Weight Up

Summer is staring you in the face. And it's not sporting a friendly grin or a warm smile.  Summer has a gleefully evil look in its eye, and you know why.

That trimmer, leaner, meaner you that bounced lightly into Fall has weighted-up during the 'off season'.  True, you made it through Halloween and all those assorted candies, and through Thanksgiving with the mashed potatoes, stuffing, and pie. (Note to self: next year cut to the chase and make a mashed potato pie and stuff it right into the Turkey).

You even survived the holiday feasting with which virtually every religion and pagan cult gluts the latter half of December.  New Year's toasts left you still feeling nimble.

But something wicked crept in around the Ides of March.  And somehow... some way, the ounces accumulated into pounds and there you are, apparently absorbing nutrients from sunlight,  air, and water and looking unfit to be seen in Summer attire.

True Summer will be here in less than a month.  It's time to get running, swimming, biking, or just plain walking.  Switch to low-fat, higher protein foods from the artery clogging stuff you really love.  

Forego the beer, the pizza, and the ice cream. This will be akin to an 'enhanced interrogation' session, but necessary for national security (or at least to protect the sensibilities of anyone who sees you in your speedo).

And stay out of bright sunlight - just in case you really are a photosynthetic mutant...

Brinkmania

Whoa Boy, are we on the edge today ...

A bombing in Lahore - suspected Taliban militants detonated a car bomb outside police facilities in Lahore, Pakistan, killing 30 and wounding 250.  It's believed they acted in retaliation to the military's push to clear militants from the Swat Valley.  Whatever the reason, this attack on what is considered the most important cultural center in Pakistan is another step towards chaos in the troubled nation.  Pakistan is sliding ever more quickly towards the brink, and the skids have been greased, if somewhat inadvertently, by America's war in Afghanistan and our support of the now-ousted Pervez Musharraf.  It will take no less than peace with neighboring India and a commitment to review and revise its national structure for Pakistan to survive.

North Korea talks tougher  - North Korea tests a nuclear bomb.  South Korea is spooked and joins a US-led international plan called the Proliferation Security Initiative, which proposes to stop any transport of unauthorized nuclear materials by ship (i.e., a form of blockade). North Korea gets really steamed, calls this action a violation of the 1953 armistice that ended (paused?) the Korean War, and says it will no longer honor the treaty.  On the brink, instantly.  Will anyone pay attention?  After all it seems that North Korea has managed its relationships with just about everyone else save China in an on-the-brink all-the-time manner anyway.  We might end up in a 'boy cries wolf' tale, only with an even grimmer ending than usual.

GM on the Green Mile - Grim endings? The pardon from the Governor hasn't come, and the executioner's got an itchy injection finger.  General Motors may be facing the long walk without a last meal, or last rites.  How could so mighty an institution have come to this?  Chrysler, we can understand.  After all, it's been in big trouble before, but GM?  Truth is, GM and the other American makers have been in court for a while now, barely managing to stay their sentencing.  The economic meltdown delivered a verdict, though, and now the punishment begins.  For all of us ...

Judging Sonia

Our President this morning released his pick to replace the retiring Justice David Souter on the Supreme Court.  It's Federal Appellate judge Sonia Sotomayor.  

If confirmed she would be the first Hispanic justice and only the third woman on the top bench.  The pundits are predicting this will make her a difficult target for conservatives anxious to squelch her nomination.  But they are also predicting the conservatives will try anyway, attacking Judge Sotomayor as an 'activist judge'.

I've personally never understood that term.  How much room in the constitution does a justice have for activism anyway?  They can't make an entirely new law.   They can't fundamentally change an existing law to bring about a dramatically different result.  

Judges, however, can overturn a law if they find it is unconstitutional. And, in some cases, judges can 'interpret' the meaning and intent of a law and use that interpretation to decide the case outcome.  In these situations political bias towards 'conservative' or 'liberal' can have an effect, but is this 'activism'?  

You can reasonably expect prospective justice Sotomayor to be liberal.  Otherwise President Obama wouldn't have considered her to replace Souter.  But an activist?  No more so that Clarence Thomas is an activist, or Antonin Scalia.  

It would be better if everyone ('conservatives' and 'liberals' and 'in-betweens', alike) judge Sonia Sotomayor's appointment on issues other than 'activism'.  Issues like experience, performance, dedication, and fairness.

Memorial Day

On a Day for Remembering...

To my father, who served his country in the Navy in WWII, returned home to contribute to the baby boom and the American Dream, and who now lies beneath a Veteran's headstone.

