Same Time this Year — Urban Jungle

Dejá vu all over again, as a famous ball player (not known for his grammar) once said.

Last year (http://40andoverblog.com/?p=1085), we had a run-in with urban wildlife in our home.  Since it is happening again this year, I believe it now qualifies as an annual event.

Over the weekend, we heard what we thought was chirping and we surmised it had to be coming from our stove’s exhaust vent (it vents outside).  Maybe there was a nest there.  We did not want to disturb the nest, but we did want the birds to know that there is only room for one family in our home, so we put the vent on, which would not hurt them, but make our vent less of a sanctuary.  Maybe they would move on, we thought.  I also called the Bird Nerd, husband of SOB (sister of blogger), who did not understand the urgency of our concern that others lived among us.  You might think he would remember the hysteria of last year.  But noooooooooooooo.  I digress.

The next day, POB (partner of blogger) had a brilliant, yet frightening, realization.  There had to be family of  mice behind our washer/dryer and the babies (as in many) are making that noise.  This all sounded plausible since there is an empty space behind those appliances that our contractors ASSURED us was closed and sealed, but there I go again, digressing.  Birds, I can deal with.  My son likes birds.  SOB married a bird nerd.  A MOUSE — worse, MICE — this I could not handle.

We left for a day out of the city, with the mouse family not far from my thoughts.  We arrived home late so we had a quick dinner at a local restaurant.  I go into the kitchen later for something and there is a teeny, tiny mouse.  I scream, POB screams because I am screaming and our son asks why we are screaming.  “Nothing, sweetie.  Nothing wrong.”  Ok, our son is a smart guy.  If NOTHING were wrong, why exactly would his two moms be shrieking??

As our luck would have it, our superintendent is in Europe for another two weeks (note to self: consider a career change), and the exterminators come at the beginning of each month.  So, if you are going to have problems, have them then.  This tough love approach is designed to compel those of us who live in the urban jungle to train our varmints better so as not to upset the schedule of the exterminators or the management company.

Monday morning, the handyman lays down the sticky traps.  These are inhumane and make me sick, but this is the urban jungle and this is my home.  I am frankly terrorized by the potential painful deaths of baby mice, but I keep repeating “the strong eat the weak” as if to make me feel more callous than I am.  Also, I am comforted by the knowledge from experience that mice are too smart to fall for that old peanut butter on the glue trick.

Except later that night, two baby mice do fall for the peanut butter on the glue trick.  (Another got away.) I hear about this when I come home to a dark home and find POB and our son in his room with the door closed, the air conditioning on.

POB very calmly (and without looking up from her magazine) tells me that the two baby mice are on the Glue of Death and that she is perfectly happy never to go to that part of the house again until the handyman comes the next morning to take the “glue-kill” away.

Ok ok ok ok ok ok ok.  Worse than having live mice is having dead mice.  I go down to the doorman who cannot leave the door because there are no maintenance people on duty after 6pm.  He gives me a broom and a dust pan.  He wishes me good luck.  His expression shows he knows that I am a freaked-out pampered urbanite who never thought she would be doing this — mixture of sympathy and smugness that is sooooooo unattractive in the younger generation.

Up I go in the elevator.  I come into the house.  I walk over the radiator.  I use the brush to sliiiiiiiiide the Glue of Death over to the dustpan.  The broom bristles get stuck in the glue.  The glue is eating the broom.  The glue is getting stronger, rendering my ammunition useless.  I step on the edge to hold back the Glue of Death and retrieve the broom, but the Glue of Death has taken my sneaker hostage.  I am desperate to shake off the Glue of Death as the dead and dying mice bob up and down like pawns in a cruel game.

POB gets paper towel and tosses it on the floor.  I think, this is not a game of rock, paper, scissors.  This is a death match with mice, the Glue of Death and me.  But I use the paper towel to extricate my sneaker.

I bring the whole mess down to the doorman and, with the privileges of age, ask him to make this go away.

I come back upstairs, pronounce myself a hero to my family but a serial killer to the mouse community.  I take to my bed without food or drink until POB generously braves the particularly treacherous epicenter of our urban jungle to get fruit and chocolate for us.  She screams, but happily it was only a water bug. (Oy, we are soooooo careful and clean, why is this happening to us?)

