I'm just amazed that people who have a different viewpoint (um, pretty much the wide-eyed, Ayn Rand, conservative "taxes are bad, regulation is bad, government is inept" crowd) have to levy judgment that one's intellect is flawed rather than just acknowledging that there are different ways to look at the world.
I've been called unintelligent by a person I consider a close friend at one of my birthday parties because I don't subscribe to supply side economics (or, trickle down economics which even G.H.W. Bush didn't believe in) or welfare mothers in Cadillacs. Today, I was inherently called stupid by the sister of another friend for engaging in a conversation on facebook about Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged."
When someone advances these concepts, I must admit that I question why they're looking at the world that way. In the case of my insult hurling birthday party friend, she's still focused on how she always felt she had to work for things in her life and her sister got all the breaks without deserving it. It colors all of her opinions about people whose lives don't work but get assistance from the government or parental figures. Her belief in welfare mothers in Cadillacs stems from her anger with her father and her sister and from no empirical data or anecdote.
I don't know today why my friend's sister felt it was necessary to tell me I wasn't smart enough to understand "Atlas Shrugged." I understood it just fine; I just don't agree that it's a valid economic and societal blueprint. In fact, given that our society and government have been operated from this blueprint for the last eight plus years (I'd say more like 28 years) and it's a spectacular failure would put the bullet in the argument, but it seems to be ramping up again even as its spawn melts down.
So, what is it about persons of more conservative political and social views (wasn't it nice of me not to call them little Hitlers, fascists, bigots, haters, fear mongers, oppressive and superior white bastards or any number of other labels I could have used?) find people who disagree to be intellectually flawed?
How is it that these same people will ask my flawed intellect for instruction on how to deal with tax issues, or to recall historical facts, or to provide relationship advice, or to provide a shoulder to cry on? If my intellect was that flawed, then why should it follow that ANY of my mental qualities were reliable?
DJHJD
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Atlas shrugged, and the world should have
I managed to skate through college without strolling into the Waldo Library until the last week of my senior year. Thus, I managed to complete a very fine public school education and a mediocre (by my own making) college education without having come into contact with Ayn Rand's monumental "Atlas Shrugged." In fact, I successfully completed college without having heard of it. I read a great deal of other, weighty tomes. "The Brothers Karamazov," for instance.
A few years ago, a fellow I had met was raving on about how "Atlas Shrugged" was the most important book he'd ever read. How it was such a signal truth about society. Okay, so I was influenced by how how I thought the guy was, so I picked up a copy of the book and read it. All 1400+ pages of it. I read it right through to the end, and thought as I closed the back cover "What a piece of self-indulgent crap."
Many young men read this work, and figure that they point of Ayn's Rant is the government and economic structure of the United States. It's not. Ayn was a child of the Eastern Block (for those of you who remember,) and her work was a rant about centralized economic planning and monolithic bureaucracies of the Soviet Union.
A great number of people don't do their homework on this point. Including Allen Greenspan, who, as it turns out, was ministering to our nation's economic condition using the premises of Ayn's Rant - all regulation is bad, and true, unfettered capitalism will always self-correct.
Somehow that hasn't worked out so well for us. And, the unfettered capitalists have run to the protection of the State, while those oppressed workers become further downtrodden and further disenfranchised.
It's funny, but as I remember the book and the story, the wealthy (who toiled not, neither did they sow) were living off the largesse of the State.
That being the case, isn't it then true that Ayn's Rant, when applied to the real world, has brought about the very condition that Ayn ranted against?
A few years ago, a fellow I had met was raving on about how "Atlas Shrugged" was the most important book he'd ever read. How it was such a signal truth about society. Okay, so I was influenced by how how I thought the guy was, so I picked up a copy of the book and read it. All 1400+ pages of it. I read it right through to the end, and thought as I closed the back cover "What a piece of self-indulgent crap."
Many young men read this work, and figure that they point of Ayn's Rant is the government and economic structure of the United States. It's not. Ayn was a child of the Eastern Block (for those of you who remember,) and her work was a rant about centralized economic planning and monolithic bureaucracies of the Soviet Union.
A great number of people don't do their homework on this point. Including Allen Greenspan, who, as it turns out, was ministering to our nation's economic condition using the premises of Ayn's Rant - all regulation is bad, and true, unfettered capitalism will always self-correct.
Somehow that hasn't worked out so well for us. And, the unfettered capitalists have run to the protection of the State, while those oppressed workers become further downtrodden and further disenfranchised.
It's funny, but as I remember the book and the story, the wealthy (who toiled not, neither did they sow) were living off the largesse of the State.
That being the case, isn't it then true that Ayn's Rant, when applied to the real world, has brought about the very condition that Ayn ranted against?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Bush's achievements
Boris Johnson, the lavishly Tory Mayor of London ...
Snared from Andrew Sullivan's post on the Atlantic Monthly website
However well-intentioned it was, the catastrophic and unpopular intervention in Iraq has served in some parts of the world to discredit the very idea of western democracy.
The recent collapse of the banking system, and the humiliating resort to semi-socialist solutions, has done a great deal to discredit - in some people's eyes - the idea of free-market capitalism.
Democracy and capitalism are the two great pillars of the American idea.
To have rocked one of those pillars may be regarded as a misfortune.
To have damaged the reputation of both, at home and abroad, is a pretty stunning achievement for an American president.
Snared from Andrew Sullivan's post on the Atlantic Monthly website
Don't count your chickens...
Just remember, at this point in the 1980 election, Ronald Reagan was down by eight points in the polls. In the end, Jimmy Carter only carried six states including his own, and lost the popular vote by nearly 10 points.
Get out the vote!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Jackie the dog 1995 - 2008
The story of Jackie the dog starts back in 1982, when I had only been in Houston a few months. There was a dog wandering the neighborhood, a beautiful gold colored German Shepherd. We gave him a little nosh, and he started hanging around. My room mate, Brad, took to calling him "Pferd," German for "Horse," since he was pretty large. He always responded to that name, which seemed odd at the time.
We took him to the vet clinic in the neighborhood, and learned that he had belonged to someone that had moved away, and abandoned him. His name was "Fred," which explained his reaction to being called "Pferd."
Fred was an awesome, heroic, patient dog who lived until 1992. I had always thought it would be great to get a female silver point Shepherd and call her "Ethel," but holy smokes! Have you seen what the cost of a purebred dog is? Just before he passed, I was given the gift of another dog, a little black chow mix puppy that I named "Barney." Fred and Barney. Get it?
Barney lived up to his name, and was .. well, you can read in the archives about Barney.
Barney had been with me about three years when my friends Kurtis and David called one evening. They lived just up the street from me, and a friend of theirs had rescued a chow chow female that she couldn't keep. They thought about taking her in, but she didn't socialize with their female chow mix dog, and they thought of me.
I hopped into the car, drove the few blocks to their house and there, sitting off by herself, was a stunningly beautiful cinnamon pure bred chowchow. She was gorgeous.
She had been abandoned around the time she was fully grown, and had lived on the streets of Montrose for at least a year before this woman had caught her, taken her to the vet, had her fixed and "fixed," and groomed.
I've often questioned whether one can fall in love at first sight, and with people, I still wonder about that. I can tell you, though, that it is possible to fall in love at first sight, because it happened to me right there.
The woman who had rescued her called her "Annie" (little orphan annie) but I called her Jackie after Jacqueline Onassis. I figured she had had a rough life, but was regal, dignified and very, very beautiful, so naming her after the former First Lady was apropos.
Jackie came home to live with me right then. She and Barney got along just fine, although it was pretty clear that it was she who was in charge.
At first, she was so skittish about allowing someone to "control" her - she wouldn't let me put her leash on her. She so wanted to go outside with me and Barney, but she just couldn't bring herself that last few inches to let me clip the leash onto her collar. I thought making her stay behind while Barney and I went out on the leash would persuade her, but after several days, she would let me get just an eyelash from her collar and then she'd dart away.
My room mate, Billy (who's deserving of a chapter or two of his own) surprised me when I was out with Barney by coming around the other side of the block with Jackie on the leash. I asked him how the HECK he had gotten her to let him clip the leash on her, and he just looked at me like I was an alien. "Why, raw meat, you ninny."
I kept Jackie on the leash that evening, standing in the kitchen between Billy and me while we had company over. I stood on the lead to her collar so she couldn't go anywhere, and fed her scraps and petted her. She was never again relucant to let me handle her again.
Jackie was very grateful to be indoors, fed, loved and safe. Unlike Barney, who was a locust for any attention or calories, Jackie was patient, accomodating and adapting. One evening, I put in the movie "It's My Party," which I was then emotionally unprepared for. The movie made me reflect upon the dozens of friends that I'd lost to AIDS, and as the film reached its climax, I was sobbing. Jackie climbed into my lap and began licking my face. Barney, being the shit that he was, crawled into my lap as well, but he wanted the attention Jackie was getting - he wouldn't have cared if I was bleeding to death as long as he got all the food and attention.
When we moved into the apartment on Bagby, Jackie would frequently get on the bed at night and sleep near me. If I awoke during the night, I could feel the almost feather-light change in pressure as she jumped off of the bed.
Because of Barney's behavior, I started penning the two of them into the kitchen when I'd go away or sleep at night. Barney was always a piddler, who'd walk and squirt. Jackie would squat and do her business all at once, and I assumed I could differentiate between the two of them if there was an accident at home. Boy, was I wrong about that.
After a short transition period after I started restraining them in the kitchen, I'd arise nearly every morning and find a big puddle of urine in the kitchen. It was not the typical Barney walking squirt, so I assumed it was Jackie doing the dirty work. I took to "caging" her by tethering her to the laundry room door, limiting her movement to just a small area.
That worked for a short time, and then I'd arise and find Jackie, tethered to the door, standing in a lake of urine, soaking wet.
These were not good mornings for me. For her, either.
One morning, I awoke and heard the inimitable sound of urine splashing on a tile floor coming from the kitchen. Silently, I lept from my bed and dashed to the kitchen. I looked around the corner to where Jackie was tethered, and .. Barney had insinuated himself BETWEEN her and the laundry room door, and was urinating BEHIND her.
Our assumption that dogs and other creatures don't have the power to be calculating or make plans is flawed.
Jackie's life got much better after that.
In February 2007, Barney had a stroke. He was thirteen years old, and had gotten quite frail. After spending nearly ten years with him, Jackie wasn't in the least bit distressed by her constant companion lying there incapacitated. She seemed almost to communicate "ignore the black one, now it's MY turn!"
She was indeed pampered after Barney's passing. I only regret that her pampering and being attended to had to wait until Barney passed along; she had gotten old enough that we could only incrementally improve her life, not create a new one.
Jackie was a trooper in all respects - in April last, when we went with Robert and his two dogs to the ranch in Colorado, she only complained when the other dogs would plow into her in their unbridled enthusiasm in the back seat. She checked things out, and then napped for a week in the sun.
It's nearly impossible to see the physical decline in a creature you're with every day in close quarters. Jackie was having trouble going up and down stairs a year ago. She had trouble negotiating the rocks in Colorado, and she was having difficulty with the hills here in San Francisco.
Over the last two weeks, she had lost interest in eating, and was vomiting every day. Although she was clearly uncomfortable, her personality didn't change a bit. She was aloof except when she wanted attention, she was enthusiastic about going outside, and she hated getting wet.
We went back to the self-serve dog wash yesterday, and she wasn't too pleased about getting wet - again - but, she soldiered through. She couldn't walk up the steep hills, and I had to carry her.
Today, I took her to David's vet. For the first time, she couldn't get herself into the car and I had to lift her in. She sat, expectantly, on the floorboard, and nosed around with her normal detached enthusiasm in the new place. Even though visits to the vet usually cause her distress, she was peaceful and affectionate.
Initially, they couldn't find evidence of anything that would clearly explain her condition. She had arthritis far more severely than I had believed; her lower back and shoulders must have caused her great discomfort. Her stomach was distended, and they at first thought that they could treat her with a curative for her stomach lining and an appetite enhancer. The other vet did an ultrasound of her abdomen, and they found the large tumor in her stomach.
Chow chows have stomach cancer more than 20 times more often than other breeds, and when they become symptomatic, it's too late to do anything about it. Her blood values were all quite normal, so she wasn't feeling the effects of her illness, other than the stomach discomfort. There was only one decision to make, and they brought her out to say good-bye.
Jackie wasn't too much interested in being loved on right then, she was ready to move on to the next thing. She kept heading for the door, and the next place there was to go.
I've had a dog since Fred came wandering around in 1982. All three of my dogs were unwanted in their lives, discarded and thrown aside. Jackie was the most special of the three. She spent her whole life with me being grateful that I had taken her in.
Perhaps it's a sign that I'm now done with that part of my life that today was her day to exit this plane. She was the last real link to who I've always known myself to be. The rest is just dross - structures and detritus that needs to be cleared away, dealt with and disposed of.