To all those fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons, and to the wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters, who served their country in its wars.

To all those who never returned.

Thank You, for giving everything you had to give.  Thank You, for your sacrifice.

And in your memory let us be resolved to ask again for what you gave only when there is no other choice. 

We must remember that behind all wars, perceived as just or unjust, righteous or evil, necessary or fruitless, there has always been, and will always be, a small group of men orchestrating it all.  

Wars start in a back room, in a private meeting, on the golf course. Wars are not democratic and their burden is seldom evenly spread.

To all those who have started wars, who have been instrumental in their progress, and who have sought to prolong them for their own benefit, we give no thanks.  May you think today on all those you have sent to their deaths for your benefit and not their own.

California Scheming

I think that sometimes enough is never enough.  Perhaps this is always true, when it comes to governments and budgets.  Like Donald Trump, they just can't stop embarrassing themselves in the search for more.

California's ruling crew passed tax increases a while back, designed to close the gap between income and outgo created by the economic meltdown.  That wasn't enough.  In a special election just held, they tried to get the tax increases extended for an extra two years (after the initial two year run).  

Not surprisingly, the electorate voted these extensions down.  Who knows where we will be in two years?  Why extend the taxes now - maybe they won't be needed?  No one addressed these questions, and so most people voted 'No'.

Now, in the aftermath, dire predictions of huge budget cuts to schools and other essential services are flying out of Sacramento.  Now?  We have the extra taxes already for the next two years, why cut now, why alarm people now?

Because we have numbskulls who can't see beyond their own political infighting, who can't talk directly and honestly with the public if their lives depended on it, that's why.  Or maybe they just aren't the sharpest tools in the shed.

Those of us who live in the 'Golden' State have become intensely skeptical of our leaders.  We didn't used to be.  Objectively the state has never been run as well as it deserves to be, but we tolerated it and passed most initiatives presented to us (even those so legally untenable that they never became law).  

We've grown up a bit now, but our 'leaders' haven't.  They continue their political scheming and we suffer the consequences.

Hindsight Revisited

'They' say that hindsight is 20/20.  By which 'they' mean that events can be more clearly understood given time and distance.  Often, the implication is we will think more kindly on those past decisions, events, and actions, if we've had some time to mull them over, or if subsequent events have added context.

Something like this hindsight through rose-colored glasses is what Dick Cheney was groping for during his 'talk' on TV this morning from the American Enterprise Institute (AEI).  Unfortunately for Mr. Cheney, no amount of time, no quantity or quality of additional context, can do anything for his former actions as Vice President other than make them starker, scarier, and, well, creepier.  And give us all a profound sense of relief that they are over and he's out.

During his talk, the former Vice President had a justification for everything: the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq; the 'Patriot' Act; domestic surveillance; torture (sorry, 'enhanced interrogation'); and Guantanamo.  The only thing he didn't have an excuse for was his little hunting snafu, so perhaps hindsight, Cheney-style, is only 20/40.

To Cheney, all means were justified by the desired ends, and all those who served those ends by carrying out those means were heroes, and all who opposed them traitors.  Sentiments that, in hindsight, have powered all the horrors inflicted by man upon man throughout history.

Through his talk this morning, Dick Cheney has done us a favor.  He's given stark contrast against which to judge President Obama's actions, and he's removed forever any thoughts that hindsight might in any way improve the ugly picture of the Bush-Cheney regime.

Thanks Dick, now please shut up ...

Poetry Break: Idle Dogs

Left alone, in the home

Without a bone to chew

A dog will wander, searching, searching

For something wicked to do

A wire to bite, a rug to soil, a trash can to explore

A dog alone, without a bone 

Will do all that

And really quite a bit more

A dog alone, without a bone

will trash whatever can be found

It's true, you can say, 

every day and in every way...

An Idle Dog is the Devil's Playhound ...

Dodging Cthulhu

Today, Friday, May 15, 2009,  you may have awakened to a new reality.   Sure, the bacon sandwich you routinely clog your arteries with is still on the table.  As is the strongest coffee ever to be brewed on Planet Earth (Columbia 1  Gut 0).  And your dog has obediently peed on the carefully laid-out copy of your still-barely-hanging-in-there local newspaper.

No, everything looks to be normal today, but it isn't.  Not if you are an owner of a Chrysler-built vehicle (Dodge, Chrysler, Jeep, and Plymouth) and have a dealership you've come to trust and view as an important part of Life As You Know It.  If you had read that newspaper you might have gotten a clue as to your new predicament.

