, but none of them have been vandalized.

You go down to the town office, and register to vote. This is your town too.

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A Question for the “Yes on 1” Campaign

What’s to prevent individual teachers from discussing homosexual issues now?

I get it. You don’t like gay people. You don’t know any gay people. It’s not that big a deal, in real life.

The fact remains that if I like a girl I have the right to marry her, without any “seperate but equal” rejiggering. How could I, as a decent person, deny that right to someone else?

(Question 1 is a Maine ballot initiative to outlaw gay marriage.)

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Building the Shack, Part 8

Walls went up today.

Clamped a strip of wood to a floor joist. Lifted the west wall into place, levelled it, and clamped it to the strip. Screwed the wall into the floor frame.

Lifted the north wall into place. Secured it to the west wall and floor. Removed strip and clamps from the west wall.

Repeat for the south wall.

Managed not to fall down the banking hauling the east wall into place. Attached it to the other walls and floor.

Roof next, if I can find the materials.

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Building the Shack, Part 7

Scrounged some bricks and began trying to level the ground. Laid stakes at a desired level.

Big rock on the spot I selected. Started digging it out. Planned to get under it and tip it flat, then fill around it again.

Rock turned out to be bigger than expected. Afternoon was disappearing.

Found the “bottom” about 3 feet down.

Tried to tilt it with a plank. Wouldn’t budge. Kept digging out around it and retrying. Realized I’d only uncovered the narrow end of a long, flat boulder. Gave up and filled the hole back in.

Decided to bring the floor frame itself in and see how low it could sit on top of the boulder’s edge.

Repacked the dirt as much as possible.

Worked out the lowest point the floor could sit. Levelled the floor frame using the ledge as a fulcrum.

Set four sets of four bricks crossways to act as feet for a plank on the banking (east) side.

Levelled and packed the dirt, and laid a line of bricks under the west side.

Drove additional stakes to keep the east plank and bricks in place. Cut a second plank to fit north and south sides. Dug and set them in place.

Secured the floor to the planks with 3″ screws, toenailed in alternating directions. Partially filled the inside with dirt.

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YouTube Captioning: Morning Musume – Kanashimi Twilight

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IANoK9E2pAg

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Human Instrumentality Continues

However, due to time constraints…

You can’t beat the fit of a PVC blouse.
“YOU WANNA SEE UP MY SKIRT?!”
Who was in charge of the Pepto color scheme?
A zucchini sunset o’er Eden
You heard me: Eat that cumin leavened in air
Gecko went, “Coochie-coo, get more!”
That guy who covers Ood in tallow
It’s a mole!
Come on man, Thayer’s the sh*t; good day!
Ben wa? My toucan? Man, douchy.
Kick a tooth, get dumb and go and use a sheep
Guitar!
Oh take me! Not there. Not there. Sh*t, it’s genetic?
Go back there, back there — Ooh, super curry!
You’ll need white cake or lying Sheens to meet the yob
Go get an anchor, an anchor, or soap from Goa
To keep your, keep your cheek out of doorbells
A book of crap, its name is Twilight
When in Japan, ride the Freudian pink tube.
Co-E.D. ocho to eat here
So let that coed tumble she next to me
In book of love, Coco’s the tan dude
And I make that journey on your camel
What the f*ck!
Was your momma eating the loony?
Mocha ain’t the key to collating
I’ll suck your knee, Matt. Ooh, she-cat! Like her alchemy?
Nein!
White tushy manga marker, you made me better
Come on, come on, cut novels at bedtime
At your Islamic temple, Eid, then get married
You’ve got to keep those, keep those combos Naruto
The same, the same, but why can’t I date him?
God that sh*t keeps going, those Twilights
“Hello? Can we get out now? We’re wearing stilettos.”
B-52s hair?
Why does she nag her, nag her? You made me taters
Nanka! Nanka! Normal set haters
Are you my long left demo? He begets nahin
He took a key to Quito: Domino Ludo
To tame the, tame the wild pair of tay-tays
Burn that sh*t. Quit talking those…
… Twilights
Paper!
Rock!
Six hours later…
A graphic reminder that biker gloves are about as “hardcore” as tattoos these days.
“Are… are we done? Is it over?”

Capped by Space Toast
YouTubeCapper.Blogspot.com

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Class in America: The “Good Schools” Myth

The day’s favorite American euphemism for deliberate class stratification, “good schools,” is back, this time from Nicholas Kristof in the New York Times. This one is doubly insidious because liberals are still comfortable saying it aloud. I bitchslapped Kristof’s fellow white-flight New Yorker Malcolm Gladwell when he took this same call up a year ago, and since nothing’s changed, I’ll refer you to my post from that time, Malcolm Gladwell’s Good Teacher/Bad Teacher Delusion.

Snip:

Don’t blame students; don’t blame parents; don’t blame underfunded schools; don’t blame distending class sizes, don’t blame school funding being tied to local property taxes; don’t blame artificial testing requirements devouring classroom time; don’t blame required special education skewing dollar-per-student vs. results numbers wildly below magnet and parochial schools; don’t blame the flight of your upper-middle class into homogenous neighborhoods.

