Quote of the Day: “The moment is long overdue for us to become moral and worthy ancestors.” –Peter Peterson, billionaire co-founder of Blackstone Group who cashed in his chips at the high water mark of Wall Street’s heyday of excess
TB established the high wealth spending consulting service back in November, 2008. Thanks to the service, the ultra-wealthy need no longer worry about what to do with all their loot once they have obtained it. This is a good thing, because it has become evident that there is a disconnect for the wealthy between knowing how to make money and how to spend it in a fashion that is not idiotic. Are YOU super-wealthy? Not sure? If you have to ask, then yes. You are. Still not sure? If you are considering the purchase of Pontiac, Citigroup, or the next Ole Miss quarterback, you are. Contact TB at once.
I had hoped the widespread publicity of my November press release would be sufficient when combined with word of mouth from your fellow Polo Clubbers to alert you blue blooders (and/or nouveau riche) to the problem and to give you an alternative to wasting your fortunes. Unfortunately, the waste epidemic continues unabated. Case in point:
Peter Peterson was born some 83 years ago to loving, unimaginative parents. At some point he co-founded an outfit called the Blackstone Group that was involved in the world of Wall Street. He did well. In 2007, Peterson cashed out for more than a billion big ones. Well intentioned and thankful, Peterson soon determined to give away the bulk of his fortune. Newsweek Magazine got wind of this and jumped on the story, inviting Peterson to discuss his decision. It appears in the June 8, 2009 issue and is linked here.
(Insert pinky into side of mouth and read along with me…either side….DO IT NOW) One Bil,lll,lll,lllion Dollars. Givin it away! It’s beautiful! Think of all the good he can do. Maybe a cure for childhood cancer. Maybe a new national park. Maybe installing solar panels and wind turbines on low income housing. Maybe sending a mass email out that he’s giving away his money and all you have to do to get a cut is to forward the email to ten people and say, “Really, this is not a joke. It is true. I heard it from my favorite blogger, who is a lawyer so it has to be true. Well, not really my favorite blogger. But a blogger. On the internets.”
Sadly, no. He has established the unimaginatively named Peter Peterson Foundation. What the hell is the Peter Peterson Foundation?, you ask. According to the foundation’s website, they “are dedicated to doing our best to promote responsibility and accountability today in order to ensure more opportunity for everyone tomorrow.”
<all together now–BLANK STARE>
Where do I start? With a billion dollars, the first thing the foundation decided was its purpose–to encourage fiscal responsibility for American citizens and their government. Second–they came up with a snazzy name for their web domain, no doubt inspired by the example set by Peter Peterson’s folks long ago. www.pgpf.org They are non-partisan and support no political candidates. They plan to focus their efforts on the youth, ostensibly by developing new sports like Budgetball. Budgetball. Really, they have a lot of great goals–no freakin idea how to reach them, but in the broadest terms possible, great goals. I’m not going through them, you can look if you want. But here’s an example: they want health care reform that is meaningful and affordable. Awesome. How much of that billion is left Petey?
Peterson, Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, Oprah and a bunch of other billionaires recently met for a summit in New York on how they should dispose of their fortunes. Here’s the thing–they are all getting too cute. They are wasting the opportunity to make a difference in the world by supporting causes instead of supporting action. This Peterson thing is just the latest to make me scratch my head and stare blankly at the computer wondering how in the hell someone this damn stupid was able to make a billion freakin dollars. One can only hope the first item on the agenda at their summit was a motion to retain TB’s High Wealth Spending Consulting Service.
Quote of the Day: “A poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.” –W.H. Davies,from Leisure
I read today that fiscally conservative Republican United States Senators Thad Cochran and Roger Wicker were numbers one and two in the nation in bringing home earmarks to their home states. Mississippi, last in so many areas, kicks freakin ass when it comes to feeding at the pork barrel. To be fair, most of Wicker’s haul came as a hanger on to Thad’s money as he was but a co-requester. TB does not joke when he says he will vote for Thad as long as he stays in the Senate. I’m reminded for some reason of Thad’s statement to the press during the Republican primaries that the thought of John McCain as President sent a “cold chill” down his spine.
