From early childhood, words attributed to Patrick Henry were imprinted both in my head and on my heart:
"Give me Liberty, or Give me Death!"
Such expressions of commitment and courage are anathema to today's youth and, sadly, to the masses that choose entitlements over independence. These citizens dismiss the wisdom of our Founding Fathers, favoring instead the likes of Bill Maher:
"Well, sometimes you do need a nanny state -- that old thing about, 'the Constitution isn't a suicide pact.' I mean, at what point does the environment get so bad that we -- that the government says, 'Yes, we're going to have to infringe on your freedom a little'?
"These people don't want any infringing on freedom. That, to me, is a suicide pact."
Patrick Henry, I think, would have been proud to count himself among "these people" so maligned by the patronizing Maher.
I know I am. Like Henry, I choose Liberty.
I'll wrap with a video released by Free Market America on Earth Day 2012, which was observed last Sunday. The video makes a powerful statement about how our government has squashed economic Liberty and, in the process, sabotaged our future.
It's Earth Day 2011, for what (little) it's worth, our annual reminder that we're doing more to destroy the planet than we possibly could do to save it -- unless, of course, we accept onerous regulations and pay higher taxes (and higher prices) for the privilege of being regulated. (That must be what Earth Day Network means when it asks us to commit "A Billion Acts of Green®" today.) Browsing related news this morning, I saw a story on24/7 Wall St. about the "environmental friendliness" of each U.S. state. Tiny, non-industrial Vermont took top honors as the "most green" [sic] state.
And the "least green" state? Ohio. The ranking doesn't move this Buckeye one way or another. What 24/7 Wall St. calls "analysis" is nothing more than statistical goulash, and I can't help but notice that four of five bordering states -- Indiana, West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Kentucky -- join Ohio in the bottom ten. Here in the old Rust Belt, my neighbors and I don't feel too terribly guilty about that. We don't consider ourselves backward or somehow inferior, either, even though a bunch of pointy-headed New York journalists say we are.
Y'all go and have your big ol' Earth Day party without us, 'cause we've got a whole mess of irons in the fire right now -- like keepin' our jobs, payin' our taxes and pretty much just tryin' to stay afloat.
Anti-government protests have been simmering in Egypt for a week now. I'm taking notice, naturally, but I haven't been seduced by an oppressed people's quest for freedom -- it's a waste of energy for us, personally and nationally, to impose American democratic values on other cultures. I won't get sucked into discussing whether the U.S. will be on what Sen. John McCain calls "the right side of history," either.
Foreign policy isn't a zero-sum game. We'll let it all play out and deal with the result. History writes itself.
Fretting about what the unrest will do to our gas prices -- Egypt controls the Suez Canal and the Suez-Med Pipeline -- is likewise futile. They'll do what they'll do. Five bucks might be wishful thinking.
No, what rivets me are the responses of authorities and citizens as Egyptian society breaks down -- protesters driving hated civil-defense forces from the streets, government deploying the military and, most interesting to me, citizens forming private militias to defend their neighborhoods against looters (not to mention the thousand or so prison inmates released by authorities).
I notice, too, how the people are arming themselves -- sticks, clubs and pipes, knives and (reportedly) even Samurai swords. If an Egyptian is lucky enough to have a firearm, it's most likely an antique revolver. Predictably, ammunition is (to put it mildly) scarce.
As common as popular uprisings are in this world, it's rare that we see such events unfold on this scale in a (largely) Westernized nation. It bears watching and, for those of us who cultivate a preparedness mindset, it's instructive as hell.
Speaking of preparedness, here in the American Midwest an entirely different kind of threat has our attention. Meteorologists are tracking a winter whopper that's predicted to have a significant impact on 100,000,000 Americans.
Advisories stretch from the northern Plains to Texas and from New Mexico to Maine. It looks like we're going to get a mix of sleet and snow around here, followed by a half-inch of freezing rain.
I just hate that shit -- I'd rather shovel two feet of snow.
After my tin heart, those guys are. Since writing abouta gift-card tin earlier this month, I've found two more minty Altoinatives: Newman's Own Organics and Penguin. Each comes in a package virtually identical to the standard Altoids tin.
Notes: Penguin mints are caffeinated and Newman's mints contain organic sweeteners. Newman's tins are made in England; Penguin gets its tins from China. (The mints are made in Mexico and the U.S., respectively.) Nell Newman, daughter of Paul, uses company profits to support a range of causes.
The graphics on the Newman's tins are a departure from the style favored by Altoids and, in my opinion, quite striking.
Also pictured: a half-ounce Penguin tin, slightly larger than an Altoids Smalls tin; and a vintage-repro peppermints tin from Cracker Barrel.
A burgeoning revolution, a looming winter storm, a couple of mint tins... yup, I think that about covers it.
Instead of three bus-driving assignments yesterday I had four. My wife's car again stayed in the shop overnight, adding a late-afternoon trip to pick her up at work. As a result, we also made a return run to drop her off early this morning.
Tuesday involved lots of sitting and waiting, of course, as well as logging even more miles than we had the day before. None of us loves this unpredictable road show of ours, but it is what it is -- two days, 18 gallons of gas, fifty bucks.
