Sung to the tune of “The Wheels on the Bus.”
The Dow Jones Av’rage Goes down, down, down.
Down, down, down.
Down, down, down.
The Dow Jones Av’rage Goes down, down, down,
And investors frown.
The U.S. Debt goes up, up, up.
Up, up, up.
Up, up, up.
The U.S. Debt goes up, up, up,
China squeals with glee.
Congress doesn’t seem to care.
Why should they?
They’re not there.
Congress doesn’t seem to care,
‘Till two thousand twelve.
What am I missing?
OK, I admit I’m not the most educated guy on the planet. Far from it. In fact, I hate school so much, I’ve withdrawn from every school in which I have enrolled myself in the last 20 years under the horribly mistaken impression that it would be a good idea. The only ones in which I’ve enrolled and actually completed were those schools I was unable to avoid. Like those fun Army schools. Yeah, I’m the only person I know who took nine years to complete a three-year Army correspondence course.
I’m just a regular college grad. And it wasn’t even an Ivy League school. And I was lucky to make it out of there alive. After flunking out of both the math and physics departments in my senior year, I graduated half a year late with a Speech degree. Now THERE’S a rigorous major if I ever heard of one. (Sarcasmatron decisively engaged.)
But I’m not an idiot. As my friend Steve Rowe, a fellow retired Army colonel and one helluva smart guy, said on numerous occasions in his Owensboro, Kentucky accent, “Mama didn’t raise no fool. A couplea ugly kids, but there ain’t a dumb one in the bunch!” This applies to my situation as well, though my siblings would debate the appearance clause of Col. Rowe’s quote in our case.
So why don’t I get it? Am I that uneducated that the debt crisis “dialogue” is incomprehensible? Here’s an appropriately uneducated observation: WTF?
I can’t be THAT out of touch, can I? I mean, I carry a Mensa card, which means I take tests really, REALLY well. But it also means I have some (albeit limited) analytical and (possibly) critical thinking aptitude.
So why don’t I get it?
I know governments play by different rules, but here’s the thing: If I can’t pay my American Express bill because I’m over committed, is it likely that Visa is going to give me an increase in my credit limit so I can pay my American Express bill?
Wait. Don’t answer yet. Unless you’ve tried this like I did early on in my adult life, you won’t have the personal experience to answer definitively.
They won’t. Trust me.
So why do I keep hearing that this is a good idea for the federal government?
What am I missing?
The laws applying to individual finance here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. do not reward those who don’t pay their bills. There are lawsuits, judgments, repossessions and garnishments in store for those who don’t square up whether they are unsecured credit card bills, or mortgages. (Wait… I’m not so sure they can do that anymore for defaulted mortgages.) If you don’t pay your child support or alimony, you don’t get to put it on a newer charge account with a new, higher limit and introductory interest rate. You’re screwed if you don’t take care of business. Royally screwed. Personal experience talking here. Don’t pay your bar tab at the end of the night? The big, burly bouncer will see you now.
As I said, I know governments are different, but money at the individual level is a fixed resource. I can’t print my own currency to bail my sorry butt out of a financial jam. That’ll put me in jail. (No, this is one that I haven’t tried. Yet.)
So why do I keep hearing that printing more money is a good idea for the federal government? (Though just once, a trillion-dollar coin WOULD be awesome, right?)
I dunno. I guess those people in Washington who are supposed to be leading us to wealth and prosperity must be WAY smarter than me. They gotta be freaking Poindexters one and all. Einsteins even.
I dunno. I guess even with my big ass brain, I need more education to figure this out. Maybe I need to go back to school and learn how this all works. Maybe a degree in economics or political science would help me to understand that which eludes me. Maybe I just need more education.
Maybe I need a hole in the head, too.
But I DEFINITELY need a Lamborghini.
Dear Federal Politicians:
Hey folks! Hope you’re all enjoying your recess – I know the FAA isn’t, but that’s another story.
I’m writing to you because I have two small children with whom I reside, and their behavior has too many disturbing similarities to you folks to ignore anymore. Let’s face it, boys and girls, you’ve been bad, bad politicians. Shame on you! How would your mothers feel if they knew you were behaving like preschoolers?
Since you’re all running around the house screaming at each other just as my preschoolers are, (except for Representative Gabrielle Giffords, who is my new hero – she’s got more guts than all of you put together) I’m going to take this opportunity as your American “parent” to correct your behavior and remind you how people are supposed to behave.
(Imagine be standing over you shaking my finger at you while reading this. Good. Thanks.)
Stop calling each other names! Ok, I know that it’s easy to point fault at your playmates, but really, even though “stick and stones may break my bones…” and all that, it’s petty, accomplishes nothing and makes you and the rest of our American family look bad. Knock it off. Now.
My mom and dad always taught me that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Here’s another one upon which you will be able to rely as you go through this developmentally awkward period: “Tis better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.”
Stop the finger pointing! I don’t like tattletales and I don’t care who did it first! I want it to stop and stop now. ‘Nuff said about that one.
