Monthly Archives: February 2012

Wasted News

Posted on February 29, 2012 | 2 Comments

Things in the news this week that I didn’t need (or particularly want) to know:

1. Apple Computer Corporation is worth more than Poland.

2. Snooki may be pregnant.

3. A man showed up naked for a job interview.

4. Jennifer Lopez gown appeared to have a “nip slip” at the Oscars but the designer claims it was an optical illusion .

5. On the other hand, Steven Tyler’s nip slip on “Idol” was apparently real. (Ewwwww!)

6. The media was enamored with Angelina Jolie’s right leg at the Oscars.

7. Super Tuesday primary won’t decide the GOP candidate (which means the rest of the states don’t need to cancel their primaries.)

8. Tariq Salahi, the male half of the White House party crashers is suing the rock musician (Neil Schon from Journey) with whom his wife ran off AND his charitable foundation lost its tax-free status.

So to real journalists everywhere, I offer my deepest sympathies that the coverage from CNN, MSNBC and Fox News overshadows anything that you’ve written. That the paparazzi have eclipsed Bernstein and Woodward. That no one knew that the lowest common denominator could slip so low, even in this economy.

So as they say, “We’ll return to our in depth coverage of Jennifer Lopez after these important commercial messages.”

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Posted in Celebrity, Communications, Culture, Humor

Spring Flower

Posted on February 28, 2012 | 1 Comment

In my back yard I found the first flower of the season – a dandelion.

A weed.

A nuisance.

Of course, I remember long ago as a child when dandelions were almost magical. You could gather a bouquet for your mother during three of the four seasons. A small juice glass was just about the perfect height to act as a vase. When they wilted, there were more from where they came.

Then of course picking a dandelion after it had gone to seed and blowing on it was virtually a rite of passage. The neighbors down the street with the perfect lawn might have cringed – or even said something, but it really didn’t matter.

So, even though its pedigree isn’t top notch, this dandelion signals spring and life and hope while the daffodils are still thinking about it.

It’s all in how you look at it.

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Posted in Blog, Communications, Culture, Future, People, Philosophy, Science, Uncategorized

Double Standard – Sorry, But I Have To Say It…

Posted on February 26, 2012 | Leave a comment

In America, and many other countries, we do not have a state sponsored religion and hold religious freedom dear.  This means for all Americans and others living here, regardless of religion.

This is obviously NOT the case throughout the world.

In some countries there are “combatants” (although, thugs might be a better word) who ignore the rules of war, violate every tenet, convention, etc. who place explosives on children and decaptitate prisoners.  If they are captured and placed in military custody we treat them in accordance with the Rules for Treatment of Prisoners of War as signed at the  Geneva Convention.  We provide them with prayer rugs, Q’rans, etc. as well as food that meets their religious dietary requirements (essentially Kosher.)

They take their sacred Q’Ran and write incendiary things in them, so we take them away (replacing them, I’m sure.)  Some of these get mixed in with other Islamic propaganda and get burned.  Oddly writing hateful messages in the Q’ran is not desecration, but accidental burning is.

The Muslims riot and kill American servicemen (so far I don’t believe they’ve killed any women in this particular evolution.)  We apologize.  They ignore us. They riot and kill more.

In the meantime man in a Muslim country embraces Christianity.  He on the other hand is sentenced to death.

Jesus taught us to pray for our enemies.  In that regard it’s a target rich environment.  On the other hand, Satan must be proud.

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Posted in Culture, Government, History, Leadership, Military, People, Philosophy, Politics, Religion

The Political Advisors

Posted on February 24, 2012 | Leave a comment

Travel back in time with me to the beginning days of our nation.

 

George, we’ve been going over your campaign, and frankly, we think it looks pretty weak. Gathered here are political consultants, lobbyists, contributors, spin doctors, marketing experts and various other, let’s just call them experts. We’re going to get your campaign whipped into shape. When we’re through, everyone will know the name of ‘George Washington’!

“I’m not actively campaigning for the presidency, sir. I served in the Continental Army and had hoped to return home to Mount Vernon. There was talk of making me king, but I believe the last thing this new nation needs is a king. However, if I am called upon to serve, I shall set aside my dream of returning home and serve again.”

See what I mean, boys. The humility angle plays really well. The public is going to eat this up. Now, George, let’s look at some of the areas that we need to work on. Now first off, George, were you born in a log cabin?

“No sir, I was not. I was born at Pope’s Creek Estate.”

No log cabin? Too bad. Boys, I tell you, someday we’re gonna have a candidate born in a log cabin and we’ll have the voters eating out of our hands. No log cabin – and I had such high hopes.

Now, George, I recommend that we focus on your Revolutionary War exploits, because frankly your performance during the French-Indian War just doesn’t play well. You showed a lot of spunk but frankly, you weren’t a winner. Getting captured just doesn’t say “Hero” to me.

Your home life we’ll have to play with. Married a wealthy widow with two kids. Never had any of your own. That’s too bad. Married for money – we need something that shows you’re not consumed with greed. How about this – we’ll tell them that you threw a silver dollar over the Potomac River. Now as far as kids. It’s good that you raised Martha’s kids, but it just doesn’t say “macho”. We need to throw the focus on kids in a different direction. I know, let’s focus on your childhood. I’ve got it! We build a tale that you chopped down a cherry tree and when your father asked, you responded that you could not tell a lie! It’s brilliant! I’m brilliant! That’s the stuff legends are made of.

“But, sir, it’s not true.”

Of course it isn’t, but don’t worry. You won’t have to say it. We’ll say it for you. Look at us as your “political action committee.” Hey boys, I just invented the political action committee. Isn’t that great?

Okay, now George, some things to avoid. First, you distill whiskey. Let’s keep that quiet.

“It’s perfectly legal and honorable. It’s more economical to ship whiskey than bulk corn – you can compress many wagons of corn into a single wagonload of whiskey. Whiskey doesn’t spoil or get eaten by rats like corn.”

Yeah, well, let’s keep it quiet anyway. Oh, and with those teeth, make sure you smile with your lips together.

Now, about negative campaigns…

“I apologize, sir, but what do you mean by negative campaigns?”

Trust me on this, George. We need to give people reason to not like your competition.

“But I find no fault with my competition, sir. As a matter of fact, this nation’s first election is structured so that whichever man places second will be vice-president.”

And that’s the point – we have to make sure you’re not second. Let’s start with John Adams. He’s short, he’s fat, he irritates people – shouldn’t be too hard. Whoa! What’s this? As an attorney he represented the British soldiers who fired on the crowd at the “Boston Massacre”? We publicize that and he’s done.

“But, sir, it was an honorable thing to do. In order to have a fair trial they were entitled to a fair defense. Even though Mr. Adams was worried that it would affect his reputation, he represented those men when no one else would because it was the right thing to do. If they had not been defended their trial would hardly have been fair. Our new government would be no better than the Crown and we certainly didn’t appreciate how King George treated us!”

