A New Insurance Scam.

I just received my 519th phone call from a guy/gal/other (Taxifornia, don't cha' know) looking to sell me car and/or home insurance.

Why?

Because I'd made the mistake of calling about a dozen large home and car insurance companies about a week ago whose names we all know.  Looking to do the job our Gubimint isn't doing.  Lemme' 'splain...

I wrote a check for a new Chevy 409 Impala Super Sport back in 1962.  $2,920.09.  While the Beach Boys record was still on the charts.  That was the top of the line back then.  To buy a run-of-of-the-mill Chevy with no special appointments today will set you back right at $51,150.  Why so much?  Inflation.  The very same reason we're more than $40,000,000,000 in debt.  That's with a "T."  

Trillion.  That's Four Thousand Billion Dollars.  Enough to  buy a new Ford Mustang for everyone in Washington State.  And Oregon.  Pretty soon it'll be Wyoming and Utah, also.  Because our Gubmint is in competition with us, you and me, for pants, and shirts, and underwear, and cars, and trucks, and homes, and eggs, and sausage, and everything else.  Remember, they're Amazon's biggest customer.  Except, I might note, they can print money.  We can't.  Should we try, the Secret Service - their other job* - will be on our ass RAT NOW!  Leaving us at their mercy.    

You should also remember that 'Murica took in more than $4.5 Trillion Dollars in income taxes last year.  An all-time record.  But spent more than $6.2 Trillion Dollars.  The $1.7 Trillion we spent but didn't have was added to our National Debt.  Our leaders should be ashamed.  If they had any smame, that is.

So instead of working to lower our costs to meet the savings of those of us 47 Million Retirees, they're endeavoring to raise the hourly and salaries of workers, the 62 Million of us out there plugging away on a daily basis, to meet the new higher costs.  So they continue to get their votes.  That's why those in the drive-thru with degrees from USC and Berkeley are saying, "Would you like fries with that?" 

So it's up to me in self-defense to try and lower my costs.  My costs of home and car insurance being some of them.  Which have been too damn high!  And which mainly serve to pay the greens fees of my Farmers insurance agent.  An agent whom I do not know,* I have never met, and don't ever expect to.  I've learned he bought the agency along with my policies, from the guy who bought the agency, from a guy who bought the agency, from a guy who bought the agency 8 years ago.  Back when I purchased the my home and the policies.  Never met a one of them.  But they've been happily spending my premiums ever since.  Not a single claim.  No tickets.  No accidents.  No DUI's.  But those premiums continued on.  

It was time to look at making a change.

So I sat down two weeks ago and began calling the major insurance companies to explore my potential savings.  Not expecting anything other than information.

That was my first mistake.

Back when I was a licensed insurance agent, some 60 years ago, one sold insurance for a company to those who needed it.  Mine was Monarch Life and Casualty.  You sold Monarch to a a guy/gal/other who bought Monarch policies, who wrote a check to Monarch, wnich  then issued Monarch policies, and wrote my commission check from Monarch.  The only insurance broker was the one you worked for.  Now?  Ya' ready for it?

I just received my 527th phone call from a broker looking to sell me car and/or home insurance.  From as many as 100 difference companies!  And you'll pardon me if I receive several more calls as this blog posting is written.  Because, it seems, we now have a new reality.  There are dozens, HUNDREDS of brokers living in their parents' basements, monstly since COVID, just waiting for a phone call from an AI robot, or some dude in India, or Viet Nam, looking for people like me to fill out an ad on the Internet.  One requesting an insurance quote.  Then whomever reads that ad calls the midget in his mom's basement.  Who's been awaiting that call.  (Pardon me... Time out.)  Who then calls me.  (Number 538 so far.)

That guy/gal/other then calls me, and offers to sell me one of his policies.  Which he doesn't understand, or care about.  While probably eating bon bons.  And watching Jerry Springer reruns. 

Now then, I've been looking to lower my costs by about half.  It's my fault, actually, having not paid much attantion to my costs.  But I am doing so now.  Especially since I don't drive more than about 500 miles a year (5 spinal surgeries, so far).  It costs me about $6 dollars a mile here in Taxifornia to drive the 1.1 miles down the hill to Sonic to get a BOGO burger and save about $2.50.  Then put the old steed away for another few days.  So I've contacted all these nationally-known companies, expecting they'd call back with a proposal.  But they've permitted the midgets to sell for them.  Probably saving $Jillions in the process.  Dayummm, the phone has been ringing off my hand!  I'm up to 540!

The bad news:  536 of them have been a waste of time.  The good news:  3 of those calls have produced quotes of about half of what I've been paying.  So far.  I was asked why I keep on answering my phone.  Even a blind pig finds an acorn every now and then!  And as I've been telling them all, I intend to make my choice by the end of the week.  To decide just who to do business with.  And then shut off my text and email services so as not to receive any more of these worthless offers. 

Nothing aganst AI or India or Viet Nam or blind pigs, mind you.

I should say I live alone.  Just me and my ten pound Maltese puppy.  Who does not speak Maltese.  She does, in fact, endeavor to speak Dobenman, as she barks at anything that drives, walks or flies by.  Which is better than any Ring camera.  Her barking alerts me to a visitor, which gives me the notice I need to arm up with my .357 S&W pistol, just in case there's an attempted break in.  There hasn't been one so far, dammit, so just me and Puppeee. That's her name.  She has her own Facebook page, in case you'd like to check her out.  She has a bunch of followers so far.  Perhaps you'd like to become one as well??

She tells me (in Doberman) it's tough to type with those fuzzy feet.  One would think.  But she's working at it.  You can check out her running commentary at your leisure.

So I've been given the chance to rail at all these dummmasses trying to sell me insurance, when I know more about their products than they do.  And I have just chosen a new agent.  A 24-year old Black guy from Lost Angeles who has endeavored to work with me to find a new policy with the proper limits.  At the proper price.  And a new home policy that meets my needs.  Good on him.  Apparently there are still those willing to do the job God gave them to do.

Bad on all the other dufussesses who wasted both my time and theirs.  Although my time I imagine was far moe important that theirs.  I have so little of it remaining.  Because there's more of my life in the rearview mirror than out the front windsnield.  They have mucho more, as their basement living arrangement will no doubt go one for years to come. 

Mom's are so forgiving, right? 

And this should serve as notice to each of you that you're likely being taken to the cleaners by your insurance agents.  Without even knowing it.  And the likelihood is in direct proportion to the number of invites you receive to let them buy you lunch at the country club and pay for a round of golf.  After all, it's your money they're spending...

