Friday, October 31, 2008
Sustain Champlain Video: The Vermont Fresh Network
The Vermont Fresh Network - nature's where it's at. Learn more at www.champlain.edu/sustain-champlain.html
By Kristen & Marissa
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Commentary: Virus Spreads as Vermont Legislature Adjourns
A commentary written in Fall 2007 - seemed appropriate:
Early in 2007, in the time it takes most of us to do our Christmas shopping, the Vermont House and Senate introduced separate bills that would require girls enrolled in the 6th grade or higher to receive the human papillomavirus (HPV) immunization. The bills were read, assigned to committees, and then were never heard from again. When the legislature adjourned in May, the HPV bills were left in committee limbo – dying in the State House’s corridors without so much as a whimper. But I whimpered. I screamed. And now I’m fuming.
As an infection that has the ability to conceal itself within the body, HPV is an extremely dangerous sexually transmitted disease (STD). While the body has the ability to fight off some of its 200 varieties, the majority of the time the virus stays hidden until it chooses to reveal itself in the form of genital warts or cervical cancer. It is the latter development that brings HPV to the forefront of medical research, particularly when the government itself reports that 80% of women in the United States will be infected with HPV in their lifetime.
In an effort to decrease the prevalence of infection, the Food and Drug Administration approved Gardasil, a HPV vaccine, for public use in 2006. The vaccine is a quadrivalent HPV immunization that attacks the two strains of the virus, that cause 70% of cervical cancers, with nearly 100% efficiency. It is recommended that the vaccine be administered to girls age 11-12 in a 3-shot schedule; however, few girls are receiving injections and more and more people are getting the STD.
Today, 20 million people in the United States are infected with HPV and an additional 6.2 million people will be added to that number by the end of the year. As a direct result of this rate of infection, 9,710 women found out they had cervical cancer in 2006 and 3,700 of them died from the disease that same year. These numbers speak of an unsung epidemic that has left no region untouched, including our own Green Mountain State.
According to the Vermont Department of Health, 31 Vermont women are diagnosed with cervical cancer each year and an average of 10 women die from the disease. These rates are significantly higher than the national average, making it clear that Vermont needs to take preventative measures to ensure the welfare of the states’ population. The number of HPV infections that lead to death is too high when considering the lives that could be saved with a simple vaccine. But clearly the legislature has heard other view points that have discouraged any championship of the bill.
Comprised mostly of concerned parents, the HPV vaccine opposition’s primary grievance against the vaccine deals with – what else? – sex.
Parents fear that immunizing preteens against a sexually transmitted disease will promote early sexual activity. The idea is that by taking away the fear of receiving a STD there would suddenly be no barrier to prevent teenagers from having sex. However, there has been no evidence to prove that there is a link between a fear of death and abstinence or being vaccinated and having sex. As a matter of fact, immunizing a child against a potentially deadly sexually transmitted infection may one of the most practical things a parent can do considering that over 40% of teenagers have some sort of sexual activity before the age of 18. The Vermont bills even account for the parent’s right to opt out of immunizations on moral or religious grounds, but the opposition still battles on and stays close to the State House.
Without a mandatory status attached to it, the HPV vaccine will have an extremely hard time wiping the illness from the map. If only some children are vaccinated, then the effectiveness of the immunization is greatly reduced because the virus still has unprotected people to act as distribution hubs for the STD. By making the vaccination mandatory it will not only directly protect the 11-12 year olds who are immunized, but also indirectly safeguard the entire population by starting a chain of events that leads to a reduction in the number of cases of cervical cancer and the eventual irradiation of the human papillomavirus.
In addition, a mandatory status for the HPV vaccination eliminates a very real financial barrier for the general population. Each dose of Gardasil costs $120, making the cost for the 3-shot series $360, not including the doctor’s fee. If the vaccine is required by the government, insurance companies then add that vaccination to their coverage and government agencies pay for the uninsured—therefore relieving the financial burden associated with needed but optional inoculations. With the financial barrier destroyed, parents have to face the reality that this vaccination is not just another expense or directive from the government but a real, lifesaving effort. And not just for any life, but that of their child.
