What do you get when you cross 1984 and Alice In Wonderland?
Bumbling Bureaucratic Statism.
Now, put that on a scenic island in the Atlantic with beautiful beaches and you have Bermuda!
Last weekend my sister Linda and I decided that we would meet in Bermuda for a couple of days of tourism and relaxation. She was flying from New York and I had a later flight from Washington, DC.
When I arrived and entered the customs/immigration area, I was surprised to see her waiting for me inside of the secure area. She had obviously not cleared immigrations and I feared the worst - lost or expired passport.
What had happened was, from the point of the Bermudian government, almost as bad. Linda had committed the egregious crime against the state of not knowing what hotel she was staying in! She had delegated the task of finding suitable lodging to me and I figured that we would wing it and find a place once we got to the island.
I had, however, known enough to write "Fairmont Hotel" on my immigration form where it asks in which hotel you have a reservation. So when I arrived and saw that my sister was being detained by the head of immigration, I took out my immigration form and pointed to the name of the hotel (that I had only minutes before read about in the in flight magazine).
Having detained my sister for over an hour, you would think that he would be interested in my showing him some proof of my reservation - or perhaps that he would just pick up the telephone and confirm the reservation - or perhaps that he might just have easily let my sister use his telephone to find a room.
NO! The Bermuda rules say that immigrants have to fill out the form completely and that without the name of a person's home or hotel on the form, you are not allowed in the country.
So with the flourish of my ball point pen, we were allowed entrance into the inner sanctum of Bermudianism where we were able to spend a lovely 24 hours free of any further Orwellian Inanity.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Say Goodbye to Copper
I saw the future today - and it is invisible. I was in Baltimore at the Spring ISPCON (Internet Service Providers Conference).
Most people know of ISP's like AOL and MindSpring. But a new breed of ISP is popping up all around the country. They are called WISP's or Wireless ISP's. These WISP's are speading a disruptive technology that allows the delivery of high speed internet to homes and businesses via un-licensed radio spectrum.
What this means is that any buckaroo entrepreneur with $20,000 - $30,000 can open up shop and deliver high-speed internet at prices and speeds competitive with Verizon DSL or Comcast Cable.
What's the scary part for the big Telco's and Cable companies?
The WISP has no investment in copper!
No cables in the ground!
No wires to run to the house!
No sunk costs to amortize!
Most important? The system is infinitely scalable. Whereas the large Telcos and Cable Companies must spend millions of dollars to build out a network of copper cables before they can sell their first customer, the WISP can spend a few thousand dollars and be in business inside of a month. The WISP can serve a small community of 40 users in Brooklyn, 400 users in Matewan, WV or 40,000 users in Augusta, GA. Or perhaps, the WISP will start at 40 users and grow in a few years to 40,000 users.
If I were a large ISP, the only thing that would make me feel good is that I'm not a incumbent wire line telephone company. Because the other thing that was quite obvious at this show is that VOIP (Voice Over Internet Protocol) is a tsunami that is about to crest and wash away the old way of making and receiving telephone calls.
Five years ago I bought a VOIP system for a company I was running. We bought $500,000 of equipment and committed to spend an additional $3,000 per month in telco charges. Even at this cost, the company was saving money.
I priced the equivalent system today and it was $3,500 per month -- with NO EQUIPMENT CHARGES. It had all of the same features and benefits, but without all the equipment charges and the complicated management costs.
There is no way that the current model of business and residential telephony will survive the convergence of cheap wireless internet and cheap VOIP service.
I spoke to many of the equipment manufacturers at the show and they told me that much of the wireless internet and VOIP equipment being sold today is going to developing countries in Latin America and Asia. Many of these countries are completely bypassing copper and going straight to wireless services.
If I was a commodity trader, the first thing I would do is short oil (see "Grandpa Tell Me 'Bout the Good Ole Days); but then I would short copper.
Also posted at Blogger News Network
Most people know of ISP's like AOL and MindSpring. But a new breed of ISP is popping up all around the country. They are called WISP's or Wireless ISP's. These WISP's are speading a disruptive technology that allows the delivery of high speed internet to homes and businesses via un-licensed radio spectrum.
What this means is that any buckaroo entrepreneur with $20,000 - $30,000 can open up shop and deliver high-speed internet at prices and speeds competitive with Verizon DSL or Comcast Cable.
What's the scary part for the big Telco's and Cable companies?
The WISP has no investment in copper!
No cables in the ground!
No wires to run to the house!
No sunk costs to amortize!
Most important? The system is infinitely scalable. Whereas the large Telcos and Cable Companies must spend millions of dollars to build out a network of copper cables before they can sell their first customer, the WISP can spend a few thousand dollars and be in business inside of a month. The WISP can serve a small community of 40 users in Brooklyn, 400 users in Matewan, WV or 40,000 users in Augusta, GA. Or perhaps, the WISP will start at 40 users and grow in a few years to 40,000 users.
If I were a large ISP, the only thing that would make me feel good is that I'm not a incumbent wire line telephone company. Because the other thing that was quite obvious at this show is that VOIP (Voice Over Internet Protocol) is a tsunami that is about to crest and wash away the old way of making and receiving telephone calls.
Five years ago I bought a VOIP system for a company I was running. We bought $500,000 of equipment and committed to spend an additional $3,000 per month in telco charges. Even at this cost, the company was saving money.
I priced the equivalent system today and it was $3,500 per month -- with NO EQUIPMENT CHARGES. It had all of the same features and benefits, but without all the equipment charges and the complicated management costs.
There is no way that the current model of business and residential telephony will survive the convergence of cheap wireless internet and cheap VOIP service.
I spoke to many of the equipment manufacturers at the show and they told me that much of the wireless internet and VOIP equipment being sold today is going to developing countries in Latin America and Asia. Many of these countries are completely bypassing copper and going straight to wireless services.
If I was a commodity trader, the first thing I would do is short oil (see "Grandpa Tell Me 'Bout the Good Ole Days); but then I would short copper.
Also posted at Blogger News Network
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Everything I learned in life I learned in the Boy Scouts
My son Jacob and I went on our first Boy Scout camping trip together this weekend. It was an 11 mile canoe trip down the Rappahannock river in Virginia. Perfect days, good companionship and an icy swim in the river when we capsized in the rapids at mile 8.
But I was reminded of my days as a Boy Scouts and what valuable training it afforded me. You see the Boy Scouts are not really a "camping" organization although they teach a great deal of woods-craft. They are not a political organization - although you read a great deal about their struggle in the courts with various charity sponsors and the courts.
What the Boy Scouts of America are is represented by the various pledges and oathes a Scout is bound to uphold and by which he is to live his life.
Take the Scout Motto: Be Prepared!
Simple and yet very profound. Be prepared for a rainy day - save your money. Be prepared for life's hardships - get an education. Be prepared for the unexpected - make contingency plans - rehearse - research - plan. How many of the many mistakes that I have made in my life - both big and small - could have been obviated by a little bit of preparation.
How about the Scout Slogan: Do a good turn daily!
How many of our days go by without our being able to do a good turn? Where is the altruism of our early days? Not the automatic payroll deduction of $25 that goes to the local mega-charity-complex of companies that vaccum money out of our communities only to spend 65% of that money on overhead and other fundraising costs. I'm talking about finding someone to help and then helping them - person to person. I admit that it is virtually absent from my life and all the other people of my generation who are busy chasing their own tails.
How about the Scout Law: A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Revererent!
