Part 32: The picture of youth innocent of her own beauty

Here is this week's chapter of my serialized comic novel "Four Bidding For Love."(Those who find absurdist humor and adult situations offensive, please read no further.)

      Basking in the sunny glow of unexpected respite from homelessness—an entire beautiful flat to himself, with a view of the Bay, no less—it dawned on Ross that expecting Kylie to bring celebratory wine was a bit churlish, given that his lux accommodations resulted solely from Robin being smitten with his lovely friend.
     After busying himself with unpacking his few belongings and taking a few more photos of his prized toasters in the auspicious setting of A.R.'s gleaming kitchen, Ross set off to purchase some groceries and a celebratory bottle of wine to share with Kylie.
     As a result, he could not have seen Robin return home early—one client cancelled due to illness, the other was out of town—or witness Kylie hesitantly enter the Green Street Victorian walkway and pause uncertainly by the first door, sniffing the yellow Lady Banks roses diffidently, as if making up her mind.
     Dressed in a splendidly frilly scalloped lace white dress which played most prettily against her brown calves and contrasted equally prettily with her bronzed bare shoulders, Kylie was the picture of youth innocent of her own beauty. With her dark hair swept into a thick braid behind her and a winsome straw hat set jauntily on her head, she'd turned heads on Union Street when she'd left a shop clutching a bottle of wine. Slightly winded by the climb up to Green Street and her haste to reach Ross's temporary abode, she took a deep breath at the lower doorway, inhaling the climbing rose's sweet scent, and thought, how deliciously morose to enter Robin's studio as an uninvited visitor.
     Her brow furrowed with dark thoughts, she knocked sharply and hoped Ross was in a civil mood. Thus her astonishment was rather gapingly obvious when Robin opened the door. His dour expression lit up as if a thousand watts of electricity had suddenly been applied by unseen wires and he stammered, "Come in, come in."
     Flustered by Robin's presence—Ross had specifically said the first door by the steps—Kylie obeyed with a confused smile and Robin looked nervously about his small studio to confirm it was presentable for a lady. It was too late for any cleanup anyway, he thought, but other than some dust it wasn't too terrible for a bachelor's quarters: a desk of orderly stacks of catalogs, two kendo sticks in the corner behind the folded sofa bed, a twisted length of bristlecone pine branch on the sideboard that served as his one piece of art, a small galley kitchen littered with small samples of flavored coffees, and a battered "Turf Club members only" metal sign partially obscured by the batik curtains adorning the room's one window.
     Enthralled by her unexpected appearance, Robin was acutely alive to her every nuance: her hesitancy on his threshold, the faint rustle of her lacey white dress as she entered the room, the scent of her hair, the flash of uncertainty in her alert dark eyes, her open-toed heels, the flushed glow of her brown skin and the transition of her expression from confusion to doubt and then most wonderfully to a guarded interest in her host.
     "Here, let me take that," he said, clasping the wine in her hand, and then setting it on the tiny patch of open kitchen counter. "It's awfully thoughtful of you to bring a gift."
     Realizing it was too late to explain the wine had been intended for Ross, Kylie flashed a flickering smile and removed her floppy straw hat.
     Sizing her up, Robin flashed a white-toothed grin of delight. "I'm so glad you came. You look wonderful." With her hat no longer blocking the light, Robin noticed an imperfection in the warm-rose gloss on her full lips; perhaps she'd been in a hurry that morning, or inadvertently brushed her lower lip with her hand, but for whatever reason the gloss had been smeared slightly. Acutely aware that such a minor imperfection made her even more adorable, Robin was suddenly filled with a powerful urge to muss her lips further, much further, with an enduring kiss.
     Shifting uncomfortably in his love-struck gaze, Kylie maintained a thin smile, more of perplexity than delight, and Robin spontaneously hugged her rather more tightly than either expected. "I was afraid you were angry with me," he murmured. "I am so happy you're not."
     "Of course I'm not angry," she replied in a new astonishment, and her hopes surged with an uncommon strength at the realization that he'd been pining for her.
     Anxious not to overstep any bounds, Robin released her but kept an arm around her slim waist as he lowered his FM-radio voice to coyness. "Do you remember what I said about you coming to my door?"
     It was a freighted question, and Kylie said, "Yes—I mean, no," for she remembered quite clearly: when you come to my door, he'd said, then you've decided to make love with me.
     Relishing her evasion, Robin said, "It doesn't matter. So how did the interview go? Wait—don't tell me yet. It's a lovely afternoon—let's take a walk." Glancing down at her rather sexy open-toed sandals, Robin inquired, "Are those comfortable for walking?"
     Her mind still mulling the possible causes of confusion, Kylie nodded and as Robin closed the door behind them he asked, "How did you know I'd be home? Normally I work until six or so."
     "I didn't," Kylie confessed, and then sought an explanation which maintained their mutual pleasure with the outcome of her confusion. "I thought Ross would be here, too, to let me in."
     Ushering Kylie through the Victorian's white gate to the sidewalk, Robin said, "Didn't he tell you? We discovered he's terribly allergic to my poor cat Dorothy, so we had to move him upstairs to Alexia's spare bedroom."
     "Alexia's? No, he didn't tell me. Isn't that a bit risky?"
     "It would be, if either of them knew," Robin replied mordantly. "But since Alexia's house-sitting in Sonoma for the next two weeks, as long as he finds a new place before then, neither will ever know."
     "That's rich," Kylie exclaimed as the two turned onto a length of Union Street chockablock with restaurants and boutiques. "But does Ross know whose flat he's in?"
     "I thought it better all the way round if neither knew," Robin explained. "So I told him he's staying in my neighbor A.R.'s flat, and I told Alexia that my friend R.T. will be staying in my place, so I'll be using her spare bedroom."
     "It's awfully complicated," Kylie said dubiously, and Robin raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "If you have a better plan, I'm all for it. This was the best I could do in a pinch."
     "No, you've done wonderfully," Kylie said, touching his shoulder in an endearing affirmation. "Juggling all this to find Ross a refuge—it's more than I could ever do." Shaking her head, Kylie murmured, "But still—if those two only knew."

