Hypersimplificationalisms

It took a warning from my email system to make me realise that I had been making my life more socially complex than I had intended when I retired from working in an office environment several years ago.

Dozens of blogs I found myself following, filling my email inbox.

Hundreds of friends and family on social networking sites I found I had accumulated, creating a constantly-flowing social “news” stream.

Thousands of websites I found I was tracking.

Billions of people I found I had written about.

It took an interview with an author on the der spiegel website to make me realise that seeking social connections is one of the aspects of being a member of our species.

Instead of simplifying my life, I have jumped right back in to social connections, albeit mostly virtual ones.

Back to simplifying my thought sets so I can return to contemplating the vast universe of which we are a tiny part that we rarely see through the cloud of socialising that normally defines us.

To the dozens of fellow blog writers and hundreds of social network friends, I thank you for your hospitality and kindness.  However, I bow gracefully and exit from your lives.

I have other pursuits, none as important as friends and family, but ones I want to look for, nonetheless.

I had used this blog as a means of safely storing my written thoughts.  However, with my smartphone I have a new means of storing my thoughts without having to put them out here for everyone to read, allowing me to explore thought patterns I have kept to myself in order to avoid offending any of my friends and family who might see themselves in this continuous satirical viewpoint through a serial book of parallel lives.

Have, have, have…there I go again, sending Morse code to the universe!

This blog has come to an end.

Ethics at the local level

Here I have a whole universe to consider and yet the gnat in the ointment is nagging me.  Hope it ain’t a mosquito with West Nile virus.

This is the story so far:

  • My next-door neighbour, Ann, died recently.
  • Within a short period of time after Ann’s death, her husband contracted with a real estate agent, put their house up for sale at $10k less than its appraised value (historically, the appraised value, set by our local (county) government, is less than market value), an incredibly low $80k.  Keep in mind that the house on the other side of us sold for $437,500 on 13th August 13 2010, but its appraised value that year was $309,800.
  • The real estate agency was Keller Williams.
  • The house sold in three days, according to another neighbour down the street.
  • The buyer, I discover, is also a real estate agent for Keller Williams, named Alice Battle.
  • Today, my wife and I paid a courtesy visit to meet our new neighbour.
  • A building contractor greeted us, told us Alice doesn’t live there but, instead, is having the place remodeled because Alice, who lives in the city, plans to use the house as a weekend retreat for her and her friends.
  • The building contractor said he wished Alice had been there [to justify her reasons for buying the house] but, and he didn’t want to speak for her, told us anyway that Alice “just fell in love with the house right away” and had to have it.

Well, who wouldn’t at that price?  Is it even ethical to buy from a “friend” working for the same real estate agency who low-balled the price of the house?

I’m collecting more information.  Having been a newspaper reporter, the investigative side of me wants to get to the bottom of this.

Questions I have to answer are:

  • Are there ethical implications here?
  • Is this a common practice in real estate?
  • Is this a violation of any laws?
  • Is this a “tip of the iceberg” moment that might reveal more about why the real estate business was such a disastrous financial bomb dropped in the middle of the global economy?
  • Are we setting ourselves up nationally for another real estate catastrophe?

I guess I need to consult my friends in the legal department to see how I should pursue this matter.  We might have a situation that is worth calling in the big dogs of the newspaper business and coordinating our investigations across the country.

I can’t wait to hear what Alice has to say for herself because she represents not only herself here but also Keller Williams and the real estate business in general, as well as potentially putting Huntsville in national news and Huntsville needs more newspaper exposure like UAH needs another Amy Bishop on their professorial staff.

I feel like a hound dog that’s found a strong scent and wants to tree a varmint.

More as it develops…

Deconstructionist

To see that I exist, that there is a set of states of energy that can be traced back to the union of two sets of states of energy, one still living…

This “I” cannot justify its existence after playing with a Wacom Bamboo graphics tablet, updating an Apple iPad 2 to iOS 6, adding contacts to a Samsung Galaxy SIII and asking if I, all references to “It’s A Wonderful Life” aside, have made sufficient contributions to say I deserve calling myself my father’s son, Richard Lee Hill II.

There are brief moments like these when I ask myself if my blue-eyed, red-haired, freckly-skinned genetic material goes to the grave without any attempt to reproduce myself, then why did I live at all?

