Can't Get There From Here

Kind of a personal blog tonight. It was six years ago last week that my mother died -- August 3, 2000. That's her in this picture taken on Mt. Hakodate sometime back in the 80's. The dashing fellow standing to her right is my dad and that dishevelled, derelict looking ne'er-do-well to her left would be me.

Maybe I should explain a little more about the picture.

First about my mother. I know it looks like we just woke her out of bed when this picture was taken but that's actually not the case. She's gone now so I guess she won't mind if I mention this. For many years my mom suffered with MD (Muscular Dystrophy) and, like many people with her condition, as she grew older she had a hard time getting around. She didn't like people to know about it and tried to hide it as best she could, and you would never catch her using a cane or wheelchair unless absolutely necessary. If you look closely you can see she's standing rather stiffly and both my dad and I have got our hands on her back to kind of prop her up a little. Believe me, if we weren't there to hold her she wouldn't be standing the way she is. Anyways, she was a real trooper to pose for this picture because believe me, it wasn't easy.

As for me and my appearance I have no such excuse. Let me explain about the jacket. You see we had travelled all the way from my mom and dad's place in Tokyo on this particular day, and when we left Tokyo Station that morning it was hotter than blazes (and humid too). The last thing I expected when I got off the train was 15 degrees. Needless to say I hadn't packed any kind of sweater or coat, and when we arrived in Hakodate the only thing I had to keep me warm was this ratty old windbreaker thingy you see me wearing in the picture. Believe me, if I knew it was going to be that cold up there I would packed something a little more GQ. Oh, and in case you're wondering the answer is no. There is no way I'd ever get that thing zipped around that fat belly of mine.

Which brings me to the fat belly. I should probably explain that too. The train ride from Tokyo to Hokkaido (Japan's northernmost island) was simply amazing. We took the bullet from Tokyo Station all the way up to where the line ended in Aomori, the northernmost city on the main island of Honshu. I had bought one of those Japan Rail passes when I got to my mom and dad's place in Tokyo, and without checking with my dad first I bought the first class type (the green pass, I think). Well, it turns out that mom and dad couldn't afford to ride first class all over Japan so they got stuck back in coach while I was travelling in first class. It was ok, though. They didn't mind and it gave me an opportunity to sort of mingle without the benefit of an interpreter.

Anyways, there I was luxuriating in first class and stretching out in those nice comfortable chairs they give you, and I got so comfortable that I forgot to go back to the dining car to get something to eat. In fact, once I removed my passport from my back pocket so that it wasn't digging in to my rear end I was feeling real comfortable. I just put the passport in the little magazine pouch and stretched out and aahhhh...fell asleep.

When we got to Aomori my dad woke me up and told me we'd have to hurry up to catch the train to Hakodate. I was looking forward to this part of the trip because the train from Aomori actually leaves the island of Honshu and travels under the Tsugaru Straits through the Seikan Tunnel on it's way to Hakodate on the island of Hokkaido. Up until the completion of the Chunnel over in Europe, the Seikan Tunnel had been the longest tunnel in the world. When my dad told me we'd have to hurry that immediately got my attention. I got up, grabbed my little overnight bag, followed him out onto the platform, followed him down the stairs and under the tracks, and then back up the stairs to the platform to board the Hakodate train. As we boarded the train it was at that precise moment that I realized...

Well, I had about 2 minutes to sprint back down the stairs and under the tracks and back up the stairs to the bullet train and into the car where the little magazine pouch with my passport was, and then sprint back out of the bullet train and across the platform and down the stairs and under the tracks and back up the stairs to catch the train to Hakodate. And I mean I was sprinting. I must have looked like Desmond Howard returning a kickoff as I was ducking and weaving my way through the crowd and straight-arming anyone who got in my way, all the time yelling "Chotto mate! Chotto mate! Pasuportu, pasaportu! Chotto mate!".

And (whew) I made it.

I got onboard the Hakodate train with my heart racing at about two hundred beats per minute, sweat running down my back and into my underwear, and as my stomach began to growl I suddenly realized that I hadn't eaten anything since dinner last night. I was sitting there in the train gulping for air, throat dry, and starving. As the train began to roll on it's way two things immediately came to mind: First, riding a train through a tunnel isn't all it's cracked up to be. I mean a tunnel, even the longest tunnel in the world (at that time) is really just a big hole in the ground, isn't it. Anyone who's ever ridden BART under San Fransisco Bay will know what I'm talking about. One minute it's light and scenery is going by the windows, and the next minute you're in the tunnel and it's dark. And it stays dark for a long, long time, and there isn't a whole lot to see. Big deal. I could just lock myself in the closet if I wanted to look at blackness all day.

My second thought was that if this little train didn't have a dining car I was going to have to start gnawing on the furniture. I got up to look around and sure enough--it had seats and it had bathrooms, but no dining car. So that was that. I was going to have to spend the next hour or two riding in this big black hole with nothing to look at and nothing to eat or drink. Well, almost. Luckily, about halfway through the ride someone came around selling bentos and water, so I scarfed down one of those but it just made me hungrier.

Which takes me back to the picture. The first thing good thing that happened to me after my debacle in Aomori was finding myself in Hakodate. For those of you who might not know it, Hokkaido is famous the world over for it's fresh seafood. My mother was born and raised in Hokkaido so she knew all about the food, and it wasn't long before we found a little restaurant and she suggested I try the curried shrimp. I ordered up a big old plate of the stuff and, just like mom said, it was mmmm mmmmm good. Spicy curry and a strangely sweet tasting shrimp. I thought maybe they sugared them but mom said the shrimp up there were naturally sweet. I was too hungry to argue so I ordered myself another plate of shrimp instead.

And that explains the picture. (By the way if you've read this far then congratulations. I would have stopped around paragraph two). After I stuffed myself it was dad's idea to go up to the top of Mt. Hakodate and look at the view. I would have just as soon gone to a hotel somewhere where I could lay down and digest, but dad wanted me to go up to the mountain and see the view. (And by the way, I don't usually make a pig of myself at mealtime but when you have a chance to enjoy the local cuisine I say go for it. Who knows if you'll ever be back there again. Right?). So off we went to Mt. Hakodate and that's the reason for the bulging belly. At the time the picture was taken it was full of about 20 pounds of shrimp.

But I don't want to talk about that, I want to talk about mom. She looks real tired in the picture but believe me she was pretty excited that night. She was born in a little village about halfway up the coast between Hakodate and Sapporo, and she was glad to back where all her family was. That's why I like this picture so much. It's not really such a great picture photographically speaking, but I like remembering how happy she was to see everybody and, yeah, to show me off a little too. I hadn't met any of her family before or been to her hometown, so I know she got a kick out of parading me in front of all her relatives. I just wish we could go back and do it again sometime.

Six years and I still can't believe you're gone. It doesn't feel like it anyways.


I told you this was going to be kind of a personal blog.


TIP* Just so this whole post doesn't get too maudlin and sappy I thought I'd leave a little tip. If you ever travel to Hokkaido the one absolute thing you must do is try the Chankonabe at the Kitanofuji restaurant in Sapporo. It's a great big bowl (more like a bucket really) of fresh seafood from the local waters, and I mean all kinds of seafood - shrimp. scallops, fish, crab, on and on and on, all served up like a stew in an absolutely delicious steaming hot broth. It's also the meal of choice for Japan's Sumo wrestlers, and the restaurant was in fact founded by a former Sumo wrestler. Of course it's been about 15 or 20 years since I was back there so maybe the restaurant isn't there anymore, but it should be. When we went my Japanese cousins played a little joke on me by telling me to order the chankonabe, and when the waiter came back and placed this big ol' bucket of food in front of me they all had a big laugh. We ended up sharing about two orders between the five of us and even that was a little too much. Give it a try, you'll like it, and then head out to the Susukino to sing a little karaoke. That's the way they used to have fun up in Hokkaido.

Dead Cat's Nightmare #25

(I walk into the coffee house for a cup of coffee. A young girl is sitting at a table by herself)

"Hi, mind if I sit down?"

"Help yourself."

"Boy it sure is a hot one out there, isn't it?"

(no reply)

"Yeah, nice 'n cool in here though. I thought I was gonna burn up out there on the street. How hot is it? Must be in the 90's."

(no reply)

"So, I guess you probably came in here to get outta the heat too."

"What?"

"I said it sure is hot out today."

"Yes, it is isn't it."

"Of course some people like the heat but not me. No sir. Give me that nice cool..."

"Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything but I'd really like to read this book right now. So, if you don't mind?"

"No, no, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your train of thought. I'll just sit here and drink my coffee."

(silence)

"So, what're you reading?"

"What?"

"I said what're you reading? Mind if I take a look...Hmmm, 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra' by Friederich Nietzsche. Wow, that's some pretty heavy stuff."

"Oh, have you read Nietzche?"

"Who me? Well, no, but the name is familiar."

"Yes, I see."

"What's it about?"

"The book?"

"Yeah. 'Thus Spoke Zarathustra', is that some kind of greek play or something?"

"It's about nihilism and the meaningless pain of existence, just like the pain you're giving to me right now."

"Oh, sorry. Sounds interesting though. I guess I shouldn't interrupt you while you're reading, huh?"

(no reply)

"Say have you ever read Preston/Childs? I'm reading one of their books now and it's great. It's about this guy Pendergast you see, and he has this brother that's trying to kill off all of his friends. Like this one guy, a college professor or something like that. Well, his brother gives him this poison one day before he goes to class and then right there in the middle of the lecture the poison hits him and he starts convulsing and screaming and trying to pull his eyeballs out. Out of their sockets, you know? Right there in front of the class and then...well maybe I shouldn't tell you that part so I don't spoil it."

"Yes, perhaps you better not. Now, please, if you don't mind."

"Hell of a read, though. You should pick it up sometime. I mean, after you finish the Nietzche of course."

"Yes, I'll have to do that."

"So, what do you do when you're not sitting in coffee houses reading Nietzche?"

"I'm a musician."

"A musician? You mean like in a band or something?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Is it anyone I've heard of?"

"I'm a concert musician. I play concerts."

"Oh, how interesting. Where do you play?"

