Illegal immigration: Eater or Eaten

I'll bet you never watched Babylon 5 or realized you watched contestants playing the Game of Life. Forget that B5 hung in space over a dead world. Forget the gate technology that allowed ships to traverse the darkness from civilization to civilization. See the episodes as ripped from the headlines depicting current events. The two players in the Universe were the Shadows, the Great Evil, and the Vorlons, the Light. They were more than Evil and Good. They were warring siblings fighting their battles through the people of the Universe, the younger races that looked up to the Shadows and the Light as we look to our political parties. The Shadows and the Vorlons were the two sides of a coin, separated by perspective, the two sides of the Galactic Mirror. No different, except in our perception of them. Ultimately, Shadows and Vorlons enslaved the younger races. The Shadows and the Vorlons were the masters and the younger races their slaves, puppets playing out the end game, choosing which side of the mirror reflected what they saw, the image of their deepest desires.

Mr. Mordon was the human face of the Shadows whose only question was: What do you want? The answer bound the person to the Darkness or the Light, reflections of siblings, remnants of the Old Race, brothers or sisters depending on your point of view, destroying worlds and systems in their seemingly eternal tug-of-war. The Shadows preferred kicking over an ant hill to stir up the ants to battle other ants so the winner emerged as a stronger, smarter, and better ant while the Vorlons nurtured the races, tampering with their DNA to make them stronger, better, and smarter than the ants that preceded the ants the Vorlons reshaped to create better ants. It didn't matter which species died as long as the winning side was their side. The Vorlons cared that their nurturing would win and the Shadows preferred their aggression would be the winning side.

How is the illegal immigrant question different? You may think it's a matter of degree, but essentially it is the same. It is always the same. The only thing that has changed is the label we put on it to make what has become immature, irresponsible, and wrong acceptable and palatable. It is the same thing it always was and the new label changes nothing but our perception of the problem. Labeling garbage as art or social justice. It is still garbage. The Conservatives are the Shadows and Liberals are the Vorlons. The methods vary, but the end is the same. Slaves are slaves whether they are nurtured or forced to action. Illegal immigration is just another label for slavery. All the arguments for the rights of illegal immigrants and the liberal calls for social justice change nothing. White washing manure doesn't change manure. It may look better painted white, but it is still manure.

When we discuss illegal immigration we are still discussing slavery. Let's get that straight from the outset. Give us your poor, your starving, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. They are people willing to give up everything so their children have food, shelter, and clothing, a reason to get up in the morning to earn a few pesetas or pennies or dollars to buy food, shelter, and clothing to make the future less frightening and more comfortable. Centuries ago the system was called feudalism. A lord claimed title over the land and the serfs who inhabited the land and took what they wanted from the serfs: their daughters' virginity, the food from their mouths, and their freedom to choose their own lives. Though the resources were the Lord's due (determined by the Lord and taken from the people who had no say), those resources were stolen.

Feudalism became colonialism and serfs became slaves, conquered tribes, the losers in tribal warfare or stolen to be sold as slaves for money and goods that could be sold or traded for more food, shelter, and clothing. The serfs were slaves to their Masters as surely as the tribesmen, women, and children were slaves to be chained, bound, and packed like sardines in the holds of ships and given just enough to eat to keep them alive until they could be hosed down and sold at auction. Tribes preyed on their neighbors as predators prey on the old, the sick, the weak and vulnerable, and the young to be brought down and killed to feed themselves and their offspring. It has always been thus: the larger and more powerful prey on the weaker and their continuation was assured. Big fish prey on little fish and the bottom feeders get the scraps, but every species wins as they prey on weaker species, and sometimes on each other, in the never ending struggle to continue. Might makes right. Vegetarians point to the grass eaters as harmless because grass eaters consume only grass. What about the grass? Does grass not live? Does grass not grow, procreate, and live? So you choose not to eat animals, make a point of eating nothing with a face; you eat plants. You are harmless, as harmless as a cow, sheep, or buffalo. What if plants don't want to be eaten? What if plants have feelings? Are you not destroying another species for food, to quiet the rumbling in your belly? You kill to eat. Plant or animal, you end their life to continue your own. That is the cycle of life on this planet and in this time. That is also the reality of slavery. Illegal immigrants are the slaves who choose to walk through any danger, endure any hardship so they can feed, clothe, and house themselves by any means necessary. Those means in this time and in this country mean breaking this country's laws, the United States of America's laws to sell their labor, their time, and themselves for food so they can continue another day, another hour, another minute as long as they continue to exist. When this country was a colony belonging to Great Britain, an extension of the Great British Empire, people sold themselves and their children for a specified period so they too could come to this unexplored land to make their fortune, but really to ensure they would have a place to live, clothes to wear, and food to eat. These indentured slaves were guaranteed a certain quality of life and they were fed, usually with the scraps from their Master's table, but they were fed. Captured enemies were sold to enterprising men and sent across the vast oceans in the bellies of ships where they might die, but they might also live to be sold as slaves. Slaves were cheaper than indentured servants and there were no contracts. Masters paid more for indentured servants than slaves and that cut into profits. It is a simple equation. Cost must never equal or exceed profits. Smart Masters spent less in producing a crop in order to reap great rewards. Indentured servants cost more than slaves. Indentured servants worked only for the term of the contract. Slaves worked until they were traded, sold, or died. Pay one price and slaves will work, breed more slaves who will breed even more slaves. Slaves were an investment for the future that continued paying dividends for generations to come. Illegal immigrants are the latest label for slaves. These slaves provide the labor to pick the crops that will be sold at the market and cost less than hiring documented workers. That means more profit after the crops are sold. Call them resources, undocumented workers, illegal immigrants, whatever label you choose to salve your conscience and give slavery a makeover. In the end, these poor huddled masses are still slaves, resources that will make more money for their employers. These resources with faces and names are the latest on the list to be plundered, raped, and pillaged. Yes, there are good employers (masters) and bad employers, but ultimately they are Masters and the people are slaves. You are either the big fish that eats or the smaller fish that is eaten. No matter the perspective and no matter how you agonize over the rights of the fish that ends up as food, the fish is still eaten and nourishes another. Why else would the wealthy and powerful hire illegal immigrants? It is not to save them from poverty and ignorance. It is to cut the cost of the labor so that there is more money to buy bigger and better comfort. It's economics. The best economy is one where the cost never exceeds the profits and comfort at a cheaper price is much more comfortable. It all comes down to degree. Will you sell yourself for enough food to live another minute, another hour, another day or will you sell someone else for your comfort to someone who is buying so they will have more money to buy more comfort? It is always one species preying on a smaller, weaker, more vulnerable species. Have no doubts about that. Whether you eat meat or plants, you prey on life. What do you want? When you play the Game of Life, you eat or are eaten.

That is all. Disperse.

What Are You Worth?

I keep reading and hearing people say that if people can get the book, and hence the writing, for nothing then that is all the book is worth -- nothing. Every time I think about that point of view I keep coming back to: if payment is the only measure of what something is worth no wonder the world is screwed up.

