Rotten Apple

The governor in the state where I live likes to use the phrase business-friendly. He drops it at every turn.

To restore our state's standing, he says, we must become more business-friendly. We must release business from the burdensome restrictions of regulation and taxation so that they might run free, like Labrador retrievers in a dog park.

However quixotic the picture of dogs running free might be, I'd be more concerned their owner possesses a Pooper Scooper and a plastic bag.

And so it is with business.

What Bruce Rauner and other misguided conservatives don't realize is that our businesses are already running free.

The corporate tax rate is a fraction of what it was during the Eisenhower administration. (You can look it up.) Regulations and consumer protections are regularly put on a back burner when they're not being repealed or made unenforceable by budget cuts which gut inspection staffs.

We have tax loopholes a visually-impaired drunkard could fly a 747 through, and yet it's not enough. Like the employees they hold in such contempt, our business class is swollen with an acute sense of entitlement.

As it falls, Apple conveniently serves as example number-one.

They have evolved from the touchy-feely alternative to dry, corporate MicroSoft to become a behemoth themselves, succeeding in the ultra-lucrative hand-held technology market via the iPods and iPhones so many of us can't tear our eyes from.

And so very, very much of the cash windfall they enjoy stays in-house. 

“We earned it” says a string of CEOs and board members, and so they have. Whether conservatives acknowledge it or not, in business-friendly America this is the sole justification required to defend their microscopic tax bill.

And yet when an external threat emerges which threatens the continued security and well-being of the country that has treated Apple with such largesse; one that requires Apple to backtrack on its marketing message and serve something other than its bottom line, what does Apple do?

It reacts with the sour petulance of an employee who's been told to accept a pay cut or lose their job.

I'm pretty sure that if I were caught in an act of industrial espionage in their Cupertino headquarters, Apple could open my iPhone very quickly. But act to service something greater than themselves?

Not a chance.

This is the fruit the business-friendly tree bears. And despite that, we somehow remain (at least in the eyes of cash-drunk conservatives) not business-friendly enough.

Because of their monumental selfishness, I fervently hope the Department of Justice is able to take a big ol' bite out of Apple.

Either that, or let Apple be known as the official cell phone of ISIS.

Slick Move, Johnny Football!

I gotta hand it to you, Johnny. You're sly like a fox, aren't you?

You played the dumb-ass ADHD concussion-addled party boy to perfection. And now you don't have to play for the Cleveland Browns no more.

Bonus points for putting the onus of your departure on your boss, and shedding it like you once did defenders at Texas A&M.

And speaking of Texas, where are you headed for next?

Were I a gambling man, I'd wager you have your sights locked on the Dallas Cowboys and their thirty-five year-old quarterback, Tony Romo, he of the brittle and underachieving collarbones.

Yeah, you and Jerry Jones would make a helluva pair. He never met a high profile athlete he didn't offer a contract to, and you'd get to return to your adoring fans in Texas. 

That's some kinda win-win, huh?

Granted, I might have this all wrong. But this feels as accidental as sunrise.

J Is for Jealous

I get out of bed at 4 AM each morning to perform a menial job rich in stress, dissatisfaction, potential health risks and exposure to liability. It is equally-poor in remuneration and benefits.

Owing to a felony conviction for long-term unemployment, there is little else.

This allows me to hold forth on the working poor at festive occasions like birthdays, christenings and New Year's Eve parties. (Yes, I receive a lot of invitations.)

As such, I am trying very hard to understand the dullards fortunate-enough to win lotteries who see no other way forward than to continue reporting to work.

If we were speaking of concert pianists or successful filmmakers or renowned brain surgeons, that would be one thing. But we're talking about an employment strata decidedly less-elevated; one way, way downstream.

We're talking store clerks, municipal laborers and in the case of one recent winner—warehouse supervisors.

