Big 3

No, that's not a dick joke.

Look, I'm getting a little tired of these morons on TV and in congress (I'm looking at you Harry Reid, you pussy) complaining about bailing out GM, Ford, and Chrysler. They were tickled to death to give Citi tens of billions (even though they just blew $400M on naming a stadium), AIG hundreds of billions, and the rest of the financial industry untold billions. No conditions, no oversight, no problem. But when the 3 remaining companies in this country that actually make shit that people buy need help, all of a sudden, everyone's panties get in a bundle.

Yes, their business plans have been garbage for years. But, keep in mind Congress continually wimped out on passing real CAFE standards that would force them to make fuel efficient cars (not to mention the same group of regulations makes it impossible for them to bring their popular, thrifty, and economical European cars to the U.S.) So there's some blame to go around. And you get some blame for buying that ugly, wasteful SUV. But, like I said before, this is a huge opportunity to help the Big 3 get back to the forefront of not just car sales, but also technology.

I recently learned from NPR that Chrysler back in the 70's got a bailout. The gov't guaranteed a bunch of loans, forced Chrysler to turn around, and voila, Chrysler did and the gov't made about $500 million on its investment (the gov't got shares of stock that appreciated). The same thing can and should happen here. Invest $25B (hell, make it $40B while we're at it - if AIG can get $100B or more, these guys can split $40B three ways and they're way more important) in the Big 3. Require all 3 have at least one fully electric car for sale, in showrooms by June 2010 (it can have a small petrol engine to recharge the battery on the go); require their entire fleet (pickups and SUVs included) to get 30mpg or better by improving not just engine efficiency, but also gross vehicle weight (easiest way to get better mpg, use aluminium instead of steel - drive a Lotus, you'll get it); require them to have a hydrogen or other alternative fuel car in the fully-functioning prototype phase by 2012; and require them to trim their vehicle lineups to 10 models or less. I mean, do we really need 7 different cross overs, all of which share the same chassis?

So, Reid, stop being a pussy, do your job and get the Senate in line so we can start the engine on this new green economy. We've already got the companies, the employees, the factories, and the technology to get it done. So, get it done.

80s vs. 90s - 80s win

I went to high school in the early 90's and colledge in the mid/late 90's. Accordingly, I got fucked. Completely. Look, anyone who went to high school or college in the 80's, fuck you, I hate you, you had it all. Here's why. Drug of choice: cocaine. Side effects, being happy, a little too talkative, and really energetic. Music: Prince/Michael Jackson or Guns n' Roses. So, you could listen to some brilliant musicians or rock your ass off. Movies: John Huges, enough said. But the worst is clothes: think about it. Madonna was a huge influence, so all the girls dressed in their underwear. So, if you lived in the 80's you got high, danced to timeless music that made you happy, and looked at chicks in their underwear.

Now, compare that to when I was growing up. In the 90's the drug of choice: heroin. Side effects: death. Awesome. Music: Nirvana or the Backstreet boys. So, the music made you so depressed you wanted to kill yourself, or the music was so bad you wanted to kill yourself. And half the time, I didn't know which band was terrible and which one was depressing. Movies: Forest Gump, Pulp Fiction, and Shawshank Redemption. So, you saw a retard running for 2 hours, a fat Jon Travolta killing anal rapists, or, well, I have nothing bad to say about Shawshank. Awesome move. Clothing: huge, ugly sweaters from J.Crew made from burlap with baggy, ugly matching corduroys. Fucking bullshit. You couldn't tell if the girl you were dating was 100 or 200 pounds. So, you just winged it and prayed for the best. And I have shit for luck, so I always got the ones who's sweaters weren't rolled in the belly-area because the sweater was too big, it was because their gut was too big. So, in the 90's you got high, wanted to kill yourself, listened to music that made you want to kill yourself, then hooked up with a fat chick, so you wanted to kill yourself. It's a miracle anyone made it out of the 90's alive.

Madonna of the 80's vs. BSB. Need I say more?

What Would Be Worse Than The Great Depression?

The current economic crisis has left many people wondering if this is not as bad, as bad, or worse than the Great Depression. There's lots of economic analysis out there and the future is uncertain. But it is possible that this crisis could be worse. That got me wondering, what would you call something that's worse than the Great Depression?

The Great Depression is a terrible name to begin with. I'm sure the guys in fedoras standing in bread and unemployment lines didn't think it was so great, but that's the obvious joke. The same could be said for the Great War, which we now call WWI. But we didn't call it that until we had WWII. Maybe if we have another depression, the first one would lost the great moniker. The two depressions could be called the Depression I and the Depression II. Things with Roman Numerals always seem heavy and important. Just ask the Super Bowl. But I think we should call the next depression, if it happens, the Righteous Depression. First, I like the word righteous and think is should me used frequently. Second, it makes it confusing, like the Great Depression. How can a depression be great? How can a depression be righteous?

Righteous Depression also rolls off the tongue well. Maybe its the "s" at the end that just runs well with the double "ss" in depression. And there's a little truth to it as well.

Greatest Depression is too obvious and is insulting to the Great Depression. Plus, superlatives are always too over the top. Awesome Depression is too, well, lame. And every other word I can think of just doesn't work. Fabulous? Too gay. Fantastic? Too ironic. Wonderful? Too stupid. Grand? Too grand. So, really, righteous is the only choice.

If we do enter a depression. You heard it here first, it is the Righteous Depression.

Obama = Dean 2.0

I was a certified Deaniac when he ran in 2004. I ran our local Meetups, helping them grow from 15 crazy people to a couple of hundred crazy people. I lobbied at the behest of other more prominent bloggers to help him get elected as DNC chair. The reason being was that Dean is and always has been a pragmatist. He's not an ideologue and before he was DNC chair he was barely a partisan. After all, how partisan are you if your main war cry is an attack on your own party ("I'm from the Democratic wing of the Democratic party!"). Look at his term as governor. It's a pragmatic approach to governing, filled with compromises. He knows that if you want to accomplish A+B+C, it's just fine to start out just getting A, and then working on B and C. His energy policy was a prelude to Obama's. Dean wanted to invest big in green technologies and related infrastructure because he knew that living on the Saudi's oil wasn't only a bad economic policy, it was a bad national security policy as well.

But Dean had a glaring problem. He lacks polish. Look at his shirts (yeah, it's a bit superficial, but people notice, just ask your wife/girlfriend). The collars are too tight, they're not always ironed, and they're a few years out of style. Look at his suits. He was famous for wearing suits that even the least fashion-conscious could pick out as either 10 years old or off the rack from KG Men's Store. Also, he never sounded like a politician. He lacked the ability to smile and speak in circles not answering a question. Instead, he'd answer the question pretty straight-forward, which too often got him in trouble. Remember when he said we're no more safer now that Saddam has been caught than before? There couldn't be a truer statement, but it's just a little too unpolished.

So, enter Obama. He's taken the same pragmatic approach as Dean has. He may want universal health care, but he knows it's DOA, so he proposes something close that he'll compromise on so that some form of health care reform gets passed. The difference is Obama is polished. He can say bold things without having his words jar the listener. He can soothe the Washington punditry. He can deflect attacks with a wry or mocking statement that would've gotten Dean hammered because Dean would come off more insulting than witty.

Together, Dean and Obama have accomplished what most of us thought wouldn't happen for at least 4 more years - sweeping change and Democratic majorities. It was Dean who first pitched and tried to sell the 50-state strategy. The Washington aristocracy laughed. Paul Begala mocked, asking why would the DNC spend money on staffers in Mississippi, they'd only be picking their noses. Well, Paul, I hope that crow tastes good. Democrats wouldn't have won Indiana and North Carolina, Senate races in Alaska, and House races in the reddest districts. But Dean needed a good pitchman to sell the 50-state strategy. Obama was the perfect guy for the job.

Now, as far as I'm concerned, we have Dean in the White House, only better. Dean 2.0

GM Bailout

GM needs to government help and it should be given. Yes, they've made crappy cars and SUV's for a long time, ignoring market trends and demands for smaller, more fuel-efficient cars.

First, if we're going to bailout the airline industry, which is probably the most poorly run industry in America, there's no excuse not to bailout automakers. Think about it, airlines would rather fly half-empty planes than sell you a last-minute ticket for less than $1,000. That's like walking into a restaurant without a reservation and the maitre'd saying, "Sorry, sir, unless you have a reservation, you're meal will cost 10 times more than the menu price. Oh, you think that's unfair? Well, even though we have 20 empty tables, we'd rather not have your business. Please leave." Seriously, that's a terrible way to run a business. Moreover, if airlines were smart, which they aren't, they would've hedged their fuel like Southwest did, which is why they operate at a profit. Also, how much sense does it make for an airline to fly thousands of miles out of the way to get someone to their destination? Answer: None.

But enough of my ranting about the airlines. Government funding of the auto industry represents a huge opportunity for the country. Like with AIG and Fannie and Freddie, the gov't can put huge conditions on any funds provided to GM. We all know the future is electric cars (or some alternative fuel). GM, Ford, and Chrysler have the infrastructure and man power to make those cars. But they don't have the balls to do so for fear of upsetting stock holders (or hedge fund investors in the case of Chrysler). The know they'd lose money on the first cars and that investing in the technology to make them and market them would cost a bundle. But it's inevitable. So, why not force them to change?

Tesla motors makes electric cars. They cost a lot (like $100,000), but they work. Telsa lacks the infrastructure to mass produce these cars. Tesla's hurting and would probably love to be bought out, just ask their recently-ousted CEO. GM lacks the technology to make electric cars. Sounds like a match made on eHarmony. I say the gov't should infuse billions into GM with the condition that by mid-2009 it must sell at least 500 electric cars based on the Tesla platform (or some other electric car). Sure, they'd lose tons of money on the cars because they'd have to sell them for $40k or less, but the economies of scale would rapidly reduce the losses and bring not just the desired product to the masses, but would put GM in the pole position in electric cars, thus creating American jobs. The jobs wouldn't just come in the factory, they'd also come to the battery companies and other vendors who would be supplying parts to GM.

Look, I'm no genius, but this one's a no brainer. Get on it.

A New Day

As I sat and watched Barack Obama deliver his speech victory speech, tears fell. I cannot remember the last time I cried out of joy. But it was more than joy, it was the pride of accomplishment, the realization that we weren't insane - that this nation was better than the last 8 years - the feeling of a weight - a depression - being lifted, the crisp taste of optimism that had been missing for so long, and the knowledge that I could barely begin to understand how significant this was to so many Americans who have fought much longer and harder than I have.

The approach of November 4 and the events of that day helped this country realize what it can and has accomplished. But so many of us can't fully understand what it all means. I read stories of families voting together, dressed in their Sunday best. We heard Mr. Obama tell us about 106-year old Ann Nixon Cooper and the highs and lows she has seen this country go thorough. I watched a video about a voter in Boulder named Charles. And with each story I understood how this election was not about something as ideal as Change or Hope or something as simple as politics. This election was about America. It was about us. It was about rectifying the mistakes of the past 8 years and the past 200 years. It was about the unique ability of this country's people to assert themselves as "We The People" and remind the world that, while imperfect, this democracy is awe inspiring.

So, while it is a new day in America, and it feels like so much has been accomplished, the work has hardly begun.

Since its formation, this country has been at war with itself. Those in America's darkest corners have fought to keep their fellow Americans from reaching higher, achieving more, and garnering the same respect they enjoy. At the beginning, it was slavery, but progress won - slowly. At first those on the right side of history had to compromise and permit slavery to form the nation. But then those on the right side of history shed their own blood to end it. Women, too, were denied equality. Those on the right side of history continued to fight, this time in the courts, to gain equality for women. But those in the darkest corners continued to repress their fellow citizens, passing absurd laws that denied them basic rights. So, the war continued in the courts. Those on the right side of history argued and won in cases like Loving v. Virginia, and Brown v. Board of Education.

The war is not over, but on November 4, 2008, we shed a little more light on those dark corners and the people that occupy them who are always on the wrong side of history. We told them once again that their war is not welcome here, that they will be defeated, and that we will not let them exploit our insignificant differences. The election of Mr. Obama represents not the end of the war, but another victory for those on the right side of history.

So now we must revel in our joy for a brief moment so that we can pick up the mantle of change and equality again tomorrow to fight keep the light on and be vigilant against those who are on the wrong side of history.

One Day Too Many To Go And My Dream Job

The election is almost here. As much as I love politics, it really is like crack for me, I am ready for this one to be over. The ads aren't the problem, they're effectively background noise at this point. Really, it's just the energy expended everyday reading all the news about the election. It's fucking exhausting. Every hour, McCain comes up with some new ridiculous statement or allegation. Every minute, some bobble headed moron on TV is bloviating about some crap. Every 20 seconds there's another poll that's probably meaningless because this ain't 2004, folks.

But there is good news from all of this (other than the fact that we'll actually have a smart person running the country again - what a concept). Comedy. SNL has been fantastic the past month or so. I haven't watched it regularly (I admit, though, I TiVo it) since the Farley days. This cast just has some good chemistry. The crazy lady who has to be hopped up on serious amounts of coke (or maybe she mainlines RedBull) is hilarious. Though a lot of her characters are similar, they're all funny. Also, Palin's and McCain's ludicrous campaign has made the Daily Show and Colbert even more funny than usual. It's almost as if there is too much out there to make fun of it all. You could probably have an entire political comedy channel where people just sit there, watch CNN or Fox or MSNBC and make fun of the people and the news - in real time.

In fact, that would be my dream job. One of the best parts of college was just sitting around watching TV with my friends because we'd just lay there and make fun of everything that came on. I'd bet all the money in my G-string that a show of three or four funny guys watching TV in real time and making fun of it would be a huge hit. Obviously, it'd be on Spike in between UFC matches and Mansweres. Seriously, you'd watch that, wouldn't you?

Election Prediciton

Well, it's fun to be wrong, so let's see how wrong I can be.

I predict this is a landslide election. A complete and total rejection of the republican governing philosophy. People have been bamboozled for a decade now (three decades if you include Regan/Bush I/Bush II) that the government is bad, gays and Mexicans are invading and ruining America, and that liberals will tax you to death. The republican brand is in tatters not because Bush is a terrible president (though he is) but because conservatism is a terrible governing philosophy. You simply can't hate government and think it's terrible and then try and run government. You will create a self-fulfilling prophecy.

So, I predict Obama wins all Kerry states plus NH, CO, NM, NV, IA, FL, OH, VA, MO, MT, and NC. The republicans will be reduced to a quasi-regional government that's only popular in deep Southern states, insanely libertarian states, and Utah. The Senate will be dominated by Democrats with a 58 true Democratic majority. Lieberman will continue to be king of the Senate douche-bags, but will work with the Dems. The House will be overwhelmingly Dem, though not quite a supermajority. The blue dogs will be in the wilderness and rejected by the mainline and progressive Dem caucuses and thus forced to actually be Democrats. If you want to look at the data and make your own projection, the best site is 538.com

I can't wait.

Barakorado

Went to the Obama speech today in Denver. Crazy crowds. It's quite amazing to think about what's going on here. In the past several days, over 1,000,000 have traveled to see Barack speak live. St. Louis: 100,00+; New Mexico 65,000+; Denver 100,000+; Ft. Collins 30,000+; 10,000+ in Indiana; 50,000+ in Orlando; etc. When was the last time a politician got that many people that excited before they were even elected? Heck, when was the last time anyone got that many people that excited? U2 didn't draw crowds this large this consistently during the ZOOTV tour. Maybe the Beatles did. The obvious comparison is JFK, but I don't know if JFK generated this kind of enthusiasm across such a broad spectrum of the population. Anyway, here are some pics from the rally today. You can't see Barack, but you can see the massive crowd. We sat on capitol hill looking toward the main crowd. From the capitol to the building in the background (the one with the columns) is about 4 city blocks. The park is 2 city blocks wide. It was jammed full with people. To get an idea of the view Obama had, check this diary at Kos.

McCain: Aiding and Abetting Bin Laden and an Asshole Too

John Sidney McCain III last night told us he "knows how to get Bin Laden." Well, that's comforting. How long has he known this? He's been running for President for 2 years, has he known the whole time? If he has, why the fuck hasn't he gotten him yet? What the fuck is he waiting for? A fucking invitation from Pakistan? A blessing from Cheney and W.? If he's so goddamn sure how to get Bin Laden and he hasn't he is doing nothing short of aiding and abetting Bin Laden and Al Qaeda in all terrorist attacks and plots between the day Sydney knew how to get him and today. What a 'douche.

We all know Sidney is a hot-tempered grumpy old man. Add to it, "asshole." Look at this video from TPM. Obama clearly puts his hand out to shake Sidney's, but Sidney refuses and instead gestures to his vacant wife, who shakes Obama's hand.

I've covered this before, Sidney is also a coward. Last night made it glaringly obvious. For days Sidney and his sock puppet Palin have been calling Obama a terrorist, bringing up bogus claims about Ayers, and refusing to reprimand their lynch-mob audience when they scream to kill Obama or shout that he's a terrorist. But when Sidney had to look Obama in the eye and call him a terrorist, he couldn't. That's because Sidney is a coward. A pussy. He's like the kid in high school who talks shit but when confronted claims he didn't say anything or that he was misinterpreted. That guy was a pussy too, and he rightfully got his ass kicked. Sidney will get his ass kicked, too, in the election. He will go down as the GOP's biggest loser since Goldwater.

Update 10/9/08: TPM and Kos agree. Sidney = COWARD

My favorite VP debate comment

Palin said, at least once, "John McCain knows how to win a war." My eyes rolled when she said this. What war has John McCain ever won? Let's see, his rich daddy got him into the Naval Academy where he finished almost dead last in his class. So, he lost the war of getting good grades. Then he flew planes in Vietnam. We lost in Vietnam. But even more to the point, John McCain got lost in his plane and got shot down (I guess we know why he graduated almost last in his class). So, he, personally lost in Vietnam. I'll give him credit for winning the war of wills with his captors. Now, McCain supported the Iraq debacle from the outset. We're losing that war (can anyone define what winning that war would be anyway?). McCain has been on the sidelines with Afghanistan, failing to support policies that would help us win that war, which we're now losing again.

So, what war did Johnny win? Looks to me like he's been a big loser his whole life.

Is America Finally Losing Its Stupid?

For years I've been pulling my hair out in frustration as 'Mericuns base their political decisions on who is most like them and who they want to have a beer with. This is insane on many levels: 1) Bush can't drink beer, he's an alcoholic; 2) I don't want someone like me in charge b/c I'm not that smart (and neither is the average 'Mericun); 3) you and your buddies couldn't keep a house clean, what makes you think someone like you could keep a country from sinking? With Bush, perhaps, finally, Americans have realized that deciding who they should vote for based on who they'd like to get hammered with is not a good idea.

By all accounts, it seems people should like Palin more - she's sorta hot (a MILF at least), she's got this folksy personality (I personally find it a ridiculous caricature, but I don't live in Ohio and spend my life rooting for the Buckeyes, so I'm probably not the best judge of genuine folsky-ness), she talks like a moron which connects with people for some reason, and she's a complete vacuum. Biden, on the other hand, is very smart, knows tons about every issue, has facts and history at the tip of his tongue, and is mature. If this was 2000, Palin would wipe the floor with Biden. But it's not. This is a serious time and only serious people need apply for the job of President and Vice President. What we've learned these past several weeks (and saw in full color last night at the VP debate) is that McCain and Palin are deeply unserious.

I'm proud that America is waking up from its apathy about politics and beginning to realize that you need serious, smart, and intellectually curious people leading this country. I doubt this "great awakening" will last, but hopefully it lasts long enough to keep Obama/Biden in office for 8 years so we can get the country back on track and wrest it from the hands of the liars, bamboozelers, and thugs that have been in charge for the past 8.

Part IV: Pain and Suffering

Cay Caulker proved to be a great, relaxing place. Like Jamaica without being offered drugs every 5 seconds. We found a good place for dinner, I ordered a bacon cheeseburger. It was delightful. Lacking cash once again, we asked if the restaurant took credit. They did! So, I went to whip out my ATM card. D'oh! I realized what had happened the moment I saw the empty slot in my wallet.


All of a sudden I was in a MasterCard commercial. Desperately worried because Belize City is not a place you want to lose your ATM card, I called the bank. The card was cancelled, everything was fine. Priceless. I sat back, finished my burger, drank a couple of beers and watched the waves massage the beach. Exhausted, full, and a bit delirious, we headed back to the hotel room and passed out.


The next day we decided to do some snorkeling. After all, we had dragged our snorkeling gear across Latin America. The boat left at 10 and we were going to be out there until 1. Being quite pasty, we bought some sunscreen. All lubed up and ready to go, we headed out to the reef with our guide and a family of Spanish (as in the country) tourists. They were unremarkable except for the fat-ass guy with the long red hair down to the middle of his back and the matching nasty beard. He was quite pushy and ate a lot more than his fair share of the provided lunch, which was mostly fruit.

Overall, the trip was just o.k. I saw a puffer fish, that was the highlight, but I couldn't get it to puff up. No sharks. We did go to an area where stingrays fly (swim) about, that was cool. When we got back to shore around 1 p.m., we were tired and salty and headed to the room to rest. That's when we realized the extent of our sunburn. Red doesn't begin to describe the color my back had turned. Fuscia, maybe. Devil is more appropriate. But the pain was only beginning.

After a nap and some serious application of aloe we took a walk and grabbed some dinner. Too tired and sunburned to participate in the techno club scene, we headed to bed early. Besides, we had a plane to catch early the next morning to get to Puerto Barrios. Changing our plans from taking an 8 hour bus ride through Belize to a 40 min. prop plane ride was genius. I was just glad we weren't on a college budget and could afford the extra $100 per person.

The flight was very cool - my first time in such a small plane (turbo prop that seats 12). Belize is pretty from 10,000 feet. We landed, called a cab, and headed for the port. I use the word port quite generously, though. It was basically a wood shack with a concrete walkway that also served as a pier. Prior to arrival, our cabbie informed us that there were just two ferries between Belize and Puerto Barrios, Guatemala. The first left at 9:30 and the second left at 2:30. It was 9:25. Our cabbie also informed us of a new rule that required everyone be on board 15 mins. ahead of departure. It was 9:25.

Fortunately, the port was about a 2 min. cab ride from the airport (again, using the term loosely - it was a 400 yard asphalt strip with a gas station and a tin shelter). We sprinted into the port and asked for two tickets to Puerto Barrios. Of course, they only accepted cash and we had none. So, I asked where the nearest ATM was. "Oh, its very far. You'll never make it." "Just tell me where." "Go up to that street, take a left and go until you see the bank." I thanked her and sprinted. The term very far in Belize is much different from what Americans think of as very far. The bank was about a 30 second sprint away, and I'm no Michael Johnson. Since it was early on Saturday morning, I figured there'd be no one at the bank, I was just praying it was open.

The ATM was available, but, of course, there was a line three people deep - and there are maybe 5 people in the whole town. Time is a funny thing. When you don't need it, you have it. When you need it, you don't. When you want time to fly, it doesn't. When you need it to, it don't. When you want time to creep, it doesn't. When don't want it to, it does.

