Before heading into the mountains last week, I had been watching with great interest Ken Burns’ new documentary “The National Parks”. I didn’t grow up a Ken Burns fan…catching only pieces of his “The Civil War” in AP US History. But almost exactly two years ago I found myself in a Homestead Inn eating microwave lasagna in a new place called Alta Sonora ready to start my job. And surfing through the various options on TV (which were on a different time zone than California) I came across “The War” which was a harrowing look into the reality of World War II on various parts of American life.

“Parks” pushes a much different vein…that American history is really about the limits to property rights. And predictably, people started to throw around the “S-word”: socialism. All because as you can imagine, Burns has reverence to the parks and casts the program in a positive light. (To be fair, the man’s political leanings aren’t much different.)

But keep in mind, there’s another obvious reason Ken Burns chose to make this point talking about “Parks” and not say, railroads. (Who also played a decisively role in the West, and over property rights.) National Parks are iconic, and telegenic and make great TV. Dams, power plants, ehhh not so much.

Of course if you want to take Burns’ thesis a little further you could argue that history is driven by the allocation of risk. And that people individually and collectively if acting rationally try to minimize their exposure to risk. But even when they do of course, we’re still wrong. But such a hypothesis usually gets most people uncomfortably close to game theory and an ultra-dynamic view of human nature and society. Something that belies that idea of institutions and rights set in stone.

But that’s a topic for another day, for now I’m just glad my sense of smell is returning after this sinus infection.

 

In the heat of the summer, Rita’s friend Jennifer suggested that her family and ours take a trip to the mountains. More specifically, a cabin owned by a friend of Jennifer’s husband Tom. Rita, immediately smitten by the thoughts of trees, cool air, and the sounds of nature was smitten. The only catch,:Jennifer told us to plan for the first week of October when the weather would be nice, but chilly at night.

I was intrigued too, especially because the cabin was located at the very edge of the Sonoran Republic, a town that could not be mistaken for anything close to Cougar Country. As an example, the first night Rita and Jennifer asked Tom and I to run to the store. However, it being after 10pm the Safeway was closed and we were forced to make do at the Circle K. Upon checking out, I noticed the guy at the cash register had the same last name as the town. I asked him why, and he said his grandfather had settled the town years before. And that was just the first night.

At first we thought that we were just lucky that Tom’s friend had a satellite dish, but then we realized that the entire town did…if they wanted reception that is. The neighboring town’s General Store sold camouflage-colored clothing…for children. Or that to do skeet shooting we were instructed to go down the highway and turn off where it read “Primitive Road, drive at your own risk” until reaching a turn out over an arid and rolling landscape.

But the biggest irony was that it was hardly a long weekend in the woods. The town sat in a valley surrounded by pines to be sure, but the area was artificially green from irrigation sitting near the headwaters of America’s Blue Nile. Despite the high elevation (7000 ft) the neighborhood trees reminded more of Southern California than say, Minnesota. And the cabin was not carved from wood with the scent of sawdust, but a modern and comfortable mobile home style dwelling on a platform.

Each night the four adults would play cards or drinking games and the children slumbered. And when the light broke, the children would let the adults sleep in as they played outside on a street with no traffic.

Idyllic, perhaps, but the truth is that we left much of the area’s treasures to be explored. We never did manage to go hiking, fishing, or see some Indian ruins. But that’s okay, as it leaves the door open to further adventures.

And while our time in the mountain is done…my own personal bout of cabin fever isn’t. That’s right, I woke up on Sunday thinking I was just really thirsty but by this morning it was confirmed…I’m sick. A small price to pay, I suppose, for the chance to get away.

 

I think my Fourth Amendment rights got trampled this week, but I’m not exactly sure. Thursday night, Rita and I went shopping after dinner,  the kids staying with their dad as they normally do. Just after nine we got home and settled in for the night. Then a loud knock was hurt on the door that caused us both a lot of consternation. We opened the door to see…the police.

What was alarming wasn’t their presence but that the male officer asked if I could step outside for a minute. Of course, having watched my share of “COPS” and “Law and Order”, I didn’t like being asked to step outside without being told what for. However instead of getting out the handcuffs, the cop just explained there had been a call for some very loud screaming to the point in which the police suspected a murder. Now in Cougar Country, “murder” is this concept that sort of akin to an Elmore Leonard novel. It happens, but it’s almost never random and oozes subplots and intrigue.

The other police officer, who was female, went inside to chat with Rita for a minute. No sooner had I started some small talk with the other one, than their conversation was over and I asked when the caller reporter hearing the scream. The male officer said about half an hour ago, which we thought was probably when we were still shopping. In any case, that was that we thought.

But then, about ten minutes later…the cops returned asking if we would allow a search of our unit. Now, as you can imagine…Rita and I were pretty darn certain they wouldn’t find a body so we obliged. Only the female officer went in and…she noticed the fact that the kids room was empty. But beyond that, she walked in such a way that she obvious found nothing exciting and thanked us upon leaving.

Relieved, Rita and I tried to relax and put the whole thing behind us. It occurred to me though, that I might have reacted the wrong way. Not in the sense of being ridiculous or suspicious, but if I should have not stepped outside until I asked the police if they intended to search or arrest me. (In this case, they decided to perform a search of our place but obviously didn’t have a warrant.)

Now you might think this is some sort of academic question…that if you are innocent you have “nothing to worry about.” But I disagree because I think the innocent do, have plenty to worry about. The police are not, after all, omniscient and rely on the evidence they collect to make decisions. People can be arrested as you can imagine on suspicion alone. Moreover, any good defense attorney will tell you that the way to win is to argue the evidence itself. For, the state must prove the evidence suggests the defendant committed the alleged crime beyond any reasonable doubt.

