There are some advantages to being unemployed. Yesterday, I went with two of my similarly unoccupied pals to the movies. It was a one oclock showing of Master and Commander. This was a real entertaining swashbuckler with great visual effects and rip-roaring action only a guy would like. From all historical accounts it depicted the realism of life on board a British Navy ship in 1805.
I am profoundly thankful to have been born in modern times - with indoor plumbing, refrigeration, electricity, computers, a distribution system that can deliver single malt scotch to a store nearby.
More than this, I am gratified to realize how damned lucky I have been in this life.
I was an aimless youth who was such a poor student in high school that no decent college would admit me, so I enlisted in the air force. The military made me a grow up, but did not overcome my insubordinate nature. Thanks to my dad's determination, I did go to college and graduated with a degree in Liberal Arts. I was an English major (although on my resume I claim it was English-Journalism because it sounds more practical.)
In creative writing class I met Judy, who (like me) fell in love with my prose. I was immediately captivated by her beauty and charm, and this was the best thing that happened in my life. We dated, evetually married, had two great and beautiful daughters who have grown into wonderful productive adults and have stayed in our lives. After thirty five years we are still together, healthy and in love.
Sure, I have had some crappy jobs, and may again in the future. But I hope I can continue to appreciate the luck that has seen me this far. And I hope that I win the megabucks lottery tonight.
11/26/2003
11/21/2003
Yes, We can Hear You, now shut that (bleep)ing thing off!
Just returned from a brief visit to the Left coast to check on the Grandkids. The kids are all right.
Ah, California: state of Earthquakes, Fires, Neverland, Laci and Governor Arnold. Coming back to the state where anyone can legally marry anything if they can pass the blood test.
I am cranky as hell. It is not merely jet lag; it's the world gone nuts.
prosecutors want to put that vicious criminal - Martha Stewart - in jail; and the shrinks want to let John Hinkley out to walk around Washington DC free as a crow.
Terrorists and protesters bombing civilians in Turkey and disrupting traffic in Miami and UK. Important events are taking place in the world, yet Michael Jackson dominates the news. Why? I don't care about the antics of freaks. Do you?
Air Travel still sucks. I can report is American Airlines does have more room in coach between rows than United. But you are still crammed-in three across, and there is not enough room for a well-fed man to sit comfortably. American is much less concerned than United with on-time schedules, and it shows. On the way to California, we arrived at a stopover in Chicago on time, but then sat on the tarmac for 40 minutes waiting for a gate to open up. Many people who were connecting missed their flights. The attendant tried to console an upset traveller. "This happens a lot." she said.
I am still irritated that class discrimination is still OK on airlines, and even extends to the security checks. I was selected for personal inspection when my shoes set off the metal detector. The beefy security guard frowned at me like I should know better. "Rockports always set it off," she said. "You should wear sneakers next time."
Predictably, we were treated to the inane wireless conversations of inconsiderate blabbers everywhere we went. At the hotel, during breakfast. In the cabin of the planes. On Fisherman's wharf. Outside the museum. Mercifully, they make people curtail wireless phone calls when the plane is in motion. The new showoff thing is Walkie Talkie feature which involves a lot of beeping and shouting into the receiver. If that isn't enough, now you can hear the moron on the other end as well.
Peter Drucker says, "There is nothing as useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all." I feel this applies to the Walkie Talkie feature on cell phones. Only a few people in specific jobs (eg, construction, EMT's) should have them. Some technology should be withheld from the masses. You wouldn't give a lazer-guided missile launchers to Ubangi tribesmen. Would you?
I'm sure that some people need cell phones. But, their ubiquitousness has introduced a level of interruption and annoyance into our society that I predict a rash of phone-rage incidents in the near future. Judy says it is just my sensory integration disorder acting up. According to her, most people are not disturbed by the inanities of others, and are not possessed by a demonic urge to strangle them.
Ah, California: state of Earthquakes, Fires, Neverland, Laci and Governor Arnold. Coming back to the state where anyone can legally marry anything if they can pass the blood test.
I am cranky as hell. It is not merely jet lag; it's the world gone nuts.
prosecutors want to put that vicious criminal - Martha Stewart - in jail; and the shrinks want to let John Hinkley out to walk around Washington DC free as a crow.
Terrorists and protesters bombing civilians in Turkey and disrupting traffic in Miami and UK. Important events are taking place in the world, yet Michael Jackson dominates the news. Why? I don't care about the antics of freaks. Do you?
Air Travel still sucks. I can report is American Airlines does have more room in coach between rows than United. But you are still crammed-in three across, and there is not enough room for a well-fed man to sit comfortably. American is much less concerned than United with on-time schedules, and it shows. On the way to California, we arrived at a stopover in Chicago on time, but then sat on the tarmac for 40 minutes waiting for a gate to open up. Many people who were connecting missed their flights. The attendant tried to console an upset traveller. "This happens a lot." she said.
I am still irritated that class discrimination is still OK on airlines, and even extends to the security checks. I was selected for personal inspection when my shoes set off the metal detector. The beefy security guard frowned at me like I should know better. "Rockports always set it off," she said. "You should wear sneakers next time."
Predictably, we were treated to the inane wireless conversations of inconsiderate blabbers everywhere we went. At the hotel, during breakfast. In the cabin of the planes. On Fisherman's wharf. Outside the museum. Mercifully, they make people curtail wireless phone calls when the plane is in motion. The new showoff thing is Walkie Talkie feature which involves a lot of beeping and shouting into the receiver. If that isn't enough, now you can hear the moron on the other end as well.
Peter Drucker says, "There is nothing as useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all." I feel this applies to the Walkie Talkie feature on cell phones. Only a few people in specific jobs (eg, construction, EMT's) should have them. Some technology should be withheld from the masses. You wouldn't give a lazer-guided missile launchers to Ubangi tribesmen. Would you?
I'm sure that some people need cell phones. But, their ubiquitousness has introduced a level of interruption and annoyance into our society that I predict a rash of phone-rage incidents in the near future. Judy says it is just my sensory integration disorder acting up. According to her, most people are not disturbed by the inanities of others, and are not possessed by a demonic urge to strangle them.
