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Archive for January, 2010

Treat Me Like A Dog

Posted in Songs on January 31st, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment

1st verse:
I got nothing against man’s best friend
I’m just not sure it’s true
Cuz since the day that dog moved in
He spends more time with you

And by the way he wags his tail
I think I’d be better off
If you’d pretend you’re not my wife
And treat me like a dog

Chorus:
It’s not so bad… the life of a dog
You give him a bath and talk baby talk
You fix his dinner you pat his head
Hell he even gets the center of our double bed
Well it’s plain to see… I would be… a whole lot better off
If you’d treat me baby… treat me like a dog

2nd verse:
Tell me why a six dollar haircut
Is good enough for me
But a monthly trim for that mutt
Always costs us twenty three

The fool that said ya gotta work like a dog
To bring home the bacon
Never saw how high on the hog that dog lives
On the money I’m makin’

Repeat chorus:

© 1992 Mike Land all rights reserved

If Heaven Don’t Have A Dance Floor

Posted in Songs on January 31st, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment

1st  verse:
Some guys spend the night shootin’ pool
But this cowboy’s a dancin’ fool
Saturday nights I never miss a chance

The preacher says that when I die
No honky tonks up in the sky
Means any weekend might be my last chance

Chorus:
I’ve heard so many times before that heaven is mighty nice
But if it don’t have a dance floor they can’t call it paradise

I’d trade my boots and hat for wings and a halo shinin’ bright
But if heaven don’t have a dance floor
I’ll be in hell on Saturday night

2nd verse:
A Texas swing, the Cotton Eyed Joe
Or a buckle polisher nice and slow
My heart beats to the rhythm of a country band

And since angels don’t play steel guitars
And I don’t two-step to a harp
I guess I’ll have to have a weekend pass

Repeat chorus:

© 1992 Mike Land all rights reserved

I’m tellin’ you it ain’t money!

Posted in General rants on January 30th, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment

In my experience very few people understand money.  Judging by my bank account you’d have to say I’m one of them… but I’m not talking about how to hang on to it.  I’m talking about what exactly IS money.  They think it’s the Federal Reserve Notes (or their electronic equivalent) in their purse, pocket or bank account.  I’m here to tell you that ain’t money!

I read – and it makes sense to me – that money serves these three functions.

  1. A means of exchange.
  2. A store of value.
  3. A way to measure the relative value of things.

I’ll contend that those “notes” in your pocket only serve purpose number one, and they fail miserably for 2 & 3.  The reason you can’t store value, or measure the value of things with dollars is INFLATION!  I’ll give you a couple of examples and you’ll soon see what I’m talking about.

I bought my first house in 1967 for $11,000.00.  It was an average two bedroom bungalow in Wichita Kansas.  Let’s suppose that on the same day I bought that house I’d put $11,000.00 worth of gold and 11,000 cash dollars in a cigar box and buried it.  Now let’s suppose I dug up that cigar box yesterday.  Which one would still buy that same house today – the gold or the dollars?  The dollars probably wouldn’t be worth enough to replace the kitchen cabinets.  But the relationship between gold and houses would not have changed all that much.

By the way, in 1967 those dollars were called Silver Certificates and were still redeemable for REAL money… steada just another Federal Reserve Note.  Back then you could go to the bank and ask the teller for a real dollar and she’d hand you a coin made out of silver.  Hand her a twenty and you’d get twenty of them.  Hand a teller a twenty nowadays and she’ll ask you if you want fives or tens.

What happened to the “value” that was stored in that cigar box?  Nothing happened to the value of the real money.  The counterfeit money lost about 90% of its value, and it’s not hard to understand how if you know anything about the boogers that created it, controlling the value of it, namely the Federal Reserve Bank.   Inflation is not like gravity.  People have come to believe that there is something immutable in the laws of finance that say prices on the stuff they buy has to go up from year to year, like the laws of nature.  But in nature the weights and measures don’t change.

Suppose I whipped out a tape measure and slapped it down on your dining room table and said “Your table is 48 inches long”.  You’d nod your head and say “Okie doke.”  But what if I came back a year later and re-measured that same table and announced that it had grown and now measured 50 inches long.  You’d probably tell me there was something wrong with my tape measure… that it wasn’t the same one I’d used the year before.  Why?  Because any fool knows that tables don’t get bigger.  They don’t grow.