If there's a bright spot, it's that my TrailBlazer got almost 19mpg on that tank, the best everyday mileage I've seen since adopting this used SUV last October. With gas prices high and climbing, hey, I'll take my good news wherever I find it.
* * * The wild raspberry canes in our idle garden are loaded with ripening fruit. Unable to wait for them to reach maturity, I've sampled a few.
Tart and earthy treats. Great stuff.
By this weekend I hope to get into my rhythmic battle with the birds and reap some riper, sweeter rewards.
* * * Speaking of the garden, last year's perennials are presenting us with a modest bounty.
Early-season oregano, thyme and chives complement the patches of wild garlic that dot our property. A couple of mint vines threaten to become the Kudzu of Ohio.
I really miss our basils, fragrant and fresh from the garden, but since it's an annual it wouldn't be ready yet anyway.
* * * Trolling in Lancaster the other evening, we were surprised to see a full-service gas station -- and I mean nothing but.
Seriously. No self-serve pumps.
The sight prompted several minutes of tag-team reminiscing by my wife and me. We recalled a time when pulling up to the pump resembled a NASCAR pit stop -- two or three uniformed attendants swarming the car to wash the windows, check under the hood and fill the tank. In those days, there wasn't much in the way of mechanical work that couldn't be handled by the fillingstation on the corner, from changing tires to major engine repair.
Our trip down memory lane -- ding-ding! -- had us smiling. The spawns either didn't believe us or didn't much care.
It's been since Monday night that I've felt compelled to post to this blog. Lots to talk about, not much to say.
Thus these bits.
* * * Samuel Joseph "Joe the Plumber" Wurzelbacher said yesterday that he'll be spending ten days in Israel as -- I swear I'm not making this up -- a war correspondent for some fly-by-night Kool-Aid website. Reportedly, he wants to get the perspective of "regular Joe" Israelis on the Gaza conflict.
Heaven help us -- and the still-honorable profession of journalism.
* * * Sarah Palin, in yet another interview with yet another conservative (read, "safe") media outlet, criticized Tina Fey and Katie Couric. The incurably inarticulate governor of Alaska is slamming the pair for "exploiting" her, contending that "it...says a great deal about our society."
I agree. It says that a public figure who can't find her butt with both hands and yet pretends to be qualified for the nation's highest office will be exposed as a fraud.
* * * The last several weeks have demonstrated that President-elect Barack Obama is, in my opinion, the right leader for these times.
I adamantly disagree with (and will continue to oppose) Obama, Biden & Co. on specific issues, but I suspect that his presidency will, in many ways, be good for this country -- if, that is, Republicans and self-important Democrats can resist sabotaging our national good for the sake of shriveling ideologies.
* * * I think it was William Tecumseh Sherman -- a son of nearby Lancaster, Ohio, by the way -- who said,
"War is a cruel business. The crueler it is, the sooner it's over."
I have no love for Hamas, nor do I have any particular affinity for the state of Israel or for the Palestinian cause in general. In thinking independently about the current conflict in Gaza, then, all I can do is to consider how I might feel if I lived close to a disputed border.
I feel compassion for innocent Palestinians and Israelis caught in the crossfire, and I have an appreciation of Israel's purposeful aggression in defense of its people. That said, I come down against terrorism and on the side of our only ally in the neighborhood.
The sooner it's over, the better.
* * * Last month, Ohio's Department of Job and Family Services, which oversees unemployment compensation, was taking about 7,500 calls a day. Since the holidays, daily call volume has risen to 80,000.
Understandably, the agency's staff can't keep up, leaving callers on-hold long enough to drain cell-phone batteries. Adding insult to economic injury, both the department's automated phone system and its website keep crashing, making it impossible for unemployed Ohioans to file their claims for weekly benefits. (New York's and North Carolina's systems have suffered similar failures.)
With 435,000 citizens collecting benefits -- and I'm among the 7.3% of Ohioans who are unemployed -- the state pays out $43 million every week. As of Monday, Ohio had just $16 million left, meaning that the state fund is officially insolvent and will be forced to borrow from the feds.
Strange, strange days.
* * * For the last few days, I've been paying two bucks for a gallon of regular gas -- a jump of 36% in three weeks, suddenly higher than the national average.
That's just nuts. And I'd be pissed about it, too, except that two bucks is less than half of what I paid just four months ago.
* * * Oklahoma and Florida will play tonight for the BCS title.
The Gators, coached by Ashtabula native and former Ohio State assistant Urban Meyer, well-and-truly whupped OSU for the championship two years ago, and that still stings. Sooners coach Bob Stoops hails from Youngstown, and I've gotten past any bitterness I felt over Uwe von Schamann's dagger (a.k.a. "The Kick") in 1977.
I don't have a favorite dog in this fight, really, but I'd like to see Oklahoma bust out to a 21-0 halftime lead. Florida wouldn't score a touchdown 'til early in the fourth quarter. Stoops and the Sooners hoist the crystal ball, 35-12.
That's my fantasy, anyway.
* * * Finally, please join me in a moment of silence: Ohio State running back Chris Wells announced today that he's leaving early for the NFL.
(snif)
Thanks for the memories, Beanie -- every smash-mouth run, every hurdle, every stiff-arm, every Wolverine-killing touchdown gallop.
