Life Unsorted: In 900 Words or Less

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster as it approaches the apex.

Yeah, the ride, thus far, has been eventful and uneventful, exciting and boring, educational and dumbing, joyful and bone numbingly sad. And fast; very fast.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

I decided early on that I would be in charge of my life as much as circumstances would allow. No guiding hand on the shoulder; no predestination; no trusting in unseen otherworldly decision makers. I am doing this my way, because I believe I know the true meaning of obligation.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

I’ve practiced two religions: Catholicism and Atheism. The latter won out even though it is more difficult to abide than the first. Along the way, I discovered that it requires more faith to have faith only in one’s self..

I also tried being Jewish, briefly, but only because it is an integral part of my ancestral root. Let me just say this, Bubbalah, the barriers to entry for Judaism are high. Very high. First there’s the language – much more difficult than Latin -- then there’s the no-bacon, brisket-only diet – then there’s all that worldwide oppression – and not to mention, more guilt than a Catholic priest can lay on you in five minutes in the confessional. Oy vey iz mir. Yep, give me that old-time Atheism. Any day.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

I’ve done lots of different things to put food on the table. Some worked; some didn’t. When an employer got value for money, I usually didn’t get time-value money for time. It took me a while to figure out the system, but I persevered and ended up being exactly what I wanted to be. Which, I suspect, is true for most folks. Effort in, success out. I’ve been retired for nigh onto twenty years now.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster

I’ve owned nine houses so far --- not too shabby for a silly-vilian, I suppose. Some of them because I thought I wanted to be a slum lord; some just for their roof-over-my-head value. Along the way I quickly learned that I had to be a good actor, in both senses of the phrase, to succeed. I also learned that I have great difficulty interacting with people – a skill I may never acquire.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

Remind me, some day, to tell you the tale of the Two Pams: They rented my small brick house on Lewis St. and were always late with the rent. The last time I went to collect the rent from them I was met by a card stuck in the door jamb by the DEA. It ordered me not to enter the building until their investigations were complete. I never found out if the card was actually from the DEA or from the Two Pams trying to skip out on their last month’s rent. I did learn that when they paid me with ‘collection money’, as they called it, it wasn’t money from the collection plate at church. It was money they collected in the churchyard; not from churchgoers, but from kids attending the adjacent grade school. In exchange for drugs. Having faith in humanity is sometimes very difficult.

And please, please, don’t remind me to tell you about the kids that burned down half of a perfectly good duplex on Elm smoking in the garage.

Or the really nice guy who committed suicide in the house on Franklin because his wife left him.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

I’ve lived through many clothing-style eras too, from chinos to blue jeans to bell bottoms to khakis to suits to casual Fridays, and back again. I did make a concerted effort to avoid the grunge era, though. It just seemed like so much lassitude. My favorite was the suit era. Maybe because it coincided with my maximum-income and nicest-house eras. My least favorite was the casual-Friday era; it always seemed to me like a way for my then employer to justify smaller wage increases – but, who knows.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

And, for amusement, I’ve dabbled in SCUBA diving; sky diving; automobile racing; hiking; camping; traveling, building model planes, etc, etc, -- plus more than should be enumerated here – for any reason. Of them all, traveling was and is my favorite. Hopefully, there is still time for more adventures.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

I’ve been married multiple times; once successfully. That marriage is still a work in progress. Going on 42 years now.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

What should one do when the ‘coaster reaches the top? Close one’s eyes and let the rush of air and loss of gravity exhilarate you? Or proceed , eyes wide open and screaming through the last the ‘coaster has to offer? All the way to the platform where you relinquish your seat to a new rider?

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.

In the meantime, I may move a bit slower, but I will keep moving. Even if only to repair farm equipment, cut grass, and do some lite woodworking or computer programming (just to keep the mind sharp, you understand).

And lately, I’ve begun to appreciate the benefits of car washes, dishwashers, and garage door openers. Appetizers, I suspect, to herald in the next course.

Clickity-clack goes the ‘coaster.



FRS -- A.K.A. Flame Rollout Switch. As in Carrier downstairs furnace. An interesting, reliable, necessary item. But why do they always go bump in the night in the dead of Winter? I had to view many YouTube videos before I found one about the FRS that wouldn’t alert the FBI to my online viewing habits. Oy!

Anyway. Steam had stopped coming out of the furnace’s burner chamber exhaust pipe indicating that the induced draft blower motor had ceased functioning.

Generally, the cause is blockage of some sort: ice, snow, mice seeking warmth, the odd lost bird. This time it was ice buildup on the screening that keeps pests out of the pipe.

So, after removing the screen and clearing the ice/snow buildup, the furnace still refused to fire. That’s when, at midnight, my eyes glued to the screen, I watched video after video about how to reset the now very familiar FRS. It was a last ditch effort to conserve cash and bolster my "Man-of-the-house" image. But after a while I gave up, placed an extra blanket on the bed, and retired.

In the morning I fed the cats, took my pills, and descended into the cellar armed only with a yellow plastic swizzle stick. (I couldn’t find a more suitable tool with which to reset said resettable Flame Rollout Switch and, hopefully, prevent my early demise from electrocution.)

After locating the FRS I presssed its red button and lo and behold the switch reset. The furnace made a perfunctory practice run making sure its intake/exhaust pipes were indeed clear. And then, it fired!

There was no heavenly music (Hallelujah!--Hallelujah!----Hallelu---uuu---jah), but the additional heat more than made up for it.

Now, it’s on to the rest of the day.

Growing up a Military Brat in a Far Away Land

Growing up a Military Brat in a Far Away Land


We weren’t rich nor were we poor. We were just another military family posted to Europe in the late 50’s and early 60’s. Paris, to be exact. And, even better, it was during my formative years. It was also a real treat for my mother.