Wooof!  Wooooof!  Oh oh!  Number 542 just rang me up.  While mumber 541 is on hold....  

In short, one can either be supremely pissed at this new reality, knowing there's not a dayummm thing you can do about it, or decide to make it entertaining.  Dayummm, this is entertaining!

*      The Secret Service was formed to catch those manufacturing there own money in their basements back in the 1860's.  As in those days, each municipality was printing its own.  Putting our Country at risk.  Protecting our Presidents was a follow-on job, which evolved in Lincoln's time.  A job led by a guy named Pinkerton.  You know of him, right?  He was our foremost private eye at the time.  You should Google it when you get a chance.  Oh yeah, when in D.C., be sure to visit the Treasury Department.  And watch pallets of $100 bills being produced.  Pallets bigger than a washing machine.  Many, many of them.  You'll have a new and better understanding of why we're now $40 Trillion Dollars in Debt...

**  You should know that in fairness, I put in a call into Mr. Ed Alexander, the current owner and broker of the Farmers agency in Norco who holds my insurance policies.  I introduced myself to him (why should I have to do that again?) and asked that he review my situation and call me back with his professioinal advice as to how I could reduce my spending (mot expecting much, as any reduction reduced his commissions).  He was frankly surprised to hear from a lowly policiy holder, which probably messed up his golf game.  He promised to do so and call me back ASAP with his suggestions.  It is now nearly two weeks later.  Do you think he's called me back?  NOTE:  To all Farmers agents.  If you at the Farmers Christmas party and Ed's there. slap him across the lips for me, will you?  Twice.  The thought of you doing so leaves me all warm and fuzzy.

UPDATE:  I called his office yesterday and uttered a string of unprintable expletives about him and his service to his secretary (he wound't come on the phone).  To let Mr. Alexander know what I think of him and Farmers.  I dedided not to wait for Christmas...  

VETERANS DAY, 26!

Since America chose to exit Britain and become a Country, more than One Million of our Citizens have died.  Killed in action, or died while trying to endure the ailments visited upon them from the wars they fought.  

Most died while fighting those who would deny their family and friends and neighbors the Freedom God gifted us.  And we as a Nation wouldn't stand for it.  Such as the more than 605,000 who died freeing the slaves.  

From the Revolutionary War, through the World Wars, through those wars we didn't even choose to name, our kids and their leaders have written a blank check for an amount up to and including their lives, and then had it cashed by those who came after.

You and me, we came after.  Those of us who are choosing to celebrate this day.

And it seems that there's no end to the number of people willing to attack us and try and take from us our Land and our Freedom.  Millions of them.  Billions of them.

As one who has worn the uniform of the United States, and been converted into a Proud Patriot as a result, I ask you to take a moment this day and say a prayer for all those souls who have gone before us.  Please ask God to continue to lay his healing Hands upon them and give them peace. 

Peace to those who are watching down from Heaven as we try and navigate how to now prevent us from becoming the communist, socialist, or Marxist enclave our enemies so crave.  In fact, ask God to grant some of his grace to those same countries so they may enjoy the Freedoms we hold dear.   

In the meantime, protect us from those who are working so hard to take from us our Freedom.  Those who were not graced by God with the wonderful land we now possess.

It is not easy.  It has never been easy.  It will never be easy.  It will take the dedicated efforts of all our citizens to keep our enemies at bay.  There have always been more poor and disadvanteged than those who've worked to improve their lives.  Even more who will choose to try and wrest the glories we've worked for from our grasp.    

This has happened before.  It just might happen again.  We shall try and prevent that.  But so long as we are protected by the Bill of Rights, and the Constitution, and hold them high as our Guidepost through the darkness, we shall prevail.  We have always prevailed.  And you can count on me to always try and work toward accomplishing that goal.

Go forth with your head held high.  A smile on your face.  And a song in your heart.  Knowing I'm right behind you.  Protecting your back.  So long as God permits.

THE Existential Question.

Why do Democrats hate Black people so much?  And the Jews!

And don't tell me they don't.

Theophilus Eugene "Bull" Connor, the Commissioner of Public Safety for Birmingham, Alabama, was an ardent racist and segregationist.   He's famous for helping to start the the Ku Klux Klan.  He was amongst the most prolific of Negro hunters back in the 1920's and 30's.  He was a "Dixiecrat," meaning a Democrat focused primarily on racial issues.   He hated Negroes and he hated Jews.  In short, he hated anything that wasn't white as snow.  It's reported that he was among those who caught and burned the "Mississippi Three."  Two Blacks and a Jew.  A movie was made about his life, and the lives of those his character killed.  Look it up if you're not familiar.  If you have the stomach for it.  

Senator Strom Thurmond was the longest serving Senator in the history of the Senate.  48 years to be exact.  He was himself a Grand Imperial Wizard (Lizard?) of the Ku Klux Klan.  He ran for president against Harry Truman in '48 and led the then famous 24-hour filibuster against the Civil Rights Act.  For those who don't know, this Act essentially restored equality to Blacks and Jews and all other minorities.  Thrumond was dead set against it.  He was originally a Republican, who changed parties to Democrat when he couldn't get his racist issues approved by the Republican majority. 

When the time came to vote to stop the Civil Rights Act of 1948, every single Democrat voted against it. Including Thurmond.  Every one.  As it happened, there were more Republicans in the Senate at the time, so the measure ultimately passed anyway.  

Thankfully.

Blacks have historically called themselves Democrats.  And voted that way.  Why, one would ask?  Most likely because most of them emigrated to the Big Blue Cities following the end of slavery.  Where they were better treated at the time.  All I can say is it could be proof of the legitimacy of the "Stockholm Syndrome."  Which essentially means, if you're smacked around enough by your captors, you tend to identify with them.  That's why so many women stay with their wife-beater husbands.  Perhaps that's why Blacks remain Democrats.  And don't get mad at me.  It's a fact.  Just prove me wrong.

Maybe some day they'll change.  

Only recently have Black people begun to come home to the Republicans.  And some Jews as well.  They voted in plurality for Trump in 2026.  The Party of Lincoln.  The man who freed the Blacks from slavery in 1864.  The man who fought the Civil War to free them, and forunately defeated those who wished to keep them as slaves.  And now want reparations from those who freed them.  Even though 605,000, almost all White soldiers, died to free them.  Where are their survivors' reparations?  And a better question, why isn't more being done to educate Black people about how they've been treated down through the ages?  Especially by our so-called "MainStreamMedia."  And by our teachers?  And by who's been doing the treating?