Shortly after McDonald's launched its dorky Monopoly promotion in September, I found myself holding a few game pieces. Half-hearted but hopeful, I decided to play the online version of the game.
I never expected to collect $100,000 -- and I didn't, by the way -- but when my marker landed on "Free Parking" earlier this month, I was told that I'd just won a $50 Shell gift card.
Fifty bucks' worth of gas? Cool. I printed the redemption form and mailed it the next day. I'll see my plastic prize sometime in January, and I'm hoping that gas prices stay where they are 'til then. Lower would be ok, too.
As I reported a few days ago, last Saturday my family trekked to the OSU area for the festivities surrounding The Game. My wife and I each took a turn on a wheel-of-chance, part of a Ford-Sirius "Tailgate Tour" setup we passed on our way to Hineygate.
All I got was a lousy t-shirt. Mrs. KintlaLake had a much better spin, however, winning ten $5 BP gift cards -- another $50 toward precious petrol.
Do I sense a trend?
Thumbing through yesterday's mail, I pulled out a holiday promotion from Dodge. Judging the colorful piece to be junk, I almost fed it to the shredder -- I'm not in the market for a new vehicle, and I traded my Dodge (etc.) on that used SUV that I picked up a month ago -- but something told me to open the flyer.
I was amused to learn that I'm "pre-approved by Chrysler Financial for at least $45,000" in financing toward a new Dodge. (When pigs fly.) Reading further, I found instructions for claiming a $50 Visa gift card, no strings attached -- all I had to do was walk into a Dodge showroom and have the dealer validate my certificate.
I waffled about whether or not to cash-in the offer, even though within the next hour I'd be driving right by the dealership where I'd bought my departed Dodge four years ago. I know these people, and I know how much they're struggling to stay in business right now. I hated to make such a selfish strafing run -- it just didn't feel right.
To make a long story short, I got over it. To ease my guilty conscience, I chatted with a couple of the guys for ten minutes or so, catching up on families, life and business.
"We're all starving here," a middle-aged salesman said, gesturing around the showroom, "but it's the same everywhere. I've never seen anything like it."
The sales manager validated my certificate without complaint. I drove off into the rainy night, filing my claim for the gift card online when I got home. It should arrive in my mailbox before the end of the year.
Hey, that bailout thing's working out well, isn't it?
I'm not so naive as to think that the promise of $700 billion would've fixed anything by now -- I mean, it's been less than two months since Congress picked our pockets. What I might've expected, however, would be a hint that Wall Street, at least, has more confidence in Sec. Paulson's misbegotten plan than The People do.
It doesn't -- and why would anyone be optimistic when there's been no accounting and no oversight? Investors, both individual and institutional, are yanking their money out of the markets despite devastating losses.
Crippled GM, begging for a bailout that hasn't come, closed today at $2.88, off more than 90% from its 12-month high. Citigroup, which got bailout money and promptly spent most of it on acquisitions, ended the day at $4.71, nearly 87% lower than its own one-year high. The pattern repeats throughout corporate America.
And then there's the Dow, which shed more than 400 points again today to close at 7,552 -- if you're keeping score at home, that's a wholesale hemorrhaging of 48% of those companies' market capital in just over 13 months. Worse, and probably more significant, the S&P 500 has sunk to its lowest level since 1997.
It's grotesque. There's nothing that you or I can do to mask (or escape) the ugliness, and I'm absolutely sure that the worst is yet to come.
But why should you believe what this blogger says? I don't have a degree in economics or a seven-figure portfolio. Then again, I don't have a political agenda, either. I simply have the brains I was born with and the eyes to see what's happening around me -- not just in the markets, but in my own community.
We need to stop being blind and stupid to economic reality. Last week a business owner assured me that his small enterprise was doing just fine -- and, of course, that all this doom-and-gloom stuff was overblown. He was unaware, somehow, that the county in which he does business has one of the highest unemployment rates in Ohio, and that his Pollyanna chickens soon will be coming home to roost.
It's not how I'm doing or how you're doing -- it's how we're doing. Big picture, dammit.
Optimism about the ability of Obama-Biden and a Democratic Congress to "fix" the economy (read, "pass more bailouts") is just plain silly. We know that our economy is fundamentally broken. We also know that the incoming administration will throw entitlements and taxpayers' money at the problem -- which itself is a broken strategy, because it only pawns off the burden onto our children.
Face it, the Recession Express left the station months ago, and the whistle we hear in the distance is the Depression Local. All aboard.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to drive down to my favorite gas station and pay $1.71 a gallon for whatever it takes to fill my truck. Hell, maybe I'll get a wild hair and scoot across town, where the going rate is $1.58.
Look, when most of what I see is ugly and broken, I'll take my simple pleasures wherever I can find them.
I've found the information published on GasBuddy.com an interesting and occasionally helpful survey of gas prices across North America. It's not always up-to-the-moment or down-to-the-penny, but that's to be expected with a user-supported site.
One of the site's features is a Gas Temperature Map, a color-coded snapshot of prices by county and, when zoomed in, by town. Green is good, yellow less so, and red areas are paying through the nose, relatively speaking.
