First They Came . . .

They came first for the alcohol,
and I didn't speak up because I didn't drink.

Then they came for the cigarettes,
and I didn't speak up because I didn't smoke

Then they came for the SUV's,
and I didn't speak up because I drove a small car

Then they came for the sodapop,
and I didn't speak up because I drink diet soda

Then they came for everything I had left,

and by that time, no one was left to speak up

* * *

Your Senate Finance Committee had hearings on how to pay for your president obama's proposed Hillary-care plan, which is expected to cost more than $1 Trillion.

One of their proposals to pay for this is a three-cent tax on sodas, as well as other sugary drinks, including energy drinks. and sports drinks like Gatorade. They have seen fit to exempt diet sodas. Without getting in to the merits of what a disaster nationalized health care will be, consider for a moment what this means.

* * *

In 1992, Denis Leary, a great commedian, used to do a shtick about cigarettes. A portion of it appears below:

"There's a guy- I don't know if you've heard about this guy, he's been on the news a lot lately. There's a guy- he's English, I don't think we should hold that against him, but apparently this is just his life's dream because he is going from country to country. He has a senate hearing in this country coming up in a couple of weeks. And this is what he wants to do. He wants to make the warnings on the packs bigger. Yeah! He wants the whole front of the pack to be the warning. Like the problem is we just haven't noticed yet. Right? Like he's going to get his way and all of the sudden smokers around the world are going to be going, "Yeah, Bill, I've got some cigarettes.. HOLY SH*T! These things are bad for you! Sh*t, I thought they were good for you! I thought they had Vitamin C in them and stuff!" You f*cking dolt! Doesn't matter how big the warnings are. You could have cigarettes that were called the warnings. You could have cigaretts that come in a black pack, with a skull and a cross bone on the front, called tumors and smokers would be lined up around the block going, "I can't wait to get my hands on these f*cking things! I bet you get a tumor as soon as you light up! Numm Numm Numm Numm Numm" Doesn't matter how big the warnings are or how much they cost. Keep raising the prices, we'll break into your houses to get the f*cking cigarettes, ok!? They're a drug, we're addicted, ok!? Numm Numm Numm Numm Numm *wheeze*"

* * *

Meanwhile, back in 2009, Michael Jacobson, of the Center for Science in the Public Interest, says, (and these are the same food Nazis who rallied against movie popcorn and nachos) "Soft drinks are nutritionally worthless and are directly related to weight gain, partly because beverages are more conducive to weight gain than solid foods." Then he quotes a bunch of made-up statistics about how each penny of tax on a 12 ounce drink (and when was the last time a drink you bought was only 12 ounces) would raise $1.5 Billion annually and lower consumption roughly one percent, improving overall health. The Congressional Budget Office estimates that a three-cent tax would generate $24 Billion over the next four years.

Okay, terrific! Only $976 Billion to go!

Food-Nazi Jacobson later said he was calling for a ban on trans fat and a reduction in sodium levels in food.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in 1992, Denis Leary continued:

"I;m gonna open up my own place. Open my own restaurant and get away from you people. I'm gonna open up a restaurant with two smoking sections; Ultra and Regular, ok? And we're not gonna have any tables or any chairs or any napkins. None of that pussy sh*t. Just a big wide open black space. And all we're gonna serve is raw meat, right on the bone! And only men are going to eat there, naked men, sitting around a big giant camp fire, and no men's room either. You have to piss, you mark your territory like a wolf! And if some guy has a heart attack from eating too much meat, f*ck him, we throw him in the fire! More meat for the other meat-eaters! Yeah!
Because you gotta have goals. Because everybody in this room knows everybody who's quitting. You all have that friend who's quitting it. You know what I mean? The guys quitting it, "I quit smoking. I quit drugs. I quit drinking. I quit meat, and I feel great. I get up in the morning and have a nice big bowl of oat bran. I go to the bathroom for three and a half hours. I have another bowl of oat bran. I go back in the bathroom for six more hours. All I do is eat and shit, I'm gonna live forever! My colon is the strongest muscle in my body right now. I could pass Elvis through my colon right now."
And all these cereals they have, Cracklin' Oat Bran, and Horkin' Fiber Chunks, you know? Cereal used to come with a free prize. Now it comes with a free roll of toilet paper in every box. Guys get up on Sunday morning, "Forget about the New York Times, I'm gonna need the Bible. I got a big one brewing here." "Dad, there's a phone call!" "I'm on Genesis, God dammit! You tell 'em to call back after the creation!" People checking their own feces for fiber. You have too much free f*cking time on your hands, ok. . . .
Personally, I think Mama Cass said it best when she said, "[Choking noises]" "All the leaves are [Choking noises]" "Monday [Choking noises]"

* * *

While it might seem like a horrible thing to compare federal taxation to the slaughter of millions of jews, the logic is exactly the same. The poem I saterized at the beginning of this post was written to highlight the consequences of political apathy. That same spirit is just as valid today. While not as many lives are at stake, a lot of liberty is at stake.

Here's how it works:

1) When the government raises taxes on alcohol (or prohibition, and let's not get into that,) fewer people drink, and the amount of tax collected goes down, which leads to:

2) raise taxes on tobacco. After all, it's in the public's interest to discourage people from smoking. We all pay for the public health consequences of smoking, so we need to discourage that behavior. some people quit smoking, and the amount of tax collected goes down, which leaves,

3) "I know, let's tax gasoline!" People who drive bigger cars who get worse gas milage should pay more, because they are ruining the environment, by . . . . and so on. People reluctantly buy smaller cars, and that tax collected goes down, which leads to:

4) this new soda tax. While it appears rediculous on its face, fifteen years ago, it seemed equally rediculous that someone could sue McDonalds for failing to let her coffee cool before she applied it to her groin.

* * *

When the government has to resort to creative taxes to raise, it can only mean that they are spending too much money.

I'd rather take up pitchforks and torches before being forced to drinking and eating tax-free Soylent Green. I know it sounds crazy, but what was more crazy than the idea that a smoker could sue a tobacco company? It's happened. And what's coming is exactly the hope and change that you voted for.

It's people, you know.

Worst Idea Ever!

There have been a lot of famous bad decisions over the years.

There have been New Coke, the Edsel, and endergoing fertility therapy to have octuplets, despite the fact that you have no job, and Jar Jar Binks, just to name a few.

But every once in awhile, there is an idea so foolish, and so misguided that no amount of head-scratching can contemplate what someone might have been thinking.

I was in New York City last weekend, and, although I did not see the plane at the time, your government thought it would be a fine idea to fly a VC-25, otherwise known as "Air Force One," while the president is on board, over Manhattan so that the plane could be photographed in front of famous New York landmarks.

I'll say again, your government thought it would be a fine idea to fly a plane, very low, over Manhattan, in order to take pictures of it with landmarks. They thought it was a good idea to remind people of this:

so they could have this:

The idea was so that the White House could give such pictures to give people as gifts and keepsakes. The cost of such an effort has so far been estimated at nearly $329,000. While that amount of money seems like pocket change nowadays, perhaps the worst part about it is that the White House Military Office instructed the FAA not to inform the public about "what it thought would be a higher-flyover by two F-16s, and an Air Force VC-25 aircraft. At one point, the planes were within 1,000 feet of the ground, and 400 feet of the Statue of Liberty.