As you blithely gnaw on the last morsel of crusty bacon and slurp the last acid drop of coffee, you may be thinking that this weekend it might be wise to take the Dodge down for an oil change and have that odd noise diagnosed.  Little do you know that this might be the last time those thoughts form quite the same way in your overworked cranium.  You see, 'taking the Dodge down' will have a new meaning on Monday, and for every day thereafter.  

That place you bought your car, let's call it 'Arkham Dodge', has just received a letter from Chrysler.  The general manager - let's call him 'HP' has opened it and read the note from the corporate suit - let's call him 'Mr. Cthulhu' -  telling him that Arkham has been dropped as an authorized dealer.  Now HP has to tell his employees that their job-days are numbered and by the way, Have a Good Weekend.

HP and a skeleton staff may keep on keeping on for a while at Arkham, but soon you will need to take your Dodge elsewhere for factory service.  And if the old girl needs replacing with something brand new, you won't be able to get it from HP. 

But that's OK, there's another authorized dealer over in the next county.  About a half-hour's drive away.  Here's hoping they didn't (and won't) get any messages from Cthulhu...

The Airport Shuffle

Traveling has its virtues and rewards, and, as Yang must follow Yin, it has its pitfalls and punishments too.  Getting to and through airports is a definitively Yang-like experience.

Just getting to the airport can be a hassle, unless you live under the flight path a quarter mile away, in which case you have bigger Yangs to fry.  

Do you drive yourself, take a taxi or shuttle, ask a friend?  If you are newly married your spouse will gladly take you.  If you've been married a year or more the option is permanently off the table.  And asking friends can lead to their sudden illness.  If you ask them so often they run out of believable diseases they may stop being your friend.  Or volunteer for extended jury duty.  

Shuttles are tough because they make several stops, seemingly randomly, and all over the map too.  If you have an 8 am flight they make need to pick you up at 4 am.   If you arrive at the airport at midnight and want a shuttle home, expect to get there as the sun is winking over the horizon, having toured for more miles than your flight.

Taxis are too expensive, perhaps not in monetary terms, but you lose a bit of your soul.  Limos are easier on the spirit, but not the wallet.  But they are options, and both look rosier if you aren't traveling alone and have someone to share the ride.  And pay for you, if possible.

But mostly you drive yourself.  And that means parking.  I've gravitated to the parking vendor whose radio jingle is permanently lodged in my hippocampus.  It's so deeply ingrained I expect even blunt force trauma or the ravages of Alzheimer's couldn't dislodge it.  So I find myself on travel day winding up through the endless levels of the parking garage looking for one that is 'open', preferably a level not so high I need supplemental oxygen.

But the parking folks, no matter the vendor, are usually efficient and get you to the terminal on time, with a bottle of free water you have to drink quickly or throw away before you get to security.

If there is purgatory on Earth, the passage through security at America's major airports must be it, or a close second.  Don't misunderstand, security is important.  Nobody wants to fly next to someone wearing shoe bombs and a suit wired with nitro buttons carrying a bottle of explosive fermented lemonade.  But does it have to be so hard?  It's more soul-destroying than waiting on line at the DMV, or taking a taxi in LA.

But the lines do eventually end and once you have your shoes re-donned and your items repacked, and you've checked the portable dosimeter you ordered from an in-flight catalog to be sure the new whole-body scan hasn't neutered you, it's off to find your gate.  I've often wondered why so many air travelers today wear walking shoes, shorts or loose pants, and carry a backpack. Now I think I know the answer. Your gate could be already in sight as you re-fasten your belt or it could be somewhere over the horizon.  Savvy travelers come prepared for the long walk.

That walk to your gate is the penultimate challenge of the airport experience.  On your way you will pass several vendors of food and drink, clothing, magazines, vibrating lounge chairs, and other necessities.  Now is your chance to pick up another bottled water to replace the one you tossed in the trash at security, only not for free and at twice retail.  

It's also a good time to purchase something to read.  If you are the friendly type, buy a magazine so you can look up between articles to speak cordially with your seatmates.  If you are needing privacy, pick up a copy of 'In Cold Blood'.  Later, on the plane, scowl a lot as you read, occasionally murmuring 'they were railroaded' or 'curse you Capote'.  If you are feeling nasty and want to prick someone's bubble, buy a newspaper and open it at your seat as widely as possible, collapsing personal spaces at will.  Shake it every now and then too, as loudly as you can.

The Long Walk is also a good time to buy food.  As you know, most airlines no longer provide free food to economy passengers.  Some don't provide food at any price.  At least they still let you use the restroom - during the five minutes of your four hour flight the fasten seatbelt sign is off.