"Tokyo, London, Carnegie Hall."

"Carnegie Hall? Hey, didn't the Rolling Stones play Carnegie Hall once?"

"I'm not..."

"Do you know Mick Jagger? I mean did you ever meet him?"

"No, I don't know Mick Jagger. Sorry. If I ever run into him, though, I'll tell him you said Hi."

"Heh, you're just joking with me, aren't you. 'You'll tell him I said Hi', heh-heh, that's a good one. "

"I'm sorry, you seem like a nice guy and all but..."

"What kind of music do you play?"

"Concertos, Sonatas, that sort of thing."

"Oh, so you're a classical musician. Like Andre Rieu or something like that."

"Something like that. Yes."

"Oh I get it. You know I know a little bit about music. That thing, what do they call it? That thing with the lines and...the staff, that's what they call it. You know the staff?"

"What about it?"

"E G B D F. Right? Am I right? E G B D F. Every Good Boy Does Fine. Right? I learned that back in the 4th grade in Miss Quade's class."

"That's very good. You're quite the musicologist aren't you?"

"And F A C E. That's the spaces. You know how you remember that. 'Space' rhymes with 'FACE'. She taught us all that stuff."

"Well isn't that clever. Remind me to write that down."

"Yeah, so you see I'm not a total ignoramus when it comes to music. In fact..."

(Just then a big, beefy six-foot six guys in a tank top and basketball shorts walks in, sees the girl and walks up to the table)

"Hey, there you are. Where've you been?"

(the girl at the table turns and talks to him)

"It's about time you showed up."

(I turn and smile)

"Hi, I'm Tony."

"And I'm Biff and this is my girl so why don't you take a hike you old fart."

"Old fart? Who are you calling..."

"I said take a hike, grandpa. What's the matter? Did you lose your hearing aid or something?"

"Oh Biff, leave him alone. He isn't hurting anyone."

(Biff turns back to her)

"He's bugging me. Christ, where'd you find an old bag 'o bones like this anyways. "

"We were just having a nice conversation about this book I'm reading."

"What book?"

"This one. See."

"What? Thus Spoke Zair a thrust ra by Fry'd Rich Nye It Zzz Chay? What the hell is that?"

"It's German, and it's Nietzche not Nye It Zzz Chay."

"Oh, it's German. Excuse me"

"Don't be such a dork. You know there are still some people in this world who actually read books. Not everyone just sits around and oils their muscles all day. "

"Books? Who needs books when I got you, baby."

(Biff gives the girl a playful poke and then continues)

"C'mon, let's get out of here."

"No. I want to finish a couple of more chapters."

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know. An hour maybe."

"An hour. Baby, I can't wait that long. I got things to do."

"Well, go do your things then. I want to stay in here where it's cool and finish a couple of more chapters."

(Biff gives her another playful poke, and another, and another. The girl starts to giggle)

"Stop it, Biff (hee hee). I mean it. Stop poking me (hee hee hee). You're being a jerk."

"A jerk? That's not what you said last night."

(Biff pokes her some more and I begin to feel a little nauseous)

"Biff, I'm warning you. You better stop (hee hee hee). Biff. No. Stop. (hee hee hee). Biff."

"C'mon. You don't need to finish that book now. Let's go."

(the red faced girl closes her book and grabs her purse, then pauses to look at me)

"It was nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

"Good luck with your music lessons or whatever it was you were talking about."

"No, I'm too old for music lessons. You know I open the refrigerator door and half the time I can't even remember what I came to get in the first place. How am I going to able to remember all those notes."

"Yeah, well...enjoy your coffee. It was nice talking to you."

(Biff turns to me)

"Yeah, enjoy your coffee and better luck next time grandpa. Ha,ha,ha,ha,ha..."

(they leave the coffee house and the waiter comes over to the table)

"Say do you know who that was you were talking to?"

"No. Who?"

"I don't know, but I hear she's really famous."

"Oh well, she seemed nice."

"Yeah. She's been in here before. Hey, you weren't trying to hit on her were you? A man your age. I thought you'd be too tired to go chasing after young chicks like that."

"Let me tell you something young man. Someday you'll be old like me and yes there will be many things in this world that will make me tired. You'll get tired of getting up in the morning, you'll get tired of the noise and the traffic, you'll get tired of climbing stairs and standing in lines, and going to the doctor and taking pills and watching what you eat all the time. You'll get tired of oatmeal. You'll get tired of the crime and the violence and the greed and the whole world going to hell in a handbasket. You'll get tired of many, many things, but I promise you one thing you'll never get tired of is the sight of a pretty girl."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, but at a certain point you just got to let it go, don't you. I mean, who wants to be a dirty old man."

"You let it go, not me. Imagine the world without pretty girls. What a pitiful place that would be. Nothing to do but live out the meaningless pain of existence. Have you ever read Nietzche?"

"Nah. But the name is familiar."

It Must Be Love That's Got Me Singing

Just a real short post tonight. I was boppin' around the net the other day and I came across the cover for Hilary Hahn's new Paganini/Spohr CD (to be released in the fall). All I can say is

WOW!!

Looks like our little child prodigy is all grown up and ready to turn a few heads. I'm telling you, if I was only 20 years younger. Or would that be 30 years. 40 years? Nah, now wait a minute, I'm not that old...

Anyways, if there is any love advice I would give to our young beauty it would be not to get involved with any Greek millionaires. That's what happened to Maria Callas, you know, and look what happened to her (trust me Hilary, it didn't end well). Nope, my advice would be to pass on the millionaires and find a starving writer, or blogger even. An American, someone living out on the West Coast perhaps. Not one of those handsome, young, athletic studs that leave trusting young girls lonely and brokenhearted, but someone older, with a more mature perspective. Yeah, that's what you need. A mature, slightly broken-down West Coast blogger. Someone like...

Well, since Hilary isn't updating her website anymore I guess I might as well bring everyone up to speed. According to this article in the L.A. Daily News her next recording after the Paganini/Spohr could quite possibly be a Schoenberg/Sibelius CD. A strange combination to be sure and quite a risk for a successful recording artist to take. In fact, according to an article I read some time ago (which I don't have a link for) Hilary Hahn is just one of a handful of classical artists whose CD's consistently sell over the 100,000 mark. The others were Yo-Yo Ma and Renee Fleming and Joshua Bell and a few more whose names I can't recall off the top of my head.

Now the 100,000 mark might mean that much to a pop artist, but it's very good for a classical artist, and for someone enjoying that much success to release a Schoenberg CD takes some guts. Needless to say, Schoenberg is not very popular in America and not the sort of thing the local symphony is likely to include in their concert schedule. There is more than a good chance that Hilary could really bomb with this one. I guess it's a measure of her clout(?) over at DG that this CD could ever see the light of day.

But I'm looking forward to it. I happen to love both pieces and I even read a rave review of her London performance of the Schoenberg so I can't wait to hear it. As for the Sibelius, well, we shall see, we shall see. It doesn't seem like the sort of piece that suits her, but she's got loads of talent and, after all, this is the new Hilary (see picture above).

Other than that there doesn't seem to be much else happening. She's performing the Mendelssohn tomorrow night in Hollywood and I guess that's a good thing. I've got to admit, though, I never really liked her Mendelssohn as much as the other things she's recorded. Somehow, it didn't seem to have the drama that it needed. It's such a familiar piece of music that it almost demands an extra bit of hamminess to pull it off. I'd suggest (I'm just full of advice tonight, aren't I) that she needs to be a bit more of a diva if she's going to play it. You know, maybe she could walk backstage and throw a fit or demand a bigger dressing room or insult the orchestra or something like that. Just be a drama queen. Start throwing things and then when she walks onstage she'll be in the proper frame of mind to play the Mendelssohn.

Well, it's just an idea.

Let Me Just Rain on Your Parade

It was a momentous weekend here in the Bay Area as we were visited by not one, but two of the most powerful men in Great Britain today. I'm speaking of course of Prime Minister Tony Blair, England's preeminent politician, and Adam "the Podfather" Curry, the primal force behind the podcasting movement currently sweeping the globe. Personally, I thought it unwise to have both of Britain's biggest wheels in the same place at the same time where one earthquake could put them both be out of action, but evidently the empire is safe and the home fires still burn in Albion tonight.

(Excuse me if I seem a little distracted right now. There is a helicopter and a couple of low flying planes buzzing overhead. Seems there must be a fire around here somewhere. I just hope it's far, far away)

So where was I? Oh yeah, podcasting

(Great, now I smell smoke. Crap! I'd appreciate it if you didn't burn my house down please. Thank you)

Turns out podcasting isn't the fad the everyone said it was. The trickle of data that is starting to appear, like this article from Marketwatch, seem to indicate growing audiences and the possiblity of podcasters making real money, even millions of dollars. Hmmm, I think most podcasters would be glad to see a hundred or so roll in every now and then, but who knows maybe they could be making millions someday. It's certainly a major concern among podcasters and at next month's Podcast Expo monetizing and advertising and getting some coin in the cashbox is sure to be a hot topic.

But you know me. I can always find a cloud in any silver lining and so what I really want to talk about are some of disturbing trends I'm beginning to see in podcasting today. Like, for instance, the glut of tech related material in the podosphere. Seriously, do we need another tech podcast? If so, do we need another tech podcast that just regurgitates and reiterates the same thing a thousand times over? In some ways the podosphere is starting to show some of the same closed-loop, self-referential tendencies of the blogosphere, where everyone is hyperlinked to everyone else and ideas just go around and around and around in a perpetual and vaguely indistinct state of buzz. Granted, the podosphere is still miles ahead of the blogosphere in terms of unique, original content (this blog, of course being the exception. Although worthless, I think most would agree it is nevertheless original), but as the number of podcasts grow it seems the available content is getting stretched thinner and thinner. At least in the tech podcasting space.

Let me cite an example of what I'm talking about. Two or three weeks ago Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska gave a speech about the internet and why the big Telco's that he serves need to increase their rates for certain kinds of traffic. The speech was recorded and posted on the internet and immediately generated howls of laughter from the geek community as Sen. Stevens tried to explain to his audience the inner workings of the internet. Someone tried to send me an email, Sen. Stevens explained, and I couldn't download my internet because the pipes were clogged.