Quite obviously, a great number of New Yorkers were alarmed. How in the world, did anyone think this was a good idea?

For the record, your president obama was "furious" about the incident and "the confusion it caused." Hey, smartest guy alive: scaring the shit out of thousands of people, does not qualify as "confusion." WH press smart-guy Gibbs told reporters that the White House review of the "incident" wouldn't take more than a couple of weeks, and the president will look at that review and take any appropriate steps after that."

Some idiots even went so far as to say there needs to be some protocol for such "incidents" in the future. So, the next time we decide to do something so stupid as to terrorize our own people, we need to have protocols in place to make sure everyone knows when we are going to do something really stupid. It boggles the mind that such protocols would be needed, much less comtemplated.

My first reaction to this story was to ask why they didn't just Photoshop the plane into whatever scene they wanted to. The New York Daily News is hosting a contest. Some of their entries can be seen here:

The latest, and most fanciest version of Photoshop, costs $699.00. One would think that the way they are throwing money around at the White House, they could easily afford such software.

We are left with only two conclusions: the first is that such a giant screw-up requires doing it on purpose, and if that's the case, why do it? What else is going on, that they have to distract us from? And what will be the next "crying wolf" they will try? Swine Flu perhaps?

New Coke, JarJarBinks, the Edsel, and the octomom were all acts of sheer will. While famously stupid ideas, they were all done on purpose. All of them sounded like good ideas at the time, and later became famously stupid.

Flying a plane, low over Manhattan, just so you could take pictures of it with landmarks, was never even a good idea at the time. It was an idea so stupid that it had to be done on purpose. What's more, your genius president pretended like he didn't know about it. Even if you believe his story, what's worse? The Air Force can conduct such an operation without the President's knowledge, or that the president actually didn't know about it?

When I saw "Star Wars: The Fantom Menace," back in 1999, on its opening night, on my way out of the theater, a reporter with a notebook approached me, and asked me my thoughts about the movie. I told the reporter, "When I am 88 years-old and lying on my death bed, I will pray that God lets me live an additional two hours and thirteen minutes."

I can only hope that there are not a bunch more reasons for me to pray that God lets me live an additional four years.

WTF?

WTF?

When I was a kid in the early and mid 80s, we used words like “awesome,” “cool,” “decent,” “sweet,” and the occasional “rad” or “tubular” to describe things. While these were well understood by our elders, old people did not use such language. Nowadays, these words are well understood by everyone, as I suspect they were back then.

I am writing this from an airplane on Friday afternoon, on my way to the NFL Draft in New York City. To cure my boredom, and to make the strange guy wearing too much Old Spice next to me stop talking, I decided to thumb through the Northwest Airlines/Delta “Sky Magazine.” After passing an article about how to keep score at a baseball game, things to do in Detroit, and several interviews with uninteresting people I’ve never heard of, I stumbled upon a section entitled, “Our World Now.”

It is one of those snarky, society sections meant to look like Maxim or some type of magazine where tons of small nuggets appear on every page, and things run across the bottom of the page and on to the next. It’s been a long time since I graduated from Journalism school, so I don’t remember what that’s called. I read a three-paragraph article about Heidi Klum, a person whom I have heard of, and then turned the page to find a nugget called “The Jargon.”

The nugget begins with this: “Nearly 300 years ago, Benjamin Franklin compiled the Drinkers Dictionary, a list of 229 slang expressions to describe being wrecked/lit/obliterated. Since then, our love of slang has only increased at superluminal/turbo/fast-like-a-ninja speed, fueled by SMS, Skype, Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and other toys/tools of contemporary culture. It then goes on to tell me about some of the latest slang words, none of which I have ever heard of, much less used.

* “Brickberry \BRIK-ber-ee\ noun: The old clunker of a phone you’re using while your iPhone is being repaired.”

I currently use an old IG phone that is nearly two years old, and it is a clunker. After waiting for nearly an hour to buy it at the Verizon store, the salesman kid assured me that it would not break if dropped. I’ve never used a blackberry, and I hope I never own an iPhone. I am fond of saying things like, “Forget how to wipe your ass? There’s an app for that!” and “If you can’t remember where you live, there’s an app for that!.” There should be an app for people to shut up and stop talking on their phone so loudly in public. I’m not interested in your kid’s soccer practice, or what kind of car your husband is driving, much less how long it is until you are coming home.

* “Designated Texter \dez-ig-neyt-ed TEX-ter\ noun: Someone who receives and responds to the driver’s text messages to ensure passenger safety.”

Anyone who is receiving or sending text messages while driving should have their driver license revoked. While it is safe and responsible to appoint a “designated texter” to receive and respond to such messages, it defeats the point. What could possibly be so important that you can’t wait until your destination before you receive and respond to your text messages? Could it be “SWT, C U THERE.” Or “K CALL LATR.” Why do you constantly have to be in contact with everyone? Shut up and drive. I have a feeling that such people probably drive minivans, and have three kids in the back, each watching their own DVD player showing WALL-E, because looking out the window or reading a book is far too boring on the way to soccer practice. For the record, I feel the same about designated drivers. If you’re going out drinking, call a cab, and have him take you TO the bar, as well as FROM the bar. It costs the same as that last round of drinks at the end of the night, which you really didn’t need anyway.

* “DLS \dee-el-ess\ noun: A prime piece of personal info (Dirty Little Secret) you share only with your BFF (Best Friend Forever).”

This one is too easy. The whole point of using letters to abbreviate things, or to use acronyms, is to make it shorter and easier to say. For example, if you were talking about the space shuttle, you would say, “Dude! When is NASA going to launch another Space Shuttle?” You would not say, “Good day to you sir, might you know when the National Aeronautics and Space Administration is going to propel another Space Shuttle into orbit?”
“DLS” contains the same number of syllables as “dirty little secret.” Same for BFF. It takes exactly the same amount of time to say, and the only reason I can conceive of using this one is if you were sending a text message while driving your kids to soccer practice. (See above).

* “Good Talk \GOOD-tawk\ adjective, noun; Easy end to a conversation between two straight guys when things get too personal.”

This one I actually like, but I’m not sure why they have to be straight guys. I’m not sure, but I figure gay guys talk about things too. When you are in the cab on the way to the bar, and your buddy turns to you and says, “Ha-ha! I just texted my old next-door-neighbor that I shit my pants, and posted it to his Twitter,” you can say, “Good Talk,” and turn away. You might also say, “TMI!” which stands for “too much information.”

* “Textrovert \TEX-trow-vert\ noun: Someone who’s comfortable revealing emotion via his or her thumbs.”

Anyone who is more comfortable revealing emotions with their thumbs should be hitchhiking. And when someone picks you up, make sure you offer to use your brickberry to become their designated texter, while they receive DLSs, from their BFFs while you are riding in the car. Drivers who pick up hitchhikers always appreciate that.
* * *

The plane has begun its decent, and the stewardess, er, excuse me, flight attendant is giving me the eye to put away my laptop. I hope you have found this little excursion into hip slang to be interesting and not a “good talk.” I know Ben Franklin would think so.