I grabbed the money from the ATM and, this time, my card (not mine, my wife's), sprinted back to the port, paid, and got my ticket to another country. Fortunately, the boat company held the boat for us. I had imagined it would be a large ship like those used to ferry folks in New York, or between England and France. Nope, this was basically a large fiberglass canoe that sat four across. It had a canopy and an outboard motor. It was going to be an hour long ride.

About half way through the trip, the two deckhands seated on the bow began to signal thumbs down and pointing in front of the boat. Turns out there's basically a garbage dump in the middle of the Gulf of Honduras between Belize and Guatemala. Nice. Reason enough to recycle your plastic bottles, people.

After slaloming trash for 10 minutes, the boat gathered speed again and we were soon in Guatemala. But we needed money, again. We grabbed a cab and in broken Spanish I told the guy we needed money. He drove us to an ATM that worked and we got enough for the cab ride plus some extra.

A short drive later, we arrived at our hotel/resort, checked in and sat in the lobby for 2 hours while we waited for our room to be prepared. Awesome. What you want to do after literally being on a boat, a plane, and in a car for the past 6 hours is sit in a hotel lobby. At least it had a/c, but that benefit was offset equally by the bevy of mosquitoes that loved every inch of my pasty white legs.

How to Solve the Financial "Crisis"

Picking up on Devilstower's post at Kos here, it seems there's a really easy solution to this whole mess.

First, we identify the problem. It has three domino-like steps. A) There's a bunch of mortgages that everyone's afraid are going to default. B) As a result of the defaults, property prices go lower, thus causing housing prices to fall. C) As prices fall, people owe more on their homes then they are worth, thus making it harder to sell a house, which leads to either A or B.

Pretty simple. The banks and investment houses are shitting themselves because they own billions in mortgages that aren't worth as much as they paid for them. Well, that's their own damn fault. I bought Mossimo's stock once. It went down. I lost money. Lesson learned. No one bailed me out.

The banks, though, want us to buy their crappy investments from them at an inflated price. Why? Because, well, there's no real good reason. Maybe a few of those banks fail. That's the price of doing business in an unregulated, free market. If you can't handle the risks, buy CDs, not billions in mortgages.

So, instead of buying these pools of mortgages from banks, why doesn't the government just buy all the properties that are in default? Real estate, so we're told, is always a good investment. The government can spend way less than $700B to buy all defaulting mortgages. The government also has the financial power to fix those homes (if they've been abandoned and neglected) and hold them until the market bounces back in 3, 5, or 10 years.

You may say, how can they possible identify every defaulted mortgage? I don't know, public records, maybe? You may also say, well, if that's the deal, won't everyone who owes more on their house than it's worth just start to default? Probably, but you can simply put a time limit on the plan, so that it only includes mortgages in default up to a certain date.

I don't know, maybe that's too simple (it is less than Paulson's paltry 3-page boondoggle, but I didn't run Goldman Sachs into the ground after 5 years, so what do I know). But, it makes sense to me, it gets to the core of the problem, it avoids a windfall to the morons on Wall Street who suck at investing, and it prevents neighborhoods from collapsing. Maybe it rescues some people who made bad mortgage choices. Well, they don't have an MBA from Harvard, so I guess they should get a little more slack than the Rainmen on Wall Street.

Palin is a Whore and Moron

If the Enquirer is good enough to out Edwards' affair, they're probably right about Palin's. Whore It's not surprising that another die-hard right-winger family values crusader is a liar and a hypocrite. Between Larry Craig's gay bj's in a airport bathroom, Newt divorcing his wife on her cancer bed, McCain cheating on his crippled wife, Republicans molesting pages, and Ted Haggard tweaking while blowing a gay hooker, this is not really news. Except that it should be.

When is the press and the public going to start calling these people out? They are hypocrites and have no business telling the rest of us how to live our lives. More importantly, they have no business using their public personas to push issues and involve themselves in legislation. They all need to be throw out on their asses and ignored forever. For these people, there is no punishment worse than being irrelevant.

McCain is a Pussy

Look, McCain may taut his inability to fly a plane in Vietnam as a great resume item, but we're seeing his true colors now. He's a fucking pussy. Period. Does he really think anyone is going to buy his political stunt that he's going to suspend his campaign for the betterment of the political process while the financial crisis he helped create (read this for a primer on the whole disaster), he's dreaming. Just like he was dreaming when he thought this moron religious-nut-job from Alaska would help him win (win the wingnut base maybe, but certainly not the election).

I can barely believe that Mr. Tough Guy, who actually wore a flight suit (unlike W. who just pretended during his Mission Un-Accomplished boondoggle), is running scared from a skinny black guy with funny ears. And, make no mistake, that's exactly what he's doing. He's running away with his sack tucked like Buffalo Bill from the debate.

But, we have come to expect this crap from this wimp. He's been crying for weeks that the press is so hard on him and Sarah. Yeah, count the number of articles written about Keating 5. It's less than 6 and infinitely less than the number written about whether Obama is a Muslim. He's also now accustomed to hiding behind Sarah's skirt - deflecting attacks pointed at him as "sexist" or some other bogus thing.

Look, it's time that people starting calling McCain what he is: a pussy, a coward, yellow, etc. He'd be a unmitigated disaster as President. What, the first time Putin goes "Boo!" he'd run and hide and call for a no-political-zone? What a joke. This guy should have retired a long time ago. This country needs to tell him what his drugged-out wife won't - go home to AZ with the rest of the blue-hairs and let the world continue to pass you by.

Part III: Buses, Cabs, and Boats

We threw our gear into the bus to Belize City and climbed aboard. The bus wasn't filled with leather seats and TVs, but it was air conditioned, there were only two other people on board, and it didn't smell funny. The bus driver - who explained that in Belize they speak English - said it would be about a 5 hour trip. Suddenly finding no need to listen to Coffee Break Spanish, I sat back, relaxed, and watched Mexico disappear.

