I was doing my monthly shopping at the book store and a title caught my eye. “The Pines.” We’re all products of our experiences and perceive things through that prism. I was transported to my youth by the expression.
It was not a positive term. It was a euphemism for the benches you sat on, in the context that you were not on the starting team. It was a stigma to be “riding the pines.” It was also a motivator to go full out in practice.
I picked up the book and read the jacket copy. An even more poignant memory. It wasn’t about athletics. It was a horror story set in the New Jersey Pine Barrens.
There are over a million acres of swampy cedar forest in South Jersey, straddling the roads we took from Philly to the shore. The waters are tea colored, due to high iron ore content in the sandy soil. It was never a hospitable place to inhabit.
Therefore, it harbored the dregs of society. The Pineys. Many of the impressions you may hold of deepest Appalachia apply here.
“It is a region aboriginal in savagery.” – “Atlantic Magazine,” 1858
“I have been shocked by the conditions I have found. Evidently these people are a serious menace to the state of New Jersey (that’s saying something). They have inbred till they have become a race of imbeciles, criminals and defectives.” – James Fielder, Governor of New Jersey (1914-17)
The seed of fact spawned legend. The lore spread about teenagers getting flat tires in the barrens and disappearing. The Greenies got them. This was a variation on the Piney theme. Denizens had turned green from eating pine needles. And teenagers, apparently. The area was also supposed to be a favorite haunt of the Jersey Devil.
So, we grew up terrified of the area. Returning from a weekend at the shore with their parents, kids would pray for an uneventful passage through the long tunnels that threaded the closely set trees. The setting sun would play tricks with your eyes and the shadows appeared to leap toward you.
This mindset changed as puberty set in. An area where you could completely disappear a hundred yards down a dirt road. Where most feared to tread. That spelled party to us. We could roister there with virtual impunity.
But, what about the Pineys, Greenies and Devil? Bring ‘em on! We’re young, tough and indestructible. We’ve kicked butt all the way across South Philly and back. You want to talk about savages? That’s us.
Apparently, the Pineys agreed. We never saw a one.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Skin in the game
There’s something missing from the bailout discussion regarding the Big Three automobile makers. It’s so obvious, I must’ve missed it.
The first time I went out looking for venture capital, I thought I had all the bases covered. I did my research in painstaking detailed and crafted a clever plan. So, I wasn’t all that surprised when I had some nibbles.
One appeared especially interested. We appeared to agree on all the parameters. I wasn’t dismayed that they were taking a big chunk of ownership. That was expected.
I thought the deal was done, but they had one last thing to discuss with me. Skin in the game. Come again?
They would put up most of the capital, but they wanted me to put my assets on the line in personal guarantees. House, cars, etc. Wait a minute. They’re supposed to be the money people. I’m sweat equity.
True, but they wanted my skin in the game for two reasons. The first was motivation. If my assets were on the line, they would sleep well knowing that I wasn’t slacking off. Sure, the potential big payoff for me was motivation, but nothing like my neck on the line.
The other reason was a test in my belief in the concept. If I wasn’t confident in success, knowing more about the business than they did, why should they feel comfortable putting up the money? If I felt good enough about the odds to risk my capital, so did they.
As I did more deals down the line, I would find this to be a standard clause. So, where are the personal guarantees of the auto maker executives? If they think they can turn it around and pay the money back, let’s see their confidence. I’m against pumping tax money into their businesses, just so they can enjoy a few more years of seven-figure salaries. Let’s see some skin in the game and then we’ll talk.
The first time I went out looking for venture capital, I thought I had all the bases covered. I did my research in painstaking detailed and crafted a clever plan. So, I wasn’t all that surprised when I had some nibbles.
One appeared especially interested. We appeared to agree on all the parameters. I wasn’t dismayed that they were taking a big chunk of ownership. That was expected.
I thought the deal was done, but they had one last thing to discuss with me. Skin in the game. Come again?
They would put up most of the capital, but they wanted me to put my assets on the line in personal guarantees. House, cars, etc. Wait a minute. They’re supposed to be the money people. I’m sweat equity.