11/14/2003
Someone called back
Begin disturbing image warning=>> I hope this image is not too unsettling to my fans, but I have vowed to tell the whole truth. Young, or easily offended readers should skip to the next paragraph The other day, I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard the phone in the hallway ring. I made it before the fourth ring, and answered in my best business-like voice. It was the callback I had been hoping for earlier that day. (Actually, I had only half-expected the return call. Not returning calls is an epidemic in this junk-call-spam-drenched day-and-age.) Anyhow, there I was standing in front of the hall mirror, naked and dripping on the floor, pretending that I was dry, fully-clothed and an ideal candidate for the job. <<= End of disturbing image warning
It was the recruiter for a local company, responding to a resume I had sent more than a month ago. He had sent me an e-mail, asking me to call if I was still interested in the job. I did call, but got his voice-mail. Typical of recruiters, six hours later he was returning my call. He told me that the company needed a senior business analyst to work with the Product Manager to market and recommend improvements to a flagship software product. I had most of the quals for the job, and I was intrigued by the prospect of getting back into the marketing department, so I managed to BS the recruiter enough to convince him to "present" me to the hiring manager.
He said that they had been having a hard time finding the right person. (Probably because the job description would have been divided among three people in the full-employment days of 1999-2000). These days everyone is expected to be a superhero at apprentice wages. Hey don't get me started, I'm being positive! Anyway, it was a call back.
It was also a milestone in my journey. It is the first opportunity in months that seems worth pursuing. The location is a mere ten minute commute. The compensation is lower than my last job, but near the ballpark. And it's not IT.
Being Not-IT is a good thing. I have always enjoyed my past roles as a systems analyst in the marketing department.
Marketing management is a lot less cost-conscious than those stingy CIO's who think that staying within budget is more important than delivering speed to network users. By contrast, marketing execs are usually focused on sales activity, and I never met one who worried much about the "bottom line".
Stay tuned. We are still a long way from the sure-thing stage. But I was encouraged that someone called back. To me that is a 100% increase in activity.
It was the recruiter for a local company, responding to a resume I had sent more than a month ago. He had sent me an e-mail, asking me to call if I was still interested in the job. I did call, but got his voice-mail. Typical of recruiters, six hours later he was returning my call. He told me that the company needed a senior business analyst to work with the Product Manager to market and recommend improvements to a flagship software product. I had most of the quals for the job, and I was intrigued by the prospect of getting back into the marketing department, so I managed to BS the recruiter enough to convince him to "present" me to the hiring manager.
He said that they had been having a hard time finding the right person. (Probably because the job description would have been divided among three people in the full-employment days of 1999-2000). These days everyone is expected to be a superhero at apprentice wages. Hey don't get me started, I'm being positive! Anyway, it was a call back.
It was also a milestone in my journey. It is the first opportunity in months that seems worth pursuing. The location is a mere ten minute commute. The compensation is lower than my last job, but near the ballpark. And it's not IT.
Being Not-IT is a good thing. I have always enjoyed my past roles as a systems analyst in the marketing department.
Marketing management is a lot less cost-conscious than those stingy CIO's who think that staying within budget is more important than delivering speed to network users. By contrast, marketing execs are usually focused on sales activity, and I never met one who worried much about the "bottom line".
Stay tuned. We are still a long way from the sure-thing stage. But I was encouraged that someone called back. To me that is a 100% increase in activity.
11/07/2003
Can you Hear me Now?
We decided to give Herbs and Spices - the new Asian restaurant in Lower Falls - another chance. It was a Wednesday night and not crowded, which perhaps resulted in a fairly attentive waiter. I still could not understand anything he said, due to a difference in our native spoken languages, so if he had greeted us with the "Hi I'm Lee Hong, I'll be your server tonight." we were blissfully spared the comprehension of same. Despite my fears, our order was correctly taken and served in due time.
The food was pretty good. We shared a variety of appetizer and main dishes. We had a nice time.
As we were waiting for the check, a thirty-ish couple was seated in the next booth. Totally ignoring his attractive dining companion, the boorish fellow was yakking loudly on his cell phone. It was a pathetic call, with him apologizing to someone who outranked him for not returning their call. His voice was laden with fear and lying. I almost felt sorry for him, but as is our habit, we began to chastise him so he could hear us.
His companion was terribly embarrassed, to have her date being laughed at by the next booth while he pathetically groped for credibility over the airwaves to some bigshot who clearly knew he was lying.
It was son-in-law David who came up with the solution to such ear pollution. "Why don't these places have a Cell Phone Booth?"
What a genius idea! All public places should have at least one. A simple rectangular booth with nothing in it but soundproof walls and a shelf. Wireless talkers could go and stand in the booth and not bother the rest of us. I can see them at the Bus Stop, Train Station, Theater Lobby, Supermarket - anywhere where people gather. Instead of assaulting the rest of us with your inane conversations, you can go to the Wireless Area stand in your booth and blather to your heart's content.
I smell a business opportunity! Who wants in on the groundfloor?
The food was pretty good. We shared a variety of appetizer and main dishes. We had a nice time.
As we were waiting for the check, a thirty-ish couple was seated in the next booth. Totally ignoring his attractive dining companion, the boorish fellow was yakking loudly on his cell phone. It was a pathetic call, with him apologizing to someone who outranked him for not returning their call. His voice was laden with fear and lying. I almost felt sorry for him, but as is our habit, we began to chastise him so he could hear us.
His companion was terribly embarrassed, to have her date being laughed at by the next booth while he pathetically groped for credibility over the airwaves to some bigshot who clearly knew he was lying.
It was son-in-law David who came up with the solution to such ear pollution. "Why don't these places have a Cell Phone Booth?"
What a genius idea! All public places should have at least one. A simple rectangular booth with nothing in it but soundproof walls and a shelf. Wireless talkers could go and stand in the booth and not bother the rest of us. I can see them at the Bus Stop, Train Station, Theater Lobby, Supermarket - anywhere where people gather. Instead of assaulting the rest of us with your inane conversations, you can go to the Wireless Area stand in your booth and blather to your heart's content.
I smell a business opportunity! Who wants in on the groundfloor?
11/05/2003
Momma Told Me
As a child growing up in hardscrabble Watertown, Ma, my sainted mother would often repeat her wise observation "If it looks too good to be true...it probably is." Such cynicism is one of the most useful tools in the Parental Toolbox. This wisdom has served me well. As an adult I grew to be a skeptic, a cynic and a hopeful pessimist. (The opposite of a hopeless optimist).
I don't expect everything to fail, but I am hardly ever surprised when it does. My career value proposition has been established on the fundamental premise that in a business enterprise, Crap Happens, but if you have me on your payroll there will be less crap and it won't be as messy.
