Archive for December 2010

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More on Tax Deal – Moving On

December 8, 2010

My view of the deal has been pretty blurry.

Further to this morning’s post about the proposed tax deal between Obama and Congressional Republicans.

I am embarrassed to say that until recently I have only looked at the deal in extremely brief installments, both hands over my eyes.  The rhetoric about Obama’s “caving” has been so intense in the media (reported by some as a nearly shameful failure of will) that I  couldn’t stand to make myself read the details.

But finally, this morning, I listened to Obama’s press conference about the proposal;  his frankness, pragmatism and articulate good sense immediately made me feel better about him and the future of his presidency.

Now I’ve made myself read more details of the proposed plan.  Come on, people!   I mean by that, come on, liberals!  (I have a sense they are the only ones that read this blog.)  It’s not that bad.  The estate tax provisions call for the return of the Federal estate tax with a $5 million exemption and 35% maximum rates.  That’s pretty reasonable from both sides of the aisle.  Unlike the 2010 provisions (in which the estate tax is abolished but so is the capital gains step-up), the proposal favors the middle class.  It also covers some concerns about the increasing stratification of wealth.  (Although, frankly, wealth and income divisions might perhaps be better addressed through better education, support for families, and a shareholder crackdown on excess executive compensation than simply through estate tax policies.  Few really like the idea of of confiscatory estate taxes.)

The proposed deal is undoubtedly superior than any Obama will get after January.   And some are pushing to simply let the Bush cuts expire under their own terms, the ensuing stalemate would be a terrible quagmire.   (For which, Obama would be blamed no matter how many times Republicans voted no.)

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Obama – Moving On (Rather Than “Move On. …”)

December 8, 2010

 

Obama, bruised but not broken

Further to yesterday’s post re not being able to read the newspapers over the last few days due to a feeling of sick stomach, sick heart.

I finally was able to listen to Obama’s press conference on the tax cut issue.  I really recommend it (here’s the link) as it assuaged some of the sickness.  He’s pragmatic; he’s empathetic; he’s biting the bullet in a manner that avoids egotism and sanctimony (pretty unusual in politics).   He has a long-term perspective.

The fact is that the current tax deal is the just about the only practical response to November election.  The Republicans won.  If Obama pretends that they haven’t won, he is just prolonging the same losing election battle.  Instead he is moving forward, changing the terms of the debate to questions of budget cuts, problem solving, rather than hysteria of tax issues.

I feel a little worried here about the image I’m presenting personally.  I’m not against the wealthy!  Some of my best friends are wealthy!  I am simply concerned about (i) the long term health of the economy; (ii) schools!  roads!  the environment!  any social services.  And also, I admit, I am also worried about the dangers of living in a society in which the divisions of wealth are so stark and extreme.

Apparently, there is a rumbling of mumbling among liberal democrats about a primary challenge to Obama.  The mumblers misunderstand the intense conservatism and fear of the American people (and also, perhaps, the passivity, when it comes to voting, of some more liberal Americans.)   Secondly, it seems to me that it’s the Democrats in Congress who’ve failed here more than Obama; they allowed all the misstatements over the last year; they’ve failed to stand up for anything clear; they’ve ducked and ducked and ducked.  Now they’re stuck.

But he’s not.

 

(P.S. after posting this, realized one point that Obama seems conscious of.  People say they want change, but what drives them, and the economy, crazy is prolonged uncertainty.   He’s creating a stable, if not preferred platform, from which to keep working.)

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Can’t read the paper (not a problem of eyes.)

December 7, 2010

Lately I just can’t make myself read the newspaper.  Everything turns my stomach.   The New York Times especially.

I’ve even begun  to wonder whether the paper is following its ordinary lay-out; nothing holds the eye.

 This is not because the news is sad–some of it, such as the death of Elizabeth Edwards, certainly is.   Oddly, I can stand to read that story even though I  feel terribly sorry for Mrs. Edwards and certainly her children; there are elements of courage, strength, tragic loss.

Is it just me?  My over-stimulated ADD?

Or are stories laced with greed, posturing, and self-righteousness more sickening than stories about cancer? 

All the tax business, all the Wikileaks business, all the posturing, self-righteous business, all the posturing in the name of ‘small business’ business, all the greed.

I don’t think I would mind it so much if people flat-out admitted their weaknesses—if the New York Times, for example, in connection with its publication of all the Wikileaks stuff, said, “look, we want readers.”   

If the Republican leadership flat-out said, “look, we serve the rich.”   

 If Obama just said, “look, they’ve got me in a stranglehold.” 

Actually, I guess Obama is kind of saying that.  My eyes, heart, stomach, simply find it very hard to take.

 

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Behind Bars at Airport?

December 6, 2010

Drawing at Airport

Very late in life I am learning of the pleasures of airport bars.

The music tends to be a bit loud, and this time of year has incongruous Christmas connections, the little drummer boy’s “rumtumtum”, for example, humming with the thick vibration of some kind of electric bass.

But there you are.

The food’s not great, but the plane is delayed.

That line doesn’t really rhyme unless you have been in an airport bar for some time.

Which rhymes better (but doesn’t exactly scan.)

One of the great things about airport bars is that they make you exceedingly indulgent towards security checks, the pat-downs that people have recently complained about so bitterly.  (Perhaps they should have stopped at the airport bar first.)

PS– in this airport bar, which is truly an italian restaurant (that uses some awful bromated flour in pizza crust – there really is no pizza like Eastern Seaboard Pizza i.e. New York, New Haven)–there is a woman wearing a navy baseball cap that has a large rhinestone cross embossed above the brim.  She carries a Minnie Mouse doll.  (Florida?!)

