OK. Now where were we? Fought with the mutt, started with the wrong box, mouse fell on floor so no need to further check contents of correct starting box, needed an adapter, needed a new keyboard - what have I forgotten? Never mind - I'm too old to care. If ya need to catch up, go back a page and read the first part of this story, Genius.
Whatever it was that happened in the house that night did not mean the end of the world. The Sun came up in the East, way too early in the morning, as it has a nasty habit of doing during the summer months. Three hours or so later we also rose. Me in the South and Carolyn in the North. That way we don't climb all over Muffy, who has a really ugly habit of waiting til we fall asleep before he jumps up on the bed between us. Maybe one morning I should also rise in the North. But, I'm afraid even a white fluffy dog will make a mess if a guy with a tummy shaped like Buddha rolls over it. Don't really want to find out 'cause I hate cleaning up messes.
Speaking of cleaning up messes, that was the first thing out of Carolyn's mouth soon as she walked into the living room. "Oh my God! There's boxes and trash everywhere! What were you doing in here last night?" After reminding her I was very busy cleaning all the boxes off the small couch, as she had so ardently suggested, she replied. "Well, I didn't mean for you to scramble the whole living room. Jeez - it was better when they were all on the couch." A guy just has no chance of winning these days. I told her I'd fix it. I'm good at that.
I started to clean up the mess and that's when I found the keyboard that came with the new computer. Ya know, the one that I thought was not included so I went to Radio Shack, phoned the Geeks, and then traveled ANOTHER 42.3 miles to buy a new one? It was included. Ol' eagle eyes had not seen it in the box.
Well, ya really can't blame me. I am sixty-six years old, wear glasses, and have stumbled through my whole life without seeing where I am headed. How the devil am I supposed to see something as small as a 19 inch long keyboard? It's just not my fault. Darn Chinamen - they hide the suckers in a fourteen pound wad of folded cardboard designed specifically to conceal keyboards. I should sue.
Now I had a super cool adapter and a keyboard, both of which I needed to return..........some other day. I'm busy right now. I cleaned up my mess from the night before and started anew to complete the original task - getting rid of the boxes on the couch. No way was I ever gonna think of this project as hooking up the new computer and Blu-ray. I don't know how to do that. I continued getting rid of the boxes on the couch by taking the recently purchased keyboard and adapter, along with the receipts, out to the Guzzler.
Then I hooked up the keyboard that came with the computer, pushed on the hidden on/off switch and waited. Soon the set up menu appeared and this time, I made it all the way through. The new computer worked! But, it has a new version of Windows, so I'm gonna have to deal with that. Again, some other day - I'm busy right now. Now, I was able to start on the router. At last I could read the instructions on the CD.
The router was child's play. Too bad I'm not a child. It took a while. After following all the instructions to the dirty end, I had no idea if it was working or not. There was no way to check until I hooked up the Blu-ray.
I unboxed it and CAREFULLY checked every ounce of packing for tiny pieces, plugged it in, loaded batteries in the remote and pushed the button. Nothing happened. Sometimes, a plug is controlled by a wall switch so I replaced the Blu-ray plug with one from a lamp. When I turned the lamp on, it was just like in Genesis - there was light. No problem with the switch, the Blu-ray was DOA. There was no reset button, no way to check to see if the remote was kaput, it was just totally busted.
"No big deal," I thought to myself, " I need to return a bunch of stuff anyway." I continued to clean off the couch by repacking the Blu-ray and tossing it into the Guzzler with the rest. That couch was looking pretty good; Carolyn just might not divorce me this week. Twenty-one and two tenths miles later I was at the store with a bunch of broken and unneeded junk.
They gave me some sort of exchange slip, "Good for anything in the store." I sauntered over to where I knew they kept their stash of Blu-rays (I had discovered the pile only the day before) and found.......an empty shelf. They had sold out of the device I had come to love.
Not just "heck with it," but "HELL with it! I want my money back, and I'm not leaving til you give it to me." They believed me and gave it back. As an afterthought, I let them know I was gonna go to Costco to get a new one. There. I sure told them!
So, back in the Guzzler and a little over six miles later I was where I should have gone to buy the stuff anyway. I went to the first place only because I had no idea what I was doing, and thought they were experts. Ha! They didn't know what I needed either. Bet it had nothing at all to do with the fact I had no idea what I needed and could not tell them. Not my fault - that's my story and.............you know.
I bought the new Blu-ray, eight pounds of bacon, four pounds of butter and a box of Cheese Goldfish for the same amount of money the experts wanted just for a broken DVD player. Back at the house, I plugged it in, followed the instructions, and invited the neighbors over to watch a movie.
Next time Carolyn tells me to clean the couch I'm gonna call some professionals. Ya know, the ones with the steam cleaning vacuums and such? They'd probably do a better job.
I still know nothing about hooking up IT stuff. It's way beyond me.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Genius
That's me. An absolute genius of the first rank. The kind of stupendously smart person with whom one comes in contact only once in a lifetime. If one happens to be fortunate. Meeting more than one like me will make ya want to commit the foulest form of suicide. I inadvertently torture most folks.
