Darby was known far and wide as an excellent boulder hunter. All day he would walk with his head locked to the ground trying to spot the characteristic rocky glint. He had a knack for knowing which ones were pebbles and which ones were huge and deeply entrenched. It was a rare and precious gift. No one quite knew how he did it.
But while scanning for boulders, Darby was always thinking about things too much. He kept asking these silly questions. One morning he sat on a big one he had just rolled out of the dirt and turned to his buddy Brutus...
"So, who do ya think needs this boulder, aye?"
"Asking questions like that sure won't help you dig'm out any faster. Find'm neither."
Darby nodded slightly, stood, and rolled it across the field to the scale to collect his pay.
"120 pounds." said Warden. "That affords you two pieces."
He always wondered why they weighed it. Every boulder he ever found paid exactly two pieces of silver. He took them, put them in his front pocket, and watched Warden roll the boulder towards the pit as he always did. It bounced down a wooden ramp and then dropped into oblivion. He couldn't count how many boulders he had seen fall over the years, but it was plenty. He was very curious.
Later that morning, as he was dropping off a particularly large boulder, he spoke up again.
"Ya know, I've always wondered...how deep does this hole go, Warden? What's at the bottom?"
Warden smiled, exposing his gold teeth, and opened the gate.
"Go ahead, mate. Walk out and take a look."
The ramp sloped down at a 45 degree angle. It would be an easy fall. Darby picked up a little orange pebble and threw it into the pit, then listened closely. Nothing. It was very deep. He decided there were probably better places to focus his curiosity out in the fields. He declined Warden's offer.
"If you ever change yer mind, you just holler, alright?"
"Sure thing, Warden."
Darby walked back toward the field, but it was time for lunch, so he stopped by Chef's place. He handed both silver pieces to Chef, who handed him a meatloaf sandwich.
"So, Chef, you know how much I enjoy your meatloaf. I just have to know...is there any food other than meatloaf? I mean, I wouldn't expect it to be any better. I just thought you might know."
"Oh sure, there's bread to put on either side of the meatloaf, in addition to the bread that goes in the meatloaf."
"I mean besides bread and meat..."
"Ya know. No one's ever asked that before. What don't you like about my meatloaf?"
"Oh, nothing, I like it just fine. Love it, actually. You know. I'm just curious."
"Well, you better stop spreading any rumors about food better than meatloaf. There ain't any as far as I know, and there sure ain't no reason to go looking for anything else if you ask me."
"I understand, Chef. I didn't mean to cause concern. Thanks for the sandwich. Oh, one more thing...who do you buy your meat and bread from?"
"Meat from Uncle Stan and Bread from Aunt Mary. One silver piece goes to each for that sandwich you just bought."
"You don't keep any of it?"
"Nope. Stan and Mary require 1 piece each per sandwich."
"Can't you charge more?"
"Nope. I've found boulder hunters can't afford to pay more than that. I need to stay in business."
"Can't you make the sandwiches smaller so you can sell more of them?"
"Nope. Stan and Mary require all sandwiches meet specific nutritional requirements for the health of all boulder hunters."
"Oh, I see. Thanks Chef. See you around."
Darby walked across the field and through the herd of cattle in Stan's front yard. He knocked on Stan's door.
"Hello? Darby? That you?"
"That's right, Stan. Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Go right ahead."
"Why do you charge so much for meat?"
"Got to. Mary makes me feed the cattle this special purple grass. She won't bake bread for loaf unless I feed the cattle right. So, I've got to work with Mary or I'm out of a business."
"Oh, OK. Thanks Stan. By the way, can you tell me where Mary lives?"
"Sure can, just down those stairs over on the side of the hill there. See, there's even a sign. Say's 'To Mary's Place.' I can let you through the gate, but maybe you ought to get back to hunting for boulders, Darby."
"No, Stan, I need to figure out what's going on here. I insist."
Stan slowly opened the large wooden gate and Darby walked over to the steps. He walked down and down and down, and they spiraled around the hill. For hours Darby walked until he finally saw a little house nestled into the side of the hill. He knocked on the door.
"Who's there."
"Darby, ma'am. I'm a boulder hunter. Can I speak with you for a moment?"
A woman opened the door slightly and peered through the crack.
"Oh, yes, Darby. I've heard a lot about you. Please come in."
She seemed like a nice lady and offered him some tea, which he graciously accepted.
"Mary, I just want to know. Why do you make Stan feed his cattle purple grass."
"Oh, well they must be fed purple grass. You boulder hunters are very valuable and require nothing but the healthiest, grass-fed animals for your meatloaf."
"Yes, well, the thing is, I spend all my money on meatloaf."
"And what's wrong with that? Are you saying there is something wrong with Chef's loaf!?"
"No, it's not that. I like his loaf just fine. It's just that, well, I need to save silver. Decades of rolling boulders has taken its toll, ya know. I need to start saving for retirement."
"Oh, don't worry about retirement, Darby. Mary will take care of you and all of your loaf needs for as long as you live. The bread business is very lucrative."
"Well, that's very kind of you, but I would like to care for my own retirement, thank you. I really would rather not depend on charity."
"Oh, it's not charity, Darby. It is yours already, I assure you, for your life of hard work. It's part of the boulder hunter's contract that all hunters receive at birth. I will give it to you when you need it."
"Yes, well, how do I know you have enough silver?"
"Follow me."
Darby followed Mary through a long hallway. They approached a door and Mary opened it with a large key. Inside was an enormous pile of silver.
"See, Darby, there is plenty for everybody. I have been saving it for you."
"So, this is where all that silver goes?"
"Yes, the bread business is very lucrative indeed. This is the safest place around."
"Oh. Hm. Well, I have another question...where does Warden get all that silver to pay the boulder hunters?"
"From me, Darby. I pay Warden for every boulder he drops down the pit."
"Why do you do that? What do you need with a bunch of worthless rocks?"
"I'm glad you asked. Follow me."
Darby followed Mary through another door and into a large room. This room was well-lit with an enormous glass ceiling and filled with fruit trees, gardens, and even fields of grain. They walked over to a spring-fed pond among the grove of apple and apricot trees. An enormous parrot flew directly over Darby and landed on a branch above him.
"This is my garden, Darby. This is where I grow the grain for Chef's bread. Isn't it beautiful?"
Darby looked at a crowd of people feasting at a extravagant smorgusboard intricately arranged among the grove. Others were on ladders picking fruit. There was laughter and games and everybody seemed to be having a very good time. It looked like the bread business was very profitable indeed. She continued...
"Boulder hunters eat loaf, Darby, but you prefer something more, don't you? Plenty more. You prefer cherries, grapes, and rhubarb."
"Well, I do, to tell you the truth."
"Here we eat anything we desire. What we can't get from our own crops we acquire from across the globe. We have rutabaga, mango, sugar beets, anything at all."
"That sounds fabulous, but..."
"Then I invite you to come work for me in our commune, Darby. You will have all this and more. We will never exhaust our supply. Join us."
"And leave Brutus and the rest of the crew? How would they get along without me?"
"There is plenty of work for all of the boulder hunters. Darby, I can offer the position to you, and you alone."
Darby thought about the possibility. He imagined a life eating fruit fresh from the trees in the beautiful commune. Then he thought about the boulder field and the back breaking work. Then he thought about his gift for finding boulders. He was needed there. Life would be so much harder in the fields without his help. He just couldn't bear to abandon them.
His curiosity returned. He knew he could not accept her offer, but he decided it was an opportunity to learn more. She still hadn't answered his question...
"So what does all this have to do with the boulders? I want you to tell me what they are for."
"Darby, I have to confess, I lied to you earlier. The bread business is not lucrative at all. In fact, I make no money on bread."
"Is that so? Well then, where did you get all that silver?"
"Darby, each boulder that falls down the pit is filled with silver. One boulder contains enough silver for a year's worth of meatloaf sandwiches.
"Oh...really?"
"Yes. Other boulder hunters have come before you and asked the same questions, many you see here. They are just like you. They are here because they sought and discovered the truth. Congratulations, Darby, you are one of us now. You have earned your passage to live in the commune with us and never need to step foot in the boulder field again."
"But all I did was ask a couple questions. Anyone can do that."
"That is not the case, Darby. Now, I am willing to tell you a very well-kept secret. Do you want to hear it?"
Darby thought very hard and remembered Stan's advice. He wondered if Stan knew what was going on, but he would ask Stan about that later. Now that he had discovered the boulders were silver he needed to know more...
"Yes, I would like to hear your secret."
"Very well. First of all, most boulder hunters are always looking directly at the ground in front of them for boulders. They rarely raise their head to see very far in front of them, they seldom look from side to side, and almost never look behind them."
Darby thought about it and realized it was true. His crew was always focused directly on the earth in front of them. Every step was taken in the prospect of spotting the characteristic shiny glint. She continued...
"Many things happen while boulder hunters are looking at the ground, Darby. The entire boulder industry was developed right in those fields, among those hunters. Long ago I bought one boulder and used the silver within to pay many more hunters to find more boulders, and Warden to inspect them and manage the fields and the pit. The hunters needed food, so I also hired Chef to make loaf and Stan to raise cows. One of my sisters in the commune bakes the bread."
"Why do you make Stan feed the cows purple grass?"
"I see you have talked to Stan. Well, Darby, now that you know many of our secrets, I will be completely candid with you. Stan would certainly confiscate some of my silver if I allowed him to graze his cattle on regular, free grass. He would have plenty extra. To protect my silver I must require him to purchase my special purple grass seed. We have told everyone that purple grass is extra healthy, but it's the same as regular grass except for the color. You see, the people in our commune require very expensive clothes and shoes from distant lands. Tasty Peruvian goat's milk is our favorite dairy product, and shipping is very costly. Stan and Warden only require a small amount of silver - just enough to feed the boulder hunters and collect the boulders. This is the way it has always been, and it serves our purposes just fine. If the boulder hunters find too many boulders, we raise the price of purple grass seed, Stan is forced to raise the price of meat, and Chef must raise the price of meatloaf sandwiches. That is how we make sure the boulder hunters, Chef, and Stan do not steal any of my silver. It's a win-win-win situation."
"But why can't the boulder hunters simply use the silver in the boulders to buy expensive Peruvian goat's milk themselves? I'm sure it is very tasty."
"Oh sweet Darby, you've spent your whole life looking at boulders and not once did you suspect they were so valuable. I'm sorry, but the truth is that boulder hunter's heads are pointed permanently to the ground. They will never understand. You are the exception to the rule, and that is why you are with us now."
Darby was disappointed and ashamed. He realized he had spent his whole life looking at the ground finding boulders when he should have been asking questions the whole time. He should have asked these questions long before.
"There is so much fruit here, Mary, so much variety. It all looks delicious. You know, boulder hunters would certainly purchase these items for a very high price. They would find many more boulders for such wonderful things, and you would acquire much more silver. Why don't you sell just a few more things to them?"
"Darby, haven't you been listening? We have every material possession we could ever desire and silver for hundreds of generations, including the silver the boulder hunters have not yet unearthed. Don't you see? Keeping the boulder hunters looking at the ground is our only obligation. As long as they do so, we have nothing to worry about. Besides, we ought not force such incomprehensible things upon them. The boulder hunters live simple, active, fulfilling lives. How dare we deprive them of their valuable traditions? They wouldn't know what to do with themselves in this commune. Most of all, if they wanted a different life, all they need to do is look up once in a while, like you did."
"But you are telling me that all boulder hunters toil endlessly so you can live in this paradise. That is not fair."
"I am afraid not, but it is true. And now you get to live in paradise too. Won't you join us?"