We Buckeyes are feeling lucky, rightly so, albeit not as fortunate as Missourians and Sooners. Illuminating the map, GasBuddy.com's tables bear that out -- the Ohio average for a gallon of regular is $1.870, Oklahoma is a penny cheaper at $1.859 and Missouri boasts the nation's best price at $1.844. Among major metro areas, Columbus currently sits in fourth place at $1.813, behind Des Moines ($1.793), Tulsa ($1.773) and Kansas City ($1.749).
I see that in Mrs. KintlaLake's hometown, prices are considerably higher -- generally around $2.39 -- but a glance at the map suggests the reason why. Wherever there's a marked difference in "temperature" at a state border, there's a plausible explanation: taxes. It looks like West Virginia levies much higher gas taxes than neighboring Ohio.
Notably, and with a nod to the presidential and vice-presidential candidates, Chicago is paying $2.299, Wilmington $2.062, Phoenix $2.286 and Anchorage (drum roll for the highest price in the nation) $2.965.
I'll close this post with a comment about the Obama-Biden administration (and its allies in Congress) proposing an increase in the national gas tax -- according to some reports, by at least a dollar a gallon. (Right now it's 18.4 cents a gallon.) Their goal is to discourage demand by keeping gas prices artificially high, reduce the appeal of gas-guzzlers, and pander to enviro-weenies.
My first reaction is that consumers shouldn't be slapped with a tax that increases the price of a non-discretionary commodity by as much as 40%, especially in this economy. It may be oversimplifying to attribute today's lower prices to supply-and-demand alone, but the fact is that Americans hit a price barrier when we started paying four bucks for gas -- demand decreased, supplies grew and prices dropped naturally.
Screw the tax increase. The marketplace works. Our government should butt the hell out and let it keep working.
I'm finding it hard to drive past gas stations these days.
It was just two months ago that the remnants of Hurricane Ike blew through Ohio, after which prices around here spiked at $4.06 for a gallon of regular gas. Back then, and for many months before, filling the tank was painful.
Now, with a global economic crisis and the price of crude oil at a 20-month low, it's like having a sale on every corner. When my wife and I were out running errands tonight, for instance, I couldn't resist the urge to swerve into a BP selling regular for $1.86.
It took only five gallons to top-off the tank, but at less than half what I paid in September, for cryin' out loud, I just couldn't pass it up. (It was 54% less, to be precise, than the post-Ike peak.)
And $1.86 isn't lowest price in our metro area, either -- stations on the other side of town are reported to be selling regular for $1.71.
These prices won't last, of course. I just hope they stick around 'til the mail brings that $50 gas card I won playing McDonald's Monopoly.
Next weekend will bring the first of November, a sort of boundary for me -- October is autumn, November is winter. To herald the change, today the first flakes of snow, mixed with some spitting rain, fell outside my window.
Looking around me, I notice that I'm running behind on my seasonal chores. I still have to stow the grill and the lawn furniture. For the first time in five years I won't be winterizing a car, but the motorcycles will need to be prepared for storage. Eventually I'll pull the mower deck from the lawn tractor, lube the chassis and swap the engine oil for winter-weight, and then mount chains, wheel weights and a plow blade -- but not 'til I've finished dealing with autumn cleanup.
I haven't even started on that yet. Our trees are still hanging on to most of their leaves.
Incidentally, this year I've made a conscious effort to burn no more gasoline on lawn care than absolutely necessary. If the grass grows a bit long and a few leaves blow out of our yard, that's fine with me. Let the neighbors grumble.
Snow, on the other hand, doesn't defer to frugality and can't be ignored. With any luck, we won't have another record-setting snowfall like the one we saw last March.
I haven't been a total slave to procrastination. The furnace has had its annual checkup. Yesterday I gave Mrs. KintlaLake's car a good once-over and changed the oil. My truck (that's what I'm calling it now) had a thorough mechanical inspection and a complete transfusion before delivery, so it should be ready. This weekend I'll shut off the water supply to the outside faucets.
Anyway, my chores will get done, the seasons will change and I won't resist the inevitable slide into winter. In fact, if our fireplace was in better shape and I had a decent heater out in the workshop, I might actually look forward to it.
Gasoline, 35% off Most of the country saw their record-high gas prices around mid-July, but central Ohio's spike came about a month ago in the wake of the "Ike Lite" windstorm. The unexpected regional squeeze briefly had us paying more than $4.00 for a gallon of regular unleaded.
At least we avoided a Nashvillian panic, and prices have fallen steadily since.
Just 30 days later, local stations are charging in the $2.60 range, the least we've paid in 18 months -- still no bargain, but we'll take it. No telling how long our "fortune" will last.
Top-ten Buckeyes When the first quarter of Saturday's game ended with Ohio State up 21-0 on the Spartans, I couldn't help wondering, "Who are these guys in the silver helmets, and what have they done with my Buckeyes?"
That beat-down of Michigan State, along with a last-minute win over Wisconsin two weeks earlier, went a long way toward helping Buckeye Nation forget the humiliating loss to USC. And yesterday brought a pleasant surprise -- when the first BCS rankings came out, the 7-1 Buckeyes were ranked #9.
Hope springs, Saturday beckons...bring on Penn State!
