Republicans like to say the Community Reinvestment Act caused all the trouble in the sub-prime mortgage market, as “those people” had to be given mortgages they were never going to be able to pay off. That’s bullshit, but it’s still the kind of thing they like to repeat ad nauseum under their current sole political philosophy, which can be summed up as, “Tell big enough lies often enough and maybe people will believe you.”
I hate to pile on in their hour of darkness—and it doesn’t get much darker than your party chairman feeling he has to apologize to Rush Limbaugh—but it occurred to me over the weekend that I have a sub-prime mortgage. It’s true. Me, Mister Middle-Aged White Guy, didn’t have 20% down when I bought my house three years ago. I was able to come up with 10%, and my credit score was over 700; a fifteen-year second trust loan had to be taken out, at a considerably higher interest rate.
Well, the fifteen-year loan was paid off last week, in almost exactly three years. You are not bailing anyone out on my account, including me. I suspect I am not alone here. There are as many reasons for people to need sub-prime loans as there are sub-prime loans. Some of them should never have been made; that’s on the lenders. The government never told them they had to lend money to people who couldn’t pay it back.
Sub-prime mortgages became a crisis because banks were lined up to issue non-documented loans to people who never should have been considered. Pitching a $400,000 mortgage to a chambermaid making $14,000 a year hardly qualifies as sound business practice. Nor does buying securities consisting of bundles of such loans without performing the due diligence necessary to make sure those were performing loans.
I’m old enough to remember when the lenders kept loan defaults from becoming a problem by not lending unless they were damn sure you could pay it back. Lenders stopped doing that, and started believing in their own Ponzi scheme. That’s where the problem was. Not with the overwhelming majority of borrowers.
And sure as hell not with me. So let’s be careful who we tar with the sub-prime brush.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Stimulating Conversation
I’ll keep this simple, in case a Republican reads it.
The American economy is like your house. When credit was loose and largely unsupervised, you bought this house, probably paid a little more than you should have. Times were good and credit was easy, so you bought a BMW for yourself and an Escalade for the wife to chauffer the kids in. Big screen HD television. Nice summer vacation and flew away for a week every Spring Break. Kids all have Wiis and iPods. Mom has a treadmill and Dad has a custom-fitted set of Calloways. The interest on the debts is an irritant, but not a deterrent. Household maintenance, never glamorous, is neglected.
Now it’s winter. The roof leaks. The furnace doesn’t work. The foundation has cracks that affect the plumbing and the toilets don’t flush. The house is rapidly becoming unlivable, due in large part to your neglect.
What do you do?
If you’re a Republican, you rummage through the attic and find your principles of fiscal conservatism. Debt is bad. These things will take care of themselves over time.
If you’re a sapient life form, you swallow hard and realize the only way to get out of the hole your profligate spending has dug for you is through more spending. Not spending on just anything. Fix the roof. Re-seal the foundation. Repair the plumbing. Get a new furnace. Pay the increased medical bills you incurred because your seven-figure house was an unhealthy hovel. Yes, it’s more debt, and you don’t have a good idea how you’ll pay it back yet, but it won’t matter if you can’t get over this current hump.
I may be a social liberal, but I’m a fiscal conservative. I don’t buy anything I don’t have the money for. My only current debt is a mortgage payment. (I’ll have a car payment again someday, but the current Honda is paid for.) I have a big screen HD TV that I saved up for before I bought it. I have well established the bona fides for my distaste for debt. Yet I am also a sapient life form, and I recognize what has to be done here. It goes against my ideology, but I live in a brick-and-mortar world, not some theoretical construct, so I will swallow hard and accept reality, because no problem can be fixed until you recognize it.
Is that simple enough, you Joe the Plumber loving, redneck, willfully ignorant motherfuckers?
The American economy is like your house. When credit was loose and largely unsupervised, you bought this house, probably paid a little more than you should have. Times were good and credit was easy, so you bought a BMW for yourself and an Escalade for the wife to chauffer the kids in. Big screen HD television. Nice summer vacation and flew away for a week every Spring Break. Kids all have Wiis and iPods. Mom has a treadmill and Dad has a custom-fitted set of Calloways. The interest on the debts is an irritant, but not a deterrent. Household maintenance, never glamorous, is neglected.
Now it’s winter. The roof leaks. The furnace doesn’t work. The foundation has cracks that affect the plumbing and the toilets don’t flush. The house is rapidly becoming unlivable, due in large part to your neglect.
What do you do?
If you’re a Republican, you rummage through the attic and find your principles of fiscal conservatism. Debt is bad. These things will take care of themselves over time.
If you’re a sapient life form, you swallow hard and realize the only way to get out of the hole your profligate spending has dug for you is through more spending. Not spending on just anything. Fix the roof. Re-seal the foundation. Repair the plumbing. Get a new furnace. Pay the increased medical bills you incurred because your seven-figure house was an unhealthy hovel. Yes, it’s more debt, and you don’t have a good idea how you’ll pay it back yet, but it won’t matter if you can’t get over this current hump.