Because I expect problems, I am a pretty good planner. Because I know people are unwilling or unable to communicate with each other, I over-communicate. I specify requirements, establish test plans, talk with people. Early on, I understood the different languages of business. Engineers don't like to talk to Marketing Managers. Finance people abhor Sales Reps. Programmers cannot stand the vagaries of Users. Big Shot executives don't understand ground level workers. No one can understand the cafeteria staff (but, come to think of it, that is actually because they speak Portuguese. Another topic for another rant, perhaps?). Anyway, the only thing I really do is coordinate stuff between people who don't communicate with each other.
But, despite my chronic cynicism and pessimism, I am confident that the economy will recover. It always does. And there will soon be a recognition that my niche skills will become valuable again. Like those raggedy 401k accounts that have been beaten to a pulp for the past three years, improvement is palpable.
So, to be ahead of the curve, I spent a few hours this morning, searching for opportunity. Perhaps, one might even say, searching for my destiny.... Well, the trip back to earth was short and ended with a thud. Nada, zilch, zero, ciphers. I almost clicked on a banner ad offering retraining as a cafeteria worker (Learn Portuguese in six days!)
Then, I saw something that looked interesting: Opinionsonline.com was offering hourly rates from $15 to $110 to simply take a brief survey or participate in a focus group. Wow. This seems like easy money. I could use a few extra bucks. I got some spare time. I got a computer. Lord knows, I got opinions up the wazou!
So I check it out. Hmmn. One small detail. This company is not exactly the survey company that hires you. They put the "applicant" into a database of people who might be picked to participate in such surveys and focus groups. The small detail is, they charge you $14.95 to get into the database. Aw crap! They were masquerading as a job listing and they are actually marketing their freaking database. I find this type of "stealth marketing" to be unethical and deceptive. More deceptively evil than ordinary marketing. It justifies all my cynicism and pessimism. And skepticism. Focus on this, you stealth marketers! (Raises middle finger in angry salute)
That's when momma's sage words echoed. And so I shut off the computer. And then I got out my roller and ladder. After lunch, I will spend a productive afternoon painting the ceiling in the TV room. Then, I'll tune-in to Oprah for my daily emotional fix.
I don't expect everything to fail, but I am hardly ever surprised when it does. My career value proposition has been established on the fundamental premise that in a business enterprise, Crap Happens, but if you have me on your payroll there will be less crap and it won't be as messy.
Because I expect problems, I am a pretty good planner. Because I know people are unwilling or unable to communicate with each other, I over-communicate. I specify requirements, establish test plans, talk with people. Early on, I understood the different languages of business. Engineers don't like to talk to Marketing Managers. Finance people abhor Sales Reps. Programmers cannot stand the vagaries of Users. Big Shot executives don't understand ground level workers. No one can understand the cafeteria staff (but, come to think of it, that is actually because they speak Portuguese. Another topic for another rant, perhaps?). Anyway, the only thing I really do is coordinate stuff between people who don't communicate with each other.
But, despite my chronic cynicism and pessimism, I am confident that the economy will recover. It always does. And there will soon be a recognition that my niche skills will become valuable again. Like those raggedy 401k accounts that have been beaten to a pulp for the past three years, improvement is palpable.
So, to be ahead of the curve, I spent a few hours this morning, searching for opportunity. Perhaps, one might even say, searching for my destiny.... Well, the trip back to earth was short and ended with a thud. Nada, zilch, zero, ciphers. I almost clicked on a banner ad offering retraining as a cafeteria worker (Learn Portuguese in six days!)
Then, I saw something that looked interesting: Opinionsonline.com was offering hourly rates from $15 to $110 to simply take a brief survey or participate in a focus group. Wow. This seems like easy money. I could use a few extra bucks. I got some spare time. I got a computer. Lord knows, I got opinions up the wazou!
So I check it out. Hmmn. One small detail. This company is not exactly the survey company that hires you. They put the "applicant" into a database of people who might be picked to participate in such surveys and focus groups. The small detail is, they charge you $14.95 to get into the database. Aw crap! They were masquerading as a job listing and they are actually marketing their freaking database. I find this type of "stealth marketing" to be unethical and deceptive. More deceptively evil than ordinary marketing. It justifies all my cynicism and pessimism. And skepticism. Focus on this, you stealth marketers! (Raises middle finger in angry salute)
That's when momma's sage words echoed. And so I shut off the computer. And then I got out my roller and ladder. After lunch, I will spend a productive afternoon painting the ceiling in the TV room. Then, I'll tune-in to Oprah for my daily emotional fix.
10/31/2003
Told You So
Yesterday, the Government announced that the economy is growing again. In fact the rate of growth was so dramatic (over 7%) that today's conservative pundits are declaring the winner of the 2004 Presidential Election to be George Bush. The Democratic candidates have been praying for a continued slump to fuel the popular desire for a change of leadership. Poor shmucks.
What it means to me is this: I need to get a new suit. Before you know it, the phone will start to ring with job offers and business opportunities. I want to be ready.
Judy has been a perfect saint through the summer, and even bought me some beer last week. She is a true prize, and I am not just saying this because she has demanded that I say something nice about her. I am saying it because it's true.
I think I can wait until next week to get the suit. It's 60 degrees out, and someone should be sitting in the back yard admiring the foliage, accepting the Gift of this day.
What it means to me is this: I need to get a new suit. Before you know it, the phone will start to ring with job offers and business opportunities. I want to be ready.
Judy has been a perfect saint through the summer, and even bought me some beer last week. She is a true prize, and I am not just saying this because she has demanded that I say something nice about her. I am saying it because it's true.
I think I can wait until next week to get the suit. It's 60 degrees out, and someone should be sitting in the back yard admiring the foliage, accepting the Gift of this day.
10/29/2003
Harmful Mistakes
I read a report in the Globe today that cited the alarming increase in harmful mistakes in hospitals. They define these mistakes as routine problems like overdosing patients or surgical mishaps that actually injure or kill a patient. The most recent numbers in Massachusetts are 757 incidents this year compared to 574 incidents in 2000.
A hospital spokesperson attempted to clarify the meaning of the numbers. "It isn't really an increase in incidents," explained the spokesperson, "it really indicitive of improved reporting."
Whew! That's a relief.
Looking at the top ten employers on the Boston area with the most job openings, it is perhaps relevent that 8 of the ten are area hospitals and medical facilities. It is clear that anyone who gets sick around here should stay out of the hospitals if at all possible.
I would consider re-training for a job in the medical profession, except for the fact that I despise sick people, abhor bodily fluids, and the hours suck.
A hospital spokesperson attempted to clarify the meaning of the numbers. "It isn't really an increase in incidents," explained the spokesperson, "it really indicitive of improved reporting."
Whew! That's a relief.
