Monthly Archives: April 2013

Current Events, History, Politics

The Places WMDs Take You

Boston Bomber charged with using weapon of mass destruction, or WMD?  Really?

Up until now I’d always thought of WMDs as the big three: 1) nuclear effect weapons (nuclear blast or a nuclear “dirty” bomb; 2) biological effect weapons (anthrax, ebola); and 3) chemical weapons (with nerve agents).

Sure enough, US code 18-§ 2332a (c)(2) defines a WMD  as the big three, plus “any destructive device as defined in section 921 of this title.”

Off to Title 18, section 921, where explosive device is defined as:

(A) any explosive, incendiary, or poison gas—

(i) bomb,
(ii) grenade,
(iii) rocket having a propellant charge of more than four ounces,
(iv) missile having an explosive or incendiary charge of more than one-quarter ounce,
(v) mine, or
(vi) device similar to any of the devices described in the preceding clauses;
(B) any type of weapon (other than a shotgun or a shotgun shell which the Attorney General finds is generally recognized as particularly suitable for sporting purposes) by whatever name known which will, or which may be readily converted to, expel a projectile by the action of an explosive or other propellant, and which has any barrel with a bore of more than one-half inch in diameter; and
(C) any combination of parts either designed or intended for use in converting any device into any destructive device described in subparagraph (A) or (B) and from which a destructive device may be readily assembled.
The term “destructive device” shall not include any device which is neither designed nor redesigned for use as a weapon; any device, although originally designed for use as a weapon, which is redesigned for use as a s…
blah, blah, blah
So, there you have it.  Bomb.  A bomb, or any device with a projectile with an incendiary charge of more than 1/4-ounce (one presumes this is standard gun powder), IS A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION.
Can we now admit that Bush-43 — and the intelligence of Israel — and Britain — and France — and Russia were right? With a definition like that, of course there were WMDs in Iraq!
Naturally, I’m being a bit silly.  Everyone thought Bush and SecState Powell were talking chemical weapons, and possible nukes.  That’s what they — and Cheney — led us to believe.  By the way, a nuclear effects weapon need not be a thermonuclear device to qualify as a WMD.  Per 18-§223a, any device “designed to release radiation or radioactivity at a level dangerous to human life” is a WMD.   If memory serves, Iraq was harboring 550 tons of Uranium Yellowcake, which was safely and furtively sent to someone who could put it to good use: the Canadians.
Yes, while we were all fawning over “the One” during the summer of 2008, our country’s state and defense departments were going about the important business of getting this hazard to a safe place.  The existence of 550 tons of enriched uranium yellowcake does not prove that Iraq was about to re-start their nuclear program.  It’s a long way from yellowcake to weapons grade or even reactor grade.  Still, that’s enhanced enough to turn a several thousand Scud missiles into dirty bombs, and according to title 18 of the US code of regulations, a WMD.
Zooming to the present.  According to many sources, Syria has used chemical weapons based on the nerve agent Sarin.  This was supposed to represent some sort of “red line” which would bring the United States — and her allies, if she so committed — to some sort of elevated activity or intervention.   Perhaps even military intervention.
Really?  After 75,000 dead and now … now after a few dozen or hundred more are killed by the legal equivalent of a pressure cooker laced with nails and ball bearings … now we are saying Assad and his Lex Luther henchmen have crossed a “red line”??
I recall just a couple of years ago, when a thousand or perhaps two thousand deaths in Libya led us to declare that there was some “moral imperative” that we (the US and the West)  intervene.  We launched several hundred cruise missiles at Moammar Qadafi’s strategic military and state sites (don’t quibble with how I spelled his name; I think there are at least 1,000 western attempts to spell his name phonetically).
75,000 dead in Syria.  A huge humanitarian and refugee problem.  A dilemma for our friends in Jordan and Israel, to say nothing of the struggling new democracy in neighboring Iraq, and the struggles in neighboring Lebanon as well.
Compared to only 1,000 dead in Libya with neighbors like Tunisia, and Egypt (well into their own Arab spring) and Algiers.   Was Qadafi really that much worse than Assad?  In fact, after witnessing what “the Coalition of the Willing” had done to Saddam Hussein, Qadafi swore to totally give up on obtaining WMDs.  Ever.
I’m not saying that getting belligerently involved in Libya was wrong; nor am I saying that staying out of Syrian belligerence is wrong too.  I am suggesting that looking at moral “red lines” like use (or presence) of WMDs, and number of deaths, presents a limited scope that is a distraction from issues more important …
For one, Syria has close ties to both Russia and Iran.  Libya was fairly isolated, diplomatically speaking.
And Libya  produces about 1.65 Million Barrels of oil per day — about 2% of the world’s production.  Most of that oil goes to Europe, which can hardly afford another economic wobble  … which would indeed have happened had Libya stayed politically unstable much longer.  Syria’s petroleum production?  A tiny fraction as much. With Libya producing, the world can do without Syria’s pittance of oil, which it has done for several years now.
Rest well when you can.  You might need it.
Peace
Joe Girard (c) 2013
Biographical, Politics

Not PC Compatible

Howard Cosell and the ‘Little monkey” comments

Anyone who watched much sports during the 1960s and 70s will recall Howard Cosell.  He called boxing matches (famously saying “Down goes Frazier” in a title fight with George Foreman).  He announced Major League Baseball, NFL Football and announced at the Olympics (most famously at the 1972 Olympics) .  He is perhaps most famous for his long stint on Monday Night Football with “Dandy” Don Meredith and Frank Gifford.

Noted for being sharp, witty, caustic and loquacious, Cosell said of himself, “Arrogant, pompous, obnoxious, vain, cruel, verbose, a showoff. There’s no question that I’m all of those things.”  He also had a soft side, devoted to his wife for 46 years until her death, devoted to his children and to his grandchildren.  He lovingly often referred to them as “little monkeys.’

In 1972, Cosell used this term of endearment — Little Monkey — referring to Mike Adamle, a white football player who played running back for the Kansas City Chiefs.  Mike Adamle was only 5 foot-9 inches tall and under 200 lbs. Quite small for the NFL, and Cosell used it as a complement: “That little monkey — you know, the theorem was that he was too small for pro football”

The next year, on Monday Night Football’s halftime highlights, his voice-over for a 97-yard kick off return by Herb Mul-key of the Washington Redskins went: “Look at that little monkey run!”  Mul-key is black.

A few years later, in 1982, Cosell said of the white, diminutive (again 5 foot-9 inches, but only 150 lbs) Glenn Hubbard, who played second base for the Atlanta Braves: “”That little monkey can really pick it.”

But the world changed.  On a Monday Night Football telecast on September 5, 1983, after Alvin Garrett of the Washington Redskins made a clutch reception, he said: “That little monkey gets loose, doesn’t he?”