I do believe in a world and a society that is driven by money the only measurement available is money, but is that really valid? Story tellers throughout the ages have wandered from place to place telling their stories, some invented and some told and retold for centuries like Homer. Homer was a blind storyteller and his version of The Illiad and The Odyssey have become immortal and last through the ages. They will probably last for many ages to come. Storytellers and minstrels and bards and wanderers received payment in the form of shelter and food and help and often not even that because the communities where the wanders landed could not afford more than a bite of food and a post by the fire to sleep. Richer towns and wealthy landowners paid more for the wanders' services but did the amount of remuneration mean the rich enjoyed their stories and songs more or that they were more generous? That is the trap I believe we fall into today.

We have come to believe the amount of payment is equivalent to the product, in this case a book. But is it? I've read some truly awful books that cost me far more than I thought they were worth and wonderful, magical books that I would've paid three times the price to read again and again. It's not, in my estimation, the price that defines excellence but the story and the author of that story. If you write because you love writing and want to tell stories why debase that desire by counting coins?

Yes, we all need money to live because that is the way the world works, but are we happier when we have more money, more things, more everything or are we merely following the crowd?

If you write because you must, because telling a story is as necessary as breathing, then write. Demand payment from those that can pay, but be willing to give your work to those that cannot. Paid or free, it is not the coin that defines worth, but the writing itself.

As for me, I look forward to the day when the world no longer runs on money but on community and the worth of art and literature and even ditch digging is determined by its value to the worker, the artist, the writer, and the person. 

That is all. Disperse. 

Trickle Down Socialism

A utopian paradise is possible as long as there are no people. The Shakers had it, but they all died out because sex was not an option, not even for procreation. No sex = no offspring = oblivion for the sect.

Thomas More died for his utopian beliefs, and because he wouldn't agree that King Henry VIII's first wife, Catherine of Aragon, was not his real wife, that the marriage was a lie because Catherine had been his brother's wife first and was not a virgin when Henry married her. That belief set the religious and spoiled Henry on a tear that resulted in a religious schism and strenthened the protestant movement away from the Catholic church.

Utopias begin with the idea that if everyone has enough and takes care of his neighbors everything will be light and happiness. That's not the case. Where there is a way to cheat the system, or the idea, someone will find a way and exploit it. Now politicians bent on saving the rest of the world and humanity cry out against poverty and want. Everyone should have enough to eat, a doctor to care for their needs, and money to fund it all. Share and share alike is the motto as politicians and do-gooders prey on the hearts and minds of their fellow citizens.

Share and share alike was at the heart Marx's utopia. Everyone works and everyone eats. No one gets more than anyone else. Cuba embraced it but Russia embraced it first in the wake of World War I when the Tsar's family was ousted, imprisoned, and murdered. There was no need for royalty or a ruling class. No more ostentatious wealth stolen from the middle class and poor. No more haves and have nots; everyone would have. Except that's not the way it worked. The Soviets had a ruling class and they were ruling from the top in the tsar's palaces and the homes of the ousted royalty and very rich. The ruling class was the government built on the backs of the poor who still didn't have enough and worked for their share of the profits, except none of the profits trickled down. The poor were still poor and the rich and privileged were just as rich and privileged. They wore uniforms and suits, and kept the ermine, jewels, and fabulous art hidden from view.

Prick a liberal and they bleed and the blood trickles down.

It is a shame that there have to be poor who don't have the money to get good dental care and cannot afford doctors and hospitals. It's unfair that they cannot have as much food as anyone else. The cry goes out and laws are passed. Welfare is born. Food stamps are distributed and Welfare gives money for families with children; they need help the most. Food stamps don't cover toilet paper, Kleenex, and household products to keep the house and family clean, just food, and not food that is already prepared. They must cook the food themselves, although chips and dips are perfectly acceptable. They can buy a lobster if they like, but they must cook it themselves or food stamps won't cover it.

The madness continues and the cost trickles down.

The poor are still poor, but for a few days or weeks in the month they eat as well as anyone else -- until the food stamps run out. They trade food stamps for money to buy cigarettes and drugs and booze, or just trade for cigarettes, drugs, and booze without the money. One way or another, they get what they want. They go to the doctor and the dentist on the taxpayer's dime but don't get the same level of care that someone who can afford it gets. It's enough. One finger in a hole in a dike is sufficient for the area it covers. Someone else will have to cover the other holes in the dike.

Socialized health care is a good idea, but it's not workable. If the disease is too chronic or the illness will cost a great deal to heal or manage, take a number and wait in line. At least you're covered. When isn't important. You're covered.

Where does all the money come from? The taxpayers. The fast disappearing middle class. It certainly doesn't come from the richest citizens. They don't pay taxes, not with all the loopholes and government worker palms they cross with silver or gold. Pay for a junket, pass along an envelope full of cash, or a suitcase full of stocks or gold, and th law works in your favor. The rich are still rich and getting richer and the middle class, the engine of the country's economy, gets poorer and join the growing hordes of the poor. They're honest, hard-working people and don't have generations of living on Welfare to know how to work the system, how having more kids means more money and how to turn inadequate food stamps into luxury items and fund their vices. They'll learn.  They have time to learn as jobs dry up and the economy falters.

In the twilight of one of the greatest nations on earth, the rich will still have money and they won't care what happens to the poor who are so much unwashed, lazy people unable to work their way up the ladder. Wouldn't matter if the did. The rich don't given countenance to the nouveau riche or the social climbers, except to use them until there is nothing left to use.

The demands for more trickle down from above and stop in the middle class where the money is made, sucking out the life blood, while the benefits trickle down to the poor. Panhandlers pop up everywhere, and not just the drop-outs and recently poor, but the con artists that doff their rags and wash off the dirt before they go home to their well appointed homes to eat roast beef and ice cream and play with their children in comfortable homes where the roof never leaks and the plumbing always delivers hot and cold while flushing away the debris.

A seesaw works on a fulcrum. A long board goes up and down depending on the weight and thrust of each end, pivoting on  strong center. If the center is weak, the board falls to the ground or it breaks and casts the riders to the ground. It doesn't hold. It won't work.

And the money keeps trickling down.

All the social services come from the working class, the middle class, not from the wealthy and privileged, and the poor benefit. Some poor benefit. The rest eke out a meager existence little better than what they had before Welfare and socialized medicine, but that's all right. Consciences have been salved and the poor are taken care of -- barely. What happens when there is no more middle class to fund the social services? Will the rich pitch in ? Don't count on it.

The top 1% will never pay a dime and most of the rest of the rich will pay as little as possible. The middle class will sink under the demands of a liberal and utopian society while the grafters and grifters will skim off the cream and send the rest to trickle down to the poor, most of whom live better than the people working for a living -- the poor's living. Utopia once again dies like a sinner under the weight of rocks piled on his chest, crushing the heart and leaving the blood to trickle down.

I'm not against providing assistance to those that really want to better themselves, but I refuse to pay for the theft and fraud that the rest exact as their brutal toll on the sensibilities of the working class. Immigrants come to our country and work their way out of Welfare and socialized assistance, working hard and bettering themselves, and become part of the middle class. They won't be there for long, not at the present rate of self-destruction. The poor remain as they have always been and will always be.

Sharing out the profits of a hunt when man lived in caves was workable, but not when man moved together to build towns and cities and countries. The difference between rich and poor was well defined and some went hungry. When we lived in caves, someone who was broken down by ill health and old age was cast out or left to die along the road. The tribe's resources would not stretch to carrying dead weight from those who could not or would not work and they were left to their own devices, or to be preyed upon by wolves, hyenas, and other predators, becoming a part of the cycle of life, a titbit in the food chain.

