Some random stains on the fabric of sanity - some thoughts are better kept to oneself, and so they are not included below:
1. As we made our way across the country, Ginny and I visited the sights, like the world's biggest ball of yarn, the Humane Society Museum, the headquarters of the Society for Creative Anachronism, and an amazing collection of dried varieties of dandelions. Imagine our letdown, then, when we arrived at the wax museum and meandered through the building looking for the wax exhibits. But the quality of the taxidermy on the mounted remains of numerous famous people distracted us from our disappointment in the missing wax.
2. At the yard sale I spied the piece of wall art I’d been looking for! – an abstract, distorted scene of a Paris sidewalk café, fabricated from dingy, copper foil and wire in such a way that it sticks out from the wall in a sort of 3-dimensional representation of a sculpture. Against the oddly-tilted table in the scene leaned a bicycle with oval wire wheels and abstractly misshapen handlebar – my bicycle! I stood rigidly on a table at the yard sale, some distance away from the sculpture-scene and tried to imagine how I would get back into it, hoping no one would buy me separately. How could they not notice that I too was made of copper? – my face like a folded centime coin, one arm and shoulder of exaggerated proportions, one short leg of thin copper wire bent grotesquely into a foot at the end, the other leg sort of a dented metal straw already oxidizing the same as the bluish tint on the lumpy cluster of gens de la rue in the scene.
3. Flush twice; it's a long way to the cafeteria.
4. For me, the hardest thing about becoming a dentist would be getting over my own gag reflex.
5. I found a dragon in a book. I’d a lot rather find a dollar bill in a book, though, because you can’t spend a dragon.
6. I often while away the dull moments with productive mental exercises. This is to prevent memory loss. For instance, right now I'm working on the names of Snow White's eleven dwarfs.
7. I've seen a bug on my windshield with more guts than Clyde showed in that fight.
8. If I told you the real reason Raelene didn't come, you'd be looking for dried blood in my trunk and Raelene's hair on my rake handle. So let's just say Raelene doesn't like to come here any more.
9. If you want to get rid of a skunk without hurting it, you want to use a Have-a-Heart trap. You bait it with some skunk food, sit it by the porch where the skunk lives, then check it every couple of days to see whether there's a skunk in there. You check it from a distance, of course, because - whoooeee if you get too close! I was kind of hoping you'd come over tonight and show me how to go pick up the trap without, you know, whoooeee!
10. If you worked in an operating room and a guy was having a simple operation under anesthesia and someone paid you enough to do this, and you were kind of bored because you mostly had to be on standby during the operation, would you dress him in a Wizard-of-Oz scarecrow outfit complete with real straw and really good makeup? Of course, you’d have to let the rest of the staff in on the gag. Will you figure out how much and get back to me?
11. In the truest sense of the word, “staples” means something you eat, like flour and butter. But if you catch someone really eating staples, maybe the best thing to do is go to Staples and buy some staples and staple his mouth shut!
12. It cost him $2000 for just 48 hours, but Cedric rented a billboard, 40 feet long, on the top of a warehouse near the river, and covered it with a huge sign saying: “Trudy, I love you! Will you marry me?” Knowing she had to leave on a trip the next day, Trudy rented a billboard on the top of a building across the river for another 48 hours and covered it with a huge sign saying: “YES!” That night, fog settled over the river and stayed for three days. Cedric was shy, but he called her anyway. Her mother hadn’t seen either sign, but told Cedric that Trudy had left town and she didn’t know when her daughter would be back. How’s that for the plot of an episode?
13. Kings in the olden days had many pithy sayings which people liked to hear, like "Give him the GOLD!" and "You can marry my daughter." Which is why we should all strive to be like them.
14. The fortune teller told me she saw big trouble for me if I didn't quit smoking. Then she told me that my second wife would soon be trying to contact me. Then she gave me some numbers to play in the lottery. I've never smoked, and I'm still on my first wife, so I decided to ignore that advice. But I have my tickets, and I'm so excited about the lottery drawing tonight. I just have a feeling she'd be right about SOMETHING!
15. The girl in the middle of the back row looked furtively from side to side, as though she thought she was all alone and looking out from a row of bushes instead of other children. She never once looked at the audience. It was as if she thought a large bus would suddenly – and then there it came! The other children stopped singing and scattered, and when it was over, just that one girl lay mangled beneath the huge cardboard cutout of a bus. The audience exploded in laughter at the gag, but for that one girl, it was clearly justified paranoia.
16. The sun was cooling itself in a westerly breeze. The fish were biting, a flock of swallows was snatching mosquitoes before they became any threat to man or beast, and the beer was on ice in the cooler at the front of the little boat. The shoreline was lush with a thousand shades of green. At home, a beautiful woman waited for me to bring home two perfect little trout. And waited and waited. And waited, because I wasn't there! I wondered how long I would be held captive in this alien spacecraft and not be allowed to make just one single phone call!
17. When I hear someone mention cat heaven, as in: “Puffy has gone to Cat Heaven,” I’m really relieved, because the heaven I want to go to is one that won’t have any cats.
18. With my brains and your money, think of all the mischief we could get into at the New York Public Library!
19. Your portion of the national debt is just about $30,000. But did you know that you can buy “Debt Offset Credits”? These are like “Carbon Offset Credits”. For $19.95 plus $9.95 for shipping and $4.95 for handling, I can show you how you can buy these and many other kinds of credits. (For another $4.95 I will actually fondle it instead of just handling it impersonally.) If you call within the next ten minutes, I’ll also name a grain of sand on a beach after you, or something like that.
