The recent news that Hostess is back in bankruptcy court for the second time in a decade does not come as a surprise to me; I haven’t purchased a Hostess product in twenty years. This isn’t because I no longer have the same affinity for Twinkies, Ding Dongs and Suzy Qs as I did when I was kid, or because I am more health conscious as been blamed for decreasing sales. The real problem is that because as an adult I had to take greater care in my spending habits; there just isn’t the bang-for-the-buck. A pair of Twinkies might cost 15 cents when I was kid, but today it might be $1.09 to $1.69, depending on where you find them. It doesn’t help that they also seem to be rather smaller than when I remember. Hostess is blaming labor and pension costs, and by filing for this bankruptcy it hopes to “address” these issues.
Hostess isn’t the only junk food supplier that has had issues with remaining competitive with its pricing. In 1968, a Hershey Bar cost 5 cents. In 1970, it cost 10 cents; in 1974 it rose to 15 cents, and in 1977 it was 20 cents. The price went up every few years by 5 cents. Between 1986 and 1991 the average price stayed steady at 40 cents. In 1995 it was still “just” 50 cents. Those days seem a lifetime ago; Depending on where you buy it, a candy bar at 1.55 ounces can cost anywhere from 99 cents to $1.19. Over in the fast food business, in 1974, a McDonald’s hamburger cost 30 cents. In 1991, a “value priced” hamburger cost 59 cents, an attempt for the chain to win back customers from competitors; I recall that a Burger King Whopper was selling for $1 in the early in the early 1990s. Today a “value” hamburger only costs $1.09—still a “bargain” when the standard entrée burger costs $4 or more.
But surely these are only details; after all wages have increased proportionately with inflation over the years. Take for example that in 1978, a job in a small sheet metal fabricating factory in small town Wisconsin paid $6.25 an hour to start, about $13,000 a year. In 2010 that same job—provided it wasn’t exported to China—would have, according to a calculator devised by the creators of an Internet site called “Measuringworth.com,” the purchasing power of $43,550 in 2010. However, if you could find a similar operation in some industrial park, the starting wage would likely be no more than $10 an hour, or $20,800 a year—constituting less than half the purchasing power of 1978 levels had wages kept pace with the Consumer Price Index. Just to bring the point home in an even more blunt terms, the 1978 wage as a percentage of GDP would be worth $82,333 today. What that tells us is that workers’ wages have been depressed as a percentage of GDP to one-quarter of what they were in 1978. It also tells us that someone else has been profiting rather handsomely in the past 30 years, and it hasn’t been the middle and working class.
Thus the price of a candy bar rose at least 500 percent from its 1978 price. Those Twinkies rose 700 percent, while the McDonald’s “value” hamburger rose a “modest” 350 percent; people may have also noticed that the price of snack chips have also increased dramatically in recent months. Of course it goes without saying that the price of real food, like fresh meat, fruits and vegetables, have increased in three digit increments. But actual wages for that sheet metal job increased only 60 percent. But millionaires and billionaires have made out like bandits. According to one source I found on the subject, there were 10 billionaires in the U.S. when Ronald Reagan took office; when he left office, there were 52--and this in spite of the loss numerous manufacturing industries. Most of these billionaires made their money from "unearned" wealth. Today there are nearly 8 million people in the U.S. classified as millionaires. That is 1-in-30 adults. Yet the median income in the U.S. is $33,000; this means that half of all working Americans--who are the real creators of wealth--make less than that amount.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Chocoholics not quite in paradise yet
“Sleeper” is the only Woody Allen movie that to my taste qualifies as “great,” and some recent news brings an early scene from that film to mind. After Allen’s character has been revived from cryogenic slumber, two scientists are discussing what they regard as unusual requests for his morning meal:
“Yes, this morning for breakfast he requested something called wheat germ, organic honey and tiger’s milk (laughter).”
“Oh, yes. Those were the charmed substances that some years ago were felt to contain life-preserving properties.”
“You mean there was no deep fat? No steak or cream pies or hot fudge?”
“Those were thought to be unhealthy, precisely the opposite of what we now know to be true.”
“Incredible.”
The recent news, of course, is that chocolate has “life-preserving” properties that only a few years ago would have induced laughter from the scientific and medical community. A Swedish study apparently has “good news” for chocoholic women; since they are the highest chocolate consumption group, they are more likely to “benefit” than men who (apparently established by the usual female myths rather than actual fact), ate less chocolate. Consuming a 1.6 ounce Hershey’s Bar or two every day can reduce the risk of stroke by 14 percent, believed to be due to chocolate’s assumed antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties. This follows up a British Medical Journal report that claims that dark chocolate can reduce blood pressure. The caveat to the BMJ findings is that noticeable blood pressure improvement was seen only in people who already had hypertension issues. Also, chocolate that is rich in flavanol, an organic compound in plants and lauded for numerous medicinal benefits, has little actual effect on blood pressure.
Other researchers still caution that the unhealthy side effects of high-fat content milk chocolate may still outweigh its “benefits”—particularly candy bars whose only chocolate content is the covering of high-fat fillings. The milk in milk chocolate tends to inhibit the metabolizing of its medicinal properties, and the effectiveness of dark chocolate is reduced when the elements that contribute to its bitter taste are removed; unsweetened baking chocolate is likely the most “healthy” version. It would appear, unfortunately, that science still has a lot catching-up to do before the health food militant is proven wrong.
“Yes, this morning for breakfast he requested something called wheat germ, organic honey and tiger’s milk (laughter).”
“Oh, yes. Those were the charmed substances that some years ago were felt to contain life-preserving properties.”
“You mean there was no deep fat? No steak or cream pies or hot fudge?”
“Those were thought to be unhealthy, precisely the opposite of what we now know to be true.”
“Incredible.”
The recent news, of course, is that chocolate has “life-preserving” properties that only a few years ago would have induced laughter from the scientific and medical community. A Swedish study apparently has “good news” for chocoholic women; since they are the highest chocolate consumption group, they are more likely to “benefit” than men who (apparently established by the usual female myths rather than actual fact), ate less chocolate. Consuming a 1.6 ounce Hershey’s Bar or two every day can reduce the risk of stroke by 14 percent, believed to be due to chocolate’s assumed antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties. This follows up a British Medical Journal report that claims that dark chocolate can reduce blood pressure. The caveat to the BMJ findings is that noticeable blood pressure improvement was seen only in people who already had hypertension issues. Also, chocolate that is rich in flavanol, an organic compound in plants and lauded for numerous medicinal benefits, has little actual effect on blood pressure.
Other researchers still caution that the unhealthy side effects of high-fat content milk chocolate may still outweigh its “benefits”—particularly candy bars whose only chocolate content is the covering of high-fat fillings. The milk in milk chocolate tends to inhibit the metabolizing of its medicinal properties, and the effectiveness of dark chocolate is reduced when the elements that contribute to its bitter taste are removed; unsweetened baking chocolate is likely the most “healthy” version. It would appear, unfortunately, that science still has a lot catching-up to do before the health food militant is proven wrong.
