Bunning, Bought & Paid For

So Jim Bunning (R-Ky) somehow killed unemployment extensions and the weak-kneed Democrats let him get away with it.  I'll quote my great-granny Lou Ada (Blackaby) Farmer, who knew a thing or two about Kentucky politics:  "If they're not crooked going in, they're crooked coming out."  And Bunning is coming out, not running for re-election, no longer pretending to represent the people, "retiring" with his unspent campaign funds and his congressional perks to (I imagine) a cushy life further cushioned by speaker's fees & lobbyist loot & pundit payoffs, so-called "honoraria."

The Supreme Court has decided that money is speech and corporations are people.  That's their worst decision since Dred Scott.  The Dred Scott decision immediately sparked a financial panic and directly led to the American Civil War. What will be the consequences of the black-robed vultures' "money is speech and corporations are people" decision?  Only time will tell, but it doesn't look good to me.  If corporations have become people, then what becomes of people?

The Center For Responsive Politics has a fascinating and informative website called OpenSecrets.org that tells where the politicians' financial loyalty lies, whose interests they are really looking out for. Who owns them.  Here is Jim Bunning's data

Cycle Fundraising, 2005 - 2010, Campaign Cmte and Leadership PAC

Raised: $1,688,320
Spent: $1,317,594
Cash on Hand: $478,132
Debts: $0
Last Report: Thursday, December 31, 2009

Top 5 Contributors, 2005-2010, Campaign Cmte and Leadership PACContributor Total Indivs PACs
FMR Corp $35,600 $15,600 $20,000
Securities Industry & Financial Mkt Assn $21,000 $0 $21,000
NorPAC $20,350 $17,210 $3,140
PricewaterhouseCoopers $20,108 $0 $20,108
Indep Insurance Agents & Brokers/America $20,000 $0 $20,000

Top 5 Industries, 2005-2010, Campaign Cmte and Leadership PACIndustry Total Indivs PACs
Insurance $134,633 $16,450 $118,183
Securities & Investment $108,800 $30,500 $78,300
Accountants $100,558 $6,450 $94,108
Health Professionals $92,550 $48,550 $44,000
Real Estate $70,250 $13,750 $56,500

So Jim Bunning works for Big Finance and "Health Professionals."  Visit OpenSecrets.org and find out who your congress-critter is really working for.  Thanks for stopping by, see ya next time.  I gotta go sharpen my pitchfork.

This Week's Progress Report

I used to have a job with some interesting aspects but one mind-numbing task that could have sprung from the scathingly satirical movie Office Space:  the weekly progress report.  It is now my great pleasure to report to you certain progress achieved in my week.  I can't share every detail because some parts are still brewing!

Helping me to get my head together with progressive rock tunes on the turntable is Yes vocalist Jon Anderson and his 1976 solo record Olias Of Sunhillow.  He sings like the Elvenfolk and could lead the house band at Rivendell.  Delightful!  He has sung to me in dreams, new songs not on any record but when I woke up they evaporated away with just a vague feeling remaining.  By the way, his website says he is looking for a stained glass artist to help create a large mural.

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My good old friend Wm. Paul Roberts has posted some new original music.  Lay it in your earpans and let it sizzle.

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Marcy & I had a very productive visit with our bankruptcy attorney who promised to put certain problems behind us and bring us soothing relief.  As much as I rail against lawyers in general, I usually love my own lawyers.  Except for the retainer fees, of course.  Our guy said our country needs some system of health care, that it's a common cause of financial ruin.  He said he had a lady client in recently with cancer who should be worrying about  fighting the cancer, not how to pay for it.  I say if we don't get something like Medicare for everybody there is gonna be Trouble with a capital T.  Mark my words!

Our 17-year old son Derek is covered under Medicaid.  We got him in for the first doctor visit he's had since I got laid off & lost insurance back in late 2007.  Derek enjoyed meeting the Pakistani doctor, and Marcy & I liked him too.  He explained things to our satisfaction, frequently asked if we had any questions, and was very conscious of the need for us to take full advantage of the coverage before Derek turns 18.  We left with referrals to an eye doctor, to Children's Hospital for x-rays to evaluate scoliosis (Marcy has a touch of it), and to a surgeon to repair a hernia.  It seems pretty common with us guys.  I'll probably get mine fixed if I ever get coverage.

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Marcy & I made some good progress in clearing clutter from the house.  This staff meeting is now over.  I hope you like all these pictures I took.  Leave comments or sign up as a follower!  Spread the word and I'll see you next time.

Introducing the Hubbard Branch of the Family Tree

So I've got The Allman Brothers Band on the turntable tonight, the Brothers and Sisters album from 1973, thinking how organic it sounds, not like some manufactured product from LaLa Land but like a bunch of  guys jamming in the other room.  Bluesy and southern, without any of that angry outlaw redneck pathological posing that afflicted many so-called "Southern Rock" bands that followed them.  Ya know, their song "Ramblin' Man" was the first rock song I ever sang in public, back when the song was only a few years old, but that's another story.  The cover of the Allman Brothers record shows kids on a nice fall day and you open it up and there's a whole bunch of people, and a couple of dogs too, all together on a big ol' porch.  White folks and black folks, all part of the family, men & women & babies, oops they caught the little girl from the back cover pickin her nose, but that's ok, there will be a lot of pickin before the day is done.  Dickey Betts is now pickin his dobro, singing Pony Boy, and I feel like telling you about my family.

I've been thinking about my maternal grandfather, William "Buddy" Hubbard.  Us grandkids all called him Grandy.  That's him in that picture up top, little Buddy.  And yes, that's a hog hanging there being gutted, sorry Lili.  He's probably too young to be in school but he sure is being educated right there.  Face right by that tub of guts, close enough to feel the heat off that recently living critter on his cold cheeks.  No flies, too cold for that, but not cold enough to completely eliminate the smell, not at that close range.  He probably helped feed that hog, fattened it up from a little piglet.  A shoat-hog, as my dad likes to say.  Most likely he was there to see the fatal blow delivered, maybe by his dad Monterville or his grand-dad John.  That's his great-grand-dad Edd working the gutting knife.  I bet he made some sausage, the natural casings are there, can't let anything go to waste.  Edd rode with the Confederate Cavalry, at one point serving under General John Hunt Morgan and taking part in "Morgan's Raid."  That means he passed within a few miles of where I grew up in Okeana.  I wonder if it was because the area was a hotbed of Copperheadism?  Copperheads believed the war was begun to preserve the Union but Lincoln overstepped his constitutional powers, and the draft of Union citizens into what had become a war to free the slaves was a last straw for them, and for many others as well.  Watch the movie Gangs Of New York for a depiction of the New York Draft Riots.   Then, as now, there was not complete unity on causes for war, or in its execution.  Anyway, I doubt if Edd ever owned a slave.  I also doubt if he thought very much of a man who had to buy somebody to do the work that he or his kin ought to be doing themselves.  Edd looks like a hands-on kind of guy.  I imagine him working a cavalry sabre.  Yikes.

