"I'm Not Sure..."

A cousin of mine recently questioned of himself, “if I’m a liberal or conservative”.

Shocked, I answered his question in the best way I knew how. Assume your personal income tax rate was cut in half. And assume the same for your state wide sales tax. Feel better?

Of course you do. So that means you’re a conservative right? I was so fixated on this for the past couple of years that I kind of got rolled up under the wheels of my own train of thought.

I used to think it all didn’t matter. Abortion. Gay marriage. The Iraq “war”. Gas prices. The environment. And a number of other “issues”. They all didn’t matter because they hardly affected me. What has affected me though was my tax rate. And I thought that being conservative meant that I was paying too much for a government that did too little for me. Which meant I should pay less because the government should be able to do more with less.

I’m not sure. I thought it meant that, but then I realized we’ve had a republican dominated executive, legislative and judicial branch for how long now? And how have my taxes been affected? Not at all. No change whatsoever. Maybe for billionaires like Warren Buffet, but for me? Sure, the economy has flourished since the bust of 2001, but we’re just now reaching peaks that we were seeing in 1999-2000 (although way overvalued at the time – even in today’s market cheap debt is the wobbly 4^th leg waiting to break us).

By the way, I only know what I know. I only know what I read, I only gather what I understand and can keep, and the best I can do is spit it back out here. This is my blog. So if I’m “wrong” in anything I say, past and future, you’ll just have to deal. Leave me a comment if you feel so inclined, even one disagreeing with me! I rarely get any of them.

So realizing that, I get back to square one with what I’ve always thought. The government is too large and we need major reforms. I don’t vote because I don’t believe in our current system and I don’t think my vote would change anything. It’s selfish, but I am here to get mine, get as much of it as possible, be as happy as possible while I’m alive and hopefully look back before I die and say I lived a good life. And maybe leave enough for those after me to enjoy their lives more than I did.

And I’m sure there are plenty of blogs out there, bashing the president, bashing the system, bashing anything. But how many of them provide solutions? Great! Impeach Bush! Hey! You hate Bush too because he’s stupid? Let’s make out! Seriously.

Enough.

The more I’ve been getting in to investing I’ve realized something. For now, capitalism works. The economy works. Even with all the recent changes over the past 10 years, we still continue to drive forward. And huge, multinational corporations continue to drive us forward with growth, shareholder value and quality products all while giving to their local communities and trying to cut back on environmental impact. (Some of them at least).

For every dollar I put in to a company’s stock, I expect returns. I don’t care how they do it. I want my one dollar to be worth one dollar and twenty cents a year from now when I ask for it back. And companies give that to me. The government however? I’m just going to leave that question open ended…

Look around. If you pay 24-28% of your income to the government like I do, you are basically investing in your government. What kind of return are you getting on your money? Assuming my wife and I paid roughly $30 thousand dollars (spelled out for effect) in tax last year and only received $6 thousand dollars (20% for home gamers keeping score) back at tax return time that’s not a great return. In fact, that’s an 80% decline on my investment.

And what can I say my government gave me for the $24 thousand dollars I sank in to it? Let’s see. I got harassed by the cops a couple times this year. One even forcefully held my arm down and threatened to take me in and book me. Other than that, I got roads to drive on to my job so that the government could take that money from me. Other than that, nothing. Absolutely nothing to hang my hat on and say, “here’s what the government gave me for $24 thousand dollars in 2006”.

Enough ranting. Here is what I am getting at: The government should go public. Yes. They are already public. I understand. But instead of having thousands of corporations traded on daily basis on NASDAQ, NYSE, AMEX, etc. let’s create a National Stock Exchange. (Not saying we should get rid of the other markets). Each country will be valued on their GDP, and the top 10 countries can set average earnings per share rates/expectations quarter over quarter and acceptable price to earnings multiples for each country. Because really, isn’t that what it’s about? After the world wars, the true battlefield became the business world? We’re not going to continue to be the “#1 country in the World” if we continue down this path.

