Hard to believe a year has passed since my last post.
Gasoline prices DID drop to $1.79 - although they are on their way back up. For the moment.
In fact… almost everything I predicted for the past 3 or 4 years on this blog HAS come true.
It’s been an amazing year.
I just a few months I’ll be finished with my MBA - in case you’re wondering where I’ve been lately. It’s difficult to write and go to school full time - especially at a top tier university where the program is difficult and demanding. But… I wanted to achieve a few things. One of the things that have always bothered me is that many of the people spouting much of the drivel on libertarian blogs have a sheepskin that they believe sets them apart. So… I went and got me one of those sheepskins too. And I got it from a university that is known for the quality of their program. Which will make me not only the most highly educated member of my erstwhile family - but will give me ’street cred’ as well.
As soon as I’ve put the finishing touches on that I’ll be back in force.
One of the first things I’ll do is to revisit the postings of the last few years in light of new developments and do a gigantic, “in-your-face” “I told you so” dance.
In the meantime - don’t sweat the rising prices at the pump.
Big Oil is tap-dancing on a landmine with their renewed round of speculation and market manipulation. It doesn’t take Fellini to figure out that the only logical outcome of that stupidity will be an economic flash and a fire-ball followed by a giant mushroom cloud.
As I’ve said before… I personally won’t be happy until a few of the CEO’s of those companies are marched off to Federal Prison in little orange jumpsuits.
Soon…
Very soon.
See you in the Fall. Last Class is in October!
I’ll try to post a little between here and there.
EMail This PostJune 10th, 2009
Via the almighty Drudge Report :
http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/gas-could-fall-2-if/story.aspx?guid={2673C102-68E0-41D9-9C9A-10EE2E723948}&dist=MostReadHome
So much for all you MORONS who have been chanting “supply and demand” like supersticious midevial druids forking the sign of the “evil eye” and trying to frighten the natives into burning at the stake anyone who wouldn’t chant it with you.
Over at most of the libertarian blogs in the known universe it’s still “Economy? What’s an Economy? I never said anything about any ‘Economy’? Who wants to talk about this so-called ‘Economy’? Not US! No Way!
Lots of Drivel about Hillary and Obama and McCain and this and that and everything BUT the economy.
When you do see a post about Gas Prices it’s always quoting some moronic academic professor who knows bupkiss about the real world and quickly degrades into aforementioned “evil-eye” gestures and chanting “BURN THE WITCH!”.
Hang tight - Congress will be burning their play-house down here momentarily.
And please… believe me on this one… if gas prices drop to $1.79 a gallon as predicted, there won’t be a rock big enough for those morons to climb under.
“Merciless” is the word you’re looking for here.
Trust me. I’ll be on every comment page so fast you’re head will spin. And I will spend the next 2 years making sure that every post they every publish will contain reference to how they lied time and time again. Their credibility will be in the proverbial toilet.
Supply and Demand?
Laugh I thought I’d die.
-Mac-
EMail This PostJune 26th, 2008
** UPDATE **
I notice that one of the more idiotic libertarian poseurs has ran and back-posted a piece on ”Oil Company Profits” in the wake of my posting this piece yesterday. ”Gas prices? What are gas prices??”
And… not suprisingly it was more screaming like a little girl “SUPPLY AND DEMAND DAMMIT - ITS SUPPLY AND DEMAND.”
WAAAAH!!. Would you like me to call you a WHAAH-MBULANCE? ROTFL.
Screaming like a woman won’t help you. It’s far too late for that now.
People have to realize that guys like this are just like their idol, F.A. Hayek. Academics who have never ran, or managed a DAMNED thing in their life. Unlike Keynes who had real-world experience. These misguided tools like to parrot the pablum that’s been spoon fed to them by other ivory tower academics with NO real world experience or common sense, but crumple like a cheap suit under scrutiny.
The Fed is going to be tearing your playhouse down soon.
Enjoy!
** END UPDATE **
A Night To Remembah!
I love that line from 1983’s teen sexploitation film “Porky’s”.
A bunch of immature teenage boys locked in a room believing that all the female riches of the legendary southern house of ill-repute would soon be theres to wallow in. Porky had promised them all a “Night to remember!”.
Only to be unceremoniously DUMPED into the ice cold dirty lake when Porky drops the bottom out of the room with the pull of a lever and a shout of “HERE COMES YOUR NIGHT TO REMEMBAH!”.
I hate to be the one who says “I told you so!” (Okay… that’s a lie - I LOVE to be the one who says “I told you so!”) but… “I told you so!”.
CNNMoney is reporting HERE that the Feds are (and have been) investigating oil trading and oil markets. The market plummeted on the news.
Nothing makes me happier.
To all you libertarian posuers and free market extremists that tried so, so, so hard to make any fool that would actually listen to you believe that the price at the pump had ANYTHING to do with a “free market!” - well… Here comes your night to remembah! Enjoy that frigid lake water.
Look at any libertarian leaning blog in the last 8-10 months.
“Gas prices? What are gas prices?” or “Economy? What’s an economy?”
You’ll find post after post about inane subjects like politics, the Iraq war, pit bulls, Obama, Hillary, Bush.
