Archive for category Commentary

Bonuses for bettors

I’ve been quiet again. Probably feeling a deep recession myself, much more moral than fiscal but none the less, staying away from vocalizing what should be said.

I awoke to a story this morning about Jeffrey Skilling. His lawyers want to revisit the case so poor Jeffrey, who ruined the lives not only of stockholders, but his fellow employees by lying and taking their monies would be set free. But I digress.

I work in Hartford, now ranked the third poorest city of its size in the nation. Once it had a thriving downtown and people worked at department stores, in the pre-mall days, with names like G Fox and Company or Brown-Thompson and more. They probably never made much more than minimum wage but worked hard, many of them for 30 years or more and retired with small social security benefits but with a retirement plan that allowed them some leeway to visit grandchildren, keep an apartment or house and generally live a decent retired lifestyle. No high rollers here, just decent hardworking folks.

I spoke to one the other day, now on the verge of losing her house because she can’t make the tax payments. How? Well Jeffrey Skilling’s friends at Morgan Stanley and Lehman Brothers (and many others) took her monies to the racetrack, bet the monies on derrivatives (a fancy name for casino in the stock world). So long as everyone was making 100% returns (you do see where this is going) everyone was happy. Then the day came when someone looked and (((GASP!!!))) the emperor was naked. The whole house of cards fell and with it the retirements and savings of the folks in the North End of Hartford and elsewhere. Oh well. Not to despair. We’re so good (the Skilling-ites replied) that we need bonuses to make sure that we retain all these fine young minds. And so they did. We the people bonused the bettors. If they’d done this at a OTB window they could not have done a better job.

What of my lady in the North End. She, who worked all her life gets to go on assistance. She spoke with me with tears in her eyes.   She’d never taken anything from anyone and now she was forced to accept this.

I’m not the blood thirsty sort; however, I have visions of letting Jeffrey or his ilk, loose in a field with some of the folks they fleeced. Heads on pikes. It might slow the cascade of betting other peoples monies. It might bring some cold comfort to those without heat or shelter because they lent trust and were returned fiduciary irresponsibility.

I spoke with a 401K counselor recently about all this stealing. He of course in his snow-cones-salesman’s way assured me that this could never happen to mutual funds? Huh?

Somewhere out there I recall that fiduciary meant fiscally responsible. If we bonus these people perhaps they should pay (directly) some of those millions to those they fleeced.  An idea but hardly likely to fly. Nope. Heads on pikes I think.

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We the torturers . . .

My mind and my body shout “No, no its NEVER right never correct”. I was listening to NPR the other day regarding our coming to terms with torture. OUR coming to terms? That ‘our’ is ‘us’, We the People…

I have this open ended discussion with my family about this. How is this ‘us’. How did We the People. .. become Us the torturers….. How is this ever right.

I think it comes from trimming a bit off the Constitution, that rather dusty rag of a document which our Founding Fathers found so important. So we don’t really have free speech anymore since big brother listens in on our cellphone, phone and regular conversations with impunity and without warrant. Its that old bothersome ’search and seizure stuff’ those good old boys found so awful from their British masters. Needing a warrant, probable cause and that rather outdated stuff. We need this to be free from terrorists. I’m becoming a bit terrified myself lately.

A young priest named Torquemada started a campaign of ‘information gathering’, a tongue torn out here and there, in the name of state safety. What information did he get. None. Nothing. What information did he in fact want. None. It was a campaign of terror. Torture. Terror. —hmmmm.

Throughout our long human history there are records of those who tortured in the name of state safety, abnegating the safeguards in their particular times, accruing power piece by piece. So, I ask my brood, how did we come from “preservers of democracy” to “torturers”. How do we see ourselves? What are the checks and balances, the ironsights of our democratic process?

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Irony rides again

I’ve had a catbird seat for the construction of a new facility in the poor end of town where I work. Its a marvel of glass and concrete and steel and glass – oh I DID say glass. Indeed the glass rises nearly spire like to the roof at the front of this building. Wing like, the roof soars. It is a beauty to behold. One of the many problems, probably not foreseen on this ancient floodplain of a building site, is that water needs to go somewhere. Build a soaring roof and you have roaring drainage water.

The water comes off the roof so fast that it needs a cistern to slow the flow of the water. Cisterns were installed, thermos bottle looking affairs on concrete pads around the building. Voila, problem solved. Not so fast. The waters, not seen since the times of Noah, overwhelmed even this system digging up the ground. Solution: Riprap, stones to break up the water spilling from the cisterns from the roof. Ahh, architecture.