Driving back from the river this weekend, one of the thousands of drivers jamming the freeway north into Washington, DC cut me off. As I suppressed the urge to lay on the horn and vent my obvious displeasure verbally at this vehicular misanthrope, I had to ask myself - under which category would this act fall? Helpful? Friendly? Courteous? Kind?
In today's world of drive by shootings and road rage, I figured out that it might only be considered Brave - and even then, not very smart.
But I was reminded of my days as a Boy Scouts and what valuable training it afforded me. You see the Boy Scouts are not really a "camping" organization although they teach a great deal of woods-craft. They are not a political organization - although you read a great deal about their struggle in the courts with various charity sponsors and the courts.
What the Boy Scouts of America are is represented by the various pledges and oathes a Scout is bound to uphold and by which he is to live his life.
Take the Scout Motto: Be Prepared!
Simple and yet very profound. Be prepared for a rainy day - save your money. Be prepared for life's hardships - get an education. Be prepared for the unexpected - make contingency plans - rehearse - research - plan. How many of the many mistakes that I have made in my life - both big and small - could have been obviated by a little bit of preparation.
How about the Scout Slogan: Do a good turn daily!
How many of our days go by without our being able to do a good turn? Where is the altruism of our early days? Not the automatic payroll deduction of $25 that goes to the local mega-charity-complex of companies that vaccum money out of our communities only to spend 65% of that money on overhead and other fundraising costs. I'm talking about finding someone to help and then helping them - person to person. I admit that it is virtually absent from my life and all the other people of my generation who are busy chasing their own tails.
How about the Scout Law: A Scout is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Revererent!
Driving back from the river this weekend, one of the thousands of drivers jamming the freeway north into Washington, DC cut me off. As I suppressed the urge to lay on the horn and vent my obvious displeasure verbally at this vehicular misanthrope, I had to ask myself - under which category would this act fall? Helpful? Friendly? Courteous? Kind?
In today's world of drive by shootings and road rage, I figured out that it might only be considered Brave - and even then, not very smart.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
IDEA - Sue Me Foundation
I can't tell you the number of times in our married life that my wife and I have had legal troubles with people who commit egregious wrong-doing with impunity, because they know that we don't have the financial means to go after them in court.
We sold a house to a man who wouldn't release $2,000 in escrowed funds after the closing and dared us to sue him to get the money. We ended up settling for less than half the money because the court costs and attorney's fees ate up the rest.
We rented a house to a friend (ex-friend) who skipped out on the rent and told us that we could sue him, but there would be no way to enforce the order since he was moving out of state.
We sold a business to a gentleman who breached several important terms in the contract and told us "sue me, you're moving out of state and it will cost you a fortune to get your money back -- even if you win."
In each of these cases, we could have spent the money on an attorney and the time in court and perhaps after years of aggravation and expense we could have won. But the risk was too high and we felt that the focus of our lives should not be litigation.
I wish there was a non-profit legal foundation formed for the purpose of going after these scofflaws. I would have gladly donated my rights in these (and other) cases to the foundation and let them use their lawyers to get these bad guys.
With a staff of attorneys and a reputation for honesty and ferocity, perhaps the bad guys wouldn't mess with them so easily. They could easily be funded by their winnings in the court room.
Sure I wouldn't have received any benefit from the cases - but I didn't anyway. At least this way I would have the satisfaction of knowing that the nice guy didn't always finish last.
We sold a house to a man who wouldn't release $2,000 in escrowed funds after the closing and dared us to sue him to get the money. We ended up settling for less than half the money because the court costs and attorney's fees ate up the rest.
We rented a house to a friend (ex-friend) who skipped out on the rent and told us that we could sue him, but there would be no way to enforce the order since he was moving out of state.
We sold a business to a gentleman who breached several important terms in the contract and told us "sue me, you're moving out of state and it will cost you a fortune to get your money back -- even if you win."
In each of these cases, we could have spent the money on an attorney and the time in court and perhaps after years of aggravation and expense we could have won. But the risk was too high and we felt that the focus of our lives should not be litigation.
I wish there was a non-profit legal foundation formed for the purpose of going after these scofflaws. I would have gladly donated my rights in these (and other) cases to the foundation and let them use their lawyers to get these bad guys.
With a staff of attorneys and a reputation for honesty and ferocity, perhaps the bad guys wouldn't mess with them so easily. They could easily be funded by their winnings in the court room.
Sure I wouldn't have received any benefit from the cases - but I didn't anyway. At least this way I would have the satisfaction of knowing that the nice guy didn't always finish last.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Un-Baking the Social Security Cake Part I
The whole discussion of Social Security reform is so fraught with danger that I hesitate to venture into this mine field of emotion and misinformation. Perhaps the better metaphor (betterphor?) is wading into a pool of quicksand, since there is no one argument in this discussion that would cause instant rhetorical death. Rather the entire process of debate seems to suck one in and cause the suffocation of rational discussion.
In order to prevent such an untimely death on this important issue, I hope to write a number of briefs on this issue in an effort to unravel and illuminate the issues involved.
Before we "un-bake" the Social Security Cake, I think the first important task is to understand what type of cake we're talking about.
Most people don't realize that the fundamental difference between the two sides in this debate has to do with flavor preference
To wit: Is Social Security a retirement program or a social service entitlement program?
If Social Security is an entitlement program, then the Democrats are well within the national ideological construct to oppose the President who wants to take a give-away program from Congress and put shackles on it by privatization. If you believe Social Security to be this type of program, your objective is to maximize the payouts to the largest numbers of your constituents while at the same time trying to find the deepest pockets to pick in order to raise that revenue.
But - and this is a tremendous "But":
If Social Security is supposed to be a governmentally sponsored retirement program based on the same principles and structures as most other private sector retirement programs, then
"... bust my buttons! Why didn't you say that in the first place? That's a horse of a different color!"
A financially sound retirement program is based on mathematics, not politics. One can determine with a high degree of accuracy how long any group of 10,000 Americans are likely to pay into a retirement program and how long after retirement, they will likely draw on the same pool of deposited and invested money.
The only financially responsible way to manage such a program is to define the end benefits once and then begin to collect funds from workers and invest them at the hightest possible rate of return.
So the question is Chocolate or Vanilla: Is Social Security a Government Entitlement program structured as a give-away? Or is it a financially sound retirement program that is actuarially based?
"Don't mind that man behind the curtain.........."
As George Bernard Shaw once said, "A government which robs Peter to pay Paul can always count on the political support of Paul."
This post is also available at Blogger News Network
In order to prevent such an untimely death on this important issue, I hope to write a number of briefs on this issue in an effort to unravel and illuminate the issues involved.
Before we "un-bake" the Social Security Cake, I think the first important task is to understand what type of cake we're talking about.
Most people don't realize that the fundamental difference between the two sides in this debate has to do with flavor preference
To wit: Is Social Security a retirement program or a social service entitlement program?
If Social Security is an entitlement program, then the Democrats are well within the national ideological construct to oppose the President who wants to take a give-away program from Congress and put shackles on it by privatization. If you believe Social Security to be this type of program, your objective is to maximize the payouts to the largest numbers of your constituents while at the same time trying to find the deepest pockets to pick in order to raise that revenue.
But - and this is a tremendous "But":
If Social Security is supposed to be a governmentally sponsored retirement program based on the same principles and structures as most other private sector retirement programs, then
"... bust my buttons! Why didn't you say that in the first place? That's a horse of a different color!"