I watched my first "Streaming DVD" on the new Blu-ray last night! And, I did it all by myself! No, not watched all by myself, hooked it up by myself. Well, Muffy helped a little, but not much. I offered him meaningful work, but he declined. By himself he determined the most important function he could perform was to keep the instructions from blowing away in gale force winds. If ever a gale force wind blows inside our home, Muffy will be on the job, all four feet right in the middle of the huge six color folding instructions. He was on duty last night, and will gladly perform beyond all reasonable expectations in the future. He's that kind of mutt.
Knowing Carolyn would be upset if I were to use blunt force to keep his paws from covering step three, I tried using subterfuge instead. First, I grabbed his chew toy, dangled and shook it in front of his pug face, and then tossed it across the room. In the blink of an eye he was after it. In the blink of my other eye, he was back in the middle of step four, only this time he was laying down, and had his toy with him to help cover more steps.
Next, I tried to bribe him with food. He wolfed it down and returned to his station. I've been outsmarted by this shrimp of a mutt several times, but this time was different. I was DETERMINED to win this battle. And, I knew just how to do it. Thumbtacks! I tacked the instructions to the wall. The dog is almost as smart as I, and quickly realized he couldn't lay down on a wall. He gave up and walked of in a huff. Good help is getting harder and harder to find. Maybe I should try using bunny rabbits to assist me in the future.
The Router, which was the first box I opened, was a breeze. There was only one wire and a really cool looking curved box containing the arc of the covenant, or some other equally magic assortment of holy devices, and a CD explaining how to hook it up. Well, all that stuff went right back in the box. My old, broken down computer no longer recognizes a CD when it is inserted into either tray. There was no way I could see what was on the CD.
Instead, I started by unboxing (yeah - that's a word - I say so) the new computer. That seemed a sensible place to start, 'specially since I needed it to read the instructions on the CD, and it would go a long way toward reducing the pile of boxed crap that, according to my wife, needed to disappear. I, myself, had started to grow fond of the pile. But, she rules when it comes to interior decorating. Can't imagine why she prefers a bland, empty couch to a pile of junk. It looked fine to me.
I pulled the tower out of the box, and the mouse dropped a couple of inches to the thickly padded new carpet. Sweet! I didn't have to look through all the custom designed, cut and folded cardboard that protected the contents of the box. I carefully unplugged the old computer, one wire at a time, and moved it to the other side of my office. Then, I plugged everything back together. There are files and stuff I'm sure I'll need soon, so my old friend steadfastly waits on a small table across from my desk, secure in the knowledge it will again serve it's ungrateful master.
The monitor and printer and mouse were mated to the tower with ease, but my ancient keyboard, which I needed to use because the tower did not have a new one, had some sort of plug that did not fit into any orifice. So, a trip to the local Radio Shack was in order. I explained my problem, as best I could, to the Vulcan behind the counter. He did not understand my problem, so I gave permission for him to use the Vulcan mind meld with the provision he not turn it into a mind melt. "Ah-ha," he exclaimed, "You need a PS2 to USB adapter." He sold one to me.
Once back inside the house, my Leatherman made short work of the protective plastic cover containing the futuristic item and I plugged that sucker in. Every thing now fit and it was time to fire it up. After looking twenty minutes for some sort of button that when depressed would cause the lights to, uh, light up, I called the "Geek Squad." In pidgin English (none of those guys knows how to speak American English) he managed to convey the fact that Compaq hides the on/off button in a depressed area on the right side of the thing. Who would ever think to look there? I thanked him, hung up the phone and pressed the button. Lights everywhere!
Following the on screen instructions, I pushed this, checked that and then came to the part that required the use of the keyboard to enter information. I typed and nothing happened. At all. Another twenty minute call to the Geeks. This time I was asked just how old was the keyboard I was using? There was a girlish giggle on the other end of the line, and I was told it was way too old to be recognized by my wonderful new computer. What the heck is that all about? A brand new tire fits a seventy year old car every day of the week.
Modern Marvels my a--. Somebody should complain. So, back to the store in Bend, a 42.3 mile round trip - yes, Martha, I kept track on the odometer, for a new keyboard that fits my computer.
By this time it was getting late. I conducted the nightly ritual we complete each night with the end result of Carolyn laying in bed for the night. Then I looked at the keyboard, the computer, all the boxes and wires and crap that had no intention of allowing me to connect to the Internet. I said heck with it - I'll finish in the morning.
This is getting a little longer than even I had imagined it would, and I'm only half way through the tale. So, I'm saying to heck with this post and I'll finish it in the morning. See? I know when it's time to quit.
I watched my first "Streaming DVD" on the new Blu-ray last night! And, I did it all by myself! No, not watched all by myself, hooked it up by myself. Well, Muffy helped a little, but not much. I offered him meaningful work, but he declined. By himself he determined the most important function he could perform was to keep the instructions from blowing away in gale force winds. If ever a gale force wind blows inside our home, Muffy will be on the job, all four feet right in the middle of the huge six color folding instructions. He was on duty last night, and will gladly perform beyond all reasonable expectations in the future. He's that kind of mutt.