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At Cross(Word) Purposes (With Elephant)

December 5, 2010

Crossword In Bed (With Elephant)

When discipline has worn down, the brain is charred, but you are a purposeful sort who hasn’t quite succumbed to late night (or all night) television, thank heavens for the New York Times crossword puzzle.  I’m not talking about the Sunday puzzle, which is somehow too long, quirky and shiny (the paper stock not plain newsprint) to be truly satisfying.

I’m talking about the mundane, smudged, predictably cycled offering of the daily paper–the Monday refreshingly easy, Tuesday harder but still pleasingly finishable, Wednesday involving some gimmick or joke (the kind one hates/loves to chuckle over), Thursday just possibly doable without cheating (except for this past Thursday grrrr….), the Friday a puzzle you can sometimes manage with only a few hits of the Internet, and the Saturday (forget about it.)

Dear Will Shortz, thank you for many a pleasant hour spent without, and especially, with company.    (The crossword is a great paired activity as long as the other person will let you hold the pencil every once in a while, and, eventually, stop erasing and re-writing your E’s.)

Thank you for this activity of wonderfully-seeming purposefulness.  (How good it is for our brains!)

Thank you for this terrific way of forgetting the present moment while trying to remember everything else one has ever ever learned.

BTW, who was that shipyard worker fired in 1976?

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Yanks Re-sign Jeter (Hurrah!)

December 4, 2010

Baseball elephants are happy.

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Benefits of Obessiveness (Visiting Parents)

December 3, 2010

 

December Eve in FL

Sometimes it’s good to have lifelong obsessions.    One of these times is a visit to parents.   My parents are, frankly, pretty undemanding.  And yet there is something amazing about how time, plans, routines slip away when I visit them.  To some degree, this is exactly as it should be, since I really am here to spend time with them, not to write (i) a novel (ii) or blog (iii) or tax memo, or (iv) to hang out extensively at the beach.

And yet…  and yet… there is also something about the atmosphere of the parental home (and I don’t think it’s just my parents’ home) that seems to crumple discipline, will, even in those moments in which we are not actively “visiting”.  (I find myself, in other words, reading old Readers’ Digests late at night.)

These are moments when even more deeply ingrained obsessive conduct is very welcome.  In my case, it’s a mania for exercise.

I’m not systematic or forceful enough for true fitness.  But I have, since my teenage years, been pretty obsessive about moving my body around every day, shaking things up, as it were.

I can’t somehow do my regular yoga practice in Florida.  Astanga yoga is a practice involving a fair amount of bouncing (jump-throughs) and it doesn’t really work on carpeting (rug burns), or concrete (fractured wrists), or even sand (sand).  (And then, of course, there’s that whole will/discipline problem here.)

But running around on dark streets lit with Christmas lights works pretty well.  Even an occasional Tree pose.

Thank goodness.

 

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Going To No Down Florida, Cold

December 2, 2010

Brrr.....

I wake up in a very chilly bedroom this morning–no heat and a big window always slides open at the top, only closing again through some precarious sill-standing and serious neck-wrenching–with a need to pack for Florida.

Ah.

There are moments when the waterlogged air and smouldering concrete of the Sunshine State really do seem to beckon.  Not to mention the deep blue expanse on hatted head, the warmth on bare arms, the crunch of Bermuda grass under Birks.

Then I read that the temperature at my planned destination (the “Space Coast”) is currently 43 degrees!

That’s not much better than my bedroom!  Where I have down!

Who has down in Florida?  There’s something about even wool in Florida that feels icky.  Sticky.  Thick.  (It’s not exactly sheep country.)

I don’t mean to be hard on Florida but, well, it’s more like fleece country.  (You know, the stuff made out of plastic bottles.)

I’ll stop.  The state is really tremendously beautiful, or would be, if you took away some of the houses and banks. drive-in medical facilities and strip malls, golf courses and SUVs, beach side condos and hotels, and even a couple of bikini shops.   (Maybe not bikini shops.)

It will also be in the upper 60s during the day, maybe even higher.

Ah.

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Julian Assange and Client-9 (Not Trojan Warriors?)

December 1, 2010

Hmmm....

What is it about pale arrogant self-anointed “bastard-crushing” men and condoms?

Julian Assange, founder of Wikileaks, is now subject to a “Red Notice” issued by Interpol for arrest and extradition to Sweden, where he is wanted for questioning on suspicion of “rape, sexual molestation and coercion.”   The possible sexual misconduct charges have arisen in connection with encounters Assange had with two different women in which a condom broke or was not used by Assange and the sex (according to the women) became clearly nonconsensual.

Does this remind you of anyone?

Maybe you have to be from New York.

I’m thinking of Client-9, Eliot Spitzer, another self-righteous accusatorial type who seemed to have a penchant for casual, and unprotected, sex.

What is wrong with these guys?

Okay, okay, this isn’t fair.  You can’t really compare Spitzer’s attacks on the New York State legislature (or CEOs) with Assange’s egomaniacal onslaughts.  Spitzer didn’t put peoples’ lives at risk.  Sure, he didn’t do much for trust in government, but he also didn’t burden diplomatic channels between nations.  (And for what, Julian?  The fact that something is confidential doesn’t actually make it secret.)

It’s also unfair to compare Spitzer and Assange on a sexual level.  Spitzer’s payments to high-priced prostitutes do not place him on a high moral plane, but they do seem to raise him several steps above rape and coercion.  Plus, in Spitzer’s case, he seems to have come around (pun intended) on the condom issue.

So, actually, these guys may have nothing in common.  Except perhaps arrogance.  And hypocrisy.  Only in Assange’s case, these seem untempered by any kind of caution, self-doubt, and also an ability to hear others’ pleas.  (Especially when it comes to the word “no.”)

Certainly, it seems unlikely that Assange will get a U.S. talk show.

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