Next: The see-saw of pleasure and loss (Chapter 11)

To read the previous chapters, visit the "Four Bidding For Love" home page. 

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The Upside of the Fiscal Cliff

Facing reality is positive. That's the upside to the fiscal cliff.

There are two definite upsides to the fiscal cliff:

1. We are finally starting a national discussion of spending-taxation trade-offs

2. We are at last starting to (grudgingly) accept there is no free lunch, what I call the Free Lunch Fantasy of limitless borrowing at near-zero interest rates: taxes for upper-income wage-earners will revert to previous levels while those drawing Federal dollars must accept reductions in spending.

The last decade's fantasy that we could borrow our way to prosperity while lowering taxes on upper-income earners (because it's so cheap to borrow trillions at near-zero interest rates) is finally running into reality-based resistance: interest on all that debt is starting to squeeze the spending everyone wants, and long-term rates might rise despite the Federal Reserve's constant intervention.

That would eventually raise interest costs paid by the Federal government.

How can interest rates rise if the Fed is buying much of the Federal Debt?

The first part of the answer is to accept the fiscal consequences of the Baby Boom entering Social Security and Medicare at the rate of 10,000 retirees a day: Federal spending will rise far faster than tax revenues, dwarfing the relatively minor spending cuts being discussed.

Notice how unprecedented the Boomer generation is demographically:

As correspondent Michael Goodfellow explained in Where There Is Ruin II: Social Security (July 25, 2006):

Now of course, retirees are also dying, so you might think this is only half the story. However, the people who die are, on the average, 15 years older than the new retirees. So when the number of retirees surges in 2011, the number of deaths is still from the pre-boomer group, and stays roughly constant.In other words, Social Security and Medicare outlays continue to increase for 15 years, until the number of retirees dying rises to match the number of new retirees.

Simply put, the retirement and healthcare systems were not designed to match the nation's demographics, nor was Medicare designed to limit costs, which continue to rise faster than inflation, despite various cost-saving measures.

Combine these trends with stagnating wages and employment and you get a triple-whammy: soaring number of retirees, rising Medicare costs per retiree and a stagnating tax base.

Federal spending and thus borrowing will rise unless the promises made are slashed.

This sets up an increasingly unstable dynamic: the Federal deficit of $1.3 trillion will continue to rise, forcing the Fed to increase its balance sheet as it buys hundreds of billions of dollars of newly issued Treasury bonds. Is there no upper limit on the Fed's purchases of Treasury bonds? Even if there is no financial limit, there is a political limit, as the Fed's policies will be recognized as counter-productive failures as the 2013 recession kicks in.

The Fed's political room to maneuver is shrinking, and its policy of keeping interest rates at near-zero by buying unlimited quantities of mortgages and bonds has limits. Once the markets sniff these limits, yields on long-term bonds will rise, pushing up borrowing costs. The Fed can play around with yields by selling long-term bonds and buying short-term bonds, but these Operation Twist manipulations also have limits.

The Fed's purchases of Federal debt enabled the Free Lunch fantasy. Rather than let the market price Federal debt higher, which would have set limits on Federal borrowing, the Fed's purchases of Treasury bonds suppressed the recognition that there was a cost to essentially unlimited Federal borrowing.

All these policies that enabled the Free Lunch Fantasy are reaching financial and/or political limits. The fiscal cliff is one expression of this recognition, and it is very positive that Americans are finally facing up to the personal costs of dealing with reality: higher taxes and lower Federal spending are no longer abstractions to be borne by others. We will pay more taxes and we will get fewer benefits/Federal contracts, and these reductions in income will negatively impact the economy.

Facing reality is positive. That's the upside to the fiscal cliff.


NEW VIDEO: Gordon Long and I discuss my new book Why Things Are Falling Apart and What We Can Do About It:

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My new book Why Things Are Falling Apart and What We Can Do About It is now available in print and Kindle editions--10% to 20% discounts.

---

Things are falling apart--that is obvious. But why are they falling apart? The reasons are complex and global. Our economy and society have structural problems that cannot be solved by adding debt to debt. We are becoming poorer, not just from financial over-reach, but from fundamental forces that are not easy to identify or understand. We will cover the five core reasons why things are falling apart:

1. Debt and financialization
2. Crony capitalism and the elimination of accountability
3. Diminishing returns
4. Centralization
5. Technological, financial and demographic changes in our economyComplex systems weakened by diminishing returns collapse under their own weight and are replaced by systems that are simpler, faster and affordable. If we cling to the old ways, our system will disintegrate. If we want sustainable prosperity rather than collapse, we must embrace a new model that is Decentralized, Adaptive, Transparent and Accountable (DATA).
We are not powerless. Not accepting responsibility and being powerless are two sides of the same coin: once we accept responsibility, we become powerful.

10% discount on the Kindle edition: $8.95 (retail $9.95)       print edition: $24 on Amazon.com
To receive a 20% discount on the print edition: $19.20 (retail $24), follow the link, open a Createspace account and enter discount code SJRGPLAB. (This is the only way I can offer a discount.)

Thank you, Ted F. ($50), for your splendidly generous contribution to this site -- I am greatly honored by your support and readership.

Thank you, Al I. ($100), for your outrageously generous contribution to this site --I am greatly honored by your support and readership.

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The Last Christmas in America?

The end of work and the end of mass affluence: welcome to The Last Christmas in America (TLCIA).

As unemployment rose toward 10%, the January 1975 cover of Rampartsmagazine blared: The End of Affluence: The Last Christmas in America. (TLCIA)

The government responded quickly to unemployment, high inflation and rising budget deficits: it started manipulating data to mask the politically inconvenient realities of rising inflation, unemployment and deficits by playing switcheroo with Social Security Trust Funds, inflation data, etc.--games it continues to play to cloak reality from the media-numbed public.

The Bear market, and thus the "real" recession, lasted 16 years: from 1966 to 1982. Now statistics are echoing that last great recession: rising prices for essentials, systemically high unemployment and stagnant wages.

We all know the 16-year recession/malaise had a "happy ending": huge new oil fields were discovered in Alaska, the North Sea, West Africa and elsewhere, ushering in a renewed era of cheap, abundant petroleum. President Reagan "saved" Social Security for a generation by raising contributions paid by employer and employees, and he heralded a "lower taxes, higher permanent deficits" ideology that is now accepted as the norm: deficits don't matter, even when they reach the trillions, because our good friends the Gulf Oil Exporters and Asian exporters will buy all our debt forever and ever, keeping interest low forever and ever.

(And if they drop the ball, then the Federal Reserve will print money and buy the Treasury bonds. Sweet! We don't need any external buyers, just the Federal Reserve.)

Then the U.S. created and launched two revolutionary technologies which both created new wealth around the globe: the personal computer (microprocessor and cheap RAM) and the Internet (TCP/IP, Ethernet, and the commercialization of Tim Berners-Lee's World Wide Web with free browsers) spawning the generation-long boom of the 1980s and 90s.

But when the wheels fell off that boom in 2000, the U.S. did not create a new engine of wealth: it opted instead for a devilishly insidious simulacrum of wealth: debt which rose at an exponential rate throughout the economy.

Borrowed money and phony financial legerdemain (mortgage-backed securities, derivatives based on the MBS, etc. etc.) from 2000-2007 created what I have termed a "bogus prosperity": no actual new wealth was created, only a brief and doomed bubble of debt-based housing valuations was inflated which followed the classic model set down by the Tulip Craze in Holland hundreds of years ago: insane boom, crushing bust.

We have to revisit the early 1970s for a reality check. In post-industrial America circa 1970, a huge surplus of food was grown by a mere 2% of the workforce. The cornucopia of manufactured goods was produced by about 20% of the workforce (hence the phrase "post-industrial"), and other than essential government services like the Armed Forces, police and the courts, the rest of society's work was either service-oriented paper-pushing relating to affluence (insurance), do-good selfless work (Peace Corps, churches) or leisure-related: entertainment, films, travel, amusement parks, stereos, clubs, etc.

This was not all fantasy. A friend of mine supported an entire house of hippies in late-60s Pittsburgh on his union steelworker job, and had plenty of money left to save for his trip to San Francisco. (As I recall, the rent for the big old house was less than $200 per month.) Hippies were the first ardent dumpster-divers/scavengers, driven not by poverty but by the idea that since that our society generated so much waste and surplus, why bother working?

As noted here many times before, the purchasing power of American workers' wages reached a plateau around 1973 and has been declining ever since.

One key point which is usually overlooked when comparing "The Last Christmas in America" circa 1974 and TLCIA circa 2012: the wealth distribution in the U.S. was much flatter then. CEOs of financial institutions did not earn $10 million each; there were no hedge funds with chiefs pulling down $600 million each (yes, that was the average "compensation" for the top ten fund managers at the hedgies' glorious peak), and even minimum wage ($1.60/hour in the late 60s, I know because my wage stub recorded it) bought far more goods (purchasing power) then than minimum wage does now.

Not only was gasoline cheap, but housing was far and away cheaper than it is today. Just about any G.I./Vet could buy a house with his/her V.A. benefits (3% down), and anyone else could scrimp and save for a few years and then buy a house for 2 or 3 times their annual wage at an interest rate around 6%.

Even in the the most expensive city in the U.S. in terms of cost-of-living, Honolulu, I was able to rent an old studio apartment in 1973 for $120/month--$525 in today's dollars. My tuition and student fees at the University of Hawaii per semester in 1971-75 was $117--$514 in today's dollars. Can you find an apartment in a high-cost city for $500 and go to a four-year state university for $500/semester (not including books of course)? No. Was the state or Federal government running stupendous deficits to provide this education? No.

Meanwhile, in TLCIA circa 2012, obscene "compensation packages" are defended as "free enterprise." Well, what did we have in 1973? Unfree enterprise? Amidst all the ideologically convenient defenses of heavily skewed "compensation," we have to admit that the dream of affluence combined with leisure was based on the presumption of society's wealth being distributed somewhat evenly, not by a Communist central state but by the "free enterprise" system and modest common-sense government regulation (limited work hours, overtime, minimum wage, etc.) which protected employees from the excessive exploitation of the late 19th century and early 20th century Monopoly Capitalists.

Now we face a future which might well be called the End of Work for up to a third of the current workforce. Since agriculture employs about 2% of the workforce, industrial/factory production about 11%, essential transportation and essential government each a bit more, we have to ask: in an economy in which 70% of GDP is consumer spending, how many jobs are actually essential? How much actual wealth is being created/produced in the U.S. and sold overseas? Is giving people with Medicare coverage 13 costly and often ineffective medications and endless MRI tests actually creating wealth, or it mostly squandering it?

We might also ask: how much of the consumer economy is superfluous if wage-earners shift values and decide saving is more important than consuming? How many malls, storefronts, internet retailers, restaurants, fast-food joints, etc. can a newly-frugal economy support? How many dog-walkers, derivative salespeople, nail shops, carpenters, financial planners, realtors, etc. does an economy need if the FIRE economy (finance, insurance and real estate) is shrinking?

Based on the tremendous size of the service/FIRE economy and government, I have estimated that 30 million jobs out of the current 142 million-strong workforce are superfluous (114 million full-time, 38 million part-time). Many government positions are essential: police, meat inspectors, rangers, tax collectors, meter maids, etc., but dozens of agencies could be eliminated without any visible effect on the economy except to the wage-earners who lost their jobs.

If 10 million more jobs disappear, so do all the taxes those wage-earners paid; if the 5 million homes in the pipeline go through foreclosure, the inflated property taxes the owners once paid will disappear, too. Once businesses close, it's not just wages which disappear: all the junk-fees governments levy disappear, too: the business taxes, the licensing fees, the permits, transaction fees, etc.

Does anyone think all these taxes and levies can fall and government employment will be funded by some other source? Yes, the Federal government can borrow money for a few more years at low interest rates; but soon, the surplus money which has piled up in exporters' accounts will be gone, and the endless borrowed trillions will actually start costing real money--money that will be diverted from government employment to pay the interest on all that wonderful debt everyone loved when they got a piece of it.

So how does a society deal with the End of Work when it also means The End of Affluence, even for many of those with jobs? How does government deal with declining tax revenues and rising interest rates?

The death throes of the debt-based consumerist lifestyle are already visible beneath the glossy propaganda of "rising revenues this Christmas season."

The Fed is desperately attempting to re-inflate the debt bubble by lowering interest and mortgage rates and buying up all sorts of semi-toxic/impaired debt.What the Fed dreads is the reality we all feel and see: fear of the future due to diminished wealth and shaky incomes. If your assets have been slashed, you feel poorer because you are poorer. Borrowing more at any interest rate will not make anyone feel wealthier.

People who fear their income may plummet due to layoffs or their hours being cut are not in the euphoric mood to borrow more, and banks which cannot dare to lose more money loaning to people who will default have cut off credit to millions of previously rabid consumers of debt.