20. Every time I reach into my pocket for my wallet I find myself shaking hands with my Congressman.
22 June 2009
16 February 2009
Change You Can Avoid by Legislation
A quick thought for today. I’ve just read a little motivational booklet called “The Survival Guide to the Stress of Organizational Change” by Price Pritchett and Ron Pound – a splendid piece of work describing 15 stress-inducing mistakes we make in the face of constant change.
The authors point out that change is unavoidable and ever more rapid, and change is stressful, but stress is manageable, and so forth. (Best point: Basic Mistake #8: Fail to Abandon the Expendable.) Continuing with my work of the day, in the next moment I picked up an expired invitation to meet with my Congressman, Mike Michaud, (a former co-worker from my old paper mill days). I did attend the meeting, but that’s another story.
Still contemplating the certainty of constant change as I disposed of the invitation, it occurred to me what happens in Congress, and what happens to us-all as a result.
Congress passes massive “bills” intended to alleviate our stress, yours and mine, by promising this and that and socking it to the rich, and so on. (State legislatures pass their own parodies of federal acts, so it happens on the state level too.)
Most federal and state legislation has predominately negative effects. If any positive effect to such legislation ever occurs, it generally takes years, and by then we’ve forgotten that in 1997 Congress passed the School Music Improvement Act, which cut funding for any school music program that failed to include instruction in gangsta rap-hop, and which included an amendment to prevent multi-vitamins from being made out of genetically-engineered corn. The usual Congressional logic.
So I was left considering how this year’s glorious porkulus/cripple-us bill will take years to deliver any positive effect, and by the time anything trickles down to those of us most oppressed by government, there will have been so much CHANGE in the country that the real benefits of the act will be like delivering crank telephones to rural Appalachia in the 1980s.
Congress doesn’t grasp that change happens at the speed of technology. Ominously, Congress appears to believe that the only important change which occurs is that which Congress has set forth. Insidiously, Congress believes that the change which it “stimulates” actually will take place – indeed, Congress seems to believe that the moment its act is signed into law, the matter has been taken care of. Until another national crisis occurs, requiring the benevolent intervention of government.
Congress is blind to the negative effects of all its acts – especially to the utter failure of most.
Congress doesn’t grasp that change happens due to forces that Congress did not vote on and that it happens faster than any compromise* bill of reckless government spending can affect.
I'm left with the only true impact of Congressional action on my affairs, and that is STRESS. Compromise, as practiced by Congress, makes me pray for gridlock.
*To explain congressional compromise, the following is excerpted from DamnYankee.com.
Here’s how compromise works, and why it must not be encouraged: The Democrats have decided that what every household needs is a pig. Pigs are ecologically sound; they take up little space, they consume solid waste, they can be domesticated and provide companionship, they reproduce willingly, promoting neighborliness between pig owners, and one pig eventually provides a freezer full of food. The Republicans have decided that what everyone needs is a Chevrolet. They are economical to buy and come in a variety of colors to let owners express their individuality, they provide reliable transportation, they’re safe to sit in during a storm, and they can easily be repaired with readily-available parts. Neither party is willing to go completely to the other party’s idea. So they compromise. After years of Congressional debate and insipid analysis by Katie Couric, Congress rolls out its prototype. It has the snout of a pig, an engine in place of a mouth, hooves on the left and wheels on the right, a lightweight metal body (with smiling Congressmen waving gaily from the interior – the prototype has bullet-proof glass), a round, hairy rump, an anus spewing exhaust fumes, and a curly chrome tail. It goes in circles, possibly because the hooves aren’t synchronized with the wheels, but that minor detail will be cleared up in the next Congress. It's called a Pigrolet, and it comes with a 7,800-page instruction manual that can't be followed without the help of lawyers.) ©2004 DamnYankee.com
The authors point out that change is unavoidable and ever more rapid, and change is stressful, but stress is manageable, and so forth. (Best point: Basic Mistake #8: Fail to Abandon the Expendable.) Continuing with my work of the day, in the next moment I picked up an expired invitation to meet with my Congressman, Mike Michaud, (a former co-worker from my old paper mill days). I did attend the meeting, but that’s another story.
Still contemplating the certainty of constant change as I disposed of the invitation, it occurred to me what happens in Congress, and what happens to us-all as a result.
Congress passes massive “bills” intended to alleviate our stress, yours and mine, by promising this and that and socking it to the rich, and so on. (State legislatures pass their own parodies of federal acts, so it happens on the state level too.)
Most federal and state legislation has predominately negative effects. If any positive effect to such legislation ever occurs, it generally takes years, and by then we’ve forgotten that in 1997 Congress passed the School Music Improvement Act, which cut funding for any school music program that failed to include instruction in gangsta rap-hop, and which included an amendment to prevent multi-vitamins from being made out of genetically-engineered corn. The usual Congressional logic.
So I was left considering how this year’s glorious porkulus/cripple-us bill will take years to deliver any positive effect, and by the time anything trickles down to those of us most oppressed by government, there will have been so much CHANGE in the country that the real benefits of the act will be like delivering crank telephones to rural Appalachia in the 1980s.
Congress doesn’t grasp that change happens at the speed of technology. Ominously, Congress appears to believe that the only important change which occurs is that which Congress has set forth. Insidiously, Congress believes that the change which it “stimulates” actually will take place – indeed, Congress seems to believe that the moment its act is signed into law, the matter has been taken care of. Until another national crisis occurs, requiring the benevolent intervention of government.
Congress is blind to the negative effects of all its acts – especially to the utter failure of most.
Congress doesn’t grasp that change happens due to forces that Congress did not vote on and that it happens faster than any compromise* bill of reckless government spending can affect.
I'm left with the only true impact of Congressional action on my affairs, and that is STRESS. Compromise, as practiced by Congress, makes me pray for gridlock.
*To explain congressional compromise, the following is excerpted from DamnYankee.com.
Here’s how compromise works, and why it must not be encouraged: The Democrats have decided that what every household needs is a pig. Pigs are ecologically sound; they take up little space, they consume solid waste, they can be domesticated and provide companionship, they reproduce willingly, promoting neighborliness between pig owners, and one pig eventually provides a freezer full of food. The Republicans have decided that what everyone needs is a Chevrolet. They are economical to buy and come in a variety of colors to let owners express their individuality, they provide reliable transportation, they’re safe to sit in during a storm, and they can easily be repaired with readily-available parts. Neither party is willing to go completely to the other party’s idea. So they compromise. After years of Congressional debate and insipid analysis by Katie Couric, Congress rolls out its prototype. It has the snout of a pig, an engine in place of a mouth, hooves on the left and wheels on the right, a lightweight metal body (with smiling Congressmen waving gaily from the interior – the prototype has bullet-proof glass), a round, hairy rump, an anus spewing exhaust fumes, and a curly chrome tail. It goes in circles, possibly because the hooves aren’t synchronized with the wheels, but that minor detail will be cleared up in the next Congress. It's called a Pigrolet, and it comes with a 7,800-page instruction manual that can't be followed without the help of lawyers.) ©2004 DamnYankee.com
10 February 2009
The Lawyers' Chorus
This morning as I bumbled about the bedroom, I heard a woman’s voice on the television hawking some drug called Celebrex. I gradually became aware that she must have spent three quarters of the ad’s allotted minute just reciting the medical warnings about the drug. At the end, she said: “Ask your doctor if you could benefit from Celebrex.”
I thought: To heck with asking my doctor; it sounds as though I could benefit from a law degree. It seems to me that a drug company should feel free to advertise the wonders of its little pills without the need to warn us of the side effects. I don’t hear automobile ads warning us of the dangers of carbon monoxide, burning vinyl, sunburn (in case you use the car to take you to the beach), or obesity (in case you use the car to go out to eat). I don’t hear carbonated sugar drink ads warning us about diabetes. I don’t hear ads for personal injury lawyers warning us of the psychological peril in talking with them.
Sometime in the mid-1990s there was an ad on the radio that I heard two or three times and then it mysteriously stopped playing. I don’t recall what they were hawking, but the ad time was mostly taken up with the wonders of the product, and then, with maybe ten seconds left, the seller’s voice said: “And now the lawyers’ chorus will sing you the fine print.” The ad ended with an actual chorus of voices rapidly chanting a recitation of useless information.
I suspect that someone in the lawyer class heard the ad and threatened the radio station. (That would be the quickest way to get something off the air. Why bother with the ad agency or the seller – it doesn’t matter whether they want to keep the ad alive. It only matters whether it gets played, and therefore it is only necessary to threaten the player of the ad.)
I know some really fine people who happen also to be lawyers. I truly like these people. I truly like some people who are confirmed socialists, adulterers, and alcoholics. But my affection for someone does not confer approval of their do-gooder social maladjustment, masochism, or other misanthropy. To those whom I know who are lawyers, I would agree that, yes, a few laws are necessary, and so the world has need of a very few lawyers as well. But if you are a lawyer to whom a tome of regulation is a rhapsody, and if, for you, a government that is gushing murky law is a glimpse of heaven, I say you need to examine your worth to the world. See my additional take on this at DamnYankee.com.
I thought: To heck with asking my doctor; it sounds as though I could benefit from a law degree. It seems to me that a drug company should feel free to advertise the wonders of its little pills without the need to warn us of the side effects. I don’t hear automobile ads warning us of the dangers of carbon monoxide, burning vinyl, sunburn (in case you use the car to take you to the beach), or obesity (in case you use the car to go out to eat). I don’t hear carbonated sugar drink ads warning us about diabetes. I don’t hear ads for personal injury lawyers warning us of the psychological peril in talking with them.
Sometime in the mid-1990s there was an ad on the radio that I heard two or three times and then it mysteriously stopped playing. I don’t recall what they were hawking, but the ad time was mostly taken up with the wonders of the product, and then, with maybe ten seconds left, the seller’s voice said: “And now the lawyers’ chorus will sing you the fine print.” The ad ended with an actual chorus of voices rapidly chanting a recitation of useless information.
I suspect that someone in the lawyer class heard the ad and threatened the radio station. (That would be the quickest way to get something off the air. Why bother with the ad agency or the seller – it doesn’t matter whether they want to keep the ad alive. It only matters whether it gets played, and therefore it is only necessary to threaten the player of the ad.)
I know some really fine people who happen also to be lawyers. I truly like these people. I truly like some people who are confirmed socialists, adulterers, and alcoholics. But my affection for someone does not confer approval of their do-gooder social maladjustment, masochism, or other misanthropy. To those whom I know who are lawyers, I would agree that, yes, a few laws are necessary, and so the world has need of a very few lawyers as well. But if you are a lawyer to whom a tome of regulation is a rhapsody, and if, for you, a government that is gushing murky law is a glimpse of heaven, I say you need to examine your worth to the world. See my additional take on this at DamnYankee.com.
20 January 2009
President Nice Guy
Today we inaugurated the new President. We elected the one who promised to do nice things for everybody, rather than the one who promised to assure our freedom.
That’s who we elect now: people who tell us how nice they are and how generous they’ll be with other people’s money after they get elected.
President Bush’s approval rating was around 25% going into the election, and he was excoriated in the media. He wasn’t the Presidential candidate of his party, but because of his supposed influence, we threw his party’s Presidential and VP candidates under the bus in the election. This is how we express our disapproval of Republicans.