Watching the ocean this weekend and waiting for a storm to arrive, I was momentarily misdirected from my peaceful vacuity by this nugget from Fox News: obese smokers are 55% more likely to die than the rest of us.
A fearful thought occurred to me Sunday on Highway 98 near Mahned, Mississippi. Will I be excluded from crossing the threshold of paradise because I sometimes wonder if particular drivers with handicapped symbols (like wheelchairs or the word “Louisiana”) on their license plate got those plates due to their inability to keep their vehicle between the lines in the first place?
I wonder how many more Tonight Show hosts I’ve got before I must answer to St. Peter’s notes.
My gang loves IHOP. New on the menu is the Octo-mom omelet. It’s fourteen eggs, no sausage and the other customers pay the bill.
AIG.
TB finished school in 1995. From then until 2005 I was a single man with a little jingle in his pockets. I felt a lot richer than I was, and considering that I bought damn near anything I wanted, went where I wanted and gambled when I wanted, I guess I was pretty rich. But if I had only been a bit wiser with my money…..I would’ve bought more, gone further and gambled more recklessly.
Quote of the Day “so why don’t you shut up? You’re just a bitter old man.” –TB’s first and only words to the old coot to my right in this story
Old stories, more appropriate for telling over a beer or three in a bar or on a boat, are hard to recapture accurately in written words. But as doing so is not only one of the goals of this site, but the only way they can be communicated until I get a podcasting contract, that’s what you get.
It was back in about ought-one or so I guess. TB, Larry and Stone decided for some reason that a run over to Vicksburg’s showplace destination, the Rainbow Casino was in order. I swear, in a rush to get gambling money flowing the original Rainbow was little more than a double-wide trailer slapped upon an abandoned barge and sunk in the mud. It seemed like we were dodging cigarette butts, peanut shells and cow manure while threading our way between the Las Vegas Sands’ castoff slot machines. But TB was feeling it this night and determined to shoot some dice. I spied a suitable table over behind the compost heap, and while Larry disappeared to do whatever the hell it is Larry does, TB and Stone took up station at opposite ends of a three dollar minimum table.
As the dice went from person to person, I was “breaking even”, as the term is used vis a vis gambling. Stone was too. In fact Stone broke so even he had to sit out by the time the dice reached TB. A three dollar table, as any craps player knows, is a ripoff due to the poor odds you get on most bets. So TB went all out and played in five dollar units, one of only two players of about ten exceeding the minimums. The old coot to my right was playing with mostly c-note chips, and some 500 dollar chips. He’d been “breaking even” for quite awhile it seems. At any rate, the dice finally made it to TB and the fun began in earnest.
You know that feeling athletes call being in the zone? I was in the zone baby. I was making those freakin bones dance. I hit a point right off, then nailed a couple of 7′s and 11′s on the come out. I established another point and started hitting place bets and moving my bets slowly up. I hit a couple of more points and about that time I noticed the old coot next to me was starting to crowd me a little. I glanced over at his chips and saw he was playing the “don’t pass.” For those of you not clued in on craps, basically I was off to a good start, making a little money and the guy playing for a lot more money than me was betting against me instead of with me. It’s perfectly fine to do so, but is considered anti-social and the person is shunned by most players. What the old bastard was doing was trying to interfere with TB’s perfect (that night) form and rhythm because his stack of blacks was rapidly vanishing. There is absolutely no empirical evidence that once dice leave the hands of the thrower there is any way to control them. I know that to be true. But when I’m shooting, I don’t feel it to be true, and neither does anyone else, be it a monopoly player or a Vegas whale or the casinos themselves. I was making those dice hit exactly the same place on the table, bounce in to the precise point on the far wall at which I aimed and come down showing anything but a crap out. I was rocking back and forth in perfect harmony with the gods of luck, rubbing my hands together to keep them hot during the lulls. I was in the heart of the zone. The boat went to its first move with a hot shooter and changed the stick man, but to no avail.