When we became civilized, it was no longer right that the sick and old should be cast out. There was room and as long as someone was willing to feed, clothe, and house them, they would live until death took them in the course of time. Caring for the sick, the old, and the helpless is still a good idea, but at what price? How long must others bear the burden of caring for them? How much must be taken from someone who has worked hard to give themselves and their families a good life? How much must they be forced by legislation and guilt to give up?

Socialized medicine is a good idea, as long as the money to fund it comes from those who can really afford it, the people who live in one of their many mansions and throw away money on parties for their friends and supporters, vacations in exotic lands, fruits and vegetables and meat and seafood flown in from around the world at the peak of freshness. People who think nothing of buying a jewel-studded toilet seat or paying millions for art that no one will ever see in their private collection vault. Let them fund the programs for the poor since they helped to make and keep them poor. Let the ultra rich oligarchs put their money to use funding factories and businesses that employ the poor and pay for health, dental, and eye care for their employees. They will still have more money than they can spend in 10 lifetimes, but they will do some good.

How much money can one person or one family spend? What good does it do to have such fabulous and obscene wealth except to say you have it? It would be better to own factories, businesses, and stores than piles of cash and the result would be  strong economy that employs more people than anywhere else on earth and gives them a living wage. The middle class have paid all they can stand to pay. Lower their taxes and give them the kinds of breaks the poor get in colleges and universities and businesses and watch them flourish.

Charities get more money from working class people, from the middle class, than from the oligarchs. When times are tough, the charities get less because there is less to go around. That doesn't mean that some rich don't fund charities, and not just for the tax break. That kind of funding won't make a dent in their overall assets.

It's time for the wealth to trickle down, which does not mean I hate the rich and blame them for all the ills on earth. Governments handle that quite nicely on their own. Absolute power and absolute corruption. The rich need to pitch in. After all, how many Rolls Royces and Jaguars can one man drive? Let the funds for socialized guilt trickle down from the wealthy -- legislate it if that's the only way to get it done -- and let it trickle through the middle class and down to the poor. Let the money build a strong middle class and lift the poor, but not at the cost of no more middle class. Kill the engine and the vehicle stops and will move no further.

I don't think we need to get to the point of casting out the members of the tribe unwilling to work to maintain their position, but I do think it's time to be realistic. We cannot save everyone and we cannot abolish poverty. Someone will always get lost in the shuffle. What we can do is be smart and realize that nothing trickles down where nothing remains. If we don't get this right, there will be a revolution of the poor and unwashed, the disenfranchised members of a dwindling middle class, and they will tear down the palaces of the rich and set them against the wall with guns blazing. The fall of the tsar will be nothing to the bloodshed that will follow the collapse of the middle class as prey becomes predator and set their eyes on the wealthy. Chaos will follow and eventually a new wealthy class will arise from the ashes of the old to oppress the people not quick enough or unscrupled enough to get their share. All that will be left is blood trickling down and the argument begins anew.

That is not a world I want. Do you?

Economics 101

Occupy Wall Street has gone global. People are angry and they're not sure why or to whom they should direct their outrage. It's really about economics and what should be going on and isn't. Take a lesson from the King of the Elves in the following cartoon. He sets the shoemaker right. This is Economics 101. It's not difficult and it's not about power or grabbing as much money as possible, but about using resources intelligently to make a product to sell that people want and/or need. In this case, it's shoes. Pay attention. There will be a test. It's called life.

That is all. Disperse.

Making the American Dream

The day has finally come and it has been a long time coming. This week my 200th book review for Authorlink was posted.

I started work for Authorlink as a horror book reviewer in August 2002 and quickly branched out to all genres and nonfiction. What can I say? I'm a voracious reader. In the years between 2002 and 2007, I reviewed a few books each year, but then went into over driver in 2007 and most of the books I've read and reviewed fell between 2007 and now. Last year I read and reviewed 44 books, 68 the year before. Last year was a slow year and that total does not include the books I read for pleasure or books I reviewed that came to me directly, and there were a lot of those. I keep the files, but I don't keep track of the numbers on a monthly basis. No need, except for times like this when a hallmark has been reached, like 200 reviews. Time to hit up the boss for a raise.

Since being off work this week to lower my stress levels and take it easy so my back doesn't seize up on me any more, I find that strange thoughts traipse through my mind at all hours of the day and night, although I have been sleeping better (got a whole uninterrupted six hours last night). Last night, I couldn't get Snoqualmie out of my head, and Snohomish followed closely behind in lock-step. Neither word, names of cities in Washington state, had anything to do with the movies I watched, the books I read (I'm reading three right now) or the stories I tinkered with. Two random words that seemed to come from someone else's head and wandered through mine. I did find them on someone else's journal this morning, but it makes sense; she lives in Washington and visited Snoqualmie recently. I didn't. It's not the only strange occurrence recently.

Uncle Bob called me yesterday -- I was asleep at the time -- and left me a message. He received (finally) the box of books I sent and had sent the book meant for someone else to them that day, having received his copy from North Carolina that morning. He called to tell me I owe Mom royalties on my story in Chicken Soup for the Soul: All in the Family, the one I wrote about my ex-husband's mother who was late for her own funeral. It was called "On Esther Time". "Sounds just like Annabelle (Mom's middle name and one she despises), except for the dead part," he said.

"No," I agreed, "she not dead yet."

He really enjoyed the story and, he reminded me, even though he doesn't read fiction, he's going to read my novel and give me some pointers about romance and sex. I can't wait. Yes, I want to hear about sex from my uncle. Ewwww. He's kidding. I hope he's kidding.

As we usually do, Uncle Bob and I ended up talking about life and being happy. He asked me if I was going to get strange when I'm rich and famous and start wearing necklaces and rings on all my fingers and toes and bracelets covering my arms. "No, Uncle Bob, that's just not me. I have one necklace I wear all the time. I'm not a big fan of wearing jewelry." He was talking about Mom and Hoity-Toity, both of whom would cover every square centimeter of their bodies in jewels, gold, platinum and silver (if they can't get gold and platinum) if they could afford it. I think of them as dragons wearing their hoards. That's good then," he said. "But you're happy." It wasn't quite a question, more of a cautious statement. "Yes, I'm happy. Not as happy as if I could write full time and not have to work (except for this week and my upcoming vacation), but happy."

"That's good. Thats good." He seemed pleased with my answer and he said he never doubted I would keep my head on straight. It made me wonder if he was happy and if he'd spent his life doing what he loved.

"When I started in the machine shop, I hated it. Didn't want to get up every morning and go into work, but I had a family to feed and clothe. Took me a while to get my mind right. I didn't have much education and it was a good job, so I decided to get my mind right. Then I looked forward to going to work."

"Would you rather have rehabbed houses for a living?"

"No, that's just another part time job with a different boss." He meant his wife, Aunt Lois.

"So, you don't like taking old houses and making them look good?"

"Not really."

