more fairness - more ponzi

I'm feeling a little tetchy.

I live in Maryland, where the estimate is that we will be having to spend some 11 million dollars as a result of the upcoming inauguration.

It appears now that our governor is asking that we not use the major road - the beltway - during that time.

Right.

Fairness at work. We pay for others. Fine, but who pays for me? That's where it always seems to break down.

Kind of like a pyramid scheme, you know? Which is pretty much the same thing as a Ponzi Scheme, which we keep hearing about on account of the arrest of Bernard Madoff, who is alleged to have caused a "loss" of some 50 BILLION dollars to his "investors".

Chump change, compared to the numbers contemplated by the various bailouts being tossed about by "Our Government".

When you stop to think about it, this is a Ponzi Scheme taken to new heights, in that we are not even "investing" money we have at this point. We're being set up to lose money we've borrowed. Who we're borrowing from is a little less certain, as is who will be paying it back. It's all magic. It's all about grabbing what you can, when you can. Sort of like Ireland, which used E.U. subsidies to build its infrastructure (leading to its "Celtic Tiger" booming economy) but which is a recent hold-out on ratifying an E.U. Constitution finalizing the formal relationship. It has also announced that it is opting out of a proposed 200 Billion euro European Union "Recovery Plan."

That's the problem with Ponzi schemes. The minute the have-nots become overnight haves, they stop wanting to give to have-nots. They "opt out." I am not being given that opportunity. Neither, however, have I been handed subsidies. What's wrong with this picture?

Interesting article in the Wall Street Journal Op-Ed pages, by the way: "Atlas Shrugged": From Fact to Fiction in 52 Years.

Our lotto mentality has come home to roost. Nothing will change until we start working again. Hard work. For a long time. No more get-rich-quick schemes or overnight fixes.

Meanwhile, I think I'll take the beginning of next week off. And to preserve any semblance of a positive outlook, I think I'll also keep the television switched off. I've had about all the hope I can stand.

bad news. . . good news?

Everywhere I look, I see articles about the "destruction" of the American dream, "destruction" of wealth, "evaporation" of wealth, and now articles also about raging tidewaters washing houses away, describing the destruction of large second homes on lakes. "That house had everything," the crying owner was reported as saying. "Now it's all gone."

Besides the "destruction" of wealth, people are beginning to think twice before hopping on a plane, prices being what they are. We won't be able to travel like we used to.

I wonder if this is maybe not such bad news as we may have thought. Maybe we'll start living where we really live, and not endlessly driving around in circles, looking for life.

I remember my official best friend, in the days when we still did things together, had a tendency to want to hit every hot spot, looking for the best scene in town. She spent more time looking than she ever did enjoying. After two or three places, being encouraged to down yet another drink so we could go check out yet another club - "So-and-so said he'd be there, for sure. . . ." I'd finally tell her to go on without me.

In many ways, she's still looking.

Meanwhile, an old friend of mine finds himself getting pushed out of Manhattan. His Brooklyn Heights apartment is going condo and his Manhattan office rental overhead is tripling. He's worried, but I think he's seeing the possibility of reducing his overhead by living where he really wants to live (way out on Long Island) and maybe even working out there. With less overhead, it might just work. For years, he's felt imprisoned by his monthly overhead, which then demanded a certain income. Now, with an overhead that continues to increase well beyond any possible income stream he can generate, he's stepping off the merry-go-round.

I think that's good news. No - wait a minute - great news!

I think we're all about to get off the merry-go-round, one way or another. The sky's the limit, though. I really see this as good news. We couldn't have kept going the way we were going. We were killing ourselves.

Now what, I wonder?

Maybe we'll live where we work and eat what grows in the same area and hang out with our neighbors. Maybe. Is it really necessary to have mangetout* from South Africa in the local Giant foodstore? Probably not. Especially when fresh, sweet, corn is coming into season!

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*otherwise known as snow peas. . . .

not one of their better ideas. . . .

The day after the Annapolis Middle East Peace Conference, explosions were heard and felt in downtown Annapolis. Heard and felt by me, anyway, starting about 8 p.m. I didn't actually see them. No one else seems to be talking about it.

Sirens did not immediately join the apparent conflagration which was shaking our house and went on for about 15 minutes, so I eventually assumed that the explosions were being caused by fireworks. This, even though November is not exactly associated with any known firework-exploding occasion.

My first thought: What idiot thought that EXPLOSIONS were an appropriate way to mark the conclusion of the PEACE Conference?

My second thought: What if it had been a terrorist attack? No one in Annapolis appears to be responding with any alarm. [I seemed to be the only person standing out in the street wondering what in the world was going on]. We're just sitting here like fat, dumb, ducks.

