Strangulation? In North Dakota?

When I wrote this story about sexual assault, I also talked to Mary Thysell a little bit about domestic violence, an even more common problem, and strangulation came up.

I said I was fairly certain that in Minnesota, choking someone meant additional penalties under the law, and Thysell corrected me, pointing out that “choking” and “strangulation” are not the same thing.

She gave me a brochure: Strangulation in North Dakota.

I wish this brochure didn’t have to exist.

In it, described in accurate, dispassionate and clinical language, it states that strangulation counts as “serious bodily injury” in North Dakota’s Century Code, and therefore constitutes an aggravated assault.

It also states there are four types of strangulation: Hanging, manual (bare hands), chokehold (elbow bend compression) and ligature (using a cord-like object).

All very matter-of-fact. Other than a list of “common trauma victim thoughts and stages,” there’s very little indication of the shock, terror and desperate attempts to survive these people must undergo.

Are there any other reasons to strangle someone than attempting to kill her, or him? At best, the strangler can’t possibly care if he kills or permanently damages the victim, can he?

What does it feel like to know that a loved one is trying to kill you, or maybe just doesn’t care whether he or she does?

Here are some facts from the brochure.

  • 10 percent of all violent deaths are from strangulation.
  • It only takes 11 pounds of pressure placed on both carotid arteries for 10 seconds to result in a loss of consciousness.
  • Brain death occurs in 4 to 5 minutes.
  • Death can occur in 11.5 seconds if both arteries are cut off or blocked.
  • Underlying brain damage can mean that death occurs several weeks later, too.

I still wish the brochure didn’t have to exist.

Property Taxes: Whose Money Is in the Bucket?

I’ve had a few questions about several stories I’ve written about property taxes, and I would like to share with you my bucket analogy, which simplifies some of the complex things that determine a person’s property taxes.

Imagine a bucket. This bucket represents a single local taxing entity’s levy for a single year, payable the following year–for example, Stutsman County.

1. The governing body of that taxing entity determines the total amount of taxes to levy. That means Stutsman County sets the size of its own bucket. The state, though, usually has some limits on how big that bucket can be.

2. Every taxing entity has its own bucket.

When you pay property taxes, part of your money goes into the county’s bucket. But part of it goes into the city’s bucket, if you live in a city, or the township’s bucket, if you don’t, and part of it goes into the school district’s bucket. The county collects the property taxes for all these entities, but it doesn’t keep them, nor does it have any control over the size of anybody else’s buckets.

Now many factors help determine what goes into the buckets. I’ve written about a few of them. Below I’m going to use Stutsman County’s bucket as an example, but it’s not the only bucket involved, remember! And these three items are all specific to North Dakota.

1. The soils assessment. That was mandated by the state of North Dakota, and affects property valuation. Generally, the idea is to ensure that all land with the same type of soil that is used the same way is valued the same.

This will affect how much property owner A puts into the bucket compared to property owner B. If A had a lot of flood damage and couldn’t plant for several years, or if B just has better soil, B may end up putting more money into the bucket next year than A, even if they have the exact same amount of property.

That does not necessarily mean that B’s taxes will go up as compared with last year, however, because there are other factors. If the County Commission opts to levy less taxes, the county’s bucket will shrink, and require less money to fill it up. In fact, every taxing entity could levy a smaller tax and put out a smaller bucket. B will still pay more than A, but if the buckets shrink enough, B’s taxes could still be lower than they were last year.

2. The change in the statutory cap rate. This is part of how the state of North Dakota determines crop land values for the purposes of taxation. It’s a long mathematical formula.

Essentially, however, it helps determine how ag land is valued. In previous years, the statutory cap rate was held at a certain level by the Legislature, which kept ag land values lower. This year the Legislature did not vote to do that. (I don’t know how it reached that decision.)

This means that ag land values are going up 21 percent.

It still doesn’t necessarily mean that either A’s or B’s taxes will go up as compared with last year. Remember, the taxing entities still could shrink the size of their buckets enough to offset that 21 percent.

It does mean, however, that both A and B will be putting proportionally more into this bucket than last year as compared with C, who owns only residential land, and D, who only owns a business.

Do note that, given the size of the increase due to this issue, it is likely that A’s and B’s taxes will go up.

3. Another part of the complex mathematical formula for ag land values is determined by actual cropland landowner returns.

To keep this number from being volatile, and swinging wildly up during good years and wildly down during bad ones, it was decided that this number should be an average. So the formula takes the last ten years of cropland landowner returns, drops the highest year and the lowest year, and then averages them out.

Cropland returns have more than doubled since 2001, though, and they have increased nearly every year since then (except in 2004). So between 2011 and 2012′s formulas, a low year was dropped from the list of numbers to average and a high year was added. Even dropping the highest number and the lowest number meant there was an overall increase.

More math would be involved to show the precise effect of this, but essentially, that too affected the values of ag land relative to residential and commercial/business land, though not as much as factor 2 above.

This will have A and B putting proportionally more into the bucket compared with C and D than they did last year.

But it still doesn’t mean A and B’s taxes have gone up compared with last year, because the county still sets the size of its bucket, as does every other taxing entity.