And that is perhaps the most unusual part of the story. Recently, we have had a large number of new neighbors move into the complex. Many, we noticed, have pets or other animals. Is it possible that the new tenants simply thought they had heard shrieking when in fact it was something else? And why did they think it came from our unit which actually has a exterior wall? (We have only neighbors on one side.) What evidence were the police really looking for, and as you can imagine, would anyone really be able to tell?

Meanwhile, despite how many lawyers I know, it’s still not so obvious what is the proper way to engage the policeman at your door who won’t tell you why they are there at first. Not because I really care about last Thursday, but because there’s always a chance next time the lawmen won’t agree with us and go home.

 

A momentous occasion happened this weekend, one destined for the history books. Rita finally agreed to get the sports tier on cable. Yes, I know, it may seem insignificant to you but as things go, this was a truly epic change.

Nursing a bad hangover, Rita still was sleeping on Saturday when USC at Washington kicked off. However, I didn’t get to see the game because it was blacked out on local television and cable. (For some really odd reason, ABC/ESPN elected to show Nebraska at Virginia Tech instead.)

Instead, I had to break it to her after the fact that U-Dub had basically held court on USC all game, and then in the final minutes chipped in a field goal to win it. She thought I was joking…since Washington was 0-12 in 2008. But you know, the school did hire USC old offensive coordinator as head coach and then he turned around and lured Nick Holt, the defensive coordinator for the Trojans to Seattle….

But I digress.

I then had to break it to Rita that Kansas State at UCLA was also blacked out locally, but available on the sports tier channel Fox College Sports Central. (As far as I know, there was no way to see USC/Washington). She asked if we could order the service right then and there…but I had to explain…you need to actually pick up the box to do that and the cable company offices were in fact, closed. So as a compromise we went out to dinner at the Fox Sports Grille and watched UCLA take the bulldozer to the Wildcats.

As you can imagine, the bill wasn’t ridiculous, but it was more than the monthly cost of the subscription. In fact, it was almost the same as the cost of adding the digital cable receiver, a DVR box rental, and the sports tier for the whole month. Rita sheepishly replied after we left that maybe it was cheaper just to get the sports package after all.

Of course, UCLA has a bye next weekend, so it’s not the most pressing concern. But it' is always good when a domestic dispute has a positive resolution, no?

 

Lately, I have needed to check TV Guide’s website more often to see when various football games start. That led me to look at the fall TV line-up because…ironically I don’t watch much broadcast television anymore outside of sports or PBS. At first, I felt almost guilty because it makes me so culturally illiterate to ignore what’s on prime time TV. But upon closer inspection I realized that I have been vindicated. There’s not much on these days, except for a handful of franchise shows like CSI, and reality programming.

The odd parallel is that I was living in Los Angeles at the time of the actors’ strike years ago, and I can tell you unfortunately it’s all related. In fact, the strike hastened the use of reality TV because actors were not available…but as market share declined…became cheaper as well.

But this isn’t what drives me nuts. Oh no. It’s that cable has become a farm system for the major networks. Now that ABC, CBS, and NBC, Fox own over half the cable channels themselves there’s really nothing good there either. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I find stuff I like but….

Again, you might think that this is a good thing….a sign of moral and cultural victory that I watch less and less TV. But the truth is, I’d argue the same problem has affected all media, be it radio, music, or books. Art after all, is merely the history of culture. And to that end, it is perhaps culture that is in the greatest decline.

Not high culture, not low culture, not ethnic culture, not religious culture. No, television and other media convinces me that humans are losing the ability to communicate and connect with one another. Not because of the impact of something menacing like say, the Internet or the “lack of morals”. No it’s something far weirder something more having to do with media being owned by few entities and Wal-Mart only stocking a handful of books. It’s the commoditization of art. It’s about constantly reaching to old ideas or sequels to create new art instead of developing fresh content.

The situation is far from hopeless though. I suspect something shall fill this void. And it seems likely to be correlate to whatever dynastic changes occur as the Baby Boomers fade away and leave their children in charge. For now though, I find myself spending ever longer and the bookstore, online, or watching TV and finding less and less.

 

Imagine my shock last night, when after cleaning up the abode for a couple hours to see “Meet the Press” tackle the subject of unemployment. More specifically, they cited an article in that artifact of a bygone era, “Time” magazine.

David Gregory seemed almost to delight in reading the following quote before addressing the panel:

America now faces the direst employment landscape since the Depression. It's troubling not simply for its sheer scale but also because the labor market, shaped by globalization and technology and financial meltdown, may be fundamentally different from anything we've seen before. And if the result is that we're stuck with persistent 9%-to-11% unemployment for a while — a range whose mathematical congruence with that other 9/11 is impossible to miss — we may be looking at a problem that will define the first term of Barack Obama's presidency the way the original 9/11 defined George W. Bush's. Like that 9/11, this one demands a careful refiguring of some of the most basic tenets of national policy. And just as the shock of Sept. 11 prompted long-overdue (and still not cemented) reforms in intelligence and defense, the jobs crisis will force us to examine a climate that has been deteriorating for years. The total number of nonfarm jobs in the U.S. economy is about the same now — roughly 131 million — as it was in 1999. And the Federal Reserve is predicting moderate growth at best. That means more than a decade without real employment expansion. [link}

Anyone who has read my blog knows that more than once, I predicted that unemployment would continue to rise not because of some inner nihilistic streak…but because the unemployment rate turns on those LOOKING for work not those who NEED it or who are, as they say UNDER-employed. Plenty of people ready to retire two years now find themselves having to curtail those plans and that’s a major contributor to the rate. (Indeed, I wouldn’t be surprised as I’ve said if we get to 15-20% unemployment sometime this decade not because the economy collapses but because suddenly work, not investing, becomes the only way to support oneself again.)

