As I look around at our world today we have more than our share of things to be fixed. Do you want to view them as problems or opportunities? Good question. We define ourselves as conservatives or progressives and that is supposed to steer our ship. But I think it goes way beyond that.

Whenever I get knee deep in things complex I always find my way back to Leonardo DaVinci. He was the master of thought and innovation. I have espoused on more than one occasion about his seven thought processes which have been cataloged by Michael Gelb. The two that spring to mind are Curiositae and Sensazione.

We have to take time to solve a problem by defining it in pretty good detail. Leonardo would look at something from three totally different directions. That’s his Curiositae. He didn’t go to the bookcase and whip out Solution#3 which he had learned at Harvard Business School. He laid out statements and parameters of what he was trying to accomplish.

To be successful you have to look beyond barriers and biases. We are not God’s gift to the music world or any other discipline. We have to look around us to be sure. How many times have you heard “This is the way we have always done it” or even worse “That will never work” before the idea is halfway out of your mouth. Negativity has no place in innovation. You have to want to learn from others. Curious ,we must be.

Sensazione is the tuning up of our five senses. People say they can’t visualize a set of plans. Is that because they really can’t or they refuse to open their eyes and press their envelopes? Hearing goes beyond great music but also challenges us to truly hear what is going on around us. We then take it in and study it. Contemplate on it. Not to look for the first opportunity to knock it down but see if it really has legs.

Our sense of taste let’s us try new things or do you dismiss them out of hand? “I would never eat that crap.” “I only drink white wine or red.” Hmm, I guess you are really open to my next thought. The sense of smell gets to our emotions. Garlic. Spices. Beautiful flowers. I don’t know about you but my brain lights up in about nine different directions. I get wound. I guess that is the manic side of my illness. Ha! Ha!

We have made remarkable strides in medicine but we still maintain a reactive rather than proactive stance. We don’t reward good behavior but in a perverse way do so for bad behavior. Go ahead and eat or drink your brains out and we will heal you. We really have to approach this in a different way but can the healthcare industry come kicking and screaming into the 21st century?

Schools, taxes, global warming, entitlements, farm subsidies, the size of government itself. All need breaths of fresh air. Totally new approaches. Ah yes TTG we will once again bring up that thing called compromise. But it all begins with seeing what is possible rather than predicting downfall.

Think back to Bell and Edison. These were true geniuses. Who today do we equate with Einstein? This may sound like a stretch but I think not. Our body politic is a reflection of who we are. We have all gone to our respective corners and will die on our swords. My way or the highway. As a people we are not creative. Innovation is a better vacuum or thinkpad or tablet. Stuff. Right now we need a lot more than a better driver or putter.

We need to address water and energy as resources to be managed. We need to find more food. We have depleted our oceans. Global warming is here whether you like it or not. We have to figure out how the hell we are going to live with one another. We shouldn’t be worrying about how we are going to finance the takeover of Sprint but how can we nurture entrepeneurship and true invention.

I actually feel all our consolidation has been deleterious. We have fewer of everything from banks to airlines. In these vast bureaucracies whether they are business or government the innovators die. Their seniors either feel threatened or deaf. Just want to get through and not create something dynamic.

As fewer and fewer manage greater numbers we become just part of the crowd. We need to see life as an exciting prospect and frontier. Not something to be endured. The old crowd doesn’t want to rock the boat or change their lives. The young look at things cynically and see no point in participation. If they do it is provincial in their town or burgh but not the nation as a whole.

We need Leonardo. He could invent things no one had even thought of before. We need to delve into our wonderful brains and find some pearl that just might make life a whole lot better. We need new approaches and a case of TNT for our staid thinking. We need Curiositae and Sensazione. I’m buying.

As Always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
Michael Gelb…How to Think Like Leonardo DaVinci
The Da Vinci principles are:
Curiosità – An insatiable quest for knowledge and continuous improvement
Dimostrazione – Learning from experience
Sensazione – Sharpening the senses
Sfumato – Managing ambiguity and change
Arte/Scienza – Whole-brain thinking
Corporalità – Body-mind fitness
Connessione – Systems thinking
Some friends taught it as a course in high school

Da Vinci Inventions to name a few…all in the late 1400’s
Scuba Gear
Helicopter
Parachute
Revolving Bridge

Super Freakonomics a fabulous book with tons of innovation and creativity. A totally new way at looking at the simplest of things.
Featured is a company call Intellectual Ventures which dreams up off the wall solutions to everyday problems.

I made my way to San Diego last weekend. The town bleeds Navy and we gave it one more reason to do so. There was the reunion of the Swift Boat Sailors Association. The attendance of some 250 plus was amazing in that over a five year period from 1965-1970 there were only a few thousand who had received the title of Swift Boaters. The few and the proud does not only belong to the Marines.

It was my first time at such festivities. I made sure friends and family had their phones on for my collect call from jail. Nolo Contendere. Most were in bed early. The fact most brought their wives was a testament to advanced years or maybe everyone had gotten used to short leashes. They made up for it in enthusiasm.

A Swift Boat is a 50’ gun boat. It has a ¼ aluminum hull and a lot of firepower. It had a captain and a crew of 5 or 6 depending on how the draft and the rest of the war was going. We made do with extra flak jackets hanging over the rails for a little more protection. Probably a little more psychological than practical.

We were all pretty irreverent which you know is my style. But the overall persona was wrapped tightly in a thing called camaraderie. “I’ve got your back” was standard issue. But there was something far deeper that was somewhere between PT 109 and McHale’s Navy. No pomp. No circumstance. Just get it done.