The more we talked, the more I realized just how amazing my uncle is. He came from a wealthy family who had everything during the Depression when most people had nothing. He decided to make it on his own and, after one hitch in the Air Force, which he didn't like, he got a job in Columbus in a machine shop. He owned a house, a little two-bedroom stucco ranch on five acres out in the country north of Columbus, but not much else. He worked on cars and did all his own maintenance and he put in a huge garden on the five acres every year that was canned and frozen for the coming year until new crops could be sown and harvested. His house was right across the road from a dairy farm and he got all his milk in milk cans fresh from the cow. I can still remember Uncle Bob sitting in a chair in the kitchen and talking while he shook a car full of cream until it became butter and the smell of fresh milk every morning when we took the lid off the milk can.

My uncle took that little house and turned it from a pink stucco block into a wooden dream house with four bedrooms, a finished basement, a three-car garage and a breezeway he sold for ten times what he paid for it in the 1950s. He sold that house and bought a rundown farm that he rehabbed into a beautiful home, sold it at a profit, bought another farm house, rehabbed it, sold it for a huge profit and built the house he always wanted just across the road from where he started. He had 30 acres and a much bigger garden yielding even more food to be canned and frozen for the coming year. He's added to his real estate binges with a house on Lake Erie he sold to his oldest daughter Laura, a house on the Muskingum River and several houses in Florida, one of which was on Pine Island opposite Sanibel in the Gulf. He's slowing down and now has only three houses: the house he built, a house on the Muskingum River and a little place in Florida on the Gulf. He loves to fish.

He told me if he had to do it all over again, he'd buy old house, rehab them and flip them, taking the profit to buy, rehab and flip more properties. He has the magic touch with building, construction and carpentry and Aunt Lois is a talented decorator. "I wouldn't put so much work into a house to flip, not like I put into my own homes," he said. He puts a lot of love and work into each of the houses he's owned and rescued from entropy and age. You should've seen the first old farm house he renovated. It was a dump, and it was worlds away from five kids and two cousins sharing the same bath water every night.

Uncle Bob's happiest moments are when tax time rolls around and he owes the government money. "It means I made lots of money that year and I look forward to paying." It's not a popular thought, certainly not in these political times when everyone wants the rich to pay to carry the rest of the country who are less fortunate. By those standards, my uncle is very rich; he's in the top 10% of the country in terms of earnings -- and he's retired. He's rich in other ways, too. He has a huge family he loves and cares for and a life that continues to include his gardens and rehabbing and travel from Columbus to the river to Florida and back in his yearly circuit, and he still pays taxes with a big smile every year.

When I think of the American Dream, I don't think of wealth and owning a home, but happiness. For my uncle that happiness is in work, hard work, and paying taxes, raising his family and enjoying what he does. That's the American Dream for me -- enjoying what I do. I enjoy writing and I get to do more of it every year. I'll have to pay taxes this year, too, but, following my uncle's lead, I'm looking forward to it because it means I'm getting closer to my dream -- living on writing alone. I don't need to be wealthy, although I wouldn't turn it down either. I don't need to be famous, although I wouldn't walk away from it as long as I didn't have to make personal appearances. I don't need much, just the freedom to live the way I choose instead of the way I must. In some ways, I am like my uncle. I do my best at the job that pays the bills. I don't like it, but I do get some satisfaction from being at the top of my profession in terms of quality of work. Without this job, I couldn't pursue writing, so I'm glad to have a job that gives me that freedom. I've written over 200 book reviews for one company, hundreds of articles and short stories, edited millions of words and seen my own stories and books published, and all because of a job I didn't choose, but took when it was offered. It's not my dream job, but it's getting me where I want to go, just as being a machinist gave my uncle the money to raise his family and help him pay for the materials to rehab his home, sell it and set him on the path that led him to realize his dreams, and that's what it's all about.

The American Dream is what you make it.

Trying times

I just finished a horror novel where the main character had been unemployed for a year. His wife Had quit her job as a school guidance counselor to take care of their daughter who exhibited some strange behaviors (dreams, nightmares, night terrors, obsessive-compulsive tendencies and eerie predictions). Nate Kenyon, the author, wrote about the strain on the couple's marriage as if he knows first-hand or has experienced it through his friends, and it reminded me of the 18 months of unemployment I went through from 2003-2005. Being unemployed is difficult enough for someone who is single like me, but when there is a family involved the strain is compounded.

A month or two or even three is difficult, but not for someone who has enough money saved to keep things together, as long as there is the possibility of a job on the near horizon. How many families actually have three months' salary saved? A year's salary would be better. Even with a year's salary safely in the bank and being slowly eaten away as the weeks and months drag on, budget cuts are inevitable. How do you justify a vacation or even a camping trip, repairs to the car, replacement of essential household appliances, clothing and luxuries like camp for the kids and extra curricular activities for children still in school, let alone outlays to the movies, restaurants and shopping trips when no job is in sight?

The constant strain of scaling back a comfortable lifestyle to accommodate dwindling savings affects everyone, but not equally. For a man who defines himself by his job, the inevitable rounds of resumes, interviews, questions and turn-downs are disheartening and emasculating. For his wife, especially if she doesn't work, the act of juggling coupons and budgeting and answering questions about why vacations and movies and eating out are canceled and allowances must be cut back can be difficult, even with dad explaining the financial facts of life. However, if the wife has a part time job that provided little more than pin money and has no plans to re-enter the work force, things can get ugly fast. How ugly depends on whether the spouse is supportive or someone who sees the breadwinner's loss of income as a problem to be worked through together or a personal affront. Marriages where the the nonworking spouse blames the recently unemployed spouse don't last very long. All the cracks and fissures in the relationship begin to show and get bigger the longer the blame game is played.

When an accustomed lifestyle disappears suddenly or is slowly eroded over time, tempers and emotions flare, adding more pressure to an already pressured situation. It is hard to be supportive, especially when one partner feels the other partner is to blame for the situation. It never occurs to the supported spouse that getting a job is an option. Why should they when the situation is not their fault? The longer this inequity of feelings and circumstances continues, the likelier the marriage will founder on the rocks and fail.

With the nation's unemployment rate climbing quickly into double digits, the outlook isn't good. Some couples will choose to stay together and the spouse who has been under employed or unemployed will get a job. If this is a woman, the chances are good that she will find work fairly quickly. If this is a man over 40, he may be unemployed for a while. Whatever the circumstances, the outlook is dependent on whether or not the couple is willing to pull together and stop playing the blame game or takes the money and runs. Either way, the under employed or unemployed spouse will have to find a job unless a rich prospect comes into view or the assets, when split, are substantial enough, with the inclusion of child support, to keep them in the style to which they have become accustomed.

The couple in Nate Kenyon's book weather the storms and the rocks for a year before the situation change, and not for the better -- it is a horror book after all -- in the short term. Staying together required sacrifices both people were willing to make. Unfortunately, in the real world, most people, especially selfish people who delight in finding everyone around them at fault, aren't fans of sacrifice. Their spouse's unemployment is a personal affront that has ruined their life and they expect it to be fixed right now without making the effort to cut back on their expectations or quit their pin money job and get a job that pays a living wage. Like too many rats in a confined space, cannibalism quickly ensues.