I'm grateful to have had the time with her. I'll miss hearing her clacking around on the floor, miss her soft snore as she sleeps the day away, the happy look on her face when she gingerly chews her food, her reluctance to get her feet wet, and her nudging me with her snout, looking to get validation and love.
Godspeed, gentle soul.
We took him to the vet clinic in the neighborhood, and learned that he had belonged to someone that had moved away, and abandoned him. His name was "Fred," which explained his reaction to being called "Pferd."
Fred was an awesome, heroic, patient dog who lived until 1992. I had always thought it would be great to get a female silver point Shepherd and call her "Ethel," but holy smokes! Have you seen what the cost of a purebred dog is? Just before he passed, I was given the gift of another dog, a little black chow mix puppy that I named "Barney." Fred and Barney. Get it?
Barney lived up to his name, and was .. well, you can read in the archives about Barney.
Barney had been with me about three years when my friends Kurtis and David called one evening. They lived just up the street from me, and a friend of theirs had rescued a chow chow female that she couldn't keep. They thought about taking her in, but she didn't socialize with their female chow mix dog, and they thought of me.
I hopped into the car, drove the few blocks to their house and there, sitting off by herself, was a stunningly beautiful cinnamon pure bred chowchow. She was gorgeous.
She had been abandoned around the time she was fully grown, and had lived on the streets of Montrose for at least a year before this woman had caught her, taken her to the vet, had her fixed and "fixed," and groomed.
I've often questioned whether one can fall in love at first sight, and with people, I still wonder about that. I can tell you, though, that it is possible to fall in love at first sight, because it happened to me right there.
The woman who had rescued her called her "Annie" (little orphan annie) but I called her Jackie after Jacqueline Onassis. I figured she had had a rough life, but was regal, dignified and very, very beautiful, so naming her after the former First Lady was apropos.
Jackie came home to live with me right then. She and Barney got along just fine, although it was pretty clear that it was she who was in charge.
At first, she was so skittish about allowing someone to "control" her - she wouldn't let me put her leash on her. She so wanted to go outside with me and Barney, but she just couldn't bring herself that last few inches to let me clip the leash onto her collar. I thought making her stay behind while Barney and I went out on the leash would persuade her, but after several days, she would let me get just an eyelash from her collar and then she'd dart away.
My room mate, Billy (who's deserving of a chapter or two of his own) surprised me when I was out with Barney by coming around the other side of the block with Jackie on the leash. I asked him how the HECK he had gotten her to let him clip the leash on her, and he just looked at me like I was an alien. "Why, raw meat, you ninny."
I kept Jackie on the leash that evening, standing in the kitchen between Billy and me while we had company over. I stood on the lead to her collar so she couldn't go anywhere, and fed her scraps and petted her. She was never again relucant to let me handle her again.
Jackie was very grateful to be indoors, fed, loved and safe. Unlike Barney, who was a locust for any attention or calories, Jackie was patient, accomodating and adapting. One evening, I put in the movie "It's My Party," which I was then emotionally unprepared for. The movie made me reflect upon the dozens of friends that I'd lost to AIDS, and as the film reached its climax, I was sobbing. Jackie climbed into my lap and began licking my face. Barney, being the shit that he was, crawled into my lap as well, but he wanted the attention Jackie was getting - he wouldn't have cared if I was bleeding to death as long as he got all the food and attention.
When we moved into the apartment on Bagby, Jackie would frequently get on the bed at night and sleep near me. If I awoke during the night, I could feel the almost feather-light change in pressure as she jumped off of the bed.
Because of Barney's behavior, I started penning the two of them into the kitchen when I'd go away or sleep at night. Barney was always a piddler, who'd walk and squirt. Jackie would squat and do her business all at once, and I assumed I could differentiate between the two of them if there was an accident at home. Boy, was I wrong about that.
After a short transition period after I started restraining them in the kitchen, I'd arise nearly every morning and find a big puddle of urine in the kitchen. It was not the typical Barney walking squirt, so I assumed it was Jackie doing the dirty work. I took to "caging" her by tethering her to the laundry room door, limiting her movement to just a small area.
That worked for a short time, and then I'd arise and find Jackie, tethered to the door, standing in a lake of urine, soaking wet.
These were not good mornings for me. For her, either.
One morning, I awoke and heard the inimitable sound of urine splashing on a tile floor coming from the kitchen. Silently, I lept from my bed and dashed to the kitchen. I looked around the corner to where Jackie was tethered, and .. Barney had insinuated himself BETWEEN her and the laundry room door, and was urinating BEHIND her.
Our assumption that dogs and other creatures don't have the power to be calculating or make plans is flawed.
Jackie's life got much better after that.
In February 2007, Barney had a stroke. He was thirteen years old, and had gotten quite frail. After spending nearly ten years with him, Jackie wasn't in the least bit distressed by her constant companion lying there incapacitated. She seemed almost to communicate "ignore the black one, now it's MY turn!"
She was indeed pampered after Barney's passing. I only regret that her pampering and being attended to had to wait until Barney passed along; she had gotten old enough that we could only incrementally improve her life, not create a new one.
Jackie was a trooper in all respects - in April last, when we went with Robert and his two dogs to the ranch in Colorado, she only complained when the other dogs would plow into her in their unbridled enthusiasm in the back seat. She checked things out, and then napped for a week in the sun.
It's nearly impossible to see the physical decline in a creature you're with every day in close quarters. Jackie was having trouble going up and down stairs a year ago. She had trouble negotiating the rocks in Colorado, and she was having difficulty with the hills here in San Francisco.
Over the last two weeks, she had lost interest in eating, and was vomiting every day. Although she was clearly uncomfortable, her personality didn't change a bit. She was aloof except when she wanted attention, she was enthusiastic about going outside, and she hated getting wet.
We went back to the self-serve dog wash yesterday, and she wasn't too pleased about getting wet - again - but, she soldiered through. She couldn't walk up the steep hills, and I had to carry her.
Today, I took her to David's vet. For the first time, she couldn't get herself into the car and I had to lift her in. She sat, expectantly, on the floorboard, and nosed around with her normal detached enthusiasm in the new place. Even though visits to the vet usually cause her distress, she was peaceful and affectionate.
Initially, they couldn't find evidence of anything that would clearly explain her condition. She had arthritis far more severely than I had believed; her lower back and shoulders must have caused her great discomfort. Her stomach was distended, and they at first thought that they could treat her with a curative for her stomach lining and an appetite enhancer. The other vet did an ultrasound of her abdomen, and they found the large tumor in her stomach.
Chow chows have stomach cancer more than 20 times more often than other breeds, and when they become symptomatic, it's too late to do anything about it. Her blood values were all quite normal, so she wasn't feeling the effects of her illness, other than the stomach discomfort. There was only one decision to make, and they brought her out to say good-bye.
Jackie wasn't too much interested in being loved on right then, she was ready to move on to the next thing. She kept heading for the door, and the next place there was to go.
I've had a dog since Fred came wandering around in 1982. All three of my dogs were unwanted in their lives, discarded and thrown aside. Jackie was the most special of the three. She spent her whole life with me being grateful that I had taken her in.
Perhaps it's a sign that I'm now done with that part of my life that today was her day to exit this plane. She was the last real link to who I've always known myself to be. The rest is just dross - structures and detritus that needs to be cleared away, dealt with and disposed of.
I'm grateful to have had the time with her. I'll miss hearing her clacking around on the floor, miss her soft snore as she sleeps the day away, the happy look on her face when she gingerly chews her food, her reluctance to get her feet wet, and her nudging me with her snout, looking to get validation and love.
Godspeed, gentle soul.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
And another one bites the dust
So, while in Bellingham, I finally got to tour the Boeing Museum of Flight and walk through a BAC Concorde (G-BOAG) - I had always wanted to fly on one, but that was rather out of reach. Interestingly, it was very small and not very plush inside. Apparently, the experience was in the service and the speed.
This week, the QE2 makes its final transatlantic crossing - then it makes a Mediterranean cruise before being gutted out, towed to Dubai and converted (as in physically revised) into a floating hotel and casino. Always wanted to cross on the QE2.
And, this morning, I found this picture on Airliners.net (yes, there's a porn site for airline geeks such as I am) It's a picture of a DC-3 at Berlin Tempelhof airport. I've always wanted to fly into Tempelhof, that's the Berlin airport that was built for the 1938 Berlin Olympics. it's one of only two manmade structures in the world that's large enough to be seen from outer space (the other being the great wall of China). The airplanes pull in and park inside the structure (as you can see in the picture). It's the airport into which all the flights went for the Berlin airlift.
The airport is closing forever on 31 Oct. Tempelhof is now considered unsafe for airport operations; the city is grown up all around it, and the runways are too short. Berlin is rebuilding one of its three airports into a totally new facility and they're closing the other two, Tempelhof being the first to go.
In short order, Tempelhof's runways will be dug up, and that land redeveloped. The terminal building itself will be modified for some other use, and that it was once the world's first modern international airport will be available only through photographs and the memories of those who flew there.
If I did manage to go, would it be as my visit to Concorde was? Anti-climactic? I don't know. It is just an airport. The reward and attachment I used to have to elements of the past has faded into nothingness.
For instance, twenty years ago, I paid good money for a piece of coal from the Titanic wreck site, and an autographed photo of she who is now the last Titanic survivor, Melvinia Dean. Ms. Dean has reached an age where she requires ongoing care, and she is selling the last of her Titanic related memorabilia, including the child's sized wicker suitcase given her by the New York charities to carry her belongings once she arrived with her mother and family in New York on the Carpathia.
A few years ago, before the Green Imperial, I'd have been rabid for that suitcase. I'd have displayed it carefully with other momentos of a life that wasn't my own, and dusted it periodically; showing it to visitors and relating the story of what it was and how I came to possess it.
Now, I have no interest in it. Judy said to me yesterday that she would love to have the ability to buy that wicker suitcase for me, but that's a me that doesn't exist anymore.
Just as I reach this point in my life, I find that the market for such "treasures" has collapsed along with people's home equity lines of credit. So, I'll be hanging onto my "collection," perhaps in boxes, until a rosier day when they can be disposed of favorably.
So, it's much less my dream of flying into Tempelhof and seeing the 1930s terminal that has bitten the dust. It's my interest in seeking out fulfillment from these things outside myself that mean nothing in a life that's focused on now.
This week, the QE2 makes its final transatlantic crossing - then it makes a Mediterranean cruise before being gutted out, towed to Dubai and converted (as in physically revised) into a floating hotel and casino. Always wanted to cross on the QE2.
And, this morning, I found this picture on Airliners.net (yes, there's a porn site for airline geeks such as I am) It's a picture of a DC-3 at Berlin Tempelhof airport. I've always wanted to fly into Tempelhof, that's the Berlin airport that was built for the 1938 Berlin Olympics. it's one of only two manmade structures in the world that's large enough to be seen from outer space (the other being the great wall of China). The airplanes pull in and park inside the structure (as you can see in the picture). It's the airport into which all the flights went for the Berlin airlift.
The airport is closing forever on 31 Oct. Tempelhof is now considered unsafe for airport operations; the city is grown up all around it, and the runways are too short. Berlin is rebuilding one of its three airports into a totally new facility and they're closing the other two, Tempelhof being the first to go.
In short order, Tempelhof's runways will be dug up, and that land redeveloped. The terminal building itself will be modified for some other use, and that it was once the world's first modern international airport will be available only through photographs and the memories of those who flew there.
If I did manage to go, would it be as my visit to Concorde was? Anti-climactic? I don't know. It is just an airport. The reward and attachment I used to have to elements of the past has faded into nothingness.
For instance, twenty years ago, I paid good money for a piece of coal from the Titanic wreck site, and an autographed photo of she who is now the last Titanic survivor, Melvinia Dean. Ms. Dean has reached an age where she requires ongoing care, and she is selling the last of her Titanic related memorabilia, including the child's sized wicker suitcase given her by the New York charities to carry her belongings once she arrived with her mother and family in New York on the Carpathia.
A few years ago, before the Green Imperial, I'd have been rabid for that suitcase. I'd have displayed it carefully with other momentos of a life that wasn't my own, and dusted it periodically; showing it to visitors and relating the story of what it was and how I came to possess it.
Now, I have no interest in it. Judy said to me yesterday that she would love to have the ability to buy that wicker suitcase for me, but that's a me that doesn't exist anymore.
Just as I reach this point in my life, I find that the market for such "treasures" has collapsed along with people's home equity lines of credit. So, I'll be hanging onto my "collection," perhaps in boxes, until a rosier day when they can be disposed of favorably.
So, it's much less my dream of flying into Tempelhof and seeing the 1930s terminal that has bitten the dust. It's my interest in seeking out fulfillment from these things outside myself that mean nothing in a life that's focused on now.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Sunny, mild and temperate AGAIN
How does one deal with this?