One day not too long ago, someone said that it was time to stop polio, measles, and diphtheria from hurting the people of this country—and they did it. Those illnesses are now gone, leaving people with only a fading memory of how things once were. Now HPV stands on that same threshold of destiny, waiting for the day when it will be unknown by the young and only a distant recollection of the old. It is time for the Vermont legislature to champion such a future and take a stance on cervical cancer by passing the HPV vaccine bill. The women of this state want a cancer free future and HPV immunizations are the first, bold step to it.
Early in 2007, in the time it takes most of us to do our Christmas shopping, the Vermont House and Senate introduced separate bills that would require girls enrolled in the 6th grade or higher to receive the human papillomavirus (HPV) immunization. The bills were read, assigned to committees, and then were never heard from again. When the legislature adjourned in May, the HPV bills were left in committee limbo – dying in the State House’s corridors without so much as a whimper. But I whimpered. I screamed. And now I’m fuming.
As an infection that has the ability to conceal itself within the body, HPV is an extremely dangerous sexually transmitted disease (STD). While the body has the ability to fight off some of its 200 varieties, the majority of the time the virus stays hidden until it chooses to reveal itself in the form of genital warts or cervical cancer. It is the latter development that brings HPV to the forefront of medical research, particularly when the government itself reports that 80% of women in the United States will be infected with HPV in their lifetime.
In an effort to decrease the prevalence of infection, the Food and Drug Administration approved Gardasil, a HPV vaccine, for public use in 2006. The vaccine is a quadrivalent HPV immunization that attacks the two strains of the virus, that cause 70% of cervical cancers, with nearly 100% efficiency. It is recommended that the vaccine be administered to girls age 11-12 in a 3-shot schedule; however, few girls are receiving injections and more and more people are getting the STD.
Today, 20 million people in the United States are infected with HPV and an additional 6.2 million people will be added to that number by the end of the year. As a direct result of this rate of infection, 9,710 women found out they had cervical cancer in 2006 and 3,700 of them died from the disease that same year. These numbers speak of an unsung epidemic that has left no region untouched, including our own Green Mountain State.
According to the Vermont Department of Health, 31 Vermont women are diagnosed with cervical cancer each year and an average of 10 women die from the disease. These rates are significantly higher than the national average, making it clear that Vermont needs to take preventative measures to ensure the welfare of the states’ population. The number of HPV infections that lead to death is too high when considering the lives that could be saved with a simple vaccine. But clearly the legislature has heard other view points that have discouraged any championship of the bill.
Comprised mostly of concerned parents, the HPV vaccine opposition’s primary grievance against the vaccine deals with – what else? – sex.
Parents fear that immunizing preteens against a sexually transmitted disease will promote early sexual activity. The idea is that by taking away the fear of receiving a STD there would suddenly be no barrier to prevent teenagers from having sex. However, there has been no evidence to prove that there is a link between a fear of death and abstinence or being vaccinated and having sex. As a matter of fact, immunizing a child against a potentially deadly sexually transmitted infection may one of the most practical things a parent can do considering that over 40% of teenagers have some sort of sexual activity before the age of 18. The Vermont bills even account for the parent’s right to opt out of immunizations on moral or religious grounds, but the opposition still battles on and stays close to the State House.
Without a mandatory status attached to it, the HPV vaccine will have an extremely hard time wiping the illness from the map. If only some children are vaccinated, then the effectiveness of the immunization is greatly reduced because the virus still has unprotected people to act as distribution hubs for the STD. By making the vaccination mandatory it will not only directly protect the 11-12 year olds who are immunized, but also indirectly safeguard the entire population by starting a chain of events that leads to a reduction in the number of cases of cervical cancer and the eventual irradiation of the human papillomavirus.
In addition, a mandatory status for the HPV vaccination eliminates a very real financial barrier for the general population. Each dose of Gardasil costs $120, making the cost for the 3-shot series $360, not including the doctor’s fee. If the vaccine is required by the government, insurance companies then add that vaccination to their coverage and government agencies pay for the uninsured—therefore relieving the financial burden associated with needed but optional inoculations. With the financial barrier destroyed, parents have to face the reality that this vaccination is not just another expense or directive from the government but a real, lifesaving effort. And not just for any life, but that of their child.
One day not too long ago, someone said that it was time to stop polio, measles, and diphtheria from hurting the people of this country—and they did it. Those illnesses are now gone, leaving people with only a fading memory of how things once were. Now HPV stands on that same threshold of destiny, waiting for the day when it will be unknown by the young and only a distant recollection of the old. It is time for the Vermont legislature to champion such a future and take a stance on cervical cancer by passing the HPV vaccine bill. The women of this state want a cancer free future and HPV immunizations are the first, bold step to it.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Voting: A Horror Story
Mark Crispin Miller scares the living daylights out of me.
He's not a scary man - well, he is a professor, so intimidation is in the genes, but he's no Hulk or Jigsaw. He's not saying things that are traditionally scary - voter suppression, voting fraud, a corrupt voting system from head to toe: whatever. He's not even revealing consequences that seem all that different from any other election, government, or country.
What scares me about Mark Cripsin Miller is that, while he and the voter integrity crowd, list out a variety of things we as citizens can do, each and every thing relies on an active public and a receptive government. Is that the reality? As a nation, I'm under the impression that we're sheeple . I am a sheeple. An annoyed yet aware sheeple, but a member of the species, nonetheless. There is a blind acceptance to our culture - information is not processed but stored, credibility is handed out to everyone like free condoms on prom night, and the neocortex is often bypassed for emotive and instinctual kicks to make us go all meg mal (Oh, Feed, your lexicon is all too convenient for this issue).
So I must ask: What is the point? Can this, in fact, be fixed? If Crispin Miller's presentation is to be believed, our nation loves any kind of fraud that has to do with voting. It's practically our foundation. Can that be removed? If the system is so far gone, what can be done short of a V for Vendetta like escapade?
I'm scared that the answer of that last question is nothing. And as a sheeple, I'm going to accept that and finish watching the election coverage of Palin and McCain talking to the President in the oval office-... oh, wait, that's SNL. My bad.
He's not a scary man - well, he is a professor, so intimidation is in the genes, but he's no Hulk or Jigsaw. He's not saying things that are traditionally scary - voter suppression, voting fraud, a corrupt voting system from head to toe: whatever. He's not even revealing consequences that seem all that different from any other election, government, or country.
What scares me about Mark Cripsin Miller is that, while he and the voter integrity crowd, list out a variety of things we as citizens can do, each and every thing relies on an active public and a receptive government. Is that the reality? As a nation, I'm under the impression that we're sheeple . I am a sheeple. An annoyed yet aware sheeple, but a member of the species, nonetheless. There is a blind acceptance to our culture - information is not processed but stored, credibility is handed out to everyone like free condoms on prom night, and the neocortex is often bypassed for emotive and instinctual kicks to make us go all meg mal (Oh, Feed, your lexicon is all too convenient for this issue).
So I must ask: What is the point? Can this, in fact, be fixed? If Crispin Miller's presentation is to be believed, our nation loves any kind of fraud that has to do with voting. It's practically our foundation. Can that be removed? If the system is so far gone, what can be done short of a V for Vendetta like escapade?
I'm scared that the answer of that last question is nothing. And as a sheeple, I'm going to accept that and finish watching the election coverage of Palin and McCain talking to the President in the oval office-... oh, wait, that's SNL. My bad.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Reverse Psycology of the Voting Kind
Brain:
Neocortex: Actually tells me to write something down! Woah, unexpected use of the thinking brain... The pacing doesn't really give me much time to think about the issues presented or what I already believe, but rather aims for the retention of the
"Must vote" message.
Limbic: Quick cuts and a couple dozen different people that I can focus on at any given time. I find myself recognizing the celebrities first and then hearing what they're saying, but, as the pacing is rather fast, it quickly becomes about recognition rather than understanding. Also, they're asking me I feel about the issues, not think.