It was hard enough to get through the last six months of my unemployment, living on the $80 a month, and often less. The life I had built slowly crumbled and everything I had worked for slipped away. I nearly gave up and gave in on several occasions, but I didn't have anyone else -- other than my landlord -- depending on me. Living in a rural community in the back of beyond, didn't afford many opportunities, but I kept looking and eventually landed a job, a job I still do 4-1/2 years later. My life is better now, but I had then, and still have, only myself to support. I can live on very little, as I can attest. I shudder to think that it would have been like with a family, but one thing I do know is that by myself or with a spouse and child(ren), we would have made it because we were willing to work together and make whatever sacrifices we must.

In the end, unemployment, recessions, depressions and inflation come and go. As long as there is hope and a belief in yourself and your partner, no matter how bad it gets and how much must be sacrificed, life will go happily, if somewhat diminished, onward.

To quote and paraphrase Thomas Paine, "These are the times that try men's [and women's] souls." The summer husband and sunshine wife will, in these difficult times, shrink from these trials; but s/he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of their partner. "What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as [EMOTIONAL SUPPORT] should not be highly rated." Tireless support and willing sacrifice are the riches upon which an enduring relationship are founded. If you do not find it now, it was never there; you have built your house on shifting sands and the tide has finally come in. When it is found, nurture and cherish it, for it is the solid foundation upon which a bright and happy future is built.

Clash of the vanishing titans

Everywhere I look all I see is news of newspapers folding and how the Internet has infringed on the newspapers' turf. I remember the same thing a few decades back (yes, I am that old) when the upstart telephone companies were complaining they couldn't make any headway because AT&T had a monopoly. The government's answer was to institute the anti-trust laws and down came Ma Bell. Of course, the small companies made out like the bandits they were because they got to use the equipment and lines that Ma Bell had so thoughtfully installed over nearly 100 years of being in business and Ma Bell gave birth to a lot of Baby Bells.

Now we have the reverse with the upstart Internet pushing the entrenched newspapers out of their own business by providing fast and often erroneous access to news that the newspapers cannot even come close to beating. The newspapers are hemorrhaging money and every day another paper goes into bankruptcy and gives up the ghost as advertisers flee the sinking ship for shiny, flashy and inexpensive ads on the Internet, and they're interactive, too. What could be better? Save money and get world wide access. It's a dream come true -- for the advertisers who are getting world wide bang for their buck -- and a nightmare for newspapers . . . and people. There is nowhere you can get away from the all pervasive carny barking that follows you into your home and won't let go.

Advertisers invade email and news stories, literally popping up everywhere. Even with pop-up blocking programs, some of them still get through when you click on a link or do a search. Looks like the world that Philip K. Dick envisioned is here and it's like kudzu or a super bug high on antibiotics; it will get you where you live. At least with newspapers, you could turn the page and the advertisement wouldn't follow you.

So what's the answer to the slow death of the newspaper industry as they sink under their own weight like dinosaurs into the tar pits?

Ooh! where there's dinosaurs and tar pits there must be oil. All right, a topic for another day.

When you continue to do something in the same way expecting a different result it's called insanity, and the newspapers have not changed with the times. Some newspapers have gone viral, and that's in their best interests, but in order to justify the killing of more forests to print a newspaper on actual paper, newspapers need to do something different, offer what the Mayfly life span of the Internet cannot offer -- depth.

There is no way that newspapers can continue to provide up to the minute news and they were on shaky ground as soon as television took over with late breaking news and break-in broadcasts with on-the-scene reporting. Why wait for the morning or evening news when it's already in your home and you don't have to move from the easy chair or couch to watch it while phoning all your friends to tell them to turn on their TV sets and get a load of this?

What newspapers can provide is factual reporting with actual fact checking, something not possible in the fast, fast cyberspeed world of the Internet, and the story behind the news. Paul Harvey's been doing it forever and people still listen to his shows -- because they want to hear the rest of the story. Paul Harvey doesn't rely on sound bytes and he's always done very well. People want to know what's behind the headlines, what's inside the story, the nuance and history and facts that don't make it into sound bytes or speed written stories that go viral like a story passed from person to person while playing telephone. Not the viral rumor mill that often passes for news on the Internet, but real news, the real nitty gritting, down-to-earth, sitting like a fly on the wall news. If you can't match the speed, beat them with the details.

Ma Bell changed her game and her face under pressure and the newspapers have been feeling the pressure for a long time. Push has come to shove and, if newspapers aren't careful, their golden parachutes will collapse while they're still too high to survive the fall.

A democracy, that fast disappearing freedom that is eroding before our very eyes, relies on solid and informative news services. As go the newspapers and honest reporting, so goes democracy. Can we really afford to lose either of them?

That is all. Disperse.

Economic Meltdown II

It's early and I was barely awake when I started through my email this morning, but I am definitely awake now. Here's the reason why.

"Then I read this headline in the Financial Times: 'Strange but true -- the credit specs are back." According to the column that followed by John Dizard, "[T]hanks to the Geithner Treasury's policy of reform, rather than dissolution, CDS trading has regained a vampiric strength that the real economy still lacks.'"

And you thought the payoffs were over.

That is all. Disperse.

The hidden secret of NIMH

The human brain is a marvelous organ capable of managing the universe of the body, but its capacity for memory and awareness is one of the more magical seeming functions. The world is filled with diversity and all it takes is the casual mention of an idea or an item and suddenly the world is filled with what was invisible before. For example: Let's say that someone shows a picture of a new car they want or just bought, a car you had previously never seen, suddenly everywhere you go the same car is driving ahead, beside or passing in front of you. Some are dusty and others look like they just drove off the showroom floor. They're everywhere. They didn't just appear; they have been there all the time. The only thing that changed was awareness.

The same is true of everything: stories, books and movie, for instance.

Cruising through the menu at Hulu yesterday, I came across an old favorite animated feature, The Secret of NIMH based on the book by Robert C. O'Brien Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. I confess I enjoy animated films with a touch of magic and The Secret of NIMH is one of my favorites. The artistry and beauty of the film and the message of facing one's fears and helping one another is the main focus, right behind the cruelty to lab animals and the experiments of the National Institute of Mental Health that result in the mental and physical evolution of a group of rats and mice. There is another message that is integral to the book and the movie, that evolved rats should no longer live as animals stealing what they need from humans, an echo of which I've become more and more aware since reading Ayn Rand.

There are two factions within the rat community led by the aging Nicodemus. One faction wants to continue living beneath the rose bush in the Fitzgibbons' front yard and stealing what they need from the farmer, such as the electricity that powers and lights their underground world. The other faction wants to leave the rose bush and travel to Thorn Valley to found a farming colony and create their own world independent of humans. They wish to live as an evolving species and not as thieves.

I don't know if either Robert C. O'Brien or Don Bluth, the head animator of the film, realized what they were saying or how that central theme would echo through the intervening years, but the story still holds up. The concept is radical: producing what is needed versus stealing it from those already producing the necessities and luxuries needed. Sound familiar?

The one thought that continues to echo through my mind is that if sentient and evolving rats and mice could figure it out, why can't we?

There are disagreements among the rats of NIMH and none more vocal than Jenner. In the movie, Jenner engineers Nicodemus's death certain that if Nicodemus is gone the rest of the rats will follow him and continue to live by stealing electricity, food and supplies from farmer Fitzgibbons. In the book, Jenner leads seven of the rats on a hardware store raid and are presumed dead, prompting men from NIMH to bulldoze the rose bush to exterminate all the rats.

