Category: Health

COVID-19: A Brave New World

“Because if just one of those things gets down here then that will be all!  Then all this – this bulls**t that you think is so important?  You can just kiss all that goodbye!” – Aliens

NEWT

I can’t stand people who are xenophobic.

Corona.  COVID-19.  There’s a catastrophe always lurking, but it’s never what you think.  But it’s always something.  Beer Flu.  Kung Flu.

Do you understand the magnitude?  Most people don’t.  I’m not even sure I do.

The last few nights here at Stately Wilder Mansion Redoubt have been especially enjoyable.  I took off some time last week, and plan on taking some time off this week, as well.  It’s a great time, especially if you’ve never read Poe’s Masque of the Red Death (LINK).

Rarely do things change so quickly:  we Wilders were preparing to go to a state-level event where Pugsley was going to compete.  Competing was an honor – it means that he was one of the very best in the state at competitive freestyle dramatic baking rhythmic knife combat.

The championship was cancelled – 6,000 people in the same place probably doesn’t make sense.  Why?  Mathematically I’m betting that at least one of the competitors or spectators would have been COVID-communicable.  6,000 would have been a wonderful place for one person to donate billions of virus fragments to thousands of others, just like one South Korean was responsible for over 1,000 cases.

batstew

Ahhh, panda.  So very tasty.  I like it with a side of bald eagle.

One of my friends and I were talking before the event was canceled and said to me, “John, it’s cancelled.  There is no way that’s going to happen.”  There was no uncertainty in his voice – it was clear he was 100% certain.  In my mind, I thought that somehow this event would sneak under the radar.  It did not.  And in retrospect, I found myself guilty of one of the chief sins of the universe:  thinking that normal can win in abnormal circumstances.  Thankfully, the penalty here wasn’t the usual penalty for such a sin:  death.  Okay, that was dramatic.  Mainly it’s feeling stupid.

Pugsley was disappointed since he had his katana sharp, his Hamlet memorized, and his recipe book tattooed on his left thigh, but cancelling the event was the right call.

The Boy was back in town for spring break, so the four of us Wilders are hunkered down in the basement as I write this.  The other three idiots have been taking turns invading my writing space playing a video game.  Thankfully, we like each other and have a reasonable supply of deodorant and soap.  If the soap runs low, I volunteer to try to make some out our fire pit ashes and the cat.

SOAP

But is it made from cat?

The Boy and Pugsley have been out into the world since COVID-19™ hit more than The Mrs. and I.  The Boy went back to his college on Saturday.  They say that the college will open at some unspecified time in the future, but sent a note out that maybe you should think about coming to get your stuff.  The Boy and Pugsley took a road trip for just that purpose.  While The Mrs. hasn’t had her job officially cancelled for the foreseeable future, I expect that will be the case.  I don’t expect either of the three of them to be required to be outside of the house in the month of March except for runs to Wal-Mart®.

TRIPS

Okay, it wasn’t that bad.  They didn’t even ask me for gas money.  Hey, have you guys seen my credit card?

My job?  It’s probably not directly required for the United States to keep going on a daily basis, so I could see myself being restricted to working from home unless I absolutely had to be somewhere to defuse a bomb or perform a circumcision an alien.  As it is, if I have symptoms of Corona, I can’t come back to work unless I’ve been cleared via a doctor’s note.  Assuming I can find one of the six doctors in the county, but, hey, I can sign a signature that might look like a doctor?  It looks just like an Ebola© virus, right?

I’ve really enjoyed the time at home.  It’s surreal, since as I listen to the Internet radio, I can hear everything crumbling as the news gets weirder by the day.  I dumped my 401k (the part that was in stocks) into the money market fund this morning on Sunday.  That means they’re supposed to dispose of it tomorrow.  But as the market is lock-limit down already, what does that even mean?  Can my money even find an exit point?

I’m betting the Fed dumps a trillion dollars, or maybe even two trillion into the market.

Tomorrow.

It’s that bad.  I hope I’m wrong, but I think it’s going to be October in 1929 bad.

COLLAPSE

Maybe this will work.  Seems stable, right?

It’s obvious that the world around us has already changed.  As we drove to Wal-Mart© on Friday for a scouting expedition, I looked at a parade of businesses that would soon be closed as I drove by them one by one on the street.

  • Move theater? Who’s going to go, especially since the movies are crap?
  • Diner frequented mainly by old people?   Old couples are going to be self-quarantined watching the Price is Right® until they welcome COVID-19 to escape each other.
  • Car dealerships?   I’d like to buy that new Jeep® Coronaâ„¢ Wagon.
  • Scented candle places? Okay, I’m not sure how they stay in business anyway in 2020, unless they launder meth money.
  • Insurance companies?
  • Laundromats?
  • Thrift shops?
  • The VFW?
  • Churches?
  • Bars?
  • Liquor stores?   Let’s not get crazy here.

People don’t really need those things.  Except for liquor stores.  From start to finish, what do people need in a modern society?  I left off Law Enforcement because they keep people I don’t like away from me.  Yeah, some of them are tools, but for the most part we really do want them around for a modern society.  Or, if we don’t have Law Enforcement, a lot more ammo.

HILLARY

But the FBI seems reluctant to stop them.  Even for speeding. 

And need is not for the basics of life, it is for the basics of life for a modern society.

  • Water
  • Transport
  • Grocery Stores
  • Electricity
  • Their Bank
  • Pharmacies
  • Internet
  • Gasoline/Fuels
  • Natural Gas

But each of these requires people going to work to make things happen.  The people who run the water system have to purify the water.  The farmers have to farm, ranchers have to ranch, and dairy owners have to, um, dairy?  The systems that provide water, milk, eggs, meat and corn are fundamental.  They keep us in Doritos® and salsa and Monterrey Jack™ cheese.

What will keep the system going?  The city water department needs chemicals, so we need a chemical plant to make chlorine.  But will we open the potato chip factory, or expect people can figure out how to cook potatoes?  Will we open the frozen food factory, or assume people can make their own pizza?  We move from a market economy to one where “shortages” are created based upon allocations – what’s the best way to minimize the number of people that congregate while minimizing the spread of CoronaChan?

I don’t know.   But I do know that some foods will be considered so frivolous or interpersonal contact intensive that good sense won’t let them be made.  Eating at a restaurant?  That involves additional people, from cooks to servers that are potential additional viral vectors.

BEAN

And as far as the tip, wash your hands.

What else don’t we need?  That’s a tough question.  Do we need the latest spring fashions shipped in from China?  Do we need the latest iPhone®?  Do we need Stephen Colbert?  Definitely not.  Heck, I’m not sure we need most of those things on any given day at all, let alone during a catastrophe.

And that’s just consumer products and a lame late night host.  How much gasoline do we need if we’re not travelling to and from work?  Not very much.  Lots of diesel is needed to move products in semi-trucks and on trains.  In the United States, about 9 million barrels (42 gallons per barrel) are used each day as motor fuel.  After Corona?

Three quarters of that?  Half?

This weekend I would have probably used 30 gallons.  Instead?  None.  Multiply that by millions of people, and gasoline demand is sunk.  Get ready for the lowest gasoline prices you’ll ever see in your life.  And, since we’ll not be transporting a lot of “stuff”?  The lowest diesel prices, too, and unlike the hoarded toilet paper, they’ll hit bottom.

ESSENT

Maybe there will be new markets???

I look at this from a standpoint that I’ve got some food in my house that I’ve bought for times just such as this.  I don’t owe much to anyone.  As I’ve indicated before, if you have money (and if money is still good, which may not be a given) you’re in for the buying opportunity of a lifetime.  Want an oil well?  You’ll never have a better chance at getting a good one, if you have money.  Especially the baby oil wells.  Contrary to popular opinion baby oil isn’t made from babies, but from toddlers.

But it’s the people who don’t have money that I’m concerned about.  The theater owner can’t keep the theater going if there are no butts in seats.  The diner waitress can’t make the payments on their car if they can’t bring plates filled with eggs and bacon with a side of biscuits and gravy to Grandpa Verne.  She depends on the tips that pay the bank for that car, since Virgil can’t hold a job now that he’s in the county lockup for fighting Clem again.

Most people depend on this week’s income to pay this month’s bills.  I’ve been there.  I lived several years of my life one month and one lost job away from bankruptcy.  Thankfully, now I can live without a month of income.  Most people can’t.

How does that end up?  It’s simple enough to say, “Well, let the banks take a hit on a month of payments.  They’re greedy and don’t need that money.”

But . . . it’s my money you’re talking about.  My money is in the bank.  How does Hells Wargo® pay me back if my money isn’t collected from the waitress and the theater owner?  For every transaction, there’s another party.  And if you have more money than zero, you’re impacted.  That money of yours that your bank has?  You loaned it to them.  And if the loans that they made don’t pay back?  What happens then?

Another system failure.  I’m expecting that the Federal government will just pony up several trillion to make it all go away.  They have a printing press, ink, and paper.  Why not?

INFLATE

It worked out okay for Zimbabwe and Venezuela, right?

From the best available information I’ve seen slowing down the WuFlu® isn’t enough.  It has to be stopped.  COVID-19® isn’t the flu.  All available data indicates that it is far more deadly, and far more contagious.