And let's not forget that much of what is purchased in this frenzy is needless, superfluous crap. My wife saves the most egregiously gift-buying-frenzy advertising circulars, and one from Bed, Bath & Beyond caught my eye.

There is no difference between this "1001 Best Gifts" from BB&B and a parody of consumerist excess. Hmm, how about an "executive standing valet" rack of wood and plastic for $99.99.

To make this poor-quality contraption, a forest somewhere in a Third-World kleptocracy was cut down and precious, irreplaceable oil was burned shipping the lumber to China and from that factory to the U.S. across 6,000 miles of Pacific Ocean.

We know this spindly piece of garbage will break in a matter of days, weeks or maybe if the owner is especially careful, months; then the legs will break loose of the base, the towel bar will pull out, etc. and the "we cut down a priceless rain forest to make this" piece of human handiwork will be put on the curb where a diesel-burning garbage truck will haul it to the landfill along with all the spoiled food Americans throw out.

The 16-bottle wine cellar/cooler from China (labeled Cuisinart for your consuming pleasure) for $199.99 might come in handy storing something once it's unplugged--but a cardboard box will probably do just as well.

I for one will not mourn the last Christmas in America. Good riddance to the flaunting of borrowed money and the heedless, desperate purchase of valueless "goods" as gifts for an insolvent nation awash in too much of everything but common sense, integrity, gratitude, accountability and healthy living. 

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My new book Why Things Are Falling Apart and What We Can Do About It is now available in print and Kindle editions--10% to 20% discounts.

---

Things are falling apart--that is obvious. But why are they falling apart? The reasons are complex and global. Our economy and society have structural problems that cannot be solved by adding debt to debt. We are becoming poorer, not just from financial over-reach, but from fundamental forces that are not easy to identify or understand. We will cover the five core reasons why things are falling apart:

1. Debt and financialization
2. Crony capitalism and the elimination of accountability
3. Diminishing returns
4. Centralization
5. Technological, financial and demographic changes in our economyComplex systems weakened by diminishing returns collapse under their own weight and are replaced by systems that are simpler, faster and affordable. If we cling to the old ways, our system will disintegrate. If we want sustainable prosperity rather than collapse, we must embrace a new model that is Decentralized, Adaptive, Transparent and Accountable (DATA).
We are not powerless. Not accepting responsibility and being powerless are two sides of the same coin: once we accept responsibility, we become powerful.

10% discount on the Kindle edition: $8.95(retail $9.95)       print edition: $24 on Amazon.com
To receive a 20% discount on the print edition: $19.20 (retail $24), follow the link, open a Createspace account and enter discount code SJRGPLAB. (This is the only way I can offer a discount.)

Thank you, Santiago A. ($5/month), for your splendidly generous subscription to this site -- I am greatly honored by your support and readership.

Thank you, Jaebin L. ($25), for your marvelously generous contribution to this site --I am greatly honored by your support and readership.

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Santa, Please Let This Be the Last Christmas in America That "Saves" the U.S. Economy

Santa, please, please, please strangle the idiotic fantasy that Americans buying a bunch of junk (or gift cards for after-Christmas purchases of junk) will "save" the imploding U.S. economy.

My Christmas wish to Santa: please let this be the last Christmas in America that is dominated by the propaganda that holiday retail sales have any more impact on the $15.8 trillion U.S. economy than a moldy, half-eaten fruitcake left over from 2009.

Fact: the 2012 GDP of the U.S. is about $15.8 trillion. (BEA estimate) Gross Domestic Product, 3rd quarter 2012.

Fact: total holiday retail sales are expected to reach $586 billion this year. Holiday sales--National Retail Federation.

That means holiday retail sales are a mere 3.7% of the U.S. GDP.

Despite the Financial and Mainstream Media's pathological obsession with holiday retail sales numbers as proxies for the "health" of the entire U.S. economy, holiday sales don't really change much:

2007: (pre-recession) Holiday sales: $516 billion
Holiday sales as percentage of annual retail sales: 19.5%

2008: Holiday sales: $495.5 billion
Holiday sales as percentage of annual retail sales: 18.6%

2009: Holiday sales: $504.8 billion
Holiday sales as percentage of annual retail sales: 19.4%

So the start of the 2008-09 recession saw a drop of $21 billion in holiday sales:statistical noise in a $14.7 trillion economy (2009 GDP).

Now the propaganda machine is cranking up to announce that a 4% increase in holiday retail sales means the U.S. economy is off and running. Santa, please, please, please order your reindeer to stomp the life out of the idiotic fantasy that Americans buying a few billion dollars more needless junk from China is any sort of evidence that the U.S. economy is "growing at a healthy clip."

