The fun here is not in the picture but in the dialog that preceded it.

From left to right, these are my new best friends Gabrielle, Keith, Bill and Deb.  I met them at Buddy Guy’s on New Year’s Eve.  Bill and Deb were sitting at a stage side-table that had three extra chairs.  They kindly offered to let my wife and me take two of them.  Later on, Gabrielle came over and asked Bill if she could sit in the last chair.  And a little while after that, as Keith was working his way across the room to join her, she turned to Bill and the following conversation took place between them (this is reasonably close. . .remember, it was New Year’s Eve).

“Would you care if we share?”

“Would we care?”

“Yes! Would you care?”

“What would you share?”

“We would share this chair!”

“You would share the chair?”

“We would share the chair!”

“We would not care if you share the chair!”

For those paying close attention, I am also happy to report that Mr. Brown is out of town.

And moving on. . .  I saw this scene in Chicago’s Grant Park garage.  Can I be forgiven for being a bit confused about which way to go?

I grew up near bona fide mountains, so maybe I’m a snob.  Even so, I’m thinking oxymoron here.

Speaking of oxymoron. . .

I would love to see Thanksgiving at this family’s house.  Actually, I’d love to celebrate Thanksgiving at their house.

This is what I’ve been waiting for.  A toilet seat that’s smarter than I am.  Thank God for my Costco membership.

This label is from a garment that I can only assume was intended for single-use.  (You may notice a reference to “the beaded area.”  I swear it’s not my garment.)

This is the one picture on the page that I didn’t take.  I wish I knew who did so I could give them credit.  My friend Steve Smolinsky sent it to me with the subject line “Occupy Wall Street Explained in One Picture.”  I think this poor girl’s problem is that she simply wasn’t specific enough about her area of interest.

This is a serious case of cyber-teasing.  Only one bar AND a chastity belt.

And finally. . .in 2010, I both wrote enough about Canada Geese (reminder, zillions of Canada Geese here and none in Canada; I smell a Canadian plot) that my friend Andy Rockwood took me to task for it.  So no geese this year.  But I can’t stray too far from home.  I took this picture the Sunday before Christmas, about 10 minutes before the local CompUSA store opened.  Standing in front was. . .wait for it. . .

. . .a gaggle of geeks.

Of course, you might ask what I was doing there.

Happy New Year to all.  May 2012 be the year of your dreams.

I can’t help but like Newt.  He’s your rumpled uncle with an elfish grin (unlike Ron Paul, the dyspeptic uncle who shows up and ruins your Thanksgiving).  I like the way he pontificates on a wide range of subjects, regardless of how much he does or doesn’t know about them.  More important, he’s a genuine visionary, and I love his insistence on looking at old, serious problems in new, unconventional ways.  We need that, desperately.

This is not to say I think Newt should be President.  Like most visionaries, he has no filter to help him know which of the ideas he constantly generates is fantastic and which is foolish.  And visionaries tend to make lousy leaders.  Remember, the one time he was actually in a leadership role, he got a lot done and got fired for it.  He’s also a trifle self-absorbed, and he has a certain talent for self-destruction.  With Newt in the lead, the questions are (were?) whether he will spontaneously combust before or after the nomination (or election), and which would be worse.

Mitt has more of a problem.  If he were a rapper, we’d call him “25 Percent” because that’s as high as he’s gone and may be as high as he’s going.  Mitt has a trust problem.  He can’t engender it.  It doesn’t help that he’s a Mormon in a party with a big Evangelical base (see previous post).  But he has two bigger problems.  One is that he’s changed positions enough times to make a porn star blush.  This calls for sincere, compelling, understandable and believable explanations, which he has not been able to deliver.  A 59-point economic plan makes this worse, not better.

His other problem is The Smile.  Mitt’s default expression is the kind of smile people wear at cocktail parties that they wish they weren’t attending.  People who know him consistently describe him as sincere, engaging, funny and inspiring, but you wouldn’t know it to watch him in public.  This makes him 2012′s Al Gore.  The Smile is a learned behavior that is undoubtedly subconscious at this point in his life.  It likely makes him feel like he’s being friendly and approachable.  Unfortunately, the message it sends to everyone else is that he can’t be trusted.  Humans can smell insincerity from a mile away, the same way dogs smell fear.  The brain’s subconscious reaction to facial expressions and body language that don’t fit the circumstances is, more or less, “You’re lying.”  In this situation, perhaps it’s a slightly gentler “You have no core.”  This is probably not true of Mitt, but he sure comes across that way.  For a guy who already has a lot to explain, that’s a big handicap, one that may well turn out to be fatal.