I love the sea and was proud to be in the Navy. But for so many of those guys it is their day in the sun. It has defined who they are. They were resplendent in jackets, shirts and old river greens festooned with this patch or that. A few were in full dress and there is nothing cooler than Navy Dress Whites. Women beware. Well, it used to be that way.

As I wandered around the pool or hospitality room I could hear them telling of this firefight or that. Scary rivers and canals with nicknames like “Rocket Alley.” They reveled in the earsplitting cacophony of twin 50’s pumping out a gazillion rounds of hot lead per minute. Or at least it seemed that way. Time has a way of embellishing. Some say they should move on. To me it was oral history. A bit of folk lore. Who cares? It was fun to hear.

It was as if I was watching a movie where at least I had been on the set. I didn’t remember the hull numbers or the names of this river or that. I did remember the fellow skippers who I had not seen in some forty odd years. We seemed to bring up high jinks more than anything else and that was good. To each his own.

For most they have weathered the storm nicely. They had gotten married. Some had kids. Some had become famous in their own right. Most had pursued dreams. All were very human. No hot dogs here. Time had taken its toll but not in a bad way.

There were two things that struck me the most. The first was the ease of communication. To not see someone for 40 some odd years and be able to pick up where we left off in a matter of moments is a marvel of human interaction. There were no jaw dropping revelations. Some waxed philosophically about things like war and life. Neat but not gaudy as I like to say.

The second was more material. There are very few Swift Boats in captivity. The association found one. Where else but Malta? It seems we gave it to the Maltese Navy and they were about to give it up for the scrap heap. Somewhat battered and beaten they took her on ocean going freighters and through miles of government red tape to the Maritime Museum in San Diego.

The boys didn’t stop there. The “Dirty Boat Crew” sanded, filled, painted and rebuilt the engines. All retirees. All for free. There was one fellow who completely rewired the boat. He and his wife lived in Yuma AZ but had been living in motels for a month on their own nickel to get the job done in time.

The before and after pictures are a marvel. The boat? Gorgeous. We all took rides but the best part of all was when they started the engines. They were deep and throaty and the vibration on an aluminum hull came right up through your shoes. It was a feeling out of the past and one a Swiftie can never forget. At least this one won’t.

To my Band of Brothers I say thank you for letting me come back. You all looked great as Navy men do. Thanks also for the persistence in keeping the story going. So many of you busted your butts to do so. Go down to the wharf and think of all things good and bad. Savor the memories and forget the bad stuff. Life is good. Fair winds and following seas to you my friends.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:

PCF: Patrol Craft Fast. (Swift Boat) Length 51’. beam 13’7”.
Displacing 17.5 tons light. 22.2 tons loaded.
Power: 2 Gray Marine diesel engines.
Top speed 30-35 knots depending on your engineman

Armament: Forward: Twin 50 Caliber machine guns mounted in a gun tub atop of the pilot house.
Aft: Over Under Weapon with a 50 Caliber machine gun atop
an 81 Millimeter mortar. The strongest guy on board manned this one.
Various other weaponry consisting of officially M60 machine guns, grenades and M79 grenade launchers. Unofficially the strangest collection of sidearms, Uzi’s and AK 47‘s you would ever see. Go for it. Whatever made you happy.

We carried mortar rounds and enough ammunition to do considerable damage. The total cost was around $20,000 in 1970. We used to describe emptying out the various ammo lockers as “shooting up a Cadillac,” which was the going rate for a DeVille back then.

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http://www.swiftboats.net

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Hear Ye, Hear Ye….

Let me start by saying you can call off the suicide watches for yours truly. I am doing just great. As a matter of fact even better after all your wonderful responses to “You’ll Never Know” last week. Ted’s Head has never created such a firestorm of sorts and that was beyond interesting.

The ego in me says, “Wow, some of you got it.” Then the arrogance of such a comment brought me back to earth. Who the hell am I to say whether you got it? Guess what? Maybe I didn’t put it very well. For the moment I want to dwell on the process. A thing called communication.

We bombard and are bombarded by various messages all day long. They can be verbal, written, or non verbal such as eye contact or body language. They float somewhere in the spectrum and then are received by one of us. Whether we are genuinely receptive is another story.

We create barriers of some sort or let’s for the moment call them filters. First of all is the source. Whether it is writer or speaker we have something more than ambivalence towards them. We have some sort of gut feeling either positive or negative. For me it’s whether it’s Sandra Bullock or Nancy Pelosi doing the talking? Peyton Manning or Donald Trump? Duh!

Then if you are talking about something I know or believe in you are on the mainline to my brain. If not, I am starting to shut down. Positives get put in the cranial cavity for future reference and cons hit the circular file. I may respond for further clarification and then take appropriate action. Next.

It is actually very cool this happens probably hundreds if not thousands of times a day. Sender, message, recipient. Simple and yet so complex. To me the growing process involves trying to catch as many of these vibes as possible. Sure I will chuck some but I at least want to take a good look to see if they hold some degree of water. That’s probably not the norm.

If I am hard left or right I can’t let anything get past my fire wall of defense. I have worked hard to get to my position of the last thirty years. Don’t want any free thinker screwing up a good thing. I am comfy and don’t need any other noise in my life. I can’t say I blame you. Takes a lot of hard work to buck the tide.

On the other hand I dare any of you to sit down and listen to Rush Limbaugh and Rachel Maddow for a bit. Separately of course. See if there are not two or three things they say in the course that make sense? Abortion? Guns? Economic theory? Not all ideas but at least something where you can say I agree. A starting point. But we don’t want to give even an inch. Can’t show any weakness…except of course in our thought process.

