Digressions of a Dilettante

Digressions of a Dilettante
Vignettes of Inanity by Bud Hearn

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Swimming Naked...Flirting with Exposure

Friday Forum Friends:

Swimming Naked…
Flirting with Exposure


Clothes are a burden…fling ‘em off, escape work and go swimming. Dog Days in Dixie have returned! Let’s shed some of the superfluity and risk exposure.

The printer’s ink, heavy and black, jumps from the pristine white paper of the WSJ as the Expose du jour sells the morning papers. The gloating masses of voyeurs are giddy with excitement to see that justice, though delayed, has not been averted…of course, justice to others, not to themselves.

Fortunately for most, these horrors of failure, financial ruin and market meltdown mayhem can be viewed vicariously, not experientially. While printer’s ink rubs off on our hands, it can be washed off a lot easier than the contamination that’s being experienced by those who have lived arrogantly and recklessly on the ledge of leverage.

The Sage of Omaha, Warren Buffet, once characterized these days as follows:

When the tide goes out, we’ll see who’s been swimming naked, and it’ll be an ugly sight.”
It’s a biting wit that sees things in such a light!

But swimming naked was not necessarily a bad thing c. 1954. After school the herd of us precocious pre-pubescence boys headed to the Spring Creek for a swim…yes, a naked swim! The creek was cold, clear and secluded. We cavorted innocently with nothing to hide (well, at that age, there was nothing yet to hide), diving from the high bank and swinging on the cable into a deep pool of the creek.

The swimming hole was always called “The Joe Hole,” ostensibly named for some old Creek Indian or narcissist farmer… out of respect we kept the name to perpetuate the legacy of “Joe.”

There was one friend (there’s always ONE!) who cared more for walking the bank than swimming. He strolled atop the high bank, exposing certain miraculous attributes nature sometimes doles out to a select few. He was what was commonly called a “bank walker,” for reasons not difficult to discern. I have a suspicion he might have been discovered by some B-rated movie director and exploited while his youth lasted. His whereabouts remain a mystery.

But, alas, youth is always a Flood Tide, and never lasts. Like beauty, physical perfections and fame, the more one has early-on, the more one has to lose in a painfully slow attrition. The tide always recedes, exposing what it heretofore hid. It’s one of life’s most hideous atrocities to which we’re all heirs.

Let’s face the brutal naked truth: we all grew up and we all kept swimming naked. Pretense and disguise have many costumes, and the cost of avoiding exposure has been heavy and expensive…no wonder we prefer to stay in deep water.

The Tide is changing fast now in America. Sand bars and detritus are being exposed at a rapid rate. We are sick of the rancid diet politicians dish out and are exhausted from the Media’s brutal beatings. It has all soiled our minds and poisoned our attitudes. The poet has said,

Who knows but what defeat is victory in disguise,
The lowest point is the turn of the tide.”


Most of us hope we are near that point.

But it’s Dog Days now, so lighten up some. But remember this: If you’re swimming naked out there somewhere, when you’re “Exposed,”--- and notice I said “when,” not “if,”---may your exposure be a thing of beauty and a wondrous sight to behold. And make no mistake, we’ll all be looking!

Bud
July 31, 2008

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Wall Street Got Drunk....And We Got Soaked!

Friends:

Wall Street Got Drunk….
And We Got Soaked !


At a Houston fund-raising event to aid in perpetuating the Republican Plunder, the Pontificator of Profundity, George W. Bush, uttered these words of explanation of the current credit meltdowns:
“Wall Street Got Drunk!”

GWB knoweth whereof he speaketh. Frat boys have a deep knowledge of the effects of alcohol, not the least of which is the lowering of rational judgment, first among coeds and later among unsuspecting unsophisticats.

It is actually a pretty good analogy of how the House of Cards imploded ~~ unregulated experiences with esoterically toxic financial instruments called “derivatives” that got out of control. … like a bunch of Friday night frat parties tend to do.

Daylight on any given “Day-after” exposed the telltale consequences of the previous night’s debauchery in the most ne plus ultra way ~~ from rancid containers of high-octane juice to articles of clothing of all sorts, many with V.S. labels, strewn throughout the “house”, lawn and shrubs. Clearly the party was over, and the cleanup was beginning. Of course, the participants were nowhere to be found ~~ pledges did the dirty work, as always.

But the party was a lot of fun. Good stories abound. The music played:
Loud,
Louder
Louder it went.
Laughter echoed throughout the halls, screams of joy were heard, wine, beer and fine drinking whiskey flowed freely ~~ and louder still the music played, as we all danced to the hypnotic drumbeat of euphoria.

Then suddenly, Darkness, Silence ~~ that dread silence that augers an ominous event. Voices quieted, “Play on”. Someone tested the dead silence of the room. Then Movement ~~ someone running to the door, yelling, “The House is falling in.” The crowd grew restless, madly struggling to extricate themselves from whatever was to occur.

Instantly doors slammed shut. All exits were blocked ~~ too late to escape the prophetic effects of “Irrational Exuberance.” Cries of, “Save us, save us,” were heard. Shrieks punctuated the air, wailing and gnashing of teeth broke the silence of the place. Too late ~~ the Partiers stayed too long.

In the cleanup next day wails of lament and piteous cries were heard as the party was relived. Survivors were unearthed from the detritus of the debauchery and repentances were uttered throughout: “Never more, never more….”

The credit debacle clean up is just beginning. Surely someone is to blame? Right? It was greedy securities merchants, banks and every other person or institution that promised an easy life with wealth beyond all sense of proportion.

