"MY GOODNESS!"

The Secretary of Defense interrogates himself:

“Have mistakes been made in Iraq?”
“Gee wiz, certainly. Mistakes are inevitable in everything.”

“Did things go according to plan?”
“Golly, no. Everyone knows that the plan goes out the window when the shooting starts.”

“Were more troops needed?”
“Gee willikers, I gave the generals what they asked for.”

“But weren’t the generals intimidated by me?”
“Golly gee, how could anyone be intimidated by such a nice guy?”

“Shouldn’t we have foreseen the breakdown of law and order?”
“Holy moly, you can’t foresee everything.”

“Why have the optimistic predictions not come to pass?”
“Gol darn, I never made such predictions.”

“But didn’t someone say this would be an easy war?”
“Stacey wacey, it certainly wasn’t me.”

“Did I approve torturing detainees?”
“Lucy wucy, certainly not.”

“But didn’t I imply that the normal rules didn’t apply?”
“Hunky dory, I only said that I stood at my desk all day.”

“Did the President ask me whether or not we should go to war?”
“Foosy woosy, no.”

“Did I advise the President on whether we should go to war?”
“Lacey dacey, he didn’t ask.”

“Am I the best Secretary of Defense ever?”
“Tory dory, probably not.”

“But am I in the top two or three?”
“Funky wunky, quite possibly.”

DSH

PUDGY BOY TOUGH GUYS

The problem with American foreign policy in this century, including the nation’s misnamed war on terror (it’s actually a war against radical Islamic anti-modernists), has been that Pudgy Boy Tough Guys are calling the shots. What’s a Pudgy Boy Tough Guy? Simply someone who talks tough but who has rarely taken or delivered a punch, either physically or metaphorically. In short, someone who has little understanding of the difficulties in actually getting things done in this world.

Pudgy Boy Tough Guys have spent most of their lives talking for a living. They may have been politicians, such as Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. They may have been CEOs of mature corporations, also such as Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. CEOs primarily talk for a living? You bet, particularly if the organization is a mature one. Bill Gates built an organization from scratch, a real accomplishment. Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld stepped into the leadership of existing organizations, yelled at a few subordinates, made a few decisions from a selection of options handed to them by those trembling subordinates, and concluded to themselves that they were great leaders. CEOs are the most overly compensated, overly worshiped individuals in American capitalism. Mature corporations run themselves, sometimes successfully, sometimes not, and the CEO is little more than a busy bee figurehead.

Another Pudgy Boy Tough Guy is George W. Bush. He may look trim and fit but at heart he is a Pudgy Boy. Born to wealth (visit Kennebunkport sometime and gaze upon the Bush island estate; that ain’t no log cabin, folks), a business career greased by family and political connections, a political career similarly padded, George Bush learned tough talk without having to think much about the consequences of failure. He had a safety net—family, money, and alternative opportunities—that ordinary folk don’t have.

Advising George Bush may be the ultimate Pudgy Boy Tough Guy, Karl Rove.

And then there are the Pudgy Boy Tough Guy cheerleaders—the think tankers from the Heritage Foundation, the Cato Institute, and similar institutions and the sympathetic members of the media. Let’s name some names: neoconservatives in general, the Wall Street Journal editorial board (Paul Gigot, Daniel Henninger, and friends), Fox News, Sean Hannity, William Kristol, Fred Barnes, Brit Hume, Bill O’Reilly, Charles Krauthammer, Newt Gingrich, Kate O’Beirne, and Rush Limbaugh, for starters.

Religious leaders are also among the Pudgy Boy Tough Guy cheerleaders. Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson come readily to mind.

All of these individuals and groups make their living by talking, and their talk is tough. What they haven’t had to do much of is physically get something done, is implement the tough talk. They talk and someone else does the implementing. In particular, most of them have little first hand knowledge of the messiest, most difficult environment in which to get things done, the battlefield. And they have no recognition of or humility about their lack of experience.

Let’s bring the discussion down to the essence, remove it from esoteric level of, well, talk. If you were about to enter a badass biker bar, would you be comfortable with any of the aforementioned groups or individuals watching your back? Karl Rove? Fred Barnes? Dick Cheney? That’s right, they would be out of their element. Similarly, they are out of their element when they talk tough about the world’s problems without having much background in implementing tough talk. Yes, Dick Cheney was Secretary of Defense during the First Gulf War. But some guys with real world experience in implementing tough talk were around him: George Herbert Walker Bush, Colin Powell, and Norman Schwarzkopf.

Just because you have been a talker all your life doesn’t disqualify you from being a leader, from policy making or policy influencing positions. But you need to know what you don’t know. And the Pudgy Boy Tough Guys haven’t shown that they realize their limited life experiences have left major gaps in their knowledge.

This nation has for real tough guys, and gals. They, and the rest of us, deserve better leadership than has been provided in the first years of the 21st Century by the Pudgy Boy Tough Guys.

dsh

FLAG BURNING

The Fourth of July is upon us, so the Cranky Old Guy will give you the benefit of his view on the proposed Constitutional amendment to prohibit flag burning and other forms of flag desecration. Cranky’s view is simple: he thinks the proposal is ludicrous. The Constitution of the United States expresses fundamental principles. A flag burning amendment would trivialize it.

But that is the logical, rational argument. Now let’s go to a gut argument. The Cranky Old Guy doesn’t like the flag burning amendment because he is an American, and like most Americans he doesn’t like to be told what to do. You see, this is a nation that was born in rebellion. It’s in our genes. We don’t like authority.

Oh, we get told plenty what to do. And we usually do it. A long, long time ago, Cranky was in the Army. The Army told him what to do, and he did it. Cranky has had many jobs through the years. Many jobs means many bosses. Bosses told Cranky what to do, and he did it. Governments tell Cranky to pay taxes, to stop at stop signs, to do a thousand other things. For the most part, Cranky does them, as do most of his fellow citizens.

The reason Cranky and most of his fellow citizens do most of the things they are told is that a sensible reason usually exists to do those things. But what is the sensible reason not to desecrate a piece of cloth? That desecration would offend some people? Hey, if mere offensive conduct is grounds for legal prohibitions, Cranky has a whole list, starting with public use of cell phones and extending all the way to just being a general jerk.

Cranky is as patriotic as the next guy. He’s done his military service. He doesn’t like the wising off that use to take place, before 9/11, during the playing of the National Anthem. He gets a lump in his throat at Memorial Day concerts.

But this idea that he has to be commanded by the Constitution to treat the flag of his country a certain way is touching a raw nerve. Someone wants to require Cranky to do something, and there’s no sensible reason for the requirement. Deep within Cranky, a little spark of rebellion is beginning to smolder.

You see, Cranky is an American, and Americans don’t like to be told what to do.

DSH

BIRD FLU

So when is this bird flu gonna happen? Governments, the media, and elements of the medical community have had us in a semi-panic for more than a year now. But the pandemic, as it is currently being called, keeps refusing to materialize.

The cranky old guy has come to this conclusion: it ain’t gonna happen, at least in the form and manner of the predictions. After a lifetime of surprises and dashed expectations, the cranky old guy has arrived at this truism: things you expect to happen, don’t; and things you don’t expect to happen, do.

What purpose bird flu is serving is to provide fodder for slow news days. No bombings in Iraq today? No young blonde white girls gone missing? No member of the Bush Administration putting his or her foot in his or her mouth? No member of Congress caught in a scandal? No hurricane bearing down? No earthquake or tsunami devastating Indonesia? No update on the shrinking Antarctic ice cap? West Nile virus no longer interesting? No new whack job third world country about to get the bomb? Then let’s go to bird flu. Nothing to report, actually, just that it is on its way and when it arrives, civilization as we know it will be over. Come to think of it, that might not be such a bad result after all.

And what is the relationship between bird flu and mad cow disease? Is this the revenge of the food chain? The next thing you know, broccoli will be attacking Philadelphia.

In a recent report, the Bush Administration—the folks who brought you the Katrina response, who are monitoring your phone conversations, and who are doing such a great job bringing democracy to the Middle East—put forth some bird flu rules. When it happens, employers are to keep employees at least three feet apart. Now really, who gets within three feet of a co-worker anyway? Unless, of course, . . . oh well, you know.

No, the cranky old guy thinks bird flu is not in our future. But don’t feel deprived. You can be sure something nasty is looming just over the horizon. How about a blight that will destroy coffee crops worldwide? Imagine mornings without a Starbucks fix.

DSH

PAVE THE PIT

Every so often, the cranky old guy’s ‘hood, like probably most ‘hoods at one time or another, goes berserk. Currently, the berserkness concerns a location referred to as “The Pit.” The Pit is actually a small public park, maybe 30 by 50 yards (or 27.42 by 45.70 meters: we’re supposed to be adopting the metric system, folks). Some time back, the city, known lovingly as The People’s Republic of Alexandria, stocked it with toys, small play houses, and tricycles of various sorts. Users of the park added their own playthings to the wonderland.

Now the city, concerned about liability, is threatening to remove most of the items. This has aroused those who have come to view the use of the free stuff as the natural order of things.

The cranky old guy sympathizes with both sides in the matter, but he has concluded that some opponents of the removal have become a little overwrought. Much of the debate is taking place on a neighborhood chat site on that marvelous invention, the Internet. (Hey, this is on the Internet too, isn’t it?)

One commenter with an impressive signature block indicating an important-sounding position with an important-sounding company wondered how she was going to explain the absence of toys to her five-year old. Another complained about nannies having to wrestle both children and tricycles to the Pit. When someone suggested bringing the media in on the matter, a commenter said he felt violated by having the contents of the chat site exposed to wide-spread scrutiny. The word “whining” made a number of appearances.

The media did indeed enter the fracas. The Washington Post had a large article. The media attention touched on another issue in the chat site. The upscale neighborhood has been experiencing something of a crime wave, mostly burglaries and vandalism. A debate had been underway about whether media attention should be sought for the crime wave, with some fearing a negative impact on property values. (The cranky old guy’s attitude is that anything bringing inflated property values, and outrageous real estate taxes, down can’t be all bad.) Now the subjects of media attention, petty crime, and toys in the Pit have become hopelessly intertwined.