More revealing, I thought, was this excerpt from later on:

If you look at the three great job busts of the past 100 years — the 1930s, the early 1980s and today — you find an important difference. The Reagan recession ended with workers returning to jobs that were the same as or similar to the ones they had lost. But 1930s joblessness was structural. The jobs people lost — largely in agriculture — never came back. Workers had to move to the industrial sector, a transition helped by the demands of a war.

What struck me the most about this statement was its simplicity. That what really happened in 1983 was that out of work people simply went back to work as if nothing ever happened…while the Depression buried American agriculture alive like a dust storm on the Plains. But as you might know, it was the recession of the early 80s that began the slow, grinding decline of the Rust Belt. And while John Steinbeck was not around to chronicle workers’ plight and ensuring relocation to the Sunbelt…it happened nonetheless.

And this is why the piece suggests that people were able to go back to the same line of employment as before. Because just as the Rust Belt exodus began, so did the Sun Belt Renaissance start. It is no coincidence that foreign car companies opened factories not in the union strongholds of Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania but in places like Tennessee, Mississippi, and South Carolina. So this swap, if you will was actually a net loss….if only because the absence of unions and a lower cost of living allowed Nissan, Toyota, and BMW to pay their workers less.

Thus with the manufacturing base slowly in decline…you can imagine that many workers felt their only option was the service sector. But as big box stores crushed their competition using economies of scale, and educational costs increased faster than inflation choices continued to evaporate. That is, until the 401k made everyone believe they too could be rich someday and the leave the work to someone else.

The panel on “Meet the Press”, however, was quick to point out that if the economy was going through a structural change, new industries would be necessary to replace old ones. And that aside from “green jobs”, the President had done little to flesh this out.

Of course, new opportunities exist. The real question is how long will America grapple with this transition and just how influential we will be on the world stage when it is complete. My own suspicion is that it will take much longer than we would like and will cost us dearly, but not everything.

 

Despite what you might think, it’s been fairly quiet ‘round these parts. In fact, the big development last weekend was…the mosquitoes. It’s been awful dry this summer in Alta Sonora leading me to think nothing of being outside in just flip flops at a pool party this weekend. It might have helped if I actually had gone into the pool…but Justin really wanted to toss a football around. Soon, I was referring a touch football game between a handful of kids.

Upon getting home, I began to feel that predictable itch. But I have to say, I didn’t think it was so bad. That is until I woke up in the middle of the night. I first tried to rub my ankles against the mattress. Then I used my toenails to scratch. And before it was over, after two hours of torment, I washed my feet to reduce the dryness.

Of course, this occurred despite using anti-itch cream. As you can imagine, it’s difficult to apply that stuff at work while wearing dress socks and slacks.

Today, however, was better. And I expect things to improve unless Mr. Staph decides to drop in for a visit. (Note, it doesn’t “look” infected.)

Dedicated readers of my blog will remember that just about this time last year…I also provided plenty of nourishment for the local mosquito horde after lingering in the twilight at the pool.

Some things never change, I guess.

 

Last weekend, there was finally time to do a lot of stuff I had been putting off: oil change for car, haircut for me, marching the kids to the library…and oh yeah a teeth cleaning at a dentist Rita referred me to. As you can imagine, these type of errands are hardly carefree…all it takes is one bad look from the mechanic, hair stylist, or dentist and you can be reaching for your wallet. However, as luck would have it, I finished the oil change and haircut before lunch and without incident. No major repairs, no hair loss. I told the kids I would be back after a one hour teeth cleaning.

I never made it. It was dinner time before I came home and the news wasn’t good. No, I didn’t have some awful disease…I had something completely reversible—for a price. The last time I had dental insurance (think 2002)…I didn’t have any cavities. As a result I had my wisdom teeth removed (to be safe) and paid about $2000 for the general anesthesia and a co-pay for each tooth. And then for years on end…I had no insurance and never had much pain or discomfort.

Although I’ve had dental insurance for the past two years, I didn’t realize at first how important my choice of plan was. So for that reason I continued to delay my visit until I learned that as a dental PPO patient, I had limits on coverage per year. Hence I went last weekend….about one month before my coverage turned over.

The visit began with dental X-rays. They proved to be a major chore because of the small size of my mouth. The assistant and hygienist had a hell of time trying to fit the blocky probe (because you see they now use digital imaging) into my mouth. And then, afterwards she began to clean. She found enough gum separation to suggest a “deep cleaning” (which cost money as you might imagine). So I told her to wait and see what the dentist himself found.

They had already locked the door to the office for the day by the time he arrived. A younger guy, he also happened to be a UCLA alum and had done his grad work at USC. (Amazing I tell you.) He started his diagnosis with an interesting question: “Did you ever wear braces?” (I thought he was impressed on how straight my teeth were…as some people are.) Instead he remarked that I had a form of decalcification that was common among people with braces. Or soda drinkers…. (That’s not me…never.)

In any case, he basically decided that I had several cavities near the gum line. In many cases that would require crowns. That didn’t sound too bad…until he said it would require 6-8 visits over hour half a day in the chair. Now I’ve had tons of dental work done thanks to my parents and their idea that raisins make a great snack….but I haven’t done a 6-8 hour marathon. Hell, the wisdom teeth extraction took maybe 3 hours.