Around the time of this debate, I bet a friend of mine a steak dinner that Barack Obama will be reelected.  This is a matter of prediction, not preference.  As I watch the Republican nomination process unfold, I’m not becoming more optimistic about my children’s future.  I am, however, licking my chops.

When I started writing this blog, I swore that I would never discuss religion because I want to share insights without offending.  The not-so-good Reverend Jeffers has moved me off the dime.  (I also swore I wouldn’t take a public political position, but that may change, too.  I have discussed sex, but only in the context of being felt up at airports.)

So here goes the religious discussion:

Mormonism strikes me, and most people I know who aren’t Mormons, as pretty silly.  Its greatest miracle is that the golden plates from which Joseph Smith supposedly received his revelation disappeared before anyone other than one carefully selected accomplice could see them.  It doesn’t help that Smith was a convicted con man.  His particular swindle was divining, which he did by putting three stones into an opaque hat, sticking his head in, and claiming that the stones glowed and told him where the water was.  He received the Book of Mormon by sticking the same stones and the same head into the same hat.

This isn’t to say that Mormons are silly.  To the contrary, the ones I’ve known have been unfailingly, almost frighteningly nice and have been guided by a strict moral code.  Many have been great leaders and business people.

The reality is that the only reason Mormonism strikes we non-Mormons as silly is that it’s founding events occurred recently enough for us to have sufficient perspective on them to encourage doubt.  The same can’t be said for any of the other great religions, the foundings of which are separated from us by the Dark Ages and more.

And this gets us (well, me) to the problem with religion.  Religion would be great if it weren’t for the part that involves belief.  More specifically, the problem is exclusivity of belief – the conviction that since my belief is right, yours must be wrong.

My daughter recently did a paper on the sources of mass injustice.  In our discussion about it, what emerged was the notion that mass injustice occurs as the result of a dominant ideology that holds non-adherents to be less worthy than adherents, which makes them marginally less than human, which makes it OK to denigrate, abuse and even slaughter them.  Sadly, religion, which has the potential to do so much good, takes many people down this path (cf. “Jeffers”).

Belief is certainty in things not seen.  This isn’t easy, so every religion has stories of people seeing and believing (cf. “Doubting Thomas”).  But there’s a problem.  In the cold light of day, there is absolutely no basis for believing the mythology of one religion and denying the mythology of the others.  How can you say that Jesus was resurrected and is seated at the right hand of the Father, and simultaneously deny that Mohammed made it from Mecca to Jerusalem overnight (unless he, too, was felt up at an airport) and ascended to heaven from the Temple Mount?  They all have the same factual basis, which is thin at best.

These are the mythologies of religion, and are best separated from the moral codes and imperatives, which are remarkably similar across all of the major faith traditions.  All of the great religions teach some form of the Golden Rule – compassion, generosity, caring for others.

They also teach humility.  The core of humility is the deep, profound, fully internalized knowledge that you might be wrong.    The antithesis of humility is pride, which is clearly proscribed by Christian and other scripture.  It would be nice if devout adherents to religious creed would find it in themselves to remember that they believe but do not know, which makes them just as befuddled as everyone else.

Despite the impression I may have created, I envy people of great faith.  They find in it a comfort and source of guidance that I don’t have.  The best among them are both humble and generous in spirit.  My friend Bill T is a shining example.  He is a devout Christian.  His faith motivates him to do a tremendous amount of good in the world, more than I’ll ever accomplish.  He holds his faith dear, but would never tell anyone who disagrees with him that they are wrong.  I see this in his relationship with my daughter, to whom he is a mentor.  She has chosen to embrace the Jewish part of her heritage.  He sees her for who she is, genuinely loves her for who she is, privately hopes that she might migrate to his view of the world, and still has the humility to keep that hope to himself.  He will not impose, and he encourages her to find her way in the world.

This is religion well embraced.  The Reverend Jeffers’ of the world would do well to take note and to emulate.

Having said the above, I may as well state my own creed.  I don’t pretend to know if there is a god who made me.  If there is, he made me to be a person who isn’t able to know if he exists.  I’m OK with that uncertainty.  What I do know is that if there is a god, he made sure that pretty much everyone got the message about caring, compassion and generosity, so that’s what I figure he cares about. And that’s how I try to live my life.  I fail, completely and utterly, but I try, and I hope that my trying is enough.

Wrapping up. . .the Dr. Jeffers thing reminds me of an old joke.  A cardinal rushes into the Pope’s chambers and exclaims breathlessly, “I have wonderful news and really bad news!”  The Pope asks for the good news, and the cardinal says, “Jesus is on the phone.  He wants to talk to you!”  The Pope exclaims, “That’s incredibly good news!  What bad news could there possibly be?”  To which the cardinal replies, “He’s calling from Salt Lake City.”

We like jokes because they hold little bits of truth.