4. Here’s one I haven’t written about. Stutsman County’s population decreased slightly between 2000 and 2010, but I’m not sure whether it changed during the past year.

If E and F bought and developed property in Stutsman County, they will have to help fill up the bucket. This means that A, B, C and D could pay proportionally less than they had the year before. However, they might not pay less taxes, because the county still sets the size of its bucket, as does every other taxing entity.

(Note: Just in case you’re wondering about the bucket picture above, it’s an internet meme. In other words, it became inexplicably popular for no discernible reason and a lot of people have seen it. If I’d wanted to mix the memes, I could have titled it something like “Yo dawg, I used to like buckets like you, but then I took an arrow in the knee.” But that might be silly.)

Thoughts on the Runnin O’ the Green

(John Steiner/Jamestown Sun)

I talked to too many people at the Runnin O’ the Green.

Yes, it actually is possible to do that, when you’re a reporter. I found there were at least four or five people extra interviews I ended up not using in my article, which clocked in at 38.18 inches.

For those of you who don’t speak newspaperese, let me translate for you: 38.18 inches=pretty dang long.

So even though the article was a leetle too long, it didn’t include everything I had.

It also didn’t include my own thoughts on the Runnin.

I have to admit, before the event, I was a little concerned. I was afraid the whole thing would turn out to be nothing but an excuse to drink, and for a few people, maybe it was.

However, of the dozen or so people that I talked to who were participating in the Runnin O’ the Green, many of them mentioned, unprompted, that it was all “for a good cause,” and then they’d talk about the way money from the event goes to Elks Camp Grassick and local people with cancer.

A few times they didn’t mention the causes, so I would say in passing, “It’s for a good cause, right?” and then they usually brightened and said “Yeah, Camp Grassick!” or “Yeah, cancer patients!”

I thought that was cool.

The Perils and Pains of Moving

Moving is painful and in the hopes of feeling like I’ve accomplished something in the past two weeks, I will detail the stages of moving here for your amusement. Feel free to laugh at me rather than with me; I don’t have the energy left over from moving for anything but a meaningful look at this point.

1. Packing. I didn’t have to do a lot of this, because most of my things were still packed from my earlier move. That’s a good thing, because I’m pretty much awful at it, having approximately the spatial awareness capability of a turnip.

I pretty much just threw as much stuff as I could into bags and then shoved it into my car. Since the new place is only across town from the old place, this actually worked and nothing was crushed into tiny little pieces.

2. Moving. This involves actually picking things up in one place and putting them down somewhere else. I moved the small stuff myself, causing an incredible array of aches and bruises, but for my anvil collection and my prized set of giant boulders, I had the assistance of coworkers Brian and John, both of whom have trucks, and more importantly, muscles that do not consist of 98% Grade A flab, like mine.

John is also gifted with some sort of moving superpower–he can fit way more stuff into one trailer than should be possible. It was like a clowncar, only instead of clowns coming out of the trailer, it was furniture. (Thank goodness. I mean, clowns. Brrrr.)

3. Cleaning. I haven’t even started on this, but I will have the invaluable help of my mother. She’s extremely persnickety about cleaning, and whoever gets my apartment after me will probably be able to eat off of any surface in it, up to and including the ceiling.

4. Unpacking. … do I have to? Isn’t there some statute on the books that says you must keep at least one box packed after every move for at least ten years?

Well there should be.

Glorious Weather

You know you’re a Minnesotan/North Dakotan when you roll your windows down ’cause it hit 35.

Of course, this weekend it was a great deal warmer than that, and pretty much everybody rolled their windows down, or wore short sleeves. Even those with thinner skin dispensed with their coats.

It’s been great weather for moving.

So naturally I slacked the whole weekend and moved a bare three carloads of stuff across town to my new apartment. On one hand, slow and steady wins the race, and I have generally ambled in the direction of moving more stuff over there. After the first trip with just one carload, my… well, my everything hurt.

And if I were keeping a swear jar, I’d probably have enough money to retire by now, between hitting various bits of my anatomy on various sharp and/or hard objects, dropping things, and dropping various sharp and/or hard objects on various bits of my anatomy.

But after four trips, spread across several days, I’m only a bit stiff.

This is an especially good thing because my wonderful coworker is going to help me move a couple of the larger objects this evening after work.

You know, the larger objects, like the table that weighs more than 17.3 Indian elephants, and the TV stand that I have about as much chance of moving with the power of positive thinking as I do with the power of my flabtastic arms. I think my end tables are made of rocks, or possibly anvils.

Plagiarism in North Dakota, Minnesota

One of the biggest stories of the day is this sad tale of a 28-year journalism veteran who allegedly plagiarized most of the columns he wrote in North Dakota and Minnesota.

Jon Flatland even won an award for one of the columns he submitted to a statewide contest, which apparently turned out to have been written by someone else.

What on earth could make someone think that sort of thing is okay? There are certain gray areas in the profession, such as press releases, which in some newspapers are used in whole or in part without attribution because they’re given to you for that purpose. The people who send them want you to use them. Mostly, we edit those or trim them down to fit our style.