What would change if we implemented this? (It will never happen, but just let me dream and run through my theory). The government would move to being run like the largest corporation in the United States. When they weren’t creating shareholder value for its investors (us – and those across the world interested in making returns) they would slash and burn and cut the fat just like all good companies do.

It would drive down margins. Why do I want a job with the state? Because state workers are lifers. You get in, you’re set. They pay a 10-30% premium in salary in comparison to the corporate world. And the benefits? Fantastic! Guess what? That’s all of OUR tax money…our investment being wasted. Not anymore in my fantasy world.

All of those “paper pushers” that have been doing their jobs for 20 years and are 5 years away from an excellent government pension? Not anymore. Sorry Jane, looks like little Bobby is going to have to finance his MBA instead of having mommy pay for it. We’re moving your job to India, because guess what? We get labor there at 1/10^th the price we’re paying you, and they’re 5 times more willing to do it. They don’t get sick. They don’t take vacation, and best of all? We don’t have to pay the ridiculous amount of real estate costs to have your body sit here and push paper for us anymore! Well maybe that’s not the best of it but enjoy early retirement, and make sure to bring in that home made ice cream cake we all love for your last day.

I know. It’s mean. It’s a bit over the top. But really, this is how the world of publicly traded companies works. Across the hall from me, plenty of people were informed that mid-July would be their last day with the company. Some who have been with the company for years and have mouths to feed and a mortgage to pay. Well guess what. If this company didn’t survive? None of us would be eating or paying our mortgages. Oh and if those people wanted to stay with the company? Reapply. Prove to us you’re worth it. You might not be. We’re barely surviving as it is, let alone it still could get worse…

Shit would get done. Fat would get cut, and thousands of people would lose their jobs. It wouldn’t cost $650 to replace a toilet seat. It would cost $21 from Lowe’s and they would install it for us (our country). Suddenly large scale projects done by the government in your area would be finished ahead of schedule and within budget. Millions, possibly billions would be saved. We could rid ourselves of so many archaic processes for automation. Hell, every company in the world moves towards faster, smarter work. Why not our government? Oh that’s right, we don’t want to lose the cushy legislative job that pays $200 thousand dollars a year to the ivy league graduates so that they can show up fifty two days a year to “represent us”. No! What about Senator so and so’s country club membership! What would he do without it!

…

Shit would get done. Repeated for effect. Cheaply, more efficiently, and with better management. Because there is no way in hell we are letting the US stock drop below the EU or China’s. I don’t want to have to move my money out of this country. And I don’t want our country to be de-listed or go bankrupt. I am an investor in our country along with everyone else paying their taxes, and we should see solid returns on our investment if nothing else.

And all that savings? We’d pass to along to you. Just like Wal-Mart destroys its competitors by using razor thin margins, the US would dominate all other countries. And just like Wal-Mart rolls back its prices, we’d be rolling back the amount of tax you owed. Imagine what a 30% raise year over year could do for you!

*Sigh*

It’s nice to dream sometimes.

The Angry Kid

I’m going to go take a shower to clear my head. BRB.

Ok. I’m back. Short and simple for tonight because it’s late.

I am an angry kid. I have always been an angry kid. Growing up my parents always asked me what I was so mad about. I never really could place it. It just was the way I was. Every now and then it would rear it’s ugly head and I might get close to getting in trouble.

Or I’d just stew about it for hours, days, let it burn inside.

And honestly, I realized tonight that I lost it a bit. That burn inside of me. I got the wife, the dog, the house, the job. The stability. And all of that calmed me. A lot. Because I knew what to expect day in and day out. Nothing threw me off guard and I’ve been fortunate in the stable life so far.

My right eye has been twitching since I got home from NYC. Michelle said it’s because of the stress. I believe it. I’ve just had too many things on my plate, once again, and the supposed “fun” things are not helping me relax at all like they usually do.

Tonight during my basketball game, there was a punk ass wannabe Iverson kid who was flailing his arms around. My teammates took it. Like they should. Like I should have. But I said something to him. I wasn’t going to take the cheap holding and the show boating of this kid who was probably 5 years younger than me lightly. Finally with 30 seconds left in the game with one foul to give, I went up for a lay in and he held me down. On the way down, I pushed him with both hands. Just hard enough to let him know I wasn’t fucking around.