This morning, talking with Jan the Fabulous, I was again reminded that one needs to have a goal or a "want" that is bigger than the thoughts and worries that plague each of us every day. I looked back through my little notebook that I keep the wants and dreams in, and there they were - and still valid. Apparently, either they aren't "big" enough or they keep sliding back into obscurity.
Someone has put up a "McCain/Palin" poster in an office window a block away. It may be the only one in the city.
Jackie (the dog) is not eating, and may be really rattled with the huge change in environment and routine. I'm going to go over to the Dog Palace today (probably taking her with me) and see if they have anything that piques her interest. I've tried some psychology with her (lifted from the movie "To Live and Die in Beverly Hills,") and that generated a modicum of interest on her part, but no consumption.
Last night, I spent my Friday night doing a bunch of geekazoid research to disprove something in a Wikipedia article about Potrero Hill - this involved looking into the chronology and build locations of US Navy Battleships going back to the 1880s. WHOO! It was kind of fun, which tells you just what it is that trips my trigger.
Been contemplating what comes next for the last few days. I have some more work to do, but first, I have to do some actual WORK. I've done some cleaning around here today, but now it's time to crack the work product open.
This morning, talking with Jan the Fabulous, I was again reminded that one needs to have a goal or a "want" that is bigger than the thoughts and worries that plague each of us every day. I looked back through my little notebook that I keep the wants and dreams in, and there they were - and still valid. Apparently, either they aren't "big" enough or they keep sliding back into obscurity.
Someone has put up a "McCain/Palin" poster in an office window a block away. It may be the only one in the city.
Jackie (the dog) is not eating, and may be really rattled with the huge change in environment and routine. I'm going to go over to the Dog Palace today (probably taking her with me) and see if they have anything that piques her interest. I've tried some psychology with her (lifted from the movie "To Live and Die in Beverly Hills,") and that generated a modicum of interest on her part, but no consumption.
Last night, I spent my Friday night doing a bunch of geekazoid research to disprove something in a Wikipedia article about Potrero Hill - this involved looking into the chronology and build locations of US Navy Battleships going back to the 1880s. WHOO! It was kind of fun, which tells you just what it is that trips my trigger.
Been contemplating what comes next for the last few days. I have some more work to do, but first, I have to do some actual WORK. I've done some cleaning around here today, but now it's time to crack the work product open.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Reactions:
(Swiped directly from Pam's House Blend)
ABC News: Sen. Obama also gets specific right away -- looking right to the camera with his bailout package for the middle class. And if you're looking for the first candidate to draw a distinction tonight, it's Obama, not McCain. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): Obama is ON message. A question about campaign finance and nasty campaigning becomes an economic answer. LINK
TIME: "Jobs." And the dial lines go WHANGO! Obama should work "jobs" into every answer, including any about Bill Ayers. LINK
CNN (Bill Schneider): Obama's answers during this first line of questioning appear crisp and clear, while McCain's sound disconnected and rambling. LINK
ABC News: …McCain is still saying he'd balance the budget within four years? This is silliness, and I think McCain knows it. I look forward to his campaign explaining how, exactly, he'll do this while extending the Bush tax cuts and funding bailouts. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs):Joe the Plumber - John McCain raised the story of "Joe the Plumber" who ran into Barack Obama at a political rally in Toledo, Ohio, earlier this week. He depicted the plumber as an average American who will end up paying more taxes under the Obama plan. In fact, the plumber told Obama that he had plans to buy a company that would make more than $250,000 a year. Obama has conceded that his proposal to phase out the Bush tax cuts for high-income groups will lead to higher taxes for people making more than $250,000 a year. Obama told the plumber that he would face an increase in his marginal tax rate from 36 to 39 per cent, but Americans earning less than $250,000 a year would stand to gain under his proposal. LINK
NBC News (Mark Murray): McCain was wrong, however, when he said that 100% of his ads weren't negative. According to a recent study by the University of Wisconsin Advertising Project, 100% of McCain's ads have been negative. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs): McCain exaggerated the closeness of the relationship between Obama and former Weather Underground founder Bill Ayers in claiming that his rival had "launched his political career" in Ayers' living room. It is true that Obama attended a coffee meeting at Ayers' home after he announced his intention to run for the state senate in September 2005. But according to Lynn Sweet of the Chicago Sun-Times, who has tracked Obama's political career closely, the Ayers' event was only one of a series of coffees in the Hyde Park community where he lived. The kickoff for Obama's Senate run came at a meeting in the Hyde Park Ramada Inn on Sept. 19, 1995. LINK
TIME: McCain is flat-out lying about Obama's health care plan. It is not government-run health care, and looks nothing like the Canadian system. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Glenn Kessler): John McCain made two assertions on corporate taxes, one that small businesses pay 50 percent of the taxes and the other that U.S. corporations are among the highest taxed in the world. Both are wrong. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Alec MacGillis): McCain said that ACORN, the large anti-poverty and affordable housing organization, is perpetrating one of the greatest voter frauds in the history of the country. This is greatly overstating the allegations that have been brought against the group in recent weeks. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): The Fix- Again, lots of different attacks from McCain...hard for the average viewer to know what to take from debate. LINK
ABC News: Sen. Obama also gets specific right away -- looking right to the camera with his bailout package for the middle class. And if you're looking for the first candidate to draw a distinction tonight, it's Obama, not McCain. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): Obama is ON message. A question about campaign finance and nasty campaigning becomes an economic answer. LINK
TIME: "Jobs." And the dial lines go WHANGO! Obama should work "jobs" into every answer, including any about Bill Ayers. LINK
CNN (Bill Schneider): Obama's answers during this first line of questioning appear crisp and clear, while McCain's sound disconnected and rambling. LINK
ABC News: …McCain is still saying he'd balance the budget within four years? This is silliness, and I think McCain knows it. I look forward to his campaign explaining how, exactly, he'll do this while extending the Bush tax cuts and funding bailouts. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs):Joe the Plumber - John McCain raised the story of "Joe the Plumber" who ran into Barack Obama at a political rally in Toledo, Ohio, earlier this week. He depicted the plumber as an average American who will end up paying more taxes under the Obama plan. In fact, the plumber told Obama that he had plans to buy a company that would make more than $250,000 a year. Obama has conceded that his proposal to phase out the Bush tax cuts for high-income groups will lead to higher taxes for people making more than $250,000 a year. Obama told the plumber that he would face an increase in his marginal tax rate from 36 to 39 per cent, but Americans earning less than $250,000 a year would stand to gain under his proposal. LINK
NBC News (Mark Murray): McCain was wrong, however, when he said that 100% of his ads weren't negative. According to a recent study by the University of Wisconsin Advertising Project, 100% of McCain's ads have been negative. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs): McCain exaggerated the closeness of the relationship between Obama and former Weather Underground founder Bill Ayers in claiming that his rival had "launched his political career" in Ayers' living room. It is true that Obama attended a coffee meeting at Ayers' home after he announced his intention to run for the state senate in September 2005. But according to Lynn Sweet of the Chicago Sun-Times, who has tracked Obama's political career closely, the Ayers' event was only one of a series of coffees in the Hyde Park community where he lived. The kickoff for Obama's Senate run came at a meeting in the Hyde Park Ramada Inn on Sept. 19, 1995. LINK
TIME: McCain is flat-out lying about Obama's health care plan. It is not government-run health care, and looks nothing like the Canadian system. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Glenn Kessler): John McCain made two assertions on corporate taxes, one that small businesses pay 50 percent of the taxes and the other that U.S. corporations are among the highest taxed in the world. Both are wrong. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Alec MacGillis): McCain said that ACORN, the large anti-poverty and affordable housing organization, is perpetrating one of the greatest voter frauds in the history of the country. This is greatly overstating the allegations that have been brought against the group in recent weeks. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): The Fix- Again, lots of different attacks from McCain...hard for the average viewer to know what to take from debate. LINK
Amusements and information some will find helpful
This is a cute, cute quip about Sarah Palin as president - move your mouse around the page and click on anything that the cursor will open.
Here is a calculator for how Obama's proposed tax plan would work for you specifically.
Have to get over to "work" now.
Here is a calculator for how Obama's proposed tax plan would work for you specifically.
Have to get over to "work" now.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Has the danger passed?
So, something has been done and on a broad scale. This article sums up what has happened and what is likely better than anything I could write.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Working at the dog wash, yeah
Just down the hill a bit is an adorable, well stocked dog and cat store - they don't sell dogs and cats, they sell to dog and cat owners. In the back, they have a double tub self-grooming area, which is so easy to use and CHEAP! Only $15, and they supply the water, the shampoo, big yellow rubber aprons, grooming tools, towels, and a blow dryer, which we didn't try. I didn't try the nail clippers, either. Only so much could be endured at once.
Jackie was remarkably more calm in this environment than she was in the bathtub. Having the spray nozzle on a flexible hose was also a big plus.
Why don't we have these in Texas?
Jackie was remarkably more calm in this environment than she was in the bathtub. Having the spray nozzle on a flexible hose was also a big plus.
Why don't we have these in Texas?
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Fleet week
Sunny and 61 degrees. Windy. Clear skies. Wow.
Jackie keeps walking to the front window and looking out wistfully. There's no balcony there, so her interest is unrewarded. She still hasn't been eating, but David's fraidy-cats have been enjoying her food lying in a dish on the kitchen floor.
We're going to run to the Container Store today, and to the office, so I can retrieve my teakettle.
Jackie keeps walking to the front window and looking out wistfully. There's no balcony there, so her interest is unrewarded. She still hasn't been eating, but David's fraidy-cats have been enjoying her food lying in a dish on the kitchen floor.
We're going to run to the Container Store today, and to the office, so I can retrieve my teakettle.
Friday, October 10, 2008
a few things you won't read in your local paper..
Paul Krugman's columns today, http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/10/opinion/10krugman.html?_r=1&oref=slogin and below; also, Salon's revelation that international grain shipments have come to a standstill http://www.salon.com/tech/htww/2008/10/10/real_economy_paralysis/index.html?source=rss&aim=/tech/htww
Faustian bargains
I’ve lately become a reader of Across the Curve, the blog of the bond trader John Jansen. It’s jargon-heavy — sometimes even I have to look up the terms he uses — but in a time of disordered markets (does anyone actually manage to borrow at Libor these days) it’s really helpful to have reports from a “tone and feel of the markets” guy who can tell you what the numbers can’t.
And his opening comment this morning is a shocker. After describing some of the weird action in Treasuries, he says:
Is this the beginning of the end for the dollar and the Treasury market? Is this the first sign of the bursting of the bubble in Treasury securities? That market, in a sense, represents the ultimate bubble as it exists at the whim and caprice of foreign investors, who have as participants in a Faustian bargain, financed our war(s) and our lifestyle so generously over the last decade. Maybe even that bizarre construct is crashing about us as we speak.
Maybe I should be drinking something a bit more … calming .. than coffee right now.
Faustian bargains
I’ve lately become a reader of Across the Curve, the blog of the bond trader John Jansen. It’s jargon-heavy — sometimes even I have to look up the terms he uses — but in a time of disordered markets (does anyone actually manage to borrow at Libor these days) it’s really helpful to have reports from a “tone and feel of the markets” guy who can tell you what the numbers can’t.
And his opening comment this morning is a shocker. After describing some of the weird action in Treasuries, he says:
Is this the beginning of the end for the dollar and the Treasury market? Is this the first sign of the bursting of the bubble in Treasury securities? That market, in a sense, represents the ultimate bubble as it exists at the whim and caprice of foreign investors, who have as participants in a Faustian bargain, financed our war(s) and our lifestyle so generously over the last decade. Maybe even that bizarre construct is crashing about us as we speak.
Maybe I should be drinking something a bit more … calming .. than coffee right now.
City by the Bay
After a consultation with Kay Bailey's office, I decided that trying to enter Canada before next year was a bust, so I spoke to David (my best friend from college,) and asked him if he had any work he needed done at his company.
Interestingly, I'd been wanting to help him in his business for months and months, but couldn't really do anything when I was in Houston and not there to see what I was working on. Working remotely can be really challenging when you're just starting out, unless it's a simple matter. He invited me to come down for a month, and I got here last night after driving two days through beautiful Oregon and Washington landscapes. I drove past signs for Mount Hood, Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Shasta and wanted to stop, but felt impelled to keep going.
Coming through Redding, I missed the 505 bypass that would have had me go around Sacramento. There was a huge grass fire just south of Redding, and I was paying so much attention to it that I missed the 505. I ended up driving through downtown Sacramento (twice) because I was looking for said 505.
Came down through Oakland and Contra Costa county and then across the Bay Bridge, through seriously heavy 5:30 p.m. traffic. It was about 70 degrees, and sunny. Arrived at David's business, and he helped me unload the car (the stuff that didn't need to come to his house,) and then we came back to his place which has a floor to ceiling view of the financial district. Jackie is enlivened by the new environment, and David's three cats are hiding out.