Darby knew he must accept his invitation to the commune. It was not really an invitation at all. He knew too much. He knew Mary would not let him leave. He thought of Brutus and his crew in the fields. He couldn't bear it...all their arduous labor for nothing more than assuring a few folks special goat's milk and nice shoes. Most of all he was astounded at Mary's ignorance. Mary had no idea what dreams the boulder hunters had. They were thoughtful, intelligent people who deserved so much more. Yes, their heads were permanently fixed on the ground, but hers was fixed in the clouds. She had no idea what wonderful things they could build if given even a small portion of what they truly earned.
"Mary, I will live in your commune, but you must do something for me. You must pay three silver pieces for every boulder over 100 pounds and 4 pieces for every boulder over 150 pounds. You also must sell some of your apples to Stan so he can sell them to Chef to offer them to the boulder hunting community. I do not ask for much, but I can't bear the thought of abandoning my friends completely, even if it is a token. I can accept nothing less than this."
"You are quite a negotiator, Darby. Follow me."
Darby followed Mary through the beautiful trees and beside the wildflowers and pomegranates. He marveled at the beautiful artwork etched into the stone of the brick path. He listened to the rushing water from the stream that meandered through the grove. Birds sang and there was constant chatter and laughter from the people of the commune. She guided Darby into a door and down a long hallway. They sat at a fabulous wooden table with candles all around.
"Darby, you are a very special boulder hunter. You have asked many questions and you are a capable and well-meaning negotiator. You have sound judgment. I would like you to be king of my commune. You will be responsible for leading all gaming activities and ensuring the acquisition of Peruvian goat's milk. This is a very important position, Darby. Do you accept."
"I can only accept if you offer the boulder hunters my demands."
"Darby, you know I cannot do that. It is not in the interest of this commune or any member therein. Too many boulder hunters have been asking questions. If they suddenly see that we can afford to pay three pieces they will start asking too many questions. You must realize the opportunity you have, Darby. You are not a boulder hunter any more. You are king of this commune. Follow me."
Darby recognized that Mary had reason to be afraid of the boulder hunters' questions. They had reason and numbers to rise up and destroy her and the commune. But Darby knew the boulder hunters were peaceful and would never even consider such a thing...it simply wasn't in them. He wondered how he could prove this to Mary.
Mary led Darby through another hallway and into another room with beautiful artwork on all of the walls. There were statues and fine wood carvings everywhere. Several women in white robes stood on either side to greet him.
"Darby, this is your council. These women are here to help you serve in any way you desire. They will tend to the fruit pickers. They will manage the pile of silver. They will do anything you ask, Darby. Anything at all."
Darby looked at the women around him. They were stunningly beautiful. He had hardly seen a woman all of his life. Boulder hunters are mostly men, and the few women around the boulder fields are married to Warden and his friends. They each greeted Darby individually and Darby was enchanted by them. He closed his eyes and thought very hard...he thought about all of the boulder hunters. He became angry.
"No, no, NO, Mary. You must. You MUST give the boulder hunters at least one more silver piece per boulder and access to apples. If you do not, I refuse your offer and will not be king. Just one silver piece more and I am yours."
"You are wise, Darby. You know your potential. You are loyal and compassionate. It only proves you must be king. Please follow me."
Darby followed Mary through the group of women and into another dark hallway. He was shocked by what he had seen and was very agitated. He wanted to escape. If he could only vanish and return to the boulder field. He stood in a small, dark, round room next to Mary.
"Darby, you are the most admirable and intelligent boulder hunter I have ever met. I have one more secret to share with you. Would you like to hear it?"
"Yes, Mary, I would."
"Warden says that you asked him what was at the bottom of the boulder pit. Would you still like to know?"
Darby looked down for a moment and saw, to his surprise, an orange pebble. An orange pebble in the same shape as the one he had thrown down the boulder pit earlier. He knew a large rock could crush him at any moment.
"Mary, I am standing at the bottom of the boulder pit right now."
Mary paused and looked at Darby with astonishment. No such boulder hunter had ever known his fate. She couldn't imagine how Darby had. She froze.
"I know that at any moment a boulder could strike me and kill me instantly. I am not afraid."
Mary said nothing, but watched in horror, knowing he had only moments to move.
"I was not afraid when I asked Brutus what the boulders were for. I was not afraid when I asked Warden what was at the bottom of the pit, or where Chef purchased his ingredients, or why Stan fed his cows purple grass. I was not afraid when I asked you why you needed boulders or why you can't sell your Peruvian goat's milk. You have shown me the awful truth, but it is better than living with my head towards the ground like I did all those years. Every question bears the burden of risk, and I have chosen to accept it. Right now that burden requires me to stand at the bottom of this ridiculously deep boulder pit to demonstrate another truth...that I'm better off a pile of bones on the ground than a prisoner in this comu..."
THUD!
The next day Mary began offering 3 pieces of silver per boulder, and charged 1 silver piece per apple.
The boulder hunters began asking questions.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Finding a Cure for Rimples
A consultant owns a fancy restaurant downtown. There he sits down to lunch with two struggling companies. One sells bread, the other, pharmaceuticals.
Bread Seller: We are going bankrupt. How to we sell more bread?
Consultant: Create a demand for your bread.
Bread Seller: How do we do that?
Consultant: Talk to this drug guy here.
Drug Guy: Hey.
Bread seller: Howdy.
Drug Guy: We want to sell more drugs.
Bread Seller: Good for you. I feel fine. Scram.
Consultant: Hear him out, man.
Bread Seller: Alright genius, five minutes, but only because this ciabatta is delicious.
Drug Guy: You broke?
Bread Seller: Almost.
Drug Guy: Ready to make a deal.
Bread Seller: Yep.
Drug Guy: We can promise higher bread sales if you use our recipe.
Bread Seller: There's nothing wrong with our recipe.
Drug Guy: Oh, it won't affect the flavor. We just need to add one ingredient.
Bread Seller: What's that.
Drug Guy: I can't tell you.
Bread Seller: Seriously. Scram. I've heard enough bogus proposals.
Drug Guy: Here's a million dollars, cash.
Consultant: I get some of that.
Drug Guy: If he takes it.
Consultant: Tell him.
Drug Guy: Alright, look, Mr. bread man, you want to feed your family, right?
Bread Seller: Right.
Drug Guy: You want your employees to have jobs, right?
Bread Seller: Right.
Drug Guy: We sell drugs. And that is how we feed our families, so we have that in common.
Bread Seller: Right.
Drug Guy: You let us put a tiny...and I mean TINY bit of poison in your bread and we will give you a million dollars a month. No one will ever notice.
Bread Seller: Poison?
Drug Guy: Well, yes. You see, small amounts cause a mild disease, Rimples, and we manufacture the only cure. Rimples isn't lethal, of course. Perfectly safe. We would never kill off our customers. We just need some extra cases of Rimples to generate a market for our product. The revenue will help us support the other good and helpful drugs, which cure natural diseases.
Bread Seller: Who the hell is this joker? That's the most corrupt thing I've ever heard.
Consultant: Please listen closely.
Drug Guy: We will also pay all of your advertising costs. Bullwort Bread will be the most popular product the world over, and our drug will sell like hotcakes.
Bread Seller: Won't people notice everyone is getting Rimples?
Drug Guy: Nope. Only 1 in 100 people are even susceptible to it. This can't cause any sort of epidemic.
Consultant: It's only a trace amount of poison. The bread will be perfectly safe in moderation. Only folks who eat lots of Bullwort Bread will have even a chance of contracting Rimples. But we need volume...millions of loaves. This is going to be big, real big. You are about to become very wealthy.
Bread Seller: No.
Drug Guy: What?
Bread Seller: Scram. I'd rather burn in hell than poison the globe. Get outa here.
Drug Guy: Very well. Oh, one more thing...did you enjoy your lunch?
Bread Seller: Yes. Delicious.
Drug Guy: Good. However, I strongly recommend two of these [hold up pills].
Consultant: Mr. Bullwort. I'm sorry, but you have only minutes to make your decision.
Drug Guy: By the way, in large amounts the poison just as tasteless and causes Drimples, which causes almost instant death. Preliminary symptoms include severe anxiety.
Bread Seller: [Pause]
Consultant: I suggest you negotiate.
Bread Seller: Two million.
Drug Guy: Deal.
Consultant: Sign here.
Bread Seller: The pills.
Consultant: [Grabs pills] I have them.
Bread Seller: [Signs, takes pills and swallows them]. You are both evil bastards, ya know.
Drug Guy: Tell us about it.
Consultant: We know. Filthy rich, evil bastards.
Drug Guy: And look! No Rimples!
Bread Seller: Or Drimples!
All: [Laugh]
Bread Seller: We are going bankrupt. How to we sell more bread?
Consultant: Create a demand for your bread.
Bread Seller: How do we do that?
Consultant: Talk to this drug guy here.
Drug Guy: Hey.
Bread seller: Howdy.
Drug Guy: We want to sell more drugs.
Bread Seller: Good for you. I feel fine. Scram.
Consultant: Hear him out, man.
Bread Seller: Alright genius, five minutes, but only because this ciabatta is delicious.
Drug Guy: You broke?
Bread Seller: Almost.
Drug Guy: Ready to make a deal.
Bread Seller: Yep.
Drug Guy: We can promise higher bread sales if you use our recipe.
Bread Seller: There's nothing wrong with our recipe.
Drug Guy: Oh, it won't affect the flavor. We just need to add one ingredient.
Bread Seller: What's that.
Drug Guy: I can't tell you.
Bread Seller: Seriously. Scram. I've heard enough bogus proposals.
Drug Guy: Here's a million dollars, cash.
Consultant: I get some of that.
Drug Guy: If he takes it.
Consultant: Tell him.
Drug Guy: Alright, look, Mr. bread man, you want to feed your family, right?
Bread Seller: Right.
Drug Guy: You want your employees to have jobs, right?
Bread Seller: Right.
Drug Guy: We sell drugs. And that is how we feed our families, so we have that in common.
Bread Seller: Right.
Drug Guy: You let us put a tiny...and I mean TINY bit of poison in your bread and we will give you a million dollars a month. No one will ever notice.
Bread Seller: Poison?
Drug Guy: Well, yes. You see, small amounts cause a mild disease, Rimples, and we manufacture the only cure. Rimples isn't lethal, of course. Perfectly safe. We would never kill off our customers. We just need some extra cases of Rimples to generate a market for our product. The revenue will help us support the other good and helpful drugs, which cure natural diseases.
Bread Seller: Who the hell is this joker? That's the most corrupt thing I've ever heard.
Consultant: Please listen closely.
Drug Guy: We will also pay all of your advertising costs. Bullwort Bread will be the most popular product the world over, and our drug will sell like hotcakes.
Bread Seller: Won't people notice everyone is getting Rimples?
Drug Guy: Nope. Only 1 in 100 people are even susceptible to it. This can't cause any sort of epidemic.
Consultant: It's only a trace amount of poison. The bread will be perfectly safe in moderation. Only folks who eat lots of Bullwort Bread will have even a chance of contracting Rimples. But we need volume...millions of loaves. This is going to be big, real big. You are about to become very wealthy.
Bread Seller: No.
Drug Guy: What?
Bread Seller: Scram. I'd rather burn in hell than poison the globe. Get outa here.
Drug Guy: Very well. Oh, one more thing...did you enjoy your lunch?
Bread Seller: Yes. Delicious.
Drug Guy: Good. However, I strongly recommend two of these [hold up pills].
Consultant: Mr. Bullwort. I'm sorry, but you have only minutes to make your decision.
Drug Guy: By the way, in large amounts the poison just as tasteless and causes Drimples, which causes almost instant death. Preliminary symptoms include severe anxiety.