And of course I was out of the game. He was half my size and was just dicking with me. That was part of his game. He finds the one guy to get technicals on and rides him. Unfortunately that ass tonight was me.

But on the way home, wanting to punch my steering wheel, wanting to punch SOMETHING, I realized that there isn’t a viable outlet for kids like me. Sure, I can bitch on this blog here, but writing this out isn’t really helping, other than making me tired.

I guess that was supposed to be something I learned as I grew in to an adult? How to handle my anger in healthy ways? Everything I read about the topic is complete bullshit to me. I would honestly like to beat the shit out of any one that pisses me off. But because I can’t, I beat the shit out of punching bags.

But what happens when I don’t have a punching bag? What happens when all of those kids out there like me don’t have their outlet? I don’t even know how to answer this.

Fun, Free and Lighthearted

Ugh. I’ve had a rough day. Long week.

My call on Goldman Sachs was terrible. Sure, I made 5% until they announced earnings yesterday afternoon. All that build up for bust. The investment blog post will come later.

We lost our softball game 9-8. This could’ve clinched the playoffs for us. I put some of the onus on myself. I threw a pitch that shouldn’t have been thrown. Should’ve just walked the guy. I went 1 for 3. It was a terrible hitting night for me. I didn’t help my cause at all. My attitude was terrible all game. Much too serious, and not enough funny. We could’ve been easy sailing in to the playoffs. And now I’ve got to worry with one regular season game left.

Then, I get home only to watch the end of the finals where some jackass throws up a 3 pointer at the buzzer and hits it to destroy my two team parlay that would’ve paid me 2.5 to 1 odds with the Spurs winning by 3 (which they only won by 1) and the score being under 176.5 combined (it ended up being 165: Spurs 83, Cavs 82). What a boring series. The NBA is in crisis. Tony Parker MVP? Frenchie? Don’t you idiots know? This is the United States of AMERICA. *steams*

So that’s 3 somewhat bad things. So that’s it. I don’t have to go through anymore crap for awhile. Knowing that, I can write about something I’ve been thinking about. And that is, having a house party here.

I’ve got a few friends, a few coworkers and other acquaintances that like to drink. In fact, I know a lot of people that like to drink. The last house party I was at I believe was probably 2 years ago. And yes, I have been to parties in houses over the past 2 years. In fact, I’ve hosted a few myself. However, those are not my definition of a house party. A house party is a packed house. A place that you can’t sit because there are all these groups of people standing and chatting. The drinks are flowing, the music is loud and a few people are way too drunk to even be awake. Maybe the cops come knock on the door? Maybe.

You don’t want to stay at the house because the couch looks dirty. So you pile in to the car with 8 other people, only 2 of which you showed up with, and somehow you all get home. Don’t judge me. I’m still alive, I don’t have a DUI or a MIP. And if I did, who are you to judge? Hah – c’mon let’s keep it fun.

You might think I’m crazy to miss these parties. Maybe I am. Maybe my house might get trashed. But for this post, let me be “fun, free and lighthearted”. Because I’ve had a rough day. Ok? Thanks.

I want to have a kegger at my house. I want to have a spodie. Is that how you spell it? I want a garbage can full of liquor and fruit and I want a keg of Mac and Jack’s getting pumped on the other corner of my patio. I want hot dogs and hamburgers. I want loud music. I want shoulder to shoulder people, everyone standing around chatting and laughing. I want drinking contests.

And that’s why I’m writing. If you’re reading this, don’t worry about it. You’re invited. I’m planning it. I don’t know if e-vites are still what the deal is? I’m not sure. They seem like they’ve peaked and now suck. I want to lay some plastic down on the hard woods, set up 12 shot glasses and challenge 11 other people to the century run. I want us all standing around that island. I want designated pourers. I want it to be competitive. I want screaming.