Looking at the top ten employers on the Boston area with the most job openings, it is perhaps relevent that 8 of the ten are area hospitals and medical facilities. It is clear that anyone who gets sick around here should stay out of the hospitals if at all possible.
I would consider re-training for a job in the medical profession, except for the fact that I despise sick people, abhor bodily fluids, and the hours suck.
10/27/2003
Nasty Weather Non-Fan
It's cold and raw here in the Western Suburbs of Boston.
I am sitting here today wishing I was a Marlins fan. The Boston team was knocked out of the running by the New York team in the playoffs. I admit that at first, it bothered my that "my" team lost. Then, I realized that there was no reason to allow it to affect my day.
Why should I give a sweet shit what the Boston Red Sox do? They really have nothing to do with me. And hardly anything to do with Boston, other than the fact that members of the team and some owners are temporary residents of Our Fair City. Grady Little, the (almost former) Manager hails from the cotton fields of Alabama or is it North Carolina? Who cares? Most of the player names are unfamiliar to me. Few of them were actually raised in New England, much less Boston. Next year many of them will be someplace else.
The Boston Red Sox is just another entertainment Company. The players are just employees. There is no loyalty anywhere in this business. Popular players are traded off like coeds at a frat party. Management and coaches are fired, retired or replaced at the drop of a hat. Whining overpaid prima donnas even go on strike every few years, because of the terrible oppression by league managers.
Fans are just poor saps who have more cash than good sense, who layout big bucks to watch these professionals working. And buy their "gear." Would anyone buy a picture of me looking words up in my Thesaurus?
And, What the heck does the success or failure of a company have to do with my happiness or well being? If the new Walt Disney movie flops, do I lose sleep or beat my breast in anguish? Well, I suppose if I owned stock in the company, I could care. But I don't and I don't.
All this crap about the bambino's curse is laughable. Grady Little didn't lose the game by leaving Pedro in too long in the eight inning. New York won the game in the eleventh inning. The freaking players lost the game! Fire them and bring in some players who can win in the clutch!
Anyhow, I just saw a news clip of the World Series Champion Marlins on TV. They were returning to Ft Lauderdale, coming home to their adoring fans, dressed in short sleeves, wearing sunglasses. It's cold and rainy here in Boston. I want to live in Ft Lauderdale and be a Marlins fan.
I read Joe Lieberman's position paper in the WSJ this morning. He wants to raise taxes on 2% of the voters - people earning more than $200,000 per year. As if that will solve our economic problems. It is deceiving math. In the misguided liberal zeal for wealth distribution, the results are to move money from the really rich to near-rich. We all know that the super-rich will do anything to avoid paying taxes to the government, even if it means spending huge sums of money on high-priced lawyers and accountants to find loopholes. Maybe we should just agree to cut everyone's taxes for two years and see if it works? My belief is that the rich will spend the money on stuff - which creates jobs for those of us who are not accountants and lawyers.
There was a photo of Mike Tyson at a basketball game holding up a "Free Kobe" sign. If I was Kobe, I would request Tyson to cease and desist. Cripes, the only worse thing would be to have Bill Clinton vouching for his character: "He never had sex with that teen whore."
I am sitting here today wishing I was a Marlins fan. The Boston team was knocked out of the running by the New York team in the playoffs. I admit that at first, it bothered my that "my" team lost. Then, I realized that there was no reason to allow it to affect my day.
Why should I give a sweet shit what the Boston Red Sox do? They really have nothing to do with me. And hardly anything to do with Boston, other than the fact that members of the team and some owners are temporary residents of Our Fair City. Grady Little, the (almost former) Manager hails from the cotton fields of Alabama or is it North Carolina? Who cares? Most of the player names are unfamiliar to me. Few of them were actually raised in New England, much less Boston. Next year many of them will be someplace else.
The Boston Red Sox is just another entertainment Company. The players are just employees. There is no loyalty anywhere in this business. Popular players are traded off like coeds at a frat party. Management and coaches are fired, retired or replaced at the drop of a hat. Whining overpaid prima donnas even go on strike every few years, because of the terrible oppression by league managers.
Fans are just poor saps who have more cash than good sense, who layout big bucks to watch these professionals working. And buy their "gear." Would anyone buy a picture of me looking words up in my Thesaurus?
And, What the heck does the success or failure of a company have to do with my happiness or well being? If the new Walt Disney movie flops, do I lose sleep or beat my breast in anguish? Well, I suppose if I owned stock in the company, I could care. But I don't and I don't.
All this crap about the bambino's curse is laughable. Grady Little didn't lose the game by leaving Pedro in too long in the eight inning. New York won the game in the eleventh inning. The freaking players lost the game! Fire them and bring in some players who can win in the clutch!
Anyhow, I just saw a news clip of the World Series Champion Marlins on TV. They were returning to Ft Lauderdale, coming home to their adoring fans, dressed in short sleeves, wearing sunglasses. It's cold and rainy here in Boston. I want to live in Ft Lauderdale and be a Marlins fan.
I read Joe Lieberman's position paper in the WSJ this morning. He wants to raise taxes on 2% of the voters - people earning more than $200,000 per year. As if that will solve our economic problems. It is deceiving math. In the misguided liberal zeal for wealth distribution, the results are to move money from the really rich to near-rich. We all know that the super-rich will do anything to avoid paying taxes to the government, even if it means spending huge sums of money on high-priced lawyers and accountants to find loopholes. Maybe we should just agree to cut everyone's taxes for two years and see if it works? My belief is that the rich will spend the money on stuff - which creates jobs for those of us who are not accountants and lawyers.
There was a photo of Mike Tyson at a basketball game holding up a "Free Kobe" sign. If I was Kobe, I would request Tyson to cease and desist. Cripes, the only worse thing would be to have Bill Clinton vouching for his character: "He never had sex with that teen whore."
10/18/2003
Still Searching for My Destiny
For some incomprehensible reason, the vast American employment machine has been unresponsive to my vigorous inquiries. I have networked extensively, posted my resume on literally several job boards, perused the help wanted ads in the sunday globe, and sat thoughtfully for hours in the back yard with a chilled beer and a self improvement book. (On many an occasion, I have lapsed into a self actualizing nap, dreaming, no doubt, of my next assignment as Commander).
But none of these activities has resulted in even a single interview, much less a job offer. Ok, maybe having lunch with the same people repeatedly does not qualify as "extensive" networking. And posting a resume on job boards seems to result in an increase in spam e-mails (especially multi-level-marketing opportunities and penis enlargement products.)
