Tag: valentine's day
Would Nursing Home Profiteers Kill Granny To Boost Earnings?

Would Nursing Home Profiteers Kill Granny To Boost Earnings?

There are industries that occasionally do something rotten. And there are industries — like Big Oil, Big Pharma and Big Tobacco — that persistently do rotten things.

Then there is the nursing home industry, where rottenness has become a core business principle. The end-of-life "experience" can be rotten enough on its own, with an assortment of natural indignities bedeviling us, and good nursing homes help gentle this time. In the past couple of decades, though, an entirely unnatural force has come to dominate the delivery of aged care: profiteering corporate chains and Wall Street speculators.

The very fact that this essential and sensitive social function, which ought to be the domain of health professionals and charitable enterprises, is now called an "industry" reflects a total perversion of its purpose. Some 70 percent of nursing homes are now corporate operations run by absentee executives who have no experience in nursing homes and who're guided by the market imperative of maximizing investor profits. They constantly demand "efficiencies" from their facilities, which invariably means reducing the number of nurses, which invariably reduces care, which means more injuries, illness... and deaths. As one nursing expert rightly says, "It's criminal."

But it's not against the law, since the industry's lobbying front — a major donor to congressional campaigns — effectively writes the laws, which allows corporate hustlers to provide only one nurse on duty, no matter how many patients are in the facility. When a humane nurse-staffing requirement was proposed last year, the lobby group furiously opposed it... and Congress dutifully bowed to industry profits over grandma's decent end-time. After all, granny doesn't make campaign donations.

So, as a health policy analyst bluntly puts it, "The only kind of groups that seem to be interested in investing in nursing homes are bad actors." To help push for better, contact TheConsumerVoice.org.


To find out more about Jim Hightower and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators webpage at www.creators.com.

Reprinted with permission from Creators.

Lofting Love's Arrow To The Incarcerated On This Valentine's Day

Lofting Love's Arrow To The Incarcerated On This Valentine's Day

Cupid’s been called an angel, a cherub, a “studly immortal” man, a god. I can’t find a reasonable explanation why, in 2022, an armed baby represents love but he does.

In any form, Cupid is essentially a connector. And he doesn’t pass over prisons and jails.

Valentine's Day is the busiest season at Flikshop. Founded in 2011 by Marcus Bullock, a man who had just finished an eight year sentence in a Virginia prison for a crime he committed at age 15, Flikshop connects families and friends to incarcerated loved ones through postcards ordered through its app. Flikshop users choose photos on their devices to design a postcard that the company prints and mails to the recipient. Right now, 2700 facilities accept Flikshop postcards. They cost about 99 cents.

The pandemic badly strained communications for the incarcerated. Visits were understandably canceled due to viral surges — as of December 2021, 47 state corrections systems had resumed visits while four had not — but those cancellations kicked off a cascade of closed connections. Without in-person visits, video visits (where they’re available), telephone, and written communications were the only options.

But video visits and telephone calls are notoriously expensive. A few states allowed free phone calls but they are evaporating as visits phase back in.

Free phone calls were fraught with problems, too. At the pandemic’s outset, at least 300,000 prisoners were locked down, a status that denied them phone calls since phones are located in common or recreation areas and lockdowns confine people to their cells. Even when they were allowed to call, some had to squeeze a shower and a call into short periods of time.

That left letters, but even they hit a snag. Facilities are increasingly banning physical mail. The Florida Department of Correction refused to deliver Christmas cards to survivors of prison rape.

Flikshop, though, snuck through the system because Bullock, a prison insider, designed the company’s services knowing how a correctional facility mailroom operates; namely, postcards get delivered quickest because they’re essentially incapable of smuggling contraband.

Correctional facilities have embraced postcards and swapped out traditional letters in exchange. Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio, the infamous “Sheriff Joe”, limited all non-legal mail to postcards in 2007. Arpaio invested time and energy into conceiving humiliating and cruel twists on the carceral experience. From housing inmates in tents in scorching heat (a practice that ended in 2017 when he lost reelection), forcing male prisoners to wear pink, and piping patriotic music and opera into the halls for 12 hours per day, Arpaio proved to be as petty as he was punitive.

To emulate Arpaio, sheriffs in twelve more states — California, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Kansas, Michigan, Missouri, Oregon, Tennessee, Utah, and Washington — have gone postcard only.

Flikshop was ready for the switch.

The reason why administrators restrict the ways inmates can talk to people on the outside isn’t cruelty (although that’s part of it); it’s the cupidity of private corporations. Canceling visits redirects people to pay-per video visits. Instead of guards opening the mail and searching it for contraband, some prisons have privatized mail delivery. A company in Florida receives it, scans it, and forwards it back to the prison where it’s delivered to the recipient electronically and the inmate has to pay prison predator JPay to access it. The same is done to the postcards even though they pose no threat.

