That's an old George Carlin skit with examples like "kill the ump," "'Okay Sheriff, we're gonna kill ya now. But we're gonna kill ya slow.'" "Shamu the Killer Whale."
It wouldn't help either way in little Jim's situation; unless those clever and bitter souls who program Elmo have other naughty Elmos, like Elmo Knows the Aristocrats Skit, Elmo Says Racial Epithets, Elmo The Pimp/Gangbanger, and Elmo the Leftist Agitator Whose Arrest Record Is The Size of the Manhattan Phonebook.
2/22/2008
2/20/2008
The Northeast: where economic growth sputters
Jon Keller has the goods on a report from ALEC, a non-partisan forum highlighting where the economic pulse is good and bad.
According to the report, Massachusetts ranks 26th in economic outlook, which is one rung below the 50th percentile. Our saving graces: low sales taxes (5%), low income taxes (5.3%-5.95%) and "solid tort liability" (not sure what that means). Yet, we lose 330K residents thanks to a "high minimum wage" (national minimum is $5.85; ours is $7.50), high property taxes, high corporate taxes, and "forced unionism" (meaning that great "living wage" they tell you about also includes 20% or so in union dues, which promptly get spent on campaigns, strike funds, protests, and goodies for the union bosses).
A great example between Massachusetts and New Hampshire, for example? New Hampshire has an outrageously high property tax, about $50 per $1,000 per home value, meaning your $250,000 home in Nashua yields $12,500 in property taxes. They also have a meals tax of 8%. On the other hand, New Hampshire has 0% income tax and 0% sales tax. Massachusetts also has the largest concentration of colleges (including 10+ Ivy League schools), universities, and hospitals, and many are world class (is there a New York Latin School? A Kentucky General Hospital? What if Harvard were in Chicago?), whereas New Hampshire has one Ivy League school (Dartmouth), one quasi-ivy league school (University of New Hampshire) and many smaller state schools. In New Hampshire, apartment rents are at least 50% lower than those of Boston, if you can find an apartment not occupied by medical students and college students AND pay the $1000+/month rent.
It all balances out in the end - the strengths of one state may outnumber the weaknesses of the other, but it's how we pay the bills that makes all the difference. If you live in Utah, no worries - except in Salt Lake City, where word has it that the mayor is a little bit weird.
In case you're wondering who ranks dead last...when the report mentioned one Bernie Sanders as an "avowed socialist...enough said," I never thought Vermont would come in dead last. No wonder some Vermonters want to secede from America - they want to make it a new Cuba!
According to the report, Massachusetts ranks 26th in economic outlook, which is one rung below the 50th percentile. Our saving graces: low sales taxes (5%), low income taxes (5.3%-5.95%) and "solid tort liability" (not sure what that means). Yet, we lose 330K residents thanks to a "high minimum wage" (national minimum is $5.85; ours is $7.50), high property taxes, high corporate taxes, and "forced unionism" (meaning that great "living wage" they tell you about also includes 20% or so in union dues, which promptly get spent on campaigns, strike funds, protests, and goodies for the union bosses).
A great example between Massachusetts and New Hampshire, for example? New Hampshire has an outrageously high property tax, about $50 per $1,000 per home value, meaning your $250,000 home in Nashua yields $12,500 in property taxes. They also have a meals tax of 8%. On the other hand, New Hampshire has 0% income tax and 0% sales tax. Massachusetts also has the largest concentration of colleges (including 10+ Ivy League schools), universities, and hospitals, and many are world class (is there a New York Latin School? A Kentucky General Hospital? What if Harvard were in Chicago?), whereas New Hampshire has one Ivy League school (Dartmouth), one quasi-ivy league school (University of New Hampshire) and many smaller state schools. In New Hampshire, apartment rents are at least 50% lower than those of Boston, if you can find an apartment not occupied by medical students and college students AND pay the $1000+/month rent.
It all balances out in the end - the strengths of one state may outnumber the weaknesses of the other, but it's how we pay the bills that makes all the difference. If you live in Utah, no worries - except in Salt Lake City, where word has it that the mayor is a little bit weird.
In case you're wondering who ranks dead last...when the report mentioned one Bernie Sanders as an "avowed socialist...enough said," I never thought Vermont would come in dead last. No wonder some Vermonters want to secede from America - they want to make it a new Cuba!
2/04/2008
Loss is painful; class is forever
In all the years I've considered sports the realm of jocks and the groupies that follow them, last night was a much different story.
You felt the pain in their voices. You felt sorry for Teddy Bruschi and Junior Seau. You thought that with just a little more oomph, the Patriots could have done it and made it 19-0.
You never heard regret or self-pity for getting that far to the Super Bowl. Nowhere did you see "why me" or "our defense wasn't good enough" or "I'm gonna sign with another free agent." There was not a shred of hubris or cocky overconfidence amongst the bunch. Tom Brady could have been a primadonna and blamed everyone; he didn't. His candor and "yes, we lost the Super Bowl and the perfect season, but hey, we made it this far and we're proud to do it for our fans" is a stark contrast to players who mail it in, take dumb penalties, moon the crowd, talk trash, and then when contract time comes around demand salaries in the nine figure range. Never mind that Brady's amour is a supermodel and demands payment in Euros; Brady might have had a bad night strategically, but he skyrocketed to professor emeritus of the class department.
Randy Moss, he of the mooning the crowd while a Viking, would be expected to throw a hissy fit. He too was subdued, humbled, and willing to give credit to the Giants where it was due. Will he come back? I don't know.
On the other side, it was surprising that Bill Belichick left the way he did. Giants coach Tom Coughlin, had he been on the other side of the ledger, would not have done what Belichick did; the only good thing that happened was that for a brief moment, the two coaches congratulated one another.
While still not primadonna-ish, the coach's sudden and brusque departure left me wondering what was going through his mind. Unlike his players, I swear Belichick was pouting for not winning the match.
The Patriots played cleanly, lost admirably, and will return next year with their head held high. They proved loss can be painful, but class is forever.
You felt the pain in their voices. You felt sorry for Teddy Bruschi and Junior Seau. You thought that with just a little more oomph, the Patriots could have done it and made it 19-0.
You never heard regret or self-pity for getting that far to the Super Bowl. