The Era of the Robber Baron: Good or Not So Good? (Pt. 2)

River_Rouge_tool_and_die8b00276rWith the success of the Model T, and the coffers full, Henry turned to his next project, the envisioned River Rouge Plant.

Like most men of his ilk, micro-management was the norm. These men are control freaks. They are not satisfied until they have all the marbles. Much like Rockefeller who when faced with railroads intent upon getting a bigger profit from carrying his crude, built his own pipeline to carry crude to his refineries, (while destroying a few railroads and putting thousands out of work), Henry didn’t like buying steel. He wanted to make his own.

The Rouge Plant was his vision for doing that. The Rouge River runs through Dearborn, and has access to the Detroit River, which gave Henry access to water transportation for iron ore. Dredging the river, he was able to bring raw materials to his new factory which was 1.5 miles by 1 mile in size. It ultimately employed as many as 100,000 people, and turned raw iron ore into a finished car. Hundreds of miles of roads and rail supported the 93 buildings.

But we move ahead of ourselves. When Henry made known his desires to build the Rouge, his investors balked. They wanted dividends to be paid on the enormous profits that Henry was holding. Henry had always hated investors considering them to offer him nothing but money, missing the point that of course he could do little without it. Henry refused to issue a dividend, they sued, they won. Henry was livid. He concocted a scheme with his son Edsel to wrest control from their hands.

All sorts of “plans” were announced for the future, plans that seemed scary and likely to bankrupt the company. People became nervous, and soon investors were selling stock off to willing buyers (all of course fronts for Henry). When all the stock had been re-acquired, it is said that Henry danced a jig. Now with control of his company, he turned to building the Rouge.

Once built, he spent little time there, finding it cold and ugly. It was as one put it, soulless. It was worse than soulless, it was a hateful place to work.

Along the same lines, Henry bought thousands of acres in the Brazilian Amazon forest, clear-cut it (always the environmentalist), and started a rubber farm, replete with “Americanized local workers” and a town and neighborhood called Fordlandia, where happy families would live life according to Henry’s model of perfect family living.

BennettMeanwhile, at the Rouge plant a security division was run by one Harry Bennett, who had become Henry’s most loyal and trusted friend. He was a man of little education, and he rose through the ranks of Henry’s organization, being the tough. At the Rouge, he supervised a security team of nearly 3000, and enforced the rules. His team consisted of thugs, ex-cons, ex-cops and various mafioso.

The rules were simple. No sitting, no talking, and no gathering in groups of even two during breaks. Talking was dangerous.

Why? The Wagner Act.

In 1935, Congress passed the National Labor Relations Board act, which in part legalized the rights of workers to unionize. (Back when Republicans actually thought unions a good thing)

The United Auto Workers formed and chose GM as their first strike target. After months of struggle, GM gave in and negotiated a contract. Chrysler quickly followed suit. When  UAW organizers came to the Ford to pass out literature outside the plant, well, Bennett was ready. Although plenty of journalists had appeared to watch the confrontation, Bennett thought he had that covered. Cameras and equipment were snatched and smashed. Yet pictures were taken and they were printed. They showed Bennett and his thugs beating union organizers with baseball bats.

Henry was having none of the this union business. He continued to fight unionization at his company, until Edsel quietly on his own negotiated a contract and ended the matter. Henry really never forgave him. Edsel also continued to bring new car concepts to the old man, which were always rejected, finally resulting in Henry telling Edsel to take a long vacation in California and not come back until Henry called to see him.

But running his company was not enough. Henry also had a paper that he published out of Dearborn. As the war years loomed, Henry became increasingly fanatic in his anti-Semitism, blaming Jews for almost everything wrong in America. He blamed them for World War I and sympathized with Hitler. His tracts in The Dearborn Independent were bound and sold in Germany under the title The International Jew: The World’s Foremost Problem. Hitler called Ford an “inspiration” a man who had maintained his independence from the “masters of the producers”, namely Jews.

Sales slumped, Henry issued the pro forma apology, and the Dearborn Independent was closed.

Meanwhile, Edsel grew sick, and eventually died of stomach cancer, leaving the old man in control again. However, by now Henry’s mental faculties had been ravaged by dementia and the company for some time was in chaos as he made and changed directives daily. He continued as head during the war years, though at one point Roosevelt considered taking over the company to protect its war manufacturing, so erratic had Henry become.

In 1945, he turned over the reins to Henry II his grandson. He died some two years later. Henry sold off the failed Fordlandia and took the company public again soon after.