One day, dad brought home a live-in maid whose duties were to clean, do laundry and be a companion for my mother. My mother still did all the cooking. My mother felt very special.

We lived off-base ("on the economy" in the vernacular) in a two story, four bedroom, living room, dining room, eat-in kitchen, two full bath, two water-closet home in the town of LaGarnene-Colombes, just West of Paris. I had both American school chums and French friends. The latter did their evil best to teach me French slang that always got me in trouble in school. When I would use slang in class, my French teacher would blanch; when I used classroom French with my friends, they would laugh and ask if I was running for high office. Somehow, I did get through it all.

Irene was Danish. Her parents were wealthy and had sent her to Paris specifically to get a job with an American family as a housemaid. Their goal was to make sure Irene didn’t grow up a spoiled rich kid with no empathy for common folk or servants. Irene stayed with us for about two years. She was always very friendly, very proper, and very efficient. She spoke Danish, French and English fluently and had a wonderful sense of humor.

Near the end of her "tour of duty" Irene informed my mother that she was engaged to be married and would be leaving. Her parents, she said, were sending her and her fiancée on a trip around the world ahead of their wedding in order to let them find out of they were truly compatible. Apparently money marrying money in Denmark those days was a very serious matter.

Irene and her beau must have been compatible because my parents received a wedding invitation soon after Irene left our employ.

In between Irene’s leaving and receiving her wedding invitation my dad hired Biette ("Bee-et-tah"), also Danish, also from a wealthy family, but decidedly not in sync with her parents goals. Biette had Thursdays off and would, invariably, rise late and somewhat hungover every Friday. She stayed with us for about a year before she abandoned us and her family to marry a local Frenchman.

Following Biette’s departure, my dad brought home a stunning Danish girl who might have easily been a sports magazine swimsuit model. While she was unpacking, my parents had an exchange of ideas that resulted in what’s-the-new-girl’s-name not even staying the night. And, in fact, she was the last housemaid we ever had. My mom took over all the household chores for the remainder of our tour of duty in France.
All-in-all, it was a fantastic coming-of-age time for me, and I will always remember it as the time when I learned that people are people the world over. That we all want the same things: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And that there are a few that feel they deserve more than an equal share of those things. Hopefully greed won’t replace the notion of common weal.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.

So, you want to be a writer...?

Start a Blog, they said. It’s easy, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

So, I decided to do just that.

First, I needed to choose a name for my blog. Next, I needed to choose a topic. And lastly, I needed to choose a voice.

Easy peasy I said, to no one in particular.

Then, it occurred to me that I might have to learn how to write. How to write in a blogger’s voice. Not a textbook writer’s. Nor a novelist’s. Nor a newspaper reporter’s. And definitely not a screenwriter’s. But, in my voice. My real voice. Camouflaged, of course, for a bit for flair.

Hunter S. Thompson once wrote: "If you want to write like someone, just read and re-read, at least 10 times, your favorite work by that person." Easy enough, I said, and proceeded to read blogs of all sorts on all topics until I found a style and voice I liked. It turned out to be a blog about an American ex-pat living in Paris.  It was written by someone called Auntie something or someone whose child was enrolled in the American School in Paris. The hook, for me, was how her writings illustrated the use humor to get one’s point across.

So, armed with that prescience, I chose to write about politics. Even though I don’t particularly care for nor understand politics.

"What could go wrong, boobalah?", I asked myself in my best New York Jewish accent. Yes, what indeed? But, "Tallyho", was all that was returned from the mirror, mirror, on the wall.

From Mr. Thompson I also learned about drugs, drug paraphernalia, how to transport drugs, how drinking and politics are intertwined and co-dependent, and most importantly, how to correctly use the word "atavistic" in a sentence. There, see, I just did it. Tallyho!

Next, I had to choose or create a name for the blog. A name that would invite folks to read it. A name easy to spell. A name purposefully disassociated from all topics: A name that could be reused for all manner of topics, thereby affording me multiple chances to fail.

But, I had just violated my own first rule. So, in the spirit of things I said, "To hell with the rules, Tallyho!"

Then, while pondering names for my blog I remembered a good friend from my, let’s say, colorful past, whose name I won’t divulge, but who liked to answer the phone by spelling his last name. "O-G-O-Z-A-L-E-K", he would say, firmly. And even though in retrospect it sounds like we were in an asylum, we were actually working for a large military aircraft company on its OV1-B project.

John’s favorite question was, "Why Is A Cow?" And, his favorite answer, after a beer or three, was always, "The more, the much". But, after some lite research I deduced that his question was really a Zen question, to which the answer, phonetically, is "moo", meaning there is no answer to the question. Sartre would have liked John, and that made me think of politics all the more.

The voices I chose included: me, country boy, nerd, ne'er-do-well, and mal vivant.  I purposely eschewed: Management Consultant, Multilayer Printed Circuit Board Designer, Computer Programmer, and Outsourcing Sales Professional, because all of those voices fell in the "Nerd" category.  Some voices die hard.

At that point, all that was left to do was to practice. So, I wrote a few pieces, polishing them as best I could, trying some of them on my friends. Then I launched my  blog.  I kept at it for several years, and what I have learned so far is that cutting grass or herding cats is much easier and definitely more rewarding. But hey, I’m a masochist with a few years still left in his old fingers, so I will press on. Tallyho!

Oh, if you decide to follow suit, I wish you the best of luck.  It is great fun, and if you decide to monetize it can be rewarding, as well.

Thanksgiving (Ethos, Pathos, Logos...)

Yeah, the whole family is gathered around the big table in the dining room, the room with the Wooden Indian in one corner, a bay window looking out on the front yard, and an old dry sink covered with dinnerware jest waitin’ for the next fancy-dinner event.

Jebediah is holding forth at one end of the table, flanked on his right by Lulu Belle, a blonde who is also his wife.  Jebediah is the eldest of four; two of them four, and they’s offspring, ain’t here today.

