Posts Tagged With: Thomas Aquinas

This and that from re Thai r ment, by 3Th. 6 Cold Tits 0007. (February 21, 2018)

 

 

 

 

“Middle ground only comes in war after lots of people have died—and only after the important people are worried they might actually lose.”

Sanderson, Brandon. Oathbringer: Book Three of the Stormlight Archive (p. 219). Tom Doherty Associates.

 

 

 

TODAY FROM AMERICA:

 

A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN EL DORADO HILLS:

The weather broke colder this weekend. The temperature dropped from the mid-seventies to the mid-fifties. Not cold by the measure of those places that enjoy (or suffer) real winters, but enough to make these old bones prefer indoors with a warm cup of coffee to walking outdoors no matter how good the exercise may be for them. Nevertheless, on Sunday, instead of my usual stroll around the lakes, I rambled a bit through SDS park near my house. The paths in the park mostly circle the community playing fields and pool. One path, however, branches off through the woods and along the creek. It, for some reason, is called, New York Park. I rarely take that path because it contains signs that say, “Beware of Mountain Lions.” Next to bears, I fear mountain lions most.

Recently, I posted on Facebook a short piece I had written a few years ago about the 1950s Rock group Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers. In 1956 or 1957, I attended a concert featuring the group in Brooklyn’s old Fox Theater with a young lady friend. We were both teenagers 16 or 17 at the time. We have not seen each other for over 60 years so imagine my surprise when that Facebook post received a “Like” from her.

Now, I believe Facebook is one of the most pernicious things to have been foisted on humanity since the invention of warfare, nevertheless, for the anziani like me, something like this can make our day — perhaps even our whole week.
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Facebook Addiction.

I spent Monday helping Naida move some things around her house and disposing of some of Bill’s old clothing at Goodwill. While erecting a bookcase in her office, I noticed an amazing collection of books set in or about California during the period in which she set her great California Gold Country Trilogy. Many of the books she used for research. She pointed out a few places where she adapted the information for use in her novels. She also told me that while writing the books and even after they were published she received a number of original diaries written by people who lived in the area at the time in which the novels were set, including one that was so fantastic and dramatic that I still cannot get it out of my mind.

While the story contained in that diary (now lost) that she told me about while we took a coffee break is too long and mysterious to relate in its entirety here, some of the background is quite interesting. It all had something to do with the gold discovery at John Sutter’s Mill in 1748. Marshall was not the first to discover gold in California. Several others had done so before him. There was even an anemic and brief gold rush when gold was discovered In Southern California about 20 years before — in the San Gabriel Mountains I believe. About a year before Marshall’s find, a Mormon family had found gold in what is now the City of Folsom. They busily packed the gold dust and nuggets they had located in the local creeks into barrels. They intended eventually use the treasure to found the Temple City of the Mormons in the golden hills somewhere near where I currently reside. Unfortunately or fortunately depending on your view of the Latter Day Saints, Brigham Young, their leader, took sick with rocky mountain spotted fever somewhere near the desolate shores of the Great Salt Lake in what is now the State of Utah and declared to all that God had decided he would build his New Jerusalem there rather than in California. The Mormon gold digging family tried to dissuade the leader of their church by pointing out the golden hills were indeed golden, the great valley contained some of the richest farmlands on earth and the native people were willing slaves. But, despite their arguments, their entreaties fell on deaf ears. So, about the time Marshall and his cronies were setting about publicizing their find, they packed up their treasure and returned over the hills to found their blessed City on the Mountain or in this case the desert.

Marshall found the gold at John Sutter’s the mill site in early January of that fateful year but did not announce it publicly until May. What he and his cronies — among which was the writer of one of the diaries Naida obtained — spent those almost five months searching for additional rich sites, securing the land, obtaining the supplies miners would need, establishing the campsites the miners would require as they traveled from San Francisco to the future diggings in the foothills and so on. In other words, it was intended to be a vast real estate scheme in the grand California tradition.
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To put everything in context, it is probably important to recognize that San Francisco in March of that year when Sam Brannon — who may or may not have been one of the conspirators — prematurely ran down the City’s main street shouting that gold had been discovered, only about 350 persons of European descent and about 800 of African, Asian and Latino heritage lived in the City by the Bay. The Europeans who reaped most of the benefits of the scheme, as they usually do, were for the most part little more than thugs. Within the next five years or so, over 80,000 people flooded into the City in pursuit of the riches that ultimately mostly ended up in the hands and pockets of the thugs and conspirators. After all, in good old American business theory, the greedy grubby miners could be viewed as little more than unpaid workers and small independent contractors who paid to the conspirators for supplies, food, drink, and rent almost every penny of value they received from anything they dug up.

And what of Marshall? He was by some reports a very dislikable man, contentious, perhaps violent and a bit deranged who, after all this, died broke. But not before, along with some friends, Folsom, Ord (of Fort Ord fame), and others had dinner as guests in the home of William L. Leidesdorf. Leidesdorf, a black man from St Croix, a shipowner and accountant, was the wealthiest man in San Francisco at the time (he is also considered the founder of San Francisco). He owned the land upon which the Mormons discovered their gold. He, in partnership with John Sutter, had acted as agent for the sale of the gold discovered in the area charging a 50% commission for their efforts while trying to keep the existence of the discoveries quiet. During that very dinner, according to the now lost diary, the host died under mysterious circumstances. Shortly thereafter Leidesdorf’s mother living is St Croix and his only heir received almost $800,000 (out of over $2,000,000 promised, the remainder of which she never received) in today’s money for renouncing her interest in her son’s estate that had been left to her by him and worth more than $50 million today’s value. When the estate was finally probated the land containing most of the value in that estate passed into the hands of the guest whose name the city eventually built thereon now bears his name. But, that is all another story.
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Leidesdorf                                  Folsom

Today, the skies and clear, the temperature in the mid-sixties. I continue to kick the can down the road as to not only what I shall be doing next month and to where I may be traveling but for the rest of my life as well. There are some days that that bothers me a lot and some nights it actually makes me thrash about in despair for a few minutes before I fall asleep.

As for my projected travels, while I agree with Josiah Bancroft’s dictum “Never let a rigid itinerary discourage you from an unexpected adventure,” I prefer to dispense with the “itinerary” altogether and get right on with the “unexpected adventure.”