I may be a social liberal, but I’m a fiscal conservative. I don’t buy anything I don’t have the money for. My only current debt is a mortgage payment. (I’ll have a car payment again someday, but the current Honda is paid for.) I have a big screen HD TV that I saved up for before I bought it. I have well established the bona fides for my distaste for debt. Yet I am also a sapient life form, and I recognize what has to be done here. It goes against my ideology, but I live in a brick-and-mortar world, not some theoretical construct, so I will swallow hard and accept reality, because no problem can be fixed until you recognize it.
Is that simple enough, you Joe the Plumber loving, redneck, willfully ignorant motherfuckers?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
He Gets It
I voted for Barack Obama in November. I thought he was more likely than John McCain to get us out the myriad of problems he would assume after the Bush Administration left the country looking like one of Aerosmith’s hotel rooms. I didn’t suffer from the inflated expectations of his true believers, either. He’s a politician, and no politician rises to his level without having a certain quality of ruthless pragmatism in him. No Kool-Aid for me.
With that in mind, I can safely say last night’s address to Congress was probably the best political speech I have ever seen. The tone was dead on: he didn’t minimize the problems, but neither did he wring his hands about them. Bankers took their lumps, but no one got away clean, which is as it should be; we all bear some responsibility for this mess. He didn’t call out Republicans by name, but made it clear he inherited this mess, and we all know who left it for him.
What I liked best was his willingness to make it clear he wasn’t pussyfooting around. Things are going to be expected of people, from politicians to bankers to you and me. Responsibilities are going to have to be met. Pet programs are going to have to be abandoned.
The time for reckoning came long ago; now we finally have someone who appears to be willing to take some heat to do something about it. He also framed the discussion of why his key programs must be met. Our inability to control the costs of health care not only leaves too many people outside the safety net, but it places too great a burden on American business. It’s no longer a feel-good liberal “entitlement” to preach for universal health care; it’s good business sense. Energy independence is a national security issue, like it or not. Placing unpleasant expenses—like the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—off the budget to artificially hold down the official deficits was the tawdriest type of sleight of hand, demeaning those who perpetrated it as well as those who accepted it. It’s way past time that stopped.
Will he accomplish everything he set out last night? Certainly not. Political realities will combine with unforeseen events to require sights to be reset. That being said, if you don’t know where you’re going, how will you know when you get there? For the first time in a long time, this country has a leader who knows where he wants us to go, and it’s a better place than where we are now.
With that in mind, I can safely say last night’s address to Congress was probably the best political speech I have ever seen. The tone was dead on: he didn’t minimize the problems, but neither did he wring his hands about them. Bankers took their lumps, but no one got away clean, which is as it should be; we all bear some responsibility for this mess. He didn’t call out Republicans by name, but made it clear he inherited this mess, and we all know who left it for him.
What I liked best was his willingness to make it clear he wasn’t pussyfooting around. Things are going to be expected of people, from politicians to bankers to you and me. Responsibilities are going to have to be met. Pet programs are going to have to be abandoned.
The time for reckoning came long ago; now we finally have someone who appears to be willing to take some heat to do something about it. He also framed the discussion of why his key programs must be met. Our inability to control the costs of health care not only leaves too many people outside the safety net, but it places too great a burden on American business. It’s no longer a feel-good liberal “entitlement” to preach for universal health care; it’s good business sense. Energy independence is a national security issue, like it or not. Placing unpleasant expenses—like the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—off the budget to artificially hold down the official deficits was the tawdriest type of sleight of hand, demeaning those who perpetrated it as well as those who accepted it. It’s way past time that stopped.
Will he accomplish everything he set out last night? Certainly not. Political realities will combine with unforeseen events to require sights to be reset. That being said, if you don’t know where you’re going, how will you know when you get there? For the first time in a long time, this country has a leader who knows where he wants us to go, and it’s a better place than where we are now.
Today's New York Post Headline
Holder Chosen to Miss Obama's Speech, Ensures Black President No Matter What Happens.
Maybe they didn't print it, but they thought of it.
Maybe they didn't print it, but they thought of it.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Assigning Responsibility
The finger pointing over who is more at fault for the whole Judd Gregg fiasco will go on for several days. Democrats are blaming Gregg for jilting them; Republicans are claiming Gregg’s withdrawal is a response to the Obama Administration’s hyper-partisan actions. The real issue is much simpler.
The question that begs to be asked is, who thought it was a good idea to nominate a senator who voted to eliminate the Commerce Department and has been a harsh critic of the census as Commerce Secretary in the first place? Gregg may have been a little naïve by accepting the appointment, but he shouldn’t be vilified now for seeing the light and doing the right thing. As for the Republicans’ accusations of Democratic hyper-partisanship, the November bloodbath was in large part a referendum on Republican policies, leadership, and practices. Obama has spent more time consulting with the other party in the past three weeks than the Bush Administration did in the four previous years.