I am so struck by the road ahead and our response to the bends and curves. We have got to rethink so many aspects of our country and our lives. We have to have debates but they should be enlightening not divisive. We have got to utter the word that so many find impossible. COMPROMISE. And that means being able to put our radio on receive as well as transmit.

I work my ass off trying to do it. It ain’t easy. I labor through Charles Krauthammer as well as Maureen Dowd but in the end it is invigorating. The only way I can get my juices going is to think of new things. I have to take a problem and try to dream up some way to fix it. I don’t think I am anything special.

To me one of the greatest triumphs and at the same time failure of our body politic is Simpson Bolles. Here was a bipartisan commission that came up with a blueprint to get us out of our financial morass. It was presented two and a half years ago at the behest of Obama. It was shelved by him and the Congress because they could not stand the thought of giving up sacred cows. Ditto Immigration. Ditto gun control.

If each one of us were to concentrate on the task at hand we could accomplish some scary things. If we could hear disparate views and really try to think them through. If we could taste different foods, different ideas, different genres and just savor them for a moment before spitting them out. The worst sin is not to even taste them at all.

If we would just communicate and throw out the filters, the preconceived notions and prejudice we could make some really sweet music. This is not just a feel good concept. Maybe not my future but my kid’s and grandkid’s is in jeopardy and wasting that well being is not an option to me.

As always,

Ted The Great

Factoids:

Over 25 of you responded to last weeks epistle. I actually had written it a couple of months ago. Some of you were concerned for my well being including my sister and I thank you. Some of you read it a couple of times and couldn’t figure out what I was saying. One of you wrote back and asked if I had cancer. I don’t. Someone said they read it in the morning and after the fourth or fifth paragraph they wanted a drink. Kathy said it was really dark. Some had some deep insights and they caused me to pause. Most of you just read and wondered. I guess that’s what this is all about.

You’ll never know how much I hurt. My muscles, my bones ravaged by an unspeakable pain. It screams when I turn. It sends mind numbing shots even when I breathe. The cancer eats at every part of me with unrelenting vigor. How much longer? How much further? You’ll never know.

You’ll never know the loss of a child. The emptiness. The hopelessness. Dreams unfulfilled. People never met. Such a sweet young thing. So precious. So vulnerable. That bastard that started her down the road to ruin. Hell would be too good for him.

You’ll never know the abuse I endure. I answer your phone. I get your coffee. I smile for clients because I need this job so badly. Only to go home and face the gauntlet. The onslaught of brute strength that I used to crave. The vitriol of his drunken stupor has replaced words of love. You’ll never know.

You’ll never know the ache in my heart as I drive down the street of dreams. That love nest that we worked so hard for. Room to grow. The papering. The painting. The place of joy. Now it is all gone as we look forward to nothing but despair and unknown. You’ll never know.

You’ll never know this stranglehold of depression. The world is so bright on the outside and bleak on the inside. I crave sleep to let this horror go. I just want so bad to be so normal. I want to stop crying. I want to be me again. You’ll never know.

You’ll never know the vise of dependency. The booze. The drugs. The wandering of the streets looking for sex. The refrigerator and pantry that beckon like a siren. You call me weak. You tell me to shape up. You want to step on me when I need so much for you to just hold me. You’ll never know.

You’ll never know how cold it gets. The tricks of the trade. What keeps you warmer. Metal or cardboard. I can sleep with one eye open so I don’t get my last worldly possession ripped off. Alcohol can be found in everything from cough syrup to anti freeze. Tomorrow? Maybe. But if it never comes no one will ever know.

You are so flip. So glib. You have all the answers or so you think. You don’t know how to even ask the right questions. You have grown cold. Aloof. It’s all about you. You are right I need to get a life. My own. But maybe you need one too. You’ll never know .

You couldn’t know because you never look beyond your own world. It’s not about rich. It’s not about poor. No matter your lot in life. You are so brazen to think the world rises and sets on your doorstep. It’s so easy being you. So horrible to be me. You’ll never know.

Life is a spread sheet to you. An algorithm. Solve for X. Prove for Y. There are assets and liabilities. Return on investment and equity. There are no poets or musicians or teachers in your life. Just bottom lines and basis not basses and soulful lines. You think you have so much. You really have so little.

It’s a tough world you say and yes it is. You are quick to convict the murderer unless it’s your own son or daughter doing the crime. You curse the thief but are free to practice white collar crime. You want everyone to get a life but you have none. Pick yourself up by your bootstraps you say, although you know they are worn and frayed. No pity. No compassion. No soul. Just leave it and go to bed. The cleaning lady will be in here in the morning to clean up this mess.

But if I ever find an end, it will taste so good. I will drink from just the simplest of things. A warm bed. A tender touch. A meal so simple yet so exquisite. Maybe it is when God welcomes me home. The pain over. The joy eternal. I tell you of this though I think you will not hear it. You won’t realize that I will pray for you. You are too busy and I understand. You are so smart but then again you’ll never know.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
Estimates are that 3-3.5 million people are homeless every night in our country. There could be up to 1.5 million of those who are children. Home might be a car or a tent but they are homeless.

There are currently 1.5 million homes in foreclosure as of this moment with millions already having been adjudicated. Many overstretched but so many lost their dream due to illness, loss of jobs or broken families.

Addiction definition: noun
The state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma. Think hard. You may be addicted to something.

If you have gotten this far you do know. A little empathy could go a long way in this man’s world. I can’t hope to feel your pain but I am going to work on it. Hope you can too.
I have pushed a different envelope with this one. Let me know.