And then there’s the question of attribution for ideas. If I write about sexism in gaming, maybe I should really be linking not just the original sources, but add a little via at the end, to give credit to the people I found the source through (this is very often BoingBoing or Brainiac). I’m not taking words from them, but they did think of it first, or find it first. I’ll try to do a bit better at attribution in the future.

So yes, there are some grey areas.

But then there’s taking a whole column and slapping your own name on it. Who even does that? I can see why Blooming Prairie didn’t think to vet Flatland for plagiarism–he’d been working in journalism for 28 years, for heaven’s sakes. It certainly wouldn’t have occurred to me that someone could go on grabbing other people’s writing for that long without getting caught.

Once I was asked by a nervous editor whether I had actually interviewed a source, because another media outlet had the same quote I had used. (I think the source had written down the comment and read it back to both of us.) I was a little confused. Of course I’d interviewed him. How else would I have gotten the quote?

Oh. I could have stolen it.

And now look at poor Blooming Prairie. (via Logan Adams) It’s apologized and made efforts to let people know what happened. Other papers Flatland worked for are doing the same thing.

Here’s Dave Fox’s story of the whole sordid business. Fox is the humor writer who discovered the alleged plagiarism in the first place.

Edit: Poynter has a bit on how Flatland learned the jig was up.

Oh, Ugh…. Not Again

I’ll be moving again next month.

I shudder to think about it, honestly, even though it’ll be just across town. Moving is a special sort of suffering, in which you have to pay for two places at the same time and also, clean one of them really, really thoroughly.

This isn’t that big of a deal in this case, but somehow I have reached the age of 31 without learning how to clean an oven, my vacuum cleaner and I are barely on speaking terms and I don’t even know where my Windex has gone.

It probably left me for someone with more mirrors.

 

Kuchen and Wind Turbines

I visited my wonderful parents this weekend.

It’s a long drive back to Jackson, Minnesota, from Jamestown, North Dakota, but it is also a beautiful scenic drive. The trees are starting to turn the autumn colors we love, and the fields of golden wheat and corn are beautiful.

On the way home to Jamestown, I did figure out what I’d been missing about the landscape here: wind turbines. Yes, there’s a big wind farm somewhere nearby Jamestown, but driving along Interstate 90 through Nobles and Jackson counties there are wind turbines everywhere now, on both sides of the road and in large and small groups.

Apparently it’s the Buffalo Ridge and its effect on the weather that makes the area so great for wind energy production, or so I’ve gathered. But there are so many more wind turbines there than near Jamestown. They’re the skyscrapers of the prairie, and I miss them.

I did bring a kuchen home and though my dad seemed to want to avoid it (he’s not really a dessert guy), my mom seemed to appreciate it.

This one happened to be strawberry-rhubarb, and instead of little chunks of strawberries and rhubarb throughout, as I was expecting it to be, it had a thin layer of rhubarb-strawberry goo above the crust and below the eggy stuff. Is that typical?

It was wonderful.

That’s the view from my car.

It’s a little… flat. In Minnesota.

To be fair, if four glaciers ran you over, you would be flat too.

Delicious North Dakota

I still haven’t tried kuchen proper, but last week I was lucky enough to taste kuchen bars for the first time.

Kuchen, of course, is German for cake, but in this part of North Dakota (maybe in the whole state? I don’t know) it refers to a delicious custard-like dessert with fruit in it.

Although I am half German, I had never really heard of such a thing. The Germans from Russia Heritage Society was handing out the bars at the block party on Thursday, so I ate one. Incidentally, I am actually a German from Austria, so I am not even sure I qualify to join their group, but they were super nice and gave me a brochure anyway. And they even sent me the recipe for the delicious kuchen bars!

I really liked the bars, and I’m hoping to eat a lot more of them, possibly along with actual kuchen itself.

Kuchen is probably Germany’s way of making up for sauerkraut.

Hello, Jamestown

Annnnnd we’re back!

I’m now typing from a sweet little desk in the newsroom of the Jamestown Sun in Jamestown, N.D. It’s going to take me a while to get situated here, so my blogging may be pretty sporadic for a while, but I’ll try to keep posting from time to time.

Jamestown is an awesome place so far, and the people here are pretty friendly as far as I can tell. There’s a bit of weirdness with the town layout, which had to be arranged around the James River, but they seem to have kept everything on more of a grid layout than is generally possible when you have a lake in the middle of the town.

Jamestown stores its lake north of town, which I think is pretty sensible of them.

I have already learned a couple things about North Dakota.

  1. It is not actually filled with nothing, contrary to the beliefs of famous people who have never set foot on North Dakotan soil. I suspected this before, of course. Turns out it’s full of crops and cattle and people and roads and trees and rivers.
  2. North Dakotans like blowing stuff up. Then again, who doesn’t. That’s pretty much what the Fourth of July is about, right? Commemorating our nation’s history of freedom and liberty through explosives. People here seem pretty patriotic in general, which is nice.

(What happened to the rest of the post? I’m not sure. Maybe the buffalo got to it. I hear they like to hide in trees and drop down on unsuspecting bystanders, like ninjas but without those cool throwing stars. Or maybe that’s drop bears.)