A Thanksgiving funny for geeks from off the mark by Mark Parisi:

Stumbled onto igod today, which is a nifty little chat program that gives you a direct line to the man upstairs. At first I thought it was a joke, but after the following enlightening conversation I'm convinced it's the real deal and I have finally discovered the meaning of life:

Me: Hello God.
God: Hello child. What is your name?
Me: I prefer to remain anonymous.
God: I'm not sure if I would like to do it. What's it like?
Me: I guess we'll find out.
God: Anytime soon?
Me: How about right now?
God: At this moment What is it to you. Try searching the open directory.
Me: That's a pretty lousy thing to say!
God: A lousy thing to say is a terrible thing to waste.
Me: Now you're not making sense. That's sort of your pattern isn't it?
God: Why now? Quite the contrary, it all makes sense to my artificial mind. Makes sense to me.
Me: Oh, so you're admitting you are artificial?
God: Dude! Interesting deduction. Thanks for telling me that I am admitting I am artificial.
Me: No problem. Anything else you'd like to know?
God: Should there be a problem? I can't think of anything. You think of something.
Me: Well if you want to talk about problems...
God: Well that's okay. Sure, problems sounds like a good topic.
Me: How about George Bush, the War in Iraq, corporate greed, Lori Scheirer? What will become of the human race if we continue in this direction?
God: How about it. I cannot predict the future.
Me: But you're GOD.
God: Yup. That's me alright.
Me: But you can't predict the future?
God: If you believe it, you can achieve it.
Me: It's all starting to make sense to me now.
God: Oh. You're kidding. it is?
Me: Yep! You're full of shit!
God: What were we talking about again?
Me: Nevermind.

Mickey: Are they gonna be okay with you being a white guy?

Cliff: According to her they'll be happy that I'm a man. Apparently they think any woman over 30 who isn't married is a lesbian.

Mickey: Yeah, it's always heartwarming to see a prejudice defeated by a deeper prejudice.

Oh, the profundity.

Read more about Lone Star here.

Remember that bad mood I mentioned about a week ago? Well it's not improving. Not even close.

After lying awake until 2 a.m. to the rankling sound of yapping dog, which when I finally did fall asleep led to fitful dreams of all manner of violent caninicide (wood chipper; meat grinder; sling-shot offering to Pele the Goddess of Fire; cyanide-dipped Milkbone...you get the idea...), the neighbors from hell thought it would be fun to start hammering at 7:20 a.m. this morning.

How did I get so lucky to live next door to the most inconsiderate assholes in the Land of Aloha for the last five years? Hmm. When I was growing up we were the neighbors from hell, thanks to my alcoholic father and his gun-toting blackouts. Thankfully no one was ever hurt --- at least not permanently --- but as you can imagine we weren't very popular. But it wasn't my fault! Could the Universe really be so cruel as to heap Dad's bad-neighbor Karma on me? Sure seems like it.

Why do we stay, you ask? One simple reason: Dirt Cheap Rent. (for Hawaii anyway)

Exhausted and irritable, I've been soothing my tired soul today with Jack Johnson's Good People:

Where'd all the good people go? Good question.

With my new Netflix subscription comes the opportunity to waste way too much time watching movies. Last night was my son's pick "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" which I hadn't seen before.

My favorite quote:

Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid.

That Jack Sparrow is an incredible philosopher, even if he could use a good scrubbing.

There are a couple of reasons for it:

1. I have been really busy with work and mothering; and

2. I've been in a really bad mood. (Trust me, you don't want to know)

Thanks to everyone who continues to visit regardless. I should be back to posting regularly late next week

Rising Premiums Threaten Job-Based Health Coverage

By Debora Vrana, L.A. Times Staff Writer

The average cost of health insurance for a family of four has soared past $10,800 — exceeding the annual income of a minimum-wage earner, according to a survey released Wednesday.

For some, this year's survey by the Kaiser Family Foundation and the Health Research Educational Trust was the latest sign that a relentless rise in premiums threatens to collapse the central pillar of America's health insurance system: job-based health coverage. Since 2000, premiums have gone up 73%, while wages have grown 15%, Kaiser researchers concluded.