Silence follows accusingly, guilt-ridden, mocking, watching others who do and do not reproduce themselves build legacies that live…

Why am I here if nothing matters?

I have accumulated and continue to accumulate toys in an attempt to fill in the gaps of my life where [grand]children should be.

The massive waste in our species’ endeavours that we dedicate to the excess time our social network has given us outside our basic childrearing tasks is phenomenal.

We have become the emperour’s clothes.

I am a prime example.

I should be dead yet I still live, the personification of self-preservation, a set of states of energy perpetuating itself as long as it can.

Devoid of meaning.

A transparent being.

Time to dull my brain with alcohol, a legal means of escape from the torture of living with myself, happy in my comfortably suburban misery with no motivation to escape from the multiculturalism that is smothering me, who is the son of a father who thought that pot-smoking hippies like Bill Clinton and Barack Obama are giving our country away.

Dad, what can I do to make things right?  Legalise the recreational use of substances like marijuana, psilocybin mushrooms and LSD to raise them up to the legally-destructive level of alcohol, tobacco and prescription medication?  Show secret videos we have recorded of private speeches that Hillary/Bill Clinton and Barack Obama have given over the years that will destroy international relationships, let alone upset the balance of voters’ opinions?

Dad, I tried to support Mitt Romney, I really did.

But without a child of my own to say that I have preserved the genetic heritage of which you were so proud, having descended from one of the American Revolutionary War heroes, it’s difficult to swallow the bitter aftertaste of the two-headed monster we call the duopoly of the Republican/Democratic political machine that promotes two people I can barely distinguish from one another, Obama and Romney.

Dad, I never supported Bill Clinton.  But I never supported George W. Bush, either.

Our political system has become such a convoluted, commercialised, nondemocratic system that I’ve given up fighting it — we’re just one, big, international conglomeration of interdependent business functions now, a group of nations in name only.

The dogs of war are eating the scraps and I can’t stand the stench of income inequality that our nation has dissolved into, despite it appearing better than many political systems around the world.

I agree the “haves” should not be taxed when they have competed to earn their gains for themselves and their heirs but many of them have become too greedy, driven mad by the spectre of recession/depression hanging over them and the lifestyles to which they’ve grown accustomed.

Look at me, living in the lap of relative luxury, surrounded by piles of useless crap that demonstrates the excess our society generates for our childrearing-free moments.

Has the Great Recession taught the upcoming generation to appreciate life without gizmos just as the Great Depression and WWII taught your mother and yourself to appreciate enriching the mind through education that enhances one’s family rather than mind-numbing distractions that turn us into technological zombies?

Dad, I’m sorry I never gave you a grandchild from me, your older, sole male heir, a son you almost lost when he got dragged into the muck of pop culture for a while as he tried to define/find himself out from under the shadow of your strong personality.

There’s nothing I can do about it now.

All I can do is make sure your wife of 55 years, my mother, is taken care of the rest of her life, however she wishes to live it, until one of us dies first, as I give my wife the time she deserves with me.

It’s not enough but it’s all I have to offer in a country that had grown too druggy, multicultural and unpatriotic for you.

Otherwise, I’d prove the real balance of power by encouraging our nation to go to war with nations that are ill-prepared to handle our massive firepower, economic and popular culture power be damned, while I sit back and enjoy the show on all my useless gizmos, before those nations complete their detente arsenals and ruin the fun we closet warhawks truly enjoy.

Dad, maybe that’s the idea.  Should I use the transition of leadership in China and the discord in the U.S. as well as the turmoil in the old Ottoman Empire to start a good, old-fashioned, patriotic ass-whooping of a war?  I’ve got enough profiteers on my side around the world to make it interesting and a savvy business investment, besides.

We’ll see…

When ifs are won wheat is fun

Hmm…predictive texting…when ifs are won what is fun?  Wheat sounds better, though, doesn’t it?

If your country was facing a potential economic crisis and your leadership was in transition, wouldn’t you want to find an external enemy to conjure up for the masses to pay attention to?  I would, if I was a Chinese political or business leader or even someone doing business with China.

A cornered rat is a cornered rat, a rodent that is rarely loved, just trying to make its way in the world.