Today, I saw my first ornamental fruit tree in bloom. Spring has arrived, appropriately on Valentine’s Day.
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I never liked Valentine’s Day. In grammar school, before they began requiring everyone to receive a Valentine’s Day card, I rarely got any even though my mom made me bring one for each kid in the class. I wasn’t a bully, just the quiet weird kid who sat in the corner and read history textbooks. The bullies all received Valentine’s Day cards. Everyone likes winners. Come to think of if, there were (and still are) very few holidays I liked, As a kid, I liked Fourth of July. The volunteer fire department in the little town I grew up in always put on a bitchin fireworks display. Memorial Day was pretty good also. A bunch of families would gather together at a place called Peach Lake in Westchester County, New York. The men would eat raw clams all day, drink beer from kegs and get drunk. The women would get angry because the men were all drunk and then the arguments would start. In a way, it was a little like Fourth of July, lots of fireworks. One day, my father drove the car into the stream that fed the lake — my brother and I sitting in the back seat thought it was great fun — my mother, not so much.

Another week has gone by, more trees have burst into bloom and the daffodils have pushed through the earth and splashed some of the local gardens with streaks of buttery yellow. I have not felt well this week, fatigue and listlessness. It could be the change of seasons. It often affects me like this. Well, not to worry, it is whatever it is.

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On Saturday, I helped Naida move more things out of the house, drove HRM to various skate parks, read late into the night and struggled with my fury over the latest massacre of innocents in school by right-wing fanatics with an assault rifle.

 

B. PONDEROUS PONDERINGS AND MEANDERING EPHEMERA:

Like most people I guess, I have lived more than one life — in my case three. We all live our own timelines of course, from birth to death and whatever might happen in between. I seemed to have lived my life in about five year or so increments usually ending in some life altering collapse, usually self-inflicted. After that, there would be about three years or so of wandering in between each phase as I tried to put my life back together.

My second life was the almost 15,000 books I have read in the past 75 years or so, most of them fiction — and most of the fiction fantasy — the farther from the mundane the better. I do not read words. Only images run past my eyes.

My third life is my dreams. Often they impinge on my waking memory and I believe things occurred in my life that never happened. For example, for years I believed there was a seacoast town I would periodically visit. I knew the people, the shops, streets and so on. One morning, I thought it would be pleasant to visit the place for a day or two. I searched for how to get to it and discovered it did not exist. It made me wonder not whether I was crazy or not but what else it was that I remember that also may be fantasy. On the other hand, I could be stuck in an ontological cul de sac or is it an epistemological dead end. There is no question, however, that I live in a metaphysical planned unit development with Descartes my neighbor on one side, Schrodinger on the other and Timothy Leary showing up once a week with a philosophical leaf blower strapped to his back.

 

 

 

PETRILLO’S RANT:

Ruth sent me the picture that is posted at the end of this entry. It is also posted and shared on Facebook. It is a drawing of Aaron Feis He is one of the heroes tragic massacre at the school in Parkland Florida where a young white nationalist and NRA supporter opened fire with an AR-15 on the students and teachers in the school killing at least 17 of them. Feis, a gym teacher, placed himself between the shooter and his students to protect them. He was shot several times. There were other heroes in this tragedy including one young man who held the door closed to the classroom in which his classmates were cowering in order to keep the assassin out while bullets tore through the door and into his body.

Rather than also adding my heartfelt support to the reams of articles calling for gun control or bemoaning the unconscionable corrupting influence on the body politic of the NRA or immoral and cowardly behavior of the Republican Party, I want to know where are the monuments to these heroes and those like them who have given their lives to save the innocent from crazed true believers armed with weapons of war who with ever-increasing frequency kill our children and our neighbors? Where are their parades, mausoleums permanently guarded by uniformed sentinels, statues in the park, flags flown in their honor, and anthems sung? These heroes are not those who agreed to put on uniforms, place themselves in harm’s way, bear armaments designed for mass killing, are trained to fight and kill and who face similarly armed forces dedicated to killing them in turn. The heroes like those who died at Parkland did not sign up to put themselves in danger, did not expect to become victims of a mad war on innocents and children manipulated by a criminal industry and abetted by a corrupt political class. They, these heroes, nevertheless, rose to the task unbidden to protect their fellow Americans their fellow humans no matter their beliefs or backgrounds. Where are their memorials? Only in our tears?

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MOPEY JOE’S MEMORIES:

From “Urban Edginess.”
(https://planningimplementation.wordpress.com/2018/02/12/waterfrontage-the-urban-waterfront-morro-bay-and-arbroath/)

Over 40 years ago, I helped draft the California Coastal Plan. Among the elements of that plan was the Government, Planning and Powers element that I authored and from which the structure of the massive California Coastal Program was drafted into several separate pieces of Legislation including the creation of the California Coastal Commission to regulate new development along California’s 1500 mile coast; a 300 million dollar bond act to begin purchasing those recreational and environmental lands of irreplaceable value and; the creation of a novel agency the State Coastal Conservancy whose job it was to facilitate the purchase of lands needed for planning purposes (e.g. buffer areas for coastal cities, consolidation of unbuilt out subdivisions and the like), restoration of coastal resources threatened or degraded by pre-existing development, urban waterfront restoration, public access and coastal dependent agriculture preservation.

Shortly after the passage of the legislation in 1976, I became the first Executive Officer of the Slate Coastal Conservancy. During my tenure, the Conservancy published a magazine entitled “WaterfrontAge.” It was focused primarily upon the urban waterfront, the use of land acquisitions to control the spread of urban development into existing undeveloped areas along the shoreline and general resource restoration initiatives.

After I left the Conservancy the magazine’s name was changed to “Coast and Ocean.” Its focus was shifted from the urban environment to the rural environment. This change reflected the tension between two points of view among those involved in coastal matters. There were those who believed the emphasis should be on controlling the spread of existing urban development onto highly valuable resource and open space areas and to provide for those urban amenities that would encourage people to want to remain or resettle in those urban areas.(e.g. parks, recreation, visitor-serving uses.) On the other side, there are those who believed that government’s role should be focused primarily on preventing development wherever it does not currently exist. Of course, there were also those who believe a government should not be involved at all in the business of protecting resources and regulating industrial, commercial and residential development.

Recently, while wandering through the internet, I came upon a copy of the third issue of “WaterfrontAge” from about 35 years ago. In it was my introduction to the issue. I thought it would be interesting to re-published it here to see how well it has aged.

“I BELIEVE there are two primary elements that reappear in the urban waterfronts we consider exciting and attractive. The first element is a cluster of activities that require a waterfront location — recreational uses such as bathing or boating; commercial uses like fishing, cruise-ship berthing, boat haul-out facilities, and port operations; and environmental uses such as the wildlife sanctuary described in the previous issue of WaterfrontAge. The second element is public access: whether achieved by paths, boardwalks, or promenades, public access adds to the vitality and color of the area and certainly improves the overall value of the waterfront location, both for the public served and for the commercial ventures nearby. The variety of uses on the waterfront-sometimes in startling juxtaposition-attracts a variety of visitors and public access increases the force of that attraction. However, it seems that these two requirements, access and water-related uses, must exist together to guarantee a lively waterfront.”