But then afterwards I told the dentist that it sounded like this could be about “five figures”. He disagreed with that gut reaction and waited to see what the office manager would do after running my insurance. Sure as anything, she noticed that the total amount of work recommended would require a patient co pay of around $10,000. This is because my benefits max out at $2000 a year. I told her that I would try and schedule the work as soon as I could…but that the dentist’s position that I should get it all done as soon as possible was likely wishful thinking.

Especially after I brought the estimate home to Rita. :)

You might think however, that my dental insurance is not particularly good. However the office manager was quick to point out: “You have really good insurance.”

I’m sure I do….But I don’t know what you are supposed to do to defray costs like that. Especially because if you noticed….the “health care debate” hasn’t mentioned dentistry at all. And that’s a shame…mostly because if there’s one part of your body that is disproportionately impacted by diet it’s your mouth. And if there’s one thing that has caused health care costs to rise in the past few years…it’s diet…spurred by the proliferation of corn syrup.

But hey, it could have been worse. At least my car doesn’t need a new transmission or anything….

 

Of the scintillating developments in the past week, I am afraid only one probably would raise your eyebrow. Namely, I have moved into my third office in three years working in the Crunk Factory. I decided to go for many reasons, not the least of which is the furniture that the old occupant (who moved to an even bigger office) left behind. It included some nice bookcases and a horizontal file cabinet. That and a nice desk set that matches the former.

Soon after moving in though, I noticed the most arresting thing was how easily the my coworker’s layout availed itself to really cool decorations and designs. This is a telegenic place, I realized. So now I’m off…to decorate my office in a way that I heretofore had never really taken the effort to.

I have lots of great ideas, but we will see if they pan out. Don’t be surprised of course, to see photos in the near future.

But I also moved because I was tired of having a messy office and wanted a reason to clean it all out and start over. It was just….time. Any designs suggestions, meanwhile, are appreciated.

 

So much for any hope of a moral victory against my landlord.

Without much warning, I found myself in the leasing office at Rita’s apartment this week. The reason? Her management company requires tenants to have renter’s insurance. Not that Rita didn’t have a policy, it’s that only she and I were on it when she renewed this month. The leasing office, eager to fix this, told us I would have to be added to the lease immediately. Naturally, I planned to do after giving back my keys at the other place at the start of October. So I didn’t think there would be much heartburn in accelerating the date and being on two leases at once if only for about six weeks.

But, as you can imagine, since this made it into the blog….we are hardly at the end of the story….

Rita filed out a renter’s application for me and proceeded to drive to work so I could sign it and have her take it back to the office. I then went to lunch with Duane who was archetypically skeptical. “Now they have you over a barrel…” he said.

Rita then called me to say my application was pending, but that she would inform me of when it was complete. Eventually, I had to call to her ask what happened, but she informed me after an hour that it was “still pending”. Finally, around 4:30pm, she phoned to say that she had “bad news”. My credit was so bad, the management company was demanding an additional security deposit (which we didn’t have) of around $600. This is because Rita and Chey (not the paragons of great credit) paid a small $200 deposit when they moved in last spring. Now, for the privilege of releasing Chey and adding me, the management company required that deposit grow to one month’s rent, hence the $600ish increase.

I immediately began to think something was fishy. Back in May, Rita and I went to another complex (which is in many respects nicer than her current one) owned by the same company. They waived the application fee and let us apply right then. So I did, and I was approved with NO SECURITY DEPOSIT. I told the lady this was interesting, but welcome: I had paid a one month deposit at my current address.

Sitting in my office, I wasn’t satisfied with Rita’s explanation that “….Face it….your credit sucks, man!”. I immediately began to think if they had some sort of punitive policy because it was an existing lease and not a new one. (The management company is publicly traded…so they must be concerned about yield somehow.) The leasing agent denied it.

I wondered if my rental history was to blame, given that I did have to pay a month’s rent at the last place. (And hence they might assume I’m a sucker.) But this was denied too.

The leasing agent then made some off hand comment about the formula changing or something like that…and I instantly said….”Oh I get it…they must have used FICO 08”.

What’s FICO 08, you ask? Well if you have taken out a large amount of credit you are probably familiar with FICO. It’s an algorithm that estimates your credit worthiness and creates a “score”. It’s not your credit report, instead FICO is a formula that rates certain parts of your credit history more important than others. But the other key point is that FICO is proprietary; major rating agencies like TransUnion, Experian, etc. have to pay to use because it’s so “effective”.  As a result those agencies then have to charge third parties like banks and the leasing office access to the data. Now this is important because as you can imagine, the more often you run a credit report…the more often the agency and FICO get paid….

FICO, by the way,  is actually short for the Fair Isaac Corporation. This is because the original two guys who dreamed up the idea had the surnames “Fair” and “Isaac”,  not because it was created by someone who was fair or is otherwise balanced.

Soon after I invoked FICO 08 at the leasing office, Rita was quick to point out,” Why would they roll it out during a recession? Oh man….”

The answer is that Fair Isaac Corporation was under pressure from banks. You know, those same banks that for years had been using FICO scores to scrye the creditworthiness of homebuyers eager to join the housing bubble. And as you can imagine, those same banks now want nothing to do with the very same group of people.

Of course, it is true that during my San Diego vacation, I continually had to push back paying my utilities to get through the trip. (Don’t go there.) But I wasn’t late on my rent, and at the time I was already months behind on my student loans. So it’s hard to see how the electric company, cable company, and my cell phone could have stuck it to me that bad over the course of a month….

