"REFORGER 1"

I've advised you before that I was rescued from the Army's basic training requirement back in 1966 and sent to Intelligence, instead.  And please, no jokes about Army Intelligence.  Not since I was sent there, anyway.

I was sent to Fort Belvoir, Virginia and trained to be a "spook."  A spy.  No, not the James Bond type of spy, with a license to kill and all that, but more like an analyst.  A guy whose job it was to try and do it to the Russkies before they did it to us.  For this was back in the late 1960's and I was a soldier.  During the Cold War.  Stationed in West Germany.

You may not know it but the Fulda River divides Germany East from West.  And it runs through a deep gorge called the "Fulda Gap."  Everything back then on the east of this River valley was called "East Germany."  And everything west of this River was called "West Germany."  It seems simple, but that's the way it was.  

The Soviets had their T-150 tanks lined up cheek by jowl, from north to south, all pointed across the Fulda Gap at us.  And we had our old Sherman and much newer Abrams tanks lined up cheek by jowl, north to south, all pointed at them.  This was in the Grafenwoer region, where little towns dotted the map.  This was one of the worst places to be stationed.  It was mud up to your knees next to the River.  Cold, gray, misty, rainy, nasty, and crappy.  Our soldiers were miserable.  Serving as our first line of defense against a Soviet attack was hard, thankless work.  

A nice little war would have been a welcome relief to these soldiers.

Now, my team wasn't there.  Our soldiers were.  They lived in their tents.  These soldiers would get a weekend off once a month and head into the nearest town.  Their tanks would roll into town and the natives would hide under their beds.  Our guys would get drunk and get in fights and wind up in jail.  Massive grief.  You didn't want any part of it.  I certainly didn't, and thankfully never had to deal with it personally.  I was located in a HQ operation about 70 miles away.  And one day was asked to find an answer to a nagging question.  

For purposes of background, if you've been following the news lately, you know that Prez. Trump has theatened to punish NATO for their incalcitrance by moving some of our 32,000 troops out of Gemany.  We had some 63,000 soldiers in West Germany when I was there.  They were costing us Big Bucks, each and every month, as our troops are now.  For their pay, food, clothing, housing, safety and operations.  

Our arrangement with the Germans was then as it is now.  We were there as a liberating, but victorious force, having kicked their ass durng WW2.  Stationed as a backstop in the event the Soviets decided to launch an attack.  But Army Intelligence was tasked with somehow reducing the number of troops there, even while facing down our enemy.  

The Army had even come up with an answer of sorts with "REFORGER."  That stood for "RE(turn) of FOR (forces) to GER(Germany)."  We'd been doing it for a couple of years, filling up smallish C-141 Starlifter cargo planes with combat ready troops.  We even declared we'd return 5,000 troops over a weekend in 1968 to show those Russkies we were ready for them.  And we did.  What a joke!  Several Starlifter flights, from Fort Riley, Kansas, each with 70 troops, flew into Frankfurt and Furstenfeldbruek (Munich) over a 72 hour period.  To be united with our forces in Grafenwoer, as a part of "Operation Carbide Ice."  The troops we flew in, for that weekend, plus the ones already there.  It worked.  We had a bunch of troops there.  Everyone celebrated with a brass band.  Literally. 

Whoopie!

I don't want to demean that accomplishment, but it was sort of meaningless, given we'd declared our goal of reducing our troop footprint in Germany.  From 63,000 to more like 32,000, or what it is now.  And we needed a more meaty display of our capabilities to show those pesky Russians.  After all, it's not like they weren't watching all this unfold.  They could read the newspapers, too.  And the Powers That Be decided to develop that answer.

The Army gave the job to Army Intelligence.  Each higher-up gave this hot potato to a junior officer.  And each continued handing it down the line.  Until it came to me.  "Here, Cassity, make this happen!"   For whatever reason they decided I could do it.

So I did.

I'd actually been paying attention to this matter for some time.  I was stationed at Germersheim Army Depot (GAD), just outside Heidelberg, where all the wheeled vehicles were stored, so I could guage our capability to wage war once we got all the soldiers on the ground.  But how to get them here?  See if you like my suggested solution.

We had some 31 C-5A Galaxy air frieghters in our inventory back then (1969) (many more today).  Each of these giant planes* could easily hold 273 combat-ready soldiers in the main body of the aircraft down below, and another 76 in the area up above.  For a total of 349 soliders fully loaded.  And if we were willing to make them uncomfortable, we could stretch the payload to 400.  And they could travel at 570 mph all day and all night.  

And we had hundreds of thousands of active duty soldiers and National Guardsmen stationed in the United States.  Many of whom were located at or within 100 miles of three main forts:  Fort Riley, Kansas, in the center, Fort Dix, New Jersey, in the East, and Fort Lewis, Washington out West.  So I asked myself, self?  How quickly could our fighting men and women get themselves to each of these forts after receiving orders to do so?  After kissing their significant others goodbye, how quickly could they be at the nearest fort, ready to fly?  

And my answer to myself was 12 hours.

So if we provided orders to soldiers to make it to these Army forts, how quickly could we move 100,000 soldiers to Stuttgart, West Germany, to replace those we were contemplating moving back home?  How quickly could we be at full wartime readiness after moving thousands of troops back to the German theater of operations from which they'd just been removed?  