“In addition to these primary elements, the waterfront should provide activities for their support such as boat repair facilities, chandleries, bait shops, restaurants, and even hotels. Beyond this the normal city uses and densities are appropriate.”

“In my travels, I have found this pattern of waterfront development remarkably consistent in both recreational and working waterfronts. In particular, in Scotland, I happened upon a small fishing Village on the east coast called Arbroath. Its harbor, encircled by walkways and old stone breakwaters, teems with activity; recreational and fishing boats jostle one another; people strolling stop to watch the fishing boats unloading and processing their catch or to watch the fish being smoked. Restaurants, inns, and shops line the streets nearby and overlook the harbor, and the houses of residents peek out over the scene.”

“Adjacent to all this activity, a small rocky beach is crowded with bathers. But surprisingly, a few hundred yards away and still visible from the harbor, there is a wide sandy beach, backed by a handsome promenade and an empty grassy slope. The beach and its park are often deserted, in marked contrast to the busy harbor area. The contrast suggests a connection between the harbor’s development and its appeal; unlike the solitary beach, the harbor provides facilities, for a variety of activities as well as simple access.”

“Arbroath and other well-known waterfront cities arrived at this pattern of development by trial and error. The pressures of competing uses on the waterfront led to the development of a variety of different industries side-by-side. In addition, certain industries, such as fishing, boating, and lodging enforced the need for public access to the waterfront.”

“Recently, the State Coastal Conservancy’ has embarked on a number of projects that seek to help establish this pattern in some of California’s urban waterfronts.”

“In Morro Bay, a small town in San Luis Obispo County, our application of these elements is nearing completion. The Conservancy has had a tremendous influence on Morro Bay’s waterfront.The area is particularly suitable for the Conservancy’s projects because it has remained largely undeveloped, and our projects can influence the shape of future development. We decided that it was inappropriate and unnecessary to attempt to redevelop the area so we decided instead to anticipate future growth and provide the structural elements around which the waterfront could develop as the city of Morro Bay grows.”

“This meant that our projects aimed to manipulate the existing development pressures into patterns which would guarantee the long-term health of the waterfront as well as provide public amenities.”

“The Embarcadero had become crowded with commercial uses which had come to exclude other uses. Our first project was to open the area to public use by planning two public parks at either end of the Embarcadero. From the Embarcadero, the view of Morro Bay’s striking harbor had been gradually cut off by restaurants built over the water on pilings. Ironically, the commercial value of the view had led to the development that threatened that very view, one of the major tourist attractions of the area. One Conservancy project extends viewing platforms from the streets that end at the harbor’s edge; these platforms also provide physical access to the harbor by including ramps leading down to floating docks. The docks are to be used by visiting boaters, who would be able to dock there and visit the city’s restaurants and shops. This improved access has created considerable interest among private developers, who see a likely market for visiting boaters.”

“The local commercial fishing industry, containing the largest active fleet in southern California was enhanced by a Conservancy grant for a new commercial fishing pier for tying up fishing boats and unloading the catch. By ordinance, the commercial fishing fleet on the northern end of the Embarcadero is protected from the pressures of lucrative visitor-serving development. However, the city administrator at Morro Bay, Gary Napper, considers the fishing fleet’s activities a major tourist attraction. Visitors come to the pier especially to watch the fish scooped from the boats the dropped in a cascade into the carts on the docks on their way to the nearby processing plant. The push to diversify the uses of the waterfront has included recent plans to make a major fish-processing plant stretching from downtown to the Embarcadero itself, which should improve the quality of that product and provide an interesting fixture for tourists to visit.
Most recently, the initial steps have been taken to provide some public financing for the construction of two hotels to support the rehabilitation of Morro Bay’s waterfront. In contrast to this large-scale commercial development, part of the Conservancy’s program at Morro Bay has been the restoration and preservation of the extensive dune areas north of the town center.”

“Mayor Bud Zeuchner considers the economics of the waterfront’s development secondary to the need to preserve the aesthetic value of the setting, which is considerable. He believes that the Conservancy’s projects have successfully combined the conflicting pressures (to develop commerce, to preserve natural beauty, to encourage tourism) into a compatible system. The final product, he anticipates, will be a waterfront where water and land both meet the people and meet the people’s needs. The comprehensive plan which embraces Morro Bay’s waterfront does not allow anyone use to intrude on any other, yet still encourages a great variety of water-dependent uses of the waterfront.”

“Every effort has been made to pattern Morro Bay’s waterfront after the liveliest urban waterfronts, like that at Arbroath. The Conservancy’s projects have sought to combine commercial, recreational, and environmental elements of water-dependent activity, to juxtapose these uses for more efficiency and interest, and to provide sufficient access to the waterfront to encourage visitors.”

“Although it remains to be seen if Morro Bay’s waterfront, which is bound to grow, develops into the lively and productive setting we find in the world’s most successful waterfronts, I think a good start has been made.”

 

 

 

 

PEPE’S POTPOURRI:

 

A. On Top: The Joy of Overwriting.

“There was an unhuman presence on the other side of the door: it made the skin on my wrists tingle and brought an electric taste to my tongue. I listened with my ears and an inner sense I’d been uneasily practicing for the past year. Tuning in on the uncanny channel brought me a faint sizzling, chittering echo of chaotic un-minds jostling for proximity to the warm, pulsing, squishy meatsacks. The lightning-blue taste of a warded summoning grid—not a large one, just an electrified pentacle unrolled on a desk—was like fingernails on a blackboard: Andy was conducting midnight invocations by the light of a backlit monitor. Okay, so he wasn’t being totally stupid about this. But it still set my teeth on edge.”

Stross, Charles. The Rhesus Chart (Laundry Files Book 5) (p. 10). Penguin Publishing Group.

 

A. Tuckahoe Joe’s Blog of the Week:

I found this in https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/pulp-fiction. Enjoy…

“Ezekiel 25:17. “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.” I been sayin’ that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin’ made me think twice. Now I’m thinkin’: it could mean you’re the evil man. And I’m the righteous man. And Mr. .45 here, he’s the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you’re the righteous man and I’m the shepherd and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. I’d like that. But that shit ain’t the truth. The truth is you’re the weak. And I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.

he became the shepherd instead of the vengeance.