Yeah. Right. Whatever. You leave that to me. Then there’s Jefferson. Tall, red headed, soft spoken. Wife died a few years back. It’s a good thing women can’t vote or you’d be in big trouble. Well read, attended William and Mary. Hmmm. Another lawyer, we can always use that. There are rumors of some improprieties with one of his female slaves, a Sally Hemmings.

“Sir, I am insulted. I will not have you spreading rumors, half-truths or other slander about these men. None of us have or ever will reach perfection. Adams and Jefferson were responsible for the Declaration of Independence. Mr. Adams has served as Minister to England, and Mr. Jefferson is currently serving as our Minister to France. I would be proud to serve with either of them in this new government without regard to office. In fact, I believe that both of them are as deserving of the office of president as any other American.

Now, sir, I must ask you to leave. Take your fellow ——- advisors —— with you, and your political action committee, your negative campaign and everything else. I most sincerely apologize, but you are not welcome here and will never be welcome here, so I do not expect to see you or anyone else of your type in my presence again.

“Good day and good riddance!”


 

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Posted in Communications, Culture, Fiction, Government, Humor, Philosophy, Politics

A Tour of Acme

Posted on February 23, 2012 | 1 Comment

Welcome to the Acme Corporation. We take great pride in the tours we provide for our visitors, especially those who are also customers. To many of you, Acme is a name you’ve known since your childhood. After all, who can forget the thrill of watching Wiley E. Coyote with an Acme anvil, or an Acme weight reducing machine? My personal favorites were Acme weapons, particularly any type of rocket. Then of course we were featured in “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” Acme is a fine American company.

Some of you may think that our portrayal in various cartoons would cause us concern, since you may think it unflattering. Please let me assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. While the coyote may not have had the results that he wanted, don’t forget that the real hero of the program was the Roadrunner, and thanks to Acme, the story always had a happy ending.

A happy ending is what we’re always seeking, and for Acme, we look at success differently. Anyone can pursue obvious success, but success to Acme is just a little different. If everyone will please follow me, we’ll begin the tour.

In this part of our factory we manufacture, and dare I say “perfect” bathroom equipment. Acme was the pioneer in bathroom drying equipment. In the 1920s we developed the roller towel. You may remember those. It looked like a long linen towel that was on a roll and as each patron used it, they could advance the towel to a clean section. Actually the towel was only about four feet long and in one continuous loop. In order to assure that the towel retained that soggy feeling, the casing contained a tank of pond water so that the entire towel could be kept well hydrated. That was Acme’s humble start, but also its first step to stardom.

Today we have several lines of bathroom accessories. In the back you can see one of our all-time best sellers – the hand dryer. I’m sure that everyone is familiar with this device which anemically blows a little lukewarm air over the customer’s hands. The customer then walks away wiping his or her hands on their clothing. They’re very popular at restaurants and gas stations. Annual electrical cost to run one of these is approximately 3 cents; if it goes over 3 cents the machine automatically shuts off until January 1st.

On your left you can see several of our hand towel dispensers. These range from relatively low tech units that dispense pre-cut and folded towels so that you either end up with a two inch square piece of torn paper, or else a handful. Most of these are shipped with the undersized waste basket attached to guarantee an avalanche of towels on the floor. We also have high tech automatic dispensers. Wave your hand in front of one of these and it will dispense exactly three inches of towel. The towel must be torn off to reset the timer and after a delay the next three inches can be dispensed.

Now some of you might wonder why there would be a demand for such items. The answer is simple. Restaurants and stores do not want you using their bathrooms. First off, bathrooms have to be cleaned. Bathrooms waste floor space that could be used for tables of merchandise displays. If you go to a restaurant, have a meal, use the restroom, return to your table and settle in for a nice chat with your family, the restaurant can’t seat another customer at that table. The sooner you leave, the better, so Acme is filling a very real and important need!

Now if you’ll look to your right you’ll see our coffee maker division. Significant research had gone into designing high-end decorator coffee makers with carafes that spill not only when you’re putting water into the coffee maker but also when you’re pouring coffee. Years ago people had coffee percolators that didn’t spill. They had a big opening at the top so when you held it under the tap it filled with water neatly. When the coffee was done, there was a narrow spout that always put the coffee right into the cup. Our marketing department had to convince people to abandon their old percolators so we could put a drippy coffee machine in every home and office. Another Acme success story.

This next section may look like our billing department because everyone is sitting at a desk. Actually this is another product development site. This is where those obliquely worded agreements are developed. You’ve seen these on everything from credit card applications to cell phone contracts. Before portable music players became so common we used to write stereo instructions here. It was a fascinating process; we had Star Trek fans write the first draft in technobabble. These drafts were then translated into Chinese by freshman language students at a local junior college. These would be shipped to Taiwan where their freshmen would translate it into English. Boy, I miss those days. Now we just use Google to translate into three or four random languages then back to English.

I apologize that I must cut this tour a little short, but we have several government officials coming in for some special work. The IRS wants us to spruce up their tax forms, and the Post Office has been having a little efficiency problem, and they want it removed immediately. That is, they want the efficiency removed.

So this concludes our tour. Thank you everybody and remember whether you need an anvil or your zoo needs a lock, always think of Acme first.

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Posted in Fiction, Humor

Musings on the Number Forty

Posted on February 22, 2012 | Leave a comment

It’s Lent – forty days of preparation for Easter (Sundays don’t count.)

Forty’s kind of an interesting number:

Why is it spelled “Forty” and not “Fourty”?

Noah’s flood lasted forty days and forty nights.

The Israelites wandered in the desert for forty years after scouts spied in the Promised Land for forty days. (With the exception of Joshua and Caleb, the spies were a bunch of wimps. God Himself said that they would successfully conquer the land, but the other scouts were too scared to try.)

Jesus fasted for forty days in the desert.

Jesus stayed on earth forty days after his resurrection.

 

And for some of us, sixty is the new forty!

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Posted in Blog, Philosophy

“Throw Me Something, Mister!”

Posted on February 21, 2012 | Leave a comment

Being Mardi Gras, you knew I’d have to make some type of comment.

The celebration of Mardi Gras or Carnival as it is sometimes called is marked by parades, lots of food and alcohol and of course outrageous behavior.  It is, as you know, a celebration of the flesh allowing everyone to “go out with a bang, not a whimper” before Lent begins.  But how many really focus on Lent?

In New Orleans, at least when I lived in Louisiana, the final parade through the French Quarter was called the “Police Parade.”  Two police cars drove slowly through the quarter, side by side with a loudspeaker announcing that Mardi Gras was over and everyone was to return home.  The police cars were followed by two water trucks, which sprayed the street, followed by two street cleaners.  This acted as the official dividing line between the time for celebration and the beginning of Lent.

Lent is a kind of “time out” to prepare for the Easter season.  While Easter isn’t quite the commercial success of Christmas, theologically and philosophically it actually eclipses Christmas.  Here is the celebration of the redemption of all by a loving and caring God through his son. Christmas was Christ’s arrival; Easter is His victory.  Lent can be looked at as a sort of training season; we take stock, try to eliminate some of our shortcomings and try to make ourselves just a little better.

So enjoy Mardi Gras.  Toss or beg for some beads. Eat that last piece of King Cake. 

Tomorrow we get serious.

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Posted in Uncategorized

The Hole in the Wall That Wasn’t There

Posted on February 20, 2012 | 3 Comments

Chapter Six

Bob’s eyes had trouble adjusting after the bright flash, although he knew exactly what he’d see when they cleared – his living room. Technically not “His” but a virtually identical one that belonged to another Bob in a parallel reality.

“You can come out, Bob,” he called. “I know you’re here.” From the other room he saw what looked like himself approach. “How many times has Robert tried this?” he asked his other self.

“I’m not sure, but I know that I was not his first attempt.” The other Bob sat down on the couch and Bob sat in his easy chair.

“I want to get back home,” began Bob, “Let me tell you what I figured out and you can fill in the blanks.

“I figured that it was not an electronic device that allowed the creation of portals. If the ultimate goal was to aid in long distance space travel, then the device would have to create the portal ahead of the spacecraft into which the spacecraft would then follow. It would be like launching a torpedo or perhaps more like a depth charge which would then “explode” a hole into another reality.”

“More like some high power lasers that are powered by the explosion. The explosion is contained and that sudden burst of energy channeled into the device to create the portal. It’s a single use device. Not as destructive as an explosion, but requiring that level of energy.”

“When I passed through this reality, you passed me something that you said I’d need to get back. I figured that it had to be at least a control unit, but when I felt it in my pocket, it seemed smooth without any buttons or anything. I guessed that it had to be the actual device and took a chance that throwing it would activate it,” continued Bob.

“The advantage of us being different versions of the same person is that I knew pretty much what you would know, think and suspect. I could never have taken that chance with anyone else. I had to give it to you quickly because he would have noticed any significant delay and be suspicious.”

“How much do you actually know about Robert?” Bob asked.

“I spent some time with him. It wasn’t hard to figure out where he was headed.”

“How did you escape?” asked Bob.

“I didn’t – he threw me back. My reality was not sufficiently different from his, so there was no point in changing places with me.”

“How so,” asked Bob.

“I too attended Harvard and Yale and married the Homecoming Queen. The difference is that I didn’t force her father out. After ten years and two kids, she cried to daddy, divorced me and shortly after that ran off with a rock musician.”

“So how is it that you have access to the experimental portal equipment?” asked Bob.

“Oh I still work for his company – the one that’s doing the research. At first he did it to make sure his grandkids were cared for. Ultimately he didn’t care for how his daughter turned out. He disowned her and most of his wealth will go to his grandkids. In the meantime I’ve got a job, my kids, this home, and a chance to keep Robert from making any of the rest of us Bobs miserable. Not to mention some of the best field research possible for this project. A sad and lonely man who keeps providing me with a variety of test subjects and I can ethically use myself as the control.”

“You said that her father didn’t like how your wife turned out,” queried Bob.

“Picture a 57 year old 220 pound biker chick who’s done enough drugs to forget that she even went to college.”

“Ewww!” Bob commented involuntarily. “By the way, when I first touched the portal, I felt someone grab my hand. Was that you?”

“No, that was Robert. Although we each live in an alternative reality, when someone moves from one to another there are ripples that can be detected. Kind of like a seismograph identifying an earthquake on the other side of the planet. When I saw that a portal was opening, I opened mine as a stopping point between Robert’s reality and yours.”

“He doesn’t know that you can do that?” asked Bob.

“There’s a lot he doesn’t know. I’m actively working on this project while he sits in his office probably micromanaging the engineers”

“Excuse my doubt, but that doesn’t sound like work for a Harvard MBA and a Yale lawyer,” challenged Bob.

“Agreed. However, I didn’t stop learning when I graduated. Thomas Edison didn’t have a degree in electrical engineering. The scientists on the Manhattan Project weren’t nuclear scientists. I understand the concepts. The engineers work on the details. They handle the depth – I help on the breadth, you know, how the pieces fit together. Actually my background is especially well suited for managing the risks.

“For example, when you stepped through the portal, you started with a rope around your waist and a video camera. Neither passed through. The rope could not because everything and everybody needs to be in one reality or another. You can’t exist in both. Since the rope was anchored in your reality, it couldn’t pass through the portal. That’s a risk that needs to be managed.”

“And the video camera?” asked Bob.

“That was intentional. I have a certain amount of control as to the types of material that can pass. It wouldn’t have been prudent to allow you to record anything here for a whole variety of reasons related to physics, metaphysics and just plain common sense. Let’s just say the Schrödinger’s Cat has some practical implications. Besides, do you really think a project of this size would be without multiple safeguards? As I mentioned earlier, my background prepared me for analyzing and dealing with risk. Those risks include everything from unauthorized copying of critical information to keeping our friend Robert from littering multiple universes. You know how space junk has become such a problem? Imagine bits and pieces of alternate realities floating loose and crashing into things? Imagine your world suddenly faced with an evil Joan of Arc or a beneficent Hitler. It would disrupt much more than just the history books.”

“So how different are you and I?” asked Bob.

“My degrees are from more prestigious schools. I’m divorced. We both live in the same house for the same reasons – good schools. Our kids are pretty much as similar as you and I. We have different jobs. Some of the outside factors are different. What’s on the inside is fairly similar.”

“Speaking of which,” replied Bob, “although this is fascinating, I suspect it’s in everyone’s best interest for me to head home. The other Bob nodded his head.

“Well, it’s goodbye, for even if you turned around immediately after passing through the portal I suspect you’d meet another and different Bob. You can just walk through, the portal is open.”

Bob stepped back through the wall. Mary was standing there holding the rope and looking at the video camera lying on the ground.

“Bob!” she cried and threw her arms around him. Bob held her, just enjoying being back in his own world. His son yelled down from his bedroom.

“What’s going on down there? Why all the noise?” Bob walked over to the wall and touched it. It was solid.

“Nothing!” he replied. “I was just fixing the wall.”

The End

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Posted in Fiction, People, Philosophy, Science, Writing

The Hole in the Wall That Wasn’t There

Posted on February 19, 2012 | Leave a comment

Chapter Five

“So here you are,” Bob replied, “fabulously wealthy with all the comforts a man could ever dream of and you’re just going to give it all to me? That doesn’t sound like me. I mean, I like to think that I’m generous, but this just doesn’t seem like something I’d do.”

“It’s not like I’m giving it away. I’m keeping it in a manner of speaking,” replied Robert. “I’m giving it to a slightly different version of myself. Besides, I’m bored. This way you get to have everything you ever dreamt of and I get something different. After 20 years of being the big shot it gets old.”

“But why me? If there are an infinite number of versions of me – and therefore you – why choose me?”

“I didn’t choose you, it was luck of the draw. The ability to open a portal into a different reality works fairly well, but there’s no way of knowing in advance what is different about it. There is no way of selecting into which reality you open the portal. In your case, it’s like finding a winning lottery ticket. The odds are minuscule, but not impossible. In my case it’s like throwing a dart at a dartboard with my eyes closed. It’s all just chance.”