The real issue here is that Gregg was improperly vetted, as were Tom Daschle, Bill Richardson, and Tim Geithner. The Obama Administration has done a lot of things well in its early days, and has made some excellent appointments, but its overall personnel record is disturbingly uneven, at best.
The question that begs to be asked is, who thought it was a good idea to nominate a senator who voted to eliminate the Commerce Department and has been a harsh critic of the census as Commerce Secretary in the first place? Gregg may have been a little naïve by accepting the appointment, but he shouldn’t be vilified now for seeing the light and doing the right thing. As for the Republicans’ accusations of Democratic hyper-partisanship, the November bloodbath was in large part a referendum on Republican policies, leadership, and practices. Obama has spent more time consulting with the other party in the past three weeks than the Bush Administration did in the four previous years.
The real issue here is that Gregg was improperly vetted, as were Tom Daschle, Bill Richardson, and Tim Geithner. The Obama Administration has done a lot of things well in its early days, and has made some excellent appointments, but its overall personnel record is disturbingly uneven, at best.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
It Still Only Tuesday
The Onion had it right. Monday you write off. It’s the first day of the week, it sucks, get over it. At least you just had a weekend.
Wednesday is Hump Day. When it’s done you’re better than halfway there.
By Thursday you can practically smell the weekend.
The eagle flies on Friday.
On Tuesday the next weekend is too far away to be more than an abstract concept, but the previous weekend is a fading memory.
Damn.
Wednesday is Hump Day. When it’s done you’re better than halfway there.
By Thursday you can practically smell the weekend.
The eagle flies on Friday.
On Tuesday the next weekend is too far away to be more than an abstract concept, but the previous weekend is a fading memory.
Damn.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Can You Spare Some Change?
Barack Obama campaigned for president on the slogan, “Change You Can Believe In.” No one suspected he was referring to people who believed in tax fraud.
Timothy Geithner was named Treasury Secretary despite his failure to pay $43,000 in taxes. The World Bank even gave him the money and said, “This is for your taxes.” Now he’s tasked with solving the baking crisis, allegedly because he’s the only person who fully understands it. How good do you feel about that?
Tom Daschle’s first speed bump on the road to being Secretary of Health and Human Services came when word got out he owed $140,000 in back taxes. Tom didn’t think a free car and driver counted as income. His former peers in the Senate rallied to his defense, said it was an honest mistake: the tax code is complicated on such matters. Tom was only about to be tasked with guiding universal health care through the rapids and eddies of becoming law.
Hilda Solis’s nomination to be Secretary of Labor has been delayed because her husband’s business has outstanding tax liens totaling $6400. A small sum for a business, to be sure, but some have been outstanding for sixteen years. Hubby claims this is the first he’s heard about them. Mail delivery must be pretty bad in their neck of the woods.
Nancy Killefer, nominated to essentially be head of quality control for the government, bailed when her tax lapses came to light, though they were the most easily understandable of the lot, failing to file Social Security tax for domestic help. Not excusable for someone looking for the job she was about to hold, but no great benefit to herself.
These episodes tell us several things, all of which will be explored in more detail as time goes on and I get more pissed off.
1. The Obama Administration’s promises of running a more competent government shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Someone hasn’t been doing their homework if all of the above were nominated for important and sensitive posts despite tax situations that might be considered felonies for you or me.
2. The change we can believe in will not extend so far as to disrupt the society of privilege. Americans claim to be a classless society because we have no official royalty or nobles, yet wealth and power decide who does, or does not, obey the law or ethical standards. Miss payments on a billion dollars of commercial real estate and the banks will come to you with refinancing plans. Miss payments on a $200,000 home mortgage and your ass is in the street.
All of the above make it a good bet the stimulus bill under consideration in Congress won’t be enough. The Democrats ladled in too much pork and too many pet projects that should have been discussed on their own merits. Republicans demanded too many tax cuts, which don’t stimulate as well as spending, can’t be targeted (since we can’t control what people spend the money on), and won’t help the people who need it most: the unemployed don’t pay much in taxes because they’re not making any goddamn money.
Bailing out the banks kept them afloat, and might have kept the rest of us from going under with them; that’s what we keep hearing. If you’re looking for positive results from the first $350 billion we took from our children to give to the banks, keep looking; John Thain’s office might be a good place to start.
This is about the sixth time I’ve begun this topic. I never posted because I never found a satisfying way to end it. I still haven’t.
Timothy Geithner was named Treasury Secretary despite his failure to pay $43,000 in taxes. The World Bank even gave him the money and said, “This is for your taxes.” Now he’s tasked with solving the baking crisis, allegedly because he’s the only person who fully understands it. How good do you feel about that?
Tom Daschle’s first speed bump on the road to being Secretary of Health and Human Services came when word got out he owed $140,000 in back taxes. Tom didn’t think a free car and driver counted as income. His former peers in the Senate rallied to his defense, said it was an honest mistake: the tax code is complicated on such matters. Tom was only about to be tasked with guiding universal health care through the rapids and eddies of becoming law.