Seattle now has full-body scanners.  This is the first time I’ve encountered them.  Here is my story:

Before the first checkpoint (ID and boarding pass), a recorded voice on the PA announced that if I didn’t want to go through the scanner, I could opt for the “enhanced pat-down.”  I’ve heard lots of complaints about this, and I have to say that I don’t understand them.  The way I see it, I get to choose between having someone take naked pictures of me or getting felt up by a stranger.  Decisions, decisions.  I always thought the fun part of travel was reaching your destination.  It turns out the journey really is its own reward.

Actually, I won the Daily Double.  I inadvertently left a few coins in my pocket when I went through the scanner, so I got the picture AND the pat-down.  About the latter, I can only say that I had no idea the words “Sir, we have to clear your right leg” could be so meaningful or that I would ever be tempted to use the words “conjugal” and “airport” in the same sentence.

The best part of the experience, however, was the TSA video that played over and over while we were snaking through the security line.  Here’s what the voice-over said (as always, please remember my rule – I never make this stuff up because I’m just not that good):

“This airport is now equipped with full-body scanners, which are designed to detect metallic and non-metallic objects that may be hidden beneath the passenger’s clothes.  We do everything possible to ensure your privacy.  The officer who helps you through the scanner never sees your image, and the officer who examines the image never sees you.  All images are completely and permanently deleted immediately after they are examined.   As a further step to insure your privacy, the images are blurred. . .”

That, my friends, is your tax dollars at work.

That said, I think I’ve solved two of America’s most compelling problems.

I was just listening to a radio retrospective on the career of Bob Dylan, who will turn 70 in a month or two.  His music career mostly behind him, he needs something respectable to do in this later stage of his life.

Meanwhile, Aflac is searching for a new voice for their spokesduck.  After their recent experience with Gilbert Gottfried, I’m sure they’d love to have someone with a social conscience.  (Cheap shot #2 – while typing this I accidentally transposed two letters in Gilbert’s last name and it came out Gottfired.  Really.  Remember my rule – I don’t make this stuff up.)

Dylan-Aflac.  A perfect fit?  I think so.  And if not, this worth it just for the opportunity to write something that includes the word “spokesduck.”  I’m not above that, either.

I don’t know these people, but as a guy who hates to hang Christmas lights, I love them.

Here’s the house to their left (The Joneses, I hope).

It’s been a tough couple of years in retailing, but I don’t think it was tougher on anyone than it was on these guys.

Perhaps things would have gone better for these guys if they’d been psychics instead of hair removers.

There’s a wine and cheese shop in Tillamook, Oregon, whose sign used to read, “Wine Tasting.  Kids Welcome.”  The “Kids” part undoubtedly referred to the petting zoo out back, but the sign spoke for itself.  Sadly, it’s gone now, but it’s spirit lives on at this place, which gives new meaning to the concept of family dining.  (The signs in the windows are hard to make out, but as you might guess, they’re invitations from the Adams and Miller families.)

A few months ago, I groused about the Canada Geese that overrun our open spaces instead of Canada’s.  Here’s a mild day on our local golf course (about as light a day as we have goose-wise, but the only day I managed to take a picture).

Of course, golf is life, so we also get humbling moments like this (what you can see here is bad enough; what you can’t see is that the tree is directly between the ball and the pin, but 179 yards closer – and if you can’t find my ball, you and I have a lot in common) . . .

. . .and moments like this which fill me, anyway, with wonder and awe.

I wish you a Healthy, Happy and Prosperous 2011.

That trip to Seattle, which is where I grew up, had me standing in the security line at what was once my home airport.  And that took me back to Thanksgiving Eve of 1971.  That night, we were all glued to the radio as a man later known to the world as D.B. Cooper hijacked a Northwest Airlines 727, forced it to land in Seattle, collected $200,000, made the plane take off, and then leapt into both oblivion and history.

That was the event that brought metal detectors to airports.  There is a direct line starting with Cooper that extends through people who were crazy enough to hijack planes in order to get INTO Cuba, then through the Lockerbie bombers and 9/11.  It ends, at least for now, with that Nigerian knucklehead who got arrested last Christmas because he clearly misunderstood what those spam emails meant when they suggested that he should “put some dynamite in his underwear.”

The espoused purpose of terrorism is to inspire terror.  On that count, the people on this dishonor roll have failed.  I’m certainly not terrified to fly – at least no more than any of us should be by the prospect of climbing into an aluminum tube and going six miles up in the sky.  What I am is weary.  Air travel used to be exciting.  Now it’s a pain in the ass.  The people who made it so have failed at their effort to become terrorists.  Based on the feeling they actually inspire, what they are is pain-in-the-ass-ists.  Let’s applaud them for their accomplishment.