At the Mexico side of the Belize border we had to pay some bogus fee of $20 U.S. Bending over gladly, I paid the fee and bought some mangoes from a girl's street stand. She asked if I wanted salt, I looked at her like she was nuts. When I said no, she looked at me just the same. Our border crossing was slightly delayed as one of the other passengers - a young woman from England with whom we had struck up some conversation - did not have her Mexico entrance ticket, from three weeks ago. A little extra cash seemed to do the trick. Things on the Belize side went much easier and we were soon back on the road.

The young woman from England explained she was on a five week holiday, that she was traveling alone, and that she had begun her journey in Mexico City and would end it in Nicaragua. She was maybe 19 years old, and pretty. I don't know that I'd let my pretty 19-year old daughter travel Central America alone. I guess that makes me old and lame. Get off my lawn!!

Not only was the Belize bus not as nice as the Mexican one, but also the roads in Belize were crap in comparison. Narrow, bumpy, and filled with huge, randomly placed speed bumps, the roads made the going much slower. Along the way we picked up many more passengers. The driver was kind enough to play for us the Bottom 40 R&B songs from eight years ago, including the all time classic, "Straight Fuckin'". I don't know who the artist was, but his name might as well have been magic because I was definitely ready for some straight fuckin' after hearing that one. At first, I thought I wanted some crooked fuckin', but, nope, straight fuckin' is the way to go.

After way too long, we pulled into Orange Walk, Belize. I didn't know what this town was, or why we were there, but it had tons of kids selling sundry items like chips, things on a stick, dirty fruit, and orange juice in Coke bottles. Having had my fill of fruit at the border crossing, sans salt, I passed. But they kept coming - for 45 minutes. The bus driver chilled outside chatting with some large ladies while we waited for, I don't know, me to buy some fruit. Finally, we started moving again, this time with the bus nearly half full.

Another hour passed and my bladder knocked on my brain and asked to be emptied. No bathroom on the bus, no bathroom stops planned. I was straight fucked. And now the bus seemed to be stopping every three miles to pick someone up or let someone off in the middle of nowhere. But soon, my bladder would be the least of my problems.

The green chili demon shoved my bladder aside and got my full attention as it raced from one side of my intestines, to the other. The sweats and chills traded off pummeling me like a WWF tag-team. "Brett the Hit-Man Heart. Off the top ropes!" Chills all over. "Ooohhh, Randy Macho-Man Savage delivers a drop kick to the face!" Sweat covers my pasty, clammy skin. This was awesome and we were no where near Belize City.

But bladder made a comeback, he pushed forward with all his might, mocking me, taunting me. "You can't hold it. You're going to explode." Realizing he may be right, I finished the water in one of my water bottles and stepped to the back of the bus. The guy sitting two rows behind me, though I couldn't read his mind, knew what I was up to. His eyes followed me and said everything.

If only I had the control over my involuntary muscles so I could pee without shitting myself. That would be great. Instead, green chili demon dared me to try and pee in the bottle. I had a premonition of what would happen if I did. I doubt my shorts could hold the spray that would jet out like a dolphin's blow hole. Despondent, I returned to my seat with a full bladder, puckered asshole, and an empty water bottle. The bus stopped again.

The battle raged on for an eon, until we reached the outskirts of Belize City. Though I thought I'd feel better with the goal in sight, my eyes bulged in horror as I noticed a long, snaking traffic jam on the two lane road in front of us. Sweet, Belizian rush hour. The WWF match in my pants had now turned into an all out cage match, last man standing wins. I went to my happy place, but only saw bathrooms I couldn't use. I tried deep, Sting-zen breathing, that helped, but it's tough to relax while contracting the lower half of your body.

Slowly, tortiously so, we wound through the crowded, desperate streets of Belize City. The bus stopped repeatedly as we inched to the city's center. I was begging to Buddha, the Dali Lama, Jesus, and Allah to kill the green chili demon, but they were all, as usual, no help. Tears squeezed from my eyes as they clenched in unison with various sphincters in places people don't talk about.

Miracles of all miracles! The bus station! I'm saved! I can take a shit! I pushed to the front of the bus and was instantly surrounded by cab drivers begging for my fare. I told one guy, "Ok. But I have to go to the bathroom first." "Where are you going?" he replied. I told him and he gave the worst news I've ever heard, "The last boat leaves in 5 minutes. You don't have time for the bathroom." I slammed by open palm into his nose, it bled all over. I grabbed his head and slammed it into the bus. Not really, I wanted to, but I knew I'd shit myself if I did. Practically sobbing, I climbed into this cab, my wife grabbed the bags, and we headed to the dock. Fortunately, the streets we were on weren't as crowded and we got to the dock quickly. I could feel the shit sloshing in my colon now.

We hopped out, my wife went to the ticket booth. Again we had no cash. I went to the ATM, did the pee-pee dance while the machine did its money making. Ripped the cash out, threw it at the ticket booth and headed into the bathroom. "Oh fuck!" There's no toilet paper. I looked at the front of the bathroom remembering my lesson from the Chetumal bus station. Nope. "Shit, shit shit!" No kidding. I went into the women's bathroom. Nothing. I went to the store next to the ticket booth. "No we don't sell toilet paper." Well, like a baby that wouldn't wait, I was going to give birth to this demon now, paper or not. I'll spare you the gory details, but Rolaids has nothing on this relief.

As the ecstacy coursed through my body, I saw angels slaying the demon. Super-Fly Jimmy Snouka had won the cage match. The smile on my face felt the same the night I lost my virginity. I'm not kidding. This was that good. Don't believe me? Hold your bowels against all hope for two hours. Then you tell me how you feel.

But, to the task at hand. I needed paper and there wasn't a pulp plant within miles. I looked down and saw my socks. Perfect. Thank you, Champion, for making such soft, absorbent socks.

I walked out of the bathroom. Fortunately, they held the last boat for me. My wife looked at me in shock. She commented, "Is everything ok? You look like you're really sick. You've got huge, dark circles under your eyes." I thought to myself, when you've been through battle like I have, your face will show it. I climbed aboard the boat as a dozen eyes watched me gently take my seat. We were off to Cay Caulker.