Hilda Solis’s nomination to be Secretary of Labor has been delayed because her husband’s business has outstanding tax liens totaling $6400. A small sum for a business, to be sure, but some have been outstanding for sixteen years. Hubby claims this is the first he’s heard about them. Mail delivery must be pretty bad in their neck of the woods.
Nancy Killefer, nominated to essentially be head of quality control for the government, bailed when her tax lapses came to light, though they were the most easily understandable of the lot, failing to file Social Security tax for domestic help. Not excusable for someone looking for the job she was about to hold, but no great benefit to herself.
These episodes tell us several things, all of which will be explored in more detail as time goes on and I get more pissed off.
1. The Obama Administration’s promises of running a more competent government shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Someone hasn’t been doing their homework if all of the above were nominated for important and sensitive posts despite tax situations that might be considered felonies for you or me.
2. The change we can believe in will not extend so far as to disrupt the society of privilege. Americans claim to be a classless society because we have no official royalty or nobles, yet wealth and power decide who does, or does not, obey the law or ethical standards. Miss payments on a billion dollars of commercial real estate and the banks will come to you with refinancing plans. Miss payments on a $200,000 home mortgage and your ass is in the street.
All of the above make it a good bet the stimulus bill under consideration in Congress won’t be enough. The Democrats ladled in too much pork and too many pet projects that should have been discussed on their own merits. Republicans demanded too many tax cuts, which don’t stimulate as well as spending, can’t be targeted (since we can’t control what people spend the money on), and won’t help the people who need it most: the unemployed don’t pay much in taxes because they’re not making any goddamn money.
Bailing out the banks kept them afloat, and might have kept the rest of us from going under with them; that’s what we keep hearing. If you’re looking for positive results from the first $350 billion we took from our children to give to the banks, keep looking; John Thain’s office might be a good place to start.
This is about the sixth time I’ve begun this topic. I never posted because I never found a satisfying way to end it. I still haven’t.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Letting the Punishment Fit the Crime
The inmates of the Prince George’s County (MD) jail rioted Sunday, disabling the locks on their cell doors and beating up the guards because they were prevented from watching the Super Bowl on television due to a lockdown. This alone makes one wonder how there could be a lockdown when the inmates obviously have the ability to disengage the locks, but that may be something for law enforcement professionals to debate.
Here’s what gets me, from today’s Washington Post article:
Vernon Herron, the county's director of public safety, said he thinks the cell lock problem is limited to the unit where Sunday's disturbance occurred. He said the locks for the 48 cells in that unit, where inmates accused of violent crimes are housed, will be inspected and replaced if necessary.
So they’re going to inspect them now; ongoing inspections of the locks in the Violent Crimes wing haven’t been on the radar previously. Apparently PG County makes damn sure shoplifters and pot smokers have secure locks on their cells; violent offenders can come and go as they please.
Here’s what gets me, from today’s Washington Post article:
Vernon Herron, the county's director of public safety, said he thinks the cell lock problem is limited to the unit where Sunday's disturbance occurred. He said the locks for the 48 cells in that unit, where inmates accused of violent crimes are housed, will be inspected and replaced if necessary.
So they’re going to inspect them now; ongoing inspections of the locks in the Violent Crimes wing haven’t been on the radar previously. Apparently PG County makes damn sure shoplifters and pot smokers have secure locks on their cells; violent offenders can come and go as they please.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Dodging the Bullet
I’ve been negligent about this blog for a couple of weeks. It’s not my fault. (You’re scratching your head, thinking, “He’s apologizing for that? People look forward to King neglecting this blog.”) Every time I start to write something, it has to do with the current politico-economic sodomy we’re currently experiencing and I get so worked up I’ve written six hundred words before I’ve gotten to the point and the adrenaline rush is making the argument harder to hold to hold together and…
Yeah. Like that.
Suffice to say, there are too many people who just don’t get it. Democrats and Republicans. The list of what’s pissing me off can’t be typed before I have to leave for work in nine-and-a-half hours. So consider yourself lucky.
For now.
Yeah. Like that.
Suffice to say, there are too many people who just don’t get it. Democrats and Republicans. The list of what’s pissing me off can’t be typed before I have to leave for work in nine-and-a-half hours. So consider yourself lucky.
For now.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Puzzle Me This
I got one of those Mensa calendars for as a Christmas gift. You know, the ones where every day has some brain-teasing puzzle. Some of them are fun, some are really hard, some are hard to figure out what the hell they want, and some are just dumb.
The puzzle for January 6 asked what the following five things have in common:
NIFTY
RATIONAL
COLLAR
SKIRTS
DAVIS
Time’s up. They all rhyme with major car rental companies. This Mensa guy writing the puzzles is so smart, why couldn’t he come up with a word that rhymes with “Alamo?”
Pussy.