Right and wrong--or lack therof
On the front page of last Saturday’s paper was the news that there would be no federal civil rights charges pressed against Ian Birk, the former Seattle police officer who shot to death Native American woodcarver John T. Williams in broad daylight in downtown Seattle. This surprising decision was at odds with the determination of an inquest jury; inquest juries are notorious for finding police “justified” for killing even unarmed citizens, but in a rare turnabout all but one jurors found Birk’s actions unjustified. It was clearly an example of police officer creating a dangerous character out of his own paranoid fantasy world, literally within seconds losing all grasp of reality and judgment, and killing a man who was merely walking down a sidewalk, minding his own business, and posing no threat to anyone. But while it can be expected that the city attorney would do nothing, it is disheartening that the Feds refused to take action against Birk, particularly because there are more than a few officers like him roaming free and armed on the streets.
The Feds claimed that they could not make civil rights charges “stick” because the Justice Department’s investigation of the SPD found that the department’s “training” in the use of lethal force was lacking; thus it wasn’t Birk’s “fault” that he acted the way he did. If you feel an unhealthy sensation churning inside your stomach, I share your disgust. Is it current police training for an officer to see a man walking past on the crosswalk right in front of his squad car, formulate without the slightest evidence that he is violent menace—probably because he is a racial minority—jump out of his cruiser and begin shooting without taking in one moment to ascertain the true nature of what he was dealing with? If this is the case, then the SPD has far bigger problems than the even the Justice Department’s investigation found. Lax training wasn’t Birk’s problem; his problem was that he was psychologically unfit to carry a badge and a gun, and there are likely many more like him.
In the same newspaper edition there was a story about a Federal Way cop who heading to her coffee break at Starbucks at 1 pm, claimed to observe what she thought was a “hand-to-hand” drug transaction inside a car outside the coffee shop. She claimed that she communicated a verbal command to the occupants to stop what they were doing. She also claimed that she saw one of the men reaching for something under a seat. She further claimed that she yelled at them to get out of the car. When the man continued reaching under the seat, according to the officer, she started firing her weapon, upon which the car sped off (gosh, I wonder why?). The suspects’ vehicle was found a few blocks away, with the passenger dead and the driver missing. Maybe there is something to the officer’s story, maybe not. Take for instance Birk’s initial story, in which he claimed he saw Williams perched on a wall, and when Birk approached him, Williams jumped off the wall and advanced toward him menacingly with open knife. Even his police guild handlers couldn’t let him get away with this bald lie; police officers teach each other how to concoct such “likely” stories, but in this case, there was obvious evidence (like his dash cam), and three witnesses to contradict his initial tale. If this shooting had occurred in the wee hours of the morning with no witnesses, the lie would have become truth. Civil rights be damned.
Since the Feds refused to prosecute Birk, what motivation does the SPD have to change its “training” methods? None whatever.
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Meanwhile, it was reported on NPR recently that the Obama administration successfully petitioned the FBI to expand its definition of rape in crime statistic reports, hoping to inflate the numbers, so long as local law enforcement cooperates. This is an example of how gender politics and victim mythology becomes intertwined with crime statistics, leading to wild but unsubstantiated claims in regard to such things as human trafficking and child prostitution. Still, it is unlikely that changes in the definitions that the FBI uses will be sufficient to satisfy the victim lust of activists and advocates, since the FBI relies on reported incidents, not assumptions, ratios and guesswork. The CDC report I commented on a few weeks ago, with its own expanded definitions, is likely to suggest an upper-limit on the prevalence of sexual crimes and domestic violence. But the curious thing remains that the focus is on women as victims, since the media and the activists studiously avoid the implications of the CDC findings on domestic violence. The fact that 25 percent more males than females report being victims of domestic violence in the previous 12 months of the survey suggests that while men have become more conscious of the fact that they can be arrested, charged and imprisoned for domestic violence, women apparently know no such restraint on their own actions.
One advocate quoted in the NPR report used the term an “incredibly violent crime” in reference to rape; it was not necessarily over the top, but in relation to what? Taking your small children out into the backyard and taking a large stone and crushing their heads in, or, like Andrea Yates, filling a bathtub with water, taking your five children one-by-one and holding them in the water while they struggle for life, until they drown? The Seattle P-I wrote an editorial praising the “justice” of the not guilty for reasons of insanity verdict in Yates' second trial. I wondered who inspired this horrific, hypocritical opinion; I know that Susan Paynter was still employed by the P-I at the time (she bailed shortly before the paper folded); I’m certain she had her fans—people I would have no commonality with—but I remember Paynter as a nauseating amalgamation of victim feminism, racial insensitivity, police abuse apologias and personal arrogance. Funny how radical feminism mixes so easily with such lesser pursuits; it probably has something to with the tyranny of it.
The insanity claim seems particularly popular in Texas in defense of women who commit, well, incredibly violent acts against children. Such was that case in 2003, when Deanna LaJune Laney took her three sons—including a toddler—out in the back yard, sat on the two older boys (6 and 8) and beat on their heads with a rock. The toddler was found in critical condition. In 2006, Dena Schlosser was charged with murder when her baby daughter bled to death after her arms were cut off. The judge in the case ruled that she was legally insane. Interestingly, all of these cases were blamed on the killer’s religious beliefs; but nowhere in the Bible does it say that parents (let alone mothers) are justified in killing their children. In Genesis, God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son as a test of his faith; having been satisfied that Abraham was prepared to do this, God stopped him at the last moment and accepted a ram as a substitute (frankly, people should start paying more attention to the New Testament's version of God). On the other hand, the killing of these children was due entirely to murderers’ obsession with self and their own perceived “victimization.”
Sometimes I get the impression that a certain demographic is so wrapped-up in its “victimization” that some of its components have no sense of right and wrong. Some of you might remember the case of Mary Winkler, the Tennessee woman who murdered her preacher husband, shooting him in the back with a shotgun. Winkler claimed that she suffered years of sexual and psychological abuse, that no one else apparently saw. Two witnesses at her trial claimed that they saw her “cower” on one or two occasions in his presence, but this may well have been an act. It certainly contradicted her initial statement to police—and before she talked to her attorney—that her husband had not abused her “in any way.” Surprisingly, the prosecution did not press this contradiction at trial. It was, however, revealed that Winkler was a poor manager of money behind her husband’s back, engaging in check-writing fraud worth $5,000—something which did apparently cause considerable friction between them. Winkler was eventually convicted of voluntary manslaughter, but was set free for time served. This wasn’t a surprise to foreman Bill Berry, one of only two men sitting on the jury. Berry told Court TV that the 10 female jurors were “heavily” in favor of Winkler, and nine were ready to acquit her of all charges immediately. According to Berry, "I don't think justice was done. It's the times we're living in. People are getting away with murder today." He and the other male juror refused to countenance Winkler getting away scot-free, and the voluntary manslaughter conviction was a “compromise.”
Later, in an anecdote Ann Rule noted in her book "Smoke, Mirrors and Murder"--in which she admitted that despite the courtroom theatrics, her own research assistant in Tennessee could find almost no evidence to substantiate Winkler's claims--the "demure" Winkler, encountered in a bar drinking a beer, responded to the query "Are you the preacher-killer" by laughing and retorting “Yeah. You want to be next?”
A summary of the case on Trutv’s website included public comment. A Lisa Oglesby-Liljander said “I'm glad she got off..Im so sick of men abusing their wives and getting away with it. I don't think they deseve to be killed but sometimes they just push their wives too far. I hope Mary and her girls are living a wondreful peaceful life!” People like this are speaking for their own victim “entitlement,” not from knowable facts—particularly when it isn’t men who are necessarily “getting away with it.” Such people should be the last on the list passing themselves off as moral paladins. Mrs. Rule also included a brief discussion of that incident on New Year’s Eve when Mary was photographed in a bar with a beer, and holding a cigarette. The man who snapped the picture with his cell phone camera subsequently asked Mary: “Are you the preacher-killer?” Reportedly, Mary laughed, and said: “Yeah. You want to be next?”