“Excuse me for saying this, but I can’t help but flash on the story of the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.”

“I’m so tired of hearing that!” replied Robert, angrily. “Every time…” He stopped speaking.

“Every time? So you’ve tried this before, haven’t you.”

“That’s not what we’re here to talk about!” demanded Robert. “Here I am trying to do something nice and all you do is tell me what’s wrong with it. Do you realize how frustrating that is? Nobody told Florence Nightingale to leave the sick people alone.” He walked back over to the couch and dropped down onto the cushions.

“So tell me, Robert. If I did change places with you and I wanted to switch back, could I?”

“You could switch with another version of us, yes. The likelihood of it being me would be infintisimal,” replied Robert, his eyes darting down and to the left.

“But I could switch?” asked Bob. “How? I don’t see any equipment here. I doubt that you just mentally wish your way into another reality. There must be something that makes it happen.”

“Oh there is, but I only use one at a time. First off, they aren’t exactly pouring off the assembly line just yet, not to mention that they’re not quite perfected. It’s not like I can go and take a dozen out of the lab. Second, the scientists fear that opening two portals near one another could prove catastrophic. So I only open one portal at a time.”

“How long does a portal stay open?” asked Bob.

“Long enough to travel through it.”

“There’s quite a bit you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

“Perhaps,” replied Robert. “However, that gives you one more good reason to take my offer. If we trade places you’ll be able to find out all the answers, or at least to the degree that your math and physics knowledge allows.”

“At least answer how long a portal remains open,” demanded Bob.

“We don’t know for sure but it seems as if the portal remains until someone passes through it. If no one passes through it, the portal remains open, at least for a while. The scientists don’t know for how long, but they’ve had one open for several years now, but that’s under laboratory conditions. The theory is that the portal is primarily energy. Passing through the portal expends that energy; it’s kind of like a rechargeable battery – it holds a charge until it’s used to power something. If the battery is never connected to anything it charge slowly dissipates on its own but it takes much longer. It seems that for a while, at least, a small part remains if not open at least identifiable. If you attempt to open a portal at the same spot before the previous one completely disappears, you will reopen the same portal and connect with the same alternate reality.”

“How long does that last?”

“A couple of days at best.”

“So at best I have a couple of days to think about your offer.”

“Sorry for the rush, but it’s physics that sets the timeline, not me.”

Bob walked up to the familiar wall and touched where the soft spot had been. It still felt soft, but touching it made his finger feel like a thousand ants were crawling all over it.

“See,” Robert explained. “It’s still there but not it won’t let anyone pass through.”

Bob put his hands in his pockets and started to pace again. He felt something he didn’t recognize and then remembered the first stop through the portal. The Bob in that dimension had put it in his hand and said he’d need it. He couldn’t take it out of his pocket and look at it – he was sure that it was best to keep it a secret from Robert. He had to figure out how this worked. Whatever it was, it was a single use item – Robert had said so himself.

This was ultimately to be used for long distance space travel, so whatever the design was, the research would be conducted with that goal in mind. While it was true that the discovery was based on advanced science and math, the basic concepts had to be something even he could grasp. He ran through several dozen scenarios in his mind, discarding most rather quickly. Then…

“Robert,” he asked, “are you risk averse?”

“Do I prefer to avoid unnecessary risk? It all depends on what you consider unnecessary.”

Bob stood staring at Robert for the better part of a minute, then spoke. “I tend to look for the logical choice, which usually is not risky,” he said, “or at least as risky as the other choices. However, there are times when you just have to make a decision, even if you don’t have all the facts. The Marine Corps believes that if you have 80% of the information you need, you act. I always thought that was a good rule.”

“NO!” screamed Robert as he jumped up from his seat on the couch but before he could take a single step, Bob had pulled the object from his pocket and without looking at it, had thrown it at the wall.

There was a huge flash, and although temporarily blinded, Bob stepped forward.

To be continued.

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Posted in Fiction, People, Philosophy, Science

The Hole in the Wall That Wasn’t There

Posted on February 18, 2012 | 2 Comments

Chapter Four

Bob stood there for a moment staring at what looked to be himself. A slightly different version of himself, but himself nevertheless.

“What in the name of Sam Hell is going on? Where am I? One minute I’m trying to figure out what’s happened to my living room wall, the next I’m in the middle of the room looking at myself!”

“It does seem odd, doesn’t it?” replied the other self who preferred to be called “Robert.” “However, let’s see if we can make some sense of all this. I say ‘We’ when I really mean ‘You’ since I’m well aware of what has happened.

“I’m you and you’re me. The difference is that we are the same person based on different circumstances. Physicists have long postulated that at each decision point there are multiple outcomes. A Bob who became an accountant would continue down a different reality than a Bob who became, say a fisherman. There is not only one of us based on the outcome of your decisions, but an infinite number of us. I, for example, am the one who probably made all of the best decisions and fared the most successfully.

“I know that the idea of multiple branches based on which decisions were made sounds like it would be the work of philosophers rather than physicists, but the physicists explored this concept for a reason. Given that nothing can travel faster than the speed of light, space travel outside our own solar system will be virtually impossible. Then someone came up with the idea that if, and initially it was a very big ‘if’ there were multiple universes that each varied only based on a single decision by a single person, those universes would seem virtually indistinguishable from one another. Instead of moving through space, one could theoretically find the location in the alternate universe and create a portal from this location in this reality to a totally different location in, say, a different galaxy in that other reality.”

“That sounds like science fiction,” Bob replied.

“An interesting point,” Robert countered. “There’s quite a discussion as to whether the science fiction writers came up with the idea first, or if it was the physicists.

“In any case, one of the corporations I own is doing research for the government. It’s ultra-secret, of course, to a point that it makes ‘Top Secret’ seem like what you’d read in the ‘National Enquirer.’ Six of the last seven presidents weren’t aware of it; the only reason one was aware of it was because he’s the person who got the project started.”

Bob counted presidents on his fingers.

“Gerald Ford?”

“Does seem unlikely,” replied Robert, “but this science has shown that improbability is a significant factor in our very existence. In any case, I had access to the technology so I decided to try it out.”

“Excuse me for being skeptical,” replied Bob, “but if you or so rich that you own all these corporations, why are you living in the same house I do in my reality?”

Robert broke into a hearty laugh. “I don’t live here. I have sixteen beautiful homes throughout the world. Well at least sixteen, for all I know I may own more. I have a chateau in Paris, an island in the Caribbean, the top floor of a building in Beijing, well you understand. I bought this place because I needed it to connect with one of my alternative selves. The research has gotten far enough to open a portal from one reality to another but only in the same location. We have lots of work before we can open the portal in a different place. However, we’re well ahead of schedule. The project was originally expected to take at least a thousand years. We now think we’ll be moving the first travelers in as few as 300 years – in round numbers, of course.”

“Of course,” replied Bob. “You tell me that you were the one that made all the right decisions. Like what, for instance?” Bob asked as he paced and looked at Robert from different perspectives.

“Well, I married the homecoming queen…”

“You married Sally Wasserman?”