More from New York City to follow. Have a great weekend one and all!

Rooting For The Away Team Part II

In the 2008 election, voters weren't really concerned with tax hikes. This is largely because of the irrational, emotional attachment most people found with obama, and because of an historical fact.
The fifteen years between your President Clinton's 1993 tax hike, and obama's cigarette February 2009 tax hike, it was the longest ever time between federal tax hikes.
Even the Bush tax cuts of 2001, (see below) cut people from the rolls, and little did we know what that would wrought. But first the cigarette tax hike.
Most people think it's fine to raise taxes on cigarettes. I don't smoke cigarettes, so I shouldn't care, right?
Consider this: Each year, the number of people who smoke goes down. When you raise the cigarrette tax, the number of people who smoke goes down even faster. Eventually, the amount of money collected by the cigarrete tax goes down. To make up for this "shortfall," they must raise taxes on something else.
When they raise taxes on cigarrettes, it eventually hits everyone else too.

* * *

Back in 1994 Lambeau Field, Gary lit his cigarrette, and smoked proudly, as he spoke to his son about Bart Starr and Eddie Lee Ivory. He even blew smoke into the air, which I, no doubt may have ingested. He finished his cigarrette, and lit another. No one thought anything of it, as he opened yet another Miller High Life, to feed his beer belly.

* * *

When former President Bush succeded in getting his tax cuts passed in 2001, he had no idea what would become of that. In essence, he cut nearly 13 million people from the federal tax rolls. Thirteen million people, who used to pay taxes, now, don't. In fact, many of those people now get much of jackflak's money in the form of a refund. I'm sure Bush never realized how many Democrat voters he was creating by doing that.

I spent my "rebate" on a treadmill, and am proud to say that I have lost 23 pounds since January 1st. In any case, we need more taxpayers, not fewer..

obama has promised to let those Bush tax cuts expire in 2011, which will let Democrats avoid a difficult vote. When this tax cut expires, it will amount to a tax increase on a lot of people. Many of those people will no doubt be obama voters.

The obama budget will boost federal spending more than 25%, and nearly triple the national debt over ten years. This is funny, considering candidate obama promised exactly the opposite. But all politcians lie, right?

* * *

Meanwhile, back in 1994 Lambeau Field, Gary told me that he was for sure fired up about the "Contract With America." Finally, Gary thought, some guys in Washington might do, one thing, that he wanted.

* * *

They did. And when Republicans won a resounding election in 1994, the media called it a "takeover." As if people ran up to the steps of the Capitol with guns in their hands.

Part III Coming Soon!!

Rooting For The Away Team - - Part I

The NFL Schedule just came out on Tuesday, and when it does, it's a huge deal to figure out when Green Bay Weekend is. You have to get on a hotel reservation early, otherwise, you can't get a decent room when you go to Green Bay to watch the Vikings vs. Packers.
My first ever such trip was in Week One of 1994. A really generous gal I once dated got us tickets to the game. I was geeked. It was Warren Moon's first game as starter for the Vikings, and I was convinced we would have a great team. Suffice it to say, Moon played terribly, throwing three INTs, and the Vikings lost 16-10. It was just Brett Favre's third year as starter for the Packers. Come to think of it, it was my first time going to an away Vikings' game (other than at the Silverdome). Other than the outcome of the game, I had a blast, and even got to meet Bob Lurtzema. (The forgotten Purple People Eater.)

On the way back to the car, I made the foolish mistake of stopping to use the facilities. Quite obviously, my horns and braids were not very popular in the Lambeau Field restroom, and several people let me know it. I took the good natured ribbing, and stepped up when it was my turn. While I was relieving myself, a drunken Packers' fan stepped up, out of line, and grabbed me by the shoulder and threw me down. This caused me to urinate all over myself, as I fell on my back. I quickly drew my pants and made out of there, as I did not want to engage in fisticuffs. That would surely end in police involvement, because I was very angry.
As I scurried away, I came upon a group of forlorn, shame-faced Vikings' fans, who were gathered around their car. One of them blew a horn at me, and motioned for me to come over. As I approached, another guy handed me a beer, and we comisserated for a while. I remember how good it felt, walking up to them, as I would soon get to share my frustration with like-minded people. "Man that Warren Moon sucks!," he said. "Have you ever seen Cris Carter drop so many balls?," asked another. I thanked them for the beer, shook my head, and moved on.

* * *

Yesterday was tax day. And, like many Americans, I decided it would be a good idea to attend my local, so-called "Tea Party" here in Lansing. It was held in front of the State Capitol, which is about 2 1/2 miles from my home. I had previously attended the earlier "Tea Party," and I heard it was going to attract many more people this year.

I also couldn't help myself, since I am a hate-filled automoton, who only watches Fox News, and listens to talk radio all day long.

Also, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get Bella out for a walk. It would have been faster for us to walk the 2 1/2 miles from my house to the Capitol, as, even though I left more than thirty minutes ahead of time, there was nowhere to park. We ended up walking nearly one mile to get there. Bella was happy to make such a walk, as all the people, with their signs and all the traffic was interesting and exciting.

When we arrived in front of the event, there were already thousands of people there. The crowd was nearly 5,000.

I had never been to a full-out protest before. I had seen them at Michigan State, but I had never been in the middle of one. And then it hit me, I had gone there, not to just be part of the crowd, but to comisserate with like-minded people, and share my frustrations at out-of-control government spending.
I recently formed my own business, and had just written a check to "U.S. Treasury" that I could barely afford to pay.


If you own your own business in Michigan these days, you pay 28% to the feds, 15% for Social Security (also Uncle Sam) 4% to the State of Michigan, and 1% to the City of Lansing. And for what? What do I get out of it?
For years, I have joked about how someone should have to pay for that new fancy school they built in my backyard, that all the kids I don't have aren't going to.
But seriously, what's in it for me?
The city rarely plows my street, my car has gotten keyed, and people stole my flags right off my flagpole. But then, arabs don't fly into some building I'm in and kill me, so I guess I got that going for me.













But roughly, I have confiscated $0.48 of every dollar I work and travel very hard for, and for what?

* * *

Meanwhile, back in 1994 Green Bay, I finally arrived back at the car. The father and son, who were tailgating next to us, we relishing in their precious Packer's victory. As I reached in our now-empty cooler, I heard the father remark to his son, "Son!, my dad gave me these Packers' tickets, and someday, I will give them to you."'

"Aw, thanks Dad," the son sighed. The worst part about it was, the son was in his forties. Or maybe just his beer belly and tired face made him look in his forties. In any case, this Taster's Choice moment between guys made me want to puke.

* * *

Back at the rally, the speaker announced that everyone was to take out their cellphones, and we were all going to call the capitol switchboard and tell them what we thought about out-of-control government spending. I decided I would not call, since obviously that amount of calls placed at the same time would not work. I have been to many MSU tailgates in the past. Whilewe rarely beat Michigan, everyone takes out their phone and calls their third-cousin they never talk to to tell them we just beat Michigan.