According the the BLS inflation calculator, $512 billion in 2007 is equivalent to $572 billion in 2012. Adjusted for inflation, the highly touted $586 billion in holiday sales expected in 2012 is within statistical-noise range of 2007 sales.

So sales returning to where they were five years ago is "strong growth"?

The entire retail sector is 7.9% of the GDP compared to a 21.4% share for the FIRE tranch (finance, insurance and real estate) of the economy.

Does anyone seriously believe that 3.7% of the economy can possibly leverage up the entire GDP with a razor-thin increase of a few billion dollars in holiday sales?

Santa, you have my deep gratitude if you could jam the propaganda machine so that this is the last Christmas in America where trivial retail sales are hyped as the savior of the $15.8 trillion U.S. economy.

---

My new book Why Things Are Falling Apart and What We Can Do About It is now available in print and Kindle editions--10% to 20% discounts.

---

Things are falling apart--that is obvious. But why are they falling apart? The reasons are complex and global. Our economy and society have structural problems that cannot be solved by adding debt to debt. We are becoming poorer, not just from financial over-reach, but from fundamental forces that are not easy to identify or understand. We will cover the five core reasons why things are falling apart:

1. Debt and financialization
2. Crony capitalism and the elimination of accountability
3. Diminishing returns
4. Centralization
5. Technological, financial and demographic changes in our economyComplex systems weakened by diminishing returns collapse under their own weight and are replaced by systems that are simpler, faster and affordable. If we cling to the old ways, our system will disintegrate. If we want sustainable prosperity rather than collapse, we must embrace a new model that is Decentralized, Adaptive, Transparent and Accountable (DATA).
We are not powerless. Not accepting responsibility and being powerless are two sides of the same coin: once we accept responsibility, we become powerful.

10% discount on the Kindle edition: $8.95(retail $9.95)       print edition: $24 on Amazon.com
To receive a 20% discount on the print edition: $19.20 (retail $24), follow the link, open a Createspace account and enter discount code SJRGPLAB. (This is the only way I can offer a discount.)

Thank you, John F. ($10/month), for your immensely generous subscription to this site -- I am greatly honored by your longstanding support and readership.

Thank you, Naimue C. ($30), for your splendidly generous contribution to this site --I am greatly honored by your support and readership.

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My Christmas Letter for 2012

No, Timmy is not a straight-A student and sports star, Mandy did not get accepted to an Ivy League university, we did not go to Disney World and no, I did not get a promotion to the corner office.

Howdy Folks:

Sorry for the emailed Christmas letter, but right now I'm in a homeless encampment, living in my old Cadillac hearse, and scraping up the doe-ray-mi for 45-cent stamps is a bit tough. The library closes early so I can't use their computers, but luckily one of the fellas here is tech-savvy and he hacked into the city dump wireless network--it's next door, so to speak, and mighty convenient. Seems most employees there use the same password, 123456789.

Anyway, I had a spot of bother earlier this year, and things like that tend to gather speed as they roll downhill, which is what happened to me.

As you know, I only have the one good eye, and it's not all that strong on distance. I reckon I could get a pair of specs at the VA, but the old hearse sucks a lot of gas and the 200-mile round trip to the VA costs a pretty penny. So instead I just bought a pair of drugstore glasses that seemed to work pretty well.

You want a vehicle that drinks gas like no tomorrow, get yourself an M-1 tank. You don't even want to know the mileage those babies get.

A coyote had taken down one of my goats, a sad day for me, and I spotted a buzzard circling above the carcass. I didn't want it to attract a bunch of other critters looking for a free meal, so I grabbed Betsy the Blunderbuss and squeezed off a couple shots at the buzzard.

One lucky shot hit it, because the buzzard tumbled out of the sky in a most peculiar fashion. That was the first hint the darned thing wasn't a buzzard at all but one of these new-fangled drones the government's flying all over the place now.

As you know, I served Uncle Sam in the first scrap with Saddam back in 1991--National Guard 1988, hello Desert Storm 1991--so I recognized the cameras and what-not on the wreckage and it dawned on me that the gizmo had probably filmed me taking potshots at it. The Feds wouldn't take kindly to me shooting down their drone, and I got a chill up my back when I realized I was probably now a DT--Domestic Terrorist.

You'd think being a tank jockey for Uncle Sam would count for something in this little misunderstanding, but I didn't give myself much of a chance once Homeland Security and the rest of the gang showed up. I knew they'd find my little medicinal Mary-Jane patch next to the forest boundary, and then the DEA boys would get added to the mix.

So I packed up real quick-like--easy because there's not much of value on the ranch-- and reckoned I'd call my neighbor later and ask him to keep on eye on the goats. I'd stashed my one gold Maple Leaf coin and a bag of silver dimes in a Folger's can by the back fence post, and in making my way through the forest to retrieve the can I ran into a half-dozen tough-looking hombres with assault rifles.