Yeah, that’s the way we can feel sometimes.

Me, I’ve figured out that I never enter a room, especially one with corners.

I find a way to challenge everyone to perform at their best, whatever they imagine their best to be, by holding up a funhouse mirror to them and let them see themselves in an alternate world of strange shapes, sizes and colours.

Artists are the same way around the world.  A musician from Trinidad, Nicki Minaj, has shown support for Mitt Romney in her song lyrics.  So, too, in a way, Randy Newman and his song, “I’m Dreaming of a White President.” And, finally, Marvel Comics shows us an alternate universe where Captain America is president of the U.S.

What these artists don’t realise is they are endorsing the very opposite of the satire they create.

It is the sole intent of the opposite sketch to get people to think outside their way of thinking, causing many to ask, “What if…”

That’s why I’ve never mentioned certain pop culture figures in my blog, because mentioning their names, even in the most obvious satire possible, endorses their place in my alternate universe as well as promotes them in the universe we share together.

That’s why we in the popular press no longer talk about certain former political candidates or political officeholders.

As for me, my goal is to make everyone richer in the lives we share together in this moment, getting some of you to promote people you’d never mention in normal conversation.

Satire is making fun of all of us, including the satirist.

Why do I not have a problem with Mormonism when I don’t actively practice a set of beliefs outside of the new slogan, “Business. Science. Competition.”?

Because I am my own god of this blog, a god whose power is Comedy, whose strength is Tragedy, who lives outside of space and time, no different than anyone else who feels strongly enough about one’s self to take charge of one’s thought patterns and align them for self-preservation in a neutral universe.

A god inside a blog does not darken the Sun that holds the solar system together in which the blog resides.  A god inside a blog is a literary device but any religion, including Mormonism, Islam, and others, is a literary device, isn’t it?

Speaking of gods inside their thoughts, it is fun watching the purveyors of mass media scramble to tell stories that support their points of view when they claim to be insensitive to the needs of viewers/watchers/listeners.

How often do we hear stories sympathetic to the aches and pains of world leaders who’ve been labeled cruel, vicious, dictatorial and destructive?  Very rarely.  We’d rather hear about sufferers of terrible treatments.

What about those who like to be dominated as along as they’re provided a narrow pathway on which they walk in fear, their plates and bellies full?  Rarer still.  We’d rather promote people who don’t want to live in fear.

Am I wrong to want people to have true freedom, including the freedom not to hear about lifestyles they deny are real because they take the phrase, “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” to mean staying away from those who don’t pursue the same things, no matter how repressive they want for themselves or don’t want for others?

Should cable/satellite/Internet TV companies offer packages geared toward specific lifestyles, rather than a smorgasbord that appeals to some, offends others and is of little interest to the rest?  Do people have to even see the names of channels they want blocked or haven’t paid for when they flip open the online guide?

This is all old territory I’m covering, where we get to peek into the lives of those holed up in private communities (e.g., simply escape to their one-room flats; personal privacy is not just for gated communities), preventing their families from seeing practitioners of lifestyles they do not condone.

The United States of America and similar countries are not just physical states, they are states of thought sets, too, a magical place where we can be whomever we wish to be, imagining a populace with leaders sympathetic to our joys, sorrows, plights and accomplishments, or fighting against them, the populace and/or leaders, in perennial cycles.

Today, I overcame my aversion to entering a house of worship for political purposes in order to cast a ballot against a state initiative to once again play funny money game with tax revenues.  Knowing the conservative nature of the state of Alabama, I’m assuming the initiative will pass but I’ve been wrong before.

Well, the political satire related blog entries come to a close with this one.  I joined major artists in giving the Romney/Paul ticket a backhanded compliment and will let the ball roll on its own from now until the election is over.  It was fun.  Time to look at places farther along the spacetime continuum, talk about how we’ll get there and what it looks like from an anthropomorphic futurist’s point of view.

= = =

Thanks to George, Joyce and Minnie at the voting booth today; Margaret and coworkers at the Marketplace Cafe (hope the wedding goes well on Friday!); Steak-Out; Google Play.

Sad News

A family left their native Germany because, if I remember correctly, the country of Germany would not let the Schmitts educate their kids at home the way they wanted (“home-schooled”), rather than through a nationalistic public education system.