The Fort located nearest to Stuttgart was (GAD), the location of all the Army's rolling stock and where I was stationed.  Its tanks, tank retrievers, Duece-and-a-halfs (2 and 1/2 ton trucks), jeeps and other wheeled vehicles were oiled up and gassed up and ready.  Maintained for just such an occasion.  Alongside millions of gallons of fuel.  These war machines were stored at GAD only 70 miles from Stuttgart, and waiting to be needed.  All the stuff for an Army to be ready to defend Germany and Europe.  The troops would fly into Stuttgart, then travel to GAD for their tanks and trucks, then go kick Russia's ass.  And the answer?

If we had those C-5's "hot-lapping," or the 7 to 11 hour flights on a quick turnaround status, (fly, fuel up, return, load up, and fly again), and the planes were all full of soldiers, we could transport the 100,000 to Stuttgart, move them to GAD, and have them battle-ready in less than 4 days.  Or, a long weeked.  

My Readiness Plan Analysis was accepted by the generals as offered.  It was used as the answer to the Department of the Army's challenge.  And we started reducing our "footprint" in W. Germany soon thereafter.  From the 63,000 down to only about 40,000 even back then.  And, as I have said, since the Soviet Union fell, a total of only 32,000 today.  And President Trump just ordered a further 5,000 reduction recently.  Although those troops may be ordered to either Poland or perhaps Serbia.  But removed from Germany, nonetheless.  

The Germans are pissed about this.  Just imagine how much of a positive impact on their economy 5,000 soldiers' paychecks have every month?  They've been taking advantage of us for decades, asking us to protect them at our expense, while they've used the savings from not spending on war readiness and defense on other social programs.  And its time to finally force them to pay for their own defense.

(You can verify all of this by Googleing the "Stars and Stripes" newspaper of January, 1969, under "Operation Carbide Ice" and "REFORGER 1").  The Good News is that we won the Cold War and were able to reduce the tensions over the Fulda Gap without resorting to my Readiness Plan.  Thereafter, W. and E. Germany were reunited, the Soviet wall came down in '89, and now it's just called "Germany."  But the Russians continue to represent a threat, forcing us to maintain troop levels, even though the Soviet Union was disbanded.)

This Plan was considered Top Secret for more than 50 years.   I don't know why, but it was.  It's not like the Russians were unaware.  It isn't now.  But interestingly, it was actually used by our civilian air transport executives at all the major airlines as the basis for their "Hub and Spoke" air movements used starting in the 1980's.  Previous to which, planes to and from smaller regional airports, like Springfield, Missouri, to Springfield, Ohio, would go to and from these cities, back and forth, several times a day.  Whether the planes had passengers to fly or not.  Representing a significant cost and loss of revenue. 

Now?  They transport passengers in smaller planes to larger area airports, like Chicago's O'Hare and Ohio's Cleveland or Cinncinnati, then on in larger planes to their destinations from those airports.  Even if they had to fly back over their home city to reach their final location (example:  You would fly from Jefferson City, Missouri, east to St. Louis, Missouri, and hop onto a larger plane to your destination flying west to Kansas City, Missouri.  Flying back over Jefferson City on the way).   Saving the airlines $Millions every year.  Many of us don't even realize we're being forced to use that plan, as it's been in place for nearly 40 years.  Or if they do, they don't know who to blame.  So blame me, if you wish.  Although it's represented Billions in savings from a reduced troop footprint in Gemany, as well as from reduced ticket prices. 

It's amazing how much authority and responsibility the Army will give a young man just because it thinks he can handle it (and because they don't want it).  And it's amazing the things you can accomplish once you put your mind to it.  And it was enjoyable to have the freedom and flexibility to put it all together.**

BTW, I received an Army Commendation Medal for my efforts on this exercize.  This ARCOM is not freely given, especially to a one-term draftee soldier, so I'm proud of its receipt.  I'll be happy to show it off the next time you visit me here at Fort Chuckmeister.

*     The C5-A (now "M") has a fully loaded take-off weight of 790,000 pounds.  More, even, than the A-380, which can carry up to 700 people.  It makes a 747 look tiny.  It's wingspan is 270 feet, almost as big as a football field and longer than the Wright Brothers' original flight.  Its landing gear has 10 tires, each 10 feet tall.  You can stand by a tire and not be able to reach the top of it.  It makes our fleet of C-17 cargo planes, the replacement for the Starlifters, look like Piper Cubs by comarison.  They have more than 4,000 sq. ft. of useful interior space.  They are gigantic and I love them.  Check them out and you will too.

**    Want to grow your kids up real fast?  This is my primary reason for recommending you send your kids off to the military before you send them off to college.  They'll be older, wiser, smarter, and better able to deal with the challenges of life when they get back home.  It worked for me.  It might actually work for you and your kids, too...

What We're Really Good At.

It seems to me that what we humans are really good at is killing one another.

If you'll recall the first two brothers, Cain and Abel, resulted in a murder.  Cain slew Able, leaving the Earth's population down by one-half.  Or so the Bible tells us.  In one swell foop.    

And since then we've killed each other over and over.  Over food, and sex, and land, and race, and crime, and just because we could, I'm thinking.  There could be other stuff too, like religion.  Especially religion.  It's been said that more people have been killed in the name of God than for any other reason.  ("You'll worship my way or we'll have to kill 'ya!").  You could ask the Israelis if you have some doubt about that.  

In fact, looking at the United States, while we were celebrating our formation in 1798, we were at war with pirates.  Alexander Hamilton, our very first Secretary of the Treasury, formally declared military action against them while we were still partying.  And also with those folks who would choose to try and get in the way of our whiskey business.  We tarrifed them, but they didn't seem to get the idea.  The Canadians were causing trouble all the way back then, so what they're up to now shouldn't be a surprise to anyone.

