It Ain't Easy Being An Oracle!

The "Oracle of Omaha" takes a good whacking for having his head up his ass and his hand in your pockets...and mine.

Bike, Check! Helmet, Check! Lawyer, Wha?

So what should you buy next, after the bike? Yes, a helmet, I know. But after THAT? If you're in NYC, a lawyer might be a good idea.

Buh-Bye Honda Financial Services!

And so the Flying Lunchbox is finally paid off. Free and clear. In my name and my name only.

The hauler of triathlon bikes, wetsuits, drum kits, furniture, Tri-Daughter stuff and the occasionally incontinent Golden Retriever is now MINE, MINE, MINE, ALL MINE!

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.)

A Chicago Sportsgasm

I've heard this weekend described as a Chicago "Sportsgasm." What's a Sportsgasm?

Well, it means fans get to boo "Omaha Tommy" Ricketts and his team of stumbling bums at the Cubs' convention, cheer the Bulls efforts against JeBron Lames and the Miami Hate, curse da Bears' cringe-worthy offense in their playoff game against the Suttle Swamphawks, and yell "Let's Go Hawks" as the Blackhawks skate in a home-and-home series with the Nashville Prednisones.

Or something like that. Sportsgasms are hard to pin down.

Omaha Takes Two High and Tight

Captious (n): "tending to find and call attention to faults; "a captious pedant"; "an excessively demanding and faultfinding tutor."

Yep, captious, that's me. I doubt the anonymous commenter a few years back meant it as a compliment, but it's my cross to bear and I've been called worse. Now on to the current crisis...

This hasn't been a good week for opinions from Omaha.

First, "Omaha Tommy" Ricketts, scion of Omaha's TD Ameritrade clan and a year into his tenure as owner of the Chicago Cubs, announced plans to renovate Wrigley Field using $300 million of state financing. Trouble is he forgot to give heads-up to, oh, the Governor, the Mayor, the editorial boards of the Tribune and Sun-Times, anybody important, really. At last count, polls showed sentiment running 9-1 AGAINST his proposal.

When asked yesterday, Speaker Madigan said "Oh, that plan? I thought it was withdrawn!" Oops. And taxpayers are wondering why Wrigley's decrepit state wasn't factored into Tommy's acquisition cost. It's a perceptive question, perhaps a tipping point in the beleaguered masses' willingness to bend over and, well, 'accept' The Next Big Deal.

Omaha's politics resemble elections in the local chapter of Future Farmers of America. Everyone postures for a bit and then the combatants head out for drinks at M's Pub. In contrast, Chicago's politics are blood sport. Posturing stops and drinking commences only when someone's severed head is available for use as a drinking trophy.

And has anybody told Tommy about the curse, that in buying the "lovable losers" he risks becoming one himself? Not even the narrative about meeting his future wife in Wrigley's bleachers confers protection.

Secondarily, Warren Buffett took to to the NY Times op-ed pages to thank the Feds for their bailout billions. Job well done!, says the Oracle

He's wrong, of course. He's entitled to thank the Feds for bailing out HIS company. What he's NOT entitled to do is spew fiction and call it fact. Bail out financial services and avert economic meltdown, or so goes his theory. But if financial services and the economy at-large are so inextricably linked, why, despite the bailout, is the economy still so wretched? So much for linkage.

Oh, but absent the bailout, conditions would have been SO MUCH WORSE, says Buffett, thus ignoring the salutary effects of seeing thousands of Wall Street 'titans' living in cardboard boxes under some expressway.

So, Tommy, call me if you need PR expertise. I can help. Really. For you I'd even put aside most hints of captiousness...though I won't convert from White Sox to Cub fandom. That's just TOO large a sacrifice.

And Warren, stop peeing on my leg and trying to convince me it's center-pivot irrigation.

Captious, that's me.

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.

Uh-Oh! Look Who Visited Life Is A Tri!

Central Intelligence Agency (198.81.129.194) [Label IP Address]

Reston, Virginia, United States, 0 returning visits

Date	Time	Type	WebPage
4th January 2010	10:44:48	Page View	No referring link lifeisatri.blogspot.com/

Maybe they read this post about a recent flying experience.

Just One Dratted Thing After Another

Some good news today: As the proud owner of a brand new iPhone, I'm saying 'ta-ta' to Verizon's crappy service. It feels weird, this having fewer rant-worthy things in my life.

Of course, with the good news comes some bad (so maybe I'm at status quo in the rant category.) I'm now stuck trying to get 130 pictures off my old phone - pix of my Omaha loft, various vacations, friends and family. Best Buy recommended a Sandisk "microSD" card which, seemingly, neither fit nor worked. Back to BB I went, fuming all the way. There, in the hands of a callow, pimply-faced youth, the card fit AND worked like a charm. Figures.

One of the great mysteries of life, I guess. Like that funny noise under your car's hood that disappears the moment you turn the darn thing over to your mechanic for diagnosis. Like why there's never a teenager around when you need one, and always several lurking nearby when you don't.