Anyway, they came to the U.S. and opened a restaurant.

Sadly, they lost their son this week:

Dear Tennessee Valley Big Orange Crew,
Regrettably I must pass on some very heartbreaking news.  Most of you remember that we conducted our first 2012 TV viewing party at the Schnitzel Ranch when we [the University of Tennessee football team] played NC State two weeks back.

One of our UT TV party servers was the restaurant owner’s son Christian (Chris) Schmitt, he was 17 years old.  On Sunday (yesterday) at 3:30 PM approximately, Chris lost his life in a plane crash at the Moontown airfield. Chris was the student pilot riding with Mr. George Myers. I am sure most of you heard the news but here is the link:  http://whnt.com/2012/09/16/plane-crash-at-moontown-airport/.   The Schmitt family is devastated.  As most of you know they are here from Germany trying to start this restaurant on an investor’s VISA.   The restaurant is routinely closed on Mondays, but the family must now plan a funeral and run their business this week.  They could use some support from the people of the Tennessee Valley — some of the best people I have ever met and I proudly proclaim it.  If you want to help, please contact me at tnrustic@yahoo.com; page me at 256-512-6000, or call Gabi’s cell at 256-655-4085.

In dealing with this tragedy, the Schmitt family needs support in their domestic affairs (food preparation, love donations, or advice on how to proceed with Chris’s final preparations), they will soon need HELP at their business too.  Over the years, I have routinely asked for your support, but this call for TV_BOC help is my most important request ever.  I will gladly discuss the Schmitt family needs with anyone who wants to help. Please contact us if you want to get involved.

In Memory of Chris Schmitt,

Randy Hooser
TNrustic@yahoo.com
256-512-6000
256-655-4085 (Gabi’s cell)

PS  Finally to express any condolences for the Schmitt family and their loss, please post them to their Facebook account at https://www.facebook.com/schnitzelranch.  Be sure to tell them you are with the TV_BOC and we CARE.

When 102000+ people were gathered to recite the Lord’s Prayer

So, the world now has proof that the most violent religion is Islam, if global protest headlines speak louder than words, and cult followers don’t have a sense of humour/irony, willing to kill others and die because a few actors were conned into making fun of a religious leader and his god in a video?

Meanwhile, our covert operatives, assigned to no country, used the noise and chaos to slip into place, as always, ready to assassinate at the first word from the Committee, keeping this 3D chess game moving forward into new areas of the protestors’ territory.  If a protestor or a person who incited a protestor dies off-camera in a horrible traffic smashup or accidental fall/food poisoning at home, who’s going to pay attention?

Yes, you’re right again, of course.  “Assassinate” is such a strong word.  Should I have said remove the chess pieces from the playing board, instead?

However, when using the globe as our playing field, we do what we must to accomplish a goal greater than a species or nation ever outlives, changing the anthropomorphic state of sets of states of energy as the need arises.

Unfortunately, the Obama administration will forever be tied to the use of cowardly strategic murderous drone strikes, instead of putting himself and his drone option last, when he should say our military personnel, both those directly employed by our government and those indirectly employed as contractors/mercenaries, are, in person, used to carry out secret death sentences or actively engage in the legal right to proactively defend themselves during war.

In place of a HOPE poster, there will inevitably be found on the side streets of the Internet a picture of Obama looking like BIG BROTHER in “1984” with his finger pointed at you, saying, “Remote-controlled killing is love.  A dead citizen is a happy citizen.  Coercion is freedom.”  All in the name of feeding this storyline, which appears to question the old storyline that stated the latest enemy is Islam, but only in the strictest radical sense, whatever that means in selling headlines more succinctly, a tradition of every country that divides killing into bins: socially-unacceptable murder or organisationally-acceptable restructuring.

Then, on an opposite street will be Romney, smiling, saying, “I do not kill unarmed Muslims without open due process.  I love all people, regardless of religious affiliation, bad comic timing or alleged criminal guilt.  Only my God can judge you, whose teachings I follow to the letter of the writings I read most often with more conviction than my opponent.”