After about 10 minutes of success, and the opposite result for the coot, I kicked in to high gear. Point after point, 7′s on the come out, hitting hard ways and parlays, and now the old coot was blowing cigarette smoke in my face and elbowing me in the ribs. It didn’t matter, I was taking the hits and making my throws like John Elway in the two minute drill on a cold day in Cleveland. The stick man changed again, and the dice got examined by the pit boss. The three dollar patrons were cheering my every move. Larry materialized from thin air, said something to which I responded, “get the hell away from me.” He got the hell away from me. The old coot started to cuss and I could see his spittle beginning to accumulate on the outside of my glasses. Another point, then another. The old coot asked for a marker for ten thousand. I looked up while they took care of his business and saw Stone, all two hundred seventy five pounds of him, pirouetting at the end of the table and high fiving a street bum with one of those beards that you can identify the individual hairs on and a watered down whisky and coke sloshing over onto the felt. Another point, and another and the old coot took another marker, then another. Stone’s dance moves threatened to upend the table, or maybe it was just a rogue Mississippi River wave or maybe it was the casino trying desperately to ruin my groove. But I was unstoppable.
Finally it was all over. For forty minutes the Rainbow and the old coot could not stop me, but the law of averages did catch up and allow them to contain me. My pitching arm was spent, rotator cuff inflamed, glasses irreparably smudged. I hadn’t breathed deeply the whole time. Stone was getting dizzy. My pile of reds were spilling off the table, climbing out of my pockets and protruding from my socks. The old coot wasn’t beaten though. He got in my face and berated me. “You stupid bastard!”, he wailed, you should’ve won at least ten thousand dollars on a roll like that. You don’t know what you’re doin!” For the briefest millisecond I considered his position. Any gambler feels remorse when its all over–either because he shouldn’t have bet, if he lost, or because he should’ve bet more if he won. But I felt the pleasing weight of all those plastic chips. My peripheral vision picked up Stone barreling over and through a throng of redneck humanity to get to me and slap my back and rub down my arm. Larry was peering out from a black jack table a couple of rows away waiting to see if it was safe for him to come back out. I would later find that I’d made nearly a thousand bucks, a lot of money for ole TB, then and now. I recovered my wits and reared like a grizzly after being hunched for so long and showed my size advantage and my glazed MD style crazy eyes to the old coot who immediately cowered beneath the table. “Listen you old coot! You could’ve bet with me and won fifty grand. That was damned stupid, so why don’t you shut up? You’re just a bitter old man.” It wasn’t the highlight of my retort career, but its what I said, and it was pretty satisfying at the moment. And the old coot shut up, beaten at last. And TB and a couple of his ARB’s went out to celebrate in style.
Bonus Quote of the Day “If I lose today, I can look forward to winning tomorrow and if I win today, I can look forward to losing tomorrow. A sure thing is no fun.” Chico Marx
Quote of the Day “Should you find yourself in a chronically leaking boat, energy devoted to changing vessels is likely to be more productive than energy devoted to patching leaks.” –Warren Buffett
They say the economy is tanking. For sure the stock market is, uh, tunk. I’m sanguine about the market’s prospects over the next twenty years, so I don’t let it bother me too much right now that my entire invested life savings would have been better allocated at 85% to a shoe box and 15% to even more wine, woman and song than I blew so much cash on in the first place. But I am getting more and more uneasy about the state of things to come.
It seems no one really understands the problem, least of all those tasked with addressing it, and that is what’s most frightening of all. The bailouts to the financial industry and auto industry are prime examples of problems too complex to appreciate. Most “folks” are against these handouts whether they consider themselves progressive or conservative but I’m not sure that they (we) understand the ramifications of the position. In Washington, the Dems and Bush are pushing the current bailout while the Republicans in Congress are opposing. I’m not sure if the Dems’ approach is wise, but as usual, I hear zero alternatives from the right, only opposition. The big problem with taking sides in this debate is that we cannot see the future, but rather must rely on the predictions of those who have lied to us so consistently for so long that we cannot be sure when they speak truly. This goes for both sides in DC. If the fall of the “Big Three” is allowed to happen and really leads to a million job losses, Richard Shelby and Bob Corker and all the Republicans are going to be ruined. But if Bush, Pelosi and Reid bail out the companies (and Obama come January) only to see them fail later or even fail to thrive soon, they will be finished. Part of me wants this bailout to fail just to see who’s right, for if it passes only the Republicans are covered politically while if it fails both parties are. Part of me wants to see it fail because it is another case of the public absorbing the risk for business while never sharing in the rewards. Part of me wants to see it fail because its another load of debt that will eventually be paid off by higher taxes on all of us. But part of me believes the doomsday scenario of massive job losses and the inevitable spreading and deepening of the recession/depression, possibly even to my very doorstep. That part of me leans toward keeping the Big Three afloat.
