Runs, Trains and Medicine Balls

Nice run this morning, along the river and through the woods, no Grandmother's house to be found.

Kept company by quacking ducks, droning cicadas, a long-legged Greyhound doggie and the irritating horn of a freight train making its way through town.

Man, what's UP with blowing your train's damn horn at every intersection? Ever hear of NOISE POLLUTION? Ever hear of a sleep-deprived citizen dragging your sorry ass outta your locomotive and going all "Hey Government! Regulate THIS!" on you? But I digress...

Finished up with core exercises using a 12-lb medicine ball and some stretching.

Now it's a triple-shot Redeye at my favorite coffee shop, hi-fi on the wi-fi, blogging, news-reading, working on various business ventures and watching the world go by. Wish you were here.

Should Drugs Be Decriminalized?

Probably. Will they be? Doubtful.

Why not?

Don’t kid yourself. It has far less to do with proclamations about youthful morality than you think. The fight is really about which side in the ‘war on drugs’ gets to bank the spoils.

But first, a question: why aren’t the headlines full of lurid stories about gangs wearing Distiller A’s colors shooting it out with other gangs wearing Distiller B’s? Hasn’t happened since prohibition ended. Hmmm…

Think about it, and, as with most things, follow the money. And never, ever underestimate a civil servant’s instincts for self-preservation.

Who benefits from illegal drugs apart from the leaders of a few thousand crazed Mexican thugs?

The taxpayer-funded, anti-drug establishment, that’s who.

The Narco-Industrial Complex

A few decades ago, when the wars were in Korea and Viet Nam, it was called the ‘military-industrial complex.’ It’s a few generals and captains of industry sitting behind the lines, directing armies of underpaid foot soldiers doing the dirty work and the dying.

It’s a back-scratching web of those with power to tax and spend in support of an agenda: politicians, lobbyists, regulators, law enforcement officials, government employees, their unions and those in their orbit - the court system’s judges, defense attorneys and for-profit prison operators.

And we shouldn’t forget the vendors - the sellers of guns, Kevlar vests and night vision scopes to what has become a paramilitary operation.

Damn Hippies!

Who benefits from decriminalization? In short, not the vested interests, but lowlifes – today’s users and yesterday’s felons. The dealers. Growers. Farmers. Hippies. Immigrants. Entrepreneurs. College kids. Importers. Head shop owners. Hustlers. Weird pharmacies selling brownies.

Yikes. Who’d want that? Better to get rich fighting a losing battle than to declare ‘peace’ and watch your former enemy get rich!

But don’t worry. Our kids are safe. The good guys are winning, right? Well sure, they control the narrative.

(Full disclosure: I don’t use illegal drugs and wouldn’t if they were decriminalized. But as someone with a definite libertarian streak, I’m content to let you make all the dumb decisions you want. I’m also content to let you bear the consequences.)

Brand me, logo me, pay me.

The NY Times finds that, to communicate status and connoisseurship, the rich rely less on logos and more on design and detailing. In short, that lizard logo on your favorite shirt marks you as definitely declasse.

All these companies saying "We're so cool that you can be cool by association! Just wear our crap and "cool" will take care of itself. That'll be $59.95 please!"

I have a different approach. I don't wear ANYBODY'S logo unless THEY'RE paying ME. Hey, my body's a temple and temple real estate is scarce. Think about it. Who benefits from ME wearing YOUR logo? Here's a hint: not me.

Here's another hint: if your self-esteem is built from wearing the right sunglasses or shirts or shoes or whatever, you need counseling not new attire. Save your money. Stop giving it away to undeserving companies and brands. Make 'em earn the right to plant their flag on your ass.

I'll Stop When You Do

Interesting how "Dubya" Bush was deemed responsible for everything from global warming to jock itch, yet, now that The Messiah's ascended to the throne, his ass-kissers plead for an end to "The Blame Game." Yeah right. I just spent 8 years learning the game's rules.

Lawyers. Kill. All.

"The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers." (William Shakespeare, Henry VI (Part 2))

Seldom have wiser words been spoken, though I might settle for closing 80% of the nation's law schools.