I am ready to move to a hermetically sealed compound.

Poor John

Poor “John”.

I thought about this as DOB (dad of blogger) excused himself at a restaurant to “go find the John.”  He remembers not to say this in front of my sister, for whom this phrase is like fingernails on a chalkboard, for reasons unknown.  But since SOB (sister of blogger) was not at lunch today, DOB thought to live a little.

While he was gone, I mused over the unfortunate associations made with the name, “John,” over time.  Even Adolf (as in Hitler) is not as maligned, although it is not a really popular name anymore.

From Wikipedia and other sources:

  • John, slang for a person who patronizes prostitutes.
  • John, slang for toilet.
  • Johnny Come Lately, a belatedly enthusiast or supporter who tries to seem as if he were a trailblazer.
  • Jonnycake, a cornmeal flatbread.
  • Johnny Reb, a slang term for Southern Confederates during the American Civil War.
  • John Doe, or John Q. Public, the any man and every man.
  • (Dear) John Letter, a letter from a soldier’s girl back home, dumping him while he is off at war.
  • John, my dear friend’s sneaky, cheap and vituperative ex-husband.

So, John, a common name and one that has its correlatives in many different languages and cultures, has been summarily trashed over time.  John makes even “Herbert” or “Horace” a better naming option.  And that is tragic.  (But Adolf is probably not a good alternative until at least 100 years have passed since the end of World War II.  And not even then.)

So, be kind to the Johns in your life — as long as they are not ex-husbands, flatbreads, confederates, toilets or customers of prostitutes.

The Apple Fell Not Far From the Tree

I think about my mother, z”l [may her memory be for a blessing] every day.  I always draw strength from those thoughts, although they are sometimes tinged with humor or sadness, but always with gratitude for her life among us.

I reminisced about her with colleagues.  It wasn’t maudlin; it was apropos of the conversation and we laughed at her antics.

My mother was the epitome of discretion and a vault when it came to secrets.  However, if you asked her a question or her opinion, be ready for her whole truth and nothing but her whole truth.  Mom never thought she cornered the market on “Truth”, but she did believe everyone was entitled to hear her version of the truth.

A number of weeks ago, during a conversation with my sister, I stopped mid-sentence and said, “you’re thinking what life will be like when I lose my already limited ability to censor my thoughts, right?”  She nodded heavily, somewhat overwhelmed by what the future held in store for us.  My sister is the epitome of discretion and the vault for secrets.  While I dabble in discretion (and must be a vault as a lawyer), she inherited the qualities that allowed Mom to opine with impunity.  I just opine with impunity.  Look, Mom’s genes were allocated to three children.  Together we make a clone of Mom.  Separately, we struggle a little.  So, let’s accept that stuff that comes out of my mouth sometimes must be followed by a whisper (from a sympathetic witness), “she means well.”

It is hard to generalize about Mom’s more emphatic ways, so here are some specifics.  When Mom was well into her 60s, she joined an abortion rights picket of then Cardinal O’Connor (now deceased).  My mother started the chant, “keep your rosaries out of my ovaries!!”  Ok, it isn’t always easy to have a Mom who says things like that, but it certainly awesome.  Or, the time, she got up from her seat on the bus and move over to a young man who seemed foreign-born.  She put her hand on his forearm and said, “You’re such a good-looking man.  Why must you pick your nose in public?”  It turned out the guy ran the newspaper stand near where my parents lived and, whenever Mom passed, he would run out with a free magazine.  Mom always declined, with “You have rent to pay!!  Stop it!!”

My mother always believed that you opened your home to those in need or without family.  Needless to say, since Mom’s death, I have discovered that some of my “cousins” are related only by love and not by blood.  Mom taught us that love makes a family — nothing more, nothing less.

Mom believed that each person should leave the world a little better for that person’s having lived on earth.  She helped found New Yorkers Against Gun Violence, an organization that thrives today.  She helped plan the silent marches on Albany, NY, and Washington, DC, because people needed to visualize the empty shoes representing all who died from gun violence on the streets of America.  She loved America and only wanted it to be an ever-shining beacon of hope.

So, in the end, I only got her directness and inhibition about saying her truth.   My sister has her discretion.  My brother has some of her activism (ok, before he moved to the Republic of Texas and had a family but at least he is a Democrat).   My sister was right to shake her head, wearily.