It's been a good hard day and Grandy got to be included with the men, perched up there on the crossbeam with his brother "Boss" (real name Colonel) , looking over all the Hubbards and their friends and their hog-handiwork, the business of keeping the family fed.  We'll have some good eating through the winter if we're careful.  Virginia Pike was Grandy's cousin.  Her mother Mollie was Monterville's sister.  Grandy's mother Mary (Brummett) died in 1918 in the big Spanish Flu pandemic.   As usual with these old pictures I wonder who took it?  Thanks to Cousin Lanny over at Hubbard Mountain for the pictures and info.  And thanks to everyone who stops in to read my little blog.  Please spread the word and stop back often.  Leave me some comments or sign up as a follower so I know my efforts are not just for my own satisfaction.

Flowers On The Wall

"Counting flowers on the wall

That don't bother me at all

Playing solitaire til dawn

With a deck of fifty one"

Yup, I got Statler Bros. on the turntable. Sentimental, missing Dad. way down in Tennessee now. Mom too, of course, but Statler Brothers are so Glen Price: Class of '57, I'll Go To My Grave Loving You. So nostalgic, sweet, and unpretentious. Steadfast and true, genuine. Like Vonnegut said, America's Poets.

I imagine Mom & Dad are missing everybody up here too, so I'd better give some personal updates.  We decided to switch Derek back to ECOT online school.  Physically attending that LifeSkills Center just doesn't work for us.  By the way, the idea of a student mastering a subject and moving on and not just serving time is catching on.  School should be the opposite of jail!  Derek has also been keeping an eye on Craigslist for odd jobs, mostly light moving.  Of course he does his daily regimen on guitar, also practicing with frequently with Sucker Punch Sally for their upcoming first show.

Dylan is in the band too.  He made a show flyer tonight.  Dylan is a good "schmoozer" who gets the band gigs.  His gal Sarina got the first ultrasound pics of her pregnancy last week and the doc says it looks like a girl and all is going well.  Dylan was thinking of the name "Logan" but after looking at a baby-name book we gave them, he kinda likes "Athena."  I think that's awesome, Greek goddess of wisdom & craft, rhymes with Sarina., what's not to like?  Dylan has noticed he gets a bit winded while playing music and climbing steps and such so he claims he's gonna quit the cigs and eat right and exercize.  Time will tell.  I'll enable that any way I can.

Marcy is doing OK, reconnecting with an old friend she found on Facebook.  Their families actually swapped houses one time.  Speaking of Facebook, she has gotten kinda hooked on Farkle & Scrabble and has a few challenges going on with several family members.  Now that she has straightened and weeded out bedroom, clothes, and pictures she's been updating her phone & address list.  We're still waiting on Medicaid approval but I believe the way is now clear to getting SSI.  Job & Family Services has called us in for a review of food stamps and we'll ask about other stuff too.

Me, I'm good as always.  I received approval for Tier 4 of unemployment compensation and should have about 11 weeks left, unless Congress gets their butts in gear and votes another extension.  Don't they see the torchlight glinting off newly sharpened pitchforks?    I've been getting to know my Hornsby cousins a little better thru email.  I've been posting things on Craigslist but I get more scams and spam than real offers and I have little patience for such foolishness.  We bought some Mane & Tail shampoo for our dog Wolfie but I had to try it. As a result I have big Barry "BeeGee" Gibb hair & beard. I think I like it!  I'm enjoying hanging out with Marcy, playing a lot of rummy together (with a deck of 52), cooking, writing songs and writing this blog.  Thanks for stopping in to read it.  Please spread the word and stop back often.

One Man Electrical Band - 6 Years of OMEB

Hats off to Mike Carr, aka One Man Electrical Band aka OMEB.  He celebrated his 6th anniversary of performing as OMEB at Boomerang's Sports Bar, owned by WEBN personality Wildman Walker.  Mike was in bands, including Black Roses, but grew frustrated with how hard it is rely upon others to get things done.  He began to lay down all the backing tracks for his songs - drums, bass, keyboards, backing vocals, etc. - on a laptop computer, in effect making his own karaoke tracks.  He performs the vocals and lead guitar live with the laptop tracks backing him up, and with the addition of an evil clown and cool lighting he gives a great show.  OMEB plays the great classic metal, like Ozzy/Black Sabbath, Metallica, Guns & Roses, Pantera, System Of A Down, Pink Floyd, etc.  He was one of the first performers we booked at our cafe.  In addition to his own performances, Mike runs OMEB School of Rock, teaching some talented youngsters the Ways of Rock, passing the torch so to speak.  Way to go Mikey!

OMEB was also joined onstage by Cincinnati veteran musician Rick "Lightnin" Hopkins.

Rhymes With Foreclosure...

So we've been clearing clutter in the house for the sake of comfort & peace of mind, not to mention (oops, I mentioned it) in case we need to sell or have to bug out at short notice or get foreclosed.  I packed  a couple of boxes with books I'd read and didn't care much for and hauled them to the local Half-Price Books.  Love that store.  I browsed the cheap vinyl while the buyer was looking the books over to make an offer.  Marcy waited in a chair nearby.  I picked up Elton John's Honky Chateau for 48 cents because I remembered my Aunt Karen used to have that one in her collection.  That was before Elton John became famous then became a parody of himself.  I always liked "Rocket Man" on that album.  Then I picked up The Best of the Statler Brothers, also for 48 cents.  They're one of my Dad's faves and I'm sure it will stir plenty of sentimental memories but I especially wanted it for the song "Flowers On The Wall."  If you think the Statler Bros. are cornball, think again:  they opened for Johnny Cash for 8 years, "Flowers On The Wall" was used in the film "Pulp Fiction," and author Kurt Vonnegut called them "America's Poets."  How cool is that?  But they had me at "Dad's favorites."

I stood up - the cheap vinyl is at floor level - and looked over to check on Marcy.  She gets bored in stores like this while I could spend a good hour just on the records then move on to the book clearance in back and really settle in for browsing.  In this case she was just glad to get out of the house for a bit.  Marcy was chatting with a guy who had his back to me.  He turned around and I saw it was our pal Kenny Ozz, who had performed at our cafe with his band Drugstore Valentine, had put together another band show or two for us, and had even set us up with a a movie premiere from a local producer/director.  Our bar presented entertainment a bit outside the norm.  Too bad norm keeps most businesses running.  Anyway, Kenny hooked our sons Dylan & Derek and their band Sucker Punch Sally up with a show at The Inner Circle, formerly Annie's.  Their first show is coming up soon, March 6 at Play By Play Cafe.  We're pretty excited about the boys playing together.

Kenny shook my hand and we chatted for a few and he went on his way.  In the upper bin were the more expensive records.  I flipped through with the casual skill of long experience - man, how many record bins have I flipped through - and pulled out Carol King's Tapestry for $2.98.  The book buyer called my name then and I went back to accept an offer of 8 bucks and a 10% off coupon.  I also learned that they can't buy library discards so I took those with me.  I didn't want Marcy to get bored so I skipped the book clearance and paid up.  Three records for 4 bucks plus 4 bucks in my pocket, plus a handful of library discard books I might be able to yard-sale.  Life is pretty good.