He took me to an amazing Chinese restaurant two blocks up the hill/street, and we chatted a while. I have filled his media room with bags of clothing, and have to work on organizing all of that today. Jackie also needs a bath, which she's about to get.
Interestingly, I'd been wanting to help him in his business for months and months, but couldn't really do anything when I was in Houston and not there to see what I was working on. Working remotely can be really challenging when you're just starting out, unless it's a simple matter. He invited me to come down for a month, and I got here last night after driving two days through beautiful Oregon and Washington landscapes. I drove past signs for Mount Hood, Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Shasta and wanted to stop, but felt impelled to keep going.
Coming through Redding, I missed the 505 bypass that would have had me go around Sacramento. There was a huge grass fire just south of Redding, and I was paying so much attention to it that I missed the 505. I ended up driving through downtown Sacramento (twice) because I was looking for said 505.
Came down through Oakland and Contra Costa county and then across the Bay Bridge, through seriously heavy 5:30 p.m. traffic. It was about 70 degrees, and sunny. Arrived at David's business, and he helped me unload the car (the stuff that didn't need to come to his house,) and then we came back to his place which has a floor to ceiling view of the financial district. Jackie is enlivened by the new environment, and David's three cats are hiding out.
He took me to an amazing Chinese restaurant two blocks up the hill/street, and we chatted a while. I have filled his media room with bags of clothing, and have to work on organizing all of that today. Jackie also needs a bath, which she's about to get.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Vancouver bound and gagged
I began to think I had the only red car in the reddest of all of the states.
I don't mean dark red, or maroon, or claret, or merlot - I mean "push me down and do me" red. Blood red. Screaming for attention red. Red like my car, my phone (that matches the paint on my car, thank you very much. Like the bags things are packed in that ride in the car. Like Jackie the dog.)
I drove straight up US 287 from Ennis (south of Dallas) through Waxahachie, Wichita Falls (failing to stop in Anarene for lunch), Amarillo, Dumas, and then through endless, nameless towns in the Oklahoma panhandle, and through southeastern Colorado until I connected with the interstate system near Denver.
From there, I took I-25 to Cheyenne, then west on I-80 through all of Wyoming, into Utah, skipped Salt Lake City, clipped the edge of Ogden, and headed for the Oregon border.
Oregon started off very high, and almost as curvy as Utah. Oregon is amazing and beautiful. It was in eastern Oregon that I saw the first red car on the road since leaving Texas.
As I was trying to negotiate sharp curves and transiting from 6% uphill grades to 6% downhill grades in the rain, I had someone in a bright red Pontiac G6 chase up my bumper moments after developing the thought "I haven't seen a red car in three days."
They were at least polite - no tailgating, and they moved along quickly.
Only a few minutes later, a young woman in a bright red Chevy Cobalt came running up behind me. I was passing a truck, something that one does a lot of in the mountains, and had the cruise control set for the state speed limit of 65.
Apparently, I was causing her some difficulty, because she ran right up behind my rear bumper such that I couldn't see her headlights. Once I finished passing the truck, I moved into the right lane. She gunned her little motor and went past me.
Her car was equipped with a "fart pipe". That's one of those large diameter exhaust pipes that one usually sees on more ethnically connected and older Japanese cars, which makes a loud noise akin to a very long fart.
I still haven't seen very many red cars.
I've seen some amazing things, though. An early 80's Plymouth Reliant that still runs. A Datsun (By Nissan) B210 (second generation) that isn't completely rusted out. A Chevy Celebrity wagon that still runs.
Lots of older cars in use here in the Pacific Northwest.
Some notes:
* Wyoming has some of the best pavement I've ever driven on. Oklahoma, hands down, the worst.
* Construction zones on Interstate freeways should be much better marked than they are.
* Wyoming saves money on signage and uses it on freeways - meaning, their signs SUCK, and there aren't enough of them.
* Oregon has the best speed limit signs. HUGE, with ENORMOUS letters "65". No uncertainty.
* Utah didn't post a speed limit sign for nearly seven miles into the state.
* Texas excels in small towns with lower speed limits without any prior warning.
* Oklahoma is the gold medal standard in such speed traps. Fortunately, they have no people living in the panhandle, therefore no police officers to nab anyone.
* Colorado's rustic visual imagery seems engineered and a facade. Wyoming's is because that's how they live.
* Oregon smells great
* Mountain roads, twisty curves, steady rain, falling temperatures nearing freezing, heavy traffic, summer performance tires, at night on roads you've never driven is a great recipe for paying close attention through adrenaline.
* Canada customs officers are mostly movie-star handsome.
* US customs officers look like country sheriff charactures, with consistent personalities
* Motel 6 quality is widely varied from property to property. The towels are all the same, as is the decor.
* A dog, laying on the floor of the car for three days, produces an astonishing amount of particulate trash and a noisome odor.
* How did I live so long without XM radio? The sheer reliability and clarity of non-stop signal for the stations which you wish to listen to is a blessing.
I haven't really seen all that much of Washington state. Seattle (which I passed through at night and in the rain) looks awesome. Washington roads are beautifully built, well signed, clear, and much like riding a wooden roller coaster.
I don't mean dark red, or maroon, or claret, or merlot - I mean "push me down and do me" red. Blood red. Screaming for attention red. Red like my car, my phone (that matches the paint on my car, thank you very much. Like the bags things are packed in that ride in the car. Like Jackie the dog.)
I drove straight up US 287 from Ennis (south of Dallas) through Waxahachie, Wichita Falls (failing to stop in Anarene for lunch), Amarillo, Dumas, and then through endless, nameless towns in the Oklahoma panhandle, and through southeastern Colorado until I connected with the interstate system near Denver.
From there, I took I-25 to Cheyenne, then west on I-80 through all of Wyoming, into Utah, skipped Salt Lake City, clipped the edge of Ogden, and headed for the Oregon border.
Oregon started off very high, and almost as curvy as Utah. Oregon is amazing and beautiful. It was in eastern Oregon that I saw the first red car on the road since leaving Texas.
As I was trying to negotiate sharp curves and transiting from 6% uphill grades to 6% downhill grades in the rain, I had someone in a bright red Pontiac G6 chase up my bumper moments after developing the thought "I haven't seen a red car in three days."
They were at least polite - no tailgating, and they moved along quickly.
Only a few minutes later, a young woman in a bright red Chevy Cobalt came running up behind me. I was passing a truck, something that one does a lot of in the mountains, and had the cruise control set for the state speed limit of 65.
Apparently, I was causing her some difficulty, because she ran right up behind my rear bumper such that I couldn't see her headlights. Once I finished passing the truck, I moved into the right lane. She gunned her little motor and went past me.
Her car was equipped with a "fart pipe". That's one of those large diameter exhaust pipes that one usually sees on more ethnically connected and older Japanese cars, which makes a loud noise akin to a very long fart.
I still haven't seen very many red cars.
I've seen some amazing things, though. An early 80's Plymouth Reliant that still runs. A Datsun (By Nissan) B210 (second generation) that isn't completely rusted out. A Chevy Celebrity wagon that still runs.
Lots of older cars in use here in the Pacific Northwest.
Some notes:
* Wyoming has some of the best pavement I've ever driven on. Oklahoma, hands down, the worst.
* Construction zones on Interstate freeways should be much better marked than they are.
* Wyoming saves money on signage and uses it on freeways - meaning, their signs SUCK, and there aren't enough of them.
* Oregon has the best speed limit signs. HUGE, with ENORMOUS letters "65". No uncertainty.
* Utah didn't post a speed limit sign for nearly seven miles into the state.
* Texas excels in small towns with lower speed limits without any prior warning.
* Oklahoma is the gold medal standard in such speed traps. Fortunately, they have no people living in the panhandle, therefore no police officers to nab anyone.
* Colorado's rustic visual imagery seems engineered and a facade. Wyoming's is because that's how they live.
* Oregon smells great
* Mountain roads, twisty curves, steady rain, falling temperatures nearing freezing, heavy traffic, summer performance tires, at night on roads you've never driven is a great recipe for paying close attention through adrenaline.
* Canada customs officers are mostly movie-star handsome.
* US customs officers look like country sheriff charactures, with consistent personalities
* Motel 6 quality is widely varied from property to property. The towels are all the same, as is the decor.
* A dog, laying on the floor of the car for three days, produces an astonishing amount of particulate trash and a noisome odor.
* How did I live so long without XM radio? The sheer reliability and clarity of non-stop signal for the stations which you wish to listen to is a blessing.
I haven't really seen all that much of Washington state. Seattle (which I passed through at night and in the rain) looks awesome. Washington roads are beautifully built, well signed, clear, and much like riding a wooden roller coaster.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Corporate welfare and taxpayer bribes
Read this
This is another example of why it is wrong-headed to give tax dollars to private enterprise. San Antonio, which never got the jobs that were promised, is out the $1M, and the State is out the $15M. These are direct payments, not just tax waivers.
In Minnesota, Northwest is bailing out of their huge facilities that the State helped pay for to "keep jobs in Minnesota." Now, those jobs are gone forever.
In each of these cases, the defense is that the private enterprise needs the flexibility to make competitive choices.
Fine, do it with your own money. Stop taking money out of my pocket.
The executives at WaMu were taking out more money each year in salary, bonus and other compensation than this amount that our cash-strapped state and nearly destitute San Antonio put in. Why didn't the State tell WaMu "hey, I've got a great idea - cut your executive's pay package for ONE YEAR and you'll have the capital that you need."
Why are we doing this? Are we collectively insane?
Decisions like this aren't even taxpayer bribes to corporate enterprise - this is welfare.
How much money was spent on AFDC and WIC in Texas as compared to this huge gift to a company that didn't keep its contract for the money? Why cannot the State and San Antonio demand repayment of the money from Chase as a condition of the takeover?
Because they're blocked from doing so. Because this is WELFARE - this is transferring money raised from people struggling to get by shopping and working at Wal-Mart to multi-multi-millionaires.
This is another example of why it is wrong-headed to give tax dollars to private enterprise. San Antonio, which never got the jobs that were promised, is out the $1M, and the State is out the $15M. These are direct payments, not just tax waivers.
In Minnesota, Northwest is bailing out of their huge facilities that the State helped pay for to "keep jobs in Minnesota." Now, those jobs are gone forever.
In each of these cases, the defense is that the private enterprise needs the flexibility to make competitive choices.
Fine, do it with your own money. Stop taking money out of my pocket.
The executives at WaMu were taking out more money each year in salary, bonus and other compensation than this amount that our cash-strapped state and nearly destitute San Antonio put in. Why didn't the State tell WaMu "hey, I've got a great idea - cut your executive's pay package for ONE YEAR and you'll have the capital that you need."
Why are we doing this? Are we collectively insane?
Decisions like this aren't even taxpayer bribes to corporate enterprise - this is welfare.
How much money was spent on AFDC and WIC in Texas as compared to this huge gift to a company that didn't keep its contract for the money? Why cannot the State and San Antonio demand repayment of the money from Chase as a condition of the takeover?
Because they're blocked from doing so. Because this is WELFARE - this is transferring money raised from people struggling to get by shopping and working at Wal-Mart to multi-multi-millionaires.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Questions on the anniversary of 9/11
Lifted directly from "Bill in Portland, Maine," on DailyKos
hu Sep 11, 2008 at 04:12:53 AM PDT
From the GREAT STATE OF MAINE...
Questions
When he was warned in the August 6, 2001 PDB, "Bin Laden Determined to Strike In US", why did the president do nothing except tell the guy who delivered it to him, "All right, you've covered your ass, now"?
Why did Rudy Giuliani put the anti-terrorism command center in the World Trade Center against the advice of experts who knew better?
Why did the president sit in that Florida classroom for several minutes after being told "America is under attack"?
Why were members of the bin Laden family allowed to fly out of the country when all planes were grounded?
Could there be any greater examples of heroism than the passengers who fought back on Flight 93, the rescue teams at the Pentagon, or the NYPD and NYFD responders who ran into the towers without hesitation?
Father Mychal Judge: Saint...or Supersaint?
-
Why did firefighters have faulty radios instead of dependable ones, Mr. Giuliani?
Was it really necessary for the president to tell us to go shopping?
Why were rescue workers at Ground Zero told by the EPA director that the air was safe to breathe when it wasn't?
When rescue workers got horribly sick from breathing contaminated air, why were so many given perfunctory treatment and then left to fend for themselves?
Why did Rudy Giuliani say he "was at the site as often, if not more, than most of the workers," when he only visited the site for 29 hours over a span of 41 visits?
-
When Glenn Beck---one of the most respected figures in the Republican party---said, "When I see a 9/11 victim family on television, or whatever, I'm just like, 'Oh shut up!' I'm so sick of them because they're always complaining," why wasn't he banished into obscurity?
-
When the president stressed the importance of safeguarding our ports and vital infrastructure, why did he take so long actually safeguarding them? Are they much safer today?