Of course the auto bailout is just a small part of the overall problem–remember that the financial industry bailout is a trillion vs 15 billion for the Big Three. The auto bailout they are talking about now is just for petty cash in comparison to the one in September. And that money has not been used as promised, to get banks lending to consumers again. If it were, the Big Three would be in less dire straits. The first bailout was based on lies from the Bush administration and incompetence from the leadership in Congress in believing Paulson et al’s lies and failing to legislate with specific mandates. I could go on and on on this subject but it gives me a headache. Basically, its a mess. And I don’t claim to have a firm understanding of all the threads in the web, much less how they interconnect.
Other than my retirement accounts, I have yet to feel the pinch personally, and I really don’t know anyone who is feeling it yet. I have read that Mississippi’s foreclosure rate is on pace to lead the nation (last no more!), so I guess I’m just insulated for the time being. I do, however, foresee plausible conditions that could really put my family in financial jeopardy. I’m concerned. For that reason I’m saving where I can, putting off big purchases and generally hoarding cash, all the while buying stock on the big drops. Am I approaching it wisely? I honestly don’t know. All I do is stare blankly–at my portfolio once every few days, or at the TV when the news comes on, or at the new million dollar neighborhood construction I see on the way to work every morning. I’m wondering what everyone else is doing, regardless of how they feel about the money being hemorrhaged up in Washington. Vote below on your state of mind and feel free to amplify on your vote in the comments.
Quote of the Day “What difference does it make how much you have? What you do not have amounts to much more.” –Seneca, 1st century Roman philosopher
Over the course of Third Week and Thanksgiving Holidays, TB had occasion to observe the spending habits of some wealthy folks. What I saw was as perplexing as it was astonishing. The rich really don’t know have a clue about how to effectively spend their money. They need help. They need a purchasing department. They need TB’s years of experience in the fields of yearning, avarice and envy to better capitalize on their good fortunes. Here are some of the heartbreaking examples of the plight these people face at which I’ve marvelled over the last several days:
A southern man transplanted to New York City likes to travel and likes to return to Mississippi quite often. He flies in to Memphis on commercial airlines and rents a car to drive to his home, purchased in recent years for money that could’ve put him slopeside in Colorado. For just a small amount more, in relative terms, TB could put him in that slopeside condo, get him a nice place in Mississippi and buy him a part interest in a private airplane. The investments would have greater long term value than his current spending provides, and the time savings alone would make the airplane worthwhile. TB could get all this done in exchange for a couple of weeks usage of that Colorado real estate and a few sky rides to get me there. I even have leads on a couple of pilots he could hire at a discount rate.
A professional athlete, also residing in New York City, likes to go out on the town. As a well known and sometimes controversial personality, he’s aware that he could be accosted from time to time. So he buys a gun and carries it with him to the club. Yadda yadda yadda, his leg gets a hole in it and his pro career may be down the drain. While there’s not much I can do for this particular ig-no-ramus, I can help others similarly situated. I figure a pro football salary for someone in actual danger of being recognized is around three million a year, not counting endorsements. For about two hundred grand a year, TB will buy your gun for you. Then I’ll put it in the hands of someone who is not a mo-ron and pay them to follow your sorry ass valuable assets around town. As a bonus, I can probably get you a good deal on a condo rental in either Colorado or Mississippi.
