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From the folks who brought down the World Trade Center

  

Woody Hayes, legendary football coach at Ohio State, was known for a play-style characterized as “Three yards and a cloud of dust,” a running game that cranked out short bursts of yardage, rather than the jazzy choreography of 60-yard passes.

 

A few yards here, a few yards there, good enough for Hayes to pile up a 205-61-10 record at OSU, along with 13 Big Ten conference titles and 3 national titles.  Not bad for short bursts.      

 

Hayes’ career ended long ago but his style won followers.  A far-away regime with dark visions of world domination was impressed by Hayes’ sense of industry.  They borrowed heavily from his play-book and embarked on their mission, beginning with reshaping the face of America.  While their vision was grand, success was guaranteed by fastidious adherence to Hayes’ teachings – a few yards here, a few yards there – and the world would be theirs. 

 

A shooting here, a bombing there…an assassination, a threat…the WTC bombing in ’93, the U.S.S. Cole blast in ’99, an unprecedented display on 9/11…and mosques where monuments belong.  Each event not a victory, but a short burst gaining ground.  And they’re piling up yardage.  The U.S. is fertile soil for Islamic colonization.   

 

Far fetched?  Nope.  Thanks mainly to Hollywood, NPR and Joy Behar, a new breed of idiots is helping transform America to reflect the influence of a new breed of fanatical overlords.  A news article last week is testimony to their progress:

 

"Girl pulled from game over concern about headscarf. 

 

"A 12-year old Muslim girl in Maryland was forced to sit out the first half of a basketball game by a referee who said her headscarf was a safety risk.

 

"Seventh-grader Maheen Haq of Hagerstown was allowed to play the second half wearing a hijab after being granted a religious exemption.

 

"The school sports administrator says the girl's parents must provide a letter stating the headscarf is part of their daughter's religion and accept responsibility for any injuries.  She defended the referee's action.

 

"A spokesman for the Council on American-Islamic Relations said there are hijabs with tear-away strips designed for sports that the girl could wear.  He said cases like these can usually be solved with cooperation from both sides."

 

"Hijabs with tear-away strips?"  Thirty years ago this was grist for a John Belushi comic routine on SNL.  Now it's reality at the free-throw line.

 

Not to worry, for America's future dazzles with promise, and nowhere does it dazzle brighter than commerce, where McDonald's, the company that never misses the chance to jangle us with jingles, delights with a new refrain "Goat-meat McNuggets – praise Allah, we lovin' it!"  Or popular culture, with edgy new venues like "Bowling for Burqas."  Or sports, where beheadings bump baseball as the national pastime, and the 7th inning stretch stretches farther to accomodate the evening call to prayer.

 

There you have it, sports-fans, the face of games to come – from the folks who brought down World Trade Center, one story at a time.  You lovin' it?

Dog blogs, bytes and doggerel

 
Ludwig, a black Lab, was bored.  His normal routine – retrieving balls and fetching newspapers – left him unfulfilled.  Ludwig knew he was destined for a loftier purpose:  he wanted to be a poet.  

One evening as his master read the newspaper, the entertainment section caught Ludwig’s attention.  “Poetry-slam – an evening of doggerel.  Bring your best to compete with the rest!”

The competition was that evening, so Ludwig hoofed down to the pub.  While he waited his turn, he listened to the other entrants recite their verse.  “Holy bakin bitz!” Ludwig thought, “these guys are good!  I don’t have a chance!  I gotta get a gimmick!

Ludwig had a popular woof-blog called “Dog Bytes” and many people followed his “barks.”  When it was Ludwig’s turn at the mic, he padded up to the stage and asked the audience to log on to his blog.  Then he pulled out his Blackberry and began texting his entry, an adaption of Pacino’s rant on “Dog Day Afternoon.”

When Ludwig finished, the audience burst into wild applause.  His gamble paid off and Ludwig took first prize.  His bark was verse with a byte.  Arf-arf!

The 111th U.S. Congress, an all-time useless act!

 
The backside of the 1970’s was a rough time without drugs.  A redneck goober from backwater Georgia steered a nervous America into a closet of unexplored anxieties.  Disco dangled on life-support, Zoloft was yet to be discovered, and revisionist historians had not rewritten history.  Life was raw, unvarnished and dark.

Dark, but not without hope, because a beacon of lunacy, “The Gong Show,” hosted by Hollywood madman, Chuck Barris, punctured the national gloom with a showcase of wretched talent and looney mayhem.

Contestants with no noticeable skills (except breathing without a respirator) enchanted TV audiences with acts that were absurd, embarrassing and pointless.

At the end of each act, a panel of judges rated it on a scale of 1-to-10.  Most were abysmal and panel members banged a gong to euthanize the act in its first few seconds... “mercy-gonging” you could say, to relieve audience suffering.  Yet, in rare cases, for a performer who showed talent, The Gong Show launched a show biz career.  But most performers were pitiful and slid back into the basement of obscurity, followed not long after by the Gong Show itself.  
 
History repeats, as if with a blank slate and zero memory.  
 
The backside of the 2000’s was a rough time even with drugs.  A slick-talkin' booger from back alley Chicago shoveled America into a closet of fantasies.  News media swooned, Zoloft was manna from heaven and the nation’s unquenchable thirst for drivel propelled "Snookie," a dead-ringer for Petunia Pig, on a tidal wave of shipwrecks from the Jersey Shore, choking the country in a backwash of debris.
 
