Government 101

It's popular these days to blame the government for all our woes.

Government is too big, too obtrusive, the critics say. The only solution is to rid ourselves of the rats in office and pare back the bureaucracy.

But how did government get this way? Has it really ceased being of the people and for the people? Maybe not.

Take this tale as an example.

A bunch of cotton farmers grew tired of old boll weevil eating up their profits, so they banded together and decided on a plan to eradicate the bug.

In order to do this effectively, a whole bunch of factors had to come together. And pretty much the only way to make the whole thing work was to involve the government. Only the government could pass the laws that would ensure that everyone participated in the program because the program only works if every cotton farmer participates. And only the government could enforce penalties for failing to participate.

Funding for the program intially came mostly from the farmers, but government funds, state and federal, would be needed to fully fund operations. In case you didn't immediately think it, government funds mean taxpayer dollars.

Eventually, to convince all the state's farmers to participate, more and more government funds were needed. Yep, that means more taxpayer funds.

In addition, government agencies would need to provide oversight. This didn't necessarily mean that new employees would be hired, but the time they spent on this program would be footed by taxpayers as well.

To accomplish all this, the cotton farmers had to convince legislators to pass the necessary laws and work to obtain the necessary funding. They would be sweet-talked and pressured, whatever was needed to bring about the enabling legislation.

That's an abbreviated version of the process, but think about this: Groups of people in every state work on their elected representatives from every level -- from city councils to the U.S. Congress -- to convince them that in the case of whatever they want, "there oughta be a law."

And when the law is passed, often money has to be spent, and that money comes from us.

So, I ask you, gentle reader, where does the problem lie?

Now add to that the services we think we have to have. Public schools, libraries, infrastructure, police and fire protection -- the list goes on and on.

Residents of a town say, "Hey, we need a new water tower." (Or something else; pick your own example.)

They go to the city and say, "Buy us a new water tower," and city officials say, "We can't. We don't have the money. We can raise your taxes."

The residents say, "No way, but you better get us a water tower, or we'll find a new council."

So the council calls its state officials who may find funds to help out. If not, council members go to the feds.

I ask again, where does the problem lie?

Is it possible, to badly paraphrase Shakespeare, that the problem, dear friends, lies not in the politicians, but ourselves?

This just in

God announced today that he has postponed the apocalypse.

Although he still refused to reveal the "times and seasons," God said the timeline for bringing about the end of the world has been postponed for at least two months.

Speaking through his prophet, Glenn Beck, God said he is waiting to see the results of the November election.

"If, as I expect, the Republicans are able to take both houses of Congress, I plan to extend the delay for another two years," he said. "Balance will be restored to the universe, and at best, Congress won't accomplish a blessed thing because neither party is likely to have a large enough majority to cram legislation through, and if they did, Obama will veto it.

"Without the ability to override a veto, the parties will return to blaming each other for ... whatever, and there'll be no need for me to act."

Beck, or God, whoever, said the focus would shift to the 2012 elections. If Republicans win back the presidency, then the forces of good will have triumphed, God/Beck said, and the apocalypse could be postponed for four more years.

Beck/God refused to answer questions about his reasons for couching his announcement in conditional language as though the Almighty didn't know for sure what was going to happen.

The Christian Booksellers Association expressed its dismay at the announcement.

"Our best-selling books are about prophecies concerning the end of the world," said spokesman I.M. Wright. "We're likely to experience a drop in sales, but we'll encourage our authors to shift their focus to pop psychology."

Wright said sales of serious books on Bible study or Christian discipleship probably wouldn't be affected.

"Nobody much reads those kinds of books, anyway," he said.

God/Beck said another announcement would be made after Christmas.

"We don't want to interfere with holiday protests about putting Christ back in Christmas and pushing economice recovery through purchasing big-ticket electronics for presents."

The margins of error seem pretty large

Listened to a fascinating podcast today with author and journalist Kathryn Schulz, who has a book out -- "Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margins of Error."

Schulz discussed one of the processes whereby people come to the conclusion that others who disagree with them aren't just wrong but evil.

Suppose two people are having a disagreement; doesn't matter about what, so let's pick on politics.

Around here, the dominant group I deal with is Republicans, and not just Republicans, but the brand of Republican that is convinced that the president isn't just wrong about anything you want to bring up, but out to destroy society as we know it.