As with reading material, you have your options of food types to bring onboard.  I'd personally choose something warm that emits an odor that will permeate the plane before the landing gear retracts, but not so soon that the crew can order you off the plane.  The trick is to tightly seal the stuff and not open it until the plane is on the runway and throttling up.  Once opened and odor-emitting, enjoy the responses of your plane-mates.  They will either look like throwing up or will be dribbling lines of drool. Seatmates will be retracting to their most compact possible body position in an attempt to avoid contact with the oily and possibly staining goo-drenched wrapping intruding in their space.

Once past the food courts, newsstands, bars, and novelty shops (travel alarms and inflatable sleeping collars), you may be at your gate.  To be sure, check the monitors.  What's that?  Your gate has been changed from 49 to 4? And the flight boards in one minute.  

Time to run ...

Don't Panic

My peril-sensitive sunglasses went dark today - briefly.  After reading about the new woes of the Social Security and Medicare systems.  

Perhaps not so scary for those too young to think about their 'golden years' but perhaps those youngsters ought to think about who might be moving into their spare rooms when social security incomes become too meager to keep houses or pay rent.  That's right, the Grays are coming and they won't be flying in on UFOs (this time), they'll be arriving in Fords, Chevys, the odd SUV, Mercedes and Lexi that have seen better days, and the occasional batteries-past-their-prime Prius.  And when they arrive you can expect your TV to be tuned to Golden Girls and the Rockford Files and the refrigerator to be jammed with Ensure.  At least Hendrix and Zeppelin will be playing on whatever iPods are left within easy reach.

But like I said, my glasses went dark only briefly, which tells me this somber news may be more hyped-up old fare than new reality.  After all, both Social Security and Medicare were hurting already, even as the economy fizzed up to the Big Bubble.  What other news should we expect now that companies and people are making less and therefore contributing fewer taxes that pay for these 'systems'?

So Don't Panic.  That is, unless your peril-sensitive glasses go dark and stay that way.  If they do, take them off just long enough to blog about it ...

Babbleocity 18

A hot, dry Friday, embers in the wind ...

Fire in the hills

The weather should be turning cooler by Sunday, the newscasters say, but that's not helping the folks under siege by the Jesusita Fire in Santa Barbara.  Living in such a beautiful spot, you wouldn't think your surroundings could ever become so hellish, but it's happened with disturbing regularity over the years in Santa Barbara County.  I wonder, if, once this fire is out, the survivors will re-think the equation and leave for safer, if less majestic, environs.  Even so, there will be plenty who will take their place, willingly putting themselves in front of the next natural steamroller that is sure to come.  Santa Barbara has that effect.

Burning through the budget

As if California doesn't have enough problems.  Damage from the worldwide economic collapse has spread throughout the state's employers and workforce, leaving a double-digit unemployment rate and much lower state revenues from income tax, property tax, and other sources. California's hapless government contends for the rank of least respected by its citizens out of all the states.  And now, after increasing taxes in an attempt to restore cash flow, California (not unlike the auto companies and the banks) has gone to the federal government asking for more help.  I don't think California's legislators, even in a rare concerted effort with Governator Arnold, could balance a budget if their lives depended on it.  Here's hoping all of us overtaxed, underrepresented California voters remember this mess at upcoming elections, and clean house.  

A Big Fire Far Away

It may not matter whether we balance the budget - in California or elsewhere.  And out-of-control brushfires may one day be viewed as nothing to get worked up about.  That is, if a gamma-ray burst is released from a sufficiently huge stellar explosion anywhere in our galaxy, and the burst happens to point in Earth's direction.  Astronomers last month reported detecting one of these nasty events 13 billion light years away - officially the 'farthest thing ever seen'.  So far away, in fact, it took place only 630 million years after the Universe was formed, when the paint was still wet on life, the universe, and everything.  A very hot fire indeed, but luckily long ago and far away. Still, it doesn't hurt to contemplate some giant star exploding one day and sending a killer beam of gamma rays to sterilize earth.  It helps with perspective.

Enjoy the weekend...

Stress Test Anxiety

The past few newsdays have been full of commentary on the government's 'stress testing' of banks, with the results due for release at 5 pm EDT today (Thursday, May 7).

I would have thought the banks and the people who run them were stressed enough already.  Who needs to add to it with a test?  

And why this test anyway?  What do we want to find out?  The banks are losing money? We know that.  They aren't lending to anyone?  We know that too.   We've had them hooked up to a cash IV for a while and they still look pekid. 