Knowing Carolyn would be upset if I were to use blunt force to keep his paws from covering step three, I tried using subterfuge instead. First, I grabbed his chew toy, dangled and shook it in front of his pug face, and then tossed it across the room. In the blink of an eye he was after it. In the blink of my other eye, he was back in the middle of step four, only this time he was laying down, and had his toy with him to help cover more steps.
Next, I tried to bribe him with food. He wolfed it down and returned to his station. I've been outsmarted by this shrimp of a mutt several times, but this time was different. I was DETERMINED to win this battle. And, I knew just how to do it. Thumbtacks! I tacked the instructions to the wall. The dog is almost as smart as I, and quickly realized he couldn't lay down on a wall. He gave up and walked of in a huff. Good help is getting harder and harder to find. Maybe I should try using bunny rabbits to assist me in the future.
The Router, which was the first box I opened, was a breeze. There was only one wire and a really cool looking curved box containing the arc of the covenant, or some other equally magic assortment of holy devices, and a CD explaining how to hook it up. Well, all that stuff went right back in the box. My old, broken down computer no longer recognizes a CD when it is inserted into either tray. There was no way I could see what was on the CD.
Instead, I started by unboxing (yeah - that's a word - I say so) the new computer. That seemed a sensible place to start, 'specially since I needed it to read the instructions on the CD, and it would go a long way toward reducing the pile of boxed crap that, according to my wife, needed to disappear. I, myself, had started to grow fond of the pile. But, she rules when it comes to interior decorating. Can't imagine why she prefers a bland, empty couch to a pile of junk. It looked fine to me.
I pulled the tower out of the box, and the mouse dropped a couple of inches to the thickly padded new carpet. Sweet! I didn't have to look through all the custom designed, cut and folded cardboard that protected the contents of the box. I carefully unplugged the old computer, one wire at a time, and moved it to the other side of my office. Then, I plugged everything back together. There are files and stuff I'm sure I'll need soon, so my old friend steadfastly waits on a small table across from my desk, secure in the knowledge it will again serve it's ungrateful master.
The monitor and printer and mouse were mated to the tower with ease, but my ancient keyboard, which I needed to use because the tower did not have a new one, had some sort of plug that did not fit into any orifice. So, a trip to the local Radio Shack was in order. I explained my problem, as best I could, to the Vulcan behind the counter. He did not understand my problem, so I gave permission for him to use the Vulcan mind meld with the provision he not turn it into a mind melt. "Ah-ha," he exclaimed, "You need a PS2 to USB adapter." He sold one to me.
Once back inside the house, my Leatherman made short work of the protective plastic cover containing the futuristic item and I plugged that sucker in. Every thing now fit and it was time to fire it up. After looking twenty minutes for some sort of button that when depressed would cause the lights to, uh, light up, I called the "Geek Squad." In pidgin English (none of those guys knows how to speak American English) he managed to convey the fact that Compaq hides the on/off button in a depressed area on the right side of the thing. Who would ever think to look there? I thanked him, hung up the phone and pressed the button. Lights everywhere!
Following the on screen instructions, I pushed this, checked that and then came to the part that required the use of the keyboard to enter information. I typed and nothing happened. At all. Another twenty minute call to the Geeks. This time I was asked just how old was the keyboard I was using? There was a girlish giggle on the other end of the line, and I was told it was way too old to be recognized by my wonderful new computer. What the heck is that all about? A brand new tire fits a seventy year old car every day of the week.
Modern Marvels my a--. Somebody should complain. So, back to the store in Bend, a 42.3 mile round trip - yes, Martha, I kept track on the odometer, for a new keyboard that fits my computer.
By this time it was getting late. I conducted the nightly ritual we complete each night with the end result of Carolyn laying in bed for the night. Then I looked at the keyboard, the computer, all the boxes and wires and crap that had no intention of allowing me to connect to the Internet. I said heck with it - I'll finish in the morning.
This is getting a little longer than even I had imagined it would, and I'm only half way through the tale. So, I'm saying to heck with this post and I'll finish it in the morning. See? I know when it's time to quit.
I'm back
We had an emergency around this joint the other day which required me to leave very suddenly. It was important that I got on my way as quickly as possible, which meant I needed to leave Carolyn on her own for twenty minutes or so before her sister could take over her care. After calling to make sure help for her was on the way, I departed.
A neighbor noticed my haste, and came running, asking if there was anything he could do to help. With no time to explain, I called over my shoulder, "Carolyn's sister is on her way." Late the following day, when I was able to return home, I found that five of our good neighbors had pitched in.
Carolyn did not have to spend even one minute unattended and both she and her sister were treated to a home cooked dinner, prepared in a neighbor's kitchen, while I was gone.
I have spoken before of people I have known in the Pacific Northwest while living south of Seattle during an earlier period of my life. I told of their kindness, generosity, and of my amazement at the effort they were willing to expend helping their neighbors. I have also spoken of the people in our present neighborhood. I have found them to be pleasant, intelligent and helpful to us, newcomers that we are. Until last Thursday morning, I did not realize just how fortunate we are to have found this home.