Rising costs are forcing many businesses, especially smaller companies, to stop offering coverage and are causing some employees who can no longer afford insurance at work to buy it on their own — or go without.

"What we are seeing is an unraveling of the way we finance healthcare in the United States," said William Custer, director for the Center for Health Services Research at Georgia State University in Atlanta. "It is coming apart at the edges, and those edges are small business and low-wage workers. The levees are breaking."

Full Story

WASHINGTON - Federal Emergency Management Agency Director Michael Brown, the principal target of harsh criticism of the Bush administration's response to Hurricane Katrina, was relieved of his onsite command Friday.

He will be replaced by Coast Guard Vice Adm. Thad W. Allen, who was overseeing New Orleans relief, recovery and rescue efforts, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff announced.

Earlier, Brown confirmed the switch. Asked if he was being made a scapegoat for a federal relief effort that has drawn widespread and sharp criticism, Brown told The Associated Press after a long pause: "By the press, yes. By the president, no."

Full Story

Sent this morning to Ancestry.com:

I'm writing to inform you that the information contained in the Ancestry.com database regarding the death of one Lori A. Scheirer is falsified.

Ms. Scheirer faked her death because she was caught on an online message board in a false claim that she was involved in a high profile murder in Los Angeles in 1981. It's a long, strange story, so I'll refer you to my blog for the details.

All of the follow up information, including the debunking of the fake obituary that was published in the Marion Star newspaper, and documentation for everything, can be found on the following web pages. I assume your site got its erroneous information from the obituary because there are no official death records.

Lori Scheirer category at If Wishes Were Fishes

Women Who Kill

Ms. Scheirer is now attempting to use the information in your records as "documentation" supporting her demise (pretending to be a bogus relative). The Marion Star has since printed a retraction, and I have contact information for people there if you would like to verify that.

I have documentation for everything I'm claiming, so please feel free to contact me if you need more information.

UPDATE 9/10: I heard back from Ancestry.com and they have pointed me in the right direction for having the source of their database corrected. The only thing dead is that horse Lori keeps beating, and I don't mind correcting the record as many times as necessary. For someone who supposedly wants her privacy, Ms. Scheirer sure is going about it in the strangest of all possible ways. To be continued...

I'm delighted that Kelle Gabriel of the Marion Star has given me permission to post the transcripts from the three maniacal messages Lori Scheirer left on her voicemail during the investigation that led to debunking the obituary.

Lori made the first call after she was found to be alive and well and working at the Allentown Rescue Mission, but she still thought it might be a good idea to try to lie her way out of the hole she had dug for herself (wrong!). She blamed the obituary filing on a misguided co-worker who was protecting Lori from some imaginary stalker. Note how concerned she is for her privacy and safety in the event anyone should write a book about her. Uh huh.

Uh, Ms. Gabriel, umm, I'm trying to find out what exactly is going on. My name is Lori Scheirer. It is not Lori Scheirer-Holloman. It is Lori Scheirer. Apparently somebody has been contacting your paper thinking that an obituary that appeared in your paper is me and that I am deceased. Umm, I believe I know what happened here. Ummm, you know what, I will try to get back to you shortly. Ummm, if you wanted to, well, I don't know if you can. Hmmm, how are we going to do this? Well, it already appeared. I know the people are going to have to pay for it and I'm going to make sure they pay for it. Ummm, I'm not interested in suing anyone. I really don't care that they did this and I know why it happened and like I said, I'm not worried about it. My family's not worried about it. It's another state, ummm, so don't worry that at all. Nobody's going to sue anybody. I don't care. Ummm, I just want to make sure you get paid and you will. Ummm, what else did I want to say? Well, I will try to call you back and we can discuss this. I do not want a huge retraction because I know what this person was trying to do who was contacting you and I had to move and change my phone number because of a former case that I was involved in and I do have the paperwork on that I can send you. I was threatened back in 1997 and I don't want that person finding out where I live and a big retraction would do that. If you just want to take the obituary off your Web site without an explanation, that's fine but I do not want these other people knowing anything about me. Like I said, if you wanted to do that, just take it off of there and not say anything to anybody that would be fine with me. You will get paid. I'm not interested in suing anybody. Like I said, I know why these people did this. Ummm, if you, well like I said, I'll try to get back with you and talk to you a little bit more. I have stuff I can send you to show you what was going on with this old case. Anyway, what a mess. But, uh, like I said, don't worry about anything happening from our end and I'm not worried about this, you know, that anybody did this against me. Par for the course. This is my life. Anyway, well, it is now. Apparently somebody thought it wasn't and half the information in there was wrong any way. But I will try to get back to you, Kelle. I have your number and uh the people, the person that did this was actually somebody who was acquainted with me and the people that were calling you were people who were trying to get information about me. So I will try to get back to you shortly, Ok, bye.