It’s been a good 3 years since I’ve done it. And man did I do it good. Most were not able to follow in my greatness. None in fact. Some ran outside to barf. While I continued. Shot after shot after shot. And if you’re not aware of what the century run is, it is 100 shots of beer in 100 minutes. I know. It doesn’t sound like much. But it gets to you. At 54 you start to buzz. Right about when you hit 72 is when you can’t pour anymore. And at 84 your vision starts to go. At 93 you have no idea what you’re saying and you don’t even remember any of the shots past that point. Maybe you drink two more beers on top of all the shots you did? Maybe you randomly make a fool of yourself in front of a circle of people. Yeah, you probably did.

People will be surrounding me laughing. Drinking their wine. Drinking their mixed drink. Maybe we should use the blender and make Seth’s old special margaritas? It might be that kind of night. I want a night in late July or sometime in August when everyone can make it. It’ll be a no holds barred drink-a-thon. And if you’re not sure where “no holds barred” comes from or had possibly forgotten:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Holds_Barred

Maybe I’ll rent that movie and play it while we’re drinking. But play it on silent so I can rock out with my awesome music (I bet you thought I was going to say “cock out”? C’mon – not in front of all those people) that I don’t really care if everyone likes. Because who did the century run? That’s what I thought. I just want to be going for a repeat of my greatness. Sadly as it is, I am half serious. So don’t think of me as an arrogant bastard. I’m just trying to be light hearted.

I know lots of guys. We need more girls than guys though. Even though I’m married, the mix must require at least a 7:10 ratio of women to men for me to feel comfortable. And please, at least one female make the attempt at the run? Even if you make it to 32 you’ve got our respect. Otherwise we might all end up crying together in a huge sausage fest if no women make it out. And that’s why I’m cooking hot dogs and not sausage.

Thinking about planning this event is the only thing that has made my night better. That’s why I’m writing about it. Sure, I have other ideas about blog posts, and yes, I haven’t done a “rando” post in awhile, but I figured this “spur of the moment” writing might create something I might enjoy reading.

I just realized I have no idea what kind of beer I’ll buy for this. I should research. I’m currently going to google and typing in the search of “What is the best beer to use for the century run”. And for you lazy folk, I’ll just paste the first link that pops up here:

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2005/05/0516_050516_ancientbeer.html

Wow. A national geographic link about antibiotics. That sucks.

I guess I must have used too many words in my search.

I promise I’ll make up for only having 3 posts last month. I apologize, I was on vacation. I also promise that I’ll have a rando thoughts post up this month. My head is all sorts of jumbled right now, which will make for an excellent one of those. I don’t see it un-jumbling until February 2008. Weird that I can just say that.

For now, I feel marginally better by imagining my ridiculous party where NO ONE drives home for hours while they sober up and feel terrible. Eyes dropping, backs leaned up against the wall. Let’s all be college kids again. We deserve it. We’ve been out for too long. Don’t drink responsibly. Get shit faced.

Maybe there’s people making out in the living room? Maybe. Lucky kids. I hope I’ve got my camera on me.

What it Means to be a Man

Now that I’m 25, I’m starting to realize that my thought process on things isn’t changing much anymore. When I was younger (12-18) I let every little opinion or article or book I read affect my mood or thoughts on things.

Since about 16, I’ve slowly built my foundation with things I’ve felt were important. Things that would have other people be proud of the person – man I am – or have become.

I’m not saying it’s stopping here. I’m just saying that at this point I’ve got a list of things that I think every man should strive for. Some of them are silly and really just showcase manhood to other men, and some of them are more serious. I understand this is almost a preaching post – but don’t let it be. These are things that I think about or do in my everyday life to adhere to my own standards. I received one of the best complements the other night from my wife and it was simple: “You are a good man.”

I shoot for nothing less.

In no particular order – what it means to be a Man by me:

-For the rest of my life I plan on driving a manual. A stick shift. I don’t care if US automakers have cut production of manual cars down to 10% and shrinking. Every car I own will be a manual. And if not manual then I’ll at least have some form of electronic shifting. Driving a stick is about a few things: Control of your vehicle. Don’t let a computer do the work for you. Do the work yourself. This is about putting forth effort when it’s not really needed but it’s about respect. (More on effort and respect later).