Carolyn and I live in a place filled with kind, considerate and generous folks. They are willing to help, and will disrupt their lives in an instant to lend a hand to a neighbor in need. I wish everyone in the world could experience a life among friends, as we enjoy; it's good for the soul.
To all who accompany Carolyn and I on this journey I say "Thanks". To all who were there Thursday morning I say, "Many thanks, you saved the day."
A neighbor noticed my haste, and came running, asking if there was anything he could do to help. With no time to explain, I called over my shoulder, "Carolyn's sister is on her way." Late the following day, when I was able to return home, I found that five of our good neighbors had pitched in.
Carolyn did not have to spend even one minute unattended and both she and her sister were treated to a home cooked dinner, prepared in a neighbor's kitchen, while I was gone.
I have spoken before of people I have known in the Pacific Northwest while living south of Seattle during an earlier period of my life. I told of their kindness, generosity, and of my amazement at the effort they were willing to expend helping their neighbors. I have also spoken of the people in our present neighborhood. I have found them to be pleasant, intelligent and helpful to us, newcomers that we are. Until last Thursday morning, I did not realize just how fortunate we are to have found this home.
Carolyn and I live in a place filled with kind, considerate and generous folks. They are willing to help, and will disrupt their lives in an instant to lend a hand to a neighbor in need. I wish everyone in the world could experience a life among friends, as we enjoy; it's good for the soul.
To all who accompany Carolyn and I on this journey I say "Thanks". To all who were there Thursday morning I say, "Many thanks, you saved the day."
Thursday, July 28, 2011
New Gear
Well, I finally did it. We went to Best Buy and bought a bunch of stuff. A new computer, a Blu-Ray, cables, router, monitor and God only knows what else. Now all the stuff is sitting in boxes out of harms way on the small couch in our living room.
One of these days, my helper and I will figure out how to hook up all this junk. That's my helper, Muffy, sitting next to all the boxes. It's easy to tell, from the puzzled look on his face, he's already tried to read the instruction manual that came with the router.
I told him to start with that item 'cause I've used a router for most of my adult life. In fact, I have a great Craftsman Router in my garage which I last used when making an oak shelf to put on the bathroom wall, which we used to hold a bunch of pill bottles. It worked great.
I mentioned this to the salesman when he told me I needed a new router so I could get "streaming movies" on my TV, three rooms and four walls away from the office where my computer is located, but he just got a puzzled look on his face - much like Muffy. He said I still needed to buy a new one. Must be he wants me to have one hooked up to something or other in the boxes and still have one available in the garage. Since I'm a totally wealthy guy (not), I guess it's OK to have two of them - I have eleven hammers, ya know, and that's a fact I've discussed before. Guess I'll just have to show both of them, the salesman and Muffy, how to insert the bit and tear into a piece of wood. Us old guys have been around the block a couple of times.
After I've shown everyone how to use the router, I'm gonna depend on Muffy to demonstrate the correct way to hook up the computer. I'm not looking forward to that chore and I'll tell you why. It's because I have not one clue which wire goes where. Last time I bought a computer I was still a working stiff and knew a couple of IT types who were forty years younger, made more money than I ever dreamed of doing at their age, and who were more than willing to help a crotchety old geezer get with it. Those kids were great, and since Muffy is the youngster in this house these days, the job has fallen on his shoulders - all four of them.
Between us, I suspect we'll have it up and working in about thirty days or so. Then, there's the Blu-Ray to deal with. I have some experience with Stingrays, mostly vintage 1963, so maybe I can draw on that. As long as it has a key and four speed transmission, I'll do just fine.
The sales guy told me it was a breeze. Just plug in some sort of cable - he had a special name for it, but that name slips my mind now, and follow the instructions on the screen. I'm a little confused about that 'cause the only screen on the Stingray was the oil screen, and it was pretty hard to get to. Had to unbolt the pan.
Hey! I just remembered! I think he said it was a HEMI cable. Maybe that's why the whole set up cost less than a thousand bucks. Stingrays came with Chevy engines in them and a Hemi is a Chrysler. Only way those cars are worth anything at all is if the engine and body numbers match. Now that I think about it, I probably paid too much.
I'm gonna get this done. I've thought about it a while, and with all my experience with woodworking tools and automobiles, I probably have just exactly what it takes to do this thing. JR, I'm gonna make you proud!
What can possibly go wrong?
I told him to start with that item 'cause I've used a router for most of my adult life. In fact, I have a great Craftsman Router in my garage which I last used when making an oak shelf to put on the bathroom wall, which we used to hold a bunch of pill bottles. It worked great.
I mentioned this to the salesman when he told me I needed a new router so I could get "streaming movies" on my TV, three rooms and four walls away from the office where my computer is located, but he just got a puzzled look on his face - much like Muffy. He said I still needed to buy a new one. Must be he wants me to have one hooked up to something or other in the boxes and still have one available in the garage. Since I'm a totally wealthy guy (not), I guess it's OK to have two of them - I have eleven hammers, ya know, and that's a fact I've discussed before. Guess I'll just have to show both of them, the salesman and Muffy, how to insert the bit and tear into a piece of wood. Us old guys have been around the block a couple of times.