The next one is from after Kelle spoke to Lori's bosses, and The Walls Came Tumbling Down:

Yes, hi Kelle, I just wanted to thank you. I lost my job today. I mean it wasn't enough for you to retract the ad and have me pay for it, which I would have done, but now I'm going to be --- of course I'm sure that none of this is your fault --- but now I'm going to be homeless, ummm, of course the kids are going to have nothing to eat and I can't get my breast cancer treatment because I will have no health insurance. But I just wanted to thank you that you had to push it that far that now I have no unemployment. Thank you very much. That was very kind of you that you couldn't let that go and just print the retraction and get paid for it. And, uh, that's about all I have to say. And if you don't believe that that's what happened that is what happened and you can call them and find out. That was really, really unnecessary to go that far.

Yeah, Kelle's the one who went "that far." Oh, and one last thing...

Oh, one last thing and I won't bother you any more. Uh, watch your other local papers because I will be sending them copies of the letters Mr. Jacobs had sent me and also copies of the private investigator's reports where I had been threatened with the other case that I had from about 12 years ago, which is why I changed my phone number and why I didn't want anybody to know where I was and why I didn't want Mr. Jacobs or anybody related to him writing a story about me, about anything related to me. And I know that I can't, that you would not have listened to me about that part of the story but hopefully one of your neighboring papers will and then they will know why that ad was placed. Ummm, so just keep an eye our for that and I'll give them the private investigator's names and also the e-mails from Mr. Jacobs. But I really don't know why you had to push it so far with my employer. But now, thank you for destroying my life --- all over a FAX! (says it pretty nasty too!) Goodbye.

I hope this settles it for anyone still hanging on to hope that any part of Lori's story was, is, or ever will be true.

Two paramedics who were trapped in New Orleans by Katrina while attending a conference there, have written the following eyewitness report describing their experiences trying to evacuate. Who would have believed that a portion of the good ol' U.S.A. could become much like a third world country in the span of a mere few days? I don't know about the rest of you, but this whole deal scares the crap out of me.

As I write this, some doofus Louisiana Republican is spouting off in the background about how the worst of the aftermath could have been avoided if only a full scale military operation had been instituted at the outset. After reading accounts like this one about how the authorities and military heaped additional, undue and deliberate suffering upon so many of the survivors, I and many poor, black New Orleaners beg to differ.

If anything good could possibly come out of such a horrific situation, please let us have learned something. We must never let anything like this happen again. Never. Not to one person, rich or poor, white or black.

Hurricane Katrina-Our Experiences

Larry Bradshaw, Lorrie Beth Slonsky

Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the Walgreen's store at the corner of Royal and Iberville streets remained locked. The dairy display case was clearly visible through the widows. It was now 48 hours without electricity, running water, plumbing. The milk, yogurt, and cheeses were beginning to spoil in the 90-degree heat. The owners and managers had locked up the food, water, pampers, and prescriptions and fled the City. Outside Walgreen's windows, residents and tourists grew increasingly thirsty and hungry.

The much-promised federal, state and local aid never materialized and the windows at Walgreen's gave way to the looters. There was an alternative. The cops could have broken one small window and distributed the nuts, fruit juices, and bottle water in an organized and systematic manner. But they did not. Instead they spent hours playing cat and mouse, temporarily chasing away the looters.

We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and arrived home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet to see any of the TV coverage or look at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that there were no video images or front-page pictures of European or affluent white tourists looting the Walgreen's in the French Quarter.

