His letters are very thoughtful and interesting, and I enjoy running them. However, they’re always addressed to “editor Hans K. Meyer” who left the Desert Dispatch way back in 2004.

It amuses me to get one his letters when I’m sitting around being far too overly concerned about what I’m going to say in my next editorial. People read the newspapers for a variety of reasons, and most of them have absolutely nothing to do with anything I do.

I’ve already commented on the ridiculousness of the commission going on and on (and on and on) in their discussions of what colors are permissible on the exterior of local businesses. Is there any point, any line that we will cross where our community will turn around and say, “You know what? We don’t need your help with street names or colors, so why don’t you just stay out of it? Thanks.”

“The Desert Dispatch normally does not identify the alleged victims of sexual crimes. When the girl was first reported missing, the Dispatch initially reported her identity and personal information in order to aid with the search. Once the circumstances of her kidnapping were made clear, the Dispatch stopped identifying the girl. In order to protect the victim, the names of involved family members will not be released.”

We have a policy of explaining why when we decline to identify individuals in our stories so that readers understand our reasoning. Most newspapers don’t identify victims of sex crimes because of the social stigma sometimes directed toward the victim.
But unfortunately, in this case, we already compromised the girl’s identity. When she was taken in 2002, the Desert Dispatch reported her name, unaware that she has been sexually assaulted. Once the details were uncovered, we immediately reverted to our policy of non-identification.
Unfortunately, this means, particularly in a community as small as Barstow, that many folks might know who she is. It’s a regrettable circumstance that we probably couldn’t have avoided, but we hope that the initial release of her identity has not caused her any additional suffering.

But I do want to add that healthy eating is actually an important issue to me. I was diagnosed with Type II diabetes (caught while still fairly mild) last November and have had to make major changes to my lifestyle. Like many adults who spend a lot of time working, I didn’t pay much attention to what I was putting in my body, relying on fast food and soda to keep me going during the day.

I never at any point in this reevaluation of my eating habits would have expected (or for that matter, allowed) the government to make these changes for me. Why on earth would I do that? They don’t know me. They don’t have to deal with the consequences. They don’t have to care whether the advice they give me is accurate. They won’t be the ones to go blind or suffer permanent nerve damage.

When the news of New York City’s trans fat ban hit the wire, I thought to myself, “Why would people allow this?” Then I read one harried businesswoman say she was glad about the ban because it meant one less thing she’d have to think or worry about.

That comment from her sent shivers up my spine. I would never, ever surrender my decision-making rights to a gaggle of government bureaucrats, even if it meant I would have to take responsibility for my own stupid decisions.

It’s interesting how nature has its own way of keeping you in check. I went blind in one eye for a nerve-wracking 30 minutes last year while at work; this incident was what ultimately led to the diagnosis. Going blind is one of my greatest fears, probably even greater than dying. Mother nature couldn’t have figured out a bigger incentive to cause me to change my behavior. The government certainly couldn’t.

And it worked. I’ve lost 20 pounds, all because I wanted to change my behavior, not because the government did my thinking for me.

The volume ratcheted up recently following a Washington Post exposé on Dick Cheney’s behavior and his attempts to claim he’s not part of the executive branch in order to avoid oversight of his office.

I’ve been mulling over an editorial on the matter, but it’s not something I take lightly, even given my extreme dissatisfaction with the administration. It’s important for me to separate my dislike of the administration’s complete lack of respect for civil rights, their bumbling, ignorant handling of military and diplomatic efforts in the Middle East, and their dismissive attitude toward appropriate checks on their authority with evidence of actual illegal behavior.

I am, however, curious as to what Barstow residents think on the matter. Head over to our front page to vote.

Generally, as I try to write about things that Barstow readers would actually be interested in and have a noticeable impact on their lives, the e-mails are ignored. (Though I do confess to amusement that I get e-mail updates from a state religious conservative group and state gay civil rights group that tend to be about the exact same issues, but with the opposite tone, depending on who is winning that particular fight)

In reality though, they probably have no idea who or what the Desert Dispatch is — these are mass e-mails sent to media outlets across the state.

Few are more persistent than the folks at legalizeferrets.org, a group devoted to, as you might guess, legalizing ownership of ferrets as pets in California. They are currently banned, apparently because of claims that they present a hazard to California’s agriculture. The group disputes these claims.

They e-mail me updates nearly every single week about their efforts (which are not going well, it seems). I have no intention of writing about them in the paper. Although I support their efforts, it’s not an issue that has enough impact for me to justify committing our limited newspaper space to.

But hey, thanks to the infinite space of the Internet, I can at least give them a little plug.

Hmmm. This entry began with the intent of being one of those “Look at what crazy stuff I get in my e-mail” deals but ended with me promoting them. I’m sure there’s probably a lesson in there somewhere about public relations.

Anyway, I bring her up because there’s a particular point of debate that goes on in the media the bugs the heck out of me. You’ve probably heard pundits of various types whining about how the media has spent too much time discussing Paris Hilton’s jail visit. Similar complaints happen whenever an entertainment story captures a chunk of the hard news cycle.