At the high end of mortality, it would kill up to 7,500,000 Americans, assuming half of the people in the US get it.  What else is a factor?  How quickly we get it.  If you want to live, having a ventilator will be an issue for some percentage, say, 5% of people who get it.  No ventilator for that 5%?  They die.  Mortality rate skyrockets without care – it’s the difference between as low as 0.5% (as observed in South Korea) to as high as 5% in overwhelmed countries.

My trigger for “not the flu” is 30,000.  That seems like a big number, but when you divide it by the number of people in America, it’s really not.  The flu (as near as we can see today) is a LOT less fatal.  And, unless I missed a day in kindergarten, 30,000 is a lot less than 7,500,000.

heaven

Okay, not me.  I have to write.  And I have HBO®.

But until we see how it pans out, I guess I get the big prize:  spending time with Wilders.  And I’ll enjoy spending time with each of them.

Except the cat.

Celebrate National Blame Someone Else Day With A True Story About The Cat and I In A Duel To The Death* (*Death Not Included)

“Blame Canada!  Blame Canada!  It seems that everything’s gone wrong since Canada came along.  Blame Canada!  Blame Canada!” – South Park:  Bigger, Longer, and Uncut

CONNERY

God Shave the Queen.

In honor of National It’s Somebody Else’s Fault Day (the first Friday the 13th of the year, and no, I’m not making this up, it’s an actual holiday), I provide the following true story that happened to me last week:

It started with the cat.

Actually, our cat.  The Family Wilder has a cat.  Sort of.  This particular cat started out, optimistically, as an inside cat.  When The Mrs. and Pugsley “found” it at the pet store and brought it home, I understood.  They were sad that we were catless.  Without cat.  Feline free.

We had previously had two cats, Cisco® and Frisco, but over time they disappeared when adventures that they were attempting went tragically wrong off screen.  The cats went out, and never came back.  That’s why I understood that they wanted another one, especially since Cisco© and Frisco were great cats.

Cisco® and Frisco were nice, polite, clean, and calm.  The Boy had named Cisco™ after our wifi router, which at least is better than naming the cat Ford Taurus®.  Frisco got his name because it rhymed with Cisco™.  I was okay with that.  Why was I okay with naming cats with names that sounded so much alike?  Because they’re cats, and I have learned that with long hours or intense focus and training, you can train a cat to do exactly what it was going to do anyway.

TOUCH

You could tell – he was always having hissy fits.

This new cat, Rory, was a mess from the start.  Instead of a bundle of fur and purr as a kitten, it was instead a bundle of hate and spite and peeing in the hall closet.  If Satan had a cat, it would be afraid of Rory.  So, we hung garlic ‘round the doors and crucifixes ‘round the window sashes and banished Rory to being an outside cat.

My family, however, has the weak will of the type that doesn’t allow people to tell Madonna that what talent she had left her just like Sean Penn did, and at the same time back in the 1940’s or whenever.  The Mrs. especially lets Rory in from time to time.  Either that or Rory has developed a ninja-like ability to flow through the shadows and silently through the doorway when we go in and out.  I don’t believe it’s a ninja since essentially it’s just a big orange rat.

RORY

The Mrs. buys Rory soft cat food, yet won’t allow me to buy him a trebuchet.

One morning, I was on a vacation day, and was alone in the house.

Or so I thought.

Inside there was also . . . Rory.  I saw it dart through the kitchen.  Rory avoids me because whenever I see it, I throw it out.  This is exactly what I decided to do right then and there when I saw it – throw it out.  I chased it, and it ran downstairs.  Since the kitchen has baby gates to keep The Mrs. barking-minions inside, I closed the baby gates to better corral Rory if it had the bad judgement to try and return upstairs.

After a few minutes Rory came back upstairs from the basement.  It ran into the dining room.  I got it to run out from under the dining table.  It was spooked, and was just a furry flash across the kitchen tile away from me.  Now, the first time Rory ran through the kitchen, the baby gate was open.  Not this time.

The maximum speed of a housecat is approximately thirty miles per hour.  This was the speed at which Rory ran head first into the bars of the now-closed baby gate.

The thunk of metal and skull attempting to occupy the same space was exactly as you’d expect.  If you’ve ever seen a cartoon cat run directly into a dirigible mooring tower owned by the Kaiser and then sit with stars orbiting around its head, well, this was exactly that.  Rory sat there, dazed, just long enough to tease me into thinking that I could catch him.

BABY

Okay, I couldn’t really see the stars, but I knew they were there.

Realizing the large bald man was still chasing him, Rory looked back at me through the haze of concussion and then jumped over the baby gate.

Or, it would have jumped over the baby gate had the stars not been obscuring its cat vision.  As Rory lept in the cat-addled state it found itself in, it didn’t jump quite high enough to clear the baby gate, and as a result, Rory’s back left leg got stuck in the bars of the baby gate.

If you’ve never seen a disoriented cat stuck half over a baby gate, well, you haven’t lived.  I’ll give you a hint – they’re rarely happy cats.  I tried to extract Rory from his predicament, despite having read what Mark Twain wrote about exactly this situation:

SHANIA

Okay, it was really Mark.  But he didn’t look this good in leather pants.

Trying to free a near-feral and likely demonic cat summoned from another dimension where Cthulhu slumbers until the stars are right for its terrible return is necessary.  Especially if said demonic cat has a hip that is stuck on the side of the baby gate opposite of the demonic cat head.

You may not realize it, but angry cats can be pointy even if you are holding on to them by the scruff of their neck.  For some reason, cats don’t like having a concussion and then wandering into a cat version of a torture device and then being lifted by their neck skin by the human that chased them into the concussion in the first place.

Go figure.

Did you realize that a cat can move its front leg just like Michael Phelps swimming through a bathtub filled with mayonnaise?  It can.  And did you know, that in addition to the four claws on the paw, that cats have a fifth one, sort of like a thumb a just behind the other four?

They do.

And as a cat swims that claw flail-ingly into the air trying to get free, that it can reach all the way back and connect to the hand holding it by the scruff of the neck?

When that claw entered the exact center of the back of my hand, it was connected to a cat.

The cat seemed to be bothered even more that, in addition to having a concussion and a nearly dislocated hip that it found its right paw paralyzed, because its claw was firmly stuck deep in the back of my hand.  What did the cat focus on?  Freeing the claw that was firmly stuck in the back of my hand.  Rory jerked his leg back and forth, but found that it the claw was still firm stuck in the leathery sheath that is my skin.  Inside the skin, the point of the claw sliced back and forth against all the internal bits, especially that internal tube that moves the blood into (or out of, I don’t have them labeled) my hand.

SCRATCH

He wore paw-jamas to bed.

I reached with my free hand and pulled the claw out of my flesh.  After freeing the claw I realized immediately that the claw was the only thing that had kept the blood on the inside of my body.  Freed of the stopper, immediately the rich, dark blood started gushing like Dracula’s Super-Soaker® at summer camp.  I took three quick steps to the sink, and turned on the faucet.  There I was confronted with a dilemma.  In one hand, I had a cat that was behaving like a jackhammer attached to a cactus.  In the other?  The water from the faucet was washing the amazingly large amount of blood away from my hand.  Whenever I pulled my hand away from the water?  Rivers of blood formed.  But I still had a cat attempting to imitate John Travolta being electrocuted in the other hand.  I was one hand short.

Without really thinking, I grabbed with the cat hand (as opposed to the blood hand) and grabbed at the paper towels.  Of course, they didn’t rip but instead the whole roll spun away on the tile, leaving me with a carpet of paper towel connected to the bunched up, blood soaked paper towel that I was holding to the back of my hand . . . with my cat hand.  Thankfully, the combination of paper towel and cat soaked up enough blood so that the path to the back door didn’t look like young Jack the Ripper’s path on the playground slide.

HAND

I really nailed woodshop in junior high.  I really liked the teacher, Coach Sevenfingers.

At the back door, I used my bloody hand to open the door, and threw Rory out with my paper towel hand.  I then slammed the door.

There was a sickening thud as the door attempted to close and then bounced back.

Oh, crap.  I had slammed the door, but I had slammed it on the cat.  I looked down, expecting to see an angry cat that was now paralyzed because I had inadvertently crushed his spine with the door.

No.

It was an oven mitt.  Even despite the blood, I was relieved to see it was an oven mitt and not the cat.

Somehow, in grabbing the paper towel to stop my house from looking like Hannibal Lecter’s kitchen, I had accidentally grabbed an oven mitt along with the paper towel, and partially threw the mitt out of the house when I attempted to give the cat an orbital velocity out of the house that Elon Musk would be proud of.

I looked down at my wrecked hand.

Amazingly, there was only one, tiny hole in the back of the hand after it stopped bleeding.  But the flesh on the back was swelling like Johnny Depp’s ego as I watched.  I got some more paper towel, soaked it in hydrogen peroxide, and elevated the hand and applied pressure so it didn’t swell to the size of Robert Downey, Junior’s ego.  I even (briefly) considered emailing my certified medical adviser, Aesop (LINK).  Instead, I remembered that this was (more or less) exactly the place where people got intravenous thingies put into their hand, so it would probably heal.

A week later, it’s still tender.

In honor of National It’s Somebody Else’s Fault Day, I blame Rory.  Your mileage may vary.

And I’m sticking to that story, just like a cat claw in the back of a hand.

Buy Gold? Is There a Downside?

“Calm down, Doctor.  Now’s not the time for fear.  That comes later.” – The Dark Knight Rises

gold

When I retire, I’ve discussed with The Mrs. that I just might become a gold prospector.  She doesn’t think that will pan out.