Writers Note: Georgia On My Mind was written about the Masters before the Boston Bombing. I thought we could use a little fun. Even more fun? See the Factoids

We traveled up I 75 somewhere south of Atlanta. It was Saturday and we were heading home to Colorado. A wonderful trip with many friends and family in Sawgrass was in the victory lap and the trees were bursting open and the grass a brilliant shade of green. Just ahead was the turnoff for Augusta and visions of azaleas in bloom danced in my head.

The Masters is like no other. Take all the glitz of the Pro Golf Tour and throw it out the window. This is golf’s temple and you can cheer but rowdy will get you a quick exit. The golfers are more than respectful and you have never heard “sir” uttered more times from so many tour hotshots. They know their place.

We had dinner with a friend who is both a wonderful golfer and gentleman. His 3 handicap earned him no more than a ticket to the practice round but you could see the gleam in his eye as he talked of not a blade of grass out of place. He noted the pitch of the greens and the grade of the hills. Far cry from Florida flatlands and Pebble’s Beaches. A little bit of Heaven.

There’s royalty but on the course it doesn’t matter. An eighth grader from China outshone last years winner. Unknowns poke in and out of the leader board and there is hope for even some old farts in the early going.

Kath and I planned each day’s move to arrive somewhere around 4 PM. Clarksville, Tennessee and Salina, Kansas have TV and that is all that matters. They didn’t even have to leave the light on for us. The wine was opened early and we had a front row seat. I thought of setting up ropes in the room.

The course is magnificent but the toll it takes is even more masterful. Tigers become pussycats and the big hitters shrivel and drop away. Finesse reigns in what has become a brassy world. The putt is the simplest stroke of all. It doesn’t require any amount of strength except in your heart. It brings grown men to tears.

It’s great to see them crack. I cheer when Rae’s Creek sucks up yet one more Pro V. Odd bounces go either way but most of the time “this can’t be good.” Yet it all comes down to the final nine on Sunday. You idiot! You know exactly where the pin is. They have had it in the same place year after year and you still miscalculate. Choking dog? You bet.

You don’t have to be a golf aficionado to enjoy the Masters. It is the greatest metaphor for stress and struggle there is. That is not hyperbole. Millions of people at home lean at every wayward drive. They put body English on every putt and have a sick feeling in their gut as it roars five to six feet by.

You pick your favorite as you would in any horse race. You go to the whip at the far turn and you pray your boy holds on till the finish. And just when you think you have it made that SOB comes from the outside and turns victory into defeat. Nothing like it. So close and yet so far.

This year’s finale was one of the best with two dark horses( Sorry couldn’t resist) showing their mettle at the end. For both warriors to birdie the 18th was something for the movies. The two playoff holes were the best you will ever see. For once, no one lost but one guy won and that was way cool.

Every one said that the old Angel Cabrera couldn’t withstand the pressure but they forgot his background. He quit school to become a caddie for what he thought was the rest of his life. He became a pro but didn’t forget his roots. He had a doctorate in caddie yard putting and chipping. Case closed.

Adam Scott hadn’t been able to find the hole all day with the proverbial two hands and a flashlight. Stevie was his caddie but I thought his last name was Wonder. And yet the Aussie came through for himself but even more for a proud sports nation.

Angel was agonizingly close and in the end beyond a gentleman. He hugged his son and then he did the same to his opponent as if he was his son. There was exhaustion and tears and most of all humility. There was a sense that this sport like so many others with egos and dollar signs had just a little bit of sanity and above all gentility. Wish we could bottle that. Maybe we can.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:

Unlike the three other major tournaments that define the golf season, the Masters is not run by a national governing body, either of the game or of its professionals. It is run by a private club, which sets the requirements for qualification. The prize is not a championship title but the club’s green blazer.

The tournament was not played during the years 1943, 1944 and 1945 because of World War II. To help with the war effort, turkey and cattle were raised on the Augusta National Grounds.

No amateur has ever won the Masters.

Sandwiches also still cost under $3 at concession stands at Augusta National

Have a Good Time Full moon over Wellington, NZ…….

Here is something a bit random, but none-the-less astounding. A work mate of mine who is also a photographer captured what is, to me, one of the most remarkable things I have ever seen filmed.

It is a 3 minute video clip of the full moon rising over Wellington. It was shot on Jan. 28, 2013, a calm summer evening, as people gathered on the Mt. Victoria Lookout point to watch the moon rise.

This stunning video is one single real-time shot, with no manipulation whatsoever. The camera was placed on a hillside over 2 kilometres from the Lookout point, and was shot with the equivalent of a 1300mm lens.

The amount of planning, trial and error, and luck that went into this are mind blowing. He has been trying to capture this for over a year with many failed attempts. But 2 nights ago it seems everything was on his side, and it all came together in a way even he couldn’t have hoped.

I honestly can’t say enough good things about this video – from the magnitude of the visuals, to the intimate stories playing out with the people, to the sheer humbling nature of seeing the awe-inspiring reality of this giant rock in the sky that we so often don’t stop to appreciate.

One thing I encourage you to do is watch this on the biggest screen you have – don’t waste it on an iphone screen.

I had to catch myself yesterday. I wanted to cry. At the gym and watching TV on the Stairmaster, I had quickly grown sick of the coverage. A day that had dawned so pure and innocent on the Great Plains was no longer. I didn’t want to see the endless reel of mutilations. I didn’t want to hear the overly emotive speculation of announcers.I shut it off and just climbed and climbed.

