We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
#48 is a good one: You beat 50% of the people by just showing up. You beat another 40% by working hard. The last 10% is a dogfight in the free enterprise system.
This is kind of an 'observation test'. Let's see if you can figure out the answer to the question, "Why can't I market this remarkable item?" before the end.
How about a coffee mug that keeps your coffee warm up to ten times longer than a normal coffee mug?
Sounds pretty amazing — and sellable — doesn't it? I mean, lots of people prefer their coffee hot, and probably subconsciously drink it faster than they normally would, just to get it while it's still warm. Me, I use a coffee mug warmer plate which keeps it hot and allows me to drink it at a leisurely pace.
And think what an ad would look like for The Magic Coffee Mug. You'd have a bar graph showing how long various popular mugs keep the coffee warm, and while the other bars on the graph would be a quarter-inch high, The Magic Coffee Mug's would be four inches high. Very impressive, and sure to ignite a million sales.
Alas, I can't market this amazing product, even though I could probably get them for dirt cheap.
Readers know that we seasonally, and sometimes plain impulsively, change the image on our header. Some find those old images a little too cutesy and sentimental, but I think they are part of what we are. I love the details of 19th C life.
Of course, when Currier and Ives produced their images they were making contemporary illos and would never have dreamed of their ongoing appeal.
"We created a group of self-entitled monsters." Hey youths, this is for you. Hey, OWSers, this is for you, too. Adam Carolla tells it like it is (language not entirely SFW, and h/t, SDA):
"Life is difficult." That book did me a lot of good, a few years ago. Got me into a little therapy, changed my life for the better, helped me realize that I was my biggest obstacle in getting on with life. Corny as it sounds, that empowered me. Shrink told me that there was nothing wrong with me except for being a "blaming and excuse-making a-hole" and I had to get my shit together, quit blaming and making self-flattering excuses, and take charge of my life like an adult who was willing to deal with reality instead of fantasies. Mean SOB was spot on. That's why I am, at present, having a very good life in New York City.
It is also why I don't do the morning posts here anymore. I am grandfathered in, to post whatever I want, whenever I want.
Where is OWS hoping things wind up? Given some of the recent pictures in the blogosphere, one calling for a "Cultural Revolution", it's likely that these nitwits have a hankering for the recent past and all the wonderfulness others in Russia and China experienced. In a sense, a very bizarre sense, we could call them 'conservative', because they want to return to the way things were - even if those things were in another severely degraded country. Lord knows they are not progressive.
I was watching a boring football game and began to glance around other channels, and noticed "Dr. Zhivago". I'm a fan of David Lean, and in particular this film. Beautifully shot, well crafted, magnificent characters and storytelling.
As I watched, I couldn't help but think "this is what OWS dreams about - the chance to expropriate the property of others so they can misuse and destroy property."
Politicians love it, because they can pay for votes today, and the next generation can worry about it after they have retired. I can buy a boat today, and hope I keep my job so I can pay it off over the next five years. Or I could buy a tiny 1 BR condo in NY, and pay if off over 15 years while taking an interest deduction from my crippling federal, state, and city income taxes. Businesses need it, in fact, require it, for investment purposes, in the hopes that they can grow. Banks love it, because they can lend the money and profit from the interest. Students love it: they can go to school now, and hope to pay off their loans in the future. Christmas shoppers love it, of course, because Santa is credit.
In the end, using credit makes people, and governments, debt slaves, slaves to bond markets and slaves to banks who offered the loans. This is annoying to debtors, who have already enjoyed spending the money and are peeved, if not in trouble, because they owe it. The bond market now controls the global economy, not because "it" wants to, but because of governments and people willingly, freely, democratically, taking on debt to pay the bills instead of taxing the heck out of the people who work. Borrowing is all voluntary, the loans are from one's neighbors, - and it is a big house of cards.
I was raised by parents who refused to ever go into debt. They viewed it as a temptation for the weak. They never even had a credit card. They saved for 15 years to buy a modest house, and never viewed it as an investment. They made it home, and live there now while the trees they had planted become enormous, dwarfing their home. They have hardly ever gone anywhere, or had much fun or adventure as I think of it, but they love their church and their little town where everybody knows them. A simple life. In my adult life, I have learned to take out loans for no reason, and to pay them back after a few months, just to have a good credit rating. A good credit rating, today, is like a grade in reality living. Someday, I might want to use some credit, but today I do not. I use credit cards as if cash, to keep my rating perfect.