Not so long ago I posted an update on a Florida trial determining whether triathlon organizers were liable for an Ironman swimmer's death (the court said they weren't.)

But now, as I watch my server logs for search phrases directing visitors to Life Is A Tri, I see searches like "how many ironman triathlon deaths." Someone's building a case for something. And as I observe the domains behind the searches, I see a bunch of damn law firms.

True, they could be working for the defense, but I doubt it. More likely they're plaintiff's attorneys preparing additional suits against triathlon organizers and everybody else in sight.

I've met The Nanny State and her initials are J.D. - Juris Doctor.

If you as a triathlete aren't bothered by this trend, you haven't observed first-hand what malpractice suits and trial lawyers are doing to other industries like health care. Let's speculate a moment, shall we?

Expect to see race entrance fees triple.

Expect to sign 10 page-long liability waivers filled with impenetrable legalese. Buried in there will be subtle language adding YOU, dear racer, to the list of possible defendants.

"Let's see Mr. Vertical Man. Can you PROVE that you weren't in close proximity to the struggling swimmer? Can you PROVE you didn't cause his panic attack leading to his stroke? Umm-hmm, I thought not! Pay up, bucko!"

Expect to be required to submit a physician's clearance to race, not to hold harmless the race organizers, but to give the trial lawyers someone else to sue - your physician.

Expect to be required to submit a "bike safety certificate" to race, not to hold harmless the race organizers but, again, to give the trial lawyers someone else to sue - your bike shop.

Expect to be required to submit indemnification documents from ALL your gear manufacturers - bike wheels, wetsuits, running shoes, water bottles, just in case one of them might, seemingly, allegedly, someday play some inconsequential role in an accident...someone else to sue. Get the picture yet?

Expect your favorite race's host community to withdraw the welcome mat as legal burdens skyrocket and the tourism benefits are overwhelmed by insurance and legal costs. Just like many communities have closed playgrounds and pools deemed as too risky.

Ol' Billy Boy Bard had it right.

The Court "Supreme."

So Judge Sotomayor's nomination is likely to be confirmed. Big deal. She's just a louder version of the nearly-invisible David Souter.

Future generations of law students will suffer most. Though they don't yet know it, they're condemned to slog through the opinions of TWO Supreme Court justices who, between them, couldn't carry William O. Douglas's coffee cup.

Somehow I expect the Republic will muddle through. And anybody stupid enough to go to law school goddamn well deserves what they get.

Verizon Sucks. Verizon Sucks. Verizon Sucks.

Until next week when I buy a new iPhone, I'm stuck with Verizon's crappy service and utterly unreliable promises. I'd like to beat bloody every last member of that mob in their TV advertising.

Though I live in a close-in resort area, within sight of one interstate highway and a few miles from another, I have NO cellphone service at la casa Vertical Man. None. Zippo. Not extended service, not roaming, nothing. The situation has persisted for 2 years despite repeated calls (from the equally crappy Comcast house phone) to Verizon on my part and repeated promises to remedy the situation on theirs.

It was highly amusing when I drove 15 miles to town this afternoon and suddenly received a Verizon VM message complaining that I'd been insufficiently attentive to a billing matter and needed to call them back ASAP. They're mad that they're calling and I'm not answering, that they're leaving messages and I'm not responding.

They're threatening to cancel my service. Hmmm. How would I tell the difference?

Apparently I'm the only one seeing the irony here. I'd love to call them back. Hell, I'd love to call ANYONE back. But it's tough to do with no service and a company watching re-runs of 'Green Acres' for tips on planning its network infrastructure.

Maybe I'm weird. You deliver me service, I pay you. You no deliver service, I no pay. And I no answer your pissy calls. Got it, a**holes?

So Letterman regrets saying certain things about the Palin daughters. Letterman? Is he still around? I thought he was dead or something.

Just Shut Up!

I'm in a bad mood today...as if you couldn't tell by the headline.  And I know it's late to make yet another New Year's resolution - given that you've probably broken most of those you made a few weeks ago - but here's a new one you SHOULD make, late or not: Stop talking on your cell phone while driving!

