WASHINGTON – Government health officials are urging people not to panic over estimates of 90,000 people dying from swine flu this fall. "Everything we've seen in the U.S. and everything we've seen around the world suggests we won't see that kind of number if the virus doesn't change," said Dr. Thomas Frieden, head of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
He made the comment in a C-SPAN interview taped Wednesday.
While the swine flu seems quite easy to catch, it so far hasn't been more deadly than the flu strains seen every fall and winter — many people have only mild illness. And close genetic tracking of the new virus as it circled the globe over the last five months so far has shown no sign that it's mutating to become more virulent.
Still, the CDC has been preparing for a worst-case flu season as a precaution — in July working from an estimate slightly more grim than one that made headlines this week — to make sure that if the virus suddenly worsened or vaccination plans fell through, health authorities would know how to react.
On Monday the White House released a report from a group of presidential advisers that included a scenario where anywhere from 30 percent to half of the population could catch what doctors call the "2009 H1N1" flu, and death possibilities ranged from 30,000 to 90,000. In a regular flu season, up to 20 percent of the population is infected and 36,000 die.
"We don't think that's the most likely scenario," CDC flu specialist Dr. Anne Schuchat said of the presidential advisers' high-end tally.
What's really expected this year? CDC won't speculate, finding a numbers game pointless as it tries to balance getting a largely complacent public to listen to its flu instructions without hyping the threat.
Along with how the virus itself continues to act, the ultimate toll depends on such things as vaccinations beginning as planned — currently set for mid-October — and whether the people who need them most get them. CDC also is working to help hospitals keep the not-so-sick from crowding emergency rooms and to properly target anti-flu drugs to the most vulnerable.
What is likely: A busy flu season that starts earlier than usual, Schuchat told The Associated Press. This new H1N1 strain never went away over the summer, infecting children at summer camps in particular. Already clusters of illnesses are being reported at some schools and colleges around the country.

Creators Syndicate –
Assisting the needy in health care is a "moral imperative" — not a constitutional right. The two are as different as a squirt gun and an Uzi.

If something is not permitted under our Constitution, the federal government simply cannot do it. Period. The Founding Fathers vigorously debated the role of the federal government and defined it in Article I, Section 8 — spelling out the specific duties and obligations of the federal government. Most notably, this included providing a military for national security, coining money, establishing rules for immigration and citizenship, establishing rules for bankruptcy, setting up a postal system, establishing trademark and copyright rules, and setting up a legal system to resolves disputes, in addition to a handful of other matters.

Charity is not there.

Congress began ignoring its lack of authority for charity before the ink dried on the Constitution. When Congress appropriated $15,000 to assist French refugees in 1792, James Madison — a Founding Father and principal author of the Constitution — wrote, "I cannot undertake to lay my finger on that article of the Constitution, which granted a right to Congress of expending, on objects of benevolence, the money of their constituents."

But what about the Constitution's general welfare clause?

Madison said: "With respect to the words general welfare, I have always regarded them as qualified by the detail of powers (enumerated in the Constitution) connected with them. To take them in a literal and unlimited sense would be a metamorphosis of the Constitution into a character which there is a host of proofs was not contemplated by its creators."

And consider government welfare's effect on people's willingness to give. During the Great Depression — before the social programs that today we accept as givens (Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid) — charitable giving increased dramatically. After FDR began signing social programs into law, charitable giving continued, but not at the same rate. People felt that they had given at the office and/or that government was "handling it."

Government "charity" is simply less efficient than private charity. Every dollar extracted from taxpayers, sent to Washington, and then routed to the beneficiary "loses" about 70 cents in transfer costs — salaries, rent and other expenses. The Salvation Army, by contrast, spends 2 cents in operating costs, with the remainder going to fundraising and the beneficiary. They achieve this, among other ways, by relying on volunteers to do much of the work.

Following Hurricane Katrina, private companies, including The Home Depot and Walmart, provided basic needs, such as water and shelter, faster than did government. What were their motives? Generosity? Positive public relations — a form of "selfishness"? Does it matter?