Turns out the Mexican Mafia had set up a major Mary-Jane farm in the national forest right behind my little ranch, and I had to do some pretty fast talking not to end up in a shallow grave. Knowing the names of my goats seemed to impress them, and though some thought better of it, the leader let me go.

I hightailed it back to the hearse and headed for the fancy outlet mall. During one of my recent dumpster-diving trips, I'd found a dead iPhone, which I kept as a paper weight. With the iPhone in hand, I approached a rich kid and told him my battery was kaput and could I borrow his to make a call. He obliged, and since my daughter had showed me how to use her iPhone during my last visit, I knew how to get the numbers I needed.

I called the DEA and told them about the Mexican Mafia operation and suggested they have a couple F-18s loaded with napalm on patrol when they go in because the hombres were better armed than the Free Syrian Army.

I reckoned Homeland Security, the DEA and the Mexican Mafia boys would make quite a party and though I was sorry to leave the ranch I was happy to miss the Government-sponsored party.

Then I called my neighbor and told him I'd shot down a drone I'd mistaken for a buzzard. He promised to look after the goats and I handed the iPhone back to the rich kid, feeling a little guilty that the call was already traced and the local gendarmes were being scrambled to nail the caller, but he looked like his parents were rich enough to clear up any misunderstandings.

Since trouble comes in threes, and I wasn't sure if losing the goat, shooting down the drone and finding the Mexican Mafia at work counted as three or only as one because they were all related, I wasn't too surprised to find a letter from the IRS at the post office, saying that the few bucks I made selling stuff on eBay was unreported income and there were penalties and fees and such now.

Turns out PayPal gives the IRS your account totals, no surprise there, and that set me wondering if I shouldn't report the few bucks I make from selling my homemade beer and my little saw-sharpening business. I reckoned I should keep the few bucks I made selling my extra Mary-Jane to buddies who didn't care to go through the hassle to get a medicinal marijuana license off the record, because that would make me a Drug Dealer as well as a Domestic Terrorist.

I am not sure there's anything higher on the government threat list than a drug-dealing domestic terrorist. If I just stole a billion dollars I'd get a slap on the wrist but if you make a few bucks selling Mary-Jane then look out, you're in the slammer for a long 10.

Throw in the destruction of government property (the drone) and domestic terrorism (nailing the drone) and you got a life sentence or three waiting for you.

My problem is I never figured out how to steal stuff legally, like the financiers do.

I borrowed another kid's iPhone to call my manager at Fat Dog & Fries and tell her I was quitting, some things had come up with my ex I needed to take care of. That was a white lie, my ex is a welfare queen sitting very pretty, and her new boyfriend is of course a deadbeat but not somebody I need to threaten to send to the Happy Hunting Ground like the last loser.

My manager is only 20, a sweet young thing, and I think she kept me on for two 4-hour shifts a week because she felt sorry for me. I was grateful for the few bucks, though minimum wage doesn't go as far as it did when I was a kid.

But at least I was employed in the eyes of the government and I could say I had a job.

After giving the kid back his phone, I felt real lonesome-like because I was in a heap of trouble without anyone to turn to. My Army buddies had troubles of their own or lived far away, my own folks had passed away and I didn't want to burden my ex or the kids with the mess I'd made.

So I went back to the hearse and took out my old Bible, the one inscribed by the minister when he gave it to me back when I was 10, and I opened it to one of my favorite verses in John, the one where Jesus is supposed to condemn the adulteress and instead he says, Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. That set the scribes and Pharisees back a good piece and they drifted off.

Then I bowed my head and prayed for Jesus' forgiveness of all my sins, and asked Him to help me get through the days ahead, which were looking kind of bleak. I told Him I reckoned a body only gets as much trouble as he can handle, but I sure could use a hand about now because I felt like one of those people who look around and see a 30-foot tsunami rearing up behind them.

It reminded me of praying back in '91 when we were on the way to meet Saddam's boys and their Russian tanks. We'd never faced other tanks trying to kill us and I prayed to either die quick or live through it.

I have always liked the book of John because it shows that Jesus had a passel of trouble, too, what with the scribes and pharisees trying to trap and condemn Him. He had the disciples to help Him but when push came to shove He faced the music alone.

Reading some of the book of John made me feel a little better, and I gassed up the hearse and headed southwest, knowing wintering there would be easier than staying put.

I also wanted to see the kids before my troubles got worse, so I reckoned my ex wouldn't deny me the random visitation. I have to hand it to her, she has a Masters degree in Welfare. I've seen the spreadsheet she uses to keep track of all the welfare programs she gets, a dozen or more legally and Lord knows how many scam ones. Section 8 gave her a nice 2-bedroom apartment, and what with everything else she lives as good or better than folks making 60 grand a year.