The Feds claimed that they could not make civil rights charges “stick” because the Justice Department’s investigation of the SPD found that the department’s “training” in the use of lethal force was lacking; thus it wasn’t Birk’s “fault” that he acted the way he did. If you feel an unhealthy sensation churning inside your stomach, I share your disgust. Is it current police training for an officer to see a man walking past on the crosswalk right in front of his squad car, formulate without the slightest evidence that he is violent menace—probably because he is a racial minority—jump out of his cruiser and begin shooting without taking in one moment to ascertain the true nature of what he was dealing with? If this is the case, then the SPD has far bigger problems than the even the Justice Department’s investigation found. Lax training wasn’t Birk’s problem; his problem was that he was psychologically unfit to carry a badge and a gun, and there are likely many more like him.
In the same newspaper edition there was a story about a Federal Way cop who heading to her coffee break at Starbucks at 1 pm, claimed to observe what she thought was a “hand-to-hand” drug transaction inside a car outside the coffee shop. She claimed that she communicated a verbal command to the occupants to stop what they were doing. She also claimed that she saw one of the men reaching for something under a seat. She further claimed that she yelled at them to get out of the car. When the man continued reaching under the seat, according to the officer, she started firing her weapon, upon which the car sped off (gosh, I wonder why?). The suspects’ vehicle was found a few blocks away, with the passenger dead and the driver missing. Maybe there is something to the officer’s story, maybe not. Take for instance Birk’s initial story, in which he claimed he saw Williams perched on a wall, and when Birk approached him, Williams jumped off the wall and advanced toward him menacingly with open knife. Even his police guild handlers couldn’t let him get away with this bald lie; police officers teach each other how to concoct such “likely” stories, but in this case, there was obvious evidence (like his dash cam), and three witnesses to contradict his initial tale. If this shooting had occurred in the wee hours of the morning with no witnesses, the lie would have become truth. Civil rights be damned.
Since the Feds refused to prosecute Birk, what motivation does the SPD have to change its “training” methods? None whatever.
*******************************************************
Meanwhile, it was reported on NPR recently that the Obama administration successfully petitioned the FBI to expand its definition of rape in crime statistic reports, hoping to inflate the numbers, so long as local law enforcement cooperates. This is an example of how gender politics and victim mythology becomes intertwined with crime statistics, leading to wild but unsubstantiated claims in regard to such things as human trafficking and child prostitution. Still, it is unlikely that changes in the definitions that the FBI uses will be sufficient to satisfy the victim lust of activists and advocates, since the FBI relies on reported incidents, not assumptions, ratios and guesswork. The CDC report I commented on a few weeks ago, with its own expanded definitions, is likely to suggest an upper-limit on the prevalence of sexual crimes and domestic violence. But the curious thing remains that the focus is on women as victims, since the media and the activists studiously avoid the implications of the CDC findings on domestic violence. The fact that 25 percent more males than females report being victims of domestic violence in the previous 12 months of the survey suggests that while men have become more conscious of the fact that they can be arrested, charged and imprisoned for domestic violence, women apparently know no such restraint on their own actions.
One advocate quoted in the NPR report used the term an “incredibly violent crime” in reference to rape; it was not necessarily over the top, but in relation to what? Taking your small children out into the backyard and taking a large stone and crushing their heads in, or, like Andrea Yates, filling a bathtub with water, taking your five children one-by-one and holding them in the water while they struggle for life, until they drown? The Seattle P-I wrote an editorial praising the “justice” of the not guilty for reasons of insanity verdict in Yates' second trial. I wondered who inspired this horrific, hypocritical opinion; I know that Susan Paynter was still employed by the P-I at the time (she bailed shortly before the paper folded); I’m certain she had her fans—people I would have no commonality with—but I remember Paynter as a nauseating amalgamation of victim feminism, racial insensitivity, police abuse apologias and personal arrogance. Funny how radical feminism mixes so easily with such lesser pursuits; it probably has something to with the tyranny of it.
The insanity claim seems particularly popular in Texas in defense of women who commit, well, incredibly violent acts against children. Such was that case in 2003, when Deanna LaJune Laney took her three sons—including a toddler—out in the back yard, sat on the two older boys (6 and 8) and beat on their heads with a rock. The toddler was found in critical condition. In 2006, Dena Schlosser was charged with murder when her baby daughter bled to death after her arms were cut off. The judge in the case ruled that she was legally insane. Interestingly, all of these cases were blamed on the killer’s religious beliefs; but nowhere in the Bible does it say that parents (let alone mothers) are justified in killing their children. In Genesis, God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son as a test of his faith; having been satisfied that Abraham was prepared to do this, God stopped him at the last moment and accepted a ram as a substitute (frankly, people should start paying more attention to the New Testament's version of God). On the other hand, the killing of these children was due entirely to murderers’ obsession with self and their own perceived “victimization.”
Sometimes I get the impression that a certain demographic is so wrapped-up in its “victimization” that some of its components have no sense of right and wrong. Some of you might remember the case of Mary Winkler, the Tennessee woman who murdered her preacher husband, shooting him in the back with a shotgun. Winkler claimed that she suffered years of sexual and psychological abuse, that no one else apparently saw. Two witnesses at her trial claimed that they saw her “cower” on one or two occasions in his presence, but this may well have been an act. It certainly contradicted her initial statement to police—and before she talked to her attorney—that her husband had not abused her “in any way.” Surprisingly, the prosecution did not press this contradiction at trial. It was, however, revealed that Winkler was a poor manager of money behind her husband’s back, engaging in check-writing fraud worth $5,000—something which did apparently cause considerable friction between them. Winkler was eventually convicted of voluntary manslaughter, but was set free for time served. This wasn’t a surprise to foreman Bill Berry, one of only two men sitting on the jury. Berry told Court TV that the 10 female jurors were “heavily” in favor of Winkler, and nine were ready to acquit her of all charges immediately. According to Berry, "I don't think justice was done. It's the times we're living in. People are getting away with murder today." He and the other male juror refused to countenance Winkler getting away scot-free, and the voluntary manslaughter conviction was a “compromise.”
Later, in an anecdote Ann Rule noted in her book "Smoke, Mirrors and Murder"--in which she admitted that despite the courtroom theatrics, her own research assistant in Tennessee could find almost no evidence to substantiate Winkler's claims--the "demure" Winkler, encountered in a bar drinking a beer, responded to the query "Are you the preacher-killer" by laughing and retorting “Yeah. You want to be next?”
A summary of the case on Trutv’s website included public comment. A Lisa Oglesby-Liljander said “I'm glad she got off..Im so sick of men abusing their wives and getting away with it. I don't think they deseve to be killed but sometimes they just push their wives too far. I hope Mary and her girls are living a wondreful peaceful life!” People like this are speaking for their own victim “entitlement,” not from knowable facts—particularly when it isn’t men who are necessarily “getting away with it.” Such people should be the last on the list passing themselves off as moral paladins. Mrs. Rule also included a brief discussion of that incident on New Year’s Eve when Mary was photographed in a bar with a beer, and holding a cigarette. The man who snapped the picture with his cell phone camera subsequently asked Mary: “Are you the preacher-killer?” Reportedly, Mary laughed, and said: “Yeah. You want to be next?”