It's the failure of our teachers I believe.  A failure to have taught our students the truth.  The facts.  Instead of teaching them that the Democrats are the enemy of both Blacks and Jews, they preached the benefits of socialism and communism and Marxism and LGBTQAA++ issues.   And by our college and university educators.  Somebody forgot to tell many of them it was their job to prepare our young people for the world they're about to enter when they finally leave high school.  It wasn't that way when I was educated.  But it's the way things are being done now.

The result is 20 Million Black folks tend to vote with those who only seem to need them every Election cycle.  Who only pay attention to them when they need their votes.  Who pay no attention to them at all unless they need something from them.  Who demonstrably hate them every other day.

This whole thing make me want to puke.  Maybe it's just me, but I feel so bad for those who are both disaffected, and mistreated.  And uneducaated.  To all the Black folks:  Take a few moments and read some history.  You'll come out of it a better informed citizen.  Remember, it was the Democrat southerners who fought and died to keep you in chains.  And they came damn close to doing so.  

And to all the Jews.  You likely know the history, yet some of you so dislike Trump so much you'd vote for anyone he disikes.  Anyone at all.  And you just might have already done that.  After all, America's greatest concentration of Jews is in New York City.  16% of all the citizens.  Yet, they just voted for a Muslim extremist.  Mamdani won the Election even though 25 years ago 19 of his countrymen knocked down our Twin Towers and killed 2,900+ of our citizens and visitors from around the world.  So I doubt anything can be done to bring them around.  NOTE:  Trump will be gone one day soon and you'll be left with Mamdani and other Islamic Jihadists.  You'll wake up and discover you're governed by your captors.  The Stockholm Syndrome Writ Large.  I hope that makes you happy.  

To everyone else out there:  It's your job to politely try and educate your Black friends and neighbors about these issues.  Even if they don't wish to be immediately educated.  They'll thank you for it.  Maybe not right away, but ultimately.  As for the friends and neighbors of our more strident Jewish friends, there's probably no hope.  let's all pray.

The Democrats will lie when the truth would sound better.  The Republicans have their problems, but nothing like the Democrats.  I hope those who voted for the Party out of power gave consideration to the cost we'll all pay when Republicans are routed.  The borders will be wide open.  They'll shut down all the oil wells and make you drive electric cars.  Girls will be competing against and showering with boys.  Anyone with above average income will be taxed out of it.  I'm not totally happy with everything Republicans have done, either.  But the thought of another 4 years of the Cackler-in-Chief makes me cringe.  Or BoyGuv ("Hairgod") Newsom.    

P.S.  Thank God I'm old enough to avoid most of the damage they'll bring our way.  Perhaps I'll be watching it from above.  Before I can do anything about it.  I can only hope...

Trick or Treat!

Exactly sixty years ago last night I was inducted into the United States Army.  

It was October 31st, 1966.  Trick or Treat.  More trick than treat, to be sure.

I trust you'll pardon me while I digress.  "Inducted" is a strange word, don't you think?  Sorta' like "welcomed."  Or "joined."  Or "partnered with."

To me at the time, it was more like "captured."  Or "abducted."  Or 'kidnapped."  

I had been actively avoiding the military for several years by then.  The "war" in Viet Nam (not ever called that) had been heating up.  The U S. had by then developed a nasty habit of getting involved in shooting wars thousands of miles away.  Nothing close, mind you.  Not down the block.  Not the next state over.  An ocean away.  And me getting shot by some dude sitting in a tree, waiting for me to get off the plane running, was definitely against my better judgement.  

So I had signed up for various colleges and universities without any intention of actually attending.  For I was by then a professional pool player.  And playing pool was lots more fun, and mucho more rewarding than low-crawling through sawgrass in sweltering heat.  And 100% humidity, 8,000 miles away.

So I cannot say I flunked out of 5 colleges.  One would have to actually go to class to flunk out.  I didn't.  Go  to class, that is.  Rather, you could find me in some grungy pool hall named "Dew Drop Inn," or something like it, trying to peel some dude like a grape.  And I did.  I was making by then about $40,000 a year, which in today's money is nearly $375,000.  Quite a lot for a teenager.

Enough that I was able to write a check on my 19th birthday for a brand-new 409 horsepower Chevy Impala Super Sport, 4-speed.  Honduras maroon, black interior.  $2,910.08.  Imagine that.

I thought everyone wore a money belt and carried a gun.  And drove a new car every six months or so.  After destroying the one I was trading in.  Literally beating the crap out of them.  Meeting up with the boys to drive up and down the 4-lane highway, drinking 2 quarts of Falstaff for a $1, and playing poker all night long.  Or taking my babe to the movies and then out parking.  Semi-pro Super Stock drag racing in my spare time.  Collecting and shooting guns.  And having the time of my life.  Way before my age should have permitted it.  This was called living the good life...in my 20's.

My Dad and I even opened a pool hall named "Cass's Cue Club." A block off the square in Chillicothe.  He'd been Missouri's 1929 and '31 State Billiards champion, so playing pool came naturally to him.  And thus, me.  8 pool tables, one snooker table and a billiard table.  Several pin ball machines and lots and lots of drink and snack machines, too.  My brother John was installed as its manager. This was everything one could hope for.  A Balabushka cue I paid $122 for, a really fast car, a beautiful girlfriend, and nothing to do but play.  If they would have just left me alone.  But they didn't.

Then it all caught up with me.  I hadn't read the fine print.  The U. S. of A. gave me and others like me 5 1/2 years to graduate from college before being drafted.  That was called a "2-S" deferment.  And I had burned through those 5 1/2 years.  Without even coming close to graduating.  And the mailman brought my Greetings" from my President one day, letting me know to show up at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.  To begin my Army career.  On Halloween.  "Trick or Treat."  Trust me, it was far more of a "trick" than a "treat."  

(That "career" thing was a joke, BTW.)

I parked my new '66 427, 4-speed Corvette in Dad's garage and said goodbye.   It was painted goodwood green, green leather bucket seats, and all-four available off-road optons.  Outside 3" exhausts, sintered metallic brakes,  tight suspension and super quick steering.  I just saw one sell at Barrett-Jackson similarly equipped the other day for $500,000.  I was sorry to leave it.  I wa sorry to leave, period.  I was leaving my home town.  Where I was in charge of everything I saw.  But something tells me you already knew that.