Stop blaming your playmates for your bad behavior! When you try this hard to blame someone else for your goofs and gaffes, it’s very clear that you’re just doing it because you feel guilty and just want that bad attention on someone else other than you. If you screw up, admit it. Your American parents (i.e. the electorate) will go much easier on you if you just admit that what you did was wrong than if you try and blame your playmate or hide it.
Absolutely NO playtime until your homework is done! Your “school” gives you way too much time for recess. While I know that you and your playmates need to go outside and play for awhile, (it’s supposed to build social skills and teamwork – how’s that working out for you?) you really shouldn’t go outside and play until all your work is done. Your American parents aren’t allowed to leave their work until they’ve done what their bosses have assigned them. You and your playmates shouldn’t either.
You’re spending your allowance on all the wrong things! If I could take away your allowance, I would because you’ve been particularly careless. I know that you and your playmates all love to run to the corner store and buy things like wax lips, those little candy dots on paper and comic books. And I know how yummy and fun those things are, but really, you can’t spend all your allowance on those things. A little bit’s fine, but not ALL of it, for goodness sake! Now, I know you and your playmates are too immature to understand even the basics of how to handle having an allowance. But in the long run, if you learn now how money works, you’ll be much better off, instead of just looking forward to your next candy fix (election.) I’ll try to teach you, but you have to be willing to listen a little bit, ok?
Kids, what I guess I’m trying to tell you is best summed up by the lesson from “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure,” a cute little movie that you can see when you stop behaving like toddlers: “Be excellent to each other.” Yeah. That’s always a good rule of thumb.
Now do you understand what I’ve just said? You sure? Good. Now go sit in time out for fifteen minutes and when you’re done, you can go play with your playmates again.
Don’t cry – it’ll be ok. Want a juice box?
Dear Ted:
I’m delighted to learn of your story and the happy ending which will hopefully follow. As a former and now wannabe radio guy myself, I’m a tad jealous that you’re getting all the attention and job offers. But hey, I wasn’t going to be hired in radio any time soon anyway, so I’m cool with it all.
Your story gives hope to those of us who have fallen and fallen hard – and believe me, I know about falling all too well. Once you’ve made your successful return to the business and get everything back together for yourself, for me personally, you’ll become an example worthy of emulation — perhaps even an inspiration. I’m hoping that your success will help me move past some of the nearly debilitating daily vestiges of a time in my life I’d rather forget, just as you are moving past yours.
So here’s to you! Congratulations! I hope that you don’t screw it up for yourself. But that’s mostly because I hope you don’t screw it up for me.
All the best,
Dan
Dear Dad,
A month ago today, when last we spoke, we exchanged handshakes and snappy salutes. I noticed again that afternoon, as I always do, your silver U.S. Army Infantry ring, worn and smooth from the decades of wear, never imagining the next time I saw it, it would be surrendering it to accompany you in your urn.
Supporting Mom during those first days after our last salute kept me busy. Just as our family always has, we took care of business first. Mom and I went through your briefcase and pulled out the important legal documents and tried to figure out which bills would be coming due and when. Don’t worry, though – all of us got Mom squared away so that she’d continue to have income without interruption. Really, you saw to all of that through your prior planning and dedication. For me, it was just phone calls to the Army and the Railroad Retirement Board. No sweat. Gotcha covered.
The hardest thing I had to do – ever – was to leave you behind in that beautiful place you chose for you and Mom down in Dayton. I was fine through it all up until I had to leave. I rode out with the family to the entrance, saw them off, and got back in your car (which I’d been using, and yes, I filled up the tank when I was done) and went back up to see you again. I walked up, perfectly composed and stood near the temporary marker. Yeah, it was cliché, but I came to the position of attention and saluted you one more time and started walking back to the car for the two hour trip back home.
Yeah, I lost it then. Pretty badly, too. I sat in the car for a time and struggled with the understanding that I had to leave and the anguish of leaving you behind. But what’s done is done, I suppose. I finally put the car in gear, took one last trip around the grounds and headed home in silence, except for the few phone calls I made to let people know that it was done.
I’m lucky that we got to talk in the hospital, albeit briefly, and even luckier that at various points in my life, I’ve stopped to tell you that you’d raised all three of us right. That I was proud of you. And I admired you. All three of we offspring feel that way, you know. Just sayin’.
You’d be horrified to know that I’ve been posting photos of you throughout your life on the Internet. Yeah, that computer thing you keep hearing about that you wanted no part of. So yeah, you’re getting your dose of the internet now in spite of your revulsion for computers and technology.
I’m doing it anyway because I’m still proud of you.
Even with all the accomplishments I’ve enjoyed, the one thing I will never be is as good of a man – as good of a person as you were. You wrote the book on leading by example, not by intimidation. Cooperation, not confrontation. Thanks. I ‘preciate that. Your sterling example has served me well over the years, even though I know I still fall way short.
I have been telling people for years that when I look in the mirror or hear your words escaping my mouth unexpectedly, that I’m turning into my father.
Just so you know, I’m perfectly OK with that.
Miss you,
Dan