No more Capital One in my wallet
Capital One Bank—best known for those credit card commercials with the tagline “What’s in your wallet?”—was one of those financial institutions that received federal bailout assistance to save it from itself, as one of many financial institutions involved in the home mortgage bumble. The federal government “purchased” $3.5 billion in Capital One stocks, which the bank “bought” back with remarkable haste, apparently with profits that makes one wonder why they needed bailout money to begin with. One thing for certain was that they continued to milk little people like me who honored their debts as a reliable “cash cows.”
It goes something like this: What they mean by what’s-in-your-wallet is a line of credit that represents money borrowed by the holder from the bank, usually at a higher interest rate than a normal bank loan. Since a normal bank loan requires that the borrower provide sufficient equity that can used as collateral in case the borrower defaults, there are checks and balances to the process; potential borrowers who do not have sufficient assets are (supposedly) prevented from making decisions they will regret later. Holders of credit cards, however, have only credit limits standing in the way of their own foolishness. Banks are at least partially protected from foolish lending by often exorbitant finance charges; if a borrower pays only the finance charge on a balance, it may take only a few years to pay off the amount of the original “loan,” but the original amount will still exist as a base, and continue to generate finance charges, which essentially become an indefinite source “profit” for the lender, unless the latter eventually declares bankruptcy—in which case the bank really hasn’t lost anything.
Over the past decade I held three Capital One cards and three others; being of very modest means to begin with, I fell into the trap, and one day I found myself unemployed. I could have filed for bankruptcy, but instead I contacted a debt consolidation intermediary, which was probably a mistake because the banks kept ignoring their “proposals” over a six-month period, allowing for the accumulation of late fees and over-limit charges. I finally sent a barrage of letters and e-mails threatening bankruptcy or payment refusals. Capital One eventually sent me a letter announcing that they had agreed to my “terms.” Three weeks later, the debt consolidation company sent me a self-congratulatory message alleging that the banks had accepted “their” proposals. I did some belated studying-up, and discovered that the financial experts council against dealing with debt consolidation firms, since they are little more than tools of credit card companies, to get them the best “deal”—such as allowing for the inflation of as much debt as credit card companies can create before letting their foot off the gas. The debt consolidation company who “worked” with me charged $40 a month as a fee for their “service,” which amounted to little more than facilitating an electronic transfer, which I could have used my own bank for a fee of $5.
It took me 50 months to pay off the Capital One cards, which constituted ¾ of my debt load—which in total ate-up forty percent of my take home pay. The credit limit of the COB cards totaled $11,700—upon which I paid $6,000 in finance charges to these pirates. Since I wasn’t making much to begin with, obviously I had to make some rather considerable compromises in my living arrangements. There was, however, some positives to glean from this experience: I learn to live within my meager means without resort to credit at all. I didn’t contribute much to the economy as a consumer because of my rather slim bottom line, but the fact that I learned a valuable life lesson while at the same allowing me to save money in the future without even thinking about it. Taking responsibility for paying my debts somehow moved my Fox News-fan dad (because it’s “fair and balanced”) to send me money to soften the landing in the past year. Although it is difficult for me to mentally accept help after all these decades of going it alone, I must accept it in the spirit it was given.
**********************************************************
It retrospect, my situation could have been much worse. In 2002, I was hired by this sports apparel company (that has since gone mostly broke); but before my health insurance kicked in there developed a swelling under the left side of my jaw. It kept grower bigger and bigger, but I thought that I’d wait a week until I the insurance kicked-in. Unfortunately, it became harder and harder for me to open my mouth, and finally I couldn’t even fit a straw in it. I found myself sitting in the emergency room of Harborview, waiting for an hour before the check-in nurse called my number. She looked at me with disgust, asked me if someone had slugged me, and sent me sitting in the lobby again for another hour before I was called into a cubicle. The first doctor who looked at me was completely befuddled, but a second doctor looked into the narrow slit where my mouth used to be and determined that I had a very serious cavity, and had developed an abscess of rather considerable size. To make a short story shorter, I was operated on the next morning to remove the abscess, and spent the next four days hooked-up to a steady flow of antibiotics. When I was told I could leave, I discovered that an orderly had mislaid my shoes. I ended up scrounging around the hallways for a plastic garbage bag and cardboard to wrap around my feet. A couple weeks later I received the bill: $11,000—which of course the insurance company was not going to pay one penny, because it was a “pre-existing” condition. Because my income and expenses would not immediately cover that bill, the payment processors actually expected me to put its entirety on my credit cards, which of course was impossible. After some wrangling over a few weeks, my bill was reduced to 10 percent of the total, probably because the length of time it would take to complete the payments would not be worth the time and expense of keeping track of it; as a payment processor told me, getting something was better than nothing at all.
It goes something like this: What they mean by what’s-in-your-wallet is a line of credit that represents money borrowed by the holder from the bank, usually at a higher interest rate than a normal bank loan. Since a normal bank loan requires that the borrower provide sufficient equity that can used as collateral in case the borrower defaults, there are checks and balances to the process; potential borrowers who do not have sufficient assets are (supposedly) prevented from making decisions they will regret later. Holders of credit cards, however, have only credit limits standing in the way of their own foolishness. Banks are at least partially protected from foolish lending by often exorbitant finance charges; if a borrower pays only the finance charge on a balance, it may take only a few years to pay off the amount of the original “loan,” but the original amount will still exist as a base, and continue to generate finance charges, which essentially become an indefinite source “profit” for the lender, unless the latter eventually declares bankruptcy—in which case the bank really hasn’t lost anything.
Over the past decade I held three Capital One cards and three others; being of very modest means to begin with, I fell into the trap, and one day I found myself unemployed. I could have filed for bankruptcy, but instead I contacted a debt consolidation intermediary, which was probably a mistake because the banks kept ignoring their “proposals” over a six-month period, allowing for the accumulation of late fees and over-limit charges. I finally sent a barrage of letters and e-mails threatening bankruptcy or payment refusals. Capital One eventually sent me a letter announcing that they had agreed to my “terms.” Three weeks later, the debt consolidation company sent me a self-congratulatory message alleging that the banks had accepted “their” proposals. I did some belated studying-up, and discovered that the financial experts council against dealing with debt consolidation firms, since they are little more than tools of credit card companies, to get them the best “deal”—such as allowing for the inflation of as much debt as credit card companies can create before letting their foot off the gas. The debt consolidation company who “worked” with me charged $40 a month as a fee for their “service,” which amounted to little more than facilitating an electronic transfer, which I could have used my own bank for a fee of $5.
It took me 50 months to pay off the Capital One cards, which constituted ¾ of my debt load—which in total ate-up forty percent of my take home pay. The credit limit of the COB cards totaled $11,700—upon which I paid $6,000 in finance charges to these pirates. Since I wasn’t making much to begin with, obviously I had to make some rather considerable compromises in my living arrangements. There was, however, some positives to glean from this experience: I learn to live within my meager means without resort to credit at all. I didn’t contribute much to the economy as a consumer because of my rather slim bottom line, but the fact that I learned a valuable life lesson while at the same allowing me to save money in the future without even thinking about it. Taking responsibility for paying my debts somehow moved my Fox News-fan dad (because it’s “fair and balanced”) to send me money to soften the landing in the past year. Although it is difficult for me to mentally accept help after all these decades of going it alone, I must accept it in the spirit it was given.