A financially sound retirement program is based on mathematics, not politics. One can determine with a high degree of accuracy how long any group of 10,000 Americans are likely to pay into a retirement program and how long after retirement, they will likely draw on the same pool of deposited and invested money.
The only financially responsible way to manage such a program is to define the end benefits once and then begin to collect funds from workers and invest them at the hightest possible rate of return.
So the question is Chocolate or Vanilla: Is Social Security a Government Entitlement program structured as a give-away? Or is it a financially sound retirement program that is actuarially based?
"Don't mind that man behind the curtain.........."
As George Bernard Shaw once said, "A government which robs Peter to pay Paul can always count on the political support of Paul."
This post is also available at Blogger News Network
Spiritual Optometry
I'm short-sighted, or far-sighted. I can never remember which one. Whatever causes you to see someone from 6 feet away as an amorphous ectoplasmic blob -- that's what I have.
But what a great day and age in which to have such an affliction! I have several different sizes and styles of eyeglasses (in several different states of disrepair). I can go to any one of a dozen local one-hour optometrists and get a prescription for contact lenses (soft or hard? colored or transparent? extended wear or throw away?). I can even choose any one of 31 flavors of laser eye surgery now being offered.
I wish our spiritual eyesight were so easily remedied.
I was recently in the hospital for a few days and read some interesting pieces on the modern vs. the classic view of humility. The modern world teaches that humility properly understood involves debasement of self -- a lowering of ones self below that of others. Meekness, submissiveness and a giving over of ones personal sovereignty to others. Indeed, the dictionary definition of humble is "low in rank, quality, or station; unpretentious or lowly."
This definition, however, is of a relatively recent vintage. The traditional understanding of the word humility comes from its biblical usage to describe the reason for G-d's choosing Moses to lead the people of Israel out of bondage and into freedom. It says that G-d chose Moses because he was the "most humble of men." Everyone remembers the part in Exodus where Moses protests the mantle of leadership by saying that he has a speech impediment, but the lesser recalled parts of the Bible are Moses exercising his wealth and power in what seem to be an almost Machievellian way.
How does this square with him being described as "the most humble of men?"
It turns out that the traditional view of humility is having a crystal clear view of who you are -- both good and bad. You are not boastful and you don’t bow and scrape the ground with false modesty. Humility in the traditional sense then is a true understanding of who and what you are.
After I read this I came to the inescapable conclusion that we have a humility crisis in the United States today! America's women are not humble enough!
I'm sure you've seen the signs as I have. Accomplished, intelligent, beautiful women with an abundance of character, compassion, wit and charm in a relationship with a man not nearly as capable.
Wives and mothers who have or are raising children, organizing the household, participating in book clubs, public services, religious institutions and many times paid careers too. They have advanced degrees, are bi and tri-lingual, artistic, caring, sympathetic, empathetic, energetic -- while the husband's claim to fame is that he "brings home the bacon."
These women cling to the modern view of "humility," taking a back seat to Harry Husband Homeowner who rules the roost, the checkbook and many times the tempo and tenor of the marriage.
It is my humble (traditionally defined) opinion that many women share my optical affliction, except that it is manifested not when physically looking at others, but when spiritually looking within.
When they look at themselves, instead of seeing the incredible energetic and dynamic person I see, they see an amorphous ectoplasmic blob.
This causes all manner of social and personal problems. Dysfunctional marriages and families; unhappy wives and mothers; children being raised in discordant households and having unnatural role models.
I feel like the Saturday Night Live Psychologist character Denise Venetti whose only remarks to her patients are “Have you taken a look at yourself? Take a look at yourself.”
Perhaps what’s needed is a Spiritual Optometrist.
But what a great day and age in which to have such an affliction! I have several different sizes and styles of eyeglasses (in several different states of disrepair). I can go to any one of a dozen local one-hour optometrists and get a prescription for contact lenses (soft or hard? colored or transparent? extended wear or throw away?). I can even choose any one of 31 flavors of laser eye surgery now being offered.
I wish our spiritual eyesight were so easily remedied.
I was recently in the hospital for a few days and read some interesting pieces on the modern vs. the classic view of humility. The modern world teaches that humility properly understood involves debasement of self -- a lowering of ones self below that of others. Meekness, submissiveness and a giving over of ones personal sovereignty to others. Indeed, the dictionary definition of humble is "low in rank, quality, or station; unpretentious or lowly."
This definition, however, is of a relatively recent vintage. The traditional understanding of the word humility comes from its biblical usage to describe the reason for G-d's choosing Moses to lead the people of Israel out of bondage and into freedom. It says that G-d chose Moses because he was the "most humble of men." Everyone remembers the part in Exodus where Moses protests the mantle of leadership by saying that he has a speech impediment, but the lesser recalled parts of the Bible are Moses exercising his wealth and power in what seem to be an almost Machievellian way.
How does this square with him being described as "the most humble of men?"
It turns out that the traditional view of humility is having a crystal clear view of who you are -- both good and bad. You are not boastful and you don’t bow and scrape the ground with false modesty. Humility in the traditional sense then is a true understanding of who and what you are.
After I read this I came to the inescapable conclusion that we have a humility crisis in the United States today! America's women are not humble enough!
I'm sure you've seen the signs as I have. Accomplished, intelligent, beautiful women with an abundance of character, compassion, wit and charm in a relationship with a man not nearly as capable.
Wives and mothers who have or are raising children, organizing the household, participating in book clubs, public services, religious institutions and many times paid careers too. They have advanced degrees, are bi and tri-lingual, artistic, caring, sympathetic, empathetic, energetic -- while the husband's claim to fame is that he "brings home the bacon."
These women cling to the modern view of "humility," taking a back seat to Harry Husband Homeowner who rules the roost, the checkbook and many times the tempo and tenor of the marriage.
It is my humble (traditionally defined) opinion that many women share my optical affliction, except that it is manifested not when physically looking at others, but when spiritually looking within.
When they look at themselves, instead of seeing the incredible energetic and dynamic person I see, they see an amorphous ectoplasmic blob.
This causes all manner of social and personal problems. Dysfunctional marriages and families; unhappy wives and mothers; children being raised in discordant households and having unnatural role models.
I feel like the Saturday Night Live Psychologist character Denise Venetti whose only remarks to her patients are “Have you taken a look at yourself? Take a look at yourself.”
Perhaps what’s needed is a Spiritual Optometrist.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Mandatory Relaxation
I, like most boomers, formed my impression of most things not experienced first hand by the cinema. Jail to me meant "Cool Hand Luke," or "The Longest Yard." At worst it was "Papillion" (actually, the worst was "Midnight Express" but that was more about the horrors of Turkey - not the horrors of jail). So it was completely without fear and trepidation that I entered two days of solitary confinement this week for my radiation therapy.
Here's the drill: I get to go into a first class hospital room on Tuesday afternoon and, after taking a dose of radioactive iodine, they shut the door and I get to (have to) stay in the room alone for 48 hours. With the exception of the nurses delivering food and water, I am without human contact for these two days.
At first, I am quite pleased. I bring with me several hundred pages of reading material, a note pad and pen, a deck of cards and my own fax machine. This will be a breeze -- even fun. The room has a great view, a television and I can both receive incoming and make outgoing telephone calls.
My wife Rebecca and son Sam enviously help me unpack and we make jokes about how we can get them the same treatment so that they can have a "vacation" too.
Then the radiation guy came to give me the medicine. He came with a lead-lined pharmaceutical bottle and a geiger counter. He told me "OK, as soon as I open this bottle, take the medicine as quickly as you can." He gave me the medicine and backed away from me as if I was highly radioactive (which, in fact, I was). He shooed my family out of the room and then shut the door.