What’s happening right now in the financial markets is panic.  Panic comes from uncertainty.  This sort of thing was seen back all the way to the Japanese financial crisis starting in the late 1980’s.  Their banking industry was a mess.  Origami Bank folded; First Sumo Bank went belly up.  Even Bonsai Bank had to cut some of its branches.

We’re in a different place in the United States in 2020.  If I’m right, the world markets are just beginning their trip down.  I’m not sure that anything saves them at this point except for raw panic causing markets to plunge enough that Wall Street hedge fund managers have to consider the idea of flying commercial.

Different sectors will be impacted differently by the Coronavirus.  Bonus points if you understand that insurance companies make money by investing in stocks and such, and the insurance is just a way to get your money to invest to make profit, until you have a claim.  What do you think will happen when insurance companies start taking losses?  Extra credit:  what do you think health insurance companies will do when faced with huge numbers of patients that weren’t in their projections when they set their rates? There will be several pop quizzes as events unfold.  Eventually, though, the class is pass/fail.

CORONA

I’d like to self-quarantine for, oh, 20 years or so?

We’re experiencing the economic dislocation brought on by the Coronavirus, it seems like a good time to talk about some basic principles.  As I’ve noted in previous posts, my expectation is that if we see a panic, that’s the time to buy assets.  Crude oil dropped to $30, and if that price stays for six months, oil rig hands will be begging to offload their Ford Shelby GT350® at bargain prices.  If it stays that low for a year?  Texas oil execs will be offering to sell you their $281,000 Lambo Hürącán Pérförmånté™ for a handful of magic beans.

Which brings us to gold.

I regularly correspond with several folks who are commenters here or fellow bloggers.  Feel free to drop me a line:  movingnorth@gmail.com.  While I look forward to being so big that I say, “I don’t respond to every e-mail but I read them all” and then whipping an unpaid intern while yelling “be funnier!” while I lay in a hammock in the shade not reading your email on the marble patio complaining that the pool’s too hot, well, that hasn’t happened yet.

But a man can dream.

time

The best thing about the future?  No more Bon Jovi.

Anyway, folks that write get responses, and some of them lead to lengthy conversations.  One of people is Frequent Commenter Ricky.  Ricky sent me a piece he was working on, and I thought it was brilliant.  With his permission, I’m using it as a jumping off point to make a few points about our current economy.  To the extent it’s not as good as his original, well, that’s on me.  I’ll give the intern “motivation” to be better with a few nights in The Box if you guys don’t like it.

Ricky used a metaphor of Back to the Future to explain how currency has moved relative to gold, but I’m going to mangle it right from the start, which is on me, not Ricky.  Let’s say that you were going to use the DeLorean® from Back to the Future to go back to the year 2000.  That’s a nice, round number.  Why 2000?  Well, you only wear underwear from Montgomery Wards®, and they went out of business in 2000.  So, if your tighty-whities are looking more like exclusive Swiss underwear since they are holier than St. Peter’s Basilica, it’s time for a new pair, and you should probably stock up.

So, off to Wards™, and let’s say you took $300 with you.  I mean, it’s not like there’s a Wards® in every timeline, right?

When you get to the mall, you find that there’s a nice coin shop right next to Wards©.  You stop in.  You see that you can buy, for $300, an ounce of gold.

wards

I hear these were featured in the 1983 Victor’s Secret® catalog, back when men used to just walk around the house proudly in their Wards™ underwear.

What?  Why would you do that, man!  You were after the gold standard of underwear, why settle for gold?

Because, with that same $300, you could buy an ounce of gold that in March of 2020 is worth $1675.  You could buy a LOT of underwear in 2020.  So, given the choice, what would you send back from the past?  An ounce of gold, or $300 in cash, or $300 in Montgomery Ward© underwear?

Of course, the underwear.  But if you’re like me, the number two choice would be the ounce of gold from the year 2000.

Ricky then asks the question:

If you could use that time machine to send yourself a gift in 2030, what would it be?

  • $1 million in cash?
  • Or $1 million in 2020 gold?
  • Or $1 million in underwear. Ricky is sane, he didn’t ask this question.

I can certainly come across a time when, if I bought gold, it would have been a bad investment.  On an inflation-adjusted basis, had I bought gold in 1980, I’d be at about a breakeven today – and a breakeven, even including inflation, isn’t a great investment.  But at least money wasn’t lost.  But that doesn’t mean that gold can’t be a losing investment:  had I sold that 1980 ounce in 2000, I would have lost about $1500 in today’s dollars.

Ouch.

80s

If these two married, it would be a constant fight over the hair products.

But why did gold peak in 1980?

The United States was a mess.  The market was a mess.  The Soviets looked unstoppable, as did inflation.  Air Supply was on the radio, until it was declared a terrorist organization in one of the best moves the Reagan administration ever made.  Gold looked like a good investment while the world looked like it was falling apart.

Would I buy gold today at these prices of $1600+ an ounce?  Probably not.  Would I buy gold in six months after the market had crashed and gold was around $1200?  Probably then.  When (if) gold hits $1000?  Certainly.  And platinum?  Hmmm.  That looks interesting.

The long-term trend is clear:  countries are attempting to devalue their currencies to make them more competitive, and this will increase as economic tensions increase.  The Fed will actively seek to lower the value of the dollar.  What does that imply?  That the dollar will continue to inflate away until it becomes worth much less.

japan

Ah, the good old days, when Japan was going to take over the world . . . . 

But an ounce of gold will still be an ounce of gold, even if we run into problems like Japan had, where Samurai Savings and Loan faced sharp cutbacks, and investigators found that Bank of Sushi was up to something fishy, and in the end customers got a raw deal.

Warning:  I’m an internet humorist, not an investment adviser.  Most mornings I’m wrong six times before I’ve even had my first cup of coffee.  I don’t plan to change any investment position in any listed commodity in the next three days, and haven’t made any changes in the last three days, mainly because I’m lazy. 

Complacency, An English King, Elon Musk, and Bikinis

“Well, perhaps what we most needed was a kick in our complacency to prepare us for what lies ahead.” – Star Trek, TNG

dinos

Q:  Why can’t dinosaurs clap?  A:  They’re all dead.

Once upon a time The Mrs. and I bought a piece of bare land to build a house on, and not a Lego® one like they make in California.  The land was in a county that had (eye roll) rules about that sort of thing.  In order to get a permit to build the house, we had to have our land approved as a subdivision.  We did it the old fashioned way – we did it ourselves.  We prepared the relevant paperwork, hired the surveyor, and worked with the county zoning staff to present it to the Zoning Commission.  After discussing it at the meeting, and observing the property, the chairman of the commission stated:

“Mr. Wilder, the commission would like to reserve a 40’ foot strip of land along the north boundary to put in a road at some future point.  In your zoning packet, we’re going to add that you will deed us this land at no cost if we ever decide to build said road.”

That was over an acre.

The Commission Chairman must have seen the expression on my face.  I’ll admit it, I wasn’t pleased.  I felt, based on my law degree of “reading the Constitution” that this was a clear violation.  It was, I felt, a “taking” of my land with no compensation.  Even though I didn’t say a word, and wasn’t wearing a Gadsden Flag t-shirt, I think he knew right where my head was.

GADSDEN

Snek no lyke step.

“Now, Mr. Wilder, you understand that we as a Commission have a duty, a duty not only to those living here for today, but for those not living yet.  Why, this subdivision will be recorded and be in force for the next thousand years.”  I don’t recall the next sentence, because I really couldn’t believe what I had just heard.

The next thousand years?  Was he taking the same kind of drugs that Bernie does?

The Mrs. and I finished our turn at the podium for the meeting.  We left and went outside.  The Mrs. beat me to the punch.

“The next thousand years?  Was he serious???  What an idiot.”  We actually still joke about it to this day.  You would have been proud of her scoff when I read it to her tonight.  It was perfect.

We had both focused on the same sentence.  It was pompous.  It was self-important.  It was delusional.  It was . . . complacent.

The idea that the governance, the structure, or even a culture that respected property rights would follow a continuous path for a thousand years was deluded.  1,000 years ago, the Danes ruled Norway and England as well as Denmark under King Cnut (yes, that’s spelled right) the Great.  Ever hear of him?  Well let me tell you if you misspell his name just one time in an e-mail to Karen, you’ll have to spend an hour explaining old English history to HR so you can prove you really meant that Karen was displaying the wisdom that old King Cnut was cnown for.

knaren

Yeah, just like Karen, the Commission Chairman was a Cnut.

That more or less proves my point.  I doubt that the records of that subdivision named the “Free Autonomous Reserve Tract” will even exist in a thousand years.  It could be that whatever emerges from the nearly certain Musk Cat Girls on Mars© Uprising of 2257 or the Amazon™ slave rebellion of 2856 against Bezosclone4651 don’t destroy the records, but don’t bet on it.

Elon

Elon apparently has a different version of Cat Scratch Fever.

Expecting a county commission’s decisions to be relevant 1,000 years into the future was an outrageous example, but it proves the point I’m trying to make.  Often, we get so complacent in our day-to-day lives that we’re willing to believe incredible things that we normally would scoff at, like, oh, Joe Biden doesn’t have dementia.  I mean, it’s normal to answer the question, “What is your vision for health care?” with “I remember when it was polite for a man to call a woman a ham-handed yellow-teethed hammer soaker before you made sweet love to them in the back of your tree fort, I mean if you had a dozen or more.  Pinecones, right?  Those were the days when you could rub my legs and watch the hair spring back up and the wood elves would play music for hours on their nose harp.  Ever have a nose harp?  We did, but you could call women broads then, because they liked to get you coffee, what with the skirts and pantyhose and all.  Canada.  And if you don’t like it, you can damn well vote for that Reagan fellow.”