SOB (sister of blogger), it is just going downhill from here.  Be afraid.

Just because he’s crazy, does that invalidate his compliment?

Maybe at 46 years-old, I am scraping the barrel for any compliment that comes my way.  I need my blog community to rule on whether a compliment received this morning can be counted as such. 

(I wish WordPress had those voting buttons so you can click “yes” “no” or “maybe“.)

I have a lunch meeting later with a client, so I am wearing make-up, earrings and a necklace.  No, that is not all.  I am wearing clothes.  (Nice) t-shirt under a bespoke blazer (so it really fits well) and bespoke pants (which would fit better had I not gotten the peri-menopause tummy paunch).  Shoes and bag work with the ensemble.  A true outfit. 

Many of you may be shocked; as sometimes I wear nice clothes but ruin the look with a pair of clogs.  But, I digress (comme d’habitude).

A man, who was dressed well enough not to be homeless, entered the subway car with a cart.  I know what you are thinking.  But, really, the cart had perfectly reasonable looking things in it.  Not like he was carrying his worldly possessions or anything.  Look, he didn’t SMELL.  And some homeless people are down on their luck.  Not all of them are crazy.  And we should help them off the streets because it is as good a litmus test as any for how civilized is our society really.  But, I digress (comme d’habitude).

The train clears out at the next stop.  It is an express station — not because he smelled.  I sit down in a seat next to the doors.  Then I realize I could move down and he could sit in that seat and be closer to his stuff.  So I offer to move down. 

He thanked me but declined.  Then, he said that I looked beautiful and my outfit was just right.  I thanked him.

Then he started talking to himself and doing a little tap-dance, foot shuffle, whatever.  This continued until he got off the train.

Valid compliment or no?  That is the question.

The Bedtime Blues

Raising a child is a never-ending learning process.

Our 8 year-old has had trouble falling asleep recently.  On Monday night, in particular, he just wouldn’t settle down.  He needed one of us to stay with him.  When I couldn’t coax him to relax and sleep, he whispered to me that it was time “to bring in the big guns” (i.e. POB (partner of blogger)).   In other words, he knew I did my best but I was just not up to the task.

Lesson No. 1:  My child needs to learn to lie or use euphemistic phrases.

It turned out that while we always ask about his day and the specific things that happened at camp, there was something he was holding back that was really troubling him and he wanted to tell us but was embarrassed.  Finally, at 10:30pm, he unburdened himself.   It was a childish (but not dangerous) thing and he had gotten a warning from a counselor.  We hugged and kissed him and re-assured him that all is ok and that we love him.  We also made sure he understands that what he did was inappropriate and that he can’t do it again.

Lesson No. 2:  We need to teach our child that any time earlier than 8:30pm is  a perfectly fine time to unburden his conscience.

Our son thinks by going to sleep he is missing out on something exciting.  As soon as we kiss our son good night, POB and I race to put on our pajamas and crawl into bed to read and unwind.  Notwithstanding the obvious visual evidence when he subsequently gets out of bed and stands in the doorway of our bedroom, my son seems still to believe that we are on the verge of laughing, dancing and having a party.  Or perhaps he thinks we secretly watch his Star Wars or train videos without him.   

Lesson No. 3:  If our son won’t go to sleep because he can’t accept that we are not about to have an awesome party without him, then we might as well have an awesome fun.  (Except he REALLY does need to asleep for THAT.)

The Audacity of Stupidity and the Audacity of Hypocrisy

 

I am constantly amazed that politicians will say anything to anyone without regard to facts and the interests of our country.  

 

Here is one audaciously stupid thing:

Jon Stewart’s satire is spot-on about the anti-Islam fervor in this country spewed by those — like the Governor of Tennessee — who have the nerve to say in the same paragraph that freedom of religion is a cornerstone of our nation’s laws.  According to the Governor, unencumbered as he is by facts or knowledge, Islam is a culture.  [Note to self:  wonder about the education systems in our country.]

Stop. Think. Vomit.

Now let’s move on to the audaciously hypocritical.  I have TWO things that rile me.