Well, the podcasting community went bonkers, and for about a week you couldn't listen to any tech related podcast without the same speech being played over and over and the host(s) all making smartass remarks about Sen. Stevens ingnorance of how the wired world operates. Of course those smartass remarks got folded into the mix as well and pretty soon all you could hear on any of the geek podcasts was the endless drone of Sen. Stevens echoing back and forth with all the mandatory and attendant giggles. What was truly ironic in the midst of all this cacaphony and evidently lost on the geek world was that in the end it isn't important for Washington to understand how the internet works - it's important for the internet folks to understand how Washington works, a fact that will be brought home soon enough to all those giggling geeks when they see the new telecom legislation making its way through Congress.

But my point is that in some areas the podosphere is in danger of becoming just one big echo chamber. It's not there yet - far from it, but the danger is there, and after all isn't that what we're trying to avoid? Doesn't that fit the perception of big media we all have, of a swarm of locusts all chasing the same fad or scandal? Isn't that why audiences have embraced podcasting in the first place, as a place to escape the bombardment of popular news and entertainment and explore different avenues and areas of interest? If I was giving the keynote at the Podcasting Expo that would be my topic. Is there anyone in this room speaking with his own voice or doing anything different, or are you all just a bunch of hyperlinks?

Anyways, there are lots of podcasts that have nothing to do with technology or the internet or Sen. Stevens, and there are still plenty of people doing different things. I'm hoping that's the nature of the beast and will always be so, just as long as the podosphere doesn't let the geeks take over. It's a great medium and I even tried doing a podcast for a while until I discovered that I kind of sucked at it and that there were other podcasters doing the same thing I was, only much better. I also discovered that podcasting, like radio, is a two-way communications medium. In other words, you can't just send it out there and expect the minions to hang breathlessly on your every word . You need participation and feedback coming back at you to make it work, and I never really got the hang of that.

But I'm listening to how the pro's do it, and if a new podcasting idea ever pops in my head I'd love to have another crack at it. Provided that the new podcasting idea is something original, of course, and not just more geekspeak.

Grapes of Wrath Pt. II (The Pinot Noir Edition)

"Jim. Hey Jim, over here."

"Who's that? Why...why...why I'll be damned. If it ain't Tom. Tom, how 'ere ya'?"

"Ok, I guess. What are you doing out here Jim? Shouldn't you be in church, it being a Sunday and all."

"Nah, I ain't a preacher no more. Nope. I don't need no saviour no more. Ain't got no use for one no how. How 'bout you Tom. Are you...you know, out? You didn't do run away, did ya'?"

"Nah, I didn't run. They paroled me early. Gave me twenty dollars and a bus ticket and sent me back home. Say Jim, you seen my ma and pa? The house looks kind of deserted."

"They're over at the neighbors I reckon. Anyways, this ain't their house no more. Bank took it last week."

"The Bank? What fer?"

"Same reason they took all these houses 'round here. No jobs, no money, no way to pay the mortgage. It's the same all over California."

"Well if that don't beat all."

"It's the heat that done it. Turned the whole state into a desert."

"Sure feels like a desert alright. Look Jim, I'm gonna go over to the neighbors. It's been a long time since I saw ma and pa. You wanna come with me?"

"Alright. Sure. But just remember I ain't no preacher no more. Ok?"

"Don't make no difference to me. Seems kind of funny though, seein' how you was always preaching at us when we was little kids. But suit yourself."

(Tom and Jim walk to the neighbors and catch up with Tom's family)

"Hi Ma."

"Ma? Who's that calling me...Tom? Is that you? Oh Tom. I can't hardly believe it. Is that really you?"

"It's me alright. Great to see ya' Ma. Let's have a look at ya'."

"But what are you doin' here Tom? Shouldn't you be in...? Oh, you didn't run away did you? You promised me you wasn't gonna do that."

"No Ma, they let me out early. You see, I got the papers right here. They give me a parole and twenty dollars, just 'cause I never gave 'em no trouble."

"A parole? Oh Tom...I've got to tell Pa. Pa, come out here. Come look who's here. Pa, where are ya?"

(Tom's father comes out of the house)

"I'm right here. What are you yellin' about?"

"Look who's here."

"Henry Fonda?"

"No, it's Tom. Don't you even recognize your own son."

"Tom, but I thought you was in...When did you get out?"

(Tom turns to talk to his father)

"Couple of days ago. I went to the house but all I found was the preacher."

"I told you I ain't no preacher."

"What happened to the house Pa?"

"Bank took it. That note we signed, you know the one I told you about. That 40 year adjustable reverse amortization interest only prepayment penalty balloon mortgage we used to buy the house. Well, seems the interest rate went up and the bank told me I had to come up with 2 million dollars or they'd foreclose. "

"2 million dollars for a $400,000 house? That don't seem right."

"We'd a been ok if the interest rates hadn't gone up. But where were we gonna come up with 2 million dollars? What with this 10 year heat wave we've been havin' and no electricity on account of all the power plants bein' broken, and no jobs on account of there ain't no electricity. This whole state is just turnin' into one big dustbowl, Tom. That's all it is. Just a big bowl of dust. I told the man we didn't have the money and so he come back a few months later with a piece of paper saying the house was his now and told us we had to vacate the premises."

(Pa's neighbor Muley walks up and joins the conversation)

"Piece of paper? Piece of paper? It ain't a piece of paper that make it your'n. It's eatin' in it, and spillin' food on the carpet in it, and watchin' TV in your underwear in it that makes it your'n, and not no piece of paper."

(Muley walks away, having had his dramatic moment. Pa turns to Ma and speaks)

"Well, if you ain't got the paper then it ain't yours. That's what the law says anyways. Ain't that right Ma?"

"Don't worry Pa. We'll find some other place to live. What about them flyer's that feller was handin' out?"

(Tom interrupts)

"What flyers?"

"Show him Pa."

"Here Tom, take a look. It says that up in Canada there's plenty of work."

"Canada? But ain't it kind of cold up there?"

"No, not since the global warming. It's all different now. This feller with the flyers said that up around Hudson's Bay it's all beach resorts and condominiums. Says there's plenty of work building houses and hotels and shopping malls. What'd he call it Ma? Oh, that's right. Called it the new Riviera."

"Well gee Pa, how ya' gonna get up to Canada."

"We'll buy a car and drive, I guess. You know can buy them old SUV's real cheap now that gas is up around $50 a gallon."

"Well how much would one of them SUV's cost?"

"There's a feller in town selling his ol' Lincoln Navigator for fifteen bucks. Reckon we oughta be able to come up with 15 bucks, don't ya' think?"

"They gave me 20 dollars when they paroled me out of jail. I guess we could use that. But what are we gonna do for gas?"

"Just have to sell off our things along the way. Besides, we still got our credit cards. They can take our house but by God no one's gonna take our credit cards. Ain't that right Ma?"

"That's right Pa. We're Californians Tom, don't you ever forget that."

(So the family piles into the SUV and heads north up to Canada. Just outside of Calgary they stop into a fillin' station)

"Where you folks headed? You ain't headed up to Hudson's Bay I hope."

"Well yeah, that's what we was plannin' on. Gonna get jobs."

"Uh-huh. Got one of 'em flyers too, I'll bet."

"You mean like this one right here?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Heh, I must've seen a million of those by now. Look folks, you look like nice people. Do yourselves a favor and go home. There ain't no work up in Hudson's Bay. They been handin' out them flyers all over California just so could they could drive down the wages. You know, find someone desparate enough to do the work for less than the other fella' is making. Believe me, you'd be better off if you just went home."

"Whaddya mean there ain't no work? The feller told us..."

"I know what he told ya' and I'm tellin' ya' there ain't no work. Go back home, before you get hurt."

"Can't go home. Ain't got no home to go back to."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

(The family continues on to Hudson's Bay. Soon the road is crowded with broken down SUV's, all with California plates. Outside the towns angry mobs carrying clubs and waving signs tell them to keep moving or else. Finally they find a work camp just outside of Churchill)

"You folk's looking for work."

"Yeah."

"How many of you are there?"

"Five of us, if you count my ma and my sister. My sister's pregnant though, so she can't do any heavy lifting."

"There's a construction site about ten miles from up the road. Pay is 15 cents an hour. Be ready to go at 5:00 am sharp or we'll give your spots to someone else."

"Fifteen cents an hour? Why, a fella can't even live on that."

"Take it or leave it. 5:00 am sharp, you hear."

"Yeah, we hear ya'. Geez Ma. Fifteen cents an hour. That won't even pay the rent on the cabin."

"Don't worry Tom. We'll take this job for now until something better turns up. It'll be ok, you'll see."

"I hope you're right. We come an awful long way for fifteen cents an hour."

(Later that night Tom hears footsteps. He steps outside and sees deputies armed with billy clubs walking through the camp)

"Can I help you officer?"

"Who are you?"

"Name's Tom. "

"Tom huh. You one of those troublemakers we been hearing aboat? "

"No, I ain't making no trouble. I'm just here to work that's all."

"What're you doing outside your cabin Tom?"

"Thought I'd stretch my legs a little before I turn in, that's all. Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, Tom. You're a problem. You and all these other Californians. Who invited you up here anyways?"

"No one invited us. We just thought that..."

"You just thought what? That you could come up here and cause trouble? C'mon boys, let's take him in."

"Hey wait a minute. I ain't done nuthin' to..."

(Tom feels something crack across his skull. At the taste of his own blood he flies into a rage and kills one of the deputies. In the confusion that follows he slips off into the night. Later he makes his way back to his cabin where Ma is waiting for him)

"What happened Tom? What'd they do to you?"

"They tried to take me to jail, Ma, but I wouldn't go."

"What'd you do? Something terrible I'm guessin'."

"I had no choice. They was gonna arrest me so I..."

"Shhh, Tom. I know you wouldn't have done it 'cepting you had no choice. What are we gonna do now?"

"We gotta get out of here. Right now. They're searching the entire camp."

"Ok, I'll wake everyone up and tell 'em we're leaving. But Tom, don't you say a word 'bout what happened tonight. Ok?"