Knowing how to drive a stick can save lives. My parents were the first to push me to drive a stick after I informed them of my desire to own one. My mom always said that in case of emergency it’s always best to know how to drive every type of car. Believe it or not, I’ve already been in a handful of situations where a friend was not able to drive (hurt leg, too drunk, too sleepy) and they drove a stick. If it wasn’t for me knowing how to drive a stick, we’d just be stuck there. Waiting for the ambulance to come. Waiting for them to sober up so they could drive. Waiting as they napped. I could go on, but I believe I already made an entire post as to why I believe automatics are for “disabled drivers”.

-Length of grass, hair, name (among other things). These three things are a direct extension of you (shutup, this is my blog). For those that own property: Take pride in your castle. The grass shows how much you care about the appearance of your home. The appearance of your life basically. The greener, the fuller, the better. Everyone knows this. Homes that have grass that has grown to become a jungle – or those that have grass with giant gaping holes in it – or have been completely browned out are just too lazy. They don’t have the time, the energy, or even possibly the know how. Lawn care is a science, and one that I will admit to not having mastered yet. Still, my lawn is above average in comparison to my neighbors. And for now, that’s good enough.

Your hair. Thanks a lot Adam Morrison/Michael Bolton/Fabio/skater guys/rocker dudes. You have all inspired some of us to grow our hair past out ears. Mullet? Cool, that’s your thing. But just mop top? No. Shave your head. What does it meant to me when I see a guy or a kid with long hair? A few things: They are lazy. They obviously don’t sweat because their hair would annoy them so much they’d just cut if off. If they do sweat all that sweat STAYS in their hair and they stink like a laundry hamper full of my socks. They’re trying to make a statement. Please – seriously the anti-establishment anarchy shit was so past decades. Find something new to bitch about – and before you do, cut your hair. They’re trying to hide something. Yes! Probably all the acne from all of your greasy hair! Maybe your giant forehead or dumbo ears? (Ok – I have these – but even still don’t have long hair). Just once in your life – buzz it all off. The freedom you feel, especially on those hot summer days I’m sure you’ll be amazed by. (Please don’t take this advice if you burn easily). Let the women have the long hair. You don’t want other men to be attracted to you…or maybe you do?

Names. I don’t care what your name is. Find some way to make it one syllable. Nobody should have to waste any more breath in getting your attention. If you require more than one syllable at the most just make it initials. There’s just something that makes me cringe when I hear names like “Bartholomew” or even “Christopher”. I know – those can both be shortened. So allow them to be. Don’t force people to call you something they don’t want to. For efficiencies sake.

-Earn enough money to pay for your life. This is self-explanatory. Nut up and get a job. I don’t care what people do as long as they make enough money to not have to mooch off friends, family or the government. See a recurring theme yet? Real men are not lazy (for very long periods of time). Therefore real men are not broke. Making more than you need? Be generous. Give back to those that gave to you. Donate money. Pay for food and drinks. Accept only thanks in return.

-Like sports. Or a sport. Real men can play at least one sport. And if you can’t play, at least try. And if you don’t want to try at least have the ability to talk about one sport. In my opinion, sports are the 2nd “go-to” conversation after the weather when dealing with another man you’ve never met before. Sometimes maybe even the first? Be prepared. Seriously it only takes an hour a week to keep up on one team. Read the local newspaper sports section. Watch an hour of ESPN. And for your health – both physical and mental – get out and play. Anything. I don’t even care if it’s badminton (which I’ve been craving to play recently). As long as you are moving, your heart rate is up, and you’re having fun – that’s what counts. So hopefully when a man you’ve never met before shakes your hand, introduces himself and you complain about the shitty weather – when he fires back with the question of, “Whoo! Did you see Lebron last night? Amazing!” You can at least reply with, “Oh yeah! Wow. I had a game like that last weekend in badminton – completely on fire, nothing could get past me”. See? Even if shuttlecock guy had no idea about Lebron or what this Lebron character did (scoring 29 of the last 30 points in a double OT superhuman finish which escalated the cavs to the NBA finals 2007) he could at least switch the topic to something sports related (important) and continue the conversation on a topic he was educated on (also very important). As a man, sports are much more important to me than I sometimes realize. And I could go of about tradition, father – son bonding, etc. But that’s all emo shit and meant for another post.