The puzzle for January 6 asked what the following five things have in common:
NIFTY
RATIONAL
COLLAR
SKIRTS
DAVIS
Time’s up. They all rhyme with major car rental companies. This Mensa guy writing the puzzles is so smart, why couldn’t he come up with a word that rhymes with “Alamo?”
Pussy.
56
It’s a number most closely associated with Joe DiMaggio, for hitting in 56 consecutive games in 1941. An impressive feat, often cited as The Record That Will Never Be Broken. (Much as Ruth’s 60 and 714 home runs, and Gehrig’s 2,130 consecutive games played were prior to being broken.)
No one has ever made a serious run at DiMaggio’s record; maybe it really will never be broken. Still, it covered a period of approximately two months, during which time DiMaggio hit less than Ted Williams did for that entire season. (.406) You want to talk about a streak, how about 56 years? That’s 20,454 days. Good weather and bad. Good health and bad. Good jobs and bad. Or, sometimes, no job.
That’s how long my parents have been married. Today. And they’ve had to put up with me for almost 53 of those years. Now that’s an impressive streak.
No one has ever made a serious run at DiMaggio’s record; maybe it really will never be broken. Still, it covered a period of approximately two months, during which time DiMaggio hit less than Ted Williams did for that entire season. (.406) You want to talk about a streak, how about 56 years? That’s 20,454 days. Good weather and bad. Good health and bad. Good jobs and bad. Or, sometimes, no job.
That’s how long my parents have been married. Today. And they’ve had to put up with me for almost 53 of those years. Now that’s an impressive streak.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Huh?
Saw a couple of interesting statstics on the news last night.
82% of Americans approve of Barack Obama's job performance.
27% of Americans approve of George W. Bush's job performance.
This means 9% of Americans approve the job performance of both Obama and Bush.
What the hell movie are they watching?
82% of Americans approve of Barack Obama's job performance.
27% of Americans approve of George W. Bush's job performance.
This means 9% of Americans approve the job performance of both Obama and Bush.
What the hell movie are they watching?
Friday, January 02, 2009
Reading Between the Lines
Still working my way to full speed, but one recent news item demands comment.
Karl Rove, in a Wall Street Journal op-ed, has "debunked" the idea that George W. Bush can't--er, I mean doesn't--read, pointing out the hundreds of books the Decider has read over the past few years. Some, like the Washington Post's Richard Cohen, have pointed out how many of the books serve only to either buttress Bush's already formed opinions, or to comfort him as he contemplates his legacy as a president who leaves office only slightly more popular than oral surgery.
They're missing the point. Why is everyone assuming Bush actually read all these books, just because Rove said so? Is it due to the extraordinarily high level of trust Rove has earned from his career of truthfulness?
We have numerous accounts, spanning many years, from people in a position to know, telling us George W. Bush isn't much of a reader. Now that it's image burnishing time, we get an opposite opinion from a man who will lie about the time of day just to keep in practice. Considering how much actual presidential work Bush has subcontracted out to subordinates, isn't it more reasonable to assume some White House functionary actually read most of these books, then wrote executive summaries for Shrub to read, the presidential equivalent of Cliff Notes? Does anyone really think a man who has to move his lips to read could cover as much literary ground as Rove claims for Bush?
Probably the same people who think Saddam Hussein helped the 9/11 terrorists and believe the Community Reinvestment Act created the housing bubble.
Karl Rove, in a Wall Street Journal op-ed, has "debunked" the idea that George W. Bush can't--er, I mean doesn't--read, pointing out the hundreds of books the Decider has read over the past few years. Some, like the Washington Post's Richard Cohen, have pointed out how many of the books serve only to either buttress Bush's already formed opinions, or to comfort him as he contemplates his legacy as a president who leaves office only slightly more popular than oral surgery.
They're missing the point. Why is everyone assuming Bush actually read all these books, just because Rove said so? Is it due to the extraordinarily high level of trust Rove has earned from his career of truthfulness?
We have numerous accounts, spanning many years, from people in a position to know, telling us George W. Bush isn't much of a reader. Now that it's image burnishing time, we get an opposite opinion from a man who will lie about the time of day just to keep in practice. Considering how much actual presidential work Bush has subcontracted out to subordinates, isn't it more reasonable to assume some White House functionary actually read most of these books, then wrote executive summaries for Shrub to read, the presidential equivalent of Cliff Notes? Does anyone really think a man who has to move his lips to read could cover as much literary ground as Rove claims for Bush?
Probably the same people who think Saddam Hussein helped the 9/11 terrorists and believe the Community Reinvestment Act created the housing bubble.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
What Do They Know?
“They” say a lot of things. You can only get mononucleosis once. Only kids get it. Here’s what I say:
Bullshit.
I’m seventeen days in and finally showing enough energy to for a blog post. I haven’t felt sick for over a week, but I’m weaker than George Bush’s grammar, and it’s getting old.
Bullshit.
I’m seventeen days in and finally showing enough energy to for a blog post. I haven’t felt sick for over a week, but I’m weaker than George Bush’s grammar, and it’s getting old.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Walk Softly and Carry a Hockey Stick
Maybe fighting and thugs aren’t quite as dead in hockey as some would have you believe. Witness the following sequence from last Saturday’s game between Minnesota and Nashville, won by The Wild 6-2.