The cranky old guy thinks that the Pit is perhaps more of a problem than it is worth. Some years back, the issue at the Pit was basketball. There were basketball nets, and a decidedly riff raffian group had taken to gathering there on weekends. Beer and strange types of cigarettes were in abundance. After a lengthy debate within the neighborhood, the city took down the basketball facilities.

Now there are the toys. And the most divisive issue regarding the Pit is lurking just over the horizon. Every Christmas season, the Pit has a manger scene and a neighborhood caroling session. It can’t be too long before some perceptive zealot grabs this First Amendment situation. In other words, the Pit is just one ACLU-hiccup away from a Constitutional crisis.

So the cranky old guy says, Pave the Pit. The place has room for a plethora of townhouses. Surely some kind-hearted developer can be found who will take the property off the city’s hands. And just maybe, more taxpayers will result in slower growth of real estate taxes. (Okay, the cranky old guy admits that‘s a long shot.)

CRANKY'S SCHOLARSHIP

The world keeps coming up with new ways to tell the Cranky Old Guy that he is coming down the stretch. Such things as AARP membership applications, iPods, and ever slower running times are just a few of the ways one message is being pounded home: “Your time is running out, buddy.”

Now another set of voices has begun to enhance the chorus. The old alma maters are sending communications about such things as “estate gifts” and “legacy bequests.” A recent communication from one alma mater ask the Cranky Old Guy if he wanted information about: gifts of real estate; charitable remainder trusts; gift annuities; gifts through wills and living trusts; gifts of life insurance; and gifts of retirement plans. Gifts, gifts, gifts.

The communication said a Cornerstone Society of donors who have made planned gifts to the school had been set up. Seems like Gravestone Society would be a more appropriate term.

Such entreaties for the Cranky Old Guy’s money are premised on a falsehood: that the Cranky Old Guy has money. Some of his contemporaries went on to fame and fortune. Cranky went on to a modest pension that local real estate taxes are devouring.

Still, Cranky is moved by the need to buttress the endowment of his rapacious alma mater, who incidentally can’t seem to produce any sort of sports winner that Cranky can identify with. And Cranky likes the thought of leaving something behind with his name on it.

So Cranky is contemplating “Cranky’s Scholarship.” Ideally, the scholarship should go to an individual similar to the young Cranky. In other words, the individual should have a fondness for lower intensity alcohol—that is, beer—an aversion to strenuous academic challenges, an intense but largely unrequited interest in the opposite sex (okay, to be politically correct, in any sex), and a deep, profound disrespect for any type of authority.

The problem with Cranky’s Scholarship is that it won’t be very lucrative. About the only spare wealth Cranky has is around $600 in aging U.S. Government bonds that he was “encouraged” to buy backed when he worked for the bureaucracy (“Our office has to have 100 percent participation; you don’t want to be the lone holdout, do you?”). But the alma mater says every little bit helps, so how do you guys want it: a charitable remainder trust, an annuity, outright? And Cranky does get a tax break, right?

DSH

SECDEF AS CEO? BAD MODEL

In the matter of the Generals versus Donald Rumsfeld, one of the defenses offered on behalf of Mr. Rumsfeld is that he is simply operating as a tough CEO, sharply challenging subordinates and closely questioning the accepted way of doing things. The assumption behind this defense is that the CEO model is an appropriate one for the Secretary of Defense, often referred to by Pentagon insiders as the SECDEF.

But is the CEO model an appropriate one for the SECDEF? After all, having a CEO, a Chief Executive Officer, does not guarantee a company success. Enron had a CEO. General Motors has a CEO. Yet the former ended up in bankruptcy and the latter is desperately trying to avoid that fate. Companies with CEOs fail every year. And in many cases, the argument can be made that the CEOs bear a large share of the responsibility.

The CEO model might well be one of those American inventions that has morphed to the negative side of the social, economic, and political ledger. At the extreme, or maybe not so extreme, the CEO has become a grossly overcompensated prima donna who rules by fear and fiat. Subordinates are not rewarded for individual initiative and intellectual vigor but for their ability to anticipate the thinking and wishes of the great man or woman. If the thinking and wishes of the great man or woman are flawed, the prevailing culture of group think prevents corrective action, or even hinders realization that a problem exists.

Yet the CEO model does not always punish CEO failure. A company can be less than successful or even fail, but the CEO does not necessarily go down with the ship. The upper echelons of the American corporate world constitute an elite club that can be very protective of its members. Much can be forgiven, including such minor matters as an overbearing, arrogant attitude toward subordinates.

So what happens when the CEO model is transported to the public sector, particularly to a monstrous entity, the Department of Defense, with a fundamental overall mission—the protection of the nation—that requires the determination of a number of difficult-to-quantify implementing efforts?

Compared to the task of national defense, the task of business is simplicity personified. In business, success is measured by profits. And many times, profits are created or enhanced by cutting costs. The cutting of costs can be a cold-hearted endeavor. Attention to detail and the ability to blot out from one’s mind the effects on employees are often attributes of the successful cost cutter.

In the struggle for success in the private sector, in the search for profits, what businesses do is provide products and services. A pill, a cell phone, a will, a tank of gas, a television program, an advertisement: these are things people or companies pay for.

Donald Rumsfeld has led a varied life, holding high positions in both the public and private sectors. In the private sector, he has been CEO of a pharmaceutical company, G.D. Searle and Company, and a technology company, General Instrument Corporation. In both instances, his companies were considered, in terms of profits, successful. His companies provided goods or services that people paid for.

As a wartime Secretary of Defense, Rumsfeld has faced a much more daunting task than profitably providing a good or service. Yet by many accounts, he has brought a profitability mindset to the effort. Tremendously complicating the situation is the type of subordinate he has encountered in the Defense Department.

A stereotype exits of a military man or woman who lacks the ability or willingness to think independently. The stereotype exists by exception only. The upper reaches of the military have a high percentage of individuals with intelligence, advanced education, initiative, and a record of accomplishment. Contributing to the intellectual ferment is the constant movement of individuals from assignment to assignment. The military is certainly not perfect, but compared with many mature companies in corporate America, and with many government agencies, it is a place of energy and enthusiasm.

If Rumsfeld did indeed bring the CEO model to the job of Secretary of Defense, the events of September 11, 2001, made him a man in the wrong place at the wrong time. No longer was he merely presiding over reorganizations or transformations. No longer was cost-cutting the main event. No longer was the interaction with and treatment of subordinates a minor matter. No longer was understanding there were things he did not know unimportant.

Four decades ago, another star of corporate America, Robert McNamara, slid into one of the most challenging and frightening of positions: being a wartime leader in a prolonged war. He also was not successful. He also did not appear to understand there were things he did not know. And he also seemed to approach the messy, nasty business of war as simple matter analogous to selling, say, toothpaste.

In peacetime, when the focuses are on controlling costs, on budgetary procedures, on PowerPoint presentations, on proper protocol, the CEO model for the Secretary of Defense might be acceptable. In wartime, the nation needs better.

DSH

REPUBLICANS THINK I'M STUPID (THEY'RE PROBABLY RIGHT)

Political fund raising solicitations cater to the lowest common denominator, a fact with which everyone other than those in the lowest common denominator will likely agree. Recently, however, the cranky old guy received a solicitation that might give pause to even the lowest common denominator.

The solicitation was from the Republican side of the aisle, but Democrats should not feel too superior: their communications certainly are not aimed at rocket scientists. Still, this particular Republican effort sets a new low.

North Carolina Senator Elizabeth Dole, a graduate of Duke University and Harvard Law School, was, in her capacity as Chair of the National Republican Senatorial Committee, the signatory of the covering letter. The cranky old guy hopes her signature was nominal only and not indicative of any actual awareness of the contents of the solicitation. If she was aware of how low her appeal was aimed, well, the nation has a sorrier passel of leaders than even the cranky old guy believes.

The cranky old guy will not dissect the solicitation point-by-point. Life is too short. He will just hit the highlights, saving the totally outrageous item, the item that aims below the lowest common denominator, for last.

A characteristic of low-life solicitations, both political and otherwise, is an official, government-like look. The theory apparently is that the more the thing looks an official communiqué from the government, the greater the response from the more trusting members of the populace. Aunt Maude sees the official-looking envelop and thinks, “Oh, the government needs my help.” The fact that the more trusting members of the populace are likely to be old, decrepit, and financially strapped doesn’t seem to bother too many consciences.

Senator Dole’s solicitation certainly looks official. In the upper left hand corner is an official-looking American eagle. In white letters over a black bar above the address window is “U.S. INDIVIDUAL RESIDENT.” In the bottom left hand corner is “Form 1163 (2006) Return Enclosed.” Aunt Maude’s hands are already shaking.

Stamped in red on the upper right hand side of the covering letter is the imposing label “Registration # 54.93.252.” The letter starts off: “Your immediate attention is required on a confidential and time-sensitive matter.” And then, “Enclosed, please find your official SURVEY DOCUMENT—REGISTERED in your name only—assigned to you as a REPRESENTATIVE of ALL REPUBLICANS living in your voting district.” By now, Aunt Maude is in a sweat with knees trembling and heart pounding.

Near the end of the letter is the slightly sinister warning: “DO NOT DESTROY YOUR SURVEY! The enclosed Republican Leadership Survey is an OFFICIAL REPUBLICAN PARTY DOCUMENT. Your Survey is REGISTERED IN YOUR NAME ONLY and MUST BE ACCOUNTED FOR upon completion of this project.” Aunt Maude is envisioning time in the slammer.

The letter continues in similar pleading, cajoling, and threatening veins for several pages. Gradually, the cause of the nation’s troubles and the source of dear President Bush’s difficulties become clear: liberal Democrats. Aunt Maude had no idea.