So I listened to Carol King as I typed the first part of this posting.  I'm not a skilled typist and I stop often to check the record liner notes, stunned to find she wrote "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" in 1960, when she must have been about 18.  She and husband Gerry Goffin wrote a ton of hits in the Sixties before she went singer/songwriter in the Seventies.

You know, I've written and performed a song or two in my day, and I guess my day ain't over.  I've been in contact with the old gang and we're getting it back on track.  They say the best way to write is to write about what you know, and I've been working on a song I've titled "Foreclosure Party."  I got a few good rhymes & lines in it but I felt stuck until a recent news story on local TV.  Check this guy out, he's my anti-hero of the day: 

Frustrated Owner Bulldozes Home Ahead Of Foreclosure - Man Says Actions Intended To Send Message To Banks
MOSCOW, Ohio --

"I'll tear it down before I let you take it," Hoskins told them.

Go ahead and read the copyrighted article on the link, video & slideshow there too.  But for those who don't, here's the gist.  He's in big financial trouble:  his former business partner brother sued him, the IRS has liens on his business, his house is collateral.  The bank wouldn't accept a short sale on his $350,000 house and started foreclosure so he got on a bulldozer and reduced it to rubble.  FLATTENED IT!!  He says he'll do the same to his business.  No bloodshed, mighty big satisfaction.  A reader survey in the article got 78% saying "good for him." 9% said "bad idea" and 13% said "prosecute him."  I say a working class hero is something to be!

I got a really cool package in the mail from my friend Lili over at FEARLESS NESTING.  She sent me a box, decorated on the outside with a sea-worn crockery shard, and containing several bits of sea-worn beer bottle.  One was a piece of a bottle's bottom and you can still make out the raised letters "JUAN."  Do you think it was a Puertan Rican bottle that floated up to Maine?  Fascinating!  She also threw in something she made:  a raku pottery pendant with her "trademark" moose imprint.  It's a keeper, thanks so much, Lili!

"Take My Pound Of Flesh And Sleep Well"

This is the suicide note of Joe Stack, the guy who crashed his plane into the IRS building.  Poor guy.  People fall for the American dream, somehow get in over their heads or get played for suckers, then beg for help and get none while the fat cats get the bailouts.  Sound like anybody you know?  Suicide is not for me:  I want to see how the story turns out.  I know this is a long read for some but it feels important so read it - and weep.

"If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?” The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time. The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken. Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it. I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head. Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.


We are all taught as children that without laws there would be no society, only anarchy. Sadly, starting at early ages we in this country have been brainwashed to believe that, in return for our dedication and service, our government stands for justice for all. We are further brainwashed to believe that there is freedom in this place, and that we should be ready to lay our lives down for the noble principals represented by its founding fathers. Remember? One of these was “no taxation without representation”. I have spent the total years of my adulthood unlearning that crap from only a few years of my childhood. These days anyone who really stands up for that principal is promptly labeled a “crackpot”, traitor and worse.

While very few working people would say they haven’t had their fair share of taxes (as can I), in my lifetime I can say with a great degree of certainty that there has never been a politician cast a vote on any matter with the likes of me or my interests in mind. Nor, for that matter, are they the least bit interested in me or anything I have to say.

Why is it that a handful of thugs and plunderers can commit unthinkable atrocities (and in the case of the GM executives, for scores of years) and when it’s time for their gravy train to crash under the weight of their gluttony and overwhelming stupidity, the force of the full federal government has no difficulty coming to their aid within days if not hours? Yet at the same time, the joke we call the American medical system, including the drug and insurance companies, are murdering tens of thousands of people a year and stealing from the corpses and victims they cripple, and this country’s leaders don’t see this as important as bailing out a few of their vile, rich cronies. Yet, the political “representatives” (thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags is far more accurate) have endless time to sit around for year after year and debate the state of the “terrible health care problem”. It’s clear they see no crisis as long as the dead people don’t get in the way of their corporate profits rolling in.

And justice? You’ve got to be kidding!

How can any rational individual explain that white elephant conundrum in the middle of our tax system and, indeed, our entire legal system? Here we have a system that is, by far, too complicated for the brightest of the master scholars to understand. Yet, it mercilessly “holds accountable” its victims, claiming that they’re responsible for fully complying with laws not even the experts understand. The law “requires” a signature on the bottom of a tax filing; yet no one can say truthfully that they understand what they are signing; if that’s not “duress” than what is. If this is not the measure of a totalitarian regime, nothing is.

How did I get here?

My introduction to the real American nightmare starts back in the early ‘80s. Unfortunately after more than 16 years of school, somewhere along the line I picked up the absurd, pompous notion that I could read and understand plain English. Some friends introduced me to a group of people who were having ‘tax code’ readings and discussions. In particular, zeroed in on a section relating to the wonderful “exemptions” that make institutions like the vulgar, corrupt Catholic Church so incredibly wealthy. We carefully studied the law (with the help of some of the “best”, high-paid, experienced tax lawyers in the business), and then began to do exactly what the “big boys” were doing (except that we weren’t steeling from our congregation or lying to the government about our massive profits in the name of God). We took a great deal of care to make it all visible, following all of the rules, exactly the way the law said it was to be done.

The intent of this exercise and our efforts was to bring about a much-needed re-evaluation of the laws that allow the monsters of organized religion to make such a mockery of people who earn an honest living. However, this is where I learned that there are two “interpretations” for every law; one for the very rich, and one for the rest of us… Oh, and the monsters are the very ones making and enforcing the laws; the inquisition is still alive and well today in this country.

That little lesson in patriotism cost me $40,000+, 10 years of my life, and set my retirement plans back to 0. It made me realize for the first time that I live in a country with an ideology that is based on a total and complete lie. It also made me realize, not only how naive I had been, but also the incredible stupidity of the American public; that they buy, hook, line, and sinker, the crap about their “freedom”… and that they continue to do so with eyes closed in the face of overwhelming evidence and all that keeps happening in front of them.

Before even having to make a shaky recovery from the sting of the first lesson on what justice really means in this country (around 1984 after making my way through engineering school and still another five years of “paying my dues”), I felt I finally had to take a chance of launching my dream of becoming an independent engineer.

On the subjects of engineers and dreams of independence, I should digress somewhat to say that I’m sure that I inherited the fascination for creative problem solving from my father. I realized this at a very young age.

The significance of independence, however, came much later during my early years of college; at the age of 18 or 19 when I was living on my own as student in an apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. My neighbor was an elderly retired woman (80+ seemed ancient to me at that age) who was the widowed wife of a retired steel worker. Her husband had worked all his life in the steel mills of central Pennsylvania with promises from big business and the union that, for his 30 years of service, he would have a pension and medical care to look forward to in his retirement. Instead he was one of the thousands who got nothing because the incompetent mill management and corrupt union (not to mention the government) raided their pension funds and stole their retirement. All she had was social security to live on.

In retrospect, the situation was laughable because here I was living on peanut butter and bread (or Ritz crackers when I could afford to splurge) for months at a time. When I got to know this poor figure and heard her story I felt worse for her plight than for my own (I, after all, I thought I had everything to in front of me). I was genuinely appalled at one point, as we exchanged stories and commiserated with each other over our situations, when she in her grandmotherly fashion tried to convince me that I would be “healthier” eating cat food (like her) rather than trying to get all my substance from peanut butter and bread. I couldn’t quite go there, but the impression was made. I decided that I didn’t trust big business to take care of me, and that I would take responsibility for my own future and myself.

Return to the early ‘80s, and here I was off to a terrifying start as a ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ contract software engineer… and two years later, thanks to the fine backroom, midnight effort by the sleazy executives of Arthur Andersen (the very same folks who later brought us Enron and other such calamities) and an equally sleazy New York Senator (Patrick Moynihan), we saw the passage of 1986 tax reform act with its section 1706.

For you who are unfamiliar, here is the core text of the IRS Section 1706, defining the treatment of workers (such as contract engineers) for tax purposes. Visit this link for a conference committee report (http://www.synergistech.com/1706.shtml#ConferenceCommitteeReport) regarding the intended interpretation of Section 1706 and the relevant parts of Section 530, as amended. For information on how these laws affect technical services workers and their clients, read our discussion here (http://www.synergistech.com/ic-taxlaw.shtml).

SEC. 1706. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL PERSONNEL.

(a) IN GENERAL – Section 530 of the Revenue Act of 1978 is amended by adding at the end thereof the following new subsection:

(d) EXCEPTION. – This section shall not apply in the case of an individual who pursuant to an arrangement between the taxpayer and another person, provides services for such other person as an engineer, designer, drafter, computer programmer, systems analyst, or other similarly skilled worker engaged in a similar line of work.

(b) EFFECTIVE DATE. – The amendment made by this section shall apply to remuneration paid and services rendered after December 31, 1986.

Note:

· “another person” is the client in the traditional job-shop relationship.

· “taxpayer” is the recruiter, broker, agency, or job shop.

· “individual”, “employee”, or “worker” is you.

Admittedly, you need to read the treatment to understand what it is saying but it’s not very complicated. The bottom line is that they may as well have put my name right in the text of section (d). Moreover, they could only have been more blunt if they would have came out and directly declared me a criminal and non-citizen slave. Twenty years later, I still can’t believe my eyes.

During 1987, I spent close to $5000 of my ‘pocket change’, and at least 1000 hours of my time writing, printing, and mailing to any senator, congressman, governor, or slug that might listen; none did, and they universally treated me as if I was wasting their time. I spent countless hours on the L.A. freeways driving to meetings and any and all of the disorganized professional groups who were attempting to mount a campaign against this atrocity. This, only to discover that our efforts were being easily derailed by a few moles from the brokers who were just beginning to enjoy the windfall from the new declaration of their “freedom”. Oh, and don’t forget, for all of the time I was spending on this, I was loosing income that I couldn’t bill clients.

After months of struggling it had clearly gotten to be a futile exercise. The best we could get for all of our trouble is a pronouncement from an IRS mouthpiece that they weren’t going to enforce that provision (read harass engineers and scientists). This immediately proved to be a lie, and the mere existence of the regulation began to have its impact on my bottom line; this, of course, was the intended effect.

Again, rewind my retirement plans back to 0 and shift them into idle. If I had any sense, I clearly should have left abandoned engineering and never looked back.

Instead I got busy working 100-hour workweeks. Then came the L.A. depression of the early 1990s. Our leaders decided that they didn’t need the all of those extra Air Force bases they had in Southern California, so they were closed; just like that. The result was economic devastation in the region that rivaled the widely publicized Texas S&L fiasco. However, because the government caused it, no one gave a shit about all of the young families who lost their homes or street after street of boarded up houses abandoned to the wealthy loan companies who received government funds to “shore up” their windfall. Again, I lost my retirement.

Years later, after weathering a divorce and the constant struggle trying to build some momentum with my business, I find myself once again beginning to finally pick up some speed. Then came the .COM bust and the 911 nightmare. Our leaders decided that all aircraft were grounded for what seemed like an eternity; and long after that, ‘special’ facilities like San Francisco were on security alert for months. This made access to my customers prohibitively expensive. Ironically, after what they had done the Government came to the aid of the airlines with billions of our tax dollars … as usual they left me to rot and die while they bailed out their rich, incompetent cronies WITH MY MONEY! After these events, there went my business but not quite yet all of my retirement and savings.

By this time, I’m thinking that it might be good for a change. Bye to California, I’ll try Austin for a while. So I moved, only to find out that this is a place with a highly inflated sense of self-importance and where damn little real engineering work is done. I’ve never experienced such a hard time finding work. The rates are 1/3 of what I was earning before the crash, because pay rates here are fixed by the three or four large companies in the area who are in collusion to drive down prices and wages… and this happens because the justice department is all on the take and doesn’t give a fuck about serving anyone or anything but themselves and their rich buddies.

To survive, I was forced to cannibalize my savings and retirement, the last of which was a small IRA. This came in a year with mammoth expenses and not a single dollar of income. I filed no return that year thinking that because I didn’t have any income there was no need. The sleazy government decided that they disagreed. But they didn’t notify me in time for me to launch a legal objection so when I attempted to get a protest filed with the court I was told I was no longer entitled to due process because the time to file ran out. Bend over for another $10,000 helping of justice.

So now we come to the present. After my experience with the CPA world, following the business crash I swore that I’d never enter another accountant’s office again. But here I am with a new marriage and a boatload of undocumented income, not to mention an expensive new business asset, a piano, which I had no idea how to handle. After considerable thought I decided that it would be irresponsible NOT to get professional help; a very big mistake.

When we received the forms back I was very optimistic that they were in order. I had taken all of the years information to Bill Ross, and he came back with results very similar to what I was expecting. Except that he had neglected to include the contents of Sheryl’s unreported income; $12,700 worth of it. To make matters worse, Ross knew all along this was missing and I didn’t have a clue until he pointed it out in the middle of the audit. By that time it had become brutally evident that he was representing himself and not me.

This left me stuck in the middle of this disaster trying to defend transactions that have no relationship to anything tax-related (at least the tax-related transactions were poorly documented). Things I never knew anything about and things my wife had no clue would ever matter to anyone. The end result is… well, just look around.

I remember reading about the stock market crash before the “great” depression and how there were wealthy bankers and businessmen jumping out of windows when they realized they screwed up and lost everything. Isn’t it ironic how far we’ve come in 60 years in this country that they now know how to fix that little economic problem; they just steal from the middle class (who doesn’t have any say in it, elections are a joke) to cover their asses and it’s “business-as-usual”. Now when the wealthy fuck up, the poor get to die for the mistakes… isn’t that a clever, tidy solution.

As government agencies go, the FAA is often justifiably referred to as a tombstone agency, though they are hardly alone. The recent presidential puppet GW Bush and his cronies in their eight years certainly reinforced for all of us that this criticism rings equally true for all of the government. Nothing changes unless there is a body count (unless it is in the interest of the wealthy sows at the government trough). In a government full of hypocrites from top to bottom, life is as cheap as their lies and their self-serving laws.