Jules Winnfield- Samuel L. Jackson”

― Quentin Tarantino, Pulp Fiction: A Quentin Tarantino Screenplay.
(JP — Imagine, Jackson had to memorize the entire passage and recite it while acting the part. I always found memorization to be the most difficult aspect of acting. Often, I would resort to making words up whenever I forgot them during a performance. It would drive the director crazy when I would make up whole lines of Shakespearian verse. The audience, however, never caught on.)

 

B. Trenz Pruca’s Observations:

Have you ever wondered why it is that humanity’s great ability to innovate and alter our physical environment for the better seems never to extend to our conscience?

 
C. Today’s Poem

Astrud GilbertoGirl From Ipanema

Tall and tanned and young and lovely,
The girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes, each one she passes goes, “Aaah…”
When she walks, she’s like a samba
That swings so cool and sways so gently
That when she passes, each one she passes goes, “Aaah…”
Oh, but he watches so sadly –
How can he tell her he loves her?
Yes, he would give his heart gladly,
But each day when she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead — not at he
Tall and tan and young and lovely,
The girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes, he smiles, but she doesn’t see…

Oh, but he watches her so sadly –
How can he tell her he loves her?
Yes, he would give his heart gladly,
But each day when she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead — not at he
Tall and tanned and young and lovely,
The girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes, he smiles, but she doesn’t see…
She just doesn’t see…
No, she doesn’t see…
But she doesn’t see…
She doesn’t see…
No, she doesn’t see…
ANTONIO CARLOS JOBIM, DAVID JOHN GLEDHILL

 

D. Xander’s Musings:

Hook, Line, and Sinker Part 2

As I composed this, it was a little after 8:00 p.m. last night on what was a fun but demanding day: Alex, my older grandson, turned three today. No noisy party, no big deal, although his real birthday present comes in two weeks when the family is going to Walt Disney World and the Bahamas. Things have changed a LOT from the days when I was a kid!

Back then, in the Dark Ages, birthday presents were normally badly needed new clothes, underwear, or shoes. When I was about to turn 7, however, I made it abundantly clear that I was hoping to get a butterfly net for my birthday. It was expensive, too — $7.00. In 1961 dollars, that was equivalent to maybe $40 or $50 today; I haven’t priced butterfly nets recently — I just try to avoid men in all-white clothing chasing me with big ones. Yes, I suppose I was getting a head start on the collecting binge that 4th graders go through — collecting coins, stamps, rocks, butterflies and moths, dolls, toy soldiers — you name it. And just last Wednesday, as I was leaving after my doctor’s visit, sure enough, a boy about 9 or 10 ran up to me to show me the beautiful butterfly he’d just caught . . . and it was huge.

Nerd that I am, I pointed out that actually, it was a moth. “That’s not a moth,” he said, but Pete, the nerd naturalist, used the occasion to instruct the kid, pointing out that butterflies have simple thin antennae; this bad boy bug had antennae that looked like enormous feathers. Like the big fat sphinx moths, looking more like a small bird you see at twilight in a lighted stadium [http://www.pbase.com/rcm1840/image/135226348] or gas station . . . or if you had a honeysuckle vine in early summer, like I did as a kid, you’ll remember their fat bodies, the red and white horizontal stripes on those tasty juicy fat bodies (well, to a bird, but these are what tomato hornworms turn into), and from somewhere deep in that scary dungeon that is my brain, I said without even thinking, “That’s called a Cecropia moth.” How the hell I remembered that obscure factoid from over half a century ago is just something I do, and it’s scary. But here’s a link so you can maybe see why I would’ve never forgotten its name, so you can see just how cool that moth is: http://photobucket.com/images/Cecropia+Moth#!

So what does all that have to do with steelhead, the subject several days ago? A steelhead is a rainbow trout, right? It’s a trout that travels down creeks and rivers to the ocean, there to fatten up for a few years, to come back up their natal creeks and rivers to spawn. Unlike our five species of Pacific salmon, however, steelhead don’t necessarily die after spawning; in fact, some even spawn three or four times in their lifetimes (sounds about like me . . . ) But so what?

Well, it’s a pretty BIG “so what.” It isn’t just that they’re anadromous; it isn’t just that they don’t die after spawning. In fact, even among steelhead, there are amazing adaptations that individual populations have. They’re not just one kind of fish; BUT fisheries biologists in the late 1800s up until even today, unfortunately, certainly thought so. Back then, a rainbow was a rainbow, and the distinction between stay-at-home rainbows and anadromous ones was ignored or not known. They were all gathered up. The biologists stripped them of their eggs and sperm, mixed it all up, stream-resident rainbows and migratory steelhead rainbows, redband trout of different races, and produced “rainbow trout” to stock in every little creek, pond, or lake that would support trout, whether it already had some or not, since “these trout were produced by science!” Tens of thousands of years of survival in harsh, almost unbelievable conditions, led to important adaptations, but the biologists didn’t know that or care to know, for that matter. They shipped those fertilized eggs, or baby trout, or fingerling trout, or “catchable” five-per-pound rainbows all around the world. Hatchery trout are designed to produce hatchery fish, eating food pellets. It’s illegal to “chum” in most areas of California, but I wonder what would happen if you went to a lake recently stocked with hatchery rainbows, and scattered handfuls of gravel, like a hatchery worker ringing the dinner ball. Think you could catch your limit then, with the lake’s entire shipment of factory fish swarming near you, eagerly looking for the “food?”

“SO?” I hear you say. Well, for one thing, rainbow trout are aggressive fish, and hatchery rainbow trout are aggressive . . . and stupid. They are produced because hatchery life created the soulless creatures to provide meat, and for no other reason. Well, ask any fly fisherman (male or female) who’s been skunked, and he’ll say that he matched the hatch with a Size 20 Chironomid pupa pattern and a 6X tippet, to this one trout, and it refused to take despite fifteen perfect casts, and it was the smartest goddamned fish he’d ever seen. [Note to all women who have been made trout fishing widows by their husbands: Fish are actually pretty stupid and have tiny little brains. So tease your hubbys, but don’t push it too far. Right. Put a worm on a hook, and that trout’s ass is yours.

These dumbed-down hatchery fish — beautifully nicknamed “rubber trout” or “factory trout” by the late Robert H. Smith, author of Native Trout of North America, in which he detailed his lifelong task of catching and photographing every species and subspecies of salmonid in North America (even in high-elevation streams below the Tropic of Cancer in the Sierra Madre Occidental on mainland Mexico, where as many as possibly six or more undescribed new species live), the hatchery trout have had the very precise body language of the species bred out of them. They don’t understand the posturing of native fish, instead, disrupting the orderly and understood body language of wild native fish and just blundering their way through, shooting their wad while native pairs of trout are spawning, weakening the gene pool, displacing the wild native fish, and eventually replacing the natives . . . kind of like what white Europeans did to the world. (to be Continued)

 

E. Giants of History:

Nothing to report today.