Bread Seller: [Pause]
Consultant: I suggest you negotiate.
Bread Seller: Two million.
Drug Guy: Deal.
Consultant: Sign here.
Bread Seller: The pills.
Consultant: [Grabs pills] I have them.
Bread Seller: [Signs, takes pills and swallows them]. You are both evil bastards, ya know.
Drug Guy: Tell us about it.
Consultant: We know. Filthy rich, evil bastards.
Drug Guy: And look! No Rimples!
Bread Seller: Or Drimples!
All: [Laugh]
Holy Hedge Fund Batman
Bailout plan rejected. Dow down as much as 700 points.
Can you hear me now?
Good.
Can you hear me now?
Good.
Peace is not the absence of war but the presence of justice.
-Harrison Ford
If you want peace, work for justice.
-Henry Louis Mencken
Peace and justice are two sides of the same coin.
-Dwight Eisenhower
The administration of justice is the firmest pillar of government.
-George Washington
Friday, September 26, 2008
Julius and the Clipboard
Julius signed on the dotted line and handed the clipboard to the doctor.
"Are you sure this is going to work, Dr. Green? Are my dreams really going to come true after this?"
"Absolutely, Julius, you have nothing to worry about. Just lie down and enjoy the ride."
Dr. Green inserted the needle into Julius' arm and pushed the plunger. Julius closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep. What he experienced next was indeed the embodiment of his most extreme fantasy. He had a just received a triple dose of LDS, Lucid Dream Serum. LDS had just been approved by the Food and Drug Administration, having only a "small chance of a serious side effect."
He drifted into flight over the city and landed atop a skyscraper. "This is living!" he thought. For the next 24 hours he behaved as one without consequence. He knew his every wish could be granted, so he took advantage. There was no time to waste.
His fantasy happened to be one of world domination, which he acquired within 20 hours.
The following 4 hours were spent violently suppressing opposition and ruling with an iron fist as his whim commanded. His final hours consisted of a systematic purge to eliminate all subversives involved in a rambunctious Anti-Great One protest including signs, banners and megaphones. They marched through the streets in silly clothes making fools of themselves.
This unpopular minority was swiftly crushed and brought to justice. They were devoured by starving lions. Julius considered the manner of public execution commensurate with their heinous crime, Executive Order #1: "Thou Shalt Not Defy the Will of The Great One." He was pleased to see that a subsequent arena poll confirmed the public's approval of the punishment. 100% checked the box: "A Fair and Just Response."
Their relatively quick deaths were merciful, but that was acceptable to Julius...after all, he was a good and compassionate ruler. It was his dream, so everything was exactly as prescribed. If he was dissatisfied at all, it was certainly for the sake of a greater pleasure in the very near term. But any sacrifice would soon be futile as his time was running out...
He looked at his clock. Only 5 minutes left! Julius sulked. He wanted more time. It had been the best 23 hours and 55 minutes of his life. He couldn't bear to part with his dream. In his last minutes at the throne, Julius ordered the guards to usher the spectators into the lion pit and a tear fell down his cheek as he watched the lions rip them limb-from-limb.
His eyes snapped open and he was back in the doctor's office.
"Okay, Julius, the procedure is complete."
The screams of his subjects still ringed in his ears as he looked at the blank white ceiling. He knew he must go back. He was not built for this life.
With great trepidation he looked down to review the damage. His right leg had been removed at the knee.
"Your leg is on its way to Beijing. The recipient is absolutely ecstatic and sends you his most sincere appreciation. We think it will be an excellent fit."
Julius winced, the white bandages appearing in his peripheral vision as he eyed the syringes sitting on the counter across the room.
"Dr. Green."
"Yes Julius?"
"Does anyone need a left leg?"
"There is a waiting list a mile long."
The doctor handed the clipboard to Julius. He signed on the dotted line.
"Are you sure this is going to work, Dr. Green? Are my dreams really going to come true after this?"
"Absolutely, Julius, you have nothing to worry about. Just lie down and enjoy the ride."
Dr. Green inserted the needle into Julius' arm and pushed the plunger. Julius closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep. What he experienced next was indeed the embodiment of his most extreme fantasy. He had a just received a triple dose of LDS, Lucid Dream Serum. LDS had just been approved by the Food and Drug Administration, having only a "small chance of a serious side effect."
He drifted into flight over the city and landed atop a skyscraper. "This is living!" he thought. For the next 24 hours he behaved as one without consequence. He knew his every wish could be granted, so he took advantage. There was no time to waste.
His fantasy happened to be one of world domination, which he acquired within 20 hours.
The following 4 hours were spent violently suppressing opposition and ruling with an iron fist as his whim commanded. His final hours consisted of a systematic purge to eliminate all subversives involved in a rambunctious Anti-Great One protest including signs, banners and megaphones. They marched through the streets in silly clothes making fools of themselves.
This unpopular minority was swiftly crushed and brought to justice. They were devoured by starving lions. Julius considered the manner of public execution commensurate with their heinous crime, Executive Order #1: "Thou Shalt Not Defy the Will of The Great One." He was pleased to see that a subsequent arena poll confirmed the public's approval of the punishment. 100% checked the box: "A Fair and Just Response."
Their relatively quick deaths were merciful, but that was acceptable to Julius...after all, he was a good and compassionate ruler. It was his dream, so everything was exactly as prescribed. If he was dissatisfied at all, it was certainly for the sake of a greater pleasure in the very near term. But any sacrifice would soon be futile as his time was running out...
He looked at his clock. Only 5 minutes left! Julius sulked. He wanted more time. It had been the best 23 hours and 55 minutes of his life. He couldn't bear to part with his dream. In his last minutes at the throne, Julius ordered the guards to usher the spectators into the lion pit and a tear fell down his cheek as he watched the lions rip them limb-from-limb.
His eyes snapped open and he was back in the doctor's office.
"Okay, Julius, the procedure is complete."
The screams of his subjects still ringed in his ears as he looked at the blank white ceiling. He knew he must go back. He was not built for this life.
With great trepidation he looked down to review the damage. His right leg had been removed at the knee.
"Your leg is on its way to Beijing. The recipient is absolutely ecstatic and sends you his most sincere appreciation. We think it will be an excellent fit."
Julius winced, the white bandages appearing in his peripheral vision as he eyed the syringes sitting on the counter across the room.
"Dr. Green."
"Yes Julius?"
"Does anyone need a left leg?"
"There is a waiting list a mile long."
The doctor handed the clipboard to Julius. He signed on the dotted line.
Happy Fun Time. Writing Your Congressmen.
In Boy Scouts, as a requirement for some merit badge, we all were required to write a letter to our mayor regarding some local issue. I wrote about a dangerous bunch of potholes at the end of our street, which would fill with water and freeze into a giant frozen pond covering the entire intersection. My mom spun out on it once. Believe it or not, a work crew came out and eventually fixed it! Here is my letter to the Minnesota 5th District (THE FIGHTIN' FIFTH) congressmen, Mr. Keith Ellison. Let's hope he fixes the pothole.
===================
Dear Honorable Keith M. Ellison,
I oppose the proposed bailout plan because it violates economic justice and is fundamentally immoral. It pushes the underprivileged out of the housing market in favor of wealthy investors. Let prices drop as the market requires or you are responsible for helping banks and corporations deprive the people of their prosperity as Jefferson predicted would happen when banks control the business cycle.
"If the American People allow private banks to control the issuance of their currency, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the People of all their Property until their Children will wake up homeless on the continent their Fathers conquered." -Thomas Jefferson
I do not want to wake up homeless, Mr. Ellison.
Reject this and all shameless favors for the wealthy. We are not afraid, and do not need bad business propped up by our tax dollars. Investors don't invest in failing businesses, why should we?
We will replace those bad businesses with sound ones...creative destruction is an absolute necessity for a functional economy, and eternal vigilance is essential if we are to reject the influences of corruption and endure as a just nation dedicated to the rule of law, equality, and freedom.
Your principles and intelligence are being tested. Do not be persuaded by rich business interests who want you to believe they are necessary to our survival. By allowing corporate welfare to pass you are literally taking money out of the pockets of the hardest (poor and middle class) workers and placing it into the hands of the wealthy. Our economy is only corrupt as much as government steals from the poor to ensure the portfolio, business, or employment of anyone. The poor and middle class are trying to live, eat, and pay a mortgage. The rich are trying to save their mansions, yachts, and cars. They are smart, but not smart enough to get away with this so long as YOU have the resolve to stand up to them. WE ARE BEHIND YOU, and would rather fight for truth and justice through hard times than see the fruits of our hard labor scooped up by the risk takers on Wall Street who messed up.
This is one case where you can be absolutely confident they are trying to protect their personal fortunes. They believe they are made of a finer clay than the rest of us, and now must save us from ourselves. Well, if past performance is indicative of future results, they will do this again and they have not earned their wealth in the first place. Don't believe them. We are a nation of smart, capable people, and the honest will always prevail if given the chance. PLEASE GIVE US THAT CHANCE!!!
Sincerely,
The Sasquatch
===================
I didn't want to get into how I really feel about all this. Reminds me I'm getting rather thirsty.
===================
Dear Honorable Keith M. Ellison,
I oppose the proposed bailout plan because it violates economic justice and is fundamentally immoral. It pushes the underprivileged out of the housing market in favor of wealthy investors. Let prices drop as the market requires or you are responsible for helping banks and corporations deprive the people of their prosperity as Jefferson predicted would happen when banks control the business cycle.
"If the American People allow private banks to control the issuance of their currency, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the People of all their Property until their Children will wake up homeless on the continent their Fathers conquered." -Thomas Jefferson
I do not want to wake up homeless, Mr. Ellison.
Reject this and all shameless favors for the wealthy. We are not afraid, and do not need bad business propped up by our tax dollars. Investors don't invest in failing businesses, why should we?
We will replace those bad businesses with sound ones...creative destruction is an absolute necessity for a functional economy, and eternal vigilance is essential if we are to reject the influences of corruption and endure as a just nation dedicated to the rule of law, equality, and freedom.
Your principles and intelligence are being tested. Do not be persuaded by rich business interests who want you to believe they are necessary to our survival. By allowing corporate welfare to pass you are literally taking money out of the pockets of the hardest (poor and middle class) workers and placing it into the hands of the wealthy. Our economy is only corrupt as much as government steals from the poor to ensure the portfolio, business, or employment of anyone. The poor and middle class are trying to live, eat, and pay a mortgage. The rich are trying to save their mansions, yachts, and cars. They are smart, but not smart enough to get away with this so long as YOU have the resolve to stand up to them. WE ARE BEHIND YOU, and would rather fight for truth and justice through hard times than see the fruits of our hard labor scooped up by the risk takers on Wall Street who messed up.
This is one case where you can be absolutely confident they are trying to protect their personal fortunes. They believe they are made of a finer clay than the rest of us, and now must save us from ourselves. Well, if past performance is indicative of future results, they will do this again and they have not earned their wealth in the first place. Don't believe them. We are a nation of smart, capable people, and the honest will always prevail if given the chance. PLEASE GIVE US THAT CHANCE!!!
Sincerely,
The Sasquatch
===================
I didn't want to get into how I really feel about all this. Reminds me I'm getting rather thirsty.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Mr. Tree
All the really good things in life are free, wouldn't you say Mr. Tree?
Dirt, water, sunlight. You are correct, all three.
Dirt, water, sunlight. You are correct, all three.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Shock the Frog
If congress permits the extortion of $700,000,000,000 from our paychecks to facilitate rich folks on Wall Street or any street I, the general public, will be very disappointed.