In any case, as I watched everyone doing this, I felt the same sense of pride I felt back in 1994 Green Bay. Only this time, for a short part of the afternoon, WE were the home team. After several more chants of "U.S.A. U.S.A.!" and so on, none other than Joe The Plumber himself rose to the podium. He gave his usual shpiel, and was rushed away, as I am sure he had several other such events around the country to attend.

After I talked with several people there, I figured I had better go back home and finish typing some reports for work. After all, I had work to do. If I didn't earn all that money that the government was stealing from me, what would be the point? And, no Vikings' fans were offering me a beer, so Bella and I went home. She was becoming frightened by the crowd and the noise. I didn't figure a fearsome pitbull would get scared, but she was. I, too was scared, at how I was going to pay for my tax bill. I took a bunch of pictures:

* * *

Back in 1994 Lambeau Field, I was ushered back in the car. My disappointment at Warren Moon's poor performance, and the Vikings' loss were falling on deaf ears. I had spent so much time, and some money at attending this event, and no one seemed to care, save for the few Vikings' fans I had met.

* * *

Part Two Coming Soon! !

The Mad Minute

When I was in third grade at Winnetka Elementary School in New Hope, MN, we had a weekly math exercise called, "The Mad Minute." The object was to complete the most correct simple multiplication problems as possible in one minute. The weekly winner would receive a candy bar. It wasn't some "fun-size," as that size had not been invented yet.

It was a regular-sized Three Musketeers, or maybe Nestle Crunch. After one minute, Mrs. Matherne would ring a bell, and everyone would put their pencils down, and turn in their sheets.

I can remember the excitement of this very well. Some teacher's aide would enter the room, and place the worksheets on the teacher's desk. Mrs. Matherne would pass one stack out to each row, and it would be "pass to the one behind you," and, YOU'RE OFF!

The fresh smell of the dittoe machine would be distracting for some, and if you are old enough to imagine that smell, it would be distracting to you to this day.

* * *

I bought a house in Lansing, MI about a 2 1/2 years ago, and while I was initially overwhelmed, I eventually learned all the things that first-time homebuyers learn. I learned to replace an electric outlet, care for a lawn, and catch mice. I also learned to fix a garage door-opener, bought a new microwave, and replace light fixtures. Things were good, and I was thankful that I bought a house I could, at that time, easily afford. I made it a point of making sure that I had a fixed rate, and that my rate would not go up, (any faster than my taxes, anyways). I quickly, and somewhat foolishly, began to sink extra money into the house.

I painted all the rooms, bought some things to hang on the walls, and bought some new nice furniture, all of which I paid cash for, and then lived a little light for a few months.

"Always pay for what you can," my dad always told me. "There's no reason to charge everything." I plodded along, and to this day, I haven't made a late payment yet. In fact, this year, my property taxes eventually went down!

* * *

I was ready to let my pencil fly. "6 times 3? Eighteen! Piece of cake! 8 times 7? Fifty-Six! Nice! That huge, mongo Three Muskateers will be mine before you know it!" After the minute was up, I gleefully passed my paper to the front. It took Mrs. Matherne a few minutes to grade them all, and sure enough, the only one in the class to get Sixty-out-of-sixty, was me. She invited me up to the front of the class, and made a production of awarding me the candy, but made clear to make sure I was to wait until at least recess to eat it. I threw it in my desk, and smiled. I stared at the clock, and wondered if Tommy Kramer

might throw an interception on Sunday vs. The Lions. When he didn't on Sunday, and the Vikings won, 20-17, I looked forward to the next Mad Minute.

* * *

Your president obama and his minions are fond of reminding us of what the financial "crisis" we are in, and last week, they unvailed their "Making Home Affordable" plan. While I admire the administration for pretending to care about homeowners who are struggling, this plan is rather foolish. Please read other blog entires of mine here to see that summary. To tout this "plan," the administration says the plan "draws off the best ideas developed within the Adminstration, as well as from Congressional housing leaders and FDIC Chair Shelia Blar . . . .."

Those are the very same people who got us into this mess to begin with. They want to now spend and even more $75 Billion to help homeowners who, "are struggling to stay current on their payments."

The last time I checked, that's the best part of the American Dream, "struggling to stay current on your payments." Most people struggle. That's what we do. We look for something we want, then we work really hard to figure out how we're going to pay for it.

* * *

The following week, that same teacher's aide brought in the Mad Minute. Only this time, it was on Yellow Paper. Some were confused by the paper, others by the same smell. Was that smell prunes? Was it Uncle's Drink? Some kids smelled it, while I waited to put my pencil down.

"Nine times Eight. Seventy-Two! Nice! Seven times three. Are you kidding me?"

I again got sixty out of sixty, and was the only one who had done so.

Mrs. Matherne again made a production of giving me this week's treasure. I liked Nestle's Crunch, and still do. This time, I made a point of smirking at my classmates, and relishing in their disappointment. I was only nine-years old, but being excellent at math problems really fast was beginning to go to my head.

* * *

The example the administration gives in their plan describes a "family who took out a 30-year fixed-rate mortgage of $207,000 with a rate of 6.5%, on a house worth $260,000 at the time. Today, that family has $200,000 remaining on their mortgage, but the value of that home has fallen 15% to $221,000 - making them eligible for today's low interest rates that generally require the borrower to have 20% home equity. Under this refinancing plan, that family could refinance to a rate near 5.16% - reducing their annual payments by over $2,300."

When you have more than 20% equity, it shows that you make payments, and are in a position where you are a lower risk to a bank, willing to refinance you. If you examine the numbers above, you would figure that the administration's plan would save you a whopping $192.00/month. And for what? If you cannot absorb an additional $192.00 per month, then maybe you shouldn't have purchased that house to begin with. Anyone in this position would be right back where they started from within a year. (See future blog entires)

* * *

That Week, Ted Brown scored two touchdowns, and Ahmad Rashad scored a game-winning Touchdown, amid a bunch of Rick Danmier Field Goals, and I was primed for this week's Mad Minute.

Only this week, Mrs. Matherne announced that, as the teacher's aide brough in this week's batch of easy candy bars, when you finish, that we were to raise our hands when we finished.

I did so, and again finished first, and was the only one to get all sixty correct. Mrs. Matherne failed to make a big deal of me this time, instead shrugging the Baby Ruth towards me. Would Joe Senser again catch a touchdown pass against the Bears the next week?

* * *

The administration's plan focuses on people who are "underwater" or, owe more than their house is worth. Anyone who is in this position is because they did not put enough money down, yet got a loan anyways. It allows a judge to modify loans down, during bankruptcy when a borrower has "no other options." They even go so far as to say that the plan will "Support Low Mortgage Rates by Strengthening Confidence in Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac."

Yup. Good luck on that ace.

It plans on reducing borrowers' interest rates down to 2%, until their payment is the goal rate of 31% of their monthly income.

If your mortgage rate is more than 31% of your income, then why did they give you that loan in the first place? (See other blog entries)

When I got my loan, my mortgage gal told me I could have a much lower adjustable rate, or a much higher fixed rate. She told me that your payment should be about 30% of your monthly income (after taxes). So if you get an adjustable rate, your income should be a lot higher.

"Are you going to flip this house?" was an honest question.

I agreed to the higher rate for the fixed rate.

"At least, that way, I won't ever get in over my head," I thought (at that time).

Of course, being that I'm white, I got the king treatment, and did not fall prey to "predatory lenders.

The administration's literature even goes so far as to say "millions of hard-working families have seen their mortgage payments rise to 40 or even 50 percent of their monthly income, particularly if they received subprime and exotic loans with exploding terms and hidden fees."

"Hidden fees?"

When I signed my mortgage, I actually read my entire mortgage at the signing table. Even the closing agent gave me eyes as I was reading it.

I'm sorry, but no one is putting a gun to your head when you are signing important papers in America (at least, not yet.)

I took responsibility for what I was signing, and went into the transaction with my eyes open. Looking back, it wasn't such a great deal for me, but I have no one to blame, but myself.

And, while it sucks for people who signed such deals, they should be expected to suck it up and take responsibility, like everyone else.

* * *

Tommy Kramer threw a late TD pass to Joe Senser, and the Vikings beat the Bears. I remember this game, because Vince Evans was the Bears QB. The next day, it would be Mad Minute again! I couldn't wait.

We sat in our desks, and I eagerly awaited that teacher's aide to bring in the ditto-smelling goodness that was to become my newest candy bar, and reason to mock my fellow classmates' slowness.

As Mrs. Matherne slowly passed out the Mad Minute, she made an annoucement.

"Starting this week, the person who won the candy bar the week before, cannot win this week."

"Huh?," I thought.

"This is to give everyone else a chance to win. So I'm sorry, Jack. You cannot win this week."

I was crushed. I finished first, and raised my hand, even though no one else raised their hand.

Another kid (who shall remain nameless) got 58 right, and he got the Three Musketeers.

I went home and asked my mom why this made sense. I was one of the many times a nine-year old learns that life is not fair.

* * *

"Only owner-occupied homes qualify; no home mortgages larger than the FHFA conforming limit of $729,750 will be eligible. This program will focus solely on supporting responsible homeowners willing to make payments to stay in their home - it will not aid speculators or house flippers."

The best part is when they get to the "incentives to help borrowers to stay current."

"To provide an extra incentive for borrowers to keep paying on time under the modified loan, the initiatie will provide a monthly pay for performance success paymentthat goes straight towards reducing the principal balance on the mortage loan."

What?

If you stay current on your mortgage payments under this plan, you can get an extra $1,000.00 knocked off your principal! Well, fantastic! Doing something you are supposed to do, nets you a free $1,000.00?

I don't even have to get into how this affects the financial markets, but clearly, rewarding someone, for something they should be doing anyway, is not what we should be getting into.

Not especially at the cost of $75 Billion Dollars!

While it's terrible that people might lose their homes, because of foolish decisions they made a few years ago, that's not a reason to saddle the rest of us who succeed for a living.

* * *

The following week, Rick Danmeier kicked a long field goal to win at San Diego, and the Vikings survived a Chuck Muncie late touchdown. When Mrs. Matherne announced that the new Mad Minute, (that I was now eligible to win,) had started, I wrote "5" on every answer and turned it in. She shook her head in disappointment at me, and let's say that the parent-teacher conferences were fun that time.

* * *

America will have conferences again in 2010, and I hope we will make sure to separate emotion from logic.

* * *

The Emperor's New Clothes

Once upon a time there lived a vain Emperor whose only worry in life was to dress in elegant clothes. He changed his clothes almost every hour and loved to show them off to his people. When word of the Emperor's vanity spread, two scoundrels decided to take advantage of it. They got an audience with the Emperor and told him, "We are two very good tailors and after many years of research, we have invented an extraordinary method to weave a cloth so light and fine that it looks invisible. As a matter of fact, if it invisible to anyone who is too stupid and incompetent to appreciate its quality."
The Emperor's curiosity was piqued when the tailors told him "Besides being invisible, this cloth will be woven in colors and patterns created especially for you." The Emperor gave them nearly $1 Trillion dollars so that they could begin working on it right away.
"Just tell us what you need, so that you can begin working on the clothes right away," the Emperor said. The Emperor was sure he had spent his $1 Trillion wisely, as the scoundrels pretended to go to work: In addition to getting an extrordinary, fantastic new suit, he would also discover which of his subjects were ignorant, and which ones were competent. The next day he called his wise Speaker of The House and Senate Majority Leader, and sent them to the scoundrels to see how the work was proceeding.
The scoundrels told them they were almost finished, but needed more gold thread. The Speaker of The House bent over the loom and tried to see the fabric that was not there.
"I can't see anything," she thought. "If I see nothing, that means I'm stupid." The Senate Majority Leader, too did not see anything. "If I do not see anything, it means I am incompetent. The Emperor will surely have me fired," he thought to himself.
"What a marvelous fabric this is!," they both agreed. We will run and tell the Emperor directly.
The Emperor arrived later for his fitting, and the scoundrels held out the imaginary spools of fabric. "We have worked night and day, and at last, the most beautiful fabric in the world is ready for you. Look at the colors and see how fine it is." But the Emperor did not see any colors and could not feel any cloth between his fingers. He was panicked. He felt better when he realized that no one could know he did not see the fabric. Nobody could find out that he was stupid and incompetent. And the Emperor didn't know that everybody else around him thought and did the very same thing.
The tailors cut the invisible fabric with scissors, and sewed the invisible fabric with needles. "Your Highness, you'll have to take off your clothers to try on your new ones," they said. The tailors draped the new clothes on the Emperor, and one of them held up a mirror. The Emperor was embarassed, but since none of his bystanders were, he felt relieved.
"Yup! Uh, this --- uh, here is a beautiful suit, and it looks great on me," the Emperor said, trying to look comfortable. "You have done a fine job!"
The Speaker of The House and Senate Majority Leader told the Emperor that the people have heard of this fantastic fabric, and were anxious to see him in his new suit.
"Alright, I, um. . . uh... will grant my people this privilege." He summoned his people and instructed them to form a parade route. Senators, Mayors and Governors lined the street for the parade, proudly surveying the faces of the people. An applause welcomed the regal procession. Everyone wanted to know how stupid or incompetent his or her neighbor was but, as the Emperor passed, a strange murmur rose from the crowd.
"Look at the Emperor's new clothes! Aren't they beautiful?!" people shouted as he passed. "How marvelous!" others shouted. "And the colors, of such a beautiful fabric! I have never seen anything like it in my life!," shouted another.
Everyone tried hard to conceal their disappointment at not being able to see the clothes, and since nobody was willing to admit his own stupidity and incompetence, they all behaved as the tailors had predicted.
A child, however, who had no important job, and could only see things as his eyes showed them to him, went up to the Emperor's carriage and said, "The Emperor is naked!"
"Fool!" Everyone shouted. "Don't speak nonsense!"

* * *

So far, in total, without counting the sham of a "stimulus" bill, your Emperor and his accomplices in Congres have spent or pledged to spend $8.8 Trillion. That's $8,800,000,000,000.00. If you add the $780 Billion and you get a staggering: $9,580,000,000,000.00. Without even arguing whether or not this kind of spending is necessary or helpful, anyone with an even cursory understanding of economics knows that what they are doing is absolutely insane.