Life on the battleground I used to live in an irrevocably blue state, a place where presidential candidates spent little money and seldom came a-calling. Eight years later and 700 miles west, I feel like I ought to be on a first-name basis with the McCain-Palin and Obama-Biden advance teams. I can't escape the barrage of ads filling my mailbox, ringing my phone and blanketing the airwaves. If I weren't a political junkie, I'd probably pay a three-month visit to Vermont, or maybe some other minor Electoral College prize. Even so, all this attention is getting to be a bit much. On the bright side, living in a so-called "battleground state" means that I get to see the candidates' true colors -- that is, they're revealing the lengths to which they'll go (or the depths to which they'll dive) to win 20 electoral votes. I think it was a former head of IBM who often said, "The higher a monkey climbs, the more he shows his ass." As Election Day draws closer, Sen. Barack Obama and Sen. Joe Biden are keeping their political pants pulled up, while Sen. John McCain and Gov. Sarah Palin, without apparent shame, are desperately mooning Ohio voters.
Blog blotter We were visited by the season's first freeze last night, with temps dropping into the high 20s, bringing an end to this year's homegrown bounty. It was our best garden yet, yielding flavor for our table and lessons for next year. I'm not resisting the change-of-season, though -- the crisp air feels great.
On Wednesday morning, our older spawn will make an appearance in traffic court. I remember getting my first speeding ticket -- and the suspended license, and the traffic school, and having to be chauffeured around by my parents. It made enough of an impression on me that I haven't been pinched since. (knock wood) Time will tell if the experience "takes" on this particular 16-year-old.
I'm not ready to say that an Obama-Biden administration is a certainty, but the odds against it grow longer by the day and the alternative brings me little comfort. Given the implications for my Second Amendment rights, I did a quick inventory and, just as I thought, the KintlaLake household is prepared for the prospect. If the worst happens, we'll consider packing up and moving to Montana -- seriously.
Our community, which is a patchwork of city and county parcels, recently renegotiated its trash-hauling contract, switching from a national waste-and-recycling company to a big regional outfit.
Garbage is garbage -- as long as a big truck shows up once a week to take it away, I don't much care what color the truck is. I'll confess that bringing business a bit closer to home appeals to me, but other than that, the change is no big deal.
It shouldn't be, anyway.
The KintlaLake household, along with a number of our neighbors, is in the county-governed township, surrounded by hundreds of other homes that fall within the city-governed municipality. Our new trash hauler, in its corporate wisdom, serves township and city customers from two different depots, on two different days.
Trucks headed for city customers come from 15 miles away, while those serving township residents travel 33 miles. I roll my trash to the curb on Tuesday, and my neighbor across the street does the same three days later -- same company, same contract.
If serving a single contiguous community from two far-flung locations sounds like a head-scratcher, consider this advisory from the company:
"Recent increases in fuel prices have made it more difficult for us to manage costs. To offset the effects of higher fuel prices, you will be assessed a fuel surcharge, which will appear on your invoice and will vary from month to month."
I understand that a trash-hauling business has to account for higher diesel-fuel prices, but slapping customers with a surcharge without first tackling such obvious operational inefficiency is lazy and unacceptable.
Last Friday morning, unconfirmed reports of a gasoline shortage started circulating. No one knows how the rumors got started, but local media picked up the gossip and long lines began forming at stations throughout middle Tennessee.
By evening rush hour, less than 10% of Nashville-area retailers had gas left to sell -- in an eight-hour span when most folks were at work, a city of 600,000 essentially ran itself out of gas.
Residents limped through last weekend by car-pooling or staying home. Gas stations aren't expecting deliveries until today or tomorrow.
Nashville wasn't struck by a natural disaster. Before the rumors took hold, there was no critical shortage of fuel. Like much of the Southeast and Midwest, thanks to hurricanes Gustav and Ike, the city was dealing with reduced supplies, but the situation was manageable.
Then came the rumors, and panic-buying overtook the city. At that point, all bets were off.
Nashvillians have no one but themselves to blame, of course, but the rest of us shouldn't feel too smug -- an irrational "run" like this can happen anywhere, any time and with any commodity.
After the remnants of Ike blew through central Ohio a week ago, a low-grade version of the Nashville panic unfolded right here, as stores quickly sold out of typical disaster-related items. Still, my family and I didn't have to pay high prices or wait in line -- because our approach, to coin a phrase, is "cache-and-carry (on)."
Think about it -- anyone with a garage or a utility shed probably has a safe place to cache at least 20 gallons of gasoline. We add a couple of ounces of Sta-bil to each five-gallon can and rotate our stock through the lawn tractor, refilling containers as they're emptied. Spending four bucks on a shrink-wrapped flat of bottled water every trip to the grocery quickly adds up to an emergency stockpile; the same principle can be applied to accumulating stores of non-perishable food. Tossing each day's pocket change into a jar, then rolling the coins and stashing them away, answers the question, "What do I do if nobody's taking credit cards and all the ATMs are down?"
It ain't rocket science.
When we hear "preparedness," we usually think of getting ready for natural disasters like hurricanes or ice storms, or a man-made calamity like a chemical spill or even a terrorist attack. But as the Nashville scenario demonstrates, unprepared and panic-prone Americans are quite capable of creating their own crises.
Across the state of Ohio, damage from Sunday's visit by "Ike Lite" is widespread. More than a million homes and businesses remain without power, many schools are closed for a second straight day and six deaths have been attributed to the windstorm.
