Anybody Seen My Yacht?

The rich are different than you and me. Bill Gates once bragged the IRS needed two computers to process his taxes and argued that the city of Redmond, WA should value his Taj Mahal of a home completely worthless because it's so big and personally customized no one would ever want to buy the place.

I'm not against a person making a buck - or in CEO's, athlete's, and movie star's cases - a lot of bucks. When they perform well they can make a lot of money for others. That's not necessarily bad, that's capitalism. But without a reasonable limit to the largess, everyone loses. Inflated movie star salaries drive ticket prices to $10 a pop. Athlete salaries frequently make sport facilities unprofitable and drive ticket prices so high, you have to mortgage your home for a sunny afternoon of baseball.

But CEOs? They've gone over the top.

The Dark Suits

According to a recent Editor & Publisher article, Yahoo - whose profit and stock performance has been in the toilet lately - paid CEO Terry Semel $71.7 million last year. Many people argue giant-sized compensation packages are justified for what the dark-suits do for the company, but Semel's performance seems more a question of what he does to the company. Unless Semel makes money soon, many people - considerably less able to afford it - will lose their jobs and investors will lose on investments. However, if past corporate decision-making is any indication, Semel's pay will go up despite the facts. Even if his compensation didn't change a penny, returning $71.7 million would go a long way toward improving the company's bottom line.

Financial analysts have predicted a compensation downturn for quite awhile but it just keeps rising. Federal reporting rules now require more robust explanations in corporate financial statements, but because of the unbelievably complex nature of compensation plans it's almost impossible to tell how much a CEO makes. The analysts, many of whom advocated these plump salaries in the go-go 90s, grossly under-estimated how little boards would do to reign in the costs. That seems a short-sighted view that ignores boards of hand-picked sycophants who also receive lots of butter on their bread.

Funny, that sounds a lot like Congress.

Fair? Feh.

Are these salaries fair? No, but that doesn't matter. There is lots of unfairness in the world. Are people jealous of them? Yes, but that doesn't matter either. Are they justified? Eh. Some people believe in the trickle-down theory, which suggests the wads of cash grow a more robust economy. However, trickle-down seems like an inefficient way to do that - and I'm not alone in that belief. But the final analysis begs the question, is it common sense to lavish that much money on one individual? I emphatically believe, no.

Can a person really live any better on $71.7 million than say $10 million? Is the best way to stimulate trickle down through yacht and bizjet sales? Hardly. Would employees and investors fare better and gain greater returns on their investments of sweat equity and money is CEO salaries were trimmed? Yes. It would be nice if more CEOs had common sense and actually plowed as much money as possible back into the companies they run.

It is, after all, what they're hired - and lavishly paid - to do.

Labels: economics, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Monday, June 11, 2007

Laissez Faire is Less Than Fair

There are some positive things about deregulated markets. They're capable of producing higher profits and more efficiently propagating technological improvements. Free marketers would argue that open markets create more jobs and lower prices and they wouldn't be completely wrong. They'd argue that a self-regulating marketplace is a much more efficient and correct arbiter of market needs and balances. But, free markets are also volatile things where more benefits flow to business rather than the other way around - not withstanding business lobbyists' attempts to spin poor customer service and higher prices as a benefit to consumers.

Deregulation frequently causes unintended blow back too. Unscrupulous businesses quickly find ways to game the system and without someone looking over their shoulder, they often spin off in completely unexpected - and frequently anti-consumer - directions. For example, banks were once places where you could talk to actual human beings and get help solving problems. In the old days, you knew exactly what fees were and how they would apply them to your account. If you needed to call them, you could do it without voice mail systems to nowhere and sometimes they even gave you a toaster for your patronage. Today? Nada.

And let's not even get started with deregulated telephone systems.

Consumer Benefits...Bah Humbug

There are many dubious examples of deregulation "benefits". Our deregulated airlines can barely get you from point A to point B with predictability. Along the way, they lose your baggage and charge for everything short of the very air you breathe. The flight crews are grumpy, the airplanes are filthy, and a seat that doesn't fold anyone under 5' into a human road map are non-existent. Deregulation introduced artificially low prices as airlines unwisely flew 747s in direct competition to cars burning relatively cheap gas. Those economic pressures drove nearly every airline into bankruptcy at least once. While personal bankruptcy became more legally difficult, the opposite became true for businesses. Today, we have fewer major airlines than before deregulation, their operations are chaotic, and they've turned once-pleasant airline travel into a loathsome experience worthy of Greyhound service between Detroit and Hoboken.

However, there's a case to be made for regulation with a little "r" and as little of it as is appropriate. But sometimes, poorly deregulated companies do incredibly dishonest things. Take compUSA's handling of a customer named Terry Heaton.

Left Holding the Empty Box

Heaton bought a camera during a compUSA liquidation sale. When he got his camera home, he found his "camera" was actually a $269 empty camera box. He went back to the store and quite reasonably asked for a camera or his money back. The store manager told him "all sales are final", refused. They said he should have checked the box before leaving the store. While that may be legally true, it's a poor way to treat anyone - customer or fellow human being. Would you require a post-operative ex-ray to prove your surgeon removed your appendix as proof he actually had? "Sorry, you didn't check and you already left the hospital, I guess you're out of luck."

After the store's refusal, Heaton went to compUSA CEO, Roman Ross. Ross essentially replied "piss up a rope you inconvenient customer". It's responses like his that caused the shuttered stores and attendant liquidation sales to begin with.

Greed is Good...for Business

Retail is largely regulated by toothless consumer protection laws and have deep pockets to outlast occasional challenges to unfair and unscrupulous business practices. Heaton has pledged to badmouth compUSA at every opportunity in retaliation. I wish him luck, but he's fighting an uphill battle that will cost him considerably more than $269 if he follows through. I'd not be the least bit surprised if he never sees camera or money again and compUSA might conceivably sue him for harassment.

Conservatives frequently bemoan onerous regulation as an unnecessary intrusion into the workings of capitalism. On the surface that seems plausible and I'd believe the government should as little regulation as necessary, but only if companies and industries adequately regulate themselves. If they don't I say regulate them to within an inch of their existence. But because administrations like the current one often allow lobbyists to write regulatory law, you can bet that any regulations that do come down will be, at best weak, and at worst, will benefit business. This applies equally to large and small business and comes at the expense of consumers who want what they paid for and some reasonable recourse if they don't get it.