**********************************************************
It retrospect, my situation could have been much worse. In 2002, I was hired by this sports apparel company (that has since gone mostly broke); but before my health insurance kicked in there developed a swelling under the left side of my jaw. It kept grower bigger and bigger, but I thought that I’d wait a week until I the insurance kicked-in. Unfortunately, it became harder and harder for me to open my mouth, and finally I couldn’t even fit a straw in it. I found myself sitting in the emergency room of Harborview, waiting for an hour before the check-in nurse called my number. She looked at me with disgust, asked me if someone had slugged me, and sent me sitting in the lobby again for another hour before I was called into a cubicle. The first doctor who looked at me was completely befuddled, but a second doctor looked into the narrow slit where my mouth used to be and determined that I had a very serious cavity, and had developed an abscess of rather considerable size. To make a short story shorter, I was operated on the next morning to remove the abscess, and spent the next four days hooked-up to a steady flow of antibiotics. When I was told I could leave, I discovered that an orderly had mislaid my shoes. I ended up scrounging around the hallways for a plastic garbage bag and cardboard to wrap around my feet. A couple weeks later I received the bill: $11,000—which of course the insurance company was not going to pay one penny, because it was a “pre-existing” condition. Because my income and expenses would not immediately cover that bill, the payment processors actually expected me to put its entirety on my credit cards, which of course was impossible. After some wrangling over a few weeks, my bill was reduced to 10 percent of the total, probably because the length of time it would take to complete the payments would not be worth the time and expense of keeping track of it; as a payment processor told me, getting something was better than nothing at all.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Packers' season ends with a not-so-surprising thud
I have been a Green Bay Packer fan since I could formulate a thought, although baseball and basketball were initially one and two in my affections because of the bigger-than-life radio personalities of Bob Uecker and Eddie Doucette. Football is far ahead of those sports now; a large part of the reason for this is because neither the Brewers nor the Bucks have had a “face of the franchise” for a very long time, someone whose success you could feel a vicarious connection to. Ryan Braun may turn out to be that player for the Brewers, depending upon his possible dependency on PEDs; but the Packers, mired in irrelevancy and mediocrity throughout the 70s and 80s, took the pedestal thanks to Brett Favre’s emergence. Favre arrived at an opportune time, on the heels of Robin Yount’s retirement, and he became the number one attraction in the state of Wisconsin, someone you could proudly say was your guy and no one else’s. This is why it was such a bitter pill of some of us to swallow when Ted Thompson and Co. shoved him out the door. I had a great deal of emotional capital invested in Favre as a Packer, far less than in Aaron Rodgers.
Thus I was not crushed when the Packers played a brutal game against the New York Giants, which could have been even more humbling had the team gone undefeated in the regular season. I wrote a month ago that the Packers, having escaped by the same 38-35 score over the New York Giants as the New England Patriots in 2007, ought hope they avoid seeing them again in the playoffs. Instead, it was déjà vu; like the Patriots that year—not to mention the Favre-led Packers in the NFC title game—their season was ruined. In 2007, the 10-6 Giants humiliated a 16-0 Patriots team, while this season a 9-7 Giants team did the same to a 15-1 squad. How could this happen? The fact is that many observers had the sneaky suspicion that the Packers were a bit of a fraud this year. They didn’t beat teams so much as outscore them, and when the offense couldn’t gather sufficient steam, you knew that it was only a matter of time before the defense blew apart. Too often the difference between winning and losing was who won turnover battle; the Packers had the best turnover ratio in the league during the regular season. But against the Giants, not only for the first time all season did the Packers had more turnovers than their opponent, but did so in dramatically disastrous fashion.
Unlike Tom Brady, Peyton Manning or Drew Brees, Rodgers was always capable of an absolute stinker of a performance where you were never under the impression that he was capable of saving the day. I don't buy the argument that he was rusty against the Giants; his back-up had a team record-setting performance after having thrown just 3 passes all season. I compiled in a previous post Rodgers’ Tim Tebow-like numbers from the second half of the Oakland game and the following week in Kansas City, where he seemed to be inert; perhaps some of this had to do with his receivers dropping balls as if they had grease on their hands, or an offensive line that seemed particularly porous against the Giants. Nevertheless, I never for a moment sensed that Rodgers would regain control of the situation against the Chiefs or the Giants as perhaps the true "elite" quarterbacks could. Many people criticized Favre's "gunslinger" mentality, but as he drolly observed after throwing a playoff record six INTs in a loss against the St. Louis Rams, "No risk, no reward." Rodgers, on the other hand, is a quarterback who thrives in good times, and appears lost in bad times.
I watched some of the game in the break room at work, and in the second quarter I found myself musing out loud that they should bench Rodgers and put Matt Flynn in the game. This won’t go down as the Packers best team after all, but it may be memorable for another reason: The year when another star quarterback in the making was revealed to the world.
Thus I was not crushed when the Packers played a brutal game against the New York Giants, which could have been even more humbling had the team gone undefeated in the regular season. I wrote a month ago that the Packers, having escaped by the same 38-35 score over the New York Giants as the New England Patriots in 2007, ought hope they avoid seeing them again in the playoffs. Instead, it was déjà vu; like the Patriots that year—not to mention the Favre-led Packers in the NFC title game—their season was ruined. In 2007, the 10-6 Giants humiliated a 16-0 Patriots team, while this season a 9-7 Giants team did the same to a 15-1 squad. How could this happen? The fact is that many observers had the sneaky suspicion that the Packers were a bit of a fraud this year. They didn’t beat teams so much as outscore them, and when the offense couldn’t gather sufficient steam, you knew that it was only a matter of time before the defense blew apart. Too often the difference between winning and losing was who won turnover battle; the Packers had the best turnover ratio in the league during the regular season. But against the Giants, not only for the first time all season did the Packers had more turnovers than their opponent, but did so in dramatically disastrous fashion.
Unlike Tom Brady, Peyton Manning or Drew Brees, Rodgers was always capable of an absolute stinker of a performance where you were never under the impression that he was capable of saving the day. I don't buy the argument that he was rusty against the Giants; his back-up had a team record-setting performance after having thrown just 3 passes all season. I compiled in a previous post Rodgers’ Tim Tebow-like numbers from the second half of the Oakland game and the following week in Kansas City, where he seemed to be inert; perhaps some of this had to do with his receivers dropping balls as if they had grease on their hands, or an offensive line that seemed particularly porous against the Giants. Nevertheless, I never for a moment sensed that Rodgers would regain control of the situation against the Chiefs or the Giants as perhaps the true "elite" quarterbacks could. Many people criticized Favre's "gunslinger" mentality, but as he drolly observed after throwing a playoff record six INTs in a loss against the St. Louis Rams, "No risk, no reward." Rodgers, on the other hand, is a quarterback who thrives in good times, and appears lost in bad times.