It isn't the clash between humans and rats that is so interesting, but the underlying theme that sentient and evolved animals like rats understand the need for self determination. The rats understand that they will be discovered if they remain dependent on the farmer and that the only ethical way to live is by producing their own food and necessities. It's a really simple equation, one my grandmother taught me. Determination + Work = Independence and Prosperity. I wonder even now, how the people in this country forgot that simple equation or if they never learned it.

In order to get jelly, we first had to grow and then harvest the grapes from the arbor in the back yard. Produce on the table came from the kitchen garden out back, which had to be tended, nurtured, weeded, watered, harvested and then preserved so we could have fresh corn, tomatoes and vegetables during the winter. It didn't meet all of our needs so my parents worked every day, and even worked a second job when what they earned wasn't enough. We all worked hard and for our efforts we earned a comfortable life. Everyone pitched in. Even as children, we learned how to tend the garden, harvest the produce and fruits that grew in our yard and preserve what we produced.

With the current economic picture, people are more interested in lining up for food stamps, Welfare and government grants instead of lining up for jobs. It shouldn't matter what the job is as long as it ends with a paycheck.

When I lived in Columbus, I saw people on the streets at on off- and on-ramps to the freeways with signs: Will work for food. When I stopped I offered them business cards for the local labor exchange and explained they would get paid at the end of the work day. As I drove away, I watched them either rip up the card or just toss it onto the ground. They didn't really want to work. They wanted a handout. A handout is so much easier and all it requires is standing around waiting.

I've known immigrants who crammed into small apartments and rooms and worked two and three jobs every day of the week to earn enough money to feed themselves and their families, saving a little of what they earned for the day when they could afford a place of their own. They didn't expect handouts; they were willing to work, and it didn't matter what the job was so long as there was a paycheck at the end of the week. There were always a few who would rather steal than earn a living, but they were in the minority. The job didn't matter and they often ended up with grunt work -- washing dishes, cleaning motels and hotels, making and serving food in fast food restaurants, digging ditches, mopping floors, picking produce, etc. The only thing that mattered was being independent and having a chance for a better life, one they didn't have in their home country. In the remaining spare time, they went to night school to learn the language and get an education so they could move on to a better job to earn more money.

With unemployment soaring to and past 10%, and that's only the unemployed who get benefits and haven't fallen through the bureaucratic cracks, more and more people are losing their jobs. Businesses are downsizing and moving their operations offshore to stay alive and compete. Crippling taxes and increased government oversights and regulations force more and more businesses to close. More people out of work means fewer people able to afford luxuries and cutting back on food, clothing and rent and that means more businesses folding or laying off more employees, and it just keeps getting worse. The current administration's response to the economic crisis is to print more money and hand out more food stamps and Welfare checks without facing the fact that they're stealing from the people who are still producing at an ever growing rate until the end result will be the strangulation of the remaining viable businesses as they struggle to meet payrolls and buy the raw and manufactured materials to continue producing. They too will be forced to downsize just to stay alive and that means more people out of work and on the public dole.

It's a vicious and vertiginous downward spiral with no Thorn Valley on the horizon, the effect of too many mouths sucking on the government teat. The government cow is rapidly running dry and the pasture is grazed nearly to the roots. It takes seed to grow more grass and time for the grass to grow, but none of that means anything when the cow is slaughtered to feed all those voracious mouths. In the end, the pasture grass will grow back, but there will be no cow to graze and produce milk. At least, there will be no more cattle to add greenhouse gases to the mix.

I doubt that Robert C. O'Brien or Don Bluth intended their story to be taken in this direction, but the theme is clear for anyone with even a passing acquaintance with the entitlement versus independent production debate. It's not the magic or the Frisbys need to move house that is at the center of The Secret of NIMH, but a group of rats aware that they need to be independent and produce what they need to live. It's amazing how much truth can be found in a children's book and a beautifully animated movie.

The whirling dervish of spin

The Washington Times posted an interesting op-ed piece on the B.O.'s record and asks, if he is the first Muslim president.

Dick Morris has quite a bit to say about the mortgage rescue plan, health care rationing and Obamanomics.

That is all. Disperse.

The Emperor's Newly Clothed Stimulus Plan

I went to bed early, which is why I'm up before the sun -- again. Imagine my surprise when I turn on the computer and the first thing that hits me is B.O.'s usual spiel about things getting better while announcing his new stimulus plan in the wake of a 42% disapproval rating. My favorite part of the report was B.O. pointing to the 150,000 jobs his plan has saved while point to his new plan, which seems amazingly like the same plan, forgetting of course that since February 2009 1.6 million jobs have ended. With the highest unemployment rate in 25 years (which does not include the unemployed who have slipped through the cracks and no longer get checks) rising to 9.4% and headed rapidly for double digits, I wonder how 150,000 jobs saved match up against 1.6 million jobs lost. With my old math skills, that works out to less than 10%, and somehow doesn't come nearly close to the 600,000 jobs created that the old stimulus bill, now the new revised amazingly similar to the old stimulus bill, predicted. What is wrong with this picture?

Money is being spent like the Fed is printing it night and day and yet less than ten percent of the jobs lost have been saved. How is this good news? Seems to me more like the ceiling is leaking and the floor is flooded, but it's okay because the bucket caught some of it, so we're going to be just fine. Uh, no.

My brother-in-law and my nephew both work for the same company and they were laid off a couple months ago. Randy got back to work within a couple weeks, but with reduced hours; he had every Monday off. Ants didn't get called back to work for weeks and once he did he had the same mandatory Monday off. Beanie works for the state of Ohio at the Bureau of Employment Services and she belongs to the Union. It's not like she had a choice. It's part of the state of Ohio's policy. She's been told that after 22 years working for the state she must take mandatory leave without pay to help balance the budget. Did I mention that this is in the wake of the stimulus package?

Let's see. The unemployment figures are rising. Beanie works for a state agency that processes claims and she, and everyone across the board, are being forced to take time off without leave. Something's wrong with this picture, too. Am I the only one who sees it or does pointing it out make me a Right Wing Wacko? From where I'm sitting, B.O.'s deficits are showing.

No matter how he and his economic advisers spin this, no matter how fast they print and get the money out and no matter how they package the new improved same old tired stimulus plan they keep touting, it didn't work. You can't run an engine that's made to burn gas on water -- or air. Maybe if B.O. spent more time working on the economy and less time on his apology tour, photo ops and wheedling Ahmadinejad he'd still come up short. It's one thing to get the 3 a.m. phone call and quite another to not only answer the phone but give the right response. So far, all the responses have been wrong.

It's a good thing my job is recession proof. As long as people get sick and die, I'll be here typing up the reports.

Portrait of a mensch

There is something about being rich that is tantalizing and oh so seductive. After all, who doesn't need more money than they can spend in a lifetime? There's nothing like having so much money that it's like one hundred Chinese lining up and jumping off a cliff. They would never all die because the birth rate would keep the line going forever. It's the same when you have a certain amount of money, like $300 million. The daily interest alone would keep even my mother in junk food, shoes and clothes for the next 500 years or so.

Numbers like that really don't compute, but for some people that kind of money is a reality. Men like Aaron Feuerstein have that kind of money. He's not as rich as Bill Gates who comes in at a cool $200 billion net worth, but it's nothing to sneeze at. Strangely, not all rich men need PR professionals to tell them they need to clean up their act and do some very visible charity work, like Bill Gates, because they're too busy taking care of the people who helped make them rich.