Even though I try to be a caveat emptor kind of consumer, I've gotten my share of empty boxes too. The hard-earned money fiscal conservatives promise will trickle back to me in the form of lower taxes and prices is inevitably offset by corporations that sell empty boxes whenever they can get away with it. You can bet that as long as the CEO and his cabal get their Wolfowitz-style "performance" bonuses, consumer protection will be the farthest thing from their minds and consumers will be left holding the empty box.

Unfortunately, capitalism is an economic model designed around greed and without appropriate regulation, screwees will be tasked with rewarding the screwers.

It seems laissez faire capitalism brings a "less is fair" result for consumers.

A Special Omnipotent Note

Excuse the short interruption in my postings. Evil bots from Larry Page and Sergey Brin's rapidly growing Empire of Googlevania classified me as a spam blog and locked me out of my account. Greatly offended and inconvenienced by my classification as a spam blog, I've made a decision about something I've been considering for quite some time.

I'll be moving the blog as soon as I can get the time to set up accounts and work out new templates. I will, of course, keep all of you posted.

Fight the good fight against the Evil Empire...I mean Google, not Bush.

Oh, what the hell, fight Bush too.

Labels: economics, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Commuting with the Cockroaches and Ants

I remember a painting by my cousin that hung in my aunt and uncle's living room in Conda, ID. It was a long, thin, vertical painting with a frame and background of black. A stream of white ants crawled up the middle in a uniform line toward some picnic just off-canvas. The second ant from the top had escaped the line, turned red, and was targeted with a white circle.

The symbolism was clear, we have met the enemy and we is ants.

I thought of the painting this morning during my commute. I looked ahead at the uniform lines of cars, punctuated by the occasional ant acting more like a cockroach - that's another post. Embedded in the mechanized ant line were several cars that I recognized, not because I personally knew their drivers, but because our commutes are all so perfectly timed that we're guaranteed to see each other almost every day - sort of the mobile equivalent of that person you always see in the elevator, but that you don't know from Adam.

But We Shared More

More than likely, several of us listened to the same radio station and laughed at the same stale jokes from the same stale jocks. We all saw the car fire in Fremont. The foggy sun looked the same. Several of us drank identical cups of coffee - although probably from different Starbucks - in identical cups, with identical tastes, and identical exorbitant prices. More than a few of us flipped off the more aggressive cockroaches as they weaved in and out of our orderly line.

It struck me that we live in a society where even a solitary pursuit like commuting is invested with a certain communality. Few of us spend our days completely out of contact with others. Aside from a few Nevada ranchers, we see other people every day and interact with them, even if we don't notice or imagine otherwise.

A Good Thing, A Bad Thing, or Just a Thing

I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. On the down side, it's dehumanizing and the tight schedules, I'm sure, induce stress. On the plus side, everyone has someone else and is never really alone (whether their emotional response believes that or not).

I can see a tremendous untapped potential in this situation for both good and bad, but it's a tough ant to dig out and I expect it would be exploited for profit, only increasing the alienation many already feel. One need look no farther for proof than the new programmable billboards that switch content based on the demographics for radio stations that passing cars are tuned to.

I gave it some thought, but I was distracted by a cockroach who nearly took my bumper off. The thought died on the tread of the cockroach's tire and I never did finish it.

Now you'll have to excuse me. If I don't get back, I'll lose my place in line.

Labels: memoir, randomness, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Teaching the Elephant to Eat Itself

It figures that one of the few pieces of legislation garnering support from both the new Congress and the White House would be the immigration bill Minority Whip John Boehner describes as "a piece of shit". Rather than being the "everyone gets a little something" compromise that supporters claim, it's instead a "glass fully empty" compromise where no one gets anything except a morass of confusing and unenforceable rules that benefits no one.

There's near-universal agreement that our complex immigration policies are broken. Nearly everyone agrees it's a problem ignored too long and covered with enough patches to keep a retread bicycle tire spinning. There's also great support for beating the problem into submission now, rather than waiting for another administration.

But that's where the agreements end.

The Same Old Same Old

The current bill follows the same pattern as previous failed bills. Despite the complex task, lawmakers tried to solve the whole mess in toto rather than breaking it into smaller initiatives that would be easier to implement. In business, they call this eating the elephant one bite at a time.

In government, they call it screwing the pooch.

Illegal immigrants don't leave their families because they like July forth fireworks or love apple pie. They come here to find work. They trade one poverty-stricken existence for a not-quite-so poverty stricken existence so the family can eat. They do backbreaking work that Americans won't do (at least at the sub-poverty slave wages offered by agribusiness and one-percenter families needing maids and pool boys). Top that with the complicity of the US and immigrant nation governments and you guarantee an illegal immigrant tsunami that easily overwhelms unarmed National Guardsmen and fences in the middle of nowhere.

Illegal Immigration Reduction is Job One

Priority One should be reducing the tsunami to a more manageable trickle. We need tougher labor laws and enforcement coupled with helping immigrant nations boost their own economies so their economic woes aren't offshored to America. Fewer immigrants will come if they can make a living wage back home and everyone would be better off.

Lawmakers could tackle the thornier problem of what to do with the millions already here as a separate debate. When they do, they must see that putting those masses yearning to work almost free onto Tijuana-bound Greyhounds isn't logistically practical, amnesty be damned.

Sadly, this pickle shows the futility of it all. The same lawmakers that complicate matters now will resist cutting the elephant up. Even if Congress and the Decider Guy could agree on doing it, the needed economic legislation would look like Dasani in deference to powerful lobbies that benefit from an indentured servant labor pool. And even if lawmakers rammed through the economic reforms, deciding what to do with the immigrants already here would bog down in academic arguments about the "rightness" of amnesty and how steep the fine would be. Oh, and word to the pols - it doesn't matter if the fine is $50 or $5000, when you have no money you can't pay either one.

Simply put, a rational response simply ain't gonna happen.

Teaching the Elephant to Eat Itself

This debate is a microcosm of the myriad national problems that go unaddressed or are hidden by the real reason for their failures - a lack of foresight and dedication to what's best for the country. In a very American twist, it appears there is no workable way to eat that elephant one bite at a time.

Because the elephant would need to eat itself.

Labels: politics, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Friday, May 25, 2007

Spy vs. Blog

Check the traffic statistics for any blog or site and you'll see plenty of curious things. Every site has it's share of mysterious daily visitors who never seem to comment. Every site gets visits from far away or obscure places. Every site has its share of confounding searches displaying downright odd tastes in everything from sex to coffee. It's even odder to know your blog actually touches on some of the weirder topics.