I might need a loan, someday.
Easy money is dangerous. Living within your means, whether as a family or as a government, is just no darn fun. There's always a good excuse or rationale for taking on more debt. I fear that the world will soon see the economic consequences of excessive debt in which everybody has borrowed from his neighbor, and his neighbor from him. A bank, after all, contains nothing but one's neighbor's money, leveraged.
"I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today":
I am grateful that Mrs. BD dragged me to see Einstein on the Beach on its world tour in 1992, at the BAM (for those of you in Yorba Linda, that's the Brooklyn Academy of Music).
Philip Glass and Robert Wilson, with dancer/choreographer Lucinda Childs, decided to call it an opera, but it really was a spectacle, and, with all of the repetition, choruses, and dancing, something like Greek theater with technology. I have grown to sort-of enjoy the Glass music in this, but it just drives some people crazy. It's a sound track, really.
The whole thing is hypnotically slow-moving (and it was over 5 hrs, no intermission, and people were welcome to come and go. We stayed, except for bathroom breaks - and they sold wine in the lobby.). There exist audio recordings, but, I believe, no video recordings of the whole thing. Video does not do justice to theatrical productions. You had to be there to be in the dream.
One snippet of video - you can search on YouTube it to hear more of Glass' music for the show:
Addendum, by complete coincidence I see that the Met is celebrating Glass' 75th birthday with “Satyagraha.” Wierd coincidences: I posted a Tagore poem this morning, mentioned Robert Wilson in a photo post yesterday, and stumbled on the news of that Philip Glass/Tagore opera today after preparing the above post.
The more you get out and about, the more fascinating life gets. Everybody needs to get out more, I guess. Possessions are expensive: cool life experiences are cheap by comparison.
Sometimes I think about things during my morning work-out. I try not to think and to go into a mindless, timeless state, but sometimes my brain wins. Often, I use my aerobic time to pray, and I hope God laughs about my multitasking.
Many things in life test our will-power and, in a sick kind of Yankee way, I tend to enjoy such tests of mental strength. Few things present conflicts with one's will-power like facing another ten minutes on the Elliptical, or one more set of squats.
Well, maybe paying bills and doing other paperwork almost compares. My personal attitude towards paperwork is infantile, defiant, and not admirable. I often fail these tests.
Does persisting with the things we find difficult, and seek excuses to avoid, build character? We say Yes. The Maggie's heart says "Easy stuff first, hard stuff later." The Maggie's conscience and the Maggie's tradition says "Hard stuff first, easier stuff after."
Spandex? All the women in my gym wear Spandex (or Yoga pants), and I'd say it's 50% women there early in the morning. Guys on the machines alternate their gaze from CNBC or FOX to the bouncing youthful Spandexed behind in front of them with the bouncing blond pony-tail, then back to CNBC.
Being pure of heart and mind, I stay glued to the FOX. Don't you?
Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home; All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin. God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied; Come to God's own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.
All the world is God's own field, fruit unto His praise to yield; Wheat and tares together sown unto joy or sorrow grown. First the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear; Lord of harvest, grant that we wholesome grain and pure may be.
For the Lord our God shall come, and shall take His harvest home; From His field shall in that day all offenses purge away, Giving angels charge at last in the fire the tares to cast; But the fruitful ears to store in His garner evermore.
Even so, Lord, quickly come, bring Thy final harvest home; Gather Thou Thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin, There, forever purified, in Thy garner to abide; Come, with all Thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home.
The Pilgrims sustained so many deaths in their first year, it's a wonder they did not give up and return to Holland. They maintained their faith, and endured, and were relentlessly grateful for the Lord's will, whatever it might be. Some of the BD's ancestors were there, and survived. We connect.
Besides the wonderful tune, what I especially like about this one is that it makes it clear that the true harvest to be celebrated is not pumpkins and corn and big birds harvested by man, but people harvested by God for His kingdom. Also, it's the first tune I learned to play, on an old foot-pedal pump organ at the farm. You had to brush the mouse shit off the keys first. They lived inside that old organ in the fall and winter.
It would be more fun if it were giving thanks for sex, or the intertunnels, or freedom from government "help" and control, or something. However, survival comes first, and God has provided us all with his fruits.