Lulu Belle is a fine upstanding gal that likes lookin’ after her man: Every time Jebediah attempts a standing boardinghouse reach Lulu Belle snatches up whatever he is after and passes it along with great efficiency.  At first I think she is jest bein’ the good wife, but after a while I seize upon the true meaning of her actions: Jeb is wearing his American Flag short-shorts commando style and Lulu Belle is jest afraid of what might get drug through the mashed potatoes if he completes one of them boardinghouse reaches.  So I give kudos to Lulu Belle right off; she is fast with the fixin’s.

Settin’ on Jeb’s Port Side (his left, which he calls his Port Side cuz that is where he parks his wineglass on fancy-dinner occasions) is a little dark-haired gal who doesn’t say a lot of words.  She jest isn’t one of them center-stage kinda folks, so I figure she is probably the smart one; I come to that conclusion mostly, though, cuz she don’t say much – always a sure sign of intelligence for me.

Sittin’ to the left of the little dark-haired gal is a tall drink of water everyone seems to be callin’ ‘Peyote’.  At least it sounds like that to me, but maybe they is sayin’ ‘Peelohtee’ or maybe jest ‘Peelote’ --- I is never quite sure, and anyways it ain’t the name we knows him by.  He and the little dark-haired gal is married, which seems right and proper cuz Peelohtee is also a person of few words even though he is much taller than the dark-haired gal; they even has few words for each other, jest knowing nods, significant smiles and willowing winks.  They’s still jest a couple, but some of they’s winks and touches suggest otherwise.

To the left of Peelohtee is Ma Kettle.  We call her that because she is the chief cook and bottle washer who, on most occasions, is responsible for all the grub that gets brung to the table.  Ma Kettle, unlike me, is direct kin with Peelohtee and Jebediah who, theyselves, is dutiful kin that still accede to her wishes.  They even smile and give her fancy-dinner politenesses when the occasion calls for them.  And Ma Kettle is right proud of them offspring; you can tell by the twinkle in her eyes.

To Lulu Belle’s right are the three Wunderkind, the fruits of Jebediah’s  and Lulu Belle’s loins.  I has to remember to look their way from time to time cuz they is so quiet, heads down, enjoying all the vittles Lulu Belle has plated for them.  They’s wonderful Wunderkind to be sure.  We learned that word, “Wunderkind”, at last month’s Militia meetin’; the kind folks at the meetin’ wuz all certain they wuz gonna grow up to make us proud.

To the right of the Wunderkind there sits me, jest a spectator whose job is done.  All I has to do now is marvel at the outcome, marvel that my missteps don’t seem to have mattered, and marvel at how fate brought Ma and me together; there are even times when predestination actually seems like it could really be.  In a sense, though, me and Ma are no longer relevant, our stories don’t excite no one, our input ain’t really required; our purpose these days seems to be that of cheerleaders and wowed audience.  But, that is what coming full circle ‘round the table is all about I expect, so we don’t complain none; besides, we ain’t got no reason to noways.

Yeah, fancy-dinner events with the youngins is fun and educational; we never know jest what we’s gonna learn about each other any more than we know if this fancy-dinner will be the last.  Maybe next year there will be more Wunderkind, the fruit of Peelohtee and the little dark-haired gal.  Maybe next year we will be visited by some from afar.  Maybe next year we’ll jest go to ‘Vegas.  What more could one ask at Thanksgiving?

Small Town Religion and Tire Sales

Small Town Religion and Tire Sales

It is Saturday morning and I’m in Salem shopping for a new set of tires for my truck.  I’m just shopping for tires mind you; I’m not planning on being Saved.   In fact, being Saved is the farthest thing from my mind.

I pull into a locally owned place on McArthur Street.  The sign reads "Jim’s Tires – For All Your Tire and Tire Service Needs".  At least I think the sign says Jim’s Tires; I seem to remember the place being called DeWayne’s Tires but maybe ole DeWayne retired and sold the business to Jim.  I’m not often in this part of town.

My old tires aren’t even near being bald; they just won’t hold air for any length of time.

Dry rot I tell Jim as he measures the tread depth.  And Jim, wanting the sale and wanting to be known as an honest Christian, tells me that that isn’t unusual, even for relatively safe looking tires; tires with plenty of tread on them.  Jim says the government and the tire industry reached agreement several years ago that tires older than six years should be considered unsafe, unsafe at any speed.  And to ensure their timely replacement the tire lobby convinced Congress to add a chemical to the tire’s compound that accelerates dry rot.  Jim says the tire industry is only trying to improve tire safety, although he doesn’t mind the increase in sales volume.

Jim asks me what size I want.  P235/75/R15, I tell him, black walls, please.

After Jim’s mechanic puts my truck on the lift Jim tells me he is also an ordained minister.  He says he is 70 years old now and can’t understand how anyone our age can be in a state of not being Saved.  He pauses but I don’t respond; Jim’s price, including mounting and balancing, is very good so I just wait for him to continue.

Jim says he has never heard Bill Gates declare his Christianity and how he thinks that is sad.  “It’s good that he gives away his worldly fortune, but to die without having been Saved would indeed be sorrowful,” Jim says.

That’s when I'm tempted to tell Jim the truth; I'm tempted to tell Jim I'm Jewish.  But since there are no Synagogues in Salem I think better of it and tell him I am Catholic figuring that that might save me from being Saved.  I am certain that one small lie won’t damn me to Hell for all eternity and who knows maybe Gehenom isn’t all that bad, maybe it’s just a steam bath for the soul.  After all, all I want is four tires and Jim has offered me such a deal.