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Building the Shack, Part 6

Framed the rafters and cut a ridge beam.

Still figuring out roofs. Went through a lot of revisions.

Used rise over run rather than angles as much as possible. Some bad math early on.

Pine a pleasure to cut on the tablesaw after all that rock-hard oak.

Rounded rafter ends a motif from early on in designs. Mirrored it with the ridge beam.

Might drill a hole and hang a lamp/planter/bird feeder off east and west ends of the beam.

Need to level the ground and lay a brick slab next. This is moving outside the workshop. Quixotic.

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Building the Shack, Part 5

Framed the west wall.

Nailed a strip of scrap into the gap at the foot of the door to maintain dimensions while working.

More cross laps. Picturing the shack something like a three-walled card house, with the east (picture window) wall bearing less of the load of the roof than the other three.

House painters walked off with a roll of tar paper I was planning on using for the roof, so back to the drawing board there.

Rafters next.

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YouTube Captioning: Jungle Girl: Chapter 1, Death by Voodoo!

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You need Flash player 8+ and JavaScript enabled to view this video.

Hey Edgar, if you’re just phoning it in these days, could you add some more tits? Thanks.
Starring

NOT ENTIRELY JOAN CRAWFORD

Starring

PUFF McMANMUSCLE

Starring

GOMER PYLE

And Featuring

DICK COCKY and WET STAINES

With

ONIONHEAD KLINGER and the BLACKFACE KID

A

DAVID DUKE

Production

Next Exit

GAS

FOOD

LODGING

Scene 3½
“Then how do we know about them?”
“Better schools,” if you know what I mean. Posh assholes.
“An invisible plane!”
WE – MUST – STOP – WONDER – WOMAN – AT – ALL – COSTS
Speak of the devil…
Not so much scenes as notions.
Tag out.
“…monkey screwing little sh*t.”
Marooned in the jungle with nothing but her wits and a book of Marks & Spencer dress patterns…
“In that python.”
Shouldn’t it have passed over by now?
Relax, they’re just having a tailgate party.
Hands above your waist while running, that’s a good girl.
JUNGLE GIRL!
“Jennifer Connelly too.”
“Mom said it might get cold.”
*thunk*

“Ow!”

It’s been three seconds.
“If you know what I mean.”
This’ll be easy to smooth over.
Eventually…
Days later…
It makes you wonder why he didn’t think of that.
Clearly, this is not southern California…
“How did you get here?”
“I think I know what you mean…”
Scene 17¼
Scene 17.999999999…
“If you know what I mean.”

“That’s my line!”

“If you… *cough*… know what I mean….”
“Well, besides that fiver…”
“Exposed her to fresh air, sunshine, and regular physical activity!”
Why is there a giant ear behind him?
Ice cream!
Well, he’s secured TARP funds.
“Give up? A Hypocritical Oaf. Get it? Oh, I’ve got thousands of them.”
“You just go start the plane…”
“Classic sitcom rules. Good.”
“Stanton’s not the sharpest pecker in the wood, if you… well, you know.”
“Condoms…”
He should get some spackle for that wall back there too.
*click*
“You there! Are you chosen from the bravest men of the tribe?”

“No.”

“See? Lying guards.”

“Step through this awkward edit and I’ll show you.”
Did you get all that? It might be important later in the episode. Does anyone need a pencil?
“That should be enough white rice.”
Anything?
“That shouldn’t cause a problem.”
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
PUSH IN
Of course he does. You’re playing him too, aren’t you?
“…foxtrot.”
“…freely exploitable workforce!”
Edited by a cokehead with his own used razor blades.
( JUNGLE GIRL! )
She’d probably laugh at the notion of a villain named “Bradley.”
“Mercury is in retrograde!”
For what?
Even gunning people down he’s got that hangdog “just finished masturbating” look.
(An even sillier sounding name than “Bradley.”)
“What? Hey, that’s brilliant!”
“I’ll use my milkshake to bring them to the-“

“Don’t put that in my head.”

=0_0=
Man, the original Fitzcarraldo sucked.
JUNGLE GIRL!
At this point we’re editing just to make it end sooner.
“Who?”
“What?”
“How?”
“Where?”
“Why?”
“Who cares?”
“Beat it!”
♬ …you believe in life after love… ♬
They might as well be hiding behind a rack of postcards.
Their bow and arrows must have all jammed.
.oO(My friggin’ hero)
ANTICIPATE
FOLLOW THROUGH
If you liked the daring stunts in ‘West Side Story’…
“She should be cooked through.”
“Well, I was burned to death, but…”
“What? What were you f*cknuts DOING out here!?!”
“To get knackered.”
That we… saw.
(What spear?)Oo.
*BAMF*

“I’m here now!”

Chirpa? The chief of the ewoks?
Ooh. Awkward.
“Prepare to be nimble!”
“How fascinating.”
“My nuts!”
NEXT WEEK
Chapter Two
A NIGHT ON SPLASH MOUNTAIN

Capped by Space Toast
YouTubeCapper.Blogspot.com

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Panorama: Rainbow

Sennebec Lake, Union, ME, looking towards Appleton.

Stitched together in Hugin from 25 camera phone pictures. Miller cylindrical projection.