Category Archives: MySpace Blog Archive

The things we sacrifice…

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I’m reminded tonight of that which we give up in order to get the other things we want. As I recall, in economics, this idea of tradeoffs is partially defended as opportunity cost; the cost of the thing we forgo to achieve the next best option. Life is a tradeoff for all of us. Making one decision influences and determines what other decisions we will have the opportunity to make in the future; way piles on to way and what is lost is why we headed down our particular path in the first place.

Do you suppose we ever go so far in one direction that other options are closed off forever? The opportunity cost for our actions becoming an absolute? Is there some great moment of realization where each of our false steps is illuminated? Is there room for contrition? Or will self-recriminations and doubt end in the light of day?

26 Years, 10 Months, 23 Days…

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On weekend mornings, the background noise in my houses is most often the FoxNews business report. One of their major talking points for the weekend just passed was the impending collapse of Social Security and what it would take to put that program on a solid fiduciary footing. If my calculations are correct, I can retire from government service in 26 years, 10 months, and 23 days. With that kind of time horizon, I don’t know why anyone in my age bracket would even contemplate Social Security in their calculations on what they need to do in order to retire comfortably. Without a massive infusion of cash from a tax increase, a dramatic reduction in benefits, and an increase in the age when the “pay out” begins, the program is, for all practical purposes, a dead man walking.

Even if some semblance of the program is salvaged, those of us in our 20s and 30s can count on receiving only a return of pennies on every dollar we “contribute” to the plan. Since it’s a government program, we don’t have the choice to “opt out” and invest that portion of our retirement into a sector that actually provides a positive return on investment. Effectively, every dollar our generation is forced to contribute to Social Security is a dollar that is lost to us and is nothing more than a tax by another name.

I was asked not long ago what I would do to fix the system… I don’t want to fix it. I want to tear the mother down. Sixty years ago, Social Security was a stop-gap measure that has been elevated to the lofty status of an entitlement. I don’t want to fix it. I want the government to allow me to be accountable for my own retirement planning and stay out of my way. I don’t want to fix it. I want Americans to start taking responsibility for what happens to them.

I don’t know how or when exactly we became a country of whiners, of men and women too infirm of mind to make our own decisions, of people terrified of the successes and failures that come with making your own decisions and being held accountable for them. If you are in the dawn of your career, it is your responsibility to make yourself smart on your options. Contribute to 401k, Roth, or other investment vehicles until it hurts. If you don’t make any provisions for how you plan to live out (and pay for) your golden years, don’t come bitching to me when you’re eating cat food and living under a bridge. I’ll be too busy playing golf to give a shit.

You know you work for the government when…

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…You have to staff your request to take Monday off through four separate people who are, in one way or another, “sort of” your boss. Of course there’s the supervisor who actually signs my timesheets and does my annual rating… His work almost always gets top priority for some reason. Then there’s the guy who I sort of stopped working for after today but who hasn’t actually stopped tasking me to do things yet. There is the guy in the new division who I kind of work for starting Monday who is already filling up my plate with things I need to do for him. And last but certainly not least is the overboss, who randomly throws assignments at me that all need to be handled immediately and possibly without any of the other three actually knowing what I’m working on.

This is one of those days when I am amazed that the most powerful government on earth ever manages to get itself dressed in the morning.

Tic-toc

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Nothing like the last minute requirements that have you up at 6:00 on a Sunday morning to head to the office for the day. I don’t think I will ever understand what drivers a manager to suddenly think of something on Friday afternoon that needs to be done on Monday. Chalk that up to one of those things I hope I remember when I’m making the decisions.

I don’t intrinsically have a problem with working on Sunday. Of all the reasons my immortal soul is in danger, that’s probably the least of them… As long as the overtime keeps flowing, I’m there.

Licensed and Registered…

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After the two hour ordeal that was my second trip to the local driver’s license issue facility, I’m now all nice and official like and in compliance with all applicable state and local laws. God willing, I should now be able to have the bare minimum contact with these lovely government officials for three years… That should be sufficient to recover from the indignity of it all.

I have a dear friend who is fond of pointing out that in a democracy, the people are sovereign. If what I have seen over the last two days is a true cross section of the people, the Republic is doomed. May God have mercy on our souls.

Newfangled technology…

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After extensive deliberation, some would even say argument, with the Tennessee Department of Safety Driver’s License facility, I learned this morning that for purposes of residence verification, electronic bank statements do not meet the official definition of “bank statements.” Just as a point of clarification, it’s not as though I put my statement on a CD and took it to them. I printed the statement to show that I was, in fact, domiciled in the state. Apparently once it is actually printed out, my e-statement became defined as a “photocopy.” Who knew?

The whole idea behind getting electronic statements is so that you only need to print them when and if they are needed. It saves me filing space, it saves the bank postage, and even the environment wins, right? Looking at the fine examples of state employees running the desk at the facility, I didn’t particularly feel like getting into an argument over the finer points of what, by definition, constitutes a bank statement. It wasn’t a crowd that look to be up for a debate of the finer points of… well… anything, really. Sometimes you just need to know when you’ve made a bad investment and cut your losses. Today, the better part of valor was to roll my eyes, sigh heavily, and walk away muttering something about being surrounded by idiots.