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.

Triathlete Matt Miller's Return

Great story from the Philadelphia Enquirer about triathlete Matt Miller's recovery from a horrific training accident:

"The 20-year-old from St. Davids, training for a triathlon, had broken every bone in his face and suffered brain injury on Nov. 2, when he lost control of his bike and smashed, face-first, into a car going 40 miles an hour."

Miller's recovery is not nearly complete, but he's back to racing with some new perspectives on life:

"Before the accident, he told (300 students at a school in Virginia), "I pretty much thought that I was invincible and unstoppable."

"He urged the students to wear a helmet, which had saved his life, and to take care of their bodies. His conditioning had speeded his recovery.

He emphasized the strength he drew from those around him:

"Honesty, hard work, going out of your way for others, doing the right thing at the right time, these are what will build strong relationships with others. And these relationships will not only bring you happiness every single day, but they will help save your life when you need them the most. It is not possible to exaggerate the importance of family and friends."

"He encouraged the students to create a vision for their lives and work tirelessly toward it.

"We cannot decide what happens to us, but we can decide what happens in us," he said. "How we take the raw stuff of life and make it a thing of beauty. That is the test of living."

Well said.

Green-Mart vs. Wal-Day. Or Something.

Rock band Green Day releases a new record. Wal-Mart insists on having an edited, 'clean' version to sell in its stores. Green Day to Wal-Mart: "Go jump!" Wal-Mart to Green Day: "Pound sand!"

So hard to know for whom to root. An over-hyped trio of under-talented wankers, stuffed with illusions that they've something interesting to say? Or a bunch of backwoods Arkansas hillbillies protesting (wrongly) that they're some sort of bulwark against cultural decay?

Are you KIDDING me?

I sentence Green Day to 24 consecutive hours of Sesame Street re-runs for remedial A-B-C, 1-2-3 instruction. And I sentence Wal-Mart to 24 consecutive hours of touring vacant, silent factories. If they really want to protect the culture, maybe some on-shoring of jobs would be a better way to go.

"Are These Three Words Ruining Your Life?"

I typically don't reproduce wholesale other people's articles and blog posts. But I'm making an exception with this great post by Jonathan Mead from ZenHabits;

Are These Three Words Ruining Your Life?
Article by Zen Habits contributor Jonathan Mead; follow him on twitter.

Have you ever been annoyed by a successful person, because you thought you were more intelligent than them? Maybe it was a boss. Maybe it was a political figure or a leader.

It’s especially maddening when this person is creating rules that dictate your life. I can definitely relate. I’ve had my share of bosses that I thought were less than brilliant.

So what is it that makes them successful? That’s what I’ve always wondered and what has always bugged me. I mean, shouldn’t intelligence be a prerequisite to leadership? The answer… not really.

It turns out the biggest reason people are successful is: consistent action, not intelligence.

Then the question is, are these three words ruining your life…?

The unmagical words

Those words are: I don’t know.

It’s not drive, it’s not motivation, it’s not lack of passion that keeps people from doing what they want. It’s not knowing where to start, or how to get from A to B. That’s the single biggest reason people don’t take action to make their dreams a reality.

So how can we overcome this? How can we stop letting obscurity keep us from becoming successful? The answer is pretty simple: You have to develop the ability to stop caring about not knowing. (I’ve written about this before, where I call it “putting yourself on auto-response.”)

You have to cultivate the habit of doing before knowing. This seems like a daunting thing to do, but it’s really actually a very easy habit to create. And there are a multitude of possibilities that exist right now that you can practice it.

Easiest thing in the world

For example, how many time does your spouse or partner ask you “What do you want to have for dinner?” and you respond, “I don’t know.” (This happens to me all the time, and it’s maddening.) Next time, instead of using those three dirty words, just ask yourself, “What’s something I’d like to have for dinner?” and then respond.

Now do this when someone asks where you’d like to hang out, or what you’d like to spend the evening doing. Instead of re-actively saying “I don’t know,” take the time to come up with a response. Even if you’re not 100% completely stoked about the idea, just come up with something you’d be satisfied with doing. Anything other than I don’t know is an improvement.

Next, try asking yourself “How could I best use my time, right now?” or “What is the highest leverage use of my time, right now?” Take a minute to brainstorm and mentally prioritize. If you’re having trouble coming up with an answer, just pick whatever you think would be the most productive use of your time. Remember, anything is better than the three words we shall not speak of.

Just imagine all of the possibilities for you to practice actively making decisions based on your desires, rather than re-actively defaulting to unconsciousness. There are so many little ways you can practice this skill. I think you’ll be surprised at how often you’re able to rehearse it.

The difference between living and existing

Okay, so you’ve mastered it with the little stuff. Now it’s time to use it on the things that really matter. Stuff like your passions and career.