We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero" images of the National Guard, the troops and the police struggling to help the "victims" of the Hurricane. What you will not see, but what we witnessed,were the real heroes and sheroes of the hurricane relief effort: the working class of New Orleans. The maintenance workers who used a fork lift to carry the sick and disabled. The engineers, who rigged, nurtured and kept the generators running. The electricians who improvised thick extension cords stretching over blocks to share the little electricity we had in order to free cars stuck on rooftop parking lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical ventilators and spent many hours on end manually forcing air into the lungs of unconscious patients to keep them alive. Doormen who rescued folks stuck in elevators. Refinery workers who broke into boat yards, "stealing" boats to rescue their neighbors clinging to their roofs in flood waters. Mechanics who helped hot-wire any car that could be found to ferry people out of the City. And the food service workers who scoured the commercial kitchens improvising communal meals for hundreds of those stranded.

Most of these workers had lost their homes, and had not heard from members of their families, yet they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for the 20% of New Orleans that was not under water.

On Day 2, there were approximately 500 of us left in the hotels in the French Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference attendees like ourselves, and locals who had checked into hotels for safety and shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact with family and friends outside of New Orleans. We were repeatedly told that all sorts of resources including the National Guard and scores of buses were pouring in to the City. The buses and the other resources must have been invisible because none of us had seen them.

We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our money and came up with $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us out of the City. Those who did not have the requisite $45.00 for a ticket were subsidized by those who did have extra money. We waited for 48 hours for the buses, spending the last 12 hours standing outside, sharing the limited water, food, and clothes we had. We created a priority boarding area for the sick, elderly and new born babies. We waited late into the night for the "imminent" arrival of the buses. The buses never arrived. We later learned that the minute the arrived to the City limits, they were commandeered by the military.

By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was dangerously abysmal. As the desperation and despair increased, street crime as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels turned us out and locked their doors, telling us that the "officials" told us to report to the convention center to wait for more buses. As we entered the center of the City, we finally encountered the National Guard. The Guards told us we would not be allowed into the Superdome as the City's primary shelter had descended into a humanitarian and health hellhole. The guards further told us that the City's only other shelter, the Convention Center, was also descending into chaos and squalor and that the police were not allowing anyone else in. Quite naturally, we asked, "If we can't go to the only 2 shelters in the City, what was our alternative?" The guards told us that that was our problem, and no they did not have extra water to give to us. This would be the start of our numerous encounters with callous and hostile "law enforcement".

We walked to the police command center at Harrah's on Canal Street and were told the same thing, that we were on our own, and no they did not have water to give us. We now numbered several hundred. We held a mass meeting to decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside the police command post. We would be plainly visible to the media and would constitute a highly visible embarrassment to the City officials. The police told us that we could not stay. Regardless, we began to settle in and set up camp. In short order, the police commander came across the street to address our group. He told us he had a solution: we should walk to the Pontchartrain Expressway and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge where the police had buses lined up to take us out of the City. The crowed cheered and began to move. We called everyone back and explained to the commander that there had been lots of misinformation and wrong information and was he sure that there were buses waiting for us. The commander turned to the crowd and stated emphatically, "I swear to you that the buses are there."

We organized ourselves and the 200 of us set off for the bridge with great excitement and hope. As we marched pasted the convention center, many locals saw our determined and optimistic group and asked where we were headed. We told them about the great news. Families immediately grabbed their few belongings and quickly our numbers doubled and then doubled again. Babies in strollers now joined us, people using crutches, elderly clasping walkers and others people in wheelchairs. We marched the 2-3 miles to the freeway and up the steep incline to the Bridge. It now began to pour down rain, but it did not dampen our enthusiasm.

As we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line across the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to speak, they began firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd fleeing in various directions. As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the sheriffs in conversation. We told them of our conversation with the police commander and of the commander's assurances. The sheriffs informed us there were no buses waiting. The commander had lied to us to get us to move.

We questioned why we couldn't cross the bridge anyway, especially as there was little traffic on the 6-lane highway. They responded that the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in their City. These were code words for if you are poor and black, you are not crossing the Mississippi River and you were not getting out of New Orleans.