With 6:50 gone in the second period and Minnesota leading 3-0, The Wild’s Stephane Veilleaux and Nashville’s Scott Nichol were each penalized five minutes for fighting. No shock there; the Predators were taking a beating and frustration may have bubbled over.
The ice was cleared and play resumed. At 6:53 (three seconds later), Minnesota’s Derek Boogaard and Nashville’s Wade Belak were each sent off for five minute fighting majors. The next fight didn’t erupt for three more seconds, when Craig Weller and Jordin Tootoo each got five minutes off.
The best part of the whole thing only becomes evident when checking the box score. Boogaard only had three seconds of ice time for the game, which means he came on the ice at 6:50 (when the clock was stopped for the first fight) and was gone at 6:53, when he got his penalty. He didn’t play again, even though 28 minutes remained in a blowout game after he was paroled.
A quick look at Boogaard’s record is interesting. He’s played 22 games this year, averaging a little under four minutes a game, based on his last five games, which are all I could find stats for. He’s managed to accumulate 30 penalty minutes in that brief ice time, which is an improvement over his historical norms, which show him averaging 2.26 minutes per game in the NHL, and 4.3 minutes per game in the minors.
Who says the new look NHL has no place for thugs? Seems pretty obvious Minnesota coach Jacques Lemaire sent Derek over the boards at 6:50 of the second to kick some ass. Dave Schultz, Tie Domi, and Bob Probert must be so proud.
With 6:50 gone in the second period and Minnesota leading 3-0, The Wild’s Stephane Veilleaux and Nashville’s Scott Nichol were each penalized five minutes for fighting. No shock there; the Predators were taking a beating and frustration may have bubbled over.
The ice was cleared and play resumed. At 6:53 (three seconds later), Minnesota’s Derek Boogaard and Nashville’s Wade Belak were each sent off for five minute fighting majors. The next fight didn’t erupt for three more seconds, when Craig Weller and Jordin Tootoo each got five minutes off.
The best part of the whole thing only becomes evident when checking the box score. Boogaard only had three seconds of ice time for the game, which means he came on the ice at 6:50 (when the clock was stopped for the first fight) and was gone at 6:53, when he got his penalty. He didn’t play again, even though 28 minutes remained in a blowout game after he was paroled.
A quick look at Boogaard’s record is interesting. He’s played 22 games this year, averaging a little under four minutes a game, based on his last five games, which are all I could find stats for. He’s managed to accumulate 30 penalty minutes in that brief ice time, which is an improvement over his historical norms, which show him averaging 2.26 minutes per game in the NHL, and 4.3 minutes per game in the minors.
Who says the new look NHL has no place for thugs? Seems pretty obvious Minnesota coach Jacques Lemaire sent Derek over the boards at 6:50 of the second to kick some ass. Dave Schultz, Tie Domi, and Bob Probert must be so proud.
Monday, December 01, 2008
The Pinnacle of Civilization
Black Friday took on a new meaning this year when shoppers at a Long Island Wal-Mart crushed an employee to death in their haste to get shopping. The employee had the unfortunate name of Jdimytai Damour, so he was probably an immigrant, which means he was probably some illegal taking that high-paying seasonal Wal-Mart job from a deserving American, maybe even one of those who stepped over—or on—his body rather than try to help him.
Hell, with a name like that he’s probably from one of them African countries, where they have flies on the kids’ faces and are always whining about baby formula and then trample the their kids trying to get at it. You’ll never see Americans rioting for food like some of them you see on the news. Here we only stampede adults—and less than Real Americans at that—who stand between us and some cheap shit made in China that might just poison our kids, who, at least, have plenty of formula.
We’re no third world country.
Hell, with a name like that he’s probably from one of them African countries, where they have flies on the kids’ faces and are always whining about baby formula and then trample the their kids trying to get at it. You’ll never see Americans rioting for food like some of them you see on the news. Here we only stampede adults—and less than Real Americans at that—who stand between us and some cheap shit made in China that might just poison our kids, who, at least, have plenty of formula.
We’re no third world country.
The Way it Should Be
The Sole Heir’s Beau is a formidable hockey player. (I have it on good authority he’s even better at lacrosse.) Thanksgiving weekend brought a tournament conveniently located at the local rink, so we took the Parental Units over to see how we spend our free time.
Friday’s game was a 5-0 win, and so much fun we went back on Saturday to watch a 3-3 tie. Mom and Dad left Sunday morning, so The Sole Heir and I went back at 12:30 to see the championship game, with the winner advancing to a tournament in Canada next January.
You couldn’t see a more entertaining game at the Olympics. The Beau scored on a partial breakaway about five minutes in. That lead held up until a scrum cost our team the lead about midway through the second period. The game was a true goalies’ duel, both teams getting multiple scoring chances only to be stoned by the opposing goaltender.