This revelation, however, doesn’t faze Jim in the least.  He continues right on by telling me that he personally knows the local Catholic priest.   And his wife.  He even tells me their names and asks if I know them.  I pretend to be examining various tread patterns and polished chrome rims, letting Jim continue.  Jim says how terrible it is that Muslims are instructed by the Koran to kill all non-Muslims.  They kill infidels Jim says, just for being infidels.

When Jim sees my furrowed brow he says he would never consider killing me just because I am Catholic.  I attempt to lighten the conversation; I tell Jim that if he did I probably wouldn’t buy my tires from him anymore.

That’s when I am saved.

Jim’s young tire mechanic comes into the office, says my truck is ready and hands me the keys.  I thank the mechanic, pay for my tires, and exit Jim’s Tabernacle and Tire Company as quickly as possible, thinking that the Road to Hell in Salem must surely be strewn with bald tires, leaky valve stems, and married Catholic priests.

It’s been three years now and the tires are holding up just fine.  But since I drive the truck less than 2000 miles a year I’m beginning to wonder about Jim’s take on the Tire Lobby and its 6-year agreement with the Feds.  Government induced dry rot, is that an oxymoron??

Taking America Back -or- The War On Women

A pattern is starting to emerge, at least in my mind.  And maybe I’m late to the game, but a revelation is a revelation none-the-less.

On the surface there appears to be, at the least, a war on women, a war on homosexuals, a war on immigration, a war on non-English speakers, and a war on non-Christians.  But if you look at all these wars from higher up a different picture starts to develop, a picture of a war on extinction.

If you were a White Christian afraid of becoming extinct what could you do to forestall that inevitability?

Well, extinction is a numbers game so the first thing you could do is outlaw contraceptives and abortions.  Then you could outlaw homosexuals because they can’t reproduce and are therefore not helpful to your cause.  You could also put limits on immigration, especially non-white non-Christian immigrants.  And to manage any undesirables already legally in Your Country you could impose voting restrictions designed to prevent non-White non-Christians from gaining control and making White Christians undesirable.  You could also overrule any extant minimum wage laws thereby allowing businesses to help by offering jobs to undesirables at a much lower pay scale which might encourage them to go back where they came from (self deportation, if you will).  You could even lower taxes on the rich while raising taxes on the poor to achieve the same goal; I’m sure poor White Christians would be willing to take one for the cause.

You could even consider a Constitutional amendment making English the Official Language of Your Country giving businesses yet another legal reason to deny employment to undesirables; this could also help limit voting rights.

Can you see the pattern developing?

After stirring all those policies and procedures into their magic caldron White Christians could strengthen their position even more with a war on evolution.  Why?  Simply because what can't happen can’t happen to them.

So, if your name is Barack Hussein Obama and you are black and possibly Muslim and possibly from Kenya and possibly can't speak English, be afraid, be very afraid, because you are the personification of everything that foretells the imminent demise of the chosen ones and the chosen ones will stop at nothing to prevent you from leading them into darkness.

Oh, if all the above fails simply de-fund the EPA; that way no one can have the planet.

Consultancy and the Presidency --- Are they compatible?

Can a consultant be a good president?  Some think yes, but maybe they just don’t know Mitt.

What are consultants, Management Consultants to be exact?  Some say they are the saviors of distressed businesses; some say they are merely bloodsucking parasites; and some say they are just soulless whores.  And some of those sayers just ain’t being nice.  But, depending on the circumstances and the outcome, all those descriptions can be true individually or in concert.

The job of consultants is, simply put, to identify and correct business problems with the goal of improving the company’s bottom line.  Seems simple enough doesn’t it?  Well, it actually is that simple, except for the correcting part.

So, how does this relate to being President?

Yeah, this is political --- how could it not be?  It’s the season, the country is in distress, and a consultant is claiming to have all the answers.  The problem though is that this country’s problems may not be so easy to fix, even for the most able of consultants.

Why is that you ask?  Well, a good consultant can indeed discover the roots of a problem and recommend solutions.  Unfortunately agreeing on a specific solution and then implementing it cannot be done in a vacuum; it requires teamwork.  Also, most companies, even conglomerates, usually have fairly simple problems involving production, distribution, labor, warrantee costs, liability costs, overhead, and profit margins.  The only truly difficult business problems involve product creation (imagineering) and marketing which often require mirrors and magic and gullible consumers as part of the solution.  That’s something politicians can only dream about, he said with a smirk.

So, how does this relate to being President you ask again?

After a consultant identifies the problems and the customer agrees to a solution there are three commonly accepted methods used to build and implement that solution: A) Majority Rule; B) Consensus; and C) Best Practices.

Let’s exam those options:

C) Best Practices --- Offering a Best Practices solution simply means offering up the best solution used by others to solve similar problems. It requires a consultant with extensive knowledge of related industries, or in this case, a thorough understanding of how other governments have solved similar problems.  For commercial companies Best Practices solutions can be easy to implement, but in a government setting it’s probably not a slam-dunk scenario.  We Americans just don’t want to be like ‘Those Europeans’, or ‘Those Canadians’, or any other group.  We Americans are simply too ruggedly individualistic to wear someone else’s boots, gosh darnit.

B) Consensus --- This can be thought of as getting all the liars in one room and not letting them out until all agree on a solution.  If you are concerned for their welfare, don’t be. Sending out for Chinese and Pizza is completely kosher.  Consensus is arguably the best solution methodology for any NGO or commercial venture.  But some political parties are so self absorbed and beholden to special interest groups (Grover Norquist, Karl Rove and the Koch brothers come easily to mind) that individual thought combined with true examination of other’s thoughts is, let’s say, frowned upon.  True consensus requires all participants to actually participate.  So you have to ask yourself: Have we elected anyone who actually represents us?  Anyone who actually thinks?  Honestly, now.  Mitt would have to be a world-class cat herder.