I was not trying to escape the harsh realities of life. I was just trying to make sense of it. We watch the TV in the hope that something will turn out differently. Maybe it is a dream or not as bad as we thought? Sorry. The script just doesn’t change.

We had started the day in Salina, Kansas. We had 450 miles to go on our cross country trek to Denver and we decided on Sunday to get a room for the night and watch the Masters. Monday the time zone was in our favor but we still opted to get an early start.

Early morning on the prairie can play tricks on your eyes and your mind. The sheer beauty of looking 100 miles away is something I hope you all will experience some day. Denver was expecting snow but here it was clear and spring like. That happens out here. You can see fronts as if the sky was a weather map. You watch weather change before your eyes.

We saw a Conga Line of lights off in the distance. Hard to tell if it was a convoy of semis or UFO’s. It turned out to be a work train for the Union Pacific and there were a dozen mechanized wonders that were replacing railroad ties. Not a few but hundreds at a time. Quietly but steadily going about their business. Spring cleaning.

I thought to myself. “I wonder what Mother Nature has up her sleeve today?” The beauty of the East Coast is watching the sun come up. The West is watching it go down. I just revel in both sides. As that big orange lollipop jumps up you wonder what the day will bring. If you love life you can’t predict doom. Things have to be good.

In retro I wonder about all those people that were pounding the pavement in Boston on Patriot’s Day. They had trained endlessly for this, The Boston Marathon. It wasn’t a race as much as a cult experience. Known worldwide, it didn’t get any better. Check your gear one last time and get ready to go.

Whether they are 10K’s, marathons, or triathlons these things are anonymous. That’s the cool part of it. Sure you start with a friend or workmate but miles start to separate people and new friendships are born. Runners reach out to help and to be helped. There are the pros and then there are the ordinary Joes and Janes. Those are the ones who come in around 4 hours and 09 minutes.

Those are the ones that draw the crowds. The elites are home and showered. You struggle and wheeze up Heartbreak Hill and know that somewhere ahead is family. Your quads scream and blisters have now taken a turn for the worse but there are two things that drive you. One is your inner reservoir and the other is the sheer joy of your gang sharing the triumph with you.

And then some bastard stole all that. For whatever God forsaken reason he had chosen in his or her sick mind that this was to be the cause celebre. Their way of shouting protest. Of gaining notoriety. Of showing how far off the rails our world has gotten.

So many times we look from afar and say thank you God it wasn’t me. I can’t. Kathy and I met just a few short blocks from Copley Square. She lived on Newberry Street. Dating on an Ensign’s salary wasn’t glamorous and we often just walked right by the Pru or Hotel Lenox. Right by the Finish Line. There was simplicity and innocence. No more.

The young man that was slaughtered by a savage could have been my Jack or Aiden or Anders. He would have been smiling and cheering. Ready to hug me and I him. I would have to carry his broken lifeless body. I can’t imagine the devastation his father feels.

I know there will be more Auroras, Bostons and Sandy Hooks.There will be more useless tragedy. We will keep on. We will survive somehow. It’s the new normal. And yet I wonder, Where Have All the Flower’s Gone? Gone to graveyards every one. When wil we ever learn?

As always,
Ted The Great

Factoids:
Three people were killed and over 180 injured. One of the dead Martin Richard was 8 years old. His sister Jane who is 6, lost her leg. His mom has suffered severe head trauma and is in critical condition after surgery. Enough said.

If money is the root of all evil I guess evil wins. In our travels as well as our own hometown there has never been more evidence of sheer wealth. We were Australia and New Zealand early on this year and saw upfront the boat shows. Place after place displayed this yacht or that. Arabian oil ministers. Dot com stars. Wall Street types. They know how to strut their stuff

I live in Colorado and am a frequent visitor and former resident of Vail.That’s the place that is neighbor to Aspen and Telluride. I have family in the Hamptons and Palm Beach. We have invaded the harbors of San Diego and San Francisco. Scottsdale. Palm Springs. This wealth is not spotty . It is everywhere. It is with neither a avaricious or resentful mind that I view all this. I am simply flabbergasted. 

Open the Friday edition of the WSJ. There is page after page of can you top this. We no longer review the VW bug but have in depth analysis of the latest Beemer, Mercedes or Lambourghini. We are a star crazed society. We love to hear that so and so got this much for making a movie and who designed their gown. Did you see that ball player that is being paid $25 million per year?

Like so many things we don’t realize how this impacts us. Just like we view Medicare as free we can’t quite fathom that it is us that are footing the bill. Why do you think we pay $150 per month for cable.  We are funding their cavorting through the pages of People or their latest stint in rehab. This isn’t moralistic. I  just really wonder if we get it?

Stocks go up. Stocks go down. It’s okay we pay that CEO mightily because there are so few amongst us that handle the job. Tell that to the stockholders of JC Penney this morning. As I have said before if you are risking your own money make as much as you want. If it’s mine we should have a talk.

I saw a friend yesterday afternoon and he suggested today’s topic. I was going to write something fun about Lilly Pulitzer. I watched the news and saw the death of Margaret Thatcher and got deep in thought about how it hit me and you. Then of course the worst news of all to any male teen in the fifties. Mouseketeer Annette and heartthrob of millions had died. 

But yesterday we drove through what can only be described a poorer part of town. I don’t consider myself one of the landed gentry but the residents of this burgh were hurting. There the class divide was like gleaming headlights. Unemployed and just wandering around. Street corners were the meeting spots and I am sure the drug trade was vibrant. 

But there really is a more subtle separation of rich and poor and it is getting wider. The middle class as we know it is really in trouble. As the top grows so does the bottom. We have a jobless rate that is stuck but I really fear it is becoming institutionalized. Those jobs just aren’t there any more. 