The collapse of corrupt or insolvent financial institutions is not a loss of "value." A defunct currency does not represent true value now any more than it did before the cover was blown on this whole thing.
Individuals who work, innovate, and adjust to changing conditions are the ones who create value. Given the opportunity, these individuals will take advantage of the coming collapse. They (we) must dig ourselves out of this mess. It will happen one way or another, but it will take a whole lot longer if we keep shoveling our hard earned paychecks to the rich who are doing everything in their power to save their fortunes through government action.
This is an excellent opportunity to restore free market capitalism and sound money to a country that hasn't seen a fair playing field in some time.
Stop heating the frog slowly. It needs a good shock or it might never wake up.
The collapse of corrupt or insolvent financial institutions is not a loss of "value." A defunct currency does not represent true value now any more than it did before the cover was blown on this whole thing.
Individuals who work, innovate, and adjust to changing conditions are the ones who create value. Given the opportunity, these individuals will take advantage of the coming collapse. They (we) must dig ourselves out of this mess. It will happen one way or another, but it will take a whole lot longer if we keep shoveling our hard earned paychecks to the rich who are doing everything in their power to save their fortunes through government action.
This is an excellent opportunity to restore free market capitalism and sound money to a country that hasn't seen a fair playing field in some time.
Stop heating the frog slowly. It needs a good shock or it might never wake up.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Pliny the Builder
The building never seemed to end...
With resilience, Pliny the builder poked his nail gun against the shingles as he had many times before. Each jab pounded a piece of steel with great force into the top of his creation. He knew the nails were too long and would be visible from the inside. Perfection was never his strong suit. His compromise was essential.
The shingles would be watertight, and keep the place dry. Still, he couldn't help wincing with every shot, as if he was inflicting pain of some kind. He walked along the top casually blasting with reckless abandon. Such relentless brutality to something so precious.
But he knew it was just a house, and although it was built with great care and planning, a bulldozer or even a raging inferno could never hurt it. It was invincible, even if only a fixture in his noggin. It could be built again any way he pleased. And this was his essential compromise. Although his house was of supreme importance, his imagination was completely uncontrollable.
In fact, as he built, he realized all the time it took to construct this one was eliminating all of the other wild creations he had thought of along the way...
As he nailed the last piece of plywood to the floorboards he realized he hadn't included a place for a jacuzzi. Sure, the rest would need to be completely redesigned for such a thing, "but oh, wouldn't that be cool," he thought.
As the final wall was nailed into place he pondered a bay window.
As he tested the electricity he wondered about a 220 volt circuit.
As he pounded the last shingle he imagined a second story.
All in all, by the time he had finished framing his house he finally knew precisely what he really wanted, and it was a completely different house.
He walked inside and looked around. He lamented the misplaced rafters and other imperfections - a direct result of his head being permanently affixed to the clouds. Each nick in a 2x4 became another one of his dreams that fell somewhat short. Each piece of misshapen plywood in the ceiling became a reminder of his failure. He wondered how he could have constructed such a potent obstruction to his happiness. It was all wrong, he decided. What had driven him to construct such a thing had been the same thing that destroyed it.
He sat in the middle of his new vinyl floor and rested his cheek on his hand. "How could I have known? Could I ever build again? How can I ever ensure such effort is not wasted?" He thought about his life, his job, his aspirations. He wondered why he did anything at all. "The greater the goal, the greater the failure," he thought.
Suddenly a flash of light appeared out the window and thunder shook the newly built house. He stood and looked out the window. The sky was black as night. Moments later a small pattering on the roof intensified into a steady downpour. A powerful storm then crashed against the shingles he had just finished moments earlier.
He watched for leaks, hoping to find one. There were none.
The wind pounded against the side of the house.
He walked over and held his hand against the wall, hoping to feel a breeze. He felt nothing.
As the storm raged against the house Pliny considered every possibility. Were the gutters clogged? Did the foundation leak? The windows?
Pliny found nothing. It appeared as though his newly built house was, if completely imperfect and shameful, entirely sound to live in. By this point he still wanted the storm to blow it away, and take him with it.
Then Pliny heard a loud knock on the door. He rushed over to open it. It was his neighbor, Bliny.
"Good day, Pliny, would you mind if I came in?"
"I suppose not, but you are a filthy beggar for it."
"Granted. By the way, have you seen the displaced state of your rafters?"
"Yes, I have indeed noticed that. And have you seen the soggy state of your clothes?"
"Oh yes, I suppose they are, aren't they. Oh, and the misshapen puzzle of plywood overhead."
"Why yes, thank you for reminding me. I have noticed that as well."
"And the sorry state of your..."
Bliny continued to point out the various mistakes throughout the duration of the storm. After several minutes the rain suddenly stopped and Bliny left.
Pliny looked around at the various faults that surrounded him. He noticed a nice place for a shelf and thought of the many wonderful things he could place on top of it. Picture frames, little wooden sculptures, a cribbage board, flowers.
He picked up his tool belt and continued building...
With resilience, Pliny the builder poked his nail gun against the shingles as he had many times before. Each jab pounded a piece of steel with great force into the top of his creation. He knew the nails were too long and would be visible from the inside. Perfection was never his strong suit. His compromise was essential.
The shingles would be watertight, and keep the place dry. Still, he couldn't help wincing with every shot, as if he was inflicting pain of some kind. He walked along the top casually blasting with reckless abandon. Such relentless brutality to something so precious.
But he knew it was just a house, and although it was built with great care and planning, a bulldozer or even a raging inferno could never hurt it. It was invincible, even if only a fixture in his noggin. It could be built again any way he pleased. And this was his essential compromise. Although his house was of supreme importance, his imagination was completely uncontrollable.
In fact, as he built, he realized all the time it took to construct this one was eliminating all of the other wild creations he had thought of along the way...
As he nailed the last piece of plywood to the floorboards he realized he hadn't included a place for a jacuzzi. Sure, the rest would need to be completely redesigned for such a thing, "but oh, wouldn't that be cool," he thought.
As the final wall was nailed into place he pondered a bay window.
As he tested the electricity he wondered about a 220 volt circuit.
As he pounded the last shingle he imagined a second story.
All in all, by the time he had finished framing his house he finally knew precisely what he really wanted, and it was a completely different house.
He walked inside and looked around. He lamented the misplaced rafters and other imperfections - a direct result of his head being permanently affixed to the clouds. Each nick in a 2x4 became another one of his dreams that fell somewhat short. Each piece of misshapen plywood in the ceiling became a reminder of his failure. He wondered how he could have constructed such a potent obstruction to his happiness. It was all wrong, he decided. What had driven him to construct such a thing had been the same thing that destroyed it.
He sat in the middle of his new vinyl floor and rested his cheek on his hand. "How could I have known? Could I ever build again? How can I ever ensure such effort is not wasted?" He thought about his life, his job, his aspirations. He wondered why he did anything at all. "The greater the goal, the greater the failure," he thought.
Suddenly a flash of light appeared out the window and thunder shook the newly built house. He stood and looked out the window. The sky was black as night. Moments later a small pattering on the roof intensified into a steady downpour. A powerful storm then crashed against the shingles he had just finished moments earlier.
He watched for leaks, hoping to find one. There were none.
The wind pounded against the side of the house.
He walked over and held his hand against the wall, hoping to feel a breeze. He felt nothing.
As the storm raged against the house Pliny considered every possibility. Were the gutters clogged? Did the foundation leak? The windows?
Pliny found nothing. It appeared as though his newly built house was, if completely imperfect and shameful, entirely sound to live in. By this point he still wanted the storm to blow it away, and take him with it.
Then Pliny heard a loud knock on the door. He rushed over to open it. It was his neighbor, Bliny.
"Good day, Pliny, would you mind if I came in?"
"I suppose not, but you are a filthy beggar for it."
"Granted. By the way, have you seen the displaced state of your rafters?"
"Yes, I have indeed noticed that. And have you seen the soggy state of your clothes?"
"Oh yes, I suppose they are, aren't they. Oh, and the misshapen puzzle of plywood overhead."
"Why yes, thank you for reminding me. I have noticed that as well."
"And the sorry state of your..."
Bliny continued to point out the various mistakes throughout the duration of the storm. After several minutes the rain suddenly stopped and Bliny left.
Pliny looked around at the various faults that surrounded him. He noticed a nice place for a shelf and thought of the many wonderful things he could place on top of it. Picture frames, little wooden sculptures, a cribbage board, flowers.
He picked up his tool belt and continued building...
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Transcript Retreived: US Codex 12-74655 for Immediate Delivery
My fellow Americans. The state of our union is strong. Through great resolve, patriotism, and sacrifice of our brave men in uniform have averted a great agricultural crisis. Stores of food are abundant and I have received personal assurance from the Director of Homeland Agriculture that enough acreage has been secured to guarantee adequate rations for all into the foreseeable future. We ask that you continue to place country first and return any extra rations to the local authority so that it can be distributed to the recipient who needs it most. The direct redistribution of rations to others, including family, is strictly prohibited, and is punishable by death. Farmers who resist the seizure of essential food stores or equipment will be imprisoned.
I am pleased to report the liberation of New Hampshire is nigh as Resistance forces have begun their retreat. Rumors that Resistance members have hidden a live nuclear device within the Concord city limits have been greatly exaggerated, and our occupation will proceed as planned. There is no cause for panic in the greater Concord area and local residents are asked only to remain in their homes and allow safe harbor for all US military personal. Remember, our soldiers are risking all to ensure your safety and require the best possible rest conditions and proper nourishment. When our men in uniform arrive at your residence we ask you to place country first and remember that they are a necessary part of ensuring this great nation remains free and prosperous.
Please retain your National ID card on your person at all times in case of emergency relocation.
All remaining firearms must be submitted to the local authority or donated to any member of the Liberation forces. Any attempt to retain firearms is treason. Individuals found with firearms will be regarded as Resistance soldiers and handled accordingly. Do not put your life at risk. Your cooperation is essential to placing your country first.
Distribution of Resistance literature is in violation of Executive Order x2525. Ownership of Resistance literature must be burned on sight or immediately deleted. Ownership of any literature that promotes ideology contradictory to the nation's "Country First" philosophy is a crime punishable by death. Enemy combatants must be dealt with swiftly and permanently to assure the survival of this great nation.
I thank you for your continued cooperation and ask that you continue to place country first.
God bless the United States of America.
I am pleased to report the liberation of New Hampshire is nigh as Resistance forces have begun their retreat. Rumors that Resistance members have hidden a live nuclear device within the Concord city limits have been greatly exaggerated, and our occupation will proceed as planned. There is no cause for panic in the greater Concord area and local residents are asked only to remain in their homes and allow safe harbor for all US military personal. Remember, our soldiers are risking all to ensure your safety and require the best possible rest conditions and proper nourishment. When our men in uniform arrive at your residence we ask you to place country first and remember that they are a necessary part of ensuring this great nation remains free and prosperous.
Please retain your National ID card on your person at all times in case of emergency relocation.
All remaining firearms must be submitted to the local authority or donated to any member of the Liberation forces. Any attempt to retain firearms is treason. Individuals found with firearms will be regarded as Resistance soldiers and handled accordingly. Do not put your life at risk. Your cooperation is essential to placing your country first.
Distribution of Resistance literature is in violation of Executive Order x2525. Ownership of Resistance literature must be burned on sight or immediately deleted. Ownership of any literature that promotes ideology contradictory to the nation's "Country First" philosophy is a crime punishable by death. Enemy combatants must be dealt with swiftly and permanently to assure the survival of this great nation.
I thank you for your continued cooperation and ask that you continue to place country first.