And lastly A) Majority Rule --- This can be thought of as a simple ‘Up or Down’ vote.  Typically a couple of Congressmen and/or Congresswomen get together in a back room with a clutch of lobbyists and ‘craft’ a bill designed to solve some real or imaginary problem.  Then they attempt to bring it to a vote.  Although this method generally proves to be less than efficient, sometimes requiring many do-overs, it will at the end of the day, be the chosen methodology for several reasons.  It will allow some elected officials to faithfully represent us.  It will allow some elected officials to honor their pledges to special interest groups.  And it will allow some elected officials to sleep through the hearings waking only in time to vote the party line.  It is, unfortunately, the method best suited to our current do-nothing Congress.

So, how does all that relate to picking a President?

For my two cents a management consultant degree is impressive, it may even bring the consultant riches.  But, it may not be of any practical use should he or she be elected to the Office of President.  Congress won’t abide Best Practices solutions.  Congress won’t sit still for long hearings that can only end once consensus is achieved.  That leaves only the Majority Rule method of problem solving.  That is what we have now; that is what we have always had.  A consultants talents will assuredly be wasted.

For my two cents I would prefer a President who will at least try to represent me, not some special interest group.  A President who will at least try to make us understand that a lop-sided my way or the highway Congress is not democratic.  A President who will at least try to make We The Electorate see the bigger picture.  And a President who will paint a picture of Our America, not a picture depicting only the wants-and-gimmes of special interests and big business and narrow-minded non-thinkers.  I don’t care if that President is a Republican or Democrat, is Green or Purple, or has any other affiliation.  Because, when it comes to viable solutions there are good things to be had from socialism, there are good things to be had from conservatism, there are good things to be had from progressivism, and there are good things to be had from most other ‘isms’ as well.   What we need and deserve is a President who can deliver the appropriate portions of each.  Full stop.

The Economics Test From Hell

Quantitative Easing (QE) is a monetary policy used by central banks to increase money supply by increasing the excess reserves of the banking system.   This policy is usually invoked when normal methods to control the money supply have failed; i.e. the bank interest rate, discount rate and/or interbank interest rate are either at, or close to, zero.

The nightmare scenario of the U.S. having to print money because it can no longer borrow enough to fund its government operations has already happened. That the Fed is now doing more QE (QE2) indicates a self perpetuating inflationary cycle is already underway.

A QE-Made-Simple definition goes something like this: The Fed, when it can no longer reduce interest rates or borrow enough money, prints money ex nihilo (out of nothing) that it uses to buy back government bonds from banks thereby increasing the amount of money available in the system.  This has the immediate effect of reducing the value of all existing dollars and US debt.  You can easily see this in foreign currency exchange rates with countries whose currency is not pegged to the dollar.  In other words, more money is available but we get inflation at home, and if we elect to travel outside our country we will find our money worth even less than the last time we traveled.  Other countries are not getting richer; we are getting poorer.

The upside to QE is that anything we export to countries whose currency is not pegged to ours becomes cheaper, and the downside is that everything we import from countries whose currency is not pegged to ours becomes more expensive.

The Chinese Juan is currently pegged to the US Dollar, but if the Chinese let the Juan float, almost everything sold by Wal-Mart will become more expensive as a direct result of QE.

QE will also encourage foreign holders of US debt to sell that debt and not buy any more of our government bonds, except for TIPS (Treasury Inflation Protected Securities).  Even TIPS will ultimately be shunned because they are based on the understated US government inflation rate.

A scarcity of foreign capital means the US government cannot currently fully fund its budget or its trade deficit; that scarcity could send our economy into a severe contraction and/or depression. Therefore the Fed’s only option is to print more money.  But, when the Fed does print more money we become at risk for hyperinflation.

QE is a tool of last resort, therefore, let’s hope the folks at the Fed are wise enough to manage the problem and the tool; that all the new folk we just elected are smart enough to take their attention off guns, abortions, gay bashing and inter-party name calling long enough to grasp and understand this problem.  This isn’t about which party is in charge; it’s about all parties recognizing the direness of the situation and working together diligently to solve it.  Full stop.

Politicians, Big Business, and Medical Records

Lately I’ve been hearing a lot about storing our medical records in some electronic cloud, to be accessed by anyone who needs them, whenever they need to.  I’ve also heard a great hue and cry that it can’t be done or it can’t be done economically.  Personally, I think it’s eminently doable and doable at a reasonable cost.


Think Facebook.

What Facebook allows you and me to do is set up a personalized website that contains all manner of data, pictures, stories, links, etc, that we can access from virtually anywhere.  It also allows us to dictate who can see all that stuff.  And it does it for free.  So far.

Now, if I were to upload x-ray images, EKG readouts, CT scan data, doctor’s reports, test results, etc, etc, instead of just pictures and stories, I could have my entire medical history available from anyplace I can logon to a computer.  And with a few minor tweaks Facebook could be trained to accept a pin number or retinal scan, allowing me to authorize access to that data by any new ‘Friend’, i.e. my doctor or hospital or EMS team.  Think about it.

For example: I could go into my doctor’s office, have my insurance card scanned, enter my PIN, and voila, the doc could have permanent or temporary access to my entire medical history, or only to specific portions of it.  (Your dentist may not need access to your OBGYN data.)  When my visit is over, I could disallow or allow continued access to my data until access is no longer required, just like logging off a Facebook session.  Simple, what?

Technologically, Facebook does a masterful job collecting, organizing, and storing all the data we can throw at it.  From millions of folks around the world.  So why not a similar system for medical data.  Of course it would have to run on a VPN (Virtual Private Network) instead of the hackable Internet, but that’s no biggie, brokerage houses and banks do that all the time.

Why aren’t we doing it, you ask?

I think the real pushback is from people and organizations who want the data organized their way and who may also want unobstructed access so they can refuse to hire you, raise your insurance premiums, or own your data.  Therefore, our politicians would have to buy into the notion and then actually go to bat for us, to protect our privacy.  That’s the part I don’t see happening.  Too many politicians are just shills for big business; we must first learn how to elect politicians that represent us.  Full stop.