But you WON’T find many posts about what’s going on at the pump, and if you do they are simply idiotic libertarian ninny’s trying to scream “SUPPLY AND DEMAND” so loud you can’t concentrate on the gouging going on.
Because… to a large degree… it’s the failed economic theories of their icon F.A. Hayek that have resulted in much of the pain and suffering we are experiencing today at the pump, grocery store, and doctors office.
AND THEY KNOW IT.
That’s why it’s ”insert sounds of crickets chirping” on the economy or on gas prices.
Keynesian economics brought us The Thirty Glorious Years. Hayek’s has brought us gas pump gouging, skyrocketing food costs, and a broken healthcare system.
And anyone who tries to call Keynes a “socialist” is an uneducated dolt. Period.
Regulation has a place. This is one of them. The CFMA of 2000 made this and other market attrocities (Enron, for example) possible. Deregulating the energy industry resulted in “The Smartest Guys in the Room”, and the rising prices you see at the grocery store and at the pump today.
The CFMA2K can be amended with TWO WORDS to end this charade.
Where the nomenclature on exempt markets reads “agriculture” simply change it to “agriculture and energy“.
As Emeril would say “BAM! There it is.”
Not to worry. When the Feds are done - it’s gonna be the free market extremists Night To Remembah!
Me… I won’t be happy until I see the speculators and gougers frog-marched off to the Crow-Bar Hotel in orange jumpsuits.
My guess is that I won’t be alone.
Get some!
Mac
EMail This PostMay 29th, 2008
So… you’ve waited until 2 weeks before Christmas, and now you’re trying desperately to buy a Wii for you or your family - problem is - there are none to be found.
Unless…
You want to pay one of the soul-less profiteers on e-Bay $500.00 - $750.00 for something that is only worth $249.99?
Well… this summer I finally broke down and decided to get one. I also decided that I would rather EAT BROKEN SHARDS OF GLASS than pay some TOOL on E-Bay one cent more than the Wii was actually worth.
Here is the TRUE story of what I went through - and how to get it done - WITHOUT rewarding a GOUGER.
First off - a little perspective. Before you undertake this you should know what you are buying.
The Wii is a very cute little game machine. It’s inexpensive. It has good graphics, and a growing list of games. It’s worth the $249.99 that they charge for it. It is NOT nearly as good as a PS3 or an X-Box. The graphics are sub-par and the list of available games isn’t anywhere nearly as expansive as the other consoles.
Fact of the matter is - it’s just a souped up version of the old, tired, and now RE-tired Game-Cube that didn’t sell particularly well. The graphics are really mediocre in comparison to the other systems, and it’s one redeeming feature is the unique little wireless controllers (which, by the way - eat AA batteries like candy) - a feature that the other game boxes are quickly incorporating into their controllers. But some of the games are just warmed over Game-Cube games. Not so great really.
So… before you sign up for this safari - you should know that what you’re hunting isn’t all that great. It’s cute - to be sure - and a great deal of fun - not to mention it’s fun-factor for the entire family. It’s very wife and girl-friend friendly. I’m not saying it’s not worth the work it’s going to take to get it - I’m just trying to give you a little perspective on what it is you are hunting. Don’t think it’s the greatest system on the market. It isn’t. The PS3 blows it away from a graphics standpoint. Maybe even the PS2. Certainly the X-Box. But the PS3 is nearly twice as expensive - and ugly as sin. So is the X-Box 360.
In short - the Wii is unique and a great deal of fun - it’s not just on the same level as other game boxes. Period.
Secondly - you are going to hear a great many apocryphal stories from your friends, co-workers, families and store clerks.
Listen to me very closely.
They are all BULL… SHIT.
Trust me on this one.
I donated 8 weeks of my life to finding out the TRUTH behind what’s going on with this “Wii Shortage” and I’m going to lay every iota of it out right here.
And I’m starting with every relative, friend, co-worker, friend of a friend, and store clerk who has LIED through their pointy little teeth about how they got a Wii.
Know Ye This. You are going to hear 100 variations of the following lines told by a LOT of people - some of whom you know and love
“I was just walking through (insert store name here) and THERE they WERE! Like… TEN of them! - No problem at ALL!”
“Yeah… I had a friend who works for (insert store name here ) - they gave me a call when they came in. I just drove down and PICKED one right UP!”
“Oh yeah… they get like… 3 a day at (insert store name here). I just watched for a couple of days and got one - easy.”
“I just called (insert store name here) and they said they were expecting a shipment (insert day name here) - I just drove over and got one when they came in.”
“A friend of mine at work saw them at (insert store name here) and bought like… THREE of them… they sold me mine for just a few bucks over retail.”
Snork.
I really could care less how close you are to these people - they may be trusted friends or even loved ones and family members… but…
They are all lying out their ASS.
They are doing so because… well… they were morons and paid some gouging butt-nugget on e-Bay 2X or 3X what it’s worth just to get one. They have to explain how they have one - but they can’t admit to you that they paid more than two or three times what it was worth without looking like… well…. a complete tool.
I guess you can’t blame them.
But… don’t be an even bigger tool and believe them. Because… they’re lying. Trust me.
I spent 8 weeks of my life, 8 hours a day, every single day, in pursuit of one, and here is what I found out during those 8 weeks.
You should know that I work right next door to a major shopping mall, and there is a Best Buy and a Circuit City on either side of it. And an EBGames/GameStop inside of it. There is also a Target on the same street on the WAY to the mall. Oh yes. There is.
Every single day for 8 weeks I ran the exact same pattern.
At 10:00AM break - I drove in order to : BestBuy, Circuit City, Target, GameStop.
I did it again at 11:30 when I went to lunch.
I did it again at 12:30 when I was returning for lunch.
I did it again at 2:00 pm break.
I did it again at 5:30 pm on the way home.
I did it again at 09:00 pm in the evening to try to catch them at closing time.
Rinse. Repeat. Every single day.
On the weekends I did the exact same schedule.
I never deviated. Not once in 8 weeks.
First of all… I don’t know what the deal with EBGames and GameStop is, but in 8 weeks of checking each and every store 3 times a day - they never, ever, never, ever, ever, had a single Wii or Wii peripheral for sale. Only the games. Now… I was told by their employees (6 times a day, every day for 8 weeks) that they ‘got them in all the time’. But they never once had one in. Ever. Once. I wonder if they are even on the distribution list to tell you the truth. You would figure that at some point in an 8 week span, at least ONE Wii would show up. But… they never did. I got a lot of conflicting bullshit from their employees. “We got about 5 of them in this morning at 10:00AM”. Bullshit. I was THERE this morning at 10:00AM. And again at 11:30AM. The employee there at that time said there hadn’t been a Wii in stock for DAYS.
So… just lots of lies actually.
I realized pretty quickly they lied. A LOT.
Target was just a nightmare. Their people are zombies. Try asking anyone in any Target store any damned thing. They look at you like they want to eat your brain and start slobbering. It’s enough to say that in 8 weeks of checking several times a day they never had one in stock, and they never answered a single question. I even asked to see the manager once. He refused to talk to me. Gawd.
Circuit City was much the same. Nobody knew anything. Ever. And WHY were you bothering them with questions? They don’t put up with much for $5.85 an hour. Pee-Eew. There were a couple of times after they advertised them in circulars that I showed up on a Sunday morning to a line in front of the place - but you couldn’t get in. Once you were in they had apparently had about 20 of them, but they went to people in line. Hmmm. I started thinking.
Best Buy was another set of nightmares. Only they LIED a LOT MORE. Wow. Almost EVERY TIME I went into a Best Buy I had “just missed a whole bunch of them” or conveniently they had “just sold the LAST ONE!”.
6 times a day. For 8 weeks. I heard that lie. “Oh… you JUST missed the LAST ONE”. Or even better. “Well… we had about 30 of them this morning… but… they went fast!”. Funny - I was THERE this morning at opening. Nobody on that SHIFT knew a damned thing about them.
Except one Sunday morning. I showed up at opening to a line around the place. People had “tickets”. They gave a ticket to the first 35 people in line. Those people got a Wii. I actually got to see one of the elusive boxes. With my own eyes. They DID exist. But… I still didn’t get one. Double Hmmm.
That’s when I caught on to The Scam.
These places were HOARDING the Wiis. And lying to the public at large about when they did/did not come in.
What was happening was obvious after I had figured it out.
Whenever these places would get a shipment of Wiis - they would stockpile them.
Please… you must believe me about this. None of these places EVER once EVER put a SINGLE Wii on the shelf on a regular day. Ever. They kept them in the back. Until they had a few of them.
Then they advertised in the Saturday sale circulars for the Sunday openings. Because it’s illegal to advertise something you DON’T have in STOCK.
It makes perfect sense. You can’t advertise something you DON’T have.
If you put the Wii’s OUT on the SHELF - they will always be sold. So… you can’t ADVERTISE them.
And advertising a Wii brings a lot of people into the store.
So…
You stockpile all the Wiis. Lie through your teeth to the public. Then advertise them to draw in the BIG crowds, and you can actually have a few for sale to stay legal. Tah-Dah!
So…
I watched for a while. And tested this theory.
I checked the Sunday sale circulars. No Wii’s advertised. I drove by BB and CC that Sunday morning early. No lines in front. Same story all week with no Wii’s in the store.
Then… one Saturday, the paper had a BB circular that said they would have Wii’s on Sunday. I drove by early the next morning. There were about 50 angry looking people lined up in front of the store.
GOT ‘EM.
Sooo…
I waited some more.
A couple of weeks later BB advertised them for Sunday again. I got there at the butt-crack of dawn - 7:00 am - for a 10:00 am opening. There were 4 people there already. By 8:00AM there are 20 people in line. By 9:00AM 50. By opening time the line is too long to count. They opened the doors. They had about 40 of them stacked by the door. I grabbed one.
Bang.
Just like that. After trying for 8 long weeks. I had mine. AND I paid retail for it.
The first 40 people in line when they opened got one. The rest sucked it.