I don't know what exactly it was about the "click" of the door shutting. It wasn't locked and I knew I would be free to go in a couple of days. But that "click" loosely translated into english was "you are trapped."
All of a sudden, the free two day vacation became a mandatory two day isolation. Incarceration not freedom. Isolation not separation. I felt uncomfortable, but was still looking forward to getting my reading done.
The first day, the hours tick by and I am making great progress on my backlog of articles and notes. I go to sleep thinking "That wasn't too bad. I could definitely do this for a while."
The next day everything changes. I'm looking at how I can make a clean break out of the joint. I start to tie the bed sheets together and realize that the windows don't open. AACK! No way out the back. The ceiling tiles are glued into place. The only way out is the front. "Calm down" I tell myself. It's only another day. That helps for about 6 minutes. Then I'm on the phone calling people I know to chat. Chat about anything, or nothing. It doesn't matter. Just so long as I can be rassured that they'll still take my phone call and that they'll be there when I'm paroled - I mean released.
The phone calls get shorter and shorter as people hear from me more and more frequently during the day. I know they want to say "didn't we just speak 20 minutes ago?" but being my friends they sympathetically listen to me figuratively run my tin cup across the bars yelling "ATTICA, ATTICA."
And then, it's over. As quickly as it started. The guy with the geiger counter comes in and says that I'm not quite the nite-lite I was 48 hours ago and that I'd better get my stuff together so that they can discharge me and he can prepare the room for the next patient.
"Wait a minute" I think to myself. I know the health insurance people have paid for this room for the whole day. You can't kick me out so soon. I'm entitled to another 6 hours........"
Here's the drill: I get to go into a first class hospital room on Tuesday afternoon and, after taking a dose of radioactive iodine, they shut the door and I get to (have to) stay in the room alone for 48 hours. With the exception of the nurses delivering food and water, I am without human contact for these two days.
At first, I am quite pleased. I bring with me several hundred pages of reading material, a note pad and pen, a deck of cards and my own fax machine. This will be a breeze -- even fun. The room has a great view, a television and I can both receive incoming and make outgoing telephone calls.
My wife Rebecca and son Sam enviously help me unpack and we make jokes about how we can get them the same treatment so that they can have a "vacation" too.
Then the radiation guy came to give me the medicine. He came with a lead-lined pharmaceutical bottle and a geiger counter. He told me "OK, as soon as I open this bottle, take the medicine as quickly as you can." He gave me the medicine and backed away from me as if I was highly radioactive (which, in fact, I was). He shooed my family out of the room and then shut the door.
I don't know what exactly it was about the "click" of the door shutting. It wasn't locked and I knew I would be free to go in a couple of days. But that "click" loosely translated into english was "you are trapped."
All of a sudden, the free two day vacation became a mandatory two day isolation. Incarceration not freedom. Isolation not separation. I felt uncomfortable, but was still looking forward to getting my reading done.
The first day, the hours tick by and I am making great progress on my backlog of articles and notes. I go to sleep thinking "That wasn't too bad. I could definitely do this for a while."
The next day everything changes. I'm looking at how I can make a clean break out of the joint. I start to tie the bed sheets together and realize that the windows don't open. AACK! No way out the back. The ceiling tiles are glued into place. The only way out is the front. "Calm down" I tell myself. It's only another day. That helps for about 6 minutes. Then I'm on the phone calling people I know to chat. Chat about anything, or nothing. It doesn't matter. Just so long as I can be rassured that they'll still take my phone call and that they'll be there when I'm paroled - I mean released.
The phone calls get shorter and shorter as people hear from me more and more frequently during the day. I know they want to say "didn't we just speak 20 minutes ago?" but being my friends they sympathetically listen to me figuratively run my tin cup across the bars yelling "ATTICA, ATTICA."
And then, it's over. As quickly as it started. The guy with the geiger counter comes in and says that I'm not quite the nite-lite I was 48 hours ago and that I'd better get my stuff together so that they can discharge me and he can prepare the room for the next patient.
"Wait a minute" I think to myself. I know the health insurance people have paid for this room for the whole day. You can't kick me out so soon. I'm entitled to another 6 hours........"
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Read & Loved (5 of 5 stars)
The Great Influenza
John M. Barry
Viking - 461 pp.
The Great Influenza is Barry's fifth book and reading this masterful history of the Influenza outbreak of 1918 makes me want to read the other four right away. This magnum opus traces the history of medical science to the post-Civil War period in America and Europe.
It is shocking to learn that as late as 1869, the President of Harvard University and the faculty of the Medical School there were arguing over whether or not to require WRITTEN EXAMS!
Professor of Surgery Henry Bigelow protested to the Harvard Board of Overseers, "[he] actually proposes to have written examinations for the degree of doctor of medicine. I had to tell him that he knew nothing about the quality of Harvard medical students. More than half of them can barely write. Of course they can't pass written examinations....."
Several short decades later America and the world would face the dual scourge of World War and disease. This book is non-fiction history, but it reads like a murder mystery. Hat's off to Barry.
John M. Barry
Viking - 461 pp.
The Great Influenza is Barry's fifth book and reading this masterful history of the Influenza outbreak of 1918 makes me want to read the other four right away. This magnum opus traces the history of medical science to the post-Civil War period in America and Europe.
It is shocking to learn that as late as 1869, the President of Harvard University and the faculty of the Medical School there were arguing over whether or not to require WRITTEN EXAMS!
Professor of Surgery Henry Bigelow protested to the Harvard Board of Overseers, "[he] actually proposes to have written examinations for the degree of doctor of medicine. I had to tell him that he knew nothing about the quality of Harvard medical students. More than half of them can barely write. Of course they can't pass written examinations....."
Several short decades later America and the world would face the dual scourge of World War and disease. This book is non-fiction history, but it reads like a murder mystery. Hat's off to Barry.
The River Runs Deep
It just occurred to me that the opposite of outlaws is in-laws.
How appropriate!
My in-laws are great people. Knowing what I know now, I would have asked my wife to marry me sooner just to spend more time with my in-laws (as it was, my wife and I were married before I had known her a year).
Outlaws take. They rape and rob and burgle and pillage.
My in-laws give and give. They help and nurture. They are sympathetic, empathetic, energetic and, when all else fails, symbiotic. Then, they give some more.
I bring that up today because I am sitting in the sun room of their lake house in Virginia. As I look out over the beautiful lake front garden I see that the wind is pushing the water into frothy westward waves (As Frank Herzog would say "from left to right across your television screens").
From where I sit, you can't see the ends of the lake and the opposing shore here makes this passage about wide as the Potomac River. The wave action gives the lake the appearance of current. Indeed, if you were not a resident, you'd swear that this is a river front, not a lake front.
What's the difference? The water in front of me has some permanence. It has depth and contour and stability. True, there is an occasional shoreline eddy and seasonal drift and exchange, but the lake is the lake.
A river is a channel through which an ever-changing torrent of water runs constantly. It can carry you away, or carry you under. Frequently it does both.
The allure of motion and change is as old as the serpent in the garden. We should take care to see that we are not jumping into an unknown current that will wisk us away from our safe harbor.
In 1982, I jumped in quickly.
Fortunately, I ended up in this beautiful lake.
How appropriate!
My in-laws are great people. Knowing what I know now, I would have asked my wife to marry me sooner just to spend more time with my in-laws (as it was, my wife and I were married before I had known her a year).