True, but they wanted my skin in the game for two reasons. The first was motivation. If my assets were on the line, they would sleep well knowing that I wasn’t slacking off. Sure, the potential big payoff for me was motivation, but nothing like my neck on the line.
The other reason was a test in my belief in the concept. If I wasn’t confident in success, knowing more about the business than they did, why should they feel comfortable putting up the money? If I felt good enough about the odds to risk my capital, so did they.
As I did more deals down the line, I would find this to be a standard clause. So, where are the personal guarantees of the auto maker executives? If they think they can turn it around and pay the money back, let’s see their confidence. I’m against pumping tax money into their businesses, just so they can enjoy a few more years of seven-figure salaries. Let’s see some skin in the game and then we’ll talk.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Sic transit gloria mundi
I suppose I should’ve seen it coming when Yahoo announced employment cutbacks. The email sadly informed me that the Power Moderator program was being discontinued. It didn’t state it explicitly but, therefore, I was no longer a Power Moderator.
I shed no tears, much as I had popped no corks when I had been informed that I was designated one. It was a result of a Yahoo group board that I had started and grown to a point that earmarked me as someone they wanted to cultivate. I scanned the benefits and privileges inherent to the title and saw little that really rang the bell. Ergo, there wouldn’t be much I’d miss.
A few decades ago, I received notification that I was anointed with the title Kentucky Colonel. I had heard of it and thought there was even a style of necktie that carried that name. Stirring. It took a while for it to dawn on me that the primary benefit was that I was entitled to make contributions to their cause. The same was true when I was inducted into the order of Colorado Mountain Men and made an Honorary Engineer of the Chattanooga Choo Choo. Titles are cheap. I prefer cash.
Apparently, so did they. After a protracted period of not receiving any checks from me, I dropped off the mailing lists. I assume I was stripped of my rank. Sic transit gloria mundi.
Some titles are better than others. I was in the river barging business. The southern routes were largely worked by Cajuns, a somewhat closed society. Like others, I had some difficulty getting in the door. Big Eddie Conrad, the godfather of the clan, once referred to me as a Yankee. I countered that I was working out of Cincinnati, which was kind of a border area. “Anyone north of the Huey P. Long Bridge is a Yankee,” he corrected. Okay. I think I understand your policy.
It was a rough road for outsiders, but I kept chipping away. One day, Eddie summoned me to his enclave. “What now?” I thought.
I stood before him and some other luminaries of their tribe. Eddie presented me with a plaque and lapel pin. I was made an Honorary Koon-Ass, which is how they referred to their breed. Things were a lot easier after that. At last, a title worth having.
Some years back, a representative of Delta Airlines showed up in my office with another plaque. I was now a Flying Colonel. I had already been a colonel, so this didn’t knock me over. Except, I learned it gained free admission to any of their Crown Rooms, with the complimentary beverages, snacks and other amenities. That’s more like it.
However, Delta fell on hard times, like Yahoo. And that was that for the perks.
Easy come, easy go.
I shed no tears, much as I had popped no corks when I had been informed that I was designated one. It was a result of a Yahoo group board that I had started and grown to a point that earmarked me as someone they wanted to cultivate. I scanned the benefits and privileges inherent to the title and saw little that really rang the bell. Ergo, there wouldn’t be much I’d miss.
A few decades ago, I received notification that I was anointed with the title Kentucky Colonel. I had heard of it and thought there was even a style of necktie that carried that name. Stirring. It took a while for it to dawn on me that the primary benefit was that I was entitled to make contributions to their cause. The same was true when I was inducted into the order of Colorado Mountain Men and made an Honorary Engineer of the Chattanooga Choo Choo. Titles are cheap. I prefer cash.
Apparently, so did they. After a protracted period of not receiving any checks from me, I dropped off the mailing lists. I assume I was stripped of my rank. Sic transit gloria mundi.
Some titles are better than others. I was in the river barging business. The southern routes were largely worked by Cajuns, a somewhat closed society. Like others, I had some difficulty getting in the door. Big Eddie Conrad, the godfather of the clan, once referred to me as a Yankee. I countered that I was working out of Cincinnati, which was kind of a border area. “Anyone north of the Huey P. Long Bridge is a Yankee,” he corrected. Okay. I think I understand your policy.
