pity the poor chinese

.
as if urging them to save their money all these years wasn't bad enough, now their harsh, oppressive, kill-joy leaders are telling them to buy stodgy ol' gold and silver bullion. seems these poor primitives just can't let go of the idiotic old-school notion that production and wealth conservation are what make a country strong.

thank god we americans have evolved beyond such outmoded thinking, and have a cool government that encourages us to invest all our money in fun stuff like imported cars and flat-screen tv's.

3

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it's playing at the egyptian theater along with paper moon on saturday, the 12th of september--a perfect double-feature if ever there was one.

soon as i find out, i ask v if he wants to go. seeing as how i know he knows it's one of my favorite movies of all goddam time, i'm quite frankly surprised by his mini-hesitation before he says, "yeah, sure--let's go."

later, i'm even more surprised at his somewhat-less-than-disappointment when i tell him it sold out before i could get tickets.

all becomes clear this past tuesday night when he hands me the dvd he'd ordered for me ages ago, smiles big and says, "happy anniversary, babe."

we met three years ago september 1--he remembered, i didn't.

* * * * *

if you haven't seen it lately (or ever), then for god's sake do it soon--and if you can't make the show at the egyptian, at least make sure you watch it curled up at home with a bowl of popcorn and someone you love and don't deserve.

trust me, it'll be just as good.

I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, baby, I'm the bottom you're the top!

[figuratively speaking, of course]

___________________

update:  as someone just reminded me, i did the same goddam thing last year.

drunk-dialing in the new millennium

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[in case you're interested, this post was the result of an idle google search which proved to me once and for all that you can truly find anything on the internet.]

* * * * *

i've mentioned my uncle don, right?

the thing i most remember about my father's younger brother is how open, easy and fun he once was. whenever don and his new wife, pat, would come down for a visit in the early days, ours was always a happy house--pallets on the living-room floor and people sleeping everywhere, neighbors over for parties, music and laughter until the early hours, and my dad actually smiling for a change.

one of my earliest memories is of my proud uncle scooping up his 4-year-old nephew and taking me down to the university of houston, where he had been a star quarterback in his college days, to show me off to all his old teachers and coaches. seemed like he knew everybody we passed, and they were all thrilled to see him. [he bought me a mickey mouse watch that day--had a shiny red strap. no idea what happened to it.]

back in those days, don was up in dallas, playing pro ball for the texans [a team which would later defer to its cross-town rivals, the cowboys, move to kansas city and become the chiefs]. i remember one weekend we drove up for a game, and in the locker-room he presented me with a large, flat cigar-style box which, when its lid was raised, opened up in 3-d style like a peacock spreading its feathers to display a full array of trading cards, one for every member of the team, each autographed to me [again, no idea what happened to it--i could kill my mother sometimes.]

when his football career ended, don was left with a wife, a few memories and fewer prospects--this was long before the days of multi-million dollar contracts for pro quarterbacks. after an abortive attempt at selling insurance, he ended up in oklahoma, back in the family business--oil--working for skelly and barely scraping by.

i remember we'd go up to visit 'em--their little house in duncan was much smaller than ours--and, again, it'd be pallets on the floor, chaos and lots of fun. i always loved going up there, spending time with don, pat and, by then, the first of their four kids.

i remember that rainy april day after my dad's funeral, don sat down at the piano in my mother's brother's living room, where we had all gathered--a gorilla at the keyboard, i remember thinking--and banged out a credible version of "buttons and bows" in an attempt to distract us kids. i had no idea he could play--i remember at ten years old being struck by the contrast between the gaiety of the music flowing so effortlessly from my uncle's fingers and the look in his eyes as he did his best to smile.  much later, pat would tell us he carried his brother's muddy work-boots around in the trunk of his car for seven years, until she finally made him let 'em go.

don's trip to the top was relatively quick, as far as success stories go--or maybe that was only our perception. one day he was a struggling grunt, next day a mid-level executive, and the day after that, we looked up and he had made it--an oil company with his (and our) name on it, company plane, the works.

i remember him telling me once that he'd have given anything if his mother and older brother had lived to share in his success.

he and pat would still come down to see us, but by then the close intimacy of pallets on the floor had given way to the distant convenience of hotel rooms. easier for everybody, right?