One way I choose topics to write about is I want to look at a subject I know something about, and then dig deeper.  My idea is that often one of the biggest dangers was well defined by Mark Twain:  “What gets us into trouble is not what we don’t know. It’s what we know for sure that just ain’t so.”

It’s a shame Twain never learned to write properly and not use “ain’t” – maybe if he had his career would have gone somewhere like mine has.  Anyway, when I find a disconnect like Twain described, or new information that’s something that I like to write about.

But when I can find that same situation and tie it directly to a problem or situation in society today?

That’s perfect.

Okay, nearly perfect.  It has to be interesting, too.  The relative changes in the combustibility of dryer lint throughout the twentieth century might be not what you expected, but it’s probably not particularly interesting, unless you like to burn dryer lint as a hobby, which I hear is what Jeb Bush is into now, at least when it’s group craft time.

TWAIN

Okay, that’s actually “lightning and lightning bug.”  

I really like learning new things, and I learned something new today:  One thing I like writing about, and keep returning to as a nearly constant theme here is:  complacency.  It’s evident when I write about the economic system (Rome, Britain, and Money: Why You Can’t Find Fine China after the Apocalypse), or prepping (Be Prep-ared) or really nearly any topic I write about.  And I try to live by my advice.

In my life, I try not to be complacent about:

  • Relationships: Love is a voluntary choice.  Being complacent about those around you is a good way to lose a relationship, and that can be expensive.  But, for certain people, it’s worth it.  (That’s an ex-wife joke.)
  • Jobs: Jobs come and go, even within companies.  I have seen entire departments disappear as technology made people irrelevant.  Always be learning new skills, or at least be learning more about the “niece” of your boss.
  • Value of Money: When I was a boy, Bernie Sanders would shine a shinbone for a nickel.  Now?  I think he wants to expand Medicare to do that.
  • Economic Future: The stock market will always go up, right?  Well, no.  Sometimes
  • Limits of Human Knowledge: Much of what is science is a fad, to be replaced by new science in a few years.  Not so much with math.  Mostly not with physics.  Medicine?  75% of it is washing your hands and eating right.  20% is antibiotics.  5% is not step on snek.  And Aesop will change all of these percentages if he gets this far.

Wilder, Wealthy and Wise is absolutely against complacency.  I don’t like complacency.  I like finding places where it has snuck into my life or I see it sneaking into the lives of others.  I especially like sharing things that help people see complacency in their own lives, because then I don’t have to change anything about me.

That moment when I’ve written something, and I imagine that someone’s entire world view changed?

That moment is why I write, though some of you might say that for a writer, I’m a fairly competent typist.  Regardless, that’s the enjoyment I get from this, besides the jokes and the bikinis.  I want to create discomfort in me.  And in you.  And also be able to explain to The Mrs. why I spend so much time looking at bikini pictures.

“Research, dear.  It’s for my readers.”  Oh, the things I put myself through for you.

dogkini

At least it’s not another Kardashian.  But I think the dog has less hair.

Back to complacency.  When it comes to life and health, how often do you step back and question your basic, underlying assumptions?  If never, you should.  How often are they wrong?  If never, then you’re not testing them hard enough.

Assumptions change because circumstances change.  A forty year old metabolism isn’t the same as a twenty year old metabolism.  If you eat like you’re twenty when you’re forty and fifty, you’ll end up weighing 657 pounds and being buried in a piano box.  I guess the good part about that is “all the Oreos®,” and being able to dress convincingly as Jabba the Hut® at Halloween, but the downside is attractive slave girls cost more than you think.

Assumptions change because knowledge changes – we were wrong.  All of us.  Sugar used to be great for you, it was a carbohydrate, and those were good.  But fat?  Fat was bad, as bad as John Travolta acting in a movie that requires his character to be able to use words of more than one syllable bad.  Everyone knew that, and they were right.  But only about Travolta.  Companies even made fat-free cookies in special green packages so you could know that you were safe eating them.  But in 2020, we know that’s insanity.

Lkini

But I hear Darth Braider did her hair.

What circumstances have changed in your life that you need to account for?  What will be changing?

As for knowledge, what does “everyone know” that’s wrong today?  That’s tougher.  I think that the news about sugar (for instance) started to show up in more than “fad” levels about the year 2000, a good 20 years after the war on fat in food began.  Pay attention.  And if something seems too good to be true, it probably isn’t.

Complacency.  Heck, I’ve made mistakes.

Probably enough for 1,000 years.  Just ask Karen.  She’s quite a Cnut.

Dangit.  It’s HR again.  FCUK©.

(FCUK™, of course is the British clothing brand “French Connection, UK®.”)

Silly.

Uncertainty, Retirement, and Immortal Lawyers

“This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.” – Fight Club

juicebox

The 13th Rule of Fight Club:  If your mom is going to drive you home after Fight Club, make sure she signs you out first.

With everything in the news right now, it’s probably a good time to talk about money and life.  There are significant uncertainties right now, and here are a few examples in no particular order:

  • Corona Virus – A big deal? It might be.  I just saw that Corona® beer had changed their name to Bubonic Plague™.
  • Nuclear Iran And Nuclear North Korea – The plus side of nuclear war is no more pop-up ads.
  • Impending Market Meltdowns – Escalators were down, while Pencils lost a few points. Paper was stationary and Diapers remained unchanged, while Toilet Paper reached a new bottom.
  • A Left Wing That Has Bad Intentions When It Gains Power – The upside is that when a Leftist walks into a bar after the Revolution, he’ll order shots all around.
  • Jack’s Raging Bile Duct – Wait, hold up?

Okay, it’s not really a bile duct.  And the guy’s name wasn’t Jack.

I was reading about a guy who just retired at about age 60.  He had saved and invested his whole life, making sure that he would have enough money to last until he was 90.  Since he had been a high-powered Wall Street guy, he did really well.  He had saved millions, so he intended to live a pretty nice retirement with lots of travel around the world.  Oh, he wanted to live in a pretty expensive town.  And, even though money isn’t everything, it kept him in touch with his children.

Then?

mario

Mario had to retire from plumbing because the Yelp® reviews all mentioned him raiding the fridge for mushrooms and stomping on any pet turtles he saw.

He was diagnosed with cancer – but a type that’s incurable.  And it’s a fairly tough type:  it’s got a 50% survival rate to make it for 5 years.  Amazingly, he was writing about what people in their fifties might do in the current investment climate.  He wasn’t writing about the fact that the remainder of his life was maybe reduced by 83% from his plans.

Me?  If I were him, I’d be spending at least some of the money that I’d saved to last me for twenty-five years of life until 90 on a very, very nice bottle of scotch.  And perhaps a cigar made from angel wings.  For dinner? Nothing special.  Maybe some surf and turf:  yeti with Loch Ness monster filets grilled over lava pulled from the center of the Earth.  I’d make sure that I used every second that I had left to me.

hannibal

No clowns though.  They taste funny.

But what if our lives were infinite, would that change anything?

I was driving down the street with The Boy and Pugsley several years ago.  We were driving home from a camping trip, and were going through a small town on a sleepy Sunday morning.  It was early enough that people hadn’t even gotten up for church yet.  As we drove I saw a sign that said, “Jim McGill, Insurance and Real Estate” and decided to make a joke, because we’re a fun family.

I pulled out my best booming operatic voice, so deep and resonant it makes Brian Blessed sound like he hasn’t yet hit puberty:

blessed

Don’t hate him because he’s beardiful.

“Jim McGill is here to help you with all of your insurance and real estate needs, as he has for a thousand years here in Cedar Ridge.

“No one has more experience than McGill, who has studied the intricacies of umbrella insurance policies for decades of the countless years of his nigh-immortal life.  McGill can also use his communion with the deep and ancient dark spirits of the Earth to find the very best property for you.  Since the dawn of single-celled life on this puny planet, there is no insurance agent or realtor who will ever get you a better deal.”

The Boy piped in: “Brought to you by the power of the Necronomicon™.”

See, I told you we’re a fun family.

immortal

Oh, I thought you said immoral.  My bad.

I was making a joke, but stumbled upon a truth.  The joke was supposed to funny because here was an immortal being, selling insurance in a small town in the Midwest.  But as I drove on, I realized a different truth:  if an immortal can’t afford to spend his life doing trivial things, why do we?

Not that there’s a problem selling insurance, or a problem with selling real estate.  I have a friend who dreams about selling real estate.  She’s going to get her license.  I think she’ll have a lot of fun with it – she likes working with people, and it’s something that’s important to her – finding the right person to sell the right house to will probably be fun and she probably won’t have to summon demons and other Satanic spirits to find a nice three bedroom on a cul-de-sac for a married couple with a baby on the way.  Probably.

For me, personally, selling real estate would be one of the punishments that would be reserved for a deep level of Hell:  lower than people who mow lawns at 8am on Saturday morning but not quite as low as Congressmen.  But I think it will really make my friend happy.

jake

He has a very special set of skills . . . .