Congress’s approval rating was about 11%, and both houses were run by the Democrats. So in the election we showed them how furious we are with them by re-electing almost all the ruling party’s incumbents and by increasing their margin as well. This is how we express our disapproval of Democrats.
Our response to Congress’s approval rating looks like an anomaly at first. If we were so disapproving, why wasn’t there a 100% turnover in Congress? But the explanation is simple. We disapprove of every other district’s representative and every other state’s U.S. senators, but we are enamored with our own rep and our own senators. So, while we wish everyone else would replace their scoundrels in Congress, we don’t return the favor.
Back to the President. The new one is a very nice guy. He wants everyone to be comfortable from cradle to grave. He’s a rich lawyer who has also been a lawmaker. Lawmakers in this country who are nice guys have nearly a century of practice making laws that steal from Peter to pay Paul, so they can always count on the support of Paul.
But Paul isn’t just a poor fellow down on his luck and in need of a hand. Lawmakers who force this redistribution have selected, for our forced charity, such recipients as Planned Parenthood, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the usual parasites like that, but now also big banks who get to keep paying their millionaire executives’ salaries.
I have a different idea who should receive my charity, starting with the poor fellow down on his luck and in need of a hand. I also favor people who are disabled. (Really disabled, not the wannabes with contrived disabilities like tobacco addiction or self-inflicted obesity.)
I want a President who has read the Constitution and who doesn’t find it confusing – who can comprehend that the only responsibilities of the federal government are to provide for the national defense, conduct foreign affairs, regulate inter-state commerce (when necessary), and coin money. (Real money, not promises to pay, but that’s a subject for another day.) I want a President and a Congress who are concerned for my liberty, not my access to credit. I want a government that protects everyone’s freedom *to* do things, not one that presumes to protect everyone’s freedom *from* discomfort.
But I didn’t get that President or that Congress this time around, and neither did you. So I hope you enjoy the comfort you have voted for. I hope the wealth of others lasts long enough that you enjoy your comfort all the way to the grave. I didn’t vote for the overtly nice guy, because his being nice isn’t what mattered to me. It doesn’t fulfill my sense of duty to God and my fellow man, as it apparently does for a majority of my fellow citizens, to give other people’s money to government-approved entities like the UN, Harvard University, and ACORN. It fills my sense of duty to give of my own time and my own resources to someone whose NEED has made an impression on me. The more my meager wealth is whittled down, though, to support organizations I don’t believe deserve my largesse, the less I have to offer those I encounter who are in need.
I would also be deeply ashamed to vote a certain way on the premise that I personally could expect a handout as a result. I vote according to how we are governed by those we elect, not according to who pays me more for my trip to the polls.
See this: Obama Inaugural.
That’s who we elect now: people who tell us how nice they are and how generous they’ll be with other people’s money after they get elected.
President Bush’s approval rating was around 25% going into the election, and he was excoriated in the media. He wasn’t the Presidential candidate of his party, but because of his supposed influence, we threw his party’s Presidential and VP candidates under the bus in the election. This is how we express our disapproval of Republicans.
Congress’s approval rating was about 11%, and both houses were run by the Democrats. So in the election we showed them how furious we are with them by re-electing almost all the ruling party’s incumbents and by increasing their margin as well. This is how we express our disapproval of Democrats.
Our response to Congress’s approval rating looks like an anomaly at first. If we were so disapproving, why wasn’t there a 100% turnover in Congress? But the explanation is simple. We disapprove of every other district’s representative and every other state’s U.S. senators, but we are enamored with our own rep and our own senators. So, while we wish everyone else would replace their scoundrels in Congress, we don’t return the favor.
Back to the President. The new one is a very nice guy. He wants everyone to be comfortable from cradle to grave. He’s a rich lawyer who has also been a lawmaker. Lawmakers in this country who are nice guys have nearly a century of practice making laws that steal from Peter to pay Paul, so they can always count on the support of Paul.
But Paul isn’t just a poor fellow down on his luck and in need of a hand. Lawmakers who force this redistribution have selected, for our forced charity, such recipients as Planned Parenthood, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the usual parasites like that, but now also big banks who get to keep paying their millionaire executives’ salaries.
I have a different idea who should receive my charity, starting with the poor fellow down on his luck and in need of a hand. I also favor people who are disabled. (Really disabled, not the wannabes with contrived disabilities like tobacco addiction or self-inflicted obesity.)
I want a President who has read the Constitution and who doesn’t find it confusing – who can comprehend that the only responsibilities of the federal government are to provide for the national defense, conduct foreign affairs, regulate inter-state commerce (when necessary), and coin money. (Real money, not promises to pay, but that’s a subject for another day.) I want a President and a Congress who are concerned for my liberty, not my access to credit. I want a government that protects everyone’s freedom *to* do things, not one that presumes to protect everyone’s freedom *from* discomfort.
But I didn’t get that President or that Congress this time around, and neither did you. So I hope you enjoy the comfort you have voted for. I hope the wealth of others lasts long enough that you enjoy your comfort all the way to the grave. I didn’t vote for the overtly nice guy, because his being nice isn’t what mattered to me. It doesn’t fulfill my sense of duty to God and my fellow man, as it apparently does for a majority of my fellow citizens, to give other people’s money to government-approved entities like the UN, Harvard University, and ACORN. It fills my sense of duty to give of my own time and my own resources to someone whose NEED has made an impression on me. The more my meager wealth is whittled down, though, to support organizations I don’t believe deserve my largesse, the less I have to offer those I encounter who are in need.
I would also be deeply ashamed to vote a certain way on the premise that I personally could expect a handout as a result. I vote according to how we are governed by those we elect, not according to who pays me more for my trip to the polls.
See this: Obama Inaugural.