The five-dollar day is one thing Ford is remembered for, and it was a good thing, although as we saw, it was intended to stop a savage turnover rate that was costing too much in training new workers. He did, hit on the idea of the assembly line, although there is reason to believe that it was a team discovery. He did develop a serviceable and cheap auto that changed the face of America, though certainly no such thing was envisioned at first.

Does this offset his craziness and the pain and suffering he caused to so many? The meddling in others personal lives, they intimidation and fear that was said to be so thick you could cut it with a knife on the factory floor? The outrageous hatred of Jewish people, and the aid and comfort he gave to Hitler? The bullying of his only son? The incessant drum beat that Henry knew how everyone else should live?

I don’t know. I suspect that the assembly line would have been created by someone and in no short time. Any manufacturer at some point (unless they make yachts) recognizes that more money can be had when products are cheaper and can be purchased by a broader public. The determination to lower costs will always drive technology.

The Model T? Oh it was a glorious car no doubt, but there was no shortage of cars, and again, it would not have taken long for other car makers to conclude that selling to the rich insured a small market.

So you judge? Did the ends justify the means? Is Ford a man to be held up as a brilliant diamond in the firmament of American industrialization, or as a sleazy awful human being, with a personality that drove him to succeed, and inadvertently  to provide a service (mobility on the cheap) that changed a country, and ultimately the world?

It’s a hard call.

Tell me, what do you think?

Oh, and the Contrarianism?

After watching the PBS documentary on Ford the other night, we had just got in bed, and were talking about the unions. The Contrarian mentioned Jimmy Hoffa and his disappearance in 1975. I agreed, a lot had happened relative to unions during our lives.

“Yes,” he pointed out, “and there was Joe Louis from the United Mine Workers.”

“No, no it’s not Joe, it’s Lewis, but not Joe,” I moaned.

“Yes, it is, sure, it is.” he assured me.

“NO,” I exclaimed, “that’s the boxer,” I said.

“NO, it’s Joe E. Louis,” he whispered.

I scrambled from the bed. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“To the computer to look up the name, I can’t sleep now!” I yelled.

I returned to bed a couple of minutes later.

“Its JOHN L. LEWIS!”

“Yes, but the E. was a nice touch don’t you think?” he chuckled, turned over, and snuggled into the covers.

“Oh God,” I moaned, “I’m really expecting a big job up there, I really am!”

Things We Learned to Not Learn

Hurrah you might say, let them have at it. Let them go. Breaking up is hard to do as the song says, but there is always, the sun’ll come up tomorrow, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar. . . .

Let them start negotiating trade treaties with the US and figuring out how to pay for all that border security they want and highway maintenance and mail delivery.

But it would be pitiful indeed to watch little children flounder in the “I never thought of that” land of getting what you wish for.

Texas of course leads the way in the madness that continues to consume a small segment of Merika. Never tiring it seems of “the sky is falling” rhetoric, they grab the bait again and again,  in a seeming endless stream of doomsday scenarios created by their grifting plutocrats and media charlatans.

Too crazy to even argue with, one wants at a certain point to just put the poor things out of their misery by locking them up in padded rooms with tons of thorazine piped in through the water spigots.

Meanwhile. . . .

Karl, ya got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

You can believe in your conspiracy theory or you can believe in your just plain too stupid to live theory, either way Rovian reality turned out to be about as reliable as a Dodge Dart after 125,000 miles on the original quart of oil.

Some say Karl was seen inspecting the lint in his navel and pondering whether a few votes might be lost in there.

Others admired the aplomb with which he assured rich fat cats that a 1% return was really not that bad, given that they were in the 1% themselves after all. It was in a word Kismet.

Or the damn firewall kept us from counting those votes in Ohio in our new Mathian way. (throw the ballots in the air and those that land are Republican–while those that fly away are Democratic and can’t be counted anyway).

Mad? I’m not mad. You have just lost the ability to discern any standard of mad because you’ve been in the company of mad people for so long you no longer can tell the difference. Mad indeed. I protest.

Yes, he’s still rich.

But he left his parting shot.

We are the “gifted” ones. Which of course along with Rush’s Santa Claus remark has become the new battle cry of the insane ones who claim the world is about to end.

Ironic that those who blame us gifted ones on voting in the Kenyan, Barry, live in the states who receive more in federal monies than they pay in taxes. In fact the people who get the least for their taxes are people who live in California and New York, you know the LiBTarD territory.