"Sure Ma, I won't say anything."

(They hide Tom in the SUV and make for the front gate. They tell the guard they've found jobs at another work camp and the guard, although skeptical, let's them pass. Further down they road they come upon a government camp. It is well-kept and clean and the family gets their own cabin. Behind the camp walls the police can't touch them and soon they get good jobs for good wages and have even managed to put a little money aside for the future. The family feels like real people again. One night, however, vigilantes from a nearby town who are angry about immigrants stealing their jobs begin marching on the camp. Tom runs into one of the vigilantes under a bridge and kills him. He sneaks back to the camp and says one last farewell to his Ma)

"I gotta go now Ma."

"But where, Tom. Where are you gonna go? You know they're out there looking for you."

"Let 'em find me, I ain't afraid. Besides, I never gave no one no trouble less'n they give it to me first. You know that Ma."

"I know Tom, but I'm worried about you. Where'll you go, what'll you do?"

"I'll go someplace where people are treated like people, not like dogs. Where a man can live decent. Where he can sit in his hot tub and sip his chardonnay and it's nobody's business if he does."

"Like we did back in California. We was people then, wasn't we? Before the global warmin' came that is."

"Yeah, we had stock options and home equity back then, but now we're nothin'."

"But Tom, how will I know what's happened to you. Won't I ever see you again?"

"You'll see me, Ma. Everytime you see a man so swollen with thirst that he can't open his lips to drink his frappucino, I'll be there. Everytime you see a man so bankrupt that he can't afford the electricty to charge his Ipod, I'll be there. Everytime you see someone so destitute that he can't even afford to cruise to the beach in his SUV, ..."

"While talking on his cellphone?"

"Yeah ma, while a talking on his cellphone, I'll be there. I'll be there 'cause I'm the people. Maybe Jim was right. A person ain't got a soul of his own, only a piece of a bigger one."

"I'm worried about you Tom."

"Don't worry Ma. I'll be alright. Don't worry about a thing."

(Tom leaves and his mother begins to weep. Pa comes out and stands beside her)

"I miss the ol' place Ma. I miss California and my barbecue and my big screen TV. Don't you miss them things too?"

"No Pa, I think I like it fine right here. I think I'm gonna like Hudson's Bay. Rose of Sharon's gonna have her baby and we'll get a new start up here where the air and the water is clean and it ain't 105 degrees inside the house everyday. Yep. I think I'm gonna like it here just fine."

(And so they leave their California home behind, settle in the promised land, and live like people. The End)

Joy, Fun, Seasons in the (blistering) Sun

Keeping in mind songwriter Steve Goodman's admonition that "It ain't hard to live with somebody else's troubles", let me just say that it's been hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, HOT around here. Yeah, I know nobody cares and besides, it's been hot everywhere this summer, but this is my blog and I'll whine about the weather if I want to.

Truth is, when it's this crazy hot all you can think about is the heat. War, famine, economic collapse -- geez, those things can wait. Right now all I care about is a cool breeze. Unfortunately it's been about 2 weeks since we've had one of those, and the way I see it at this point only one of two things is going to happen. Either this heat wave is going to break or the sun is going to run out of hydrogen, and since this heat wave seems intent on staying put I'm placing my money on the sun.

So how hot is it I hear the blogosphere asking. Well, today we finally got a bit of a cooldown here in San Jose as the temperature dropped below the triple digits, that's how hot it is. Of course people are talking about global warming and I don't know if that has anything to do with it. I always thought global warming was about the glaciers melting and sea levels rising and all that sort of thing. I don't recall them mentioning that the famous Bay Area fog bank was going to go away or that California was going to become Arizona. And you know what? When you get right down to it I don't want to live in Phoenix, and I resent not having a say in the matter. But that's what's happened. Looks like Mohammad wouldn't go to the mountain so the mountain...well, you know the rest.

Anyways, what else is going on. Let's see. Seems Israel and Lebannon...aw forget about it. It's too hot to blog. On the weather report last night they showed satellite photos of a big bank of fog just sitting there off the coast of California and poised for an inland push that would bring cool relief to the millions of sweltering but appreciative Bay Areans. And there it is, all that fog, just SITTING THERE! NOT MOVING!!! It's cruel, like showing a glass of water to thirsty man and then dangling it just outside his reach. Not even nature can be that cruel, can it? No, of course not. The fog should get here before too long and even tonight, as I sit outside and tap away on my computer, I can feel just the faintest hint of breeze push over my arms and along the back of my neck. Oh, if only I could fall asleep and wake to a cold fog streaming through the Golden Gate, putting a nasty chill into my bones.

(sigh)

Maybe by this weekend. Until then we bake, and if this is that global warming thing that everyone is talking about then I just wish that Al Gore or whoever is responsible would stop it. I got to get some sleep, man.

Oh, and about all this stuff happening in the Middle East. I think what we need to do to get this situation solved is send over Sharron Angle. Who's she? ? Well, she's running for Congress over in Nevada and I happened to catch one of her TV ads when I was up at Lake Tahoe. It wasn't really much of an ad until the very end where she promised that if elected she will "Stop the terrorists." Yeah, that's her campaign promise. She even put it up on the screen so everyone could see it. Elect Sharron Angle and she'll stop the terrorists.

Whew. I'm glad that problem's solved.

Dead Cat Searches the Want Ads


"Good afternoon."

"Hello. Uh, good afternoon."

"May I help you?"

"Yes. I'd like to be a terrorist."

"A what?"

"A terrorist. I heard you were looking for new recruits and I'd like to be a terrorist."

"I think maybe you have the wrong office."

"No, no. This is the place. A friend told me to come here."

"And this friend. He is CIA?"

"No. Not at all"

"I think maybe you are CIA?"

"No. Honest. I want to be a terrorist."

"MI-6?"

"Are you looking for terrorists or not? Because if you aren't I'm sure there's someone else down the street who'll want me."

"We are a highly secretive organization. Do you think we can't just let anyone walk in off the street and become a terrorist? Surely you can understand?"

"I want to wear high explosives and blow myself up."

"Yes, yes, of course you do. I understand, believe me. (sigh) Ok, I don't believe you are not CIA. And you are eager. Maybe I can be of some help. You say you want to be a terrorist. What are your qualifications? Do you have any references or prior experience?"

"References? No one told me I'd need references."

"Well, would you characterize yourself as ruthless? Sadistic? Brutally indifferent?"

"I don't know. I..."

"Intolerant? Fanatical? A slave to ideology?"

"I...uh...I..."

"Do you like to read Ann Coulter?"

"Why no."

"Too bad. Perhaps you are not the right type of person to be a terrorist."

"But..."

"Why do you want to be a terrorist anyways? What is your motivation?"

"To bring death to the infidels?"

"Yes, yes, but besides that. Why do you come here today? Is it power you seek?"

"No. I don't think so. "

"Is it fame? Your picture on TV?"

"No. Well, yeah, sure, that would be nice. I guess..."

"Is it martyrdom? Is that what you're after?"

"Yeah, that's it. Martyrdom. I want to be a martyr, you know."

"What do you know about martyrdom? Tell me."

"Well, it's like my friend was telling me. You blow yourself up and you get to be like a hero. And everyone praises you, and..."

"Yes."

"Well, my friend said that you get to sleep with 70 virgins."

"Uh-huh. The virgins. I thought so."

"Is it true? Do they really let you sleep with 70 virgins if you, you know, become a martyr."

"Well, not exactly. If you die a martyr then God will give you 70 virgins and 70 wives and everlasting happiness."

"You mean in heaven?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Oh, my friend didn't tell me that. You mean you gotta die first before they let you sleep with the virgins?"

"What did you think? You must die a martyr and then God will give you 70 virgins and everlasting happiness."

"Well that's a bunch of crap. Isn't there anyway I can sleep with the 70 virgins before I blow myself up?"

"No. How is this possible?"

"A loan, maybe. You know, like sleep with the virgins now and pay later. Can you do that? Can you get the virgins on credit?"

"You must die a martyr and then you will get the virgins. That is how it is written, that is how it must be."

"I see. Well that kind of puts a damper on things. So tell me. How can I be sure I'll get the virgins once I'm a martyred? I mean, is there a guarantee? Can I have it in writing?"

"It is God's word. That is enough."

"Yeah, right, well that's that I guess. How about this? Can I sleep with one virgin before I blow myself up? Just to see if I like it. "

"No. To do such a thing would be a sin against God. The Imam forbids it. We would have to cut off your head if such a thing were to happen."

"Alright, alright. Doesn't hurt to ask."

"A martyr's rewards will come to him. It is God's word."

"Ok, let's say I do decide to become a terrorist. What then?"

"We will train you and tie a bomb around your belly and send you somplace to blow yourself up."

"Like where. Where will you send me?"

"I don't know. London, Paris, America perhaps."

"America?"

"Yes, America."

"Ok, now I know you're BS'ing me. "

"What are you talking about?"

"You're going to send me to America, to be a martyr, so I can sleep with 70 virgins. Dude, where are you going to find 70 virgins in America?"

"The virgins will be in heaven, you stupid...Look, maybe you wouldn't make such a good terrorist after all. Please don't take offense but perhaps this is not a job for someone like you. "

"You got that right. I admit it sounded like fun at first, but geez, you didn't tell me I'd have to find 70 American virgins. Man, by the time I do that I'll be to old to be a terrorist. Listen, whatever you're name is, let me ask you something. What are you trying to accomplish with all these suicide attacks anyways?"

"Accomplish? Hah. Don't you see? The people tremble in terror and fear our wrath. The world will have to answer to our holy cause or suffer the consequences."

"Funny thing about that. See, I don't think the world is trembling in terror. I think right now the world is drinking a beer and watching football. Sure, you make the evening news but after the news is over the world just keeps getting fatter and richer while you hide out in bunkers and safe houses scared to death that someone's going to recognize you and drop a bomb on you. Seems to me like you're the ones living in fear, not them."

"This is jihad. We will not rest until the world gives us justice and surrenders to us all it's wealth and power."

"And you seriously think that's going to happen."

"Even if it takes one thousand years."

"And in the meantime you're just gonna keep blowing yourselves up."