24 December 2008
Problem Solved
Ambie Heltrop of Mattamiscontis, Maine, was going up to bed when his wife told him that he'd left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window. Ambie opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things.
He phoned the sheriff's office, who asked 'Is someone in your house?' and Ambie said 'No, they're in my shed.' Then the dispatcher said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and a deputy would be along when available. Ambie said, 'OK,' hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the sheriff again.
'Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people stealing things from my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now because I've just shot them.' Then he hung up.
Within five minutes three police cars, an Armed Response Unit, and an ambulance showed up at the Heltrop residence and caught the burglars red-handed.
One of the officers said to Ambie: 'I thought you said that you'd shot them!'
Ambie said, 'I thought you said there was nobody available!'
[Reminds me of what someone once observed: Youth and guile are no match for age and treachery.]
He phoned the sheriff's office, who asked 'Is someone in your house?' and Ambie said 'No, they're in my shed.' Then the dispatcher said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and a deputy would be along when available. Ambie said, 'OK,' hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the sheriff again.
'Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people stealing things from my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now because I've just shot them.' Then he hung up.
Within five minutes three police cars, an Armed Response Unit, and an ambulance showed up at the Heltrop residence and caught the burglars red-handed.
One of the officers said to Ambie: 'I thought you said that you'd shot them!'
Ambie said, 'I thought you said there was nobody available!'
[Reminds me of what someone once observed: Youth and guile are no match for age and treachery.]
21 December 2008
Staying Mentally Fit
I often while away the dull moments with productive mental exercises. This is to prevent memory loss. For instance, right now I'm working on recalling the names of Snow White's eleven dwarfs.
20 December 2008
Credentials
Beneath her talking head on the History Channel appeared her name and her credential, Sonia Shah, Author. I googled her and now I understand better why she was being consulted for a show called “CRUDE.” (She isn’t crude; it was a show about oil.)
I recalled that I had long ago started a list, now lost, of professions, for lack of a better word, or careers if that’s what they be – credentials that regularly follow people’s names in printed and broadcast news stories. And in documentaries, like the one featuring Author Shah.
As I watched Sonia Shah on TV I revived the list as best I could.
In news, someone is as casually identified as a Socialite or Embezzler as someone else is a Professor or CEO. (Nowadays, documentaries are more likely than the news to provide a steady stream of these varied credentials.) And of the array of choices, how do you explain to your kids that they might want to aspire to the title of Contortionist or Auctioneer but perhaps not to titles like Extortionist or Racketeer.
My favorites among titles I’ve seen after people’s names? Activist and Expert. I am especially fascinated to comprehend how someone can earn the title of Activist. I might like to be an Activist for causes of my own, but I’m too damned involved with my family and with earning a living to spend enough time being an Activist who would attract the attention of the news cameras. I can only conclude that most visible Activists are independently wealthy.
I’ve even seen the term Professional Activist. Is there a degree for that? A salary? Myself, I’m more of an Inertiaist. Where I see Activists plying their profession I’m more inclined to say, No thanks, I liked it better the way it was. Activists seem mostly intent on reducing my freedom, and Inertiaists don’t sell news.
I realize that a degree in anything makes someone an Expert, and a Ph.D. makes someone an actual Authority. So there are a lot of Experts out there, ready to have the word, with a capital E, appear after their names on TV. Sometimes it’s a Renowned Authority. Then I’m impressed!
It so happens that I am an authority on many things myself. The only difference between me and an authority on, say, cosmetics, is that I’m not an expert on anything that sells news or documentaries.
It used to upset me to read a news story and see a sleazy rock star referred to as a Musician, (or more offensively, as an Artist). But that was back when I expected my daily news sources to be more discerning, more responsible, more linguistically accurate. I have long since abandoned such expectations.
As I describe myself at DamnYankee.com, I lay serious claim to the titles of Activist, Advisor, Advisor to the Administration, Economic Advisor, Political Advisor, Constitutional Analyst, Legal Analyst, Foreign Policy Analyst, Media Analyst, Military Analyst, Cryptanalyst, Linguist, Expert, Academic Expert, Unnamed Source, Strategist, and more... not that anyone listens, but I am as qualified as anyone named in the news media to assume any of these monikers. How can that be? I’m active all the time, even sometimes an agitator, I analyze and advise and strategize, I’m an expert and a source, and, yes, I’m a cryptanalyst. The beneficiaries of my activism (or intertia), analysis, and advice are those who read my commentary and advice.
I'm as much an expert on things political and philosophical as Chomsky, Chopra, and many other darlings of the broadcast media. (Just as with me, Chomsky and Chopra each have a formal education in something far removed from the meaning of the U.S. Constitution. It's plain to me that I have read it and they have not, so I claim a greater expertise in that hallowed document than they can.)
I scoff at news media reports that quote “experts” without naming them. I’m equally unimpressed by reports that credit “unnamed sources”, “legal analysts”, “political advisors”, and the like. I’m analyzing politics and laws and the media all the time. I write letters to elected officials giving my advice. I’m an expert on quite a few things, especially in dealing with the messes created by “enabling legislation”. And DamnYankee.com stands as my continuing political activism.
I recalled that I had long ago started a list, now lost, of professions, for lack of a better word, or careers if that’s what they be – credentials that regularly follow people’s names in printed and broadcast news stories. And in documentaries, like the one featuring Author Shah.
As I watched Sonia Shah on TV I revived the list as best I could.
In news, someone is as casually identified as a Socialite or Embezzler as someone else is a Professor or CEO. (Nowadays, documentaries are more likely than the news to provide a steady stream of these varied credentials.) And of the array of choices, how do you explain to your kids that they might want to aspire to the title of Contortionist or Auctioneer but perhaps not to titles like Extortionist or Racketeer.