But now you ask, why exactly is my credit score so crappy in the first place, given that I’ve had a job for a while now and pay nearly all my bills except for student loans on time? Well the visceral answer from the bank is that I haven’t settled up all my debts from when I was out of work a few years ago. (I still get collection notices on that one.) The other reason, though is a big more, um empirical.

Think of a casino. Ask yourself, who does the casino really want in there? First, they don’t want good gamblers. So if you have taken lots of credit risks, your score goes down. Second they don’t want people without money to spend. So if you have a “short payment history” the credit agencies and banks don’t want you either. But if you have a lot of money, and you aren’t particular good about gambling with it…well the casino wants you and will offer lots to get it. But then, when you run out, the casino throws you out.

Enter me. After piling up a mortgage-sized amount of student debt the credit agencies don’t want me anymore. Not because of the loans themselves, but because they can’t be discharged in bankruptcy and reduce the likelihood that I will spend big on a car or a house. And what do I have to do to get better credit? Pay off the debt and appear vulnerable to a good deal.

But the joke is sort of them….this whole experience at the bottom of the credit ladder has made me less and less excited about debt and more and more against financing stuff. It might be unavoidable for cars and houses, but the only thing I miss about not having a credit card is….the free airline miles.

 

Just the other day, I found out about downloadable books from the library. I was so excited, that I hurriedly pulled out my library card from the depths of my wallet. After checking a few out, I went to bed and figured that was it.

The next day I had to get something from wallet, and I realized that my driver’s license was missing. I looked around the office, but figured it was at home somewhere around the couch where I had pulled out my library card. But when I got back, my license was nowhere to be found. It then occurred to me that I might have thrown it out accidentally when I was cleaning out my wallet the other day.

Nevertheless, reality sunk in and I took a deep breath. Time to go to the Motor Vehicles Division and get a duplicate license. Luckily, here in Alta Sonora it costs $4. I got up the next day and found little or no wait and a clean new facility. It’s almost nothing like California, I tell you that much.

However, I learned that I couldn’t get the license actually duplicated. I would have to take my picture over. Although I didn’t plan on this, I felt reasonably comfortable about it. I stood up straight and tried to muster a smile. And I noticed how bright the light was, and it soon became difficult to concentrate on my posture. I walked back to the seating area to listen for my name being called.

It only took a minute or two, and then I saw my shiny new license and carefully inspected my name. (I already had to correct it once before by accident to make sure I could use it at the airport.) That checked out fine, but then I saw--- my picture was horrible! My smile turned into a teeth gritting gesture worthy of a mugshot. That’s not to say I consider myself photogenic, but even I have my expectations. Moreover, I thought the woman staffing the desk would let me take the photo over. But instead she rambled on about something and looked at me as if I was going to hurt someone. Instead, I was just in shock that as unexpectedly bad as the photo came out, that I wasn’t offered a redo.

Of course the story is far from over. Now that I have talked about it, I’m sure I’ll get requests to put it on Facebook. And if I don’t….remember this is still the only identification other than my passport I can use to get on a plane…. It’s enough to make me thankful I’m not……um…..named Mohammed.

 

It can be said that there’s not much to do in Alta Sonora during the summer. What are options you do have however, are inexorably reduced further if you want to do something for free. So tensions ran high this week as Rita, Justin, and Julia and I tried to fend off the effects of cabin fever. Once though contained to the remote regions of the Midwest, Canada, and the East Coast during the brunt of winter…cabin fever tends to manifest itself as the mercury soars northward.

With few or little options to break monotony, I suggested we go to my apartment and begin to move some of my remaining stuff over to Rita’s place. Ostensibly the plan was just to take kitchen equipment and my cache of soda and bottled water. But before I knew it, we were stripping the bare. (Okay, so not really.) But we did pack my car full of stuff and I did sweat quite a bit in the process.

Rita’s friends though, weren’t about to let her down. We ended up going to visit a friend of hers after dinner and had a fun Friday night. Once again, no Chevy Tahoes were harmed….

 

It’s been a tedious week to say the least. The weather has been really hot, and to make matters worse I’m broke. Well, more like I had to pay my student loans this week or face default…so I ponied up and found myself with about $50 left…just enough to buy gas until I get paid again. But as you can imagine, this is cold comfort for the kids, Rita, and myself as the weeks drag on.

Faced with even more time than usual to peruse the various news outlets, I couldn’t help but notice the odd synergy between the nomination of Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court and the health care reform bill. Originally, the President asked for a final vote on the proposal before the August recess that began earlier today. Then it became a vote in both Houses, and then final capitulation to continuing the debate after the break.

As far as the Sotomayor nomination went, you might recall, the Senate GOP also objected to a vote before the August recess. But efforts to derail that as well didn’t work. Or was this the idea in the first place…to have the nomination vote occur before the health care measure? I tend to think so.

Why you ask? The President has sought bipartisan support for his legislation, but the Republican minority has demonstrated vigorous opposition. It is true, though, that at the time the Executive implored the GOP to get on board the Democrats lacked the sixty votes needed to end a filibuster. Now they do.

But there’s been trouble in paradise. Many conservative Democrats have balked at the President’s requests and conspired to water down the bill hoping that it in fact, dies. Not because they oppose the reforms, per se, but because it allows many of them as newly-elected members of Congress to avoid a contentious vote only months before the next election. That is, unless the Republicans come out of the proverbial closet and endorse bill too.

So if you are a willing vote on the health care reform law in the Republican minority, what do you do? You vote on a symbolic but unrelated measure, like say a….judicial nomination. Want more proof?

Of the nine Senators who voted to confirm the justice, four have announced they will not seek re-election. The other five? None will be on the ballot in 2010… Moreover, bloggers have noted this was the first time that four Republican senators (McCain, Hutchinson, Bennett, and Grassley) have ever voted no on a Supreme Court nominee. Meanwhile, Republican Mel Martinez of Florida announced his resignation only one day after casting his vote for Sotomayor.

Of course its really possible as others have suggested that the real reason for all this is the GOP’s nationwide strategy in 2010. But then you have to wonder…just which issue is likely to loom larger in the campaign, Sotomayor or national health care?

 

Faced with a reeling economy for months on end, I wondered how many companies would find their way to recovery. Several months ago, my landlord proved that the answer wouldn’t be a government program, or the free market, but instead taking it out of my hide.

Somewhere in my lease was a clause that allowed the landlord to require me to have cable TV as a service provided by the landlord and subject to the city’s renter tax. At first, the landlord sent me lots of information that told me how great it would be if I signed an addendum to my lease to provide the service. But when I refused, I made sure to call my attorney friends and ask if such an arrangement was legal.

But nobody really knew.

So I called the city, and found out that if you wanted landlord/tenant counseling it was a walk-in service and it was only available during business hours. This was a stark contrast to Los Angeles, where several nonprofits offer landlord-tenant advice.

I also called the cable company. You see, I already had cable TV service beyond what the addendum would have provided. And I didn’t have satellite TV or something like that…so as you can imagine…other than a few dollars of tax to the city I had no reason to be upset, you’d think. But you’d be wrong.

Ever since I moved in the management company had been angling to raise rents…by a lot. It’s because the complex was slated for a condo conversion and was nearly empty only to be bought and turned back to apartments. (This place is new, and not a dump.) Obviously faced with no way to charge what they wanted to, they decided to use the cable TV clause to ensure a backdoor increase in rent.

Now if there’s one thing I don’t like…and I say this with all honesty…it’s anti-competitive behavior. Maybe I’m quaint and old-fashioned yearning for a free market n’ all…but I was stewing over this. See, the cable company told me that such agreements are common, but the landlord receives a discount and can pass on some of it to the tenant. Guess what happened in my case….

And then, to be cute, the landlord decided to send me a renewal notice that would hike my rent by another $50. The “basic” cable service was another “$50” on top of that…if you factor in the higher taxes it was a rent increase of almost 15%. I had had it…I was ready to move out, but I didn’t have quite enough to afford moving. That and where I wanted to move to was out of my price range.

But thanks be to Rita. Not long after this happened, we decided to move together when my lease expired. (Originally we had planned to get a new apartment, but for now we are standing pat at her two-bedroom in Cougar Country.)

Thus, after returning my vacation, it was time for me to serve notice on my landlord. And oh how sweet it was to tell them that the reason I was moving out was that I didn’t like this sort of backhanded tactics to squeeze money out of me. Of course, they willing to show me whatever it took to stay…but I had to tell them the awful truth--

Rita hates the place.

The irony is though, at Rita’s apartment we are also stuck having cable. Not because the landlord forces us to, but because she doesn’t have a view of southern sky and thus cannot get a signal from a satellite. And believe me, she likes her DirecTV….

 

Even though it’s been an intriguing week at the Crunk Factory (which is saying something for July), I confess to listening to the annual PAC-10 Media Day’s feed. News is hardly made there, given that each school has his coach parse words carefully and strategically select one player to answer a few questions. Not to be outdone, Fox Sports decided to accept “tweets” as a format for people who are not members of the media to ask questions. I can’t say I was particularly riven by any of these.

However, as you may know, the Conference recently hired a new Commissioner to succeed the newly-retired Tom Hansen. (He held this post for a quarter century, and helped to um, make the PAC 10 look slow to change…) The new Commissioner, Larry Scott is a veteran of the Women’s Tennis Association and not um….well anyway…. Scott was hired in large part because he’s negotiated lucrative TV deals and exposure to help make the WTA more profitable.

The Commish had the honor of announcing the Conference’s new bowl pairings, which include the Rose, Holiday, Sun, Las Vegas, Emerald and Poinsettia Bowls. And when asked why a conference like the PAC-10 which was 5-0 in bowl games this winter “traded down”, Scott proclaimed it is because the PAC-10 teams have a huge natural advantage playing on the West Coast.

I’m still wondering why we keep giving up the Hawai’i Bowl. Sure it’s true that the state of Florida isn’t excited about having people from the relatively warm and dry West having to buy tickets to bowl games in Orlando or Jacksonville. Those are much easier sells for those poor souls who live where January leaves a foot of snow on the ground…

But if you don’t play in any rock star bowl games…it’s hard to see how the conference gets more exposure. It’s hard to see also how the conference shakes the reputation it doesn’t travel well. And it’s hard to see how the conference ever gets treated with the same respect as the ACC, Big Ten, Big 12 or the big, bad SEC.

And doesn’t he realize the PAC 10 is 5-4 all time in Las Vegas Bowl? I mean, Duane sure does….

 

Of all the possible revelations one could have on a three-week vacation that included my 29th birthday, none proved so harrowing as to learn that my life and my memorabilia has been reduced to five boxes.

All the memories that childhood and adolescence wrought have now been edited to a mere snapshot. A glimpse as to what was.

But allow me to elaborate. Even if you know me well, you might be confused at this point.

Two years ago, I left Southern California to take a position at the Crunk Factory in Alta Sonora. I had been out of work for close to nine months and owing money left (student loans) and right (car payments), So when the offer came, I simply put what I could in my car and drove away figuring that I would have to come back later for the rest of it.