If you’re not doing something you love or at least like for a living, you’re selling yourself short. And I bet the reason why you’re not pursuing something better is because you don’t know what you’d rather do. Instead of allowing that not knowing to dwell in your psychic space, cast it out. Don’t tolerate it anymore. If you don’t know what you’re passionate about, move from not knowing to seeking a path that will allow you to explore what you might love to do. This might mean reading a book on different career pursuits. It might mean googling your hobbies for possible career intersections. Whatever it is, practice that until you move into a state of knowing.

The reason I’m so passionate about this is because I’ve seen so many lives unfulfilled because of not knowing. It saddens me to think that such a simple phrase can have such a devastating impact.

I urge you to practice moving in the direction of knowing, when you feel stuck in a state of indecision. All it takes is one little shift.

It could mean the difference between making a dying and making a living.

Question of the day: more time or more money?

Question of the day: do you know what you want?

Today's 'Think Twice' Award!

Goes to this guy. He proposes, she says 'yes' and he drops the ring off the Brooklyn Bridge.

The ring was recovered, a little bent, diamonds intact.

Just Another Blog Post About Wall Street...

...subtitled "Charles Darwin was a cold-hearted bastard."

Quite a sight, all those BSDs on Wall Street, twisting in the wind. A few years ago they were Captains Of The Universe, rich beyond Gatsbyian imagination, remaking the world's economy in their own cold-hearted image.

Buying companies, leveraging them up, abrogating contracts with pensioners and suppliers alike, gleefully reducing head-counts, extracting every last farthing of value...survival of the fittest, it was called. Natural selection. Economic Darwinism.

Greed was good. It was all good and, naturally, what was good for Wall Street was good for America. No matter the interim pain, so the story went, we were sure to be better off for their efforts.

But here's what the BSDs forgot about natural selection and survival of the fittest: as natural processes, they can cut BOTH ways - FOR you sometimes, AGAINST you others. The dinosaurs may have been king of the hill, but when the comet hit they were just more piles of stinking carrion, a little larger than the rest but every bit as putrid.

Nope, BSDs aren't liking natural selection much at all - now that it's THEM being culled from the herd. Even worse is having to watch their favorite (if least understood) analogy come back to bite their OWN ass. That sucks, but it's the price you pay when you use concepts you don't understand to describe processes you hope NOBODY ELSE understands.

Now I'm told that all the neo-populist rage is starting to...(Dare I say it?) ...hurt their feelings! OMG! Apparently we're kicking 'em when they're down. Makes 'em feel misunderstood and undervalued. Unloved, even.

The poor, poor dears. How stressful their lives must be. Maybe they can chill out with a good book tonight. I know one or two on which they could use a refresher course.

Health Vs. Wellness

Question of the day: what's the difference between health and wellness?

My answer: though the two terms are used somewhat interchangeably, health usually refers to the technical absence of disease, while wellness refers to a more positive, active state of physical, mental, emotional and spiritual richness.

Under this definition, you can be healthy but not well. Hmmm. I think I'll go for a run.

iPod Shuffle: "The Story" by Brandi Carlile, from "The Story." It's true, I was made for you.

If It's Good Enough For Donald Trump...

Today's "JUST SHUT UP AWARD" goes to bankers everywhere, though maybe I should also offer 'thanks' for token amusement supplied by the outcry over letting bankruptcy judges re-write mortgage terms to reflect lower housing values.

"OMG! A mortgage is a CONTRACT, dammit, and we can't have JUDGES re-writing CONTRACTS now can we??!!" seems to be the prevailing attitude among bankers and their media shills, none of whom, apparently, have ever stopped to think about what "bankruptcy" means, personal or corporate. They're reduced to coining sound-bite-friendly terms like "cram-down" to convey their ire that homeowners figured out Donald Trump's secret to business success.

Bankruptcy, defined, IS a process of court-supervised abrogation of contracts. Sometimes it's a last-ditch attempt to re-write contracts so a business can reorganize its affairs and continue as a going concern (Chapter 11.) In other circumstances, it's an orderly liquidation of a business (Chapter 7.) Regardless, contract-holders are "offered" new, court-ordered and approved contractual terms, like it or not.

No matter if you're a supplier, employee, pensioner, lender or stockholder, you get what the court says you get, not what a 10- year-old contract says you should. You were "owed" $100,000? Guess what? You're getting $15,000. Anything more is just wishful thinking. Deal with it.

And, dammit, if it's good enough for Donald Trump, well, it's good enough for several million mortgage holders too.

Don't Mess With Panther!

Winter has finally relaxed its hold on the Great Suburban Outback, though the retreating snow has revealed spectacular carnage inflicted on my favorite bike route's road surfaces. I may buy a new set of throw-away wheels just to handle the potholes. Yikes.

And just now, I looked out of my office window and watched Panther (yes, the famed kitty from a few days ago...) scatter an entire gaggle of geese. Quite a sight, that of one lone, black kitty chasing 100 geese out of HIS yard and onto the ice!

As I looked a little closer, I saw that Panther was simply chasing a mouse across the yard; the damn geese happened to be in the way. Too bad for them!

I doubt the mouse had a very good afternoon either.