If this happens to you, riot

Foreclosure = No vote? If it were me, I would punch the Republican douche bag who challenged my eligibility based on a foreclosure notice in the fucking nose. I bet most people in line would not only not care, but might join the party. I'm not saying you should do it, I'm just saying if it were me, that's what I'd do.

This just goes to show you the Republicans have no respect for the Constitution, the law, or democracy. All they care about is power and they will do anything to anyone to get it. Don't let them. Besides, I've never met a Republican (Chuck Norris this includes you) who wasn't a huge pussy once challenged.

This Time It Matters

I had the privileged of attending a panel discussion on the Supreme Court that included Prof. Jeff Rosen. In a nutshell, he is convinced - as am I - that for the first time in a long time, this election will definitively decide the direction of the Supreme Court for the next 30 years. The time is now. If John "Get Off My Lawn" McCain is elected, there will likely be 1 to 3 justices who die or retire. All of them are the more liberal justices (let's not kid ourselves, there aren't any actual liberals on the Court): Breyer, Ginsberg, and Stevens.

In fact, Justice Breyer acknowledged that if McCain is elected, it is likely that Roe v. Wade will be "revisited," which means overturned. So, for all of you out there who think this election doesn't matter, think again. For the next 30 years, this election matters on issues like choice, civil rights, the Fourth Amendment, and Freedom of and from Religion.

Lieberman: King of the Douche

Well, we all saw Lieberman's speech last night and he proved, once and for all, he is King of all Douches. No surprise. Also, no surprise he's a fucking liar. He lied to the people of CT when, after he lost his party's primary to a real Democrat, he told them he'd help get us out of Iraq, he said he'd oppose corporate tax cuts and corporate welfare, and that he'd support Democrats. Lieberman's pants have been on fire for several years now. Democrats, caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place didn't do anything about it. Probably becuase they couldn't. Well, it seems that those days are over. Fed up with Lieberman's b.s. after his lies at the RNC Dems are looking to strip Lieber-douche of his committee chairmanship. What a difference a few days makes. In the video below, among other topics, Sen. Reid addressed the Lieberman issue in a Q&A with bloggers. Make sure you turn up the volume, Sen. Reid is soft spoken.

Romney's Speech at the RNC: What a Douche

Romney took a swipe at Michelle Obama tonight saying "there's never been a day when [he] wasn't proud of his country." What a crock of shit! What about the day Southern white racists threw the hoses on and sicked police dogs on civil rights protesters? What about the day our government sent American citizens into "internment camps" because they were Japanese? Or, to put a twist on it, Mitt, what about the day the Supreme Court handed down Roe v. Wade? Were you proud of your country on those days you fucking game show host?

As if that wasn't ridiculous enough, Mittens also - amazingly, just fucking amazingly - called this Supreme Court liberal! Are you kidding me!? His rhetorical question was "Is a Supreme Court liberal or conservative that awards Guantanamo terrorists with constitution rights?" Yeah, Justice Roberts who joined in the majority opinion granting those rights is a real liberal guy. Apparently Chuck Woolery doesn't remember McCain's support for Bush's boy on the Court.

Part II: Buses and a Fateful Lunch

We boarded the plane in Houston anticipating a quick flight to Cancun, then a short bus ride to Playa Del Carmen, where we would stay the night. Not only was the plane late to the gate, we then got to sit on the runway for a half an hour. When I looked out the window I saw rush hour traffic with wings. But the delay gave me more time to learn Spanish from the two Scotts in my iPod. I quickly learned how to order from a menu, how to ask directions, and how to pronounce the "c" sound, which is more like "th". Problem was, that's only for Spain Spanish, not Latin American Spanish. Good thing they told me that at the end of the podcast.

Fortunately, the flight was uneventful, except for the crazy orgy we had with two sexy stewardesses. Okay, they weren't sexy, but middle-aged and desperate. You think those bathrooms are small when you're in there by yourself, try cramming four in there. Clown car for sure.

We landed in Cancun an hopped on a bus to Playa. I had heard the bus system in Mexico was great, and it appeared to be. The bus was clean, didn't smell like b.o. (though I probably did after having been in small metal enclosures for the past eight hours), and the seats were comfortable. While the buses may be great, the traffic is not. It's not that it moves slow, it's that it moves crazy. This giant whale of a bus was zipping in and out of traffic as pick-up trucks with 20 people in the back darted in between buses, vans, and cars.

After we pulled into the bus station in Playa, we took note of the times the buses to Chetumal left the next day. We decided to catch the 7:30 am bus so we could get to Belize City with some daylight left - always a good thing in Belize City for a couple of pasty white American tourists. With backpacks on, we headed towards the beach where we found a information booth. The guy tried to sell us on a hotel for $75 a night. But I knew that was too expensive. "Mas economico por favor." My Spanish was obviously great. Being the helpful information guy, he gave us a map and said there were a bunch of hotels on the beach and we should just go find one. Thanks.

Find one we did. Exhausted from planes, trains, and automobiles, I knew an hour-long hunt for a good, cheap hotel was not in the cards. Also, the look on my wife's face, which I roughly translated to "if you drag me down this fucking beach for more than 5 minutes, I will rip off your testicles, marinate them in your blood, and feed them to the guy selling chorizo on a stick." So, we popped into a place on the beach. I blathered some crappy Spanish that the guy understood to mean we wanted a room with hot water and a ceiling fan. He showed us what we got for $35 a night. Palatial! Rusted ceiling fan, check. TV, check. Bed, check. Paint peeling off the walls, check. 100% chance of something nibbling on your feet at night in the dark, check. No view of the ocean because of a dilapidated wall that serves no purpose other than to block your view of the ocean, check.

But we didn't care. We threw our stuff down, didn't have a quickie, and set out for some food. We sat down at some restaurant on the main drag, ordered a few frilly drinks and relaxed. The waiter spoke Enlgish, sparing me from embarrassing myself. The food went down easy and was pretty good. After walking around window shopping and saying "no" to dozens of people selling cigars, movies, pinatas, and lap dances, we headed to the most popular night club, the Blue Parrot. Being the party animals that we are, it was 9pm, no one was there and we were too damn tired to hang out until midnight when people apparently begin to party. Knowing the luxury that awaited us back at the hotel, we called it a night to rest our bodies on quilts of silk and down.