Debris yes, but not without hope as the nation tuned in to the “111th Congress,” a shameless cavalcade of pimps, posers and whores led by an opportunistic virus named Nancy Pelosi.
 
The 111th Congress, like The Gong Show, punctured the national psyche with an extravaganza of brazen shenanigans.  The 111th was Pelosi incarnate.  She delighted us with stunning impressions of an inflamed abscess, and promoted Billy May-style infomercials demonstrating how to remove pesky stretch-marks from her version of the truth.  
 
Pelosi dazzled with obtuse wit.  On the health care bill she said, “We have to pass the bill before we can see what’s in it.”  On the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy she said, “You don’t have to be straight to shoot straight."  Never mind being able to see straight.  Gong!
 
Some lawmakers had talent and Congress was a launch pad for criminal careers.  But the majority of lawmakers, like Pelosi, had no talent other than a predisposition for hosing the public.  And like all good things, before long the 111th Congress was gonged out and gone.
 
Pelosi and the 111th – a useless act!  "Be sure you bang your head on the gong when you exit.” 

 

M1 and the business of money

 
 Random thoughts about the business of money.

“M1” is a measure of the total supply of money in circulation.  “M1” is also a semi-automatic rifle that was the standard issue firearm for the US Military.

Coincidence?  Comedian Jack Benny didn’t think so.  When a mugger came up to him and demanded "Your money or your life!” Mr. Benny whipped out his rifle and said “Say hello to my little friend!”

Technically, M1 is the money floating around outside of banks, travelers’ checks, or checking accounts.  If “floating” sounds worrisome, it should.  In one sense, it means the amount of money or time represented by checks in between deposit and payment.  It also means being suspended on the surface of a fluid, like water, without sinking.

If banks want more business, they could give away life preservers to lure customers.  It wouldn't make us safer, but at least they’re creative.

 

A TV ad shows a married couple excited about paying only $3.00 to cash their pay checks at Wal-Mart.  “We’re saving over $200 a year!”  the husband yells with glee. 

 

Hmmm.  Why would anyone use a check-cashing service?  Why not open a bank account and avoid paying all those fees?  What?  Oh, right.  What was I thinking.

 

The business of banks is money.  Getting it.  Making it.  Hiding it.  Making more of it.  Keeping more of ours.  And making it difficult to get any from them.  Like for a loan.  Here's a phone conversation between me (M) and a bank loan officer (B):

 

M:  “Hello?”

 

B:  “Hey, this is Dick Shmuck at Capital Trust.  I just wanted to let you know we rejected your application for a commercial line of credit.”

 

M:  “Oh yeah?  Why?”

 

B:  “Because you don’t have any assets for collateral.”

 

M:  “But the application form only had enough space to write my name and date!  There was no space to list my assets!”

 

B:  “So, without any assets you can understand why you're not a good credit risk.”

 

M:  “But I enclosed a balance sheet with the application.  Didn’t you read it?”

 

B:  “What’s a 'balance sheet'?"

 

M:  “It’s a statement of all my assets and liabilities.  It shows my net worth.”

 

B:  “Well, that proves my point.”

 

M:  “What’s that?”

 

B:  “If you know how much you’re worth, you’re not worth much.  Have a great day and thanks for banking with Capital Trust!”

Attorneys, Bankers and Congress - the ABC's of Grand Larceny

 

Years ago, banks gave away toasters to entice new customers into opening new savings accounts.  This was a clever marketing strategy to teach folks about interest rates and how their savings would grow while they waited for the toast to pop up. 

The campaign didn’t last.  Some new toaster owners apparently believed their savings would double by the time the toast was crisp, and when it didn’t they returned with their toasters to the banks in a grumpy mood and closed their accounts.  Others burnt out the toaster’s heating elements while awaiting the 2% APR to yield its measly yearly fruit.

This was not the last of the banking industry’s wild and wacky schemes to mine our wallets.  After a brief hiatus following the 2008 mortgage-backed meltdown, Harvard-trained MBA’s are back in droves, busy like never before, conjuring up a witch’s brew of new gimmicks for skimming our working capital and enlarging theirs. 

If the anorexic 0.15% yield in my cash account is any indication, they're succeeding wildly. 

And all under the skillful, guiding hands of voodoo practitioners and their minions known as U.S. lawmakers.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say grand larceny is the holy grail of law and business schools.

Loren Steffy, Houston Chronicle’s only writer with a set of stones, hinted in his business column today about nefarious goings-on between bankers, lawmakers and the Fed.  That was my take, at least.  Read his column about partial deficit-fixing and decide for yourselves.  http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/business/steffy/7361646.html

My biggest complaint with Steffy is he didn’t just flat-out call them thugs, so his stones aren’t that big.  He’s probably a nice guy though, with a family, and he has to be careful what he writes.  So I’ll help him carry the load:

Shakespeare believed the world would be a safer place if lawyers were all taken out and shot.  During the Great Depression, bankers were regarded with such contempt that Bonnie and Clyde were folk heroes whenever they pulled off a heist.  Humorist Mark Twain once observed “There is no distinctively native American criminal class except Congress.”

So there you have it – Attorneys, Bankers and Congress – the ABC’s of Grand Larceny.  Couldn't have said it better myself.  Happy new year, and here’s a toast to better interest rates for cash accounts in 2011!  And throw in a new toaster while you're at it.

On second thought, make that two toasters, to make up for the crappy interest rates in 2010.