I walked the block to the bus station and got on.  It was a 200 mile ride across Missouri through the Ozarks.  It was about dusk when we pulled up.  I got off along with about 20 other draftees and was immidiately screamed at by some nameless, faceless dude to line up.  Tallest at the end, he said.  I was the tallest.  We formed this crooked line and waited for what came next.  And it came all too soon.

The shortest guy I'd ever seen in uniform started walking toward me.  He was the drill sergeant and about 5' tall.  He was wearing one of those Smokey the Bear hats with the broad flat brim.  He headed straight my way.  And then poked the brim of his hat into my sternum.  He started yelling at me in some strange language.  It was a cross between English and Tagalog.  Befitting a Filipino lifer who hadn't yet mastered our language.  But had mastered being a lifer drill sergeant.  I couldn't understand a word, although I was pretty sure he wasn't happy with me.  I was looking down at the top of his hat while he yelled.  And for some reason it was just about the funniest thing I'd ever seen.  So I began laughing out loud at this strange event God had given me.   Apparently, that was not the appropriate response.  

The cold late October rain began spitting on me as the sun went down.  And an actual English-speaking sergeant ordered me to follow him to the flagpole sme 20 yards away.  He handed me a rifle and ordered me to hold it at the ready while standing at attention.  He said he'd come back to relieve me of my sentence when the spirit moved him.  The spirit wasn't moving him all that quickly.  I stood there in the 35 degree cold rain for about two hours.  Soaked to the bone.  While everyone else had vacated the parking lot.  I was alone.  And cold.  And thinking about dropping that rifle and running for the exits.

Oh yeah, and I was coughing up blood.  Then I collapsed.

It turns out I had contracted pneumonia.  They carried me to the hospital and that's where I laid for the next two weeks.  My first two weeks in the Army were spent trying to get over my first day in the Army.  It turns out I did, and then began what's called "Hell Week."

That's when they subject you to a bunch of shots to protect you against every disease except two-digit I.Q. drill sergeants.  They were using those new pneumtic guns.  No needles.  They just rip right through your skin.  Each of us received 47 shots that day.  And then told to go to our bunks and lay down.  Mistake.  Because we woke up hours later stiff as a board.  and hurting like nobody's business.  It took three days for us to get over those original vacinations.

They then issued us our clothes and our boots and our gear.  And then began to break us down.  They try their best to take away your name and give you a number.  To remove from you your past and force you to focus on your present.  And your future.  They don't care where you're from or what you did.  Your race and your age do not matter.  They only care about quickly turning you into a soldier.  A lean, mean fighting machine.  For they only have 8 weeks to do so.

You were awaked at 5:45 a.m. every morning and given 10 minutes to shower and shave and dress and be in formation.  Along with 50 others in your training company.  And there were 100 other training companies just like ours at Fort Wood at that time.  There were three main training forts at that time.  Fort Lewis Washington, Forgt Dix, New Jersey and Fort Wood.  All of them were dedicated to readying you for war.  For most of us were headed straight to the "Nam."  You immediately began marching.  10 miles the first week or so.  Then 20 the 2nd.  Then 30.  

Then the rifle range.  Helping those unlike me who'd never shot a gun to get friendly with one.  And the grenade throwing party.  And where they force you to enter the tear gas building and remove your gas mask.  Preparing you in case those nasty Viet Cong threw tear gas at you.  Which probablyn never happened.  And then low-crawling under live machine gun fire, hoping not to die.  All in all, not nearly as much fun as hustling pool.  

Three times a day they'd feed you.  In the mess hall.  Nice name, that.  It was spotless when we entered, having just been cleaned by a gang of on duty soldiers, and a mess when we left.  We were given 7 minutes, SEVEN MINUTES, to get our food, sit down, eat it and leave.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner.  No difference.  7 minutes.  Why?  No one could ever tell me, unless it was to simply torture us some more.  

And then if you were unlucky enough to have the mess hall duty, you'd show up there before dawn, cleaan up the mess left by the prior meal, and prepare the food for breakflast.  And then stand back and watch 207 guys attack the place.  Then, 7 minutes later, you'd have several hours to clean it up and prepare it for lunch.  Once again, 7 minutes of chaos.  And then clean and prep again.  And then dinner.  12 hours of pure Hell a day.  And since my last name was early into the alphabet, I got that duty the first week.  I began hating my life and contemplting suicide.  Not a fun time.

But I then got lucky.  The 1st Sergeant called me out of formation early in the 3rd week and ordered me to the HQ building.  I did as ordered.  I waited until two guys in ill-fitting blue serge suits, with suspicious lumps under their armpits, and buzz haircuts, entered the office.  They told me I'd done well on my entrance exams and would be offered two options to get me out of Basic training.  

First, I could join the White House Communications Team.  They're the folks who travel to where the President is going a week or so from then.  They prepare all the microphones and speakers and TV's and then pack it all up and go on to the next place.  Boring, I thought.  

The other option was to become a "spook."  Army  Intelligence.  An agent.  A guy who tries to ferret out the Bad Guys before they could sabotage our efforts.  And do so in Germany.  Not Viet Nam.  Germany.  More accurately, Europe.  All over Europe.  Or even the world.  That sounded very good to me.  Europe instead of Asia.  I took Door "B."  And packed my bags for Fort Belvoir, Virginia  Just across the River from Washington, D.C.  And then I underwent six weeks of training to become James Bond, Jr.  No Licence to Kill, but a license to investigate.  An altogether better life than 100 degree heat and humidity on the other side of the Earth.

I was first sent to Paris, France, on tremporary duty.  I'm preparing a posting all about that, so keep reading this blog.  It'll be out shortly.  And then to Germersheim Army Depot as my duty assignment.  That's the place where all the Army's tanks and jeeps and trucks and rolling stock is kept in case the commies cross the s the Fulda Gap and cause a war.  Once again, I'm writing all about that so you'll know the particulars real soon.  For now, here's my wrap:

I thought the world was my oyster.  I thought it revolved around me.  I soon learned, it didn't.  In fact, I learned very quickly that I was a tiny little player in a very big operation.  I was yanked from Chillicothe, Missouri and forced to grow up fast.  I'd always told myself I could master anything they could throw at me.  And I finally had to prove it.  I had to interact with a bunch of new guys right now!.  Black, Brown, Yellow, Red and other Whites from North and South and West and East.  The folks I'd had to deal with over a hot pool table were just preparation for the hundreds, thousands at this very big Army base.  