Alvin Garrett is black. Cosell was denounced as a racist by The Rev. Joseph Lowery, then-president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference.  Lowery demanded a public apology. Others piled on, demanding an apology. Cosell, ever his own man, refused.

At the end of the 1983 NFL season Cosell retired from announcing NFL football.  His wife had passed away a few years earlier and he had new interests, like writing a book.  He continued announcing Major League Baseball games, but never used the Little Monkey term again.  It was not PC-compatible.

Cosell’s use of “Little Monkey”, it seems, can help us pinpoint when political correctness gained its position for thought control through language control.

In 1973 calling a black athlete “Little Monkey” raised nary an eyebrow.  In 1983, it could lead to the end of a career.

I’ll submit that this is approximately one generation after our colleges and universities turned largely socially liberal and  radically so (Thomas Jefferson used 18-years as a generation).  Largely in reaction to the civil rights movement, anti-war sentiment and a desire to develop a separate identity from “the greatest generation”, by the late-70s and early 80s these students had begun moving into the leadership of the country, and they brought their idealism with them.  And imposed it on us.

“Politically Correct” is largely a pejorative term nowadays.  Does that mean ‘Politically Incorrect” is a term of endearment?  “Oh, you politically incorrect little monkey.”  Hardly.

For me, I suppose that the idealism reflected in PC-ness is to be appreciated.  But I’ll remain intellectually non-PC.  For example, I can’t get myself to use these PC terms:

  • “Native American.”  Why not?  I was born here and so was my dad.  And so was his dad.  I’m a native.  If I can’t be native here, where do I go?  Side note: I don’t like the term “Indians” or “American Indians” either.  That’s a misnomer.  Indians are in India.  I do rather like what the Canadians call this race: First Nations.
  • “African-American.”  I work with a fellow who was born and raised in Tunisia.  Came here and eventually became a US citizen.  He has a definite Mediterranean-rim Arab look.  I have met other people who were born and raised in South Africa.  They are lily white and also became US citizens.  Now THESE people are African-Americans, if you want to use the term precisely.  What was wrong with Negro?  Black?  Colored?  No disrespect was meant by these terms.  And by the way, why do blacks often call themselves “nigger”?
  • “Gay and Gay Marriage.”  Gay means “happy, full of joy”.  People who have been married for decades, and happily so, are in a “Gay Marriage.”  What was wrong with the terms lesbian, homosexual, same-sex union?

The title of Howard Cosell’s book is “I Never Played the Game.”  The intent of the title was not to convey the point that this brilliant little Jewish boy who gave up a law career to do sport announcing never actually played the games and sports he covered.  No, it was because he never got caught up in the corporate game.  He stayed his own person until the end.  He remained faithful to himself; he was who he was.

So, I hope, it will be with you.

Peace.

Joe Girard (c) 2013

 

Acknowledgement:

thanks to co-worker Gil for reminding me of this period, Mr. Cosell, and for doing some initial research.

 

Current Events, Politics

Clang goes the Trolley

Let’s play a game.  Trolleyology.  It comes in three distinct flavors, getting more challenging and interesting as we move up the levels.  It is generally a British game and based on British definitions of trolley, although the game transports to the Americas quite well.

[Definition background.  What Americans call a “shopping cart” the British often call a trolley.  Also, what American might call a “street car” Brits call a trolley.]

[Game requirements: Be honest and try to answer all the questions.  There are no wrong answers.]

Level 1, Trolleyology.  Question: have you ever popped into a grocery store so you could quickly get one or two things, and emerged 30 or 40 minutes later with a trolley full of product you didn’t originally intend on buying?  Or even with two or three extra items?

When you enter a grocery store, you are playing Level 1 trolleyology. Most grocery stores are set up so that common items are in the back, or in remote corners. Need some milk? Back of the store. Loaf of bread or dozen eggs?, often at remote and opposite corners.

Now you are in Trolleyology Level 1.  Do you have preferred aisles or routes you take to get to these items, or between, say, bakery and dairy?  Think a moment.  Do you prefer the soft drink aisle?  The baking goods?  Stationary?  Home cleaning products, beer and wine?… Seasonal merchandise?

Now take a moment and think about what your answers might say about you.

See, trolleyology isn’t that difficult or stressful.  You’ve answered the questions and ruminated on what they might say about you.  You’ve progressed to Trolleyology, Level 2.

Level 2, Trolleyology.  Think again about your experiences in grocery stores, or department stores, where people are pushing around trolleys full of merchandise. Have you ever peered — perhaps casually, perhaps with feigned casualness — into someone’s cart and taken note of what they are about to buy? And then, started passing judgment on them, their lifestyle and their value system?

Last night for example, while failing Level 1, I was cruising through the front end of the store when I passed a 20-something fellow in baggy droopy jeans.  He stopped in front me — causing me to have to avoid him — to grab a package of candy bars.  Passing him, I noticed his cart had three 12-packs of Pepsi soda and a carton of Marlboro cigarettes.  I couldn’t help from making some quick judgments about “droopy drawers”, how his present and future will turn out.  I could not help it anymore than I could help myself from quickly peering into his cart, or admiring a beautiful sunset.

We all lie on the”nosy and judgmental” scale somewhere.  We want to know things about others, and we all feel some urge to judge, even though we know it’s not really “right.” Even if it’s just to feel better about ourselves.

Thank you for playing Tolleyology, Levels 1 & 2.  These shopping versions  provide  little windows to our brains and our souls. The gist here has been get us to realize that we are all (at least a little bit) nosy, judgmental and subject to manipulation.  It’s OK, we’re only human.

Trolleyology Level 3.  You are standing on a pedestrian bridge over a street car rail line.  You are standing next to a very large fat man.  He is a complete stranger to you.

Your attention is drawn to a run-away trolley coming toward you … about to pass underneath you and the strange very large fat man in a few moments.  You also know that a hundred yards (or 90 meters) down the line there is another man — completely unaware of the run-away trolley — who is performing some maintenance work on the rail line.

If the run-away trolley continues –a single car, small and unoccupied — it will surely kill the worker.  Yet it is small enough that the body of the strange very large fat man would stop the trolley.

Trolleyology Level 3 Question.  Do you push the very large fat man off the bridge and onto the rail — to stop the trolley and save the worker?  No matter what you do — or don’t do — your actions will be nonpunishable   There are no wrong answers.  Not answering is disqualifying.

Take a moment.  Push the fat man to his death.  Yes, or no?

If you answer “yes”, you can skp to the “skip to here” paragraph”  below.  If you answered “yes”, outside this essay, the game changes the question.  What if the worker would only be maimed — losing a limb — instead of being killed? Would you still push the strange very large fat man?  The idea is to find where your “yes” becomes a “no”.

If you originally answered “no, I would not push the fat man” you can perhaps support your answer with logic such as

  • Someone is going to die.  Who am I to decide which one?
  • This whole thing happened without me until now.  Why should I get involved now?
  • Who am I to play God?

Here again, the game changes questions again.  Would you still answer “no” if 3 workers would die?  Five? 100?  What if one of the workers were you spouse, child, or parent?  What if one thousand — or one million — would die from the run-away trolley car?

The (admittedly very uncomfortable) idea of the game is to determine the threshold at which the answer is barely — just barely — “yes, I would push a total stranger off the bridge to almost certain death in order to spare _____ *(fill in the blank).

If there is no threshold for you (i.e. NO, there is no circumstance under which you push him), then you are dismissed from further participation.  Many would dismiss you as heartless, others as stridently beholden and shackled by principals, or lack thereof. You would choose not to get engaged to save one hundred, one thousand or one million. No matter how many 8 year-olds were killed or limbs were to be lost.  In a sense, you win.  But the rest of us must struggle on.

[Skip to here if you answered YES originally]

So here you are.  There is some threshold, no matter how uncomfortable, at which you push the fat man off the bridge. “Gosh darn it, I don’t feel good about it, but yes I think at some point I’d have to push him off the bridge.” Good, thanks for being honest.

We now turn to the terrorist acts in Boston.  Two brothers, Chechan immigrants, set off bombs in a crowd at the Boston Marathon, killing three and horribly injuring 180, leading to many limb amputations.  Later, a security officer was fatally shot; and a police officer was gravely shot as well.

Now, suppose — just suppose that instead of a strange very large fat man — you have a person of interest who has information about such a horrible terrorist attack about to occur. You can choose to help avert this killing and maiming. If there is a threshold where, “yes, you would push the man off the bridge”, then we have to ask you the corollary: what is the threshold where “enhanced interrogation techniques” are appropriate? Could we deprive someone of sleep, or a meal, or a few moments of breathing?

Going a bit further, one of the Boston Bombing Terrorists has been caught alive.  He may well have knowledge of pending future attacks, possibly even more horrific.  He was seen on video placing his bomb-laden backpack in front of an 8-year old boy … who would soon die … and then walking away.  [We Americans are so naive.  If this were to happen in Israel, the crowd would immediately start shouting “Unattended Package!” and tackle his sorry skinny ass.] He may well be attached to cells of fanatical terrorists who have provided him inspiration and training.  Cells of terrorists who will act again.  Since you have read this far in the column, there is a point at which you would push the fat man off the bridge.  Is there not, then, a point at which you would go beyond Miranda Rights and try to save death, mayhem, maiming and suffering for untold many others?

Many people are already clammering for the death penalty for young Mr. Tsarnaev. Some water cooler conversation swirled around wishes for a slow, painful death.

The end of Trolleyology, Level 3.  If you would kill the fat man, you must also address the question when and how to use “enhanced interrogation techniques” to get information that could save hundreds, thousands, even millions from death, maiming and suffering.

Thanks for playing all three levels of Trolleyology.

Joe Girard (c) 2013

 

 

Biographical, Generational, History

Crazy Bond

What a fortunate thing for a boy to be close to his father.  Closeness is easier and more natural when there are subjects of interest that lead to bonding – something they share.

The first common subject for my dad and me (that I recall) was our mutual interest in baseball, and our love of the star-crossed Cubs.  This was sort of a quiet suffering that we endured together; each with only the other to console us, as the Cubs were miserably bad during these years (early to mid-60s) and we lived in Milwaukee.

Secretly, when away from dad, I harbored a modicum of admiration for the more competitive Milwaukee Braves – especially when among my sports-fan friends; their roster had several future Hall-of-Famers: Hank Aaron, Eddie Matthews, Warren Spahn, and (probably soon) Joe Torre.  Actually, I think he knew of my treasonous admiration, but never spoke of it.

Another common interest was television.  Back then, families actually watched TV together. The networks and producers really tried to broadcast shows with material that would interest the whole family.  On Sunday nights, it was Ed Sullivan.  Mid-week it was the Red Skelton Show.  But Saturday was special, and the big show in those days was Jackie Gleason, with his Jackie Gleason Show, broadcast “live from Miami Beach.”

After his traditional opening monologue, the show would get started with Jackie saying “And aw-a-a-ay we go.”  The show followed a fairly similar routine each week, with recurring appearances of Gleason-created characters such as Reginald van Gleason III, an oafish, rich, blowhard playboy (“mmmmm, that’s good booze”); and an always-down-on-his luck character  played in pantomime.  There were lots of pretty girls, and great guests, including some regular guests like the popular Art Carney (who also lives forever in re-runs, thanks to co-starring with Gleason in The Honeymooners).

What I remember most – and helped dad and me bond – was a character and regular routine called “Joe the Bartender.”  Bartenders have long been recognized as the world’s best unofficial counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists, and just plain good listeners. That was Joe.

As an aside, my dad would sometimes spontaneously break out into “One for my Baby” (a song made popular by Frank Sinatra) when we were alone: out running errands or he was working around the house, with me “helping.”  The song is a classic “guy-with-broken-heart-tells-his-version-of-the-story-to-a-bartender-at-closing-time” story.  The bartender in the song is named “Joe”, and I often thought as if my dad were speaking to me, but didn’t know what to say, so he broke into that song when we were together. “Set ‘em up Joe.  I’ve got a little story, I think you ought to know …”

Gleason’s “Joe the Bartender” sketch always opened with the camera (as a patron) coming through swinging doors into an empty bar, with Gleason as “Joe” behind the counter.  It seemed “Joe” was greeting us, the audience, as the bar unfolded before the camera: “How ya doin’ Mr. Dennehy?”  The camera (patron) would come up to the bar and engage in a “conversation” with “Joe”, although we-the-audience only heard Joe’s half of the conversation.  We were supposed to supply Mr Dennehy’s half by our own imagination.

This short weekly opening to the “Joe the Bartender” sketch was a tribute to someone important to Gleason.  John Herbert Gleason was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY.  His older brother died at age 14 when “Jackie'” was 3, and his father, an insurance salesman, began drowning his many disappointments in the bottle.  When Jackie was nine his father finally simply abandoned the family – leaving young Jackie and his overprotective mother.  So overprotective that she did not allow him to attend school until the 3rd grade.

Needing to find their own way, she took a series of low-skill/low paying jobs.   Unable to handle life alone, speaking with a heavy Irish accent, and unable to handle her son, she turned to drinking – and she turned to young Jackie to become a co-breadwinner for the family when he was only 12.  He took odd jobs, and eventually became a proficient pool shark and street fighter – making enough money to move out of relative’s homes and into their own apartment.  [If you watch the movie The Hustler, it’s pretty obvious Gleason is comfortable at a table with a cue stick].

They moved to a tenement run by Thomas Dennehy and his family (the Irish Catholics sticking together) at 385 Chauncey St, Brooklyn (one of the more famous addresses in TV history – that’s where The Honeymooners lived).  Dennehy became Gleason’s father-figure, providing a stable male influence in his life – including the crucial time when the drinking finally led to Gleason’s mother’s death, when he was only 17.

During the “Joe the Bartender” sketch, Joe’s one-sided “conversation” with the unheard and unseen “Mr. Dennehy” would eventually turn to something that required a third opinion. “Let’s ask Crazy”… and out would come a character named “Crazy Guggenheim.”

“Crazy” was Frank Fontaine.  His schtick was that he could cross one eye, make his eyes bug out, raise one eyebrow, scrunch up his mouth and talk like a barely lucid and barely intelligible drunk – all at the same time.  His hat and coat were crumpled and worn slightly awry.  “Crazy” would start to answer “Joe’s” question, then wander off topic into some illogical story, raising his voice annoyingly at the wrong times for the story.  Gleason/Joe would start making funny faces – as if to say “I’m sorry I ever let him start” – but wait patiently until Crazy got to the end of his absurd story.

Frank Fontaine

Frank Fontaine

This was another link I had to my dad.  Whenever a situation was just plain goofy or didn’t make sense (or sometimes I thought a situation required a little levity) I’d take my hat and turn up the brim, give it a slight twist and a tip, then say something in a corny voice like: “Hi, hey,  it’s me!  Crazy Guggenheim.”  I even started doing this at big family events (Thanksgiving and such) and found it quite rewarding (as a little kid) that the adults would recognize what I was trying to do – be Crazy like Guggenheim.

The thing about Frank Fontaine was that he was really very talented.  I can’t remember if it was at the end of the “Joe the Bartender” sketch, or later in the show – but he would bust out into song with the most beautiful voice you could imagine.

Frank Fontaine was an interesting fellow.  He married his sweetheart at age 17 and they started having kids … lots of ‘em … eleven in all.  People had so much more confidence in themselves and in the future back then.  He had a lot of success on stage and screen – and on the tube – taking a break from his career and from making babies for World War II.    He always did well, but his stints on the Gleason show made him famous.

He started recording his songs and even had a #1 Album, called, crazy enough, “Songs I sing on the Jackie Gleason Show.”  He also continued with characters like Crazy.  As with  other entertainers who play drunks so well — like Jack Norton and Foster Brooks — Fontaine was a teetotaler.  This made him very much unlike Gleason, who had a second 8,000 square foot house in Miami just for parties.

Frank Fontaine/Crazy Guggenheim

Frank Fontaine/Crazy Guggenheim

But like Gleason, he was a bit of a bon vivant and started putting on quite a few pounds.  He also got involved with charitable efforts, such as through the Eagles.

In September, 1977 Fontaine suffered a heart attack.  The experience motivated him to lose some 70 pounds over the next year.

In August the next year, at the 1978 Eagles Convention in Spokane he performed live, returning for four encores. Through this concert he raised $25,000; the check was presented to him on stage and it was to be donated to the American Heart Association for heart research.

And that’s when he was struck by a sudden massive heart attack, right there on stage – dead at only 58 years old.  Married for 41 years.

Brooklyn's pride in being home of Jackie Gleason and The Honeymooners. One of Jackie's most famous sayings.

Brooklyn’s pride in being home of Jackie Gleason and The Honeymooners. One of Jackie’s most famous sayings.

I’m grateful for the likes of Gleason and Fontaine … Skelton, the Cubs of the 60s … and all the things that helped me and my dad bond so long ago. I’m even more grateful for my parents; grateful for their love of me, displayed through endless kindness and unbelievable patience; grateful for their committed love to each other; and grateful for their examples of lives well lived. I am a lucky fellow.

Until next time … Bond.  Bond like crazy.

Joe Girard © 2013

Notes:

1) The Simpson’s character Barney is based on Crazy Guggenheim.

2) Soon enough the Braves proved to be unworthy of all of Wisconsin’s affection, leaving for Atlanta.  Many Milwaukee-area friends became Cubs fans — much to all our chagrin.  The Cubs’ biblically epic collapse of 1969 was assuaged a bit when Milwaukee again received a MLB franchise, the Brewers, in 1970.

Acknowledgements:

To my dad, of course, for spending so much time with me as a kid, even though he had 5 younger children; for taking me to see Cubs games and even Braves games.  Teaching me how to throw (not like a girl), swing a bat, play smart and lose like you win — with dignity and grace.

To my co-worker Gil, who has an amazing memory and helped me reconstruct what I knew of Fontaine and Gleason, and of the 60s.

Jack Fontaine/Crazy Guggenheim does a commercial for Malto Meal

Joe the Bartender and Crazy Guggenheim — from the Jackie Gleason Show.

Economics, Politics

Raisin Raison

“They [The makers of our Constitution] … conferred the right to be let alone—the most comprehensive of rights and the right most valued by civilized men.” – Justice Louis Bradeis, dissenting Olmstead v. United States [1]

To what are we entitled?  To what do we have a right?  If someone works earnestly and diligently at their job, came to the position honestly, fulfills all the requirements of that job and gets a great performance review … every year… well, should they get to keep that job?

What if you run a business that manufactures, produces or supplies a product or service?  What if, at some point during the year the government could come and demand a percentage of what you produce?  Up to 47% of your output?  And what if they could pay you whatever they wanted for that confiscation?  Even down to zero dollars and zero cents?

Last month the Supreme Court was in the news. The news frenzy and activist buzzing about the two Same-sex Marriage cases caused most to miss a case of some importance – the Raisin Case, or Horne v United States Department of Agriculture.

Raisins?  Really?  Yes.

California is the most prolific grape producing region in the world.  They produce over 99.5% of the US and over 40% of the world’s supply.  And, surprisingly, more of those grapes go to producing raisins than wine.  Each year, raisin “handlers” are required to “transfer” to the US Government whatever percentage the Raisin Administration Committee (RAC) dictates.

Who is the RAC?  It operates within the Agricultural Marketing Service.  Who are they?  Part of the United States Department of Agriculture.  What do they do with the raisins?  Whatever they want, including destroy them.  More often they are given away, quite often to school lunch programs.

How much do they pay the raisin producers for the product they take?  As little as they want.  Some years it is nothing, nil, nada, nichts, niente.  Zip. Zero. Rien for the raisins.