God bless the United States of America.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Can You Handle the Truth?
Remember those dark days of the Cold War? That struggle between the forces of freedom and tyranny?
For several decades, from behind an iron curtain, the forces of communism threatened the free world. They did so dedicated to the concept of shared responsibility.
The Soviets adopted a "country first" philosophy. They believed that, "in the spirit of unity and shared responsibility," individual human rights were secondary to the state. They believed that wealth and morality were best handled by the hands of their mother country. They believed that the government was best suited to distribute prosperity. They believed that the public good was of primary importance, and the violation of human rights over a proportion of its citizenry was an acceptable consequence.
Sound familiar?
Do you agree with John McCain or Barrack Obama? If so, you agree that the size and scope of government must be expanded and responsibility for individual failure should be absorbed by others who had not taken the risk.
Neither the Republicans nor the Democrats promote a limitation of collectivist philosophy. Neither wants to restore individual liberty and accountability. The losers will be the law-abiding tax payers under either party.
I think it is fair to ask: Just what does McCain suggest we place country in front of? Our jobs, our family, our city, our state? This is an outrageous appeal to revert to the very things our country was founded to prevent.
And McCain is the conservative's choice for president of the United States.
And no one seems to notice the contradiction.
The Soviets were only one example of this collectivist ideology. There have been many others...
Here are some quotes from the past that represent the direction we are heading.
For several decades, from behind an iron curtain, the forces of communism threatened the free world. They did so dedicated to the concept of shared responsibility.
The Soviets adopted a "country first" philosophy. They believed that, "in the spirit of unity and shared responsibility," individual human rights were secondary to the state. They believed that wealth and morality were best handled by the hands of their mother country. They believed that the government was best suited to distribute prosperity. They believed that the public good was of primary importance, and the violation of human rights over a proportion of its citizenry was an acceptable consequence.
Sound familiar?
Do you agree with John McCain or Barrack Obama? If so, you agree that the size and scope of government must be expanded and responsibility for individual failure should be absorbed by others who had not taken the risk.
- You can blame the well-intentioned Republicans for deregulating the mortgage and banking industries.
- You can blame the well-intentioned Democrats and Republicans for starting the problem by permitting the international banking cartel to take possession of our monetary system through the Federal Reserve System and introducing fiat currency.
- But, in a just and free society blame is always rightfully delegated to the individuals who broke the law and their cohorts.
Neither the Republicans nor the Democrats promote a limitation of collectivist philosophy. Neither wants to restore individual liberty and accountability. The losers will be the law-abiding tax payers under either party.
I think it is fair to ask: Just what does McCain suggest we place country in front of? Our jobs, our family, our city, our state? This is an outrageous appeal to revert to the very things our country was founded to prevent.
And McCain is the conservative's choice for president of the United States.
And no one seems to notice the contradiction.
The Soviets were only one example of this collectivist ideology. There have been many others...
Here are some quotes from the past that represent the direction we are heading.
It is the State which educates its citizens in civic virtue, gives them a consciousness of their mission and welds them into unity. -Benito Mussolini
Fascism should rightly be called Corporatism, as it is the merger of corporate and government power. -Benito Mussolini
The keystone of the Fascist doctrine is its conception of the State, of its essence, its functions, and its aims. For Fascism the State is absolute, individuals and groups relative. -Benito Mussolini
Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination. This is the war of the future. -Adolf Hitler
How fortunate for governments that the people they administer don't think. -Adolf Hitler
I believe today that my conduct is in accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator. -Adolf Hitler
Communism is not love. Communism is a hammer which we use to crush the enemy. -Mao Tse-Tung
During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act. -George Orwell
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Motivational Quotes for an Economy in Peril
September, 1929
"There is no cause to worry. The high tide of prosperity will continue." — Andrew W. Mellon, Secretary of the Treasury.
October 14, 1929
"Secretary Lamont and officials of the Commerce Department today denied rumors that a severe depression in business and industrial activity was impending, which had been based on a mistaken interpretation of a review of industrial and credit conditions issued earlier in the day by the Federal Reserve Board." — New York Times
December 5, 1929
"The Government's business is in sound condition." — Andrew W. Mellon, Secretary of the Treasury
December 28, 1929
"Maintenance of a general high level of business in the United States during December was reviewed today by Robert P. Lamont, Secretary of Commerce, as an indication that American industry had reached a point where a break in New York stock prices does not necessarily mean a national depression." — Associated Press dispatch.
January 13, 1930
"Reports to the Department of Commerce indicate that business is in a satisfactory condition, Secretary Lamont said today." - News item.
January 21, 1930
"Definite signs that business and industry have turned the corner from the temporary period of emergency that followed deflation of the speculative market were seen today by President Hoover. The President said the reports to the Cabinet showed the tide of employment had changed in the right direction." - News dispatch from Washington.
June 29, 1930
"The worst is over without a doubt." - James J. Davis, Secretary of Labor.
August 29, 1930
"American labor may now look to the future with confidence." - James J. Davis, Secretary of Labor.
September 12, 1930
"We have hit bottom and are on the upswing." - James J. Davis, Secretary of Labor.
November 1930
"I see no reason why 1931 should not be an extremely good year." - Alfred P. Sloan, Jr., General Motors Co.
June 9, 1931
"The depression has ended." - Dr. Julius Klein, Assistant Secretary of Commerce.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Helga, Olga, and the Gardener
Helga was:
Olga had achieved absolutely nothing. In fact, she had suffered to exert a minimum amount of effort towards every moment of her existence. Her reputation was the result of decades of skipping through the wildflowers behind Helga's mansion. Although, in doing so Olga maintained a persistent state of happiness.
For Helga, happiness was the reward she so painstakingly sought. Her whole life had been devoted to its pursuit, and oh, how distant it had become. For her, happiness seemed to drift farther away with every breath. All her study, patience, and responsibility had brought her not happiness, but, ironically, every reason to be unhappy. How could she, in a just world, have suffered so much, but missed the opportunity for just a moment in bliss like Olga.
Helga would ponder these things in solitude while observing the fields behind her estate from her bedroom on the top floor. Through the large window she would watch the colorful wildflowers agitated perpetually by the floundering of Olga's maniacal dancing. The faint singing permeated the glass, shrill in its slight but persistent tonal error: "AAaaaghaAAAA...veyMaRRRIIIIAAAAAA."
With daises in her hair, Olga would spin, arms wide bellowing the arias in between bouts of insane laughter. She would roll down hills, splash in the court fountain, and flirt with the estate's silly-looking disheveled gardener, Raul.
Over the years Helga spent an ever increasing amount of time at the window. Olga was consistent, and did not miss one opportunity to frolic.
Sometimes Olga fell and splashed into a puddle. At these moments Helga was embarrassed to discover the faintest smile creep up the side of her face, but not far. Picking herself up Olga would carefully brush the chunks of sod off of her dress, and continue acting like a lunatic.
Helga realized that no matter how much she studied or toiled she would never be happy. She longed for the simple life of her childhood...to be Olga for just a few moments. She decided she could never enjoy a moment of happiness so long as Olga was gaily trouncing behind the estate.
She decided she must do something about it or suffer a destitute life of self-hatred. She became obsessed.
Her experience drove her to treat the situation as the effective businesswoman she had become...with cold, pragmatic efficiency. The situation would be dealt with carefully, covertly, and relentlessly. Her worth to the community was too great. They needed her so desperately, and she simply could not perform her solemn civil duties while racked with this incessant envy. Oh, no one would understand...none in town could relate to her, high in that mansion. She knew she was desperately alone, and that frightened her to obsession. She became determined...
Helga, having decided her plan, became the executive. It was a brutally systematic procedure and could not be trusted with anyone else. The small part of her not completely focused on the task became delighted. She was acting in the disciplined manner she had perfected over all these years. It was the opportunity to employ the skills she had so arduously honed.
She acquired several active land mines from a military contractor she had worked with previously. She agreed to pay him $10,000 dollars a year for the rest of his life in exchange for his silence.
Late the next evening she buried the mines among the wildflowers.
For the next several days Helga spent the duration of her mornings and afternoons peering over the fields behind her estate. Olga danced and frolicked as she always did. As she approached one of the mines Helga would clench her fists and close her eyes. Miraculously, Olga somehow managed to miss each mine Helga had placed.
Days turned to weeks, and the skipping and singing continued: "AAaaaghaAAAA...veyMaRRRIIIIAAAAAA." Helga watched from her bedroom constantly, and became destitute, abandoning all of her usual activities to the astonishment of the community, which had grown to depend on her. She was determined to see the achievement of her secret plan. She had never started anything she hadn't finished, and had become accustomed to success. This plan would not end in failure, and she would watch the moment of success. She had carefully placed every mine in a position visible from her window.
Weeks turned to months and Helga grew increasingly dedicated. Her plan became a compulsion. She considered purchasing more mines, but decided the cost was too much. Instead she instructed Raul to build a vineyard among the fields. After all, every estate needs its own brand of wine. She drew the plans and told Raul to build the rows in precise accordance to her specifications. The vineyard was arranged to direct Helga in the direction of the mines.
As Raul pounded the posts and planted the grapes, Olga continued to somehow evade the mines. Every time she danced past Raul, she would stop to give him a kiss. On the few occasions she was headed in the direction of one of the mines, the distraction of Raul pulled her off course and away from it. The vineyard brought Olga to closer to the mines, but still not close enough.
Helga was infuriated. Her plan was failing. After the vineyard was built, Olga continued to somehow evade them. So, Helga consulted Raul again. This time she asked him to build a special gazebo around one of the mines. She covered the mine with a bucket and told Raul to under no circumstances touch or disturb the bucket. The plans for the gazebo also demanded that the floor was simply the existing earth. Raul, accustomed to taking strict orders, built the gazebo as planned.
After the gazebo was finished Helga carefully removed the bucket and ordered Raul to never enter the gazebo ever again. Olga, being the curious type, would certainly enter the gazebo, and her plan would succeed.
The next morning Helga awoke to the same singing and approached the window to watch the culmination of her plan. She watched Olga dance around the gazebo and then enter it. Yes, it was working, she thought. Several minutes passed...nothing. She looked closely and saw Olga's bare leg appear from the door of the gazebo. Next, to her horror, she saw Raul slowly approach. Olga popped her head out and invited him in, then disappeared. He stood for several moments and looked back at the mansion. Slowly he approached and walked through the door.
Seeing this, Helga rushed out of her room and down the stairs. She broke through the back gate.
"Raul!" she hollered, as she would when she needed him for something.
Knowing that the gazebo was forbidden, Raul hid inside and hoped he could evade Helga until she was far enough away so he could sneak out.
Distressed, Olga walked out of the gazebo and approached Helga.
"Hi Olga, have you seen Raul? I need to speak with him."
Before Olga could answer, a violent shock wave blew them to the ground. Splinters of wood rained down on top of them.
After a few seconds Olga screamed and ran back to where the gazebo once stood. She looked down and saw what remained of Raul, most of him scattered about.
She sobbed and held him. He tried to say something, but could only offer blood which fell over Olga's dress. Tears dropped against his cheek as she stroked his hair. He took his last breath moments later.
As the police sirens approached from the distance Helga disappeared silently into the vineyard.
Olga watched the remains of Raul disappear in the caravan of vehicles. Concerned for Helga, Olga walked around the field calling for her, but could not find her.
She entered the house and walked up to Helga's room, continuously calling her name. She approached the large window that overlooked the vineyard. She looked across the estate and finally saw her off in the distance.
To her dismay, she was dancing, frolicking as she would among the wildflowers, bellowing at the top of her lungs. She held her hands out and spun around in the fresh air.