I left a roomful of stuff with my maternal grandmother who owned a house passed through the generations since it was built. But as luck would have it, she was ill at the time and in the hospital for treatment. Shortly after relocation, she died and my sister inherited the property. She wasn’t eager to sell (and neither was I) so for a while at least I thought my stuff was safe.

She decided to have a family friend (and ne’er do well) clean up the house to prepare for rental. My sister assured me that the family friend put any valuable heirlooms and items in the garage. Of course, the garage had a leaky roof that I knew about so my sister used a home equity loan to repair the roof and install central air conditioning. (The garage is not connected to the house, but is large.)

And that was that I thought…until I learned from my sisters a few months ago that the family friend was getting evicted for failure to pay rent…for five months. Naturally I was not happy because I suspected that this person would take advantage of my sister from the get go…I even warned my other sister as much at my grandmother’s funeral. But alas, it was to no avail.

At some point in the process, my sister learned that several repairs she had paid her tenant to arrange never occurred. (We suspect that she pocketed the money.) And then as my siblings realized that not only was the roof leaking, but that most of what was in the garage was destroyed. As a result, I didn’t have enough time to make it out to sift through it and my sister decided to salvage what she could and put the rest in storage. (This allowed them to re-rent the property.)

But while I imagined the storage area to be this vast space the size of the garage, I have since learned it is probably the size of my closet. When asked how much of it was mine, my sister replied maybe five boxes. Supposedly included in the haul was my college diploma. As for my books, high school medals, and awards and the stuff your parents usually keep (if they are alive that is), I have no idea what made it and what didn’t. Some of the stuff I kept out of principle, like textbooks and don’t mourn the loss. But other stuff, like my Academic Decathlon medals will be solely missed if they are gone.

I don’t tell you this to story to wallow in pity. No, it’s because my sisters, faced with this situation went back to their Irish roots. Don’t get mad, get even. And so tomorrow, they are scheduled to arrive in small claims court and ask for damages. Given what I lost, there’s no need for me to be reimbursed. What’s gone can’t be replaced, and disappears into the vortex that has claimed much of my past. Memories, but not much more.

But what’s that you say, at least I have my diploma to finally put in my office. Well…ironically enough that diploma is actually a reprint. The original had my surname misspelled. For that reason, it actually does not look like my classmates’ ones issued in 2002, but those issued two years later. (Most notably it has Arnold Schwarzenegger’s signature instead of Gray Davis.) Had it been destroyed though,  requiring me to get yet another one, take heart…

The reissuance fee is only $75.

I can remember each of the four times my low fuel light has gone on in the six years I have owned my car. Call me paranoid, but I place a high priority on a full tank. (Actually it has more to do with the fact that I am conditioned to fill up on the weekends regardless of how big the tank is so that if something comes up during the week, I don't have to sweat finding a station somewhere I don't know.)

The first time it came on, it was because I happened to be working around the corner from Costco, and it was cheaper to fill up there than where I worked. The second time it was on a hill in Century City, careening down Olympic Boulevard. (Basically, the light came on by accident with the gas being displaced by centripetal force.) The third time, I actually was broke and heading to Weinerschitznel in Santa Monica when I panicked and headed for a gas station because I didin't know if I had enough to get home.

This weekend, however, it was self-inflicted. We were called into the Crunk Factory and I was to meet Rita at a party. The extra trip to work meant that I had a little less than usual and I needed to drop something off at her place. So I ended up driving the long way around for a total of 30 miles. On the way back, with maybe ten minutes to go...I saw the light go on. I wasn't sure if I would make it, but Rita wanted to follow me home because she was tired...so I risked it.

The irony is, the next day I scurried to the closest gas station around...which by far was not the cheapest. ($2.83) By the time I got there however, there was a new funny development...the light had turned off. This is probably because the heat had caused the gas to expand and fool the meter once again. I filled up and it was 10 gallons. Minor detail, since the car's manual says the tank holds a whopping 13 gallons. (If this is true, given the fuel economy it gets...that's potentially 100 miles with your light on....)

So while I didn't find myself on the road dead...when I got home...the US Soccer team did. In a matter of minutes my Facebook feed went from total support and undying admiration to not a peep at all. That's because after leading 2-0 in the Final of the Confederations Cup (a meaningless tournament invented by the Saudis) Brazil clawed back in the second half to win 3-2 (and that's after the US luckily had one Brazilian goal called off by accident...) I for one liked what I saw...an American soccer team that looked solid and even inspiring. The difference was that the Sambas (yes I know) showed everyone how you respond to that adversity. It might seem hard to believe but it was probably one of the greatest comebacks of all time. So, for the US this sounds bad and deflating...but remember this championship doesn't really mean anything. And now, instead of being content and fat for the rest of the World Cup schedule, the Americans have something to prove. Still, with the World Cup a  year away, anything can happen.

Personally however, this is the moment I think when US Soccer becomes worthwhile to me to be associated as a fan. This game showed that while the US lacks Brazil's depth...we finally have players that are of an international caliber. And besides, if we had won and joined the rest of the world by dominating in soccer we would be required to adopt universal health care...(just kidding).

The irony could not be greater though, for this week is also time to recharge my batteries. Tomorrow I head out on vacation for a while, and I will be posting less than normal. But I'll be back and hopefully running less often on empty myself.

Facebook was restored at the Crunk Factory just in time.

Not because it gave me the chance to learn of celebrities dropping like flies, but because it gave me something to do other than PowerPoint.

You see, I don't use PowerPoint at work very often. In fact, usually the only time I dust it off is for training classes I do during the summer. And with those classes coming up, I decided to get a head start this week in updating my stuff for this year.