BTW, did you know there are more lawyers in Orange Country, California then in all of Canada?  Maybe 'cause they're such nice people, eh?  Maybe they'll need a few extra lawyers before this whole economic war is over.  But that's just me. 

BTW, depending upon how you define the word "War," we Americans have been involved in between 229 and 459 "wars" since our founding.  Some have placed the number as high as 500, so you can tell we've been busy shooting at Bad Guys.  And often at each other.  And we've done so without regard for race, creed, religion, national origin or color ever since our Founding.  In fact, the farther away you are, the more likely we'll declare war on you.  Just look at that Viet Nam thing if you doubt me!  In short, if you get on our Bad Side, we're comin' fer 'ya!

In fact, I'd say what we're really the best at is fighting and shooting and killing our enemies.  And dayumm, there's been a whole lot of enemies!  

And did you know we won all those military actions?  Remember Panama?  Just dropped right in and grabbed the Bad Guy.  Same thing with Venezuela.  The LameStreamMedia might disagree, but hey!  They'd lie when the truth would sound better!

Did you know there were upwards of 23 other hominins in our family tree at one time?  Including Homo Heidelbergensis, and Homo Forensiensis, and Homo Neanderthalensis, and Homo Naledi, and Homo Nabilis, and Homo Australopithocus, and Homo Denisovans, to name just a few.  And even though they were all bigger and tougher than us, we were smarter, and sneaked up behind them and finally killed them all off.  And finally, after 300,000 years, placed us Homo Sapien Sapiens on top of The Heap.

We've only declared 5 actual wars since we declared ourselves a Union, including 11 police actions.  The War of 1812 (those pesky Brits!), The Mexican-American War (why wasn't it the American-Mexican War?), the Spanish-American War (the Spanish have been causing us trouble for more than 200 years!), and World Wars 1 and 2.  It might be just me, but I'm thinking if we'd done a better job during WW1, you know, by killing every single Bad Guy at the time, we wouldn't have had to do that whole WW2 thing, right?

The Police Actions we've engaged in include The Civil War (killing 605,000 Americans, all fighting to eliminate slavery.  When do we get reparations?), the Korean War, (36,574 died so we could buy Hyundais and Kias) the VietNam War (58,220 of our soldiers and sailors died in the dumbest war in  U.S. history), plus the Gulf Wars, the Iraq War, the Afghanistan War, and the current Iran War (one of the longest sentences I've ever written).  You don't want to get between me and a keyboard!  

More than 8,000 additional deaths occured during these last military actions.  Proving our soldiers and sailors lives are cheap to the suits who keep declaring these stupid wars.  All sitting around a conference table, drinking coffee, and sending our kids around the world to die.  One day they'll learn their lesson, I'm thinking.

Did you know we've only experienced 22 years of total peace since we declared the U.S. as a Nation?  22 years without military action anywhere in the world?  238 years of shooting at Bad Guys and 22 years of sitting on the porch, sipping moonshine!  And we've gotten pretty good at it, doncha' think?

Have you ever considered that only those with something to steal, like America, get forced into a war?  Costa Rica has never had a war!  Belieze has never had a war!  Iceland never had a war!  Lichtenstein has never had a war!  Switzerland has never had a war (those mountains all around might have something to do with that).  Maybe those countries don't have anything worth stealing.  But because America has such a bounty of riches, we've had to beat back all sorts of folks trying to take our stuff!  

The sunzabitches!

We have more than 1,000,000 men and women in the uniform of our military, right now, as this is written.  And we've had 1,000,000 of our men and women die while making and keeping America Great!  The Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, the Coast Guard, plus the members of our Space Force, are standing Guard, ready to pummel any dufus trying to push us off our pedestal as the Very Best Country on Earth.  

As is our official Country motto, "They Don't Know Who They're Messing With!"

Perhaps it's just me, a veteran of the U. S. Army, but I'd say anyone without a clear-cut desire to pursue a specific career, should consider joining one of these branches of our military.  They offer their members a terrific career and future, and a nice bunch of benefits.  Including a retirement package and paid-for schooling.  Plus, you get to shoot Bad Guys whenever and wherever they pop up their evil heads.  All around the world! 

And just between you and me, being a human and all, shooting Bad Guys, legally, is the very best part of the whole damn deal...

   

Oh (NO!) Canada!

Those who don't know what to think about the current trade war between the U. S. and Canada, and are open to considering the facts, need to review some of these statistics:

Just so you know, we exported $354.4 Billion Dollars of goods to Canada in 2023, while importing $416.4 Billion Dollars in the same period.  Resulting in a trade deficit to the U.S. of $63.3 Billion Dollars.

And in 2024, we exported $349.4 Billion Dollars to Canada, while importing $412.7 Billion Dollars.  Resulting in a trade deficit to the U.S. of $63.3 Billion Dollars.

So we've supported Canada to the tune of more than $120 Billion Dollars over the past 2 years.  We might as well have given it to them, no repayment required.

20% of Canada's Gross Domestic Product depends upon exports to the U.S.  Only 1.4% of the U.S. Gross Domestic Product depends upon exports to Canada.  In other words, they're a flyspeck on our financial system.

Canada's Premier Mark Carney's recent cozying up to China's Dictator Xi is a result of his known hatred of Trump.  The trade from China to Canada is up 14.5% over the past quarter.  Canada's past 20 years' financial growth has been 2.1%.  An average of 0.02% per year.  Only.  