"Yes, this is a holy cause."

"So is peace. So are mercy, tolerance and forgiveness."

"You do not understand. Please, do me a favor."

"Yes?"

"Read Ann Coulter."

I Love You California

Greetings from California, where once again it's an election year and the governor is on the comeback trail. As you might recall this blog pronounced Arnold's candidacy "dead in the water" a few months back, but as so often happens circumstances have changed and the Governator is lengthing his lead in the polls and it appears I may have been a bit premature in my judgement. So what's behind this remarkable change?

Well the governor did manage to get a budget passed reasonably close to the deadline. He also named Susan Kennedy, a leading democrat in the state, to be his new Chief of Staff. He's given some speeches on the environment and proposed some pro-environmental legislation. He's found money for the schools, and colleges, and state parks, etc... He's made nice with the unions, shaken some hands, kissed a few babies and generally stopped frightening the pants off of the state's middle-of-the-road voters. The Democrats still don't like him, of course, and more than a few Republicans are beginning to wonder where his loyalties lay, but all in all most average folk who don't have a particular bone to pick are beginning to cut him a little slack. However, that said, if I had to point to one thing, one single factor that could account for Arnold's recent surge in the polls it would be this:

Phil "the Pill" Angelides.

Yep. You gotta love those Democrats, and on behalf of the governor I'd personally like to thank them for making this excellent choice. Not that Phil "the Pill" can't win, mind you. Arnold is a wounded politician in this state. Even so you've gotta be more than a little awed and amazed that the Democrats still managed to select probably the only politician in the entire state of California who could lose to him. Let's face it guys, Phil Angelides is to charisma what Dick Cheney is to sensitivity and warmth.

As if that weren't enough, Angelides further enhanced his chances of victory by announcing that if elected he will raise between $5 billion and $10 billion in new taxes. This only confirmed the belief already engrained in many voters minds that the Democrats never met any problem that the government couldn't solve by taking a bigger percentage of their paychecks. Combine that with the impression of Angelides standing at the podium surrounded by the state's most powerful union leaders, their hands outstretched and and their mouths speaking the words to which Angelides moved his lips, and you complete the picture of the big spending, big government Democrat.

Sensing trouble, the dems recently flew in Hilary Rodham Clinton to inject a little energy into the Angelides campaign. That was quite a scene too - maybe you saw it. An animated Rodham Clinton exhorting the troops while Phil "the Pill" stood there looking like he was waiting for a bus. I could only imagine what must have been going through the governator's mind as he watched it. "Yes! I own this guy! Ha, ha, ha."

But, like I said, Arnold doesn't have this thing wrapped up quite yet. We Californians must never forget the man's uncanny ability to walk in the sun in newly shined oxfords and step right into a pile of fresh dog poo. It's only July and there are still 4 more months for Arnold to say something stupid and send his poll numbers sinking into the gutter.

Stay tuned folks. It's gonna be a long, hot summer.

A Blank Page, An Empty Mind, and This is What You Get

Greetings again from California, where the big news this week is a big wad of high pressure that has parked itself over the Great Basin and is now smothering the state under a blanket of hot, dusty, smoggy, smelly air. That's not a big deal if you live in L.A. or the Central Valley or anyplace where people have had the foresight and good sense to equip themselves with air conditioning, but here in the Bay Area where we forego artifical air conditioning and count instead on cool banks of Pacific fog to roll in each night and bring us relief, things have been pretty miserable. Particularly here in the South Bay where natural air currents push the noxious fumes produced up north into the bowl of the Santa Clara Valley, collecting themselves into a thick, smoggy goo.

Which brings me to this one, somewhat related question. Why is it , I ask, that out of all the people on the local newscast, only the weatherperson is allowed to hedge and lie? The reporters and anchors aren't allowed to lie. They can't get up there and say that a building's on fire or the mayor held a news conference without at least some pictures to back them up. The sports person can't get up there and say the score was around 7 to 5 or that the A's might be in first place. They've got have the numbers. They've got to know the score. But the weatherperson...

The weatherperson can get up there and lie through his or her teeth and no one says anything about it. And they do it all the time.

"The temperature today in San Jose was 95 degrees."

Bull! I don't know what thermometer he's looking at but mine is reading closer to 101.

"Expect highs in the low 90's".

Are you kidding me? It was already 80 degrees when I walked out of the house this morning. Are you talking 90 degrees Fahrenheit or Celsius?

These weatherpeople, I tell ya'. They give these five day forecasts like they're wizards or sorcerers or something, and then they can't even get the temperatures right. And everybody just plays along like that's the way it's supposed to be. "Don't blame me, I'm only the messenger", they say. "I just report the weather, I don't make it." Oh yeah, well I think you're lying. How do I know you don't make the weather? I mean, I just have to take your word for it, don't I? For all I know this whole weather thing could be part of big conspiracy. Part of the War on Terror or something. First they're telling you that Iraq has all these WMD's, and then they're telling you they can't do anything about the weather. Hmmph, that's what I say.

Whatever happened to the good ol' days? Remember that? Remember when you could trust the weather report? Remember way back when the weatherperson used to stand up next to a big piece of plexiglass or something like that and draw the weather for the audience with a big grease pen. Remember that? They used to draw those funny looking lines with little pennants hanging from 'em and tell you all about the high pressure and the low pressure, and even though you couldn't make heads or tails of any of it and all the little strings of flags looked more like something you'd see at a used car lot than the weather, the weatherperson had more credibility back then. He seemed so scientific, and you just knew that he had to go to college in order to understand all those squiggly lines and pennants.

Now days, of course, everything is different. Computer graphics have arrived in the newsroom and now we get to look at satellite photos and radar images and cute little pictures that highly paid weather professionals working on $10,000 computer workstations spend countless billable hours putting together. Let's see, there's that picture of the cloud with all the little drops of rain falling down. That means it's going to rain. And there's that cute one of the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. That means partly cloudy. Oh, and there's that bright orange and red picture of the sun with the word "HOT" drawn in big yellow letters that means that it's gonna be another scorcher tomorrow. I guess it's an improvement over the squiggly lines. It's clearer anyways, but do you think they've gone too far? Do they really need to talk to us like we're a bunch of kindergartners? Personally, I'd rather get my weather from some whacko weather scientist than from Captain Kangaroo. "Hey Mr. Green Jeans, c'mon over here and tell the kids what's on tap for their holiday weekend."

Oh, I'm just kidding. We love our weatherpeople, but I do have one more question. We all know that when you fill a balloon with hot air the balloon becomes lighter and it rises. So how come when the air in the atmosphere heats up it sinks into heavy high pressure ridges? You know what I'm saying. Hot air in a balloon rises, but in a high pressure area the air gets hot and sinks. Doesn't that seem backwards?

Hah! Didn't think of that did you Mr. Weatherperson.

More Tales from The World of Money



Corporate Ethics 1966


"Why Miss Cerf, how are you? You're looking lovely today."

"Why thank you Mr. Masters. It's a fine evening, isn't it?"

"It certainly is. Say, you know I'm glad I ran into you. Fact is I've been meaning to talk to you for some time now, Miss Cerf."

"You have? About what?"

"I'd rather not discuss it out here in the lobby. Look, I know you're anxious to go home, but, if it isn't too much of an incovenience, would you mind stepping into my office for a minute?"

"Your office? Well...I guess so. Is there something wrong?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. I just have something I'd like to talk to you about, that's all. If you have the time, that is. Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all. I was just on my way home, but I wasn't in any hurry."

"Good. Good. Well, follow me, then. We'll ride up together."

(They take the elevator to the 50th floor and walk down the hall to Mr. Masters' office)

"You don't mind if I close the door, do you Miss Cerf? I don't want anyone to overhear our little chat."

"No, I don't mind."

"Good" he says as he closes the door. "Here, let me take your coat. Have a seat, Miss Cerf."

"Thank you."

"How long have you been with us now, Miss Cerf. Has it been 3 years already?"

"It'll be four years this October. October 15 is my anniversary date."

"Four years, my, my, my. Where does the time fly, huh?"

"Oh it's been wonderful here, Mr. Masters. Everyone's been so good to me and I've learned so much."

"Well I'm glad. You know we like to think of Swinger Industries as one, big, happy family. "

"Oh, it's true. Everyone's so nice."

"Why I remember the first day you started with us, Miss Cerf. You were just a skinny little kid back then, weren't you? Straight out of high school with no work experience and, well, look at you now."

"You remember me? Really? I had no idea."

"Oh yes, Miss Cerf. I had my eye on you from day one, and, let's just say that over these past few years I've been very interested in your development."

"Well I don't know what to say Mr. Masters. I really had no idea."

"The thing is, Miss Cerf, I think that maybe the time has come to get you out of the secretarial pool and into something, er, more suitable to your talents. You don't want to sit behind a typewriter the rest of your life, do you Miss Cerf?"

"No. I mean, it's a good job but I'd like to, you know..."

"You'd like more of a challenge, right? Maybe a promotion, a little extra money each month?"

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? A promotion? Oh, Mr. Masters, I..."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Not so fast."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I thought..."

"Truth is we do have a position opening up here on the 50th floor. Just the sort of thing for a bright, energetic girl like yourself. But, I don't know. It's a big move and I'd like to know you a little better before I make a firm commitment. After all there are plenty of girls who've been working in the Secretarial Pool longer than you have and they might resent someone junior getting promoted ahead of them. If it's the right girl, though, then who cares. Let them get jealous. That's what I say."

"I see. Well, what would you like to know?"

"Heh, heh, heh. No, Miss Cerf. What I meant was that I'd like to get to know you, well, more informally, more personally. You know, find out what kind of girl you are outside of the office. I was thinking we could get together for a drink or something like that. Maybe go someplace where we can relax and let our hair down, if you know what I mean."

"A drink? Mr. Masters, I don't know. I mean, what if someone at the office should see us. What would they think?"

"You're right, you're right. What was I thinking. I mean, even though it would be completely innocent, well, you know how people talk."

"I appreciate the offer but..."