Would it make more sense if public trials were held for defendants in absentia, who are given time to appear, even via the Internet, to face their accusers before being convicted of murder and sentenced to death by any means necessary, as long as it was not cruel and inhumane, including instant death by drone strike?

Are drones becoming too politically risky, creating the wrong kind of unintended consequences, scaring people and reinforcing rather than changing their subcultural beliefs?

This weekend, I stood in the midst of a group of 102000+ people gathered to celebrate their right to peaceably assemble and watch the three-ring circus we call a modern college football game, none of us expecting to be hit by a drone strike but willing to be filmed with no monetary compensation by dirigible-, crane-, guidewire-, hand- and helicopter-mounted cameras.

At the beginning of the game, on a public/state-sponsored university campus, a man spoke over the public address system to say a prayer before the players started tossing themselves at each other.  This week, the speaker happened to lead us in a rendition of Christian text called the Lord’s Prayer.

We also watched the uniform number of Johnny Majors, a college classmate of my parents, retired from active use by the university football team, which brought a tear to my eye knowing one of my parents could not be there in person to join the festivities.

During the break between the two halves of the game, called the halftime show, for some strange reason, the university “Pride of the Southland” marching band included a Scottish pipes and drum ensemble which played both “Scotland the Brave” and “Amazing Grace,” as well as the inevitable “Rocky Top.”

And today, as we left Knoxville, we saw dozens of old muscle/classic cars/trucks leaving east Tennessee, as well as a few stragglers from a large motorcycle gathering heading north from a Trail of Tears ride.

Can I extract trends from these last few data points, wondering where, anywhere and everywhere on this planet, people were reinforcing their beliefs due to recent news headlines?

Me, I’m happy to see people do what they want, as long as they don’t physically harm others.

Then again, I enjoyed the football game, even if my alltime favourite college football team, the University of Tennessee Volunteers, was unable to post the higher score by the time the game ended, when many a player could easily show evidence of physical harm.

So, I’ve got a basic belief of mine to reconsider: freedom to be in the act of “first, do no [physical] harm.”

If nothing else in my beliefs this weekend, there is a sense of poetic justice, where, on the same weekend my team lost its game against a formidable opponent, a team now coached by a man who claimed to love the Vols but left us high-and-dry — Lane Kiffin — also lost.  I can’t remember and maybe you can help me…which players with questionable ethics attended the same school?  Was it O.J. Simpson and Reggie Bush?

I know our new coach, Derek Dooley, instills a real winning attitude of moral and ethical beliefs in his players as they reach successful goals in their career paths, in and out of the physically-harmful sport of American football.

While straying into sports, I keep having fun with this comical tirade on behalf of a political election campaign, seriously yet cynically satirical (or is that cynically yet satirically serious?), when I need to go on down the trail this storyline was going to take after the last blog entry but I’ve let myself get caught up in eddies and swirls of news headlines again, haven’t I, either way?

Old age, I guess.

Well, I’ve got to help my wife clear space in our space (“our space” is a house, in this case) to make room before we move her mother’s furniture from her sister in-law’s house, the furniture having worn out its welcome, as all guests are prone to do, including family.

Tomorrow, I’ll thank folks for their help this weekend, including Cassie at Bel Air Grill and Silvia at the Airport Hilton, my cousin Cindy and her husband Ron, and more…

Thank goodness I do not live in the ultra-regulated city-state of Singapore, because it considers illegal the flash mob performance of a haka that was as fun to watch as a spontaneous Scottish Highlands bagpipe concert.

Next on the list…

Or, is your shipping lane open for business?

While I stood folding clothes in the master bedroom last night, I saw in my thoughts an image that startled me – a protest on sea, where crude oil-laden ships were blockaded by the simplest of technologies.

Some images are truly figments of my imagination.

I hope this one is, too…

Else, the image of Obama repeating history, a black man subject to the whims of his virtual white wife (H. Clinton), just like his father before him, will set a bad precedent for national decisionmaking issues in the not-so-distant future. We only think we can escape history, don’t we?

I’m glad that my thoughts are dominated by humorous renditions of current events, rather than trying to believe that writing an alternative parallel universe in a blog is anything close to the reality of a world that treats the blog as anything more than a subset of states of energy.