After I've shown everyone how to use the router, I'm gonna depend on Muffy to demonstrate the correct way to hook up the computer. I'm not looking forward to that chore and I'll tell you why. It's because I have not one clue which wire goes where. Last time I bought a computer I was still a working stiff and knew a couple of IT types who were forty years younger, made more money than I ever dreamed of doing at their age, and who were more than willing to help a crotchety old geezer get with it. Those kids were great, and since Muffy is the youngster in this house these days, the job has fallen on his shoulders - all four of them.
Between us, I suspect we'll have it up and working in about thirty days or so. Then, there's the Blu-Ray to deal with. I have some experience with Stingrays, mostly vintage 1963, so maybe I can draw on that. As long as it has a key and four speed transmission, I'll do just fine.
The sales guy told me it was a breeze. Just plug in some sort of cable - he had a special name for it, but that name slips my mind now, and follow the instructions on the screen. I'm a little confused about that 'cause the only screen on the Stingray was the oil screen, and it was pretty hard to get to. Had to unbolt the pan.
Hey! I just remembered! I think he said it was a HEMI cable. Maybe that's why the whole set up cost less than a thousand bucks. Stingrays came with Chevy engines in them and a Hemi is a Chrysler. Only way those cars are worth anything at all is if the engine and body numbers match. Now that I think about it, I probably paid too much.
I'm gonna get this done. I've thought about it a while, and with all my experience with woodworking tools and automobiles, I probably have just exactly what it takes to do this thing. JR, I'm gonna make you proud!
What can possibly go wrong?
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Who Needs This Bunch
A friend and I had a conversation today about what's really happening in DC. He pretty much agrees the whole show is merely theater designed to kill the juice on the third rail. In the real world, the third rail of a track is the one that carries the electricity required to run an electric train. Touch it and you die.
For many decades that's what Social Security has been called, the "Third Rail" in politics. Tip O'Neill, Speaker of the House at the time, first coined that phrase in the early 80's, during the time Ronald Reagan, David Stockman and Alan Greenspan "fixed" Social Security. After several failed attempts to change it's provisions, these three folks finally managed to get a measure passed in 1985. It cost the Republican Party control of the House in 1986, when angry voters "threw the bums out" because of the changes.
Politicians of both parties are pretty cunning guys, and the Republicans - now with the active assistance of a few Democrats in the house and the Big Guy in the oval office, knowing there was more work to be done "fixing" Soc. Security, realized they'd need to change tactics if they were ever to succeed in doing away with this very popular government retirement insurance program. They have spent the last twenty-five years slowly redefining the terms, and shaping public perceptions with conservative owned media.
Today, Social Security is no longer an old age pension insurance plan, it's an "Entitlement." Even after convincing the populace of the switch in name and tagging the word with negative connotations, it still proved to be a highly charged issue. Attacking "Entitlements" was still a great way to get voted out of office.
What we are seeing now is a further refinement of the effort to destroy the only two programs designed to help most people after their bodies have been worn out by toil. The politicians say they are not getting rid of these programs, instead they claim they're "fixing the deficit" and they're even doing that obliquely - they're debating "raising the debt ceiling." Don't believe them for even a millisecond. http://www.cbpp.org/cms/index.cfm?fa=view&id=3548
Twenty-five years of changing definitions and obscuring the debate has culminated in the argument we are witnessing today. And, all of it is completely irrelevant. My friend asked that instead of railing at the unhearing Gods, and shrieking out in anger, could I just please give him what I thought was a decent solution so he could determine it's merits? That stopped me for a minute. Of course I knew what I'd do if I were in charge, but I had never taken the time to state my answer to the problem. He was right. I have been so busy yelling about the idiots, everyone must believe that I run with the same animals, just a different tribe.
OK - here we go. My solution. First, something must be done quickly about the debt ceiling. (Even the Speaker of the House agrees with this http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-05-15/obama-says-debt-default-may-unravel-global-financial-system.html ) In the past, that issue has stood on it's own, without ties to any other issues. That's what we need to do now. Get rid of the other issues and raise the limit. If doing that is so far beyond political reality as to be impossible, there is a separate way to deal with the ceiling. Right now, we owe ourselves 1.6 trillion dollars. Much like taking money out of your own savings account to buy a new car, and then telling yourself that you must replace it, our government has accounts just like that. We would say we owe ourselves what came out of the savings account, and need to replace it. Our government says it owes itself 1.6 trillion dollars in this sense. Just stop telling ourselves we owe ourselves this money and the debt ceiling issue goes away. http://www.ronpaul.com/2011-07-11/ron-paul-rescind-americas-ficticious-1-6-trillion-debt-to-the-federal-reserve/
Next, do ABSOLUTELY nothing. Period. Nada, nil, stop. Current laws on the books call for the tax breaks given under the Bush administration to expire. We have already decided to pull our troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan. These two things, along with several other items covered by laws already enacted, will bring our budget back in balance. http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/ezra-klein/post/we-have-a-congress-problem-not-a-deficit-problem-in-one-graph/2011/05/19/AGVOXgtH_blog.html Please note the blue band, which represents our deficit, at the bottom of the graph.