I know I’m hardly the first one to decide I have had all I can stand. It has always been a myth that people have stopped dying for their freedom in this country, and it isn’t limited to the blacks, and poor immigrants. I know there have been countless before me and there are sure to be as many after. But I also know that by not adding my body to the count, I insure nothing will change. I choose to not keep looking over my shoulder at “big brother” while he strips my carcass, I choose not to ignore what is going on all around me, I choose not to pretend that business as usual won’t continue; I have just had enough.

I can only hope that the numbers quickly get too big to be white washed and ignored that the American zombies wake up and revolt; it will take nothing less. I would only hope that by striking a nerve that stimulates the inevitable double standard, knee-jerk government reaction that results in more stupid draconian restrictions people wake up and begin to see the pompous political thugs and their mindless minions for what they are. Sadly, though I spent my entire life trying to believe it wasn’t so, but violence not only is the answer, it is the only answer. The cruel joke is that the really big chunks of shit at the top have known this all along and have been laughing, at and using this awareness against, fools like me all along.

I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different. I am finally ready to stop this insanity. Well, Mr. Big Brother IRS man, let’s try something different; take my pound of flesh and sleep well.

The communist creed: From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

The capitalist creed: From each according to his gullibility, to each according to his greed.

Joe Stack (1956-2010)



02/18/2010"

Icicles, Snow, and Mortgages Under Water

This is the view from the back porch of my house today.  Lovely.  I hope it doesn't tear my gutters off.  I did see a house nearby that did have the gutters falling off with the weight of the ice but it had that neon orange sticker on the front door.  Foreclosed - sherriff's auction.  Nobody "in authority" seems to take care of those properties.  They could be hiding a meth lab, maybe even a base for human trafficking, for which Ohio has recently become notorious.  Do you think the bank cares what happens to communities hollowed out by foreclosures?  People go homeless while homes go peopleless.  Property values have fallen and it may not be possible to sell a property for a high enough price to pay off the mortgage.  My contact at Fifth Third bank who is processing the foreclosure of our commercial property said that values may not recover for 5 years.  That's her expert opinion, but expert opinions got us all into this mess, didn't they?  Some people even beat the banks to the punch and just walk away from their mortgage.  This is from the New York Times:

"No Help in Sight, More Homeowners Walk Away By DAVID STREITFELD

In 2006, Benjamin Koellmann bought a condominium in Miami Beach. By his calculation, it will be about the year 2025 before he can sell his modest home for what he paid. Or maybe 2040.

“People like me are beginning to feel like suckers,” Mr. Koellmann said. “Why not let it go in default and rent a better place for less?”

After three years of plunging real estate values, after the bailouts of the bankers and the revival of their million-dollar bonuses, after the Obama administration’s loan modification plan raised the expectations of many but satisfied only a few, a large group of distressed homeowners is wondering the same thing.

New research suggests that when a home’s value falls below 75 percent of the amount owed on the mortgage, the owner starts to think hard about walking away, even if he or she has the money to keep paying.

In a situation without precedent in the modern era, millions of Americans are in this bleak position. Whether, or how, to help them is one of the biggest questions the Obama administration confronts as it seeks a housing policy that would contribute to the economic recovery.

“We haven’t yet found a way of dealing with this that would, we think, be practical on a large scale,” the assistant Treasury secretary for financial stability, Herbert M. Allison Jr., said in a recent briefing.

The number of Americans who owed more than their homes were worth was virtually nil when the real estate collapse began in mid-2006, but by the third quarter of 2009, an estimated 4.5 million homeowners had reached the critical threshold, with their home’s value dropping below 75 percent of the mortgage balance.

They are stretched, aggrieved and restless. With figures released last week showing that the real estate market was stalling again, their numbers are now projected to climb to a peak of 5.1 million by June — about 10 percent of all Americans with mortgages.

“We’re now at the point of maximum vulnerability,” said Sam Khater, a senior economist with First American CoreLogic, the firm that conducted the recent research. “People’s emotional attachment to their property is melting into the air.”

Suggestions that people would be wise to renege on their home loans are at least a couple of years old, but they are turning into a full-throated barrage. Bloggers were quick to note recently that landlords of an 11,000-unit residential complex in Manhattan showed no hesitation, or shame, in walking away from their deeply underwater investment.

“Since the beginning of December, I’ve advised 60 people to walk away,” said Steve Walsh, a mortgage broker in Scottsdale, Ariz. “Everyone has lost hope. They don’t qualify for modifications, and being on the hamster wheel of paying for a property that is not worth it gets so old.”

Mr. Walsh is taking his own advice, recently defaulting on a rental property he owns. “The sun will come up tomorrow,” he said.

The difference between letting your house go to foreclosure because you are out of money and purposefully defaulting on a mortgage to save money can be murky. But a growing body of research indicates that significant numbers of borrowers are declining to live under what some waggishly call “house arrest.”

Using credit bureau data, consultants at Oliver Wyman calculated how many borrowers went straight from being current on their mortgage to default, rather than making spotty payments. They also weeded out owners having trouble paying other bills. Their estimate was that about 17 percent of owners defaulting in 2008, or 588,000 people, chose that option as a strategic calculation.

Some experts argue that walking away from mortgages is more discussed than done. People hate moving; their children attend the neighborhood school; they do not want to think of themselves as skipping out on a debt. Doubters cite a Federal Reserve study using historical data from Massachusetts that concludes there were relatively few walk-aways during the 1991 bust.

The United States Treasury falls into the skeptical camp.

“The overwhelming bulk of people who have negative equity stay in their homes and keep paying,” said Michael S. Barr, assistant Treasury secretary for financial institutions.

It would cost about $745 billion, slightly more than the size of the original 2008 bank bailout, to restore all underwater borrowers to the point where they were breaking even, according to First American.

Using government money to do that would be seen as unfair by many taxpayers, Mr. Barr said. On the other hand, doing nothing about underwater mortgages could encourage more walk-aways, dealing another blow to a fragile economy.

“It’s not an easy area,” he said.

Walking away — also called “jingle mail,” because of the notion that homeowners just mail their keys to the bank, setting off foreclosure proceedings — began in the Southwest during the 1980s oil collapse, though it has never been clear how widespread it was.

In the current bust, lenders first noticed something strange after real estate prices had fallen about 10 percent.

An executive with Wachovia, one of the country’s biggest and most aggressive lenders, said during a conference call in January 2008 that the bank was bewildered by customers who had “the capacity to pay, but have basically just decided not to.” (Wachovia failed nine months later and was bought by Wells Fargo. )

With prices now down by about 30 percent, underwater borrowers fall into two groups. Some have owned their homes for many years and got in trouble because they used the house as a cash machine. Others, like Mr. Koellmann in Miami Beach, made only one mistake: they bought as the boom was cresting.

It was April 2006, a moment when the perpetual rise of real estate was considered practically a law of physics. Mr. Koellmann was 23, a management consultant new to Miami.