[more often in those days, we'd go up to see them--their tiny house in duncan had given way to a series of increasingly-ambitious homes, culminating in a gorgeous, sprawling, modernist custom job in the "we've arrived" area of tulsa.]

and god knows he and pat never forgot us--even before they had it to freely give, there was a steady stream of cars and money whenever we needed it.

but regardless of all that, once don hit the top, everything changed.

partly because he changed--the older and more successful he got, the more cold, closed-off and intimidating he became, to the point where you didn't even wanna be around him if you could avoid it (except when he was handing out checks, of course).

and partly because we changed--suddenly we weren't equals who could call him out on his shit anymore; we became instead the poor relations who learned to ignore his slights, smile to his face, tuck his checks in our pockets and cravenly bad-mouth him behind his back.

an actual phone call from don was a watershed event, not only because such a thing almost never happened (pat was the eternal intermediary), but because when it did, it was pure torture--stiff and uncomfortable, like you were on trial or being interrogated or something.

unless, of course, he was drunk--then he'd be like his old self again, only sloppy.

it'd go something like this: we'd be sitting around watching tv, the phone would ring, my mom would answer, get this wide-eyed expression on her face and be like, "don, is that you? my god. well, hi, honey...yeah, we're all here...oh, don, that's so sweet; no, you have nothing to apologize for--we know you love us, and we love you too..."

and on and on it would go. and then he'd insist on speaking to each of us kids, slurring his words, telling us over and over how much he loved us, how sorry he was for being shitty, how proud he was of us, how proud our dad would've been of us, etcetera.

eventually the call would end and we'd all look at each other and say, "god, why does he have to get drunk to tell us how he really feels about us? why can't he just be like he used to be?"

i remember having no answer to that question--i mean, all this pent-up feeling pouring out of a guy who, if you called him at his office the next day, he'd be all like, "what do you want?  why are you calling?"

i didn't understand my uncle don back then--but boy, i do now.

because i've turned out just like him.

[okay, maybe not just like him--when i, mkf, am sober and forced to interact with people, i at least try to be sociable, but i'm willing to admit that may only be because i haven't yet amassed as much fuck-you money as he had back then.

oh, and i don't drunk-dial--i drunk-comment.]

* * * * *

inspiration for this post? i had a couple stiff ones, got a hair up my ass to do a little googling and was unexpectedly rewarded with the following hit from an obscure trading-card website:

of course, i snapped it up immediately--autographed or not, for a lousy $35 plus shipping, i wasn't gonna let the memory get away from me this time.

ghosts of green shoots past

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"We will not have any more crashes in our time."
John Maynard Keynes in 1927


"Hysteria has now disappeared from Wall Street."
The Times of London, November 2, 1929


"... a serious depression seems improbable; [we expect] recovery of business next spring, with further improvement in the fall."
Harvard Economic Society, November 10, 1929


"Financial storm definitely passed."
Bernard Baruch, cablegram to Winston Churchill, November 15, 1929


"I see nothing in the present situation that is either menacing or warrants pessimism... I have every confidence that there will be a revival of activity in the spring, and that during this coming year the country will make steady progress."
Andrew W. Mellon, U.S. Secretary of the Treasury, December 31, 1929


"I am convinced that through these measures we have reestablished confidence."
Herbert Hoover, President of the United States, December 1929


"[1930 will be] a splendid employment year."
U.S. Dept. of Labor, New Year's Forecast, December 1929


"The spring of 1930 marks the end of a period of grave concern...American business is steadily coming back to a normal level of prosperity."
Julius Barnes, head of Hoover's National Business Survey Conference, Mar 16, 1930


"While the crash only took place six months ago, I am convinced we have now passed through the worst -- and with continued unity of effort we shall rapidly recover. There has been no significant bank or industrial failure. That danger, too, is safely behind us."
Herbert Hoover, May 1, 1930


"We are now near the end of the declining phase of the depression."
Harvard Economic Society, Nov 15, 1930


"All safe deposit boxes in banks or financial institutions have been sealed... and may only be opened in the presence of an agent of the I.R.S."
Franklin D. Roosevelt, President of the United States, 1933*

* * * * *

i remember back when i first moved into the canyon, i was warned about the coyotes--how when they got really hungry, they'd send one of their pups down from the hills into our midst to engage an unwatched dog in happy play, lull it into complacency and lure it back up to their killing field where, once the pack was done with it, all that'd be left would be picked-clean bones for its owner to find later.

if you choose to play this last-gasp rally our leaders and pundits are so desperately trying to suck you into, put your stops in place, tend them daily and be careful. volumes are incredibly light, which tells me the smart money is sitting on the sidelines, waiting for pups like you to be lured up the hill by the happy talk of the coyotes of wall street, washington and the mainstream press.

all i'm sayin--and yeah i know i'm like a dog with bone on this issue, but it's only because i figure you should get the truth somewhere.