When was the last time you looked at the inequality inherent in the atomic chemistry chart (“periodic table of elements”) that dominates many a school science lab? Social engineering is built into classrooms, setting a stage that makes it easy to distinguish the public education students from the rest.

And makes my humorous views easier to generate…

How shall the storyline entertain me today?

District 12

From my nephew, Jonathan, via email:

Check out this Kickstarter for a power monitoring device that straps on your existing power meter: http://t.co/Aykdtkab via @kickstarter

My wife and I bit the bullet, so to speak, buying smartphones tonight.  She got the Apple iPhone 4S and I got the Samsung Galaxy SIII.

Her iPhone sits in her purse while she plays games on her iPad 1 this evening and I sit here in the study typing on an old Compaq C501NR laptop computer while the Samsung phone is on the computer desk in the living room where my wife is also watching the TV show, “Leverage.”

Maybe tomorrow I’ll run some throughput speed tests of the AT&T 4G LTE network and later the WiFi hotspot capability using my iPad 2 and a Sylvania Android tablet as test subjects.

One never rests from one’s thought sets developed in previous occupational habits such as test engineer.

When I stopped looking at the rise and fall and rise and fall of daily readership levels, I found freedom in writing blog entries for the sake of a storyline rather than for the sake of making myself popular/likable by people I know only by their favouring my blog with a view and a like or two.

Ernest Hemingway died before I was born — his influence upon me is historical rather than living.  Same for Dorothy Parker.  Which leads to another disjointed thought…

Sadly, I must give this storyline a new direction, one which requires a day or two of concentration on esoteric subjects I know little about.

Talk to you soon…

A nod to Roy and Megan at Walmart; the team at Buenavista; Renee and others at Beauregard’s; Joe and Jenn at KCDC; Phillip, Jordan, Steven and Cedric at AT&T; the usual and new smiling faces at Publix; Theresa at Mapco; Allison at Raffaele’s (note: my mother taught one of the owner’s sons, a student of hers when she was a first grade teacher many years ago, to improve his English by encouraging the family to spend less time speaking Italian at home).

With so many teachers out of work across the country, is now a good time to perform a giant experiment in Chicago, getting rid of the old system and trying a new one?  After all, if the students’ performance is as bad as they say, would it hurt to throw out the broken system and start anew, bringing in a whole slew of nonunion teachers teaching/coaching an immersive education program that provides low pay but high bonuses for teachers whose students become more curious and make continuous improvement an ingrained way of thinking rather than a “must do” chore to survive one’s childhood years before getting out of the system and becoming whatever unmotivated/dropout students tend to become?

Oh well, that’s not where this storyline is going but I had to put it out there.

A student of history stirring the melting pot

After observing the past, present and future, I have decided, in case it’s my last chance to vote for a white, heterosexual, male, Anglo-Saxon Protestant candidate for U.S. President, to cast my ballot in November for Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan.

I don’t agree with all of their politics but, as a student of history, I see that there’s still a place in international business for the voices of white males having Northern European ancestry who made positive contributions to the idea of a democratic republic with capitalistic tendencies (i.e., the United States) and demand more of the working class than a fallback position on publicly-funded social support programs in tough times.

It is also my way of honouring my parents, whom my mother reminded me this weekend have been Republican supporters since the days of Dwight Eisenhower.

The best way to reform a group is from within, less so from the position of the fringe groups or political parties I’ve supported in the past.

A corporation is not a citizen but a citizen doesn’t always know what’s right for competitive business practices, either.

There is a thin line between predation and competition to define more clearly.

As the world absorbs and reflects the principles espoused by dead white male European philosophers regarding capitalism and communism, I will support positions of whomever is popularly elected as long as those leaders understand the basic premise that a set of states of energy which has found a way to build stronger bonds with states of energy around it will also stumble upon a method to recreate a version of itself which competes against other sets for building stronger bonds, regardless of one’s preferred set of anthropomorphic origin stories.

My slogan: “Business. Science. Competition.”

I am competing against a version of me 1000 years from now that doesn’t care about characterisations or labels like white, heterosexual, male, Anglo-Saxon Protestant candidate for U.S. President.

By voting for Romney, I realise I support the concern that establishing a stable population dependent on government support is anathema to the future where I need cooperative competition in the marketplace for resources to get our species off its collective hindends and heading out into the cosmos.