I watched some of the game in the break room at work, and in the second quarter I found myself musing out loud that they should bench Rodgers and put Matt Flynn in the game. This won’t go down as the Packers best team after all, but it may be memorable for another reason: The year when another star quarterback in the making was revealed to the world.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
The quest for that elusive New Year's resolution
It’s been a week now, and I’ve given it up. No, it’s not trying to convince a local sports radio personality that Matt Flynn is the Seattle Seahawks answer at quarterback, but deciding on a New Year’s resolution. It seems like every year I resolve to save some money this time, but I never do. It’s an unrealistic resolution anyways; I’ll probably have to work until the day I die, for all the loose change that I earn. So what else could I do? I could resolve to rein in my impatience with people and be nice, but I don’t think so; I’ve tried that, and it doesn’t work for long. People are who they are; why should I change if they don’t? I sit here staring out a window with my fingers scratching my chin; it’s no good. I need help. Then something perfectly inane pops into my skull: What better place to find such assistance than from a fortune cookie? Those little missives have to be good for something, like some little nugget of inspiration. I have a small collection of these little strips of parchment. I don’t know why I kept them; maybe it is because some of them might come true—if I wait long enough. Well, actually, I kept them because I thought that they would be an interesting excuse to write a post like this:
“Now is the time to set your sights high and go for it.”
I’m not sure what “high” means at this point in my life, particularly given the current state of the economy and international affairs. People think things are bad today, but the world was going to hell in a hand basket when I was a kid many, many moons ago; in fact somebody in my family (my mother, I think) insisted that we all move to the country to have a plot of land to keep an overlarge garden to grow our own food, just in case of the collapse of civilization as we knew it. I seem to remember spending a lot of time on my knees pulling weeds, mostly because I was kind of the black sheep of the family (which also explained why it was me who had to wake-up an hour early to feed and water my sister’s horse before school; I think that horse knew I hated having to do it, because it always behaved with malicious rudeness when I appeared each morning). Not surprisingly, my principle ambition as a kid was to run away into the woods and create my own personal empire lording over the minions of nature; when I became older, I wanted -- like Thoreau -- to find my pond and spend my days pondering and writing. Good thing for me I can’t tell the difference between a low and a high sight; they’re both hard to reach.
“This week your lucky day is Saturday. Enjoy the fun.”
I’ve worked every Saturday for the past 4+ years. I wake up in the morning at 2 AM, and if I’m lucky, I arrive home at 6 PM. I suppose that it is possible for me to have “fun” Saturday night, except that I work Sunday, too. What passes for “lucky” on a Saturday these days is if I find a dollar on the sidewalk.
“You will benefit by stretching your mind. Study a foreign language.”
I “studied” French for a year when I was in college, because it was a requirement to take at least one year of foreign language study in order to graduate. I really had to “stretch” my mind to memorize enough of that nonsense that I was never going to use to pass those classes. The only useful phrase I learned was “Parlez-vous anglais?” I was, admittedly in Paris once, while I was on leave in the Army; I recall finding myself under the Eifel Tower where there was a food stand which offered a hamburger-looking item identified as a “Whopper.” I thought to myself, “Now here is something I can ask for that I can pronounce without one of these arrogant bastards looking at me as if I’m a talking monkey.” So I pointed at the sign and said “Un Whopper.” The proprietor looked at me as if I was a talking monkey. I repeated my request, and with a sneer the proprietor “corrected” my pronunciation: “Whop-pare.” Huh??? What an illiterate. If these people are going to steal the name of an iconic American fast food item, they can at least get the frigging pronunciation right.
“You are competent, creative and careful. Use your talents.”
Al Franken, who is currently a U.S. senator from Minnesota—a rather large leap from being a skit writer for Saturday Night Live—appeared on his own skit called “Daily Affirmations with Stuart Smalley.” He’d look at himself in the mirror and say "I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And doggone it, people like me." Frankly, every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of the fact that it doesn’t matter what I think, it is what other people see.
“Three times a week, treat yourself to dessert.”
Just three times a week? This makes it sound like it’s hard. When I was in the Army, there was dessert set out for lunch and dinner every day. I never missed even one.
“You are often unaware of the effect you have on others.”
Well, I have this suspicion of the effect I have on others—like when I’m followed by a security guard in a store, or when someone runs back to make sure their car doors are locked when they see me walking down the sidewalk, or when a cop gives me the eye, or when a glorified airline waitress asks me if I have the swine flu, and then pretends it was supposed to be a “joke.”
“Success will come to your plans. Are politics in your future?”
I can’t wait until I think of that plan now. And, well, no. Can you think of a more decrepit, disgraceful occupation these days (I’m talking mainly Republicans, of course)?
“Prepare today for the demands of tomorrow. Plan your move.”
The demands of tomorrow are the same as ones today, and yesterday. Work, eat, sleep. I can’t plan anything until I know that my next paycheck actually has the correct amount, which I will touch on later.
“The world needs your positive energy. Go out and conquer.”
Thanks to the miracle of the modern dictionary, “positive” does not necessarily mean something that has to be “optimistic”; it can also mean forward movement, or an opinion confidently and unwaveringly expressed—even if another person finds it appalling. Fox News funny farm escapee Sean Hannity has “positive” energy, and he has had amazing success conquering people with political and social IQs of 10.
“An interesting musical opportunity is in you near future.”
I figure that people either ignore these things if they don’t apply—or if they do, are willing to suspend reality and fantasize what the word “interesting” signifies in this context. Not me. Twenty years ago I was possessed by some demon that told me I could learn to play the harmonica, and I now I own a half-dozen of these instruments, all of which are currently gathering some strange-looking green material. The last thing (or one of the last things, anyways) I’m “interested” in is the “opportunity” to have anyone hear me playing one of them.
“You will bring sunshine into someone’s life this week.”
I’m not sure it is possible for me to do that, not being the sunshiny type. Maybe the next time I’m at the 7-Eleven, I’ll note the name tag of the cashier and say “Have a good night (cashier’s name).” People actually appreciate it when you recognize their individuality, and not some nameless, faceless cog in the wheel of commerce. But only if the cashier is nice to me, and my standards are pretty high.
“Keep in mind that it’s the journey and the destination that counts.”
Where do they come-up with this crazy crap? For 99 percent of the people in this country, the “journey” is a slog through the morass of living to work, or working to live. All this to occasionally “treat” oneself to going out to eat, bar-hopping, going to a movie, wandering around a mall with friends or watching TV. Snore. How you get there is totally irrelevant. “Flowers would brighten the day of your close friend.”
Depends upon who that close friend is; that “friend” might regard you as someone they don’t want anyone to know that they know you. Fortunately, I don’t know anyone who would appreciate getting flowers from me, so I don’t need to bother.
“You will enjoy doing something different this coming weekend.”
No good. Since I work weekends, it is easy to imagine enjoying doing something different—like sleeping all day.
“Your personality is fueled by the fascination you feel for life.”
You got that right, for once.
“An unexpected payment is coming your way!”
Some rich guy writing me a check for a million dollars out of the goodness of his heart would be unexpected, but I’ll settle for my next paycheck not getting fouled-up, like my last two.
Alright, so I can’t expect someone else, especially a fortune cookie composer, to help me formulate a New Year’s resolution. Conveniently, I have all the rest of the year to think of one.
“Now is the time to set your sights high and go for it.”
I’m not sure what “high” means at this point in my life, particularly given the current state of the economy and international affairs. People think things are bad today, but the world was going to hell in a hand basket when I was a kid many, many moons ago; in fact somebody in my family (my mother, I think) insisted that we all move to the country to have a plot of land to keep an overlarge garden to grow our own food, just in case of the collapse of civilization as we knew it. I seem to remember spending a lot of time on my knees pulling weeds, mostly because I was kind of the black sheep of the family (which also explained why it was me who had to wake-up an hour early to feed and water my sister’s horse before school; I think that horse knew I hated having to do it, because it always behaved with malicious rudeness when I appeared each morning). Not surprisingly, my principle ambition as a kid was to run away into the woods and create my own personal empire lording over the minions of nature; when I became older, I wanted -- like Thoreau -- to find my pond and spend my days pondering and writing. Good thing for me I can’t tell the difference between a low and a high sight; they’re both hard to reach.