Gingrich

Jon Stewart is also spot-on about the outrageous things politicians will say just to sully an opponent’s record.  For example, Jon Stewart highlighted Newt Gringrich’s decrying Obama-Reid-Pelosi socialism in the same sentence that he touts zero capital gains tax in Communist China.  

Remember, Newt Gingrich famously shut down the ENTIRE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT because — his own words — he didn’t like that he was put in the back of Air Force One when a delegation of US leaders went to the funeral of assassinated Israeli Prime Minister Rabin.

Remember, too, that Newt Gingrich famously carried on an affair with a staffer while pushing the impeachment of then-President Clinton over lying about extra-marital sex.

Stop. Think. Worry that people will believe him.

Bush Tax Cuts: 

I think any responsible economist (and even those in the Bush Administration) would agree that tax cuts “don’t pay for themselves” and that tax cuts should only be effectuated in connection with reduced federal spending.  The Bush tax cuts were in fact followed by outrageous over-spending.  This is something that should have shocked the fiscal conservatives such as Sens. McCain, McConnell and DeMint, and Reps. Boehner and others, but apparently, not so much.  They voted on those spending bills.  Now we are supposed to trust them that they should be in charge?

Letting the Bush tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans lapse could reduce the deficit by $300 billion.  Do the wealthiest Americans really need help in this economic climate?  As one of least wealthy of the wealthiest Americans, going back to the Clinton Era tax structure will not make a material difference in my family’s life.  I imagine that those wealthier than I are not counting on the tax cut either to make ends meet or go on vacation or send their kids to school or whatever.

But, listen to the GOP leaders — they want to keep those cuts.  They are trying to fashion it as a tax “increase” for political gain.  Another step toward socialism, they suggest.

BUT IT COULD REDUCE THE CRIPPLING DEFICIT BY ONE THIRD OF A TRILLION DOLLARS.

Stop.  Think.  Worry even more that people will believe these clowns.

Are you wondering where the audacity of stupidity and the audacity of hypocrisy meet, join forces and become a near-nuclear threat?  Drum roll . . .

Sarah Palin

From Ben to Bust in 234 years

Benjamin Franklin, a rock star of his generation, said, when signing the Declaration of Independence, “United we stand, divided we fall.”  Our founding fathers and the colonies, united, defeated a great and mighty empire.

Throughout our brief yet notable history, the cities of our nation were known for the dog-eat-dog way that fellow citizens treated their neighbors, eschewing the cornerstone of religious faith, all the while claiming to be part of the most upright of Christian nations.  But, outside the cities (or so I would like to think), neighbors helped each other and generations of families lived together, all working to keep everyone afloat.  Maybe it is the romantic myth of the heartland.  But, I am buying it, lock, stock and barrel.

Today, we live in a society where people are more worried about their morning lattes than they are about ending our two wars, reducing our crushing debt and the stopping all politicking, all of which threaten to bankrupt out nation.

There is no silver bullet cure for our woes.

I heard today that people say that the Congress should not have saved the 300,000 teacher and firefighter jobs because their unions are too strong and teachers earn too much for doing too little.  Ok, so, make the unions feel some pain, but does that justify keeping the Bush tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans?  The illogic is frightening and delusional.

So the great experiment started in 1776 is rounding the drain because of greed and me-first-middle-and-last mind think.

Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I will forgo my Bush tax cut that I never wanted and didn’t need to pay for health care and to start reducing the deficit.

How about this:  we make giving up the tax cuts voluntary.  Just like the optional $1.00 gift to Wildlife Preservation (or is it public campaign finance?) on our tax forms.  Just put a line item on the 2010 tax return that says, “This is how much more you would pay if the Bush tax cuts lapsed.  Do you want to pay this amount (a) to reduce the deficit, (b) to pay for health care for the uninsured or (c) 50% to each?” and publish the list of people who contribute to these funds.

Maybe neighbors will embarrass neighbors into paying the money (because if you’re not on the list, either you’re selfish or you don’t make enough) or we have a pledge drive and use positive peer pressure.

Either way, Mr. President, I am with you for letting lapse the tax cut I never wanted and our nation couldn’t afford.

Post-Script to The Kids Are All Right

I recently ranted (what else is new) about the movie, “The Kids Are All Right,” the first film about a lesbian family to come out of a major movie producer (http://40andoverblog.com/?p=2559).