"Say, I've got an idea. Yeah, why didn't I think of that before? Miss Cerf, I think we're in luck. It just so happens my wife took the kids up to her mother's house yesterday and they're going to be gone for the entire week. Geez, it just completely slipped my mind. Tell you what. Why don't come over to my place and we can have a little drink and relax and get to know each other there. The house is empty and I'm sure no one will see us or bother us."

"Mr. Masters. You're house? I couldn't do that. I...I...I..."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's just that my sister's expecting me. I always go home right after work and if I don't show up she'll be so worried. Mr. Masters, you don't know how she gets when she worries. Oh, it's just terrible."

"So call her. Tell her you got tied up at the office and you'll be a little late. She'll understand."

"No. I mean, it wouldn't be right. Not with your wife and children gone and all..."

"Just one little drink. I promise. Nothing's going to happen. Miss Cerf, I hope you don't think I'd try to do anything improper or try to pull some kind of hanky-panky. I'm a very respected man, Miss Cerf and my reputation is..."

"No, no, Mr. Masters. I wasn't trying to imply anything like that. It's just that...well...you know I've had a busy day and I really should be going home. My sister will worry."

"Call your sister. Tell her you'll be okay and not to worry. Look, Miss Cerf, this is a very important position I'm trying to fill here. It would be quite a step up for you. I'd hate to think you'd pass up this opportunity because of a lack of trust. You know, opportunities like this don't come around everyday."

"..."

"Just a drink, I promise. We can relax, tell a few jokes, get to know each other, then I can know if I'm making the right decision or not. What do you say?"

"Just one drink? That's all?"

"I promise."

"Because I can only stay a minute. I really do have to get home. I can't stay too long"

"Miss Cerf."

"Yes?"

"Trust me."



Corporate Ethics 2006



"Hey Bob, can I see you for a moment?"

"Sure, Harry. What's up?"

"C'mon in. Close the door, would ya?"

"Yeah, sure thing. How's the arm?"

"Oh, still a little sore. Doc says I gotta cut back on my golf for a while, you know. Shit. What am I gonna do if I can't play golf all day. Sit around the office? Give me a break. Go on, have a seat."

"Thanks."

"Say Bob, I want to talk to you about last quarters financials. I've read the reports and I'm a little worried."

"Look, Harry. I admit we had a tough quarter but it's this goddamn economy. Shit, first it's that asshole Greenspan jacking up the interest rates and now we got this new asshole Bernanke walking around with his head up his ass."

"Yeah, I know Bob. The whole country's going to hell. Pretty soon the goddamn Chinese'll be running everything. But what about these numbers, Bob. You know we've got a shareholders meeting next month and..."

"Fuck the shareholders. All they ever care about is the share price. They don't know what we're facing here. The shareholders are just going to have to be patient, Harry. You talk to them. You're good at that."

"But Bob, I'm the Chairman of the Board. I'm supposed to be acting in the shareholders best interest here. You know we granted you a very nice incentive package in addition to a very generous salary on the condition that you perform, but, frankly, after losing a billion dollars last year I don't see how we can..."

"What are you saying Harry. You want me out, is that it?"

"..."

"..."

"Har, har, har, har, har, har, har... Had you going there didn't I. No, hell no. Like you said, fuck the shareholders. Look, I met this fella down in the Grand Caymans last year and I think maybe you should go have a talk with him. Real sharp fella, can work wonders on an Income Statement and Balance Sheet."

"What's his name?"

"I'll get his number for you. He's a real operator, if you know what I mean. Been to law school and all that. Knows every trick in the book. Tell you what, we'll let him massage the numbers a bit and those shareholder assholes won't know the difference."

"Sounds good Harry. Shit, you had me going there for a minute."

"Hah, almost pissed your pants didn't you. Har, har, har. Hey, about the bonus. How much do you think I should pay you for losing us a billion dollars last year?"

"I don't know. I could really use an extra 10 million or so."

"10 million? Quit thinking small potatoes, Bob. You'll never get anywhere thinking like that. Tell you what, how about we back date a few stock options and throw in an extra 80 million to sweeten the pot. That sound good to you?"

"Yeah. Thanks Harry."

"No problem. I'll send you that fella's number so you two can get in touch, ok?"

"Sure."

"I mean it. Clean up those numbers. I don't want to have a bunch of angry shareholders breathing down my neck. You hear?"

"Yeah."

"And you'll get it done before the next month's meeting?"

"Yeah, I'll get it done. Trust me."

The Greatest Guitarist No One Ever Heard Of.

I dropped out of school in 1978 so it had to be either '75 or '76 when Roy Buchanan gave a free concert at the local college. At least that's how I remember it, though to tell you the truth I'm not sure of the year or if the concert was free. Roy Buchanan was there. I do remember that.

I was still playing the guitar back then and was used to the "Roy who?" reactions I'd get whenever I mentioned his name. "Roy Buchanan", I'd say, "the greatest guitarist no one ever heard of."

That was his nickname back then, the result of a PBS documentary about him that aired in the early '70's. When Jeff Beck saw it he proclaimed Buchanan as the most amazing guitarist he'd ever seen. They would later become friends and Beck even dedicated his intrumental piece "Cause We've Ended as Lovers" to Roy Buchanan. Years later, Eric Clapton, then widely proclaimed as the best guitarist in the world, saw Roy Buchanan play a concert and conceded Buchanan, not he, was the best guitarist in the world. Countless others were influenced by him. Just listen to Santana's Moonflower album or anything by ZZ Top and you'll hear some of that trademark Buchanan sound.

So how come no one's ever heard of him? For one thing he was famous for shunning the spotlight, and once declared that nothing scared him more than being a pop star. But more than just his natural shyness, his anonymity also sprang largely from his uniqueness and free-spirited style of play. Ironically, the virtuosity and inventiveness that won him the respect of his fellow musicians mostly bored the broader rock and roll audiences as a whole. Buchanan eschewed electronics and pedal effects or anything that would distort his sound, and instead of the big and heavy head-banging guitar sound that audiences loved (and still love), he preferred to keep his playing tight and clean, favoring technique over volume and working his wizadry entirely within the strings and knobs of his telecaster.


The audience didn't go for it, and Buchanan enjoyed only limited commercial success. I remember reading or hearing an interview many years ago where Jimmy Page, then the lead guitarist with the rock group Led Zeppelin, was asked his opinion of some of the leading guitarists at the time. When Roy Buchanan's name was mentioned Page replied "a guitarist's guitarist." That was the real story of Roy Buchanan. Extremely talented, but ultimately just a musician's musician.

So when I went to see him play at the local college I wasn't expecting much of a crowd, and it was a pretty sparse audience that night. They had set up a little wooden stage on the lawn next to the college chapel, and Roy walked out with his band and proceeded to play some of the most amazing guitar I've ever seen. The small crowd turned out to be a blessing in disguise because that meant that I was able to stand right next to the stage, not 8 feet away from the famed guitarist. Like I said, I used to play a little guitar myself back in those days and flattered myself that I was picking up a few licks while I stood there watching him dominate that ol' telecaster of his, but that was purely conceit on my part. He was simply a master of that instrument, and I was unbelievably lucky to be able to stand so close and watch his fingers dance over those frets. (Just imagine standing on stage next to Hilary Hahn and watch her play the Schoenberg concerto to get some idea what the experience was like) It seemed like such a simple instrument in his hands, even though I knew better.

Anyways, Buchanan died in 1988 and while it would be nice to say that a whole new generation has discovered his music, that would be a lie. Just as it would be nice to say that he left a great library of music behind, but that would be a lie too. Throughout his career Buchanan was the constant victime of producers and record companies that tried to turn him into something else, be that country picker or rock god or blues legend - anything they could market and sell. Unfortunately the results were mostly uneven or just plain disastrous. A summer night on a tiny stage in front of a sparse crowd where he felt free to explore and innovate was where Buchanan was at his best.

Luckily, through the magic of the internet, you can still hear and see some of his work. I don't think there are any great Buchanan albums, but if I had to pick one track to listen to it would be Ramon's Blues, a bluesy duet he recorded with Steve Cropper on the Loading Zone LP. There are also these two Youtube links. Although not definitive by any means, they do give a small taste of what he was all about.

Sweet Dreams: A Buchanan classic from his first LP. This record introduced the world to Buchanan's trademark use of controlled harmonics - the high pitched whistling sound created by simultaneously picking and dampening the string as it is plucked. Over the years just about every guitarist would copy the sound. Just think of ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons who cites Buchanan as a major influence of his style.

Roy's Blues: This clip shows just a little of Buchanan's free spirited and explosive style of playing. To say that Roy didn't follow the rules has to be the understatement of all-time.

Screens Get Bigger and Pictures Get Smaller

Vloggercon came to San Francisco last week, and I have to say that outside of a tight circle of geeks and assorted weirdos the entire event went pretty much unnoticed around here. I didn't attend myself because (1) I never heard of Vloggercon before, and (2) even if I had heard of it I wouldn't know what the hell it was. But I have a good idea that it was a conference for all the folks doing those newfangled things called video blogs or vlogs, or what I like to call video podcasts.

Now we all know what podcasts are. At least we should know. In fact, if you don't what podcasts are by now then I'd say maybe you should just forget the whole tech revolution and go back to paper and pencil and rubbing two sticks together to make fire. For the sake of this blog, though, I'll just assume we all know what podcasts are.

Now, podcasts are great. In fact, the first time I subscribed to one and downloaded it to my mp3 player I knew right away that this was the way to go. Finally, podcasting gave the listener the means to break away from the interminable sameness of commercial radio and find creative new voices and refreshing new ideas. I liked podcasting from the first moment I heard it, and can't imagine ever going back to the days of searching the dial for interesting things to listen to.

So, just as podcasting changed the audio experience, video blogging has also changed the video experience. Right? Right? Well...

I think there is really one basic difference between podcasting and video blogging. Namely, the time and effort that goes into a podcast versus the time and effort that goes into a video blog. One of the things that has made podcasting so successful is that it is cheap and easy to do and literally anyone with a microphone and a computer can do it. That means geeks can do it, but chefs and artists and sports fans and whoever else wants to give it a try can do it too. Even catholic priests can do it for crying out loud, and the great diversity of voices and talents is what makes podcasting so much fun.

Video blogs, on the other hand, suck.