The survey document has 28 questions ranging from the innocuous “Do you think we should fix the federal tax code so that it is simpler and fairer?” ( go ahead Maude, check no) to the real gist of the matter: “Will you help continue to build a strong foundation of Republican grassroots support for President Bush and his agenda by making a generous contribution to the NRSC today?”

And then comes the insult to the intellect of even the lowest common denominator. Aunt Maude has three choices. She can check YES!, she wants to help defend the Republican Senate Majority in an amount of $500, or several lesser alternatives. She can check No, she does not wish to participate in “this vital Republican Senate Leadership Survey,” but she does want to give a generous donation of $500, or several lesser alternatives, to “help build grassroots support for President Bush and his agenda."

Or she can claim membership in the group below the lowest common denominator by checking No: “I do not wish to participate in the Survey, nor do I wish to make a donation to help the Republican Party. I am returning my Survey Document, along with a contribution of $11 to help cover the cost of tabulating and redistributing my Survey.”

Two questions. First, how was the odd figure of $11 determined? Second, Aunt Maude, you’re really not gonna send them $11, are you?

DSH

EDUCATION

The nation’s education system is in crisis. Tests of various sort show that our kids are dumber than kids in other countries, dumber than their dumb parents, just plain dumber. Schools don’t teach what is needed for a high-tech 21st Century environment. It’s all going downhill.

Well, the cranky old guy doesn’t buy it. For more than half a century, he has been hearing that the education system is failing. His first remembrance of the crisis goes back to the ‘50s when something called Sputnik started circling the earth. Many of you youngsters are probably unfamiliar with Sputnik and a lot of accompanying stuff, such as the Cold War, a world not encircled by man-made satellites, and the cranky old guy is not in the mood to bring you up-to-date. (Cranky is peeved about an article in the March 12 edition of the Washington Post about the National Security Council being staffed by a bunch of youngsters whose knowledge of history is about nil; no wonder they are doing such a lousy job of running the world.)

Anyway, the nation’s reaction to the launching of the first earth satellite by the nation’s then mortal enemy—the USSR—was panic about the educational system. It had to be going to hell. Otherwise, how could the Russkies have beaten us into space?

And we have been bemoaning our educational system ever since. Never mind that we put men on the moon and robots on Mars, that we have created a society based on the technology of computers, that we have mapped the human genome, that we won the previously mentioned Cold War. None of it matters because the nation’s educational system is at death’s door.

In the cranky old guy’s view, the main thing wrong with the educational system is the people who have created professions for themselves by advocating repairs, and the politicians who cater to them, particularly those politicians who barely managed a gentleman’s C themselves.

If you want dumb, one of the dumber educational ideas in recent decades is national testing and its policy implementation, No Child Left Behind. Hey, some children are going to be left behind. We may have all been created legally and morally equal, but we sure weren’t all created economically and intellectually equal. For various reasons, pockets of inequity exist in our society. Penalizing those pockets by holding them to some arbitrary national standard doesn’t, in the cranky old guy’s view, do much more than, well, penalize those pockets. Yes, try to improve the performance of the underperforming. But use carrots, not the stick. Punishing whole states, communities, and schools because individual students don’t measure up makes sense only if you get your jollies from inflicting punishment.

One last thing. In the cranky old guy’s locale, the big thing is AP—Advance Placement—courses. They are such a big thing that some Einsteins want everyone to take AP courses. The cranky old guy recently learned that so-called honor’s courses are not really honor’s courses because AP courses are considered higher on the totem pole. It’s become sort of like Garrison Keillor’s world where every kid is above average.

Well, the cranky old guy thinks some differentiation is needed. So he proposes another layer of courses: SAP, or Super Advance Placement. Just plain courses will no longer exist. Most kids will be in AP courses, and the others, the super few, will be SAPs.

Any spelling, grammatical, or factual errors in this piece are due to the fact that the cranky old guy is dumber than dirt.

DSH

COMMERCIALS

Is the cranky old guy the only TV watcher in America who doesn’t get that Volkswagen ad with the mumbling little statute, indeed is considerably annoyed by said ad? Maybe the mumbling is understandable to quicker minds and sharper ears. Maybe the little grump is some pop cultural icon that has totally avoided the cranky old guy’s space.

Or maybe the little grump is a movie character from some recent movie. After all, the cranky old guy hasn’t been to a movie theater in decades. He stopped going when the audience started conversing with the screen. Besides, wait long enough and a movie comes to you.

But back to the ad. The cranky old guy finds it beyond irritating. What’s the message? VW drivers are wing nuts who have conversations with small inarticulate idols from some cult religion?

Another irritating ad is that Burger King thing from the Super Bowl, the one in which females dressed as lettuce, tomatoes, buns, and perhaps condiments combine to make a Whopper. Sorry, but the cranky old guy found it vaguely nauseating. If there were supposed to be sexual overtones, they completely escaped this refugee from carnal athletics.

The cranky old guy is not alone in panning the Burger King effort. Not much good has been said about it. But he seems to be in the distinct minority regarding the magic refrigerator, the one attached to the revolving wall so a dude can keep his beer to himself by quickly rotating the fridge into the adjacent room where a tribe of cretins worship it.

What the cranky old guy has problems with is the obvious question of what the dude does when his fridge rotates back empty. This would only have to happen once for the dude to realize that his beer-hiding operation has a problem. Such an obvious flaw prevents the cranky old guy from doing much more with this commercial than scratching his head.

A good portion of the problem is undoubtedly generational. Maybe the cranky old guy just misses the commercials of simpler times. Remember Joe Izuzu? Now that was funny, and the premise didn’t leave you with a headache.

DSH

HUNTING WITH DICK

In recognition of your longtime, unwavering, and unquestioning loyalty to the Administration of George W. Bush, you are invited to a weekend of quail-slaughtering and liberal-bashing with the Vice President of the United States, the Honorable Richard B. Cheney. It is suggested that in addition to your usual hunting equipment, you bring a suit of full body armor, preferably Kevlar, and a NASCAR-style, 360-degree helmet with a reinforced protective eye piece.

Hunting etiquette, and self-preservation, require you to position yourself to the rear of the Vice President, whose Secret Service code name is “Shoot First.” Since the Vice President is capable of sudden turning moves, you must be alert and nimble to maintain the rearward position. If you do find yourself facing the business end of a 28-gauge, dropping quickly to the ground will increase your chances of continuing to be a donor to the Republican Party.

Although this excursion entails little real risk, you might want to be sure your affairs are in order. And to avoid the monetary hardship that the Party would sustain in the remote event of your untimely demise, you should consider a bequest to the Party of, say, half of your estate. A bequest of this amount would entitle you to membership in the “They Gave Their All Club.”

If you are unable to take advantage of this invitation, you may want to consider an alternative, although considerably more risky, honor: a week-end clearing brush with the President. You would have to provide your own chainsaw.

DSH

LEAVES (FROM TREES) REVISITED

The residents of Alexandria—Virginia, that is—will soon learn that questioning authority has consequences. The questioning in question concerns the debacle that was the leaf collection—or more accurately wasn’t the leaf collection—over the last few months. Many residents have vehemently and exuberantly expressed their displeasure to city officials and city councilpersons.

Well, revenge is in the air. A memorandum submitted to the mayor and other elected officials by the Director, T&ES (the cranky old guy hasn’t a clue as to what the acronym stands for, and is too lazy to investigate), indicates that one of the reforms being considered is the “Arlington County Bag system.” The system would be used in “heavily treed neighborhoods.” Incidentally, the Director, T&ES, recently moved out of one especially “heavily treed neighborhood.” Nothing like a little inside knowledge to get ahead of the curve

This is scary. The only place in the State of Virginia more radically left wing than the Peoples Republic of Alexandria is the Socialist Commune of Arlington. Something with the moniker “Arlington County Bag system” is likely to involve levels of cooperative effort, government intrusion, and peer pressure far beyond what an individualistic capitalist citizen of these United States should have to suffer. Indeed, in some Alexandria neighborhoods, peer pressure from overbearing neighbors is already out of control.

The cranky old guy couldn’t find out much about the “Arlington County Bag system.” It appears to involve biodegradable (of course) bags that citizens have to pick up from central facilities. The cranky old guy wouldn’t be surprised if leaves had to be sorted by such criteria as type of tree and age.

From the deep, dark recesses of his memory, the cranky old guy has resurrected another solution. Back before biodegradable bags, leaf trucks, central refuse facilities, and semi-communist governments on the North American mainland, there was simply fire. Rake leaves into a pile, strike a match, and enjoy one of the greatest smells ever: burning leaves. Better still, don’t even bother to rake. Just light the ground.

But alas and alack, such pleasures are no longer permitted. So my fellow Alexandrians, prepare for the future. The “Arlington County Bag system” is on the way. Undoubtedly, it will require the imposition of higher real estate taxes. After all, biodegradable bags don’t come cheap.

DSH

GENERATION GAP

A while back, the cranky old guy and his son-in-law—all things considered, not a bad sort—got into a discussion about music. The son-in-law—let’s call him “Ben”—waxed lovingly and nostalgic about the music of the ‘80s. The cranky old guy, a product of the ‘60s, asked, “What, the ‘80s had music?”

So for Christmas, Ben gave the cranky old guy a CD of ‘80s music. The CD—incidentally, the cranky old guy still thinks of CDs as some newfangled invention—had 18 songs, assuming one defines the term “songs” loosely. The cranky old guy vaguely recognized several names: Hall & Oates, Duran Duran (because it (he?) sounds like a brand of paint), and Pat Benatar. As for the rest, for all the cranky old guy knows they could have been Australian football teams.

The song titles were totally unknown. “Would I Lie To You,” “Maneater,” “Rio,” “The Safety Dance,” and so on. Playing the songs was no help. None aroused even an iota of recognition.