Since 2018, Canada has imposed tariffs upon American cheese, eggs, milk, and dairy products of from 277% to 343%.  Even to cross-border suppliers in Washington, Idaho, Montana, Minnesota, Michigan, and New York.  Who could simply walk across the street and sell them.  The U.S. depends upon exportation of 29% of its dairy products, preventing a domestic oversupply.  Their tariffs were done to protect Canada's own dairy product suppliers in violation of USMCA requirements.  We know it.  They know it.  But we've done nothing about it.  Until now.

There are 41,417,000 people in Canada.  It's estimated that the imposition of $22 Billion in tariffs on the U.S. by them will cost the average Canadian family $1,600 a year.  It's estimated to cost the average U.S. family no more than $1,200 a year, mainly because steel and aluminum imports (25% tariff) make up such a large part of automobiles.  Those not buying autos should see little or no change in their financial status.  

The recent refusal by Canadians to travel to the U.S., most particularly to Las Vegas (down 8.9%) and Florida (down 10.9%), has resulted in a reduction in an overall 22% downturn in visits over the past two years.  It's resulted in $4.5 Billion in reduced spending during this period.  U.S. travel to Canada has declined by only 4.5% during this same period.  Mainly because, unless you're there to fish or hunt, there's little to see in Canada.  Sorry, it's the truth.  

The recent announcement of the oil trade agreement between the U.S. and Venezuela will significantly reduce Canada's exports to the U.S. over the coming years.  Canada's heavy crude, which our refineries are built to handle, will no longer be needed because of this agreement, as Venezuela's heavy crude will supplant its importation.  This could reduce Canada's GDP by as much as 8%.  Quite possibly causing a  Canadian economic depression. 

Renaming Lake Ontario to Lake America is another poke in the eye by Trump to Canada's Premier Mark Carney.  Who's been very public in his hatred of Trump.  I personally think it's funny.  It's done to piss off the Canadians, who are pretty easy to piss off, it seems.  A trade war between the U.S. and Canada is very much like them playing checkers while Trump plays chess.  This fly will be swatted.  Canada will either relent, or be forced to suffer an economic downturn effecting every single Canadian.  

I suspect they will do so, and soon.  Otherwise, they just might be forced to become our 51'st State.  Sort of like Illinois.  Or Minnessota.  They've been acting like it for years, even to allowing (forcing!) us to pay for their defense.  Like a son who graduates from a college we paid for, then moves into the basement.  While bitching about taking out the trash.  With apologies to Yoda, up with Canada I'm now completely fed.  

How about you?

How About a Color Blind Society?

America is supposed to be this giant melting pot, right?  Like the Statue says, "Send me your tired, your hungry..." etc.

A place where people of all nationalities and all religions and all colors can get together and start new lives.  Lives where what they are and what they believe makes no difference.  It's their performance that counts.  All for one, and one for all.  Right?

In fact, there are no "Black" people.  Or "Red" people.  Or "Yellow" or "White" people.  They are each a lighter shade of those colors.  Like me.  I'm sort of a pinkish.  I get a smooth tan in the summer, but never White.    Not White.  Never White.  I'll only be White when I'm dead.  

So why are there so many organizations and societies of "Black-centric" people?  Why do they intentionally gather together as Blacks instead of joining in with the rest of us?  Why is there a "Black Undertakers of America?"  Do they not bury White folks?  And "Black Rodeo Cowboys Association?"  The bulls don't care, BTW.  And "The National Association of Black Journalists?"  They all shade the truth, right?  It seems they missed the melting pot email!

And let's not forget the "United Negro College Fund."  I thought they no longer wished to be called "Negros."  That's what they wished to be known as when I was coming up.  But not now.  Why don't they change their name?

And on that same note, how about the NAACP, the  "National Association of Colored People."  They let us know they did not wished to be called "Colored" about 50 years ago.  Are they too cheap to change their stationery?  Should we begin calling them "Colored" again?

Why don't they wish to assimilate?  Example:  There's this cable program named "Black Entertainment Television."  And if that weren't enough, they also feature another cable program they own called "Black Her."  For the Black women in America, they say.  Maybe they should start "Black Kid."  

Now, this media empire was started back in 1980 by one Robert Johnson, a Black entrepreneur.  Who subsequently sold it, for $3 Billion Dollars, to the Paramount Skydance Network, run by David Ellison.  A White billionaire.  Making Johnson America's first Black $Billionaire.  I wonder if the Black folks who watch these cable programs each day know they're owned by a White conglomerate?  Would they stop watching if they knew?

And I wonder if they chased down Johnson and forced him to pay his "Fair Share."

So I've got this question.  Why do we have a Black TV cable program?  Aren't we sufficiently melded together as a society by now to not need one?  And if we aren't, why is there no "White Entertainment Television" cable programming?   Is there no White $Billionaire willing to jump on this business opportunity?  There are probably enough White racists to warrant their own cable channel, I'm thinking.

There's even the Black Congressional Caucus.  Which are the Black congressmen who all get together to use their combined voting heft to try and exert power over legislation.   And we talk about that crazed Left-wing bloc run by Alexandria Occasional Cortez!  Maybe they should start the "White Congressional Caucus" to ace out those pesky Black legislators.

There's the "Historically Black Colleges and Universities" in America (HBCU).  An organization of more than 100 Black colleges.  Why don't we have a (HWCU)'s in America?  And why don't we have a "White Undertakers of America?"  That only White people would use when they finally croak?  And "White Rodeo Cowboys of America?"  Roping only white cattle and horses.  And "White Journalists of America?"  All reporting the same crap as their Black brethren.  At least they got together on something, it seems. 