It is indeed a pretty solution, 4 to 4 1/2 inch traprock. Traprock has an irregular shape with sharp edges and pointy parts. It doesn’t move much. However, it is also about softball sized and easy to fit in the hand. About now there should be a D’oh much like Homer Simpson. Rocks. Windows. I believe the building will soon be in the glass business.

It has been something which when I point this out to people, step by step, they say “OH WOW”. Yea. Tinkle tinkle. Irony rides again!….

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From My Window

Its sometimes a sad view, a view of contrasts, a view of contradictions, a view of humanity.  I look out into the swirl of mad colors, through the colors of people, through the colors of spring turned summer, through the bright signs to the monochrome lives of the poor on our block.

She must be 15, maybe. She swirls out the door of the rattrap that fucntions as home slamming the door, wearing nothing to deceive the immagination. She would be pretty but she has mean and hungry eyes.  They aren’t child eyes of wonder, that luster long gone. The inquisitiveness of memory is locked away. Hunger. Money. Use me. Now.

She clambers to a car, her high heels a misery to satisfy yet another customer. Hunger. Money. Use me. Now.  They are off but it is not long that she appears again, on the street, long legs up and down the block this child lost grown too fast.  And yet again in but a few minutes she is gone from sight. Hunger. Money. Use me. Now.

And so this long afternoon progresses. From time to time, as we all do, I look out my window at some block familiars and some I haven’t and will probably never again see.  They are all hungry. All waiting.  And then she appears but in new colors and new shoes, striding out with her hard child-long-gone eyes.

I see her walk down the block. A throw away child.  I doubt that there is a want ad which reads “Join the fun life, you too can be a street prostitute at 15″.  Yet. There she is.

Hungry. Money. Use me. Now.

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Last you a lifetime!

I found myself unaccountably angry at statements from the auto manufacturers the other day. The mouth of Sauron from Chrysler tells us that to save money and jobs (and get a handout from Uncle Sam), that they’re dropping several lines, among them the PT Cruiser. Not much new. One of the reasons they’re dropping the cruiser is that they put a bad engine in the thing; but it sold. So what!?

So what? So I’m one of the poor schleps that bought a PT Cruiser but had some misgivings about the power train. I put a lot of miles on a car, somewhere around 36000. I bought their extended warranty because it came with ‘lifetime’ oil changes. I figured at 30-40$ a clip and I change oil monthly.  Dutifully I took the car in for changes. Once day I heard a horrible racket from the engine. It was the power steering pump, I later found out. My mechanic looked at the car and realized (he called me under the car) to see the broken front motor mount, the torn highpressure power steering link and the torn oil line. Hmmmm.

Cars are for me rather like black boxes. These even -=I=- with my untrammeled vision could easily see. The oil had been changed a mere 3 days before!  The dealer never did get back to me. I stopped using the oil change service.

The car will last until it dies. I keep it oiled and well fed but I know that time is not on my side. Now that its been orphaned things will only get worse. The fat cats at Chrysler will dine well and sleep without ethics. What saddens me most is that the country I love, the country I fought for, the country I raised my children in is eating itself, or rather being eaten alive by the corporations who made it.

There was a time when things were built to last. There was always a wink and a smile when some things had built in obsolesence. Where are the buggy whip manufacturers, the boom box makers, the 8 track fabricators .. but things were built with an eye toward building customers.

My next door neighbor when I was a kid used to tell stories of his dad who ran a general store in Coventry CT. One of the customers (in the late 1800’s) came in complaining about the axe he had. ‘Best axe I ever bought’ said he ‘ six new heads, seven new handles. Last me a lifetime’.

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Moments of madness

I was driving home this evening listening to the discussion about why the financial institutions are putting out the same hybrid products that brought us this wonderful recession, hearing the pundits explain that it brings capital into the markets and although its a bit (a bit?) risky, these instruments help to drive the market. Ok. I’m no financial whiz but didn’t we just loan billions and trillions of dollars to these self serving financial institutions to NOT have them bet the store? Wasn’t part of the project to make them more fiscally responsible? Somehow we the poor schmoes who pay taxes are subsidizing a very wealthy gambling habit. We’re bound to lose. We may be the house but in this case we hold none of the trump cards.

Trump cards? Isn’t this banking? Isn’t this where the banker sits across the table and says “Well Joe, opening a restaurant is a risky business and we’ll need some collateral” — or so it was in the past. Now we have bankers betting (your house) on 10:1 or 100:1 odds knowing that the worst will be that the government will for a time be paying into their bank. Where are their ethics.