Some of my mostly puzzling visitors are with the US government. I had a spate of visits from the Senate Sergeant-at-Arms last year. Ditto for visits from the IRS. I get the occasional drive by from the Commerce Department and even a single visit from some poor troll in the basement of the White House. With all the reports of wiretapping and clandestine blog visiting, it's easy to see a conspiracy behind every IP address, but visits from a series of US Navy addresses are a bit worrying.

And the Hits Just Keep on Comin'

For approximately 6 months last year - around the time when news surfaced about governmental blog tracking - I began to get daily visits from:

• gate4-sandiego.nmci.navy.mil (138.163.0.44)


• gate2-sandiego.nmci.navy.mil (138.163.0.42)


• gate5-sandiego.nmci.navy.mil (138.163.0.37)


• gate6-sandiego.nmci.navy.mil (138.163.0.38)


• gate1-sandiego.nmci.navy.mil (138.163.0.41)


• gate3-sandiego.nmci.navy.mil (138.163.0.43)


• gate8-sandiego.nmci.navy.mil (138.163.0.36)

I also got a few visits from similar "nmci" addresses with "gates" labeled Norfolk. The visits eventually tapered off, but they're still a regular occurrence.

There were several things that made these addresses stand out.

Dateline: San Diego, NY

First, even though the server names indicated San Diego or Norfolk, the server locations were in New York. Sometimes, I also got visits from 3 or more of the gates at the same time on the same day and the number of past page loads and visits from each one (even now) are identical whether there is a record of them in my site logs or not.

Curious about the "nmci" identification, I found that it stands for the Navy Marine Corps Intranet, an Intranet developed by global contractor EDS to provide, "secure, universal access to integrated voice, video, and data communications." According to the EDS, NMCI will eventually "link more than 400,000 workstations and laptops for 500,000 Navy and Marine Corps users across the continental United States, Hawaii, Cuba, Guam, Japan, and Puerto Rico."

I've tried to log on to NMCI, but as you might expect, I'm not authorized. I'd think a typical sailor or marine would have little or no reason to visit my blog - much less know of its existence.

Nefarious Plots

Now, I'm not alleging some nefarious plot. There may be some valid reason for my sudden popularity with sailors and Marines - perhaps they love the same witty punditry that so entranced the Sergeant-at-Arms and the White House troll - but it still makes one wonder. Perhaps the most troublesome thing about this issue is this. We now live in a county where the possibly of government plots is more than just the thought of a crazed conspiracy nut.

And that gives me the willies.

Labels: bloggers, media, society, travel

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, May 24, 2007

The Falwell Conundrum

The post I wrote when Jerry Falwell died presented a bit of a conundrum. I intensely dislike some people, but I'm not much for harboring true hate - especially when the person is no longer around. I heard my mother's admonition to not say bad things about the dead as I tried to find a way of expressing the intense dislike I had for the man.

Some would say the post was too strong, others that it wasn't strong enough and they'd both be right. I didn't unleash the full measure of anger I have, but I also didn't let him off the hook. That's why I settled on the idea that it wasn't my job to judge him. I figured that if he believed in God, a fit dispensation was his God's problem.

When Jerry and the other purveyors of hate take their anti-social positions, they believe they're doing God's work as they see it. I don't think they get up each morning and say, "How can I condemn homosexuals to swimming in an eternal lake of fire." They get up and say, "How can I save homosexuals from swimming in the eternal lake of fire."

Whether you agree their demonization tactics are right, they nevertheless are their convictions. Those convictions - however misplaced I think they are - are what allows Jerry and his ilk to stick to their twisted ideas in the face of damning condemnation from decent people. We usually think of strong convictions as something admirable, but even crapweasels have them and when they do, they're bad for everyone.

From what I know about religion and the opinions of many deeply religious people, the interpretations Jerry made were wrong, but I also acknowledge that the Bible is more metaphorical than precise blueprint. That perception gap is precisely why mankind has fought over religion for eons. The Bible can simultaneously represent everything or nothing depending on a reader's point of view.

I'm an atheist - a "pagan" in Jerry's words - but I can't prove there is no God just as Jerry couldn't prove there is. It all boils down to a subjective choice, based on how we interpret the "evidence" of our beliefs.

Many of Jerry's obituaries were much stronger than mine. Those writers rightfully ascribed to him the injustices he'd perpetrated and felt all that pent up anger burst forth when he died. I agree with the strength of their dislike for the man. People have every right to be pissed off by his saying innocent people caused 9/11 - it pissed me off too. Had he been around, I would have had to fight a powerful urge to take a poke at the despicable simpleton. I can even understand the temptation of many people to "piss on Jerry's grave". Jerry did no worse himself, although I'm sure he would have made it sound a little more socially acceptable.

The man is dead. I'm glad the attacks he launched on decent people will be no more, but I'm not glad he's dead. I would have been equally pleased - and quite shocked - if he'd simply seen the error of his ways and repented in life. I can't see that flogging him after he's gone accomplishes much. I don't think there's an afterlife, so I don't think he's going to hell or heaven. Neither will dying reverse the hate he spewed. There are plenty more bigots where he came from.

So my conundrum is this - what's the best way to show my mighty disagreement with the man without turning myself into the very same hate mongers he was?

I'm still not sure I know the answer.

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Labels: religion, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Work is the Root of All Evil

Work is decidedly not one of humankind's best inventions. Money is not the root of all evil, work is. Work's the egg that comes before the chicken and requires vast amounts of effort not repaid in kind.

Not so long ago, work meant, well, work. You toiled in the field or braved a dangerous steel mill. People produced tangible products of intrinsic value. Work was often backbreaking, hot, smelly, or dangerous, but at the end of the day workers looked upon a warehouse full of steel and felt they'd actually done something. Something important.

Intrinsic to Who?

Eventually, workers realized their products had intrinsic value and that value bore little relation to the value of their backbreaking labor. They became angry that robber barons wrote off severed limbs as just one more cost of doing business. They tired of making less money than needed to buy the objects they made. They fought back in many ways, large and small, and managed great gains for those making things instead of money. In short, they moved the intrinsic value of their products closer to the middle. One worked for more money, in a safer environment, in a way that made the robber barons even more money than before.

Business people call that a win-win.

But the robber barons were a cagey and greedy lot. They installed machines to supplant troublesome human workers. A machine operator could produce more coal at a cheaper cost than the old crew of 50. Robots could cobble cars together at fantastic speed with fewer workers. These moves made money for the top cheeses and stockholders while workers became less valuable.

But machines are expensive. In fact, more expensive than the low-paid wrench jockeys they replaced. So, the titans of industry looked for places that could use machines run by lower-cost, compliant human labor to make even more money. Places like Malaysia or Korea. It was the perfect idea.

Invasion of the MBAs

Business people call this maximizing profits.