Olga, still covered in blood, watched in horror. She couldn't imagine how Helga could dance at a time like this. She watched with silent curiosity and bewilderment. Helga fell, brushed herself off, and then continued skipping and dancing with greater speed and lunacy.
Suddenly, Olga watched her beloved cousin's body fall on the ground and explode into a thousand tiny pieces.
Olga never danced among the wildflowers again.
- Rich
- Talented
- Intelligent
- Poor
- Unmotivated
- Simple-minded
Olga had achieved absolutely nothing. In fact, she had suffered to exert a minimum amount of effort towards every moment of her existence. Her reputation was the result of decades of skipping through the wildflowers behind Helga's mansion. Although, in doing so Olga maintained a persistent state of happiness.
For Helga, happiness was the reward she so painstakingly sought. Her whole life had been devoted to its pursuit, and oh, how distant it had become. For her, happiness seemed to drift farther away with every breath. All her study, patience, and responsibility had brought her not happiness, but, ironically, every reason to be unhappy. How could she, in a just world, have suffered so much, but missed the opportunity for just a moment in bliss like Olga.
Helga would ponder these things in solitude while observing the fields behind her estate from her bedroom on the top floor. Through the large window she would watch the colorful wildflowers agitated perpetually by the floundering of Olga's maniacal dancing. The faint singing permeated the glass, shrill in its slight but persistent tonal error: "AAaaaghaAAAA...veyMaRRRIIIIAAAAAA."
With daises in her hair, Olga would spin, arms wide bellowing the arias in between bouts of insane laughter. She would roll down hills, splash in the court fountain, and flirt with the estate's silly-looking disheveled gardener, Raul.
Over the years Helga spent an ever increasing amount of time at the window. Olga was consistent, and did not miss one opportunity to frolic.
Sometimes Olga fell and splashed into a puddle. At these moments Helga was embarrassed to discover the faintest smile creep up the side of her face, but not far. Picking herself up Olga would carefully brush the chunks of sod off of her dress, and continue acting like a lunatic.
Helga realized that no matter how much she studied or toiled she would never be happy. She longed for the simple life of her childhood...to be Olga for just a few moments. She decided she could never enjoy a moment of happiness so long as Olga was gaily trouncing behind the estate.
She decided she must do something about it or suffer a destitute life of self-hatred. She became obsessed.
Her experience drove her to treat the situation as the effective businesswoman she had become...with cold, pragmatic efficiency. The situation would be dealt with carefully, covertly, and relentlessly. Her worth to the community was too great. They needed her so desperately, and she simply could not perform her solemn civil duties while racked with this incessant envy. Oh, no one would understand...none in town could relate to her, high in that mansion. She knew she was desperately alone, and that frightened her to obsession. She became determined...
Helga, having decided her plan, became the executive. It was a brutally systematic procedure and could not be trusted with anyone else. The small part of her not completely focused on the task became delighted. She was acting in the disciplined manner she had perfected over all these years. It was the opportunity to employ the skills she had so arduously honed.
She acquired several active land mines from a military contractor she had worked with previously. She agreed to pay him $10,000 dollars a year for the rest of his life in exchange for his silence.
Late the next evening she buried the mines among the wildflowers.
For the next several days Helga spent the duration of her mornings and afternoons peering over the fields behind her estate. Olga danced and frolicked as she always did. As she approached one of the mines Helga would clench her fists and close her eyes. Miraculously, Olga somehow managed to miss each mine Helga had placed.
Days turned to weeks, and the skipping and singing continued: "AAaaaghaAAAA...veyMaRRRIIIIAAAAAA." Helga watched from her bedroom constantly, and became destitute, abandoning all of her usual activities to the astonishment of the community, which had grown to depend on her. She was determined to see the achievement of her secret plan. She had never started anything she hadn't finished, and had become accustomed to success. This plan would not end in failure, and she would watch the moment of success. She had carefully placed every mine in a position visible from her window.
Weeks turned to months and Helga grew increasingly dedicated. Her plan became a compulsion. She considered purchasing more mines, but decided the cost was too much. Instead she instructed Raul to build a vineyard among the fields. After all, every estate needs its own brand of wine. She drew the plans and told Raul to build the rows in precise accordance to her specifications. The vineyard was arranged to direct Helga in the direction of the mines.
As Raul pounded the posts and planted the grapes, Olga continued to somehow evade the mines. Every time she danced past Raul, she would stop to give him a kiss. On the few occasions she was headed in the direction of one of the mines, the distraction of Raul pulled her off course and away from it. The vineyard brought Olga to closer to the mines, but still not close enough.
Helga was infuriated. Her plan was failing. After the vineyard was built, Olga continued to somehow evade them. So, Helga consulted Raul again. This time she asked him to build a special gazebo around one of the mines. She covered the mine with a bucket and told Raul to under no circumstances touch or disturb the bucket. The plans for the gazebo also demanded that the floor was simply the existing earth. Raul, accustomed to taking strict orders, built the gazebo as planned.
After the gazebo was finished Helga carefully removed the bucket and ordered Raul to never enter the gazebo ever again. Olga, being the curious type, would certainly enter the gazebo, and her plan would succeed.
The next morning Helga awoke to the same singing and approached the window to watch the culmination of her plan. She watched Olga dance around the gazebo and then enter it. Yes, it was working, she thought. Several minutes passed...nothing. She looked closely and saw Olga's bare leg appear from the door of the gazebo. Next, to her horror, she saw Raul slowly approach. Olga popped her head out and invited him in, then disappeared. He stood for several moments and looked back at the mansion. Slowly he approached and walked through the door.
Seeing this, Helga rushed out of her room and down the stairs. She broke through the back gate.
"Raul!" she hollered, as she would when she needed him for something.
Knowing that the gazebo was forbidden, Raul hid inside and hoped he could evade Helga until she was far enough away so he could sneak out.
Distressed, Olga walked out of the gazebo and approached Helga.
"Hi Olga, have you seen Raul? I need to speak with him."
Before Olga could answer, a violent shock wave blew them to the ground. Splinters of wood rained down on top of them.
After a few seconds Olga screamed and ran back to where the gazebo once stood. She looked down and saw what remained of Raul, most of him scattered about.
She sobbed and held him. He tried to say something, but could only offer blood which fell over Olga's dress. Tears dropped against his cheek as she stroked his hair. He took his last breath moments later.
As the police sirens approached from the distance Helga disappeared silently into the vineyard.
Olga watched the remains of Raul disappear in the caravan of vehicles. Concerned for Helga, Olga walked around the field calling for her, but could not find her.
She entered the house and walked up to Helga's room, continuously calling her name. She approached the large window that overlooked the vineyard. She looked across the estate and finally saw her off in the distance.
To her dismay, she was dancing, frolicking as she would among the wildflowers, bellowing at the top of her lungs. She held her hands out and spun around in the fresh air.
Olga, still covered in blood, watched in horror. She couldn't imagine how Helga could dance at a time like this. She watched with silent curiosity and bewilderment. Helga fell, brushed herself off, and then continued skipping and dancing with greater speed and lunacy.
Suddenly, Olga watched her beloved cousin's body fall on the ground and explode into a thousand tiny pieces.
Olga never danced among the wildflowers again.
Monday, September 15, 2008
The Fast Track to the American Dream
Long ago in the dark days of the 19th century Americans toiled through great adversity to carve out their piece of the American dream. Those unfortunate enough to be born in this era were destined to suffer the harsh realities of the time; hardships unimaginable today:
Oh how far we have come, but these is much to be done: ID cards to prove we are not terrorists, every phone call monitored for our safety, the liberation of Norway.
With almost no effort at all the American Dream can be yours too! The plan is simple...you can do one of two things:
If you absolutely must work, be smart about it...scholars, professors, scientists, engineers, the rules have changed. America's best and brightest are now called to combine forces and skin the hide of every conceivable victim on behalf of the man. If you're really good, you can get Ma and Paw to fork over half their paycheck to you rather than their kids' education through hidden fees veiled in the form of higher prices through corporate taxation. Then, give their kids a sub-par public education. Brilliant! Their kids won't understand either!
Ooooh, the sky's the limit! No one is watching...they're all working too damn hard to notice.
If you actually work you are a masochist doing what the government has already promised it can do for you. Don't you know we live in a "free" country, one which has traded equality, liberty, and justice for free stuff - as much as you can get away with? Live it up!
This is the land of opportunity, and there has never been more opportunity to legally beg, steal, and otherwise swindle from those silly little exhausted gerbils running on their little wheels for us. They may look like they are running fast, but they can go faster, and they will. Just watch the value of the dollar drop and they will be running their little feet bloody for our little drug habit...such losers.
Come on people, wake up, buy some stock in Fanny Mae or take a nice big hit. When that last gerbil finally dies from exhaustion there might be some consequences to pay, but until then, it appears to be open season.
- Terror: The US Government was so small and weak that it couldn't even deploy troops to Lithuania in the midst of rampant autocratic oppression. Dictators around the world roamed free to terrify and subjugate the local population.
- Brutality in the Marketplace: Insolvent companies, even big ones, suffered the barbaric nature of competition and were fed to the dogs. Sometimes even rich people lost a lot of money. Employees sometimes even needed to find new jobs. Government wasn't there to keep even the worst businesses afloat.
- Job Required: Men, comprising half the population, labored. There was simply no alternative. Hard working farmers were so desperate they sometimes ate their own produce and livestock.
- Reefer Madness: No law forbade the inhalation, ownership, or sale of the intoxicating plant, Marihuana. Barbarians.
Oh how far we have come, but these is much to be done: ID cards to prove we are not terrorists, every phone call monitored for our safety, the liberation of Norway.
With almost no effort at all the American Dream can be yours too! The plan is simple...you can do one of two things:
- The High Road: Become completely invested in any business too big to fail. You have absolutely nothing to lose. Leech off sorry tax payers surreptitiously (that means without them knowing about it). Profit and enjoy the glee that comes along with stealing legally. Yes, you are so, so smart. And yes, you have achieved the American Dream.
- The Higher Road: Leech off friends, neighbors, and strangers. Obviously you would rather leech from strangers, so use government and go on unemployment or welfare. If you are a woman, have a lot of illegitimate children - they don't eat nearly as much as the government thinks they do. Make sure the fathers are successful drug dealers so you can get more child support by threatening to rat on them. Worst case...remember that the government will not let you starve or freeze to death, even when your friends and family disown you. DO NOT FALTER - Once you show capability, the rouse is blown. You must be dedicated to complete worthlessness. Become dependent on some narcotic or alcohol to make this easy. Bereft of any productive activity you have attained the easy road to the American Dream. The government has already claimed responsibility for you, all you need to do is ride that wave.
- The Path to Destruction: Honest work. Work is your worst enemy. NEVER FORGET that all the smart people are already living on easy street. If they took the high road they got there by withdrawing money from your paycheck to deposit in their bank account. If they took the higher road they are withdrawing money from your paycheck to feed their kids and likely an expensive appetite for drugs.
If you absolutely must work, be smart about it...scholars, professors, scientists, engineers, the rules have changed. America's best and brightest are now called to combine forces and skin the hide of every conceivable victim on behalf of the man. If you're really good, you can get Ma and Paw to fork over half their paycheck to you rather than their kids' education through hidden fees veiled in the form of higher prices through corporate taxation. Then, give their kids a sub-par public education. Brilliant! Their kids won't understand either!
Ooooh, the sky's the limit! No one is watching...they're all working too damn hard to notice.
If you actually work you are a masochist doing what the government has already promised it can do for you. Don't you know we live in a "free" country, one which has traded equality, liberty, and justice for free stuff - as much as you can get away with? Live it up!