 

 

 

 

 

TODAY’S POSTER:
feanor_wants_you_by_gothcorn-da3hv31

 

 

 

 

TODAY’S CHART:
Net_worth_and_financial_wealth

 

 

 

 

 

 

TODAY’S PHOTOGRAPH:

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Toms Strutting Their Stuff at Campus Commons.

 

Categories: January through March 2018, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This and that from re Thai r ment, by 3Th. 28 Pookie 0001 (December 9, 2012)

“It is requisite for the relaxation of the mind that we make use,  from time to time, of playful deeds and jokes.” 

Thomas Aquinas

 

TODAY FROM THAILAND:

A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN THAILAND:

1. An author speaks:

I read an interesting article in one of the local english language newspapers recently.

A fairly well-known British author on a speaking tour of Southeast Asia was asked how he got into writing. He explained that after university he was working as a geologist in South Asia when he read a travel book written by another well-known writer, John Morris, about his experiences accompanying an expedition to climb Mt. Everest. Impressed, he decided he wanted to become a writer also and promptly wrote to Mr. Morris for advice. Mr Morris wrote back that, if he wanted to become a writer, he should first get a job as a newspaper reporter.

The author returned to England and got a job as a reporter for a newspaper in a small english town. He then wrote back to Morris asking what he should do now. Morris advised him to gather up a suitable number of articles he had written, and send them to him for his review and comment. The author did and after an exchange of letters asked permission to visit Morris in his home. It was granted and a few weeks later the author found himself in front of the door to Morris’ home. Upon entering he saw someone with long hair kneeling in the vestibule. Assuming it was Mrs. Morris he enquired, “Mrs. Morris?” To which the person responded, “no, she is upstairs and will be down in a moment,” and left.

Mrs. Morris and her daughter did indeed come down and after a pleasant chat invited the author to spend the night in the guest room.

That night before retiring he noticed a note on the bed addressed to him. The note explained that the person who met him at the door was John Morris and that he had always believed he was a woman in a man’s body and was leaving in a few weeks for an operation that would rectify the situation. The note added that if the author was not offended by this and still wanted to be the writers friend, they could meet again in the morning. He did and they did. The operation went on as planned and the now Jan Morris has been the authors best friend since then.

2. A passing:

Today while at the health club the Little Masseuse told me that her ex-husband had died suddenly yesterday. Her eyes were glistening through her blurred mascara as she explained the he was found slumped in his seat on the bus he was riding. No one knew he was dead until the bus had gotten to its last stop. The other passengers thought he was just another old man sleeping off the day’s exhaustion.
He had been living with their son after the relationship he had left LM for broke up. Before that he was a member of the Thai Coast-Guard.

LM asked me for 1000 baht (about $30) to defray funeral and burial costs. I agreed.

Last night or perhaps the night before, I could not get to sleep, terrorized by the fear I would pass through my declining years alone; perhaps still here in my little room in BKK. Estranged is an odd word and yet I wonder why it feels so appropriate to me. My choice I suppose.

LM must be suffering now. Although it was long past their time together, it was still a big part of her life for as long as it lasted. Now permanently severed. Scary.

I know I am a little more than a mobile ATM. Could there be a mutual dependency there? Of course there could.

B. NEWS STRAIGHT OR SLIGHTLY BENT:

1. Ladies only parking

In Bangkok, several parking structures have a “ladies only” parking floor equipped with female guards to enforce the mandate. The walls and columns of these exclusive domains usually are highlighted in pink.

Pink, as everyone knows, is the color more adored by women than any other. As opposed to grey which men prefer because they are all color blind.

It is unknown at this time if Chazz Bono will be allowed to park on these floors.

2. Choose your ring tone

An international cell phone company recently announced that they are developing a magnetic tattoo ink that would cause a person’s skin to vibrate whenever he or she has an incoming call.

Where would you choose to place your vibrating tattoo?

3. Dangerous occupation.

Today the Bangkok english language press reported the death of two rubber tappers working on separate rubber plantations in Thailand. One involved a woman who, while engaged in tapping the rubber trees to collect the latex, was killed by a herd of stampeding wild elephants. On another plantation a woman engaged in the same activity was eaten by a tiger.

Do not allow your children to grow up and become rubber tappers.

PETRILLO’S COMMENTARY:

I ran across an interesting commentary by the ever insightful Brad Delong regarding Nick Eberstadt’s Book, A Nation of Takers. I thought I would share it with you.

“It is a curious and remarkable thing. Go to Nick Eberstadt’s A Nation of Takers and you discover him writing about:

‘The breathtaking growth of [personal] entitlement payments…. In 1960, U.S. government transfers to individuals from all programs totaled $24 billion. By 2010, the outlay for entitlements was almost 100 times more… the nominal growth in entitlement payments… was rising by an explosive average of 9.5% per annum for fifty straight years…’

But of that 9.5%, 6.9% simply matches the growth of potential nominal GDP from inflation, labor-force growth, and productivity growth.

That leaves excess entitlement spending growth of 2.6%/year.

That excess has three causes. First, 38% of federal transfer programs are health programs. Few indeed drop out of work today and become moochers because they want to qualify for Medicaid, or they look forward to Medicare. A government that pays doctors for treating sick people does not a nation of takers make.

Second, an aging population since 1960 is responsible for 1/10 of today’s non-health transfers. And the depressed economy is responsible for another 1/7: more old people, families that don’t normally qualify for food stamps qualifying for them because of unemployment, and workers who paid into the unemployment insurance system using it for what it was intended for. This is not a shift in the generosity of our safety net.

Subtract off these, and you are left with the third cause: our non-health safety net has become more generous over the past two generations.

By how much?

The non-health aging- and cyclically-adjusted transfer spending of the federal government has grown since 1960 relative to potential GDP at a rate of 0.9%/year.

That is less than one-tenth of Eberstadt’s headline number.

It is that less than 1%/year growth rate is supposed to have turned us from a self-reliant entrepreneurial people in 1960 into ‘a nation of takers’, an ‘an incoherent amalgam of interest groups … vying for benefits … at the expense of other Americans’ today?

That dog won’t hunt. That fish won’t swim. That bird won’t fly.