Apparently, for the under-30 crowd (and maybe my own age-group), the lesbian sex scene is not so bizarre.

Ok.  I get it, in every marriage, sometimes you need to change things up to keep it interesting, but I still stand by my lament: for the first major motion picture about lesbians and their kids, there couldn’t be a little romance?  It IS Hollywood, after all.  And it isn’t like the movie didn’t push the outer edge of the believability envelope in other ways.

How about throwing a bone to the hopeless romantics in the crowd who still love and adore their spouses?

Reagan insider says GOP destroyed the US Economy

This is so scary that I can’t even comment.  A must read.

Ok, I need to comment:  putting the GOP in charge again is like giving the lunatics the keys to the asylum.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Reagan Insider: ‘GOP Destroyed U.S. Economy’

by Paul B. Farrell Market Watch
Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Commentary: How: Gold. Tax cuts. Debts. Wars. Fat Cats. Class gap. No fiscal discipline

“How my G.O.P. destroyed the U.S. economy.” Yes, that is exactly what David Stockman, President Ronald Reagan’s director of the Office of Management and Budget, wrote in a recent New York Times op-ed piece, “Four Deformations of the Apocalypse.”

Get it? Not “destroying.” The GOP has already “destroyed” the U.S. economy, setting up an “American Apocalypse.”

Yes, Stockman is equally damning of the Democrats’ Keynesian policies. But what this indictment by a party insider — someone so close to the development of the Reaganomics ideology — says about America, helps all of us better understand how America’s toxic partisan-politics “holy war” is destroying not just the economy and capitalism, but the America dream. And unless this war stops soon, both parties will succeed in their collective death wish.

But why focus on Stockman’s message? It’s already lost in the 24/7 news cycle. Why? We need some introspection. Ask yourself: How did the great nation of America lose its moral compass and drift so far off course, to where our very survival is threatened?

We’ve arrived at a historic turning point as a nation that no longer needs outside enemies to destroy us, we are committing suicide. Democracy. Capitalism. The American dream. All dying. Why? Because of the economic decisions of the GOP the past 40 years, says this leading Reagan Republican.

Please listen with an open mind, no matter your party affiliation: This makes for a powerful history lesson, because it exposes how both parties are responsible for destroying the U.S. economy. Listen closely:

Reagan Republican: the GOP should file for bankruptcy

Stockman rushes into the ring swinging like a boxer: “If there were such a thing as Chapter 11 for politicians, the Republican push to extend the unaffordable Bush tax cuts would amount to a bankruptcy filing. The nation’s public debt … will soon reach $18 trillion.” It screams “out for austerity and sacrifice.” But instead, the GOP insists “that the nation’s wealthiest taxpayers be spared even a three-percentage-point rate increase.”

In the past 40 years Republican ideology has gone from solid principles to hype and slogans. Stockman says: “Republicans used to believe that prosperity depended upon the regular balancing of accounts — in government, in international trade, on the ledgers of central banks and in the financial affairs of private households and businesses too.”

No more. Today there’s a “new catechism” that’s “little more than money printing and deficit finance, vulgar Keynesianism robed in the ideological vestments of the prosperous classes” making a mockery of GOP ideals. Worse, it has resulted in “serial financial bubbles and Wall Street depredations that have crippled our economy.” Yes, GOP ideals backfired, crippling our economy.

Stockman’s indictment warns that the Republican party’s “new policy doctrines have caused four great deformations of the national economy, and modern Republicans have turned a blind eye to each one:”

Stage 1. Nixon irresponsible, dumps gold, U.S starts spending binge

Richard Nixon’s gold policies get Stockman’s first assault, for defaulting “on American obligations under the 1944 Bretton Woods agreement to balance our accounts with the world.” So for the past 40 years, America’s been living “beyond our means as a nation” on “borrowed prosperity on an epic scale … an outcome that Milton Friedman said could never happen when, in 1971, he persuaded President Nixon to unleash on the world paper dollars no longer redeemable in gold or other fixed monetary reserves.”

Remember Friedman: “Just let the free market set currency exchange rates, he said, and trade deficits will self-correct.” Friedman was wrong by trillions. And unfortunately “once relieved of the discipline of defending a fixed value for their currencies, politicians the world over were free to cheapen their money and disregard their neighbors.”