Did the Pilgrims get the idea from Sukkot? Who knows. People have given thanks to God or gods since the beginning of time. What did the Pilgrims have for their Thanksgiving feast? Clams, Cod, corn meal, eels, turkey, vension, ducks. All organic! It went on for a few days, with plenty of Indians visiting with game meat in hand (the sturdy few who had not died off due to European diseases introduced by earlier explorers).
Being now passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before them in expectations, they had now no friends to welcome them, no inns to entertain or refresh them, no houses, or much less towns, to repair unto to seek for succour; and for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of the country know them to be sharp and violent, subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places, much more to search unknown coasts.
Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wilde beasts and wilde men? and what multitudes of them there were, they then knew not: for which way soever they turned their eyes (save upward to Heaven) they could have but little solace or content in respect of any outward object; for summer being ended, all things stand in appearance with a weatherbeaten face, and the whole country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and savage hew.
If they looked behind them, there was a mighty ocean which they had passed, and was now as a main bar or gulph to separate them from all the civil parts of the world.
Bad luck. They were headed for the cozy Dutch village of New Amsterdam, and ended up in rugged Cape Cod due to bad weather and imperfect navigation. Decided to stay anyway, trusting God. "Occupy Plymouth!" They tried out a Christian commune, but it didn't work so they switched to free markets and private property. The investors got a successful colony, the Pilgrims got religious freedom and real estate, and the rest is history.
My pics from a BD family TG groaning board a few years ago. The oven turkey was on another table. We always have Indian Pudding too, but I guess it didn't make this photo op (we always use fresh Indians from Costco).
Note pup banished outdoors, drooling at the door. Two pups, this year. Maybe three. Thanks to God for all the dogs!
Unlike we modern whining Americans among whom none go hungry or cold, the Pilgrims saw reason for thanks despite their hardships - half their number dead.
"In everything, give thanks..."
Yes, that's a Pumpkin Cheesecake. Our friend always makes one.
Whether the "research" is about medicines, climate, sociology, or whatever, greedy human nature always finds a place for itself. This is why we, at Maggie's, always assume a skeptical posture towards "studies."
Most "studies" show that researchers want to get money and jobs for doing studies.
In the past year, we have been overwhelmed with the sleaziness of the warmist crowd and the social psychology crowd, but today we find pay to play in university education research.
Almost everybody has an agenda, even scientists. It's human. That's why we remain skeptics about everything. Call it cynical if you want, but we think it's being realistic.
A preview performance of Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard at Classic Stage. Is Cherry Orchard the first modernist play? Some say it is. Plenty of ellipses, and disjointed communication. A comedy, sort-of, or a slice of life. Chekhov was a physician, a writer on the side.
Superb early dinner at the Blue Water Grill on Union Square. Mrs. BD had the Crab and Sweet Potato Hash. I had the Baked Cod with Lobster Mashed Potatoes. I didn;t pay attention to what our friends had. We had a jolly afternoon and evening in NYC. Blue Water is a Maggie's 4-star joint, especially for seafood. Perfect ambience, service, and food. I prefer the balcony, but there's more people-watching on the main floor. Their pic below:
I didn't want to use flash:
Took the subway, of course. Quicker and cheaper. The NYC subway system is a good IQ test, and a small d democratic form of transportation in the best sense. I have always enjoyed the subways. The whole thing was developed by separate private companies to meet market demaind, not by government planners. Works great, once you get the hang of it. The government took it all over, but I don't know why. Governments always have reasons to take things over, and it's usually all about money or votes.
14th St was hopping. Gotta love the vitality of a thriving, bustling city full of young, hard-working, ambitious, determined, and attractive people. That's the Empire State bldg lit up in the distance:
I realize that some of our readers own more firearms than can be easily listed (obsessional collectors, with too much money), but some just own a few.
I don't collect firearms, but I have two friends who are serious collectors, with hundreds of functional and valuable antiques of all sorts.
I have an ugly Savage 110, a Glock 9 mm (and a carry permit), a pile of old .22s, one lovely old Abercrombie & Fitch 20 ga s/s for grouse and woodock, a pretty Belgian Browning 12 ga o/u which I use for clays, a Rem 12 ga semiauto for deer, turkey, ducks and geese, and a few other nice old field shotguns in the back of the closet which I can't remember. I don't go for fancy: guns are tools, meant to be used and banged around.
As an old-fashioned person, I always claim, whenever I do something wrong (and I do), "The Devil made me do it."