On the bright side, recovery isn't being hampered by floodwaters, rain or sweltering heat -- the last two days have been clear and calm, with temps ranging from the mid-50s to the low 70s. For power-company and debris-removal crews, it's like cleaning up after a big ice storm, without having to battle snow and freezing cold.
So no, Ohioans aren't suffering like Texans are. But to be fair, some of my fellow Buckeyes truly are hurting -- homes made uninhabitable, serious injuries sustained, small businesses interrupted or destroyed.
Those dealing with real adversity deserve help from neighbors and relief organizations. Watching local news this morning, however, I was struck by the words of a woman who looked to be in her 30s, interviewed last night at a Red Cross emergency shelter:
"I didn't want to be in the dark any more."
Less than 24 hours after the winds subsided, she succumbed to the unbearable torment of living without artificial light. Unfortunately, she's typical of spoiled, unprepared Americans.
That shelter, set up at the state fairgrounds, can accommodate up to 20,000 people. I can't help wondering how many of this lady's fellow "refugees" reflect her helplessness and attitude of entitlement.
By 9am yesterday, stores here in metro Columbus were sold out of flashlights, batteries, candles, bottled water, generators and chain saws. Many gas stations lucky enough to have power have run dry because their scheduled deliveries have been delayed. The local ice-making company sold 400,000 bags and had to close to make more.
Panic may be embarrassing, but at least it's instructive.
The first lesson, of course, is to notice that we're surrounded by parasites and vow never to join the ill-prepared majority.
Second, we need to differentiate between an inconvenience and a hardship. Darkness isn't a tragedy and ice isn't a necessity -- and burning gallon after gallon of scarce, four-dollar gas to find a store selling ice is just plain ignorant.
Next, since it's reasonable to presume that even the hardest-hit areas will be back to normal within a week, we should resist the temptation to run out and get what we should've had before things went south. We'll only face long lines, short supplies and premium prices, and we'll be draining our gas tanks. Dumb.
Better that we suck it up, use what we have and deal with a little temporary discomfort.
While we're making do and doing without, we should take full advantage of the situation -- I mean, this is a summertime power outage, not TEOTWAWKI in January. It's a good time to note the items we're missing -- a 12-volt "car charger" for the cell phone, an extra tank of gas for the grill, a one-burner propane camp stove, a battery-powered lantern for the dining-room table, a hand saw, a big blue tarp, etc.
And then there are those Homer-esque "Doh!" moments -- like reaching for the garage-door button and realizing that we have to lift it manually. How's this rope thing work? Better practice doing this before the next outage. Damn, it's heavy. Maybe I should lube the springs and cables.
Finally, for those of us with kids, we should use the experience as an opportunity to teach patience, self-reliance and simple, practical skills. In the end, the most important lessons we learn may be the ones we pass along to our children.
The spawns and I put our backs into our morning and made short work of the downed pear tree. The front lawn is clear again and our modest woodpile is a bit taller.
If not for a cheap, cantankerous and seldom-used chain saw, the work would've gone much faster.
Note to self: This is stupid. Either fix the damned thing, or bite the bullet and get a real one.
* * *
Last I checked, the price of crude oil has dropped over four dollars a barrel today, falling below $97 for the first time since early this year.
Nationally, the price of gas is headed in the opposite direction, today up to $3.84 a gallon for regular -- considerably lower than July's all-time high of $4.35, but up from $3.76 a month ago and $2.79 a year ago.
Around here, most stations are charging right at $4.00.
Note to self: Travel lighter, and ride the motorcycle more often.
* * *
After the feds declined to repeat the mistakes they've made in bailing out Bear Stearns, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, investment bank Lehman Brothers has filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection.
Also this morning, Bank of America announced that it plans to buy Merrill Lynch, the nation's largest investment house, for the fire-sale price of $50 billion. Right now, for what it's worth these days, the Dow is down 295 points. (Edit: The index closed the day down 504, the biggest point loss since 2001.)
We can stop using words like "tumultuous" and "rocky" to describe the state of our economy. This is a crisis, and well outside our experience.
I suspect it's just begun.
Note to self: Conserve and prepare.
* * *
Here's a text message my wife received this morning from a dear friend in Houston:
No power. Have water. Low on ice. God sent us some a/c. I'm grateful!
Ike came ashore just after 2am CDT as a strong Category 2 hurricane. Even as it moves inland, the storm is expected to maintain hurricane strength through early afternoon.
Damage wreaked by wind and water will be significant. It'll be weeks before we know just how bad it is.
Yesterday's post referred to Ike's potential impact on the oil-and-gas industry, using numbers cited in media reports. Since then, I've done some digging for more specifics.
I like specifics. Pictures are even better, because they help me wrap my pedestrian brain around dry statistics and featureless factoids.
Every time a big storm percolates in the Gulf of Mexico, we hear about the danger it poses to oil platforms -- but how many platforms are out there? And where are they?
Nearly 4,000 platforms, as it turns out, stand (or float) right in the path of hurricanes like Ike.
We're all familiar with the "Strategic Petroleum Reserve," the emergency fuel supplies maintained by the U.S. Department of Energy. Ok, so it's a political football -- but beyond that, where and how is the oil stored?
The SPR is housed in artificial caverns carved from salt domes, as deep as 3,000 feet underground. This graphic shows the four SPR storage locations, along with related refineries and pipelines.