________________
* these were only my selected favorites; you want a taste of the full panoply of evil stupidity that reigned back then as it does even now, click here.

the whole death panel thing

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[before i begin, may i point out that while our obama-nation is idiotically occupying itself with rearranging the deck chairs of healthcare and cap-and-trade on the sinking american ship of state, the heathen red chinese are quietly and busily shedding our t-bills and buying up all the oil, gold and copper futures they can get their hands on in anticipation of the coming inevitable hyperinflation of the american dollar?

whatever--if healthcare is the current shiny object the criminal bankers are using to distract the cattle from what really matters, then fine, i'll talk about healthcare. just remember--mkf never takes his eye away from the real ball.]

* * * * *

in my last post, i cited (1) the insurance industry, (2) the american medical association, (3) the american bar association and (4) the pharmaceutical industry--four of the most powerful lobbies in existence, which collectively have bought and paid for every politician in washington--as not only four of the main reasons for the ridiculously high cost of healthcare in america, but the reason why true healthcare reform is not possible.

maybe i'll elaborate on what seems so screamingly obvious to me in a future post--but not today.

today, i'm gonna talk about the fifth reason why healthcare is so expensive in america. and it has nothing to do with lobbies or partisan politics; on the contrary, it's an issue so deeply ingrained in the american ethos as to transcend simple ideology.

you ready?

(5) sanctity of life.

it's a concept all pampered americans embrace--for conservatives, it's all about the unborn fetuses; for liberals, the death-row inmates. but whatever the political stripe, everybody comes together when it comes to protecting babies and old people.

and that's where the issue of healthcare really gets interesting--and expensive.

see, back in the old days, if a baby was born flawed or premature, its mother or midwife simply held it until it died.

if an old person suffered a heart attack, stroke or other inevitable affliction of old age, his/her family gathered round their bedside until they limped off to join jesus in heaven.

today? technology has changed everything--we have developed the ability to preserve, extend and enhance life to a degree that boggles the mind.

consider:

crack-baby or one of a fertility-drug enhanced litter born four months premature and five pounds underweight? yesterday it would've died, but today we can save it.

geezer with a stroke, cancer or heart condition? yesterday he/she would've have died, but today we can keep 'em alive indefinitely with surgery and chemo and bypasses and pacemakers and shit.

grandma falls and breaks a hip? no need to put her on an ice floe and push her out to sea--today we can give her a new one.

in other words, the definition of "sanctity of life" has expanded with our man-made ability to preserve and extend life.

problem is, all this miracle-shit costs money--lots and lots and lots of money.

whereas in the past we'd have just let these people limp off and die and be ok with it because that's all we could do, today we have granted ourselves the ability to play god at both the beginning and end stages of life.

and today, we demand that such technology as exists be brought to bear in every case, because life is sacred, goddammit--"should we preserve or extend life beyond what should be normally expected?" isn't even the issue anymore; instead, it's become all about "fuck the cost--we can't let them die!"

[which, btw, is the main reason why these days so many americans' life savings are wiped away in their final six months of life--but i'm getting ahead of myself.]

the ugly truth is, between all the preemies borne of uteruses that by all rights should never have supported life, and the multitudes of baby-boomers about to enter their healthcare-sucking golden age who should've died six months ago, there will soon be an infinite pool of need for our healthcare resources, versus an ever-shrinking supply.

and who's gonna decide who gets what?

ultimately--and yeah, it'll take us awhile to go from a to z--it'll be the idiot sarah palin's death panels, of course. and anybody who thinks otherwise is deluding themselves.

this will happen whether we pass "healthcare reform" or not--i don't see any way it can't.

do you?

* * * * *

the reason this post is appearing so goddam far after the fact of its relevance in the news cycle is because ever since palin made her "death panel" comment, i've been searching far and wide for anybody who would lay out the issue like i just did.

so far? nobody, anywhere.

the fact that this blog doesn't have an audience usually doesn't bother me much--except for when it does, like now.

comment if you wish, but understand: i'm gonna be uncharacteristically merciless in my response if you're even slightly off-point.

a simple healthcare quiz

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as i've mentioned here once or twice, i was hospitalized for an extended period of time a few years ago.  it's not something i think about much these days--until the subject of healthcare comes up, that is.

it went like this:

back in the autumn of 2004, when it got so bad i couldn't stand it anymore, i drove myself to cedars-sinai, where they took one look at me and my insurance and admitted me right away.

testing revealed the presence of a particularly potent batch of bacterial meningitis which had happily taken up residence in my spinal column.