So you ask incredulously, what was the cranky old guy doing in the ‘80s? Well, he obviously wasn’t listening to then contemporary radio stations. The ‘80s were when the cranky old guy finally discovered the music of his generation, the music of the ‘60s. The ‘80s were the heyday of the oldies stations playing the music of the ‘60s. During the ‘60s, music was just background noise for many youth. The cranky old guy himself could have named only two sources of songs: Elvis and the Beatles, and the King of course was left over from the ‘50s. But in the ‘80s on the oldies stations, the cranky old guy finally heard the anthems of his generation.

And his conclusion after listening to the ‘80s CD several times? The cranky old guy thinks he’s discovered the reason country music became so widespread during the decade.

Every generation is entitled to its own music. If the generation of the ‘80s is fortunate, maybe its music is still to come.

DSH

THE ASSAULT

The cranky old guy’s street came under assault today. Two front-loaders, a convoy of dump trucks, assorted support vehicles, a crew numbering in the double digits, and multiple supervisors descended. Usually a force of this size and complexity indicates a water main break or a major street repair. So what was this army after?

Leaves.

That’s right, leaves. Like from trees. For a number of weeks, the leaves had been in the gutters on the edge of the street, raked and dumped there by residents as they had been accustomed to do for many years. And for many years, the city leaf truck—a truck with a big vacuum nozzle—had, with a crew of two, swept the street clean, usually by mid-December.

But this year was different. One or two early leaf runs had occurred by the latter part of November. But the expected final run, the big run, did not come. Mid-December came and went. Christmas came and went. New Years came and went. The leaves remained.

Maybe the residents of our fair city haven’t been paying enough taxes. Maybe this was cosmic punishment for some unknown offense. Maybe the city authorities just forgot. But whatever the reason, leaves were clogging the street, occupying parking spots, reducing the travel lane to a narrow canyon between towering walls of decomposing detritus.

But today we finally saw our city government in action, in spades. The assault force—the front-loaders, the dump trucks, the support vehicles, the crew and supervisors—arrived and attacked. One front-loader pushed leaves into the other front-loader, which dumped the leaves into a dump truck. As one truck was filled and pulled away, another moved into place. A few of the crew participated in the action. Many helped the supervisors supervise. A lengthy lunch break was taken.

Finally, five hours after commencing, the assault force moved to another street. Many leaves remained. After all, picking up leaves with a front-loader is an imprecise endeavor at best.

And the leaf truck? The truck that formerly swept the street bare in 45 minutes, with a crew of two? It was nowhere to be seen.

DSH

VICTORY IN IRAQ

Reportedly relying on the advice of some pointy-headed academic from Duke University, the Bush Administration has decided that continuously throwing the word “Victory” at the American people will halt their eroding support for the endeavor in Iraq. The contention, based on the pointy-head’s research, is that Americans have a much higher tolerance for casualties in a war if they think victory is an achievable goal. Duh.

The first point to note is that for a long time Republicans made political hay out of their characterization of Democrats as the party of pointy-headed academics. Just goes to show that pointy-heads range the ideological spectrum.

But is continually screeching “victory” at the American people going to be enough? After all, the Bushies are being very careful not to define with any precision what “victory” in Iraq will consist of. It certainly won’t be anything as well defined as the signing of surrender papers on the deck of the battleship Missouri in Tokyo Bay.

Well, this is the genius of the strategy, and here the Bush Administration may be borrowing an idea from a deceased U.S. Senator who was Republican but today would most likely be uncomfortable with the party’s ideological absolutism. As the American people were becoming increasingly disenchanted with the Vietnam War, Senator George Aiken of Vermont suggested that we simply declare victory and leave.

The cranky old guy predicts that something along the lines of Senator Aiken’s approach is in the works. The push following the elections will be to form a government. The U.S. effort will be to get the participants to agree on anything that resembles an in-charge body. The establishment of that body will be, if not the full “victory” itself, at least an important component of it. We might even have another carrier landing, with a “VICTORY” banner instead of a “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED” banner. And troops will be coming home, probably not all of them but a significant number, maybe even to a parade down 5th or on Constitution Avenue.

But Iraq will not resemble a tolerant peaceful democracy anytime soon. If “victory” is just a step in a long-term journey, then “victory” is achievable. By implicitly raising the specter of historical victories, however, the Bushies are setting the nation up for another letdown, and themselves for the charge of once again over-stating and over-promising.

Incidentally, the President is receiving kudos for finally admitting to a few mistakes. The cranky old guy thinks these admissions are commendable. But they are very little and very late. The cranky old guy wants to hear an explicit admission about the pre-eminent mistake: entering Iraq with far too few troops to secure the country. The cranky old guy doesn’t want to hear any more statements to the effect that “I gave the generals what they asked for.” Former Army Chief of Staff Eric Shinseki certainly didn’t get the troops he asked for. The generals were political enough to hear the underlying, unstated message: “don’t ask for much.”

DSH

IRAQ AND VIETNAM, PART II

America’s involvement in Iraq today and in Vietnam four or so decades ago have similarities, principal ones being the misjudgments and even incompetence of the advisors and decision-makers in the White House and in the upper levels of the Defense Department. But do those similarities mandate that the outcome in Iraq will be similar to the outcome in Vietnam?

No. Significant differences exist between the two situations, differences that will likely override the common characteristic of high-level ineptness. Although in both situations America and its local ally faced an insurgency, in Vietnam they also faced a regular, main-force army, the North Vietnamese Army. That army was the ultimate victor, and then only because, after fifteen or so years of conflict, America got tired, picked up its marbles, and went home. Indeed, in Vietnam, the insurgency was, by the early 1970s, a relatively minor annoyance, just a shadow of what it had been.

In Iraq, America faces no main-force army. Its foes are an insurgency and, on a wider scope, an anti-modern, nihilistic, Islamic radicalism. America’s task is complicated by its own less-than-impressive leadership, but the quality of its soldiers and diplomats on the ground may prove sufficient to offset the ineptness from above. If America were to pick up its marbles and go home, as it did in Vietnam, no modern military force is standing in the wings to fill the vacuum.

What is standing in the wings is most likely chaos. But a degree of chaos has been and is likely to remain a part of the Middle Eastern scene no matter what America does. Thus the challenge facing America is to find strategies that mitigate the chaos, that further the struggle against the real foe—which is anti-modern, nihilistic, Islamic radicalism—and that produce in Iraq itself a modicum of stability garnished with sprigs of democracy and tolerance. An ingredient of such strategies is certainly a lower profile in Iraq and a willingness to let Iraqis work out there own future, which may involve a dissolution into two or more semi-hostile semi-nations.

DSH

IRAQ AND VIETNAM

Comparisons between America’s involvement in Iraq today and America’s involvement in Vietnam four decades or so ago (has it really been that long?) are popular. Some of the comparisons are compelling, others strained. Here are three that are compelling, at least to this cranky old guy.

First, in both instances the United States attempted to control a far corner of the planet with a relatively small number of troops. Superior technology was supposed to offset the lack of manpower. It ultimately didn’t in Vietnam, and the experience thus far in Iraq has not met the initial optimistic expectations of those at the top of the command structure.

Which leads to the second similarity between the two conflicts: the top of the command structure, specifically the policy makers and implementers in the White Houses and upper reaches of the Defense Departments of Lyndon Johnson and George W. Bush. In both instances, those recommending and making policy seemed guided as much by hope for a successful outcome as by realistic, in-depth, hard-eyed, historically knowledgeable calculations of the likely costs and potential benefits. In both instances, the Department of Defense was led by a successful titan of the corporate world, an arrogant, number-crunching, efficiency expert who proved to have little understanding of the messy, nasty, brutal, dehumanizing nature of war.

And for the third similarity, in neither instance was there a universal belief that the nation was fighting for its immediate survival, as in World War II. Thus the national leadership was, and is, in a weak position to defend setbacks, apparent lack of progress, and misjudgments and mistakes that cost the lives of American soldiers. In the dark early days of World War II, Winston Churchill rallied the British people with words such as:

We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender. . . .

And on another occasion:

[T]he Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilisation. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. . . . Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duty, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say: “This was their finest hour.”

The limited nature of their wars and the disagreements about the necessity of those wars to the survival of the nation precluded Presidents Johnson or Bush from such stirring appeals, even assuming such appeals were within their capabilities, or more accurately the capabilities of their speechwriters. Instead, rather than talking bluntly to the American people about the conflicts, rather than admitting setbacks and mistakes, all too often the motivational messages from the Johnson and Bush White Houses were, and are, when not outright distortions, little more than pabulum, centered on such phrases as “the light at the end of the tunnel,” we are “making progress,” we must “stay the course,” and the insurgency is in its “last throes.” Moreover, the messages were then and are now based on dubious domino theories: if we don’t stop the commies in Vietnam, all Southeast Asia will fall under the hammer and sickle; if we don’t stop the terrorists in Iraq, all Islam will fall under their sway.

Here endth the lesson.

DSH

VOTING

Over the past few days, the Cranky Old Guy has told the following individuals to, in the immortal words of David Letterman, “Bite Me”: President George W. Bush, Senator George Allen; Congressman Tom Davis; some carpet-bagging Yankee name of Rudy Giuliani, and Sheriff Jim Dunning.

The encounters were not as satisfying as might be expected, however. The individuals had no reaction to the request. Indeed, each kept right on talking in what turned out to be a completely one-sided telephone conversation. Could it be that the Cranky Old Guy was not receiving a call from a real live person?

Really, is this sort of political advertising effective? In the Cranky Old Guy’s world, voting in response to a taped telephone conversation would be grounds for having one’s vote discounted. Voting in two different elections in response to taped calls would put you in the ranks of felons: you loose the right to vote. You are below the lowest common denominator.

Other actions that should result in a loss of the right to vote:

You actually belief a politician’s campaign promises.

You shake a candidate’s hand and get giddy.

You base your vote on lapel pins.

Negative political advertising makes you feel good.