Years ago, I heard an interview with Mel Brooks in which he was asked how he justified wrapping “The Producers” around the fictitious musical “Springtime for Hitler.”  His answer, more or less, was that one of the best ways to deal with evil is to recognize it for what it is, and then laugh in its face.

In that context, I would like to recognize and applaud the TSA team at Milwaukee’s Mitchell Airport, who put this sign up at the back end of the security area.

Clearly, they’ve got their heads screwed on straight.

According to the Wall Street Journal, the NBER goes on to “warn” that any future downturn would be a new recession and not a continuation of the last recession.  I’m going to take that warning to heart and head straight to the nearest army surplus store for some hip waders.

This kind of miss-the-forest-for-the-trees analysis drives me nuts.  It would be nice if respected publications like the Journal called it for the nonsense that it is.  Whether the economy is still shrinking or simply not growing is beside the point.  And nothing could be less important than a microscopic distinction as to whether a new downturn is or is not a separate recession.

The important point is this:  What we’ve been going through for the past three years is the first wave of reckoning for having lived beyond our means as a nation for the past 35 years.  1975 was the last year in which the United States ran a trade surplus.  Ever since then, we’ve been net importers, and our imports have been growing at an alarming rate.  That means dollars have been leaving.  In order to get them back (so we could import more stuff), we’ve been borrowing like crazy, both as a nation and as individuals.

The national debt is now $12 trillion, $8 trillion of which we’ve borrowed from overseas.  Personal and mortgage debt combined amount to another $13 trillion.  US GDP is a little under $15 trillion, so we owe about twice as much as we produce every year.  Since you can only repay debt with surplus cash, it’s going to take us a long time to pay those bills.

Actually, we’ll never pay them.  We will devalue the dollar until our debts become bearable – but that will make future borrowing much harder.  Think Greece, but much larger and without the olives.

We’ve also been conducting a national garage sale, selling off US assets to foreign interests.  That began in earnest in the 1980s, with Japanese companies snapping up US businesses and, especially, real estate.  It’s not the Japanese any more, but the trend continues.  Also in today’s Journal: an announcement that an Indian company is looking at buying MGM.

Deleveraging is slow and painful.  There is no easy way around it.  It calls for hard choices, and it will require sacrifice.  That, not whether a new recession would be separate or a continuation of the last one, is what we need to focus on.  Next month, I imagine that the National Bureau of Economic Research will finally tell us how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.  I don’t know where they’ll find the angels, but it seems to me that they have no shortage of pinheads.



By the way, the same phenomenon in the same issue of Time produced an image of Benjamin Netanyahu with the Earth stuck to the tip of his nose.  I decided to let that one pass.

All I can say about the picture below is that my family may be dysfunctional, but we don’t hold a candle to these people.

I have great respect for the US Postal Service.  Really, I do.  Even when they don’t make it easy.

That’s all for today.  There are more. . .

On our way back from the family road trip, we spent another very enjoyable day in Canada.  Here are three more observations from the trip:

1)  We crossed the border four times – twice out and twice back in.  Everywhere we crossed, there were a lot more people trying to leave the United States than there were trying to get into it.  This suggests a strategy for immigration reform.  Wait.  Now, Detroit and Buffalo, two of the places where we crossed, are not exactly tourism magnets these days, and your pasture would have to be pretty brown for those pastures to look green.  Nonetheless, for everything we hear about people flooding across our borders, this traffic was going very much the other way.  I’m just sayin’.

2)  Both times we crossed into Canada, the Canadians were happy to have us and, I assume, our money.  When we crossed back, the Americans seemed much less excited to see us.  Maybe it’s just us – or me.  Apparently, someone in our family – the rest of them think it’s me – resembles on paper someone who’s wanted for some very bad behavior.  So I was invited to pull over and step out of the car.  Twice.  I didn’t get, “. . .and keep your hands where we can see them,” but I don’t think we were to far away from that.  I have to say that the US border agents we encountered were professional, polite and diligent to a fault, if maybe a little lacking in the sense of humor department.  But taking nothing away from them, our northern border looks pretty porous to me.  Unless we’re doing some super-secret NSA Jack Bauer security foo along the Canadian border, if bad people wanted to get themselves and bad stuff into this country, I don’t think it would be very hard.

3)  If you get caught speeding on a Canadian freeway, you get slapped with a big fine.  (They used to be paltry, but there’s the falling dollar for you.)  But that’s not all.  You also get. . .wait for it. . .demerits.  That’s right – the entire country is a giant English boarding school.  I know I’m reading too much into this, and I’m sure these demerits have an impact on driving privileges.  But there’s a certain gentility and quaintness to this concept that I can’t help but like.  It suggests a society in which a public sense of right and wrong still exists, and in which shame is still possible.