* * *

Yesterday, the Emperor hosted a "fiscal sustainability summit" at the White House. He invited some lawmakers, and lobbyists, community activists, and special interests to the White House and gave them a lecture about the economy, and then instructed them to break into "breakout sessions" and come up with ways the government could save money, in hopes of slashing the deficit, and then report back to him in the afternoon with their findings.

I'm going to write this again, just so we're clear: The Emperor, after spending more than 9 1/2 trillion dollars, lectured to us about being fiscally responsible.

"Contrary to the prevailing wisdom in Washington these past few years, we cannot simply spend as we please and defer the consequences to the next budget, the next administration or the next generation."

We can't? Where in the hell are you going to get $9.5 Trillion Mr. Emperor?

He continued, "For too long, our budget process in Washington has been an excercise in deception; a series of accounting tricks to hide the expense of our spending and the shortfalls in our revenue and hope that the American people won't notice."

I'd have to admit, he got this one right. $9.5 Trillion is hard to hide, no matter how clever your accounting tricks are. After a bunch more fearmongering, he even went to far as to claim that the government would return to a "pay as you go" system in which all new spending would require a tax hike or a budget cut to make it happen. This idea was supposedly popularized by President clinton when he had a budget "surplus."

Then, he did what all idiot Presidents do, he told us what we want to hear. He claimed that he would cut the deficit in half by the end of his four years in office.

What's worse, the lawmakers, lobbyists, community activists, and special interests just sat there and admired his new clothes. John McCain asked an anemic question about the Emperor's fleet of helicopters, and another Senator asked a question about IT contracts.

And let's not even get into the media's reaction to this sham, as that will scramble your brain.

* * *

Before the Emperor dares lecture anyone about fiscal responsibility, I might suggest he start paying some of his own bills. The president's campaign still owes Springfield Illinois $65,000.00 for police overtime and other costs for campaign events, that it has not paid. obama owes the City of Chicago $1,740,000.00 for his victory celebration in Grant Park that he has not paid. obama still owes the City of Philadelphia nearly $24,000.00 for several pre-election events, that he has not paid.

* * *

The "fiscal sustainability summit" was such a joke that Lawrence Summers, head of the National Economic Council, fell asleep on the podium.

* * *

Last week, Rick Santelli, a business news anaylist for CNBC, made a now-famous rant on the floor of the Chicago Board of Trade. "This is America! How many of you people want to pay for your neighbors' mortgage that has an extra bathroom and can't pay their bills? ... President Obama, are you listening?," he said. He might as well have been the child who shouts "The Emperor is naked!" in the Hans Christian Anderson story.

* * *

In the story, eventually people in the crowd keep repeating what the child said, and as word spreads, more and more people admit to eachother that the Emperor indeed has no clothes on. In the story, the Emperor realized that the people were right, but he could not admit to that. Instead, he contuinued on with the procession under the illusion that anyone who couldn't see his clothes was either stupid or incompetent.

We can only hope that eventually enough people will come to the realization that the obama administration has literally no idea what they are doing.

The Missing Pitbull Puppies - Part II

When the police arrived, Erin says the police hurriedly took her report on the front porch. She says the police then left, only quickly walking through the house, and asking silly questions. After two days, she realized a bunch more things were missing, and tried calling the police to report this. She says she was greeted with the same indifference the police initially showed.

About one week later, she called the police again to see if there were any leads on her case. She says there were not, and it was obvious there was not going to be. She had replaced some of the missing items, the TV, fixed the window, and made a makeshift Christmas for her daughters. And that's when the lead finally came, but it wasn't the kind of lead one might have expected.

* * *

Erin's daughter came home from high school and told her that some kids at school were bragging about how one of her fellow students' mom had robbed a bunch of houses. The gossip was that this woman had a bunch of pitbull puppies. Erin again called the police. The police asked to talk to her daughter, and asked her exactly which kids had told her about the puppies and the robberies. She says her daughter refused to tell on which kids it was, for fear of retribution, and the police said their hands were tied. It seemed they would never see all their puppies again. But a few days after that, another lead came, again in an unsual form.

* * *

Erin says she was coming home from work, about one mile from her home, when she was cut off in traffic by a truck. Naturally, stressed out by everything that had happened, she foolishly decided to pursue the truck. She followed the truck to a nearby gas station, and, when the truck stopped, she got out and decided to confront the driver. The driver was a woman who looked strangely familiar.

"I absolutely couldn't believe it," Erin said. "I was so angry. I made two fists, and said to her, 'Are you the [expletive] who robbed my house? I swear to God, I will [expletive] you up!'" The woman did not deny it. Instead, she calmly returned to her truck and hurried off, with Erin in quick pursuit.

* * *

"I probably should not have threatened her like that," Erin said, "but damn, I was mad!" "I recognized her as the woman who came to look at the dogs, and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to find them, so I followed."

* * *

Erin followed the woman to a house nearby, which, ironically enough, was within eyeshot of the police station. When she angrily got out of her car, the police were already there. She ran up on the front porch of the ramshackle house, and was greeted by an officer. Inside, she saw her TV. She was sure the dogs were there.

So I take it these are your's, then?" the officer said. All the puppies rushed up to here, surrounding here and jumping up.

"I was so happy," Erin said. "I knew it!" Erin says they dogs were dirty, and it was obvious that they were not taken care of. They were rather skinny, and seemed lethargic.

"So what happens now?" she asked the officer.

* * *

It seems the woman was rather shaken by the encounter at the gas station, and immediately returned home and called 9-1-1. The woman told the police that she feared that she was in posesssion of stolen property. Some "friends of hers had 'left it there'" she claimed. When Erin asked the police what they were going to do about it, she was told that there was nothing they could do. They would have to catch the thieves in the act. Since these people had pretended to be honest, there was no more evidence they could act on.

Angrily, she brought all the hungry, dirty puppies home, with her TV, and got them something to eat.

* * *

She got out a huge baking tray and filled it with dog food. All the dogs gathered around, and ate until their hearts were content. Her daughters were happy the whole gang was back together, and all was right. While she initially wanted some justice, Erin says she is now just happy to have all the puppies back.

"I'm just glad everything worked out," she told me. "Now, I've still got to find homes for ten more of these puppies."

Erin has since adopted out one puppy, and faces an uphill climb to find homes for the others. They are not fixed, and she is afraid to surrender them to a shelter, on account of their possibly being euthanized.

* * *

Pitbulls are a really great breed, whose reputation has been sullied over the last twenty years.

In 1987, Sports Illustrated capitalized on the media hysteria about a few well-publicized maulings with the cover at left. That led to the pitbull becoming popular with so-called "hip-hop" culture embracing the breed as a status symbol. And, after a few more years, the now well-known case of Michael Vick. Happily, many of Vick's dogs have been rehabilitated and adopted. It would seem Sports Illustrated has tried to make up for their mischaracterization of the breed.

In December of 2008, they published this cover about Vick's surviving dogs:

The pitbull remains a stable, highly trainable, and intelligent breed. They are high-level dogs who require an owner willing to give them the high amount of exercise they require. They are among the most loyal breed of dog, and make excellent animal companions.