Financially cautious by nature, he bought a small, plain one-bedroom apartment for $215,000, much less than his agent told him he could afford. He put down 20 percent and received a fixed-rate loan from Countrywide Financial.

Not quite four years later, apartments in the building are selling in foreclosure for $90,000.

“There is no financial sense in staying,” Mr. Koellmann said. With the $1,500 he is paying each month for his mortgage, taxes and insurance, he could rent a nicer place on the beach, one with a gym, security and valet parking.

Walking away, he knows, is not without peril. At minimum, it would ruin his credit score. Mr. Koellmann would like to attend graduate school. If an admission dean sees a dismal credit record, would that count against him? How about a new employer?

Most of all, though, he struggles with the ethical question.

“I took a loan on an asset that I didn’t see was overvalued,” he said. “As much as I would like my bank to pay for that mistake, why should it?”

That is an attitude Wall Street would like to encourage. David Rosenberg, the chief economist of the investment firm Gluskin Sheff, wrote recently that borrowers were not victims. They “signed contracts, and as adults should also be held accountable,” he wrote.

Of course, this is not necessarily how Wall Street itself behaves, as demonstrated by the case of Stuyvesant Town and Peter Cooper Village. An investment group led by the real estate giant Tishman Speyer recently defaulted on $4.4 billion in debt that it had used to buy the two apartment developments in Manhattan, handing the properties back to the lenders.

Moreover, during the boom, it was the banks that helped drive prices to unrealistic levels by lowering credit standards and unleashing a wave of speculative housing demand.

Mr. Koellmann applied last fall to Bank of America for a modification, noting that his income had slipped. But the lender came back a few weeks ago with a plan that added more restrictive terms while keeping the payments about the same.

“That may have been the last straw,” Mr. Koellmann said.

Guy D. Cecala, publisher of Inside Mortgage Finance magazine, says he does not hear much sympathy from lenders for their underwater customers.

“The banks tell me that a lot of people who are complaining were the ones who refinanced and took all the equity out any time there was any appreciation,” he said. “The banks are damned if they will help.”

Joe Figliola has heard that message. He bought his house in Elgin, Ill., in 2004, then refinanced twice to get better terms. He pulled out a little money both times to cover the closing costs and other expenses. Now his place is underwater while his salary as circulation manager for the local newspaper has been cut.

“It doesn’t seem right that I can rent a place somewhere for half of what I’m paying,” he said. “I told my bank, ‘Just take a little bite out of what I owe. That would ease me up. Isn’t that why the president gave you all this money?’ ”

Bank of America did not agree, so Mr. Figliola, who is 48, sees no recourse other than walking away. “I don’t believe this is the right thing to do,” he said, “but I’ve got to survive.”

Copyright 2010 The New York Times Company "

The white bullet-shaped thing in this picture is just snow, as it accumulated on a little round table.  The snow piled up higher than the table is wide!

Speaking of winter pictures, you really ought to visit my friend Lili Vansluys at her blog FEARLESS NESTING.  Lili and her husband Henri live in Sorrento, Maine, and live a wonderful life there.  Check out her raku pottery, felted purses, and now... her book While You Were Away - Scenes From Winter in Sorrento Maine, available in hardcover or softcover.  Look at your coffee table - it has an empty spot on it that is just waiting for that book!

Aw Crap, I Just Broke A Dozen Eggs!

While sifting through our clutter the other day, Marcy found an Olive Garden gift card the she had tucked away and forgotten about.  Yay, we get to go out for Valentines Day!  Now, some snooty people see Olive Garden as a culinary joke but we like the food and the hospitality.  Our very first visit to the O.G. was on opening day of their original Colerain Ave location.  We had just finished pushing Marcy's broken down Oldsmobile Cutlass out of traffic and we were hot and perturbed, a little greasy and a lotta hungry.  To kill time while waiting for help to arrive we went into this new place to check it out.  We asked if there was a dress code, told them our car had broken down, and they made us feel so welcome.  We remain loyal, and enjoyed dinner at their new location.

Dinner was good and the company was better.  Marcy and I have shared over a quarter-century's worth of Valentines Days, so we don't have to chatter like people who have just met.  Instead, we relaxed, enjoyed the friendly service, pretended we were considering some new menu items but settled on our familiar favorites.  Mmm, food prepared by someone else, served by a nice person on dishes that someone else would carry off and wash out of our sight.  No TV, no kids.  Eye contact and smiles.  We comment on the good food and service.  We pull out some old memories..."Remember the first time we...", savor them and put them away for next time.  Sometimes we speculate on a good future together:  roaming America in an RV, visiting friends & family, writing for travel magazines.  At last we're full and still have plenty of leftovers to box up.  We didn't want to go to Kroger hungry.

We're supposed to get another snowstorm overnight so we wanted to be fully stocked up.  We had about two-thirds of this month's food stamps left, plus Marcy also found a Kroger gift card tucked away and forgotten.  Those proverbial safe places of hers!  Food stamps for food, gift card for detergent & shampoo & such.  We ran into three different neighbors while shopping.  The common theme in the conversations:  we're all now grandparents or grandparents-to-be, hoping that our kids handle it OK.  Not many bargains to be found today, but we used a few coupons.  Pay up, pack up, and go home.  Carrying in the bags, one slipped from my grasp and landed on the kitchen floor.  The eggs of course.  I opened the carton to find every single shell cracked, but all the carton contained all the goop.  Marcy asked if I was going to throw them away and I replied with a quote from my dad:  "Something I can't stand is waste!"  I was tired and the last thing I wanted was to spend an hour cooking, but fate had brought me a challenge.  I set the oven to 375, pulled a packaged pie crust dough out of the freezer and finished carrying in and putting away the rest of the groceries.  Time to make quiche.

Real men don't eat quiche?  Bull!  It's a bacon, egg, and cheese pie, and forget about macho posturing anyway.  I defrosted the roll of frozen pie crust dough in the microwave for two minutes even though the package said not to.  I did let get it too warm and that made it difficult to unroll into my porcelain dish.  It kind of clumped up and tore in places but guess what - it's just raw dough, so I smushed it into place.  Next, I dripped a little of the raw egg white out of the carton into the pie shell and smeared it around to coat it, then took a fork and poked a bunch of holes around the bottom.  Next I retrieved my trusty bag of bacon pieces from the freezer and spread about three big handfuls of pieces evenly across the bottom of the pie shell.  Then I got a bag of shredded cheddar cheese (on sale 2 for $5 at Kroger!) from the deli drawer and put a nice layer over the bacon.  So far so good, time to make the egg mixture.  I got my hemispherical Pyrex bowl and put in 2 cups of 2% milk and microwaved it for 2 minutes to warm it a bit.  Then I poured in 4 eggs from the mess in the carton, careful to catch the shell fragments.  I put in a good shake of coarse ground black pepper, some seasoned salt (not much, this is a healthy quiche, haha), and my secret ingredient:  I use whole nutmeg ( it costs no more than ground) and grate it on the fine section of my regular old kitchen shredder (I hate unnecessary fancy tools).  It smells so good when you grate it!  I beat this mixture with a fork and poured it gently into the shell so I don't disturb the layers of bacon & cheese.  Into the oven, timer set for 40 minutes.  That's 4 eggs down, 8 to go.