When the president called for greater security at airports, why was there such a lopsided focus on passengers and very little on cargo until recently?
When we found out that most of the hijackers were from Saudi Arabia, why did the president continue holding hands with their leaders?
Why were habeas corpus rights suspended years after the attacks of 9/11, when the country wasn't in a state of rebellion or invasion?
When Congress found out the president had broken the law before 9/11 by snooping on American citizens without warrants, why did they patch up the law to make his---and the phone companies'---illegal activities retroactively legal?
The president nominated Bernard Kerik to be the head of Homeland Security...and he wasn't joking???
-
When Ann Coulter---one of the most respected figures in the Republican party---said, "These broads are millionaires, lionized on TV and in articles about them, reveling in their status as celebrities and stalked by grief-arazzis. I've never seen people enjoying their husbands' deaths so much," why wasn't she banished into obscurity?
-
When Bush had bin Laden in his sights at Tora Bora, why didn’t he take the shot?
Why were we told repeatedly that Saddam Hussein was partly responsible for the attacks when he had nothing to do with them?
When we needed more troops to vanquish the Taliban in Afghanistan, why did we invade Iraq?
If we're winning the "War on terror," why hasn't the color-coded terror alert level changed from Yellow to Green or Blue in 2,382 days?
How unspeakably crude was it for the Republican party to exploit the 9/11 attacks in a promotional video during their convention in St. Paul?
Why hasn't the president caught Osama bin Laden?
-
When Jerry Falwell---one of the most respected figures in the Republican party---got on TV and said, "I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen'," why wasn't he defrocked and sent to work in soup kitchens for the rest of his life?
-
Why is there still a giant hole in the ground in Lower Manhattan?
-
Are terrorists pricks, or what?
-
Are politicians who use fear to scare citizens into submission pricks, or what?
-
Will the shock ever wear off?
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Bitter - party of one hundred million...
So, the Wall Street Journal today had an article...
It seems that the red hot new Pontiac model - the G8 - has had but 1915 buyers in August. That's fewer than one sold per franchised dealer.
The article goes on to discuss how a huge swath of GM's models sell next to nothing. The entire Buick lineup sells fewer cars in the US now than does Mitsubishi, if you don't take fleet sales into account.
Very few of these cars are profitable at these low volumes.
The Chevrolet Malibu, which was a car that used to sell more than a million units a year through the 1980s, struggles to reach the numbers achieved by the Impala, a TRIM of a model that used to sell more than a million units a year. The Impala, which sells about 30,000 units a month for Chevrolet, is artificially pumped by its heavy rental and corporate fleet purchases.
So, what went wrong? There are still a few die-hard American iron buyers in my circle; me, Larry, Jeffrey and Steven, Kent .. but that's IT. Substantially anyone else I know first considers the Japanese brands, the Germans or Hyundai. American brands are dead last.
If I reflect back on when I was first experiencing adulthood, GM had just downsized the full sized and "A" bodies - Malibu, Grand Prix, Regal, Monte Carlo, Cutlass. The fall of 1979 was filled with gorgeous examples of these cars, and the most amazing of them was the 1979 Regal. I remember a black one, with a turbocharged 3.8L V6, gleaming chrome, t-tops, full console, and gorgeous gold velour seats.
How about this? My Firefox spell checker doesn't recognize the word "velour."
I saw this car at the local Buick dealer - they occupied the entire corner pad of the second largest mall in town - their lot had at least 150 brand new cars. The Regal was magnificent; it looked every bit as classy as the Riviera that was decked out nearly the same way, but there was no way I could afford a Riviera. The Regal, though. Maybe not the Turbocharged, maybe not the t-tops .. but I could see myself in something that looked that good.
Back then, in a world without the Internet, without text messaging and without endless, mindless video distractions, my best friend and I haunted the car lots at night, after we'd left all our normal friends off at home to hit the hay.
We'd walk the unsecured lots looking at rows of Eldorados, touching the exquisite knurled stainless roller knob that controlled the then very new "interval" wipers on a Riviera, marveling that Lincoln could get a metallic green finish to leather that matched the exterior paint and the opera vinyl roof. We'd go out in misty, fall weather - the new models always came out around my birthday the first weekend in October.
Now, you can hardly get me worked up about going to an auto show.
I know that David was lost to American brands after his '79 Regal Turbo ate its piston heads, his '88 Dakota and his '88 Aerostar also were terminal cases. He went Japanese and hasn't looked back in twenty years. He's a car nut, as I have always been. He's recently been interested in the new Malibu, which is a looker. I keep looking at it and thinking 'wow, that is a GREAT looking car'.
Back when you could stick a screwdriver between interior panels of a Regal, standards were different. We didn't expect a car to do 0-60 in 7 seconds. We expected it to look great. We expected so much less, but expected far more of how it looked.
I guess my point of that we could look at a car like that Regal, which was loaded like a Riviera. It looked JUST as good as did that Riviera. We could buy one that gave us the feeling of the richer, smarter looking car, and by cutting back on equipment, we could convince ourselves that we were driving the nicest wheels.
In the spring of 1980, I was about to graduate from college, and there was still the occasional patch of snow that had been a big pile from street plows. The cherry blossoms were out, and I was still wearing a heavy jacket and gloves. It was sunny, and everything smelled wet and fertile. I drove by DeNooyer Chevrolet, and up on a stand was a black 1979 Camaro Berlinetta.
Now, n this time, I could look at a '79 Camaro, and see that it was a hack job on a Nova chassis, had a trunk the size of an Altoids box, and had a 305 V8 that made a whopping 110 horsepower. Back then, the Camaro was something. Chevy sold hundreds of thousands of Camaros every year.
This one was something ELSE. Black, with bright red stripes that accented the wheel wells, the window reveal moldings, the rocker panels, the trunk lid edge. Alloy wheels in a honeycomb pattern, with white walls (okay, it was a different time. Remember that the spell checker doesn't remember "velour".)
Red vinyl interior, it had most of the optional equipment that one would now consider obligatory on the lowest Hyundai minicompact. It had a rear defroster. A stereo AM/FM radio with two rear and one front speaker. Hand crank windows and manual locks.
Dual exhausts. Well, dual exhaust TIPS. It was a single exhaust from the 305 back to the muffler, and then it split into two pipes that came out the back.
It stood there, on the metal stand, shoulders above the other cars on the lot. They had had this beast for months; the recession of 1979 was severe. Pink cherry blossoms framed the car. I instantly fell in love.
I've been hit by love at first sight only a few times in my life. Seeing that Camaro there. The evening I was introduced to Jackie (my chow chow) was another.
My dad and I had bought several cars from a guy - I wish I could remember his name; I can see his face in my mind. I went inside and talked to him. He let me take the car out for a drive; he just let me have the car.
I was wearing soft, black leather gloves that day. It started to mist. I drove the car all the way out to Mattawan, and rang the bell at Kevin's house. The car sat, burbling and idling in their wet driveway, the slight rain beading up on the mirror black paint. Kevin thought it was gorgeous.
On the way back, I stopped at the office where Mary Ann worked. She thought it was beautiful as well, but she asked if I thought I could pay for it.
I'd been paying on my 1978 Monte Carlo for 22 months; I had put 55,000 miles on that car. Two sets of brakes. I didn't care a whit for what it cost, only whether the monthly payment was affordable to me. I drove the car back to DeNooyer - it was the first time that I had ever been allowed to test drive a car without a salesman in the car or an adult, other than just around the block.
I don't even remember negotiating.
I didn't know he called my dad and got him to co-sign for me.
I sold my Monte to my friend Deb, and bought the Camaro. I felt so SEXY driving that car; dignified but sporty; elegant and athletic.
Back then, Camaro came in four trim levels - there was the base model, which looked kind of like a granny's Malibu, with zippy sheet metal, there was the Rally Sport, which had comb over two tone paints and stripes, and was a poor man's Z28, there was the pavement ripping (if you can call 150 horsepower "ripping") Z28 and the Berlinetta, which that year replaced the LT model of earlier years.
Each one of these trim levels was targeted toward a different customer.
The Berlinetta and the Z28 were the only two that had upgraded interior trim and fabric. The Berlinetta was "classy" and the Z28 was the bar bully.
I was that car. That car was me.
The next spring, I put a Clarion biamplified stereo into the car - 6x9 rear deck speakers, and separate tweeter/mids in the doors. It rocked. When I got to Houston, I upgraded to a Sony system, and that REALLY rocked.
One afternoon, my law school friend Tracey and I were driving up Voss Road, and stopped next to a car load of high school kids, who were blaring their music.
Clearly, they didn't understand the concepts of auto sound fidelity. Tracey barely glanced in my direction and said "Hit it." I cranked that knob on the Sony receiver, and there was a thermonuclear blast of Michael Jackson's "Off the Wall" album that ripped through those kid's choice of music like a chainsaw through balsa.
I drove that car everywhere in Houston, working as a singing telegram messenger. In that mail slot of a trunk, I not only carried four costumes, paper hats, party horns, balloons, and blank telegrams, but also tools and other necessities. I used to work with this awesome male stripper, Mark, who one day was about to choke with glee because I had run out of gas. He was cawing "I can't WAIT to tell everyone that the GREAT Douglas has run out of gas." His facial expression collapsed when I opened the trunk and pulled out my gas can and said "take me to the gas station."
I had every confidence in the world, driving that car.
The last winter I lived in Michigan, I never resented that car when I had to chip the ice and snow off of the windshield, and when I had to start it and let it warm up for fifteen minutes before I could drive it off. In the blistering summers of Houston, I never resented that the car was a furnace when I opened the door.
Even after driving it for four years, I still felt like a sophisticate pulling up in front of a very tony nightclub. Valets still treated it with respect.
I put 119,000 miles on that car. When I graduated law school, I had read a review of the brand new Thunderbird TurboCoupe - the first paragraph said that the car made the reviewer want to sing "Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine..."
I decided I had to have one. I traded the Berlinetta in at Chuck Miller Ford, and when they gave me my trade in bid, I was stupified that it was so high. We wrote everything up, and they came in to me with the paperwork including the odometer certification. They had thought the car had 19,000 miles.
I gave that Berlinetta away to buy a car that didn't drive as well, didn't have the horsepower, and didn't sound as sexy.
Since the Berlinetta, I've had seven cars, all American iron. Three Pontiacs, three Fords, and, the car I never thought I could have, a Riviera. Of all of those, only the Riviera was what I could call a "good" car. The 1990 Grand Am SE HO Quad 4 (that was what it was called, really) was a good car until I got about 90,00 miles on it, then it just started to fall apart.
The Riviera was bullet-proof and gorgeous, right up until 98,000 miles. I couldn't keep the rear suspension working, and the driver seat frame kept breaking. One December morning, Bram backed into it, and that was all it took for me to drive it to CarMax and buy a 2005 Bonneville GXP, my first V8 powered car since the Berlinetta.
The GXP has been an outstanding car, as far as being a car goes. It's not perfect, but it looks like sex, it goes like stink, and the exhaust sounds delicious. Strange how the monthly payments aren't anything like my $178/month on the Berlinetta, though. Of course, I was only taking home about $130 a week in 1979.
I am very happy with the GXP, but it doesn't make me .. um.. the way that Dorothy Boyd did for Jerry McGuire. The way that the Berlinetta did.
The W12 silver Phaeton four seat that I drove two years ago would have completed me in the way the Berlinetta did. It's funny that there was so much derision about the Phaeton when I was so hooked on them.
What have I lost, that none of the designs today bring me to a place where it changes my confidence and elevates my mood each and every day? What has the industry lost? It's not me; yes, in three weeks, I'll be a half century old; in my lifetime, I've seen a lot of refinements, but they filtered out the excitement.
"We Build Excitement." Pontiac, in the 1970s.
I think that the Phaeton W12 would have inspired me back in 1979; impossible as that would have been to happen. A young man who stayed up until 3 am to look at Mark V, Riviera, Grand Prix, Cordoba would have found the detail exquisite and the performance thrilling.
And the exhaust note the most compelling of any.
I assert that it isn't me who's changed. I can still be moved to a higher level of existence by the creation of automobile engineers and designers.
I just don't know what it is that is now gone. Everyone used to have it, and millions of cars were sold because of it. Now, they're all toaster ovens, and we're mostly concerned about which one uses the least power and is the easiest to clean up.
It seems that the red hot new Pontiac model - the G8 - has had but 1915 buyers in August. That's fewer than one sold per franchised dealer.
The article goes on to discuss how a huge swath of GM's models sell next to nothing. The entire Buick lineup sells fewer cars in the US now than does Mitsubishi, if you don't take fleet sales into account.
Very few of these cars are profitable at these low volumes.
The Chevrolet Malibu, which was a car that used to sell more than a million units a year through the 1980s, struggles to reach the numbers achieved by the Impala, a TRIM of a model that used to sell more than a million units a year. The Impala, which sells about 30,000 units a month for Chevrolet, is artificially pumped by its heavy rental and corporate fleet purchases.