Morning came quick. We zombie-walked into the bathroom to take care of the various S'es. The shower part, though, quickly became a nightmare. We turned the nozzle to hot, waited, waited, waited, and then realized there was no hot water. We needed a shower, though, so we toughed it out. Fortunately, it wasn't Norway, so the "cold" water was really kinda luke warm. Shortly after soaking myself, I realized I lacked a towel. I guess it was presumptuous of me to think towels were part of the price. I pulled on my bathing suit and, half-naked (the upper half fortunately for everyone) I went to the front desk. After complaining about no hot water and being told there was no such thing in that hotel, I was told that there were towels in my room. The conversation then went something like this: "No there aren't." "Si, tollas." "No, tollas." "Si." "No." Persuaded by my brilliant argument, I was taken to a 25x25 foot closet filled with towels. Now I knew why he didn't want me to have any towels, they might run low during a nuclear disaster. Towels secured, I returned to the room, finished my cold shower, dried off, packed my crap and walked to the bus station. And waited.

Being a paranoid traveler, I'm never late for transportation. Which inevitably means I'm always waiting for transportation. But, I had the Scotts willing to teach me more Spanish as I waited for my 5 hour bus ride to begin.

After learning how to ask where the church is, we boarded the bus. Again, nice bus, comfy, and clean. We headed for Chetumal. When we planned this part of the trip we thought the bus part would be kind of nice since we'd make our way sort of along the coast. We figured the views of the country and people would be nice. They weren't. There wasn't anything to look at. I soon fell asleep to a soothing Scottish-Spanish accent.

Chetumal, as far as we knew, consisted of only a bus station. We had an hour and a half until our bus to Belize City would leave. So, we perused the sundries available in the station, then ventured outside to see what we could see. We saw a couple of stores and a couple of places to grab some food. Comforted by the sight of another pale couple at one of the "restaurants", we stopped in for some chicken sandwiches. Along with the sandwiches came a side of green chili. Being the more adventurous eater, I slathered a bit on my sandwich, noted its heat, and ate happily. Good green chili is hot - makes you sweat - but has lots of actual flavor. This qualified.

Satiated, we went back to the station. I headed up to the bathroom, but not before paying the bathroom gate keeper 30 cents. I looked around to do my business and noticed no toilet paper. Dejected, I began to leave, then noticed a single dispenser in the front of the bathroom that had instructions that I understood to mean, "This is where you get toilet paper. You better take enough." I took enough on my first try.

Now both empty and full, I waited for the bus. When it came, we noticed that the bus to Belize was not nearly as nice as the bus we took to get to Chetumal. Nor would the ride be as nice.

Hello, Welcome, What to Expect, and Part I: Getting There

This is the beginning of the WagTheBlog blog. Welcome to all. My goal is to provide entertaining and funny posts. Most posts will mostly focus on everyday things that frustrate me and politics. Often, those two are the same thing. But, to start things off, I'm going to tell you the story of my recent trip abroad. A four part series, I expect. A mini-series, if you will. Whatever happened to the mini-series, by the way? Those were always "Huge Television Events" about lonely women, starring washed-ups and never-has-beens that were sponsored by feminine products.

Anyway, Part I: "Getting There"

I recently took a long - for Americans - vacation, 10 days, in Central America. Mostly, we went spent our time in Guatemala. As usual, getting there was half the fun, or not. We planned to fly into Cancun, grab a bus to Playa del Carmen, stay there a day, take another bus (or two) to Belize, stay there a couple of days, and then grab another bus (and a boat) to Puerto Barrios, Guatemala. As they say, "the best laid plans . . . "

We flew into Houston to connect to Cancun. Our scheduled layover was about 4 hours. But we noticed a connecting flight that left 3 hours before our scheduled one. So, we went to the gate and luckily enough grabbed standby seats. We were lucky because there were seats, but more importantly, we didn't have to pay extra. Apparently the airlines now charge you $75 to standby for an earlier flight. But we had booked our tickets 5 days before that rule went into effect. Ca-Ching! So, we'd save $150 AND get into Mexico 3 hours early.

But the plane hadn't arrived at the gate when it should have. So, we waited. I perused the iPod vending machine, then searched my backpack for something to do. I realized I had forgotten my Spanish phrase book. D'oh! A week earlier I spent about an hour in a bookstore trying to pick out the right phrasebook. Had to be small enough and light enough; had to be easy; and, of course, it had to be useful. I knew how to ask where the library and bathroom were, but not how to ask if there was reading material in the bathroom. Also, I wanted to make sure I had the proper pronunciation so when asking where to find the hookers I didn't accidentally ask where to find the local church.

Apparently, I lacked the skills necessary to distinguish between a good phrasebook and a bad one. So I asked Sarah, the clerk. I gave her 3 books I thought looked good. She made up some story about how great one of the books was and how she always used that brand when she traveled. I guess I only needed an excuse to buy one of them, and that was good enough. $13 dollars later I had the perfect phrasebook recommended by Sarah. It even came with a CD! Which I never would use, but it made me feel more confident that I was getting my full 13 dollars' worth.

I turned to my wife, "Fuck. I forgot the phrasebook. Crap. I also forgot the Lonely Planet book for Guatemala." She replied, as usual, "You're an idiot. Glad you spent 13 bucks on it." Oh well, I thought, it'd just make the trip more of an adventure. But half the fun the last time I had traveled to a foreign country was working with the language and trying to get by. Essential to that, though, was having some crutch like a phrasebook. I was screwed. Though not completely. I had taken the time to download 30 episodes of Coffee Break Spanish from iTunes.

I promptly plugged in and listened to two Scotts try to teach me Spanish in 15 minute episodes. This was not going to help.