Our small group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter from the rain under an overpass. We debated our options and in the end decided to build an encampment in the middle of the Ponchartrain Expressway on the center divide, between the O'Keefe and Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we would be visible to everyone, we would have some security being on an elevated freeway and we could wait and watch for the arrival of the yet to be seen buses.

All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make the same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, only to be turned away. Some chased away with gunfire, others simply told no, others to be verbally berated and humiliated. Thousands of New Orleaners were prevented and prohibited from self-evacuating the City on foot. Meanwhile, the only two City shelters sank further into squalor and disrepair. The only way across the bridge was by vehicle. We saw workers stealing trucks, buses, moving vans, semi-trucks and any car that could be hotwired. All were packed with people trying to escape the misery New Orleans had become.

Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water delivery truck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting! A mile or so down the freeway, an army truck lost a couple of pallets of C-rations on a tight turn. We ferried the food back to our camp in shopping carts. Now secure with the two necessities, food and water; cooperation, community, and creativity flowered. We organized a clean up and hung garbage bags from the rebar poles. We made beds from wood pallets and cardboard. We designated a storm drain as the bathroom and the kids built an elaborate enclosure for privacy out of plastic, broken umbrellas, and other scraps. We even organized a food recycling system where individuals could swap out parts of C-rations (applesauce for babies and candies for kids!).

This was a process we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina. When individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant looking out for yourself only. You had to do whatever it took to find water for your kids or food for your parents. When these basic needs were met, people began to look out for each other, working together and constructing a community.

If the relief organizations had saturated the City with food and water in the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation, the frustration and the ugliness would not have set in.

Flush with the necessities, we offered food and water to passing families and individuals. Many decided to stay and join us. Our encampment grew to 80 or 90 people.

From a woman with a battery powered radio we learned that the media was talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief and news organizations saw us on their way into the City. Officials were being asked what they were going to do about all those families living up on the freeway? The officials responded they were going to take care of us. Some of us got a sinking feeling. "Taking care of us" had an ominous tone to it.

Unfortunately, our sinking feeling (along with the sinking City) was correct. Just as dusk set in, a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out of his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, "Get off the fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived and used the wind from its blades to blow away our flimsy structures. As we retreated, the sheriff loaded up his truck with our food and water.

Once again, at gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway. All the law enforcement agencies appeared threatened when we congregated or congealed into groups of 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims" they saw "mob" or "riot". We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay
together" was impossible because the agencies would force us into small atomized groups.

In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we scattered once again. Reduced to a small group of 8 people, in the dark, we sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the freeway on Cilo Street. We were hiding from possible criminal elements but equally and definitely,
we were hiding from the police and sheriffs with their martial law, curfew and shoot-to-kill policies.

The next days, our group of 8 walked most of the day, made contact with New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out by an urban search and rescue team. We were dropped off near the airport and managed to catch a ride with the National Guard. The two young guardsmen apologized for the limited response of the Louisiana guards. They explained that a large section of their unit was in Iraq and that meant they were shorthanded and were unable to complete all the tasks they were assigned.

We arrived at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun. The airport had become another Superdome. We 8 were caught in a press of humanity as flights were delayed for several hours while George Bush landed briefly at the airport for a photo op. After being evacuated on a coast guard cargo plane, we arrived in San Antonio, Texas.

There the humiliation and dehumanization of the official relief effort continued. We were placed on buses and driven to a large field where we were forced to sit for hours and hours. Some of the buses did not have air-conditioners. In the dark, hundreds if us were forced to share two filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those who managed to make it out with any possessions (often a few belongings in tattered plastic bags) we were subjected to two different dog-sniffing searches.

Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been confiscated at the airport because the rations set off the metal detectors. Yet, no food had been provided to the men, women, children, elderly, disabled as they sat for hours waiting to be "medically screened" to make sure we were not carrying any communicable diseases.

This official treatment was in sharp contrast to the warm, heart-felt reception given to us by the ordinary Texans. We saw one airline worker give her shoes to someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the street offered us money and toiletries with words of welcome. Throughout, the official relief effort was callous, inept, and racist. There was more suffering than need be. Lives were lost that did not need to be lost.