So, what went wrong? There are still a few die-hard American iron buyers in my circle; me, Larry, Jeffrey and Steven, Kent .. but that's IT. Substantially anyone else I know first considers the Japanese brands, the Germans or Hyundai. American brands are dead last.
If I reflect back on when I was first experiencing adulthood, GM had just downsized the full sized and "A" bodies - Malibu, Grand Prix, Regal, Monte Carlo, Cutlass. The fall of 1979 was filled with gorgeous examples of these cars, and the most amazing of them was the 1979 Regal. I remember a black one, with a turbocharged 3.8L V6, gleaming chrome, t-tops, full console, and gorgeous gold velour seats.
How about this? My Firefox spell checker doesn't recognize the word "velour."
I saw this car at the local Buick dealer - they occupied the entire corner pad of the second largest mall in town - their lot had at least 150 brand new cars. The Regal was magnificent; it looked every bit as classy as the Riviera that was decked out nearly the same way, but there was no way I could afford a Riviera. The Regal, though. Maybe not the Turbocharged, maybe not the t-tops .. but I could see myself in something that looked that good.
Back then, in a world without the Internet, without text messaging and without endless, mindless video distractions, my best friend and I haunted the car lots at night, after we'd left all our normal friends off at home to hit the hay.
We'd walk the unsecured lots looking at rows of Eldorados, touching the exquisite knurled stainless roller knob that controlled the then very new "interval" wipers on a Riviera, marveling that Lincoln could get a metallic green finish to leather that matched the exterior paint and the opera vinyl roof. We'd go out in misty, fall weather - the new models always came out around my birthday the first weekend in October.
Now, you can hardly get me worked up about going to an auto show.
I know that David was lost to American brands after his '79 Regal Turbo ate its piston heads, his '88 Dakota and his '88 Aerostar also were terminal cases. He went Japanese and hasn't looked back in twenty years. He's a car nut, as I have always been. He's recently been interested in the new Malibu, which is a looker. I keep looking at it and thinking 'wow, that is a GREAT looking car'.
Back when you could stick a screwdriver between interior panels of a Regal, standards were different. We didn't expect a car to do 0-60 in 7 seconds. We expected it to look great. We expected so much less, but expected far more of how it looked.
I guess my point of that we could look at a car like that Regal, which was loaded like a Riviera. It looked JUST as good as did that Riviera. We could buy one that gave us the feeling of the richer, smarter looking car, and by cutting back on equipment, we could convince ourselves that we were driving the nicest wheels.
In the spring of 1980, I was about to graduate from college, and there was still the occasional patch of snow that had been a big pile from street plows. The cherry blossoms were out, and I was still wearing a heavy jacket and gloves. It was sunny, and everything smelled wet and fertile. I drove by DeNooyer Chevrolet, and up on a stand was a black 1979 Camaro Berlinetta.
Now, n this time, I could look at a '79 Camaro, and see that it was a hack job on a Nova chassis, had a trunk the size of an Altoids box, and had a 305 V8 that made a whopping 110 horsepower. Back then, the Camaro was something. Chevy sold hundreds of thousands of Camaros every year.
This one was something ELSE. Black, with bright red stripes that accented the wheel wells, the window reveal moldings, the rocker panels, the trunk lid edge. Alloy wheels in a honeycomb pattern, with white walls (okay, it was a different time. Remember that the spell checker doesn't remember "velour".)
Red vinyl interior, it had most of the optional equipment that one would now consider obligatory on the lowest Hyundai minicompact. It had a rear defroster. A stereo AM/FM radio with two rear and one front speaker. Hand crank windows and manual locks.
Dual exhausts. Well, dual exhaust TIPS. It was a single exhaust from the 305 back to the muffler, and then it split into two pipes that came out the back.
It stood there, on the metal stand, shoulders above the other cars on the lot. They had had this beast for months; the recession of 1979 was severe. Pink cherry blossoms framed the car. I instantly fell in love.
I've been hit by love at first sight only a few times in my life. Seeing that Camaro there. The evening I was introduced to Jackie (my chow chow) was another.
My dad and I had bought several cars from a guy - I wish I could remember his name; I can see his face in my mind. I went inside and talked to him. He let me take the car out for a drive; he just let me have the car.
I was wearing soft, black leather gloves that day. It started to mist. I drove the car all the way out to Mattawan, and rang the bell at Kevin's house. The car sat, burbling and idling in their wet driveway, the slight rain beading up on the mirror black paint. Kevin thought it was gorgeous.
On the way back, I stopped at the office where Mary Ann worked. She thought it was beautiful as well, but she asked if I thought I could pay for it.
I'd been paying on my 1978 Monte Carlo for 22 months; I had put 55,000 miles on that car. Two sets of brakes. I didn't care a whit for what it cost, only whether the monthly payment was affordable to me. I drove the car back to DeNooyer - it was the first time that I had ever been allowed to test drive a car without a salesman in the car or an adult, other than just around the block.
I don't even remember negotiating.
I didn't know he called my dad and got him to co-sign for me.
I sold my Monte to my friend Deb, and bought the Camaro. I felt so SEXY driving that car; dignified but sporty; elegant and athletic.
Back then, Camaro came in four trim levels - there was the base model, which looked kind of like a granny's Malibu, with zippy sheet metal, there was the Rally Sport, which had comb over two tone paints and stripes, and was a poor man's Z28, there was the pavement ripping (if you can call 150 horsepower "ripping") Z28 and the Berlinetta, which that year replaced the LT model of earlier years.
Each one of these trim levels was targeted toward a different customer.
The Berlinetta and the Z28 were the only two that had upgraded interior trim and fabric. The Berlinetta was "classy" and the Z28 was the bar bully.
I was that car. That car was me.
The next spring, I put a Clarion biamplified stereo into the car - 6x9 rear deck speakers, and separate tweeter/mids in the doors. It rocked. When I got to Houston, I upgraded to a Sony system, and that REALLY rocked.
One afternoon, my law school friend Tracey and I were driving up Voss Road, and stopped next to a car load of high school kids, who were blaring their music.
Clearly, they didn't understand the concepts of auto sound fidelity. Tracey barely glanced in my direction and said "Hit it." I cranked that knob on the Sony receiver, and there was a thermonuclear blast of Michael Jackson's "Off the Wall" album that ripped through those kid's choice of music like a chainsaw through balsa.
I drove that car everywhere in Houston, working as a singing telegram messenger. In that mail slot of a trunk, I not only carried four costumes, paper hats, party horns, balloons, and blank telegrams, but also tools and other necessities. I used to work with this awesome male stripper, Mark, who one day was about to choke with glee because I had run out of gas. He was cawing "I can't WAIT to tell everyone that the GREAT Douglas has run out of gas." His facial expression collapsed when I opened the trunk and pulled out my gas can and said "take me to the gas station."
I had every confidence in the world, driving that car.
The last winter I lived in Michigan, I never resented that car when I had to chip the ice and snow off of the windshield, and when I had to start it and let it warm up for fifteen minutes before I could drive it off. In the blistering summers of Houston, I never resented that the car was a furnace when I opened the door.
Even after driving it for four years, I still felt like a sophisticate pulling up in front of a very tony nightclub. Valets still treated it with respect.
I put 119,000 miles on that car. When I graduated law school, I had read a review of the brand new Thunderbird TurboCoupe - the first paragraph said that the car made the reviewer want to sing "Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine..."
I decided I had to have one. I traded the Berlinetta in at Chuck Miller Ford, and when they gave me my trade in bid, I was stupified that it was so high. We wrote everything up, and they came in to me with the paperwork including the odometer certification. They had thought the car had 19,000 miles.
I gave that Berlinetta away to buy a car that didn't drive as well, didn't have the horsepower, and didn't sound as sexy.
Since the Berlinetta, I've had seven cars, all American iron. Three Pontiacs, three Fords, and, the car I never thought I could have, a Riviera. Of all of those, only the Riviera was what I could call a "good" car. The 1990 Grand Am SE HO Quad 4 (that was what it was called, really) was a good car until I got about 90,00 miles on it, then it just started to fall apart.
The Riviera was bullet-proof and gorgeous, right up until 98,000 miles. I couldn't keep the rear suspension working, and the driver seat frame kept breaking. One December morning, Bram backed into it, and that was all it took for me to drive it to CarMax and buy a 2005 Bonneville GXP, my first V8 powered car since the Berlinetta.
The GXP has been an outstanding car, as far as being a car goes. It's not perfect, but it looks like sex, it goes like stink, and the exhaust sounds delicious. Strange how the monthly payments aren't anything like my $178/month on the Berlinetta, though. Of course, I was only taking home about $130 a week in 1979.
I am very happy with the GXP, but it doesn't make me .. um.. the way that Dorothy Boyd did for Jerry McGuire. The way that the Berlinetta did.
The W12 silver Phaeton four seat that I drove two years ago would have completed me in the way the Berlinetta did. It's funny that there was so much derision about the Phaeton when I was so hooked on them.
What have I lost, that none of the designs today bring me to a place where it changes my confidence and elevates my mood each and every day? What has the industry lost? It's not me; yes, in three weeks, I'll be a half century old; in my lifetime, I've seen a lot of refinements, but they filtered out the excitement.
"We Build Excitement." Pontiac, in the 1970s.
I think that the Phaeton W12 would have inspired me back in 1979; impossible as that would have been to happen. A young man who stayed up until 3 am to look at Mark V, Riviera, Grand Prix, Cordoba would have found the detail exquisite and the performance thrilling.
And the exhaust note the most compelling of any.
I assert that it isn't me who's changed. I can still be moved to a higher level of existence by the creation of automobile engineers and designers.
I just don't know what it is that is now gone. Everyone used to have it, and millions of cars were sold because of it. Now, they're all toaster ovens, and we're mostly concerned about which one uses the least power and is the easiest to clean up.
You're going to vote for the liars? Really?
Let me be more clear - you're going to consciously choose someone who lies AND steals your tax dollars?
You get what you deserve, then. I hope you've enjoyed the doubling of your national debt on Sunday. There will be more of it.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Michael Moore's six ways Obama can lose this election:
1. Keep saying nice things about McCain.
2. Pick a running mate who is a conservative white guy or a general or a Republican.
3. Keep writing speeches for Obama that make him sound like a hawk.
4. Forget that this was a historic year for women.
5. Show up to a gunfight with a peashooter.
6. Denounce me!
If you're counting, Obama's five for six so far.
From his Rolling Stone column
1. Keep saying nice things about McCain.
2. Pick a running mate who is a conservative white guy or a general or a Republican.
3. Keep writing speeches for Obama that make him sound like a hawk.
4. Forget that this was a historic year for women.
5. Show up to a gunfight with a peashooter.
6. Denounce me!
If you're counting, Obama's five for six so far.
From his Rolling Stone column
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
will people ever learn?
A few keystrokes, a little research and voila!
Your perfidy is revealed to the world. Well, if you watch the Daily Show, anyway.
will people ever learn?
A few keystrokes, a little research and voila!
Your perfidy is revealed to the world. Well, if you watch the Daily Show, anyway.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Monday, September 01, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Ghost stories
Today, I thought I'd start off our Sunday discussion talking about the afterlife - what people's concepts about it were, and whether they felt that it was possible to communicate with the departed - if they existed, and how that could be.
It was pretty animated.
I've had quite a few ghost stories in my life; almost wrote a book about one of them.
A day off - so it seems. I need to shower and head off.
It was pretty animated.
I've had quite a few ghost stories in my life; almost wrote a book about one of them.
A day off - so it seems. I need to shower and head off.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Just some thoughts
So, having had David here all weekend was pretty darned fun. While he worked this weekend, I ran around with Robert or did the church thing.
Yesterday, Robert and I attended the Hyundai Genesis "Discover Genesis" tour here in Houston. It was .. lame. I know that it was raining cats and dogs, and the thunder had them turn over the power inverters, so we couldn't demo the stereo, or other electrically powered features of the cars. The cars (I drove both the V6 and the V8) were really quite lovely. Beautifully put together. The demo was crap. Either Hyundai went dirt cheap on this, which was a huge mistake, or they're not being well represented by their contractor. The cars were driven around a closed parking lot track that lasted just over two minutes. The babysitter chattered on the entire time - uh, shut up?
Robert loved the car, hated the presentation, and really was not impressed with the people who were there to see it.
Before going to the Discover Genesis tour, we stopped at the Houston home of DeLorean Motor Cars, which was closed, but was viewable through the open bay doors and through the showroom window. The owner was getting into his Nissan Titan pickup, and we chatted him up a minute.
After the Genesis was Discovered, we were walking out to the car and Robert said "let's go watch airplanes." Well, twist my arm, Buck.