And that’s a good reason to be a realtor – being happy by helping other people.  It’s also a good reason to sell insurance.  But never forget, doing a job is just that, doing a job.

We may not like everything we have to do at work, and we’re certainly not special snowflakes who deserve the job of our dreams just because we got a Master of Fine Arts in Paranormal Entity Identification and Eradication.  We get paid to go to work because it’s not a hobby.  Lots of times we’ll do things we’d only do if you were getting paid, like when I polished Grandma’s corns for a shiny new nickel.

It may be that the gentleman with cancer is writing for a reason – because that’s how he’s wired.  I get it – I’m writing this sentence at 4am.  But he has a choice.

There comes a time to realize that, if the basics are covered, you really do have a choice.  Money only buys a certain amount of happiness.  A new car isn’t necessary if you have one that works – no matter how old it is.  You are trading your life for money, and even if you die with a lot of money, you’re still dead.

Make sure the trade is worth it, because you’re literally trading your life for it.

Meanwhile . . . somebody go pluck an angel’s wings.

Being Overwhelmed, a Survival Guide

“I guess this whole experience has left me feeling a little overwhelmed.  Flying at warp 10, evolving into a new life-form, mating, having alien offspring . . .” – Star Trek:  Voyager

HANDPUMP

Whenever I get too overwhelmed and I need motivation, I think back to what Grandpa Wilder said to the doctor on his deathbed:  “Be positive.”  I just wish he would have answered the doctor about what his blood type was instead – they might have saved him.

Overwhelmed.

It’s that moment when everything is happening at once.  When the dishwasher is flowing a mass of foam that looks like a 1960’s science fiction monster onto the kitchen linoleum.  When the new baby has a fever of 102°F and is expelling fluids at high velocity from every orifice.  When the wife is crying because it’s Sunday night and someone left a Sharpie® in a pocket and it’s now all over her white skirt that she was going to wear for her presentation that was going to make or break her career.  And then out in the driveway the car has a flat.  And when these are all happening . . .

All at once.

It’s overwhelming.

I’ve been there.  And so have you.  It’s part of life.

Being overwhelmed brings with it that moment of time when you feel hopeless.  There’s literally too much input for you to make rational decisions – deal with the suds on the linoleum or put the baby in the freezer?  In some cases, if you’re overwhelmed enough, there’s a tendency to not make any decisions and freeze like an artificial intelligence told to compute ways that Mayor Pete could really be elected president outside of his home planet.

But somewhere between the intersection of life, family, work, and self you’ve created that moment and now you’re overwhelmed.  There is but one salvation:

Scotch.  Action.

justpark

I think one of those might have a slight door ding.

The first thing I do when I find myself in a situation like this is, well, something.  Not just anything, however:  I try to prioritize loss of human life or loss of property first.  Which one life or property?  Depends on who it is and what’s going to be lost, I mean if the choice was to save the life of the ex-wife by donating my used shoes or to let her die and collect aluminum cans by the side of the road in Arizona in summer instead?

What’s aluminum going for nowadays?  I kid.  I hope she does well – Star Wars® well.  In a galaxy far, far, away from me.

onering

I kid.  She wanted to leave as much as I wanted her to leave and I really don’t bear her any ill will, and I think that she would agree with me that divorces are expensive because they’re worth it.

After taking whatever emergency action is required, I like to list the rest of the things that are overwhelming me.  While it’s not actually solving the underlying problem(s), it at least puts a boundary on the situation.  It’s translating me from thinking that “there’s too much to do” to a list that, while it might be really long, is finite.

And then?  I like to prioritize.  First on the list are the things that have to happen now – the urgent and important issues.  Then I take action to get them off the list.  I know it sounds crazy – making yourself feel better by taking the issues that are bothering you and dealing with them?  What sort of sorcery is this?

I know, it sounds as foreign as a “job” to a Bernie Sanders supporter.  But unlike a Bernie Sanders supporter, my method works.  Crossing something off the list that’s urgent and important – it makes me feel less whelmed.  Bonus – now you and I know that whelm is really a word.  (I didn’t until the little red squiggly didn’t show up underneath it and then looked it up to make sure.)

quadrants

I did this a while ago.  It’s based on comments from Eisenhower but has the stink of MBA all over it now.

Items that are urgent and important are the ones to do first.  But even though you get a burst of dopamine from solving those important and urgent items, it’s a tyranny in your life – a tyranny of crisis.  Unless you’re a drama queen or a Kardashian (but I repeat myself), being in a constant state of adrenaline from always having to react to the latest emergency is tiring and probably wears out your deodorant.

The first step away from this continual crisis management state is an understanding of a simple truth:  not everything matters.  The second step might be to understand that a deodorant that’s “Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman™” may not be enough if you have the scent glands that produce Kardashian mating musk.

kardash

I hear they’re filming a remake of Gorillas in the Mist, but to save money it will just be ninety minutes of Kardashians showering.

When you are stuck in that emergency, dig out, not deeper down.  I’ve seen people respond to emergencies by taking more and larger risks.  They hope that a home run will save them.  Eventually, the risks get higher than a hippie in a hot air balloon so that even if they won, it still wouldn’t save them.

Dig out.  Solve one problem.  And then the next.  I have always found that one solution leads to the next, and before too long I feel in control.  Success breeds success.

And for heaven’s sake, don’t be like Hillary Clinton running for president for the 35th time:  learn from the situation so you never have to repeat it.  Some advice:

  • Learn to say “no” and mean it – there are large numbers of charities, clubs, boards and even hobbies that will consume all of your time if you let them. Guard your time jealously – it’s all you have.  Time is the biggest resource – nine pregnant women can’t make a baby in a month.
  • Understand that other resources matter, too. Money is a pretty big one.  I know that some folks preach that you have to have an “attitude of abundance.”  That’s fine, if it teaches you to be happy with what you have.  It’s not fine if you end up buying three new cars and a European vacation on $12,000 a year.
  • Understand that some results matter more than others – in some races there really isn’t a second place. If a loss will be devastating, either plan to win, or don’t play.
  • Learn that effort is better than genius. Combine the two and you have a nearly unstoppable combination, but if I have to pick just one, I’ll pick effort.  There’s rarely any traffic on the second mile, except for that Jesus guy.
  • Schedule.  Anticipate.  You can’t plan your future entirely, but you can plan to have skills and competence in things that may help you in the future.  You can never tell when carving a flute out of your enemy’s shinbones might come in handy, so practicing early is recommended.

spanish

Beware of the comfy chair.

But sometimes, even though you’ve planned, even though you’ve attempted to do the right thing, you’ll lose.  Sometimes, tsunamis hit.

And sometimes the dishwasher shoots suds all across the kitchen floor, even if you tell her to stop it.

So get to work.

Don’t wish your life away, complete with Catch-22 and bikini picture

“Mr. Frond.  He’s a tall glass of . . . annoying.” – Bob’s Burgers

commie

I guess you could say that Bernie engages in wishful thinking.

A few years ago I was in a meeting with my boss, who has since retired.  It was a particularly hectic time at work – we were looking down at a calendar of 13 hour days, 7 days a week, for the next few weeks.  We had already been on that hellish schedule for at least 20 days.  We couldn’t have been more exhausted if we were a car muffler or the guy charged with keeping Joe Biden away from functional microphones.

At this point, the most dangerous place in the office was getting between me and the coffee pot.  HR had cautioned me about my threatening language when I found someone in the way of the coffee, but I responded that growling wasn’t really a language.  They said I was being intimidating, but I stared at them silently and then they went away.

So, we were busy.  As I said, I had a meeting with my boss.  My boss leaned back in his chair.  In a very tired voice he said, “Well, I don’t want to wish my life away, but I’m looking forward to finishing this.”

The part of that sentence that really stuck with me was, “I don’t want to wish my life away.”

When faced with something unpleasant, I want it to be over, and the sooner the better.  I think that’s just human nature.  I’d actually never given that desire a second thought.  “Let’s finish the bad times so we can get to the good times, right?”

biden

It serves you right, you knock-kneed slobbering tuna monger.

I also recalled another, slightly different example of this kind of thinking.  When I was a child waiting for Christmas, I wanted the days before Christmas Eve to dissolve into the past like all of those bodies in Bill Clinton’s basement so I could begin unwrapping presents like a Tasmanian Devil® with chainsaw arms.  A similar example is how people can’t wait for the work week to finish so that they can get to the weekend and live their “real” life.

But life isn’t just the good times – it’s also the crappy ones, too.  It’s also the dull ones.  It’s the hours spent at work.  And it’s the hours spent in a dentist chair.  And that really is the sum of life – it’s not the great moments, it’s all the moments.  It’s what we live in every day:  that’s life.  Life isn’t just hopping from peak to peak, victory to victory, Christmas present to Christmas present.  Nope.  Most of life is spent in the valleys and hillsides and Bill Clinton’s basement.

holyspirit

I will say the one time I had Tequila I did end up on my knees.

I did an experiment once on a warm spring day.  I was in the parking lot of a liquor Bible store to get some beer to buy extra Bibles for the Bible room in my house.  For whatever reason I stopped and just looked around.  I observed as closely as I could.  I looked everywhere.  Up into the blue sky and the wisps of clouds moving lazily to the east.  I looked at the grain of wood in the gray sun-bleached privacy fence by the parking lot.  The staggered brick pattern of the store wall contrasting with the evenness of the mortar joints holding them in place caught my eye.  From the natural to the manmade, I looked deeply.