I have worked in warehouses. They are ugly, dirty and drafty places full of mice and mousetraps and unhappy people living on the margins of solvency. Warehouses have lunch rooms with burned-out fluorescent lights, sagging paneling and chipped Formica tables. Filthy microwaves and broken coffee-makers.

So I'm wondering why, when opposed to a month in Spain or Italy or overseeing the construction of a new dream home, someone would choose to remain in one. 

I mean, do you have nothing better to do than to get up and go to your dreary, dead-end job? No imagination that stretches beyond doing what you have always done?

It is sad. Infinitely and inexplicably sad. Some combination of your education and your parents have failed you, and I am sorry.

I get three magazines, a daily newspaper, read books and am a voracious consumer of movies and music. There aren't enough hours in the day to read all that I want to read, see all that I want to see and hear all that I want to hear.

I won't even broach the ten years without a vacation which has left my thirst for travel parched and unrequited.

And you can't think of anything to do but get up and go to work? 

The only thing more remarkable than your short-sightedness is why, even with the likes of you about, scientists continue to develop robots and drones. 

How about volunteering with the Southern Poverty Law Center, the Salvation Army, Habitat for Humanity or Doctors without Borders? Or the local food pantry or children's hospital?

What about building a new animal shelter, or a complex of affordable apartments? Or buying that elderly widower down the block a new roof?

How about getting really out there and turning your job over to someone who—gasp—actually needs one?

Yes, I am jealous. Hideously so.

But whatever our respective fortunes, I at least am curious. And know how to remove my blinders.

Executive Cartoonist Overreach

I deeply admire political cartoons. Those one-panel illustrations that miraculously convey in a single drawing an opinion about complex and many-layered issues. 

Their well-chosen imagery frequently lingers far-longer than even the most well-written editorial.

A recent example would be a Michael Ramirez cartoon for Investor's Business Daily—but not for the reasons he intended.

In Ramirez's cartoon, a caricature of President Obama stands before an enormous, bullet-riddled copy of the Constitution, gazing at its remains as he holds a smoking gun. (I will admit its wildly overheated and twisted symbolism took a minute to sink in.)

Pandering to the knee-jerk anxiety of the gun crowd, Ramirez's cartoon conveys a seething, smoldering outrage at the mere thought of a president even considering highly-specific gun legislation aimed at a very small portion of the gun-buying public.

Let's be clear: the gun lobby has one simple and well-defined strategy: No compromise. Ever. 

It's their way or no way.

The gun lobby is a cloistered, monotheistic sect with the gun as Lord. It couldn't be more-evident that thou shalt have no other god before theirs. This is a religious war, where any outcome other than the complete fulfillment of their short-sighted agenda is a shameful and humiliating failure.

To wit, a mid-level member was drummed out of the NRA merely for suggesting several years ago that the best long-term strategy going forward might be occasional compromise.

Through no fault of the NRA's, this individual is reportedly still alive today.

The gun lobby has repeatedly blocked the implementation of smart gun technology, which would allow a gun to fire only when a recognized user was attempting to use it.

They have repeatedly blocked common sense legislation which would seek to ban assault weapons, or bar people on our nation's No-Fly lists from purchasing guns and ammunition.

Most damningly, they are responsible for making gun manufacturers the sole business entity in the United States of America which enjoys absolute immunity from any damages wrought by its products.

Think about that.

And yet the gun lobby is screaming that by attempting to narrow—not close—a loophole which allows anyone to buy or sell a firearm at a gun show free from any licensing requirements or background checks whatsoever, Barack Obama is destroying the Constitution.

Now would be a good time to remind ourselves that per Ramirez's cartoon, the second amendment is the Constitution, which tells you all you need to know about the gun crowd.  

Perhaps their myopia is the result of too many years spent squinting though gun sights. 

Just a thought. 

Sadly, the truth is that our would-be John Waynes, Chuck Norrises and Vin Diesels will remain free to play with their gun-penises for another day, while the rest of us are free to seek life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness in between lock-downs and calls to 911 and from behind a police barricade.