I was finally challenged to show my stuff.  To take charge.  To begin showing my leadership talents.  The ones I'd always known I had, just never had to show them.  I was by then 23, a bit older than the other recruits.  And wiser.  And more traveled.  And more in awe.  This was the Big World!  It was no longer about me in a little Midwestern town!  It was about the Country!  And I could eithr join in with them and try and win, or fight.  I chose to join. 

For those who haven't yet become a true patriot, a died-in-the-wool nationalist, someone who bleeds Red, White and Blue, a Constitutionalist, this posting may not mean much to you.  But it does to me.  I left my small town boy behind and became a Citizen!  Someone who fought for the Country, and would fight for it again.  And again!  Someone who is proud of who we Americans are and what we've become.  Someone who knows we've not always made the right decisions, but always strived for greatness.  And honor.  And fairness.  And truth.  Sixty years ago I became not just a pool playinig Missourian, but an American!

I invite you to join with me and work to make America the very best that it can be.  You can find me on the America side of every issue.  Every day.  I still play pool, whenever my (five spinal fusion) back permits.  I still collect and shoot guns.  And I still write this unassuming little blog whenever an issue pops up that commands my attention.  But to that I add it has always made better and more patriotic because of the time I spent in the United States Army.

P.S.  This is written in the loving Spirit of the more than One Million Americans who came before me who wrote a blank check for an amount up and including their life to you and me, and we were forced to cash it...

An Idea Whose TIme Has Come...

Why are we expected to obey the law when the state we live in...DOESN'T?

Seventeen of our 50 states have chosen to declare themselves "Sanctuary States."  That mean they've chosen not to obey Federal immigration laws as it regards hunting down, arresting, jailing and deporting illegal aliens.  Actions they're Constitutionally required to perform.

In short, they are willfully ignoring a Federal law.

Those are the people who are here in our Country illegally.  They've chosen to ignore our laws.  And have broken them by entering the U. S. without permission.  Whether overstaying their visa, or simply slipping through our border without permiission.  Or like during Biden't era, not slipping.  Actually walking.  Cruising.  And being welcomed by Biden's cronies.  They've given our laws the finger.  And 17 of our states are choosing to aid them.  

This whole thing started back in 1971 with...guess who?...Berkeley.  The City of Berkeley declared itself a sanctuary to all illegal aliens.  Of course, they didn't call them "illegals."  That was a dirty word to Berkeley.  "Undocumented" was the preferred word.  Sort of like calling drug dealers "Personal Pharmacists" I would say.  The City, no doubt goaded into action by the single most liberal institute of "much higher" and "much more expensive" learning, had no choice but to turn its back on the Federal Gubmint.  It declared its intention to help those here illegally to evade the Federal Government.  To the extent that when they're arrested, regardless of the charge, this city, and those states who've signed on, refuse to honor our Federal detainers.  That's the paperwork we file with their jails and prison network to hold on to that illegal after their sentence is served so we can take them into custody.  Right from the front door of the jail.  And then to deport them back to their country of origin.

Simple.  And easy to honor.  Just be law-abiding.

Except Berkeley and the other cities are bound and determined to let them out the back door.  To try and help them avoid being snagged by our ICE officers.  For whatever (illegal) reason.

Were they to do as required by law we'd simply show up at the jail with one or two ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) agents, take custody of them, and deport them.  Especially those with "Final Orders of Removal."  Issued and signed by a Federal judge.  

But when they refuse, failing to turn over that illegal, it makes us hunt them down.  Usually with 10 or 20 ICE officers.  Which may result in collateral arrests.  Of other illegals we weren't originally serching for.  Their wives.  And aunts and uncles.  And children.  Or even gun battles between our officers and the illegal and cohorts.  Who usually have "FOR"'s from the U. S.  Perhaps resulting in injuries or even deaths.  Even of those not involved in the action.

Would it surprise you to learn that there are more than 1,000 American cities, towns, villages and townships which have followed Berkeley's example and declared themselves "sanctuaries" for illegal aliens?  

Which is itself a violation of our Federal law.  One Thousand.  Which brings up an Existential Question:  

If the city or state you live in openly chooses to disobey the law, like California where I live does, laws they're Constitutionally bound to obey, why are we expected to obey theirs?  And more importantly, should we?

If your city chooses to turn its back on a law, why shouldn't you turn your back on theirs?  Why should you honor their traffic laws, for example, when they pick and choose which Federal law to honor?  

Why shouldn't you pick and choose which of their laws to follow?  Like writing bum checks?  Or jacking a car? Or holding up the local 7/11?  Why shouldn't you tell the officer that pulls you over that you just won't follow that stop sign ordinance today?  Or the 50 mph speed zone?  Taking it as more of a "suggestion" you choose not to accede to rather than a "law."  A suggestion you'll consider following one day soon.  Just not today.  Why not even type up a paragraph declaring your refusal to follow a particular law?  Like all traffic laws?  And taping it to your window? 

I wonder if the cops, which are not usually terribly bright anyway, would go along with that bit of reasoning.  But I'd really like to give it a try.  Wouldn't you?  

On the other hand, 20 states have passed laws requiring their cities and towns to acquiesce to Federal immigration laws.  To follow Federal laws. Whether they like them or not?  Those are the states that are governed by Republicans, BTW.  The 17 which pick and choose are uniformly governed by Democrats.  That likely didn't surprise you, I'm guessing you already knew that.  

Think of it this way.  The Original 13 colonies, the Mid Atlantic states, the far left states of Taxifornia, Oregone and Washington, New Mexico and Colorado all declare themselves superior to the Federal Government.  They've decided not to follow Fed laws.  Not surprising.  They're all Deep Blue liberal.  Maybe we should trade them to Canada for a couple of western provinces.  Which are just as pissed at their Federal Gubmint as we are about ours.

And are rich in natural resources, like oil, which we could exploit with their blessing.  

The "MainStreamMedia" and their 17 state  handmaidens routinely bitch and moan about the damage done to illegals and the collaterals when our ICE officers hunt them down.  Even knowing that there would be far fewer injuries and even deaths if they'd give us access to their jails.  Which they will not do.  We could even reduce the number of ICE officers substantially if we didn't have to hunt down the illegals.  Remember, our ICE officers are only necessary to find illegals once they blow past our bornders.  I'm of the opinion that they want it that way.  That they relish the chance to paint ICE as evildoers.  Even though they're only doing the job our Congress has hired them to do.  And has been previously stated, if the People don't like us following their laws, they should change them.  Have you seen any effort by those scofflaw states to do so?