Just shut up!  I don't care if you've got the Borg look goin' on with that Bluetooth thingie in your ear, or if your fancy German Derpieceofcrapmobile has a microphone built into the windshield.  

What, you think you're special?  You think you CAN drive your Derpieceofcrapmobile, smack bratty back seat kids, carry on a phone conversation AND AVOID TURNING BIKERS LIKE ME INTO ROADKILL? Trust me, your attention span is nowhere near large enough.

Which is, of course, my point.  There's no conversation you can have that's more important than MY right to a small sliver of the road's right shoulder.  And I'll happily stay outta your way if you pay attention and stay safely outta mine.

Triathletes and bikers everywhere thank you.  And I have no illusions at all that you'll do what I ask.  I hope you've got good insurance.

Sometimes M.D. Means Something Else...

An interesting debate is raging on the Wall Street Journal's editorial page.  Apparently, several advocates of what's called Complementary and Alternative Medicine (CAM) published a recent editorial extolling the virtues of alternatives to expensive, western-style medicine.

And now the letters are rolling in, like storm clouds before a summer rain.  One in particular, from a physician, caught my attention.  The writer referred to CAM users as "scientific illiterates..."  Well, alrighty then.

As an aside, is there another industry, anywhere, of any type, where leaders routinely get away with such dripping, loathing condescension toward customers?  If so, they're mostly crafty enough to avoid being quoted in a major newspaper.  

And is there an industry with leaders LESS prone to examining their OWN blind spots before spewing such cretinous thoughts?  Oh wait.  Doctors don't have blind spots; medical school told 'em so.  

Nope.  Pharma companies are all about the SCIENCE, never skewing research in their own self-interest.  

And, if medicine is deeply scientific, what exactly PRECEDED the recent focus on "evidence-based medicine"?  Don't ask, but it ain't always about the SCIENCE.  

And med school libraries must not stock that pesky Dartmouth Atlas, showing in stark relief the differences in treatment patterns between adjacent towns...each pattern surely supported by lavish, footnoted SCIENCE.  

And physicians too are all about the SCIENCE, never acting in their own financial self-interest; just ask all those companies trying to sell 'em their own MRIs.

Science, just science and nothing but the science.  Right, thank you Doctor.  I hope I never run into you in an ER somewhere, you and your smug, arrogant attitude, not realizing you're making it up as you go.

But back to the point at hand.  Several years ago, while training for the Steelhead Half-IM, I began to suffer excruciating lower back pain on longer bike rides.  Now, thanks to my real job (if 'thanks' is the right sentiment here...) I know enough orthopedic surgeons to have gained easy access to any number of prescriptions for painkillers, muscle relaxants, Prozac, probably an MRI or two, maybe even surgery, all scientific, legitimate and generally-accepted treatments for back pain...well, maybe not the Prozac.

Instead I refitted my bike and tweaked my riding position, revamped my core training to strengthen the offending area's muscles and, at CoachKaryn's recommendation, started acupuncture, yoga and getting weekly massages (all paid for out-of-pocket.)  Presto!  Problem solved!

Not so fast.  If you believe the good doctor, I might've said 'goodbye' to pain and 'hello' to a great race, but I also said 'buh-bye' to half my IQ, most of my personal credibility and all my scientific literacy.  My "solutions" weren't, not really.  No medical imprimatur, no double-blind studies, no JAMA articles, not part of the standard medical school curriculum, nothing to lend credence or respectability.  Probably just the placebo effect...as if that should END the debate.  

But I - clueless, illiterate bastard that I am - LOVE debates, the longer the better!  I'm also pain-free and speedy as hell!  And, Doctor?  I do hope I run over you, er, into you, on a race course some day.

UPDATE:  Ann Althouse takes the doctor's side.  Go figure.  A lawyer agreeing with a doctor under a full moon.  I better buy a lottery ticket.

Change We Can Believe In

So next week ushers in the era of change.  Hmmm.  Of course there's change...and then there's change.  You know, the kind we can believe in.  