What about the issue of "moral hazard"? Does government welfare distort behavior and cause people to act irresponsibly? In 1964, President Lyndon Johnson launched a "War on Poverty." "Anti-poverty" workers literally went door to door to inform women of their "right" to money and services — provided the recipients were unmarried and had no men living in their houses. Out-of-wedlock births skyrocketed. In 1960, before the "War on Poverty," out-of-wedlock births accounted for 2 percent of white births and 22 percent of black births. By 1994 — just three decades after Johnson began his "War" — the rates had soared to 25 and 70 percent, respectively.

Numerous studies conclude that children of "broken homes" with absentee or nonexistent fathers are more likely to commit crimes, drop out of school, do drugs and produce out-of-wedlock children. In 1985, the Los Angeles Times asked both the poor and non-poor the following question: Do you think those on welfare have children to get on welfare? More poor people (64 percent) said "yes" to that proposition than did non-poor (44 percent).

If not taxation, how then?

In 1871, the city of Chicago burned to the ground. Contributions, with virtually no money from government, rebuilt the city. After 9/11, so many Americans gave money that the Red Cross used some contributions for non-9/11 purposes. Christianity Today wrote in January 2002: "Suddenly awash in a sea of money, relief agencies such as the Salvation Army need help. So much money — $1.5 billion so far — has come in that charities are having a hard time spending it." And Americans donated an even greater sum to those affected by hurricanes Katrina and Rita.

Three in four families donate to charity, averaging more than 3 percent of their income, with two-thirds going to secular charities. In total, Americans give more than $300 billion a year — more than the gross domestic product of Finland or Ireland. More than half of families also donate their time.

Absent (unconstitutional) government programs, individuals and charitable organizations can, will and — in many cases — already do provide services to the needy. A limited government — one that taxes only to fulfill its permissible duties — would allow even more disposable time and money.

People-to-people charity is more efficient, less costly, more humane and compassionate, and more likely to inspire change and self-sufficiency in the beneficiary. People can and would readily satisfy society's "moral imperative."

Larry Elder is a syndicated radio talk show host and best-selling author. His latest book, "What's Race Got to Do with It?" is available now. To find out more about Larry Elder, visit his Web page at www.LarryElder.com. To read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 2009 LAURENCE A. ELDER

DISTRIBUTED BY CREATORS.COM

Fantasy football is a fantasy sports game in which participants (called "owners") are arranged into a league. The person who creates the league is called the commissioner, and that person invites other owners into his/her league. Each team drafts or acquires via auction a team of real-life American football players and then scores points based on those players' statistical on-the-field performances. A typical fantasy league will employ players from a single football league, such as the NFL or an NCAA division. Leagues can be arranged in which the winner is the team with the most total points at the end of the season, or in a head-to-head format (which mirrors the actual NFL) in which each team plays against a single opponent each week. At the end of the year, win-loss records determine league rankings or qualification into a playoff bracket. Most leagues set aside the last weeks of the regular season for their own playoffs.

If Bill Winkenbach is the origin of fantasy football, than the team of Michael Rand and Joshua Schnell are its ambassadors. This duo, known in fantasy circles as "P-Squared" did for the fantasy game, what Lawrence Taylor did for the real game. Credited with innovations such as the double defense strategy and the tiered ranking system these two brought a game formerly played by a select few, to the forefront of American culture. Their aforementioned concepts, in addition with newer developments such as the "QB can wait" strategy and the "boot" penalty have changed the game from what it was, into the institution it currently is. The two main types of competition formats are 1) Head-to-head, with weekly games played against specific opponents (much like in the NFL), and 2) total points, in which cumulative points during the season determine winners (or playoff teams).