And without discipline America was also encouraging “global monetary chaos as foreign central banks run their own printing presses at ever faster speeds to sop up the tidal wave of dollars coming from the Federal Reserve.” Yes, the road to the coming apocalypse began with a Republican president listening to a misguided Nobel economist’s advice.

Stage 2. Crushing debts from domestic excesses, war mongering

Stockman says “the second unhappy change in the American economy has been the extraordinary growth of our public debt. In 1970 it was just 40% of gross domestic product, or about $425 billion. When it reaches $18 trillion, it will be 40 times greater than in 1970.” Who’s to blame? Not big-spending Dems, says Stockman, but “from the Republican Party’s embrace, about three decades ago, of the insidious doctrine that deficits don’t matter if they result from tax cuts.”

Back “in 1981, traditional Republicans supported tax cuts,” but Stockman makes clear, they had to be “matched by spending cuts, to offset the way inflation was pushing many taxpayers into higher brackets and to spur investment. The Reagan administration’s hastily prepared fiscal blueprint, however, was no match for the primordial forces — the welfare state and the warfare state — that drive the federal spending machine.”

OK, stop a minute. As you absorb Stockman’s indictment of how his Republican party has “destroyed the U.S. economy,” you’re probably asking yourself why anyone should believe a traitor to the Reagan legacy. I believe party affiliation is irrelevant here. This is a crucial subject that must be explored because it further exposes a dangerous historical trend where politics is so partisan it’s having huge negative consequences.

Yes, the GOP does have a welfare-warfare state: Stockman says “the neocons were pushing the military budget skyward. And the Republicans on Capitol Hill who were supposed to cut spending, exempted from the knife most of the domestic budget — entitlements, farm subsidies, education, water projects. But in the end it was a new cadre of ideological tax-cutters who killed the Republicans’ fiscal religion.”

When Fed chief Paul Volcker “crushed inflation” in the ’80s we got a “solid economic rebound.” But then “the new tax-cutters not only claimed victory for their supply-side strategy but hooked Republicans for good on the delusion that the economy will outgrow the deficit if plied with enough tax cuts.” By 2009, they “reduced federal revenues to 15% of gross domestic product,” lowest since the 1940s. Still today they’re irrationally demanding an extension of those “unaffordable Bush tax cuts [that] would amount to a bankruptcy filing.”

Recently Bush made matters far worse by “rarely vetoing a budget bill and engaging in two unfinanced foreign military adventures.” Bush also gave in “on domestic spending cuts, signing into law $420 billion in nondefense appropriations, a 65% percent gain from the $260 billion he had inherited eight years earlier. Republicans thus joined the Democrats in a shameless embrace of a free-lunch fiscal policy.” Takes two to tango.

Stage 3. Wall Street’s deadly ‘vast, unproductive expansion’

Stockman continues pounding away: “The third ominous change in the American economy has been the vast, unproductive expansion of our financial sector.” He warns that “Republicans have been oblivious to the grave danger of flooding financial markets with freely printed money and, at the same time, removing traditional restrictions on leverage and speculation.” Wrong, not oblivious. Self-interested Republican loyalists like Paulson, Bernanke and Geithner knew exactly what they were doing.

They wanted the economy, markets and the government to be under the absolute control of Wall Street’s too-greedy-to-fail banks. They conned Congress and the Fed into bailing out an estimated $23.7 trillion debt. Worse, they have since destroyed meaningful financial reforms. So Wall Street is now back to business as usual blowing another bigger bubble/bust cycle that will culminate in the coming “American Apocalypse.”

Stockman refers to Wall Street’s surviving banks as “wards of the state.” Wrong, the opposite is true. Wall Street now controls Washington, and its “unproductive” trading is “extracting billions from the economy with a lot of pointless speculation in stocks, bonds, commodities and derivatives.” Wall Street banks like Goldman were virtually bankrupt, would have never survived without government-guaranteed deposits and “virtually free money from the Fed’s discount window to cover their bad bets.”

Stage 4. New American Revolution class warfare coming soon

Finally, thanks to Republican policies that let us “live beyond our means for decades by borrowing heavily from abroad, we have steadily sent jobs and production offshore,” while at home “high-value jobs in goods production … trade, transportation, information technology and the professions shrunk by 12% to 68 million from 77 million.”