Then I heard and saw some conflict over by the peripherals. I forgot about those. The Wii only comes with one controller, and one sports game that has 5 sports on it. I needed another controller for another player and another game. Controllers are as rare as Wiis. So are the Nun-Chuks that some Wii games use. I got an extra, but there were only a few left when I got over there. They must come in on the same shipment that the game units do. I heard a BB employee telling someone who didn’t get a Wii that “We’d have more out later this week, probably on Monday - We get put them out ALL WEEK LONG“.
I resisted the urge to treat that turd to a short, but very painful visit from the Slap Fairy.
I also have to say that almost half of the people in that line confessed to being e-Bay profiteers. Low life hoosiers who only wanted a Wii because they could hawk it to morons willing to pay on e-Bay, or CL.
To BB’s credit, they DID enforce the One Customer - One Wii rule. Which I was glad to see, but unfortunately some of the people in line had shills with them to beat the system. The one boy in front of me was buying his 7th Wii to sell on e-Bay and was quite proud of himself. His DAD was with him in line, as well as his MOM and another idiot relative. They were buying 4 total that day to hawk. They were laughing derisively at the idiots who paid them - and were bragging of their big score - someone who had actually bid one up to $800.00! I looked at the long line behind me, and saw the faces of those who WEREN’T going to get a Wii that day because of this family of trash. They were only one of many in line that day.
So…
Now you know.
The ONLY way you are probably going to get a Wii is to A) Watch the sale circulars until they are advertised. Don’t waist a second looking for them any other way. And B) Go stand in line.
Unfortunately, if you’ve waited until this close to Christmas, you are going to have to get there EXCEPTIONALLY early, perhaps… I’m sorry to say… even the night before in order to get your place in line. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect to see people lining up at store closing the night before. Truly.
Please don’t think you’re just going to waltz into a store and get one. Please don’t believe those who are lying to you that they did.
And please… whatever you do… do NOT pay some low-life, scum-sucking, dirt-eating, window-licking, soulless gouger ASSWIPE a single penny over retail for one. Or you’re part of the problem.
Just… don’t.
I beat the Game. You can too.
I enjoy my Wii so much more knowing I didn’t pay extra for it.
-Mac-
EMail This PostDecember 12th, 2007
In Orwell’s 1984, “room 101″ contains the Worst Thing In The World.
The Worst Thing In The World is different for each person. In room 101 lies the thing each of us fears the aboslute most.
Near the end of the book, there is a scene where Winston, the protagonist, has been taken to “room 101″ - Orwell’s symbolic place where each person must face that which they fear the most. Winston has been restrained in a chair and is under interrogation by O’Brian, a determined and hateful member of the inner circle who has finally sprang a trap that took years to formulate.
Winston is then forced to come face-to-face with his deepest fear.
For Winston that fear is to be eaten by rats. O’Brian knows this, and has constructed a cage/helmet device which he fits over Winston’s face. Only a thin (removable) wall separates Winstons face from a container of ravenous rats that are trying desperately to chew through the wall and eat his face.
When faced with his ultimate fear - Winston panics and informs on the woman he loves, even going as far as to wish the rats on her, instead of him.
It breaks his mind, and he is never the same afterward.
On Thursday of this week, I go to my own “room 101″ and will be forced to face The Worst Thing In The World. To me at least.
My deep and abiding fear of the dentist was born from two things.
First, when I was a small child some of the very most trouble you could get into was for getting sick, or needing a trip to the dentist. We were a very poor family, and to my parents anyone who got sick or had a toothache had brought it on themselves by ‘not taking care of themselves’. Often my younger brother and I were accused of DELIBERATELY getting sick - just to ruin the family finances. It was abusive on it’s face, but the real abuse was the unending GUILT that was heaped upon us for ‘ruining’ things by getting sick. Because we were sick or needed medical attention the family couldn’t “go anywhere” or “do anything” and they (my parents) would never ever “have anything” because of us “damned kids” and our deliberate attempts to get sick and cause medical bills.
Over time this gets ingrained in a person’s psyche. I didn’t realize how terribly abusive this was until I was much older, but by then the psychological damage was too great.
To this day getting sick or needed dental care brings with it a swelling of psychological terror and guilt. I’m going to go bankrupt. I’m going to ruin my family. I’m “ruining” things by being sick. It’s horrible. Truly.
Later in life - during a period in which I was trying to overcome my psychological fear of the dentist - I had to have a tooth extracted. I was unfortunate enough to be referred to a man who people seemed to be respected, but who had absolutely ZERO TOLERANCE for those who were afraid of his profession. To make his point and perhaps for a little payback he jabbed too enthusiastically with the novacaine injection. I heard a terrible snapping sound. He had inadvertently busted the needle off in the roof of my mouth. It was quite an ordeal to fish it out.
Needless to say it solidified my fear to a dangerous point.
Now… after years of fear and avoidance - I find myself with problems that can no longer be avoided.
This Thursday I got to face my “room 101″.
EMail This PostOctober 8th, 2007
__________________________________________________________________________________
From “The Urban Dictionary”.
The Definition of “Phoning It In“.
to put in a half assed effort at something but complete it. Often pertaining to work which is complete and pretending to have worked a long time on, when in fact little to no effort was put into it. Derived from deciding to not physically attend a meeting in, but rather to be present by phone only.Example :
“Even though he had a huge project due Friday, he went to a party and got hammered Thursday night. He totally phoned it in.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
In My Dream, it is always the same, and tonight – The Dream is no different.
I’m standing at The Bus Stop. The Bus is there. The Bus is big, and white, a white so stark it’s almost hard to look at and it gleams in the bright afternoon sun. Its big engine is idling and it sounds like a gigantic cat purring so deeply you can feel the vibration in your soul. On the front of the bus, over the driver, there is a digital sign displaying a moving message made of amber pixels. The message tells when The Bus picks up, and where it’s going. The message races by every few seconds.
It says : “12:00 to The Future”.
I look at my watch. It’s 11:59.
The Bus is packed. All of Mouse’s friends and peers are on it. Everyone she knows. There is one seat left on The Bus. It’s been held aside for Mouse. I’ve made sure of that. For years I’ve fought, and sacrificed, and saved, and waged a thousand bloody battles at enormous cost of life and dignity to be sure that seat was there for her when the time came for her to get on The Bus.
But…
Mouse is not here.
It’s almost 12:00 and Mouse is not here.
I look around.
Every few feet there are pods of people huddled together. Each pod is a family that came to see their loved one off. Parents, Grandparents, Brothers, Sisters, Family, Friends, all waving to bright faces beaming back from the spotlessly clean windows on The Bus. The faces are bright and a little scared. Not scared in a crippling, terrified way, but scared in an excited way. Scared in the way that people are when they board a carnival thrill ride. Frightened and a little uncertain, but smiling and eager to see what the future holds.
I stand alone, apparently the only person in Mouse’s life that actually expected her to show up. The rest of the people in her life worked hard to make sure her seat on The Bus went empty. They are all at home, secure in the knowledge that all of their hard work has paid off, and smirking a little to their self at the idea of her foolish Father waiting at an empty stop. All of the bloody battles and hard work were for nothing as I stare at the empty seat in the back of The Bus.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I hear a tapping sound. I look up. It’s The Driver. The Driver looks exactly like Steven Wright. His uniform is as crisp and white as The Bus itself. Even his hat is white. With deft movements he pulls a lever and the door folds open. He looks at me. He looks at his watch.
It’s 12:00 exactly.
In Steven Wright’s voice he deadpans “Gotta go. Can’t hold everyone else up.”
I know he’s right.
Everyone else on The Bus deserves to get to their Destinations on time. It’s not fair to hold them up. The rules governing when The Bus leaves are Immutable Laws. They cannot be changed. For anyone. Ever. The Bus leaves on The Appointed Day at The Appointed Time in every person’s life. You are either there on time, or you aren’t.
Mouse isn’t.
I lower my head.
The Driver that looks exactly like Steven Wright crisply shuts the folding door, and I hear a great blast as the giant air brakes on The Bus exhale mightily and the engine roars to life, pulling away from The Stop.
And just like that… The Bus is gone.
The crowd of people cheer and wave until their arms are exhausted and their voices are hoarse as they watch The Bus begin its All Important Journey.
With each passing yard The Bus travels into the distance, their hopes for their family on board gets higher, and their hearts get lighter and more excited and they cry great tears of joy because they know that their loved one is on their way to Great Things.
With each passing yard The Bus travels into the distance my heart sinks deeper into the Sink of Despair, until, eventually, it shatters to pieces on the bottom. I too have tears on my face, but they are not tears of joy.
Overwhelmed with sadness and grief, I leave the waving crowd and head back to my car.
On the long drive home I am haunted by so many ghosts.
A long time later my cell phone rings. It’s Mouse. Her voice is upbeat, as if nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.
“Dad… sorry I got busy, I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Be where?” I ask, incredulous.
“At The Bus Stop.” She says, her voice the picture of earnest. “You told it to wait for me, didn’t you?”
At once I’m both amazingly surprised, and amazingly angry. Angry at myself I suppose, for actually being surprised.
I had lectured her relentlessly about this. She understood all too well that The Bus shows up once, and only once in every person’s life. She understood all too well that it leaves precisely at noon on The Appointed Day. She understood all too well that it waits for no one. Ever. She understood all too well the consequences of missing The Bus.
This was so… Mouse.
She had missed the All Important Time on the All Important Day and somehow, it would be Someone Else’s Fault because they hadn’t changed the Immutable Laws of the Universe for her sole benefit.
I choke on the angry, hurtful words that threaten to spill out of my mouth. All I can manage is a sad little laugh before I let the dial tone that used to be my end of the conversation speak for my feelings.
Little Mouse had “Phoned It In”.
Absolutely perfect.
She had learned at the feet of The Master, I have to say.
Her mom had been “phoning in” motherhood for Mouse’s entire life. Her mother had loved the idea of *having* a child, but loathed the idea of actually doing the work that being a real parent required. She went AWOL shortly after Mouse was born and within a few months had learned that she could convert her marriage into cash and make a tidy living off of the legalized ponzi scheme that masquerades as divorce law in Missouri while keeping the title of “mother” and never actually having to do anything to earn it.