A colleague sent me a note of analysis that recreated his journey somewhere. He went to the airport with his boarding pass in hand. Going to a kiosk he put that into a machine. Go to the counter and it cost you extra. Food came in vending machines which ironically reminded one of Horn and Hardart automates. No people there. The food on the plane was non existent. A lot less catering.

Now you pump your own gas. You change your oil and get service a lot less. Good for you. Bad for mechanics and gas stations. Need a rental car go right to the aisle without even checking in. Call the 800 number and go through robo menus. Go to the bank. What bank?  You get what I mean. 

We have basically consolidated business of every sort. Walmart and Costco have put Main Street out of business. The butcher. The baker. The candlestick maker. Liquor stores. Garages. Clothiers. It is becoming more apparent that shopping malls themselves are no longer a good use of your time. Use the internet. 

Some of you say great. We cheer the earnings every quarter. We just cut costs and improved return. Some say we don’t need all that human interaction. But underlying the increase in your IRA is a creeping disease. We are making the middle class irrelevant. Screw them you say? Be careful.

These are the folks that buy things. They pay cable bills. They go to the movies. They pay college tuitions. They buy cars. You say let the market forces take hold and you are right. What if some day we put the last touch on this great temple of consumerism and no one comes to pay homage? 

We have become insular and just worried about our own butts. We look at our gated communities and high end neighborhoods and no further. We really aren’t  the United States but a lot of little kingdoms. One has guns. One has Ferraris. One is white. One is black. I got to worry about me. Why the hell would Appalachia and barrios have anything to do with me? Wait. Make that suburbia too.

Houston we do have a problem. It’s hard to see and even harder to fathom. People are starting to speak out. We want to break apart that cable bill and pay only for what we want. Joe Six Pack won’t pay $600-700 to go to a Yankee game with his family of four. 80% of the country wants some sort of gun control. 

Let’s for a moment assume most of us are in the haves rather than the have nots. We figure we have this figured out and our money will last. I also guess that many of those with what they thought were secure pensions thought the same. Maybe just maybe we are not as smart as we think.

As Always 

Ted The Great

Factoids:

The largest yacht in the world is(Eclipse) 533′ long.At press time hear there is one 590′, Size matters. Go to CSO Yachts for fun. There is a 70 meter yacht for sale called the Reverie that goes for a cool 38.5 euros. If that doesn’t work how about the Sycare V. Same size but 75,000,000 euros.

Median Housing prices: Nationally $173,ooo .NYC,$349,000. LA $455.000. Honolulu $479,000. Palatka Florida $79,000

Pensions in the US are underfunded by some 22% .That’s $1.56 trillion. Boeing is short $19.7 billion.

In the fourth grade Sister Rose of Lima told me “Woe betide you”. I should have listened.

The Sequester continues to capture my attention. I still haven’t seen a lot of catastrophic occurrences but then again they may be just around the corner. But for now the thing we call government continues to rumble forward or wallow as your interpretation may dictate.

During the Doomesday Defense I was particularly taken by the 800,000 citizens who as civilian workers for the Department of Defense would feel the wrath of the sword. 800,000! And that is on top of the actual standing armed force of some 1.5 million active and 850,000 reservists. Holy Shamoley.

Now being of small mind I couldn’t go too deep into that management structure so I decided on a more reasonable target, The Executive Office of the President or EOP. Even this was no small task.

The EOP is everything that goes into the day to day running of the White House. You know the West Wing and all that jazz. What I hope strikes you is that nothing is simple. Also bear in mind that Thomas Jefferson had a secretary and messenger in time of yore. The buildup didn’t really get into high gear until FDR. The New Deal had to put people to work and they did. 

Now we start with POTUS. He actually only has 5 directs. But the VEEP has 90. Advisors of all sorts. The First Lady has 24 including those in advance(trip scheduling) and correspondence. Don’t get your knickers in a knot. Laura Bush had 18 and Hilary had 19. I guess Michelle’s war on fat needs more fat.

Now the Chief of Staff needs 110 minions but the deputy Chief needs an additional 60. The press secretary has a staff of 20 but then there is an office of communication that needs 20 more. I would love to hear the justification of that. Wrapping up that crowd is cozy group of 40 that work on travel only.

The Chief Usher is in charge of the house itself and has a group of 90 that vacuum,do windows and serve meals. There are 2300 of our armed forces that make sure Camp David is on the ready or that the Helicopter Squadron is on the pad. There are various officer types that are escorts at state dinners but who is counting. They are all on the Defense budget. Rounding out is a corps of 2300 Secret Service but then again they work for Treasury. And we can’t have White House tours at Spring Break. It would cost too much.

There are policy advisors on everything from National Security to AIDS and of course healthcare. Each one has a boss(Czars) and deputies for this or that. Then they have secretaries,drivers and yadda yadda. You get what I mean. There are 30 players in the office of Counsel to the President. They get to decide if water boarding is legal. Wonder what they get an hour?

There are about 1850 total direct employees and with the 4600 military and bodyguards it takes about 6500 warm bodies to open the doors to the People’s House. There are five hundred volunteers and a group of 100 interns that rotate through every four months. Monica rotated through several times but that’s another story. 

Now many of you are shaking your fist and decrying that SOB Obama. Go for it but it really hasn’t changed over the years. If these were the only culpable characters I would feel much better. But this is just one branch. You forgot about those dudes and dudettes at the other end of the mall. 