Irony.

I suspect the Teabuggers have never looked that word up in the dictionary.

Speaking of which.

Irony that is.

I’m not the first to point out that we give thanks for all we have on Thursday and then go out like hedonist nuts the next and spend, spend, spend for nearly the sheer love of acquisition.

I am at a loss as to why people enjoy doing this.

I mean who likes driving around the mall searching for a parking place that is not 1.2 miles from the mall entrance?

Who enjoys hiking 2.4 miles just to circumnavigate the stores, only to realize that you need to go back to the other end because you forgot the sterling necklace on sale at JCP when the same one at Sears is only $7 more?

Who likes to limp through the mall, with bags banging against your thigh, while running into other similarly impaired walkers, while being sprayed in the face with fragrance misters out to entice you into buy whatever Halle Barry is spraying on her body, and why would I care?

I could go on, but I gather you probably get my opinion by now. Bring me that one stop shopping at the end of my finger! Delivery at my front door! That’s my kinda shopping.

I’ve eaten a Twinkie or two.

Maybe three.

They are tasty to a three-year-old.

Blame it on unions. Yeah, that makes sense, when the CEO raised his salary from a could hundred thousand to a few million a year and when the board leveraged the company into huge debt. Yeah blame the workers and the union.

Wanna make a bet that the company is bought by somebody, and that somebody just happens to relocate the new Twinkies plant to a right to work state?

Go ahead. Bet me.

We wonder.

How long will they whine?

Will they ever get over it?

Not any time soon I fear.

These remarks from Townhall, a conservative site on this cartoon:

Soon…very soon, the people who voted for Obama will have a “Breaking Dawn” of their own. When everyone in the country is suffering from protracted recession brought on by Hussein’s tax and spend, Health care power grab, freebies that he promised to the simple-minded do-nothings who fell for his BS pie-in-the-sky gifts of easy to get Welfare, dream act amnesty, free college for all, food stamps growing on lollipop trees, the reality will set in and as more and more the money runs out or is so devalued by the “printing press economics”, we will have to go back to common sense government and, hopefully, leave the socialism to Europe, China and the other failed and failing states.

See? There is no hope for these folks.

Where Does a Lunatic Go From Here?

This is the look of a defeated man. He looks old and embattled, much as Nixon looked in the last days of his presidency.

In an ironic twist, Mitt Willard Romney will know the exact moment when his tenuous hold on the possibility of winning slipped forever more from his fingertips and fell into the cesspool that he had dug for himself. Ironic because his father George Romney also know the exact moment when his White House opportunity flew away–when he uttered the famous words, “I was brainwashed.”

Saying that, the campaigns will go on, and Romney will attempt to get “beyond” this fiasco he and he alone created. He will continue to justify it, as so far he has, and make himself look more ridiculous and more unfit for ANY high office. He proves that he does not learn from his mistakes, cannot accept making one, cannot apologize. While I realize that saying that would doom his campaign, it is already doomed as far as most are concerned. All he has left is the opportunity to reclaim his dignity.

The following is not my assessment. I leave that to the smarter heads. Mr. Romney has backed himself into a corner and there are few options left. Since the campaign will continue, if he wishes to even “be in the game” he is left with these three choices:

  • Do something really big. Some might argue that yesterday was that “big” thing, but all that was was a big blunder. Making outrageous statements is not what is meant here. It refers rather to announcing a major policy change. Something regarding the economy and his plan, something major regarding health care. It would be a huge risk in the hopes of attracting the middle and disaffected Democrats. It would have to be something that sounded deeply from the heart, reached after long prayer and contemplation–doing it because it is right and not popular, especially with his base.

It is unlikely that Romney can bring himself to do this. His entire history in the campaign is to refuse to back down from obvious mistakes, rather he “doubles down” as it were, and digs his hole even deeper. It should be remembered that Bain’s success was not built on taking overt risk so much as it was in hedging the bets so thoroughly that whether the “in trouble” company succeeded or fail, Bain took its profits. Risk is not something that Romney likes apparently. So expecting Willard to change his position in a dramatic way based on some “moral awakening” is unlikely. Admitting he was wrong is not in his bag of tools.

  • Hope that some major event will so upset the apple cart that he wins by default. This might come in the form of a major terrorist attack on American soil. It might be a major meltdown in Europe and a collapse of the Euro. It would have to be a major turn of events that people would fairly or unfairly lay at the feet of the President and cause the middle to think that a fresh new start is appropriate.