Fantasy Football

LOS ANGELES – Thirteen-year-old Andrea Levy ticked off a mental list of rules to follow when her guest arrived: Greet her at the door. Introduce her to the family. Offer a cold drink.
Above all, make her feel welcome by letting her choose what to do.
"Do you want to make pizza now or do you want to make it later?" the lanky, raven-haired teen rehearsed in the kitchen, as her mother spread out dough and toppings.
This was a pivotal moment for Andrea, a girl who invited just one acquaintance to her bat mitzvah.
Andrea has autism, and socializing doesn't come naturally. For the past several weeks, she's gone to classes that teach the delicate ins and outs of making friends — an Emily Post rules of etiquette for autistic teens.
For Andrea, this pizza date is the ultimate test.
The bell rings. The door opens. Can she remember what she needs to do?
More important, will she make a friend?
Even for socially adept kids, the teen years, full of angst and peer pressure, can be a challenge. It's an especially difficult time for kids with autism spectrum disorders, a catchall term for a range of poorly understood brain conditions — from the milder Asperger's syndrome to more severe autism marked by lack of eye contact, poor communication and repetitive behavior such as head-banging.
An estimated 1 in 150 American children has some form of autism. There's no known cure. Some research suggests autistic kids who get help early can overcome some of their deficits. But the social skills they learn as a toddler may not be so useful to a teen.
"A lot of our kids need a tune-up. They need new skills to help them survive in their new social world," said clinical psychologist Elizabeth Laugeson of the University of California, Los Angeles, who runs a 3 1/2-month friendship program for high-functioning autistic teens like Andrea.
Growing up, Andrea hardly had friends at all. They either moved away or grew tired by her inability to emotionally connect.
When she was 18 months old, her parents noticed something was amiss. Instead of babbling, she would cry or scream to get attention. She had no desire to play, even with her older brother.
Some doctors said not to worry; others thought she had a speech impairment.
None of the answers made sense to Andrea's parents until two medical experts, including a pediatrician who specialized in developmental disorders, diagnosed her as autistic.
The family soon enrolled Andrea in special play therapy.
"We try and help her make friends, but she's always a step behind her peers," said her mother, Gina Levy.
In some respects, Andrea is a typical teenage girl who is crazed about celebrity gossip magazines, romance novels, drama and chorus. But she can be withdrawn and doesn't always get the subtleties of body language and other nonverbal signs.

Whenever she gets stuck in a conversation, she tends to stare, making people around her uncomfortable. She doesn't mean to be impolite — it's just her way of watching and learning.

"I know I'm weird and I know I'm not normal," said Andrea, who looks like a young Anne Hathaway with braces. "I've always known I'm not normal."

Andrea found company from nine other high-functioning autistic teens who enrolled in a 14-week friendship boot camp earlier this year. More than 100 teens have graduated from the UCLA Program for the Education and Enrichment of Relational Skills, or PEERS for short, which costs $100 a session and is covered by many insurers.

Unlike other autism interventions, parents also must participate. They learn to become social coaches for their children so that their new skills can be retained when the program is over.

Every week, Laugeson, a peppy clinical psychologist known as "Dr. Liz," leads the students through a maze of social survival skills: how to have a two-way conversation, how to trade information to find common interests, how to gracefully enter a conversation and how to be a good host. In class, the teens role-play with one another and also must practice what they've learned outside of class in weekly homework assignments.

Laugeson peppers the lessons with friendly reminders about proper etiquette:

"Don't be a conversation hog."

"Give a cover story for why you are calling."

"Don't be an interviewer."

"Say you're sorry when you make someone angry, sad or upset."

"You need to trade information at least 50 percent of the time during the get-togethers."

Earlier this year, Laugeson published a study in the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders on how the parent-involved training has worked so far. In a study of 33 autistic teens, those who went through the program had more friends come to their houses than those who did not.

"There isn't much research on social group training that incorporates parents. That's a key factor for success," said Barbara Becker-Cottrill, who heads the West Virginia Autism Training Center at Marshall University. She has no connection with PEERS, but has reviewed Laugeson's research. "Parents are children's first and probably best teachers."

Despite the gains, Laugeson said the program is not a cure-all. Parents know this and don't expect their children to blossom into social butterflies overnight.

Andrea's mother has two goals: "I hope she becomes a better conversationalist and feels more comfortable around her peers."

Andrea's journey through an unfamiliar social world has been filled with some stumbles.

During a role-playing exercise, she was paired with a classmate to talk about their favorite book. Andrea was so eager to share her love of "Gone with the Wind" that she lapsed into a two-minute monologue about the plot. A counselor stepped in and reminded her not to be a "conversation hog."