I mean I want to be fair and I certainly can't claim to have seen every video blog out there, but believe me I've seen enough of 'em to know they suck. Maybe it's because the barrier to entry is high and you don't have as big a pool of potential video bloggers as podcasters, but for whatever reason I've yet to find a video blog that wasn't a complete waste of time and bandwidth. If you don't believe me then just take a look at Rocketboom, currently the king of the video blogs. Just go to the website and watch an episode and see if you can figure out what all the excitement is about. Lord knows, I can't, although I think it has something to do with the whole "Indie" movement that seems to be taking the world by storm. You know, if something is "Indie" then that implies a chic coolness, regardless of whether it's any good or not. That, as far as I can figure , is what the Rocketboom phenomena is about. If you ask me it's just a bunch of empty calories. Pretty to look at and not much nutritional value.

What really gets me about the video blogging thing, though, is why do people subscribe to these things when there is so much good video available on the web. Here are a few examples -

ABC.com
DL.tv
Crankygeeks.com
Youtube.com

And on and on and on. There's so much video happening on the web these days it just seems pointless to waste time on the vlogs. Rocketboom? Let me tell you, you'll get more content in just one segment of DL.tv or Crankygeeks than in a whole month of Rocketbooms. And there are other shows on the web that are just as good.

Vloggercom? Bah, humbug. Let's talk about video that's worth watching, and for the rest just stick with podcasting. Speaking of podcasting, here are a couple:

Thomas Edison's Attic: This is actually a real radio show that's produced by a station out in New Jersey. Luckily, they also syndicate it out as a podcast for those of us who don't happen to live in New Jersey. The show is produced by the Edison National Historic Site and every couple of weeks they broadcast some vintage recordings from Thomas Edison's collection of late 19th and early 20th century wax cylinders. If you're at all interested in early recorded music then you'll want to subscribe to this podcast. Excellent!

SMTV: Samantha Murphy is a working musician who travels the country doing interviews and highlighting the works of other "Indie" musicians (there's that word again). It's an interesting look at bands who are working and recording and yet haven't been able to make that next big step into stardom. I can't say I like all the bands she features, but I like hearing their stories. What do you do if you're a struggling band? Do you strike out on your own and be the master of your own destiny, happy just to make a living doing what you love, or do you wait for that big record deal, surrendering control for the big shows and the mega-bucks? A lot of bands are trying to figure that out these days. Samantha Murphy likes to joke about her "five listeners", but I think she's got a few more subscribers than that.

And while I'm on this linking thing, one more Youtube link. This one is a 10 minute short made back in the 1940's and features two legends of the saxophone. The first half features Lester Young playing in his intimate, soulful style, and the second half features Illinois Jacquet picking it up and getting sassy. Of course there's a whole cast of musicians playing with them but those two are the stars.

The World's Library


Let's face it. If you're an old geezer like me (and if you're reading this blog then you probably are) then the internet can seem pretty hostile and strange sometimes. So much of it is about being young, hip and cool, and gray-haired toothless types like us have got to wonder what all the fuss is about. Sure you can track your investments or research whatever disease you think you're coming down with, but that's not where the "buzz" is. No, the "buzz" these days is all about social networking and Web 2.0, not the retirement calculator over at the AARP website.

So, with that in mind, I want to talk about Youtube. If you're over the age of forty I'd say the odds are probably 1 in 5 that you've ever heard of it. On the other hand, if you're under the age of 21 and you haven't heard of it then you are like "so don't get it". Well, I'm over forty and even though I'm way past the age of being either hip or cool I've been over to the site a few times just to check it out, and I have to say....

I don't get it.

Well, actually I do get it. Sure, if you're 16 years old what could be cooler than making some kind of off-the-wall (i.e. "indie") video and posting it to the web. That's what Youtube is, you see. It's a place to post videos and share them with other Youtube users. And if you're of a certain age then one of the things to do these days is to go over to Youtube and check out the latest totally killer videos. If you want to be au courant, that is.

Yeah, seems pretty harmless. I've got no criticism of the whole thing really, but I can't help but wonder if I was so easily entertained when I was 16. Oh hell, I probably was.

I wouldn't have brought the whole thing up if it wasn't for something I discovered on Youtube a couple of weeks ago. I was just digging around you see and thinking what a gigantic waste of time the whole thing was, when all of a sudden there, hidden behind all the highest rated and most watched videos I found a whole other secret place in Youtube. Not the sort of place the kids would go, mind you, and not the sort of place the advertise on the front page, but there it was, down among the dusty old shelves in the basement where old fuds like me have been quietly amassing an amazing collection of videos that aren't about the latest TV shows or off-the-wall antics. No, just clear away the cobwebs and pry open some of those crates and you know what you'll find?

Culture.

Honest. No kidding. I wouldn't lie about this. Culture right there in dark and dusty bowels of Youtube.com. I couldn't believe it at first because, I mean, where are you going to find culture these days? On TV? At the movie theater? In the schools? Give me a break. Symphonies are going broke and schools can't cut their arts education programs fast enough.

But it's there on Youtube. Unfortunately, you have to dig to find it, and that's the adventure of the whole enterprise I suppose. That's also why I've become such a Youtube junkie. The search for hidden treasures, it turns out, is a lot of fun.

Rather than blabber on and on about this I thought I'd post a few links and give a few examples of what I've found. This is some of the stuff that turns me on. You'll have to find what turns you on for yourself.

Opera:

Vissi d'arte from Puccini's opera Tosca, as sung by Leontyne Price. Her fans consider Leontyne Price to be the greatest soprano of her era. Listen to this clip of her singing one of Puccini's most famous arias and see if you don't agree. Can anyone argue about the beauty and richness of her tone or her incredible power and control?

E Lucevan le stelle from Puccini's opera Tosca, as sung by Mario Lanza. This one was a real suprise. I remember Mario Lanza from those old Hollywood musicals but I had no idea he could sing opera. This was really a revelation for me. Such a clear, ringing and powerful tenor. Why didn't he pursue opera seriously?


Classical:

Vladimir Horowitz playing Chopin's Polonaise Op. 53 in A Flat Major. The famous Russina pianist playing one of Chopin's most famous Polonaise's.


Arturo Rubinstein playing Chopin's Polonaise Op. 53 in A Flat Major. The famous Polish pianist playing one of of Chopin's most famous Polonaise's. I love this because you can compare and contrast 2 musical legends playing the same piece. Horowitz who seems to attack the piece and wrestle with it, and Rubinstein who sits back with his eyes almost closed and just lets the music flow spontaneously from his soul to the keyboard. I'll leave it to you to decide which is better.

Jascha Heifetz playing the Paganini Caprice No. 24. What can I say. The man was a legend.


Jazz:

Miles Davis and John Coltrane play So What. Here's Miles and Trane playing one of the most famous jazz compositions ever recorded. Not quite the original cast and I'm really not too good at picking out the players, however I believe that's Paul Chambers on bass, Jimmy Cobb on drums, Wynton Kelly on piano, and John Coltrane on sax, along with a host of others.

Miles Davis plays So What with his legendary quintet. Ok, here's another compare and contrast. This is the legendary quintet of Miles on trumpet, Wayne Shorter on sax, Herbie Hancock on piano, Ron Carter on bass and Tony Williams on drums.

John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy play Impressions. Kind of a historical oddity. At the time I believe the critics labeled the music these two were making as "antijazz".


Just for fun:

Ruth Etting in Roseland. If you've read this blog then you'll know I'm a big Ruth Etting fan. What I want to know is where did this guy ever find this video! Not the best song Ruth Etting ever sung, but quite a rarity.

The Rhythm Boys singing "So the Blackbirds and the Bluebirds Got Together". Another rarity. So who were the Rhythm Boys? Check out the funny looking guy on the end. He got started with the Rhythm Boys but soon struck out on his own. Did kind of well for himself, too.

The Beatles - Hey Jude. I remember when they played this video on the Smother Brothers. How long ago was that? Oh man, I don't want to think about it.

The Balls are Flyin' Here in the City of Mahoganny

Two months ago, when the news was full of the Barry Bonds steroids scandal, I predicted that in another sixty days the whole thing would be forgotten. As long as Bonds kept hitting 'em out of the ballpark, I said, no one would care too much about steroids or growth hormones or any of the rest of it. Well, sixty days have passed and even though the steroids story hasn't disappeared completely from the news, it's clearly not the scandal it was a couple of months ago.

In fact, as I write this Bonds is closing in on Babe Ruth's record and news people from all over the world are flocking to San Francisco to cover it. Bonds' "quest for history" is what one local newscast is calling it, "epic achievement" is what I read in the paper, and it just seems like everyone wants to be here to witness baseball's greatest achievement by baseball's greatest player.

Don't want to gloat but I told you so.

What I couldn't predict was the backlash heaped upon the poor unfortunate's who authored a book and ignited the whole scandal in the first place. Rather than receiving acclaim and appreciation for "Game of Shadows" , the 2 authors have received subpoena's instead and been asked to disclose the source of the grand jury leaks . That's what's called an ironic twist. Instead of Bonds going to jail he goes to the Hall of Fame, and it's the author's who may end up doing time. Now isn't that a slap in the face. At least it is for the authors. Baseball fans are loving it.

Which only goes to prove my other point that fans really don't care about this steroids thing as much as people suppose they do. Sure, they'd rather that the players weren't doing drugs and doping up and all that, but as long as the players keep it private and out of the papers then it's nothing for the fans to worry about. Don't ask, don't tell is what they call it, and the last thing anyone wants to see is a lot of snoopy reporters sticking their noses in the player's business and ruining things for everyone else.

Of course there is just one more little fly in the ointment I haven't mentioned. Seems baseball has decided to launch an independent investigation headed by former senator George Mitchell to look into these steroid accusations. Some are calling it a PR move but others are afraid it may be more serious than that. I'm sure baseball is hoping it's nothing serious or they could find themselves on the wrong side of the fans. Which brings me to my next prediction. I predict that the commission will investigate the matter and find either (a) the steroid accusations are wildly overblown in which case baseball will breathe a sigh of relief, or (b) that there is rampant steroid use throughout the game in which case baseball will show shock and concern and then quietly bury the whole thing. In either case, however, baseball will not provoke it's fans nor put it's ticket sales in danger.