Me neither.

Wouldn't it be better if we'd simply divorce ourselves from New York and New Jersey and the original 13 colonies, and the Mid Atlantic states, and Illinoway, and all the others?   They're all clumpted together anyway, why not let them go their own way?  Being contiguous isn't all it's cracked up to be anyway.  Maybe they should join forces with Canada.  And allow the Conservative states to follow our Constitution, arrest the illegals and send them home.  Or chase them into the new states.  Where they're mostly congregated anyway.  

There was a time in the '70's, back during our Viet Nam "conflict," when many of our young men were escaping to Canada in order to avoid military service. We therefore have a lot of experience running down scofflaws.  Maybe even give them a bus ticket to the New Socialist States of America?  They love them up there anyway!   It's time to make them both happy and finally resolve this troubling issue.   

I think that's an idea whose time has come.  What do you think?

A Quasi-Existential Question

 Planning on buying a new car soon? 

Would you be in the market for a new car anytime soon?  Could you use a few suggestions as to how best to save some money?  A new car is likely the second biggest expense the average citizen will ever have.  And being a car guy, who's had sooooo many of them, I might be able to help.  Read on...

It's surprising that so few 'Muricans know how our car business is structured.  How it actually works.  So here are a few facts you can take to the bank.  Or to your credit union, so as to have pre-approved financing in your pocket when you finally visit the dealer.

And by "finally," try and avoid actually going to the dealer until you've cut the deal.  First, get an  "Out the Door" price.  Including the car's price, with taxes, fees and add-ons.  With no discussion about used car trade-ins.  If you do this you'll be MILES ahead.

And speaking of dealers, car dealers in 'Murica, with exception of Tesla, which sells direct to consumer, are all customers of the manufacturers.  The manufacturer, Ford, Chevrolet, Toyota, Honda, Porsche, etc., make the cars.  They then sell them at wholesale to their dealer network.  Who then attempt to sell them at retail to you and me and our neighbors.  

At the greatest possible profit possible.

There are now about 19,900 dealers in America.  Who  have about 2,900,000 cars on hand as this is written.  Sitting on their lots.  Costing them interest.  Representng about an 87 day supply at current rates of sale.  That's a lot of cars, and a lot of days.  Think about that.

And by "retail," I mean the MSRP.  Or, "Manufacturers Suggested Retail Price."  You'll find the sticker on the window of each new car expressing that price.  Most of us tend to call ths the "Sticker Price."

It tells you the basic MSRP of the car, plus all the extras.  The extra prices for special interior options, for a larger engine, for fatter tires and larger wheels, for a better suspension, for the special sound system, etc.  Each of these options has a retail price, which, when added to the basic price, gives you your total.  It's shown as the bigger, bolder price at the bottom right hand of what's usually called the "Moroney" sticker.  That's the price against which your negotiation begins.

Each manufacturer has its own dealer network.  When the new car Ford or Chevy or Toyota builds and rolls off the car hauler at the dealer, what's called the "Floor Plan" begins.  That's when the loan the dealer takes out on each car against the MSRP begins in effect.  

Most of the manufacturers have their own finance companies.  That's the manufacturer which owns the lender "buying" the car from the dealer at 95% - 100% of the MSRP.  It makes the cars, then sells them to their dealers by loaning them money to buy them.  Sort of a circular arrangement, don't you think?

The manufacturer makes the cars - sells the cars to the dealers - then loans the dealers money to buy them back from the manufacturers at interest, called the "Floor Plan."  Whew!  

The "floor plan" usually begins in effect from 15 - 45 days from the delivery to the dealer.  Giving the dealer time to sell the cars before any interest payments begin.  Then it is charged on each car at the going interest rate, usually 6.5% - 7%, plus 200 - 400 basis points.  Or, on the average $50,000 new car, figure about $360 per month.  So, simply stated, the longer the dealer has that new car on his lot, the more he has in interest payments invested in that car.  And the more likely he will discount the car to end the expensive floor plan costs.  Good to know if you can find out how long its been there.  And there are ways to find that out.*  More on that later.

So simply stated, if the dealer can sell all his cars within a month or so of delivery, he'll suffer no interest payments on those cars.  Thus, his profit margin will markedly increase.  In other words, it pays him to move his cars really fast.  Meaning, it pays him to sell his cars at or near his invoice price in direct competition to other dealers to move the iron fast and avoid interest costs.  Think of this as additional profit.

The salesman's job is to sell you the car, and at the greatest gross profit margin possible (many are paid as a % of gross profit).  As a general rule, the salesman will make between $200 and $1,200 per sale.  Sometimes if the car is sold at break even or even a loss, the salesman will still earn what's called a "mini," or minimum commission.  Usually about $150 - $200 per car.  Also good to know if you're negotiating.

Now then, the dealer will pay the manufacturer from 2% to 15% less than its MSRP.  That's the difference between his wholesale price and your retail.  A Porsche dealer may only get a 3% discount (their purchasers are comfy with paying retail), whereas a Nissan dealer may get 15%.  Got it?  Plus, what are called "hold backs," which are volume sales payments and special end of year stuff known only to the dealers and their  manufacturers.  That's how the dealer can make money even selling a new car at cost.  Or even at a loss.

Now then, how does a dealer make money if he sells cars at a minimum profit?   Simple.  He makes money on your trade-in.  He buys it from you at whlolesale, and sells it to your neighbor at retail.  The difference is his profit.  And the price of used cars have no "Moroney" stickers on the window.  It's much harder to value used cars, whether taking them from you as a trade-in, or selling it to your neighbor.  Such things as age, condition, miles, valuable options, desirability, etc., may increase (or decrease) the used car's value.  

So the dealers' used car lot is a MAJOR profit generator.  My advice is to visit CarVana and CarMax and first get an offer to buy your used car.  Don't sell it to them, just get the offer.  In writing.  Then take that offer with you to the new car dealer and keep it in your pocket.  Then, ask for the dealers' "Out The Door" price of the car you want to buy.  Don't mention your trade-in until you have their OTD price.  Then, bring up the used car and negotiate from your CarMax or CarVana offer.  If you cannot get a good price for your car on trade at the dealer, sell it for your certified used car offer.  Or even direct, although that can be a pain, and also dangerous (Make sure you have your .38 with you, loaded, if you choose to sell personally.  I rent myself out as an armed bodyguard by the hour.).