“No, you idiot, I wasn’t talking about high school. I married the homecoming queen from college. Harvard. I was attending the Harvard Business School before I went to Yale Law. She was in one of those classical liberal arts programs – you know, reading the classics in the original Latin or Greek. One of the degrees that only the obscenely wealthy have their children pursue. Her family was not only old money, but her father was an incredible business investor. He could smell out the Apples, Starbucks and Zarathustras before anyone else had even heard of them. The man had more money than God. He brought me into the family business, trained me, groomed me and mentored me. I forced him out within three years.”

“That was brutal.”

“Yes. However, I suspect that deep down inside he was actually pleased and proud of me.

“The advantage of all of this was that my marriage was solid since after he was broke she couldn’t run home to daddy if she got tired of me. In any case, my wealth and influence grew as time went on. I had to buy “Forbes” magazine because it was the only way to assure that I would never be on their cover again. I felt like the business equivalent of Jennifer Aniston.”

“All of this is fascinating,” commented Bob. “But the key question in my mind is why you went to all the trouble of bringing me from my reality to yours?”

“Yes. Of course. As I said, all of this is obvious to me and I sometimes forget that it isn’t equally obvious to you.” Robert stood up so that he was looking Bob in the eye.

“The fact is that only one of us has been able to enjoy all of this. I’ve decided that I want to share it with myself, or to be more precise, with one of my other selves. I want you to have all of this. The wealth, the power, the prestige, the wine, women and song and everything else that goes with it.”

“Once again, excuse my skepticism, Robert, but I have to wonder what would prompt you to do this.”

“To tell the truth, once you have everything, it gets boring. No more challenges. Everything just falls in your lap. I’m tired of Nirvana – now it’s your turn.”

“What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” replied Robert. “Well we obviously can’t have two of us in the same reality. First it would freak people out. Second, I suspect that one or other of the alternate realities wouldn’t like it. Perhaps all of them wouldn’t. That could be very, very bad for everyone’s reality. So the catch is you get this – I live out your life and you live out mine. You become Robert and I go back through the portal and I become Bob.”

To be continued

 

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Posted in Culture, Fiction, People, Philosophy

The Hole in the Wall That Wasn’t There

Posted on February 17, 2012 | Leave a comment

Chapter Three

Bob and Mary looked at the note that had come through the wall .

“How can it be in my handwriting?” asked Bob.

“After fifteen years, trust me, I know your handwriting. I know how it looks when you’re in a hurry, when you’re upset and even when you had to write left handed after you broke your right arm,” replied Mary. “Don’t ask me how, but this is definitely your handwriting.”

Bob stood and thought for a moment and then bolted upstairs. He returned a few minutes later with the video camera and handed it to Mary. He then headed to the garage, returning with a coil of rope. He unwound the rope across the floor and tied one end to the banister at the bottom of the stairway wrapping the other end around his waist twice.

“I want to tie this so it can’t tighten on me,” he told Mary. “However, I also want it to be secure.” Mary gave him a disapproving look. “I’ve got to see what’s going on here,” he told her. “If for no other reason than it will eat me alive if I don’t.

“Every time I’ve tried to touch the hole with anything else, it hasn’t let it pass. However, if I go through holding something, maybe that will work. On the other hand, I don’t want to get stuck…” He tried to think of an appropriate description, but failed. “I don’t want to get stuck – there, wherever there may be.

“I don’t want to freak the kids out, so I’m going to try this with just you here,” he told Mary. “If something seems wrong, pull me back. You may need the kids to help, but there’s no sense involving them if we don’t have to.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mary asked.

“Of course not,” replied Bob, “but seeing as no one else has ever experienced this, or if they did, never shared the knowledge as to how to handle it, we’re on our own. If you have a better idea, let me know.” Mary shook her head.

Bob took the video camera from Mary, turned it on and held it close to his body in his right hand, almost like carrying a football. He reached out with his left hand toward the wall, stopped and turned back toward Mary.

“I love you,” he said and kissed her on the forehead. “Wish me luck.” Before Mary could reply he turned back toward the wall and followed his left hand and arm through it. The last thing he heard was Mary screaming his name.

He was still in the living room, but Mary was gone. Instead, he heard the sound of running feet. He looked to see which of the kids was running through the house but whoever it was came up behind him.

“We only have a few seconds,” the voice behind him said in almost a stage whisper. Bob opened his mouth to talk, but the other person kept talking. “You need to go straight ahead where you’ll find another hole exactly like the one that you just passed through. You will meet someone who will probably shock you, but under no circumstances should you trust him. Do you understand? DO NOT TRUST HIM!

“Listen to me Bob, and this is important, you need to believe in yourself and your values more than you ever have before in your life. You’ll know what to do, but it’s not going to be easy – it may actually be harder than anything you’ve ever done. Follow your heart and DO NOT TRUST HIM!

“You’re going to need this,” the voice said, placing something in Bob’s hand and closing Bob’s fingers around it. “Don’t try to figure it out now, you’ll understand when the time is right. Keep it hidden, especially from him. Bob tried to turn to see who was talking.

“Sorry, it’s time to go!” The voice said and with one hand on Bob’s shoulder, the other in the small of his back and half led, half pushed him toward the wall. It looked like the same wall, but this one had no chalk outline of a door. Bob instinctively put his hand in front of him.

He was still in the living room.

“Pretty weird, huh?” Bob turned. The person who had spoken was sitting on the far end of the couch. The lamp on the end table was turned off, and since that end of the couch sat in the darkest part of the room, he couldn’t quite make out the person sitting there.

“Aren’t we slaves to our curiosity?” the voice asked, and moved to turn on the lamp.

On the couch, in the lamplight, Bob looked to see who was sitting on the couch.

It was Bob, himself sitting there.

“For clarity’s sake,” the other Bob offered, “why don’t you call me – Robert.”

To be continued

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Posted in Fiction, People, Philosophy

The Hole in the Wall That Wasn’t There

Posted on February 16, 2012 | 2 Comments

Chapter Two

Mary started to give Bob a look, but thought better of it. Instead she crossed her arms, stared at him and waited. He took her by the arm and walked her over to the wall, standing her at a bit of an angle.

“Watch my hand,” he told her and extending the fingers of his left hand, quickly pressed them into the spot on the wall until the fingers as far as his wedding ring disappeared.

“Bravo,” replied Mary, clapping her hands slowly. “I didn’t know you were back into practicing magic, again. You must have dug out your old trunk of magic tricks from the attic.” She looked at the expression on Bob’s face and realized that wasn’t the response he wanted. “Well it was a trick, wasn’t it? A pretty impressive trick, I’ll admit, but a trick, wasn’t it?” Bob shook his head.

Mary reached out her hand, and before Bob could stop her, she touched the spot on the wall where his hand had disappeared. Nothing happened. She curled her hand into a fist and knocked on the spot. It sounded like a normal knock. Bob pulled her hand away from the wall.

“Please don’t do that,” cautioned Bob. “Last time I reached in I thought something touched me.”

“What’s going on, Bob?”