BTW, I looked hard for the "Black Medieval Lesbian Transgender Poets Society" but could not find it.  I'm sure there are a bunch of them, but they've yet to form an organization.  I'll keep looking and keep you posted.

And a better question, since there are more Latinos in America than Blacks, why don't we have a "Brown Entertainment TV?"  Or a "Brown Congressional Caucus?"  Or perhaps a "Red Rodeo Cowboys of America?"  There were more American Indian (Indiginous Personages) cowboys than any other kind at one time, right?  They were riding and roping on the range long before any other race got here.  Or even a "Yellow Accountants of America?"  The Asians are good with numbers, right?  Maybe they should look into this!  If it's good enough for the Black folks, it should be good enough for everyone else, right?

Or maybe we should send them a text and axx them to close down all these Black-focused outfits and try and assimilate for a change, right?  Instead of them against us, or actually against everybody, how about we're all in this together for a change?  Do we have to pay them reparations to get them to join the American Club?  I think that's a really good idea, how about you?

In fact, I think we should institute a change in our society.  I think we should never, from this day forward, mention a person's race in any context forevermore.  Except if there's a crook and the police are chasing them and identifying their race would help the cops catch them.  We can't get rid of them, nor they us.  We're sort of bound together at the hip, right?  Sort of like that 1958 film "The Defiant Ones with Sidney Potier and Tony Curtis.  They were handcuffed together.  And as much as they hated it, they were forced to work togther to break out of jail.  Let's do that on a much larger scale.  Let's try and eliminate race as a defining modifier from now on.  

In fact, Black is Beautiful, and so is Red, and Yellow, and even White.  And if "Black Lives Matter," so do White ones, and Red and Yellow ones.  Let's all get together and have a BBQ on the White House Lawn and bury the hatchet.  But not into each other for a change, okay? 

I'm betting Big Orange would be all for it.  

Sound like a good idea?       

What Caused Our Technological Explosion?

The very fastest airplane in our military inventory in 1947 was the F-86 Sabre Jet

(One of my all time favorites, BTW!)

Its statistics were impressive.  It had a maximum airspeed of 650 miles per hour in level flight.  Not quite the speed of sound, but dayumm close.  Much faster than any of our other planes.  Its first flight was on November 2, 1947.  Just a few months after the Roswell Incident.  You know what that was, right?

I provide this information because only 22 years later our astronauts landed on the moon.  22 years.  That should cause' us to ask one very important question: how did our technical mastery improve so markedly in such a short period of time?  I think I know the answer.  And you might also after you read this.

You might recall that a UFO (UAP now, ferGod'ssake!) crash landed in the desert outside Roswell, New Mexico on July 20, 1947.  There were two of them that crashed, we're told, but the other one was able to gather itself up and continue on.  And according to sources at least one of the occupants of the disabled craft may have been taken alive.  And then helped us to reverse engineer their craft in order to upgrade our techinical capability.

That, and the fact that President Dwight D. Eisenhower, while vacationing in Palm Springs in January, 1953, had a dental emergency, we were told.  He was taken to Las Vegas to a dentist's office for services, we've been told.  Except there's no evidence he actually visited a dentist while in Vegas.  There IS evidence, however, that he's reported to have been taken to Area 51 to meet, and sign an agreement with, certain visitors from, ummm, outer space.  

Aliens, doncha' know.  Not illegal ones, the OTHER kind.  The ones from, ummm, you know, "out there."

Apparently he met with these visitors to arrange a deal.  The arrangement was for us to allow these visitors to kidnap a few of our citizens each year in exchange for technical information we could use to vault our military capability over the Russians.  The information would include data on propulsion, science and electronics.  

Didn't know this, didja?

By "kidnap," it's reported these aliens could gather information from our citizens they could use to aid their research into our reproduction.  Apparently they were so advanced they were having problems with such things.  They could take sperm from men, and eggs from our women.  They were required to report to our Gubmint info about the few citizens they took.  This sounds feasible, considering all the reports we've heard over the ensuing years about people beamed aboard space craft to undergo reproductive investigation.  Such as Betty and Barney Hill back in 1958.  They were reportedly taken aboard a spacecraft and forced to offer up sperm and eggs to those who said they were from a planet 35 light years away.  And then suffered a "lost time" event.  They underwent regressive hypnosis to relive the occasion.  They each gave corroborating info and later passed lie detector tests.  

There are few who doubt their veracity.  They're in fact considered the poster children for such extraterrestrial visitations.  You could Google their story should you be interested in learning more about their activities.  

The "Grays" apparently took far more people than agreed upon over the years, it's been reported, thus violating the agreement.  Maybe they learned from the Iranians.  

For those who scoff at this, just think of myriad technological advancements we witnessed between 1947 and 1969, the year we landed on the Moon (yes, we DID land on the moon).  There were transistors, thermistors, printed circuits, integrated circuits, lasers, CT scanners and such.  Remember our first mainframe computer?  It took up an entire floor in the science building at UCLA.  And required hours to produce an answer to a simple math question.  And just a few years later, we had a computer on every desk.  And even laptops.  

These advancements came so fast it took our breath away.  And just remember that POTUS John F. Kennedy promised us in 1960 that we'd land on the Moon before the end of the decade.  It seems he had inside information, wouldn't you agree?

Think about the technological advancements we didn't see during World War 2, even though it consumed more than 55% of our Gross National Product!  One can compare those advancements to the decade that followed.  And reasonably believe that we had some help, right?