Apparently we're changing the business of change, though I'm betting some things never change.  Like the Rabid Righties who still haven't forgiven Slick Willie.  Or the Loony Lefties who won't soon forgive Dubya, either.  

Of course change is best when it's happening to - or being forced on - someone else.  So to all of you, rabid and loony, I say leave me outta your life's plans, you little change-averse weirdos.

And now I sign off with a poem:

Change is cool, 

Change is neat.

But it's better for YOU,

Cuz my life's replete!

BWAHAHAHAHA!

Rampant Narcissism Alert!

There was a time when I thought The Golden Globe Awards ought to reflect the search for Hollywood's best bosom.

Too bad it's turned into a group masturbation session for several hundred of Tinseltown's biggest wankers and the millions of voyeurs who keep the place's narcissistic fires well-stoked.

What If They Gave A War and Nobody Cared?

I have no idea how to attain a Middle Eastern peace.  But I do know that, after raising four Tri-Daughters, the current Gaza scenario is eerily familiar...

"She hit me!"  

"Did not!"

"Did too!"  

"Well, she hit ME first!"

"Did not!"

(BLAM!)

"Did too!"

(POW!)

"Idiot!"

"Creep!"

"Liar!"

"Jerk!"

Right about now, unless someone was hemorrhaging blood (and maybe not even then), I'd stop caring who did what to whom, in what order.

Stop caring - maybe that's what the civilized world should do about combatants determined to shoot first while arguing incessantly over who shot first.  Maybe we should accept the region's low-level war-making and name-calling as endemic, permanent and unsolvable.  Maybe their self-identity NEEDS war the way adolescents need to be disagreeable.

Perhaps there's a foreign affairs version of locking 'em all in their rooms until dinner time so the planet's adults aren't forced to listen to more of their childish crap.  But until someone smarter than me figures out how to do that, I'm just gonna change the channel.

"I Dunno! Tastes Pretty Good To Me!"

The first installment of Tri-Brother's Christmas present arrived yesterday: a year's subscription to Wine Spectator magazine.  Very cool!  I spent part of today putting the present to good use, educating myself on the world's Top 100 wines and "delicious" Pinot Noirs to buy RIGHT NOW!

And as much as I love WS, it also reminds me of what's infuriating about the world of wine.  What I love is, well, drinking wine.  I'm sorta like Thomas Hayden Church's character in "Sideways", always responding to Paul Giamatti's prissy sniffing, swirling and spitting with a hearty "...so when do we drink?"  

What I hate is the opaque twaddle passing for wine-related journalism.  Here, for example, are descriptions of tannins in some newly-released Cabernet Sauvignons:

• Ripe, chewy tannins.
• Still fairly tannic at this stage...
• ...tight-knit tannins.
• ...tight cloak of tannins...
• ...quite tannic now.
• ...chewy tannins.
• ...firm, integrated tannins.
• ...ends with drying tannins.
• ...herb - and sage-laced tannins.
• ...the tannins flex their muscles...

So if you could actually find any of these wines (which you almost assuredly CANNOT) you're left choosing between tight-knit or firm or chewy or drying or herb-laced or muscle-flexing.  I dunno.  Sounds more like a Gay Pride parade to me.

A modest suggestion: read the reviews and take 'em with you to a good wine store.  There, select several of the world's wine-making regions (Napa, Loire Valley, Tuscany, etc.) and 1-2 varietals from each, buy several, go home and DRINK THEM!  At worst, you'll learn something important about your likes and dislikes.  Buy some different wines, drink, repeat.

I've sampled two of the so-called Top 100 wines.  One I found mediocre; the other was wretched.  I've no idea how they made the list, but they wouldn't make MINE. And since it's MY money I'm spending, there's only one list that really counts! Reviews are helpful for most of us.  They're necessary only for the weak-minded and terminally indecisive.  I know that's not you cuz, if it was, this blog woulda sent you around the bend years ago.