“This week your lucky day is Saturday. Enjoy the fun.”
I’ve worked every Saturday for the past 4+ years. I wake up in the morning at 2 AM, and if I’m lucky, I arrive home at 6 PM. I suppose that it is possible for me to have “fun” Saturday night, except that I work Sunday, too. What passes for “lucky” on a Saturday these days is if I find a dollar on the sidewalk.
“You will benefit by stretching your mind. Study a foreign language.”
I “studied” French for a year when I was in college, because it was a requirement to take at least one year of foreign language study in order to graduate. I really had to “stretch” my mind to memorize enough of that nonsense that I was never going to use to pass those classes. The only useful phrase I learned was “Parlez-vous anglais?” I was, admittedly in Paris once, while I was on leave in the Army; I recall finding myself under the Eifel Tower where there was a food stand which offered a hamburger-looking item identified as a “Whopper.” I thought to myself, “Now here is something I can ask for that I can pronounce without one of these arrogant bastards looking at me as if I’m a talking monkey.” So I pointed at the sign and said “Un Whopper.” The proprietor looked at me as if I was a talking monkey. I repeated my request, and with a sneer the proprietor “corrected” my pronunciation: “Whop-pare.” Huh??? What an illiterate. If these people are going to steal the name of an iconic American fast food item, they can at least get the frigging pronunciation right.
“You are competent, creative and careful. Use your talents.”
Al Franken, who is currently a U.S. senator from Minnesota—a rather large leap from being a skit writer for Saturday Night Live—appeared on his own skit called “Daily Affirmations with Stuart Smalley.” He’d look at himself in the mirror and say "I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And doggone it, people like me." Frankly, every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of the fact that it doesn’t matter what I think, it is what other people see.
“Three times a week, treat yourself to dessert.”
Just three times a week? This makes it sound like it’s hard. When I was in the Army, there was dessert set out for lunch and dinner every day. I never missed even one.
“You are often unaware of the effect you have on others.”
Well, I have this suspicion of the effect I have on others—like when I’m followed by a security guard in a store, or when someone runs back to make sure their car doors are locked when they see me walking down the sidewalk, or when a cop gives me the eye, or when a glorified airline waitress asks me if I have the swine flu, and then pretends it was supposed to be a “joke.”
“Success will come to your plans. Are politics in your future?”
I can’t wait until I think of that plan now. And, well, no. Can you think of a more decrepit, disgraceful occupation these days (I’m talking mainly Republicans, of course)?
“Prepare today for the demands of tomorrow. Plan your move.”
The demands of tomorrow are the same as ones today, and yesterday. Work, eat, sleep. I can’t plan anything until I know that my next paycheck actually has the correct amount, which I will touch on later.
“The world needs your positive energy. Go out and conquer.”
Thanks to the miracle of the modern dictionary, “positive” does not necessarily mean something that has to be “optimistic”; it can also mean forward movement, or an opinion confidently and unwaveringly expressed—even if another person finds it appalling. Fox News funny farm escapee Sean Hannity has “positive” energy, and he has had amazing success conquering people with political and social IQs of 10.
“An interesting musical opportunity is in you near future.”
I figure that people either ignore these things if they don’t apply—or if they do, are willing to suspend reality and fantasize what the word “interesting” signifies in this context. Not me. Twenty years ago I was possessed by some demon that told me I could learn to play the harmonica, and I now I own a half-dozen of these instruments, all of which are currently gathering some strange-looking green material. The last thing (or one of the last things, anyways) I’m “interested” in is the “opportunity” to have anyone hear me playing one of them.
“You will bring sunshine into someone’s life this week.”
I’m not sure it is possible for me to do that, not being the sunshiny type. Maybe the next time I’m at the 7-Eleven, I’ll note the name tag of the cashier and say “Have a good night (cashier’s name).” People actually appreciate it when you recognize their individuality, and not some nameless, faceless cog in the wheel of commerce. But only if the cashier is nice to me, and my standards are pretty high.
“Keep in mind that it’s the journey and the destination that counts.”
Where do they come-up with this crazy crap? For 99 percent of the people in this country, the “journey” is a slog through the morass of living to work, or working to live. All this to occasionally “treat” oneself to going out to eat, bar-hopping, going to a movie, wandering around a mall with friends or watching TV. Snore. How you get there is totally irrelevant. “Flowers would brighten the day of your close friend.”
Depends upon who that close friend is; that “friend” might regard you as someone they don’t want anyone to know that they know you. Fortunately, I don’t know anyone who would appreciate getting flowers from me, so I don’t need to bother.
“You will enjoy doing something different this coming weekend.”
No good. Since I work weekends, it is easy to imagine enjoying doing something different—like sleeping all day.
“Your personality is fueled by the fascination you feel for life.”
You got that right, for once.
“An unexpected payment is coming your way!”
Some rich guy writing me a check for a million dollars out of the goodness of his heart would be unexpected, but I’ll settle for my next paycheck not getting fouled-up, like my last two.
Alright, so I can’t expect someone else, especially a fortune cookie composer, to help me formulate a New Year’s resolution. Conveniently, I have all the rest of the year to think of one.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Cowards and bullies
The day began with KOMO radio commentator Ken Schram—the one who is just slightly “left” of right-wing extremist John Carlson on this “news” station that allegedly reflects the prevailing attitudes of “progressive” Seattle—scapegoated the one or two “illegal students” who may have received college scholarships in someone’s racist fantasy as the people responsible for this state’s pathetic support of higher education. It ended with revelations that “anonymous” New York Jets players—“well respected,” according to a New York Daily News story—were defecating on quarterback Mark Sanchez, supposedly for being “lazy” in practice and not having a rapport with his receivers—presumably head cases like Santonio Holmes and Plaxico Burress.
On the possibility that the Jets could dump Sanchez and trade for Peyton Manning, a “Jets source” told the newspaper that “Come on. That's a no-brainer. If you have a chance to get a healthy 36-year-old Peyton Manning and you don't do it, then you're stupid. If I could get a healthy 36-year-old Peyton Manning, then, hell yeah, I would trade Sanchez." One of the “anonymous” players who criticized Sanchez asserted "How can we when he's not improving at all? He thinks he is, but he's not. He has shown us what he's capable of."
However, this same player unwittingly indicted the whole team’s incompetence by claiming that if Manning were the “field general,” everyone would be certain to be “lined up” where they were supposed to be. Some people suspect that this “player” who was trying to pass blame is Santonio Holmes, who was released by the Pittsburgh Steelers for just this kind of locker room gangsterism—and may not be long for the Jets after his antics on the field against the Dolphins in week 17.