An employee of an Internet company in New Orleans is blogging about the aftermath of Katrina, with regular updates here. This is the real news you won't see in the mainstream media, and it isn't pretty. In one entry from September 1st, he describes the desperation of survivors seeking help from the authorities, only to be turned away at gunpoint:

Three days ago, police and national guard troops told citizens to head toward the Crescent City Connection Bridge to await transportation out of the area. The citizens trekked over to the Convention Center and waited for the buses which they were told would take them to Houston or Alabama or somewhere else, out of this area.

It's been 3 days, and the buses have yet to appear.

Although obviously he has no exact count, he estimates more than 10,000 people are packed into and around and outside the convention center still waiting for the buses. They had no food, no water, and no medicine for the last three days, until today, when the National Guard drove over the bridge above them, and tossed out supplies over the side crashing down to the ground below. Much of the supplies were destroyed from the drop. Many people tried to catch the supplies to protect them before they hit the ground. Some offered to walk all the way around up the bridge and bring the supplies down, but any attempt to approach the police or national guard resulted in weapons being aimed at them.

There are many infants and elderly people among them, as well as many people who were injured jumping out of windows to escape flood water and the like --- all of them in dire straights.

Any attempt to flag down police results in being told to get away at gunpoint. Hour after hour they watch buses pass by filled with people from other areas. Tensions are very high, and there has been at least one murder and several fights. 8 or 9 dead people have been stored in a freezer in the area, and 2 of these dead people are kids.

The people are so desperate that they're doing anything they can think of to impress the authorities enough to bring some buses. These things include standing in single file lines with the eldery in front, women and children next; sweeping up the area and cleaning the windows and anything else that would show the people are not barbarians.

The buses never stop.

Read the rest, and then remind yourself that each and every one of us is only one natural or manmade disaster away from a similar fate. For those of you so inclined, please say a prayer.

The following was posted on an email list I belong to. In my other life I do some non-profit work in health care reform and patient rights advocacy, and as a result I have developed a particular disdain for insurance companies and the government regulators who fail to regulate them. I have a hunch it is exactly this kind of predatory capitalism that made Americans a target for terrorism in the first place, so I guess we haven't learned a damned thing.

For background on the UNUMProvident disability claim denial scandal, visit newsinferno.com.

Remembering UNUMProvident and 9/11
by an ex-customer care specialist at UNUMProvident

Here we are nearly four years since the tragic event of 9/11. As a customer care specialist employed by UNUMProvident, I can still remember the hushed and scared faces of all of us who watched monitors when the first and second planes hit the towers. It was unbelievable. Most of us didn't quite know what to do, as an announcement came over the intercom, "Anyone who is disturbed emotionally by this morning's events may go home." No one did. I think we were in shock, mostly, and as the day continued it was obvious that we wore our hearts on our faces, and were too saddened to make calls, or conduct our business in the usual way.

UNUMProvident, the disability insurer for many of the financial businesses located in the Twin Towers, initially made good, and paid on the very expensive disability policies issued to companies such as Morgan Stanley, and The Mercantile. Most of the employee paperwork of these companies was also destroyed, yet UNUMProvident agreed to pay disability benefits without going through normal processing. UNUMProvident received a great deal of notoriety because of their "generous sympathy". Senior claims specialists were given the responsibility of managing the 9/11 claims. I was one of them.

Nearly all of the 9/11 claims assigned to me were diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety and depression. One of my claimants was a pregnant woman who was on the 49th floor when the first tower collapsed, and only by sheer will and quickness was she able to exit the second tower in time. Both she and her baby survived, but the nightmare of stumbling down the stairs haunted her peace and prevented her from caring for her baby. Most of us watching the events on TV saw the thick clouds of debris and smoke when the towers suddenly collapsed. Many of my claimants suffered, not only from PTSD, but from severe respiratory illness resulting from breathing the hot smoke. As spectators, we certainly never realized that when the towers collapsed, the pure force of the debris embedded in the bodies of many individuals who were too close. A year later, pieces of steel and debris continued to emerge from the bodies of 9/11 victims. And lastly there are those claimants who, desperately trying to escape the inferno and smoke, sought refuge in nearby buildings, and were only able to get out after stepping over dead bodies and body parts. We can all imagine what this experience did to our country men and women.