OK, maybe some of the prospective employers - who might yearn to have an aging, insubordinate, "no limits" fat guy on their staff - are put-off by my demands for exhorbitant compensation, superior benefits, and an attractive, buxom secretary.
But, should I "settle" for an inferior situation? I think not.
But none of these activities has resulted in even a single interview, much less a job offer. Ok, maybe having lunch with the same people repeatedly does not qualify as "extensive" networking. And posting a resume on job boards seems to result in an increase in spam e-mails (especially multi-level-marketing opportunities and penis enlargement products.)
OK, maybe some of the prospective employers - who might yearn to have an aging, insubordinate, "no limits" fat guy on their staff - are put-off by my demands for exhorbitant compensation, superior benefits, and an attractive, buxom secretary.
But, should I "settle" for an inferior situation? I think not.
10/17/2003
Close Call
Ok, I stayed up until 12:23 and watched the whole game. It was exciting, and the Sox were most certainly "in there", until they lost in the 11th inning. So, while I was not really hoping for a Red Sox loss, it does let me off the hook regarding the vow to apply for a holiday job in retail if they beat New York.
I feel sorry for the real fans who watched them all year long. And the idiots who got swept up in the fever at the end of the season. And the Bozo's who hocked grandma's silver to get the money to purchase playoff or world series tickets on E-bay. But the outcome was never in doubt. Those of us who have watched them for many years knew...not to believe.
Rather than dump on the manager who left Pedro in the game too long, or blaming the fielding errors, I am content to recall that we got some post season excitement, and a great effort from a bunch of overpaid, whining, disapponting losers.
In one sense things are much better. Now we can get back to watching football without the distraction of those futile hopes of victory.
I feel sorry for the real fans who watched them all year long. And the idiots who got swept up in the fever at the end of the season. And the Bozo's who hocked grandma's silver to get the money to purchase playoff or world series tickets on E-bay. But the outcome was never in doubt. Those of us who have watched them for many years knew...not to believe.
Rather than dump on the manager who left Pedro in the game too long, or blaming the fielding errors, I am content to recall that we got some post season excitement, and a great effort from a bunch of overpaid, whining, disapponting losers.
In one sense things are much better. Now we can get back to watching football without the distraction of those futile hopes of victory.
10/15/2003
My New Job
Ha ha I was just kidding. The past week has been well spent thinking about how nice it would be to win the Megabucks lottery. Unlike some unworthy souls, I would make a great millionaire. I would share a lot of it with other people and buy a big house near the beach. If that doesn't qualify me as a deserving person, I don't know what would.
The red sox just won game 6, so the agony will go on for at least one more game. I hope they lose, so I will not have to honor my vow to apply for a holiday retail job. On the other hand....
The red sox just won game 6, so the agony will go on for at least one more game. I hope they lose, so I will not have to honor my vow to apply for a holiday retail job. On the other hand....
10/08/2003
Fairweather Fan
Ok,Ok.
I have been besieged by fans of this blog to admit that I was wrong about the Red Sox. Ok, I admit it: I was wrong. They cowboyed up and won three games in a row. Are you happy now? I am glad to be wrong. And I also lied about not watching the games. I did watch them. (But I did not watch any pregame shows. Does anyone?)
I hate to rain on your little parades out there, but anyone who believes that the Sox will beat the Yankees is counting on freakish luck. They just squeaked by these Oakland guys and NY has been in first place all year. (If the Sox win the ALCS, I will apply for a holiday job in Retail as my penance. (Will you be using your Sears Card for that tummy-hiding girdle madam? )
I saw on the news last night that tickets to the ALCS games at Fenway are priced from several hundred dollars to as much as $5,000. What kind of moron would spend that kind of money to sit in seats that are too small, munching a $5.00 hot dog and gulping a watered down, overpriced beer. A "priceless" experience? I think not.
In contrast, I will watch the games for free. Parking $0. Distance to Bathroom from my seat: 20ft. Lines: 0 Food: Unlimited and reasonably priced. Beer: ditto.
Annoying fans sitting next to me: 2 (cats, wanting attention).
Somebody tell me, What am I missing? You want fries with that? (just practicing).
I have been besieged by fans of this blog to admit that I was wrong about the Red Sox. Ok, I admit it: I was wrong. They cowboyed up and won three games in a row. Are you happy now? I am glad to be wrong. And I also lied about not watching the games. I did watch them. (But I did not watch any pregame shows. Does anyone?)
I hate to rain on your little parades out there, but anyone who believes that the Sox will beat the Yankees is counting on freakish luck. They just squeaked by these Oakland guys and NY has been in first place all year. (If the Sox win the ALCS, I will apply for a holiday job in Retail as my penance. (Will you be using your Sears Card for that tummy-hiding girdle madam? )
I saw on the news last night that tickets to the ALCS games at Fenway are priced from several hundred dollars to as much as $5,000. What kind of moron would spend that kind of money to sit in seats that are too small, munching a $5.00 hot dog and gulping a watered down, overpriced beer. A "priceless" experience? I think not.
In contrast, I will watch the games for free. Parking $0. Distance to Bathroom from my seat: 20ft. Lines: 0 Food: Unlimited and reasonably priced. Beer: ditto.
Annoying fans sitting next to me: 2 (cats, wanting attention).
Somebody tell me, What am I missing? You want fries with that? (just practicing).
10/06/2003
More Jobs Lost to Wild Animal Attacks
Last week it was an escaped Gorilla in Boston sending an otherwise calm city into abject panic. And there were bear sightings in the western hills. A cougar on the loose in the Northern suburbs.
Now we have 260 odd people thrown out of work when Siegfried's partner Roy was mauled by a white Bengal Tiger onstage in Las Vegas. It was the event that people had been waiting for since the act started at the Mirage in 1990. But that is little comfort to the hundreds of people who are losing their jobs. What jobs? How can it take 260 people to feed a couple of tigers and empty some (large) litter boxes? These are mysteries which we want explained.
How many more must lose jobs before we stop the madness?
Now we have 260 odd people thrown out of work when Siegfried's partner Roy was mauled by a white Bengal Tiger onstage in Las Vegas. It was the event that people had been waiting for since the act started at the Mirage in 1990. But that is little comfort to the hundreds of people who are losing their jobs. What jobs? How can it take 260 people to feed a couple of tigers and empty some (large) litter boxes? These are mysteries which we want explained.
How many more must lose jobs before we stop the madness?
Fluke
Ok, the Red Sox won two games - both by a single run. No way they will win tonight in Oakland even with Pedro pitching. They can't get hits.
Don't even watch. I'm going to watch Reno 911 re-runs on the comedy channel.