The numbers are as of 2000 which is the last time Congress would fess up and  produce a budget in the same year. There is Personal staff of 11,700. Each Representative can hire 14 and the Senate has no limit but the average is 34. Gotta keep in touch with the electorate.

Then the committee staff came in at 2492. They have 20 or so standing or full time committees in each chamber but this can grow into the hundreds depending on what they are investigating. Each member has his own staff for that particular committee. I am not making this stuff up. 

 Leadership staff of 274 (Speaker etc.). Institutional (Capitol Police, mess etc) number 5034. At last but not least the Congressional Budget Office of 232 and the General Accounting Office of 3500. The first tells where to spend the money and the second says if they did it right. Notice the disparity in numbers. Overall it is just shy of 25,000 human beings to staff Congress. That’s okay that chamber is so productive.

I was going to go into the Pentagon but scotch doesn’t come in fifty gallon drums. Just think about the Secretary of Defense and then the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and then the branches, NATO and on and on. All of these people have to be officed. Those can be palatial or cubicles but they have to be heated, cooled, furnished  and cleaned. 

It would be comical if it weren’t so sad. Just getting a grasp on the numbers has been mind numbing. Who can even begin to understand this much less manage it. Does it surprise you we have cost overruns and gigantic deficits? Who by any measure of sanity could suggest we need our government to be more involved?

Is there a solution? A whole different Manhattan Project comes to mind but they would investigate me and then lock poor old TTG up.  Might be worth it.  How about three or four sequesters? Please my friends just contemplate the BS we have gone through over across the board cuts. Think how many fiefdoms are raising the drawbridges over their moats? Not in my house!

I would love to see the press go through just one department. I would pay big time to go through every nook and cranny and expose the waste and corruption. Then multiply that by the number of power centers and we as Americans could not possibly feign ignorance or indifference. I am a little blear eyed but I am also terribly pissed.

As Always

Ted The Great

Factoids: You have got to be kidding.

Is it me or are we starting to come out of this thing? As I travel about the country I get the feeling that everything is going to be alright. I was speaking with a friend who stages homes. Her business stinks because people are selling houses quickly rather than having to move in chi chi trappings. They are looking good all on their own.

Healthcare costs are actually leveling off rather than soaring to meteoric heights. Say what you will but hospitals are finally getting the idea you can’t gouge the hell out of people. The fellow who wrote the tome for Time may have the unwashed masses questioning their doctors and their litany of tests. Amen.

There are cardiac and cancer centers cropping up everywhere. I think this is overkill(if you excuse the pun) but it may have some sort of sobering effect on the populace. They will have choices and will shop. That’s a little dicey when we talk about medical outcomes but they are beginning to realize they have alternatives. We still have a long way to go but we’ll take all we can get.

My daughter is an interior designer to the up and coming hot shot set. She charges less than the big timers but her plate is full. Maybe that is why. She has even hired here sister part time which is evidence of a boom or a touch of insanity for both.

Restaurants are the most amazing part. Le Cirque not exactly, but we do inhabit some decent feeding troughs. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. You name it and the tables are full. We even had an emporium of eats in Denver taking itself just a little too seriously. I asked for a table for four at 7:00PM. The obviously nouveau riche maitre’d said we could come at 6:45 or 7:15. I said I was coming at 7 and to knock off the New York crap.

The Senate passed a budget for the first time in four years. We are actually talking about some element of gun control. I sat there somewhat disbelieving as NRA chief Wayne La Pierre said that a background check was delaying HIS people from buying guns for a couple of days. Then with a straight face he castigated Mike Bloomberg for spending $12 million on ads touting action on gun control that Wayno felt subverted the political process.

Now correct me if I am wrong but doesn’t the NRA give a fair amount of dough or at least threaten reps with extinction if they don’t agree with them? Isn’t that subverting something when polls show 88% of the country is for backgrounds checks? Do as I say not as I do.

Gay marriage. Immigration reform. We may even talk about a balanced budget and the deficit in the not too far distant future. Obama actually coughed up a possible admission that entitlements might be addressed. The only really depressing part was the number of amendments to the budget as passed. Some of them were truly bizarre. Funny until you consider that they had to be…. considered.

We survived the fiscal cliff, a Moody’s downgrade and now at least the front end of sequester. We canceled the White House tours for effect. We’ve closed some towers at obscure airports but I think on a planning basis we might be getting the word out that this can work. You mean TTG that we did not need full-time round the clock staffing at Baker Field in Ottumwa Iowa?

Now Al Sharpton has been saying we need spending but I think we tried that a couple of years ago and found very little makes its way through the morass of bureaucracy to fill those “shovel ready jobs”. About the only infrastructure that is getting built is in DC. Take a look at the backdrop next time a pol is on TV and count the number of cranes.

Color me reckless but I even see a glimmer of hope out of Rome. This guy Frances can’t be all bad. He’s a Jesuit and a down to earth guy. There’s going to be a glut in the used limo market in Rome. Can’t you just see the red hats of the Curia cringing as they saw the “man” getting on the bus and carrying his own bags. Get the popcorn ready.This could be good.

Yesterday I was sitting by the beach smoking a cigar and enjoying a vodka and tonic. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed two preteens walking up from the shore. They were laughing and they were obviously identical twins. As they got closer one had on what looked like a flower colored cast on her leg. Nearing me I realized it was her leg….artificial.

A friend told me her story. It seems that she had cancer earlier in life. She had to have the leg removed and lost all her hair. I am sure she wondered if I was undergoing chemo. But in her own words she beat it and was moving on with life. In my words she was both a heroine and a role model….for all of us.