I cringe to think about a version of myself sitting at home, unemployed, receiving government funds, unconcerned about efficient distribution/competition, and serving as an anchor holding down progress while buying the cheapest, if not the highest-qualty goods available, because of limited income, lack of employable skills/education and/or no motivation.

Our species on this planet has a window of opportunity for active exploration and settlement of other celestial spheres but do we really need a social safety net to maintain and expand that window opening?

What is a social safety net?  Governmental organisations like NASA?  Department of Defense? Social Security? Medicare? Medicaid? Department of Education? Department of Health and Human Services? Department of Transportation? A government with three separate branches of power — judicial, legislative and executive? How about a bare-minimum government that provides “no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances”?

By voting for Romney, I’ll give the Romney/Ryan Republican Party ticket one more chance to get the balance between the private and government sectors right, preventing U.S. business from creating its own downfall, and protecting it from international versions of financial nuclear bombs without drowning U.S.-based businesses in noncompetitive laws, rules and regulations.  If Obama is reelected, I expect the same from his administration working in cooperation with other government public business entities around the globe.

Then, I’ll return to voting for the Nader-type candidates for U.S. President, to keep both major U.S political parties semi/quasi honest (or at least hope to get them to incorporate nonpopulist planks), as impossible as it sounds, because I know that corporations and other nongovernmental organisations for whom we work, or which we hopefully create ourselves, are fueling the engine of our economy now as much as ever, so voting for a national political party to represent my corporal self, no matter the candidate’s racial heritage, is participating in nostalgic belief in the good ol’ days when “we’re the government and we’re here to help” had positive rather than negative connotations, whatever we choose to believe the good ol’ days to have been.

A strong national military defense is certainly a deterrent globally but I’ll take a little more, stronger, defense of my financial nest egg these days, now that I’m closer to retirement age than I am to my first year of earning a decent wage.

All while wishing that our species has better longterm goals than mine — putting Earth-based lifeforms on spacecraft while we still have a locally-stable sector of the galaxy to travel, populate and set up tourist traps.

At the end of the day, do I care about any of what I’m writing here in this blog entry if I am childless, spend most of my day with two aging cats, have no legacy to protect and only philosophical issues to turn into short stories via a habit of blogging daily to entertain myself while staving off the boredom of a 50-year old man who has seen enough of life to know there are fewer surprises to expect and less he wants to put up with?

What motivations do I have left if the only thing to excite me today is the thought of turning on or turning off readers by saying the flavour of ice cream I eat every four years makes more of a superficial difference than a deeply meaningful one to a person who’s tasted all the flavours and concluded they’re pretty much the same, separated by varying patterns on the ice cream cone to break the monotony?

Does it matter if in my thoughts I have a singular vision of what Earth-based lifeforms will look like in 1000 years that makes all of our concerns today seem miniscule by comparison?

Oh well, enough talking to myself here today.  Time to roll the rubbish bin back to the house, eat lunch and take a nap.

Quite frankly, on days like today, at 50+ years of age on a beautiful, sunny, warm Monday in a quiet suburban neighbourhood, it is difficult to motivate myself to care about anything more than finding a comfortable place in the house to plop down my body and escape into a dream world uninterrupted by feline companions, one day closer to the end of the set of states of energy known as me, the world of my youth practically gone (or on reruns in TVLand rebroadcast on media streaming devices) and thus me as an adult expansion of my youth-built core almost gone with it, leaving those who care about living to divide up Earth’s resources amongst themselves.

Today, I disappear into the dot at the end of a sentence and that is sufficient to say I was once here as thoughts recreated in electronic bits represented as words in a blog entry formed by pressing fingers on a wireless keyboard communicating with a desktop computer attached to an ADSL line talking to a DSLAM connected to the Internet (which itself is a network of routers, servers, and switches, wires/fibers passing/storing energy states we label 0 or 1, also known as bits – the circles, cycles and spirals never stop, do they?).

Zzzzzz…time to talk to myself in my sleep.

Middle class or not — you decide…

Reposted from here:

 

Why you’re not actually poor

 

By Kimberlee Stiens, LearnVest

In the “Money Mic” series, LearnVest hands over the podium to someone with a strong opinion on a financial topic. Today, LearnVest reader Kimberlee Stiens explains what she thinks it means to actually be poor – and why most of us aren’t.