“I don’t know. It’s like a secret passage only infinitely creepier. I have no idea what that is or where it goes.”

“Do all the walls react to you like that?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” Bob replied and he cautiously touched various parts of the other walls in the room. All of them were quite solid. “When I first noticed it I thought that there was a spot on the wall. Not actually a spot – more like a defect of some kind. I walked over to see what it was. When I touched it, it felt soft, so I thought some water had gotten behind the dry wall. Obviously that isn’t the case.” Mary put her arm around him.

“We need to call someone about this,” offered Mary.

“Who?” replied Bob. “If the Police come out, all they’ll see is a solid wall. It’s not like the Exorcist where we need to call a priest. Ghostbusters? I don’t think there’s anybody in the Yellow Pages who’s an expert on this.”

“Bob, we’ll figure out what’s going on. It’s weird, but we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, the kids are starving. Let’s eat and we can talk after dinner.”

Dinner was as normal as possible with the kids teasing one another, going for seconds and avoiding their vegetables. On the other hand, Bob didn’t speak as he stared more or less straight ahead throughout the meal. Hid fork repeatedly stabbed a piece of roast and placed it in his mouth with an almost robotic routine.

“Is Dad mad at one of us?” their oldest son asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Mary replied. “You’re father is struggling with a problem. It’s like metaphysics or quantum mechanics or something. Just let him think.”

“That’s what happens when you get too much education!” their youngest offered. This seemed to stir Bob from his thoughts.

“Sorry, everybody,” he offered. “What would you think if we were to move?”

“Move!”

“I don’t want to move!”

“Everybody please settle down,” Mary interrupted. “Nobody’s moving.”

“I was just wondering,” replied Bob. “Does anybody think this house is weird or creepy or anything?” Everyone around the table just stared back at him. “Sorry, must have had too much coffee. Tell you what, Mom and I will clean up after dinner tonight so you won’t have to.” This last statement was immediately met by the sound of chairs being pushed back and footsteps headed up the stairs.

“They wanted to get out of here before you changed your mind or told them you were joking,” Mary explained. She got up from the chair across from Bob and moved to the chair next to him. “You aren’t really thinking about moving, are you? One little incident – a freaky incident to be sure – but one freaky incident shouldn’t make you want to uproot the whole family.”

“No, of course not. I figured that if anybody else had experienced something exceptional, asking about moving would get them talking.” He got up and paced for a few minutes. “Do we have any chalk?”

“Sally has some of those big sticks for drawing on the sidewalk,” Mary replied. “Let me check in the garage.” She returned with several large pieces of colored chalk. Bob took the chalk and got a broom from the utility room. He walked over to the wall and tapped around it with the broom handle. It sounded quite solid. He tapped the adjacent wall to see if it sounded any different, but both walls sounded identical. Satisfied, he handed one of the pieces of the chalk back to Mary.

“I’m going to put my hand into the wall. I don’t want to put it in any farther than absolutely necessary until I have a better idea as to what we’re dealing with. I’ll trace around the edge of the hole so we can see how big it is. I want you to take the chalk and trace just outside where my hand is.” Mary nodded and stood next to him. Bob used his index finger to touch the wall and watched to make sure that a sliver of his fingernail remained visible as he felt for the edge of the hole. He was very careful to keep his weight on the foot farthest away from the wall so that if he felt something he would fall away from the wall rather than toward it. Although it seemed like an eternity, they were able to outline the hole in less than a minute. They stepped back. The chalk mark was more or less circular and slightly larger than a basketball.

“What do we do now?” asked Mary.

“I’m not sure,” replied Bob. “Maybe we could try and poke a video camera through the hole.”

“It didn’t let the broom handle through,” replied Mary. “Sounds like something we should try, but I suspect the camera will not go through the wall. Have you thought about cutting a hole in the wall?”

“Yeah, but I suspect that getting behind the wall won’t help in getting through the wall. The hole seems to be attached to the wall. It may not be wise to cut it free from the wall and possibly set it loose. Cutting a physical hole could make things worse.”

“Define worse.”

“I’d rather not.”

Bob put his arm around Mary as they silently stared at the chalk circle. Suddenly the chalk line began to move and stretch until it described a rectangular. There was no doubt that the chalk line was now meant to be a drawing of a door. Through the center of the rectangle a piece of paper appeared and floated to the floor at Mary’s feet. She picked it up.

“It says ‘Trust me. I’ll explain everything as soon as I can. Till then, trust me.’” She paused and swallowed hard. “Bob, it’s in your handwriting.”

To Be Continued

 

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The Hole in the Wall That Wasn’t There

Posted on February 15, 2012 | 2 Comments

Chapter One

After a trying day at work he drove home, parked the car and let himself in the front door. The kids had soccer, or piano, or karate or something, so his wife was on chauffer duty. The smell of the roast in the oven reminded him how hungry he was, but he’d wait until they got home so they could eat together. Families should eat together, he thought. It used to be every family shared meals but these days it was a rarity. He and his wife thought it important, though, so he’d wait. When he asked the kids how their day went, they’d reply simply, “Fine,” but after a few bites of home cooked roast, they’d open up.

He went over to his chair, sat down and extended the leg rest. As the evening sun hit the opposite wall, he noticed something a bit odd. With a frown, he got out of his chair and and walked over, lightly touching the spot that had caught his attention. It was soft under his finger.

“How in the hell did water get back there?” he asked out loud for the benefit of no one. “There’s no reason a pipe should be running anywhere near here. Even if the bathtub upstairs had run over, there’s no way it could have gotten all the way over here!” He went out to the garage to get some tools and some spackling compound. “Might as well fix it right away,” he thought, “if it wasn’t going to be a major repair. Water leaks had a tendency to be like rearview mirrors – plumbing problems were always larger than they appeared.

He opened the tub of spackling plaster and stirred it with the plastic putty knife. The spackling seemed good, he thought. At least if it was a small problem he wouldn’t have to make a run to the hardware store. He laid some newspapers on the floor to catch the damp plaster that would fall when he cleaned it out.

“Probably some of that damned cheap Chinese wall board that everyone’s been complaining about,” he said. “I should have asked about that before we bought this dump.” It really wasn’t a dump, of course, it was a nice, if but a bit plain, small single family house in a nice, if but a bit plain neighborhood. They had bought it at the real estate peak – just before all the home prices tanked, so although making the payments was no problem, it was not going to provide the nest egg for which they had hoped. At least it was in an area with good schools. That was important – more important than housing values.

He picked up a screwdriver with which to pry out the wet plaster. If something was leaking behind the wall, it would have soaked through the drywall from the back and although he’d have to do a more extensive repair, at least he’d know what was leaking. On the other hand, if it was defective drywall, he’d repair the spot and find out if sealing it with a heavy duty primer would take care of any future problems. He pressed the blade of the screwdriver against the plaster, but the plaster did not give; instead it seemed quite solid. He tapped around the area with the screwdriver blade, but each tap was met with the sound of a solid wall.

This was odd.