And now you'll have to excuse me.  There's 98 more wines to critique...if I can find 'em.  Well, why not?  It's a long, cold winter!  And I'll write my own damn reviews, thank you very much! 

Cheers!

(The full disclosure fine print:  Tri-Mother still drinks white Zinfandel.  Blech!)

This Is What Happens When I Ruminate

I've been thinking.  Always dangerous, I know.  But several of you, dear readers, have pointed out in comments and e-mails how cranky I've been lately.  And even though I kinda like being cranky, I've done enough self-reflection to come to a conclusion:

We - you and me -  don't drink enough wine.

Yep.  So henceforth, before I flay somebody - even somebody from the New York Times - I'm gonna invite 'em to the Great Suburban Outback for a home-cooked dinner and a good bottle of wine or three.  We'll discuss the state of the world and issues big and small.  I'm betting we'll agree more than we'll disagree.  We'll enjoy the fireplace and the sun setting over the lake.

I'll send 'em home with a coupon for anti-Camden the Wonder Dog dry-cleaning.  And then I'll report on what we AGREED upon instead of ranting about a DISAGREEMENT with someone I've never met.  

Of course they may not show up, but if they refuse my invitation I'm gonna do what I do best and light 'em up.  They had their chance.  Of course if they DO show up they're free to complain about the wretched food.  Fair's fair.

Call it a New Years' resolution, the first I've ever made except for the annual promise to never make an annual promise.

The big question is who to invite first.  Any suggestions?  It seems that the only interesting people I can think of are all, well, dead.

Dumb Headline Of the Day...

...comes from Yahoo News:

"Citi's woes reflect depth of crisis."

Bull-effin'-crap.  Yes, there is a crisis going on; that's hardly news.  What we don't need is another group of gazillionaire Wall Street executives let so easily off the hook.

Try again Ms. Headline-writer, and call it what it is.  Try "Citi's woes reflect the depth of Citi's leaders' cluelessness."  Cluelessness about what can happen when growth is pursued at all costs, even to the exclusion of  more prosaic goals like actually understanding the myriad businesses you acquire, or maintaining a semblance of risk assessment and management.  Cluelessness that reached such depths they're actually getting away with saying "Holy banana cakes!  There's a crisis goin' on!  Our models never saw THIS coming!"  Just freakin' inexcusable.

Why were they paid multi-million-dollar salaries?  Surely not cuz they're WORTH it.  A poorly trained, ass-picking monkey with an abacus could've done as well.

UPDATE:  I never thought I'd feel sorry for the Big 3 auto manufacturers, but now I do.  They asked for a measly $25 billion, endured two days of Congressional grilling and ridicule, and still walked away empty-handed.  Citi just acted entitled - "too big to fail" I believe they call it - and took 20 times that home to the bank...no pun intended.  No explanations.  No hearings.  No need to supply Congress with a business plan.  It helps to have friends in high places.

The Trickle-Down Becomes A Brown Flood

(Subtitle:  Maybe Stalin was on to something.)

A while back I mused about why Wall Street was being bailed out and Main Street wasn't.  

By now, nearly $1 trillion of your dollars (and some of mine) are being added to bank balance sheets where, so the story goes, combined with large doses of good intentions and some rare intelligence, they'll "un-freeze" credit markets...whatever the hell that means.  At least that's the spin being spun by all the ex-Wall Streeters now infesting Washington.

Funny thing though, when asked what his bank planned to do with its newly-found $25 billion in taxpayer largesse, J.P. Morgan Chase President Jamie Dimon reportedly said "...not a damn thing."  He's gonna let the funds sit there, maybe do an acquisition or two.  So much for un-freezing, but it does re-spin the bailout as an exercise in Wall Street embracing risk if there's upside benefit and then fleeing when it explodes in their faces, leaving middle-income taxpayers to mop up the downside s**t-storm.

And like predictable dominoes, it's now old-line industrial America trooping down corridors of power, empty hats in hand.  Auto companies, their suppliers, labor unions, financing arms and dealers, even whole states like Michigan and (egads!) California, all want their piece of taxpayer absolution for accumulated decades of strategic and leadership sins. 