It was a rough road for outsiders, but I kept chipping away. One day, Eddie summoned me to his enclave. “What now?” I thought.
I stood before him and some other luminaries of their tribe. Eddie presented me with a plaque and lapel pin. I was made an Honorary Koon-Ass, which is how they referred to their breed. Things were a lot easier after that. At last, a title worth having.
Some years back, a representative of Delta Airlines showed up in my office with another plaque. I was now a Flying Colonel. I had already been a colonel, so this didn’t knock me over. Except, I learned it gained free admission to any of their Crown Rooms, with the complimentary beverages, snacks and other amenities. That’s more like it.
However, Delta fell on hard times, like Yahoo. And that was that for the perks.
Easy come, easy go.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Another meeting I would have liked to attend
Duke Energy is the power company for this region. They have paid “refunds” of at least $80 million to 22 influential, high volume customers (Procter & Gamble, General Motors, etc.) in exchange for them dropping opposition to rate increases.
The question before the Ohio Supreme Court is, is this unfair to the 600,000 small customers, mostly residential, who endure the increases without the rebates? Duke had to formulate a response and I would’ve loved to have been in that meeting.
Before postulating how that went, I will review some background. Cinergy, the forerunner power company, was criticized for buying the naming rights to Cinergy Field (nee Riverfront Stadium). It’s not like they’re in a highly competitive field. Why spend all that money on naming rights (and let’s not forget the luxury suite at the games) when you’re pleading poverty and coming to us for rate hikes?
Cinergy’s explanation was that the money wasn’t coming from utility billings. Say again? The money wasn’t coming from utility billings. So, either you’re selling Amway on the side or you’re taking it out of retained earnings, which did come from power revenue. High points for audacity. And, more significantly, it flew.
So, here’s how I see the meeting going:
Smith: They bought that Cinergy explanation. Let’s just tell them the bribes are refunds and that they don’t come out of power revenue.
Jones: Underreaching.
Smith: How’s that?
Jones: If they bought that so easily, we obviously haven’t pushed the envelope. Let’s not say it didn’t hurt them to carry the increased load alone. Tell them they actually benefitted by doing so.
Farfetched? Before passing judgment, consider this quote from PUCO attorney Thomas McNamee, imbiber of the Kool-Aid, when denying how the selective refunds neither discriminate against nor harm residential customers: “It’s turned out to be a very good deal for Mr. Small’s customers.”
Paying higher rates and carrying a bigger share of the financial load always is. Isn’t it?
The question before the Ohio Supreme Court is, is this unfair to the 600,000 small customers, mostly residential, who endure the increases without the rebates? Duke had to formulate a response and I would’ve loved to have been in that meeting.
Before postulating how that went, I will review some background. Cinergy, the forerunner power company, was criticized for buying the naming rights to Cinergy Field (nee Riverfront Stadium). It’s not like they’re in a highly competitive field. Why spend all that money on naming rights (and let’s not forget the luxury suite at the games) when you’re pleading poverty and coming to us for rate hikes?
Cinergy’s explanation was that the money wasn’t coming from utility billings. Say again? The money wasn’t coming from utility billings. So, either you’re selling Amway on the side or you’re taking it out of retained earnings, which did come from power revenue. High points for audacity. And, more significantly, it flew.
So, here’s how I see the meeting going:
Smith: They bought that Cinergy explanation. Let’s just tell them the bribes are refunds and that they don’t come out of power revenue.
Jones: Underreaching.
Smith: How’s that?
Jones: If they bought that so easily, we obviously haven’t pushed the envelope. Let’s not say it didn’t hurt them to carry the increased load alone. Tell them they actually benefitted by doing so.
Farfetched? Before passing judgment, consider this quote from PUCO attorney Thomas McNamee, imbiber of the Kool-Aid, when denying how the selective refunds neither discriminate against nor harm residential customers: “It’s turned out to be a very good deal for Mr. Small’s customers.”