And then a new class of business honcho emerged - 20-something MBAs whose sole tangible product to that point was a science project in elementary school. Raised in an era where shirts appear in Brooks Brothers like magic from Malaysia, they had little understanding of the working class. For them, a Malaysian sweatshop insulated them from the reality of workers and families cast aside like worn out machines. In their world, making things with intrinsic value became a burden not worth their effort. Besides, they believed their actions didn't put well-paid steel workers out of jobs. The workers were interchangeable and found plenty of opportunities to get new jobs - at McDonald's.

In short order, the US went from a country that made intrinsically valuable things to a country producing intangible products called "services." No more machines, very few troublesome workers, and no way to judge the value of what they sold. It's hard to calculate the value of IT support by the pound. It's equally difficult to define what service actually means. Banks and HMOs sell service, but it is service often symbolized by telephone hells that prevent consumers from ever reaching the three people still employed at the place.

A Paltry $30 Million

Now, the US is entering another phase. The 20-somethings are now 40-somethings and quite a bit wealthier. Living above their means for years, they dearly love making money and will do virtually anything to show that living on $30 million a year is so much tougher than living on $40 million. They control the mechanisms of capital and production and give themselves huge bonuses supported by fellow robber barons making similar demands at their own firms.

The working class is slowly dying, replaced by an uber-wealthy ruling class that offsets the loss of working class consumers with purchases of yachts built in Korean shipyards. Since they are at the top of the pyramid, the new era robber barons still make money on their ponzi scheme while those lower in the scheme are cashed out into the cold. But like any ponzi scheme, the collapse eventually comes and it hurts even those on the top. One day, the latter-day robber barons will find themselves in the ruins of their greed and avarice, wondering how come they weren't as smart as they thought.

It will be a sad day when karma visits their mansion door, but not in the way you think. They'll find themselves standing on the street corner begging for brothers who can spare a dime.

And sadly, you'll be long gone before you see them.

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Labels: society, work

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Is Fred Thompson Live or on Memorex?

The LA Times recently carried an article about actor and would-be Republican Presidential candidate Fred Thompson. The article questioned whether a 19-year old TV roll as a hate-spewing bigot will hurt him if he decides to run. The blog Whizbang calls the article a "stupid smear piece". However, it seems more a story about why such "stupid" worries happen in the first place.

The Times wonders if clips of the show - taken out of context and downloaded to YouTube ad infinitum - might prove embarrassing during a possible run. Sure, that sounds stupid, but it's a valid fear in an age when voters can't tell the difference between life and Memorex. Republican strategists are little worried and probably have every right to be.

Are They Live or on Memorex?

When voters can't tell the difference between real people and TV characters we're in trouble, but that's not where the trouble ends. Our electorate also expects candidates to have detailed opinions or plans about every conceivable issue. You're a catfish farmer? "What's your position on EU price supports for imported catfish." You make shoelaces? "Imported Brazilian shoelaces are killing us here. What's your bailout plan" Your pet project provides sleeping quarters for wayward deep-space aliens? Well, you get the idea.

Voters also expect total consistency on every issue, regardless of whether new questions reveal aspects the candidate has never considered. None of us are ever totally consistent no matter how hard we try, nor should we be. Absolute consistency suggests a serious deficiency of critical thinking skills and an aversion to tweaking your opinion on complex issues as the situation evolves. Show me a candidate who refuses to consider new information or look at the same problem from different angles and I'll show you a glossy 8x10 of a smirking cowboy.

We expect angelic morals and "presidential" behavior devoid of any human characteristic. We want political robots of infinite capacity who magically make decisions completely simpatico with our own without having ever made the tiniest misstep.

You forgot to pay Social Security taxes for the kid down the street who mows your lawn? Why, you're a non-tax paying scofflaw who isn't fit to set foot in the White House.

Cutting Our Noses Off to Spite Our Faces

That totally unrealistic expectation powers the tsunami of gotcha episodes that put the fear of Zeus into regular people who think of running. Some who decide not to run have the smarts and talents we need to solve issues larger than catfish subsidies or flag-burning amendments. Through our ham-handed demands, we've cut the viable field of candidates down to an ever-shrinking pool of idiots, gangsters, and self-aggrandizing bints, equally hated by right and left.

We've cut our noses off to spite our faces.

Just what the hell are we doing?

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Labels: politics, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Unleash the Gays of War

John McCain, always famous for sticking his wingtips in his mouth, has reiterated his support for the military's surreal Don't Ask, Don't Tell Policy. His half-baked moral complaints about gay marriages destroying the very fabric of America are odd in the extreme, but his views about gay soldiers don't even follow the pretzel logic he uses to form them.

The basic premise of Don't Ask is, "out of sight, out of mind". In other words, the meager brainpower he can harness somehow turns him into a balding David Copperfield who can literally make gays disappear. Yet, a seemingly endless supply of military gays keep reappearing by simply telling nitwits like John Boy they exist. It reminds me of the kids' game where Mom covers her face and says, "Mommy's gone" and then uncovers her face and says, "Mommy's back." That's great entertainment for a 9-month old, but as a bedrock principle governing the world's most powerful army, it seems a little limp-wristed.

Svengali John

Sevengali John harps incessantly about a bigger and better army, but Don't Tell is hardly an intuitive way to go about it. When in the middle of a surge and strapped for enlistees, it seems more than a little illogical to toss away existing soldiers who volunteered to serve - especially when those soldiers have critical skills (like translating Arabic) or are expensively trained (like fighter pilots).

Admiral John lauds the military every chance he gets - as he should. Yet, he has an extremely low opinion of them. He says Don't Tell, "unambiguously maintains that homosexuality within the military services presents an intolerable risk to morale, cohesion, and discipline." He seems to be saying our well-disciplined military would destroy itself because some of the boys stroke to Playgirl instead of Playboy. An army that weak isn't an army at all. It's a loose gaggle of uncontrollable, armed thugs.

Give 'Em Hell Harry

I think Harry Truman handled a similar situation perfectly. Decades before racial integration was routine in the civilian world, Harry commanded the military to desegregate. He issued his orders and the soldiers followed them. No doubt there were some stupid crackers and equally hotheaded blacks who balked, but that's nothing a reminder about the penalty for mutiny (ask Saddam, he's intimately familiar with the punishment) didn't cure. Besides, if they can't follow a simple order, what good are they as soldiers?

If you apply projections about the number of gays in the military to John and the boys in the Hanoi Hilton, you'd probably find at least one gay incarcerated in the horrid hoosegow with them. I'm not sure who the simpering girlie man was, but someone was probably thinking of a far-off homecoming with the boy next door instead of the Homecoming Queen. I'd ask McCain if it was him...