You don’t think there is such a thing as negative political advertising.


dsh

Republicans And Democrats

Republicans come in two kinds: Money Republicans and Chump Republicans. Money Republicans, also known as 19th Hole Republicans for their propensity to arrive at simplistic solutions to the world’s complex problems over alcohol after 18 holes, are in turn of two varieties: Wall Street and Main Street. The Wall Streeters are the big boys, the ones with the real bucks. The Main Streeters are your local movers and shakers, the country club crowd. A common characteristic of both varieties is an inability to comprehend that everybody doesn’t have money.

Chump Republicans are ordinary folk who have somehow come to believe that they share common values with the Money Republicans. In some cases those values are known as family values. Many sincere Christians, overlooking the general moral and ethical sordidness of a good portion of Money Republicans, come to the Republican Party through this route. In other cases, the perceived shared value is simply a dislike of authority, and hence government, in general. But what this group of Chump Republicans misses is that the Money Republicans are not necessarily anti-government, just anti-any government they do not control. For still another group of Chump Republicans, the value shared with the Money Republicans is an abhorrence of the chaotic nature of the alternative, the Democratic Party.

And like the Republican Party, the Democratic Party also comes in two varieties: Money Democrats and Chump Democrats. Money Democrats, also called Victim Democrats and Whinny Democrats, and more accurately called Lack-of-Money Democrats, don’t have all the money they figure they’re entitled. The reason for the lack of money may be race, geography, occupation, or simply inadequate initiative. Whatever the reason, Money Democrats believe they got shafted in some way, shape, or form and want government to do something about it.

Chump Democrats have over-sized hearts and want to help the Lack-of-Money Democrats. The desire to help is unclouded by the question of whether or not a particular group of Lack-of-Money Democrats have a legitimate beef.

DSH

Wahoo Spin Artists

This commentary is dedicated to all true blue (and orange) Wahoo Cavalier U of VA football fans - both of you. Yes, it was another sad weekend when the highly touted home team got their collective butt kicked by an unranked and pretty much worthless conference rival that is coached by a happy fat guy who has no business running any team higher than division one A high school league (Yes, I mean the Terps).

But the phenomenon that is really of interest is the clever manner in which the good folks in C’ville are able, year after year after year, to spin an enormous amount of pre-season hype that convinces the national pollsters that the Wahoos are really top ten (or at least top twenty) material. Top fifty, certainly. But the ‘Hoos have never completed a full season that would justify the hype that constantly projects them into the ranks of the really big collegiate football powerhouses.

Yet there is real irony here because Mr. J’s beloved “academical village” (as they call it in Hook-ville) does not have a school or college of communications or media relations. You would think that with the ability that the athletic department has of deluding all the football polling organizations into believing that this is a top ten program that students wanting to study public relations would be lining up to study with such real pros.

And speaking of the media, I hope that all of you will join the Cranky Old Guys in protesting the coverage (or rather, lack of coverage) that the blue-and-orange gets form The Washington Post. Plenty of ink to spill on the Terps and Hokies, but the only front page (A-1) banner headlines ever give to the ‘Hoos is when they lose - never when they win. And why does the Post assign a full-time staff member to cover the Terps and Hokies but uses a stringer for the Cavs? This biased policy has been in effect for many years and is an affront to everyone who has sung a druken chorus or two of "The Good Old Song."

But enough of this whining. Let’s focus on the things that really matter in the academic world - such as the new Wahoo marching band in full uniform with plumes in their hats and all sorts of neat stuff. Yeah, that’s what it’s all about!

JBY

ARMY TEN MILER

Today, the terrorists won, at least if winning is described as getting us to significantly change our routine. In response to a suspicious package sighting shortly after the start of the Army Ten Miler in Arlington, Va., and Washington, D.C., the 20,000 runners were diverted from the planned course at the 7-mile mark. They ended up running approximately 11 miles in what is being described as a “fun run.”

The sighting of the suspicious package was by a unit of a local police organization, described in some accounts as the harbor police. The sighting occurred just shortly after the start of the race. The location of the package was reported to be under the Fourteenth Street bridge. The bridge was on the last leg of the course.

If a mere report of a suspicious package is enough to shut down a race, perhaps the time has come to end mass public races. The Army Ten Miler, the Marine Corps Marathon, the New York Marathon, and many others attract thousands of participants and consequently are in theory desirable terrorist targets. And if mass public races continue, inevitably the day will come when one is the subject of a terrorist attack.

But just about any public gathering is the possible subject of a terrorist attack, so not venturing from one’s home would seem to be the only real solution.

Perhaps in the days ahead we will be given more details on the “suspicious package.” The cranky old guy’s thought is that it had better be a darn big suspicious package. It was apparently under the bridge. Therefore, to injure runners, it would have to bring down the bridge. A suspicious package this size is no longer a package.

For a mere “package,” this is how the cranky old guy would have handled the situation if he were the race director. As runners approached the bridge, someone with a bull horn would yell: “There may be a bomb under the bridge, so proceed at your own risk. If you do proceed, be best advised to move quickly.” Okay, so maybe that’s why no one has asked the cranky old guy to be a race director.

Seriously though, the cranky old guy thinks that someone may have overreacted in this instance. In these times, mass races entail a risk of mass casualties. If mass races are to continue, both the participants and the sponsors and conductors have to accept these risks. And in securing the course to the best of their ability, the sponsors and conductors need to do a more thorough job than what seems to have been a last minute inspection.

A long, long time ago in a place far, far away, the cranky old guy was a military law enforcement officer in an environment where suspicious packages were a dime a dozen. Infrequently, a suspicious package report turned out to be legitimate. So the cranky old guy is not unmindful of the dangers of suspicious packages and the need for care and vigilance. But dagnabit, he was having a good race.

DSH

COMPUTER STUFF

One of the cranky old guys was an English major. The other cranky old guy recently went back to school and got a B.S. in Electrical Engineering. So who is the computer expert?

That’s right, the English major.

The EE cranky old guy has been part of the computer world since the days of word processors, but he has never really mastered the things. Oh, he can do basic tasks, and even some more complex stuff, but with any new program or procedure, he needs lots of time, and an old-fashion, hardcopy manual.

And until just recently, the EE cranky old guy had never bought a computer. The little woman did that. But for a variety of complex reasons, the EE crank decided he needed a home office. So he not only undertook his first computer purchase. He also went DSL (that stands for something having to do with something else called broadband) and wireless (meaning the new computer would be connected to the internet not by wire but through radio waves, or telepathy, or brain waves, or whatever).

The effort to get all this up and occasionally running required five frustrating, exasperating days. Let’s try to just hit the highlights.

In theory you just plug stuff in, turn stuff on, insert disks in stuff, and nature, or Bill Gates, takes over. In a perfect world, after some blinking and burping on the part of your stuff, you have a working computer effortlessly exchanging pleasantries with the World Wide Web (is that where www comes from?).

But in theory, FEMA is on top of natural disasters. We’ve recently seen how well that’s worked out. The real world in terms of installing, trouble-shooting, and operating computer stuff involves talking on the phone to someone in India, which the last time the EE cranky old guy checked was on the other side of the globe.

Surprisingly, at least to the EE cranky old guy, the someone in India was usually quite helpful. But the someone always seemed to be reading from the steps in a manual, which causes the EE cranky old guy to wonder how come he doesn’t have that manual. Manuals, he can follow.

One difficulty with the someones in India was that they were limited in their jurisdictions. The DSL someone would only go so far before telling the EE cranky old guy that he needed to talk to the computer someone, who would stop just short of solving the problem to pass the EE cranky old guy to the wireless someone.

But the EE cranky old guy finally turned to the ultimate source of computer knowledge, the English major cranky old guy. Although the latter’s knowledge is far from complete, he was able to mesh the advice from the someones in India to produce, apparently, a working DSL wireless-connected computer for the EE cranky old guy.

The real test will be whether this blog is posted.

Eureka!!

THE QUEST

Every so often, the cranky old guy feels the need to undertake a quest. The latest quest is to travel by kayak from Northern Virginia to North Carolina’s Outer Banks, a distance of 300 some miles. Several motivations are behind this quest.

First, the cranky old guy is tired of fighting the traffic to get to the Outer Banks. I-95 south, I-64 east, Rt. 158 south, over the Currituck Sound bridge: the possibilities for backups and delays are infinite, particularly with all the other idiots on the highways. There’s got to be a better way.

Second, the cranky old guy wants to test the emergency evacuation plan put forth several years ago by occasional Washington Post columnist (and Ben Bradlee’s wife) Sally Quinn. The evacuation difficulties the folks of New Orleans experienced with Hurricane Katrina have focused attention on similar problems that other metropolitan areas might encounter. Regarding the Washington area, Ms. Quinn has recommended kayaks as a means for the populace to get quickly to safety. A terrorist attack? Hop in your kayak and head for. . . , well, that’s what the cranky old guy wanted to investigate. Ms. Quinn’s proposal was a little unclear on that point.

Third, why not?

The water route from Northern Virginia to the Outer Banks is down the Potomac River to the Chesapeake Bay, down the Bay to Hampton Roads, across Hampton Roads, up the Elizabeth River, and finally through canals of the Intercoastal Waterway to Currituck, Albemarle, and Pamlico Sounds. Piece of cake.

This will not be an all-at-once trip. Initially, the plan is day hops: the cranky old guy’s spouse/chauffeur will transport the cranky old guy to a starting point by car, drop him and his kayak off, and retrieve him, hopefully, later in the day further along the route. Thus the trip will be underway for some time, possibly even years as enthusiasm waxes and wanes. On the other hand, the quest won’t ever be a failure, at least until the cranky old guy croaks, because the next hop will always be scheduled.

The first two hops have already been completed. Hop 1 was an 18-mile, 7-hour, trip from Belle Haven in Alexandria to Leesylvania State Park. Hop 2 was a 13-mile, 5 ½-hour, trip from Leesylvania to Aquia Landing in Stafford County.