I looked in the fridge and saw the container of rice left over from the souvlaki and I considered fried rice.  I had some leftover mixed vegetables I could throw in too, but I decided against it because I have no onions.  Instead, I searched the freezer for a loaf of Cinnamon Raisin bread from Panera.  Hats off to Panera for donating their leftovers at the end of each day.  We really appreciate their product quality and their community involvement.  After removing the wire twist tie, the bread went into the microwave for a few minutes to defrost.  I turned the burner under my cast iron skillet on medium and scooped some butter in to melt.  In the meantime I poured the rest of the egg mess, minus shells, into the same pyrex bowl used previously, added a bit of milk, a big shake of cinnamon, and beat it with my fork.  By this time the bread was warm enough for me to peel off slices, dunk them in egg, and lay them in the skillet to brown.  Peel, dunk, lay, wait, check, flip, wait, flip & turn for even cooking, pile on a plate.  Eventually the egg mixture was gone and I had a nicely piled plate of Cinnamon Raisin French Toast.  The oven timer beeped and I pulled out the quiche, stuck a knife in the middle and it came out clean, which means it's done.  I stuck the french toast in ziploc bags, 2 per bag, and came up with 7 servings now waiting ready in the freezer.  Here is what the quiche looked like.

I washed the dishes and finally sat down to eat (again) and type up this post.  Stop by again, and tell all your friends and enemies to stop by too.

Is America's Heartland Prepared For An Earthquake?

So the Chicago area recently had an earthquake.  At 3.8 on the Richter scale it would scarcely be noticed in a place like Southern California but in America's heartland, so recently after the disastrous Haiti earthquake, it was a bit of a shock.

But it shouldn't be such a big surprise.  The earth beneath our feet is just a cracked crust floating on mushy molten magma.  Marcy & I often say "Everything's temporary" and our so-called terra firma is no exception.  We can get so caught up in the trivial distactions of the here and now that we may deny the evidence that things were not always as they are now, and won't be the same in the future either.  If we dig around, we find seashells in the bedrock.  How's that for an indication of change in the long term?  We may focus on the big snows that have fallen all over America and see that as evidence that global warming is a hoax, but ignore that fact that the ice at the poles is melting and providing more atmospheric moisture for snow.  Anyway earthquakes happen as part of an only partially understood natural process, not as a fulfillment of prophecy and certainly not as divine retribution for a deal with the devil as that hateful jackass Pat Robertson would have his followers believe.  Quakes happen all the time, especially around fault lines, and while we cannot yet predict them well, we certainly should do our best to cope with the possibility of experiencing an earthquake and its aftermath.

One place where we are pretty complacent about earthquakes is smack in the middle of America.  Located in Missouri, the New Madrid Fault Line was hammered by a series of quakes estimated to have been about 8.0 in magnitude.  Luckily, this happened in late 1811 to early 1812, less than 10 years after the United States bought this real estate from France in the Louisiana Purchase.  It was a very sparsely populated frontier area.  Also at that time we were a bit distracted by the British troops burning the White House and such in the War of 1812.  Missouri was way off the radar, so to speak.

That quake was massive.  It caused the Mississippi River to reverse flow for a time, sent a 30-foot tsunami-like wave running up it, created Reelfoot Lake, caused a lot of soil liquifaction and sand volcanoes, made river banks collapse, even rang church bells as far away as Boston and toppled chimneys in Maine.  But like I said, it was a sparsely populated frontier, mostly log cabins scattered about.  Stilll, it was bad enough for the governor of the area to make what is believed to be the first request to the U.S federal government for disaster aid.

This is a map in the public domain courtesy of the US Geological Survey, your tax dollars at work.  It compares the damage range of a moderate New Madrid zone earthquake in 1895 (magnitude 6.8), and a similar Los Angeles quake (1994, magnitude 6.7).  Lots of cities in the red zone:  Cincinnati, Louisville, Memphis, St. Loius, Indianapolis, plenty more.  Prepared for an earthquake?  I doubt it very much.

We have now have FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency.  The more conspiracy-minded among us believe that they exist only to maintain government control.  If you believe that their job is to protect and rescue us and wipe our noses and make everything all better, then you should ask somebody from New Orleans how well they handled Katrina.  I don't want to fear them and I don't want to be dependent on them.  However, I do give them kudos for providing some very sensible information on how you can take action for yourself to be prepared for earthquakes and other hazards that may come your way.  READ THEM HERE AND GET STARTED NOW.  They have tips for lots of other scenarios too, check them out.  You can also order free hardcopy publications.  Good information and training are also available from The American Red Cross.  Leave a comment to let me know what you have done!

Cheap Dinner - Souvlaki & Peppers with Couscous or Rice

Derek is 17, a growing boy, and he craves meat.  And having a big Greek component in his heritage, he asked for gyros & souvlaki to be on the grocery list.  Well, gyro meat is kind of a specialty item but souvlaki is very easy and very affordable.  The secret is to keep an eye on Kroger's meat markdowns and grab all the "City Chicken" they have.  It's really pork cut into nice chunks and put on a stick.  Kroger cuts the price in half when it's near expiration.  No problem, just freeze it until you need it.

To make souvlaki, marinate the city chicken in lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, and oregano.  Poke a bunch of holes with a fork so the flavor penetrates.  You don't need to marinate too long, no more than 2 hours in the fridge or the lemon juice will tenderize the meat to mush.  In good weather, it's so much better to cook your souvlaki on a charcoal grill.  However, a little over an hour in the oven preheated to 325 will make you happy.

Our dinner tonight was souvlaki made with Kroger's half-price city chicken, a big serving of Kroger quick cook rice, some stir-fried multi-colored pepper strips from the freezer (given to us by a friend).  We also tried for the first time couscous, a mediterranean side dish made with cracked wheat.  The box of Hodgson Mill Parmesan Couscous that we had was marked down under a buck as a discontinued item by Kroger.  Couscous cooks in about 5 minutes pretty much like the quick rice.  It wasn't real exciting but drenched with the souvlaki drippins it was mighty tasty.  In all the excitement I forgot to serve the bag of Fresh Selection salad bought - you guessed it - marked down to $1.49 at Kroger.

My UFO Sighting

photo copyright 1995 Natural Light Productions

This is not my UFO sighting.  I found this photo amongst all the others we've been sorting through while trying to get our house organized.  I scanned it while Marcy was napping, without her permission, worse yet without the copyright holder's permission.  Bob, please notify me if you want me to take it offline.  By the way, excellent PhotoShop work!