The reasons for building these facilities in this area are as obvious as they are sound, but again, this vital complex sits squarely in the path of Rita, Katrina, Ike and the like.
Knowing all this, then, human nature begs the next question: What's the worst that could happen?
In an attempt to answer that, energy-investment gurus put their heads together with severe-weather experts and plotted the path of "The Ultimate Storm."
No, we're not looking at Ike -- notice that in the worst case, the storm doesn't make landfall until it slams into the Texas coast. Without dry land to sap its energy, such a system would continue to strengthen into a devastating Category 4 or 5 hurricane.
So while we don't yet know the toll taken by Hurricane Ike, it could've been worse -- much worse.
Most Americans can't imagine what it's like to stare down the barrel of Hurricane Ike, now taking aim on the Texas Gulf Coast.
I know I can't.
Sure, I lived in southern New England when Gloria -- the most-hyped storm in history -- came ashore as a weak Category 2 hurricane just 20 miles south of my home in 1985. I remember walls shaking, trees falling, lights winking and the eerie calm of the eye passing overhead.
Compared to Ike, Gloria was a nursery rhyme.
Forecasters say that Ike will arrive on Galveston Island early tomorrow morning as a Category 3 hurricane. By the time it reaches the Houston metropolitan area, 40 miles inland, it may still pack a Category 2 wallop. Coastal communities are expecting a 20-foot storm surge, and some areas already are under water. Ike's cloud shield, edge-to-edge, measures a staggering 900 miles.
As I watch a different weather system drop rain outside my window, a thousand miles from Galveston, Ike is just another news story -- except that it'll interrupt 25% of America's oil-refining capacity, 20% of domestic oil production and 15% of our natural-gas production, not to mention the temporary shutdown (at least) of numerous big chemical plants.
So while I keep the people of Galveston and Houston in my thoughts, I'll be equally mindful of the storm's impact on our punch-drunk economy. We seem capable of absorbing these painful blows, provided they're thrown one at a time, but what'll we do if they start coming in flurries?
* * *
I should've bought gas last week.
I don't drive much these days, and I've let my tank (and my fuel cache) drift toward empty while watching prices fall. In just the last 24 hours, they've jumped by 20 cents a gallon around here.
Lazy, optimistic, and not terribly smart.
* * *
On Wednesday, Sen. Joe Biden said -- out loud and publicly -- that Sen. Hillary Clinton "might have been a better pick" for Sen. Barack Obama's running mate.
And yesterday, when asked by ABC's Charlie Gibson if she agrees with the "Bush Doctrine" -- the well-known policy of striking preemptively before being attacked -- Gov. Sarah Palin did her best impression of a moose in the headlights.
You just can't make this stuff up.
* * *
As I said on Wednesday, I've joined the ranks of the undecided, stepping back from my decision to vote for McCain-Palin. Reaction from readers, friends and family has been strong, to say the least, and overwhelmingly negative.
For the most part, I've been told that not voting for McCain-Palin would be "stupid" -- that's what we say, of course, about people who disagree with us. Democrats say it about Republicans. Conservatives say it about liberals. We have bookstores full of titles like Liberalism is a Mental Disorder,Rush Limbaugh Is a Big Fat Idiot, and If Democrats Had Any Brains, They'd Be Republicans.
No wonder our country is stuck in reverse.
The 2008 presidential election will be my ninth, so I'm not exactly naive about the dynamics of a close race. I know that if I don't vote for McCain-Palin, I could be handing the equivalent of two votes to Obama-Biden -- especially significant in the so-called "battleground state" of Ohio, thanks to the Electoral College.
The McCain-Palin campaign's intellectual bankruptcy finally drove me to question the wisdom of casting a "defensive vote" against Obama-Biden, especially in light of my clear disagreement with the GOP ticket on issues like abortion rights, the U.S. occupation of Iraq and fiscal policy. I realized that I'd become part of an opposition flock of red sheep, and I'm not sure that's the best way for me to exercise my sacred privilege on November 4th.
If I do decide to vote for a minor-party candidate, I'd be leaving the flock in pursuit of a far greater good, as I perceive it, acknowledging that an Obama presidency isn't the most sinister threat to my country's future.
In terms of sentiment, I'd be standing with a majority of Americans who believe that the two dominant parties have broken more than they've fixed. In terms of action, however, I'd be decidedly in the minority, and frankly, that's a scary place to be. But as natural-gas wildcatter John Masters said,
"You have to recognize that every 'out-front' maneuver is going to be lonely. But if you feel entirely comfortable, then you're not far enough ahead to do any good. That warm sense of everything going well is usually the body temperature at the center of the herd. Only if you're far enough ahead to be at risk do you have a chance for large rewards."
(It occurs to me that political poseurs McCain-Palin and Obama-Biden might want to consult Mr. Masters before invoking buzzwords like "maverick" or "change.")
We need fundamental and revolutionary change, not the cosmetic, dime-store variety proposed by the two big campaigns. It won't happen in a single election, but it has to start somewhere.
It might as well start with me.
* * *
Less than 36 hours from now, my #5 Ohio State Buckeyes will play the top-ranked USC Trojans in the Los Angeles Coliseum.