But, I'm not sure I want him to tell.

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Labels: politics, sexuality, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Sunday, May 06, 2007

Four Inch Squares of Underwear

Thirty years ago today, I reported to the Armed Forces Processing Center in Richmond, VA. I spent the day with several hundred others being poked, prodded, analyzed, weighed, and measured. It was done en masse, impersonally, and followed an assembly line model of efficiency. I raised my right hand and swore to defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign or domestic. By virtue of being an old man of 21, I was given "command" of twelve 17 and 18-year olds. I was to make sure these young men - none of whom had ever traveled more than 100 miles from home - made it to Lackland AFB, TX.

It was like herding cats.

Get the Hell Off This M*ther Fu*kin' Bus Pronto!

We arrived at Lackland that night and were herded off our bus - none too gently - by a squad of fire-breathing drill sergeants. We spent the night standing for hours in formation or lying down in our beds only to be rudely roused every few minutes by a series of fire drills that continued until all 50 of us vacated our barracks in less than 30 seconds. Finally, our first 24-hour day ended and we slept...for four hours.

The next day we began the mystical transformation from civilians to airmen. Each of us surrendered all personal items - clothing, jewelry, books - and went to a room for identical buzz cuts. When we finished our 30-second stylings, we walked across great mounds of shorn hair and joined an assembly line.

The place smelled heavily of mothballs.

Stop One: Strip bare. Stop Two: Don an ill-fitting, unmarked uniform. Stop Three: Put on ill-fitting boots. Stop four: Link arms in pairs and walk together through a gauntlet of medics pounding shots into arms with air-powered inoculators. Flinched at the vital moment, and you received not a tiny pinhole, but a small slash. Regardless of the type of hole, they all bled. If your partner passed out, you carried him through the rest of the line.

Trabants Off the Assembly Line

We rolled off the assembly line like identical Trabants from an East German auto factory. Identical hair cuts. Identical uniforms sans name or insignia. Identical hats, folded identically whenever removed. After a 15 minute trip down the assembly line we became, not a gaggle of undisciplined and individual civilians, but a homogeneous organism composed of 50 identical and interchangeable airmen.

For the next six weeks, we acted as one. If one misperformed, we all suffered the consequences. If one couldn't hack the pre-dawn, pre-breakfast 1.5 mile run, those on either side linked arms and carried him - something I did every morning for those six weeks. If one flunked a test, everyone retook it until we all passed. Only when our entire flight suitably impressed the sergeants did we all receive the first coveted perk of individualism - our last name sewn onto a blue and white name tag.

I learned many things over the six weeks. Did you know Right Guard spray deodorant removes shoe scuffs from linoleum without ruining the shine? Or, that a bad sunburn is a violation of Article 108 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice (destruction of government property). Prell shampoo leaves no soap scum and I can still fold my underwear in perfect 4 inch wide rectangles, make a bed that can bounce a quarter, and produce a damn good "spit shine".

Hint: It doesn't involve spit, but it does involve flaming shoe polish and nylon hosiery.

Building the Better Airman

Many civilians see these dehumanizing actions as insulting and inane. They see the revocation of all individualism as a bad thing, rather than necessary preparation for the day you might be asked to sacrifice yourself. They quite often miss the point that an undisciplined, individually-focused group would run rather than stand their ground in the service of something greater than themselves without being stripped bare and rebuilt in the military's image.

I was a Cold Warrior. I never went to awful places where people plotted to end my life before I ended theirs, though I got uncomfortably close several times. I never entered combat, but was close enough to those who did and privy to enough hyper-realistic practice warfare that I know something of their sacrifice. I was simply lucky - lucky in more ways than the obvious.

My experience made me the person I am today. I still fold my underwear in 4 inch rectangles and make my bed with hospital corners. I even walk differently - with a measured 18 inch step and perfect click of my heels. But, I also know the value of something larger than myself and see the great strength of individualism supported by homogeneity. Those six weeks taught me more about handling adversity than the many years I spent surviving a chaotic home life. They taught me that sometimes subordinating oneself to a larger goal is a powerful virtue, but also taught me that molding an unfair and chaotic world to my own needs is more powerful still. Those six weeks really did make me who I am today.

And, I wouldn't change a moment of it if I could.

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Labels: memoir, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Friday, April 27, 2007

I'm Against Abortion

I'm pro-life.

I don't think anyone could reasonably argue that abortions are good - not even the women who have them. They can be risky and sometimes women must deal with severe emotional and physical consequences. Whether you believe that life begins at conception or at any date along the gestation time line, abortions are procedures best avoided.

A Pound of Prevention...

Of course, there are many ways to prevent abortions.

There's the just say no approach. Proponents believe the less said about sex, the better. They rely on a numbing repetition of the "no" mantra, having kids sign pureness pledges, and not mentioning the delicate issue in public or private. If all else fails, cold showers will keep potential fornicators from being seduced by their filthy genetic urges. There's no way these kids will blow their wads in the den while watching Pat Robertson on television.

Proponents of the just say yes approach are the flip side of the just say no crowd. For them, sex is all about procreation. Their counseling centers tell women they can have their cake and eat it too. Have the kid, but place it for adoption. Good advice, unless you happen to be a crack-addicted minority kid or one of the lucky few who live in impoverished Third World countries frequently visited by Madonna or Angelina Jolie.

Some people support the rhythm method. They recognize the magnetic draw of human sexuality and admit just saying no to something that feels so good might not work. They reluctantly allow giving into the urge, but limit themselves to non-impregnating options like mutual masturbation, "pulling out" before the seed spills, or resorting to the quaint Monica Lewinsky method.

A small number frame abortion as a states' rights issue. They ask, "Who does the US Supreme Court think it is to tell (insert Red State name here) what to do?" They'd rather trust a state supreme court to make the decisions because state courts obviously possess critical information that's inaccessible and completely unintelligible to Justice Roberts, et al.

Not Everyone is an Angel

But not everyone is a pro-life angel.

Deadly abortionists believe solid sex education works best. They think people should know about their bodies and proactively prevent "mistakes" that sometimes occur during a little heavy breathing. They shockingly believe condoms help prevent STDs. Heck, some even condone free condoms for kids who fudge their pureness pledges with window-steaming action in the back of Mom's mini van.

Others believe in the power of medication. These folks see birth control pills as the panacea. Perhaps not as safe as condoms, but partial protection is better than no protection at all. Right? Worst of all, these drug pushers believe the morning after pill is an abomination if ever there was one. That's why so many pharmacists refuse to fill valid prescriptions for them.