He pressed the index finger from his other hand against the wall to verify that it felt soft, and he did. He then placed the screwdriver next to his finger and gently pressed both into the wall. His finger pressed into the wall while the screwdriver did not. He reversed the positions of both, and his finger still easily pressed into the plaster.

He put his head against the wall alongside the soft spot so he could see where his fingertip met the wall and pressed again. He could both feel and see the finger press not on the wall, but into it. He pressed hard this time and watched his finger disappear into the wall as far as the first knuckle. With a start he pulled it back and stared at the intact wall. There was no hole, nor even a dimple in the plaster. He put his fingers together and straightened them – like a diver might before entering the water and pressed his hand into the wall as far as his wrist. He thought he felt something touch his hand, and reflexively jerked it back out.

He heard the door to the garage open and his wife and kids came loudly into the kitchen.

“Mary, have the kids go to their room!” he told his wife. She gave him a look of disbelief and started to respond to his ridiculous and out of character demand.”

“Now! Please, just do it.” She recognized that he felt something was seriously wrong.

“You heard your father. Hopefully this won’t take long.” Amid complaints of “I’m starving!” and “I wanted to catch something on TV!” his son and daughter went up the stairs. His wife came over and looked at him with her, “Okay, now tell me what is going on” expression.

“You are not going to believe what I found in our house.”

To be continued……

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Posted in Family, Fiction, People, Philosophy

Valentine’s Day

Posted on February 14, 2012 | Leave a comment

It’s Valentine’s Day, a celebration of greeting cards and boxed candy. The day when grade school children exchange cards with all their classmates hoping, yet frightened, that the one special person might know that his or her valentine was the one that was actually meant. It’s a day of candlelit meals at a favorite restaurant. Of course there is that one little smudge because Al Capone chose this day to eliminate seven “business competitors” by way of a hail of machine gun bullets. Fortunately, the greeting card companies, jewelers and chocolatiers have managed to tough it out and not let them distract them.

Originally this was celebrated as the feast of St. Valentine, an early Christian bishop – or priest. When it became apparent that all that was really known about Valentine was that he was buried on February 14, and believed to have been martyred, the feast became one of those “St. Valentine and others,” where Valentine probably was one of the “others.” So any stories of Valentine’s good deeds, characteristics or whatever are sadly just that – merely stories.

Valentine’s Day is most often associated with the emotion of love, and love is truly a powerful emotion. All of us have grown up – regardless of when we grew up – with songs of love and how it makes us feel. While love can make one feel wonderful, that is almost an unintended side effect, since love is more about how you affect others and make them feel, as opposed to how it makes you feel. However, for musical purposes that doesn’t quite work.

Having the most beautiful wedding and honeymoon may seem like love. Getting up at 2:00 AM to feed the baby or shuttling the kids to an endless stream of school, sports, music and whatever events with a smile – that’s love.

St. Augustine is quoted as having said, “Love and do as you will,” meaning that if you act out of love it is pretty hard to make bad choices. Love and greed are incompatible, as well as most of the usual vices. Pretty powerful, love is.

At this point most of us would be tempted to quote John 3:16, but that’s John talking. I prefer to go right to the source.

When asked which was the greatest commandment, Jesus did not quote one of the ten inscribed on the tablets from Mount Sinai. Instead he advised … “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Matthew 22:37-39)

So this Valentine’s Day, celebrate love. It truly is powerful.

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Posted in Business, Culture, Family, Friends, Holidays, Music, People, Philosophy, Religion

A Different Lenten Preparation

Posted on February 13, 2012 | Leave a comment

A year or so ago I searched around to find a copy of “Jesus Christ Superstar.” In the late ’60s or early ’70s I had it as a genuine vinyl 33 1/3 high fidelity stereo album. This had long since gone missing, been loaned to someone or sold in a garage sale. No matter as I haven’t had a phonograph turntable in years. In any case, I found the CD version of the original recording on eBay and tend to listen to it around this time of year as part of my preparation for and participation in Lent.

“Jesus Christ Superstar” is not scripture, but an artist’s interpretation with artistic license used freely. George Carlin captured the situation years ago when he talked about an artist’s conception of heaven; something like, “tall clouds – could be clouds or could be skyscrapers, you aren’t really sure. Blonde angels – far too many blondes as far as I’m concerned…” Like most art, it is intended to convey or evoke an emotion rather than detail facts. Purists will no doubt find many problems with a 20th century rock musical, but for me there is some very real value.

“Superstar” helps me focus a bit on the wonder of salvation from many aspects. The undertaking that Christ freely accepted on behalf of all of us being the most significant, of course. There are other thoughts that impact me though, and depending on how the next 6 or 7 weeks unfold, I hope to share a few of them. Lent is not the easiest concept to wrap our minds around, so having some framework – even a musical – can sometimes help.

The character of Pilate is one of the most interesting. In the musical he has a dream before Christ is ever brought before him. In the dream he is taken aback by Christ’s silence. He then speaks of “wild and angry men; they seemed to hate this man.” Later when facing the wild and angry men – the Scribes and the Pharisees he attempts to extricate himself from the situation. “You’re Herod’s race,” he tells Jesus, “You’re Herod’s case!”

How many times, when faced with decisions do we try to find an easy way out? If I’m a typical example, then the answer is “far too many.” However, Pilate’s effort to avoid the difficult decision is not successful, and Herod returns Jesus to Pilate. The Roman prelate is the one who has the authority to have Christ executed, and that is what the powerful in Jerusalem want.

You have to wonder about Pilate. Being sent to manage the Jews was probably not a sought after assignment for military leaders. Leading troops in battle or being an advisor back in Rome, living the good life were probably far more attractive. Being sent far away to maintain order among strange tribes was most certainly not number one on his “dream list.” Ultimately, he finds himself facing a mob that may well riot if he doesn’t acquiesce and have this “Someone Christ, King of the Jews” crucified. His duty is to control the population and riots are not an acceptable activity within his area of responsibility. Although he is not at all convinced that Jesus should be executed, he gives in to preserve the peace and security of the territory for which he is responsible.

How many parallels can I see in my own life? How often have I justified a decision to myself, making it sound totally logical and defensible, even though I know better? How many things do we accept “to preserve the peace and security?” How many times do we take the easy way out?

In Pilate’s case, at least in the musical, his dream ended with the “wild and angry men” disappearing and being replaced by “thousands of millions crying for this man. Then I heard them mentioning my name and leaving me the blame.” The problem with taking the easy way out is that often the long term results are most unsatisfying.

Since “Superstar” is art, I leave you to your own emotional response. As for me, it reminds me very deeply as to why I am most assuredly happy that Christ’s death was to pay for our, and most especially for my failings.

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Posted in Arts, Music, Philosophy, Religion

One of Those Days

Posted on February 8, 2012 | Leave a comment

Did you ever have one of those days? You know, when the part you need to fix something is defective so you have to send it back and it takes another week before the replacement comes. You know it’s the right part, and with that part your dishwasher, microwave, automobile, transmogrifier or whatever would be working again. But n-o-o-o-o.