i was flat on my back for two full weeks, over the course of which time my doctor and every specialist in his rolodex [first rule of medicine:  don't let good insurance go to waste] examined, poked, prodded and tested me in ways i can't even begin to describe here; lemme just say that virtually no square inch of mkf's virgin territory was left unmolested.

at the end of those two weeks, full to the brim of the industrial-strength antibiotics they'd been iv-ing into my veins the entire time, i was pronounced well and ready to go home.

i remember being uneasy with this decision, because i sure didn't feel well--but what the hell, they were the professionals, it was thanksgiving week and i was dying to get outta there.  i figured i could rest up over the long weekend and be ready for work monday.

yeah.

sunday night i was back in the hospital, and it was critical this time--that first course of antibiotics had apparently only succeeded in killing off all but the really tough bacteria, which little critters had used the holiday respite granted them by my doctors to regroup, multiply and come back strong for the kill.  this time my doctors didn't fool around; they brought out the big guns--some super-duper, last-resort antibiotic that, within a week, brought me back from the brink.

this time when i was sent home, it was with a picc installed in my left arm and two weeks' worth of daily doses of iv penicillin administered by this really cool british nurse who came by every day around 2:00.

and then, i was well--until i got the bill, that is.

and this is where the quiz comes in--your task, readers, is to take a guess as to the total amount of money cedars-sinai hospital and its army of specialists deemed it necessary to charge mkf and his insurance company in order to relieve mkf of the burden of his pesky spinal meningitis.

before you answer--because i wanna make sure you have all the necessary facts in order to make your best guess--let's recap:

• private room at the hospital to the stars--22 days
  
• army of specialists
  
• shitload of tests
  
• shitload of iv antibiotics
  
• daily half-hour homecare visit by lvn--14 days
  

and there you have it--a room, some bad food, some doctors, some tests, a traveling nurse, some drugs. note that there was no surgery of any kind.

tell me--how much?

i remember the day i got the envelope from the hospital--thick, straining to hold its itemized, tri-folded contents--ripping it open and just sitting there in numb, open-mouthed shock as i stared at the total.

i remember going over each page line by line, appalled by the numbers--$4,500 a day for just the crappy little room?

i remember repeatedly calling the hospital's billing department and my insurance company, trying to find somebody--anybody--in either place who'd review with me the line items of my hospital bill i'd found so objectionable.  nobody would, because nobody cared.

i remember pointing out to my doctor that not only had all the buddies he'd called in to feed at the trough ended up being totally useless, but that had they given me the right antibiotics in the first place, i might have been spared at least a week of agony and additional hospital bills.

and, finally, i remember thinking that all the pundits were right--an american can work and save his entire life, and if he's not covered, see it all wiped away with one short illness.

there's something deeply, fatally flawed in our american system of healthcare, folks--and until our dumbass, cowardly, bought-and-paid-for politicians are actually willing to take on the insurance industry, the ama, the aba and big pharma and really get down-and-dirty and solve it, i'm not about to support some half-assed quick fix that'll do nothing more than drive up costs even more and allow the government to intrude its ever-seeking tentacles even further into our lives.

*     *     *     *     *

oh, and the answer to the quiz?  if you guessed even a penny less than $318,000, you are as sadly naive as i once was.

a little reader advice

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one of my few cherished female readers emailed me the other day with the following question:

in light of recent events, i need to ask you this:

if I were a  gay man, would I (personal I, not general) have this much of a problem finding decent guys?

knowing as i do that the woman in question is smart, attractive, articulate, reasonably young and not without charm--i.e., by most definitions, a catch--i hereby answer her as follows:

of course you would.  see, here's the thing (and i'm not telling you anything you don't, on some basic estrogenic level, already know):  men, by their nature, are pigs--guys will only be as good as women demand they be, and they'll only be as bad as women allow them to be.

historically, women have always held all the cards--i.e, the power of collectively withholding the pussy.

problem is, in the last 40 years or so, women have gotten this idiotic notion into their heads that equality with men can only mean equivalence to men--i.e., they can't be truly "liberated" unless they match their male counterparts in sluttiness. which they've done, with admirable alacrity.

and thus, they've given away their golden ticket--for free.

great deal for the man, but maybe not so great for the liberated woman who, ultimately, wants what most women (straight and gay) want--a hearth and home of her own.

because why should a man settle for just your pussy when he can easily have so many other pussies simply for the asking?

it's a question to which the enslaved women of yesteryear knew the answer, but the enlightened women of today seem to have forgotten.

that make any sense, faithful female reader?  and if not, what were you expecting from a reactionary like me?