My third thought: Well, anyone at the Naval Academy who has experienced the dangerous kinds of explosions will certainly respond appropriately. . . . Here's hoping they gave them advance notice of a just-for-fun explosion display!

Because they sure didn't tell us about it - you know, the citizens of this town who live here and pay taxes that presumably paid for the display (although I guess that could be federal money, so that's all of you out there) - not that I saw, anyway. And I looked in the paper (after the fact) and we'd watched both local and national news - in between ridding the fridge of the final left-overs from Thanksgiving. And I don't see anything searching the online archives of the local paper, either. Unless I'm just missing it? The hidden-in-plain-sight syndrome. . . .

Maybe it was a flash-forward. . . . a Freudian fear revealed of what I dread might happen when you combine Middle East combatants in our little town. One soldier I know said that he was willing to go in harm's way over there so that we wouldn't have to, here.

Right then. So that we can have a little make-believe explosion session for grins and giggles, and oooh and ahhhh over all the the pretty colours. . . .

toxic ginger

Man.

You know you're in trouble when ginger turns out to be toxic!

OK. Ginger from china. Not all ginger.

But who checks to see where the ginger's from?

Who knew 'they' were importing it from China?!

I've already turned down several 'amazing deals' upon seeing that the item in question came from China. Who wants to die of lead poisoning from a cute little banana loaf baked in a one-dollar clay/ceramic loaf pan that Michael's is selling? All perfectly safe, I'm sure. But after the ginger episode - how can we know anything for sure?

This is what we get, I guess, when we take over all the "important" things like: making money or bigger/faster cars, following the careers of nubile teenaged delinquents with millions of dollars and no sense [I mean "cents", of course. . . . cents. That's right.], and gearing up for a multi-billion dollar presidential popularity contest [I mean: election]; while we leave the "unimportant" things - like food production and cooking - to whoever wants to try and make money at it. . . .

Funny thing, though: you can't eat money.

four - meltdown. . . .

computer wouldn't turn on. Migraine set in. Nausea. Followed shortly by tears. I spent the day in bed. Till 3 - then to the Mac shop. They gave me a new battery, which I can't use until they replace some sort of board they've ordered that costs almost $900. (Luckily, I THINK it's under warranty; no one's said anything about me paying that and I think they would have mentioned that before they ordered it. . . .)

It appears that I can continue on the Mac so long as I don't put the battery in. There's something wrong with the battery and the power circuits that connect that in to the computer. So: there you have it.

And I guess if I'd done this sooner, the part would have been in by now and my computer would have been humming right along, rather than limping. Although you just know something like this is going to happen at the end like this!

The tension is nigh unbearable and I can't shut myself down. I'm hating life just now. At least these next few days.

Oh - and we signed the contract to build the house today - having gotten building permits [finally!] last week.

I'll think about that later.

For now: I don't know whether to re-write chapter 4 or try again to write the intro and conclusion. And I still don't have a title.

I did draft the 'statement of my own work' that was required, as well as the "Acknowledgements" - and managed to print that out on the A4 paper. And that made me cry some more.

The king is worried.

I'm exhausted.

I know I'll get through this, but I've never felt quite so stretched thin before. What's most worrying is the betrayal of my body. It's not possible to think when you want to take your head off, it hurts so.

and a bit of music. . . .

a little Sarah. . . . Who says it so well. And yet, there is redemption.

cat + water + laptop = %&*#(!!!!!

When the king woke me after 3 hours sleep, it was to gently tell me that he'd mopped the puddle of water off my laptop and didn't think it was too bad, but the papers on the dining room table were pretty wet. I'd shut the lid on my computer when I decided I needed a few hours sleep before I could finish the last chapter and send it off to Magda - who wanted it by end of work day [hers] today. When I shut down, I didn't think to move my water glass. I never move my water glass. I always have a glass of something next to me!

That blasted cat! I guess she decided to go walkabout on the dining room table. She never does that. . . .

The computer was dead. When I opened it, it had condensation inside. . . .

Phone calls; no tears [I thought about it - as I also considered feline violence - but what good would it do? Not to mention I was just too tired]; consults with the local geek; hair dryers; waiting; more blow drying; start work on something else; finally email Magda and tell her the stranger-than-fiction truth about the cat-about. . . . (at least it wasn't a dog that ate it!) sigh.

I think I fried the battery, but after blow-drying every 10 minutes and allowing it to dry out all day, it finally switched back on just now. I promptly emailed myself all the chapters I hadn't backed up, so at least I have it all in case it goes out again.

Why? Why me?! Why NOW!!!

The good news? Magda wrote to say she wasn't really free until Monday evening. . . . and she seems hopeful I'll pull this off. That was balm to my soul.