But you’ll believe that $11,000.00 house I bought in 1967 is now worth $158,000.00.  It’s still the same house, and it’s not located in a particularly hot piece of property, like some sunny beach, or mountain view.  It’s an older house, and 43 years closer to falling apart.  Probably would have fallen apart by now except for the annual upkeep and new paint necessary to keep it livable.

The point is this… functions number 2 and 3 can not be served by anything that is constantly shrinking in it’s value relative to the goods and services of an economy.

In 1913 our illustrious representatives in Washington gave the franchise to create money out of thin air and loan it to the U.S. Treasury at interests to some private bankers.  They turned over a perfectly good dollar, then redeemable in gold and silver, and today that dollar is worth less than three cents.

The bastards, try as they might to control the value of gold for the past thirty years, still could not reach into that cigar box and tamper with the value of the gold.  It didn’t lose it’s value.  That 11 grand would have bought 314 ounces of gold, which at today’s price of just over $1,000 per ounce means you could probably buy two or three of those Wichita bungalows with the gold.

Bankers have pulled the paper money switcheroo many times throughout history, and every time… every single solitary time… they’ve inflated the value of the money to worthlessness.  And every time there has been a return to the only thing that has ever been portable enough, rare enough, and unchanging enough to serve all three functions of money – gold and silver.

Climb aboard a time machine and take a one ounce gold coin with you back in time… say 2,000 years to ancient Rome.  It wouldn’t matter that the Romans couldn’t understand the words U.S. Eagle or Krugerrand on the face of your coin.  They’d know it was gold and they’d be able to weigh it, and they’d give you plenty for it.  And I have to think that if you turned the knob on that time machine toward the future and went 2,000 years in the other direction you’d find the same thing was true.  Your money would have maintained it’s purchasing power.

Take Federal Reserve Notes with you instead and I think you’d go hungry.  And I don’t think you’d have to go that far into the future for those notes to be worthless pieces of paper.  Set that dial for 2015 and you’ll be lucky if a pocket full of twenties will buy you a coke.

Anti-abortionist convicted of murder… but did he protect any babies?

Posted in General rants on January 29th, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment

Roeder admitted he stalked and shot to death Dr. George Tiller, 67, on May 31 last year as Tiller attended church in Wichita, Kansas. He argued in court his actions were necessary to protect unborn babies.  “Abortions were being done every day,” Roeder testified. “My honest belief was that if I didn’t do something they would continue to die.”


This guy Roeder killed an abortion doctor last May in the town I was raised in – Wichita, Kansas.  That’s where I was thoroughly indoctrinated in one of the more fundamental Christian dogmas while attending the First Church of the Nazarene on East Kellogg Street.  Part of what I was taught was that if a child dies before it reaches the age of accountability it goes to heaven.  Yep.  Straight to paradise, bypassing all the crap the rest of us have had to live through.

Holy shit!  Do you know what that means? Think about it.

It means that this guy Roeder – and I’d bet my free pass through the pearly gates he’s of the Christian persuasion, though I don’t know which flavor – didn’t save any babies at all.  Instead he has condemned them to a life on Earth!  Now instead of being ushered straight into paradise they’ll be born, where more than likely they’ll grow up and suffer through school, dating, marriage, a job they can’t stand, disease, and for the majority of them, die and go to hell.

The majority you ask?  Sure.  Just ask the next Christian you meet what percentage of adult Americans are going to go to heaven.   The last one I asked (though it’s been many years ago) said she thought it would only be 10%.  That means 90% of us had better start packing our asbestos skivvies!

So from an orthodox Christian perspective who was protecting babies, Tiller or his murderer Roeder?  Tiller had a 100% salvation rate.  And I know that’s better than Billy Graham’s or even Jimmy Swaggart’s.

All this kinda makes me wish I’d been aborted.  Cuz if I had been I’d be in heaven now instead of… well I think you all know where I’m headed.

The part that’s under the needle.

Posted in Anecdotes on January 29th, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment

My father was a tailor.  My grandmother taught him how to sew and while he was in the navy he made a few extra dollars altering the uniforms of fellow sailors aboard an aircraft carrier in the South Pacific.  A child of the depression he wanted to learn a trade that would keep him employed even in hard times.  After apprenticing under old-world craftsmen in Oklahoma City then moving up to positions as “head tailor” first in a small menswear store in Enid Oklahoma and then a large store in Wichita Kansas, he began his own manufacturing business in the basement of our home… when I was about ten years old.  His business prospered and by the time I was a teen his factory was manufacturing cut-and-sewn items for the government – things like, coveralls for pilots, bathrobes for the V.A., grenade carrier vests for the Army.