Outlaws take. They rape and rob and burgle and pillage.
My in-laws give and give. They help and nurture. They are sympathetic, empathetic, energetic and, when all else fails, symbiotic. Then, they give some more.
I bring that up today because I am sitting in the sun room of their lake house in Virginia. As I look out over the beautiful lake front garden I see that the wind is pushing the water into frothy westward waves (As Frank Herzog would say "from left to right across your television screens").
From where I sit, you can't see the ends of the lake and the opposing shore here makes this passage about wide as the Potomac River. The wave action gives the lake the appearance of current. Indeed, if you were not a resident, you'd swear that this is a river front, not a lake front.
What's the difference? The water in front of me has some permanence. It has depth and contour and stability. True, there is an occasional shoreline eddy and seasonal drift and exchange, but the lake is the lake.
A river is a channel through which an ever-changing torrent of water runs constantly. It can carry you away, or carry you under. Frequently it does both.
The allure of motion and change is as old as the serpent in the garden. We should take care to see that we are not jumping into an unknown current that will wisk us away from our safe harbor.
In 1982, I jumped in quickly.
Fortunately, I ended up in this beautiful lake.
Justice and Jonathan
I was serving in the Reagan Administration when Jonathan Pollard was arrested. I suffered as much shame and embarrassment as most Jews during this period. Perhaps more. I had made my then nascent career in the Republican Party fighting the stereotypes of Jews as being monolithically Liberal, Democratic and, by extension, only mildly pro-American.
It was the Jews, after all, who would fight to the death to keep the US out of any foreign entanglements -- unless, of course, it was to support Israel. They would fight to the death in Congress to eviscerate Defense spending -- unless, of course, it was money going to defend Israel. They would fight to the death to circumscribe the power of the State vis-a-vis individual and civil rights -- unless, of course, you were talking about the State of Israel.
There was always the underlying feeling that as a Jew, policy makers were waiting for you to make the case against Israel just to prove that you were a loyal American.
That's why being a Reaganite was so liberating. Reagan said that everything we wanted for America, he wanted for Israel! Strong defense, open economy, secure borders, individual freedom, mutually defensible borders. There was no disconnect between the Reaganite in me and the pro-Israel Jew.
Then Pollard.
It raised all of the old canards of double loyalty, Julius and Ethel, "what would you do if the US and Israel were at war?"
I felt that Pollard had betrayed American Jews. He had committed a Chilul Hashem (disgracing G-d's name), and put Jews worldwide in mortal danger.
The truth is, I still feel that way.
But as I grow older, and have seen the pitiful sentences handed out to spies such as John Walker, I have an growing sense of unease. A sense that there is an injustice here.
Either we have to step up punishment for more serious spies than Pollard -- Aldrich Ames comes to mind - or we have to let Pollard go. I support either option.
The precedents are all around us.
In December 2000, my wife and I were allowed inside Angola prison in Louisiana and onto Death Row to meet some of the prisoners there. We were personally escorted on our tour of Death Row by the prison warden and by Wilbert Rideau.
Rideau, you may remember, murdered a bank teller in 1961 and tried to kill his other hostages. He was tried four times and never recanted his crime, yet just last year, Rideau walked free. Why?
The courts determined that Rideau was the only black Louisiana murderer convicted in 1961 still in prison. The courts determined that their was an imbalance -- an injustice -- that would not stand, and so they released him into free society. A man who murdered in cold blood -- released into free society.
I believe that there are only two options here. Either we tighten up parole laws so that all murderers are kept in prison, or we end up releasing the Walter Rideaus of the world.
I would prefer to tighten up the sentencing and incarceration standards -- for murderers as well as for spies.
But if you're not going to do that, then you have to let Pollard go.
It was the Jews, after all, who would fight to the death to keep the US out of any foreign entanglements -- unless, of course, it was to support Israel. They would fight to the death in Congress to eviscerate Defense spending -- unless, of course, it was money going to defend Israel. They would fight to the death to circumscribe the power of the State vis-a-vis individual and civil rights -- unless, of course, you were talking about the State of Israel.
There was always the underlying feeling that as a Jew, policy makers were waiting for you to make the case against Israel just to prove that you were a loyal American.
That's why being a Reaganite was so liberating. Reagan said that everything we wanted for America, he wanted for Israel! Strong defense, open economy, secure borders, individual freedom, mutually defensible borders. There was no disconnect between the Reaganite in me and the pro-Israel Jew.
Then Pollard.
It raised all of the old canards of double loyalty, Julius and Ethel, "what would you do if the US and Israel were at war?"
I felt that Pollard had betrayed American Jews. He had committed a Chilul Hashem (disgracing G-d's name), and put Jews worldwide in mortal danger.
The truth is, I still feel that way.
But as I grow older, and have seen the pitiful sentences handed out to spies such as John Walker, I have an growing sense of unease. A sense that there is an injustice here.
Either we have to step up punishment for more serious spies than Pollard -- Aldrich Ames comes to mind - or we have to let Pollard go. I support either option.
The precedents are all around us.
In December 2000, my wife and I were allowed inside Angola prison in Louisiana and onto Death Row to meet some of the prisoners there. We were personally escorted on our tour of Death Row by the prison warden and by Wilbert Rideau.
Rideau, you may remember, murdered a bank teller in 1961 and tried to kill his other hostages. He was tried four times and never recanted his crime, yet just last year, Rideau walked free. Why?
The courts determined that Rideau was the only black Louisiana murderer convicted in 1961 still in prison. The courts determined that their was an imbalance -- an injustice -- that would not stand, and so they released him into free society. A man who murdered in cold blood -- released into free society.
I believe that there are only two options here. Either we tighten up parole laws so that all murderers are kept in prison, or we end up releasing the Walter Rideaus of the world.
I would prefer to tighten up the sentencing and incarceration standards -- for murderers as well as for spies.
But if you're not going to do that, then you have to let Pollard go.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Happy Mother's Day - Poetry
She is ever present
But I miss her every day.
She sews the buttons on my pants
that I long ago outgrew.
She sheltered me under wing
From the storms that raged
But pushed me out of the nest
So I would learn to fly.
Her silent actions deafened me;
Her class a reproach to my ego.
And her smile healed
the multitude of scrapes and bruises
suffered at the hands of a cruel world.
As she made her exit
from this world without complaint
I never knew how much a part of my life she was.
She is ever present
But I miss her every day.
But I miss her every day.
She sews the buttons on my pants
that I long ago outgrew.
She sheltered me under wing
From the storms that raged
But pushed me out of the nest
So I would learn to fly.
Her silent actions deafened me;
Her class a reproach to my ego.
And her smile healed
the multitude of scrapes and bruises
suffered at the hands of a cruel world.
As she made her exit
from this world without complaint
I never knew how much a part of my life she was.
She is ever present
But I miss her every day.
The Matrix & The Perfect Marriage
The rabbis have long taught that the physical world is only a reflection of the spiritual world. That there is nothing in this world that is not present in a spiritual construct in the heavenly sphere. Indeed, the Kabbalists teach that the physical world is really just a physical manifestation of spiritual energy waiting interaction with humans for the release of spiritual energy. I believe Einstein said something like that too -- physical mass is just energy awaiting release into the atmosphere.
The movie "The Matrix" was brilliant theater based on this type of physical/spiritual interplay, with many deeper levels of spiritual and religious insight. It it, however, not the purpose of this blog to explore the screenplay for these insights, but rather only to point out that the physical world can be an fascinating mapquest into our spiritual and emotional lives. Each day I discover more and more of these journeys and from time to time I would like to open my atlas and share a particular road trip.