If you think you know what I'm talking about, check out Malden Mills and the man who should be President of the U.S. He knows how to run a business, make money and protect the people. He is the kind of man all multi-millionaires and multi-billionaires should be and aren't, and he doesn't owe his money to the mob or foreign oil interests.

That is all. Disperse.

Parodies of life

Parodies are a time-honored way of getting to the funny side of serious subjects. Al Yankovich make a career out of it and Mad Magazine has spoofed more than its share of television and life, so I'd like to share a little parody of West Side Story with you. It's the West Slide Story.

That is all. Disperse.

Love for sale

Is it really only Wednesday? It feels like it should be Friday already, but that's what happens when spending all available time on work and spring cleaning and more work. At least the bills are paid and I have a couple of dollars left over for something really decadent, like a small ice cream cone at Dairy Queen up the street, or maybe a sour cream and chive potato or Caesar side salad at Wendy's. It's been a tough week, but a productive week, and I even managed to pull together a team for the ham radio exams on Saturday without resorting to begging and offering money.

One thing working all these extra hours provides is less time to waste on things like watching DVDs and taking long walks. I have backed off both and am now taking short walks just to get outside and feel the sun on my skin because it's been a nice couple of days. I also have to be more selective about what I do with time left after working. That put a big hole in many decadent and frivolous activities. But it's all a matter of choice. More money means getting that much closer to buying my own place instead of renting and being able to afford to keep said place from falling down around my ears. It's just like rent that way, a constant drain on the bank account. There are worse things in this world. Like . . . give me a minute . . . like . . . Okay, so it will hit me in the wee hours of the morning, sending me bolt upright in bed from a sound sleep and probably a really good and very salacious dream. Everything changes.

Like Beanie. I talked to her yesterday and she told me she quit smoking three days ago. I asked why. She's doing it for her doctor. He must be a real hunk because nothing I've said to her over the years of her on-again off-again smoking ever made a difference. She wouldn't even do it for her kids, although I don't think they asked, but she's doing it for her doctor. Really! What is this world coming to when family can't guilt you into doing something for your own good? At least she's quitting and that's what's important. Or maybe it's love.

Then there's a close friend who has finally given up on the man of her dreams. She finally got tired of waiting around for him to slot her into his schedule ahead of his various hobbies and projects. She decided that even though he is the only man for her, if he couldn't put her on his schedule on a regular basis she was wasting her time. Instead, she walked quietly away and so far he hasn't noticed. If he's like most men of my acquaintance, it will take him a while to figure out that she's not just busy, she's tired of always coming last. She did consider sending him a bill because he pays more attention to the "friends" he pays. They get top priority on his schedule. The idea of billing him for time spent and services rendered seemed a little too much like prostitution, but then again maybe not.

When Dad was stationed at Fort Monroe in Hampton, Virginia, there was a family that lived across the street from us. Mr. Alexander was stationed at Langley AFB and Mrs. Alexander was a stay at home mom. I remember hearing Mrs. Alexander tell my mom and Mrs. Palmentera how she earned her Xmas money. Her husband paid her every time they had sex. They must have had sex all the time because the Alexander kids, and there were four of them, got some very expensive and really nice gifts every year. Mom laughed but she told Mrs. Palmentera that Mrs. Alexander was like a prostitute.

I never could figure out if Mom was jealous because she didn't think of the idea first or if she was worried she wouldn't get to spend as much money if she and Dad went over to the Alexander Xmas Club method.

Still, the idea has some merit. Maybe some men would treat their girlfriends and wives better if they had to pay for the favors they received. You don't see too many guys missing appointments with their therapists, masseuses, dentists, doctors or personal trainers. When there's money involved, there's suddenly room on their supposedly over crowded schedules that wasn't there before -- or at least not when their girlfriends asked about getting together. Yep, I think money is the answer. After all, isn't a girlfriend's time just as valuable as a masseuse's or doctor's or therapist's?

This is after all a capitalist society and there's no such thing as a free lunch. It may sound mercenary, but I prefer to think of it as just good money sense.

That is all. Disperse.

Economic problems solved

I received an email this morning about an article in the St. Petersburg Times about an solution to the problems in our economy.

Great Idea...!

This was an article from the St. Petersburg Times Newspaper on
Sunday..

The Business Section asked readers for ideas on "How Would You Fix
the
Economy?"

I thought this was the BEST idea....

I think this guy nailed it!

Dear Mr. President,

Patriotic retirement:

There are about 40 million people over 50 in the work force - Pay them $1 million apiece severance with the following stipulations:

1) They leave their jobs. Forty million job openings - Unemployment fixed.

2) They buy NEW American cars. Forty million cars ordered - Auto Industry fixed.

3) They either buy a house/pay off their mortgage - Housing Crisis fixed.

It can't get any easier than that!

P.S. If more money is needed, have all members in Congress and their constituents pay their taxes and have to live on social security like the rest of us…

I'm a journalist of the old school at heart and I have learned to check things out first. I discovered the the email had gone viral and it was just one of several suggestions mentioned in the original article.

Although I love the idea of retiring from work with a million dollars in my hot little hands and getting the economy back on its feet, the idea will cost quite a bundle to get started, forty trillion dollars to begin with. That's how much it would cost to pay $1M to 40 million Americans over 50. Yes, the money would get back into the economy quickly, but how many people are smart enough to bank the money at a good interest rate and live off the interest once they bought a new car and a house, or paid one off?

Of those who responded to the newspaper's query my favorite was:

MAKE STUFF OURSELVES: The only way to fix our American economy is to get back to America and American-made products and American jobs. No outsourcing of any work or any goods or services, no foreign cars or goods allowed in America. We invented cameras, radios, cars, phones, TVs, record players, light bulbs and the list goes on and on. They should be manufactured in America and bought by Americans and sold to foreign countries who want our stuff. … Please CC the president on this one. How could we have become so clueless?

Jeannine Gallagher, Largo

Ms Gallagher is right on one point and right in line with Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. It's all about industrialization and getting back into the business of producing. It's what we did better than any other country in the world, but we have handed jobs and our economy over to Taiwan and China and other third world countries and now they are buying our bonds and expecting a return on their investment, and China is demanding a new world currency that does not include the U.S. dollar.

Did you know that the symbol for the dollar is a combination of the U and S in United States laid over top each other?

Check out the suggestions and I'll bet you'll find a few that make you laugh and a few that will make you think that someone was definitely home when they wrote it.

The best part of the article is that whoever initiated it got people reading the newspaper. It's a gimmick, but it shows that newspapers are not dead yet -- contrary to popular thought.

That is all. Disperse.

The only change you can believe in

They called it Bush's folly and they castigated and blamed and ridiculed him for it, but the proof is in the facts.

With Obamessiah pushing us further and further into debt and blaming it on Bush, it's too bad the numbers don't bear out his story. I'll bet Bush is beginning to look pretty good right about now, especially with a president who is still out there campaigning, probably for the next election in four years, or starting his speaking tour early instead of getting down to work in the Oval Office.