My story has to do with a contract he received from the Air Force to design a parka to be worn in extremely cold weather.  A garment that had more pieces than a twenty dollar jigsaw puzzle, with a lining and insulated inner lining, a fur-lined hood, elastic inner cuffs, patch pockets, slash pockets with zippers, and one of those military style pockets on a sleeve, for pencils and stuff.  It was an amazingly complicated piece of sewing.

As I had done countless hours in my youth I was sitting beside dad’s machine watching as he sewed together the parka.  I was amazed that he could keep it all straight.  He was literally surrounded by parka parts, bent forward in concentration as his powerful hands guided fabric under the presser foot of the sewing machine.  I asked my dad “How do you know where you are?  How do you keep it all straight?”  I’ll never forget his simple reply, one that applies to more in life than just piecing together a garment.  Without looking up he smiled and said “All I have to think about is the part that’s under the needle.”

I’ve reflected on that piece of wisdom when my life has been complicated or the future uncertain.  I’ve reminded myself that all I have to worry about is the present – “the part that’s under the needle.”

How about some appreciation America.

Posted in General rants on January 28th, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment

This rant was inspired by a recent post to facebook by a friend of mine.  (I’ve since learned this same post is being passed around the internet) Here it is:

Shame on you America: the only country where we have homeless without shelter, children going to bed without eating, elderly going without needed meds, and mentally ill without treatment – yet we have a benefit for the people of Haiti on 12 TV stations.and major cable stations, movie channels.

Other than the fact that she is either sadly ignorant of the world outside America’s borders, or she was just sloppy in making her assertion, she is expressing a view that was – judging from the “amen brother”s she received from like-minded friends – not uncommon among gun-toting, right wing, conservative Americans.  There is a common opinion that America does too much for other countries.  To the point where some are sympathetic to a critcism of helping the poorest of foreigners in the most miserable plight imaginable.  These poor ignoramuses evidently don’t have a clue that for the past few decades America has been the major recipient of foreign aid… perhaps more so than any nation since the bloodsucking Roman empire.  Let me explain.

Let’s use an analogy.  I like em.  They help clarify the otherwise complicated.  I don’t think it would be too big a stretch to say petroleum is to the economies of the world what blood is to the human body.  They are both liquid and without them there would be a failure to function.  (nor would it take a total loss of either to precipitate a total collapse… but that’s another issue)

In 1971 the big fat guy we’ll call US began to need the blood of others to continue living his rich lifestyle.  He could have economized… exercised a bit more by walking or riding a bike… but he liked riding around in his big automobile so he tapped into the blood supply of his neighbors.  A freaky image may now be imagined of this fat guy going to the door where the Venezuelan next door or the Nigerian from down the street hands him a bag of fresh plasma in exchange of course for the going rate.  The guy isn’t stealing the blood… he’s paying for it… with IOUs.  IOUs he may never be able to redeem, but hey… he’s paying interest.  With more IOUs.  So it’s a fair exchange.  Right?

US is the fattest guy in the neighborhood, and it’s mostly because he’s getting the most nourishment.  Of the neighborhood’s blood supply he is actually mainlining 25%, and yet he’s only one of twenty.  His actual share of the blood would be 5%… but he could never live on that meager amount of blood, because… hey…  he’s fat!

Some of his neighbors, like the Saudi three doors down, can spare the blood, but the Mexican family just gets by on less.  They need his IOUs… or at least they think they do.  Wait until they find out the fat guy can’t pay them back cuz he’s broke.

The point is this.  Today America receives 60% of its blood… errr… oil from its neighbors.  And in return they get what?  Dollars?  And when they come knocking on America’s door to redeem those dollars what do they get?  Lots of things.   But not enough to cash them all in.  You see, every year Americans suck more blood out of their neighbors veins than they can afford to pay for.   I’m talking pay for in “things”… goods and services.  It’s called the deficit and it’s approaching a trillion dollars per year.  They pay in dollars… hell that’s easy.  Just print some more.