All we are watching on the TV is the purest of nonsense, designed to do nothing more than confuse and distract the American public while our benefits are being stolen from us and while taxes are being lowered on the wealthiest among us. http://blogs.forbes.com/robertlenzner/2011/07/25/the-400-richest-americans-pay-an-18-tax-rate/?partner=yahoofeed
Let's pass a clean debt ceiling increase and then declare an indefinite recess of congress. We have plenty of laws now, and all they do while in session is spend money and argue. They can meet again if we need them sometime in the future.
For many decades that's what Social Security has been called, the "Third Rail" in politics. Tip O'Neill, Speaker of the House at the time, first coined that phrase in the early 80's, during the time Ronald Reagan, David Stockman and Alan Greenspan "fixed" Social Security. After several failed attempts to change it's provisions, these three folks finally managed to get a measure passed in 1985. It cost the Republican Party control of the House in 1986, when angry voters "threw the bums out" because of the changes.
Politicians of both parties are pretty cunning guys, and the Republicans - now with the active assistance of a few Democrats in the house and the Big Guy in the oval office, knowing there was more work to be done "fixing" Soc. Security, realized they'd need to change tactics if they were ever to succeed in doing away with this very popular government retirement insurance program. They have spent the last twenty-five years slowly redefining the terms, and shaping public perceptions with conservative owned media.
Today, Social Security is no longer an old age pension insurance plan, it's an "Entitlement." Even after convincing the populace of the switch in name and tagging the word with negative connotations, it still proved to be a highly charged issue. Attacking "Entitlements" was still a great way to get voted out of office.
What we are seeing now is a further refinement of the effort to destroy the only two programs designed to help most people after their bodies have been worn out by toil. The politicians say they are not getting rid of these programs, instead they claim they're "fixing the deficit" and they're even doing that obliquely - they're debating "raising the debt ceiling." Don't believe them for even a millisecond. http://www.cbpp.org/cms/index.cfm?fa=view&id=3548
Twenty-five years of changing definitions and obscuring the debate has culminated in the argument we are witnessing today. And, all of it is completely irrelevant. My friend asked that instead of railing at the unhearing Gods, and shrieking out in anger, could I just please give him what I thought was a decent solution so he could determine it's merits? That stopped me for a minute. Of course I knew what I'd do if I were in charge, but I had never taken the time to state my answer to the problem. He was right. I have been so busy yelling about the idiots, everyone must believe that I run with the same animals, just a different tribe.
OK - here we go. My solution. First, something must be done quickly about the debt ceiling. (Even the Speaker of the House agrees with this http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-05-15/obama-says-debt-default-may-unravel-global-financial-system.html ) In the past, that issue has stood on it's own, without ties to any other issues. That's what we need to do now. Get rid of the other issues and raise the limit. If doing that is so far beyond political reality as to be impossible, there is a separate way to deal with the ceiling. Right now, we owe ourselves 1.6 trillion dollars. Much like taking money out of your own savings account to buy a new car, and then telling yourself that you must replace it, our government has accounts just like that. We would say we owe ourselves what came out of the savings account, and need to replace it. Our government says it owes itself 1.6 trillion dollars in this sense. Just stop telling ourselves we owe ourselves this money and the debt ceiling issue goes away. http://www.ronpaul.com/2011-07-11/ron-paul-rescind-americas-ficticious-1-6-trillion-debt-to-the-federal-reserve/
Next, do ABSOLUTELY nothing. Period. Nada, nil, stop. Current laws on the books call for the tax breaks given under the Bush administration to expire. We have already decided to pull our troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan. These two things, along with several other items covered by laws already enacted, will bring our budget back in balance. http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/ezra-klein/post/we-have-a-congress-problem-not-a-deficit-problem-in-one-graph/2011/05/19/AGVOXgtH_blog.html Please note the blue band, which represents our deficit, at the bottom of the graph.
All we are watching on the TV is the purest of nonsense, designed to do nothing more than confuse and distract the American public while our benefits are being stolen from us and while taxes are being lowered on the wealthiest among us. http://blogs.forbes.com/robertlenzner/2011/07/25/the-400-richest-americans-pay-an-18-tax-rate/?partner=yahoofeed
Let's pass a clean debt ceiling increase and then declare an indefinite recess of congress. We have plenty of laws now, and all they do while in session is spend money and argue. They can meet again if we need them sometime in the future.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Back in the Day
Today's news included an item about three souls who ventured into a prohibited place in Yosemite Park and managed to go over Vernal Falls. I'm betting it's the last time any of those three will ignore well placed signs advising a halt to forward progress. Or any other sign. Darwinism at work. That sounds harsh, but if you've ever seen the place they were, in person, you'd understand my lack of compassion.
I have seen the place, and this news reminded me of a day long ago, when I was there. Really, it was long, LONG, ago when two exceptionaly fit seventeen year olds had nothing to do one day. Danny and I had been in the park for several days doing nothing more than working on our tans at Stoneman's Beach, by the river, or at Eyeball Beach in Camp Curry.