I’ve often heard it said that writing a child support check doesn’t make you a Father.
Let me assure you, cashing a child support check doesn’t make you a mother.
For the whole of Mouse’s life, I’ve been the ‘parent’ while her mother has been the ‘buddy’. As the ‘parent’, I was left to deal with the doctors and the discipline and the schools and the grades and the real every day work that is being a parent. Her mother… just… didn’t. She never came to a parent teacher’s conference. Never took her to the doctor when she was sick – her favorite trick was to simply let Mouse be sick until it was my time to have her – then I could deal with her (and the co-pay). To this day Mouse and her mother have never been on a trip alone together. Ever. Anywhere. But you can be certain that she’s quick to claim the title of “mother”. Quicker still to cash the support checks that go with the title. Just not so quick to actually do anything to earn that title.
Slowly, inexorably, Mouse had been programmed to fail.
Programmed by a mother whose worst fear was that Mouse would actually succeed, and escape the wretched life that she herself lives, and who, at 43, answers phones part time for minimum wage, and is heading for a third (fourth?) marriage to yet another unemployed slob while she dodges aggressive phone calls from a seemingly endless series of bankruptcies, repossessions, and foreclosures. 43 Years old and The Poster Girl for refusing to face adult responsibilities. It is why we are divorced. To make sure that she isn’t alone in the squalor, she has worked relentlessly to program Mouse to fail. Misery needs company.
I have tried valiantly to overcome this programming.
But… I was left to be the parent that rode her about her homework, and her responsibilities, and her choices of friends.
While her mother told her not to worry about her homework, and encouraged her to hang with the detrimental friends, and told her that ‘some people’ worry just too much about being responsible.
After a point, Mouse came to the stark realization that face time with me means face time with her responsibilities as a student, and a person, and a daughter.
So… it is easier not to face me.
It is easier not to face her self.
I become a mirror.
Lately, she doesn’t like what she sees.
So she stops looking after a bit.
After all the years of never letting her down, or selling her out.
She just stops looking.
She doesn’t need to. Her mother has provided her with a haven where there are no mirrors. Anywhere. Her mother’s Apartment of No Responsibilities is preferable to her Father’s house. There are mirrors everywhere here, and I keep them very clean.
And today, at precisely 12:00 noon, on her Appointed Day…
The Bus left without her.
Little Mouse had totally Phoned It In.
I awake from this dream with a start. I look around for what has shattered the silence in my home, and brought me out of The Dream. It’s the phone. It’s ringing.
At first… I’m glad to have been awakened.
I hate The Dream.
I hate it more than you can imagine.
Relieved to be awake, and relieved by the idea that it’s not yet “too late” for Little Mouse, I stumble to the phone.
It’s one of Mouse’s teachers.
It’s Monday and she hasn’t handed in the work that was assigned on Friday. She has also totally tanked the quiz that was worth 33% of her final grade because she apparently didn’t study. She went to a weekend party with her mother instead. Her grades are in trouble. Big trouble. Again.
My heart sinks.
Maybe being asleep was better.
EMail This PostJuly 5th, 2007
“Isn’t it terrible?” she asked.
I took the bait. “Isn’t what terrible?” I replied.
“About Alec Baldwin, and those things he said to his daughter?” the look on her face is the same one that people make when they’ve taken a bite of something spoiled, and realized it a moment too late.
“Hmph.” I reply. It’s best we probably don’t talk about this. She’d be shocked by my answer.
Like everyone else I’ve read the blurbs all over Drudge and the rest of the web and web. I’ve listened to the recording. I’ve seen the comments from reporters, social workers, and casual readers.
“Take away his parental rights.”
“He’s not fit to be a parent.”
“He’s a terrible father.”
“Isn’t it awful?”
“He’s should never be allowed near his daughter again.”
I don’t like Baldwin. I don’t like any of the Baldwins. They represent the worst of the whiny Hollywood freak-set trying to sell their twisted lives to the rest of us as “reality”. I don’t like him. I don’t like his people. Acting to me isn’t really a job. Not like the rest of us have. Most actors have long forgotten the daily problems and struggles that average people face. It’s always struck me as hilarious that they think they’re so important when in reality - they’re the least important of all the people in the world.
Think about it for a second.
If some bizarre catastrophe rendered every actor on the face of the planet incapable of acting tomorrow. Who would care? Would anyone die? Would anyone suffer? Would a single home burn down, or single sick person go uncured or single victim go unrescued? Of course not. The world turned for millenniums before some pretty boy stood in front of a camera lens and parroted lines that he didn’t even write himself. Some make the argument that the world was a better place before they even started.
About Alec Baldwin I could care less. The world would be a better place if he shut his festering gob and crawled back under whatever rock he crawled out of in the first place.
But… about that recording.
And those who are so quick to run him down for it.
I’ve heard it. It’s unpleasant. He says things he shouldn’t have said to an 11 year old girl.
He lost his temper. He lost it big. No excuses. It was wrong.
A lot of people are saying a lot of bad things about him for it.
In what has to be a sure sign of the coming apocalypse, I find myself defending him.