Americans are good people.  They don’t hesitate to say thank you when they’ve been done a favor, or when a neighbor does more for them than they are able to do in return.  And, I’m sure they’d all be grateful to their immediate neighbors to the south, if they knew that last year Mexico sent America more stuff than America sent in return – 40 billion dollars more. (down from a high of 75 billion in ‘07, due to the fact that Mexico has less oil to export)  Trade balances with Mexico ‘85 to ‘09 Instead, Americans are constantly berating Mexicans.  But Mexicans were only number two on a long list of neighbors willing to help out.  I’ll just list all 15 in order of blood donated… er… oil traded for IOUs.  Canada, Mexico, Nigeria, Saudi Arabia, Venezuela, Iraq, Angola, Kuwait, Brazil, Algeria, Colombia, Russia, Ecuador, Equatorial Guinea, and Libya. Petroleum Imports Top 15 Countries

No… poor little Haiti isn’t on the list.  So I guess we don’t owe them a damn thing.

Why did you waste all that gas grandma?

Posted in Peak Oil on January 28th, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment

The summer before last I helped my son-in-law dig ten holes for the  foundation of a patio room.   They were about two feet in diameter and three feet deep.  I’ve got considerable experience jobbin’ a post hole digger into hard ground under a Kansas summer sun and wasn’t looking forward to it.  I estimated each hole would take two or three hours.  So we rented a little tracked vehicle called a “boxer” with an auger attached to the front.  The point of my telling you this is that we dug those holes easily in a couple of hours and used about a quarter gallon of gasoline.  What was that gas worth per gallon?  Well… if it had been the last gas on earth and up for auction and was going to save me 30 hours of back-breaking-blister-making work… a whole hell of a lot!  $100 per gallon wouldn’t be out of reason.

Some day when gasoline is in short supply – whenever that may be – our grandchildren are going to wonder why we wasted the precious stuff.  Wasted you say?  I don’t mean spilling it.  I’m talking about like when an 18 year old girl climbs into the SUV and drives to the mall and back.  We don’t currently consider that a waste of gasoline, but what if it was the same quarter of a gallon someone could have used to power a labor saving device?  It’s not unreasonable to say she’ll burn more than the quarter gallon we used to dig those holes.

And why did it take so much gas to get her to the Old Navy store and back?  Cuz she took 4,000 lbs of steel and rubber with her!  Her grandchildren might look at that as a frivolous waste of energy.  I can hear her grandson cussing, as he thrusts that post hole digger into the hard ground, “Goddamn grandma… why didn’t you walk, or ride a bicycle like I do.”

I don’t mean to pick on 18 year old girls.  We’re all guilty.  Maybe we need to start filling up those unused carpool lanes and save some gas for the hard work that we’re going to have to do when the Mexicans all go back to Mexico.

It might amaze you to know exactly how many hours a healthy male would have to work to equal the energy, or potential for work in a barrel of oil.  I found this reasonable estimate  courtesy of  lettheSunwork.  Can you believe that at minimum wage a barrel of oil is equal to, or in other words worth, over $100,000!

A barrel of oil contains about six gigajoules of energy. That’s six billion joules or 1667 kilowatt-hours. No, we don’t have any idea how much that is, either, so let’s think about the equivalent. Sit a reasonably healthy male adult – let’s call him Jim – on an exercise bike wired to an efficient generator, and he can produce 100 watts for you. So after Jim has pedaled an hour he’s produced 100 watt hours of energy, or 1/10 of a kw-hour.

To produce the same energy as that in a gallon of gasoline, 33 kilowatt-hours, Jim would need to pedal 33 X 10 = 330 hours. We need to be legal, of course, so Jim only pedals 40 hours per week. Jim’s desperate, so let’s assume he agrees to take no breaks and never stops working to chat at the water cooler or to check in with his friends on Facebook. He pedals straight through for 40 hours per week. He will have pedaled enough to equal the energy in a gallon of gasoline in a little more than eight weeks. Because Jim’s desperate, he gladly works for minimum wage, so your energy equivalent of a gallon of gasoline is a bargain at $6.55 X 330 = $2,194. How’s the price of gasoline lookin’?

Jim likes working for you, so let’s ask him to pedal long enough to produce the same energy as that in a barrel of oil, 1667 kw-hours. Easy to figure. 1667 divided by 1/10, or to say it another way, 1,667 X 10, or 16,667 hours of pedaling. That’s 417 weeks. Jim must love pedaling that bike, because he never takes a vacation. Jim will have pedaled enough to produce the energy in a barrel of oil in 417 divided by 52 = 8.01 years. Congress has cooperated with you during this entire adventure and kept the minimum wage stable at $6.55 per hour, so your energy equivalent from Jim will cost you only $6.55 X 16,667 = $109,169.

You’ll never remember $2,194 or $109,169. We sure don’t. Cheat down. Remember $2,000 per gallon of gas and $100,000 per barrel of oil. Those you can remember.