The systemic crisis in right-of-center use of arithmetic runs far deeper than just polling.”

Recently, I have received a number of e-mails and and have come across several other references to articles, graphs and the like that in one way or another attempt to make the same point that Eberstadt tries to make, prompting me to share this response. All of DeLong’s assertions are easily verifiable from standard reference sources.

DAILY FACTOID:

us-oil-production-has-now-hit-its-highest-level-since-1994

The US in the past four years has gone from an also ran in the petroleum production sweepstakes to being on the verge of becoming the worlds largest producer. Yet, the price of gasoline has not gone down. It may also help to understand what is going on to know that the per person fossil fuel use in the US has been decreasing irrespective of its per unit price.

Hmmm… increasing energy production leading to energy independence; stable, if high, fuel prices and a declining use of climate changing fossil fuels….something here must be Obama’s fault.

PEPE’S POTPOURRI:

A. What “Occupy” is all about and what it really wants:

Model of Money Management or why Wall Street is untrustworthy.

According to a study by Gennaioli, Shleifer, and Vishny:

“Trust in the money manager reduces an investor’s perception of the riskiness of a given investment, and allows managers to charge higher fees to investors who trust them more.

Money managers compete for investor funds by setting their fees, but because of trust the fees do not fall to costs.

Managers consistently underperform the market net of fees, but investors still prefer to delegate money management to taking risk on their own.

Fees involve sharing of expected returns between managers and investors, with higher fees in riskier products.

Managers pander to investors when investors exhibit biases in their beliefs, and do not correct misperceptions.

Despite long run benefits from better performance, the profits from pandering to trusting investors discourage managers from pursuing contrarian strategies relative to the case with no trust.”

Or, as John Maynard Keynes wrote: “in banking it is often better to fail conventionally than to succeed unconventionally”.

Or, you give them your money – they give you nothing in return, but you feel good about it.

Does this mean we should fire our financial advisors and brokers or that we should just not believe anything they say?

Did we really need a scholarly study to tell us that brokers rip us off?

 

B. Yiddish words everyone should know:

nu
A general word that calls for a reply. It can mean, “So?” “Huh?” “Well?” “What’s up?” or “Hello?”
oy vey
Exclamation of dismay, grief, or exasperation. The phrase “oy vey iz mir” means “Oh, woe is me.” “Oy gevalt!” is like oy vey, but expresses fear, shock or amazement. When you realize you’re about to be hit by a car, this expression would be appropriate.
plotz
Or plats. Literally, to explode, as in aggravation. “Well, don’t plotz!” is similar to “Don’t have a stroke!” or “Don’t have a cow!” Also used in expressions such as, “Oy, am I tired; I just ran the four-minute mile. I could just plotz.” That is, collapse.
shalom
It means “deep peace,” and isn’t that a more meaningful greeting than “Hi, how are ya?”
shlep
To drag, traditionally something you don’t really need; to carry unwillingly. When people “shlep around,” they are dragging themselves, perhaps slouchingly. On vacation, when I’m the one who ends up carrying the heavy suitcase I begged my wife to leave at home, I shlep it.
shlemiel
A clumsy, inept person, similar to a klutz (also a Yiddish word). The kind of person who always spills his soup.
schlock
Cheap, shoddy, or inferior, as in, “I don’t know why I bought this schlocky souvenir.”
shlimazel
Someone with constant bad luck. When the shlemiel spills his soup, he probably spills it on the shlimazel. Fans of the TV sitcom “Laverne and Shirley” remember these two words from the Yiddish-American hopscotch chant that opened each show.
shmendrik
A jerk, a stupid person, popularized in The Last Unicorn and Welcome Back Kotter.
shmaltzy
Excessively sentimental, gushing, flattering, over-the-top, corny. This word describes some of Hollywood’s most famous films. From shmaltz, which means chicken fat or grease.
shmooze
Chat, make small talk, converse about nothing in particular. But at Hollywood parties, guests often schmooze with people they want to impress.

Yiddish developed among the Ashkenazi, one of the three main branches of Judaism. The other two being the Sephardim (primarily originating on the Iberian peninsula) and the Mizrahim comprising most of the others. The Sephardim and the Mizraham, if they spoke it at all, did not speak yiddish as their mother tongue as did many of the Ashkenazi before emigrating to the US.

They all more or less can trace their patrimonial heritage through the male Y chromosome to a single individual living somewhere in the middle east about 5000 years ago, about the time when Abraham was reputed to have lived. A recent study of the Cohen, the traditional priestly class descended from Aaron, Moses’ brother, using DNA from males with that surname world-wide, indicates that most of them are descended from a middle eastern male alive about 3000 years ago; about the time the Bible indicates that Moses and Aaron lived. Given that several hundred years of the most intensive archeological investigation in the world, while turning up scads of evidence of the other Peoples and nations mentioned in the Bible, failed to turn up much evidence at all of Jewish history older than somewhere between 200 and 600 BC, it is remarkable that modern genetics has been able to confirm at least this part of the story. (Not that it proves that Abraham, Moses and Arron actually existed, but it does confirm that during those times there was in all likelihood some horny goat-herd in the Near East busy shtupping a shikse or two thereby giving birth not only to the great Jewish nation but, in all likelihood, a significant portion of the population of the entire Mediterranean basin. I guess it could fairly be observed that Arron wielded a mighty rod.)

The Ashkenazi male line descends primarily through southern Italian and Sicilian Jews who migrated into Northern Europe about 400-600 AD to escape persecution by the newly dominant Christians. Genetically Southern Italians and Sicilians and the Ashkenazi appear to be closer related to each other than to most of the rest of trans-montain Europe. Unlike the other branches of Judaism, the Ashkenazi seem to have picked up a small but strong Central-Asian component primarily from the Caucuses and the area around the Caspian Sea, the ancestral home of the Khazar’s, the almost legendary medieval Jewish empire.

On the matrilineal side DNA testing shows that although there is strong evidence of middle eastern origins among the women, there is significantly more evidence of non-middle eastern origins then among the men (Again with the Shikses.)

Among the Ashkenazi there is a high incidence of Tay Sachs an inherited and inevitably fatal disease. The Sephardim and the Mizrahim seem to have no greater incidence of the disease than the general population, an indication that the effects of natural selection and genetic drift happen quite rapidly and do not require the eons that mutations take to be reflected in a population. The Tay Sachs’ discovery may have revealed another startling fact, that the genes causing Tay Sachs may be related to those controlling for intelligence.* Based on standard IQ testing as much as 20% of the Ashkenazi score 120 or higher, scoring higher in verbal and mathematical elements and lower in spatial than the general population (in other words, great scientists and writers but lousy athletes). In the general population the average is about 4-5% including for the Sephardim and Mizrahim. It is not so hard to guess why that is the case. The Christian pogroms and prohibitions against land owning for the Jews and against charging interest for the Christians coupled with high literate demands of the rabbinate made those excelling in abstract thought high quality breeders so to speak.

