“No fat chicks.” That sign might as well hang over the port of entry in Auckland. Just ask Rowan Trezise, who was refused permission to enter the country with her husband when the New Zealand emigration board ruled she was not eligible for residency. Her failing? Having a BMI greater than 35.

Thinking the case could have been sensationalized in the press, I wanted to track down the details for myself. My line of inquiry led me to the Emigrate New Zealand and their discussion forum on “medicals,” the mandatory physicals taken by those who wish to live in New Zealand. Sure enough, BMI is enough to get a person blacklisted.

Why?

It’s all about the money.

From The Medical Examiner’s Handbook:

New Zealand has a publicly funded health system. Over recent years pressure on this system has grown, with the demand for services in some instances outweighing available funding and resources. Within this context, concern has also grown about the impact of migrants on the health and special education services that are in short supply. Migrants to New Zealand have always had to have an acceptable standard of health to be granted temporary entry to, or residence in, New Zealand.

Simply being obese disqualifies a person from receiving an acceptable standard of health certificate. Potential health problems associated with obesity could eventually cost the medical system money, so the answer is to bar fat people from entry, without consideration of fitness or health. It doesn’t matter whether the emigrant is there on a needed worker visa, or is a family member of someone who is. Weigh too much, forget it. The acceptable weight worker can enter, but only if s/he leaves the obese spouse or child behind.

It’s easy to excuse discrimination based on weight. But that reasoning so easily expands to cover other situations. For example, having a child in need of special education is enough to have that child’s entrance refused as well. I can think of a long list of conditions that are expensive to treat, including bipolar and many physical disabilities. I don’t believe my disorder invalidates the contribution I can make to society or an employer, above and beyond the cost of my treatment. The same is true of weight.

I wish New Zealand would recognize that.

In the last 4 years, 3,863 American soldiers have died in Iraq.

In 2005 alone, at least 6,256 soldiers took their own lives.

Now tell me we don’t have a mental health crisis in the military.

Via the (UK) Times Online

Read more at Have Coffee Will Write

Disgusted by eavesdropping without a warrant, suspending the Writ of Habeas Corpus and other abuses, but still trying to give Bush and Company the benefit of the doubt? Contribute to his education and perhaps his actions will change. (Hey, I don’t believe it either, but it’s worth a try.)

Join the Center for Constitutional Rights plan to bombard the White House with copies of the Constitution. For a voluntary donation of $2.50 you can add your protest to that of others who believe that the supreme duty of the President of the United States is to uphold, protect and defend it.

The suggested accompanying letter:

Dear President Bush:
Enclosed please find a copy of the U.S. Constitution. I wish you’d make some time in your busy schedule to read it.

I would have hoped that you’d be pretty familiar with it already, because you have at least three times in your life taken a solemn oath to uphold, protect and defend it, but all the signs indicate that you either don’t know what’s in it, or you don’t care.

For example, do you recall what the Constitution says about habeas corpus? It’s only 26 words, and they are very clear: “The Privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it.”

So, what were you thinking when you signed the Detainee Treatment Act, which does precisely what the Constitution forbids by suspending habeas corpus?

And while you’re at it, why not take a look at Article VI, part of which seems to have escaped your notice: “This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land.”

If you understand that treaties are the law of the land, where do you get the nonsense you put out on a regular basis about torture? Because, as surely someone in the White House must be aware, the U.S. is a signatory to the international Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment.

The convention against torture makes a clear statement, which (according to the Constitution) is the “Law of the Land:” “For the purposes of this Convention, the term ‘torture’ means any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person for such purposes as obtaining from him or a third person information or a confession, punishing him for an act he or a third person has committed or is suspected of having committed, or intimidating or coercing him or a third person, or for any reason based on discrimination of any kind, when such pain or suffering is inflicted by or at the instigation of or with the consent or acquiescence of a public official or other person acting in an official capacity.”

Just read it, Mr. President. And then uphold, protect and defend it, like you swore you would.

You can donate to the effort here. They take credit cards.

This week a friend asked me, in email, why I’d taken my photo off the page. I told her it was because I couldn’t stand looking at it anymore. What I see with my eyes doesn’t match what I see with my mind. I’ve had a love/hate relationship with my public face for quite some time, and I’m on a downward swing with that lately. I’ll put a pic up for months at a time, then one day I can’t bear looking at it anymore, so I take it down. Eventually the revulsion retreats and I post another one, only for the cycle to begin again.

I’ve spent some time thinking about why. My body has changed over the years, but my mind hasn’t kept up. What I see in the mirror on good days is a time warp back to 1980.

When I was young, I prided myself on being “natural.” No makeup, long black hair that I trimmed myself, bare legs and bare feet, jeans and t-shirts, with the occasional denim skirt if I needed to dress up and a hand-me-down leather bomber jacket when it got cold. I’ve never been beautiful, or even really pretty, but I was distracting enough in short skirts and red high heels that I paid for my college textbooks on Friday evenings hustling pool at Puff’s Lounge.