Take Concrete Floor Finishing for example (puhleeze!). Diamond polished concrete floors are the newest thing in construction. Wal-Mart, Lowes, Costco and Home Depot are all specifying polished concrete in their newly constructed stores.
The process is quite interesting. Concrete is a mixture of crushed stone, limestone, cement, sand and water. Early in the mixing process, the concrete is liquid and pours easily -- conforming to the boundaries of the container into which it is poured. With a little guidance it will also level itself out and begin to harden -- eventually becoming as hard as a rock.
Diamonds, on the other hand begin as rotting vegetation, which under tremendous pressure, time and heat become coal and then eventually the hardest crystalline structure known to man.
Concrete floors are polished by mechanically subjecting their surface to diamond cylinders rotating at high speed and pressure. As the friction and heat mount, the diamonds and the concrete are simultaneously worn away and the floors become shiny and new looking.
Here's the interesting part: once used on a particular floor, the diamond cylinders can only be used together as a set since their surfaces conform to the shape of the softer concrete floor.
It occurred to me one day that this process of friction and change between two incredibly hard surfaces describes quite well the interaction in a good relationship. My wife and I have been married for 21 years. On some issues she's the diamonds and and I'm the concrete and sometimes its the other way around. But we're both hard to change and it is only by dint of pressure, time and friction that we are able to become polished. But through it all, we conform more and more to each other.
Concrete Polishing equals a good marriage? Perhaps it's a bit of a stretch, but I hope the point is not too obtuse. My point is that the physical world is constructed in such a way as to teach us spiritual matters. Next time: light refraction and truth.
The movie "The Matrix" was brilliant theater based on this type of physical/spiritual interplay, with many deeper levels of spiritual and religious insight. It it, however, not the purpose of this blog to explore the screenplay for these insights, but rather only to point out that the physical world can be an fascinating mapquest into our spiritual and emotional lives. Each day I discover more and more of these journeys and from time to time I would like to open my atlas and share a particular road trip.
Take Concrete Floor Finishing for example (puhleeze!). Diamond polished concrete floors are the newest thing in construction. Wal-Mart, Lowes, Costco and Home Depot are all specifying polished concrete in their newly constructed stores.
The process is quite interesting. Concrete is a mixture of crushed stone, limestone, cement, sand and water. Early in the mixing process, the concrete is liquid and pours easily -- conforming to the boundaries of the container into which it is poured. With a little guidance it will also level itself out and begin to harden -- eventually becoming as hard as a rock.
Diamonds, on the other hand begin as rotting vegetation, which under tremendous pressure, time and heat become coal and then eventually the hardest crystalline structure known to man.
Concrete floors are polished by mechanically subjecting their surface to diamond cylinders rotating at high speed and pressure. As the friction and heat mount, the diamonds and the concrete are simultaneously worn away and the floors become shiny and new looking.
Here's the interesting part: once used on a particular floor, the diamond cylinders can only be used together as a set since their surfaces conform to the shape of the softer concrete floor.
It occurred to me one day that this process of friction and change between two incredibly hard surfaces describes quite well the interaction in a good relationship. My wife and I have been married for 21 years. On some issues she's the diamonds and and I'm the concrete and sometimes its the other way around. But we're both hard to change and it is only by dint of pressure, time and friction that we are able to become polished. But through it all, we conform more and more to each other.
Concrete Polishing equals a good marriage? Perhaps it's a bit of a stretch, but I hope the point is not too obtuse. My point is that the physical world is constructed in such a way as to teach us spiritual matters. Next time: light refraction and truth.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Oil Fraud - Part 1
Am I the only one scandalized by the sloppy laziness of the press? Or could it be that there is a vast left-wing enviro-cabal that conspires to defraud the world of it's happiness.
Consider this post from reporter Melanie Gosling of the Cape Times in South Africa as she reports on the visit of US "scientist" Richard Heinberg:
Academic warns of global crisis as oil production peaks
Academic warns of global crisis as oil production peaks
US invasion of Iraq 'A resource war'
"With the rapid decline of global oil supplies, the United States is heading for an economic crash unlike anything since the 1930s. And the collapse of the dollar will affect every nation on earth"
At current levels of consumption - and allowing for no new discoveries of oil, we have 55+ years of oil remaining in known reserves. Obviously, consumption will grow, but so will discoveries of new oil. In 1970 we were told that we would be completely out of oil by now. They were off by over 60 years then, we're probably off by a similar amount now.
"Global oil discovery peaked in the 1960s and oil production is likely to peak as soon as 2007. With a world economy based on fossil fuel, the economic and social consequences will be dire."
Global oil discovery peaked in the 1950 and then again in the early 1963. In each of those years, we "discovered" over 55 billion barrels of oil per year. This, at a time when gas was selling for pennies per gallon. Oil production will peak when demand peaks. If demand continues to grow, then people will continue to search for and find oil. Oil from shale, oil offshore, oil in Mongolia.......
"Natural gas extraction will peak a few years after oil, extraction rates for coal will peak in decades, nuclear energy is dogged by unresolved problems of waste disposal and solar and wind energy will have to undergo rapid expansion if they are to replace even a fraction of the energy shortfall from oil. And the enthusiasm about a hydrogen economy comes from politics rather than science, Heinberg said."
Here Gosling blindly accepts Heinberg's assertions without comment or analysis. The measure for remaining gas and coal reserves in the world is not decades, but centuries. Nuclear waste disposal is not "dogged" by anything but the Sierra Club; while the "Hydrogen Economy" is already growing as companies such as General Motors and BP invest billions of dollars in its future.
I am not an energy company executive; nor am I an energy consultant. But any two-bit reporter with Google could do enough fact checking to know that virtually every assertion made by Heinberg (and by extension Gosling) here is false.
Happy Mother's Day
I remember growing up how mad it used to make my father when we would make a big deal about Mother’s Day.
As a child, it mystified me. I always thought to myself, "What's not to like?"
We would get up and cook breakfast, serve it to her in bed (complete with flowers cut fresh from the neighbor’s garden), clean the kitchen, our bedrooms and then the rest of the house. In short, we were cherubic caricatures of perfect children.
Some years, Dad would just scowl and walk out in disgust. But as we got older, I learned what the problem was. He was furious that we would only think to treat her that way one day a year. The annual kindness shown by us only highlighted for him how much we neglected her the other 364 days.
It was tough to hear then, but I really appreciate the sentiment now. The fact is, second to our good health, Mother’s have the highest value:appreciation ratio.
Let’s all resolve to bring the Motherhood V:A ratio in our own lives more into balance during the coming year.
As a child, it mystified me. I always thought to myself, "What's not to like?"
We would get up and cook breakfast, serve it to her in bed (complete with flowers cut fresh from the neighbor’s garden), clean the kitchen, our bedrooms and then the rest of the house. In short, we were cherubic caricatures of perfect children.
Some years, Dad would just scowl and walk out in disgust. But as we got older, I learned what the problem was. He was furious that we would only think to treat her that way one day a year. The annual kindness shown by us only highlighted for him how much we neglected her the other 364 days.
It was tough to hear then, but I really appreciate the sentiment now. The fact is, second to our good health, Mother’s have the highest value:appreciation ratio.