This is 2007, folks. We landed a damned man on the moon almost forty years ago. We’ve had home computers for 25 years. Email has been around for about 15. I’ve been getting electronic statements for virtually everything for at least five years. Can someone tell me why I can’t just walk up to some kind of biometric scanner, swipe my USA Identacard, scan my eyball, and have my information validated? It boggles my mind that we still insist on making these transactions on paper. Completely inefficient and bloody inconvenient. We’ll never have to worry about the Brave New World because the bleeding government will never figure out how to use the machines properly in the first place.

Bloody Hell. I really am surrounded by idiots… Present company excepted, of course.

What’s next?

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I’ve never been good at simply being satisfied with things. Even on the best of days, there was some improvement that could be made at the margins. Some people would call that being a pessimist. I prefer to think of it as being a realist, but that’s really just a matter of personal preference.

What do you do when it seems most of the things you wanted have started falling into place? Of course I’m good basking in the glow of things accomplished… for a while… Ultimately, thought, I want to know what’s next. Where’s the next challenge? This one isn’t even behind me yet, but my attention has moved elsewhere. I have a sneaking suspicion that things are not going to unfold exactly as I had them planned out. Not necessarily better, not necessarily worse, just different. I’m not usually alright with that, but perhaps in this case I’ll make an exception.

Red means…

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Having worked in DC, I was convinced that I had dealt with the worst drivers that could possibly be thrown at me. That was before I started coming to Tennessee on a regular basis. In DC, every driver is in a hurry to get somewhere and drivers tend to be aggressive, but reasonably aware of their surroundings. That is to say, they are able to see a slot opening up in bumper to bumper traffic before it even happens… and they are able to maneuver their car to that spot with a minimum of fuss… usually. At the bare minimum, you can always count on the DC driver to do what seems to be in his or her best interest. I’m not convinced these people actually know what their tactical driving self-interest actually is.

Tennessee drivers, as a group, tend to drive fast (not well, mind you, just fast) and have a complete disregard for electronic traffic control signals. That is to say that red lights are viewed as some kind of suggestion. Of course the typical DC driver also runs a red light from time to time, but usually it is maybe one person who was a little late getting through the yellow. Here, it seems that it’s three or four cars running the red at every turn lane. I’m not saying they’re morons, just that they seem to suck at something that most people learn to do in their mid teens. I could make a comment about ignorant hicks, but that would be rude… and given my own roots, I think it best to refrain.

There should be some kind of test people have to pass before they are allowed to drive… oh… yeah. Shit.

Middle Class in Crisis…

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While I was sitting in what passes for a traffic back up here in suburban Memphis, I was flipping through the news channels on XM and landed briefly on CNN (in case you’re wondering, FoxNews had just gone to commercial so CNN was the best I could do on short notice). A teaser they were running at the moment was decrying the difficulty “middle class” families have making ends meet in America “these days.”

Looking around me, I noticed what I could only assume were predominately middle class folks sitting in traffic along side me. The vast majority were sitting in $35-45,000 SUVs, $25-30,000 mini-vans, and a few in relatively “inexpensive” sedans. Many had pulled out of their relatively new suburban homes, with three or four bedrooms and two car garages. Although I couldn’t tell from my vantage point, I suspect most of the kids in those vehicles were wearing what passes as the latest fashion in clothing.

You’re probably wondering, by this point, what I’m trying to say, so I’ll be blunt: The middle class in this country has such a hard time making ends meet because they spend too damned much money. But wait, you say, people have a right to drive the car they want, to wear the clothes they want, and to do any damned thing that suits them. You know what? No one said you had to have any of these things to be “middle class.”

Stop taking all your guidance from the damned television, from musicians, and from sports stars. These people make more for one appearance on television, by singing one song, or by taking one at bat than we do in a year. Guess what? No matter how much you spend, they’re always going to have and be able to do more. That’s life.

Sometimes you just have to say that you can’t afford it. I’ve never been accused a being tight fisted when it comes to money, but just because I want a Corvette doesn’t mean that I can afford one. I do have a little red sports car. I do have a house in my “first choice” neighborhood. But I don’t have kids to support. That’s my choice and the trade off I’m willing to make. If I had a family to support my choices would necessarily be different.

As long as Mr. and Mrs. Middle Class are walking around in hock up to their necks, with three cars in the driveway, and kids wearing $200 sneakers, I don’t have much sympathy. When they get their priorities squared away and their financial house in order and still can’t make ends meet, then I’m willing to concede that we’re at a crisis point. Until then, get a damned grip.

Blogging towards 6000…

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I opened this blog on the 19th of March 2006 and sometime just after I post this, I’ll clear the 6000-hit mark. Yes, I know there are blogs out there that are getting that many hits a day, but, quite frankly, they are probably better writers or at least partially subsidized for what they are doing. My only intent was to use this little slice of internet heaven to rant, rave, vent, fume, and, occasionally, pass on some of my deeper ideas to you friends. It has turned out to be an incredibly cathartic exercise for me… particularly when I make myself sit here and do it on a regular basis.

Thanks for sticking with me for the last 6000 hits. I’m looking forwards to seeing you all when we get past the 12,000 mark!