At 21, I could pull that off.

I’m not 21 anymore.

A lot has changed since then. One of the few things that remain of those days is the jacket, which I very reluctantly replaced last month but couldn’t bring myself to discard. Moisturizer and make-up, control top pantyhose, and underwire bras have become necessities. The first “getting older” change I made, when I was barely 22, was my hair. When I had my first baby, I cut it. I hated it short but that’s what grownups did, my mother told me. They cut their hair. And I was a grownup whether I was ready to be or not. So I gritted my teeth and watched the locks fall to the floor, feeling a piece of me pass away forever.

Then, when I hit 32 and my youngest was past the hair-pulling stage, I got rebellious and let it grow down my back again. My mother was aghast, but I ignored her. Unfortunately, my face was rounder than before, and the ironing board straight length didn’t work anymore. I didn’t want to cut it again, so I permed it. I know, how 80s, right? But I loved it. I kept it long and curly for another 14 years. Then a year ago, at my daughter’s urging, I cut it to shoulder length and let it go straight.

I hated it.

I gave it a year, but in that whole time I never liked the way I looked. Each morning when I looked in the mirror, I stared at a stranger. A stranger who looked nothing like the me I remembered.

So yesterday I changed that. I got my hair permed again. Softer than before, but still curls. I feel guilty that it’s not the “natural” me, that a true feminist would embrace, and I feel guilty admitting it here, but when I look in the mirror I see myself again. I like what I see, even if it does involve artificial hair, artificial color and artificial makeup. I was so tired of hating that mirror. No matter how wrong this is, I needed this.

But yeah, I feel ashamed. I should be stronger than that. But I’m not.

Now I’m going to let it grow another 6 inches.

Chirag Mehta is giving away this free 2008 pdf printable calendar featuring LOL Cats. Cute stuff.

Seems like they just never get tired of the “Blame The Victim” game. This latest installment of crap comes to us from James Martin Davis, the defense lawyer for Kelsey Peterson, the 25-year-old teacher who fled to Mexico with her 13-year-old former student. In true slimeball fashion, he’s running down the child in the press, knowing the boy can’t defend himself.

You’ve got to love these quotes. From CNN:

• “It’s my understanding he was grooming her and she wasn’t grooming him.”
• “I see true victims every day. This young man is no victim.”
• “The information I have is that he might be older. The kid is sophisticated. He shaves, he has a mustache. I’ll be requesting his original birth certificate from the Mexican consulate. I think he had one here, but I don’t know if anyone vouched for its authenticity.”

Were he female, the blame game would be easier to see. “She seduced him. He didn’t hold a knife to her throat. She looks like she’s at least 16. How could he resist that?” Placing blame on a male victim is just as out of line.

Teachers exploiting students is wrong. Period. It doesn’t matter if the offender is male or female, or whether the child is 12 or 17. Those in a position of power should never cross that line. No amount of victim-bashing changes that, and I’m disgusted with CNN for letting him spout this garbage without calling him on it.

I wish I could hold him in contempt of decency.

I just took a phone message for Tony. It’s “imperative” that he contact the Army, who can be reached 24 hours a day at an 800 number, immediately. Immediately, the caller repeated. It’s “imperative” that they speak with him now.

What bullshit.

The intent of this call, and this phrasing, was to issue a mock warning. They would have liked to convince me that he was somehow in trouble, and only quick action would get him off the hook. They would have liked me to pressure him into making that phone call.

Yeah, right.

I hope no one falls for this, but I’m afraid some will. They must, or the Army wouldn’t keep doing it. After all, they’ve got to hit their goal of 4,500 fresh bodies a month, despite mounting casualties in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Tony won’t be one of them. This is one message that won’t get delivered.

I know I don’t have a lot of formal education, but I didn’t expect it would be this bad. To make myself feel better, I’ll quote DOF’s son: “I like simple & clear language about clever things, not clever language about boring things.” - CT Wiman

Whether that applies or not is for you to decide.

Via Decrepit Old Fool, who writes at a high school level. Like him, I killed the Cash Advance advertising link.

I held off answering these when I posted it the first time, not wanting to influence anyone else’s impressions. I think enough time has passed now that I can take a crack at Steve’s questions.

What color is fear? Brilliant, blinding white, cold as ice and just as piercing.

What sound does affection make? A soft open-throated purr

What texture does Autumn have? brittle, like fallen leaves

What shape does a conversation make? the best ones make a circle

What fabric is a kitten made of? chenille, with an emery board tongue

What noise is made by curiosity? a trill on a piccolo

What is the smell of knowledge? dusty books

How do you punctuate life? In question marks

What does death taste like? cigarette ashes

If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one there to hear it, what kind of tree is it? A lonely, solitary scrub pine.