As I spent time that afternoon really looking at and observing my surroundings I was struck by how much beauty that I was surrounded by, day after day.  This was a beauty that I never noticed – it was just visual noise in my daily life.  But that beauty really was there, hidden in the small things that are everywhere.  Also it was in bikinis, but those really weren’t hidden.

BIKINI

It has been mentioned that I needed more bikini.  I assume you mean on hot chicks, because it’s considered an international war crime if I posted one of me in a bikini.

There was a weird majesty in the moment.  Most days I don’t take the time to look for it.  But I know that it’s there if I want to take the time to look.  After that, things weren’t really the same.  I began to look closer at all aspects of life.

Not too much later I read an article that said that even when it gets fairly cold, say -5°F with a wind of 10 miles per hour, it would take up to half an hour to get frostbite.  I’m not making fun of those temperatures – they can be deadly.  But if I was walking around outside and the temperature was 40°F with a wind speed of 10 miles per hour I might be a bit uncomfortable, but a healthy person with exquisite DNA that was the result of a secret government breeding program named Project Lunchbox (like your humble host) could easily stand those conditions for hours in just a light jacket with no lasting negative impact.  Shiver?  Sure.  But I’d be fine.  And so would anyone else without a weird medical problem even if they weren’t part of Project Lunchbox.

LUNCHBOX]

When we had to do a group project in school we were in trouble – we were all “that guy”.

The same is true about high temperatures.  Yes, I might sweat – it’s not like I’m a member of the English royal family.  But for the most part, most ranges of heat you’d encounter in the United States isn’t life threatening to a healthy person.  Uncomfortable?  Yes.  Sweaty?  Certainly – we already established that.  But only uncomfortable, not in danger.  One summer the air conditioning went out on my car.  My response?  I rolled the windows down when I headed home from work.  After a week or two, the heat ceased to bother me at all.

As I kept at it, I realized that there were a lot of other conditions I could simply ignore if I chose to:

  • Hunger – Most people reading this have never been really hungry in their lives.
  • Thirst – Water is important, but it how many times are we actually thirsty versus just drinking because of habit?
  • Airline Seats – Okay, these really are from the fifth circle of Hell. But I can scrunch up in one for an hour or so.
  • Ear Hair – If I let it grow long enough, I can braid it like the bride at a Leftist wedding.
  • Bad Smells – How many of them are just annoying? I mean, besides the French?
  • Disorder – Not everything in my life needs to be perfectly arranged, but it would be nice if Pugsley put the Vise Grips® back after he was done braiding my ear hair.

After all of this, the minor irritants of life ceased to irritate me on most days.  As I became less irritated, the thing that oddly became more irritating was people complaining about minor irritations.  I then had yet another realization:  some people just like to complain.  So I added another thing to my list of things I could ignore if I chose to:

  • Annoying People

I’ll admit that not everything in my life is always exactly the way I’d create it if it were entirely up to my choice.  And that’s good.  It’s that difference (along with carbohydrates) that forces me to grow.  Bad times give me an excuse to call my friends and discuss my problems with them.

JESUS

Jesus told me I could turn water into whine.  I guess he had enough the third time I brought up airline food. 

Also, I am human.  Annoying people, especially the professional-level annoyers, still annoy me.  And the list of things I can choose to not be angry about is just that, a choice.  From Catch-22:

Dunbar loved shooting skeet because he hated every minute of it and the time passed so slowly.

…

“Do you know how long a year takes when it’s going away?”  Dunbar asked Clevinger.  “This long.”  He snapped his fingers.  “A second ago you were stepping into college with your lungs full of fresh air.  Today you’re an old man.”

“Old?”  asked Clevinger with surprise.  “What are you talking about?”

“Old.”

“I’m not old.”

“You’re inches away from death every time you go on a mission.  How much older can you be at your age?  A half minute before that you were stepping into high school, and an unhooked brassiere was as close as you ever hoped to get to Paradise.  Only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon.  Zip!  They go rocketing by so fast.  How the hell else are you ever going to slow time down?”  Dunbar was almost angry when he finished.

“Well, maybe it is true,” Clevinger conceded unwillingly in a subdued tone.  “Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it’s to seem long.  But in that event, who wants one?”

“I do,” Dunbar told him.

“Why?” Clevinger asked.

“What else is there?”

Joseph Heller was probably a bit more pessimistic than I am.  I don’t think that living a life filled with unpleasant conditions is required for a long life.  If so, people would be lining up at chiropractors to have them misalign their spines.  But, on the other hand, someone did marry my ex-wife . . . .

ex

And you pay half of all your stuff.

No, the wisdom that my boss shared with me is clear.  Spending your life torturing yourself isn’t productive, except in California.  But even during a bad time or when you’re anticipating a good time in the future, don’t wish your life away.  Each minute is a precious one.

Use them all.

I suggest skeet.

Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously – Meghan Markle PowerPoint Edition

“Okay, that is not the answer I was looking for. You show me a man with pride and I’ll show you a man with limited options.” – Malcom in the Middle

drool

Maybe we should sell PowerPoint™ presentations as an anti-insomnia treatment?

One time I volunteered to put together a presentation.  On what?  It doesn’t really matter, it’s my theory that Scott Adams is right – “PowerPoint© slides are like children:  no matter how ugly they are, you’ll think they’re beautiful if they’re yours.”  Heck, I like PowerPoint® so much I can’t even have a conversation with The Mrs. without stopping her and letting her know that they’ll be time for questions at the end.

The real reason that I volunteered to put the presentation together is that I knew the material really well, and I could work on it alone.  It’s not that I have disdain for my coworkers, it’s just that I generally think they’re insignificant insects.  I suppose qualifies me for a career as either a serial killer or being best buddies with Meghan Markle.

markle

Meghan, one bit of advice – seat belts.

One other bonus of this presentation work.  I was getting paid to do something I really like to do anyway, which is write.  So, based on an agreed upon structure and content, I was free to create a masterpiece of business information, one that would resound for ages through the annals of corporate history, or at least sit unnoticed on a shared network drive until the aliens from planet Zatar invade in the year 2241.

I will admit that I’m only nearly perfect.  The presentation was sent out the group for comments.  I’m very pleased that some typos were found, and some people had some pretty good suggestions on where I had been less than clear could have been clearer.  And I thought that the feedback was great.  In general, I really do think that more eyes will help make a presentation like this clearer and more informative.  Since this presentation would be used for training throughout the company, I did want it to be good.

beertrain

Mathematicians have an alcohol problem – they can’t drink and derive.  But they do know their limits.

However, there was one response that suggested a major change in format.  That email was followed by other team members emailing that they thought it was a good idea in a lemming-like way.  Once a group of lemmings is in full motion in a corporate setting, forget it.  Standing up against the onslaught of emails from the ever-reliable corporate coalition of the uniformed and the uninvolved never looks good.

For whatever reason, this particular situation made me as angry as a Harrison Ford when the nurse at the desk of the retirement home is out of those hard candies he likes.  The comment that suggested the format change came from the New Guy, who joined the group long after I volunteered and we decided on just what we were doing.

When I find I’m getting angry at anything in life, I try to take a step back.  I understand that, for the most part, I’m not just a sack of water and chemicals.  I was angry because I was letting myself stay angry.  Yes, your first response is your first response.  But after you have that sudden impulse of emotion, you get to choose how you feel.  Being angry is, at first, a reaction.  After that, it’s a choice.

And I was choosing to be angry.

thinking

Sorry, I can’t hear you over my inner monologue.

I pushed my chair back from my desk and away from my computer.  I think dramatic music was playing, and there may or may not have been a crescendo while the camera pulled back.  I sat for a minute and thought.

“Why am I letting myself get mad about this?”

In reviewing his commentary, the major change wouldn’t impact the actual content.  In fact, it could be used in a similar fashion.  The only change was (in my opinion) that it would be packaged with more Stupid – it was mainly a formatting change.  Stupidity is more common in the universe than hydrogen, and is universally fatal if taken in large enough doses, but this wasn’t a fatal (or even harmful) amount of Stupid, merely at the “minor inconvenience” level.

So why was I letting myself be so cheesed?

I got up and got another cup of coffee.  I try to limit myself to two pots a day.

I sat back down at my desk, and exhaled slowly.  I would refuse to be mad.  And the anger went away.  For whatever reason, this suggestion had hit at my pride.  My conclusion was that I was taking myself too seriously.  I was taking my own opinion too seriously.  And also that I hadn’t yet had enough coffee – I could still feel my jaw.

What happens when you take yourself too seriously?

yoda

So, you’re saying George Lucas is the problem?

In the worst case, you become a stereotype – the screeching over-educated-sociology major with a dozen cats and Trump Derangement Syndrome who would jump from pro-abortion to raising babies with a loving husband instead of cat farming with chardonnay if Trump decided he hated babies and marriage.  But there are other examples.  Let’s look at familiar characters that take themselves too seriously:

  • Cartman©, from the comedy cartoon, South Park™. His major source of humor to the show is his inflated self-importance and complete narcissism.  You must respect his authorit-ay.
  • Nancy Pelosi, from the live-action comedy, Congress. Like Cartman®, but skinnier and older.
  • Evil©, from the Austin Powers© movie series. Dr. Evil™ has a series of grandiose schemes based on old Bond® movies.  So, this is like Congress, but with better special effects.
  • Most Hollywood Actors. It always makes me chuckle when they take private jets to climate change conferences to meet with autistic teens who ride in multi-million dollar yachts.
  • Leftists who knit (as noted in this excellent article – LINK).