As the apocalypse draws near, Stockman sees a class-rebellion, a new revolution, a war against greed and the wealthy. Soon. The trigger will be the growing gap between economic classes: No wonder “that during the last bubble (from 2002 to 2006) the top 1% of Americans — paid mainly from the Wall Street casino — received two-thirds of the gain in national income, while the bottom 90% — mainly dependent on Main Street’s shrinking economy — got only 12%. This growing wealth gap is not the market’s fault. It’s the decaying fruit of bad economic policy.”

Get it? The decaying fruit of the GOP’s bad economic policies is destroying our economy.

Warning: This black swan won’t be pretty, will shock, soon

His bottom line: “The day of national reckoning has arrived. We will not have a conventional business recovery now, but rather a long hangover of debt liquidation and downsizing … it’s a pity that the modern Republican party offers the American people an irrelevant platform of recycled Keynesianism when the old approach — balanced budgets, sound money and financial discipline — is needed more than ever.”

Wrong: There are far bigger things to “pity.”

First, that most Americans, 300 million, are helpless, will do nothing, sit in the bleachers passively watching this deadly partisan game like it’s just another TV reality show.

Second, that, unfortunately, politicians are so deep-in-the-pockets of the Wall Street conspiracy that controls Washington they are helpless and blind.

And third, there’s a depressing sense that Stockman will be dismissed as a traitor, his message lost in the 24/7 news cycle … until the final apocalyptic event, an unpredictable black swan triggers another, bigger global meltdown, followed by a long Great Depression II and a historic class war.

So be prepared, it will hit soon, when you least expect.

Sunday night dinner with the family

As usual, SOB (sister of blogger), HOSOB (husband of blogger), DOB (dad of blogger), COB (cousin of blogger), POB (partner of blogger), Blogger and our son have dinner together at our house on Sunday nights.  Our son calls the crowd, the “Regulars” (as in, “[Blogger], are the Regulars coming over this weekend?”).  Often, after a funny story told by one of the assembled family, our son sometimes says to me, “[Blogger], why don’t you blog about that?” (Put that under the category of “Kids Say the Darndest Things”.)

Fresh Direct was scheduled to deliver groceries between 4pm and 6pm.  DOB came at 4pm; Fresh Direct came at 6pm.  In fact, as DOB ages, he is coming earlier and earlier.  I think that is why restaurants offer early bird specials — the elderly set factor in so much time to get where they are going that, even though they intend to eat dinner at 6:30pm, they arrive at the restaurant at 4:30pm.  So, if my rough calculations are correct, in just five short years, when DOB is 95, he will be showing up at brunch time.  So we will have to have new menu options by then.  Fair warning.

As I said, the Fresh Direct delivery came at 6pm.  In our house, we play FDF (Fresh Direct football), which means that I throw non-glass groceries to our son, who runs it into the kitchen where POB puts them away.  Sometimes, I follow in pursuit for a two-hand touch tackle.  For glass (and milk), I do a pass off and our son runs it in.  Less yardage but the quarterback can’t always pass.  Sometimes, the vegetables look a little mangled and bruised if the pass is incomplete, but it still tastes fine.  POB is unconvinced but keeps her opinions in the “if looks could kill” category.  That works because I just look away.

SOB and HOSOB were at the house while we were playing FDF and SOB was a guest quarterback for a few clutch plays.  I could tell she was a bit overwhelmed by the number of boxes and volume of foodstuffs that required cooking and preparing.  SOB and HOSOB have been married for only a few years and, before that, SOB mostly lived alone and out of prepared food cartons.  Even now, their refrigerator is a little post-apocalyptic (see http://40andoverblog.com/?p=2355 for pictures).

The expression on her face as she looked at the Fresh Direct boxes suggested that she found this somewhat foreign cultural activity charming and said to HOSOB pointing to the now empty boxes, “Groceries. [pause.]  Groceries.  We should have groceries, too!”  (Dear SOB, most people buy groceries.) 

HOSOB, looking a little scared, said “What would we do with them?”  Oh, sweet, HOSOB, you and SOB can do nothing with groceries.  You need to stick with what works — take-out.