While the studies examining the effect of communications in any form on recidivism are clear — visits, phone calls, and letters reduce the chance of reoffending — advocates may give too much credit to phone calls/letters/visits. Communication with people outside means aid awaits those prisoners when they’re released. When discharged from custody, they’re the ones who have the best chances of staying out because they have concerned parties to buoy them. In short, it’s not the communication; it’s the source of the communication — and the material support they offer on release — that reduces re-offending.

No matter how much one credits the studies demonstrating that visits lower recidivism, the upshot is that calls, cards, and visits send the message that someone matters. That can be transformative by itself.

But the real reason why removing or restricting connections can complicate rehabilitation is that these chats and notes expand a prisoner’s worldview. Institutionalization pounds a victim mentality into perpetrators. Many of them are victims, but a plaintive undertow permeates a prison and drags inmates under. Confined persons recycle the same conversations; complaining becomes recreation. I can’t say connections give hope but they do give respite from a damaging, downer culture.

Especially since they were one of the only options for quick communications during the pandemic, Flikshop’s postcards have become the perfect paper peepholes to the outside.

Flikshop developed an “Angel” system that allows anyone — volunteer cupids, if you will — to purchase Flikshop credits for families who can’t afford them, as reasonably priced as they are. As of February 1, 2022, eight signed up to be Angels. Flikshop wants to connect 100,000 families. To date, they’ve distributed 5520 credits using Angel contributions.

The average adult in the United States spends $175 on Valentine's presents and cards, a number guaranteed a pump from inflation and the supply-chain chokehold on heart-shaped boxes this year. Flikshop postcards are the cheapest Valentine’s greetings anyone can buy. If Cupid overlooked you, take over and draw back your bows: at Flikshop, ten bucks puts an arrow through the heart of alienation.

Click here to sign up to be a Flikshop Angel.

Chandra Bozelko did time in a maximum-security facility in Connecticut. While inside she became the first incarcerated person with a regular byline in a publication outside of the facility. Her “Prison Diaries" column ran in The New Haven Independent, and she later established a blog under the same name that earned several professional awards. Her columns now appear regularly in The National Memo.

For Valentine’s Day, A Tender Tale Of Love And Meatballs

For Valentine’s Day, A Tender Tale Of Love And Meatballs

By Julia della Croce (Zester Daily)

It’s that time of year when a rash of stories appears to suggest, despite hard science to the contrary, that certain foods — oysters, chocolate or what have you — fire up the libido. A recipe, on the other hand, can have a different kind of romantic power. It might stir up memories or evoke our roots, allowing us to mingle, in a metaphorical way, with our ancestors. For some people, certain foods, whether pasta or potatoes, are imbued with symbolic meaning. The Umbrians, for example, link love and meatballs. Their region, coincidentally, is the birthplace of St. Valentine, the patron saint of lovers, affianced couples and happy marriages (not to mention beekeepers, plagues, epilepsy and fainting episodes).

THE LORE AND LURE OF THE MEATBALL

According to the late Umbrian cookbook writer Guglielma Corsi in her classic Un Secolo di Cucina Umbra (“A Century of Umbrian Cooking”), it was once a custom among country people for a prospective mother-in-law to invite her son’s bride-to-be for a home-cooked meal the day before their wedding and present her with a platter of meatballs. The future mother-in-law would offer her one, impaled on a fork, saying, “Daughter-in-law, may you be the joy of my home. Will you bring discord or union?” The bride was meant to answer, of course, “Union,” after which the mother-in-law would respond, “Then eat your polpettina.” A promise of domestic harmony, sealed with a meatball. It’s perhaps not a surprising custom considering Umbria’s Etruscan ancestors, those mysterious first settlers of Italy who, historians tell us, believed that every food harbored a spirit.

In the years since I first crisscrossed Umbria to study its traditions and foods, I, too, have come to believe that a good meatball is a talisman for domestic happiness. Thinking like an Etruscan, I can equate its plumpness as a symbol of abundance, its spherical form with wholeness, good health and the infinite potential of love. Who, in any case (vegetarians aside), doesn’t love a good meatball?

RECIPE VARIATIONS AROUDN THE WORLD

As with everything else Italian, there is controversy about what constitutes a meatball’s proper structure. For the tenderest meatballs, some say to add water to the ground meat mixture; others add ricotta. Still others swear by blending in sausage meat or pancetta — fat makes for both flavor and moistness. Signora Corsi’s polpettine, a complex blend of three different fresh-ground meats as well as prosciutto, two kinds of cheese, egg, garlic, lemon zest, bread and marjoram, are probably as close to perfection as a meatball can come. But the Bolognese, who consider their cuisine unparalleled, like theirs “straight up,” with no fillers added to the meat, egg, and herb mixture. The succulence of their polpette is because of the addition of a healthy dose of minced mortadella. The Neapolitans sometimes add sultanas and pine nuts to theirs, a Baroque touch befitting their city. The Sardinians may use rice instead of bread, especially for meatballs that will be served at wedding feasts.