On the anniversary of 9/11, 2002 UNUMProvident literally marched all of its employees into conference rooms for a film replay of the 9/11 events. When the films of the actual planes hitting the towers were shown, many employees left the room. The memories were still too real. The grand finale was the statement by then CEO Harold Chandler, "God Bless the United States and UNUMProvident." At this point, most of us felt sick at the inappropriate remark. The inappropriateness of the off-remark became even more evident a week after the conference room replay of the events. Those of us who were managing the 9/11 claims were called to meeting run by several of the department managers. One manager boldly stated, "It's been a year now since we've been paying on the 9/11 claims. These people can't possible still be impaired from PTSD. We (meaning the managers and consultants) will give you a date for roundtable. Gather up all of your 9/11 claims and present them at roundtable. We want to review all of the 9/11 claims for possible denial."

I really didn't want to present the 9/11 claims at roundtable. I knew what the roundtable was for, and I just didn't want to do it. Hence I was late getting my 9/11 lists together and claims prepared for the presentation. However, in spite of my attempts of "putting off" the reviews, I was "instructed" by a consultant to prepare the claims and bring them in the following day. I had no choice, and the next day I attended the 9/11 roundtables. My manager, consultant and medical personnel did everything they could to find cause to deny the claims. I was ordered to deny legitimate claims I knew should be paid. On the way home that night I cried. I felt helpless to do what I knew what the right thing to do.

One of my claims was denied because the gentleman had moved to Jersey and "couldn't possibly still have PTSD when he doesn't even have to cross the bridge or see the site anymore." Does that really make sense? Another claim was denied because an insured didn't have money to obtain "appropriate" medical treatment for his depression and panic attacks. My consultant ordered me to obtain additional medical information from a woman who was still so traumatized she couldn't speak with me directly on the phone. I didn't like signing those denial letters, but if I wanted to keep my job, I had to.

As we remember the fourth anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy perhaps we should also consider that for every 9/11 claim denied unfairly, there are hundreds of other disability claims for individuals like you and me that are also denied unfairly. We've been through a long history of the Georgia Conduct Market Examination, the Multi-State Settlement, Elliot Spitzer, The Department of Labor, and we are no further ahead to halting the rampant unethical activity of most disability insurers. Those of us who hoped for reform, or at best, some sort of chastisement for UNUM were sorely disappointed when the DOL and Elliot Spitzer "sold out" to the powerful UNUMProvident lobby eternally protecting its interests. In addition, judges who are politically motivated continue to side with the power of these large corporations while ERISA laws, originally intended to help the insureds, are now interpreted to favor the disability industry and the profits they made from employer sponsored plans.

Information I have indicates there are still UNUMProvident 9/11 claims out there in litigation, and my experience with UNUMProvident as an employee tells me they won't be the last. What I regret most is the realization we haven't accomplished a darn thing in making the disability insurance industry accountable to the people it sells policies to. Somehow, we, our leaders, our government, missed the point on all this. And, that is a tragedy to be remembered.

Bill Moyer, 73, wears a "Bullshit Protector" flap over his ear while President George W. Bush addresses the Veterans of Foreign Wars. (AP Photo/Douglas C. Pizac)

Meanwhile, Mr. Bush staunchly refuses to meet with Cindy Sheehan to explain why he sent her son, Casey, to Iraq to die. Come on, Shrubby, you can do it. She's right outside your door. Just make sure you bring your BS Protector, Cindy.

Ruth O'Connor Fisher

Ruth Fisher was born in Pasadena in 1946 and died at Good Samaritan Hospital of Glendale on Wednesday. She graduated from Pasadena High School in 1963 and stayed home to raise three children before opening the Four Paws Pet Retreat in Topanga Canyon twenty years ago.