The whole thing had the stincture of hypocrites when there was plenty of blame to go around for the Jets’ sad season, and Jets fanatic Mike Greenberg ripped the anonymous players and sources as classless, gutless and pathetic. After spending all year pushing each other over to get in front of a microphone, “Look how small they look” now. Offensive linemen Nick Mangold and Wayne Hunter also took exception to the anonymous commentary; talking to ESPN, Mangold disputed the claim that Sanchez did not practice hard, and "If there's really a problem, if there is something wrong, you should man up and own up to what you're going to say. When no one has their name attached to it, I think it's kind of an easy way out to air your personal grievances that should be kept in the locker room." He also “vowed to take care of that problem.” Hunter also said he would back Sanchez. “The whole offense is at fault. I need to get better at my craft and I will. Players need to be held accountable. Play calling can only go so far without execution. For our own teammates to call out Mark in the media is selfish and to remain unnamed is cowardly." Another “source” admitted that Sanchez "didn't have much confidence in what he was about to go do. You could tell throughout the week in practice. He never felt comfortable with some of the things we were doing."
After ESPN posted the report on its website, the comments from readers came fast and furious—some of them immediately deleted. “Racism is not cool people okay” wrote the ESPN moderator. Some questionable comments, however, that did get through:
“Time to swim back across the Rio.”
“I have hemorhoid right now, it has a better arm than Sanchez.”
“Well Dirty comes from a long line of proud mexican-americans with a background in recycling.”
“Sanchez's mouthpiece makes me want to punch him in the face, your name is sanchez we know you're a mexican.”
“Of course he's lazy. He can fail at his job and get paid millions. If real workers had that chance.....”
“Hes Lazy and getting paid bank at the same time.... Good for Sanchez..... Not all of us can be lazy at work and still get paid millions...”
“Hey Sanchez! When the NFL doesn't work out. You an always come trim my shrubs.”
Not all the commentary resorted to racist stereotypes; after all, Sanchez has acted with more class in the face of all the criticism than you would expect from your every day prima donna. And he has not acted like a despicable heel, like another diva wide receiver did when viewing a catered locker room buffet: "What the [expletive]? Who ordered this crap? I wouldn't feed this to my dog":
“I think the ‘some players’ are one player and it's Santonio Holmes. I'm not a Sanchez fan but he had a reputation at USC as being a very hard worker and highly motivated. Could be wrong but doesn't sound like him.”
“While this may shine a light on how Sanchez is viewed by his teammates, it reveals more on what kind of ship Rex Ryan is steering in NY. Players shouldn't go to the papers to badmouth a player. No matter how he acts. That's something an 18 yr old girl would do to try to win Prom Queen.”
“Sanchez almost took Jets to promised land as a rookie. You gotta surround Sanchez with positive players, not the plague like those making these comments then hiding.”
There were others who didn’t understand what the fuss was all about:
“Why does this mediocre, irrelevant team who hasn't won anything in over 40 years still hog up so much gosh darn ESPN programming time?!!!!”
Johnette Howard of ESPN New York also derided the notion that Peyton Manning would want to play for the same franchise that Brett Favre was unwillingly traded to, and faked retirement (again) so that he get on another team:
“Just forget it. Wipe it out of your mind. He's not coming to New York, and the fact that it's even being treated as a realistic possibility is just one last desperate gasp of Jets hubris playing out from muscle memory before everyone snaps back to reality and admits the obvious. Any NFL player with attractive options -- which Manning will surely have if he's given a clean bill of health -- would be nuts to come to the mess that is the Jets' franchise right now.”
On the possibility that the Jets could dump Sanchez and trade for Peyton Manning, a “Jets source” told the newspaper that “Come on. That's a no-brainer. If you have a chance to get a healthy 36-year-old Peyton Manning and you don't do it, then you're stupid. If I could get a healthy 36-year-old Peyton Manning, then, hell yeah, I would trade Sanchez." One of the “anonymous” players who criticized Sanchez asserted "How can we when he's not improving at all? He thinks he is, but he's not. He has shown us what he's capable of."
However, this same player unwittingly indicted the whole team’s incompetence by claiming that if Manning were the “field general,” everyone would be certain to be “lined up” where they were supposed to be. Some people suspect that this “player” who was trying to pass blame is Santonio Holmes, who was released by the Pittsburgh Steelers for just this kind of locker room gangsterism—and may not be long for the Jets after his antics on the field against the Dolphins in week 17.
The whole thing had the stincture of hypocrites when there was plenty of blame to go around for the Jets’ sad season, and Jets fanatic Mike Greenberg ripped the anonymous players and sources as classless, gutless and pathetic. After spending all year pushing each other over to get in front of a microphone, “Look how small they look” now. Offensive linemen Nick Mangold and Wayne Hunter also took exception to the anonymous commentary; talking to ESPN, Mangold disputed the claim that Sanchez did not practice hard, and "If there's really a problem, if there is something wrong, you should man up and own up to what you're going to say. When no one has their name attached to it, I think it's kind of an easy way out to air your personal grievances that should be kept in the locker room." He also “vowed to take care of that problem.” Hunter also said he would back Sanchez. “The whole offense is at fault. I need to get better at my craft and I will. Players need to be held accountable. Play calling can only go so far without execution. For our own teammates to call out Mark in the media is selfish and to remain unnamed is cowardly." Another “source” admitted that Sanchez "didn't have much confidence in what he was about to go do. You could tell throughout the week in practice. He never felt comfortable with some of the things we were doing."
After ESPN posted the report on its website, the comments from readers came fast and furious—some of them immediately deleted. “Racism is not cool people okay” wrote the ESPN moderator. Some questionable comments, however, that did get through:
“Time to swim back across the Rio.”
“I have hemorhoid right now, it has a better arm than Sanchez.”
“Well Dirty comes from a long line of proud mexican-americans with a background in recycling.”
“Sanchez's mouthpiece makes me want to punch him in the face, your name is sanchez we know you're a mexican.”
“Of course he's lazy. He can fail at his job and get paid millions. If real workers had that chance.....”
“Hes Lazy and getting paid bank at the same time.... Good for Sanchez..... Not all of us can be lazy at work and still get paid millions...”
“Hey Sanchez! When the NFL doesn't work out. You an always come trim my shrubs.”
Not all the commentary resorted to racist stereotypes; after all, Sanchez has acted with more class in the face of all the criticism than you would expect from your every day prima donna. And he has not acted like a despicable heel, like another diva wide receiver did when viewing a catered locker room buffet: "What the [expletive]? Who ordered this crap? I wouldn't feed this to my dog":
“I think the ‘some players’ are one player and it's Santonio Holmes. I'm not a Sanchez fan but he had a reputation at USC as being a very hard worker and highly motivated. Could be wrong but doesn't sound like him.”
“While this may shine a light on how Sanchez is viewed by his teammates, it reveals more on what kind of ship Rex Ryan is steering in NY. Players shouldn't go to the papers to badmouth a player. No matter how he acts. That's something an 18 yr old girl would do to try to win Prom Queen.”
“Sanchez almost took Jets to promised land as a rookie. You gotta surround Sanchez with positive players, not the plague like those making these comments then hiding.”
There were others who didn’t understand what the fuss was all about:
“Why does this mediocre, irrelevant team who hasn't won anything in over 40 years still hog up so much gosh darn ESPN programming time?!!!!”
Johnette Howard of ESPN New York also derided the notion that Peyton Manning would want to play for the same franchise that Brett Favre was unwillingly traded to, and faked retirement (again) so that he get on another team:
“Just forget it. Wipe it out of your mind. He's not coming to New York, and the fact that it's even being treated as a realistic possibility is just one last desperate gasp of Jets hubris playing out from muscle memory before everyone snaps back to reality and admits the obvious. Any NFL player with attractive options -- which Manning will surely have if he's given a clean bill of health -- would be nuts to come to the mess that is the Jets' franchise right now.”
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