Paying higher rates and carrying a bigger share of the financial load always is. Isn’t it?
Free comedy
It takes some pretty high grade obfuscation to raise my eyebrows. I’ve run newspapers and have been deluged with some of the best spin-doctoring a large PR budget can buy. I’ve also served on college boards and in other adjunct roles in academia, and enjoyed the finest in that genre of palaver.
Nonetheless, I would’ve paid good money to be at the University of Cincinnati board of trustees meeting for the discussion of the proposal to change from quarters to semesters. The snippets of the process reported in the newspaper were enough to tantalize my appetite for high farce.
I’ve served on a number of boards and encouraged the management to continuously come up with ways to advance the cause. But when you bring the proposal to the board, keep in mind our limited time frame and stick with the concrete and specific. In other words, if you’re positing a significant change, don’t tell us it’ll be “better.” Show us precisely how, and with facts and figures.
Therefore, I wanted to be in the room when the reason for this prodigious change at UC was given as “When coupled with collegiate restructuring, the conversion will result in more synergies across programs, fewer programmatic redundancies across colleges and a more strategic array of degree programs.” Bravo! Well-crafted.
Mind you, I would be checking out the recipients of this, not the provost who fired it off. I would be looking around for those nodding sagely, just as though that explained it.
UC informed the trustees that the conversion would cost a little over $7 million, while a task force on the conversion projected a little under $13 million. That’s a discrepancy of only about 86%. Why hold up the vote and decisions to nail down the facts? You know it’s going to turn out to be multiples of that, anyway.
Not to be upstaged in the ready-fire-aim derby, the UC Faculty Senate asked the trustees two months ago to come up with the funding before a plan was out and approved. Good thinking, faculty. How ‘bout you sign a five-year teaching contract now and we’ll tell you what it pays later? Individual faculty quoted in the article were vehemently opposed to the proposed changes and predicted ruin, if approved.
What’s even more disquieting about that is the faculty doesn’t appear to discern that this is preordained and the falderal between the upper management and the board is just theater. I’m not complaining about the process, I just want seats for the performance.
It’s not bad enough to see this tease about trustee fun that I’m missing, but the newspaper includes a sidebar report that the College Conservatory of Music has requested that the trustees approve a purchase of new pianos in excess of $4 million. The proposal says that the purchase saves $1.8 million off the retail price, calculating in $414,325 that could be realized through the sale of pianos being replaced.
At that point, if I’m a trustee, I look down at the highly polished table to see if something is written on my forehead. First of all, selling off 165 heavily used pianos is neither a given nor part of a “savings.”
Then, what is the relevance of retail price? The average Steinway retail buyer purchases an average of…oh, lemme guess…one per lifetime? You buy in multiples of a hundred with greater frequency. You better not have been paying retail price or I’m about to set up a payroll deduction on you geniuses. This is like the Department of Defense justifying a broad-brush upgrade of fighter engines by saying it will give the jets a top speed of up to twenty times that of a Hyundai Sonata.
Just to dot the “i,” I’m scanning radio channels a few nights ago and hit the UC basketball postgame show. It was the “turning point of the game” segment, which I understand is sold as a sponsored deal. UC, a national power, had just flattened early-season patsy South Dakota 77-46. The UC announcer recounts the turning point play and I about go off the road from laughing.
It wasn’t the turning point of tonight’s contest. That would’ve taken place about a year ago, when they scheduled the Coyotes to be the Washington Generals of the season. But, if you have a sponsor who’s willing to underwrite the segment as such, it’s okay by me. I’m just along for the free ride.
I don’t know why I subscribe to XM to get the comedy channels when there’s so much free material.
Nonetheless, I would’ve paid good money to be at the University of Cincinnati board of trustees meeting for the discussion of the proposal to change from quarters to semesters. The snippets of the process reported in the newspaper were enough to tantalize my appetite for high farce.
I’ve served on a number of boards and encouraged the management to continuously come up with ways to advance the cause. But when you bring the proposal to the board, keep in mind our limited time frame and stick with the concrete and specific. In other words, if you’re positing a significant change, don’t tell us it’ll be “better.” Show us precisely how, and with facts and figures.
