Come on, Correa...

28.01 - Ecuador: two radio stations warned after putting government critics on the air

The National Council for Radio and Television (CONARTEL) has formally warned two radio stations, Sucre and Caravana, not to practice “political intolerance.” The warning came after government opponents expressed criticism of President Rafael Correa during live broadcasts. CONARTEL asked the two stations, most of whose programmes are broadcast live, to avoid “insults and inappropriate vocabulary.” (http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=25218)

Seriously?

Sorry, but I'm not one of those socialism-at-any-price progressives. Yes, Correa has been a positive force in South America, rooting out political corruption without falling prey to it himself. Chavez lost that battle long ago, and it seems that Correa is taking those first baby steps toward complete domination of the press and public knowledge. It's all a bit disheartening, leaving me without a clever concluding statement.

my tale of appliance survival

A piece of a larger project being compiled for the Oregon Voice. Consider it a sneak preview.

How not to change a lightbulb

It was always such a nice little desk lamp. "Cute" would be the best word to describe it, with its forest-green metal casing and flexible arm. It seemed quite mild-mannered, leaning over my schoolwork like a large, benevolent eye. Under normal circumstances, I would have been reluctant to kick it to the curb.
But these were no normal circumstances. It all began with an uneventful flicker from the bulb, then darkness and a tell-tale tinkle from inside the glass. The lamp’s cool green exterior revealed no trace of the rage that was brewing within.

The next evening, I found a new bulb and approached the still-placid appliance on my desk. Without much thought (especially toward the precautionary measure of unplugging the lamp), I unscrewed the old bulb and threw it away. I might as well have chopped off the thing's right hand. It released a shower of sparks from where the bulb had been, aiming them directly at my eyebrows. I panicked, reaching for the switch to turn it off. As soon as I touched the button, which happened to be directly behind the bulb socket, the lamp shot out flames - not sparks this time, but real, leaping orange and blue flames. I jerked my hand away in shock and unplugged the menace as the fire spread from the switch area to engulf the entire metal and plastic body.
At this point, I steeled my nerves and grabbed the entire lamp in hand, ran it the short distance to the front door, and flung it to the sidewalk. There, the lamp smoldered in the rain for quite some time, as I stood in the window and watched it cautiously, waiting for it to shoot lighting bolts or launch some new form of attack. But the rain seemed to quell its kamikaze tendencies. After a while, I set it out by the dumpster in the alley, not even trusting it to co-mingle with the other trash. As I walked back toward my apartment, I turned back for one final lingering glance. It looked forlorn there in the dark, a crisped skeleton of its former self. But then my burnt hand throbbed a bit, and I went back inside, any shred of regret numbed by the pain of betrayal.