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!!