Yet another group of morally-challenged baby-killers thinks the life of the mother has some bearing on the situation. They actually believe that taking a life that already exists is better than stopping a potential life that doesn't. Many believe this group supports growing babies and killing them for their stem cells.

Pro-Choice and Pro-Life

I'm against abortion, but I'm also for sex education, open communication, abstinence, birth control, adoption, federal standards, stem cell research, and considering the life of the mother (and the baby's if it goes to full term). In fact, I'm for anything that prevents an abortion, so long as it works.

To me, life is a baby with loving parents, enough financial security for shelter and food, safety from physical and emotional abuse, and a healthy Mom and baby at the end of the process. An existence absent any of these things is no life at all and sometimes an abortion is the only way to guarantee a life worth living.

So, I'm pro-life and pro-choice because there is no other sensible way to be.

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Labels: politics, sexuality, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, April 19, 2007

Talk...Talk...Talk

As soon as the wrenching pain of Blacksburg settles into a dull ache, there'll be plenty of hand-wringing over the largest shooting spree in America's history. In a national expression of grief-stricken rubbernecking we'll discuss gun control, security procedures, and the effect of violence in our culture. There'll probably even be a television movie and book by May.

It's not that these discussions aren't important. They're a way to scrub away a bit of the muck splashed upon all of us as we realize humans - despite what we like to think - are a curious, deeply-flawed breed. Despite all our good intentions and attempts to balance the needs and rights of the few against those of the many, someone comes along who simply refuses to be, well, civilized.

Dangerously Unhinged

They might be dangerously psychotic or wound a bit too tight to cope with a marriage breakup or personal slight. Despite the fact I'm not a religious man, I'd say some are just pure evil. Shootings like the one at Virginia Tech are in a league of their own. The perpetrator wasn't some young, stupid punk who shot a clerk while holding up a Seven-Eleven. The perpetrators of shooting sprees are dangerously unhinged.

I've had plenty of experience dealing with the deeply psychotic and I have news for you - you can't stop them from doing what they're determined to do. Gun registration might slow a young punk down because he's not that determined anyway. If he was, he wouldn't be out robbing Seven-Elevens for $23 and a pack of Marlboro Lights. A waiting period might cool off a cuckolded spouse, but if he crosses the line from merely scorned spouse to psychotic killer, quick access to a gun matters little.

He's Not Just Your Bus Stop Raver

Psychotic people aren't always like the raving homeless guy at the bus stop. Sometimes, they're very difficult to detect. One moment they appear perfectly in control. The next, they're behind closed doors and alone with inner monsters who start making bloody plans and videotaping bizarre farewell speeches. Shooting spree psychotics are cunning and more determined than a Baghdad suicide bomber and that lethal combination makes them virtually unstoppable.

Strict gun control - even outright gun bans - won't slow them down. They can easily make bombs out of household chemicals or mow down people with their PT Cruiser. They're not choosy about method, only cunning about their opportunities. You can install metal detectors and they'll sneak in through a window. You can ban all violence on television, but they aren't swayed a bit by it. Their inner demons are calling the shots and it doesn't matter is the psychotic watches CSI or Sesame Street - the demons live by their rules alone.

Talk...Talk...Talk

Soon it'll be time for the pundits to crawl onto the talk shows, each convinced their idea is the end all, be all. There'll be more screaming than a Baghdad funeral, but the only change will be the hardening of us all as we try to escape the incessant 24x7 blather. There'll be little real change because there is little we can really do about it.

Except talk.

Or, be confused about why humans - however damaged - can do such things.

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Labels: media, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Monday, April 16, 2007

The Inevitable Imus Post

Omnipotent Mea Culpa: There were some problems with the information I supplied in Sunday's post about energy policy. To get the lowdown and my apologies, stop by this post at Bring It On. Now, on to today's post.

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Don Imus is another in a long line of knot headed celebrities who've put their own well-paid backsides in a sling. They exercised their First Amendment rights, while completely ignoring the accompanying responsibility to refrain from saying something terminally stupid.

Critics of the I-Man - where "I" apparently stands for "Idiot" - have every right to be incensed and call for his head. What he said was rude and boorish and there is no excuse for a national radio personality not to know that, especially when he's said similarly distasteful things before.

A Fit Punishment

Although he's apologized profusely, the offended haven't accepted. In response, MSNBC cast him adrift altogether and CBS radio suspended him for two weeks. Pressure on advertisers may soon cause CBS to revisit that decision and Imus might find himself back on his ranch without a place to hang his ridiculous cowboy hat (Bush reference not intended).

Does the punishment fit the crime?

That's a subjective call based on how offended you are, Imus's recidivism problems, and how you view race issues. There is no single "right" punishment, only one the protesters, his advertisers, and employers hash out in the national arena. If it's clear the market will shun him, CBS will make the hard call. At a certain level, it's like a racial dispute incident at any company. Only the stakes are higher. Do you fire a nimrod over their indiscretions or work out some sort of monitoring process to evaluate the sincerity of their apologies? At the end of the day the question is, "is it more expensive to give them another chance, or less expensive to cut them loose."

Al and Jesse Leading the Charge

Imus ultimately deserves what he gets. He was monumentally stupid and I can't fault those offended. However, I'd prefer that someone other than Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson lead the charge.

Sharpton burst onto the national scene by vociferously calling for white heads over the claims of Tawana Brawley - a 15-year old black woman who charged she was raped by six white men. After months of framing it as a race issue, a Grand Jury found no evidence of the crime. In view of his current righteousness, Sharpton was conspicuously silent about the erroneous shit-storm he stirred up. His apology wasn't accepted, because he never offered one.

Sharpton and Jackson both jumped on the Duke lacrosse player bandwagon, convicting the accused white men in public before the court did it's job. Again, after months of jawing about racism, the case was dropped Wednesday after large holes appeared in the accuser's story. However, the Duke boys shouldn't expect a mea culpa from either of them any time soon.

Jesse had a moment of racial insensitivity too - one arguably worse than the one Imus brought on himself. In 1984, he referred to Jews as "hymies" and New York as "hymietown" - slurs every bit as repugnant as "nappy-headed hoes". He - like Imus - apologized profusely, but only after claiming it never happened, accusing Jews of being out to get him, and refusing to denounce his ally Louis Farrakhan after he threatened Jews with, "If you harm this brother [Jackson], it will be the last one you harm."