And that's all I can say about that. Face you old fart traditionlists out there, it's the new baseball and Bonds is it's greatest player. Might as well drink your beer and enjoy your peanuts because the old days are gone forever. And until some new drug is discovered and some new superstar comes along, Bonds is master of this game. After that, who knows. 1,000 home runs? 2,000 home runs? In one season? Stay tuned - you won't want to miss an action-packed moment.

A Farewell, and then Forever


As a rule I try not to blog about celebrities, but sometimes you just have to say something. Like it or not, certain celebreties become important fixtures in our lives and leave us feeling a little bit older and emptier when they're gone. I felt it when John Lennon died, and then again when James Stewart died, and now I feel it again with the passing of Louis Rukeyser.

So what was it that made Louis Rukeyser so invaluable? I think it was this. The investing world has always been full of touts and self-promoters - those who claim inside knowlege or omniscience or the ability to predict the future. In fact, for many individual investors the whole basis of stock market investing is nothing more than seeking out these wizards for their " hot tips" and "inside scoops". Rukeyser and his panelists on Wall Street Week in Review were different. Instead of "hot tips" Rukeyser's prgram was all about the facts and healthy doses of common sense. That's why viewers faithfully tuned-in each Friday night and read his newsletters and attended his seminars. They were there to learn the investing basics, and they trusted that Rukeyser wasn't going to try to confuse them with a lot of jargon or claim to know the unknowable.

Over the years, as a faithful viewer myself, I got to see the him interview countless Wall Street movers and shakers, from both the fundamental and technical side of the investing spectrum, and I think it's fair to say that not once did I ever see Rukeyser let a guest blow a lot of smoke on his show and get away with it. If something wasn't clear the guest was asked to clarify it. If an outlandish claim was made then he was asked to justify it, and all the time Rukeyser would be probing with his unique blend of skepticism and wit. In this way I think millions of americans got to see that investing wasn't voodoo or black magic but rather an informed strategy based upon research and (here's that phrase again) common sense.

It would be a fitting tribute to Louis Rukeyser and Wall Street Week to say that his show changed the world and we are all better investors for having watched it, but unfortunately, for the vast majority of us, investing is the same today as it always was. Bring up the stock market in any casual conversation and it won't be long before someone asks you for a hot tip. Seldom does anyone ask for a strategy. But that wasn't his failure. Rather, the fact that so many learned so much from watching his show was his great success.

The most peculiar thing about Louis Rukeyser's death, at least for me, is that he was the same age when he died as my father was when he died, and he died of the very same disease. Multiple Myeloma took my father's life at age 73 (actually it was complications from the disease), and Mulitple Myeloma also took Louis Rukeyser's death at age 73. I won't say his passing is like losing a second father. No one could ever replace my father and frankly, Louis Rukeyser and I weren't that close. But I do feel like I lost an old friend.

May he Rest In Peace.

One other item in the news that caught my eye. In case you haven't heard Microsoft announced they were getting into the TV show biz today. Well, not exactly the cable TV show biz or the over-the-air TV biz but the internet TV biz. Turns out they are going to start producing original content for the MSN internet service through a service they're calling (suprise) MSN Originals. Geez, I hate to be negative but doesn't this seem like it's going to be one big...

DUD!

I mean, I wish Microsoft the best of luck with this but their track record for new initiatives hasn't been too spectacular lately. MSN search vs. Google? Dud. Plays for Sure vs. IPod? Dud. Origami? Dud. And now they're going to get in the TV business? Well, we all now how easy that's going to be. Just ask the WB and UPN how easy it is to come up with new, audience-grabbing content. Should be no problem.

Not that I'm one to criticize, mind you, because I know nothing about primetime TV. If they asked me how to make a hit show I wouldn't have a clue, although I do have this idea for live opera broadcasts on the internet. That'd be a hit, wouldn't it? I'm sure there are at least a couple dozen other people who'd like to see that too. Then again maybe not, and anyways I think MSN is going after a bigger demographic.

And who better to know what's hip with today's 18-34 year olds than Bill Gates.

Yeah, hate to say it but I just get a bad feeling about this MSN Originals thing. Not that I think it's a bad idea. In fact, if I was a betting man I'd wager that Microsoft is probably onto something here. The trouble is they won't be able to execute on it and some younger, hipper company is going to come along and eat their lunch. That seems to be their process these days. But then again, who knows. Good luck Microsoft, and I can't wait for the first show.

Three Reasons Why You Should Never Blog When You're Tired

I had this idea for a political cartoon but unfortunately I can't draw so I'll have to describe it instead. It takes place in front of the capitol, and out in front there's a long continuous line of SUV's all climbing the hill with banners on the back saying "$3.00 a gallon gas", and in one of the SUV's there's this big fat guy leaning out the window and looking at the capitol with his fist in the air, and the caption reads "It's all your fault!"

Yeah, I know, pretty lame, but then I'm no cartoonist.

And that's not what I wanted to talk about anyways. What I want to talk about is Eric Steel. If you don't know who Eric Steel is then let's just say he is an important filmaker. How do we know he is an important filmaker? Well, because he's made an important film, that's how. Please, read on. This is very important.

Apparently, Eric Steel asked officials with the Golden Gate National Recreation Area for permission to film the Golden Gate Bridge for a series of movies he was making on national monuments. Naturally, the bridge officials agreed and so Mr. Steel set up cameras that would shoot continuously throughout the daylight hours for most of 1994. That's a lot of footage, but it was for a good cause. Right?

Well, turns out our filmaker wasn't being exactly honest with the bridge officials. Instead, what he really wanted to shoot was not the bridge but people jumping off the bridge and comitting suicide. Not actors, mind you, but actual people jumping to their deaths. That meant he was able to film about 19 successful attempts during this period along with numerous aborted attempts as well. All he had to do was go through the footage, find all the good parts, and edit it something an audience could enjoy. Swell guy, this Mr. Eric Steel.

So there you have it. I guess the movie is finished now and awaiting release, and sure to be a hit with audiences bored by all the simulated violence they have had to witness over the years. Now, at last, we have a movie where audiences can go and see the real thing. Real human beings dying on film. "Kind of sick" you may be saying to yourself, "controversial" say others, not realizing that in these modern times, words like "sick" and "controversial" are just mediaspeak terms for...

"important."

You can practically hear the critics now. "Most important film of the year from one of America's most important filmakers." The folks associated with the bridge aren't to thrilled with it all, of course, and some are calling for renewed efforts to erect suicide barriers along the bridge, a move that would save lives but would diminish the aesthetic aspects of the world's most beautiful bridge. It's not an easy call.

I'm of two minds on this myself. Sure, we all want to save lives but there are other things to consider. I mean, if they erect the barriers how would people like Eric Steel get their kicks? Has anyone thought of that? This is an important filmaker we're talking about. Not some sick bastard who's looking to draw attention to himself by exploiting the misery and suffering of others. If they do build the barriers what will that do to him? Poor, miserable SOB. Perhaps he can find some other important project to enlighten us with. Something like child molestation perhaps? Sure, instead of just talking about it, why not shoot a film where we get to see actual children being sodomized on camera? Huh, don't tell me that wouldn't be important.

(I'm just kidding by the way. I know how seriously people take these blogs sometimes.)

Well, enough of that. If you want to read about Eric Steel the story can be found here. Now on to other (more important) things.


Do you live in California and, if you do, have you ever heard of the transfer tax? If you ever bought a home in California and actually managed to make it all the way through all the little numbers in your final closing papers then you might have. If not then let me explain.

The transfer tax is levied by your County Recorder when your Deed is presented to them for entry into the Official Record. This is a complicated process which involves stamping the document, photocopying it, and stuffing it in an envelope to be mailed back to you. In California all counties charge the same transfer tax of $0.55 per $500. That is, you take the sales price (or fair market value) of the property and divide that number by $500, rounded up to the next even multiple of $500, and then multiply the quotient by 0.55 to arrive at your final tax. For example, for a typical California home selling for around $700,000 you would divide 700,000 by 500 and then multiply by 0.55 to arrive at a tax of $770.

Ok, so what's the big deal. Well, it's not really a big deal, but did you also know that certain cities in California also charge their own separate transfer taxes that are levied in addition to the transfer taxes levied by the counties? If you read your closing papers you did, but in case you didn't then I found this great little website called dirtlawyer.com which gives an interesting breakdown of all the various transfer taxes charged by cities and counties in California. Quite an eye-opener if you're considering buying or selling property out here.

The good news is that in 47 out of 58 counties no additional city taxes are levied at all, and in the remaining counties only some of the major cities have such levies. In Santa Clara County, for examle, only the cities of San Jose, Palo Alto and Mt. View have the tax at a somewhat reasonable rate of $3.30 per $1000. Sonoma and Yolo Counties have much lower rates than ours (Cloverdale in Sonoma County, for example, only charges $1.10 per $1,000), but what really caught my attention was the incredibly high amounts charged by some other California cities. In San Francisco, for example, the rate is $6.80 per $1,000 for our hypothetical $700,000 home, but that pales in comparison to the taxes charged across the bay in Alameda County, where the cities of Oakland and Berkely charge a whopping $15 per 1,000.

Are you kidding me?

That means on a $700,000 home in Oakland, Alameda County would charge a $770 transfer tax and the City of Oakland would levy an additional $10,500, bringing the total transfer tax bill to a staggering $11,270. Holy Toledo, and that's just the tax you pay for recording your Deed. Compared to the $3,080 you'd pay in San Jose for that same sales price I'd say that San Jose seems like quite a bargain. At least it would to an old penny-pincher like me.

Anyways, it's an interesting chart of a little known tax. It also breaks down the tax on the basis of who pays what, so that in Alameda County for instance, the seller actually pays the county transfer tax and half the city transfer tax and the buyer pays the rest. That means in our hypothetical $700,000 transaction, the buyer would only pay $5,250 and the other $6,020 would be deducted from the sellers proceeds. Seems reasonable, eh?

Ah, homebuying is so much fun. Maybe in the future we can talk about property taxes and earthquake insurance.