Therefore, I wanted to be in the room when the reason for this prodigious change at UC was given as “When coupled with collegiate restructuring, the conversion will result in more synergies across programs, fewer programmatic redundancies across colleges and a more strategic array of degree programs.” Bravo! Well-crafted.
Mind you, I would be checking out the recipients of this, not the provost who fired it off. I would be looking around for those nodding sagely, just as though that explained it.
UC informed the trustees that the conversion would cost a little over $7 million, while a task force on the conversion projected a little under $13 million. That’s a discrepancy of only about 86%. Why hold up the vote and decisions to nail down the facts? You know it’s going to turn out to be multiples of that, anyway.
Not to be upstaged in the ready-fire-aim derby, the UC Faculty Senate asked the trustees two months ago to come up with the funding before a plan was out and approved. Good thinking, faculty. How ‘bout you sign a five-year teaching contract now and we’ll tell you what it pays later? Individual faculty quoted in the article were vehemently opposed to the proposed changes and predicted ruin, if approved.
What’s even more disquieting about that is the faculty doesn’t appear to discern that this is preordained and the falderal between the upper management and the board is just theater. I’m not complaining about the process, I just want seats for the performance.
It’s not bad enough to see this tease about trustee fun that I’m missing, but the newspaper includes a sidebar report that the College Conservatory of Music has requested that the trustees approve a purchase of new pianos in excess of $4 million. The proposal says that the purchase saves $1.8 million off the retail price, calculating in $414,325 that could be realized through the sale of pianos being replaced.
At that point, if I’m a trustee, I look down at the highly polished table to see if something is written on my forehead. First of all, selling off 165 heavily used pianos is neither a given nor part of a “savings.”
Then, what is the relevance of retail price? The average Steinway retail buyer purchases an average of…oh, lemme guess…one per lifetime? You buy in multiples of a hundred with greater frequency. You better not have been paying retail price or I’m about to set up a payroll deduction on you geniuses. This is like the Department of Defense justifying a broad-brush upgrade of fighter engines by saying it will give the jets a top speed of up to twenty times that of a Hyundai Sonata.
Just to dot the “i,” I’m scanning radio channels a few nights ago and hit the UC basketball postgame show. It was the “turning point of the game” segment, which I understand is sold as a sponsored deal. UC, a national power, had just flattened early-season patsy South Dakota 77-46. The UC announcer recounts the turning point play and I about go off the road from laughing.
It wasn’t the turning point of tonight’s contest. That would’ve taken place about a year ago, when they scheduled the Coyotes to be the Washington Generals of the season. But, if you have a sponsor who’s willing to underwrite the segment as such, it’s okay by me. I’m just along for the free ride.
I don’t know why I subscribe to XM to get the comedy channels when there’s so much free material.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Reality show
I don’t watch “reality shows” and their kin. What I do know about them is a mélange of impressions gleaned from around the lunch table at work, where they are avidly discussed. As far as I can tell, you run around Ethiopia dressed like Rambo trying to redeem a Wendy’s coupon while plotting the ouster of your bunkmates. Or, something like that.
No one seems to feel they are reality, but it doesn’t appear to matter. Unless, you’re undergoing a scan and have nothing to do but lie still and contemplate such inanities.
Okay, this would be a reality show. You have ten tasks to complete successfully:
1. Call a computer or software customer service department, get connected with a real person and obtain an understandable and accurate solution within twenty minutes.
2. Buy an appliance, apply for and obtain the rebate within two months.
3. File a scam or fraud complaint with the FTC, state attorney general or Better Business Bureau and elicit a remedy within six months.
4. When there’s a DST change, adjust all your clocks, watches and other devices within 24 hours.
5. Build a desk or home entertainment center from an assemble-it-yourself kit within six hours with no extra or missing parts.
6. Collect an insurance claim in full.
7. Get valid assistance with your tax return from the IRS helpline.
8. Change the name or address on your driver’s license or vehicle registration within a month.
9. Get a plumbing, electrical or HVAC problem fixed at a reasonable price within three days.
10. Redeem your Skymiles or other bonus points for an airline ticket with the date, time and destination you want.
Now you’ve got a reality show.