No one of course can predict these sort of things. Even the meltdown of Wall Street banks at the end of Bush’s term should have favored the sage elder statesman, John McCain. Instead, based on his “Lehman” moment, he handed the election quite literally to Mr. Obama. It is also unclear whether America would place the “fault” at the feet of the President. Are we savvy enough to realize that America cannot control the economic policies of Greece or Spain or Ireland? I spent a few years as a child hoping every Christmas morning to find a pony in the garage. That never happened. It is obviously not to Mr. Romney’s advantage to wait for what may never happen, and frankly what is historically not likely to happen.

  • Mr. Obama makes a major mistake that tips the balance in favor of Mr. Romney. This would amount to something along the lines of Mr. Romney’s major error of yesterday, suggesting that the President is so out-of-touch, so insensitive, and so basically knowledgeable about event or issue that he cannot be trusted to continue in his role as President. It would suggest that at least some of the charges against him by the Right are true.

The likelihood of this happening is nearly as bad as the second option. When the candidate finds him or herself ahead in polling that seems significant, the tendency is to “make no waves.” In other words, the President has no need to risk anything now. He is leading and needs only to hunker down, make no mistakes. His campaign will be inclined to become more conservative, not more daring. Furthermore, President Obama is not noted for ill-considered actions or remarks. He seems for all the world as a man who has thought through the implications and ramifications of his words before he utters them. He generally chooses his words most carefully.

It is based on this analysis, that I find that Mr. Romney is screwed. A screwing of his own making no doubt. Many in his party will engage in the usual “I told you so” thinking–he was never authentically conservative–they will say. And they may really be right. Mr. Romney strikes us, in the end, a man who feels entitled to be President and that is about as deep as it gets for him. Surely in the last couple of days, he has shown us that he has not thought much at all about the world. We find him strangely soulless and withdrawn from human emotion. We more than ever, simply find him shockingly unfit.

Make My Day? Oh Go Eat Your Oatmeal

Okay, so we did watch this. In fact I sat through a whole lot of boring nonsense because I believe in the adage: Know thy enemy. And as usual, things are always late, so of course I had to listen to Rubio and then Clint.

Clint was the great mystery guest meant to wow the audience and get everyone all geeked up for the main event.

There was speculation about who it would be. Some even thought Sistah Sarah might be it, (which was not even conceivable in my book), but actually everyone knew it would be Clint at least a day ago, so the “surprise” was non-existent.

Now you may wonder why Clint. And frankly, so did I. After all, just a few months ago, he was heralded as the traitorous turn coat who did that Super Bowl commercial that seemed to be supportive of an economic comeback under the leadership of the President. Family values guy? Hardly. He’s had something like seven kids by five different women, only two of which he was married to. Tea Bagger favorite? Nope, he is for marriage equality and choice. And of course he gains no points by being a Hollywood type–they are usually all vilified by the rightie tighties.

So your guess is as good as mine.

Anyway, Clint was awful. He had an empty chair which he talked to rather rambling-like. There was supposed to be an invisible Barack Obama there in the chair. A Obama who said rude and off-color things, which the President doesn’t.  Worse Eastwood remarked that he didn’t think much of lawyers who became presidents, (Romney has a law degree from Harvard), and apparently suggested that we should leave Afghanistan immediately, which is also not the Romney platform.

He seemed mostly confused and in the midst of a senior moment.

It was not pretty.

If I get my headliners right, Chris Christie was supposed to wow everyone. He barely mentioned Romney, instead spent all his time reminding people that he would be waiting in the wings in 2012, after all this mess was done with. Last night, Rubio was supposed to introduce Romney. He too barely mentioned the nominee. He spent all his time talking about America and how he and people like HIM were living the American dream. On Romney, he said he was a great husband, father, grandfather and friend, something he then immediately acknowledged that Obama was too.

When Romney arrived on stage, the applause was hardly deafening or long.

What gives?

I think it simply illustrates once again that the Party rank and file, don’t expect this ticket to win, and they are setting themselves up for 2012 in one fashion or another.

How did you see it?

I guess my biggest beef with Willard’s big speech was when he suggested that the biggest moment in my Obama “life” was the day I voted for him. Since he didn’t quite obviously, I’m not sure he has any real point to make here. But I would agree that casting a vote for the first African-American to be president of the United States of America, a country with such a checkered and let’s face it, ugly history when it comes to race relations, was surely high on my list of life moments.