Michael Ramirez's cartoon is the canary in the gun control coal mine which confirms how very far those of us who truly value life have yet to travel.

Obama's Gonna Take Away Your Guns!

The default Republican nightmare has at last come to pass.

In a marked display of humanity, President Obama pledged Tuesday to take whatever executive action he can to stem the unconscionable flow of guns throughout the United States, which has us awash in death, fear and disability.

While no one is expecting a sea change of regulation, it is nevertheless a start and an important public condemnation of this ongoing idiocy.

Predictably, the gun lobby peed its collective pants.

God bless you, Mr. President.

Random Thoughts, Vol. 7

It has been a hideous year. A wretched, stinking, hideous year. It was the kind of year that immerses you in hopelessness. The kind of year where even a raise was turned on its head and became a liability.

Not surprisingly, the thoughts that collect in your brain resemble the pus that pools in an open wound. They are yellowish and opaque and resemble congealed gravy.

Most of them are sour. A few are jocular. Some aspire to profundity. Of course, there is a difference between aspire and success. Consider this your warning.

This is the caustic send-off 2015 deserves. You will be exultant to see it pass. And if it doesn't, you will cut it out with a knife—with or without anesthesia.

Is there a more-perfectly named basketball player than Tim Duncan?

The tragedy of the eighties was that Hinckley missed and Chapman didn't.

If the Koch brothers earned a combined $910,000 per hour in 2015, can't we make $15?

The FBI processed more background checks in 2015 than in any other year on record, meaning more fire arms were purchased than ever before. Are we safe yet?

Does former Bears coach Lovie Smith deserve early consideration for the Hall of Fame because he reached the Super Bowl with a team quarterbacked by Rex Grossman?

If not for wrapping your brain around the myriad of exclusions, exceptions and conditions that affect your coverage, predicting your needs for the coming year and dealing with the reams of paperwork that arrive (none of which contains the bill—at least until three days before it's due)—all under the threat of a government-imposed fine—we wouldn't need health insurance.

Is there a more-appropriately named street in America than Wall Street?

Do black lives matter only when they're taken by white hands?

Anyone who votes for Donald Trump deserves Donald Trump. But leave those of us with IQs out of it, OK?

And speaking of America, wasn't it a great idea?

A Potpourri of Peevishness

What a month. And that's not even counting the personal drama.

First off, Martin Shkreli has been arrested. Is it really a surprise that a bag of shit from Wall Street would turn a pharmaceutical business into an extortion racket? Or that the hedge fund he once managed wasn't exactly above board?

No wonder Bernie Sanders has an audience.

A year and-a-half after her conviction, the execrable Heather Mack has suddenly remembered why she had her boyfriend whack her mom in the head with a blunt object and stuff her body in a suitcase: mom was stealing her inheritance.

In an attempt to prove she has a particle of humanity left, Mack expressed the wish that in spite of mom's sticky fingers, she hopes the deceased is resting in peace.

Only because of you, Heather. Only because of you.

Then there's the once-honorable college football bowl game.

In the everybody-gets-a-trophy fashion that is, well, fashionable right now, the NCAA seems unable to resist adding a few more every year, even past the point of relevance. (Not that football fans would know the difference.)

Unless you're journeying to one because it's being played in a locale where wind chill is defined as what happens when the air conditioning hits you after you step out of the shower, I pity you.

Finally, is anyone disturbed by the sight of our electronic media further corrupting our electoral process by relentlessly airing the latest episode of What Did Donald Say Today?, as opposed to kinda-sorta discourse on actual issues?

Or coverage of those other candidates from that other party?

The Republican party has willingly turned its nominating process into a circus side show, and I say fine. Great. Whatever. But by breathlessly broadcasting every syllable Trump spews into a TV camera, the media are aiding and abetting his cheapening of the process.

What's that? The ratings and the advertising revenue are off the charts?

Oh, okay.

Leave it to us to put a price on what was once priceless.