One of Andrea's early attempts to inject herself into an existing conversation revealed some awkwardness. As a group of classmates chatted away about an animated movie, Andrea stood aloof, avoiding eye contact and unsure of what to do. Laugeson pulled her aside, advised her to listen and find a pause.

By the time Andrea rejoined the group, the discussion had switched to macadamia nuts. Andrea saw an opening and chimed in: "Well, I've tried macadamia nuts and they're pretty good. When I was little, I would eat a lot."

As time went on, Andrea's confidence improved. Through practice, she has let go of her tendency to be an interviewer during phone calls. On her own, she came up with the idea of asking the kids who were signing her yearbook to jot down their phone numbers too, a ploy that won her praise from the counselors and gave her a pool of potential friends to call.

Other teens in the class also progressed, but at a slower pace.

A fellow 13-year-old, Elias Cazares Jr., was diagnosed with autism two years ago. He displays more outward signs of the disorder — rocking back and forth, constantly blinking, fidgeting with his face. Elias is obsessed with video games and talks of nothing else.

Unlike Andrea who got therapy growing up, this is the first time Elias has had professional help.

At times the pressure is too much. One day after class, Elias had a meltdown and refused to do the following week's homework — calling someone outside of the group. Elias confided to Laugeson that he was teased at school and did not want to befriend the bullies. She calmed him down and said he could dial a cousin instead.

Despite the struggles, Elias' father is proud of the small steps he's taken: He recently called his neighbor to schedule a get-together. He also started making small talk with a younger kid in his hip-hop class, but he's been too afraid to ask for his phone number.

"What I want for him is a more normal life, to have at least one or two friends," said Elias Cazares Sr.

As the teens hone their bonding skills, parents gather separately for their own lesson.

UCLA postdoctoral fellow Alex Gantman, "Dr. Alex," runs the parent session. It is a chance for them to talk about their kids' problems and progress and for Gantman to give pointers on helping the teens navigate their social surroundings.

One hard truth to face: There's a 50-50 chance that a kid will be rejected by peers, Gantman said, and it's OK to let them know that.

He points out that follow-up phone calls are critical in a budding friendship.

"Teens move on really quickly. Somebody else gets their attention and boom, they're gone unless you really develop a strong friendship bond," he said.

Gantman is working to expand the training to young autistic adults. They often struggle with dating skills as portrayed in the summer romance movie, "Adam," about a young man with Asperger's who falls in love with his neighbor.

The PEERS program deals only with friendships, and teens must use the skills they learn in class in the real world. As part of their homework during the last month of the training, they had to play host to potential friends outside of the group.

Andrea invited over a fellow drama classmate with something in common. Both had a digestive problem that meant they couldn't eat foods containing wheat. So the two girls were going to make a gluten-free pizza.

Before the guest arrived, Andrea, dressed in a denim skirt and blouse, went over the steps of being a good host. The door bell buzzed. Her ponytailed guest was five minutes early and wearing a shy smile.

After exchanging pleasantries, the two gathered in the kitchen. Andrea got off to a slow start, standing at times with her arms crossed in front while her mother chatted away.

Then, she remembered her hosting duties and asked if the classmate wanted to add the pizza toppings first.

The guest deferred. "You can go first."

Andrea demonstrated: "So you put a little bit of sauce ... and sprinkle on the cheese."

"Perfect," the classmate replied.

After pizza, Andrea, with some prompting from her mother, asked what to do next.

The guest was indifferent so the two migrated to Andrea's room to watch a movie. After they got bored, they headed to the living room to play video games where Andrea got a chance to practice good sportsmanship.

Despite beating her guest in almost every round, Andrea threw out words of praise: "Good job" and "Come on. You can do this."

"You did well," Andrea said after winning the last round.

The two haven't hung out since the culinary experience. It's been an up-and-down time. But Andrea managed to have four get-togethers with a girl she met in chorus. And she's felt those familiar teen pangs of loss when she was stood up by another girl.

The older, wiser Andrea shook it off. She focused on a new set of possible friends she met while awaiting her turn to dive at the local swimming pool.

After overhearing that her schoolmates were on Facebook, she persuaded her mother to let her create a profile. She sent out "a gazillion friend requests" hoping a few will bite.

She has 33 friends and counting.