At the same time that I mean that, I also accept the notion of human agency. Every waking second of life offers choices, and I think a college bs post about Free Will would be sophomoric. All I will say is that what we feel, and how we chose to behave (absent severe mental illness) are entirely different things. Human dignity and civilization itself requires a distance and a delay between the two. Even animals exercise that delay.
A human without a reliably moral, executive "I" is a dangerous entity, an entity to be avoided if not locked away.
A beautifully-restored turn-of-the-century summer "cottage" on the CT shore. These sorts of places originally had no central heat as they were indeed summer get-aways for prosperous New Yorkers, but they had plenty of coal fireplaces to take the chill off on cool summer or fall nights.
Third floor, as in most larger, pre-income tax era houses, was servants' quarters.
Very nice carriage barn too, with room upstairs for your chauffeur or gardener. In those days, there were tons of secure jobs for semi-skilled servants.
Theodore Dalrymple put it characteristically well in the City Journal a few years ago when he said that, had she survived to our own time, Woolf would have had the satisfaction of observing that her cast of mind - shallow, dishonest, resentful, envious, snobbish, self-absorbed, trivial, philistine, and ultimately brutal - had triumphed among the elites of the Western world. And if that seems a little harsh on someone who did I think have a considerable gift - Mrs Dalloway is surely a very good novel - just remember that she also wrote the most immitigably stupid book of the twentieth century.
It just goes to show that you should look at how people comport themselves towards the world before accepting that they have something worthwhile to say about turning away from it. But the good news is that, when you do look, what you see is not always a disappointment.
You can turn away from the world without a chip on your shoulder, perhaps without even really thinking that that’s what you’re doing. But of course it isn’t as easy as that. Most of us will turn away from the world because it displeases us, and displeasure with the world is usually going to be our own fault. By comparison, turning away from the world in the full bloom of its loveliness is a gift, and no one will grasp it who has not already begun to receive it.
and
But I think I went too far in worrying that even the best philosophical or literary talk about death was always going to be on the edge of vacuity. By comparison, I’d say nowadays that a well-adjusted sense of absurdity and meaninglessness is much more likely to be good practice for the truth of its expression. After all, death does define existence. And the refusal to face up to it - no, that’s wrong, almost everyone “faces up to it”; the real point is to let the thought of it mature over the years - is as good an explanation as any for our tendency to insist on defining ourselves in terms of contingent things, things that are vulnerable to change.
The examples are endless. A violinist can get her fingers crushed. A footballer can lose a leg. A devoted husband can discover that his wife is betraying him. Children grow up and leave home. We don’t always get the top job. All of these things can induce despair. But, according to Kierkegaard, the real despair is about something else. It is about the thought that one is nothing if not a violinist, an athlete, a man loved by his wife, a mother whose children still need her, someone moving successfully up the career ladder, and so on.
Mrs. BD's pic on the High Line Sunday evening. It's pleasant for a stroll, but surprising to me how much of an attraction it has become. No public funds.
What the Boomers as a generation missed (there were, of course and thankfully, many honorable individual exceptions) was the core set of values that every generation must discover to make a successful transition to real adulthood: maturity. Collectively the Boomers continued to follow ideals they associated with youth and individualism: fulfillment and “creativity” rather than endurance and commitment. Boomer spouses dropped families because relationships with spouses or children or mortgage payments no longer “fulfilled” them; Boomer society tolerated the most selfish and immature behavior in its public and cultural leaders out of the classically youthful and immature belief that intolerance and hypocrisy are greater sins than the dereliction of duty. That the greatest and most effective political leader the Baby Boom produced was William Jefferson Clinton tells you all you need to know.
But gee, Prof Mead, those stuffy old moralities and values like honor, integrity, self-restraint, self-reliance, duty, sacrifice, loyalty, etc. are so...inauthentic, hypocritical, uptight, old-fashioned - and no darn fun.