OSU running back "Beanie" Wells, arguably the team's best player, is still nursing an injured foot and has been listed as "doubtful" for the game. USC presents enough of a challenge with Wells in the lineup, and if he's on the sidelines...
I'm going to end this post here -- it's damned near impossible to type with all my fingers crossed.
Just before the sun came up this morning, the temperature here in central Ohio was 55°F -- and because it's mid-August, we call that "chilly." Had it been March, we'd be calling it "balmy."
When our frame of reference changes -- even when the facts don't -- so does our description. It's part of our never-ending quest for context. And that's fine, as far as it goes.
It's the same reason that Americans are being urged to dance a national jig over gasoline that costs only $3.81 a gallon -- because last month, we were paying a record $4.11. Over the same period, the price of oil has dropped from $147 to only $114.
We seem to have forgotten that a year ago, oil was $70 and gas was $2.77. Or that in late 2003, when a gallon of gas cost $1.55, the price of a barrel of oil hadn't yet broken the $30 mark.
So cancel the cake, send the band home and, for cryin' out loud, take that silly hat off your head -- the cost of commuting to work, taking a vacation, harvesting our food and hauling goods to market is nearly 250% of what it was just five years ago, and you want us to party?
Someone needs to tell the government and the news media that one month's perspective is useless -- there's nothing here to celebrate.
Sifting through this week's news, several things caught my attention. Off-the-clock in Iraq According to in-country reports on U.S. troops' support of Iraqi forces in Basra, recently an Iraqi captain complained to an American officer that he didn't "have enough men" to neutralize opposition snipers. The American officer insisted that the Iraqis must take point, and the reluctant captain sulked off.
The U.S. platoon waited...and waited...for the Iraqis to advance. Upon asking an interpreter where the Iraqis were, the U.S. officer was told, "Oh, they went to lunch."
And we're expecting these people to "stand up"?
Breaking for lunch may be a sign of progress, I suppose, if only in comparison to the estimated 1,000 Iraqis who outright deserted in mid-battle the week before.
Homeland security, San Francisco-style Two days before the Olympic torch was to arrive in San Francisco, and despite foreshadowing protests in France and the U.K., three demonstrators successfully scaled cables on the Golden Gate Bridge and unfurled two large pro-Tibet banners.
Bridge-management officials -- who, by the way, were eyeing closed-circuit camera feeds at the time -- said they didn't realize that the trio were about to climb the cables because they were dressed in "ordinary" clothing and concealed their gear in a baby stroller.
Sure, banners and flags are harmless and this was a peaceful protest, but...are you thinking what I'm thinking? Do I really need to say it out loud?
I didn't think so.
Latter-day rehearsal Prompted by the pleas of a 16-year-old child bride, federal and state authorities surrounded and entered the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints "ranch" in Eldorado, Texas. So far, more than 400 FLDS women and children have been removed from the compound, ostensibly for questioning in connection with sexual-abuse and weapons charges.
I have no stomach for the FLDS's culture of misogyny, denial of free will and rampant exploitation of children. And I'm not saying that Eldorado is comparable to Waco.
Not yet, anyway.
It's worth noting, however, that authorities' actions were selective, swift and overwhelming. Largely unnoticed is the fact that this situation has created more than 400 refugees -- perhaps temporarily, perhaps permanently. And for those who still believe that they can fortress themselves against official intervention, Eldorado is yet another woozy canary.
Pumping the brakes We can stop debating whether or not the U.S. economy is in recession -- obviously, we passed that marker months ago.
As former U.S. Labor Secretary Robert Reich said this morning, recession isn't necessarily a braking zone.
"...we are going to go into 2009 with a serious recession. ... You've got food and energy prices, fuel prices going way way up. You've got wages stuck. You've got people who are losing their jobs. You've got housing prices going down. I mean, it's pretty bad."
Reich also offered this ominous observation:
"I think there's no more than 20 percent chance of a depression."
Now that's encouraging.
The pages of The Wall Street Journal and Fortune aren't good places to take the pulse of our economy, and "economic indicators" fly far too high to be useful. Likewise, one's own personal financial agony or ecstasy is too grounded, merely anecdotal.
Economic reality lies somewhere in between the analyst and the checkbook -- it resides in the collective experience of everyday American workers, the cogs in the grand economic machine.
If you work in retail, for example, what has your company been doing lately? Cutting prices or raising them? Not replacing terminated or retired workers? Asking employees to dim store lights or forgo double-bagging? How do this year's sales at your store compare to last year's numbers?
When we gather and stew that kind of real-world information, it's clear that this bubble-gum-and-string economy is headed for an unprecedented fall -- and everyone knows it.
Oh, snap! With the possible exception of the so-called "housing crisis," the most serious financial blow to Americans is the high price of gasoline and other petro-products -- which affects, of course, the price of virtually everything else we consume.
When our government or an oil company assures us that "it could be worse," they're probably referring to gas prices in other countries. But I contend that there's something else that demands our attention, even our personal preparedness.
Take a look at this chart. The red line tracks the price of regular unleaded gas since April of 2002, and the blue line follows the price of crude oil over the same six-year period. Notice the widening gap between the two prices, especially over the last 12 months.
Commodities are elastic. Something -- either oil or gasoline -- has got to give. Will we be ready when it snaps?