Now, the process would go something like this. They say that Obama is a socialist. I respond by saying he isn't and laying out whatever evidence I believe backs up my point.

The first reaction is that I must be ignorant. If I only knew what they know, then surely I would abandon my wrong-headed ideas and agree with them. But as the conversation continues, they discover that I do have all the information they have.

The second reaction would be that since I'm not ignorant, I must be stupid. That has to be the only explanation for my not being able to come to the same conclusion they've come to. But those who know me know that although I'm not the male equivalent of Marilyn Vos Savant, I can think my way relatively intelligently around a problem.

That can then lead to the last part of the process: that I am either evil or under the influence of evil. How else could I be a smart guy and look at their evidence and still be so very wrong?

Of course, I could be participating in the same process.

Now, if we all wind up coming to the conclusion that those we disagree with are evil or under the influence, you can see how quickly actual communication breaks down.

Shulz suggests that one way to keep the conversation going, at least in a group situation, is for someone to suggest the possibility of being wrong. The dynamic there is that someone else will respond by saying, "Well, now, you might have a point."

But I'm not sure that works with individuals, and what I'm seeing all to frequently these days is that often and admission of possible error brings about the response, "Well, of course you are. 'Bout time you started to come around."

We can't live our lives without some certainty; we'd be paralyzed otherwise. But these days we seem to have a surfeit of certainty about too many things.

Still, Schultz has a point. Maybe in the interest of fostering communication we should be the ones who take a chance and admit we might not know so much about whatever topic we believe so fervently that we can't possibly be in error. Maybe that would preserve enough relationship to eventually bring about a serious conversation.

Of course, I could be wrong.

Satire challenged alert

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Of hamsters and men

Animals can be quite effective when used in advertisements for human products. Think Spuds Makenzie, the Budweiser frogs, maybe even the cute puppy in the toilet paper commercials.

But a couple of current commercials leave me wondering what the ad agencies, and the corporate execs who approved the ads were thinking.

Quiznos advertises its $3, $4 and $5 sandwiches using animated, to use the word loosely, cats. Singing, again using the word very loosely, cats.

The jingle uses the tune to "Three Blind Mice," an the voice is, I suppose, trying to sound like a cat would sound if a cat could sing, only the sound reminds me of blackboard produced screeches.

This is one of those commercial that makes me grab for the remote so I can hit the mute button. Perhaps the company hopes we'll be so annoyed and put off by the commercial's lack of production value that we'll run down to our nearest store, buy a sandwich, and help the company to make enough profit to produce better commercials.

Less annoying but just as puzzling to me has been the whole Kia Soul hamster series. One of the early commercials showed a bunch of giant rodents in cages on downtown streets. Good image. Commuters are like hamsters running on plain-jane wheels. I can buy that.

Then other hamsters, which look for all the world to me like giant rats drive by in a Soul, making the other rodents jealous. I admit that the Soul is kind of cute, but I'm used to the concept that the car will some how pull me out of the humdrum world I live and work in. Here they're saying, Hey, you're still a rodent, but you can drive around in a prettier cage.

Now, the commercials show the rats, er, rodents, I mean, hamsters in hip-hop dress chanting, "Oh, you can go wit dis, or you can go wit dat," while showing other rats, er, hamsters driving a box or a washing machine or some other square conveyance. The Soul, by virtue of its name and sloped roof, is cooler than all the box wagons out there, making you hipper than rodents who drive box wagons. Except you're still a rodent.

The thing about box wagons -- Elements, Scions, Cubes --is that they already appeal to people who like a vehicle that's out of the ordinary, so they really don't fit into the rodent on wheel mold, and really, who wants to think of himself or herself as a giant rodent?

We don't want to be hip rodents; we want to be hip.

Around here, lot's of people seem to be buying Souls, so maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the campaign's memorable enough to drive buyers to dealerships, and they buy the autos to be hip, to show they're not part of the rat race.

Or maybe the cars are just inexpensive.

Those who go down to the sea in ships

Those who go down to sea in ships ... have seen the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he spoke and raised up a stormy wind ... Ps. 107

I'm a big fan of the Horatio Hornblower and Jack Aubrey books. (The Aubrey books are the ones the movie "Master and Commander" are based on.)