How is this even possible?  Way back during the Great Depression the US Government executed control grabs of large parts of the economy.  The Agricultural Marketing Agreement Act of 1937 strengthened the marketing agreement segment of the first Agricultural Agreement Act of 1933, allowing the government to basically do anything in terms of setting prices – including controlling production, storage, supply and demand of most agricultural products.  Including raisins.

By controlling the prices of produce – through central planning – the government believed they could keep farmers from going broke and city people from starving.  The 1930s were terrible and awful and I’m not about to blame the FDR New Dealers for trying to intercede. But that was 80 years ago.

The price of raisins – actually monitoring the price and nudging the price by controlling supply and demand – has remained a government function ever since.

California farmers Mavin and Laura Horne had to turn over 47% of their crop in 2002.  That year they changed their business model so that – they believed – they could keep the fruits of their labor.  In 2003 the set-aside was 30%.  The Hornes sold their product and didn’t turn anything over to the government. They put all 3 tons of raisins on the market.

They were promptly charged nearly half a million dollars by the government, for the projected market value of 30% of their raisins, and an additional $200,000 in fines.

Their case ended up in front of the San Francisco based 9th Circuit Court of Appeals, pretty widely regarded as the most liberal court in the country [2].  The Court ruled that the Horne’s had no standing in court (meaning they might be right or wrong, but it doesn’t matter since their case does not belong in court) since they never paid the fee or the fine ~:-\.  In other words, they had to pay the fees and fines (a lot of money) and THEN go to court.

The case, including their standing, finally made it to the Supreme Court last month.  A key part of the argument is the 5th Amendment’s “takings clause” —  and that is “… nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.”

The Supreme Court has a history of standing on its head to support expanded powers for government, from local to federal.  In the last significant “takings” case, the court supported a forced transfer from one private individual to another private individual when done by a municipality [Kelo v New London (CT)].  In 1942 the court upheld the USDA’s dictating that a farmer could not even grow wheat to feed to his livestock (Wickard v Filburn) and in 2012 the court upheld the PPACA (Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act) by loosely interpreting a payment clearly intended to be a penalty as, instead, a tax.

That is to say: Don’t expect a sweeping decision in favor of individual rights, and in favor of the Hornes and the raisin producers and handlers of California, many of them family businesses like the Hornes’.

But even the court’s liberals realize that there probably should be some practical limits to the scope of government’s powers.  Elena Kagan said that it was “either unconstitutional, or it’s the world’s most outdated law.”  Stephen Breyer: ““I can’t believe that Congress wanted the taxpayers to pay for a program that’s going to mean they have to pay higher prices as consumers.”

I expect a narrow ruling. The court will send the case back to the 9th Circuit with instructions that the Hornes do indeed have standing.  In other words: the Hornes might have been wronged.  But this is only one unique case and the government retains broad sweeping power to take property, control supply, prop up demand and run a centrally planned economy if they think it’s the right thing to do and in our best interest.

Back to Stephen Breyer’s very insightful comments.  We as taxpayers are paying for this confiscation program.  We pay for salaries, and office space and computers and IT personnel and lawyers.

We can agree that everyone at the Raisin Administration committee probably works hard and is a good person, but – sorry for the pun – just what is their raison d’ etre?  Surely a job that produces nothing – but takes, confiscates, re-distributes – and puts a drag on the economy while suppressing individual freedom needs to be eliminated.

And one wonders: how many more of these committees and administrations and agencies are hidden within our gargantuan government?

“Experience should teach us to be most on our guard to protect liberty when the Government’s purposes are beneficent. … The greatest dangers to liberty lurk in insidious encroachment by men of zeal, well-meaning, but without understanding.” –  Justice Louis D. Brandeis, dissenting, Olmstead v. United States

I wish you peace and freedom.  Including freedom from oppressive Government

Joe Girard © 2013

[1] Olmstead v. United States, Dissenting Opinion, 277 U.S. 438 (1928)

[2] http://www.calcontrk.org/news/1086-april-2012/1954-us-supreme-court-rejects-most-decisions-by-the-us-9th-circuit-court-of-appeals

[3] http://reason.com/archives/2013/03/23/supreme-court-may-put-an-end-to-governme

Current Events, History

60 years on: Remembering the forgettable, the forgotten

The pudgy, pernicious, impetuous, spoiled little brat president of North Korea is behaving impertinently. Yet again.  No great surprise.  It does serve to remind us, though, of the forgotten war — the Korean War.

dennis-rodman-in-costume

Dennis Rodman, World Diplomat

According to Dennis Rodman, it could all be fixed if President Obama would just sit down and talk with Kim, with no pre-conditions.  Interestingly enough, this is is the same strategy then-candidate Obama espoused in 2008: talking with the other of the world’s two most notorious rogue states, Iran.  How’d that work out?

Little brat has recently reminded us — by his bombast and saber rattling — that the Korean War never really ended, and he’s right.  Ike had a big chest himself, earned as Supreme Head of the Allied Forces (SHEAF) in Europe during War War II.  But in reality he was a very, very cautious man.  When he took office in 1953 he visited Korea (fulfilling a campaign promise), and what he saw showed the cautious leader that the costs of continued fighting would be much  too dear.  He pushed hard for an armistice, and Russia (recently relieved of Stalin’s pugnacity) was ready to pull back.  China went along and the cease fire was signed — 60 years ago.  But not a peace treaty.

Now the spoiled brat reminds us that the state of war still exists, and has declared the 1953 cease fire null and void.

President Kim

President Kim

Nonetheless, the President hasn’t done nothing in response to Spoiled Brat’s chest thumping.  Stealth B-2 bombers flew non-stop all the way from Missouri to the west coast of the tiny peninsula last week, for a bomb-drop demonstration on small a un-populated group of islands regularly used for live explosive target practice.  A non-stop bombing run from almost halfway around the world, and then returning, non-stop — seems pretty darn impressive but it’s actually just another practice run for the USAF.  Take that!, you pompous, pudge-faced little  twerp.

This was an appropriate response.  I’m not sure what else we can do at this point. North Korea has broken every pledge they’ve ever made.  To attack them would put South Korea’s 50 millions at great risk, not to mention the already-fragile world economy — Seoul is only 35 miles from the DMZ, and NK has many missiles already dialed in, some reportedly could be armed with tactical nukes.

This week President Obama helped us remember the Korean War in another way.  Let us not not forget the legions of heroes, those who gave unselfishly to help protect a land of different-looking people a long, long way from home.  This week Father Emil Kapaun’s nephew received the Medal of Honor on his uncle’s behalf.

Here, I’ll devote the remainder of this column to Krissah Thompson of the Washington Post, as she describes Father Kapaun’s heroism, his unselfish commitment to his fellow men, and his death.  (hyperlink to Ms Thompson’s article above.).