Regulation ended 1-1, but there had to be a winner, as only one team could advance. The five minute overtime ended in a tie, so a shootout was called for. The teams would take turns with just a single skater trying to beat the opposing goalie. The team with the most goals after five attempts—all by different players—would win.
The visitors (from North Carolina) scored on their third shot, and it came down to our last chance. The goalie made most of a save, but the puck trickled through his pads and came to rest no more than six inches over the line. Still tied.
Now it’s the shootout version of sudden death: if they score, we have to match. If they miss and we score, we win. It went about ten rounds. Beau had the goalie set up for the same shot he’d scored on earlier, but the puck hopped on the chippy ice and he fanned on the shot. (Just as well; him shooting the winner would have been too much like a bad movie.) About ten shots in a Montgomery County player finally beat the Carolina goalie clean.
You would have thought they’d won the Stanley Cup the way they came screaming off the bench to bury the shooter, then turn as a group to engulf the goalie who kept them in the game. As hockey tradition dictates, both teams shook hands, then lined up to be called individually to receive their trophies, and run the handshake gauntlet again. Several winning players were detained in their round by losing coaches, who were genuinely happy for them, joking and slapping backs. It was as fine a gesture of sportsmanship as I have ever seen.
I hung with the Beau’s father after the game, waiting for the kids to come out of the locker room. “I think that last goal cost me about six hundred dollars,” he said, commenting on the price of the Canada trip. Huge smile on his face.
If you ever get tired of watching millionaire athletes bitch and moan about every little thing, go find a kids’ game somewhere, preferably at a level where no one has any real expectations of playing professionally. The play just as hard, if not as well, and there are few things in life as pure as the elation that goes with winning something for its own sake.
The way it should be.
Friday’s game was a 5-0 win, and so much fun we went back on Saturday to watch a 3-3 tie. Mom and Dad left Sunday morning, so The Sole Heir and I went back at 12:30 to see the championship game, with the winner advancing to a tournament in Canada next January.
You couldn’t see a more entertaining game at the Olympics. The Beau scored on a partial breakaway about five minutes in. That lead held up until a scrum cost our team the lead about midway through the second period. The game was a true goalies’ duel, both teams getting multiple scoring chances only to be stoned by the opposing goaltender.
Regulation ended 1-1, but there had to be a winner, as only one team could advance. The five minute overtime ended in a tie, so a shootout was called for. The teams would take turns with just a single skater trying to beat the opposing goalie. The team with the most goals after five attempts—all by different players—would win.
The visitors (from North Carolina) scored on their third shot, and it came down to our last chance. The goalie made most of a save, but the puck trickled through his pads and came to rest no more than six inches over the line. Still tied.
Now it’s the shootout version of sudden death: if they score, we have to match. If they miss and we score, we win. It went about ten rounds. Beau had the goalie set up for the same shot he’d scored on earlier, but the puck hopped on the chippy ice and he fanned on the shot. (Just as well; him shooting the winner would have been too much like a bad movie.) About ten shots in a Montgomery County player finally beat the Carolina goalie clean.
You would have thought they’d won the Stanley Cup the way they came screaming off the bench to bury the shooter, then turn as a group to engulf the goalie who kept them in the game. As hockey tradition dictates, both teams shook hands, then lined up to be called individually to receive their trophies, and run the handshake gauntlet again. Several winning players were detained in their round by losing coaches, who were genuinely happy for them, joking and slapping backs. It was as fine a gesture of sportsmanship as I have ever seen.
I hung with the Beau’s father after the game, waiting for the kids to come out of the locker room. “I think that last goal cost me about six hundred dollars,” he said, commenting on the price of the Canada trip. Huge smile on his face.
If you ever get tired of watching millionaire athletes bitch and moan about every little thing, go find a kids’ game somewhere, preferably at a level where no one has any real expectations of playing professionally. The play just as hard, if not as well, and there are few things in life as pure as the elation that goes with winning something for its own sake.
The way it should be.
The Sole Heir Rides Again
I don’t like to put personal stuff here, unless it might be entertaining to someone other than myself. I usually bend that rule when The Sole Heir does something that demands recognition. This is one of those times.
She was accepted into the University of Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago. That received no mention here because, frankly, we knew she’d get in; I’ll be more surprised if a college doesn’t take her. This weekend’s noteworthy feat was the arrival of another letter from Pitt, awarding her a four-year, full tuition scholarship, including a $2,000 study abroad stipend, and $500 for books. She also qualifies for a full Chancellor’s Scholarship, which will cover room and board if she gets it. (Miami of Florida offered maid service. Honest to God.)
This isn’t a done deal on her part; she’s still waiting to hear from a few schools so she can compare offers. Still, having a school as prestigious as Pitt in her back pocket—sans tuition, no less—takes a lot of stress out of waiting for the other replies.