So, how would it work?

Your doctor, for example, would only need a workstation and a subscription to the VPN.  No fancy software, no tons of storage, and probably no training.  (Who trained you to use Facebook?)  A scanner could be used initially to capture existing paper documents and, as networkable devices become available, things like EKG units could be logically connected to the workstation so your doc could view the data and/or include it in your file.  A file that would reside on some secure server farm.  This approach actually fits, to a Tee, the KISS requirement for good technology solutions.  (KISS: Keep It Simple Stupid.)  And Mr. Zuckerberg could probably set up a demo over a weekend.

If ads germane to your doctor or hospital appeared at the edge of your ‘Page’, the system might actually pay for itself.  But, I would draw the line at the system parsing your data and recommending new ‘Friends’ (Specialists, undertakers, etc.).  That would be too creepy and an invasion of privacy.  It would also make the system ripe for take over by drug companies.

How do we start?  By electing ethical, non business-shill representatives.  If any exist.

Communism vs Capitalism

Remember when the world was divided among communistic and capitalistic countries?  When the Chinese were communists?  Well, the Chinese still call themselves communists, but today they are also capitalists.  In fact, if you visit China today you will find the most dynamic capitalistic nation in the world.

Beyond that, China also wants to be a power to be reckoned with and the Chinese have made that goal a national priority.

However, it wasn’t too many years ago when the West was having its way with China.

Consider the two periods in Chinese history now referred to as the Opium Wars.  The first was between 1839 and 1842, and the second was between 1856 and 1860.

Opium was smuggled by merchants from British India into China, in defiance of Chinese laws, resulting in open warfare between Britain and China in 1839, and further disputes over the treatment of British merchants in Chinese ports resulted in the Second Opium War.

China was defeated in both these wars, requiring it to tolerate the opium trade.

Britain then forced the Chinese government into signing the Treaty of Nanking and the Treaty of Tianjin, known as the Unequal Treaties.  These treaties included provisions for opening additional ports to unrestricted foreign trade; for fixed tariffs; for the recognition of both countries as equal in correspondence; and for the cession of Hong Kong to Britain.

Several countries followed Britain’s lead seeking similar agreements with China, and many Chinese found these agreements humiliating which lead to the Taiping Rebellion (1850–1864), the Boxer Rebellion (1899–1901), and the downfall of the Qing Dynasty in 1912 which put an end to dynastic China.

Next came the Cultural Revolution: A violent mass movement in the People’s Republic of China that started in 1966 and officially ended with Mao Zedong's death in 1976.  It resulted in social, political, and economic upheaval; widespread persecution; and the destruction of antiques, historical sites, and culture.

It was launched by Chairman Mao on May 16, 1966 when he alleged that liberal bourgeois elements were permeating the Party and society-at-large and that they wanted to restore capitalism.  Mao insisted, in accordance with his Theory of Permanent Revolution, that these elements be removed by a violent revolutionary class struggle manifested by mobilizing China's youth to form Red Guard groups throughout the country.

Chairman Mao did change China, but his Theory of Permanent Revolution died with him and capitalism has since re-entered the Communist Party and Chinese society.

Today, Chinese cities are booming and more building cranes are being used in them than in the entire United States.  China’s super-highways are filled with modern cars. Its deep-water ports and airports are world class.  Its research and development centers are state of the art.  And, at its current rate of growth China will soon be the largest economy in the world.  And a power to be reckoned with.

As a side note, China’s navy is already larger than that of the US.

Recently, Robert Reich wrote:

“China’s innovators, investors, and captains of industry are being richly rewarded. They live in luxury housing developments whose streets are lined with McMansions.  They feed in fancy restaurants, and relax in five-star hotels and resorts.  [China’s poor live in an entirely different world, but a tax-free world due to China’s tax structure and implementation of capitalism.]

China shows that when it comes to economics, the dividing line among the world’s nations is no longer between communism and capitalism.  Capitalism has won hands down.  The real dividing line is no longer economic.  It’s political.  And that divide is between democracy and authoritarianism.  China is a capitalist economy with an authoritarian government.

For years, we’ve assumed that capitalism and democracy fit hand in glove. We took it as an article of faith that you can’t have one without the other.  That’s why a key element of American policy toward China has been to encourage free trade, direct investment, and open markets.  As China becomes more prosperous and integrated into the global market -- so American policy makers have thought -- China will also become more democratic.

Well, maybe we’ve been a bit naive.  It’s true that democracy needs capitalism.  Try to come up with the name of a single democracy in the world that doesn’t have a capitalist economy.  For democracy to function there must be centers of power outside of government.  Capitalism decentralizes economic power, and thereby provides the private ground in which democracy can take root.

But China shows that the reverse may not be true, that capitalism doesn’t need democracy.  Capitalism’s wide diffusion of economic power offers enough incentive for investors to take risks with their money.  But, as China shows, capitalism doesn’t necessarily provide enough protection for individuals to take risks with their opinions.”

Robert Reich is Professor of Public Policy at the Goldman School of Public Policy at the University of California at Berkeley.

The Rise of the Giant Panda may in fact teach us new rules for economic engagement as well as new rules for governance.  Rules we may never agree with, but rules we must compete with if we don’t want to be relegated to history’s dustbin full of  “The Rise and Fall of xxx “ countries.

Giant Panda Rising

I have just returned from an eye-opening trip to China.

China, today, is a modern, vibrant country that is bound and determined to be the number one economy on the planet.  To that end they are purposefully building a middle class that will propel them to their goal by 2015, leaving the US vying with Japan and/or India for the number two or number three spot.