Go Pats!
Don't even watch. I'm going to watch Reno 911 re-runs on the comedy channel.
Go Pats!
10/03/2003
Killing Frost
In anticipation of the first frost which was forecast last night, I spent a few hours yesterday, dismantling the tomato vines, picking off any fruits that looked tennis ball size or bigger. I have about ten pounds of greenies. These will be stored in a cool place wrapped in newspapers and allowed to ripen naturaly at their own pace. With any luck I will still have delicious ripe tomatoes for my salads until thanksgiving. The vines which have been so kind to me this season were mercilessly chopped-up and put onto the compost pile. Recycle Gold for next year.
When I got up this morning it was clear that it did not get cold enough last night to kill the annuals. Another case of weathermen trying to capture the attention of viewers by playing up the disastrous possibilities? Well, no matter. I got something done!
The only thing that died last night was the lingering hope that the Red Sox would indeed show up to play the Oaklands in game two. I am not surprised. They always choke; and it is good that they get it over quickly. The plausabilty of them winning the next three in a row is about as likely as Rush Limbaugh saying something nice about Ted Kennedy.
I refuse to watch any more games until the World Series starts. Not that it matters.
When I got up this morning it was clear that it did not get cold enough last night to kill the annuals. Another case of weathermen trying to capture the attention of viewers by playing up the disastrous possibilities? Well, no matter. I got something done!
The only thing that died last night was the lingering hope that the Red Sox would indeed show up to play the Oaklands in game two. I am not surprised. They always choke; and it is good that they get it over quickly. The plausabilty of them winning the next three in a row is about as likely as Rush Limbaugh saying something nice about Ted Kennedy.
I refuse to watch any more games until the World Series starts. Not that it matters.
9/30/2003
Elusive butterflies
During the 1950's a social psycholgist, Abraham Maslow, discovered why no one can achieve lasting happiness. You may recall reading about his theory "The Hierarchy of Needs" in college. The theory says that all humans in all societies seem to share the same basic urges. We must eat, we desire security, we lust, and we need the esteem of our fellow villagers.
People who do not follow these pattern are deemed to be sick, and they are labeled Sociopaths and Psychopaths. But for most of us, we are doomed to be driven by these predictable levels of Need.
Maslow created a chart that listed the Needs in hierarchical order with food being near the bottom and respect near the top. He asserted that when a person is at the "Need Food" level, all energy and focus is directed to satisfy that need. Once the physiological needs are met, the human tendency is toward satisfaction of psychological needs, such as the need for love, acceptance, respect. At each level, the brief moment of satisfaction is soon replaced by a nagging and persistent desire to get to the next level.
Our work lives are spent as metaphors for this model. In the beginning, we just want a job to pay the bills. Then we start bitching about the working conditions. Then we start thinking about how to keep from losing the good job we have found. Then we seek promotion. We want a nicer office, a more attractive secretary, more vacation time, free water. No sooner do we get our office with a door than we notice that some people have bigger offices and better furniture. Because we lust, because we envy, we spend our entire working lives never being truly satisfied.
Here is the problem: there is no upper end on the need scale. In apparent fear of running out of paper big enough to display a chart of all the needs humans can aspire to, Maslow copped-out by labelling the uppermost level with the term "Self actualization." He defined it as "becoming everything you are capable of being..."
No one can ever attain self actualization because there will always be... something more to desire. It's human nature. And it's the reason why no one is very happy for very long.
That's just the way it is. Cowboy up.
People who do not follow these pattern are deemed to be sick, and they are labeled Sociopaths and Psychopaths. But for most of us, we are doomed to be driven by these predictable levels of Need.
Maslow created a chart that listed the Needs in hierarchical order with food being near the bottom and respect near the top. He asserted that when a person is at the "Need Food" level, all energy and focus is directed to satisfy that need. Once the physiological needs are met, the human tendency is toward satisfaction of psychological needs, such as the need for love, acceptance, respect. At each level, the brief moment of satisfaction is soon replaced by a nagging and persistent desire to get to the next level.
Our work lives are spent as metaphors for this model. In the beginning, we just want a job to pay the bills. Then we start bitching about the working conditions. Then we start thinking about how to keep from losing the good job we have found. Then we seek promotion. We want a nicer office, a more attractive secretary, more vacation time, free water. No sooner do we get our office with a door than we notice that some people have bigger offices and better furniture. Because we lust, because we envy, we spend our entire working lives never being truly satisfied.
Here is the problem: there is no upper end on the need scale. In apparent fear of running out of paper big enough to display a chart of all the needs humans can aspire to, Maslow copped-out by labelling the uppermost level with the term "Self actualization." He defined it as "becoming everything you are capable of being..."
No one can ever attain self actualization because there will always be... something more to desire. It's human nature. And it's the reason why no one is very happy for very long.
That's just the way it is. Cowboy up.
9/22/2003
Lazy Days
As I begin to pick the last of the tomatoes and clean out the clutter in the garden, I am still in the "looking for work" mode, although not with my usual furious intensity. The job scene is pretty quiet. I have made inquiries at all of the companies on the 100 best places to work list that are within a 15 minute commute (both of them). My skill set as a senior (ie, high paid) business systems analyst is not very much prized in an economy that is not authorizing new projects or ventures. I am not worried, though.
The general improvement in the stock market is evident in favorable 401K mutual fund statements that are showing marked improvements since March of this year. If no devastating event occurs to ruin the gains, we are pleased with this. It is further encouragement that things will get better. Business cycles happen. Employment is inevitible. So, I enjoy the leisure that the current status affords me for as long as the fates decree.
I was once leery of retirement, wondering "what would I do all day?" I have no such thoughts these days. There is precious little time in the day, and much to do. The biggest risk for me is not getting anything done, since it is so easy to defer tasks to tomorrow. I schedule most of my gotta-do's (things that require me to go out of the house, like food shopping and dump runs) for weekdays, when I have the least amount of competition from others (traffic congestion and lines). I putter around on the weekends, or we get in the car and go somewhere. We never have enough time for all the things we want to do and places we want to go. Not a bad life, except the fact that the grandkids are in Calif.
The general improvement in the stock market is evident in favorable 401K mutual fund statements that are showing marked improvements since March of this year. If no devastating event occurs to ruin the gains, we are pleased with this. It is further encouragement that things will get better. Business cycles happen. Employment is inevitible. So, I enjoy the leisure that the current status affords me for as long as the fates decree.