My favorites among titles I’ve seen after people’s names? Activist and Expert. I am especially fascinated to comprehend how someone can earn the title of Activist. I might like to be an Activist for causes of my own, but I’m too damned involved with my family and with earning a living to spend enough time being an Activist who would attract the attention of the news cameras. I can only conclude that most visible Activists are independently wealthy.
I’ve even seen the term Professional Activist. Is there a degree for that? A salary? Myself, I’m more of an Inertiaist. Where I see Activists plying their profession I’m more inclined to say, No thanks, I liked it better the way it was. Activists seem mostly intent on reducing my freedom, and Inertiaists don’t sell news.
I realize that a degree in anything makes someone an Expert, and a Ph.D. makes someone an actual Authority. So there are a lot of Experts out there, ready to have the word, with a capital E, appear after their names on TV. Sometimes it’s a Renowned Authority. Then I’m impressed!
It so happens that I am an authority on many things myself. The only difference between me and an authority on, say, cosmetics, is that I’m not an expert on anything that sells news or documentaries.
It used to upset me to read a news story and see a sleazy rock star referred to as a Musician, (or more offensively, as an Artist). But that was back when I expected my daily news sources to be more discerning, more responsible, more linguistically accurate. I have long since abandoned such expectations.
As I describe myself at DamnYankee.com, I lay serious claim to the titles of Activist, Advisor, Advisor to the Administration, Economic Advisor, Political Advisor, Constitutional Analyst, Legal Analyst, Foreign Policy Analyst, Media Analyst, Military Analyst, Cryptanalyst, Linguist, Expert, Academic Expert, Unnamed Source, Strategist, and more... not that anyone listens, but I am as qualified as anyone named in the news media to assume any of these monikers. How can that be? I’m active all the time, even sometimes an agitator, I analyze and advise and strategize, I’m an expert and a source, and, yes, I’m a cryptanalyst. The beneficiaries of my activism (or intertia), analysis, and advice are those who read my commentary and advice.
I'm as much an expert on things political and philosophical as Chomsky, Chopra, and many other darlings of the broadcast media. (Just as with me, Chomsky and Chopra each have a formal education in something far removed from the meaning of the U.S. Constitution. It's plain to me that I have read it and they have not, so I claim a greater expertise in that hallowed document than they can.)
I scoff at news media reports that quote “experts” without naming them. I’m equally unimpressed by reports that credit “unnamed sources”, “legal analysts”, “political advisors”, and the like. I’m analyzing politics and laws and the media all the time. I write letters to elected officials giving my advice. I’m an expert on quite a few things, especially in dealing with the messes created by “enabling legislation”. And DamnYankee.com stands as my continuing political activism.
17 December 2008
Nice People
I like a lot of people, but I wouldn't want most of them governing me. Just because they are nice and have what they believe is my best interest in mind doesn't mean that they would act in a way most likely to preserve my freedom.
13 December 2008
Rising Where You've Fallen
In my years of learning, fathering, working, exploring, teaching, trying, hoping, waiting, praying, laughing, yearning - I stood for something.
Because I fell for a wonderful woman, I stood for romance.
Because I fell before the throne of grace, I stood for faith.
Because I fell for the laughter of children, I stood for responsibility.
Because I stood for these, I stood for love.
I have fallen for much, and I have stood for much more.
14 November 2008
Doom and Gloom
The world will always have plenty of petty despots, scattered about according to P.J. O'Rourke's definition of "Nationalism - A political ideology which suggests that every little group of human twerps with its own slang, haircut, and pet name for God should have its own country as well." But, while they may be fewer and arise less frequently, the world has not seen its last terrible dictator.
The world has not seen its last famine or its worst tectonic plate shift. As we creep toward the mid-point between mini ice ages, we can acknowledge that the world has not seen its hottest weather (in human history). And there's no reversing "global warming" by switching to compact fluorescent lights. Human who believe we are making the atmosphere warmer are anticipated by Aesop: "The fly sat upon the axel tree of the chariot wheel and said: 'What a dust I do raise!'"
11,000 to 13,000 years ago the northern hemisphere was half covered with ice, and likely will be again in another 13,000 years. But from today until then, it may get much warmer before it turns cold again, and all of this has been happening over and over without the self-flattering influence of Man.
The world has not seen its last dustbowl, mighty flood, or continental fires. It has not seen its last plague or last universal economic collapse. And it has not seen its last atomic bombing in an act of war.
The world may have seen its last free representative republic, and the sinking of that republic will drive rational science underground. For with economic ruin will come a rise in charlatanism and superstition where once reigned reason, free will, and responsible citizenship. Under universal poverty, especially close behind an era of plenty, people will regard science and reason as irrelevant, even maliciously responsible for the plight of the land.
The world has not seen its last era of real money. Since 1932, when the USA ceased circulating gold coin, and more certainly since 1972, when the USA went off the gold standard, the only currency within and between countries has been fiat money - promises to pay, credit, and most recently, digital money represented by the flow of electrons in tiny computer circuits.
People denied control of those electronic circuits will find a way to return to currency of intrinsic value, governments be damned.
The world is not especially optimistic, although optimism is a feature of human nature. But even those who let a little pessimism creep in are not prepared for the turmoil that any of these calamities, or worse, a succession of these calamities, will bring.
Individuals can prepare themselves a little, but those who smugly believe that they are fully prepared are fully to be shocked at the reach of the succession of global crises to come. Those who live in densely-populated urban areas and who blithely expect their urban and national governments to prevent such crises or to coddle everyone if the worst should happen are to be pitied.