Unfortunately, along the way to the drunken bailout orgy, too few otherwise smart people had their "John the Baptist Blinding Flash Of Light Holy S**t" moment, as in,

"Holy S**t!  Economic activity is way down! Nobody's buying!  Nobody's spending!  Nobody's investing!  Consumers are frozen! Hey!  Maybe banks and car dealers would do better if CONSUMERS were doing better!  Maybe, just maybe, MAIN STREET drives WALL STREET, not the other way around! Uh-oh we've got it bass-ackwards!  Holy S**t!"

Well, duh.  Consumers aren't spending cuz they fear getting laid off (or already have been) and cash is king when the times ahead look pretty tough.  Until you fix THAT and regain CONSUMERS' confidence and get the MAIN STREET economy growing again, bailing out the economy's financial and industrial sectors AIN'T GONNA WORK!  At best the fix'll be short-term and, given their current cash burn rates, in six months they'll all need to be re-rescued, again at taxpayer expense.

But hey, it's only money!  Fine, rescue banks and auto companies and Michigan's clueless Governor (part of The Messiah's economic transition team...go figure.)  In some ways it's probably inevitable and inescapable.  Long-term though, none of it's gonna work until you fix MAIN STREET!

If they'd done it my way - starting at the bottom and letting the benefits trickle UP for a change - maybe the first trillion dollars woulda worked.  As it stands now it's gonna cost at least twice that, though the rank pragmatist in me says if you put a few of Wall Street's big swingin' d**k bankers in front of a firing squad it'd probably be fixed next week and cost almost nothing.

Geez.  I sound like a freakin' populist.  Who knew?  

Just kidding about the firing squad.  Probably.  Definitely kidding about the big swinging d**ks; Wall Streeters are all far too labial for that.

And The PC Battle Is Joined

Apparently I blogged sufficiently about things political to appear on certain radar screens. Now comments and e-mails are rolling in, well, trickling in, actually. Whatever, y'all amuse me, even those of you who have a difficult time constructing a coherent argument. You believe you've got me FIGURED OUT. Try again buckaroo. You ain't even close. So I'll make it easy for you...

I read the NY Times while watching Fox News. I surf Daily Kos and Michelle Malkin. I listen to NPR, Rush Limbaugh and sports talk radio in roughly equal proportions. Over the years I've read Ramparts, The Nation, The New Republic, The American Spectator, National Review and Reason. I've belonged to The Sierra Club and local Chambers of Commerce. I've voted for liberals, conservatives, greens and libertarians.

I believe the first amendment is inviolate even if your name IS McCain or Feingold. I think most media is biased toward the liberal point of view, that Fox News is a healthy antidote to that bias and that it's OK cuz we need ALL points of view expressed loudly and often (though I always reserve the right to make fun of the insufferably bonkers and comically absurd NY Times.)

I've read Castro's "History Will Absolve Me," Marx & Engel's "Communist Manifesto" and Milton Friedman's "Capitalism and Freedom" and found something memorable in each. I know that's not supposed to happen. You're supposed to CHOOSE, damn it. Well, Friedman also wrote "Free To Choose." I read that too and I choose to seek first to understand.

I hate guns but am far from defenseless, as you'd find out when you break into my house and get a nail-studded baseball bat upside the head. I hate Americans' gleeful embrace of the most sadistic acts of on-screen violence - usually directed at women and/or children - yet have no problem with on-screen sexuality or your bare breasts on my local beach. I've raised 4 Tri-Daughters and want them to succeed in a world free of bias and harassment, yet I hope they're strong enough to see that sometimes a dirty joke is just a dirty joke not an act of rank patriarchy worthy of legal intervention.

I think Bill Moyers and 'Jimmah' Carter are idiotic gasbags, but so are Ann Coulter and Shawn Hannity. My biggest issue with Bill O'Reilly is not his conservativism, it's the fact that he's a lousy interviewer. My biggest problem with Keith Olberman is not his liberalism, it's the fact that he's, well, tendentious and breathes into the mic like an asthmatic beaver.