From these first hops, the cranky old guy has learned several things. Sitting in a kayak for longer than about two hours is extremely uncomfortable. If ever captured by the enemy, the cranky old guy will blab like a baby if threatened with hours in the kayak position.

Second, moving slowly on a large open body of water can be the epitome of boredom. The scenery changes are barely perceptible. The immediate landmark one is paddling for just doesn’t seem to get any closer. And the feeling of progress in general is pretty much absent.

Third, the mansions along some stretches of the upper Potomac serve to remind the cranky old guy that he missed the brass ring as far as wealth is concerned.

And finally, Sally Quinn is nuts.

DSH

INITIAL REFLECTIONS ON KATRINA

The cranky old guy has some thoughts on the disaster that has descended upon the Gulf Coast, and the responses of us pathetic humans.

(1) This was a catastrophe of the first magnitude, certainly among the most devastating in American history. But the cranky old guy is not willing to jump on the bandwagon of the we-should-have-been-totally-prepared crowd. Yes, in an ideal world we—meaning governments and individuals—would be prepared for any eventuality. But the ideal world is not constrained by limited time and resources. Our real world is. We can’t be perfectly prepared for every disaster that descends upon us.

(2) That having been said, we could have been better prepared for Hurricane Katrina. Long-term, the preparation failures included the unwillingness on the part of successive Administrations and Congresses to provide funds for improvements to the levies surrounding New Orleans. Short-term, governments at the local, state, and federal levels all seemed to have been somewhat lax in pre-positioning personnel, supplies, and equipment for the recovery effort that was sure to follow the landfall of a category III-IV hurricane.

(3) But in the cranky old guy’s opinion, the most condemnable immediate failure resides with the federal government. By late Tuesday, anyone watching television coverage knew that human suffering of epic proportions was unfolding. Consequently, by late Tuesday a massive influx of federal resources, including substantial forces of the U.S. military, should have been on the move to the Gulf Coast. Yet it appears to have been several more days before the decision to commit these resources and forces was made. The failure to make that decision in a more timely manner should be counted near the top of the negative column in any list of the Bush Administration’s pluses and minuses.

(4) The Bush Administration’s response to Hurricane Katrina has something in common with the campaign in Iraq. In both instances, the Administration has been reluctant to commit substantial manpower. In Iraq, the failure to have adequate forces on the ground following the end of initial hostilities—when the mission was declared accomplished—turned a difficult task of establishing law and order and restoring the infrastructure into a debacle. On the Gulf Coast, the failure to have an immediate influx of manpower resulted in substantially greater, and unnecessary, human suffering than would have otherwise been the case.

(5) In the first hours and days after Katrina’s landfall, the media performed yeoman service in alerting the rest of the nation to the extent of the disaster. By the following Sunday’s talk shows, however, the media effort was actually threatening to take the edge off one of George W. Bush’s worst weeks. As the federal government and the nation focused on the enormous recovery effort ahead, the Sunday talking heads concentrated most of their efforts on playing Gotcha’ with Administration spokespersons. For example, in an interview with Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff, CNN’s Wolf Blitzer could pursue no subject other than “whose fault was it.” Chertoff had ample opportunity to give what is becoming the Administration stock response: it is a catastrophe of unprecedented proportions and our focus now should not be on recriminations but on the huge task ahead. By beating the subject of fault to death, the talking heads are making George W. a sympathetic figure to much of middle America.

(6) Finally, and on a lighter note, at least to people with a more secular bent, the religious interpreters are in action. The disaster is being proclaimed as the Almighty’s response to gambling on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, to the sins of New Orleans, to evil in general. Well, the cranky old guy is not adverse to such an interpretive approach. Only, as the cranky old guy looks around, he sees other things about which the Almighty might be irritated. How about this possibility: the Almighty is irritated because we put such an incompetent group in charge of the nation?

DSH

The Rev Sounds Off

One of the cranky old guy’s favorite Virginians is back to sticking his foot in his mouth. Pat Robertson, the Rev, wants to assassinate the guy running Venezuela. Admittedly, the guy running Venezuela is a jerk. But isn’t assassinating foreign leaders not an activity the United States habitually practices?

The Rev periodically emerges from his Virginia Beach citadel with a preposterous statement of some sort. Some of them seem to suggest the solution of problems by the committing of mayhem, such as a call not too long ago to straighten out the Department of State by nuking Foggy Bottom. His prayer for vacancies on the Supreme Court is only a tad less provocative.

Apparently, the Rev’s brand of Christianity is not overly concerned with all that love your neighbor stuff. The cranky old guy is betting that the Rev finds the smiting parts of the bible and Christian history much more appealing than the turning the other cheek parts. You remember the smiting parts, don’t you? Where the Hittites, the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Canaanites, the Israelites, the Persians, and the Romans, among others, smote each other from Jerusalem to Jericho and back?

The funny thing is, when in his youth the Rev, before he was the Rev, had an opportunity to smite the forces of evil, in this case communism, he discover better things do to. Back during the Korean War, pre-Rev Robertson found himself a United States Marine and on the way to Korea. The pre-Rev’s father, A. Willis Robertson, was at the time a United States Senator. The story is a little murky, but instead of fighting the commie hordes directly, the pre-Rev apparently served his country by being the liquor officer of his unit. More details can be found at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pat_Robertson or www.schlatter.org/liquor_officer.htm.

Still, the Rev, in the Presidential campaign of 1988, described himself as a former “combat” Marine. Those flights to Tokyo over the Sea of Japan to get the liquor probably did entail some risk. After all, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake was killed over the Sea of Japan.

Southeastern Virginia, the Rev’s stomping grounds, has its share of oddballs. Maybe it’s something in the water, or the effect of that nuclear power plant in Surry County. The cranky old guy himself was raised in the area, and has both relatives and in-laws through out the vicinity. So he feels qualified to opine that in terms of loons per capita, southeastern Virginia is well above the national average.

Occasionally, the cranky old guy’s spouse will suggest the possibility of retiring to the area.

Yeah, right.

A NEIGHBORHOOD COMES TOGETHER

A good neighborhood comes together in a time of crisis. The cranky old guy’s neighborhood? Well, maybe we could use a little work.

Our current crisis involves a tree branch on the cranky old guy's property. In a recent storm, it fell across a power line. There it still rests, straining the line but not as yet causing any difficulties. The power company, the successor to the infamous VEPCO of the cranky old guy’s youth, has been called. A human spokesperson, reached after many tedious minutes of dealing with a computer, said that the situation was on the company’s To Do list, but that it would likely be awhile.

Most in the neighborhood accept the situation, realizing that the matter is the power company’s responsibility and that the cranky old guy is not about to climb a tree to cut a branch away from a live electrical line. Also, most realize that no self-respecting tree company will tackle the problem without the power company’s say-so and supervision. Maybe Daryl and Daryl of the Culpepper Tree, Gutter, And Whatever Else You Want Done Company, but not a bona fide bonded outfit.

A few in the neighborhood, however, look upon such situations as an opportunity to expound upon their neighbors’ flaws and to demonstrate their own superior concern for the neighborhood’s well-being. For some reason, these few are mostly female. Instead of registering their complaint with the power company, the place where the problem has to ultimately be resolved, these few persist in reminding the cranky old guy that a situation on his property is causing them mental and emotional anguish. And much of the reminding is not done directly but through the little behind-the-back whispering avenues that criss-cross most neighborhoods.

Fortunately, the cranky old guy has an option to escape both the harping and the possible interruption, at a time of temperatures approaching the century mark, of the neighborhood’s electrical supply. That option is a place at the beach. So he’s off. Please give him a call when the situation has been resolved.

DSH

INTELLIGENT DESIGN AND W

According to news reports, the President recently told a group of Texas journalists visiting the White House that he sees nothing untoward in a local school board deciding to allow the teaching of the Intelligent Design concept. That concept is all the rage among certain segments of the Christian fundamentalist community.

Well, this is too juicy to resist. Where to start is the only problem. But before doing so, let it be stated that this cranky old guy is not just some knee-jerk whiny liberal. He even voted for W in 2000. It is only the incompetence and arrogance displayed in the years since by the winners of the election that have led the cranky old guy to question the wisdom of his vote.

The following is certainly an over-simplified description of Intelligent Design, or ID for short, but if W and his Administration can over-simplify everything under the sun—from war, to taxes, to social security—why can’t the rest of us? This cranky old guy’s understanding of ID is that the complexity of the human animal, and the world in general, is advanced as proof of one or both of the following assertions: evolution couldn’t have occurred, and there is an all-powerful Supreme Being.

Just as an aside, it would seem that if an all-powerful Supreme Being exists, he, she, or it could have arranged for evolution. Some people, however, just can’t abide the idea of a monkey as an ancestor. But we will avoid this line of inquiry.

It can’t be denied that the world is complex, at least to our feeble mortal minds. Anyone who has ever struggled with an introductory course in quantum physics or Einstein’s special or general relativity would likely concede the point. But should complexity really be the focal point of such weighty issues as the origin and development of life and the existence of a Supreme Being? If it should, perhaps Bill Gates is a supreme being. After all, some of his software products, such as Word, are complex enough to keep a mortal busy for years exploring all the nooks, crannies, and perplexing happenings.

The problem with complexity is that it is not—or should not be—an end in itself. Complexity is just an intermediate point to a result. And this cranky old guy would caution the ID crowd about basing theological propositions on results because the results that are before us leave something to be desired.

Let’s just consider one result most of us are probably somewhat familiar with: sex. Here is an activity that produces a few moments of pleasure, and sometimes offspring. The price for those ends is awkwardness, embarrassments, messiness, occasional foul odors, and general yuckiness. If one were starting from scratch to design a procreation system that entailed a modicum of pleasure, one could certainly come up with something more refined and less yucky. Perhaps nothing more than a simple touching of fingertips and then the participants go their merry ways. A lot of approaches would be an improvement over what we are saddled with.