I feel guilty that I'm not much of an influence any more on the kids. Mandy used to be sharp in math, but recently she's getting C-minuses just like all her friends. She thinks she can make a living teaching old farts how to use their iPhones. I have my doubts about that, but who knows, maybe she's right.

Timmy is into music, even though he doesn't play any instrument. He claims musicians don't need to know how to play music any more, just how to piece together old music in new ways. He's planning to get rich on YouTube. I told him the only way to get rich on YouTube is if a million people click on an ad while listening to your tune, and since people hardly click on ads that was a real stretch.

Speaking of which, in the good news column I found somebody clicked on an ad on my blog page and I now have 17 cents in advert revenue. Yee-haw, 10 more clicks and I can buy a Snickers bar.

The Lord helps those who help themselves, and so this letter will end on a positive note. I've found a good group of decent people here in the mobile encampment who help each other out. It's hard to trust people in this environment but the local church opens their parking lot to us on weekdays and helps us sign up for food stamps and such. Did you know you can sign up for food stamps online now? Very convenient. Of course I don't dare apply with my real name, lest the Feds locate me in a flash, so I do odd work around here in trade for other people's food stamp extras. With that and dumpster diving, I eat pretty well.

My big outdoor propane burner and wok is a hit here because it cooks a heap of stir-fry in no time at all. I know some people think it's spooky and weird that I sleep in the hearse but what the heck, it's the right length for a tall body and the little curtains work great at creating a little privacy. I had to cash in the Maple Leaf to replace the head gasket and rear brakes, but the old Caddy engine is purring fine now.

The tech-savvy homeless fella helped me set up a VPN--woah, look at my tech-speak, pretty impressive--so the government can't trace my email. I found an old WindowsXP laptop in the dumpster that works just fine, though the battery life is not very long, and so I am keeping in touch with my neighbor back home to see if things are quieting down.

My neighbor is also a vet and he said he read the Homeland Security guys the Riot Act when they came around for the drone. He told them it was an honest mistake, and by the way, if they fly spy drones over private property then it's our right to shoot the buggers down.

I told him not to get into trouble on my behalf and he said he was still fried at being put on the No-Fly list a few years back by Homeland Security. He told me the DEA and local SWAT guys did clean out the Mafia Mary-Jane farm, but without F-18s. Too bad; I sure felt better when the Apaches and F-18s were buzzing around above us.

I have a buddy who's still in government service and I've asked him to poke around and see what kind of charges have been brought against me, if any. He promised to put in a good word for me and that he'd call some pals in High Places to get the whole mess cleared up. I don't know if that's possible but I am hopeful that I can plead guilty to lesser charges and get a suspended sentence. That might make me a felon and unhireable, but I'll roll with the punches. If the goats are good, I'm good, and I have a batch of gentle stout ageing in the cellar, unless the Feds took it.

I might have mentioned last year that I threw out all the meds I'd been prescribed. I have to say that I like myself better crazy, if that's what I am, than being sane, if that's what I was on the meds.

It looks like my application for a community garden plot was approved, so come Spring I can get some vegetables growing, if I can't go home just yet. Me and Betsy provide security to the encampment here, which makes me feel useful. That and my stir-fry Chinese meals have made me welcome here.

So things are good here in the Land of the Free at Christmas, and even my ex is feeling a little more empathy for me in this circumstance. Her boyfriend is a deadbeat but a decent one, and my ex says he's been pushing her to allow me more visitation rights. Seems he has a kid of his own with an ex and so he understands.

Best wishes for a happy and safe holiday season--

Z. 

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My new book Why Things Are Falling Apart and What We Can Do About It is now available in print and Kindle editions--10% to 20% discounts.

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Things are falling apart--that is obvious. But why are they falling apart? The reasons are complex and global. Our economy and society have structural problems that cannot be solved by adding debt to debt. We are becoming poorer, not just from financial over-reach, but from fundamental forces that are not easy to identify or understand. We will cover the five core reasons why things are falling apart:

1. Debt and financialization
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4. Centralization
5. Technological, financial and demographic changes in our economyComplex systems weakened by diminishing returns collapse under their own weight and are replaced by systems that are simpler, faster and affordable. If we cling to the old ways, our system will disintegrate. If we want sustainable prosperity rather than collapse, we must embrace a new model that is Decentralized, Adaptive, Transparent and Accountable (DATA).
We are not powerless. Not accepting responsibility and being powerless are two sides of the same coin: once we accept responsibility, we become powerful.

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To receive a 20% discount on the print edition: $19.20 (retail $24), follow the link, open a Createspace account and enter discount code SJRGPLAB. (This is the only way I can offer a discount.)

Thank you, Craig H. ($50), for your superbly generous contribution to this site -- I am greatly honored by your support and readership.

Thank you, Jeffrey W. ($75), for your supremely generous contribution to this site --I am greatly honored by your support and readership.

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