This one may be my favorite. It happens all over the country, but I’ve been closely following the situation involving Mississippi State’s football team. The Bulldogs found themselves in the position of needing to say goodbye to their football coach. As a fan of the Bullies, I was pleased to hear that some wealthy fan, or small group of fans, decided to put up enough money (3 million dollars) to buy out the fired coach’s contract. And to get a new coach, they’ve guaranteed the athletic director another couple of million a year for the next ten years or so. But as a “high wealth spending consultant” I have to say, “are you out of you’re freakin mind?” Hey I get it. It sucks to have a bad football team. It really sucks to lose 45-0 to Ole Miss. And its gonna really suck if you have to do it all over again in five years. There has got to be a better way to spend your money. Setting aside the millions of ways to spend your millions that make more sense than being obsessed over a low level college football program (as your “high wealth spending consultant” I’m trained to indulge your eccentricities), you’re strategy is far too simplistic. There’s a better way to direct your largesse. Go ahead and sell a little more GM stock, or outsource a couple hundred more jobs to China, or do whatever the hell it is you do to raise petty cash, and give me the jack you’d normally be spending on the next buyout. With that, I’m going to buy season tickets for about 5000 people who live in places like Batesville, Meridian and Tupelo. This is going to help your team’s home field advantage, reputation, and presence in key talent rich communities and could potentially lead to a bigger stadium to go along with that 6 million dollar scoreboard you just bought (oh how I could’ve helped you with that money). All those folks will buy their own chickens-on-a-stick so the program will generate additional revenue on its own. With the rest of your buyout money, I’m gonna hire a team of gun-totin baby-sitters to follow around your team’s prima donnas scholar athletes to keep them out of trouble and on the field. This alone should ensure no more defeats to the likes of Louisiana Tech and Maine. Throw in another million or two and I’ll make Stark Vegas glitter. Have you seen all the celebs that hang out at USC games? Think recruits don’t dig that? Look, everybody loves seeing Harvey Hull and his maroon blazer wearing brethren being honored before gametime. But the kids, and you’ll have to trust me on this one, would be a little more impressed with someone a little more famous with the under 70 crowd, a lot younger, a lot prettier, and with a lot less clothes. I’ll use those bonus funds to get some starlets on the sidelines. Hell I bet Brittany Spears and her kid sister would do it on the cheap.
As anyone who’s not rich can attest, the wealthy need help. They need more imagination and innovation, apparantly having used up their allotment attaining wealth in the first place. They need Travellinbaen’s High Wealth Spending Consulting Service. Won’t you help them? TB’s always here.
Quote of the Day “If I had a million dollars, I’d buy you a green dress; but not a real green dress, that’s cruel.” Barenaked Ladies
TB thought it would be a good idea to lighten the mood a bit heading in to tomorrow’s pickem post. Plenty of politics are down below if you’re up for the discussion. But in today’s hard economic times, I love to play the “what would I do with a million bucks game.” Here are the rules–none of it is taxed, none of it can be saved or invested, and none of it can go to charity, friends or family, TB excluded. Your job is secure, and you don’t have to work until the money is gone. You’ve got one year, spend away. Here’s my budget:
Buy that convertible I’ve been waiting for all these years. About 60 grand will get me all I want and more. That leaves 940K.
Tahiti, Bora Bora, Raratunga, and whatever other little Pacific Islands I can find. RMac might be able to help me choose. This I’m doing first class all the way–100K sounds right, leaving 840.
I gotta go skiing. A lot. One trip to Steamboat for the January Music Festival that CCR and REK always play, a trip to Whistler, one in the Alps and one down in South America. No need to go overboard on these, but I’ll spend about 10K on each trip, leaving me with 800.
When I get to South America, I’ll stay awhile. I’ll rent a villa, hire a consigliere to get me around and teach me the language and I’ll see Macchu Pichu at dawn. I don’t know how American currency is holding up down South, but I figure 100K would do the trick, so I’ve still got 700. It occurs to me at this point that having a million bucks to spend would be even sweeter than I first thought.
I’ve always wanted to drive cross country, so in mid-spring I’ll hop in the convertible and go. First west until I have to stop, then up the Pacific Coast Highway to the border, then across the northern mountains, the Great Plains and eventually to Maine. By then I’ll be sick of the car so I’ll get someone to drive it back to Mississippi and I’ll hop on a plane. Fifty grand ought to be plenty for what I have in mind, so I’m down to 650 and I’ve already done most of my travel fantasies–but not all.
It’s time to cruise to the Galapagos and see what all the fuss is about. Ten thousand will be plenty, and that will take care of my immediate travel wishes, with 640 burning a whole in my pocket.