I believe that if you support abortion you should love the death penalty; conversely, if you believe serial killers should live out their days, well, then babies deserve a chance too. And of course it stands to reason that if you're anti-abortion you should be in favor of improved pre-natal care, family leave, affordable day care and decent health insurance for kids and families. Otherwise what's the point?

I'm pro-privacy and pro-Patriot Act. I'm willing to pay my fair share of taxes yet I support Social Security privatization. I support labor unions AND the right of employers to operate a non-union shop if they prefer, though having worked in a union shop once upon a time, I believe unionized organizations generally damn well deserve it.

I'm against the war but support pulling a terrorist's fingernails off if the circumstances warrant. I'm pro-sex education and partial to the theory of evolution yet I think abstentionists and creationists are entitled to their opinion without ridicule. I'm for school choice AND vouchers AND for more spending on public education.

I think experience is fine but hardly predictive of presidential greatness; innate leadership skills seem to matter more in most circumstances. Some of our worst presidents and world leaders have been quite experienced, some of the best relatively less so. So don't try and play that card with me, either way.

I love unfettered free enterprise but agree that tax breaks shouldn't be extended to corporations merrily offshoring jobs. I think the health care system in this country is utterly broken but trust neither party to fix it without putting an entire generation of physicians, managed care execs and hospital administrators up against the wall, making them spell C-O-N-S-U-M-E-R over and over and over until they get it right.

I support gay marriage. Us breeders haven't been exactly great stewards of the marital institution and why should we have all the fun anyway? Let's let gays and lesbians deal with the bitterness of divorce for a while, all that alimony, those custody disputes and utterly rapacious lawyers. Enjoy it but be careful what you wish for.

If you believe in free markets AND energy conservation, you MUST be in favor of higher gas prices so just shut up and stop complaining. There's no such thing as "excess" profits either, but that's not the same thing as saying there are no limits.

The Goracle is globally annoying but that doesn't make him wrong or lessen the threat (what's that saying about the blind pig and the acorn?) Still, in the meantime the oil in Alaska is real too, so drill, drill, drill while preparing for the inevitable day when the oil finally runs out.

Figured me out yet? I thought not. I don't have me figured out either. But keep those cards and letters coming.

Oops, sorry, forgot to add that I like BOTH the Cubs and the White Sox. Hah!

How Dumb Must You Be...

...to be a banker?  So I'm watching the latest Wall Street crisis.  I'm not sure what lessons to take away from another old-line firm melting down except to find yet more confirmation in my observations that it's always bankers bringing up the tail end of the MBA school grade curve, even below those planning a career in hospital administration.

Unwarranted exuberance on the upside, financial constipation on the down, 'toxic' assets you don't understand and can't value...sounds like a perfect recipe for business success to me.  What we really need to see is bankers out on their pinstriped asses, losing their own houses, their kids going to community colleges, their spouses shopping at Wal-Mart...THAT'S when those dillwads'll get serious and figure things out.  And THAT'S when I'll know things are about to get better.  Dead cats bounce.  Maybe insolvent bankers do too.

Back In the GSO

Green tea - just before the fortune cookie arrived - at one of my favorite Asian/fusion restaurants in Chicago's suburbs.  I ordered the Kung Bo Chicken 'extra nuclear' spicy.  The chef came out of the kitchen to make sure I knew what I was ordering.  I assured him I did but it still wasn't spicy enough.  Cowards.

Some great networking today with really cool people, all with awesome ideas to contribute to what I'm working on.  God, life outside the walls is really, really good. I haven't worn grown-up shoes or a shirt with a collar more than twice since the snow melted.  And yet life goes on, as somehow I knew it would.  It helps when you surround yourself with positive people adding positive energy to your life.  Go figure.

Oh, and here's a small piece of advice to those still laboring away inside the walls: next time you're appointed to a committee, ask first how to get yourself impeached. And send a message to your long-suffering committee colleagues: if they want to masturbate, they should do it at home, alone and on their own time.

Ah, you probably won't do that.  Coward.