But frankly, I can honestly say that this president has done a lot of things that have thrilled me to the bone. First he finally, after decades of trying, managed to fulfill one of Ted Kennedy’s goals–the start of health care for everyone as a HUMAN right.

Secondly he ended DADT, and told his Justice Department that they need not continue to defend the indefensible–DOMA.

He came out in favor of marriage equality.

He ended a war like he promised.

He signed the Lily Ledbetter fair pay act.

He comported himself across the globe with dignity and was welcomed across the world with respect.

Me, the person least likely to exude any  form of patriotism, learned that there is something worth cheering about in this country of mine, something fine and noble. He taught me to look deeply and see that there is something so magnificent in our diversity. He taught me how to be gracious in the face of contempt. He showed calm, firm resolve. And I surely didn’t agree with everything he did, and I still don’t. But you know what? I at least know that he has thought deeply, critically, and long before he makes any decision.

And that’s why I intend to encourage everyone to vote for him again.

A Certain Amount of Attention is Required

 

 

A certain amount of attention is required to prevent being duped. And of course, if you don’t realize the deception soon enough, it may be too late to avoid the unpleasant consequences.

Perhaps the greatest gift of learning is the ability to think critically. We are all subject to lapses, and we all have varying abilities here. Most of us are woefully inadequate as any political or company ad will attest. We are overly subject to our past, our emotions and frankly our personal desires as to how we wish things were.

We would all do well to spend a bit more time checking under the bed rather than simply admiring the pretty quilt that lies upon it.

Cases in point:

The Right (does anybody find it as funny as I do that the Right is named right when they are wrong which is surely the oxymoron of the century) mains as often as it can, that the Left is guilty of blatant race-baiting. Now I find that usually silly. Recently Joe Biden claimed that the R & R would return people “to chains” a reference that really was a play off Willard’s stated desire to “unshackle” the banks from regulation. The Right was aghast with shock and outrage at Joe’s incendiary remark.

But of course we all know that the Right has been using code for-EVER in its attempt to remind its white audiences that THEY are not the same as THOSE OTHERS. If you want a clue about how to read between the lines, then scoot over to the Grio and read a good piece on the “new normal.”

There are more ways than one to skin a cat. Whether that is true or not, there are certainly many ways to effectively stop abortions other than a blatant and at this time, illegal move to ban them outright.

Tennessee has managed to force the closing of a long-operating clinic in its state by passing a “seemingly” innocuous law that requires that every clinic must have one doctor on staff with “admitting privileges” to a local hospital. When their only clinician with such privileges died, the clinic was unable to secure another.

Why? Because now such privileges are denied to such clinics. So even though they have board-certified OB-GYN’s on staff, and fully capable Ambulatory Surgical Treatment Center, they cannot meet the new state requirement.

This is how rights are taken from people without their even being aware of it.

Of course Tennessee apparently misses the point that you can reduce abortions by: making sure that poor families have adequate food and health care, providing good employment training to the unemployed, providing services to new mothers, day care facilities to working mothers, better sex education that emphasizes something more than “not doing it”, i.e., CONTRACEPTION, and making contraception freely available.

Oh, wait, that would be helping people to be dependent wouldn’t it? We certainly can’t have that!

Of course he’s hiding something. The Obama campaign sent an offer to Romney: release five more years of tax returns and we promise to never ask for any more. The offer was declined, with Romney telling us all that we can trust that he has reviewed them, and he never paid “less than 13%”. Since when is thirteen percent a good figure? Is that what you pay?

This man ——->

Said this:

How can you go out there and tell people things that just aren’t true?” he asked rhetorically. He added, “This is a time for truths.”

Remember the old Star Trek show when they captured an old satellite that had gotten its commands scrambled and was trying to sterilize all life? The intrepid Captain Kirk sent it into a mental melt down by saying, “Everything I say is a lie. I’m lying.”

It appears that Willard has no more sense of truth than he has of the price of a loaf of bread these days.

Sigh….don’t we have a right to expect more from those who make decisions in our name?

Much is made of the fact that Willard tithes something like 10 % of his income each year to his Church. He is wont to tell you that when you add his tax returns to this tithing, he gives “well over 20%” of his money to help others.

The assumption is that the tithe goes to charities to help others. Well. . . .not quite.

If you are interested in where all the Mormon church’s money goes, then link up to Crooks and Liars and read all about it. They have the charts and the figures.

It is a serious eye-opener.

 

I Got Mine–You Got Yours?

Marbles?

You got any?