Let’s all resolve to bring the Motherhood V:A ratio in our own lives more into balance during the coming year.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Growing Up - Poetry
Raspberry Dawns
Pink Dew Covering Fields of Crunchy Sugar Coated Pecans
Reclining on Couches of Hostess Ho Ho's
Drinking from a river of A&W Root Beer
No School
No Homework
No Chores
No Anything
Chocolate sunsets of love
At 8 years
I hold my breath
Wish for this and blow out the candles
At 46, I now know
This is not the real wish
This will not bring Satisfaction, Happiness, Nirvana
No
It should be Chocolate Dawns and Raspberry Sunsets of Love
bloggingben
Pink Dew Covering Fields of Crunchy Sugar Coated Pecans
Reclining on Couches of Hostess Ho Ho's
Drinking from a river of A&W Root Beer
No School
No Homework
No Chores
No Anything
Chocolate sunsets of love
At 8 years
I hold my breath
Wish for this and blow out the candles
At 46, I now know
This is not the real wish
This will not bring Satisfaction, Happiness, Nirvana
No
It should be Chocolate Dawns and Raspberry Sunsets of Love
bloggingben
Ross Perot - A Tale About (a) Character
The year was 1986. My friend Bruce Soll was planning a meeting for the Reagan Library Finance Board with the President and he needed someone to attend to the needs of the Committee Members as they waited in the White House Reception Area. I volunteered and found myself hours later chatting amiably with Ross H. Perot.
Contrary to the caricaturizing of this man by the esteemed 4th estate (who collectively have caused more individual human misery than most dictatorial regimes in history), Perot is a bright (I would say brilliant), insightful, humorous and principled man.
I knew of him in two ways.
First, I briefly shared an office suite with Perot's daughter Nancy in the White House Office of Presidential Personnel. My father always used to say that parents deserve the children they get. Nancy was nothing like you'd expect a billionaire's daughter to be. Personable, helpful, engaged and engaging, she always struck me as the real McCoy -- a class act -- in short, a mensch(ette). How bad could the guy be if he raised a daughter like that?
Second, I had just finished Ken Follet's book "On the Wings of Eagles," the story of how Ross Perot had authorized and funded a rescue mission of his own EDS employees from the wreckage of Post-Shah Iran. This private rescue effort succeeded while a simultaneous rescue of Americans from the clutches of the Ayatollah Khomeni's radical thugs by the Carter Administration failed miserably in the desert. If the Follet account was true, I was a big fan of this guy Perot.
But one thing from the book nagged at me and I resolved to ask Mr. Perot. So at the appropriate moment (in fact, in an official function like that, there is no appropriate moment for staff to be bugging the Board Members), I approached Mr. Perot and posed the question: "Mr. Perot, you called all of your top EDS lieutenants 'Eagles.' Lone flyers who soared above the rest in a quest for excellence and achievement. How did you know who these people were when you first interviewed them?"
He smiled his now famous smile and said "It's really quite simple. I only looked for three things. First, I look for people who were successful early in life. People who were scout leaders and won spelling bees. People who make a habit of being successful early in life end up being successful later in life. "
I liked that and said that while I had never considered it before, it certainly made alot of sense. "What about the other two?" I asked.
"Second, I find people who love to win. People who love to win, win."
"And" he said "If I couldn't find people who love to win, then I would look for people who hate to lose."
At that moment, the door opened, the President of the United States walked in and my interview was over.
Contrary to the caricaturizing of this man by the esteemed 4th estate (who collectively have caused more individual human misery than most dictatorial regimes in history), Perot is a bright (I would say brilliant), insightful, humorous and principled man.
I knew of him in two ways.
First, I briefly shared an office suite with Perot's daughter Nancy in the White House Office of Presidential Personnel. My father always used to say that parents deserve the children they get. Nancy was nothing like you'd expect a billionaire's daughter to be. Personable, helpful, engaged and engaging, she always struck me as the real McCoy -- a class act -- in short, a mensch(ette). How bad could the guy be if he raised a daughter like that?
Second, I had just finished Ken Follet's book "On the Wings of Eagles," the story of how Ross Perot had authorized and funded a rescue mission of his own EDS employees from the wreckage of Post-Shah Iran. This private rescue effort succeeded while a simultaneous rescue of Americans from the clutches of the Ayatollah Khomeni's radical thugs by the Carter Administration failed miserably in the desert. If the Follet account was true, I was a big fan of this guy Perot.
But one thing from the book nagged at me and I resolved to ask Mr. Perot. So at the appropriate moment (in fact, in an official function like that, there is no appropriate moment for staff to be bugging the Board Members), I approached Mr. Perot and posed the question: "Mr. Perot, you called all of your top EDS lieutenants 'Eagles.' Lone flyers who soared above the rest in a quest for excellence and achievement. How did you know who these people were when you first interviewed them?"
He smiled his now famous smile and said "It's really quite simple. I only looked for three things. First, I look for people who were successful early in life. People who were scout leaders and won spelling bees. People who make a habit of being successful early in life end up being successful later in life. "
I liked that and said that while I had never considered it before, it certainly made alot of sense. "What about the other two?" I asked.
"Second, I find people who love to win. People who love to win, win."
"And" he said "If I couldn't find people who love to win, then I would look for people who hate to lose."
At that moment, the door opened, the President of the United States walked in and my interview was over.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Blog Irony - Poetry
We are all blind in a sighted world
All of us deaf in a swirling cacophony
Unfeeling in a crowded mass
But no one is mute
Our voices rise a bit at a time until
they dull the other senses
No one is seen
No one is heard
No one is felt
But we all talk
bloggingben
All of us deaf in a swirling cacophony
Unfeeling in a crowded mass
But no one is mute
Our voices rise a bit at a time until
they dull the other senses
No one is seen
No one is heard
No one is felt
But we all talk
bloggingben
Quite a Quote (5 of 5 Stars)
A master artist looks at an entirely different world than someone who lacks his vision.
We can all train ourselves to see more deeply.
When you see the world as a place in which to do kindness, you see a different world.
You see a world full of spiritual opportunities wherever you are and wherever you go.
Let this be your world.
Rabbi Zelig Pliskin
We can all train ourselves to see more deeply.
When you see the world as a place in which to do kindness, you see a different world.
You see a world full of spiritual opportunities wherever you are and wherever you go.
Let this be your world.
Rabbi Zelig Pliskin
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Recently Heard & Liked (4 of 5 Stars)
Artist: Elliott Smith
Track: Memory Lane
Album: From a Basement on the Hill
Label: Anti
Track: Memory Lane
Album: From a Basement on the Hill
Label: Anti
Grandpa, tell me 'bout the good ole days.
As I was growing up, I loved to listen to the stories my parents would tell of growing up during the Great Depression:
Penny candy that would feed three kids; monthly apartment rentals on the West Side of Chicago under $20; mind-numbing poverty; and community born of shared dependence. I never thought I'd have the power to conjure up stories from my past that would hold the thrall of my children as I was held captive by the world gone by of my parents.
And yet recently I happened to mention to one of my sons that I remember being in the car when my dad paid 26 cents per gallon for gasoline. His countenance quickly became one of wonder and awe. Knowing a good opening when I see it, I quickly launched into a "yeah and that's not all" story. I told him all about the gas lines of the '70s and the formation of the blackmailing oligopoly we've come to know and love as OPEC. His countenance quickly changed back to "what am I doing in the car with my old man." But it did get me to thinking.