Ahh ethics. It seems that capitalism trumps ethics. Do undo others before they do unto you. The Ivory Tower at Havard spoke several weeks ago about plans to include teaching ethics to the business school. Its the piper teaching the cobra. Once the cobra leaves the nest, well then its just a bunch of snakes isn’t it?

It wasn’t until the sentencing the other week that I got it. Bernie Madoff…. made off with our monies. Too sweet. such onomatopoeia. No one saw the deal too good to be true, 30:1 winnings? Get real folks. Its all about the casino, and we the taxpayer have been at the largest gaming table ever, Bernie and his friends (and there are more no doubt) are pikers compared to the banks and so called financial houses that take our monies and throw it on the international craps table. Oh lost a few billion in that scheme. Not to worry Uncle will back you. . . .and he has.

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Its Monday — everybody works on Monday

That line from the movie “Dave” would be poignant if it were not so sad here . Most of the people I see want to work — but there is no work. “Work was something that used to exist” — Jean Sheppard — and he was talking about the ‘Great Depression’. Alas it was neither great nor did we learn from it. But I digress.

Yesterday one of my patients arrived all smiles and cheery… yes.. he just got a job. A real job in a field (food service) he wanted to work in. There’s something radiant about someone who just got a job, a glow and an aura about them. He had been jobless for nearly 1 1/2 years, looking looking but not finding much of anything. A sniff a lead and he was overjoyed.

I hear much talk about how the poor make themselves that way. I see something quite different. I go to the stores in the neighborhood where change is made poorly and incorrectly. At first I thought this an oversight but it happens so frequently that I realized that this is a way of doing business to increase profits, since many don’t check the change. There is loansharking for food, an egregious plot on the poor where 30$ in groceries on Thursday becomes 60$ (or more) on Monday. It doesn’t need much enforcement since there really isn’t much alternative place to go. Additionally the stores carry such small cans of items (2 ravioli in a can), that the prices end up enormous for minimal nutritional value.

Work is hard to find in this poor urban area. Transportation is available but not always convenient. There are dangers, the indolent prey on the poor. There aren’t many but ripoffs and knockdowns occur regularly. Most people travel with one hand free.

My guy. All smiles. He’s looking forward to work. I think most are. Its depressing being marked ‘poor’ and then no places to work. Poor areas become poorer. Business shys away from the area. Poor areas become poorer yet. The spiral continues.

I wish that all the folks here could feel the joy … pleasure … of work, of a job.

Its Monday. Everyone SHOULD work on Monday

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And the dirt falls….

Today we burried a cat. Not just a cat but a family cat of 14+ years. She came to us as a small fur bundle, not a handful, not eyes open yet, abandoned mewling. We tiger milk fed her with noises from the kids about what a pain she was .. .

And she became ours. She was first and foremost my daughter Shelley’s cat, sleeping with her, cuddling with her being her special friend through out her teen years. She was always a second tier cat until last August when the lead cat, Hobbes left us.

Today, as I dug the hole, a mitzvah, a good and special deed, and had help from my guys from Adam and from Jeff, making the hole deep enough wide enough to fit the box. We’d stored the cat in the freezer waiting for everyone to gather. She’s our last cat, last animal. We’ve lost many, dogs, fish ,birds, iquana, and cats. We’ve never been without some animal in the house even in our earliest days with gerbils (from graduate school) and then Svivon the cat who came to visit with us only for a short time. There was Anhanya who we adopted (let me tell you its easier to adopt children) and she stayed with us for nearly 23 years! So here we are … just us. The no kids thing we’ve adjusted to. They come home and we’re always glad to see them. But they leave and go to their own lives and their own fortunes and their own households and all of them have pets. Petless we are.

But as I dug the hole, I had a flash of my own mortality, of being IN the hole .. of hearing the dirt splash on me, of being covered of being morned and I can’t shake it. Its like a wet blanket. Despite a friend who came for the day, despite the children, despite Brenda … its hard to shake that cold feeling. And then to top that off, in the boom box parade, there was this specter, death pulling the death wagon and it was, for me, very real.

I know it wil pass as will the mourning. I know we will search for another animal – we’d both love a dog but know that we’re really not at the level to care for such a responsiblity another family member but we shall.