I want a high def TV and I keep putting it off. So I’ll get 4. Big ones. And pay somebody to come hang them on the walls and make them work. Five more grand spent and 635 to go.
I really need a wheelbarrow to help me get the yard cleaned up. I think I’ll add a team of Mexican laborers to actually clean it. But I get to keep the wheelbarrow (pronounced wheelbarrel). That should set me back a C-note, so its now $634,900.00.
Jimmy Buffett plays a concert in Ridgeland. I’d like to make it free and invite the public, but that would smack of philanthropy, so it’ll just have to be in my back yard with a few invited guests. Jimmy’s gettin old. I ought to be able to make this happen for under a 100.
When you have a million and you are from Pascagoula there is one thing about which you have no choice. You gotta buy a boat. A big one. That’s where the rest of the money goes, save a bit for fishing gear and a couple of cases of beer. The rest of you Goula boys (and girls), I’ll see y’all out at Horn Island once you get your boats picked out.
Quote of the Day “Horse sense is the thing a horse has that keeps it from betting on people.” –W.C. Fields
Welcome to the Premier Pick’em Game on the Worldwide Web.
You may be asking yourself, “why should I participate in this silly pick’em game?” My answer: you don’t really have anything better to do, right? Actually, there is also the pride of a wild guess made good, the ability to see your success published internationally and read by literally several people, and the potential for some mystery reward. TB has a couple of ideas. You can be certain the reward will have little to no intrinsic value, much like the American dollar. And if you were paying attention to the playlists last week, you got some real gems to add to your collection, be it on the ipod or cassette tape. Many of you collected on the music bonus last week, but the tune of the week had to go to Ed for his back story, linked live performance, appropriateness, and quality. All the others were so close that no tiebreakers were needed, though special thanks go out to Larry for contributing two new songs to my library. I hope ya’ll are enjoying the music sharing as much as I am, from the current to the oldies to the sublime and the ridiculous.
Here’s how it went down last week. Gripe if you want, but I’m awarding TB the first place 50 points for picking USM correctly as POTW, going 3-1-1 on the bonus picks, and choosing songs I definitely like. I took a tie on Georgia’s victory, even though the line went down before game time and I would’ve won (and did elsewhere) with that extra half point shaved off. I credited those of you who took the same game with the line as it stood when you made the pick. Two weeks in a row, TB’s on a roll. Rock Star was second with a very close NC State victory and an appropriately timed and rockin atom-smashing playlist. Supercynic took third with a winning POTW, 2-1 bonus record and a seasonal selection by Better than Ezra. Feidt’s Follies next with a POTW, 3-2 bonus, and odd choice of Patsy Cline–are you mocking the game Fido? I’ll be watching you.Stone regained a bit of respectability with a POTW and good list. RMac hit her second POTW in as many tries, and is obviously uninterested, though maybe she can find enough humor here to bring her back. Sweet was right on their heels with a POTW, 1-0, a timely Michigan retraction, and his Culture Club DVD. JLM was the last to get her POTW, though it was done outside the blog. Ed tied his POTW, along with MD (2-1 on bonus). POTW losers, with their bonus picks in parentheses were Larry, BR (2-0), TKH (3-2), Fig E (2-2-1), and OB in last place (1-4) though he was obviously hampered by Hurricane Ike. Smiley went 3-1 without choosing a POTW and Zeek jumped in early this week and gets a single point just for the hell of it. All you POTW losers get kudos for your tunes as well, even Smiley for his PHS carpooling song shout-out.
Here are the standings:
Fig–112
TB–95
Rock Star–65
Supercynic–56
Ed–53
RMac–52
Feidt’s Follies–45
OB–42
JLM–37
Sweet–30
Larry–25
MD–15
BR–13
TKH–11
Smiley–9
Stone–8
Zeek–1
New players are always welcome. With heavy emphasis on nailing your POTW and backing it up with some good tunes, the standings can change fast. It’s 50 points for the weekly winner, dropping quickly to 40, 35, 30, then a lot of close scores from 29 down. No negative points this week and everybody’s Back in Black.