I don't know whether or not Eisenhower actually had a parlais with the Greys.  But we sure did have a technological explosion in just a few short years.  It actually makes  more sense that we did than didn't.  So I'm going to believe that it happened.  That's the romanticist in me.  How about you?  

Now that our Federal Gubmint has admitted there are UAP's, and that it has no idea what they are, or where they're from, or who's piloting them, don't you want to follow that admission up with the belief they're from another planet?  Seems reasonable to me we should just all swallow hard and admit we weren't the first society on this Planet, nor are we likely to be the last.  And if you doubt me, with all our technical mastery, we could not reproduce the Great Pyramid of Giza.  We're not the master of all that we see.  And it seems like we should finally try and prepare ourselves for the day we learn we're not the Top Dog on the Food Chain.  

That day is coming.  Are we ready?   

"Time, Effort, Energy, and Money"

"Boy, I ain't never sold nuthin' to nobody."

Or so said my Father, Leland E. Cassity.  Known as "Lee" to his friends.  He always started every bit of life advice with "Boy," so I knew to pay attention.  Dad was one of the very best salesmen who ever lived.  He kept his family in nice houses, good food and fine cars for my entire life.  And even though he was a salesman, he always said he was one without ever selling anybody anything.  He just made sure. he said, he was around when they decided to buy...  

He always said,"People only buy from those who show them how to save time, effort, energy, and money.  And sometimes grief."  To show them how.  To facilitate.  To arrange.  To broker.  To mediate.  To lead them by the hand.  To offer, and then to aid in making it all happen." 

He always said if a prospective client knows you're a salesman,  and he agrees to an appointment with you, then he's ready to buy what you're selling.  He's just looking for you to give him a reason not to.  

You just don't want to give him that reason. 

Dad said he'd do his best to get that client to see him as an expert in the area in which he was selling.  Someone who knew everything there is to know about the subject so his customer didn't have to.  And then he'd give them advice as that expert.

"Just like it's called fishing and not catching," Dad would say, "it it shouldn't be called selling.  Rather, it should be called 'buying."  

Sometimes, he said, his advice to the customer was to purchase what he was selling.  To buy some of it, or all of it.  And sometimes it wasn't.  He told me that many times he advised his propective clients not to buy what he was there to sell.  After doing a full interview of that client, he'd tell them to keep their money in their jeans.  And then he said he'd see them again sometime in the future.  And that by so doing he'd made a friend for life.  One who'd rely on his future advice on anything.  For no salesman ever intentionally advised their clients not to buy, right?  

Nobody.  Except my Dad. 

Friends, he said, are better than gold.  Friends will vouch for you to their friends.  They will recommend you and stand behind you.  They'll be other deals and other days, Dad would say.  "Never spill your candy in the lobby," he would say.  "There's a movie to see.  Take time to see it."  You never have enough friends, he would always say.  And I believed him.

Just think about that.  If you made it your business to know pretty much everything there is to know about a product or service, and make it a point to be known among the community as such, and you offered up your advice on that product or service, your client would be a certified fool not to take it.  But that requires you to actually KNOW everything.  But it takes a lot of time and study to become that expert.  A lot of time spent studying the marketplace into which that product or service is bought and sold.  And used.  Not very many people who call themselves salesmen will ever take the time to do that.  To become that expert.  Because it takes work.  A lot of work.  But Dad took that time.

And I have as well.

All I ever wanted to do was be a salesman.  Not a lawyer.  Not a doctor.  And not an Indian chief.  Their lives are way too structured.  Too programmed.  Too full of rules and regulations governing their activities.  I wanted to be a salesman.  An expert salesman, just like my Dad.  Someone who grew to know everything about my product or service, how to use it, when, why and how often.  How much it cost.  And how much its competitors' products and services cost.  And why mine was better.  Or made the lives of those who might use it better, quicker, easier and/or perhaps cheaper.  

Otherwise, Dad said, he wouldn't sell it.  And people grew to know that.    

"But the bottom line," as Dad would say, "was to save them Time.  Time can be saved, it can be used, or it can be wasted.  Or Effort.  Like time, Effort can be saved by the customer, or the effort can be wasted.  Or Energy.  Either from the electric company or their backside.  Or Grief.  How much Grief can you save the client by him buying your product or service?  And finally Money.  Either initially, or over time.  Money's almost never the most important reason to buy, regardless of what the customer tells you," Dad would say, "but Money's always on the list."

His clients would invite him to go deer or quail or duck hunting.  They'd invite him and us to BBQ's.  They'd send us a turkey at Thanksgiving.  Who do you know whose customers treat a salesman like a member of the family?  Only those salesmen who aren't seen as salesmen.  Rather, as experts who advise, and whose advice is taken and valued.

My Dad told me that one of his preferred sales methods was to advise his clients he'd be providing them, as an expert, with enough information via his presentation to make an intelligent buying decision.  And then, at the end of his presentation, he'd ask, "Have I?"  And if the client would say anything other than "Yes,"  he'd say, "Oh, I'm sorry, what did I fail to cover?"  Thus accepting the responsibility and blame for failing to fully advise.  And giving the client the chance to tell him exactly what more information (selling) he needed.  This gave Dad the opportunity to hone in on the one (or more) thing(s) the customer felt most important.  Thus bypassing all their built-in sales resistance.  And would not have have been mentioned by the customer via any other approach.  

The result of this sales method was almost always a sale.