-Like beer. This just goes with sports. You can’t do shots all the time. You’ll look like the idiot at the house party of your friends when you decline the only type of drink they have at their house – instead bringing your fifth of Limon for you to shoot by yourself. Shots are meant for the club. The bar. Whisky? Ok – maybe if you’re twice my age. But I’m not. Don’t be the odd man out when everyone orders a draft and you get a vodka tonic. Toasting with other guys that are drinking beers only to sip from your straw just looks idiotic. Man up. People that say beer tastes like piss have either had a terrible prank pulled on them or have only had a minimal amount of experience with beer. Through my first month with beer I hated it. Every sip I took was bitter and I almost had to force it down. I can’t believe I was such a wimp at 18 when I had my first cup from a keg – Mac and Jacks. And now that I look back at that night – I can’t believe myself. Mac and Jacks is now one of my favorite beers (and I’m hungry right now so I actually wouldn’t mind one).

-Quit watching your weight. This has to go along with beer. A beer, or 10 beers every now and then is not that bad. Eating beef is not that bad. Men do not get fat. Except for those really obese guys. Men go from being “big” to being “obese”. There is no in between. Remember, you are a man. For you, it is ok to be overweight. Have a belly. Sure as a woman you’d be frowned upon and be a total mess anytime you went to the mall shopping for clothes – but as a man we’ve got sizes to fit you. XXL. And all that loose clothing hides any rolls you might have too. So be a man – don’t be ashamed that you’re 40 pounds overweight. Opt for the prime rib instead of the salad. Have a beer or two to wash it down. And then go play your sport of choice (curling for my Canadian pals) to burn it all off.

-Be strong. Physically and mentally. For those that are close to you – be their rock. Be their foundation. If there is one defining feature about real men that I’ve seen it’s that they are so strong in these aspects. As far as the physical side is concerned – men should be able to lift someone three-quarters their own weight (assuming lifting a significant other) a minimum of 30 yards, or be able to hold them while treading water (all for safety purposes). The mental strength is obviously more important then. When instability surrounds mentally strong men they raise their heads and accept the challenges that life presents them. People look to them for strength in their times of need. And even though it may be hard to present that side at the toughest times in life – this is when it is needed most. As I mentioned previously – be the rock that everyone can rely upon. Be the light that leads everyone through that dark tunnel and when you get through to the other side you’ll have everyone’s love, respect and admiration.

-Some forms of chivalry are not dead. I agree that in modern relationships, there has to be some sort of compromise. Dinner, movie, and drinks are just too expensive for a man to be constantly paying for – especially if the couple has been together for a longer period of time. One of chivalry’s definitions is, “Courtesy towards women”. People only say that it has died because men no longer adhere to such strict standards as they had even 5 decades ago. Figure out how you think a woman should be treated and set yourself at a step above that. Seriously though? I only open doors for all women, and try my best not to be gross when I’m around them.

-Do not ever hit a woman – unless given the proper circumstances. And by proper circumstances I will allow these few exceptions: Love taps. Random “slug bug” games (what happened to these? And corners? These have to make comebacks). A boxing match for entertainment. Your life is being threatened by a weapon. Or possibly limbs or other extremities? The woman you are hitting is your sister. Please provide your own examples of hilarity here as the rule does not apply universally (obv).

On a more serious note - if any of you ever catch another man truly hitting a woman - this man needs a proper beat down. Apply it thoroughly and make sure he remembers what it feels like to really get hit.

I have more definitions of what is required of men – however this post is getting a bit long winded and its late now. Remember this list is always evolving, and hopefully in 5 years I’ll be able to tell you what it means to be a man at 30. So I’ll finish what I consider an unfinished list with this final standard:

-Love and respect your family and friends. They did more to shape who you are as a man than you may not ever realize. And for that you owe them more than just love and respect. You owe them everything.