Careful there.
I said defending “him”. Not what he did or said. That was wrong by anyone’s standards, and he’s admitted that.
You see, I’m a divorced father too. And I too was foolish enough to allow my soul to be knitted to woman who would later reveal herself to be soulless. I knew her to be a small and hateful human being before I married her, and I let fear and uncertainty rule my life and married her anyway. It was a mistake I’ve spent a sizeable portion of my life paying for. And so has my daughter, who isn’t a great deal older than Mr. Baldwin’s.
I have something to say to all of you self righteous people who are so quick to say things along the lines of “He’s unfit to be a father” and “He should lose his parental rights.” :
Unless you are a divorced father who knows the pain and frustration that joint custody, especially joint custody with someone antagonistic and manipulative brings, then you have no business even opening your mouth on the subject of Alec Baldwin. Period.
Meditate on this for a moment :
When people read in the papers or see news footage on television of mothers going to heroic lengths to save their children, they nod knowingly and rarely look surprised. A mother exhibited superhuman strength and actually lifted an automobile off of her trapped baby? No big deal… such is the love of a mother. A mother threw herself in front of a bullet to save her toddler? No big deal… such is the love of a mother. A mother interposed herself between an angry Kodiak bear and her baby? Not such a big deal really, such is the love of a mother.
Do you really think the love of a Father is any less?
When you stand a man in court, and proclaim to the world that you are going to take everything he has, and everything he will ever have, and once he’s financially bereft - you are going to take his children and hand them over to someone that cares less about the child themselves and more about how much they are worth on a monthly basis what exactly do you expect to happen?
Today’s court system figuratively ties fathers to a chair, and forces them to watch for years as their children are alternately poisoned, abused, mistreated, and held away from their guidance and love. Then they are told to pay for the privilege.
You can see this playing out in the Baldwin fiasco.
Baldwin obviously had arrangements to speak to the little girl at appointed times every day. It was his right. It was obviously very important to him that he had that time with her. As I pointed out before, a father’s love is no less than that of the mothers, and in many cases a great deal more. Because his daughter was summarily handed over her mother without regard to Baldwin’s feelings or attachment, he had come to depend a great deal on that appointed phone call. That much is made obvious by the tape circulating the internet.
As he told her in the recording - he stopped his entire world every day at the same time - to make time to speak with her.
It’s not hard to imagine him waiting anxiously to speak to his daughter, and looking forward to hearing his little girls voice. Such is the love of a father.
Imagine his anger and frustration when the appointed time came, only to realize in horror that - again - she had been made “unavailable”.
Those who are familiar with joint custody arrangements are familiar with this tactic and it was clear to me from the things he said that Baldwin had been victimized by this type of manipulation too often in recent weeks. When a mother is one of the type that care less about the “child” and more about the “support” then you get this kind of spiteful behavior. Typically they are very insecure and hate themselves for being such terrible mothers and so try desperately to drive wedges between the child and the father. This appeared to be in play in this scenario as well.
Then… Baldwin made his mistake.
He couldn’t take his anger and frustration out on the person who was really at fault, so… he took it out on the only person he could. His daughter. This was a terrible mistake, and one he’s apologized for. I’m certain he’s apologized to his daughter as well.
Need proof of what I’m saying?
Look no further than the mothers actions following Baldwin’s mistake.
While it’s a given that a real mother would never have held the daughter away from the appointed phone call in the first place, it’s also true that a real mother would have been concerned about the daughter. A real mother would have immediately sought to shield and protect the daughter from emotional harm. A real mother would have been upset about the rift between the daughter and the father and sought to heal it.
What did her mother do instead?
Like all shallow and guilty bullies do when they want to deflect attention from their own bad behavior - she stood up and began to scream in high shrill tones “LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT WHAT A BAD DAD HE IS!! LOOK!! EVERYBODY LOOK!” hoping desperately that all eyes would turn away from her own wretchedness.
In an even more desperate bid she allegedly illegally circulated the tape into wide distribution, something a real mother would never have done.
Then in another great public display she apparently hired a bodyguard to illustrate what a BAD DAD Baldwin was.
Magicians and fakers master the art of misdirection. They practice diligently the art of drawing your attention to one hand and holding it there, while their other hand is hard at work doing things it shouldn’t be doing.
Whenever one points and shouts “Look! Look over there!”, you can rest assured their is something else they hope you are NOT seeing.
Remember that when you see all this great public shows of concern for the little girl, and then ask yourself why someone would feel the need to be so public about these shows.
What Baldwin did was wrong. The things he said were wrong. He admits this, and has apologized.
But when viewed through the frame of a fathers love - they are understandable. His anger is understandable. His frustration is understandable.
Those calling for the revocation of his parental rights have no understanding of a fathers love, and should simply shut up.
-Mac
EMail This PostApril 24th, 2007
An important piece of my childhood died today.
Bred Delp, lead singer of one the greatest Rock and Roll bands ever formed passed away quietly in his southern New Hampshire home this morning. Apparently of natural causes.
I suppose it’s silly to be so emotional over this. But I just can’t seem to help myself.