On the other hand, among the Christian West, strangely enough, those who were most literate were prohibited from breeding. From the fall or the Roman empire until the success of the Protestant revolt, for the most part, the most literate of the Western Christians were forced into the clergy who, unless they were Popes or Cardinals, were strongly discouraged from breeding.

Instead we placed our genetic basket on the shoulders of homicidal maniacs whose claim to fame was their preternatural ability to take someone else’s technology and turn it into a more highly efficient means of slaughter.

As luck would have it, due to the plague almost wiping us out, and our short-term tendency to compensate by breeding like rabbits, coupled with our forced procreation of prescient psychopaths equipped with proficient killing machines and a resistance to disease, we in the West were able to conquer the world. Hooray for us.

*Note: Contrary evidence for the genetic connection between Tay Sachs and a certain type of intelligence is provided by the fact that the Irish appear also to be prone to the disease. On the other hand, perhaps the Hibernians were one of the lost tribes of Israel like the American Indians and just about everyone else, except for the Mormons, who never get lost.

TODAY’S QUOTE:

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TODAY’S CHART:

23945_463686023672848_1239777113_n
TODAY’S PHOTOGRAPH:

248204_507424759278540_1896979507_n

Turritopsis nutricula is an immortal jellyfish. Some people believe it may hold the secret of immortality for humans.

After reaching sexual maturity, this jellyfish is able to reverse its aging process and become a polyp again. The ability to reverse the life cycle is probably unique in the animal kingdom, and allows the jellyfish to bypass death, rendering the Turritopsis nutricula biologically immortal. Lab tests showed that 100% of specimens reverted to the polyp stage.
I fucking love science.

But, do I want to be a polyp – even an immortal one?

 

Categories: October 2012 through December 2012 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This and that from re Thai r ment, by 3Th. 9 Pookie 0001 (November 22,2012)

TODAY FROM AMERICA AND THAILAND:

A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN CALIFORNIA AND THAILAND:

At some point shortly before one leaves on a trip or the like, whatever else you may do it still feels like waiting for the trip to begin. I do things now just like before, chauffeur Hayden, play on my computer, eat and sleep but in my mind I have already left and am just waiting for my body to catch up.

The sudden change in the weather has left the trees undecided between in dressing in red or brown leaves for the season and so, in sadness, they just decided to drop them and enter the holidays naked. The rains came for a few days grey and cold. Then it was time to leave. I teared up at the station as I hugged H. He asked me not to cry. Then I shook Dick’s hand and they drove off. While standing on the platform I remembered that I had left my glasses on the table by the bed. I called Dick, He returned and we drove back to the house retrieved the glasses and repeated the leave-taking.

After spending a few hours with my sister and brother-in-law I flew off back to Thailand. Upon arrival, I immediately went to my apartment and went to sleep for the next 20 hours. The tail end of the rainy season hovers over the city leaving the temperature comfortably in the high 80’s. I a few days I hope to bestir myself enough to venture beyond the one block from my apartment to the restaurant where I eat.

Local television news is filled with images of Obama’s visit; meeting with the King, visiting temples, traveling to the newly liberalized Myanmar and attending the ASEAN conference in Cambodia. It is interesting to see how much he appears to be admired by most people in Southeast Asia in contrast to the hatred directed at him by the opposing party back in the US.

B. NEWS STRAIGHT OR SLIGHTLY BENT:

1.Thailand’s best:

Thailand is the world’s second-largest pick-up truck market after the US. It also holds the Guinness records for longest condom chain, most couples married underwater and most Mini Coopers in a convoy (444 cars parked to spell out ‘Long Live the King’). Thailand has a 92.6% literacy rate though reading anything other than the newspaper or comic books is regarded as an eccentric.

2. Where have you gone Bevo Francis?

Sixty eight years after the great Clarence “Bevo” Francis of Rio Grande college set the single game scoring mark for basketball by scoring 113 points, a sophomore at Grinnell College bettered that mark by scoring 136 in a single game. I am crushed. Does anyone still remember Bevo?

MOPEY JOE’S MEMORIES:

An old man’s memories: Donald Lundy (Cont.)

I always felt that I wanted to be Don’s friend more that he wanted to be mine. Everyone liked him, as well they should. During that time, when we were children, he had not yet blossomed into the star athlete he became during high school. He was just Don. He seemed to find the world about him somewhat humorous. He smiled at almost everything. A sly smile that came on with a rolling of his lips as though he had first to enjoy its taste before sharing it with everyone else.

By the time we began Junior high school we became friends with a boy named Dean Wilkes. Dean lived in one of the houses on top of the ridge adjacent to Bronxville. It was a small tract home with a family room in the basement. As far as I recall none of the other members of our group lived in a house owned by their family. To us Wilkes house was the closest thing to a palace that we knew of. We formed our official gang in Wilkes basement. We cleverly named it, “The Skull Gang.” Each of us sported a cheap ring made into a skull as evidence of our membership. Despite the fact that as gangs of the era go we were one in name only, the cops in the town began to stop and question us whenever we walked down the street.

Wilkes wanted to become a soldier. He liked to play war in his back yard, an overgrown weed filled lot. We thought he was weird to be still playing games like that at that age. But, we humored Wilkes and played along. Interestingly, Don who was the most amused of all of us was the best at it.

My parents sent me to different schools than the other children I played with. They would lie about our address in order to get me into the “better” schools usually in Eastchester a town that bordered Tuckahoe and was not restricted too much. Later they sent me off to a parochial high school named after a fascist Cardinal suspected of war crimes during WWII. I only went to the same school as Don and the other kids for one year when I attended junior high school. As a result my relationships with the other members of our gang was often tenuous. We also moved around a lot eventually moving to the nearby city of Yonkers.

It was a surprise to me and I imagine to the rest of us to to discover what a superior athlete Don proved to be in High School. Before High School Don rarely participated with the rest of us in the ceaseless rounds of sports through the year.(continued)

I received the following comment from Don’s son in response to my post to him that I share with you in my previous “This and that…” post.