I am sick of hearing about the trials and tribulations of the middle class.

Politicians constantly talk about strengthening the middle class (which is shrinking) or accuse their opponents of waging war on it, when I think the middle class, on the whole, has little cause to complain.

I’ve seen women on LearnVest and in my daily life complain about making $40,000 a year, saying that’s not enough to support themselves (to which I would add: “in the lifestyle to which they’ve become accustomed”).

The poverty line in America is $22,350 a year … for a family of four. In 2010, a full 15 percent of Americans lived below this threshold. Most American adults will live below that threshold for at least one year of their lives.

That’s why I think we need to change the way we talk about being poor or middle class.

I know because I grew up poor

I became middle class for the first time ever only about a year ago. I grew up fairly poor, my father being generally unable to keep a job and my mother not having legal standing to work in this country. (Complicated story, but she’s Canadian and only recently got U.S. residency. I think she always intended to go back there.) I graduated college with some $60,000 in student loans and a temporary internship position for a congressional campaign paying $250 a week. At least it came with free housing.

I graduated with a degree in political science and wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but was mostly looking for office jobs. When I started college, I harbored the same illusions as the rest of my graduating class: We were freshmen in 2004, when almost all undergrads could count on getting a job after graduation, and we finished college in the middle of the Great Recession.

After the congressional campaign, I worked at a fast-food restaurant for two years while constantly applying for office jobs. I made no more than $10 an hour, with no benefits. So when I managed to get an internship in Washington, D.C., working for the Marijuana Policy Project, I jumped on it. I worked for $9 an hour until I was promoted to my first full-time, salaried position as a membership assistant, at $35,000 a year, with paid vacation and health benefits.

Finally, at age 25, I was middle class, but I didn’t know it yet.

It’s our choices that define us

I work at a nonprofit, a sector where salaries are notoriously low. Yet most of my peers here make at least $30,000 yearly. We all have health care and other benefits.

After I started my job, I realized that, for the first time,my life was no longer about what I could and couldn’t afford. It was about how I chose to spend my money. I could no longer blame the externalities of a cruel world for keeping me down.

Now I’m the office manager and executive assistant to our executive director at the same organization where I had my first internship. I make $39,000 a year (I negotiated my raise!), and live in Washington, D.C., one of the most expensive housing markets in the country. I’m paying off my student loans, and I’m doing fine.

Given that I encounter more than one panhandler on my walk to work each day, it seems delusional that anyone complains that $35,000 a year makes them poor. I live in D.C. and work on the Hill, where there’s a culture of made-up poverty. Many staffers work long hours and live in shared housing, but they all tend to make salaries of at least $25,000 with health benefits (and they have plenty of opportunity to move up after they put in their time). Everyone complains about being poor, but then they go out to drinks each week.

It’s not that they have it easy. They just don’t understand how much easier they have it than some.

Try another perspective

I’m not trying to diminish anyone’s experience. I know that dipping below a standard of living you’ve always enjoyed will feel pretty crappy. My point is that, comparatively speaking, it’s not actually all that crappy. Many middle class people, particularly those who have never really been poor, don’t seem to see that there’s a whole other side to the economy that they never experience, like a writer who struggles to pay for friends’ weddings. I’ve met people who have spent 20 years in food service, with no health care, no bonuses and usually kids to support.

There are middle class people who say they just can’t live in D.C. or New York City on $40,000 a year, but there are also people in those same places living on minimum wage. Take a look at the invisible people around you who make your life tick — your cleaners, the person making your drinks, your interns — and imagine how they make ends meet.

It’s a choice that you make to feel disadvantaged. If you make $33,000 a year, the truth is, you are actually in the top half of wage-earners.

Everyone can, and should, do a little more to manage their finances better. And while studies may show that we don’t feel truly comfortable or secure in our finances until we reach between $50,000 and $75,000 a year, it’s a bit dramatic for people to feel anything other than lucky when depositing their salaried paychecks.

Kimberlee Stiens lives in Washington, D.C., where she works as an office manager for a medium-sized nonprofit. She blogs at Business for Good, not Evil.