This is the land of opportunity, and there has never been more opportunity to legally beg, steal, and otherwise swindle from those silly little exhausted gerbils running on their little wheels for us. They may look like they are running fast, but they can go faster, and they will. Just watch the value of the dollar drop and they will be running their little feet bloody for our little drug habit...such losers.
Come on people, wake up, buy some stock in Fanny Mae or take a nice big hit. When that last gerbil finally dies from exhaustion there might be some consequences to pay, but until then, it appears to be open season.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Active Activism
Knock Knock
Who's there?
The Earth Savers.
Why are you here?
Because we want you to help us.
Do what?
Save the Earth.
Oh, thank you for doing this, where do I sign?
Right here.
Right where?
Where I am pointing.
You turned off the porch light. I can't see anything.
Oh, sorry. Forgot you haven't signed yet [flip].
Oh, there it is. [sign]
[flip]
What are you doing?
Saving the Earth.
Yes, well, I've signed. On to your next earth-friendly residence now. Keep up the good work. [flip]
I'm afraid not. [flip]
Alright, that's getting annoying. Hands off the light switch.
[flip]
Rrrr. HANDS OFF! What's that sound?
Those are bulldozers.
What are they doing here?
Saving the Earth. Don't worry, they run on biodiesel.
No, I mean, well, how are they saving the Earth?
Well, you just graciously agreed to let us bulldoze your house and plant a zen garden here.
I did no such thing, please leave.
We can't.
Why not?
Because we have pledged to save the Earth, and so have you. We have an obligation.
But this is my home. You are trespassing.
I'm sorry, you just signed your house over to the state. I'm afraid you are trespassing.
Excuse me?
You just deeded to your house to the Department of the Interior. We don't need any keys or anything.
[rumble rumble]
Please step aside.
[crash crash]
[tear tear]
We hope you'll come back to enjoy the peaceful, environmentally friendly public zen garden in the near future. Thank you for your cooperation.
Who's there?
The Earth Savers.
Why are you here?
Because we want you to help us.
Do what?
Save the Earth.
Oh, thank you for doing this, where do I sign?
Right here.
Right where?
Where I am pointing.
You turned off the porch light. I can't see anything.
Oh, sorry. Forgot you haven't signed yet [flip].
Oh, there it is. [sign]
[flip]
What are you doing?
Saving the Earth.
Yes, well, I've signed. On to your next earth-friendly residence now. Keep up the good work. [flip]
I'm afraid not. [flip]
Alright, that's getting annoying. Hands off the light switch.
[flip]
Rrrr. HANDS OFF! What's that sound?
Those are bulldozers.
What are they doing here?
Saving the Earth. Don't worry, they run on biodiesel.
No, I mean, well, how are they saving the Earth?
Well, you just graciously agreed to let us bulldoze your house and plant a zen garden here.
I did no such thing, please leave.
We can't.
Why not?
Because we have pledged to save the Earth, and so have you. We have an obligation.
But this is my home. You are trespassing.
I'm sorry, you just signed your house over to the state. I'm afraid you are trespassing.
Excuse me?
You just deeded to your house to the Department of the Interior. We don't need any keys or anything.
[rumble rumble]
Please step aside.
[crash crash]
[tear tear]
We hope you'll come back to enjoy the peaceful, environmentally friendly public zen garden in the near future. Thank you for your cooperation.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
If I can't afford to buy something, should I buy it anyway?
Can we, the people, really afford to buy the failing businesses of Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac?
Oh, I see, they are asking us to forgive their irresponsible behavior and chip in to save the portfolios of their shareholders and other interested parties. I can perhaps do that if given the proper evidence that they understand what caused the problem and are resolving it accordingly. Oh, they are not asking for my consent, or offering evidence. They are using the power of the state to assume I am willing to forgive.
Well then. How do I know the forces that led to their failure are understood? How can I verify that our newly acquired businesses will function properly? Will they be exposed to free-market competition? What is my economic incentive for chipping in?
Something seems off here. Is this the natural, inevitable result of our constitutional republic? Well, let's look at the evidence we do have...
Does a free society favor security holders, banks, and borrowers over others? That doesn't seem to jive with "all men are created equal." What do others have to say about this?
Is a violation of this principle ever acceptable?
When I fail nobody gives me money. Why do I need to give money to giant mortgage companies? Oh, it's for the public good. I see. Well, I certainly want to do what's in the public good...
But isn't justice compatible with the public good too? Necessary?
Those CEOs made tens of millions of dollars last year alone. I certainly hope they also care about the public good. By the way, aren't they the ones (with the shareholders) taking the risk in this venture? I didn't know I had anything to lose in this particular venture. I don't remember having the extra cash to risk on this sort of thing...
Oh, wait. On my behalf, the government promised the shareholders that I would pitch in to bail them out if they failed. I see. No wonder they have so many shareholders, all of us have been made accountable for other people's loans and real estate investments. Wait. I never had anything to gain from all this, yet I am accountable somehow? What has been going on here?
The plan was (and is) a scheme to exploit the masses for the benefit of the few who understand what this racket is all about. Well, it appears to have worked. But we will all suffer on account of it, even the wealthy...
Oh, I see, they are asking us to forgive their irresponsible behavior and chip in to save the portfolios of their shareholders and other interested parties. I can perhaps do that if given the proper evidence that they understand what caused the problem and are resolving it accordingly. Oh, they are not asking for my consent, or offering evidence. They are using the power of the state to assume I am willing to forgive.
Well then. How do I know the forces that led to their failure are understood? How can I verify that our newly acquired businesses will function properly? Will they be exposed to free-market competition? What is my economic incentive for chipping in?
Something seems off here. Is this the natural, inevitable result of our constitutional republic? Well, let's look at the evidence we do have...
Does a free society favor security holders, banks, and borrowers over others? That doesn't seem to jive with "all men are created equal." What do others have to say about this?
The only stable state is the one in which all men are equal before the law. -AristotleAdministering justice among individuals who conduct their own affairs. Okay, that seems fair. So we established a government to enforce justice. The innocent are to be be protected from the scourge of the guilty who seek to distribute accountability to others.
In a free society the state does not administer the affairs of men. It administers justice among men who conduct their own affairs. -Walter Lippman
Is a violation of this principle ever acceptable?
It is in justice that the ordering of society is centered. -AristotleMighty strong words there, Martin. Okay, well let's run with that. Hm. An institution funded with our tax dollars (the US Government) purchased two of the worlds largest businesses that are both going bankrupt. I don't understand how that is just.
Justice denied anywhere diminishes justice everywhere. -Martin Luther King Jr.
When I fail nobody gives me money. Why do I need to give money to giant mortgage companies? Oh, it's for the public good. I see. Well, I certainly want to do what's in the public good...
But isn't justice compatible with the public good too? Necessary?
Those CEOs made tens of millions of dollars last year alone. I certainly hope they also care about the public good. By the way, aren't they the ones (with the shareholders) taking the risk in this venture? I didn't know I had anything to lose in this particular venture. I don't remember having the extra cash to risk on this sort of thing...
Oh, wait. On my behalf, the government promised the shareholders that I would pitch in to bail them out if they failed. I see. No wonder they have so many shareholders, all of us have been made accountable for other people's loans and real estate investments. Wait. I never had anything to gain from all this, yet I am accountable somehow? What has been going on here?
Whenever the people are well-informed, they can be trusted with their own government. -Thomas JeffersonWe, my friends, cannot currently be trusted. Most in our country do not understand what is happening. The nationalization of Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac is an insidious breach of economic justice shifting the burden to the innocent through taxes and the diluting and devaluing of our currency.
The line of credit is a promise on behalf of the government to engage in a huge unconstitutional and immoral income transfer from working Americans to holders of GSE [Government Sponsored Enterprise] debt. -Ron PaulThere is no amount of admonition too severe for this type of business/government relationship. Ever since the promises were made...that government would bail out Freddie and Fanny if necessary...the end result was inevitable. These institutions were given an unfair advantage over any competitors attracting more shareholders. Bankers knew it, investors knew it, (some) borrowers knew it, and government officials knew it. This is a textbook monopoly, and like all monopolies, it could not have existed without government favor.
The plan was (and is) a scheme to exploit the masses for the benefit of the few who understand what this racket is all about. Well, it appears to have worked. But we will all suffer on account of it, even the wealthy...
They will come to learn in the end, at their own expense, that it is better to endure competition for rich customers than to be invested with monopoly over impoverished customers. -Frederic BastiatRestore freedom and competition to the mortgage industry. Rather than propping up bad business we must expose them to fair competition or we will all pay dearly. A promise that is based on fallacy and not grounded in reality will always be broken eventually. Such was the promise made to Fanny and Freddie. Delaying the inevitable will only corrode the economy to the point that otherwise responsible mortgagees will be forced to foreclose.
Justice in the life and conduct of the State is possible only as first it resides in the hearts and souls of the citizens. -Plato
Friday, September 5, 2008
Daybreak at Sue's
A fluttering drove of oak leaves scurried across the road and twirled into the air like a squadron of WWI biplanes training for a dog fight. The wind was unusually brisk, even for dawn, and Sue sucked on her cigarette like a starving infant as she waited for her ride. She began to shiver as her heart rate returned to normal, which she considered a cue to begin plotting her escape.
The cuffs dug into her wrists and ankles and both arms were wrapped with biceps and forearms of two large gentlemen. They towered over her on either side. It it kind of reminded her of prom, although this performance was much more authentic. She stayed on task. Minutes earlier she had caught the eye of the guard on her left before she was identified. It hadn't the intended result, but probably saved a bruise or two and left her precious smoke between her lips. The latter she appreciated. Not much for conversation. All three knew the score.
They knew where she was going and probably considered it something of a last meal. She was accustomed to the underestimation; although she never counted on it. The armored car whispered in the distance, breaking the silence. The familiar shiver crept up her spine as it often did pending a challenge. A felon lives for this, but not the slightest crack of a smile appeared. She was less concerned with the next couple moments than those following. Boredom did not suit her.
The cuffs dug into her wrists and ankles and both arms were wrapped with biceps and forearms of two large gentlemen. They towered over her on either side. It it kind of reminded her of prom, although this performance was much more authentic. She stayed on task. Minutes earlier she had caught the eye of the guard on her left before she was identified. It hadn't the intended result, but probably saved a bruise or two and left her precious smoke between her lips. The latter she appreciated. Not much for conversation. All three knew the score.
They knew where she was going and probably considered it something of a last meal. She was accustomed to the underestimation; although she never counted on it. The armored car whispered in the distance, breaking the silence. The familiar shiver crept up her spine as it often did pending a challenge. A felon lives for this, but not the slightest crack of a smile appeared. She was less concerned with the next couple moments than those following. Boredom did not suit her.
Dr. Lind's Challenge
The following is a hypothetical discussion between James Lind and the British Navy sometime after 1742:
British Navy: Thousands of our sailors are dying of disease. What should we do?
Dr. Lind: I know.
British Navy: You do?
Dr. Lind: Yes.
British Navy: Withholding crucial, life-saving information?! That's treason! Why haven't you said anything?
Dr. Lind: I have. No one listened.
British Navy: Why didn't anyone listen?
Dr. Lind: Because the cure sounds silly.
British Navy: That doesn't sound like a very good reason. What is the cure?
Dr. Lind: Lemons and limes.
British Navy: That's silly. Go away.
Dr. Lind: See.
British Navy: Go home. We don't believe you.
Dr. Lind: You should.
British Navy: Why?
Dr. Lind: Because I'm right.
British Navy: And what gives you such confidence.