I was once leery of retirement, wondering "what would I do all day?" I have no such thoughts these days. There is precious little time in the day, and much to do. The biggest risk for me is not getting anything done, since it is so easy to defer tasks to tomorrow. I schedule most of my gotta-do's (things that require me to go out of the house, like food shopping and dump runs) for weekdays, when I have the least amount of competition from others (traffic congestion and lines). I putter around on the weekends, or we get in the car and go somewhere. We never have enough time for all the things we want to do and places we want to go. Not a bad life, except the fact that the grandkids are in Calif.
9/14/2003
What I did this Summer: Jetsam Memoirs
Autumn approaches. The air is crisp and clear. The sky is studded with puffy clouds and it's good to be alive, and outside, with long sleeves. A time for reflection, to nourish that seed of inner peace that has taken root in the fecund humus of the soul.
Yesterday, I planted a row of hardy chrysanthemums on the north border with the Murphys. I built a berm out of compost from the back yard. It took about twenty wheelbarrows full of rich dark organic material. I had several large, aged piles of rotted grass clippings, vegetable peelings, assorted prunings and leaves. The back is kept mostly natural so pine needles and leaves are never raked, but left to decay naturally. This produces a layer several inches thick of the black gold called "leaf mold". I mined several barrels of fluffy, pure compost to mix in the gardens, thus assuring another bountiful harvest next year.
At the end of the day, sitting with an icy Harpoon IPA, I am struck by the alarming brevity of days and the sudden realization that summer has passed with the velocity of a clattering freight train. One moment you are thinking "Jesus! This is eternal." Then, without warning, a thunderous silence. You find yourself squinting at the blinking tail light of a caboose retreating into the dark distance.
The summer was well spent. It started in May, when the leadership at the Hellhole decided to make a decision. The CMT (Crack Management Team) felt that they had to do something to fix the company. The choices were: 1) to reduce the number of costly offsite executive planning meetings, 2) to pump up an impotent sales force, or 3) to lance the festering boil of a bloated workforce.
Previous decisions had included Instituting a new Dress Code, Changing the Company Logo, Reorganizing and Redefining Mission Statement (and confusing nearly everyone), Eliminating free water, Hiring more lawyers, Downgrading support for the biggest customer (because they wanted to be less dependent on the cash cow), Forcing the implementation of a less effective systems (which annoyed the biggest customer even more), and instituting a simplified but incomprehensible set of performance goals.
The results of these initiatives were gratifying for the HR department. Not only did they have more interesting work overseeing the new goals and org chart modifications, but they could busy themselves getting new stationery and business cards with the new logo.
Unfortunately, none of these decisions resulted in increased revenue. The CMT fretted about the bad economic situation, and decided that they needed to go down to Naples Florida, which was the only place that they could think clearly (not to mention the excellent golfing, fishing and other accommodations). They would have to make some hard choices.
The CMT had no use for the wisdom of gurus like Tom Peters who says "You cannot shrink your way to greatness." They felt that the time-honored way to save a sinking boat is to throw things overboard. "Jetsam" is defined as cargo or equipment that is tossed intentionally (as opposed to "flotsam" - the stuff that is ejected into the water as the ship sinks).
Funny, they didn't lay off any senior execs, even though these are the ones who led the ship into the shoals of fiscal wreckage. We marvel at their ability to blame failure on external factors, but fully ready to take full credit for any successes, no matter how accidental.
So, my fellow jetsam and I have had ample opportunity to reflect on the nature of work. And to explore other professions - gardening, multi-level-marketing, thoroughbred handicapper, piano player in a sporting house, freelance writing, fisherman, van driver, house painter, gigilo, you name it. Some of the jetsam engaged in furious job hunting, and some of them did find successful landfall. I have sown some seeds and made some calls. As a no-limits person, I feel that one of these fine crisp days, the phone will ring with the perfect opportunity. (I just hope I am not out back sitting by the verdant garden, snoozing on the chaise lounge when the phone rings.)
Yesterday as I sat, admiring the new compost berm, my wife came home after a hard day at the office . She inspected my work and declared with a scowl, "It looks like a grave."
Yesterday, I planted a row of hardy chrysanthemums on the north border with the Murphys. I built a berm out of compost from the back yard. It took about twenty wheelbarrows full of rich dark organic material. I had several large, aged piles of rotted grass clippings, vegetable peelings, assorted prunings and leaves. The back is kept mostly natural so pine needles and leaves are never raked, but left to decay naturally. This produces a layer several inches thick of the black gold called "leaf mold". I mined several barrels of fluffy, pure compost to mix in the gardens, thus assuring another bountiful harvest next year.
At the end of the day, sitting with an icy Harpoon IPA, I am struck by the alarming brevity of days and the sudden realization that summer has passed with the velocity of a clattering freight train. One moment you are thinking "Jesus! This is eternal." Then, without warning, a thunderous silence. You find yourself squinting at the blinking tail light of a caboose retreating into the dark distance.
The summer was well spent. It started in May, when the leadership at the Hellhole decided to make a decision. The CMT (Crack Management Team) felt that they had to do something to fix the company. The choices were: 1) to reduce the number of costly offsite executive planning meetings, 2) to pump up an impotent sales force, or 3) to lance the festering boil of a bloated workforce.
Previous decisions had included Instituting a new Dress Code, Changing the Company Logo, Reorganizing and Redefining Mission Statement (and confusing nearly everyone), Eliminating free water, Hiring more lawyers, Downgrading support for the biggest customer (because they wanted to be less dependent on the cash cow), Forcing the implementation of a less effective systems (which annoyed the biggest customer even more), and instituting a simplified but incomprehensible set of performance goals.
The results of these initiatives were gratifying for the HR department. Not only did they have more interesting work overseeing the new goals and org chart modifications, but they could busy themselves getting new stationery and business cards with the new logo.
Unfortunately, none of these decisions resulted in increased revenue. The CMT fretted about the bad economic situation, and decided that they needed to go down to Naples Florida, which was the only place that they could think clearly (not to mention the excellent golfing, fishing and other accommodations). They would have to make some hard choices.
The CMT had no use for the wisdom of gurus like Tom Peters who says "You cannot shrink your way to greatness." They felt that the time-honored way to save a sinking boat is to throw things overboard. "Jetsam" is defined as cargo or equipment that is tossed intentionally (as opposed to "flotsam" - the stuff that is ejected into the water as the ship sinks).
Funny, they didn't lay off any senior execs, even though these are the ones who led the ship into the shoals of fiscal wreckage. We marvel at their ability to blame failure on external factors, but fully ready to take full credit for any successes, no matter how accidental.
