Archive for category Commentary

Let them eat cruisers …

The big boys at Chrysler appear to have taken the pipe, 4 BILLION (with a ‘B’ folks) in losses since exiting bankrupty! I doubt that will stop the executive piggies from snorting at the money trough in the name of needing to pay the best and brightest.
We need to remind ourselves that the Mouth of Sauron himself, the Chrysler damage control guy,  at meetings this past year said “Oh .. we put a bad engine in that car — but — (pregnant pause and I presume a wolfish smile), we don’t make them anymore.”  Not making one of the mechanically lousiest cars on the road is scarcely a strategy designed to win hearts and minds of Americans.

The car had a sluggish start. It was very retro, very cute, very flawed.  The power train with an automatic could scarcely get the car out of its own way. Add a turbo and stickshift and it did go. Fixing the cars, it was my mechanic’s nightmare, was another thing. It would appear that the engine had been dropped into the car without regard for access. After all what fool would want to fix this?  Access to the engine required removing the right side of the car and all the steering gear there. The engine mounts blocked access to such non critical parts as the timing belt adjustment.

I attended school at UCONN (University of Connecticut) which at the time had one of the finest civil and mechanical engineering departments in the country. I have friends from MIT, CALTECH, CASE to name but a few. They seem pretty competent.  Is it possible there’s a large vacuum at Chrysler which sucks the smarts out of the engineering staff, followed closely by the moral vacuum which removes all traces of morality.   I have long thought that American ingenuity can solve most problems.  The difficulty is that American greed removes the problem solving substituting marketing glitz, full of sound and fury, signifying, nothing.

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Plunder me again

As I read Paul Krugman’s – “Looters in Loafers”.i felt a bit prescient having blogged Bonuses for Bettors before the current revelations. Perhaps that should be re-evaluations. Slippery as eels these folks, they fall back on ‘caveat emptor

” although the only non-blinded fellows in the room were they. It was the impending release of poor Jeffrey, once the smartest guy in the room, realizing there were more cats to be skinned, er I mean folks to be fleeced. Well Jeff felt he got a raw deal and he, unable to wallow in the spoils.

When first I read of the looting and larceny I thought ‘heads on pikes‘; but I’m not blood thirsty enough for that. Then I watched Lehman implode and the jackals gather at the corpse to pick the sweet meats. Not one of them felt there was any wrong doing. Indeed they were all self righteous. At that time how little we knew.

I’ve generally supported the aims of this administration (nationally), but find myself watching the the internal dealing and the Goldman-Sachs revolving door spinning so fast its really a fan. I once saw a special about how an engineering firm kept their government work on one side of the hall and their civilian contracts on the other, claiming a mehitza of sorts so that the engineers, who otherwise ate in the same mess facilities, used the same parking lots and other than sharing separate entryways, were really not at all co-mingled. Right.  When the former chieftans of Goldman Sachs run not only the regulating agencies but are also judge and jury I wonder. Hmmm. Right.

There is not an ‘appearance of wrongdoing’. It is offal on the table, and it would appear to be us, the American public. Perhaps I should revisit my former thoughts. Heads on pikes seem not so bad

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Health trek

They trek in. They trek out. They stop, rest, disgorge their fantastic stories and let us help them; then out they go into the real world again.

Alas were this some fantasmagoric game. Its not. Its a Community Health Center.  We seem to collect them. Its partly our mission and partly our trial.  The health system in the United States has some serious problems those in power have yet to appreciate the depth of the hole, as it were.  If I were not at the center of the swirl, I would stand back and laugh at the machinations of those who worry that government will take over health care with disatrous results.

We are already at disastrous and the only thing that keeps us from total ruin are the government operated and funded programs.  I watched as our health center insurance, after all we too participate in the miasma of private for profit, stockholders take all insurance plans. Ours zipped up a mere 15% and still we face deductibles in the 1000′s, expensive primary care deductibles and rules for use of additional services so arcane that even insurance people can’t figure it out. Kudos’s,  however, to my boss. He split off the rise so that the lowest paid on our staff paid the least percentage increase (perhaps 1-2%) and the highest paid 14-16% increases.  It makes an intolerable situation bearable.

Back to the ballyhoo. Government run programs including medicare and medicaid offer some of the best coverage for care, most uniform although occasionally tricky policies for patients and even on the reimbursement side. You know that if you provide services, sooner or later, within some guidelines you’ll get paid. 

A few years ago one of my private practice insurers sent a note out that the POB had changed for remittences to an adjacent town and another mail box. For most of us it was still the days of paper forms and humans not in call centers who worked the system. The box, no surprise, was a fake. After 4-6 weeks of languishing claims, the company began to get calls about where might be the remittances. After much furfuring, badinage and general lying, it came to light that some miscreant within the company had created this false address. Naughty man! Would we please resubmit the claims, which now had a current zero day for timing – about two nearly three months out from their original date.  Someone made a boatload on that one!

The chicanery doesn’t end with the practitioners. The myriad of plans to medicare recipients, forced into a drug plan which is neither plan nor planned but a ponzi schema with a donut hole. For those of you sleeping under a rock for the past few years, the donut hole is a 5-7000 dollar shortfall which the medicare recipient must make up once the generosity of part D, we can’t negotiate price, plans have run out, leaving the senior holding bag, or readied to make the next payment on the stockholder’s investments.

If I offer a solution, its to step back from rhetoric and revisit a public option plan. Its not necessary to prop up the multinational corporations. We are the only quasi-civilized nation to be so hogtied by the greed of our corporations. To be sure other countries have found themselves, recently, at a shortfall because of the ill behaviour of organizations to big to fail, or perhaps to big to continue. 

Consider this:  the health of our citizens, much like their education is an investment in the future of our democracy.

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At the end of all things.

Sad faces. Sad days. We see the poorest of the poor at my health center. Its a magnet for those who have nowhere else. We will see them. We do see them. We patch them up. We send them back into the fray, the madness that has become our world in the north end of Hartford, Connecticut, only miles from the richest squares of land in the country. The disparity is at once engaging and maddening.

Some days ago a new face appeared in my care. Ragged on the edges, worn but still under the veneer of the street, a once proud person. She tells me she worked all her life, perhaps 40 years or more, receives Social Security, a pittance because she worked at one of the many downtown retail stores, making ends meet, and saving for retirement through a store plan. Prior to mall-ville, Hartford, as did many other cities, house a plethora of stores from upscale department to jewelry and electronic palaces. It was a mecca in its time. These folks and hundreds, nay thousands like them retired to small owned homes in the north end. Clean. Neat. A neighborhood in constant transition but with ties to religious and community organizations.  Then came Mr Skilling and his ilk.

Not content to raid the coffers of the gamblers of Wall Street, these folks conspired to use as tokens at the gambling tables the funds-in-trust for retirements. Now gone. Bankrupted. Disappeared.

She tells me that she couldn’t afford the taxes on the house. Predators always scent prey in the winds of fortune. In her case it was a ‘remortgage’ that promised to ‘clear up the debt.’  She lives in her car, however long that will last. She has no relatives in the area but has her ‘church’ and her ‘friends’ who don’t know and she sent me a gimlet stare to let me know that I shouldn’t consider letting them know.

So here we are at the end of all things, accomplishing the American dream, living in our car.

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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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