In the 1930s, pitbulls were well-regarded as fanastic family pets. The most famous pitbull is Petey, of Our Gang's Little Rascals:Perhaps the lesser-famous Pitbull ever is a dog named Stubby, who served in World War I. In 1917, he was smuggled aboard the USS Minnesota, and fought in France, alongside American troops for 18 months. In April of 1918. Stubby was wounded in his forearm by German Troops. When he recovered, he learned to warn his fellow Americans of poison gas attacks.

When he died in 1926, he was the only dog to be promoted to Seargeant.

* * *

Abby and I adopted a pitbull puppy from the Capital Area Humane Society one year ago. While Bella has required a lot more attention, time, and especially money that we were ready for, she is my best friend in the world.

* * *

If you or someone you know can adopt any one of these beautiful pitbull puppies:

email me : jack@jackflak.com, and I will put you in touch with Erin.

I thank you for reading my story.

Stimulus Earrings

I thought President Bush's stimulus package was stupid back then. But, at least back then, I got $600.00 in my pocket. I bought a treadmill, and today I am happy to report that I am 19 pounds lighter than January 1st, 2009, when I started keeping track.



This current wave of "Ask not what your country can do for you -- demand it" finally reached me. So, what's in it for me?



It looks like most of us will get a $400 tax credit. While this is $200 less than Bush gave me last time, it made me think.



I remember last summer, when michelle obama was here in Michigan. She was speaking at an event in Pontiac, when she quipped, "You're getting $600 - what can you do with that? Not to be ungrateful or anything, but maybe it pays down a bill, but it doesn't pay down every bill every month," she said. "The short-term quick fix kinda stuff sounds good, and it may even feel good that first month when you get that check, and then you go out and you buy a pair of earrings."



This was the first time they let her out, following the now-famous "first time in my life I've been proud of my country" speech, and she put her foot in her mouth again. She promised that her husband's stimulus plan would have smarter, better, and wiser stimulus.



Bush's stimulus let michelle buy those earrings right away, while this $13 per week obama will give us will have her instead buy them on layaway. Er wait. Why stop there?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P36x8rTb3jI

The Missing Pitbull Puppies - Part I

Erin returned home from a night out, four days before Christmas to her Northside Lansing home to find someone had broken into her house. Missing, were a giant television, jewelry, some collectible coins, her daughters' Nintendo Wii, all the Christmas gifts, and ten pit bull puppies.

"We got home, it was late at night, so we were hootin' and hollerin' and carryin' on, and I noticed the front window was broken, and I thought, those damn dogs! Somehow they must have gotten out of their crates and knocked over the tree, and it broke the window."

She was wrong.

* * *

Erin and her husband owned two docile, friendly, and lovable pit bull adults, Capone, and Envy. On the eve of their vet appointments to get fixed, the female, Envy, got pregnant. In October, they were greeted with eleven gorgeous pit bull puppies. While initially overwhelmed, Erin has worked tirelessly to try and find homes for them, placing ads and imploring neighbors and friends to ask around.

* * *

In November, a young woman showed up and knocked on her door, asking about the pit bull puppies. She said she knew of a friend of a friend who really wanted some pit bull puppies.

"I was initially nervous, because she was kind of shady," Erin said, "but I really wanted to find a home for these puppies." She asked the woman to come back in a week, and she did.

Only this time, the woman was not as friendly. "She had a big truck, and on the front, there was a sticker that read, "This ain't my man's truck, and something on the back that read 'I'm a [expletive]." The woman told Erin that "these dogs are mine," and that "I already got people lined up for these dogs." Erin dismissed the woman and decided that there was no way she was going to let go of the ten puppies without making sure they had good homes.

* * *

When she entered her house after seeing the broken window, Erin and her husband realized they had been robbed. They found both adult dogs safe in their crates, with one puppy hiding behind Capone's crate. The house had been ransacked. The Christmas tree was tipped over, all the gifts were gone, and no puppies remained. They went outside to the front porch, and called the police. The police told them not to enter the house. Instead, they were to wait outside for the police to arrive. This sounded strange, but they complied. When the police finally showed up, things began to become even more strange.

* * *

Part Two coming soon!

Keep on Rockin' In The Free World!

When Operation Desert Storm began in January of 1991, I was a senior in high school. I can remember well, it was a Monday night, and my parents sent me up to the Erickson's Super Valu in Maple Grove, MN, to buy milk. I'm pretty sure it was the week before the Super Bowl.
In any case, on my way there, in my mom's 1989 sweet Cadillac SedanDeVille, I was listening to KQRS, and the song, "Keep On Rockin' In The Free World," by Neil Young came on. In the middle of the song, with no warning, KQ interrupted the song for the speech by the original President Bush. He announced that the "liberation of Iraq" had begun. The irony of that song being played at the time would not hit me for many years, but the immediacy of that moment is hard to forget.
When I returned home, the new "war" dominated the family conversation. I don't remember if we talked about it that night, but in the days that followed, at school, there was a very real strange fear, that all of us could be drafted and sent to the gulf. I can remember a sense of urgency to complete my college choice plans, because if I didn't, it was possible, that if the war escalated, that I could be drafted and sent to the gulf.
Quite obviously now, there never was going to be a draft for that war, but, to an 18-year old man with no plans for the future, it seemed possible, even just for several days. Parents who started that rumor, no doubt had the best of intentions. They, selfishly, just wanted their kid to hurry up and get his college plans in order, and were more than happy to use the latest domestic scare to make their kids do what they wanted. After all, graduation was just a few months away! After about two weeks, and many hours of watching bombs fall down chimneys on CNN, it was very clear, that this "war" would be over in short order, and that a draft was not possible.

* * *

Today, your president obama announced that if his "stimulus" package is not passed right away, "This recession might linger for years. Our economy will lose 5 million more jobs. Unemployment will approach double digits. Our nation will sink deeper into a crisis that, at some point, we may not be able to reverse." He had published these comments in an article titled, "The Action Americans Need." he then went on to say "I reject these theories, and so did the American people when they went to the polls in November and voted resoundingly for change."

I decided to look into this, and I wondered, what is really in this bill that he is so desperate to convince me to accept? I visited http://readthestimulus.org.

Will America sink deeper into a non-reversible crisis if we don't spend $10M for bike trails? Will America be able to un-reverse itself if we don't spend $400 Million on so-called "climate change" research? If we don't spend $1.5 Billion on so-called "green schools" will America cease to exist as we know it?

If we don't spend $1 Billion, (with a B) to follow-up on the 2010 census, (which hasn't even happened yet,) will the American Way come to a screeching halt? How about spending $2 Billion (with a B) on National Parks? I like National Parks, but how is that going to help anyone stay in their home, or keep their job? And so on.

* * *

If you take all the total amount of money they are talking about spending, and divide it by the total number of families in America, it works out to be about $10,000.00 per family. Now let's say those dinks in Congress actually had to borrow that money from the American people for all of those stupid things that will never stimulate the economy.

Wouldn't they be better off just giving everyone a $10,000.00 tax credit? If you were a wage-earner, you would see that in your very next paycheck. If you own your own business, and knew you didn't have to pay $10,000.00 in taxes this year, you would spend it right away, wouldn't you? I know I would probably buy a new car this year.