So, my fellow jetsam and I have had ample opportunity to reflect on the nature of work. And to explore other professions - gardening, multi-level-marketing, thoroughbred handicapper, piano player in a sporting house, freelance writing, fisherman, van driver, house painter, gigilo, you name it. Some of the jetsam engaged in furious job hunting, and some of them did find successful landfall. I have sown some seeds and made some calls. As a no-limits person, I feel that one of these fine crisp days, the phone will ring with the perfect opportunity. (I just hope I am not out back sitting by the verdant garden, snoozing on the chaise lounge when the phone rings.)
Yesterday as I sat, admiring the new compost berm, my wife came home after a hard day at the office . She inspected my work and declared with a scowl, "It looks like a grave."
9/08/2003
Another Road Not Taken
In my eternal quest to discover how I should spend the rest of my life, I have made another choice. I have decided NOT to become a professional gambler. Recent evidence has demonstrated with virtual certainty that in games of chance, if I did not have bad luck, I would have no luck at all. I know that sounds like a line stolen from a blues song, but it is true.
The recent venture to Suffolk Downs (where Seabiscuit was first spotted by his legendary trainer) yielded a big flat negative gain. None of my cleverly worked out 'systems' - designed to select high-paying winners - was successful. I would have done better to go with interesting names (eg 35-1 longshot named "Trailer Trash" - which paid about $75.00. I, of course, bet on another horse, named something like "She-can-win".)
Also, last week I donated a tidy portion of my unemployment check to the Native American Fund, aka Mohegan Sun. (Hey, here's an idea for the Jesse Jackson gang, looking for economic justice - lobby for permits to open Casinos. That's where you can confiscate some serious reparations.)
Anyhow, gambling is not for me. I have invested in Lottery tickets, scratch tickets, football pools, and none of them has paid me back. Roulette, video poker, slot machines all have failed to return anything since that big ($1,000) hit three years ago when I got a royal straight flush on video poker. I'm sure I have given every penny back to those murderous savages.
No, my future is in commerce. Thus, I will redouble my efforts to obtain a traditional job at outrageous wages. Like a surfer, waiting for the perfect wave, I scan the horizon patiently, searching for that perfect opportunity, hoping there are no maneating sharks in the water to chew on my ambitions.
The recent venture to Suffolk Downs (where Seabiscuit was first spotted by his legendary trainer) yielded a big flat negative gain. None of my cleverly worked out 'systems' - designed to select high-paying winners - was successful. I would have done better to go with interesting names (eg 35-1 longshot named "Trailer Trash" - which paid about $75.00. I, of course, bet on another horse, named something like "She-can-win".)
Also, last week I donated a tidy portion of my unemployment check to the Native American Fund, aka Mohegan Sun. (Hey, here's an idea for the Jesse Jackson gang, looking for economic justice - lobby for permits to open Casinos. That's where you can confiscate some serious reparations.)
Anyhow, gambling is not for me. I have invested in Lottery tickets, scratch tickets, football pools, and none of them has paid me back. Roulette, video poker, slot machines all have failed to return anything since that big ($1,000) hit three years ago when I got a royal straight flush on video poker. I'm sure I have given every penny back to those murderous savages.
No, my future is in commerce. Thus, I will redouble my efforts to obtain a traditional job at outrageous wages. Like a surfer, waiting for the perfect wave, I scan the horizon patiently, searching for that perfect opportunity, hoping there are no maneating sharks in the water to chew on my ambitions.
9/03/2003
Labor Day Musings
So, I'm reading in the Globe today that the Police in NewHaven CT arrested Jesse Jackson and 14 striking Yale employees for blocking traffic.
This raises at least two burning questions:
1) What do these people who work for a living have in common with Jesse Jackson? He's never had a real job in his life. It seems to this blog that his principle shtick is to wander freely around America stirring up racial tensions, and, then standing tall in support for the poor oppressed. How does he get paid? Does he travel by public transportation? Why should he worry about having an arrest record? He will probably not have to answer "Yes" to the "Have-you-ever-been-arrested?" question on a job application. Unlike the poor striking workers, who will most likely be forced-out of their current jobs for not being team players. Strikers risk the inevitable conclusion that the organization can run without them. But can they count on Jesse Jackson for a letter of reference. Sorry, the photo op is over. Time to move on to fry new fish.
2) And what is it about blocking traffic to get attention? Surely, this is the most moronically negative attention-getting stunt I can imagine. There is a theory (advanced by biblical scholar, Mel Brooks) that there were actually more than ten commandments, but the others were lost when Moses dropped one of the tablets. I imagine that one of the lost dictates would go something like" "Thou shalt not knowingly impede the flow of traffic." How does a group expect to get sympathy by causing traffic tie-ups? To me, this is not "civil disobedience". This is "Terrorism". Isn't terrorism defined as: inflicting pain on innocent bystanders? It is, in fact, a cowardly act, since the real foes are not directly challenged.
If it were up to me, the traffic blocking arrestees would be remanded to Camp Gitmo in Cuba for serious interrogation and perhaps torture until they admit their heinous crimes. No trial, just a lifetime of sitting around waiting for the line to move.
This raises at least two burning questions:
1) What do these people who work for a living have in common with Jesse Jackson? He's never had a real job in his life. It seems to this blog that his principle shtick is to wander freely around America stirring up racial tensions, and, then standing tall in support for the poor oppressed. How does he get paid? Does he travel by public transportation? Why should he worry about having an arrest record? He will probably not have to answer "Yes" to the "Have-you-ever-been-arrested?" question on a job application. Unlike the poor striking workers, who will most likely be forced-out of their current jobs for not being team players. Strikers risk the inevitable conclusion that the organization can run without them. But can they count on Jesse Jackson for a letter of reference. Sorry, the photo op is over. Time to move on to fry new fish.
2) And what is it about blocking traffic to get attention? Surely, this is the most moronically negative attention-getting stunt I can imagine. There is a theory (advanced by biblical scholar, Mel Brooks) that there were actually more than ten commandments, but the others were lost when Moses dropped one of the tablets. I imagine that one of the lost dictates would go something like" "Thou shalt not knowingly impede the flow of traffic." How does a group expect to get sympathy by causing traffic tie-ups? To me, this is not "civil disobedience". This is "Terrorism". Isn't terrorism defined as: inflicting pain on innocent bystanders? It is, in fact, a cowardly act, since the real foes are not directly challenged.
If it were up to me, the traffic blocking arrestees would be remanded to Camp Gitmo in Cuba for serious interrogation and perhaps torture until they admit their heinous crimes. No trial, just a lifetime of sitting around waiting for the line to move.
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