As luck would have it however, Rita also needed my help for a presentation she had to give in her last class this semester. The fun began though not with teaching her how to cut and paste slides, but over the material she had to collect and collate from her group partners. Once we had receipt of their portions, then it was time to reconcile the master product.

Of course, I tend to follow a different philosophy about what you do with PowerPoint than some might. I try to put as few words as possible on a slide and instead focus on images and the line of sight. For example, I try to move the text and picture around on each slide so that if you see the picture on the right at first, then advancing to have the picture on the left. I also tend to enjoy using panoramic shots and other pictures that draw the eyes of the audience around. This forces them to pay attention, subconsciously.

I was trying think where I got such inspiration. It occurred to me this week that one of my favorite pastimes as a preteen was reading "The Cartoon History of the Universe" by Larry Gonick. History it turns out, is great material for a graphic novel. But few have done what Gonick has, using a graphic medium to illustrate both text and images at once.

But as you might imagine, it's not that easy to find pictures on the web without violating copyright. That's why I like to pay a visit to Wiki Commons. Yes, I know, you think this is probably lame, don't you? But in all truth, I find it fascinating the sort of photos I find there, historic or otherwise. Use the right font and you can have a very simple, but very powerful slide.

Of course, the other thing about PowerPoint is that it reminds how hard it is to teach. That for all the cool designs and hip technology, getting people to pay attention is difficult. Now you might wonder, Thomas, why don't you teach for a living? And the answer to that is pretty simple. Teaching is not a valued skill anymore. And by that I don't mean for students in high school or younger. No, I mean in the nation's best universities and graduate programs...teaching isn't what pays the bills...research does. And it really breaks my heart (if such a thing is possible) to imagine myself having to choose between research and teaching. Not because I think research is bad...because education is really about succession planning if you will. It's about replacing human capital before you die.

But as I told one of my coworkers along time ago, I could still be convinced to teach in a vocational setting. But I wanted to have real-life experience first, so that the poor students don't feel that I'm wasting their time...with my great oratory or my rad PowerPoint slides.

Echoing a sentiment I heard at work today, you never really know how much you appreciate time off until you lose it. And so, this was first full weekend in a while, allowing me to partake in that whole American Dream thing.

Originally, Rita wanted me to come with her to the annual 80's theme party sponsored by a local radio station. But I wasn't sure if I would have to work, so I passed on buying tickets. Not that it matter....because Saturday night we had an invitation to a friend of her's house party.

However, it was hardly close by. We had to leave the safe harbor of Cougar County to travel beyond Pointy Rock, and even the Silicon Desert to Frontierland. (Okay, I admit, Rita has lots of friends out there...but as you can imagine...I didn't want to be fighting the effects of both sleepiness and alcohol.) Ostensibly the plan was to do drinking games which were hilarious enough. But soon it gave way to someone saying the dreaded "T-word".

You know, Twister. A game which I've never forgotten since, oh kindergarten, but never played in about as long. And so if you thought that driving another man's Tahoe late at night was strange...imagine Rita and I being a team in a Twister tournament in the middle of the night in someone elses...yeah well it gets better.

One of the big cracks against Alta Sonora is that we have a lot of "refugees", I mean...transplants from other states. Coincidentally these other states are either very cold in the winter, or in economic decline (or in the case of Michigan or Ohio...both). But wouldn't you know it, Rita's friend is from Ohio and her roommate...Michigan! I mean, that's impressive by any measure of one's imagination. To say nothing of the fact that another couple whom the friend had known from high school was also at the party because they had moved here from Ohio...a week ago.

Not that I'm complaining. Just that I thought I would have already had an "authentic" Alta Sonoran house party experience before this one.  But it just goes to show you that even when you think a place has no more secrets or surprises left...there's always something new waiting around the bend.

 

There no coincidence so far as I can tell about the decision to block access to Facebook at the Crunk Factory and the civil disobedience in Iran. But as far as the week goes, it has to be the most significant revelation. Here’s why.

People are not machines. Employers since the dawn of the industrial revolution, I was told in college, have never really acknowledged that human rhythms have nothing to do with a forty-hour workweek. Indeed, I knew academics who favored being a student or professor because the pattern was much more human paced. (You might assume they meant slower, but what they really meant is that activity was broken into waves and not uniform over the course of an entire year.)

Facebook, however, with its functions like chat, games, and quizzes is bound to make any employer nervous that all productivity be irrevocably lost. Ironically though, I actually use the website as intended…to interact with my friends…especially those who live far away and I can’t keep in touch with on a regular basis. I also like to share news stories that I find are thought-provoking.

Of course, market researchers don’t like Facebook. “Social networking” encourages people to spend more time on the computer and less with family and flesh and blood friends, they say. But what they really mean is that social networking exposes people to something other than Procter & Gamble. Nobody was pounding sand when television was brought into the American home and disrupted family dinners. (Families amazingly still can eat dinner together if they want to.)

But here’s the thing. Facebook’s popularity just reflects social trends that people aren’t keen to highlight because of…well Procter & Gamble. Nobody wants to be told that society is as fragmented as ever and that alienation has made young adults more willing to keep in touch with friends through the Internet than introduce themselves to their next door neighbors. Or that “Generation Next” would rather meet friends with common interests online (like say kayaking) that attempt to do it at a local house of worship.

As the Cigarette-Smoking Man once said on the X-Files: “It’s about access.”

And while it would be convenient to say the same thing about Iran, I can’t. There, people expect and believe government to censor certain things or otherwise influence their behavior. It’s here that expectations are different.

Rest assured though, I’ll find something else to do on my lunch break. But the revolution isn’t going to be televised…unless Procter & Gamble is involved.