Shifts:
Epistemological: Word to image: Inserting an argument that could and has been used in word into a visual format
Technological: Analog to digital: Video on Youtube would otherwise not be able to be shared if it was not digital
Personal: Mass to participatory: Posting on Youtube and asking the viewer go to the link at the bottom of the video to register and then to send to 5 friends.
Aesthetic: Discrete to convergence: Video inserts link to registration site
Principles:
Production Techniques: Black border to highlight website, same white background for all celebrities, grittier shooting style (moving and shaking with inconsistent zooming), bright lighting, editing so the celebrities are almost finishing each other's sentences, interaction between website graphic and celebrities
Value Message: Voting is important via reverse psychology - technique to connect to a younger audience. Use cool, hip celebrities - voting is cool, voting is smart, voting is power/choice.
Persuasion:
Testimonial - Celebrities (may award winning)
Beautiful People - Celebrities
Flattery - "You're obviously smart enough to play scrabble on this thing..."
Repetition - "Don't vote," "Register," "Send to 5 people"
Maybe - "Could vote if you cared about..."
Humor- "It's like herpes, but in a good way!" "I never did shit on drugs except Halo 2"
Name calling -"Voting is stupid!"
Simple Solutions -"It's right here!"
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Media Blog: Ode to My Home
Stillness was a mystery in my household. This rings true not because of a slew of adventurous siblings, a pack of cantankerous pets, or even a rotating cast of visiting family and friends stumbling through my house, but rather the opposite – there was no one in my home. My parents and I lived happily and amused, but in a subdued nature that called for the outsourcing of ruckus. May it be the buzz of AM radio, the subtle but distinct whishing of turning pages, the pitter-patter of fingers on keyboard, or the unobtrusive hum of hapless nonsense on the television screen, my home was brought to life on a daily basis with the advent of media. However, in the same vein, the absence of such media ended the very life I had grown to love so much in my few years of existence.
The house changed when the magazines stopped coming. Words like "layoff," "outsourcing," and "cutting back" meant little to my 5-year-old mind, but the absence of our weekly glossy and colorful packets in the stack of mail on the kitchen counter spoke volumes. It said change. It said different. It said bad. No longer did my father eat his lunch while flipping through his latest issue of Sporting News and answer my questions about the pictures over my grilled cheese and "apple soup." No longer did my mother read pages aloud to me from Equus Magazine during still moments at the barn while I sat on her lap. No longer did the stack of National Geographic magazines under my parent's bookshelf grow. I knew this all to be so because I watched dutifully for things to return to normal - under the watchful eye of a kindergartener nothing goes unnoticed. And so, with the absence of magazines came the nonexistence of whishing glossy pages – the pictures so bright and pages so smooth. The house became quieter without my stubby fingers caressing the pages – stiller. And yet, life went on, just with a new emphasis placed on a different kind of print media.
The household bookshelves remained in tact, even after the magazines disappeared. No one took my Bernstein Bears collection away or snatched my well worn edition of Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? On the contrary, their existence became all the more important in my mind. Books meant pictures. Books meant love. Books meant stability. Each day ended with a book of my choosing - will it be Dr Seuss' Monster in my Pocket or The Hungry Thing? No matter the selection, I would snuggle down next to one of my parents as they read and close my eyes to see the words turn into pictures in my head. There was a mouse dressed in toe shoes. There was the Sun and Moon being pushed into the sky by the Water. There was Amelia Bedelia dusting the curtains in her literal fashion. It was all there – a theatre in my head narrated by the comforting rhythm of my dad's hypnotic baritone or my mother's expressive lilt. The best thing of all was that I didn't even have to turn on the television to see my books come to life – but I did anyway.