They describe life in the British navy during the late 18th century into the 19th. I'm fascinated by the accounts of shipboard life, especially how the ships handled at sea.

When we owned a small sailboat, I used to wonder what it would be like to own a larger vessel and sail it on open waters. The few times I was caught in a small storm were frightening and thrilling.

So I looked forward to taking our first cruise, some 10 years ago now. We'd be on a big ship on the ocean, and I thought we'd experience a bit of seafaring life.

Of course, being on a cruise liner has nothing at all to do with reality. I know that now. On the first cruise, we barely felt any movement other than the vibrations of the engines. On our second cruise, we did encounter a bit of stormy weather and rode a launch in seas with four foot or so waves.

But this last cruise, this was an adventure.

A tropical depression formed in the Gulf just before we left and strengthened into a named storm, Alex, by the time we put to sea. Eventually Alex would become a hurricane. This caused us to experience the sea in a whole new way.

There's nothing quite like looking out your cabin window, which is about 40 foot above the water and seeing the result of the boat encountering a wave and tossing water as high or higher than your window.

And sitting in the dining room, on deck 8, another 40 feet or so up, and seeing huge swells and whitecaps out the window makes you wonder just how big the waves really are. Our captain told us when the waves were running 6 feet. These were easily 20 foot.

The Psalmist says those who go down to the sea, "reeled and staggered like a drunken man." Obviously he'd either experienced it first hand or knew someone who had. We passengers did exactly that. Though cruise ship are gigantic vessels with stabilizers built in to minimize the motion and keep passengers happy, this was a trip to develop sea legs with.

I even experienced a bit of the problem of regaining land legs our first night home. Rising in the middle of the night, I had difficulty orienting myself and felt like the house was swaying.

But the real thrill was to stand on deck and hear the roar of the winds. To sit on the taffrail and watch as the wind and wave motion made my tea cup slide on the table and forced me to chase my chair down to stack it so it wouldn't blow away. To climb up and down stairs while they moved in directions I didn't.

This time, I experienced a small bit of the life of a seaman and have a greater appreciation for those tars whose stories I've read and for those who first dared to strike out on the waters without a sure knowledge of where they would end up.

And although I experienced some small thrill, I also learned I don't have the gumption those explorers did. I'm quite sure I wouldn't care to be on rougher seas in smaller craft.

I still would like to try sailing a larger boat, perhaps in coastal waters when the weather's not so bad, but beyond that, I think I'll leave that much adventure to the real explorers.

I'm tired, too

A friend forwarded me an e-mail from some blogger I'd never heard of (like that's hard to believe). He'd titled his piece, "I'm tired."
The rest was the typical anti-Obama diatribe I've come to expect in my inbox nowadays.

The piece repeated just about every criticism directed against the president except for the one that insists he's not a citizen of the United States.

By the time I'd finished it, I was tired too. He wore me out.

I've grown really weary of reading this nonsense. Allegations are tossed about without any support. Guilt is made by association. And worst of all, bare-faced lies are told.

That's right; the dweebs -- the ones who put these e-mails together and send them out knowing that they will be sent to friends of friends of friends because it is so easy to forward an e-mail to everyone in an address list -- are big-time liars.

They attribute e-mails composed by nobodies to somebodies because that will lend greater credibility. But that's lying.

They take old e-mails that were only marginally accurate the first time they were sent out and change the names to the politician they currently can't stand. That's lying.

And they deliberately attempt to deceive readers by claiming that some authority backs them up, knowing that most readers won't bother to check it out. That's lying.

I don't even care who's being attacked -- W., the Big O, Nancy, Hillary, Sarah. If you're lying, you're lying. Period.

Then they go the extra step and wrap their lies in patriotism and Christianity. As though that makes the lies acceptable.

And, of course, the media has to be attacked as often as possible. "The lame-stream media" won't tell you this.

Of course not. It's not their job to report made-up fairy tales. And when the reference is to a story with an actual basis, chances are pretty good I've already seen or read it in a major media outlet.

If these media critics had actually read every word or seen or heard every broadcast, then they could talk. But they haven't.

If people want to be mad, fine. Be mad. But for cryin' out loud. Get it right. There's enough to criticize without making stuff up.