The meatball universe extends well beyond Italy. The Greeks spice them with cumin and oregano. A Colombian chef I know grinds together lamb and chorizo, then coats the meatballs with romesco sauce after cooking. A Spanish friend who runs a superb little restaurant near my house adds ground anise seeds to a mixture of beef, pork and veal, which he roasts in his wood-fired clay oven before serving the meatballs with a dollop of burrata in a puddle of tomato sauce. Persian recipes may blend yellow split peas with ground meat, pine nuts or dried fruits. Turkish mixtures are perfumed with cinnamon or saffron. And so on around the world.

I love them all, but the most tender is the result of a recipe I came up with one summer when the eggplants in my garden dangled from their vines ready for the picking, and I had just brought home a couple of pounds of fresh-ground lamb from the market. I roasted the eggplants until they were entirely collapsed and smoky, scooped out their flesh and plied the pulp with the meat mixture gingerly (overworking it results in a rubbery texture). I added scarce other ingredients besides garlic, rosemary and plenty of parsley — as anyone who is as fond of lamb as I am knows, the meat alone packs a big flavor punch. The eggplant sweetens and foils its gaminess.

No matter which kind of meatballs you make, there are many ways to serve them. Sometimes I offer them as an appetizer, threaded onto rosemary skewers. I might whip together hummus, Greek yogurt and cumin for a dip. Probably everyone’s favorite is meatballs al pomodoro. The color red is a universal symbol of love, passion and happiness, so that’s how I suggest you serve them on Valentine’s Day, whether you are feeding kin, friends, or lovers.

LAMB AND EGGPLANT MEATBALLS IN SIMPLE TOMATO SAUCE

Prep time: 40 minutes

Cook time: About 40 minutes

Total time: About 1 hour 20 minutes

Yield: 20 meatballs

INGREDIENTS

1 medium eggplant

1 cup day-old sturdy bread such as sourdough or country loaf, crusts removed and cut into 1/4-inch cubes (2 ounces trimmed weight)

1 egg

Scant 1 teaspoon fine sea salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black or white pepper

1 large clove garlic, minced

1 pound ground lamb leg or shoulder

3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley

2 tablespoons fresh minced rosemary or 2 teaspoons dried crushed rosemary

Extra virgin or pure olive oil for frying

2 cups homemade meatless tomato sauce of your choice

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat an oven to 400 F.

2. Grease a baking sheet lightly with olive oil. Cut the eggplant in half lengthwise and place each half face down on it. Roast about 30 minutes, until it is entirely collapsed, soft and lightly charred on the cut side. Meanwhile, place the bread cubes in a shallow soup bowl and cover with water. Soak until moistened, several minutes. Drain and squeeze excess water from the bread.

3. When the eggplant is cool enough to handle, cut off the stem. Chop finely.

4. In an ample mixing bowl, whisk together the egg, sea salt, pepper and garlic. Stir in the prepared bread cubes. Use your hands to break them up until they are well blended with the egg mixture. Add the chopped eggplant, ground lamb, parsley and rosemary. Using your fingers, mix the ingredients together without overworking them. If you have time, chill the mixture before forming the meatballs; this step can help you shape it into perfectly round spheres, but it is not essential.

5. With wet hands, form the mixture into equally sized balls about 1 1/4 inches in diameter, no larger than golf balls.

6. Prepare a platter with two layers of paper towels next to the burner over which you will be cooking. In an ample skillet or frying pan, pour enough olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan and warm it over medium heat. Fry the meatballs in batches to avoid overcrowding; there should be plenty of room around each for proper searing. When they have developed a light crust and look golden brown, about 10 minutes, transfer them to the paper towels to drain. If necessary, drain off smoky oil and add fresh oil to the pan to prevent the bits that settle on the bottom from burning. Warm the oil once again and finish frying.

7. If you are serving the meatballs in tomato sauce, warm it in a saucepan over medium heat and slip the browned meatballs into them. Cook them through, about 20 minutes. Serve at once. If you plan to make the meatballs in advance, cool and store them, with or without the tomato sauce, in a covered storage container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days. Alternatively, freeze them for up to 3 months.

Copyright 2016 Julia della Croce via Zester Daily and Reuters Media Express

Photo: Lamb and eggplant meatballs in tomato sauce for Valentine’s Day. Credit: Copyright 2016 Nathan Hoyt/Forktales

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