For our part, we are fighting back by tackling such heady issues as Gay bashing, becoming a Theocracy, defending our right to carry concealed weapons in Starbucks, and not offending any Mama-Grizzlies.

Current estimates of the size of the middle class in China range from 100 million to 247 million, depending on how much income it takes to make one “middle class.”  Assuming an income of about $9000 is necessary, China could have over 600 million middle class citizens by 2015; in other words they will have twice as many people in their middle class as we have in our entire country.

Also, roughly half of China's projected urban population will be middle class by 2025. And, unlike the US where income levels typically peak between the ages of 45 and 54, it is projected that the wealthiest consumers in China will be between 25 and 44 years old; a result of their younger generation being more highly educated than ours.

The Chinese government is promoting and subsidizing education as a major component of its economic war.  We, however, are experiencing the highest High School drop out rates since the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

So, who cares, you ask?

Well, consider this: if China’s middle class becomes large enough to consume all the output from its manufacturing facilities we could be forced to bid up the prices of their goods just to incentivize them to ship some our way.  And, if the US is successful in getting China to allow the value of its Yuan to float, the cost of cheap Chinese goods could skyrocket.

But, I’m betting that the next election in the US will be about other, far more pressing issues.

The meteoric rise in China’s middle class is tied to dramatic increases in its per capita income:

• The first industrial revolution created a 250% increase in per capita income over a 100-year period.

• The second industrial revolution triggered a 350% per capita income growth over a 60-year period.

By comparison, China is on track to create a 700% growth in per capita income in just 20 years.

The Chinese are also quite aware of how challenging meshing Communism and Capitalism can be: Russia failed miserably and even Japan, a democracy, overheated its economy in its bid to be top dog.

The primary difference in China’s tactic is what I call “Pay to Play”.  If you are Chinese and want to become rich you agree to pay high taxes, period.  If you are Chinese and poor you benefit by paying no taxes, period.  In other words the rich are required to lift the entire country up by its bootstraps, not just whine and whinge about having to pay taxes while figuring out how to move their money off-shore.  Pay to Play makes it desirable for the rich to move as many people as possible into the middle class as fast as possible.  What we deride as spreading the wealth is viewed in China as growing the country.  A very sound business strategy anywhere.  Well, almost anywhere.

Consider too that the Chinese are perfectly happy to let us send our youth to fight other's wars, but if we become too trigger happy, economically or militarily, they could easily apply sanctions forcing us to take our finger off the button and de-nuke ourselves, or else.  But, for the US, Gay bashing is much more important, especially if you can brandish a weapon while doing it.  All in the name of God of course.

So, in closing, think before you vote, demand politicians who understand the bigger picture.  Our country literally depends on it.

Whittling and Whistling on My Day Off

A re-post of a non-political musing.

It’s a hot and humid night and I’m sitting behind my desk, bored, reading the words on the door.  The door is open to let in air, and the lights are off to conserve cash.  A deck of Luckies is on the desk next to my feet and a lit fag is hanging from my lips.

I’m leaning back with my hands clasped behind my head thinking about closing up when the light from the bare bulb in the hallway gets real dim.  She’s a tall drink of water and the bulb’s light glowing through her hair makes her look like an angel with a halo.  She’s standing there staring at me, her head cocked to one side, her hip up against the jamb; she doesn’t look like she belongs in this part of town.

D. Sallee--Private Detective, the words say.  Yeah, that’s a big jump from last year when I was doing a nickel up the river, my name was a number and I certainly wasn’t no Private Dick.  I was sent up for busting that old man’s kneecaps because he wouldn’t pay the vig on the money he owed Blackie.  But that’s all behind me; I’m legit now.  I’m even allowed to pack heat.

I’m curious about what the looker wants, so I say: “What can I do for you babe?”  “I want to hire you” she says,  “I’m in trouble and need help”.  “C’mon in, sit down and take a load off” I tell her. After she sits down I pass her the deck of Luckies and ask her name.  “Joey Schwarz” she says with an accent that screams Bed-Stuy and tenements even though she’s dressed to the nines.  Then it hits me, like a ton of bricks: Schwarz is kraut for Black.  She’s Blackie’s moll.  Blackie sent her to see if I’m gonna turn fink for him lettin’ me take the rap.  Wouldn’t put it past him.  Wouldn’t put it past the rat bastard. Va fungoul Blackie, I say to my self, va fungoul!

She taps a fag from the deck, sticks it between her lips and leans toward me.  It takes a sec, but I get it, I strike a match and hold it out.  She takes a deep drag and holds it a while before blowing the smoke across my desk.  Classy broad, I think, real classy broad.  Her knees are peeking out from under the hem of her skirt; she crosses her legs, gives me a crooked smile, and starts telling her story.

I’m half listening, half giving her the once over and half thinking---Why does Blackie want to worry about me?  I ain’t a made man but I ain’t a fink either.  Blackie knows that.

She’s wearing high heels, the kind they call Stilettos.  Her skirt is some shiny material, dark green, and her blouse is white and tight.  She’s wearing a jacket that matches her skirt, her hair is dark auburn, and mascara is running down her cheeks, like she’s been crying.  She’s definitely no kraut from the looks of her.  She reeks of old Palermo and I’m glad we are on the third floor and I’m facing the door.  My gat’s in my pocket just in case I need it.

Then, something she says grabs my attention.  “Repeat that” I say tapping the ashes from my fag onto the floor.  “C’mon Dave” she whines “I just need a ride home, it’s late, I’m tired, and my car’s broke down.”  “Okay, okay” I say “it‘s past eleven, I’ve been here since seven and I’m tired too”.  I flip the sign from Open to Closed, turn the key, and walk my sister to the car.

Socialism, Is It Good or Bad?

Oy vey, so why do Conservatives want to demonize the term ‘Socialism’ anyway?