We drove around the perimeter of the airport, and stumbled across a non-parking area at the very foot of one of the primary runways. We stood there about an hour, as two strong thunderstorm systems converged on the airport, and saw them (the airport ops people) shooting arrivals in between the storms. At one point, as we watched a British Airways 777 coming in on final, the wind shifted from north to south and inceased. We watched him reverse his crab and he landed that beast at about 15 degrees off center. It was so cool.
Right after that, a Continental 737-800 came in - engines screaming on high power, all the flaps and slats thrown out, gear down, condensation rat tails pouring off of the deployed flap edges. He was crabbed pretty hard, also. Seconds after he roared five hundred feet over our heads, we heard the wildest whiffling noises overhead. I think it was the following vortices from his passage that we were hearing.
David and I had Star Pizza last night, which was great. This morning, off to church at the normal time, and got home around 4:00 p.m. Dinner at Mission Burrito, followed by some quality floating time in the pool. Now, it's nearly midnight and time for me to get some sleep. Hopefully, I'll make it until sunrise before my brain awakens me with detailed plans for worrying and decision making.
Yesterday, Robert and I attended the Hyundai Genesis "Discover Genesis" tour here in Houston. It was .. lame. I know that it was raining cats and dogs, and the thunder had them turn over the power inverters, so we couldn't demo the stereo, or other electrically powered features of the cars. The cars (I drove both the V6 and the V8) were really quite lovely. Beautifully put together. The demo was crap. Either Hyundai went dirt cheap on this, which was a huge mistake, or they're not being well represented by their contractor. The cars were driven around a closed parking lot track that lasted just over two minutes. The babysitter chattered on the entire time - uh, shut up?
Robert loved the car, hated the presentation, and really was not impressed with the people who were there to see it.
Before going to the Discover Genesis tour, we stopped at the Houston home of DeLorean Motor Cars, which was closed, but was viewable through the open bay doors and through the showroom window. The owner was getting into his Nissan Titan pickup, and we chatted him up a minute.
After the Genesis was Discovered, we were walking out to the car and Robert said "let's go watch airplanes." Well, twist my arm, Buck.
We drove around the perimeter of the airport, and stumbled across a non-parking area at the very foot of one of the primary runways. We stood there about an hour, as two strong thunderstorm systems converged on the airport, and saw them (the airport ops people) shooting arrivals in between the storms. At one point, as we watched a British Airways 777 coming in on final, the wind shifted from north to south and inceased. We watched him reverse his crab and he landed that beast at about 15 degrees off center. It was so cool.
Right after that, a Continental 737-800 came in - engines screaming on high power, all the flaps and slats thrown out, gear down, condensation rat tails pouring off of the deployed flap edges. He was crabbed pretty hard, also. Seconds after he roared five hundred feet over our heads, we heard the wildest whiffling noises overhead. I think it was the following vortices from his passage that we were hearing.
David and I had Star Pizza last night, which was great. This morning, off to church at the normal time, and got home around 4:00 p.m. Dinner at Mission Burrito, followed by some quality floating time in the pool. Now, it's nearly midnight and time for me to get some sleep. Hopefully, I'll make it until sunrise before my brain awakens me with detailed plans for worrying and decision making.
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Friday, August 15, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
The 23rd Qualm
(Written by a retired Methodist minister.)
Bush is my shepherd; I dwell in want.
He maketh logs to be cut down in national forests.
He leadeth trucks into the still wilderness.
He restoreth my fears.
He leadeth me in the paths of international disgrace
for his ego's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution
and war,
I will find no exit, for thou art in office.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy media control,
they discomfort me.
Thou preparest an agenda of deception in the
presence of thy religion.
Thou anointest my head with foreign oil.
My health insurance runneth out.
Surely megalomania and false patriotism shall follow me
all the days of thy term,
And my jobless child shall dwell in my basement forever.
Bush is my shepherd; I dwell in want.
He maketh logs to be cut down in national forests.
He leadeth trucks into the still wilderness.
He restoreth my fears.
He leadeth me in the paths of international disgrace
for his ego's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution
and war,
I will find no exit, for thou art in office.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy media control,
they discomfort me.
Thou preparest an agenda of deception in the
presence of thy religion.
Thou anointest my head with foreign oil.
My health insurance runneth out.
Surely megalomania and false patriotism shall follow me
all the days of thy term,
And my jobless child shall dwell in my basement forever.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Thursday night
Okay, so I'm loving the new office set up. I love this big, practical furniture. It rocks! I love looking out at the pool through the French doors. Thanks Robert and Dina for helping me!!
Deep Thought™
by digby
Travelling by airplane in the US is nothing more than mass training of Americans to the requirements of the coming police state. The whole point is to make you learn to acquiesce without question, en masse, to completely absurd directives by dull functionaries wearing uniforms.
™Atrios
Travelling by airplane in the US is nothing more than mass training of Americans to the requirements of the coming police state. The whole point is to make you learn to acquiesce without question, en masse, to completely absurd directives by dull functionaries wearing uniforms.
™Atrios
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Saturday finishes
Well, this morning I was up at 5:50, so that I could take Miss Jackie outside, make coffee and start making pancakes for RWB, who had to be at work early early. Jackie started clicking around on the wood floors which was a very effective alarm clock for the guest room downstairs - returned about 20 phone calls from prospective renters, hauled out the old AT&T 964 phone, dusted it (really) and set it up to receive phone calls from said prospective renters - thus cutting back on my phone call volume.
Then, drove down to the church to meet with Jean and put up some white boards. From there, back to Manderlay to re-letter the sign with the home phone number and meet people who wanted to walk through. Think I found someone who will rent the place; I expect to hear from them Monday or Tuesday.
A friend tonight linked me to a NYT article that describes a company's effort to assist people who are in trouble with their mortgages that my dad was telling me about last week. Looked them up on the web, and sent them an email, which bounced back.
Crazy.
Got home around 5:30, watched "Keillers Park" on DVD. It was good-ish; but nothing on Weeds - the DVD for Season Three of which should be arriving on Monday.
I believe that RWB is giving me a desktop computer, which will replace both this lappy (that is REALLY tired and weary) and the old desktop computer, which is equally weary.
And, my Treo kicked the bucket today. Well, I needed to go into the Sprint store anyway.
Leaving on vacation in twelve days. Yeep!
Then, drove down to the church to meet with Jean and put up some white boards. From there, back to Manderlay to re-letter the sign with the home phone number and meet people who wanted to walk through. Think I found someone who will rent the place; I expect to hear from them Monday or Tuesday.
A friend tonight linked me to a NYT article that describes a company's effort to assist people who are in trouble with their mortgages that my dad was telling me about last week. Looked them up on the web, and sent them an email, which bounced back.
Crazy.
Got home around 5:30, watched "Keillers Park" on DVD. It was good-ish; but nothing on Weeds - the DVD for Season Three of which should be arriving on Monday.
I believe that RWB is giving me a desktop computer, which will replace both this lappy (that is REALLY tired and weary) and the old desktop computer, which is equally weary.
And, my Treo kicked the bucket today. Well, I needed to go into the Sprint store anyway.
Leaving on vacation in twelve days. Yeep!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Right after I get the subscription bill, he validates my paying for it AGAIN
By Bill in Portland Maine
on Cheers and Jeers
From the GREAT STATE OF MAINE...
Late Night Snark...with 100% Humidity
"President Bush is now in Japan for the big G-8 summit, which is going on right now. The G-8 Summit is where the world's top economies get together. The bad news: we are no longer one of them. I wouldn't say the U.S. economy is doing bad, but you know how Bush got to Japan? Southwest."
---Jay Leno
-
"On Fox News, Jesse Jackson was caught saying he wants to cut Barack Obama’s nuts off. This marks the nicest thing ever said about Barack Obama on Fox News."
---Conan O'Brien
-
"In a 5-4 vote, the Supreme Court overturned Washington, DC's ban on handguns! Finally, the residents of Washington, DC have the right to defend themselves---from each other, one assumes. Writing for the majority, Justice Antonin Scalia said, 'It is not the role of this court to pronounce the Second Amendment extinct.' He is right. Killing the Constitution is the president's job. The court's job is to overturn elections."
---Stephen Colbert
-
"Well, you know, Barack Obama, he's started a fashion craze in Italy. Italian designers have taken his look, and they're turning it into fashion. It's an amazing thing. But don't sell John McCain short. He's also influencing fashion. He has popularized the 'something on your chin' look."
---David Letterman
-
And the headline of the week: Bush addresses the Italian prime minister in Spanish: "Amigo! Amigo!"
Hey, America! When you're thinking about which candidate to vote for in November, remember: Republicans invented the punch clock, Democrats invented the weekend. Your west coast-friendly edition of Cheers and Jeers starts in There's Moreville... [Swoosh!!] RIGHTNOW! [Gong!!]
on Cheers and Jeers
From the GREAT STATE OF MAINE...
Late Night Snark...with 100% Humidity
"President Bush is now in Japan for the big G-8 summit, which is going on right now. The G-8 Summit is where the world's top economies get together. The bad news: we are no longer one of them. I wouldn't say the U.S. economy is doing bad, but you know how Bush got to Japan? Southwest."
---Jay Leno
-
"On Fox News, Jesse Jackson was caught saying he wants to cut Barack Obama’s nuts off. This marks the nicest thing ever said about Barack Obama on Fox News."
---Conan O'Brien
-
"In a 5-4 vote, the Supreme Court overturned Washington, DC's ban on handguns! Finally, the residents of Washington, DC have the right to defend themselves---from each other, one assumes. Writing for the majority, Justice Antonin Scalia said, 'It is not the role of this court to pronounce the Second Amendment extinct.' He is right. Killing the Constitution is the president's job. The court's job is to overturn elections."
---Stephen Colbert
-
"Well, you know, Barack Obama, he's started a fashion craze in Italy. Italian designers have taken his look, and they're turning it into fashion. It's an amazing thing. But don't sell John McCain short. He's also influencing fashion. He has popularized the 'something on your chin' look."
---David Letterman
-
And the headline of the week: Bush addresses the Italian prime minister in Spanish: "Amigo! Amigo!"
Hey, America! When you're thinking about which candidate to vote for in November, remember: Republicans invented the punch clock, Democrats invented the weekend. Your west coast-friendly edition of Cheers and Jeers starts in There's Moreville... [Swoosh!!] RIGHTNOW! [Gong!!]
Saturday, July 05, 2008
The most appropriate
From the New Yorker
His earlier speaking ill of the not yet dead:
When a "colorful" celebrity has achieved some sort of sustained and nominally respectable worldly accomplishment (record sales, business success, public office), and has been around long enough to acquire the appealing vulnerability of old age, and has not been convicted of a capital crime, there's a powerful tendency to go all warm and fuzzy on him. So it is at the moment for Jesse Helms, the senior senator from North Carolina. With his announcement, last Wednesday, that he will not seek a sixth term next year, Helms became a certified legend—the feisty (but always courteous) conservative icon, the plainspoken Tarheel who never feared to be politically incorrect, the paragon of traditional values who always let you know where he stood and is destined to be remembered, as President Bush put it, as "a tireless defender of our nation's freedom and a champion of democracy abroad."
The strangest tribute came from Walter Russell Mead, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and normally a levelheaded (if chronically puckish) observer. Writing in the Wall Street Journal, Mead described Helms as "one of a handful of Southern statesmen who ensured the triumph of the civil rights revolution"—and not, as you might suppose, by provoking disgust and indignation among the fair-minded with the crude racism that was his stock-in-trade (along with an "anti-Communism" that treated liberal reform and Soviet tyranny as indistinguishable). According to Mead, the decisive contribution of Jesse Helms was that "once the civil rights legislation of the 1960s was enacted"—over Helms's unremitting and demagogic opposition, by the way—"he accepted the laws and obeyed them." Also, in edifying contrast to his counterparts of a century earlier, he refrained from "being directly and openly involved in the murder of black political leaders."
Talk about lowering the bar! But Helms never bothered with the soft bigotry of low expectations. He has always preferred the hard stuff, undiluted by the branch water of euphemism. Many of the Helms retrospectives of recent days have dated his entry into serious politics to 1960, when, after having spent most of his thirties as a banking lobbyist, he began delivering nightly five-minute commentaries on a Raleigh television station and on something called the Tobacco Radio Network—the job that propelled him into the Senate, twelve years later. But as far back as 1950, Helms, then twenty-eight, helped run what the Duke University historian William H. Chafe has called "the bitterest, ugliest, most smear-ridden campaign of modern times," the race to unseat Frank P. Graham, the former president of the University of North Carolina and probably the most distinguished North Carolinian ever to sit in the United States Senate. "The Graham campaign is generally viewed as the most pivotal in modern southern history since it set the precedent for the race-baiting and red-baiting tactics that were later employed so widely by politicians like Orval Faubus, George Wallace, and Jesse Helms," Chafe has written. "Helms, of course, helped invent these tactics." Over the succeeding half century, Helms changed but little. His own campaigns have invariably been powered by appeals to prejudice, racial and otherwise. In recent years the focus of his bigotry has shifted increasingly toward gays and lesbians. But his disdain for people of color (exemplified by his "humorous" habit, in private, of referring to any black person as "Fred") continues to find ways of expressing itself. He is the Senate's most reliable opponent of any measure aimed at securing the rights or improving the conditions of African-Americans. In 1994, when Nelson Mandela visited the Capitol, Helms ostentatiously turned his back on him.