Dr. Lind: Study of history, scientific experiments and empirical evidence.
British Navy: No one would believe me if I told them this. Unacceptable.
Dr. Lind: That's not my problem. I won't get scurvy.
British Navy: Okay, say you're right. You know no one will ever believe you. How dare you risk your own reputation by proposing something so absurd?
Dr. Lind: Because my reputation is not mired in politics, ego, greed, or any influence other than honest discovery through empirical evidence and natural law.
British Navy: Are you suggesting we, the British Navy, are rejecting natural law and evidence?
Dr. Lind: That is what I am suggesting.
British Navy: And therefore you accuse us of killing soldiers by not hauling fruit on our ships?
Dr. Lind: I didn't say that.
British Navy: How dare you accuse the entire British Navy of mass murder?
Dr. Lind: I am not one to accuse, and I would not. Although, it is true that you are rejecting a simple cure to a disease that is killing thousands.
British Navy: No one will take us seriously if we haul lemons and limes on our ships. It would make us look superstitious and weak. Like we are all afraid of scurvy or something. Well, let me be the first to say that we can hack it without your silly limes. Besides, we need that space for all the cannon balls.
Dr. Lind: I cannot force you to believe me, of course, or act. But I am also not persuaded by arrogance, ignorance, pride, vanity, or other factors. If you choose to reject my discovery and do nothing I can only observe and learn more about this particular evil in human nature.
British Navy: You accuse the British Navy of evil? Of being the enemy?
Dr. Lind: No, the enemy is pride, ignorance, arrogance, ego, and prejudice.
British Navy: Kind of like those froggy French bastards. I see what you mean.
Dr. Lind: Not really. Human nature is more complicated. I am only a scientist.
British Navy: You are sympathetic to the French?
Dr. Lind: I didn't say that.
British Navy: Go home before I call the guards.
Dr. Lind: Yes sir.
The British Navy began carrying limes on ships 62 years later.
British Navy: Thousands of our sailors are dying of disease. What should we do?
Dr. Lind: I know.
British Navy: You do?
Dr. Lind: Yes.
British Navy: Withholding crucial, life-saving information?! That's treason! Why haven't you said anything?
Dr. Lind: I have. No one listened.
British Navy: Why didn't anyone listen?
Dr. Lind: Because the cure sounds silly.
British Navy: That doesn't sound like a very good reason. What is the cure?
Dr. Lind: Lemons and limes.
British Navy: That's silly. Go away.
Dr. Lind: See.
British Navy: Go home. We don't believe you.
Dr. Lind: You should.
British Navy: Why?
Dr. Lind: Because I'm right.
British Navy: And what gives you such confidence.
Dr. Lind: Study of history, scientific experiments and empirical evidence.
British Navy: No one would believe me if I told them this. Unacceptable.
Dr. Lind: That's not my problem. I won't get scurvy.
British Navy: Okay, say you're right. You know no one will ever believe you. How dare you risk your own reputation by proposing something so absurd?
Dr. Lind: Because my reputation is not mired in politics, ego, greed, or any influence other than honest discovery through empirical evidence and natural law.
British Navy: Are you suggesting we, the British Navy, are rejecting natural law and evidence?
Dr. Lind: That is what I am suggesting.
British Navy: And therefore you accuse us of killing soldiers by not hauling fruit on our ships?
Dr. Lind: I didn't say that.
British Navy: How dare you accuse the entire British Navy of mass murder?
Dr. Lind: I am not one to accuse, and I would not. Although, it is true that you are rejecting a simple cure to a disease that is killing thousands.
British Navy: No one will take us seriously if we haul lemons and limes on our ships. It would make us look superstitious and weak. Like we are all afraid of scurvy or something. Well, let me be the first to say that we can hack it without your silly limes. Besides, we need that space for all the cannon balls.
Dr. Lind: I cannot force you to believe me, of course, or act. But I am also not persuaded by arrogance, ignorance, pride, vanity, or other factors. If you choose to reject my discovery and do nothing I can only observe and learn more about this particular evil in human nature.
British Navy: You accuse the British Navy of evil? Of being the enemy?
Dr. Lind: No, the enemy is pride, ignorance, arrogance, ego, and prejudice.
British Navy: Kind of like those froggy French bastards. I see what you mean.
Dr. Lind: Not really. Human nature is more complicated. I am only a scientist.
British Navy: You are sympathetic to the French?
Dr. Lind: I didn't say that.
British Navy: Go home before I call the guards.
Dr. Lind: Yes sir.
The British Navy began carrying limes on ships 62 years later.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
2/3rds. Close enough to "Unanimous" for the Republicans.
Alright, if I can't stand politics, why the hell do I write about all the time?
Well, you can't know much about darkness without having experienced at least a mild degree of light, even if it burns the retinas. And oh, it burns...
Someone I admire had a more elegant way of putting it: "He who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that." -J. S. Mill
Just like a Communist/Socialist must violate her principles by, well, providing for herself, seekers of truth must sometimes cross over to muck around in the most persistent form of error and fallacy (i.e. bullshit) available. There is little debate about what that is: politics.
Being the most productive geyser of bullshit, any seeker of truth must study this particular scourge carefully, regardless of the inevitable damage to one's soul. Yes, politics is bullshit, and a type more persistent than the less explosive hydrothermal bullshit emitters of sales and religion. Here's the breakdown:
Don't believe me?
You should.
Why?
Because it is true.
What better example than the proceedings at the Republican National Convention itself. Just a little fun fact that demonstrates the complete meaninglessness of today's politics.
Last night, after the delegates voted, the speaker made the motion to declare the nomination of John McCain "unanimous."
When judging a voice vote on the motion, there was a clear, audible "NO" from the convention floor.
Requiring a 2/3 majority, the speaker should have proceeded with a show of hands and a count. This did not happen. He made the judgment call that 2/3rds had been reached and banged the gavel.
But, there were delegates representing real constituents on that floor that insisted the nomination was not declared "unanimous."
Forgive me if I am misunderstanding the English language, but wouldn't "unanimous" require 100% of the delegates approval anyway?
If this is how they run their conventions, it's no wonder they run government how they do...as if principles must be sacraficed for expedience.
The Democratic convention was no better. Pelosi gave delegates about 1/4 second to respond before declaring the nomination unanimous.
Why do we allow this?
As if you don't know this already, both candidates are more of the same. Each (with the help of our state) requires 50% of your hard work to give you roads, defend you from terrorists, and make sure your kids aren't "left behind." If you aren't on welfare or a governing elite you are a battery in their empire building machine.
Hey, I don't like it either, but I also don't like hangovers, and stopping those isn't possible. Or is it?
From the Rally for the Republic Tuesday night:
Well, you can't know much about darkness without having experienced at least a mild degree of light, even if it burns the retinas. And oh, it burns...
Someone I admire had a more elegant way of putting it: "He who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that." -J. S. Mill
Just like a Communist/Socialist must violate her principles by, well, providing for herself, seekers of truth must sometimes cross over to muck around in the most persistent form of error and fallacy (i.e. bullshit) available. There is little debate about what that is: politics.
Being the most productive geyser of bullshit, any seeker of truth must study this particular scourge carefully, regardless of the inevitable damage to one's soul. Yes, politics is bullshit, and a type more persistent than the less explosive hydrothermal bullshit emitters of sales and religion. Here's the breakdown:
- Salesmen/commercials. These folks sell a good or service at least remotely similar to what they advertise.
- Religious Institutions. These folks promote morality at least remotely similar to what a reasonably spiritual, ethical deist might consider God's will.
- Politicians. These folks promise the exact opposite of what they will, in fact, deliver.
Don't believe me?
You should.
Why?
Because it is true.
What better example than the proceedings at the Republican National Convention itself. Just a little fun fact that demonstrates the complete meaninglessness of today's politics.
Last night, after the delegates voted, the speaker made the motion to declare the nomination of John McCain "unanimous."
When judging a voice vote on the motion, there was a clear, audible "NO" from the convention floor.
Requiring a 2/3 majority, the speaker should have proceeded with a show of hands and a count. This did not happen. He made the judgment call that 2/3rds had been reached and banged the gavel.
But, there were delegates representing real constituents on that floor that insisted the nomination was not declared "unanimous."
Forgive me if I am misunderstanding the English language, but wouldn't "unanimous" require 100% of the delegates approval anyway?
If this is how they run their conventions, it's no wonder they run government how they do...as if principles must be sacraficed for expedience.
The Democratic convention was no better. Pelosi gave delegates about 1/4 second to respond before declaring the nomination unanimous.
Why do we allow this?
As if you don't know this already, both candidates are more of the same. Each (with the help of our state) requires 50% of your hard work to give you roads, defend you from terrorists, and make sure your kids aren't "left behind." If you aren't on welfare or a governing elite you are a battery in their empire building machine.
Hey, I don't like it either, but I also don't like hangovers, and stopping those isn't possible. Or is it?
From the Rally for the Republic Tuesday night:
Those who have the ability to speak out against wickedness and do not do so are morally culpable. -Lew Rockwell
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Inconvenience of Admiral Stanley
Admiral Stanley had some twine.
He wrapped it round his wrist.
No telling if he was in time.
He hurled it through the mist.
The loop must have found the stern,
He pulled as if to tow.
It would be too late to learn
Upon the rocks below.
Mates aboard, they hollered back
"Leave us Admiral Stan.
Ya done enough ya worthless hack,
Now let us to our plan."
Reaching for the solid pier,
He tried to tie her tight.
Argh the end was oh so near,
He pulled with all his might.
But the ship was far too great.
He could not slow it down.
He thought about the awful fate,
How could he let them drown?
Tied securely to the dock,
A rope was strong but short.
Tied around strong as a lock
His foot the last resort.
Not a moment could he rest
The length it shortened still,
Other end around his chest
He tied it with great skill.
Soon it pulled him off the side
And robbed him of his breath.
Body stretched he winced and cried,
But kept them from their death.
For a minute, maybe two
But then he left the dock
Leaving more than just his shoe
Not mentioning the sock.
And while he began to fall
The twine, the crew did sheer.
Ker plunk he went, and heard by all,
They bellowed with a cheer.
On the bank young Stanley crawled
Belt tightly round his stub.
Warnings to his mates he called,
Alas, not but a snub.
Then downstream a scarlet hue
The crew reduced to bait.
Seen or listened, if they knew,
Of either awful fate.
He wrapped it round his wrist.
No telling if he was in time.
He hurled it through the mist.
The loop must have found the stern,
He pulled as if to tow.
It would be too late to learn
Upon the rocks below.
Mates aboard, they hollered back
"Leave us Admiral Stan.
Ya done enough ya worthless hack,
Now let us to our plan."
Reaching for the solid pier,
He tried to tie her tight.
Argh the end was oh so near,
He pulled with all his might.
But the ship was far too great.
He could not slow it down.
He thought about the awful fate,
How could he let them drown?
Tied securely to the dock,
A rope was strong but short.
Tied around strong as a lock
His foot the last resort.
Not a moment could he rest
The length it shortened still,
Other end around his chest
He tied it with great skill.
Soon it pulled him off the side
And robbed him of his breath.
Body stretched he winced and cried,
But kept them from their death.
For a minute, maybe two
But then he left the dock
Leaving more than just his shoe
Not mentioning the sock.
And while he began to fall
The twine, the crew did sheer.
Ker plunk he went, and heard by all,
They bellowed with a cheer.
On the bank young Stanley crawled
Belt tightly round his stub.
Warnings to his mates he called,
Alas, not but a snub.
Then downstream a scarlet hue
The crew reduced to bait.
Seen or listened, if they knew,
Of either awful fate.
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