“Great Story. And I can picture you guys doing that and rattling the cages of the Bronxville residents. My parents were married in 1966 and lived in Yonkers (near cross Country Shopping Center) where I lived until I was in the 6th Grade, then Hartsdale then we moved to Pasadena, CA. My mother was from Bronxville and my brother and I spent many a day after school hanging out at my grandmothers house next to the Bronxville HS. Having one grandmother living in Tuckahoe & one in Bronxville I understand the contrast between the two towns. I still remember some of my friends in Bronxville being afraid to go into Tuckahoe, as though it was worst or most dangerous place in the world.

Would be an honor to meet you too. But it will have to happen in Los Angeles. Unfortunately have not been to Tuckahoe in years.

-DL”
DAILY FACTOID:

2012: “The latest estimate shows life expectancy for white women without a high school diploma was 73.5 years, compared with 83.9 years for white women with a college degree or more. For white men, the gap was even bigger: 67.5 years for the least educated white men compared with 80.4 for those with a college degree or better.

The dropping life expectancies have helped weigh down the United States in international life expectancy rankings, particularly for women. In 2010, American women fell to 41st place, down from 14th place in 1985, in the United Nations rankings. Among developed countries, American women sank from the middle of the pack in 1970 to last place in 2010, according to the Human Mortality Database.”
Paul Krugman

PEPE’S POTPOURRI:

A. What “Occupy” is all about and what it really wants:

“You are not a loan.”
Occupy

0415web-leonhardt2-popup

Exclusions from adjusted gross income are the largest drain on tax revenues at this time (even larger than the Bush Tax cut on the wealthy [only about $1-200 million yr.]). They are also one of the primary means by which the wealthy avoid paying the same rate of taxes as most of the rest of us (I can assure you, I took full advantage of them in the past). They probably are as much to blame for the increasing disparity of wealth in the nation as the Bush Tax cuts. For example, costs of carrying out a trade or business for non-employees could include things like yachts excluded from gross income by claims that they are used to conduct business meetings. Except perhaps for low-income self-employed individuals, it is difficult to conceive an individual (not a corporation) honestly requiring more than 15% of his and her income to carry out a trade or business. Instead of searching for supposed specific tax “loopholes,” that could be closed, one approach has been to urge that Congress simply consider capping of these exclusions at say 15-20% of Gross Income? This would discourage the most outrageous tax avoidance by accounting scams in one fell swoop and reform the tax code as well. It should not affect most taxpayers since it would fall most heavily on those who can afford high-priced tax attorneys to argue that the above mentioned yacht is a business necessity.

Similarly, Itemized deductions and lower dividend and capital gains rates allow people like a recent candidate for President to pay taxes at a lower rate than a secretary or almost anyone who actually works for a living and earns a salary or wages. Why not, some urge, limit the itemized deductions, dividend and capital gains rates to 15-20% of taxable income for people earning over $150,000? This will have the unintended but probably positive consequence of encouraging those earning less that $150,000 to invest more. It would not have the negative impact on housing construction as those who oppose eliminating the deduction fear, but instead provide a premium for lower cost middle class affordable housing and discourage the unwary from spending more than they can afford on their homes.

Obamacare already addresses the above in part. In order to pay for the program, the legislation imposes a 3.8% surcharge on investment income (dividends etc.) for those earning over $200,000. Also, the program places a cap on flexible spending plans and a tax on “Cadillac” medical plans, two programs that discriminate among employees of corporations allowing the wealthier to reduce their tax burden in excess of and at the expense of those less so.

According to one analysis, unless Congress compromises, on January 1, dividend taxes for those in the top tax bracket will jump from the current 15% back to the Clinton-era 39.6%. Add to this then the new 3.8% surcharge to pay for Obamacare, the top bracket for federal dividend taxes will nearly triple on January 1, from 15% to 43.4%.

Caps or limits on deductions and other tax avoidance options could reduce Congressional disputes about the appropriate rate for taxing unearned income or whether the middle class should be entitled to a tax deduction on the mortgage interest they pay on their homes. This also avoids forcing Boehner to identify those so-called specific tax loopholes he would be willing to close.

Note: the refundable tax credit was a Republican (Reagan) tax program to discourage the working poor from choosing to go on to welfare when their wages on the private market dropped below what one could make on the dole. I would keep that program intact even though it is an indirect subsidy to business. At least everyone sort of benefits.

The administrations plan actually does a little of both; increase the tax rate for the most wealthy and close some of the loopholes like those described above.

goldman-sachs-obama

According to Goldman Sachs they expect the following to happen:

The agreement that policymakers will (hopefully) reach before year end seems likely to involve an increase in tax rates from current levels and it could also involve a limitation in tax preferences. Our fiscal assumptions for 2013 include a tax increase equivalent to allowing the upper income tax cuts to expire. This amount–$56bn in 2013 and a little more than $800bn over ten years–is halfway between the President’s proposals and what Republicans would prefer.

The White House seems likely to succeed in raising at least this much revenue, though it remains to be seen whether it will come in one agreement at year-end, or a two-stage process involving a debate on more comprehensive tax reform next year.

Read more: http://www.businessinsider.com/goldman-sachs-on-obama-taxes-for-wealthy-2012-11#ixzz2Cq4yaLE2

B. God speaks:

“Then he went up from there to Bethel; and as he was going up the road, some youths came from the city and mocked him, and said to him, “Go up, you bald head! Go up, you bald head!” So he turned around and looked at them, and pronounced a curse on them in the name of the Lord. And two female bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths.”
5. Kings 2:23

Do not mess with bald men they are beloved of God.
Does this includes gay bald men and bald liberals as well as Gary Williams?

C. More nouns of association:

1. A flush of plumbers
2. A Rand of Objectivists
3. A yap of Chihuahuas
4. An ogle of office boys
5. A descent of relatives
6. A flourish of strumpets.

TODAY’S QUOTE:

“The things that we love tell us what we are.”
Thomas Aquinas

“Twinkies are to food what Lindsay Lohan is to culture.”
Joe Wicht
TODAY’S POSTER:

o-GENTLEMANS-GUIDE-TO-AMPUTATION-570

TODAY’S CHART:

396358_4856468769128_600775260_n

This proves beyond a doubt that education like science and truth are liberal plots. Actually, like many charts such as this one, it is mostly a set up since it fails to indicate how those over 25 with a college degree actually voted in each state. On the other hand, it was based on data from Faux News so it should be ________. Choose one from: correct, incorrect, full of shit, ordained by God.

TODAY’S PHOTOGRAPH:

189627_10151135425756275_1130717667_n

She also is an immigrant and has balls. Instead of moving to Australia, how about just moving their Prime Minister into the White House? I love Julia Gaillard. She is a right-wing liberal who takes no prisoners.

Categories: October 2012 through December 2012 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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