No one seems to feel they are reality, but it doesn’t appear to matter. Unless, you’re undergoing a scan and have nothing to do but lie still and contemplate such inanities.
Okay, this would be a reality show. You have ten tasks to complete successfully:
1. Call a computer or software customer service department, get connected with a real person and obtain an understandable and accurate solution within twenty minutes.
2. Buy an appliance, apply for and obtain the rebate within two months.
3. File a scam or fraud complaint with the FTC, state attorney general or Better Business Bureau and elicit a remedy within six months.
4. When there’s a DST change, adjust all your clocks, watches and other devices within 24 hours.
5. Build a desk or home entertainment center from an assemble-it-yourself kit within six hours with no extra or missing parts.
6. Collect an insurance claim in full.
7. Get valid assistance with your tax return from the IRS helpline.
8. Change the name or address on your driver’s license or vehicle registration within a month.
9. Get a plumbing, electrical or HVAC problem fixed at a reasonable price within three days.
10. Redeem your Skymiles or other bonus points for an airline ticket with the date, time and destination you want.
Now you’ve got a reality show.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The life I always wanted
I was out with some kayaking friends. Bill said that he heard that one of the regulars had recently gotten engaged, but he didn’t know to whom. I knew but, before I could answer, Marie said, “Well, one thing you know, it isn’t Henry.”
It wasn’t me, but I wondered why she said that. “Because it’s obvious you have the life you always wanted.”
In many respects. But, in others, the goals change over time. As we paddled, I tried to think way back to when I yearned to be a grownup.
A priority would’ve been soda. I was permitted to indulge maybe twice a month. I recall thinking that when I was out on my own, it would be root beer or black cherry wishniak every day. That would be nirvana.
Now, it’s entirely up to me and there’s not a bottle or can in my house. I’ll do Diet Coke at work, but not the sugar water.
I was required to be in bed by 9:00 PM. Or, 9:30 or 10:00, depending upon age. I looked forward to the time when I could stay up as late as I wanted.
Okay, now I can. But, I don’t. I often swim laps early in the morning, before the crowds are at the pool, so I’m not burning the midnight oil. I’m in bed before anyone has to tell me. Unfortunately, my clientele are night creatures by nature. I get a number of late night calls when they get into trouble.
I remember when no one on the street had televisions. Then the Zadarosni’s got one because Big Dan worked for RCA. Once in a while, we were invited down to partake. You watched what Big Dan wanted to watch.
Muntz made televisions affordable for the masses and we finally got one. Three channels. I was permitted a maximum of two hours a day, but that was superseded once my father got home. We watched what he wanted to watch.
Now, I have about 120 channels and complete freedom to choose. But, I seldom find something worth watching. Another dream shatters on the reef of reality.
Sometimes I’d look at our ’53 Chevy parked at the curb and wonder why they let it sit idle. If I had a car, I’d be rollin’. I’d be going places, doing things.
That, I do. Life’s too short to spend in a chair.
And, that vehicle wouldn’t be an anemic Chevy six-banger. It would be a sleek Jag XKE, big block Vette, chopped Harley or all the above.
Been there, done that. Now, comfort and utility are the priorities. Comfort in the car and the ability to easily haul kayaks and gear in the truck. Sheer excitement.
If it had been up to me, I’d have worn my favorite shirt, jeans and Keds every day. It wasn’t up to me.
Now, it is. There’s a combination that’s just right for each different day. Usually, outdoor clothing.
That wouldn’t seem to fit into a work environment. That’s why I was delighted when the memo came out that the office dress code included tasteful outdoor attire. Almost as delighted as when I wrote the memo. It’s good to be the parent.
When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to have friends up to my room. Now, I’m the adult. It’s good to be the adult.
So, maybe it isn’t the life I always wanted. But, it ain’t bad.
It wasn’t me, but I wondered why she said that. “Because it’s obvious you have the life you always wanted.”