So this cranky old guy doesn’t buy the ID concept as something warranting the expenditure of public moneys to learn about. W and his cohorts have done enough damage in the areas that are their Constitutional responsibility: foreign policy, military policy, and economic policy, for example. About matters such as religion, school curricula, and the origin and meaning of life, matters that are beyond their responsibilities—and obviously more than beyond their competences—they should keep their opinions to themselves.

DSH

FIRST FLIGHT

Recently, I took my first flight in a long time—a long, long time. In fact, the last flight was in the previous millennium. Okay, so my life lacks excitement. Not the point. The point is that this was a traumatic event for a cranky old guy.

For one thing, major surgery had occurred since the last flight, and I have various leftover wires and perhaps other surgical paraphernalia embedded in my being. For another thing, airport security procedures had been substantially tightened. Horror stories of fondling, strip searches, and other aggressive intrusions abound. I had visions of shivering naked in a cold room as sadistic individuals entered various bodily orifices in pursuit of offending images on the x-ray machines.

The other matter of concern was that I would be separated from a faithful companion for a period of time, a companion I was much dependent upon, both physically and emotionally. That companion was my Swiss Army knife with its plethora of useful blades and tools. I had been led to believe that in the post-9/ll environment, one could be imprisoned for life for even thinking about carrying a pocketknife on a plane. Since I was trying to avoid checking any baggage, I would be without the faithful companion for several days. The thought made me even more cranky.

In preparation for the flight and the possible examinations of my person, I decided to break down and wear underwear and clean socks; or was that socks and clean underwear? Whatever the case, I wanted to avoid as much embarrassment as possible.

To my surprise, the trips through the various security checkpoints went without a hitch. Profiling might have had something to do with it. Each time I went through the security gauntlet, I was in the middle of a group of sinister-looking characters who corralled the attention. Tattoos seemed to particularly wet the appetites of the checkers. So all the concern about being pawed by strangers turned out to be unwarranted.

But the absence of the Swiss Army knife was a problem, and for an unanticipated reason. Cranky old guys have their habits, and one of mine is two beers before bed. The kind of places I stay in do not have room service, so I purchased my beer—in bottles—at the local minimart. Bedtime approached. I reached for the trusty Swiss Army knife to pop the caps, and Holy #&*#!

So if you ever stay in a motel near the town of Woodstock, Vermont, and wonder about the various gouges in odd places—such as on the door frame near the hinges, around the sink, below the shower faucet handles—you know that the cranky old guy was there.

DSH

OWNERSHIP SOCIETY

If one owns Kennebunkport, the appeal of an Ownership Society is certainly understandable. For many of the rest of us citizens, however, the attractiveness of the concept is somewhat nuanced.

Ownership Society is a term that was being bandied about several months ago in support of adding some form of personal investment accounts to the social security system. The whole topic of social security reform seems to have fallen off the radar screen here recently, but it will no doubt resurface.

The Ownership Society argument apparently is that the more control we have over our own wealth and finances, the better off we will be, both monetarily and emotionally. But the proponents of the argument do not pay a great deal of attention to how different levels of wealth and finances might fare under an Ownership Society, or how citizens in those different levels might view an Ownership Society.

Those at the top of the wealth pyramid are probably all for a 100 percent Ownership Society. The fact that they have wealth is evidence to them that they can do a much better job of creating and maintaining wealth than can the government. (The fact that many of them inherited their wealth rather than created it is something they often overlook.) A goodly proportion of those with less wealth, however, aren’t as convinced that they can beat the system. Oh, they certainly want a considerable degree of freedom to handle their own finances, but they aren’t adverse to, and may even desire, some form of common safety net.

Moreover, if the matter comes down to what may be no more than a small annuity, say a social security payment of $ 750, $1,000, or even $1,500 a month, do many people really want to incur additional risk in order to have more “ownership?”

So the proponents of the Ownership Society concept might want to refine their arguments a bit. To date, the Ownership Society has sounded like a great thing if you already own a lot of stuff. But it hasn’t sounded like a way to get a lot of stuff if you are starting from little or no stuff.

And one other thing. One of the backers of such concepts as the Ownership Society is the Hoover Institution of Stanford University. Is it just me, or is anyone else bothered a little that some policy makers appear to put so much stock in advice from an organization named after the President who presided over the Crash of 1929 and the onslaught of the Great Depression?

DSH

LIBERALS & CONSERVATIVES: A PRIMER

Liberals think too much. Conservatives don’t think enough.

Conservatives want to conquer nature. Liberals want accommodation with nature.

Liberals love all government regulation except regulation they don’t agree with. Conservatives hate all government regulation except regulation they agree with.

Liberals are permissive. Conservatives are, well, not.

Conservatives see absolutes. Liberals see nuance.

Liberals endlessly and agonizingly fret over conflicts among their values, beliefs, positions, and actions. Conservatives embrace hypocrisy.

Liberals consider sex an end in itself. Conservatives are suspicious of something so potentially pleasurable.

Conservatives view taxes as an evil second only to sodomy. Liberals would rather pay taxes than eat.

Liberals wonder why. Conservatives respond because.

Conservatives say the answer is obvious. Liberals can’t agree on the question.


DSH

IT'S NOT OUR FAULT

The President just gave the nation a pep talk on Iraq. The gist of the talk seemed to be that the American people are becoming the problem. We don’t have the fortitude to persevere for the long haul. We lack the insight to see that all of the Administration’s actions were made necessary by 9/11. And most important, in questioning the conduct of the war in Iraq, we are letting down our men and women in uniform.

To make up for our shortcomings, we need to look for ways to express support for our troops. We need to fly the flag on July 4. And implicitly, we need to stop questioning the competence of our leaders.

Well, I’m not buying it. It is not the American people who are letting down our troops but our civilian leaders. As an example of the ineptitude with which the war in Iraq has been waged, the President said in his speech that if his generals said they needed more troops, he would give them more troops. But shortly before or after that statement, he said more troops were not the answer because more troops would send a message to the Iraqis that we were never leaving.

The issue at this stage should not be whether the war in Iraq was necessary. That Rubicon has been crossed. Let the historians, and the presidential candidates in 2008, rehash that matter. The issue today is whether we are pursuing our national goals, including our goals in Iraq, in a competent manner. Another Republican president in another time of national testing was not afraid to punish failure by making changes. Abraham Lincoln went through several generals before he finally found one, Grant, who could get the job done.

George Bush needs to take a similar approach. His team has made a number of mistakes in the war in Iraq. Instead of blaming the American people, he should look at the architects of those mistakes. And the primary architect is the Secretary of Defense. If George Bush really wants to get the American people back on his side, as they were in those months following September 11, 2001, he should start by firing Donald Rumsfeld.

DSH

More Taxes Mean Tax Relief

Since The Washington Post is unlikely to publishing the following letter to the editor, I heareby offer it to you, dear readers:


Dear Mr. MacMillan [The Washington Post writer]:

Your recent story, “Alexandria to Tax Cell Phones as Other Revenue Drops” (16 June 2005) is grossly inaccurate. You write, “The City Council approved a new tax on cell phones as part of the fiscal 2006 budget. It will help make up some of the money that the city will lose after the real estate tax rate was lowered in order to provide relief to homeowners.”

Please allow me to disabuse you of the idea that Alexandria has lost any revenue from any source whatsoever. Real estate property taxes are going up this year and have gone up every past year that I can remember. Yes, the property tax rate is going down. But the actual amount of tax dollars (i.e., “taxes”) being paid by each property owner will go up because of increases in assessments. Furthermore, the amount of tax dollars that the city will receive from real estate taxes will increase significantly. Consequently, I am quite baffled as to where you get the idea that the city “will lose” any money.

Unfortunately, you allow yourself to be co-opted by slick politicians who want to create the illusion that they have reduced taxes. Nothing could be further from the truth. There is currently a column on your web site by Howard Kurtz titled, “Backlash on the Left” in which he describes how the mainstream media has kowtowed to the Bush administration by failing to publish hard hitting stories about their mistakes. You, too, seem to be part of this problem.

You fall into this same syndrome when you buy into the local politicians’ scams in which they pretend that they are lowering taxes when, in fact, they are clearly raising them. If there is any doubt in your mind about the reality of these tax increases, I will be quite glad to send you copies of my Alexandria real estate bills for the past twenty-seven years. Let me assure you that they have risen every single year.

I would suggest that a better opening for your story would have been, “The city of Alexandria is creating a new tax on cell phones in order to meet its insatiable thirst for tax revenue. The recent increase in real estate tax revenue has proved insufficient to cover all of the city’s spending plans and therefore still more tax money is needed.”


JBY

COMMAND RESPONSIBILITY

A letter to the editor in the New York Times of Sunday, June 5, 2005, cogently summarized the thoughts of at least a few Americans. In its entirety, the letter, from Joseph Chianese of Oakland, California, stated:

Under the present command, when anything goes well in the military, the president, Congress, the Defense Department and the generals fall over one another taking credit. But when something goes awry, they start another investigation and bust a private.
Perhaps recruiting will improve when the leadership does.

Unfair or at least overstated? Perhaps, but the fact is that no one at the top of the nation’s leadership structure has taken more than nominal responsibility or suffered any public consequences for the military, intelligence, and foreign policy mistakes and miscalls of the last few years. Indeed, the President has gone out of his way to praise some architects of the nation’s efforts, giving Medals of Freedom to George “Slam Dunk” Tenant, Paul “Chaos” Bremer, and Tommy “No Plan for the Aftermath” Franks.

Meanwhile, such proven-correct critics as former Army Chief of Staff Eric Shinseki, who testified before Congress that several hundred thousand troops would be needed to control Iraq, are ignored.

In this writer’s opinion, the President and his immediate associates are not guilty in a legal sense of dishonorable actions by lower ranking individuals carrying out national policy. Those at the top of the chain of command, however, do bear moral and political responsibility, a responsibility that they have not been men, and woman, enough to accept. Among their major mistakes are two that fall within those alluded to by the New York Times letter writer.