When the magazines stopped coming, the television channels took less time to surf as my father flicked through the channels during commercial breaks. "Cutting back," apparently, was an all-encompassing concept in my household; no medium was left untouched. My television routine remained in tact, however – PBS was clearly too important to be excluded by this so-called "Basic Cable Package." Sesame Street, Shining Time Station, Reading Rainbow, and Lamb Chop made things seem less uncertain, less scary – just as the background noise of a television in an empty house is still reassuring to me to this day. The television was never off when the house was occupied - always streaming some show just loud enough to be recognizable but not a bother. (For this reason, I still know the theme song to the Guiding Light but have no memory of any of my family watching it other than for a few seconds after The Price is Right.) Always left on, the television provided a sense of security for me, even to the point of becoming my nightlight the same year we "cut back." No dark shadows were left to haunt my dreams – just the inaudible buzz of QVC's Special Value® in the wee hours of the night. And with that, life remained in my home – just a little different than before.
Stillness may have been a mystery in my household – but change was not. Change touched everything, each buzz, whish, pitter-patter, and hum of media. Each noise once added a spark to my existence, a new avenue of adventure without leaving the confines of the comforting circle of my parent's arms. Surely, media were accepted as sources of entertainment, of education, of commonality with the community, but for me they meant and mean something more: Media were stability. Media were comfort. Media were safety.
Media are home.
The house changed when the magazines stopped coming. Words like "layoff," "outsourcing," and "cutting back" meant little to my 5-year-old mind, but the absence of our weekly glossy and colorful packets in the stack of mail on the kitchen counter spoke volumes. It said change. It said different. It said bad. No longer did my father eat his lunch while flipping through his latest issue of Sporting News and answer my questions about the pictures over my grilled cheese and "apple soup." No longer did my mother read pages aloud to me from Equus Magazine during still moments at the barn while I sat on her lap. No longer did the stack of National Geographic magazines under my parent's bookshelf grow. I knew this all to be so because I watched dutifully for things to return to normal - under the watchful eye of a kindergartener nothing goes unnoticed. And so, with the absence of magazines came the nonexistence of whishing glossy pages – the pictures so bright and pages so smooth. The house became quieter without my stubby fingers caressing the pages – stiller. And yet, life went on, just with a new emphasis placed on a different kind of print media.
The household bookshelves remained in tact, even after the magazines disappeared. No one took my Bernstein Bears collection away or snatched my well worn edition of Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? On the contrary, their existence became all the more important in my mind. Books meant pictures. Books meant love. Books meant stability. Each day ended with a book of my choosing - will it be Dr Seuss' Monster in my Pocket or The Hungry Thing? No matter the selection, I would snuggle down next to one of my parents as they read and close my eyes to see the words turn into pictures in my head. There was a mouse dressed in toe shoes. There was the Sun and Moon being pushed into the sky by the Water. There was Amelia Bedelia dusting the curtains in her literal fashion. It was all there – a theatre in my head narrated by the comforting rhythm of my dad's hypnotic baritone or my mother's expressive lilt. The best thing of all was that I didn't even have to turn on the television to see my books come to life – but I did anyway.
When the magazines stopped coming, the television channels took less time to surf as my father flicked through the channels during commercial breaks. "Cutting back," apparently, was an all-encompassing concept in my household; no medium was left untouched. My television routine remained in tact, however – PBS was clearly too important to be excluded by this so-called "Basic Cable Package." Sesame Street, Shining Time Station, Reading Rainbow, and Lamb Chop made things seem less uncertain, less scary – just as the background noise of a television in an empty house is still reassuring to me to this day. The television was never off when the house was occupied - always streaming some show just loud enough to be recognizable but not a bother. (For this reason, I still know the theme song to the Guiding Light but have no memory of any of my family watching it other than for a few seconds after The Price is Right.) Always left on, the television provided a sense of security for me, even to the point of becoming my nightlight the same year we "cut back." No dark shadows were left to haunt my dreams – just the inaudible buzz of QVC's Special Value® in the wee hours of the night. And with that, life remained in my home – just a little different than before.
Stillness may have been a mystery in my household – but change was not. Change touched everything, each buzz, whish, pitter-patter, and hum of media. Each noise once added a spark to my existence, a new avenue of adventure without leaving the confines of the comforting circle of my parent's arms. Surely, media were accepted as sources of entertainment, of education, of commonality with the community, but for me they meant and mean something more: Media were stability. Media were comfort. Media were safety.
Media are home.
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