All this stress testing does - or more accurately, all this talk about it does, is stress us, the panicky public, out.  Big Time.

And how will the results be graded?  Will your bank get an 'A', 'B', or something worse?  Will they be made to prominently display their grades in their bank windows like restaurants in Los Angeles?  If so, and the grading scales are equivalent, don't do business with a 'D'.  If you do you will cramp up and hemorrhage change for days...

A Prayer For The Recessioned

Dear Lord, Hear Our Prayer...

We are wearied, O Lord, by evaporating home values. Our 401(k)s wither on the vine. Yea, our mutual funds leak and our bonds break, and We suffer from a plague of overdue bills.

Save US, O Lord, from speculative markets, and Deliver Us from Day-Trading. Guide our feet on the narrow path to a Safe Retirement. Lead Us into Savings so that We may taste the Sweet Taste of Food and not Starve or eat dog biscuits.

And finally, O Lord, take away our internet gambling, our on-line trading, our manic eBay bidding. In fact, take away our Internet entirely, O Lord, so that We may better serve You as You would have Us serve You.

Unless, of course, You wish Us to serve You by gambling, trading, and bidding. If that is Your Wish O Lord, it's fine by Us ...

Pandemics for Everyone

I am not saying that my family is prescient in any supernatural way, but my wife recently brought me a book from her semi-annual trip to Powell's in Portland that turned out to be predictive.  Just a little ahead of the breaking news coming out of Mexico City, she brought me 'The Little Book of Pandemics', by Dr. Peter Moore.  

Influenza (aka, 'the flu')? It's in the book.  So is cholera, malaria, leprosy, and the plague.  And 45 others, all presented in tiny chapters that are perfect for bathroom breaks.  Having some trouble going?  Read about cholera and be thankful. 

Not that Dr. Moore's book is perfect.  It's not.  Some of the details seem lazily researched and the graphics don't always fit the text (or vice versa).  But, hey, what do you expect from a 50 diseases in 50 minutes kind of enterprise?  Peer review?  

For what it costs (it was on sale), this little book is a painless way to experience dreadful disease.  It's probably enough to hold your own when the topic turns to 'Swine' flu.  And if anybody corners you and lectures you on how horrible this latest 'pandemic' is, bring out your 'Little Book' and read from the sections on ebola, dengue, smallpox, and yellow fever.  For a start.

That'll shut 'em up.  

Better yet, give them a copy and point them to the bathroom...

KO'd at the Motor City Corral

The dusty streets of Detroit were witness to another milestone in the decay of the American Automobile Industry.  On April 30, Chrysler went into Chapter 11 bankruptcy.  

It was a classic confrontation...

On one end of the street stood the bankers, the bondholders, their political supporters, and a cadre of elite legal marksmen.

At the other stood the Unions, the President of the United States, and a handful of distraught and presumably clueless Chrysler executives and members of the board.  The President came packing a massive cannon of federal funds.

Outgunned, the bondholders and their posse nonetheless boldly declared they would not budge - would not accept less than their fair share of the booty.

At stake was the massive investment the bondholders had made in the company - could they bear to part with most of it to keep the company alive?  They fired a demand for ownership stake in trade for their loss.  Missed.

The Unions took aim with concessions in return for a controlling interest.  Winged their opposition, taking out their gun arms.

Amidst the hail of proposals and counters, the President stood firm, firing back with the line that everyone must give up something to save the day, but the bondies declared they'd sooner rot in Chapter 11 than capitulate, and so that is what they will do.

On the sidewalk, witness to the duel, sat the out-of-towners,  those foreign carpetbaggers - Fiat.  Whoever won the day, Fiat would profit.  The only smiles in town were theirs.

The townsfolk hung about numbly watching the proceedings.  In shock at how it had all come down to this.  

Questions flickered across their minds:

Can an American Carmaker be profitable in combination with an Italian company saddled with a legacy of questionable quality (Fix-It-Again-Tony)?  

Is it possible for union leaders to also be management?  Can the workers be their own bosses?

How many workers will still have jobs?

What kind of masochists will dare to invest?

As the sun set on the Motor City Corral, both sides - bloodied, left the street to the cold night wind.  The 'winners' slipped off to the saloon to savor a bitter victory drink and wonder just what they were going to do tomorrow, and the 'losers' disappeared into their sanctums to plot legal end-arounds.

And the factory lines stand immobile.   

Goodbye Dodge,  Farewell Chrysler, give our regards to Plymouth.