First was the decision to invade Iraq with forces inadequate to secure the country after the collapse of the regular Iraqi military. This decision resulted in U.S. forces being spread dangerously thin, which in turn reduced the supervision exercised over units and individual soldiers. The inadequate supervision has most likely been a major contributor to the unfortunate acts by a few members of the military and of the intelligence community.

The second mistake was the rather cavalier attitude expressed by the highest leadership toward the treatment of detainees. The President, backed by the Attorney General, said that the Geneva Convention did not apply. The Secretary of Defense apparently became directly involved in drawing up a list of permissible means of “persuasion.” The message this cavalier attitude conveyed to the lower echelons was not quite “anything goes,” but dangerously close to it.

What the President, the Vice President, the National Security Adviser, the Secretary of Defense and their immediate subordinates were guilty of is not comprehending the nature of military force. Often lost in the high-tone rhetoric of patriotism and in the idealistic commitment to freedom for all is the fact that military force is an extremely violent instrument of national policy. When the proverbial dogs of war are let loose, the overall national objective may be achieved, but the negative side effects and collateral damage can be extensive. To lessen these undesirable consequences, and to ensure that the national objectives are indeed achieved, the military objectives should be identified with precision, the military force committed should be at least adequate, and the nation’s adherence to humanitarian principles developed at great cost over a long period should not be compromised.

In short, what our national leadership has been guilty of in recent years is naiveté. The chief members of that leadership have portrayed themselves as hard-nosed realists. They are hard-nosed all right, but not realists. Their actions have shown a distinct lack of understanding of a fundamental component of national policy, that component being military force. They have shown that they don’t understand how military force should be employed, they don’t understand its limitations, and they don’t understand the passions released when men and women take up arms to do a difficult, nasty job.

DSH

TROUBLE IN PARADISE

There’s trouble in Paradise, Paradise being Alexandria, Virginia. How is Alexandria Paradise, you ask? Well, it must be. Why else would real estate values be so astronomical?

Anyway, there’s trouble in Paradise, and Paradise is taking action. The trouble is, or are, mosquitoes. The action is to get rid of water. The theory is that mosquitoes need puddles of still water to perpetuate the species, and consequently eliminating puddles will eliminate the species, or at least enough of the species to make an evening stroll across the lawn bearable.

So city employees and various volunteers are on the prowl, looking for offending water.

Me, I’m skeptical. How do you eliminate water, except by drought? Oh sure, you can find the odd bit of wetness here and there. Water in a discarded tire can be extracted. (Although emptying an old tire is no easy matter; try it sometime.) A neighbor with a landscaped pond can be harassed.

But what about the thousand and one other gatherings of water? I’m under the impression—and all you amateur naturalists correct me if I’m wrong—that the amount of water it takes to breed mosquitoes is not much. Mere moisture might suffice. How about water cupped in a large leaf? In a depression in a tree stump? In a pile of decaying grass?

Moreover, what about rain gutters? Paradise is blessed with vast numbers of shade trees. Many arch over those astronomically priced homes. How often do we residents of Paradise, including the members of the mosquito patrol, clean our gutters? Maybe twice a year at the most. But those beautiful trees are dropping debris year round. Right now, probably a majority of the houses in Paradise have at least one stopped up gutter, and the artificial ponds thereby created are thriving with mosquito larva.

And don’t even get me started on the consequences of grass watering.

So I don’t have a lot of confidence that Paradise’s assault on mosquitoes will be successful. If you really want to get rid of mosquitoes, think back 30 or so years to the fogging trucks that dispensed poisons throughout residential areas. Of course, the poisons had their downside.

Now excuse me while I go fill my ornamental birdbath.

DSH

MILLIONAIRES

I live on a street of millionaires, or at least a lot of close-to-millionaires. So how do we millionaires spend our time? Cavorting, lawn parties, entertaining others of the leisure class?

Hardly. The younger ones go off in the morning to government offices, law firms, medical jobs, and the like; basic middle-class occupations. Some of us who are supposed to be retired—the cranky old guys—work for chump change. One teaches at a community college. Another turns out the lights at a local golf course. Still another is a low-level editor—a comma counter—with a government agency. All for chump change. The neighborhood poker group plays for nickels, dimes, and quarters: chump change.

So are we millionaire retirees working for chump change because we enjoy it? Yeah, right. The bottom line is that we need the chump change to bear to the cost of having outrageously priced property. That cost is called real estate taxes.

Decades ago we bought middle-class homes in a Washington, D.C., suburb. As the years went by, the prices others were willing to pay for these homes moved inexorably upwards, sometimes slowly, sometimes in disturbing bursts. On one hand, we felt good about feeling wealthier. On the other, the local government was not bashful about tapping that wealth. That was okay for those few whose income was on a decided upward track. For those of us not so fortunate, buying our rapidly appreciating property anew each year from the local government has taken an ever heftier share of our stagnate or only moderately increasing earnings.

And for some retirees, the yearly re-purchasing of their homes has become a real burden, eating into the funds set aside for those final years in the House of Drooling on Oneself.

As home prices began approaching the million dollar mark, the nature of the buyers began changing. Most of them are really good people. But most of them are also something the neighborhood did not have much of: Republicans. In fact, one of the cranky old guys—an unreconstructed Henry Howell-Keep the Big Boys Honest Democrat—began referring to the neighborhood as the neighborhood of Young Republican Starter Homes. He hypothesized that the newcomers would only be here a few years because they would soon want to join their own kind in places such as McLean and Belle Haven.

So is there a moral to this story? It’s certainly not easy to sympathize with property owners who have the option of cashing in their greatly appreciated properties and moving to cheaper locales. So what if they have to abandon their homes of many decades. The Ownership Society is not a free lunch. Perhaps the only moral is that being a millionaire is not what it used to be.

(P.S.: If you don’t know who Henry Howell was, you are either no Virginian or too young to be reading this.)

DSH

SOCIAL SECURITY: TOO MUCH CHOICE ALREADY?

More choice is one argument being advanced by proponents of the Bush Administration’s plan to substitute some sort of investment account for a portion of an individual’s social security contributions and benefits. But my feeling, which admittedly is probably a minority view, is that the current social security system already has too much choice. Some things in life are improved by choice. Alternatives regarding, for example, food, vehicles, vacation destinations, TV channels, and beer are good choices.

But when it comes to many things monetary, choice makes my head hurt. Just give me one possibility. I might complain about it, but at least I don’t have to spend an inordinate amount of time analyzing other alternatives.

The choices in the current social security system involve when to start drawing benefits. The system is usually described in most government publications and by the majority of commentators as built around a full retirement age. For those born in 1937 or earlier, the full retirement age is 65. For those born during the period 1938 to1942, the full retirement age increases from just over 65 to just under 66. For us boomers born during the period 1943 to 1954, the full retirement age is 66. For yuppies born during the period 1955 to 1959, the full retirement age increases from just over 66 to just under 67. For those born in 1960 or later, well, it doesn’t really matter because the Cato Institute, the Heritage Foundation, the American Enterprise Institute, and the Bushies have other plans for you.

Regardless of your full retirement age under the current system, you can elect to begin drawing benefits as early as age 62 if you are willing to accept lesser monthly compensation. The reduction in benefits, which is permanent, depends on how close to your full retirement age you are when you begin drawing benefits. The maximum reduction occurs if you retire immediately upon reaching age 62. For those born in 1943 or later, retirement at the stroke of 62 results in a 25 percent reduction from what you would have received if you had waited until full retirement age.

But the full retirement age concept is misleading because if you delay receiving benefits to sometime between your full retirement age and age 70, you get more. How much more depends on how long you wait. For those born in 1943 or later, the yearly increase between full retirement age and age 70 is 8 percent.

Let’s put this in concrete terms. Say you are a boomer—that is, born during the period 1943 to 1954—and say your benefit at the full retirement age of 66 would be $1,000 per month. Thus your benefit if you took early retirement at age 62 would be $750. Here is what delaying benefits would mean:

• Age 62: Monthly Benefit—$750.
• Age 63: Monthly Benefit—$800; 106% of Age 62 Amount.
• Age 64: Monthly Benefit—$867; 116% of Age 62 Amount.
• Age 65: Monthly Benefit—$933; 124% of Age 62 Amount.
• Age 66: Monthly Benefit—$1,000; 133% of Age 62 Amount.
• Age 67: Monthly Benefit—$1,080; 124% of Age 62 Amount.
• Age 68: Monthly Benefit—$1,160; 154% of Age 62 Amount.
• Age 69: Monthly Benefit—$1,240; 165% of Age 62 Amount.
• Age 70: Monthly Benefit—$1,320; 176% of Age 62 Amount.

Thus if you delay benefits until age 70, you would receive almost double what you would receive at age 62. So instead of describing the current system as centered around a full retirement age, a better approach, at least for me, is to view the decision to receive benefits as a bet on when I’m going to croak. By delaying benefits, I would be betting that I’m going to have a viable existence into at least my late 70s. The increased benefits would make that existence more comfortable. By taking benefits early, I would be betting that I’m outta here early.

Does the concept of full retirement age have any real meaning? Yes, and a very important one. If you begin receiving benefits before full retirement age but continue working and receiving earnings, your benefits will reduced. The reduction is $1 for every $2 you make over a limit, which is $12,000 in 2005. In the year you reach full retirement age, the reduction is $1 for every $3 you make over a limit, which is $31,800 in 2005. The reduced benefits do result in increased benefits in later years to account for months you didn’t receive a benefit before reaching full retirement age. Once you reach full retirement age, social security benefits are not affected by other earnings.

The bottom line is that the current social security system requires me to bet on when I’m going to die. By proposing to add even more variables to the system, the Bush Administration apparently wants the members of the younger generation to spend even more time contemplating their demise than us boomers do. With all this attention devoted to death, when do we have time to enjoy the Culture of Life?

DSH