I did not say you were at fault, I said I was going to blame you.” (T-shirt)

Point your finger at whomever or whatever you want, and notice that three fingers always point to you ~~ try it.

Yes, Wall Street had a party and we all got drunk! I hope you enjoyed yourself, because the clean-up is going to occupy a great deal of your time now. But on a positive note: Sit down, shut up, shuffle the cards and deal ~~ and let the good times roll, again. They will, sooner or later.


Bud
July 24, 2008

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Ants....The Breakfast of Champions

Friends:
Ants…
The Breakfast of Champions


Today I ate ants for breakfast.

Not only did I eat "with" them, I ate them. No, it's not a joke or another outburst of lunacy in protest against inflationary food prices. The small, stealthy creatures had taken up residence in the box of golden raisins I use to flavor my daily cardboard intake...no, not really cardboard, but it's about as tasteless as I suspect cardboard is... Post All-Bran, that marvelous cereal of fiber that at this age brings a smile to one's face. Enough about my cereal.

The ants were microscopic and blended well with the raisins. I’m sure they were about as tasteless as the cereal, though I tried not to imagine it. I just ate them anyway. Like a lot of things, if you think about it too much, you won't do it. So, I decided not to think too much, but "Just Do It." I used not to think at all, and I am still repenting of some of the things I did without thinking about them first! There was that time in New Orleans...Whoa, the skeletons are rattling, but that’s another story !!

Ants are survivors of the highest order. I think mine were of Italian descent from the Family of Formicidae. Moreover, they are as ubiquitous as weeds. Go anywhere, look down, and there they are: everywhere, like Italians. They’re so small as not to be a threat to you. Squish go the ants...see how gooda you feela?

Ants are like roaches, those indestructible relics of antiquity we real estate tycoons have been compared to. A now-bankrupt friend, living on an island without extradition laws, once remarked,

"Bud, we're like roaches...they try to flush us down, but we won't go
."

The epilogue, of course, to that is the banks are currently doing a pretty good job of ridding the world of real estate roaches...we may go down this time! Only my opinion, of course.

Ants may be small, but they have one hell of a work ethic, since they know their time is short. They are tireless Olympian athletes...just watch one tote a load of food ten times its size. They have tiny waists and zero body fat (probably due to their preference for fruit of the vine!), and they have no tolerance for laziness. Fear? They have none. Once bitten, twice shy. Yes, Americans could learn great lessons from ants...I already have, reinforced by remembering the time when fire ants crawled up my pants leg and...well, you get the picture. It was truly a sight to behold!

They say that "you are what you eat," so does that mean I could become an ant? Well, that might be a little hyperbolic, but Oh, to have that energy again...but then, is it possible that we also "become what we believe?" Some affirm it. Imagine the possibilities.

One last thing about ants that is worth of remembering: They serve Queens, Ladies on Thrones, and supply them day and night with everything necessary for Royalty. And I think, without complaint. If ~ and I say “if” ~ there is a lesson here for men, it might be...”stifle the conversation and bring the cash home to mama.” (Girls, you owe me for this one!)

Today I ate ants, The Breakfast of Champions...I plan to live forever!

Bud
July 17, 2008

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Pain in the Gas

Friends:

Pain in the Gas

I had to walk today. Not far, but far enough to get me to thinking, almost as dangerous a thing as a stranger walking down Norwich Street in Brunswick, amid detritus of dereliction and urban decay. The "Better Brunswick" improvement crowd some years back had promised better...they didn't deliver.

It was near 100 degrees, and my linen shirt was wet after 3 blocks. Why walk? Well, I was hungry, and a hungry stomach is a man's best friend...Twin Oaks BBQ was just down the road from the muffler shop where I had to leave the Benz.

Thinking...yes, transcending the swollen knee pain, I considered the pain in the price of gas for many. Gas, that addictive alcohol, allows us to pass through life and such environments at great speed, oblivious to the common air of a dull, daily day for many. Not that I advocate such a walkabout...nor am I necessarily a social reformer...as Scripture has it, "...the poor you have with you always," just not the same poor, of course. But such a walk is instructive.

Funny thing about pain: a little of it burns off a lot of shallowness, and gets us back in touch with some things we had forgotten, or neglected or just obviated...like focusing us on what's important in our lives, not the superfluity of it, and believe me, there is a lot of surfeit in it!

"Pain in the Gas," perhaps a wake-up pain for all of us. Like food prices, it touches each of us regularly, some more than others. Our entire national "business model" is built on the abundance of oil. Because of it, we have developed nasty habits of "entitled expectations,” resulting in lifestyles that separate us, that arrogate us as Americans abroad and create a culture of independence. We have lost contact with a lot of reality and a work ethic!

I did a little math gymnastics....In 2007, there were 245 million registered vehicles in the US. Suppose each of them "saved" 2 gallons of gas a week (quit driving one day a week or by other means), equating to 490 million gallons saved. Assume the average price of gas is $4 a gallon. That equates to $1.960 billion, times 52 weeks, equals $101.9 billion "saved," or at least not sent to the arrogant sheiks of Saudi. Would that get their attention? What results would accrue to us?

Much, I think, since walking would fatten the wallets, shrink the girths and restore some community and family values. Moreover, we could exempt Alaska and the Gulf from drills. Imagine the possibilities of such an extreme solution!

My shirt dried out, I survived the BBQ and the proposal from the prostitute, I was not assaulted, mutilated, accosted, or pan-handled on the walk...plus, the muffler was replaced and the gas mileage improved...and now you get to share in the experience...

I guess I'm a liberal after all, and even the Friday Forum lunches are egalitarian...but hey, we're all in this together anyway, let’s make something out of it!

Bud
July 10, 2008