Another thing my Dad would state is that you need to let the customer talk.  He'll tell you how he feels and what he wants if you just let him.  Most salesmen, he would say, spend all their time talking, from a prepared pitch, and never let the customer talk.  Even while the customer is making buying indications ("No wait, I'm not finished selling you yet!").  That's why they're salesmen and not expert advisors, Dad would say. 

Dad would say that salesmen and disc jockeys and guys on the radio hate dead air.  They'll talk up a storm when silence would sound better.  They're afraid, he'd say, that staying quiet will cost them the sale.  Let your client speak, he'd say.  Stay silent and learn what your client is thinking.  You have two ears and only one mouth, he'd say.  So listen twice as much as you speak and you'll be successful. 

I once interviewed a dozen solar panel salesmen to find the best deal.  One of them walked in with a package under his arm filled with recently caught sockeye salmon he'd just fished from Alaska.  He said, "Give me the sale and I'll give you the salmon."  Thinking, presumably, that doing so would secure the deal.  That guy wasn't selling solar panels, he was selling salmon.  Selling is that bad in America today.

As Woody Allen once said, "90% of life is just showing up."  I agree.  And showing up no later than 15 minutes early.  Never, ever be late.  I can truly say that I've never been late for an appointment in my entire life.  Thousands of appointments and I've never been late.  It's my Number One focus.  The customer's time is always more important than mine.  To have him see you as protective of his time is one of the very best things a salesman can do, and Number One on a good salesman's list.  And if the customer doesn't notice it, it sure doesn't hurt to mention it.

Another thing Dad would do is spend the first few minutes getting to know his customer.  Where and how he lived, what he did for a living, was he married, how many kids, their ages and sexes, etc.  And why he might need what he was selling.  No need, no sale.  But if there was a need, he'd try and prepare his sales presentation, on the fly, around it.  The customer by this time was at ease.  Not defensive.  Ready to listen, and to participate.  Disarm your client, he'd say.  Take away his natural sales resistance and become a friend.  And expert.  

My Dad sold life insurance for much of his life.  Nobody every WANTED to buy life insurance, he would say, but everybody always knew they NEEDED life insurance.  Buying life insurance made the client focus on his or her mortality, he'd say.  Nobody wants that.  Nobody wants to think about dying.  So Dad would focus on how much better it would be for their family to have financial matters covered when they pass.  Their not having to worry about money at such a painful time.  Dad said helping the customer make the buying decision of a product he knew he needed but didn't want to buy was a true art.  And Dad was an artist at doing so.

Dad would sat he'd try and paint pictures in the air with words and sell you the pictures.  Oh, and then throw in the product or service.  

Dad then gravitated to real estate.  Why this house or farm, versus that one.  And why folks should list with him versus another R.E. guy.  And once again, if you're going to pay some dude 6% of the sales price, you're going to want to opt for the guy who's an expert in the subject, he would say.  Somebody you feel will get the job done, and have your best interests at heart.  He would always tell the client, "Under all is the land.  The only thing that's real.  That's why," he'd say, "they call it REAL estate."  Another thing he'd say is, "You can never pay too much for real estate.  You can only pay it too quick."  Thus taking away the focus on price alone.  

Just like wanting the best lawyer or the best doctor, people choose the one they view as an expert.  "You don't pick a doctor 'cause they're cheaper, or a bargain basement lawyer when you're in legal  trouble.  You pick an expert," he would say, "regardless of price."  

"Once again," he would say, "be that expert."

Companies whose products or services are complicated, or difficult to understand, will hire professional salesmen/women to represent their efforts.  If they're good they're worth their salt.  They'll help you make an intelligent buying decision.  They'll save you time, effort, energy, money, and sometimes grief in the process.  It's a great profession.  I always loved it.  Be happy they're around.    

If you're going to be buying anytime soon, especially something expensive, like a house or car or a racehorse or a yacht, look for the sales professional who's an expert in his or her field.  Somebody who not only knows all the answers, but one who knows all the questions, too.  They're around.  

They're just harder to find.  

Names Are Much Better

I've been accused of knowing everything there is to know about cars.

That's not true.  I don't know everything.  I know a whole bunch, but not everything.

I used to know everything, but that was back when cars were fun.  Back before the 1990's.  Back when they were all redesigned each year.  Back when they all looked different.  From each other and from last year's model.  Back when you could tell them apart from 50' away.  Back when every 10th car was a convertible and every 5th car was a station wagoon.  Back before there were "SUV's" (pickup trucks with sedan bodies), and back before pickup trucks were bought by folks as pavement princesses.  Back when Detroit owned 92% of new car sales.  As opposed to today's 44%. 

There's an old Arab saying:  "Never let a camel get his nose under your tent.  Pretty soon you'll have a camel in your tent."  Detroit has a camel in its tent.

Detroit should be ashamed of itself.  Their executives sat back, collected $Millions, and watched the Germans and the Japanese and the Koreans and the Italians and the English eat our lunch.  

And they're on their second desert. 

Back when cars had names like Impala (Chevy).  And Bonneville (Pontiac).  And Belvedere (Plymouth).  And Galaxie (Ford).  And Saratoga (Chrysler).   And Azure (Bentley) and Golden Hawk (Studebaker) and Starfire (Oldsmobile).  And not numbers.  Ahhh, numbers!  Maybe their marketing departments have run out of creativity.  They're no longer able to come up with neat names.  I'm so bummed!  This number thing really sucks, and I'll bet you agree with me!