Imus Doesn't Deserve a Pass

To say Imus should get a pass because Sharpton and Jackson displayed similarly oafish behavior isn't right. It also isn't right that whites commit racially charged acts and try to prevaricate themselves free. Nor is it right that people of all colors look away sheepishly when events like these occur.

There will be no lasting progress in healing the country's racial wounds until those throwing the stones look at their own glass houses. Sharpton and Jackson should know that.

After all, they still have jobs preaching what they don't practice and I believe God might have a bone to pick on that score.

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Labels: media, political correctness, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Wednesday, April 11, 2007

A Bible Story

A recent Time magazine cover story raised some interesting questions about the role of the Bible in public education. Although the article wasn't nearly as skeptical as I would have liked, the premise was interesting - the Bible might be a valuable teaching tool offering valuable insight into why our society is the way it is and why understanding those issues is worthwhile for budding adults.

Although teaching the Bible has been adopted by several public school boards across the country, the story largely focuses on an evangelical Oklahoma religion teacher. Comments from the teacher and her students - including some non-Christians - indicate she is relatively neutral, presenting the Bible as a starting point for discussion and open to other points of view, even those she doesn't personally agree with. While I applaud the teacher for her intellectual honesty, using the Bible as an educational tool is still bothersome. Many committed atheists - including me - agree that fostering understanding between the religious and irreligious isn't a bad thing. But, there are many problems with no easy answers.

What About Everyone Else?

While teaching the Bible may indeed foster more discussion and better communications between Christians and non-Christians, it does so in a particularly limited way. The singular focus on Christianity tends to exclude other points of view - Judeo, Islamic, atheistic - no one is presenting their take on the world. If Christianity has much to offer, the same is true for other belief systems. The Bible is a rich work of literature and includes many common sense recommendations for daily living, but so do other religious and irreligious belief systems. The question becomes, what makes the Bible the chosen text?

Many Christians argue that American culture flowed directly from the Christian cultures in Europe. Many of our national trappings - from the Constitution to our money - contain explicit and implicit Christian references and some believe this is what makes the Bible "special". The country didn't start from a base of Jews, Muslims, or Buddhists, but from Christian sects - primarily protestant - that fled Europe to escape persecution. That much is true, but that argument doesn't address the rich native American religions already here, nor the diversification of religion since. We may still be a "Christian" nation, but that's a rapidly changing condition that suggests the Bible may not be the universal religious text needed for the job of fostering religious understanding.

Trust Is An Issue

Quite frankly, there is an issue of trust too. Over the past decade, evangelical Christians have become more vocal in evangelizing the public square. From bogus Wars on Christmas to hanging the Ten Commandments in every courthouse, they believe the country is literally going to hell in a handbasket and God has chosen them to save us all. In the process, they trample the religious views of those who don't believe in hell as well as those who picture a God that happens to be different than theirs. This work isn't done in the spirit of understanding, but as a different - although no less virulent - strain of religious persecution their forefathers fled centuries ago. However, denigrating religion as the universal province of the weak and stupid is every bit as wrong as imposing a personal religious belief system on others and that doesn't help.

The core issue - as is usually true - is not whether the Bible contains useful knowledge or fosters open discussion (it obviously does), it's about people believing their way is the only way and being too pigheaded to back down. If our society was as truly inclusive as we like to think, bringing a Bible into class for a rational, sociological discussion would be a no-brainer. So would a discussion on the merits of Islam. So would enlightening others on the benefits of atheism. But, we don't live in that society. We live in one where distrust, anger, and stubborn pride rules. In many ways, it's no more advanced than in the days Christians believed Jesus walked the earth. All religions - and atheists too - have much to learn and change. As things stand now, using the Bible as a teaching tool has some promise, but until these thorny problems are addressed, it's just promise, not reality. Regardless of what you believe, we're just not ready yet.

Unfortunately, that's part of what makes us human.

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Labels: politics, religion, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, March 29, 2007

The Perfect Metaphor for Peace

There's a question that arises in nearly all marriages or long-term relationships. The answer to that question has caused divorces, violence - and occasionally - murder. Clearly, it's a subject that arouses passionate responses.

On the surface, it's a simple question. A cursory look suggests the answer lies in an either/or response - either voluntarily perform one action or its opposite. The response is so simple it can be accomplished in less than a second. It's a trifling question that, absent the emotion it carries, shouldn't rise any higher than the most minor of annoyances in the pecking order of mundane travail.

However, the question often marks the boundaries of a relationship and since it does, takes on an importance far beyond it's simple exterior. It's a magnet that attracts all manner of slights - real and imagined. It touches on issues of respect, fairness, and sacrifice. It not only defines who you are, but also how you demand that others be.

A Trait to Which Humans are Ill-Adapted

Unfortunately, a successful resolution requires the ability to view the same situation from both sides - a trait humans are ill-adapted to. It requires you let go of a trivial argument for the sake of peace and harmony. To answer the question you must resist the impulse to pump it up beyond recognition by making it about far more than the simple, original issue. It requires the ability to see your own actions as critically as the person you oppose in order to stop internecine warfare before it begins. It requires one of the combatants to offer the tiniest olive branch for the sake of something far larger than the question.

The question is all of these things - simple, amazingly complex, easy, and difficult - all at the same time. But it also represents one more thing that carries civilization-altering importance - it is a perfect metaphor for why the world is the way it is. One simple act. One simple demonstration of respect. One tiny inch of ground given. One easy resolution offered. Any of these address the root cause of so much of the tumult in our relationships and our world - and yet mankind invariably overlooks the solution exactly because of its simplicity. It's an attitude that prizes the complex over the simplistic and becomes much the worse for all of us.

Plumbing for Peace

What is this question that is so simple and universal all at once?

If the prevailing view is that a man should lower the toilet seat, why is there no room for the premise that a woman should leave it up?

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Labels: society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Tuesday, March 20, 2007

An Extended Metaphor

Humans see the world in one of two ways. The low fidelity view is pure black and white - even gray is missing. The high fidelity world is a place of infinite colors and variations too numerous and small for any one person to see in toto. The difference between the two is the difference between a clear, unambiguous place and the very definition of chaos.

Despite it's awe-inspiring beauty, the hi-fi world is an unattainable utopia. Everyone feels free to interpret the colors and textures in the way they personally see fit. Their brushes dabs in the "right" colors, just so. They arrange the subject and scale. Frequently, the power of the brush reshapes the world independent from convention - and in some cases - common sense. It's a totally subjective world of simultaneous extreme beauty and awful ugliness. It can be a frightening place, but it's the world where mankind's most original thinking is born.