We all know that pure anything isn’t necessarily good (unless it’s Maple Syrup), so why pure Capitalism? Let’s face it, unfettered Capitalism is just a legalized pyramid scheme that makes it possible, nay, even desirable, for one person to end up with all the marbles. Socialism on the other hand simply means that everyone gets a chance to share in the wealth based on merit or the amount of labor he or she contributes to society. Similar to Communism, to be sure, but with a democratic form of governance that is not classless. In the best of all possible worlds a democratic society will end up being a mix of fettered Capitalism and beneficial Socialism. Some of us just need to accept that fact and move on.

You could deduce from their actions and words that today’s Conservatives aren’t democratic at all but are actually leaning toward Totalitarianism. At the risk of using the ‘R’ word when ideologues get too hell bent and scripted when promoting their political stance it starts to sound a lot like a religion, not a form of governance, and definitely not the ‘We the People…” kind of governance.

Does Socialism exist in our country? You bet it does, and you can also bet that most folks don’t really want it to go away. Here are a few examples of social programs instituted by our democratic form of governance:

Bike Paths                                    Electric Coops
Fire Departments                          Food stamps
HOA’s                                          Interstate Highways

Mandated Automobile Insurance     Medicaid
Medicare                                      NASA
Port Authorities                            Police Departments

Public Libraries                             Public Parks
Public Transit                               Seat Belt Laws
Social Security                             The Armed Forces

The National Guard                      The Peace Corps
Welfare

(If the military is twice or three times larger than needed, those jobs are not real jobs, but government funded make work projects, and furthermore, the healthcare system enjoyed by all members of the military is a single payer plan run by the government---i.e. socialized medicine.)

Even unnecessary wars are socialistic because they create government funded jobs in both the public and private sectors that are not needed during peacetime.

So, some socialism is good, some is bad. Which would you eliminate? Whose grandmother would you deny Social Security or Medicare, whose town would you deny fire protection, which National Park would you give over to big business, whose children would you deny an education because their parents couldn’t afford private schools? Think about it.

Sure we like the idea of the rugged American individualist, but for much of our history people had to come together forming co-ops to get things done: Raising barns, buying farm equipment, affording a town doctor, a teacher or a sheriff, water and sewage treatment systems. And, we've conveniently forgotten that McCarthy terrorized the country with Communism so much so that every government idea that's not ruggedly individualistic is met with suspicion and fear. We’ve also forgotten that mortality rates from starvation, accidents and childbirth were astronomically high before social plans were put in place. In a pure Capitalistic society you would still be on your own, even when it doesn’t make sense.

So, the next time you hear a Conservative denigrating the ‘S’ word, think twice before you agree. You may be hurting yourself, your country, and your children, and you may be contributing to the dumbing down of a Conservative.

Dinner Party Politics

Most folks believe that discussing sex, money, religion, and politics outside the bedroom should be verboten; it just shouldn’t be done in polite society.  And, for the most part I agree, except when it comes to politics.  Discussing sex can be titillating, discussing money can be profitable, and discussing religion might be enlightening, but discussing politics will probably end up costing you a friend.  Should it be that way?  Probably not.

Our democracy benefits when people engage in open-minded discourse, sharing opinions and beliefs as long as the conversations are intellectual, not emotional. And I’m not using the Conservative’s Elitist definition of intellectual here; I’m using intellectual in the sense of intelligence and critical or analytical thinking.  But, all parties do have to check their Glocks with the sheriff before entering the debate.

Unfortunately though, some politically inclined folk prefer to get their daily dose of politics from like-minded people or paid-for-performance pundits.  Pundits whose next raise or promotion or book deal depends on getting you all wound up and wobbly.  In a sense, politics has become a business in its own right.  A non-secular business at that.  Pay-per-view in the truest sense.

The airwaves, blogosphere and print media are full of self serving, ranting and raving ideologues whose primary purpose is to foment anger and outrage in whatever segment of the electorate they are currently working.  And each segment, for its part, seldom investigates the ideologue’s motives (usually money and fame) or the so-called facts supporting his or her claims.

Ideologues, especially the paid-for-performance ideologues, seldom employ intellectual reasoning, preferring instead to appeal to the emotions of their audience; using the very same tactics employed by every despicable despotic leader since the beginning of time.  Which means, of course, that it works.  Which means, of course, we haven’t yet evolved enough to question obviously half-baked ‘truths’, truths that could easily be debunked by the average non-partisan 2nd grader with access to the Internet.  Shame on us.

Consider too, that we actually encourage those ideologues when we tacitly agree only to listen and never question what we’ve heard.

You’ve surely heard of signing loyalty oaths as a precondition to entry at a rally or organization.  Those oaths are almost like the oath demanded by a pedophile of his prey: “Don’t tell your mommy or daddy or Uncle Joe, because they won’t understand, they’re not like us”.  And yes, I am likening certain pundits to disgusting pedophiles with the minor difference being that their mass audience approach raises them to the level of Glorified Cluster Groper where all the gropees are required to chant in unison: “Wow, that felt good-----didn’t it-----?”

So, why don’t we engage in polite political discourse: sharing ideas, opinions, and beliefs?  Is it really improper?  Do we fear losing friends?  Do we fear new ideas?  Do we fear having our minds changed?  Are we afraid that we don’t have all the facts and might seem ill informed?  Are we afraid to learn by making mistakes?  Or is it just easier to let someone else do the thinking, leaving to us the heady tasks of twirling batons, waving pom-poms and reloading our Glocks?  How can we, without perturbation, select leaders who will certainly shape our mores if we can’t or won’t discuss the options in polite conversation?  Have we abdicated our responsibility, or are we just lazy and afraid?  Do we not know how to be polite and still make a point?  Has civility left the room?

Personally, I think discussing politics can be titillating and profitable and enlightening as well as educational, and if that costs me a friend, well maybe he or she wasn’t really a friend to begin with.