Regards,

Joe Girard (c) 2013

 

 

History, Sports

JD: Tiger Bee

John D Rockefeller is widely regarded as the wealthiest American ever.  In 2013 US dollars, he would be worth nearly 700 Billion dollars.  In other words he could have bought and sold pipsqueaks like Bill Gates and Warren Buffet … at the same time.

He made his fortune by being the founder, CEO and principal shareholder of Standard Oil, regarded as the largest “Trust” (i.e. monopoly) of all time.  By integrating as many operations as possible – from drilling, to refining, to distribution – he drove down costs and squeezed virtually every other competitor out of business.  He was a viscous businessman, and laid claim to being “the most ruthless American.”

He made his initial stake as a profiteer during the Civil War, selling liquor to Federal troops.  By the time he left management of Standard Oil in 1897, he had also gotten himself well established in the profitable businesses of railroads, steel and banking.  And oddly enough, he also became an avid golfer rather late in life.

He also had become one of the most generous philanthropists of all time.  A Baptist, he had always tithed to his church.  He gave away additional money into the hundreds of millions of dollars (10s of Billions in today’s dollars), founding Chicago University and helped the formation of dozens of schools in the education-starved South for Blacks, including Spelman College in Atlanta, for Black Women.    His total gifts were estimated at over $500 Million, not adjusting for inflation.

Generations of Rockefellers have rode his wealth-horse to political prominence.  His great-grandson, John D. Rockefeller IV (“Jay”) is stepping down as senior Senator from West Virgina (D) after serving as governor.   Grandson Winthrop Rockefeller was governor of Arkansas (R) during the ‘60s, showing unpopular but unwavering support for the Civil Rights movement.  Nelson (another grandson, Winthrop’s brother) was governor of New York (R) and eventually became vice-president under Gerald R Ford, Jr. – oddly, back-to-back vice-presidents who got to that office without a single electoral vote.

“Trust busters” were after Standard Oil since the Sherman Anti-Trust Act of 1890, and in 1911 they had their way.  The Supreme Court ruled that Standard Oil must be broken up into many parts.  We recognize many of them today:

Standard Oil of New York later became Mobile.

Standard Oil of California became Chevron.

Standard’s Atlantic subsidiary was merged with Richfield Oil giving Atlantic-Richfield Company: ARCO

Standard Oil of Indiana became American Oil Company (AMOCO), now part of BP.

Finally, Standard Oil of New Jersey, the biggest bloom, became simple SO, or ESSO, the phonetic spelling of “S.O.”, for Standard Oil.

Interesting history for ESSO, and it will provide a slow transition to this essay’s conclusion.  When ESSO granted franchises, they were way ahead of their time for allowing Blacks to buy their franchises, becoming independent businessmen.

In the 1930s to 1960s the United States was still full of Jim Crow laws, racial prejudice and bigotry, and Blacks never knew where they would be welcome – South, North or West.  Never really knew where they could get a clean, safe room, a good meal or good local information.  ESSO gas stations – especially the Black owned stations – became distributors of The Negro Travelers’ Green Book.  This was a handbook meticulously prepared by Victor Hugo Green for the benefit of Black travelers, giving valuable insight into how to safely travel the US coast-to-coast and be received as full human beings.

“There will be a day sometime in the near future when this guide will not have to be published. That is when we as a race will have equal rights and privileges in the United States.”
– Victor Hugo Green [one supposes he was named for the French author, but I found no verification]

In the mid-40s, as the country came out of World War II, ESSO sought a marketing symbol and slogan that would personify America’s new found world stature and her citizens’ readiness to seize opportunity.  They chose the symbol of a Tiger and marketed for decades with “Put a tiger in your tank.”EssoTiger

Some clever observers remarked that, instead of a Tiger, they should have chosen the Bee, which would have personified the business practices of the recently-deceased founder.   Get it?  Instead of the ESSO Tiger there would be the ESSO Bee.  JD Rockefeller had a soft generous side, but he was definitely a SOB.

Esso later became Exxon, and still later merged with Mobile, one of the other SO spinoffs.  When Tigers became threatened species, Exxon stepped up to help fund tiger preservation efforts.

Speaking of tigers.  This week the sporting world turns its attention to Georgia, where the US Masters Golf Tournament will be played in Augusta, near the South Carolina border, on one of the world’s most famous and florally beautiful golf courses.  And the most attention will be layered on the world’s (once again) number one rated player, Eldrick Woods, who coincidentally goes by the nickname “Tiger.”

Tiger Woods

Woods pounds his club into the ground

Tiger is an SOB.  He drops F-bombs all over the golf course, throws his clubs, mutters profanity, declines to give autographs, and — oh yeah —  maintained a stable full of beautiful concubines to cavort with, while  married to one of the world’s most unbelievably beautiful women, who was also the mother of his children.

 

tigerangry2

Wood Flings his club

 

Still, he had “sort of” apologized. He had pledged to clean up his act.  Promised to come back.  Well, he’s back, but he hasn’t cleaned up his act.  Still an SOB.

His recent Nike commercial, released as he broke again to #1 in the world, says enough.  What does Tiger say?  “Winning takes care of everything.”

Tiger throws his putter on the green

Tiger throws his putter on the green

Really?  Tiger is 37-years old and still a very sorry excuse for a man.  Winning does not take care of the F-bombs and club tossing, especially in front of children.  Winning does not take care of your failures as a man, as a human being.  It does not take care of all the cheating when you are the father of young children.  Winning does not take care of being a jerk.  It does not take care of throwing your driver into the crowd.

I used to hold out some hope for Tiger.  He founded the Tiger Woods Foundation.  Not anymore.  I’m now among the Tiger anti-fans.  I hope he shoots 30-over par this week, misses the cut, swears at reporters, throws a club in the air that hits him on the head harder than now ex-wife Elin ever tried to whack his sorry ass with that wedge back in November, 2010.

He hasn’t grown up by now, and he’s not going to.  He’s no role model, no Victor Green.

But he’ll probably win and make himself and Nike a zillion more dollars.

Either way, I guess I’ll watch.  Golf is a game of gentlemen, except for the likes of Eldrick “Tiger- SOB” Woods.

On a positive note: Here’s a toast to the gentlemen, the philanthropists and Victor Greens of the world.

Until next time fellow travelers, I wish you calmness and goodwill.

Joe Girard © 2013

Uncategorized

Useful Math Fun

A little fun with math (don’t be afraid), and it might even be useful.

Have you ever tried to find a simple error when you have two numbers that are supposed to be same, but they aren’t?  Maybe you have a bunch of numbers entered in an Excel spreadsheet; maybe you are even trying to balance your checkbook.