The lo-fi world can be beautiful in its own way, but it's every bit an unattainable utopia as hi-fi. It's a place of unchecked geometrical perfection, where perfectly clear black lines mark clean unambiguous boundaries. As long as everyone chooses to see the beauty in those clear and perfect lines, the lo-fi world is the place to be. It's a place we all crave in one way or another, but when an idea from the hi-fi world starts to impose color, both worlds - and every painter in them - are plunged into chaos.

The chaos can't be helped. Humans are a tinkering breed, never content with their world and always trying to capture a perfect beauty. It's impossible for us not to paint in color with the left hand while the right paints a study in perfect black and white harmony. It is our yin and yang. It is our feng shui. It's always - to one degree or other - a constant battle of balance between our two worlds.

Although humans will never strike perfect harmony, it doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Master hi-fi painters need to respect their lo-fi brethren. They know that lo-fi painters prefer a slow, deliberate path to recognizing the same things hi-fi painters see clearly. In fairness, lo-fi painters would be well-served to harness the emotion and experimentation of their hi-fi counterparts. Ignoring that boundless dynamism can damage the vision of their own world and make it a clear, but creative dead zone where nothing evolves and there is no life.

Theoretical discussions about the two worlds always abound, but sometimes they go into hyperdrive. The inevitable disagreements between hi-fi and lo-fi proponents devolve into paintball fights where every canvas is ruined - and that serves neither well. So, the most masterful painters learn from others. That's how it should be, but frequently isn't. Our communal fate hinges on masters' ability to strike the delicate balance that keeps the engine of the world functioning properly. However, some painters are too egotistical, too vain to work with others.

Perhaps expecting them to is also to have an unrealistic view of utopia. Who knows?

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Labels: society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Friday, March 09, 2007

The Odyssey of Anna Nicole

What the hell???!! I've been determined not to jump on the Anna Nicole bandwagon, but I saw something today that was truly amazing.

As I ate my lunch this afternoon, I flipped on the TV and tuned to the cable news. I always like a dash of death and destruction with my meals. I find that it aids digestion.

The screens of all three major cable news outlets had the usual BREAKING NEWS! THIS JUST IN! OMIGOD! SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED! banners up while crawls about Anna Nicole ran across the bottom like the out of town scores on a ballpark Jumbotron. At first, I barely noticed the banners because they're so often there. Remember newswench Rita Cosby croaking on for over a year about the murdered teen in Aruba? Each night the banner said the same thing - "Developing Story: Natalie Holloway is still dead". I hadn't seen anything like that since Chevy Chase used to give us, "Generalisimo Francisco Franco is still dead," on Weekend Update back when it was still funny.

Banners r Us

As I became vaguely aware of the banners, I realized they laid over an overhead shot of some building. This seemed a bit odd to me. Had she died again and this footage depicted the arrival of a hearse at the hospital? Had Howard K. Stern committed suicide by jumping off the roof of the building after realizing he'll have to drag his lazy ass off the couch and work for the rest of his life? Perhaps Paris Hilton and Michael Jackson had stolen Anna's body and were holed up in a warehouse negotiating with the SWAT team for extra coverage on E!

Suddenly, the helicopter shot gave way to a courtroom where the usual legal talking heads whispered in the background, "The judge is about to announce his verdict concerning Anna Nicole Smith's body. Let's listen in." Yes, let's!

Damn, I thought. She did die again! Then I remembered the dysfunctional cast of crudely drawn comedic characters were still fighting over a disputed inheritance from a dead 90 year old..er, what should happen to the baby...I mean where Anna should be buried...or was it who was taking over the Trimspa franchise?

Just Dust and Implants

It turns out this was just this particular case was about the body. After all, she'd been laying around for a week and if somebody didn't make a decision soon, Anna be reduced a pile of dust topped by a pair of silicone implants. Just ask James Brown's body what that's like. "HUH! Good Gawd. I don't feel good!"

The judge began reading his legal mumbo-jumbo and I started to eat my PB&J. As I chewed, I heard the Skippy-muffled sound of crying. It was eerie. I thought someone was in the house before I realized it was the judge. There on national television sat a judge, looking like Alan Rachins from LA Law, bawling his eyes out. He whimpered and simpered and broke down several times.

I began thinking, "Maybe this isn't about Anna Nicole. Maybe they just left the banners up and this was really a story about something else." But no, Howard K. Stern was there banging his head on the table and bawling right along with Judge Teary McRedeyes. Over in the corner, Anna Nicole's estranged mother was blowing her nose like a moose with hay fever. In fact, everyone in the damn place was howling like...well, like attendees to a funeral. Talk about a lack of judicial decorum.

Through a snot-blowing, tear-laden delivery, the judge said Anna Nicole's kid was the legal heir and would be in charge of making the decisions about Anna's final resting place.

What the Hell Are You Smokin'?

Huh? Um, judge? You are aware the kid's only a few weeks old aren't you? I mean I hate to question the wisdom of your honor, but what the hell are you smoking?

After stopping the reading of the verdict for another nice long cry, he croaked that the kid's guardian would make the decision. Then, he wrapped the whole case up with, "You people get together and work it out amongst yourselves." He said, literally, "I have completed all my tasks in this case," apparently not remembering that the main task was making a damn decision.

I never figured out what was so traumatic about this case. Unfortunately, the world is filled with dysfunctional people who relish picking the bones of their dearly departed. This guy is a family court judge, surely he must have seen similar cases many times before.

Oh yeah. This one case was on television. I guess you just can't pass up exposure like that. I thought Lance Ito should have gotten his own series after his over-the-top display of courtroom thespianism. I guess this guy was just angling for a spot on Dancin' With the Judges.

WTF?

When the cameras went back to the studio, legal beagle Dan Abrhams asked the recently airbrushed Susan Filan (who actually looks pretty good now - I'd hit it), "Susan, what was all THAT about?"

"Dan, I'm not sure."

Neither was I. I mean weird legal decisions are the norm in this country, but I can't recall a judge breaking down like a schoolgirl while reading a verdict and I can't remember a case when a judge essentially said, "I punt. No decision for you! I'm outta here." Stupid decisions yes, no decisions, not so much.

So the Anna Nicole tragicomedy will continue. The dueling fathers will fight over the kid until she follows Mom off to Forest Lawn. Big Daddy Oilman's disputed fortune will continue dwindling through leeching legal fees until the 13 Dads and 6 grandmothers agree to equally split the $2.57 that's left. And Anna will finally get what she no doubt wanted while she was alive - an inexhaustible supply of publicity without the trauma of having to live with it.

All I have to say is, "Britney! Are you paying attention to this?"

Labels: humor, pop+culture, society

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, February 22, 2007