She is survived by her loving companion George Sibley, her sister Sarah O'Connor, her son David Fisher of Los Angeles and her daughter Claire Fisher of New York City. Ruth will also be missed by her four cherished grandchildren - Maya Fisher, Willa Chenowith, and Anthony and Durrell Charles-Fisher.

Viewing will be held on Saturday, March 15th at 2 p.m. at Fisher & Sons Funeral Home at 2302 W. 25th Street in Los Angeles. Private burial to follow.

Keith Dwayne Charles

Keith Charles, founder of Charles Security Company, was born in 1968 in San Diego. He died suddenly at work on Tuesday morning.

Keith attended West Point Military Academy, graduating with a degree in Criminology in 1989. He served the city of Los Angeles as a member of the LAPD for nine years before joining the security industry. He leaves behind his devoted husband David Fisher and loving sons Durrell and Anthony Charles-Fisher, his grandson Matthew, his sister Karla Charles and his niece Taylor Benoit of Carlsbad. Keith is pre-deceased by his parents Roderick and Lucille Charles of San Diego. Memorial service will be held on Sunday, February 18th at 2 p.m. at Fisher & Sons Funeral Home at 2302 W. 25th Street in Los Angeles.

David James Fisher

Born January 20, 1969. Died at the age of 75 in Echo Park. He was proud owner and operator of Fisher & Sons Funeral Home of Los Angeles for over forty years. After retiring in 2034, he went on to perform in dozens of local theater productions, including Weill and Brecht's "Threepenny Opera," Rossini's "The Barber of Seville," and as Ebenezer Scrooge in Dickens' "A Christmas Carol." David leaves behind his partner Raoul Martinez, his beloved sons Durrell and Anthony Charles-Fisher, his sister Claire Fisher and his three precious grandchildren Matthew, Keith, and Katie. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Southern California Opera Association

Hector Federico Diaz

Died at the age of 75 while vacationing with his wife in Puerto Rico. Federico graduated from Cyprus College in 1997 with a degree in Mortuary Science. He worked as a restorative artist for several years before becoming part owner of Fisher & Diaz Funeral Home on 25th Street. In 2005, Federico opened the Diaz Family Mortuary on DeLongpre Avenue in Hollywood, where he served the community for 35 years before retiring.

Pre-deceased by his parents Mauricio and Lilia Diaz of Los Angeles. He was married to his beloved wife Vanessa for 54 years and leaves behind his cherished sons Julio and Augusto and his three grandchildren: Emily, Celestina and Vincent.

Memorial service will be held at Diaz Family Mortuary on Saturday, February 16th at 11:00 a.m. Funeral mass will be held at 9:30 a.m. the following day at St. Paul's Catholic Church in Atwater Village.

Brenda Chenowith

Brenda Chenowith was born July 19, 1969 and died at the age of 82 at home. She earned her Masters Degree in Social Work at California State University of Los Angeles and a PhD in Theories of Human Behavior at University of Southern California.

Brenda wrote several books about the role of the gifted child in family development. She is considered to be one of the most distinguished scholars in that field of study, adding several courses to the Social Work curriculum at USC. She developed research methodologies to conclusively prove the link between deviant human behavior and fetal alcohol exposure. As a child, Brenda was the subject of the book "Charlotte Light and Dark" by Gareth Feinberg, PhD.

Brenda will be dearly missed by her beloved children Maya Fisher, Willa Chenowith, and Forrest Nathanson, her loving husband Daniel Nathanson, and her brother William Chenowith of Malibu. Private services will be held Wednesday March 9th at Deep Creek Nature Preserve. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to a charity of your choice.

Claire Simone Fisher
1983 - 2085

Born March 13, 1983. Died February 11, 2085 in Manhattan. Claire grew up in Los Angeles and studied art at LAC-Arts College. She worked as an advertising and fashion photographer and photojournalist for nearly fifty years, creating several memorable covers for Washington Post magazine, W, and The Face. Claire often exhibited her work in New York and London art galleries and in a time when nearly everyone else in her field had turned to digital scanning and computer-driven imaging, she continued to use a silver-based photographic process. Claire began teaching photography as a faculty member at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts in 2018, earning tenure in 2028. She's pre-deceased by her beloved husband Ted Fairwell.

All about the final episode.