One of the most common data entry errors that can be hidden is the transpose: you’ve swapped a digit.  Maybe a number like 19,243 was incorrectly entered as 13, 249 [see how the 3 and the 9 were swapped?]  Your eyes are glazed over and you can’t find the error, looking over long columns of  numbers.

When this happens the error will always be divisible by 9.  For our example the error is 5,994 (19,243 – 13,240).  But   how do you quickly tell if that number is divisible by 9?  Simply add the digits.  For our example with 5994, compute 5+9+9+4 = 27.  If the sum of the digits is divisible by 9, then the original number was divisible by 9.  If you still can’t tell if the number is divisible by 9), then add the digits again.  For 27, use 2+7=9.  In fact you can just keep adding the digits of the resulting sum until you get to a single digit number; if it is 9, then the original was divisible by 9.

On occasion, I’ve found these tricks very handy over the decades.

A couple of caveats.  If the error is divisible by 9, you could actually have several transpose errors, since each error contributes a sum error divisible by 9, and any time we’re adding multiple numbers, each of them divisible by 9, the sum is of course divisible by 9.  I’ve had to fix several transpose errors in a row.  Sigh.

Another caveat is that you could have a transpose error and another error (like reading or writing a 4 instead of a 9), which would mask the transpose error.

————————

Next we’ll wander over to logarithms.  Don’t worry, I promise there is something useful here too.  [Skip to the last paragraph in this section to get the useful part and avoid the math].

First, a quick story.   A few years ago someone asked me the logarithm of “i” (i.e. i = the square root of -1).  My first inclination was to respond “That’s illogical; there cannot be any such thing.”  But I paused and thought a moment, recalling Euler’s relationship: eiΘ = cos Θ + i sin Θ.

Since ex, the exponential (exp) function is the inverse of the logarithm function (just like squaring is the inverse function of taking a square root), I deduced that there was a whole universe of logarithms that I had never thought of.  For example the logarithm of eiΘ = iΘ

So I typed “ln(i)” into my Google search bar (“ln” is the usual notation for the natural logarithm function) and up popped “1.570796 i” — a number.  An imaginary number, but a number.  In fact it appeared to be, π/2 times “i”.

Then every number — real, positive, negative, imaginary, even complex numbers — must have a logarithm. They don’t teach that in college calculus.

After a chat with my math genius coworker down the hall (Nicholas is wicked smart) and my son (the math and physics whiz)  via email I was educated, and then produced my own non-rigorous proof [logarithms-derivation] that shows not only that every number  — even negative numbers and imaginary numbers — has logarithms … each has infinitely many logarithms.  And each follows the rules we expect them to follow, namely: that multiplication can be achieved by adding logarithms, and then taking the inverse log (or the exp function).

Besides “Joe is weird!”, what useful thing did you learn in this section?  Yes!  Good for you.  The Google search bar has a calculator built in.  Open a search bar and type “1+1”, or “sin(30 deg)” or “sin(pi/6)” if you prefer radians; try “5!” … it’s all there.  [Some tips: use “^” for exponents, “sqrt(x)” for square roots.  And a calculator pops up on your screen whenever you “search” for something that looks like a calculation.]

————————————

One more.  How to compute square roots, cube roots, fourth roots, fifth roots, etc.  Here is a derivation[NRoots-derivation], again based on Euler’s relationship, that shows each number has two square roots, three cube roots, four fourth roots, etc … And how to find all of them.  “All of them”? Well yes, every number has 3 cube roots, 4 fourth roots, etc. What are the three cube roots of -1?  No problem.

If you can recall some of your trig function values, you can even compute quite a few of these multiple roots in your head.  How is that useful?  Well, probably it’s not.  But perhaps these little factoids can help you win a bar bet some day, and when you do, maybe you’ll think of this little math essay.

Cheers!  From the wonderful world of math

Joe Girard (c) 2013

Note: the rules don’t apply to zero, which has no logarithm and a single Nth root.

Politics

Spike

Just when did gauche become acceptable, so long is it’s done in a suave, cool way?

The standard reaction to one’s own success used to be matter of fact.  When football players scored a touchdown, they handed the ball to the referee and ran to the bench.  Somewhere along the line, it became acceptable to spike the football.  Then dances and shuffles and summersaults and back-airs, dunking over the goal post and jumping into the stands.  Hey guy, why celebrate doing what you get paid to do?

The same thing in politics.  I’m not sure when it happened, but I don’t think Ike, or JFK, or LBJ would get up in front of a huge crowd and cameras and put on a show as if to say: look how great I am!!  Yay, me.  George HW Bush avoided the limelight of the 1991 ticker-tape parade after the first Gulf War (Desert Storm) in the “Canyon of Heroes” in Manhattan, allowing the glory to fall on Norman Schwartzkopf and Colin Powell, as well as the war veterans.

But I think it was about that time that “spiking the football” became acceptable for politicians, at least for presidents and those with presidential aspirations.  At the 1988 Republican convention, Bush Sr doled out chum for the sharks when he crowed: “Read my lips: No – new – taxes!”

His son, George W Bush, as president infamously landed on the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln in the Persian Gulf in 2003, announcing “Mission Accomplished.”

Bush Sr. did in fact end up raising taxes and Bush Jr.’s mission was nowhere near accomplished.  Football spikers deserve a come-uppance.

President Obama has “spiked the football” twice in Colorado, my home state.  First, the pre-spike.  Obama audaciously made his nomination acceptance speech, at the conclusion of the Democratic Party’s 2008 convention, in Denver’s Mile High Stadium while standing on a magnificent stage with Greek columns.  Immediately after his inauguration in 2009, he returned to Denver to sign his so-called “stimulus” legislation that his super-majority of Democrats had rammed through congress in just a few days.  Was there really a need to fly halfway across the country and spend millions of dollars for security and rev up AirForce-1?

It was football spiking.  He announced at the signing that the stimulus would keep unemployment below 8%, and down below 6% by 2012.   Within a year unemployment was up to 10%; currently in 2013 it is still well above 6%, at 7.7%. According the Bureau of Labor Statistics, including discouraged workers and the rate is still at 9%.

President Obama returned to Denver to spike again last week.  This time to praise Colorado lawmakers -– all Democrats, no Republicans; Colorado having turned from Red to Blue – for responding to his plea and passing gun control legislation.  Most controversial is the legal limitation of magazine clips to 15 rounds.

Colorado has recently gone through two horrible shootings: one a mass shooting in a movie theatre in the summer of 2012, and the other the recent assassination of the State Corrections chief, Tom Clements. Let’s take a look at those.