 

Usually that day is also the day when everything is upside down at work. Something like the IT Department is going to change all the computers so if you do anything on the computer you have to back everything up all over again. So you try to work on something that doesn’t require the computer, but every time you turn around, something hot is needed and (of course) you need to use the computer, back everything up again, only to find that the cycle repeats.

 

Usually that’s the same day that when you ask you kids to do something, they assure you that they will, but don’t. They have that look that says – you’ll forget so I really don’t have to worry about it. If they’re ill-behaved all the time, you expect it. If they normally are good kids they’ve already lulled you into a false sense of security.

 

Invariably this is also the day when a faucet will start dripping, dinner will scorch, the milk will be spilled, etc. None of these or the other events that invariably occur on such days are significant in and of themselves, but all together they’re a killer. I tend to flash on the black and white newsreel movie of the “Dancing Bridge” in Tacoma that began oscillating with the wind and eventually collapsed. Wind blows over, under, around and through bridges all the time without any damage, but get the right set of conditions and disaster follows. It’s the additive effect – like pushing a child on the swing. There’s just the right point at which you push so that the new force is added to the old force.

 

Like most situations, it’s easy to describe the problem. Now if I could only describe an appropriate solution I could write a book, give motivational speeches, hit the talk shows and make a bundle of money.

 

But I can’t because – well, it’s one of those days.

 

 

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Posted in People, Philosophy

It’s All About Money

Posted on February 7, 2012 | 1 Comment

Money is kind of a funny thing. Not economics. Money itself. Isn’t it pathetic that people rob and kill one another over those little pieces of metal and paper? How weird is that?

 

Money is sometimes looked at as the third level of economic exchange. The first level is based on the family; everything is shared usually without regard to value. Teenage son is hungry – he goes into the refrigerator and walks away with almost everything that’s not a vegetable and drinks half of the gallon of milk (usually right from the jug.) No one calculates the exchange rate. Daughter needs braces – the family pays for braces. Mom wants a new purse – well, she might have gotten one except for those new braces…

 

The second level is barter. I have a fish and you have a bag of rice. I want rice and you want fish so we swap. Unfortunately it doesn’t always work out that way. I want the rice but you want fruit. I need to find someone with fruit who wants a fish so we can swap and I can then trade his fruit for your rice. Otherwise, as time passes, I need to find someone who wants some smelly plant fertilizer (aka spoiled fish.) While we think of bartering as archaic, bartering appears frequently on Craigslist. There have even been some clubs that assign points for goods or services which then could be traded for other goods and services. One of the original appeals of using such a barter system was that the participants believed they could bypass paying income tax on such transactions. The IRS reacted pretty quickly (for a government agency) and developed a method for calculating income tax to cover these situations.

 

The third level is money. Everyone agrees that a specific item will have a recognized value that can be used to exchange for whatever we need. This made buying and selling things easier as well as making the whole concept of wages much more logical. It’s easier to understand that for your labors you get six of these coins as opposed to getting paid with two lemons, a rutabaga and a slightly over-ripe fish.

 

Initially money was based on material that had intrinsic value. In most cultures, this included precious metals such as gold or silver. In fact the coins were made of the quantity of gold or silver that its value represented. A $20 gold piece weighed in at $20 worth of gold. Using precious metals seemed to work pretty well. Some believe that women began to wear jewelry because this gave them a way to easily carry their wealth with them. This is wise when living in a culture in which a man could divorce his wife on a whim and she was not entitled to anything. With her jewelry she had some protection and at least the possibility of trading up to a better husband than the jerk who ditched her.

 

Then we got modern and didn’t really trade with the precious metal, but used paper that said that if you wanted you could go to the government treasury and trade the paper money for a comparable amount of the precious metal. In the US gold became too precious, so we switched to silver. Of course this also meant that instead of the metal’s value remaining constant it could vary and the amount of silver you were entitled to on a particular day varied with it. (Please note that things are starting to get slippery.)

 

It was only a short step from there to go to fiat money (No it’s not based on Italian compact cars.) Fiat money means that through the government we declare that a piece of paper or a coin is worth a certain amount of money because we said it is. It’s our belief that it is worth the assigned value that gives it that value rather than any intrinsic value to the currency itself.

 

Coins are interesting as well. I remember when dimes and above were silver alloy and pennies were copper. (Trivia note – their proper name is “one cent piece;” penny is derived from the British coin of similar value.) Depending on the source being quoted, pennies cost just under a cent or several cents each to mint, which is why there are periodic moves to eliminate the penny and round everything in 5 cent increments. In fact the copper and zinc in older pennies can be worth more melted down and sold as scrap metal. To counter this, the government passed a law making it illegal to melt coins for their metal content. They also changed what materials are used for coins. Current pennies are no longer copper alloy but are merely copper plated. Silver is long gone from other coins in general circulation. So now we have fiat coinage.

 

Coins do have one advantage, though, in that they last much longer than paper money. Reports are that it costs 4 cents to print a dollar bill, which lasts for about a year and a half or eight cents to mint a dollar coin, which lasts for about thirty years. Unfortunately, people don’t like to use dollar coins so we’ve been through the Susan B. Anthony coin, the Sacagawea coin and the Presidents coins without any of them being accepted for general commerce.

 

So that, my friends is a brief view of money – a compendium of useless information brought to you by me because I couldn’t think of anything better to blog about.

 

 

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Posted in History, Philosophy, Wealthy

Superbowl Sunday

Posted on February 5, 2012 | Leave a comment

Well, it’s finally here – Superbowl Sunday.

Not being a sports fan it’s not quite the same for me as it is for my younger son. As a matter of fact, I’d venture that he’s enough of a fan that if you averaged the two of us, the result would be equal to one rabid sports fan. Whereas he longs for anything that you can kick, I’m more a virtual pocket protector kind of a guy. I’ll take the Discover Channel over ESPN any day.

It’s a flaw, but it’s my flaw, so it’s okay.

I know that Superbowl Sunday is also the day to eat to a level that puts Thanksgiving to shame. Unfortunately, after my last doctor’s appointment, let’s just say I need a better excuse than football to consume my weight in chips, pizza, beer, etc.

I remember when the first Superbowl was held; I was in high school and as you know, my feeling then, as now, is that football’s proper place is to give marching bands an opening and closing act, as well as a place to perform. The first Superbowls did feature college marching bands. Then it was “improved” to college bands and performers. Then performers without the marching bands. When Disney started producing it became extravaganzas.

Today you have a mini version of the entertainment shows I grew up on. Shows like Dean Martin or the Smothers’ Brothers or the benchmark – Ed Sullivan. Given the age of those who can afford to pay for Superbowl tickets, we’re not talking Katy Perry. Today it will be Madonna. Personally I can’t think of a better way to follow up on Pete Townsend’s too-small shirt from two years. At least I like the Who, but Madonna’s just a little too weird for me. Hope they don’t have any hydrangeas on the set.

Finally a blaze of commercials – and not just ordinary commercials – commercials for which we’ve seen trailers, previews, advance screenings, etc. – football season will be over. Sports fans will find ESPN reduced to competitive bowling, billiards, poker and even cricket.

So if you’re a sports fan, enjoy today.

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