In my life I’ve had many high, wonderful moments, and in my life there have been many long, dark times, and Brad was always there in the background – singing what I was convinced was the very personalized soundtrack to my life.
Now that soundtrack is silent.
And I am bereft.
I first heard his voice in 1976. In the summer of my 15th year. That crazy, frightening, tumultuous magic year when a young man begins to discover things about himself and those he loves and also discovers that some of those things are hard to know.
Later that year I learned that Boston would be playing in my town.
I had never been to a “rock concert” before, and in the 1970’s rock concerts were the stuff of legends. I sold my sold to Satan himself, and somehow Old Scratch was actually able to persuade my over-controlling mother and father to allow me to go. I spent the weeks prior to going to the concert wondering if I had made a mistake. My immortal soul for a silly rock concert?
When that night came, I sat in the dark auditorium and waited and watched in awe. Everything they had said about rock concerts were true. The smoke. The drugs. The women. The booze. All true. I still remember sitting beside my best friend at the time, Dave Lum, and him and I just shaking our heads as our mouth hung open. It was true. All true. Dave and I weren’t concerned with all of that. We were there for the music. I had, after all, sold my soul to hear it.
And then the lights went down, and the “opening acts” came out. Rick Derringer. Then The Red Rocker himself, Sammy Hagar. Both seminal rock gods – though at the time they hadn’t ascended their thrones.
And finally – the band. Boston. Themselves.
I sat in amazement as they played flawlessly. Their music was high, and tight, and clear and I would later learn absolutely unique in the world of live concert going in that it was virtually undistorted. Tom Scholz was a miracle worker. Really.
When the concert was over, Dave and I stumbled back to the car, unable to hear at all – our ears deaf from the decibel assault, and stoned to the rafters from a contact high derived from sitting in a great green cloud of smoke that was inescapable.
In that moment we had been transported to a place where there was peace in our lives, and I knew two things for sure.
1. I had just seen one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all times in a seminal concert performance.
2. Satan had gotten screwed on the deal. I had gotten to see BOSTON… LIVE… all HE got was my immortal soul. Sucker!
It would be a long time before they made another album, or toured again. Tom Scholz’s perfectionism was and remains legendary, and while it necessarily drove wedges between the band members and threatened to tear the band apart – not to mention making it years and years between albums – that perfectionism was reflected in the quality of their music.
It was ALWAYS worth the wait.
Whenever my life would get really good – or really bad – Brad was there singing a new score with new songs. His voice and their music knitted to the fabric of my soul in ways that I could never do justice to here on this page.
Eventually my younger brother fell in love with them too. I suspect that even if Boston didn’t score the entire soundtrack to his life, that they at least cameo on a few tracks.
I have many fond memories of the times before family politics and adult life drove the wedges between my brother and I that exist today, and one of the fondest of them all of course had a Boston song and Brad’s voice backing it.
It was… I don’t remember exactly. 1985 perhaps. 1986. I had reached the cliff of adulthood and stepped off without a parachute. I was freefalling and wondering if I had made the right choices in my life. My brother would have been 18 or 19 then and facing the approach of that cliff’s edge himself. As if they knew that these times were important to both my brother and I – Boston released more tracks to help get us through. “Third Stage” brought Brad’s muscular vocals back into our life just in time.
I had an old blue Chevy step-side C-10. Most of the time it wouldn’t get out of it’s own way, but its big block engine did alright when it got it up over 70 mph or so. From a money standpoint, that old truck wasn’t worth the price of the powder it would have taken to blow it hell. But the stereo and speakers I had in it had cost me more than a few of paychecks.
My younger brother and I would get in that old Chevy truck, and head down Hall Street – a great 2 mile stretch of absolutely straight road in an abandoned industrial area of the city, where hardly anybody ever drove any more.
I’d drive to the top of Hall Street, and we’d put in our “Third Stage” cassette and let “The Launch” play until just the right moment.
I had learned to time it perfectly.
Now… it’s important to remember that I took my duty as an older brother very seriously. I had never done anything in front of my younger brother that I felt would harm him or set a bad example. It was so important to me. I’m not saying we never got up to trouble, but I am saying I made sure the trouble we got up to was innocuous and innocent enough.
So… we were driving down Hall Street – and listening to “The Launch” – and the moment in the song came when the big rocket engines that were powered by Tom Scholz power-chords kicked in… I’d spin that volume knob up to Brain Damage levels and then…
I’d jam my foot on the accelerator as hard as I could and set my younger brother’s head back against that old worn bench-seat. As the sound of the engines in the song built – I’d keep my foot down and let that old big block push us back against the seat as the engines roared. 70. 80. 90 mph.
My brothers eyes would get as big as pie plates as we rocketed down Hall Street. Breaking the law, and letting the music take us on that Rocket Ride at Red Line.
Then we’d pull over and laugh until our sides hurt. Then we’d drive back to the top of Hall Street and do it again.
I know that Boston will continue in some form, and I know that I will always be their biggest fan. I understand that they won’t simply cease to be because of Brad Delp’s passing.
But I do know that their music, like the soundtrack to my life, will be much poorer for him not being in it.
.
EMail This PostMarch 10th, 2007
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