View at Medium.com

french

What do you call a Frenchman in a World Cup® final?  Referee.

When you take yourself too seriously you become a stereotype.  You become a subject (rightfully) open for ridicule, like most of the examples listed above.  As I noted, I got over being angry by putting things in perspective.

Things I try to keep in mind:

  • I’m an Internet humorist. Life is inherently a comedy, and not a tragedy.  So I try to see the humor and potential for goodness when I see myself taking things too seriously.  I have a killer standup routine that’s perfect for funerals.
  • Part of my job is changing the world to meet my expectations. It’s actually fun.  But when part of your job is to change the world, you sometimes forget that you can’t make all of the world meet your expectations.  I’ll just leave this one thought:
  • Do I really want to be the kind of person who gets upset over PowerPoint® slides? They’re not actually poisonous if you have less than eighty in a presentation according to the CDC.  In reality, most decisions that you make are meaningless.  Buy the Progresso® soup or the Campbells™?  Who cares?  You probably won’t remember the outcome of the decision in a month.  Why take that decision seriously at all?  (Get Ruffles® instead.)
  • There are things that are based in my values (Roman Virtues and Western Civilization, Complete with Monty Python): I care about those passionately and act on them.  But the effort to care about everything the way I care about those values will burn me up inside.  So, at least I could cut down on the heating bills.  Maybe I should only obsess in winter?
  • I have to realize that the person who remembers my silly mistakes, my miscues, and my faults most is me. And my ex-wife.  But my ego thinks it lives at the center of the world and that’s why it’s so protective of itself.

In the end, I made the change that irritated me to the presentation.  Yes, the presentation got a little Stupider and less easy to use, but I’m willing to admit that it doesn’t really matter.  The biggest gifts I got was two less things to care about – my ego, and changes to that presentation.

The Lighter Side of the Apocalypse

“It’s the Apocalypse all right.  I always thought I’d have a hand in it.” – Futurama

spider

I make apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.

Wednesday’s are normally a day to talk about wealth, and when you’re prepping, what is wealth?  Is it gold coins?  Is it ammunition?  Is it beer?  Is it a paid off house?  Is it a decade’s worth of PEZ®?

In many cases when I go to other websites that discuss either economic or social dislocation I see people arguing in the comments section about the way to prepare.  In some cases, these arguments have even occurred here at this humble bastion of Internet civility and decorum.  All of the people arguing are right.

No, that doesn’t mean that John Wilder is out there awarding participation trophies for comments, far from it.  The problem is one of definition.  As Tolstoy said in Anna Kareninananana, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”  Each of the stunningly attractive and freshly washed (and waxed!) geniuses that comments here has an IQ that would put Joe Biden to shame.  Yet they disagree because they’re talking about different things – each apocalypse is unique in its own way.

charlie

Protip:  if you’re a mortician, tie all of the corpses shoes together – that way if we do have a zombie apocalypse, it’ll be funny.

Therefore, I’ve decided it’s important to talk about the W.I.L.D.E.R. Scale.  It’s like the Richter Scale for earthquakes or the Fujita Scale for tornados or the Joe Biden Scale for Lying Dog Faced Pony Soldiers.  But this one is better, because I came up with it.

Most importantly, what does W.I.L.D.E.R. stand for?  It’s the:

Wilder Index of Life Disruption and Economic Ruination.

See?  W.I.L.D.E.R.  No, wait . . . W.I.L.D.E.R.™  There.  That looks better.

The scale is broken up into a ten point scale, as described below.  Why ten?  Besides being my mental age, it also describes the number of fingers that I had before using a table saw.  It’s also metric.  So, all of you people who live in countries that haven’t nuked Japan (excluding the Japanese) can have this one in metric.  But you have to keep the soccer.

NOTE:  This is not a comprehensive financial guide or preparedness guide.  Depending on the W.I.L.D.E.R.™  level you’re preparing for, this is only the barest bones of a start. 

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 0:  All Quiet

Everything’s fine.  Life is good.  Life is projected to be good – you have a job, it’s fairly secure and has good benefits and it pays the bills, mostly.  Save money in your 401k, grill some burgers and watch the game.  Go back to sleep.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 1:  Local Slowdown

What is it?

A W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 1 is the lowest level of economic disruption – local job loss, minor and non-chronic civil .  It’s not great if you’re caught up in it, but it’s pretty mild.  There may be widespread local job loss – a factory was closed.  It’s not pleasant for those caught up in it, but the underlying economy outside of that local area is sound – you may have a longer commute, but you can get a job.

What to do?

Have savings.  Have minimal debt.  In many cases, you’ll be able to keep doing what you’ve been doing, but you might have a farther commute or reduced wages.  The nice thing about a Level 1 is that if you’re willing to move to a new city, chances are you’ll find something.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 2:  Regional Slowdown

What is it?

One thing that was more common in the past in the United States was a regional level of economic slowdown.  Entire areas would remain stagnant for periods at a time, sometimes years.  In the case of New Mexico, no one really knew it was a state anyway, so we’re not even sure if New Mexico has an economy.  As we have been in the “Boom Everywhere, All the Time” mode for the last 20 years (with the exception of that pesky Great Recession), the economy of the United States seems to be far less regional, but more centered in larger cities.

But regional economic slowdowns do occur – an example would be in the Oil Patch when the price of oil first goes up, and then collapses like my resistance to a steak on Friday night.  The good news is that when the oil price collapses, you can buy a small child in Oklahoma for the price of a cheeseburger.  Not a plain cheeseburger, but the fancy one with lettuce and tomato and onion.  Oklahomans have standards.

What to do?

Have savings.  Have minimal debt.  Have a realistic budget and know the difference between what’s really required and what’s nice-to-have.  Have a house that you can either sell or walk away from.  Be prepared to change careers – have an additional skill that people will pay you for if you have to change careers.  Be prepared to sell a kidney – grow an extra one or two if you can for a rainy day.

philoso

Philosoraptor.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 3:  National Recession

What is it?

Since World War II, most recessions have lasted, on average, a little less than a year.  Recessions mean that, broadly, the economy is shrinking.  Since the entire economic (and banking) system is based on continued expansion and growth, a recession typically kicks people out of work.  During a national recession it’s easier to drive drunk and text Shakespeare from memory while smoking weed than to get a raise.

Even though the economy “recovers” after a year or so, the failures and economic transitions that come from the recession linger in many lives for up to a decade – careers at failed businesses may not be viable anywhere.  If the entire factory is shipped to China, chances are slim that the Chinese will want to import people – it’s not like there are enough bats for everyone.

What to do?

If you are graduating from college, think twice.  People who graduate during a recession and take a job during the recession typically earn less for their entire careers.  Several of my friends went to graduate school instead of into the job market during a recession.  It worked out well for one guy – he became a dictator of a country in the Middle East.  He’s generous, too.  I heard that he last week at the bar he ordered shots for lots of his friends.

If you have a job – do what you can to keep it.  Pay down remaining debt, but understand what bankruptcy might mean if you don’t have six months (or more) of cash to cover expenses.  Stock weeks of spare food, if you can.  If you can’t, start making friends with neighborhood cats.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 4:  The Great Depression

What is it?

The Great Depression, and, to a lesser extent, the Great Recession of 2008-2009 and the Stagflation of the 1970’s fit here.  These are much greater economic hits than a recession.  They are nationwide, and may threaten the economic collapse.  Expect extreme measures to get the economy working again, many of which will actually be counterproductive, but it’s government, so you expect that.  Banks will fail.  Weird things will happen to the money supply.

What to do?

If you have spare cash, this is the time to pick up great bargains.  As the Great Recession hit, the price of gold dropped significantly.  People who had debt but too many toys had to sell them – it was a great time to buy boats and cars and motorcycles and mistresses and admission for your kid at Harvard®.  Several stocks were selling at ridiculously low prices.

Why was this?  Money had dried up, so there were bargains everywhere.  Of course, I didn’t have enough money then to buy anything.  Except a house.  Before the prices collapsed.  (Spoiler – I got out of that house okay.)

Again, having no debt and cash to cover expenses is key.  Having a spouse who doesn’t work (but could) is also key – in a pinch, they can work, too, or you can sell their kidneys for buckets of wheat.

Diversify your banks.  Diversify how you keep your money – is one currency enough?  Desperate people will be desperate.  Be able to protect yourself and your family.

home

Hey, don’t laugh – I can almost buy two packs of gum in 2024 with the money in that picture.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 5:  National Collapse

What is it?

Governing structures cease to function in a meaningful way.  This is also known as “Tuesday” in most African nations.  Weimar Germany, and the late Soviet Union are examples.  They didn’t collapse in the same way – Weimar Germany collapsed in an explosion of hyperinflation.  The Soviet Union collapse was the collapse of an entire economic system, and now nobody knew who got to take the cow to the dance on Saturday.

What to do?

When nations collapse, their currency collapses.  This always happens.  In surviving any of those collapses, a pocketful of gold was more helpful than a pocketful of paper.  If the nation collapses, it can be difficult to predict the system that will replace it, but they generally are totalitarian strongmen who take over in the chaos after collapse.  The Soviet Union was a happy departure – as rough as it was on the former Soviet citizens, it could have been far worse.  Chef Boyardee was originally chosen as Gorbachev’s replacement, but they didn’t like that he called his secret police the Gazpacho.