Quote of the Day “When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” Franklin D. Roosevelt
The U.S. Government this week “bailed out” the largest insurance company in the United States, AIG, to save it from bankruptcy. “Bailed out” is another word for “bought.” For the record, government ownership of business or industry is a basic tenet of socialism or social democracy, which sounds better. This act was undertaken by the Republican administration of George Bush. And TB is glad they did it.
I was listening just now to Senator Byron Dorgan who was called in to an emergency meeting with several congressional leaders of both parties. They were not asked, but were told what was to transpire. They were told the purchase was necessary because the failure of AIG would likely have sent our entire economy into depression and led to the failure of numerous large and small banks. They were told a failed AIG would result in numerous mutual fund collapses as the company is a top ten holding in numerous funds. And they were told a bankrupt AIG would lead to the collapse of several very large industrial companies. Dorgan wouldn’t name them, but I suspect GM and Ford would be among these names. Before I get to the guide, take a moment and consider that we were, and maybe are, on the precipice of a true Depression. I can’t even wrap my mind around the idea–it sounds alarmist and impossible. But so too did warnings of impending terrorist attacks before 9-11 and warnings of catastrophic storm surge before Katrina.
This post isn’t about blame, though you should not be surprised that I have emphatic opinions on where it lies. No, if we sink into Depression we will care much less about blame than we will about survival and recovery. I’ve put at least ten minutes of thought into these suggestions, so print this post and keep it handy if all hell breaks loose (you’ll not be able to access it online after that, probably).
New career opportunities will abound in the field of hobo-ing. You should find a good stick, a red bandana, a hip flask and a Jed Clampett hat right away so you’ll be ahead of the crowd. Store these where you keep your terrorist attack duct tape. You can use that to tape up the toes of your walking boots.
Start hoarding crackers and sugar packets from restaurants. I don’t know what you will do with these, but anyone who’s grandmother lived through the Great Depression knows it’s important to have lots of crackers and sugar packets saved up.
Buy a jalopy. When you get evicted from your house you are going to need a vehicle suitable for stacking your rocking chair, HDTV, 48 pack Igloo and sack of crackers on top while still keeping enough room for at least 8 people. All the Mexicans are already in California, so instead of west, drive south to look for migrant worker employment. From what I hear on Lou Dobbs, there shouldn’t be many folks left down Mexico way.
Figure out what you have that can be bartered. People are going to be pawning all their good stuff so you should keep your HDTV and Xbox 360 as forms of cash. Let people watch ballgames and play “The Force Unleashed” in exchange for things like beer and crackers to go on your jalopy.
Learn how to make moonshine.
Go ahead now and start being real nice to the ladies at your local Chinese buffet. And save those fortunes so you can learn a bit of the language.
Work on your sad sack story. Here’s how mine starts out: “Back in ought-eight I was practicing law in courtrooms with running water and ever-thang. Used to wear a two-piece suit ever-day. Folks considered me a real gentleman. I gotta mind to get back in that game if I can ever catch a lucky break. Say mister, you wanna share this sugary cracker with me? I’ll tell ya all about it.”
Find some good recipes for chili, stew, gopher and beans.
Put lots of Woody Guthrie tunes on your Ipod.
Re-think your old assumptions about macroeconomics. It’ll make for stimulating conversation as you bounce around the country in your jalopy or as you sit around a freight yard campfire over a plate of beans. It could impress your new South American overseer or your local communist Chinese overlord that you should get a little extra gopher in your stew since you might be worth saving from starvation. And if you do it soon enough, it might even make this list unnecessary.
Ahhhhh, sweet redemption. TB knocked it out of the park last weekend boys and girls. Four and one in my regular picks and a sweet “lose-but-cover” pick of the week by my Ole Miss Rebels (sorry Rebel fans, if my school didn’t suck so bad I wouldn’t mind so much that ya’ll are looking good). And two of my three underdog picks not only covered but won their games straight up. There’s a good chance I won’t have another week as good, so I need to get in my gloating now–so bear with me for a minute and if you know me picture a very smug TB for the next five seconds (if you don’t know me think Bill Clinton’s smirk). Fig and OB, you are invited to join in the gloatacious revelry.