Stoneman's is on the Merced River at, naturally enough, Stoneman Bridge. Everybody on the planet can google "Stoneman Bridge" and find it with ease. Try googling "Eyeball Beach". Only the initiated will know where that is. Don't worry folks, I'm about to make you experts in the field of Yosemite Locations circa 1960. I'm gonna tell you where it is.
Camp Curry was a middle class city of cabin tents that visitors rented by the day or week while they stayed in the Park. I say it's middle class because all the yahoos, like Danny and I, would pitch Coleman tents, or just throw a bedspread, corners pegged to the ground, over a line strung between two trees, in one of several campgrounds. Rich people would stay at Yosemite Lodge, in wooden cabins. The WEALTHY would stay in the Ahwahnee Lodge, a five star hotel. The tent cabins in Camp Curry was where everyone else stayed.
Danny and I were much more comfortable attempting to woo middle class girls, so when we tired of Stoneman's Beach, we'd head to Camp Curry to see what was happening there. Curry had several restaurants, a gift shop and a post office and lounge. The post office and lounge area was directly across a pine needle strewn walkway, maybe two hundred feet wide, from the restaurant and gift shop. That walkway, my friends, was eyeball beach. We would sit on the steps leading to the Post Office and watch as the young ladies walked by. Usually, several would be bored enough to stop and talk with us. All the guys knew where eyeball beach was, and visited regularly. It used to be fun being a teenager.
One day, we both tired of doing the same thing every day, so we cast about looking to do something different. Something we had never done before. It was right in front of us. Half Dome.
I had heard about a trail, one that went up the backside of the sheer face for years, but knew nothing about it. I asked Danny if he'd like to help figure out how to climb it.
We stopped running when we reached the cables. In 1962, there was only one set of cables, now there are two. This picture shows maybe fifty people climbing up to the top of the mountain, that little line of black dots in the picture to the right. And yes, it's steeper than it looks. A whole lot steeper. Each dot is a climber, and I assure you that was not the case back in 1962. Danny and I had the place all to ourselves. There were no others going up, no one else at the top, and no one to trip over, climbing, as we were coming down. This picture shows just exactly why I have not been inside the park in over twenty years. I consider it the place I grew into a man, but my home turf has become overrun by strangers with whom I have nothing in common.
They do not understand the beauty, actively work to destroy that beauty by tossing litter from one end of the valley to the other, steal any camping gear left in the open, and create so much noise and confusion that no one within the confines of the twenty one square miles can appreciate what they are seeing. Not only do they disregard the litter laws, they ignore signs designed to keep them alive. My home has been ruined by uncaring people. It's a shame.
We climbed the cables, Danny and I, and at the top we crawled on our bellies to the very edge where we could see Mirror Lake, almost a mile straight down below us. It took real courage to crawl to that edge; I never before realized I was frightened by heights. Funny that, by this time in my life I was already a pilot, and had never before been affected by being a mile or more off the ground. This time I had no wings to protect me.
We rested for ten or fifteen minutes, and then turned back and started down the mountain. Again, we ran the whole way. The wind was at our backs, our legs were powerful and filled with youth; our lungs unaffected by cigarettes and smog. We were strong in those days.
Sixteen miles? Climb almost a mile? Sure! Why not, it's only one o'clock in the afternoon. If we start now, we'll be back way before dark. An old man remembers how it feels to be invincible. Back in the day.
I have seen the place, and this news reminded me of a day long ago, when I was there. Really, it was long, LONG, ago when two exceptionaly fit seventeen year olds had nothing to do one day. Danny and I had been in the park for several days doing nothing more than working on our tans at Stoneman's Beach, by the river, or at Eyeball Beach in Camp Curry.
Stoneman's is on the Merced River at, naturally enough, Stoneman Bridge. Everybody on the planet can google "Stoneman Bridge" and find it with ease. Try googling "Eyeball Beach". Only the initiated will know where that is. Don't worry folks, I'm about to make you experts in the field of Yosemite Locations circa 1960. I'm gonna tell you where it is.
Camp Curry was a middle class city of cabin tents that visitors rented by the day or week while they stayed in the Park. I say it's middle class because all the yahoos, like Danny and I, would pitch Coleman tents, or just throw a bedspread, corners pegged to the ground, over a line strung between two trees, in one of several campgrounds. Rich people would stay at Yosemite Lodge, in wooden cabins. The WEALTHY would stay in the Ahwahnee Lodge, a five star hotel. The tent cabins in Camp Curry was where everyone else stayed.
Danny and I were much more comfortable attempting to woo middle class girls, so when we tired of Stoneman's Beach, we'd head to Camp Curry to see what was happening there. Curry had several restaurants, a gift shop and a post office and lounge. The post office and lounge area was directly across a pine needle strewn walkway, maybe two hundred feet wide, from the restaurant and gift shop. That walkway, my friends, was eyeball beach. We would sit on the steps leading to the Post Office and watch as the young ladies walked by. Usually, several would be bored enough to stop and talk with us. All the guys knew where eyeball beach was, and visited regularly. It used to be fun being a teenager.