Six months of food isn’t extravagant in a situation like this.  Some means of protection are mandatory.  Realize that changes could happen in a second, so plan.  Have friends.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 6:  Civil War

What is it?

The American Civil War, the French Revolution, and the Balkans War are examples of civil wars.  Civil wars are probably more vicious than any other type of conflict.  When the Germans started fighting the French and English in World War I, they weren’t really into it – they even stopped the war for Christmas in 1914.  But when the French finally snapped before the French Revolution?  They were ready to throw down like a rabid epileptic cat in a strobe light store.

What to do?

Moveable assets like gold or foreign bank accounts, a second passport, and lots of lead are preferred.  Be in a place (if you can) surrounded by like-minded people.  It helps if you’ve been there for years before trouble breaks out – being an outsider during a civil war isn’t preferred.  Have food – a year?  Have weapons.  Have a supply of necessary pharmaceuticals if you can.  Be aware that your side might lose the war.  What would that mean?  Oh, and don’t forget to floss.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 7:  International Collapse

What is it?

World War I and World War II are modern examples of this, but earlier examples include the fall of the Roman Empire and the late Bronze Age Collapse (~1200 B.C.) (LINK).  These are collapses that take down multiple nations and re-write borders and history.  They are cataclysmic, and are often followed by the mass movements of people, either as invading conquerors, or fleeing refugees, or in the 2010’s, fleeing conquerors and invading refugees.

target

Some things never change.  Image:  Lommes [CC BY-SA 4.0)]

What to do?

Be away from where the war is happening.  That may be more difficult than it says on the label.  All of the suggestions for Level 6 responses still fit, especially flossing, but finding a place not torn by conflict is exceedingly difficult.  Events have the ability to move very, very, fast.  If you’re in continental Europe, learning German is probably a good idea.  A year of food will likely not be enough.  Lead is recommended.  Gold may or may not help at all.  If you think it won’t, I’ll watch it for you.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 8:  Regional Extinction

What is it?

Regional extinction last occurred when the population collapsed after the Europeans brought disease to the New World.  Smallpox, measles, and high cholesterol (eventually) killed an estimated 90% of the pre-Columbus population through either disease or carryover effects.  That amounted to, perhaps, 10% of the world population at the time.

What to do?

Don’t eat bats.  Don’t welcome Spaniards.

mayans

I fell in love with a calendar.  Together we had a lot of dates.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 9:  Continental or Multi-Continental Extinction

What is it?

This hasn’t happened in recorded history.  There are some scientists that theorize that the supervolcano Tomba that erupted 75,000 years ago nearly eliminated humanity.  How close?  Genetic evidence indicates that it might have been as low as 1,000 breeding pairs of humans.  However, some people think those scientists are bunch of cotton headed ninny mugginses, and say that people were just fine – the restriction in genetic variation shows up because some people were MUCH better at propagating their genes, if you know what I mean.  Also?  Asteroids aren’t your friend.

What to do? 

Be lucky.  Wear clean underwear.  You cannot save enough food for this contingency – it may last years and the task will be nothing less than rebuilding civilization.  Read Lucifer’s Hammer for a lighthearted look at life after a Level 9.

W.I.L.D.E.R.™ Level 10:  Planetary Extinction

What is it?

Game over, man.

What to do?

Save money in your 401k, grill some burgers and watch the game.  Go back to sleep.

 

And there’s the W.I.L.D.E.R.™ scale.  Drop me an email or leave a comment if I missed something.

Hans Gruber, a Hooters Waitress, Patton, and Health

“And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.  Benefits of a classical education.” –  Hans Gruber in Die Hard

alexkerm

Alexander the Great loved chewing bubblegum and conquering Persians.  And he’s all out of Persians.  And bubblegum wasn’t invented until 2,251 years after he died.  Poor Alexander.

One thing that I think holds people back isn’t that they plan, it’s that they don’t plan big enough.  I’ve been fortunate enough in my life that I’ve made most of my goals come true.  That may sound like a good thing, but is it?

Of course it is.  It’s really cool to be able to be successful at achieving your goals, because losing sucks, and if you have great goals you end up with Cash and Prizes®.

But what would happen one day if I looked around and said . . . “I’ve done it.  I’ve accomplished everything I’ve set out to do.”  What purpose is left to drive me?  And if I did reach all of my dreams, what’s left to work for?

An example of exactly this happening is Buzz Aldrin.  At the age of 39, Buzz walked on the Moon.  The frikking Moon.  It’s so difficult and expensive to do, we can’t do it today.  Yet Buzz was the second guy to walk on the Moon.  As a goal it’s awesome.  But like the miniature schnauzer that catches a Humvee®, what do you do once you’ve won?  Buzz didn’t have a clue, but he didn’t have a problem asking Jack Daniels™ for assistance.

Another example is General George S. Patton.  Patton had been a highly competent general in World War II – daring, audacious, and cromulent.  Yet, he found himself in a position where the war that he knew how to fight was gone – it was over.  In his diary he wrote:  “Yet another war has come to an end, and with it my usefulness to the world.”

patton

Little known fact:  French tanks in World War II had rear view mirrors.  Those were so they could observe the front line.

But Patton and Aldrin aren’t alone with this conundrum of having their success be the source of their discontent – you see this behavior again and again.  It’s a common story in Hollywood:  nobody to somebody to discovered cocaine to dead.  Or, if the actor has a heart made of titanium, they become beloved actor Robert Downey, Jr.  The most interesting part of that is the cocaine, especially to Robert Downey, Jr.  Although you might think cocaine comes from Colombia, it really comes from the boredom of having everything you want.

It’s curious that one of the things that keeps us healthy and not developing a liver the size of Johnny Depp is the struggle to achieve a goal.  In the absence of meaningful goals, bad things happen to people.  They drink too much.  They vote for the Left.  They get depressed – why get out of bed when there’s nothing to work for?

Goals are important – and there are two ways that you can lose them:

  • Believe that they are impossible and give up, or
  • Achieve them all and run out of goals.

Essentially these are the opposite problems – one is believing you’ve got to play a football game against the 1985 Chicago Bears® using 11 toddlers.  The other is being on the 1985 Chicago Bears© and playing 11 toddlers.

dallas

I know it’s a soccer ball in the trophy.  It’s not like the Cowboys® would recognize a real football.

Both are no-win outcomes.  Toddlers cannot run a receiving pattern at all.  And they cannot hold a block long enough for their toddler-quarterback to get a decent pass off.  And if you’re the 1985 Chicago Bears™, what’s the best thing that could happen?  You beat a bunch of toddlers.  I mean, it’s fun and all, but it’s hardly a greater achievement than defeating the Dallas Cowboys© or a school for ten-year-old girls that lisp.

A goal is required for good mental health.  The very best goals require that you work at your limits, pushing yourself to become better.  They’re goals that you believe you can achieve.  And they’re goals where you can see a path to make them become real.  And the best part of the goal is at the end, after you’ve achieved it, if you plan ahead you’ve got another goal waiting.

hooter

One of the waitresses at Hooters® lost a leg in a car accident last week.  She now has a job at IHOP™.

As I mentioned in Wednesday’s post (Playing The Game, And Goals For Life) I had goals, just not work-related goals.  I’ve been working to create some, and I’m not there yet.  That’s okay.  The goals have to be meaningful.  And I’m not working without a net – I have sufficient goals out in front of me that even if I couldn’t work out a work goal, I have plenty of others.  Is having a cup of fresh, hot coffee a good goal?  Dangit.  Back to the drawing board.

So, what about these great men who had everything when they accomplished the goals of a lifetime?

Patton’s uncharacteristic self-pity in the quote from his diary was the result of his achievement – the war was won, and he contributed to the Allied victory on the Western Front.  He had fame.  Only 11 men had ever had a higher rank in the military.  From what I read about Patton, I’m willing to bet that he would have been able to channel himself into a post-war United States without too much difficulty.

Would he have been a politician?  Hard to say.  It’s unlikely that he would have the desire to speak pretty little lies just to get elected.  But you can bet one thing – if he hadn’t died, Patton would have done his level best to shake up the United States.  I wouldn’t bet against him.

And what about Buzz Aldrin?  Buzz crawled into a bottle and managed to skip most of the 1970’s.  Admittedly, that wasn’t a bad decade to skip since not having a memory of the Bee Gees® is something some people would pay for.  At some point I believe that he managed to come to a truce with the Moon.  He decided to instead focus on making money for himself and to be a spokesman for his cause:  “Get your ass to Mars®.”  Is being a celebrity spokesmodel as exciting as going to the frikking Moon?  Certainly not.  But you might as well be comfortable if you flew to the frikking Moon.

buzzmars

Buzz Aldrin sadly got divorced in the 1970’s.  Apparently his wife needed space, too.

But Hans Gruber got it wrong.  Plutarch actually wrote:

Alexander wept when he heard from Anaxarchus that there was an infinite number of worlds; and his friends asking him if any accident had befallen him, he returns this answer:  “Do you not think it a matter worthy of lamentation that when there is such a vast multitude of them, we have not yet conquered one?”

In this case, Alexander is saying the exact opposite of the Hans Gruber quote – that he had a goal to conquer an entire world, but wept because his dream wasn’t yet complete.  The moral of the story?

gruber

Maybe if Hans knew his Plutarch better he might have not fallen off the Nakatomi Plaza Tower.