Recently Americans have been acclimating to $2.25 gasoline and the economic press is predicting $100 per barrel oil. The futures markets have recently seen $58 per barrel oil and despite recent retreats to $52 per barrel, we are being told that this is temporary and that we'd better get used to a Europe-like permanent hike in the cost of energy. Let me beg to differ.
The recent spike in oil prices is a speculative bubble that will burst in due time. The data doesn't support any other conclusion.
It is true that we haven't built an oil refinery in the US in 30 years, but other countries have. Refining capacity hasn't changed radically during the last year.
It is true that unused production capacity in Saudi Arabia (the so-called Central Bank of Oil) is at recent lows, but it is also true that new fields in Gabon, Equatorial Guinea and Iraq are all coming online and increasing production.
It is true that the Chinese economy is growing at an unprecedented rate, but it's only unprecedented for China. The absolute growth in the consumption of oil in China is not a reason for the doubling of the price of oil in the world markets. Most Chinese are still biking to work.
It is true that there is war in the Middle East. But it is also true that this war has opened the world markets to Libyan and Iraqi oil that was until now withheld from Ma & Pa Kettle (although one should note, not from Kofi and the Anon clan).
It is true that the demand for electricity worldwide is on a stiff upward slope. But it is also true that most of the growth in demand for electricity will be met by other fuels. Coal and gas will satisfy most of the growth needs of the world's power plants for the decades to come. Nuclear and alternative energy will also take up some slack here.
It is true that in 1971 proven oil reserves were only 670 billion barrels and that since then we have consumed over 750 billion barrels. But it is also true that because of human ingenuity, we currently have proven reserves in excess of 1.3 trillion barrels.
It is true that alternative energy sources such as hydrogen, synfuels and agfuels are relatively unused or unproven. That is true only because oil has been so cheap for the past several decades. Indeed, in constant 1996 dollars, oil is still cheaper than it was in 1973. But by comparison to long-term $60 per barrel oil, synfuels and ethanol are proven, deployable and cost-effective solutions that would act as a damper on world demand for oil. Hydrogen is not far behind.
In short, there is no shortage of oil, oil reserves (estimated or proven), tankers, pipelines, refineries, distribution depots or trucks.
The current "energy crisis" is an artifice; a ruse; an illusion.
It is a replay of the same Malthusian soundtrack that gains traction in the media every decade or so as otherwise thoughtful people shelve rationality and subscribe to the febrile belief that the world has suddenly and without warning run out of natural resources.
As the belief in the imminent shortage of oil gains credence among the populace and in the press, the market makers in production, supply and distribution hike prices in anticipation of the coming squeeze. This in turns provides a feedback loop to the markets that they were right all along, encouraging additional speculation which encourages further hoarding of resources thought to be scarce.
Eventually, the bubble will burst and the price of oil will descend to the historically supportable levels of $25-$35 per barrel. Gas prices will move too (although not collapse, gas prices tend to move more like the graph drawn by the nose of a Jose Canseco bobble head sitting on the dashboard of a car traversing railroad tracks).
To paraphrase Winston Churchill: The only thing we have to fear is the fear of high oil prices itself.
This is not an investment missive urging you to go out and short the oil markets. (If I knew exactly WHEN this was going to happen, you'd be reading a short Haiku on breakfast cereal right now).
But I do think that the days of $1.25 gas are not gone for good. If I'm right, that should at least be good for one or two "GRANPA! Tell us the story again about how gas used to be under $2.00 a gallon."
This post is also available at Blogger News Network
Penny candy that would feed three kids; monthly apartment rentals on the West Side of Chicago under $20; mind-numbing poverty; and community born of shared dependence. I never thought I'd have the power to conjure up stories from my past that would hold the thrall of my children as I was held captive by the world gone by of my parents.
And yet recently I happened to mention to one of my sons that I remember being in the car when my dad paid 26 cents per gallon for gasoline. His countenance quickly became one of wonder and awe. Knowing a good opening when I see it, I quickly launched into a "yeah and that's not all" story. I told him all about the gas lines of the '70s and the formation of the blackmailing oligopoly we've come to know and love as OPEC. His countenance quickly changed back to "what am I doing in the car with my old man." But it did get me to thinking.
Recently Americans have been acclimating to $2.25 gasoline and the economic press is predicting $100 per barrel oil. The futures markets have recently seen $58 per barrel oil and despite recent retreats to $52 per barrel, we are being told that this is temporary and that we'd better get used to a Europe-like permanent hike in the cost of energy. Let me beg to differ.
The recent spike in oil prices is a speculative bubble that will burst in due time. The data doesn't support any other conclusion.
It is true that we haven't built an oil refinery in the US in 30 years, but other countries have. Refining capacity hasn't changed radically during the last year.
It is true that unused production capacity in Saudi Arabia (the so-called Central Bank of Oil) is at recent lows, but it is also true that new fields in Gabon, Equatorial Guinea and Iraq are all coming online and increasing production.
It is true that the Chinese economy is growing at an unprecedented rate, but it's only unprecedented for China. The absolute growth in the consumption of oil in China is not a reason for the doubling of the price of oil in the world markets. Most Chinese are still biking to work.
It is true that there is war in the Middle East. But it is also true that this war has opened the world markets to Libyan and Iraqi oil that was until now withheld from Ma & Pa Kettle (although one should note, not from Kofi and the Anon clan).
It is true that the demand for electricity worldwide is on a stiff upward slope. But it is also true that most of the growth in demand for electricity will be met by other fuels. Coal and gas will satisfy most of the growth needs of the world's power plants for the decades to come. Nuclear and alternative energy will also take up some slack here.
It is true that in 1971 proven oil reserves were only 670 billion barrels and that since then we have consumed over 750 billion barrels. But it is also true that because of human ingenuity, we currently have proven reserves in excess of 1.3 trillion barrels.
It is true that alternative energy sources such as hydrogen, synfuels and agfuels are relatively unused or unproven. That is true only because oil has been so cheap for the past several decades. Indeed, in constant 1996 dollars, oil is still cheaper than it was in 1973. But by comparison to long-term $60 per barrel oil, synfuels and ethanol are proven, deployable and cost-effective solutions that would act as a damper on world demand for oil. Hydrogen is not far behind.
In short, there is no shortage of oil, oil reserves (estimated or proven), tankers, pipelines, refineries, distribution depots or trucks.
The current "energy crisis" is an artifice; a ruse; an illusion.
It is a replay of the same Malthusian soundtrack that gains traction in the media every decade or so as otherwise thoughtful people shelve rationality and subscribe to the febrile belief that the world has suddenly and without warning run out of natural resources.
As the belief in the imminent shortage of oil gains credence among the populace and in the press, the market makers in production, supply and distribution hike prices in anticipation of the coming squeeze. This in turns provides a feedback loop to the markets that they were right all along, encouraging additional speculation which encourages further hoarding of resources thought to be scarce.
Eventually, the bubble will burst and the price of oil will descend to the historically supportable levels of $25-$35 per barrel. Gas prices will move too (although not collapse, gas prices tend to move more like the graph drawn by the nose of a Jose Canseco bobble head sitting on the dashboard of a car traversing railroad tracks).
To paraphrase Winston Churchill: The only thing we have to fear is the fear of high oil prices itself.
This is not an investment missive urging you to go out and short the oil markets. (If I knew exactly WHEN this was going to happen, you'd be reading a short Haiku on breakfast cereal right now).
But I do think that the days of $1.25 gas are not gone for good. If I'm right, that should at least be good for one or two "GRANPA! Tell us the story again about how gas used to be under $2.00 a gallon."
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