One day, we both tired of doing the same thing every day, so we cast about looking to do something different. Something we had never done before. It was right in front of us. Half Dome.
I had heard about a trail, one that went up the backside of the sheer face for years, but knew nothing about it. I asked Danny if he'd like to help figure out how to climb it. Wow! Something to do! Not only did he say yes, he jumped at the idea. "Let's do it!"
We went to Park Headquarters and talked with a Ranger. He told us to start at Happy Isles. "Take the trail to Vernal Falls, and then go on up to Half Dome, past Nevada Falls. The signs are all there. By the way, it's 8 miles up there and 8 miles back. Are you up for that distance?"
We sure were. Off we went. We jogged the entire way to Vernal, crossed the creek where we should, not where the three hapless swimmers at the beginning of this tale tried and failed, and then, after crossing Nevada Falls, encountered the biggest, meanest mosquitoes I've ever seen. They were all over us. Instead of jogging, we ran the next four miles.
They do not understand the beauty, actively work to destroy that beauty by tossing litter from one end of the valley to the other, steal any camping gear left in the open, and create so much noise and confusion that no one within the confines of the twenty one square miles can appreciate what they are seeing. Not only do they disregard the litter laws, they ignore signs designed to keep them alive. My home has been ruined by uncaring people. It's a shame.
We climbed the cables, Danny and I, and at the top we crawled on our bellies to the very edge where we could see Mirror Lake, almost a mile straight down below us. It took real courage to crawl to that edge; I never before realized I was frightened by heights. Funny that, by this time in my life I was already a pilot, and had never before been affected by being a mile or more off the ground. This time I had no wings to protect me.
We rested for ten or fifteen minutes, and then turned back and started down the mountain. Again, we ran the whole way. The wind was at our backs, our legs were powerful and filled with youth; our lungs unaffected by cigarettes and smog. We were strong in those days.
Sixteen miles? Climb almost a mile? Sure! Why not, it's only one o'clock in the afternoon. If we start now, we'll be back way before dark. An old man remembers how it feels to be invincible. Back in the day.
Jail Time
Dereliction of Duty. Disgusting. Traitors, all of them. This country will drown in red ink caused by rising interest rates on our public debt.
The children in DC are incapable of agreeing on even the texture of the grains of sand in the sandbox that is their workstation. I say we toss every last mothers son and daughter in jail. Let them argue with each other while wearing prison stripes and eating prison chow until they can decide on a course of action. They are holding us hostage, I say it's time to turn the tables.
I'm betting we'll have a new debt ceiling in short order if they meet in a prison cafeteria to fuss with each other, and a new budget ON TIME if after leaving the cafeteria they are made to return to their cells for the night. This nation and it's people are at risk. Meanwhile the detestable, corrupt, lying sacks are trying their best to curry favor with only special narrow interest groups who contribute to campaigns.
Boys and girls, we're getting the screwing of a lifetime. This is not a battle over raising the debt ceiling, it's a war to see who pays for the bail outs that were given to the bankers. I'm gonna go out on a really short limb here and tell you what's gonna be.
They will raise the debt ceiling. The way cost of living increases in Social Security is figured will be changed - the increases will fall further behind reality. Medicare will be gutted. There will be tax "reform" that results in fewer taxes on the wealthy and corporations. All this by 2013.
They got the bail out and now we, the loser working people in America, will be required to pay it back. Where in the Dickens is a dictator when ya need one? That, I'm afraid, is where this ends.
Hope at least some of you were smart enough to buy an ounce or two of gold a while back. It jumped over twenty dollars an ounce at the open of the Asian Markets. Just wish I could afford some - being retired, all I can afford is enough booze to keep me unconscious.
The children in DC are incapable of agreeing on even the texture of the grains of sand in the sandbox that is their workstation. I say we toss every last mothers son and daughter in jail. Let them argue with each other while wearing prison stripes and eating prison chow until they can decide on a course of action. They are holding us hostage, I say it's time to turn the tables.
I'm betting we'll have a new debt ceiling in short order if they meet in a prison cafeteria to fuss with each other, and a new budget ON TIME if after leaving the cafeteria they are made to return to their cells for the night. This nation and it's people are at risk. Meanwhile the detestable, corrupt, lying sacks are trying their best to curry favor with only special narrow interest groups who contribute to campaigns.
Boys and girls, we're getting the screwing of a lifetime. This is not a battle over raising the debt ceiling, it's a war to see who pays for the bail outs that were given to the bankers. I'm gonna go out on a really short limb here and tell you what's gonna be.
They will raise the debt ceiling. The way cost of living increases in Social Security is figured will be changed - the increases will fall further behind reality. Medicare will be gutted. There will be tax "reform" that results in fewer taxes on the wealthy and corporations. All this by 2013.
They got the bail out and now we, the loser working people in America, will be required to pay it back. Where in the Dickens is a dictator when ya need one? That, I'm afraid, is where this ends.
Hope at least some of you were smart enough to buy an ounce or two of gold a while back. It jumped over twenty dollars an ounce at the open of the Asian Markets. Just wish I could afford some - being retired, all I can afford is enough booze to keep me unconscious.
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