Pitt also included a certificate for the parents, in appreciation of the support required to create a student of this caliber. Thanks, but they can keep it. First, this is a parent’s job; honoring us for not being derelicts should not be required. Second, while a poor home setting can adversely affect scholarship, no home environment can create a student of the skills The Sole Heir, and some of her friends, have developed. Her mother and I each have Masters Degrees; neither of us has been able to provide material assistance to her academically since she was in eighth grade. I can take no more credit for her achievement than I can for her brown eyes. True, she inherited the tools, as I did before passing them on; no credit is due there. The work is hers alone. I only hope her own high standards don’t prevent her from being as proud as she should be over this accomplishment, whether she accepts the deal or not.
Almost as proud as I am of her. Good job, La Binque.
She was accepted into the University of Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago. That received no mention here because, frankly, we knew she’d get in; I’ll be more surprised if a college doesn’t take her. This weekend’s noteworthy feat was the arrival of another letter from Pitt, awarding her a four-year, full tuition scholarship, including a $2,000 study abroad stipend, and $500 for books. She also qualifies for a full Chancellor’s Scholarship, which will cover room and board if she gets it. (Miami of Florida offered maid service. Honest to God.)
This isn’t a done deal on her part; she’s still waiting to hear from a few schools so she can compare offers. Still, having a school as prestigious as Pitt in her back pocket—sans tuition, no less—takes a lot of stress out of waiting for the other replies.
Pitt also included a certificate for the parents, in appreciation of the support required to create a student of this caliber. Thanks, but they can keep it. First, this is a parent’s job; honoring us for not being derelicts should not be required. Second, while a poor home setting can adversely affect scholarship, no home environment can create a student of the skills The Sole Heir, and some of her friends, have developed. Her mother and I each have Masters Degrees; neither of us has been able to provide material assistance to her academically since she was in eighth grade. I can take no more credit for her achievement than I can for her brown eyes. True, she inherited the tools, as I did before passing them on; no credit is due there. The work is hers alone. I only hope her own high standards don’t prevent her from being as proud as she should be over this accomplishment, whether she accepts the deal or not.
Almost as proud as I am of her. Good job, La Binque.
Something Else to be Thankful For
Thanksgiving has passed at The Home Office, as has most of the food. (We’re still good for a couple of days worth of lunch-quality leftovers.) The Parental Units came down from the ancestral home in western Pennsylvania to spend the weekend, and remind us all of a rare thing we can be thankful for: my family actually gets along.
Proof of this can be found in our activities, or lack thereof. Dinner at Famous Dave’s. Some conversation. Watch a movie. More conversation. Thanksgiving Day was football, conversation, and the annual Feast. We then relaxed by bullshitting a while, and watching some football.
We did leave the house a few times. Took Mom to Costco. Went to a high school hockey game that involved The Sole Heir’s beau and enjoyed it so much we went back the next night. (More on that in a later post.) Introduced Mom to Mello Yello. In all, about as relaxing and entertaining a three days as could be had.
The visit was only cut short when a potential storm from the northeast chased them home first thing Sunday morning. (Research indicating the Steelers-Patriots game would not be televised in the Washington metropolitan area had no bearing on this decision.) The storm petered out into a drizzling rain that lasted all day Sunday and traffic was heavier than expected, but they made it home without incident. (Mom did get to snarf another Mello Yello at a rest stop. Now that she’s hooked, I’ll have to teach her the term “jonesing.”)
We get together a handful of times a year, but this Thanksgiving visit has become the most satisfying. The day may come when they don’t feel up to the trip; then we’ll drive. People have teased me about living in the last functional family in America. Sour grapes.
One last thing. The Steeler game was televised in Washington after all; the listings were incorrect. It looked great on that fifty-inch HD screen, Dad. Stick around next time. We have room.
Proof of this can be found in our activities, or lack thereof. Dinner at Famous Dave’s. Some conversation. Watch a movie. More conversation. Thanksgiving Day was football, conversation, and the annual Feast. We then relaxed by bullshitting a while, and watching some football.
We did leave the house a few times. Took Mom to Costco. Went to a high school hockey game that involved The Sole Heir’s beau and enjoyed it so much we went back the next night. (More on that in a later post.) Introduced Mom to Mello Yello. In all, about as relaxing and entertaining a three days as could be had.
The visit was only cut short when a potential storm from the northeast chased them home first thing Sunday morning. (Research indicating the Steelers-Patriots game would not be televised in the Washington metropolitan area had no bearing on this decision.) The storm petered out into a drizzling rain that lasted all day Sunday and traffic was heavier than expected, but they made it home without incident. (Mom did get to snarf another Mello Yello at a rest stop. Now that she’s hooked, I’ll have to teach her the term “jonesing.”)
We get together a handful of times a year, but this Thanksgiving visit has become the most satisfying. The day may come when they don’t feel up to the trip; then we’ll drive. People have teased me about living in the last functional family in America. Sour grapes.
One last thing. The Steeler game was televised in Washington after all; the listings were incorrect. It looked great on that fifty-inch HD screen, Dad. Stick around next time. We have room.
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