I wish I could make her a poster child for the US of A. For the downtrodden and swells alike. I’d like her to go before Congress and the President. Tell them to stop the nonsense and speak of moving forward. I wish she could be a constant reminder that life deals you bad cards as well as straight flushes. You just don’t know and that is both the beauty and the tragedy of humanity.

It is sad we need reminders of broken bodies and busted dreams of kids and soldiers to get our act together. It’s a bitch I have to whack myself and you over the head with all we have. Let’s get positive. Something is happening here. Don’t get in the way.

As always,
Ted The Great

Factoids:
The federal budget the U.S. Senate passed contained so many proposed amendments that some of its amendments had their own amendments. The chamber voted on only a few dozen of the 572 amendments that were filed to the 94-page bill.

In each of the years 2011 and 2012, the NRA spent nearly $3 million on federal-level lobbying efforts. During the 2012 election cycle, the group laid out more than $25 million on ads primarily supporting Republican candidates or opposing Democratic ones.

The Quinnipiac University poll indicates 92 percent of U.S. voters support gun checks, and 56 percent want a ban on the sale of assault weapons and high-capacity magazines holding more than 10 rounds. At post time a new CBS poll seems to show a weakening of that resolve.

Through January 2013, S&P/Case-Shiller Home Price Indices showed average home prices increased 7.3% for the 10-City Composite and 8.1% for the 20-City Composite in the 12 months ending in January 2013. Kath, I think we better sell.

PS Ted’s Head is about what is going on in my brain. I have been cheerleading and personal lately because that is the way I feel. I’ll get back to being pithy but right now life is good.

With all this church liturgy going on around me I feel I have to confess. On my run. On the golf course. Even while I am sitting here writing my latest epistle. I have been playing with myself. No you slugs and voyeurs. Not that. I have been playing with my mind.

I decided to take a long run yesterday. As those of you who hit the pavement know, the first quarter to a half mile sets the stage for what is to come. Your old bones and muscles loosen up and you begin to hit a pace that is comfortable but not too easy. You want to feel like you are getting something out of this. 

But your mind starts to play tricks on you. You know from this point to the park is a mile but man it feels longer today. Does your calf feel tight? I wonder how far I will be able to go? Maybe not as far as I thought. Come on big guy. Push through it. 

Then a turn for the better. The “runner’s high” starts to kick in. You know the route by heart so you start thinking about things. The miles click away as you are deep in thought. You make a plan for the day. You try to solve a problem. You try to figure out what the hell you are going to write about later on today. So far. So good.

Then reality hits you. The big turn is coming up. If you go left it’s 4 1/2 miles. If you go right it’s 7. That mind is really playing tricks on you now. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you have things to do? Screw it. You go right and just keep plodding. The last challenge is a final sprint at 6.9 miles. Aaah! I made it but there were several times the result was in question. Now you feel like king of the mountain and not Willy the Wimp.

It’s amazing how many times your psyche works on you during a simple run. It’s even better on the golf course. You get over that shot over the water. You take the club back like you have several hundred times before but something sneaks into your brain. It shorts out every circuit in your body and as you come through spasmodic eruptions occur up and down your torso. You have choked  and your ball falls short with an ignominious plop/splash. 

Now when tragedy befalls the pro and duffer alike there is an immediate rush of excuses. Did you say something in the top of my back swing? I swear I heard a car backfire. Or maybe it was that gnat farting three fairways away. Otherwise I would have executed the shot perfectly. Ditto the quarterback. Foul shot shooter. Or the hockey shot that goes wide of an open net. 

The crazy part is that the situation itself is rather matter of fact. It’s how we react in our mind that creates such incredibly different results. Life does not throw you a curve. We do. And yet people everywhere will try to blame it on someone or something else. 

I really believe in the philosophy that no matter what happens in life better or worse is because of a decision you or I have made. I have said it before but in today’s day and age it bears repeating. You lose money on an investment? You made the trade. You are married to a horror show? You said I do. You make a million dollars? Nice choice.

We tend so much to blame the economy, the weather, the sun, the moon and the stars. Woulda’s coulda’s and shoulda’s become a mantra. Get over it. Live moves on. So should you and I. Reality doesn’t suck. You and I just think it does at times. 

I have learned many things about myself over these last twenty years. First is I am trying as hard as I can. If it is not good enough for you I am sorry about that. You move on and so will I. I have also tried to set realistic goals. It does not mean I am resting on my laurels but I am also not going to blow my brains out chasing some unachievable dream. Life is too much fun not to just sit down and enjoy it. 

Lastly is I try not to take myself too seriously. Most people don’t “know who I am” and that is fine by me. It is actually more fun to be unknown and be my crazy self. I don’t have any standards to live up to except my own. 

So Bless me Father I confess. I have been playing with myself. Sometimes I win. Sometimes I lose. And I am having far too much fun for it to be legal. I hope all of you can do the same.

As always 

Ted The Great

Factoids

The human mind probably processes around 50,000 thoughts per day, 4000 per hour or 65 per minute.  Think fast.

Why do you people choke? Researchers argue that the subjects are victims of loss aversion, the well-documented psychological phenomenon that losses make us feel bad more than gains make us feel good . (In other words, the pleasure of winning a hundred dollars is less intense than the pain of losing the same amount.) Don’t think.

In Freudian psychoanalytic theory, defense mechanisms (or defense mechanisms) are psychological strategies brought into play by the unconscious mind[1] to manipulate, deny, or distort reality (through processes including, but not limited to, repression, identification, or rationalization),[2] and to maintain a socially acceptable self-image or self-schema.[3] Think positively