The world has not seen its last famine or its worst tectonic plate shift. As we creep toward the mid-point between mini ice ages, we can acknowledge that the world has not seen its hottest weather (in human history). And there's no reversing "global warming" by switching to compact fluorescent lights. Human who believe we are making the atmosphere warmer are anticipated by Aesop: "The fly sat upon the axel tree of the chariot wheel and said: 'What a dust I do raise!'"
11,000 to 13,000 years ago the northern hemisphere was half covered with ice, and likely will be again in another 13,000 years. But from today until then, it may get much warmer before it turns cold again, and all of this has been happening over and over without the self-flattering influence of Man.
The world has not seen its last dustbowl, mighty flood, or continental fires. It has not seen its last plague or last universal economic collapse. And it has not seen its last atomic bombing in an act of war.
The world may have seen its last free representative republic, and the sinking of that republic will drive rational science underground. For with economic ruin will come a rise in charlatanism and superstition where once reigned reason, free will, and responsible citizenship. Under universal poverty, especially close behind an era of plenty, people will regard science and reason as irrelevant, even maliciously responsible for the plight of the land.
The world has not seen its last era of real money. Since 1932, when the USA ceased circulating gold coin, and more certainly since 1972, when the USA went off the gold standard, the only currency within and between countries has been fiat money - promises to pay, credit, and most recently, digital money represented by the flow of electrons in tiny computer circuits.
People denied control of those electronic circuits will find a way to return to currency of intrinsic value, governments be damned.
The world is not especially optimistic, although optimism is a feature of human nature. But even those who let a little pessimism creep in are not prepared for the turmoil that any of these calamities, or worse, a succession of these calamities, will bring.
Individuals can prepare themselves a little, but those who smugly believe that they are fully prepared are fully to be shocked at the reach of the succession of global crises to come. Those who live in densely-populated urban areas and who blithely expect their urban and national governments to prevent such crises or to coddle everyone if the worst should happen are to be pitied.
05 November 2008
I'm Trying
The election of 2008 is over. I'm still in mourning. The hardest thing for me? Giving up being an independent, responsible citizen and becoming a mollycoddled victim awaiting government rescue. I can’t even figure out what I’m a victim of, except earlier government attempts to rescue me.
Rescue me from what? My own wrong-headed thinking, I guess. Certainly that includes my inability to choose appropriate charities for my philanthropy. Probably also my selfishness in thinking I deserve to prosper from my own efforts and my masochism in thinking I deserve to accept the consequences if I fail in my attempts to prosper. (For if I fail, certainly my efforts were undermined by someone else’s greed, and I need to be taught to petition the government to punish that greed.)
Up to now, I have succeeded in fighting off such attempts.
Most importantly, I need to re-program myself to keep my mouth shut when I can see plainly that the emperor has no clothes. There will be retribution for anyone who says so.
I don’t expect that I will ever become accustomed to being one of the sheeple, but I will soon enroll in groupthink therapy and learn worshipful mantras and take the pictures of Lincoln and Reagan off my walls to make room for a portrait of a benevolent BHO. I hope that I have to put up only a head shot, because I don’t want to expose my kids to the emperor’s full-body image.
God knows, I’m trying to get it right!
Rescue me from what? My own wrong-headed thinking, I guess. Certainly that includes my inability to choose appropriate charities for my philanthropy. Probably also my selfishness in thinking I deserve to prosper from my own efforts and my masochism in thinking I deserve to accept the consequences if I fail in my attempts to prosper. (For if I fail, certainly my efforts were undermined by someone else’s greed, and I need to be taught to petition the government to punish that greed.)
Up to now, I have succeeded in fighting off such attempts.
Most importantly, I need to re-program myself to keep my mouth shut when I can see plainly that the emperor has no clothes. There will be retribution for anyone who says so.
I don’t expect that I will ever become accustomed to being one of the sheeple, but I will soon enroll in groupthink therapy and learn worshipful mantras and take the pictures of Lincoln and Reagan off my walls to make room for a portrait of a benevolent BHO. I hope that I have to put up only a head shot, because I don’t want to expose my kids to the emperor’s full-body image.
God knows, I’m trying to get it right!
14 June 2007
NIMBY
We think of the NIMBY phenomenon when people who want something done that will alter the landscape don’t want it in their own neighborhoods. It’s pro bono publico – something we all want and need – but let someone else look at that recycling facility or waste treatment plant when they get up in the morning, not me.
It would seem anathema, then, if the very something that everyone wants and needs were also something that would clean up, preserve, and protect a landscape, but if the loudest lovers of the landscape said NIMBY to that.
Recently I had the pleasure, and I mean that sincerely, of taking the train from Boston to Newport News. The ride was comfortable and every Amtrak employee we encountered was friendly and solicitous. The sad part was the landscape from Boston to D.C. – an open dump all the way within a hundred feet of the tracks. It was a steady view of cultch: discarded furniture, tires, rags, and the nondescript paper, glass, and plastic trash that characterizes roadside litter. But this wasn’t mere litter. The imagination struggles to conceive how, through mile after “northeast corridor” metropolitan mile, the embankments look like the old small-town dumps of New England. The very dumps that we eventually closed throughout Maine have been re-created, or continuously created, in the environmentalists’ back yards.
Maybe it’s sculpture, given how ignorant I am about what’s called modern art.
I’ve been pissed for a long time already about the Massholes and New Yorkheads who want to rescue northern Maine from the natives for fear we’ll turn our state over to “development.”
After innocently taking this trip, I’m ready to insist that the Maine legislature send the next governor a bill: No organization may lobby the legislature about the Maine woods that takes support money from residents of other states. From what I’ve seen firsthand, their time, talent, and treasure is absolutely misspent on saving Maine from itself. They need to save their own states from themselves first.