In many respects. But, in others, the goals change over time. As we paddled, I tried to think way back to when I yearned to be a grownup.
A priority would’ve been soda. I was permitted to indulge maybe twice a month. I recall thinking that when I was out on my own, it would be root beer or black cherry wishniak every day. That would be nirvana.
Now, it’s entirely up to me and there’s not a bottle or can in my house. I’ll do Diet Coke at work, but not the sugar water.
I was required to be in bed by 9:00 PM. Or, 9:30 or 10:00, depending upon age. I looked forward to the time when I could stay up as late as I wanted.
Okay, now I can. But, I don’t. I often swim laps early in the morning, before the crowds are at the pool, so I’m not burning the midnight oil. I’m in bed before anyone has to tell me. Unfortunately, my clientele are night creatures by nature. I get a number of late night calls when they get into trouble.
I remember when no one on the street had televisions. Then the Zadarosni’s got one because Big Dan worked for RCA. Once in a while, we were invited down to partake. You watched what Big Dan wanted to watch.
Muntz made televisions affordable for the masses and we finally got one. Three channels. I was permitted a maximum of two hours a day, but that was superseded once my father got home. We watched what he wanted to watch.
Now, I have about 120 channels and complete freedom to choose. But, I seldom find something worth watching. Another dream shatters on the reef of reality.
Sometimes I’d look at our ’53 Chevy parked at the curb and wonder why they let it sit idle. If I had a car, I’d be rollin’. I’d be going places, doing things.
That, I do. Life’s too short to spend in a chair.
And, that vehicle wouldn’t be an anemic Chevy six-banger. It would be a sleek Jag XKE, big block Vette, chopped Harley or all the above.
Been there, done that. Now, comfort and utility are the priorities. Comfort in the car and the ability to easily haul kayaks and gear in the truck. Sheer excitement.
If it had been up to me, I’d have worn my favorite shirt, jeans and Keds every day. It wasn’t up to me.
Now, it is. There’s a combination that’s just right for each different day. Usually, outdoor clothing.
That wouldn’t seem to fit into a work environment. That’s why I was delighted when the memo came out that the office dress code included tasteful outdoor attire. Almost as delighted as when I wrote the memo. It’s good to be the parent.
When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to have friends up to my room. Now, I’m the adult. It’s good to be the adult.
So, maybe it isn’t the life I always wanted. But, it ain’t bad.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Fasten your seatbelts
If you think it’s been rough economically, you ain’t seen nothing, yet. We’re in for a very rough few years. Just one man’s opinion, but based on talking with the geese laying the golden eggs, whose killing was promised during the election campaign, as opposed those who have nothing better to do with their lives than cut & paste misinformation in web chat rooms. The real players aren’t on the internet tipping their hands.
These are the people who fuel economic growth. Products run through their life cycles and fade away, along with the jobs associated with them. They are replaced with companies and product lines spawned by venture capital. Venture investing is risky, so a high capital gain is sought. Go after the gains with draconian taxes and there’s no incentive to invest and take on high risk.
The venture capitalists didn’t amass their money by being obtuse. They’ll stick their money in a safe harbor, something like municipal bonds or go offshore and ride out the storm.
No new products and jobs means failure of companies that would’ve supplied them and those jobs go away, too. Taxes on employment, profits and capital gains dry up, so kiss those promises of manna from heaven goodbye.
Fasten your seatbelts. It’ll be a bumpy ride.
These are the people who fuel economic growth. Products run through their life cycles and fade away, along with the jobs associated with them. They are replaced with companies and product lines spawned by venture capital. Venture investing is risky, so a high capital gain is sought. Go after the gains with draconian taxes and there’s no incentive to invest and take on high risk.
The venture capitalists didn’t amass their money by being obtuse. They’ll stick their money in a safe harbor, something like municipal bonds or go offshore and ride out the storm.
No new products and jobs means failure of companies that would’ve supplied them and those jobs go away, too. Taxes on employment, profits and capital gains dry up, so kiss those promises of manna from heaven goodbye.
Fasten your seatbelts. It’ll be a bumpy ride.
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