Another MAJOR profit generator is the dealers' service department.  They sell their mechanics' time at $100 - $150 an hour while paying them $40 - $50, plus parts at retail, so they generate BIG BUCKS fixing your out-of-warranty car.  Oh yeah, and the more cars they sell, the more likely they'll get a discount on their parts, creating another profit opportunity when selling those parts to you at retail.  As much as half of the dealers' profits come from their service departments.

And how long has that new car been sitting on the lot?  Open the driver's door and look at the sticker on the jamb.  It will tell you when the car was built.  Then add about 2 months to that date to give time for it to be shipped to the dealer and the floor plan freebie to run its course.  Then start computing the $360 - $400 a month the dealer's been paying for interest costs.  You'll then know how better to negotiate your final price.

And lastly, all this has been the dance the dealer goes through to get you to where the real profit is made:  The "F&I Office."  That stands for the Finance and Insurance Office.  That's where the dealer's best salesman is located and is your last stop after a long day of negotiating.  That's the smallish little office with all the windows, with a desk and you and a guy with a computer.  He'll start with the deal you've made with the salesman and then add an additional average of $2,500, to as much as $6,000 in profit to the sale while you're not looking.  

He'll begin by charging you somewhere between $200 and $1,200 in admin "documentation" fees for preparing the sale paperwork.  Which costs them probably $25 in secretarial labor.  Why?  Because he can.  You can try and get that fee removed.  Good luck.  You'll probably be unsuccessful.  as that's their guaranteed profit margin the dealer makes and they'll hold on to it as long as they can.

To this, the guy will try and sell you a whole bunch of mostly unnecessary crap to further sweeten their profit.  Window tint.  Door guards.  Paint protection insurance.  Nitrogen in your tires.**  Interior protection plan.  Pickup bed liners.  Lifetime oil changes.  Gap insurance (the car gets totaled.  That's the difference between what your insurance company pays and what you owe on the loan).  And lastly, their bank loan for the car (that's when you whip out your credit union pre-approval).  They'll otherwise solicit loans from banks on your behalf, get a bevy of offers, and then try and add a point or two or three to those offers.  Keeping the difference as their improved profits.  Worth as much as $2,000 in increased $dollars to the dealer during the life of the loan.

Is being a dealer a good deal?  Yes.  Because they have so many ways of beating you into the ground.  Without divulging the ways they're doing so.  Especially toward the end of a hard day negotiating your new car purchase.  I personally would love to see "Direct to Consumer" pricing like Tesla is doing.  But until then, your best bet is to research new cars until you find exactly what you want.  Stay home and call the dealers.  Try and negotiate frome home.  Then go into the dealer to finalize whatever deal you're able to negotiate.  

Likely your research will result in your knowing more about that new car than the salesman who's trying to sell it to you.  After all, they were selling vacuum cleaners last week.  Do the test drive, don't smile, don't indicate your interest.  After you've test driven several cars, sit in your comfy Barcalounger, open a cool one, and then start calliing dealers.  Then make an offer at "X" dollars less than MSRP.  Negotiate from there.

And don't stop at your neighborhood dealers.  Google how many of your preferred car is available nationwide.  Then call all over the place.  If you can find your preferred car in Omaha, you can have it shipped to you for no more than $1,200.  If you can save $5,000 from MSRP by calling around, that $1,200 is bupkus (and deductible!).

Then go into the F&I" office with your agreed upon price and pre-approved interest rate.  And don't buy anything the guy has to offer.  NOTHING!  That's your only way of getting the best deal.  He's there to screw you.  And you don't want to be screwed.  He'll try and sell you a package of "safety" or "convenience" or "beauty" options, usually priced about $3,000.  Think of it this way: if the extra stuff they're trying to sell you needed to be on your car, wouldn't Toyota or Ford or Buick include it?  Is their paint so bad it needs protecting?  Same with their interior.  Why would you need to pay another $50 a month to "fix" what Chevrolet just built?  And multiply $50 a month times 62 or 74 or 86 months you'll be making payments and you'll realize how much those sales mean to the dealer.

Good luck.  And enjoy your new ride.  Unless it's a special car, like a Porsche 911, or a Mercedes G-Wagon, the very moment you drive it off the lot you'll lose somewhere around 25% - 30% off its MSRP.  And by the time its 5 years old, it will be worth no more than 50% of its new price.  Usually 40% - 45%.  So knowing this, do not ever, EVER pay a "Mark Up" on the price of a new car (over MSRP) because it's in short supply (which it usually isn't).  Or a spcialty ride, like a Corvette ZR-1.  There may be only two of them in Cincinnatti, but 53 of them in the good ol' U. S. of A.  You'll be throwing your money away.  And right into the dealers' pocket.

And he's counting on it.

Which, finally, is my suggestion.  New cars can be expected to run for 150,000 miles with few repairs.  Some for 250,000 miles.  Google it to find out.  At an average of 10,000 - 12,000 a year, a car will have only 25 - 30,000 miles on the clock by the 3rd year, or about 45 - 50,000 miles on it by the 5th year.  Buy that used car for half price.  All the kinks will have been worked out by then.  All the manufacturer's call backs and repairs will have been done.  

It should then run famously for a dozen more years with few costs other than routine maintenance.  And now that new cars are full of unnecessary gimcrackery, including buttons that will push other buttons at the sound of your voice asking them to push buttons, which you do not need, the likelyhood is you don't want all that expensive crap.  It's just going to break anyway.  Try and buy the best equipped used car with the fewest miles.  In short, buy low miles even if you have to pay a little extra.  The car will pay you back with fewer repair costs in the long run.  

Example:  I bought a 2013 luxury car just back from a 5-year lease as my primary ride, driven only 20,000 total miles (it was leased by the Irvine Co's CEO's wife who lived a mile from work), for $20,000.  it was $46,000 new.  My only expenses have been oil changes.  And it's never Been back to the dealer.  The dealer made very few dollars from me.  And I smile about that every time I drive by his store.    

In short, I love cars.  I just don't love paying a dealer too much of my hard-earned money.  They are there to peel you like a grape.  Think of them as the enemy.  And prepare yourself before you go into enemy's camp.  Gird your loins.  Arm yourself with knowledge.  Try and outthink them.  Try and stay ahead of them in their quest to take your money.  Try and play chess while they play checkers.  Get a cash offer on your used car.  Be prepared to get up and walk out if they try and hose you.  And they likely will.  Trust me, they'll chase you down before you can get to your car and beg you to come back in.  And then they'll lie when the truth would sound better.  It's just part of their game.  And so, Fellow Patriot, I trust you'll find some value in these words.  