Oh, the railroad right-of-way is off-limits company property? That can’t be stopping anyone from cleaning it up, any more than it has stopped their friends from dumping it; northern Maine is off-limits company property too, and that hasn’t deterred the imperial environmentalists’ foot soldiers from tramping all over the state in order to save it.
- A Damn Yankee from New England
See more tirades at www.damnyankee.com
It would seem anathema, then, if the very something that everyone wants and needs were also something that would clean up, preserve, and protect a landscape, but if the loudest lovers of the landscape said NIMBY to that.
Recently I had the pleasure, and I mean that sincerely, of taking the train from Boston to Newport News. The ride was comfortable and every Amtrak employee we encountered was friendly and solicitous. The sad part was the landscape from Boston to D.C. – an open dump all the way within a hundred feet of the tracks. It was a steady view of cultch: discarded furniture, tires, rags, and the nondescript paper, glass, and plastic trash that characterizes roadside litter. But this wasn’t mere litter. The imagination struggles to conceive how, through mile after “northeast corridor” metropolitan mile, the embankments look like the old small-town dumps of New England. The very dumps that we eventually closed throughout Maine have been re-created, or continuously created, in the environmentalists’ back yards.
Maybe it’s sculpture, given how ignorant I am about what’s called modern art.
I’ve been pissed for a long time already about the Massholes and New Yorkheads who want to rescue northern Maine from the natives for fear we’ll turn our state over to “development.”
After innocently taking this trip, I’m ready to insist that the Maine legislature send the next governor a bill: No organization may lobby the legislature about the Maine woods that takes support money from residents of other states. From what I’ve seen firsthand, their time, talent, and treasure is absolutely misspent on saving Maine from itself. They need to save their own states from themselves first.
Oh, the railroad right-of-way is off-limits company property? That can’t be stopping anyone from cleaning it up, any more than it has stopped their friends from dumping it; northern Maine is off-limits company property too, and that hasn’t deterred the imperial environmentalists’ foot soldiers from tramping all over the state in order to save it.
- A Damn Yankee from New England
See more tirades at www.damnyankee.com
02 May 2005
Makes No Cents to Me
Look at a Susan Anthony or Sacagawea dollar. In the mid-1800s a penny was the same size and made of about the same amount of copper. A dollar was roughly an ounce of silver and twenty dollars was a little less than an ounce of gold (from the centuries-old standard that gold should be worth about 17 times an equivalent weight of silver).
Our dollar today is worth about what a penny was worth when my great grandparents were kids, both in purchasing power and in intrinsic value. Back in the 1850s Congress ditched the half cent, presumably because they found it to be a useless denomination.
In the mid-1800s, a dollar could buy a night's stay in a luxury hotel or dinner for two in the dining room. Now it costs a hundred dollars for either. Since today's "dollar" has so little practical value, hardly worth an original penny, it seems the smallest useful denomination now ought to be the half dollar, equivalent to the half cent of 1850.
In 1982 the mint changed the composition of the penny from copper to copper-plated zinc, a cheaper metal, so that the melt value of pennies henceforth wouldn't exceed their face value. Congress fears your reaction, though, if it were to abolish the Lincoln cent, not to mention the useless nickels and dimes that have so little comparative value today. If you are a merchant, would it matter to you that you could no longer charge 99 cents but might have to admit that the real price is a (Sacagawea) dollar?
Congress also fears your reaction if it were to abolish the dollar bill, which is a damned nuisance and expensive to produce relative to its face value and life span of 18-22 months. Imagine that both paper cents and copper cents had circulated in the 1850s. (Paper "fractional" currency did circulate during the Civil War in denominations as low as five cents, but was quickly abandoned after the war. Our five-dollar bill is worth about as much as the five-cent paper fractional currency of 1862.)
The half dollar could be redesigned to half the weight of the Sacagawea dollar, the quarter to half of that, if we still need quarters. If we were to add a five dollar coin, then our change would consist of three or four useful denominations, and paper would start at the $10 level.
This is just one sensible idea that you will never see implemented. The dominion to our north may have the courage to do it within our life span, though. What say you, O Canada?
Our dollar today is worth about what a penny was worth when my great grandparents were kids, both in purchasing power and in intrinsic value. Back in the 1850s Congress ditched the half cent, presumably because they found it to be a useless denomination.
In the mid-1800s, a dollar could buy a night's stay in a luxury hotel or dinner for two in the dining room. Now it costs a hundred dollars for either. Since today's "dollar" has so little practical value, hardly worth an original penny, it seems the smallest useful denomination now ought to be the half dollar, equivalent to the half cent of 1850.
In 1982 the mint changed the composition of the penny from copper to copper-plated zinc, a cheaper metal, so that the melt value of pennies henceforth wouldn't exceed their face value. Congress fears your reaction, though, if it were to abolish the Lincoln cent, not to mention the useless nickels and dimes that have so little comparative value today. If you are a merchant, would it matter to you that you could no longer charge 99 cents but might have to admit that the real price is a (Sacagawea) dollar?
Congress also fears your reaction if it were to abolish the dollar bill, which is a damned nuisance and expensive to produce relative to its face value and life span of 18-22 months. Imagine that both paper cents and copper cents had circulated in the 1850s. (Paper "fractional" currency did circulate during the Civil War in denominations as low as five cents, but was quickly abandoned after the war. Our five-dollar bill is worth about as much as the five-cent paper fractional currency of 1862.)
The half dollar could be redesigned to half the weight of the Sacagawea dollar, the quarter to half of that, if we still need quarters. If we were to add a five dollar coin, then our change would consist of three or four useful denominations, and paper would start at the $10 level.
This is just one sensible idea that you will never see implemented. The dominion to our north may have the courage to do it within our life span, though. What say you, O Canada?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