Maybe you wouldn't. Maybe, you would save it, or use it to pay down your credit cards. Either way, it's better than "$650,000,000, for reconstruction, capital improvement, decommissioning, and maintenance of 21 forest roads, bridges and trails" (on page 119).

* * *

Your congress is about to spend the most money evah! Suppose, you believe that Jesus was born on December 25, 1 B.C.. If you spent $1 Million Dollars each day, between that day and today, you still would not have spent the amount of money that they are talking about spending tomorrow night when the bill comes up for a vote. And we haven't even gotten into the economic consequences of that, which anyone who took high school economics would clearly understand. But hey, change comes at a price, right?

* * *

Every time there is a "crisis," most people make the mistake of overreacting to it. If you think back upon the worst decisions of your life, whether it involves a relationship, a bad wager, a tattoo, an employment decision, or bad purchase, I'll bet you made those bad decisions because of emotion, and because you thought you were in a "crisis." It never occurred to you that the choice of doing nothing is also a choice.

* * *

The parents who started the rumors about us being drafted into the Gulf War, I'm sure had the best intentions, but they also were selfish. They wanted the best for their kids, but they also wanted their kids to get into the best colleges so bad, that they were happy to deceive us into believing something they knew to be untrue.

Ah, the irony!

"Make no mistake, tax cheaters cheat us all, and the IRS should enforce our laws to the letter."--Sen. Tom Daschle, Congressional Record, May 7, 1998, p. S4507.

How in the world does someone, a senator, mind-you, accidentally fail to pay more than $120,000 in taxes?

And then everybody acts like it was a simple little mistake, and that "nobody's perfect?"

Daschle even has the unmitigated gall to call his "mistake" "unintentional."

Ever Since You Can Remember People Have Been Lying To You

Think about it: ever since you can remember, people have been lying to you. When you were a kid, riding in the bottom of the grocery cart, your mom would mistakenly drive down the candy aisle, and you would instantly start whining about getting some candy. “We’ll stop and get a treat on the way home,” your mom would say. You would shut up, but you never did get that treat on the way home, did you? Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy, and years later, when you girls got an obviously bad haircut, your friends at school would say, “oahh mah God, it looks, like so good!” And seconds later, they would laugh, and make up some insult that rhymes with your name. Years after that, you boys would be lied to by girls you liked about why they couldn’t go out with you. “My Grandmother’s in town,” “I’m Sick,” or “I have to work,” were such popular excuses. And a few years after that, it’s “We will keep your resume on file for twelve months and contact you if a position opens up,” and “You’ve been pre-approved for a Platinum Master Card!” We have been conditioned to being lied to, so much so, that we even want to believe seemingly trustworthy sources of obvious lies.
“Read my lips, no new taxes,” “I did not have sexual relations with that woman,” and “I smoked, but I didn’t inhale,” are some popular examples. When politicians lie to us, many people fall all over themselves, trying to stick up for the obvious lie. It is very similar to how we treat our favorite sports teams, or, our favorite drink. It runs in ten steps:
Step One: Obsession: You are consumed with romantic intrigue. You begin to daydream about the person or team, politician, or drink. A Kessler’s billboard gets you thinking of the end of the day, a woman you pass on the street reminds you of that gal you never got over, or the mention of Gary Anderson, drives you into nostalgia or self-pity about 1998. A magazine cover at the newsstand reminds you of how proud you are of your vote.

Step Two: The Hunt: buy as much paraphernalia as you can. Maybe it’s a bumper sticker on your car, a T-shirt, a case of beer, a search for that jersey you never bought back then, or the commemorative plate or coin, or chia head, you saw on T.V.. If you’re really obsessed, it’s a picture with you in it, a ticket stub or a brush with fame. It’s anything that lets you say, “I was there.”

Step Three: Recruitment: Misery loves company. Convince everyone else that your obsession isn’t really that bad. They should also drink your favorite drink, root for your favorite team, or vote for your guy (or gal). Depending on what your obsession is, you might be scared to run into someone you know, while you are buying a “Hootie & The Blowfish” CD, a case of Zima, or a Carlos Gomez poster. Tell everyone who you can’t recruit that they are idiots, or that they are close-minded. If only they were smarter, you could recruit them. It’s not your fault that you can’t recruit them: they’re stupid, born in Wisconsin, or are they are just used to drinking cheap whiskey.

Step Four: Gratification: “Ahhhhh, this is the stuff.” “My autographed Brett Favre cutout is the best!” “My picture of obama’s house is one of a kind!” “This plastic jug of Smirinoff is just the thing!” “I have the best authentic jersey in this bar!” Eventually, you run into something that leads you back to Step One. If you don’t, it’s on to Step 5.

Step Five: Return to normal: “I am so satisfied.” “The Vikings finally made the playoffs.” “I finally got that promotion at work.” “I got a date with that gal who never used to laugh at my jokes.” “My guy got elected.” Eventually, the stresses and pressures of the real world send you back to Step One. But if they don’t, it’s on to Step Six.

Step Six: Justification: “It’s not my fault that Gary Anderson missed that field goal.” “If Joe Nathan only would have struck out that last guy,” or “If only the media didn’t poison everyone’s mind along the way, my guy wouldn’t have lost.” “What’s my guy supposed to do? He’s faced with an impossible situation, and he had to vote that way.” And, “What am I supposed to do, pick a new team?” “Pick a different guy to vote for?” “Move to a different state?” “It’s just the way I am.” “You get the team your dad hung on you,” which leads you to Step Seven.

Step Seven: Blame: “The refs screwed us.” “The recount cheated us.” “The Supreme Court is biased.” “The cops had no reason to pull me over.” “I paid that credit card bill a week ago, why was I declined?” “That bartender served me a drink I did not order.” “Why in the hell did Childress call a sweep on third-and-one?” “If you didn’t give me sh*t all the time, I wouldn’t be like this.” “This week’s game is on Monday night, I don’t make the schedule.” If you make it past here, there’s always Step Eight.

Step Eight: Shame: “I can’t believe I have invested my whole season and countless hundreds of dollars in these jerkoffs.” “I’m throwing that yard sign away. I didn’t vote for that guy.” “I’m burying that pen in the backyard.” “I loathe myself that I ever drank such cheap scotch.” If you don’t get send back to Step One, you are lead to Step Nine.

Step Nine: Despair: “I don’t care what happens, I’m picking a new team in September.“ “If they aren’t going to try and win, I’m not going to try and watch.” “My party will never get elected.” “Why can’t someone help me?” “If only she wouldn’t have cheated on me.” “If I only could have lost that weight.” “If only I had a different boss.” “Opening Day can’t come soon enough.” If despair doesn’t send you back to Step One, you make it to the final step: Step Ten.

Step Ten: Promises: “I’ll never vote in an election again.” “I swear, I’ll never go and see them play again.” Or, the ever-popular, “I swear to God, I’ll never drink this much again, and this time, I mean it.” If you are lucky enough to make it to this step, you either go back to Step One, or, maybe you were one of those who actually got a treat on the way home way home when you were in the bottom of the shopping cart.