Long-term mortgages may or may not be a good idea, but they do have willing sellers and buyers. In most of the world, mortgages are either rare or very short-term, ie 5 years, and are not tax-advantaged. From Forbes:
A 2005 paper by Adam Gordon describes the effects of federal mortgage policy from the 1930s until the 1960s. Congress created the Federal Housing Administration in 1934, and gave it the power to provide mortgage insurance to housing lenders. At the time, state and federal regulations strictly limited the kinds of mortgages banks could issue, which meant that mortgages were short—often as little as 5 to 7 years—and came with down-payments of between a third and half the value of a home. In the 1930s, the FHA convinced all 48 states to relax these rules for FHA-backed loans, arguing (correctly) that such loans were not as risky since they had the backing of the federal government. But most states did not liberalize the rules for banks with private mortgage insurance. In practice, this meant that FHA-backed loans were the only 30-year, low-down-payment loans on the market, giving the FHA de facto power to decide who would be eligible for such loans.
and
The FHA’s standards became a self-fulfilling prophesy. Young, upwardly mobile families in the market for a first home (at least the white ones) went where they could get the best deal, and thanks to federal guarantees that was the suburbs. Meanwhile, urban areas were starved of capital thanks to state laws that banned private parties from making long-term loans in those areas. Not surprisingly, suburban home construction boomed during this period, while urban areas stagnated.
The FHA and the mortgage interest tax deduction introduced giant distortions into housing markets. Just add "free" government highways to the mix, and you get what you have.
In my view, the FHA and the mortgage deduction are simply subsidies to construction industries and unions, and the freeways simply indirect subsidies to the auto and trucking industries and suburban construction industries.
A proto-bungalow, really. A happy family could have a fine life based in such a dwelling. That's all I need, but I'm not sure that Mrs. BD would agree. A little bit finer if they took the trouble to jack up that porch. This one is in Woodstock, VT (a village I am fond of, and not only for the skiing, and not to be confused with Woodstock, CT or the famous Woodstock, NY. The permanent population has not changed since 1859. Vermont is not about growth).
(Re cars in VT, Maine, and NH: Ever notice how the locals almost never have 4 WD in snow and mud country, but the summer folk and ski folk always do? You'd think that driving to the country is like Lewis and Clark.)
Just found this little stash of poor cell phone pics which one of the pupettes took around town a few years ago, for a school archecture project about roof styles. It's a random selection of where the !% seem to live.
Actress needs work, takes job as housekeeper. Before my time, of course. Gracie Fields was the best. Including "The artfulness, the sinfulness, the wickedness of men."
Like Megan McArdle, I don't give a darn about income inequality or asset inequality as long as people do not starve in the streets, and have opportunity and freedom to make their own path in life, but, in many years of talking to people, the patterns and major causes of very low reported income - bottom 1-4% - just call it the 1% because Life has a bell curve for economics -are obvious to me:
- Youth, career beginning, and education debt - Single motherhood - temporary unemployment - Life style choice - Lack of marketable skills - Living where there are no jobs to match skills - Very bad luck - Mental illness, addiction, etc. - Lack of cultural mastery, whether via recent immigration or whatever - Chronic disabling illness - A history of poor decision-making and life strategizing - Low IQ - Character traits such as laziness, inability to get along with people, lack of organization, initiative, goals, self-discipline, or ambition, no discipline to save money, impulsivity, poor planning, lousy judgement, etc etc. - Income data gaps due to the numbers of people who work off the books (for a dramatic example, our clinic realised that there was a 30-woman prostitution ring working out of a nearby government housing project) - Choosing to work the welfare/disability/food stamp/child care etc. system (with a couple of kids, the all with full government benefits brings them up to a working class standard of living without working. That ought to be good enough, roughly equivalent to a $40,000 salary). Our support system will bring you close to $30,000/yr in cash and/or benefits including unlimited free medical care) - History of criminality or career criminality
Everybody knows these things, but they are never talked about. I think that list covers pretty much all of the income poverty that I have seen. I have been lucky, and have worked my butt off as a physician, and still am not wealthy. I work because I need to be useful. For wealth-building, being a traditional gal, I rely on my beloved hubby. I stand by my statement, however, that money isn't happiness. It just provides choices.
You have to have things and people that you love, independence, and integrity, to make a good life.
This is kind of an 'observation test'. Let's see if you can figure out the answer to the question, "Why can't I market this remarkable item?" before the end.
Sometimes I think about things during my morning work-out. I try not to think and to go into a mindless, timeless state, but sometimes my brain wins. Often, I use my aerobic time to pray, and I hope God laughs about my multitasking.
Whether the "research" is about medicines, climate, sociology, or whatever, greedy human nature always finds a place for itself. This is why we, at Maggie's, always assume a skeptical posture towards "studies." 
I realize that some of our readers own more firearms than can be easily listed (obsessional collectors, with too much money), but some just own a few.
Listen Up, Boomers: The Backlash Has Begun
A 2005 paper