James Holmes murdered 12 and injured 58 at a theatre in the Century 16 movie complex in Aurora, CO.  At the time he was a disturbed recent-dropout from the University of Colorado’s (Denver) Neuroscience PhD program.  He had been in treatment by a university psychiatrist, Dr Lynne Fenton.  Recently released court documents show that Holmes “had threatened and intimidated her” and made “homicidal statements.”  He sent her sketches that were eerily similar to what happened over a month later at the theater.  As was her legal requirement, Dr Fenton reported this to the University campus police.  Nothing further was done.  That bears repeating: Nothing further was done.  At least by the University and its police security staff.  Holmes, on the other hand, did plenty, including selecting a site for his rampage that was the only theatre complex within many miles of his Aurora residence that advertised itself as a gun-free zone.

What if the 15-round clip-limit had been in effect?  There would have been no effect.  A person well-experienced with his weapons can swap out a clip for a fresh 15 in about a second, or less.

Tom Clements, the head of Colorado’s prison system, was cruelly assassinated in the doorway of his home in Monument, just north of Colorado Springs, when he answered the door the night of March 19.  The murderer, Evan Ebel, had recently been released from prison, where he served time for, among other things, armed robbery.  Shortly before the assassination, Eben murdered a pizza delivery man Nate Leon – a husband and father of three who was trying to make a few extra dollars – so that he could steal his Dominoes’ uniform for use as a disguise.

In prison, Ebel had become involved with 211, a white supremacist gang.  Inexplicably, and in an apparent screw up of hideous proportions, Ebel was freed in error – four years early – in a state clerical error.  Nor was he released to a half-way house, as is standard in Colorado for such parolees.  Just freed with an ankle bracelet, which he somehow removed – a fact that went un-noticed for at least four days.  This bears repeating: Eben was incorrectly let out four years early, and without any transition or traceability.

Or maybe not inexplicable – curiously, Ebel’s father and family are close friends with Colorado’s governor, John Hickenlooper.

Meanwhile, two persons of interest in the case – possible accomplices – are on the lam here in Colorado.  They likely drove the vehicle and helped plan the assassination as a Supremacist “statement.”  They are considered armed and dangerous.  But I’m not worried: I feel so much safer now that background checks are so much more thorough, gun buyers must pay for these checks themselves, and citizens’ clips are limited to 15-rounds (Note: one of these persons, James Lohr, has recently been apprehended in Colorado Springs).

Speaking of white supremacists and assassinations.  In Texas’ Kaufman County near southeast Dallas, long known to lie along a major drug distribution pathway (I-20), two county prosecutors (and the wife of one) have been assassinated this year by white supremacists.  In a new twist, this appears to be a case of Supremacists working with and for the Mexican Drug Cartel, bringing Mexican-style drug warfare to the US by targeting the law enforcement officials who are the most strident and effective in fighting drug trafficking.

In the case of the Colorado shootings, the state has blood on its hands.  The state did not follow basic procedure to protect the public from homicidal killers.  Regarding the theater shootings: expect lawsuits against the state.  In the case of the assassination of Clements, there should be a special prosecutor investigating the connections between him, the assassin, the assassin’s father and the governor – but there won’t be.  It’s a good-old-boy buddy-buddy system here in Colorado, with a single party in firm control of every branch of government.

What to do?  Instead of clamping down on process that could’ve stopped these murders, … oh! I know … let’s pass more gun control laws.  Sadly, there is no gun control law that can affect this type of brutality, such as it is closely tied to mental illness, gangs and drug cartels.  It’s only more laws that, in many cases, cannot be enforced.  Governor Hickenlooper even effectively admitted this last week.

And the White Supremicist-Mexican Drug Cartel nexus?  Well, if you want to find out who illegally sold weapons to these killers you can start with the United States Government, its ATF and Department of Justice: Operation Fast and Furious.  Our federal government has blood on its hands.  Again there is no investigation.  [Under Bush, Jr., the same jokers ran Operation Wide Receiver, which was nearly the same as Fast and Furious – with similar miserable and despicable results.  Inexplicably, it was revived and renamed in the Obama Administration].  Of course, I’m not saying Wide Receiver or Fast and Furious weapons were used in any of these crimes, but we do know that several hundred weapons were sent to these vermin, and some have been used in heinous murders.

The moral of the story.  There is none.  Maybe it’s that there are no morals anymore.  Maybe it is that we should always start out by assuming that political grand standers and ball spikers are really gauche, shallow charlatans, and – like a magician – are trying to get our attention away from what is really going on.

Until next time: keep the fight.

Joe Girard © 2013

Uncategorized

Keep Clam

I’m not big on touchy-feely stuff.  I’m an engineer by training and profession — and a wordsmith by avocation— so I usually prefer crisp, quantitative descriptions.  So you can guess that I’m not big on New Years Resolutions.  Hey! ——  It took a long time to get me to be this way, and the effort to change me — at this point — seems, well, pointless.

Still I know things can be different, and slight changes can make a big difference. The year 2012 began with the best of intentions.  2011 was filled with stressors, and one consequence of that was that I was not the best “me” I could be.  Joe did and said some things he regretted.  January 2013 would bring a new Joe.  A kinder, gentler Joe.  More aware of the needs, moods and desires of others.

Did I say I’m not big on New Years Resolutions?  Actually, I hate them.  February was awful (mostly at work, although we did have record snowfall), and March was worse.  The gate was left ajar and all the horses got out of the corral.  Really wild frigging horses.  With tempers and attitudes. Fail.

By mid-summer I had discovered the open gate, found most of the wild horses, lassoed them, guided them back to the corral, and closed the gate.  Still, I was the same edgy Joe.  That is to say, prone to saying and doing things he’d regret, if he ever got around to thinking about them.

It occurred to me (as an engineer, one supposes) that you cannot really improve on anything that you don’t measure.

How to measure being “kinder and gentler”?  Can you ask people?  No.  Can you get “in their moccasins” and get a sense of how they see you?   Is there a sort of biological calm-o-meter?  A kindness-o-meter?  For me: no.  As I said: I’m not into touchy-feely stuff.

How about measuring the opposite?  I reckoned curse words are a pretty good measure of how out-of-control and angry (the opposite of “clam and kind”) someone is.

2013.  Over three months into this thing and we’re seeing some success.  Simply by counting swear words.  (I made it to February without saying the f**k word).  I go days at a time with no profanity; there are certainly plenty of defensible opportunities to blurt them out.  I definitely “feel” calmer, and less prone to insensitive outbursts.

Still working on the kindness metric.  Just doesn’t feel right.  Guess I’m just a bada*s.

There was a famous folk-singer in the Seattle, WA area named Ivar Haglund who founded a chain of seafood stores.  As Ivar used to say:  “Keep Clam!”

Peace

Joe Girard (c) 2013