Gloat
Gloat
Smirk
Gloat
Ok, enough of that. Let’s go to the scoreboard. In addition to my good week, Fig E and OB went 4-1 and nailed their POTW. Fig gets his second weekly win (tied with me) by virtue of Florida’s running it up field goal and another solid playlist, backed up by a nice scheduling and arenas comment. RMac joined the game and showed mid-season form with her Tulane pick and anti-Bush musical selection. Rock Star edges out Local Man and JLM by naming a POTW and putting up a nicely themed playlist. Local’s playlist edged him ahead of JLM though JLM made it close with a sweet hair band pair of tunes, and they both went 4-1. But I never saw one labeled the POTW for these two, so that hurt their score. Larry went 2-3 but nailed his POTW and had a playlist in TB’s sweet spot. Sweet’s next with a winning POTW, followed by SC who got the POTW but went 0-3 on his bonus choices. Ed comes next for following directions well and providing another thematic and historically significant tune. BR’s Cult of Personality gave him the nod over TKH even though his 1-2 record was worse than TKH’s 3-2. They both lost their big game. MD went 1-1 but got mauled in his POTW and inexplicably didn’t throw out some Metallica for us. Stone was flat out horrible–a very weak effort. And Smiley was missing in action.
Here are the current standings: Fig–100; TB–45; OB–32; Ed–31; RSR–25; RMac–25; SC–21; Local–15; JLM–14; Larry–10; Sweet–5; BR–(-)1; Smiley–(-1); TKH–(-)2; MD–(-)5; Stone–(-20)
And now, the picks:
UCLA +8
NC State +18′
Georgia -7
Ga Tech -7′
Tulane +12′
Pick of the Week — USM +1′
Some celebratory tunes this week
Jamming–Bob Marley
A Little Respect–Erasure
Shake Em On Down–North Mississippi Allstars
Superman–REM
The Pascagoula Run–Jimmy Buffett
Note–new entrants in to the POTW contest are always welcome. Even TJ.
Quote of the Day “It’s clearly a budget. It’s got a lot of numbers in it.” George W. Bush
Paul B. Farrell is a financial columnist with over 1000 articles to his credit. He appears regularly on all of the major news networks as an expert in his field. He has authored four books, worked as executive vice president for Financial News Network and was an investment banker with Morgan Stanley. This is all I can find out about him, but it seems enough to be satisfied he’s a capitalist. Here is a link to his article A Nation of Warmongers on marketwatch.com.
You can read it for yourself if you’re interested, but here are just a few of the assertions in it that TB finds meaningful:
Americans spend 54% of their tax dollars on the military. This figure represents 47% of the total military spending of the entire world. Is it really necessary to spend that much? If we cut it down to 40% of the budget, what could we do with that money? Many people who call themselves Conservative because they believe in balanced budgets and restrained government size and spending are deluding themselves if they think their goals can be met while continuing to fund the military at these levels. And TB believes in having the strongest military in the world, believes that our military personnel deserve support, and even believes that its necessary to use them on occasion. Wisely. But clearly, an inordinate proportion of our national resources is devoted to war.
Farrell also asks why it is necessary to spend over $200 Billion on no-bid private war contractors numbering 180,000–more personnel than the entire allotment of enlisted soldiers in Iraq. This is where a big chunk of that unnecessary military spending is being wasted. Remember Gomer Pyle having to do KP duty? Wouldn’t happen in this day and age because a contractor peels the potatoes. And gets a lot of cabbage to do it. There are also a bunch of Blackwater employees carrying guns and expecting immunity from prosecution when they misuse them. And making our actual soldiers look bad far too often–these dudes ain’t building schools and hospitals.
Finally, Farrell asks why the President and party (and he didn’t mention McCain, but should have) associated with “supporting our troops” opposed passage of a new GI bill. He should also have asked why the same group has let health care for wounded vets be conducted in rat infested, overcrowded hospitals. If it were me, I’d just as soon do without their so-called “support.”
If you’re a die hard Republican who can’t figure out why TB went off the reservation and joined up with the lefties, read this article. Even if you decide its all BS, it will at least give you a good idea of why TB and so many others are fed up with the neo-cons.