Annie was a good cat. I miss her

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Heads on pikes

It seems its a day of good news bad news. The good news seems to be that the boys at Goldman Sachs are snuffling at the trough and ready to suck up those great well deserved bonuses for having put us in the worst recession since the 30’s perhaps worse than that.  I fear that we missed an opportunity for heads on pikes. I’m not ordinarily a gory sort of fellow; however, if a few of those egregious folk had their heads up along the boulevard perhaps fewer of these guys would be snorting at the trough so soon. Its a sign that regularion has lost and that we as a nation have or will loose big time now that the game is a foot and the money is liberally flying around again.
It makes me wonder in some ways what the big call is for CEO’s. I hear one company after another looking for the most expensive CEO guy they can find. I have no problem paying for success. Its the paying for the failures. United Airlines, General Motors, Chrysler, Hewlett Packard — each of those men and women walked away handsomely endowed with bonus and super bonus and stock options. As each of these companies tanked and drew down the economy we threw MORE money at CEO’s. I’ve yet to see cat skeleton’s around full cat food bowls.  I believe if we all went to reasonable executive pay and said NO MORE! that indeed CEO’s would be paid proprionately and reasonably. Perhaps we should make the CEO take some of the risk (not with fako securities from the board but with his own monies. Perhaps, as in days of yore, CEO’s should bear a percentage of risk and win-lose with the company.

Danny DeVito, ever a mirror for the times, did it well with ‘Other People’s Money’.

The Harvard business school recently announced that they might teach business ethics to their grads. What a concept! Such things as stealing from old ladies is wrong, wiping out the life savings of people and towns is poor for future business, and the future. My son said that if once in a while if the inchoate mob, those who lost nearly everything, had an opportunity to be in a closed area with the hedgies and mutualaholics who ground their savings from real to immaginary numbers that much of this would be object lesson.

But then, that’s pretty gory.

Heads on pikes. Not a lot. Just a few. Some in Wall Street. Some on K Street. Some along the mall. Sobers the crowd and makes us remember that there really are people who are responsible. Until then, its still “Buddy can you spare a (discounted) dime.”

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You’ve been turfed!

More of my patients are being turned away at the gates every day. Often they need advanced care which we at the primary care level can’t give them.

I have always felt that we were most lucky, we are a smallish state and have a training institution and hospital which are owned and operated by the state. This hospital should be seeing the those at the fringe, those in great need. For many years the hospital was located in the center of an immigrant community. In the 70’s it relocated to a suburban location, very upscale. At first there was a bus  to take people from the community but that quickly was quashed. Now it takes two busses and a local jitney at the heath centet, about 2.5 hours, to get there. Not much of a barrier.

Patients going to his greater facility of learning often encouter trolls at the gates. Trolls? Admission to this center of ‘much higher learning’ requires the proper insurance, not some of the lower paying kinds that our patient’s possess. When they call, the answer is frequently, call back when you have better insurance.

A few weeks ago, after some harsh notes from our facility, several well dressed physicians show up to try to make arrangements to expedite the admission of our patients into the gleaming tertiary care facility, state owned and supported. To show magnanimity one of the docs takes out a card with driving directions and some special parking near his clinics. There is muffled laughter as we tell him that the majority of our patients  don’t drive nor own cars. He’s a bit culturally disconnected.

Lest you think that this is peculiar to the country estate hospital, the in-city institutions answer similarly.

Recently a patient shows on a Friday afternoon, all hunched over, the Groucho Marx walk, right upper quadrant pain, rather classic gallbladder symptoms; a surgical problem. She is referred, complete with small note from the doc, and ambulance transported to the in citty  emergeny room to prevent her from having to find transport. The attending physician there concurs but adds the diagnosis ’shitty insurance’ and instead of wheeling Senora Patient to a holding area for surgical admission, gives her back a note with the names of two surgeons in the area saying she needs urgent and immediate care. She of course calls those offices only to find that neither surgeon participates with her insurance. Quel suprise! Monday morning, quite more hunched over she comes back to our primary care clinic, sicker, with the note and no scar. A nasty note and a phone call, she’s retransported and admitted for care.  This is a good outcome?

With all the ballyhoo about insurance companies participating in health care, and contrary to their every present advertisements that ‘they take care of you’ we need remember that there’s a profit motive totally separated from any health provision.  The recent squealing and wheezing from the health insurance companies and their paid compadres in government about the death of health care should we use single payor or government sponsored health care is quite self serving, serving only their investors.

The only investors in Medicare are we the users. Its far from perfect. It has a 5-8 percent overhead, unmatched anywhere in the insurance industry, even with draconian plans which provide and income source for the insurance companies not safety nor security for their policy holders.

We need to re-direct our efforts and energies toward providing a comprehensive Medicare type system.  A single payor system will insure fairness. I see no reason why the private companies can’t compete for business as they do in every other country with single payors. Lets see them for what they are, trolls at the gates.

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