Some people seem to be caught up in a false either/or argument regarding news. Either you follow the serious news stories, or your follow the fluff. Apparently the possibility that a person can follow both and be perfectly informed and entertained at the same time escapes some people.

It’s not an either/or scenario. Here’s an example: Do you remember what happened on Election Day last November, besides, of course, the election? It’s okay to admit it if you know. Britney Spears announced her impending divorce from Kevin Federline.

That bit of “news” got tossed into the news cycle. When I read the piece of gossip at work, I wondered how long it would be for somebody to complain that Britney was getting too much attention on a very serious news day. Interestingly though, I don’t recall hearing that much whining.

Let’s say you visited a gossip site or flipped on E! to get the details: Did you suddenly stop caring about the election? Of course not. Humans are quite capable of jugging many different interests, needs, fears, and concerns within their heads. In fact, we probably would be unable to function if we couldn’t.

For that reason (not to mention my belief that the point of the media is to provide the information people want and need, not to sniff at them and judge them for their interests), I grow utterly exhausted at listening to people within my own field whine about Paris and Anna Nicole and celebrity journalism. It is not an either/or scenario. And given the rise of Internet news opportunities, it’s also no longer a case of portioning out the news space. Looking over the new culture of the media, there’s enough room for enough information to appeal to almost anybody’s interests. And the pie grows larger every day.

I explained to a friend as we were driving around in the early evening hours there that it was 111 degrees in Barstow when I got out of there.

“Oh,” he responded. “It got up to 118 degrees here today.”

Oh, indeed. When I left to return home the next afternoon, I burned one of my fingers on the reflector sunblock on my windshield when I was removing it. And so another fun summer begins. Though I’ve been here long enough to be prepared. My first summer in Barstow, I left a tape cassette on the passenger’s seat of my car and it melted.

Anyway, back at the subject at hand: I find it extremely difficult to write editorials about Iraq. I seem to be caught up with some sort of obsession to present new ideas and views about our involvement there, which is pretty silly, as everybody has their opinions and there’s very little new insight to be had.

I come to many of my moral and ethical conclusions by an interestingly selfish way: I put myself in the situation and ask myself not just what I would do, but what I would accept and how it would have an impact on me if I actually had to face the consequences of my conclusions.

For example, I’m against capital punishment not for some overly abstract reason, but something very simple — I don’t want to be executed. Logic would dictate that I could avoid execution by not murdering anybody. This is true. But the nature of our justice system is not omniscient. I asked myself, “If I , as a completely innocent man, were convicted of first degree murder, but logically accept the nature of our justice system and its flaws, what is the harshest punishment I would accept?” I would accept life in prison. Horrible as it may be, there is a possibility that my innocence could later be proven and I would be freed. It’s an imperfect solution to a problem that has no perfect solution. I would not accept execution, because it’s not reversible. And so, extending the logic, I could not accept execution for anybody. If we had an omniscient justice society and knew with 100 percent certainty who was guilty or innocent of crimes, I probably would have no objections to the death penalty.

This leads to the discussion of the war. I’m in the situation where I’ve actually talked to family members and friends who have lost loved ones in the war. I ended up reporting Fort Irwin’s very first casualty in Iraq, Staff Sgt. Joseph E. Robsky, back in 2003. It’s difficult to keep an abstract, academic position about the war when you talk to both the supporters and opponents of the war who have been personally affected by it, unless you choose to be a myopic jerk, as some have.

I was uncomfortable with the way some opposition of the war had been approached, even though I agree that we shouldn’t be there any longer (I say “any longer” because I never could decide one way or the other about the invasion in the first place. I wimped out there). There is a heavy emphasis of supporting the troops, regardless. But what does that mean?

Ultimately when I formulated my attitude about the military’s involvement in Iraq, here’s what I imagined: I don’t know what it’s like to be in the military; I do know, however, what it’s like to be in charge and be expected to produce results.

Let’s say, by way of example, the Desert Dispatch went out of business. (We’re not — don’t worry). It may well not have been my fault. There may have been things about the environment here I could not control. Maybe it was inevitable that the Desert Dispatch would have gone out of business, regardless of who was in charge.

However, there would be a part of me that would I always feel like I was responsible. Nobody would be able to convince me otherwise. It’s the nature of leadership.

I projected that sense of responsibility onto a battlefield where people’s lives hang at stake. Now the sensitivity makes more sense to me. The resistance to pulling out is more understandable. That is a huge psychological weight to bear, much more than that of some failed business. And the same guilt follows — it would be very hard to convince these men and women that they don’t bear some sort of responsibility for a collapse in Iraq, even if you could prove there was nothing they could have done to stop it.

So that projection serves as the basis of my argument against involvement in Iraq. We made our troops ultimately responsible for something for which they should not be responsible — the direction, fate, and leadership of a nation. They are not capable of taking on this challenge, not because of a deficiency on their part, but because nobody, except the citizens of Iraq, has the power to succeed at this task.

Sadly, because of the way this has conflict has been managed, there are going to be thousands of American men and women who feel guilt and responsibility over something that went well beyond what we should expect of them.