Lastly, don't allow them to take you for a ride.  (that's a joke!).  And finally, don't ever pay for that self-driving software.  Like Tesla and GM try to sell you  at a premium of $15,000, or even more.  Drivng is waaaay too much fun without it!  After all, if you need to be driven, it's probably cheaper (and safer!) to hire somebody to drive you...

*     You can find out how long the car has been on the lot by checking with "InvoicePrice.com."  Or Edmunds.com," or Kelley Blue Book's "KBB.com."   Which is owned by Cox Automotive, one our largest dealer networks;  Generally, the bigger the dealer, the more likely they'll be happy if you know their costs.  With volume comes discount.  Every day.  

**    An optional fee for nitrogen in your tires is one of my favorite screw jobs offered by dealers today.  78% of what's in the air you breathe is nitrogen.  So why should you pay $400 or more for a bit more nitrogen?  I keep wondering when they're going to try and sell us insurance against evil spells?  Generated by witches who happen to be in the factory?  Do yourself a favor.  Look the F&I guy in the face and tell him "NO!"  Then stop by the bar in your new car and celebrate!

A Major League Existential Question

Are we all suffering from Governmental Theft?

I might mention that I'm a graduate economist. Whereas I will comment on nearly everything on this unassuming little blog, includiing stuff I know absolutely nothing about, my education and 50 years of business experience therefore enables me to deduce that we're being screwed.  By our Gubmint.  Yours and mine.  Screwed.  Here's how...

I wrote a check for a 1962 Chevrolet Impala Super Sport, 4-speed, 409 cube, 409 horsepower with Posi-trac, while the Beach Boys record was on the charts, on my 19th birthday (the result of playing a really good game of pool).  It cost me $2,929.00.  Just short of $3,000 dollars.  Only.

That was 63 years ago.  

The same car is not avaiable today.  Our Gubmint has legislated it out of existance.  But its closest repacement today costs more than $70,000.  The reason it has increased in cost, but arguably not in value, is inflation.  That's the result of "Too many dollars chasing too few goods."  That's the classic definition of inflation.  And it results from us having to compete with our Fedrul Gubmint for the things we have to buy to live and work.

Our clothes.  Our gasoline.  Our food.  Our lodging.  Our everything.  Our Gubmint buys those things.  By the millions.  We're trying to compete with the folks we hire who print money.  We don't print money.  So we cannot compete.

And what we experience is a classic increase in prices of 2% or 4% or during the Biden era, 9% every year.  What costs us $100 today may cost us $105 next year.  And what does the Feds do in resonse to that increase?  They work to raise the wages of those who are left behind.  They try and increase how much people are earning in order to quell the pain they feel from the increased costs of goods and sevices.  So that those folks continue to vote for those in power.  So far so good, right?

WRONG!

That's not what those of us who are on fixed incomes need.  Not what those of us who are living on our savings need.  Not what the 57.8 Million of us who are retired and livnig on our savngs actually need.  Not what those of us who see our savings go down in value with every inflationary uptick, need.

I relate it to being on that moving walkway at LAX.  You depart the plane.  You step on the motorized walkway.  Instantly you're moving at a rate faster than those who you see walking along beside you.  And it works just fine until you have to step off.  when you reach your gate a few hundred feet or yards down the hallway.  Or the exit.  Or the bag claim.  Right away you notice you're moving much slower than those on the moving walkway.  They're moving out of sight.  You're being left behind.  And there's not a dayumm thing you can do about it.

Imagine you have $200,000 in savings.  And annual inflation is 5%.  That means at the end of this year your savings are no longer worth $200,000.  Your savings are now worth only $190,000.  And next year at the same 5% inflation rate your savings will only be worth $182,000.  And so on.  And so on.  You see how inflation diminishes the value of your savings?

Why, I'm asking, does our Gubmint always work to increase wages to meet the new inflationary level it has created, instead of working to reduce inflated costs to meet our value losses?  In other words, why not work to keep the value of our money where it was, instead of the Gubmint trying to ramp up wages to meet the cost of goods where they are?  That would keep our money at its present value.  

And what would be wrong with that?

My first job post-Army paid me $11,500 year.  And that was a good job!  Car, expense account, stock options.  Now?  Degreed and qualified people can expect $100,000 starting pay, or even more.  But they each had/have the same buying power as I did then.  But being paid $100k somehow makes you numb about the inflation that's robbing you blind.

I call the Gubmint's failure to work to keep our money  at its present value "Governmental Theft."  What would you call it? 

Imagine, if you will, Rip Van Chuckmeister going to sleep in 2020 and then waking up in 2026.  Imagine how surprised he'd be to find out how little his money is then worth.  How about a MickeyD's cheeseburger, fries and a Coke?  That "value meal" was $8.00 when Rip went to sleep.  It's now $13.45.  

Resulting from inflation.

And let's take Rip's car for instance.  He drives a 2013 Hyundai Genesis.  The sticker price on this fully loaded luxury car was $46,400 when new.  It included every single option, including the "Tech Package," whatever that is.  That option had a sticker price of $4,500.  Maybe Rip will find out what it does if he takes the time someday to read the Owners Manual.  But in the meantime, Rip notices that the 2026 Genesis that replaces his 2013, fully loaded one, now costs $104,000.  The difference is caused by inflation.  Good ol' Rip, fearing that he'd developed some sort of brain misfire when he notices the increase, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Wouldn't you do the same?  

Somebody needs to run for office promising to take a completely different tack to our perennial inflation.  To work to keep prices where they were instead of where they are.  And then takng a bow for having done so.  The average new car is now $51,120.  Up 40% from 5 years ago.  And up more than 95% from when Rip was 19 years old.  Are our elected representatives now  takng a bow as a result?  Seems to me they are.

They shouldn't be.

Oh yeah, and whereas we used to give out 15% or 20% tips for good service, everybody we come in contact with now demands a tip of 30% or 40% or even more for simply doing their jobs.  When your Starbucks barista demands a tip for simply pouring coffee, doing her job, and making a reported $100,000 a year as a result, there's something seriously wrong.  I respond by staying home and refusing to play along.  Maybe you should do the same.

Maybe we should all do the same...