* from the issue
* cartoon bank
* e-mail this
To be fair, the snub of the South African President probably had less to do with race per se than with foreign policy, the field in which Helms, who since 1986 has been either the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee or its ranking Republican, has done his worst mischief. His vaunted anti-Communism was never based upon a principled belief in democracy. His support of the apartheid regime was of a piece with his enthusiasm for any dictatorship, no matter how brutal, that could plausibly be described as right wing. (He even supported the Argentine junta in the Falklands war with Britain.) He has crippled America's diplomatic corps, systematically starving the State Department of funds and capriciously blocking the confirmation of highly qualified ambassadorial nominees. But it is in his unrelenting hostility to international institutions that he has done his greatest and probably most lasting damage.
The gauzy story line of the past week requires Helms to have "mellowed," the main piece of evidence being his agreement, in 1999, to allow payment of some nine hundred million dollars of the $1.3 billion in back dues the United States then owed the United Nations. Never mind that it was he who had abused the rules of the Senate to hold up the payments in the first place, or that the United States was on the verge of being deeply embarrassed by losing its right to vote in the General Assembly. The real significance of the episode is that what was supposed to be legally binding has now been certified as volitional. A new "principle"—that the solemn obligations of the United States are subject to abrogation without notice by congressional ideologues—has become ever more entrenched. America's U.N. bill, by the way, remains unpaid; it now amounts to $2.3 billion, a record, thanks to the machinations of such mini-Helmses as Tom DeLay, the House majority whip. Helms's heirs now populate the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, too: the national-security apparatus of the Bush Administration is heavily salted with his former assistants. Little wonder that the Administration adds almost weekly to the long list of useful international treaties it proposes to reject, abrogate, or simply scrap. The retirement of Jesse Helms has been hailed (and mourned) as "the end of an era." If only that were true.
Dropping the Helmsman
Far too late for it to do anybody any good, Jesse Helms has died. He has done so on Independence Day, which, since he was born too late to own slaves and in too liberal an age to allow him to outlaw sedition, will forever be his only resemblance to Thomas Jefferson and John Adams.
It is rude to speak ill of the dead. Luckily, I did so ahead of time.
His earlier speaking ill of the not yet dead:
When a "colorful" celebrity has achieved some sort of sustained and nominally respectable worldly accomplishment (record sales, business success, public office), and has been around long enough to acquire the appealing vulnerability of old age, and has not been convicted of a capital crime, there's a powerful tendency to go all warm and fuzzy on him. So it is at the moment for Jesse Helms, the senior senator from North Carolina. With his announcement, last Wednesday, that he will not seek a sixth term next year, Helms became a certified legend—the feisty (but always courteous) conservative icon, the plainspoken Tarheel who never feared to be politically incorrect, the paragon of traditional values who always let you know where he stood and is destined to be remembered, as President Bush put it, as "a tireless defender of our nation's freedom and a champion of democracy abroad."
The strangest tribute came from Walter Russell Mead, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and normally a levelheaded (if chronically puckish) observer. Writing in the Wall Street Journal, Mead described Helms as "one of a handful of Southern statesmen who ensured the triumph of the civil rights revolution"—and not, as you might suppose, by provoking disgust and indignation among the fair-minded with the crude racism that was his stock-in-trade (along with an "anti-Communism" that treated liberal reform and Soviet tyranny as indistinguishable). According to Mead, the decisive contribution of Jesse Helms was that "once the civil rights legislation of the 1960s was enacted"—over Helms's unremitting and demagogic opposition, by the way—"he accepted the laws and obeyed them." Also, in edifying contrast to his counterparts of a century earlier, he refrained from "being directly and openly involved in the murder of black political leaders."
Talk about lowering the bar! But Helms never bothered with the soft bigotry of low expectations. He has always preferred the hard stuff, undiluted by the branch water of euphemism. Many of the Helms retrospectives of recent days have dated his entry into serious politics to 1960, when, after having spent most of his thirties as a banking lobbyist, he began delivering nightly five-minute commentaries on a Raleigh television station and on something called the Tobacco Radio Network—the job that propelled him into the Senate, twelve years later. But as far back as 1950, Helms, then twenty-eight, helped run what the Duke University historian William H. Chafe has called "the bitterest, ugliest, most smear-ridden campaign of modern times," the race to unseat Frank P. Graham, the former president of the University of North Carolina and probably the most distinguished North Carolinian ever to sit in the United States Senate. "The Graham campaign is generally viewed as the most pivotal in modern southern history since it set the precedent for the race-baiting and red-baiting tactics that were later employed so widely by politicians like Orval Faubus, George Wallace, and Jesse Helms," Chafe has written. "Helms, of course, helped invent these tactics." Over the succeeding half century, Helms changed but little. His own campaigns have invariably been powered by appeals to prejudice, racial and otherwise. In recent years the focus of his bigotry has shifted increasingly toward gays and lesbians. But his disdain for people of color (exemplified by his "humorous" habit, in private, of referring to any black person as "Fred") continues to find ways of expressing itself. He is the Senate's most reliable opponent of any measure aimed at securing the rights or improving the conditions of African-Americans. In 1994, when Nelson Mandela visited the Capitol, Helms ostentatiously turned his back on him.
* from the issue
* cartoon bank
* e-mail this
To be fair, the snub of the South African President probably had less to do with race per se than with foreign policy, the field in which Helms, who since 1986 has been either the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee or its ranking Republican, has done his worst mischief. His vaunted anti-Communism was never based upon a principled belief in democracy. His support of the apartheid regime was of a piece with his enthusiasm for any dictatorship, no matter how brutal, that could plausibly be described as right wing. (He even supported the Argentine junta in the Falklands war with Britain.) He has crippled America's diplomatic corps, systematically starving the State Department of funds and capriciously blocking the confirmation of highly qualified ambassadorial nominees. But it is in his unrelenting hostility to international institutions that he has done his greatest and probably most lasting damage.
The gauzy story line of the past week requires Helms to have "mellowed," the main piece of evidence being his agreement, in 1999, to allow payment of some nine hundred million dollars of the $1.3 billion in back dues the United States then owed the United Nations. Never mind that it was he who had abused the rules of the Senate to hold up the payments in the first place, or that the United States was on the verge of being deeply embarrassed by losing its right to vote in the General Assembly. The real significance of the episode is that what was supposed to be legally binding has now been certified as volitional. A new "principle"—that the solemn obligations of the United States are subject to abrogation without notice by congressional ideologues—has become ever more entrenched. America's U.N. bill, by the way, remains unpaid; it now amounts to $2.3 billion, a record, thanks to the machinations of such mini-Helmses as Tom DeLay, the House majority whip. Helms's heirs now populate the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, too: the national-security apparatus of the Bush Administration is heavily salted with his former assistants. Little wonder that the Administration adds almost weekly to the long list of useful international treaties it proposes to reject, abrogate, or simply scrap. The retirement of Jesse Helms has been hailed (and mourned) as "the end of an era." If only that were true.
My very favorite Bugs Bunny cartoon (and my second favorite)
And one of the best wartime ones -
And the one that gives me my identity:
Friday, July 04, 2008
Bill Moyers, peaceful afternoons and distraction
A day alone at the house. I've listened to two of Keith Olbermann's recent broadcasts, and I've now listened to four of Bill Moyers' broadcasts - only another two to go to be fully listened up.
I was putting together bread dough, which I've done hundreds of times over the last 25+ years - and I was listening to the Bill Moyers' broadcast in which he puts on Phil Donahue and the focus of his movie "Body of War," and I was so distracted that I prepared the entire raw dough loaf WITHOUT putting the yeast into it. Never have done that before. What was it that drew my attention so far away?
I'm not sure whether listening to this broadcast does ME any good. I know this information; I've heard about it as it was coming on for years. It's upsetting at a deep level based on my personal world view. "Liberty produces wealth, and wealth squelches liberty."
I was going to wash and wax the car today; the thundershowers interfered with that. Hmph.
Had a terrific conversation with Dina last night about working together more closely in the future. Lots of things in reflection today.
I was putting together bread dough, which I've done hundreds of times over the last 25+ years - and I was listening to the Bill Moyers' broadcast in which he puts on Phil Donahue and the focus of his movie "Body of War," and I was so distracted that I prepared the entire raw dough loaf WITHOUT putting the yeast into it. Never have done that before. What was it that drew my attention so far away?
I'm not sure whether listening to this broadcast does ME any good. I know this information; I've heard about it as it was coming on for years. It's upsetting at a deep level based on my personal world view. "Liberty produces wealth, and wealth squelches liberty."
I was going to wash and wax the car today; the thundershowers interfered with that. Hmph.
Had a terrific conversation with Dina last night about working together more closely in the future. Lots of things in reflection today.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
I STILL love this guy..
Bill from Portland Maine writes in today's Cheers and Jeers
So true, so true
Dear Bill: Is there a method to winning a political argument online? S.L., South Bend
Dear S.L.: Try this:
You always You never You should You must You shouldn't You mustn't. Why can't you Why don’t you Why aren't you Why didn’t you How could you? You suck You blow You lie You have no idea. You ignoramus You jerk You Ass You partisan hack. You're lying You're cheating You're distorting You're asking for it. You're out of your mind You’re out of your league You’re out of your tree You're out of your gourd. You’re off your rocker You're off your meds You're off the reservation. You're wrong You're stupid You're ignorant You're mental You're full of shit. You're an automaton You're a bomb-thrower You’re a water carrier You're a Kool Aid drinker You're a hack You're a loser You're a prick. You've got blinders on You've got no sense You've got spittle on your chin You've got your head up your ass. You disgust me You repulse me You disappoint me You make me want to puke. You’re talking in circles You're talking in riddles You’re talking in gibberish You're talking trash You're talking like a two year old. You can go to hell You can kiss my ass You can leave You can take your shit to another blog. I'm warning you I'm telling you I'm advising you I'm this close to troll-rating you. I'm sick of your crap I'm sick of your attitude I'm sick of your comments I'm sick of your emails I'm sick of your purity. Mine's better, smarter, faster, more organized, more effective and more experienced than yours, whatever it is. I say so I know so I was there I heard it from the horse's mouth I saw it on the internet I found it on Wikipedia I have a friend who took a class I got it from Fox News I read a press release from my congressman. Knock it off Cut it out Get a clue Do your homework. Clearly you don’t understand Clearly you don’t listen Clearly you don’t get it Clearly you haven’t tried it Clearly you weren't old enough at the time Clearly you're out of touch Clearly you're running around with the wrong crowd Clearly you want us to lose. One more word One more peep One more comment One more outburst One more syllable and you'll regret it. Don’t give me that attitude Don’t play that card Don’t change the subject Don't act so surprised Don’t be so stupid. Go to hell Go pound sand Go back to your mommy Go screw yourself Go to Little Green Footballs. I'm sick of you I loathe you I hope you get what's coming to you, crybaby.
And then add: "With all due respect." Bingo---you win.
So true, so true
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
AlterNet publishes the "Bottom 10" list for Geo 43
The 10 most awesomely bad moments of the Bush presidency
It's worth reading, not just as a refresher, but as proof that even the ideologues that these folks are pursuing think that it's all screwed up.
It's worth reading, not just as a refresher, but as proof that even the ideologues that these folks are pursuing think that it's all screwed up.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Unintended consequences
What if medical advances, considered to be without flaw, actually had consequences that are uncomfortable and undesirable?
What if the "sub-prime meltdown" was just the beginning?
What if our mess in Iraq had already happened once before, and we, who were unfamiliar with history, were condemned to repeat it?
What if you could avoid paying nearly any credit card or bank fees just by asking nicely?
What if Walnut Bend is my Manderlay?
What if the "sub-prime meltdown" was just the beginning?
What if our mess in Iraq had already happened once before, and we, who were unfamiliar with history, were condemned to repeat it?
What if you could avoid paying nearly any credit card or bank fees just by asking nicely?
What if Walnut Bend is my Manderlay?
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
George Carlin passes, nation mourns. Constitution is equally dead, no one notices.
I was truly shocked when I heard George Carlin had died. Rendered speechless for two or three seconds.
Why isn't it at all a surprise that a.) The constitution of this country is equally dead, or that b.) Barack Obama is fine with that?
Whoever wins in November, we're going to get four more years of the same - platitudes, rising prices, falling wages and government run by and for corporations with the best paid lobbyists.
At least in California, sensibility seems to be reigning to a minor degree.
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