When invited to be the commencement speaker for Notre Dame University, I'll bet the dean and board expected everyone to applaud and stand in line for tickets to hear Obamessiah give another one of his hope and change speeches, but that's not going to happen. Some Catholics are outraged. But the great teleprompter speaker is already busy lining up his next Iranian grovel-fest at the second Alliance of Civilizations forum so he can beg Iran to unclench its fist, especially since so far his groveling and begging have worked so well. Where's a strong president when you need one? Well, if it's Obamessiah, he's probably scheduling another visit to Oprah or Conan O'Brien since he's already done Letterman and Leno.

What we need is change we can believe in and so far the only thing I can believe in is what changes I've already seen, like the devaluation of the dollar, bait and switch on the bailouts, Obamessiah and the politicos on Capitol Hill accepting campaign funds from troubled AIG that they refuse to give back while demanding that AIG void previous contracts with their employees and give back bonuses they are contractually obligated to pay, erasing trillions of dollars of toxic assets while printing more and more paper money that will end up in Europe, China and third world countries' vaults while China, our biggest lender, demands the world find any other currency that isn't the U. S. dollar to use as the standard. None of those things happened on Bush's watch, but you can be sure the great apologist and blame claimer, Obamessiah, will quip about it on one of his many public appearances while shucking and jiving and whining that it's not his fault, he inherited this mess.

Yes, Obamessiah inherited the pork fest (Stimulus bill) that he crammed down the taxpayers' throats and called it good and then crammed another pork fest (Omnibus bill) down the taxpayers' throats while he was busy jacking up the national debt to over $3 trillion, and he's sliding for over $8 trillion in national debt. Yes, that's Bush's fault. That's the transparent government Obamessiah promised, except so far the only transparency has been handing over Bush's memos in the wake of 9/11 while stonewalling the press and the American people and hiding behind Pelosi's Machiavellian machinations as the Democratic liberals get out their dusty wish lists and shoehorn them into every bill they're writing and racing through Congress on Mercury's winged feet.

I'll bet you wish Bush was still in the White House now -- or you soon will as Obamessiah and his political shills keep pumping up the national debt.

That is all. Disperse.

We don't need your permission

Is anyone else bothered by the news that Congress voted itself an 11% raise while the military got only a 2.9% raise?

Only in Congress do the workers determine their own wages without asking their employers first. It doesn't work the same way in the private sector.

Oh, yes, I forgot. It does in some businesses where labor unions decide how much work will be done at what rate and for what pay with what benefits without the sanction of the employer. No wonder there are so many liberals in Congress right now. It all begins to make sense.

Too bad Congress doesn't go on strike. We could use the break.

That is all. Disperse.

Make them accountable

The more I think about the subject of redistribution of wealth, the angrier it makes me. Since I choose not to hold my anger in, I let it go driven by the force of logic and a desire to make the oligarchs accountable.

The President's base salary is $400,000. That puts him and the First Lady in the salary bracket that requires their taxes to be raised. The question becomes, does this redistribution of wealth include them? It should. If the point is to redistribute the wealth, then the wealthy -- all of the wealthy -- should be included, especially the leaders and proponents of this plan. That includes all government workers, senators, representatives and justices on the Supreme Court. Not only should they be included, especially since this is their plan, but it should include all past presidents who are still raking in salaries paid by the taxpayers and their spouses. Leaders should lead by example and this is one example that should be a very public and transparent example for the country to follow.

I come from a military family and have always believed that a good officer doesn't ask his troops to do anything that he would not do. The same should go for government. Think of all the wealth that could be redistributed back to poorer taxpayers if the President, Vice-President, Speaker of the House, Cabinet members, senators, representatives, justices and past presidents, like Clinton with his hundreds of billions of dollars of Arab money flowing into his library and foundation, and Vice-Presidents, like Al Gore, were to kick back a bigger chunk of their income. Now that would really be a redistribution of wealth. And Obamessiah should lead the charge.

There has been a lot of talk about biting the bullet and the President not being able to fix the country by himself. He called on all Americans to sacrifice for the good of all. I notice that he didn't include himself in that sacrifice as he tools around the country on Air Force One every week, hosts a party at the White House every Wednesday night and wines and dines his supporters, cronies and friends so often that the White House is becoming the big White Holiday Inn where every day is a holiday. I don't see much sacrifice. Do you?

There was one big sacrifice when Obamessiah gave British Prime Minister Brown a collection of 25 DVD classics that he won't be able to play on his UK Region DVD player and the First Lady handed over a replica of Air Force One she pulled off the shelf in the White House gift shop for PM Brown's children that took less thought than choosing paper or plastic at the grocery store. That was a huge sacrifice.

If we're going to bite the bullet, then it's time for Obamessiah to show us the way and bite the bullet first. Hand over a big chunk of his salary and book royalties and makes sure the First Lady does the same. Then the VP, Congress, Cabinet members, etc. can follow suit in a public show of solidarity and sacrifice. Congress should also include their brand new 11% raise they just voted themselves in the package and give up their taxpayer subsidized health care plan and go on the proposed health care plan waiting in the wings to be implemented. The First Lady said the taxpayers were going to have to give until it hurts and the hurting should start on Capitol Hill. It's time to make them all accountable for the free ride they have been getting all these years.

And if Obamessiah is so good at raising money, how about raising money for his own salary instead of saddling the taxpayers with his White House bashes and Air Force One trips around the country. That's the way a leader shows the way.

I like the idea so much I used the very slow and ponderous White House web site to tell the President that he should stand up and be counted, as should all the oligarchs on Capitol Hill. After all, they are the leaders and it's time to follow the leaders.

That is all. Disperse.

Legislating poverty

"You cannot legislate the poor into freedom by legislating the wealthy out of freedom. What one person receives without working for, another person must work for without receiving. The government cannot give to anybody anything that the government does not first take from somebody else. When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them, and when the other half gets the idea that it does no good to work because somebody else is going to get what they work for, that my dear friend, is about the end of any nation. You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it."



~~~~~ Dr. Adrian Rogers, 1931

Make a difference

If you haven't heard about the book crisis yet, take a look.

What it boils down to is that book sellers can return unsold books and get their money back, and they did in September and October, causing a book crisis. What can you do to help? Buy books. Doesn't matter what you buy, just buy books. I say this as an author and as a reader. The holidays are coming up like a runaway semi truck down a steep grade without brakes. Instead of candy or flowers or whatever gift conundrum you're wrestling, buy books. Even if the person on your gift list doesn't read, like the fella said, "...tell them to get over it." They have the skills. It's time to exercise them, even if it's a picture book that won't take long to get through or a fancy coffee table book that makes them look intelligent and worldly and classy. Give them books.

Readers need books and authors need readers. It's a symbiotic relationship. So, unless you want to be left with only the cereal box to read (newspapers are going online and ending their print runs in droves), buy books. Support the industry that teaches, informs, entertains, excites, arouses, titillates and interests and buy books. Use it or lose it.

Instead of waiting for weeks, and even months, for a book at the library, buy your own. Instead of Chateaubriand, eat a peanut butter sandwich or a bowl of soup and crackers and buy a book. If they're small, buy three. Brave the cold, shop until you drop, but buy books. Write in the margins. Use a highlighter. Share it with friends, but make sure to get it back so they will buy their own, but buy books. Got it? Good.

That is all. Disperse.