My wife Marcy was camera operator for various public access cable TV productions, most via Cincinnati Community Video, one of the best of which was UFO Update Live.  It consisted of a panel of experts who  discussed UFO & paranormal topics and took live phone calls from the viewing audience.  What a cool circle of people I met!  I recall Tom Mulroy, Bob Leibold, Jeff Sindiong, Terry Endres, the late Pat Packard, who was the regional MUFON representative, the late Kenny Young who replaced Pat in the MUFON chair.  Joedy Cook & George Clappison covered cryptozology.  The late Roger Olson was in there too. The late Jerry Black & his wife Peggy also made some interesting contributions.  I know there had to be more but my memory fails me at the moment.  These guys were way ahead of the curve compared to the current Ghost Hunter disciples, no offense intended towards sincere investigators.  Kudos to all who make the effort; we need more.

My own UFO sighting happened a few years ago, when I still worked for Hewlett Packard at Procter & Gamble's headquarters in downtown Cincinnati.  Us HP folks had our offices up on the 8th floor in what we called the Sycamore Building at the corner of 6th & Sycamore.  One afternoon there was a break in the action and a handful us chatted about business in one of the offices that had windows facing north.  I stood with Keith W. gazing out the window at the bright clear afternoon sky, discussing laptops, customers, etc.  By the way, that's how guys chat - we are generally are side by side looking at something else as we talk, whether it's a campfire, a TV, a work project, with occaisional eye contact at appropriate points.  The ladies seem to go for more facing, more eye contact.  I read that it's a Mars/Venus thing.  Well, as Keith and I talked computers, my eye wandered high in the clear blue sky and I spotted a dot and I thought some kid must have let go of a balloon.  However, as I kept watching it did not continue to rise as I would expect a balloon to do.  My second thought was maybe a lightweight plastic grogery had got caught in some odd thermal updraft from the sun on the asphalt or some such.  We kept chatting and I now had my eyes locked on this dot high in the clear sky.  I did not see it move at all, as I would expect from an object in an updraft.  I refused to take my eyes from the dot.  Was it a helicopter?  How could something in the sky not move at all?  After several minutes of staring at this thing I had to mention it.  "Keith, I don't mean to be rude or ignore you but I've been watching something.  What do you make of it?"  Now here's the thing.  Keith W. is retired from the Air Force, a captain I believe, and he was on the team that launched the GPS satellites, so he knows a thing or two about things in the sky.  He always used to joke about our job:  "This ain't rocket science, I've DONE rocket science."  Once I pointed out the dot, he had no trouble spotting it, and as I told him my thoughts about balloon/bag/helicopter he agreed.  He also had his eyes locked on the dot now and we both pondered what the heck it could be.  That dot never moved.  Finally his Blackberry buzzed and we had to abandon this mystery of the cosmos unresolved to attend to some executive's mundane computer problem.

What do you think it was?  I often hear about UFO sightings being dismissed as the planet Venus.  I'm open to the idea in this case but I have observed the sky a lot and have witnessed planets only near the horizon around sunrise or sunset.  This was in midafternoon, high in the sky, from a north-facing window.  How about it astronomers, could it have been Venus?

10 Ways to Screw Over the Corporate Jackals Who've Been Screwing You

Still hoping for change?  Here are 10 interesting ideas from Alternet.  I must have the Atlantis of mortgages.

"...1. Mortgage underwater? Just walk away from it. Even academia says it's OK. Move to the city and rent.

"Homeowners should be walking away in droves," University of Arizona law school professor Brent T. White told the Los Angeles Times. "But they aren't. And it's not because the financial costs of foreclosure outweigh the benefits. One can have a good credit rating again -- meaning above 660 -- within two years after a foreclosure."

In a scholarly paper called "Underwater and Not Walking Away: Shame, Fear and the Social Management of the Housing Crisis," White tells cash-jacked homeowners that they can return the screw.

We've been championing that course for years, with reports on walkaways and trashouts, as well as violent homeowner blowback. Hell, we called the Great Recession before most did, and we're still calling it another Great Depression in the making. So trust us. And if not us, then take it from the professor, who will soon be joined by a chorus of similarly credentialed whistleblowers as the financial crap truly hits the fan in the years to come. Go ahead, move back to the city and rent. You'll end up there anyway when your suburb runs out of water and malls."

Read the other 9 and consider them carefully.  Go on now - READ - CONSIDER!

Picadillo Stuffed Peppers

Picadillo Stuffed Peppers

1 pound ground beef
1 teaspoon garlic, minced
1 can tomatoes, diced
1/2 cup picante sauce
1 teaspoon cumin, ground
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon, ground
1/3 cup raisins
1/3 cup almonds, toasted, slivered
2 red bell peppers, seeded and quartered
1/2 cup cheddar cheese, shredded
basil leaves, optional

Cook the beef and garlic in a 10-inch skillet over medium high heat until the beef is well browned, stirring often to break up the meat. Stir the tomatoes, picante sauce, cumin, cinnamon, raisins, and almonds into the skillet. Don't be afraid to be generous with the cinnamon!  Cook until the mixture is hot and bubbling.

Arrange the peppers in a 2-quart casserole. Spoon the beef mixture over the peppers. Cover the dish.

Bake at 400 F for 25 minutes or until the peppers are tender. Uncover the dish. Top with the cheese. Bake for 5 minutes or until the cheese melts. Garnish with the basil.

I wish I had pics of this dish because the red peppers are so beautiful.  It probably has a middle-eastern influence, maybe Turkish, with a flavor reminescent of Cincinnati-Style chili but much richer and sweet/savory.  My mouth is watering as I type this:  you must try it to appreciate how wonderful the flavor and texture make your mouth feel.

Sons Of Anarchy

I know of no better way to enjoy the Super Bowl than by NOT watching it. The whole inconsequential spectacle of over-paid, steroid-riddled, prima-donnas chasing a ball around is not for me. And cheerleaders for professional sports, what a ludicrous ruse! Take all pro sports and knock it off its pedestal! Sports are to be played, not watched unless your grandchild is on the field. And take those so-called creative commercials to the dumper too. There, I feel much better now.

I spent Super Bowl Sunday in front of the TV all right, watching a DVD of season 1 of Sons Of Anarchy that our friend Tony brought over. The FX Network show is a finely written, well acted slice of the lowlife. Imagine if Andy Griffith was tight with the Hell's Angels, but there is so much more. There are great characters who are put into situations that make them show what they are made of. We watched all 13 episodes straight. A little sliced Kroger cheese bought on special, some crackers and popcorn from our friends at the food pantry, and just two bottles of Moerlein Emancipator Doppel Bock that I treated myself to by putting off buying coffee. They call it "a robust dark lager crafted for the season." Delicious! A Cincinnati treasure!  Ya gotta chew it before ya swallow it, and thick dark hair immediately sprouts from parts of the body where there previously was none. For me, that's not many newly hirsute body parts, but you get the picture. Good, simple fare, great commercial-free entertainment, a good pal's company, and my old lady by my side. Life is good.  Tonight it's Dave Brubeck's Hits on the turntable (you know: Take Five, Blue Rondo A La Turk, etc.) and another bottle of that Moerlein Emancipator as I post this blog.  It's almost enough to make me forget those phone calls I had today with school administrators and debt-collecting lawyers.    Here, what do you think of these pictures I took?

Here is a pic I took of a special biker.  This one is for Lili!

Bikers were welcome at our bar.

Go, Johnny, Go!