I'm addicted to cars.  Some people are addicted to cocaine, or heroin, or alcohol, or crack.  Or porn, even.  I'm addicted, on the other hand, to cars.  I've owned 127 of them.  From 409 Chevy's to 911 Porsches.  From  Rolls-Royces, to Volkswagen Beatles.  From Cad Eldorado Biaritzes to Corvettes.  From Monte Carlos to Mercedes-Benz's.  From Bentleys to Oldsmobiles. And I loved every one of them.  And I wish I had all of them back again.

I even owned 5 of them at one time while I was in in the Army in Germany.  It only provided me with 2 license plates and I had to keep juggling them between the cars to keep the politzei from towing them.  Ahhh, the problems of owning so many cars.

I have memorized everyone of Detroit's "Big Three" car models and engine cubic inches, torque and horsepower ratings from 1955 to 1990.  And if that's not enough, I have every paint color of every one of the "Big Three" from 1955 to 1990 all memorized.  And their interior color options, too.  Why?  Why not?  As I said, I was addicted.  Example:  It's okay to have a strange hobby, right?  My 1962 Chevy Impala Super Sport 409 cubic inch, 409 horsepower Impala was painted a beautiful Honduras Maroon with black bucket seat interor.  Oh, and a 3:70:1 "Posi-Trac" rear end gear ratio.  

I owned it while the Beach Boys' record was on the charts, BTW.  "Giddy Up, Giddy Up 409!"    

As I said, I would still own them, except I had no place to store them.  I owned 11 of them at one time back in the '90's.  Four car garage, four car driveway, and 3 on the street out front.  And they were all beautiful, even the 2 slow ones.  Some of them are true collectors items today.  The 427 Corvette with all 4 off-road options is worth a cool $250,000 today.  The 409 Chevy is worth at least $100,000.  The '53 Mercedes-Benz 300D Cabriolet ganster wagon I owned in Germany is worth at least $200,000.*  The '54 Bentley is worth at least $60,000.  The '66 Porsche 911 is worth at least $50,000.

I'd be a multi- multi-millionaire if I still owned them.  I have ongoing nightmares over having to sell them.  Oh, to have owned a warehouse to store them!  And enough $Cash to hire a mechanic to look after them.  While I moved all about the country and raised a family and grew my career and businesses.  And that's exactly why I had to sell them.  So I don't hate myself too much for letting them go.  A little bit, but not too much.   

I'll provide this unassuming little blog with a full listing of all the cars I've owned in a future posting.  But for today, I'll just provide my opinion as to why I think cars have ceased to be fun.  And "fun" is a major part of why people buy cars.  Or at least they used to.  And realizing they're not fun anymore is why fewer are bought.  Example:  Detroit sold 22 million cars in 1966.  It will sell fewer than 11 million this year.  

It has to do with them being called by "numbers" instead of "names."  Numbers, I believe, have no soul.  No heartbeat.  Unless they have to do with the size of the motor or the horsepower rating.  They don't elicit excitement.  They don't cause you to break out in a cold sweat when you hear their names or think about how they look. They used to.  And here's my proof.

There are 19 separate models in the Mercedes-Benz lineup, as an example.  Expensive German cars.  Known to everyone as the pinnacle of the car market.  On everybody's list to buy when they win the lottery or graduate from medical school.  Yet, nobody knows anything about them.  Especially what they're called.  I'm about to change that.  You just won the lottery, let's say.  You call your M-B dealer and ask him to tell you about his new car inventory.  He says, "Sure!"  And proceeds to do so.  He provides a complete run-down, from least to most expensive, along with their prices.  So as not to bore you, here's a partial listing of them, along with their base pricing: 

     -  GLA         $45,825

     -  GKV         $49,235

     -   "C"          $52,850

     -  CLA          $53,475

     -  EQB          $61,467   

     -    "E"         $67,040

     -  EQS          $88,973

     -  EQE          $91,230

     -   "SL"       $118,520

     -    "S"        $135,180

     -    "G"        $216,460 

Back in the good old days you would call your brother-in-law and tell him you just bought a new Pontiac Catalina convertible.  "Mahogany" brown with the Saddle bucket seats and matching color top.  Optioned with the 4-speed transmission and Posi-traction.  With the top-of-the-line 389 cubic inch motor and 3 x 2 barrel curburetors.  348 horsepower to get your heart started.  And your brother-in-law would be drooling over it.  And be asking you when he'd get to drive it.  

Today?  You call you brother-in-law and tell him you hit the lottery and just bought a new, top-of-the-line Mercedes-Benz EQS.  $90,000 worth of M-B luxury.  And he'd say, "What's an EQS?"  

Exactly...

*          One of the cars I owned in Germany at the same time was a 300D Mercedes-Benz Cabriolet.  A 19' long 4 door convertible.  Near perfect condition.  Collectors item.  I also owned a 1965 Porsche 911, a  1969 Volkswagen Beetle, a 1955 Volkswagen Beetle, and a 1967 Alfa Romeo Guilia Spyder.  A good friend and fellow G.I. really liked the 300D and wanted to buy it.  I was shipping the Porsche and the '69 VW.  As he was getting out sooner than I was, I offered to sell it to him if he'd pick up my Porsche in Bayonne, N.J. and drive it to my home in Missouri.  He agreed.  Even though it was worth a lot, I sold him the 300D for $100.  I signed over the Porsche, gave him the keys, he picked it up in N.J. and drove it to my MO home.  Some 1,200 miles away.  He handed the keys over to my Dad.  It was there when I got home.  And I never saw or talked to him again.  That's what's called trust.  And honor...