I used to have a pretty good collection. Yeah, girls played marbles along side boys in my day. Nobody thought much of it. There was no, “ahh dude, you lost your Aggie to a GIRL?” Thumbs were thumbs.

I like marbles. Ascetically if you know what I mean. They are pretty, or purdy if you so desire.

I wish I had some now. Or some jacks. I miss those games. Boys didn’t play jacks as I recall. Though I have no idea why marbles were not sexually charged, but jacks was.  Metal and rubber versus glass, the answer must lie deep inside the atom.

We have a sidewalk outside our front door, and an overhanging roof, so we drag our chairs out in the morning and sit in the sun until it’s too hot, which is about 7:30 in the morning, give or take an atomic tick of the clock. The sidewalk is cement, ready-made for both jacks or marbles.

The parking lot of the motel is separated from the Savers store by a high cement and rock wall. Along it, there are cinder block  openings set periodically in groups of eight. Is it for water flow? Or a matter of ascetics? I’m figuring it has little to do with presenting a pretty geometric picture to transient travelers.

These are issues that the brain naturally turns to when you are 62 and living in one room with another human beings. I dream of coming upon African animals on sidewalks a lot lately. Wonder what that means?

We eat mostly crap. I mean at the motel. It’s ready made for Twinkies and chocolate covered peanuts. I actually weighed the idea of bringing home a can of Dinty Moore stew yesterday. Yes, it’s come to that.

I’ve been enjoying high-speed internet. Mostly it lets me play games faster. I only went to YouTube once. I found it slightly boring.

What is going on in the John Edwards trial? Those idiots can’t be discussing the facts. I figure they are deeply involved in a high-stakes game of Monopoly and are using “deliberations” as a ruse. John Edwards is the most awful cad I’ve ever seen. So I don’t begrudge them letting him squirm.

I’m at level three of the Mysteries of the Sea (match three) game. I feel rather superior about that. I suppose you think that’s a bit thin, but here at the Motel it places me in a pretty high status.

While I’m at it. I bet John Glenn never thought he would get the Metal of Longevity along side of Bob Dylan. I mean I can’t imagine a conversation between those two. “Know anywhere I can score some weed? Did you see any on the moon?” I know, Bob Dylan knowing who in the hell John Glenn is was shock enough.

Our microwave is bolted to our refrigerator. You don’t find many fine establishments that care enough to make sure you can’t pull it down on yourself. I like that in a motel.

Oh, by the by, I brought a pot of chives from Iowa. I pour out the melted ice water on it each day. It seems happy enough. I wonder if it talks to the marigolds planted next to it. “hey dude, tell me about Iowa–what’s pork like?”

I’m being hogtied into watching some crap called the “Hatfields and McCoys” with awful actor, Kevin Costner of Waterworld unfame. They kill each other a lot. And if you add up both families, the IQ would not be yet on the charts let alone off.

Why do people when they are shot, look up and ask, “am I gonna die?” Unless the guy next to you is a doctor, I’m guessing, you are not going to get a professional opinion.

Speaking of which. There is something very wrong in Amerika. In the last two days, I have read of two naked guys fighting and one guy eating the face off the other. He was killed for that, because he wouldn’t stop. Today another guy stood in front of cops and stabbed himself repeatedly and then through his intestines at the police. I mean really, it’s not even Halloween yet.

Speaking of which, (used that again if you noticed), graveyards in Las Cruces, (or the one I saw) are all dirt. That is sooooo weird.

I am not much to speak ill of people (you mock me?), but I shall not speak poorly of the US Postal Office. I mean, we are what is called General Delivery, which is akin to being a man/woman without a country, but we are getting mail from that two-bit backwater local post office in Walker, Iowa. They must be doing something right.  Talk to me later, I might change my mind. I feel uncomfortable praising people.

Sea food is pretty cheap here. I guess it must be our proximity to the Gulf, which is not all that proximate, but big old fat Texas is large, you have to admit, and minus it, well, we could probably smell the ocean. We don’t eat it of course. I figured shrimp and such doesn’t microwave all that well. And of course we get pecans and pistachios very cheap here. Why? Cuz we raise them. Yes we do. We Las Cruceans are very resourceful.

Oh, dear, it’s time to play solitaire. Such a busy schedule I have. And then a nap, and then read for half an hour, and then get some ice, and then a shower, and then the Hatfields crap and then…why soon I’ll have enough to right a novel. Death of a Salesman Writer on the Orient Sante Fe Express.  Catchy?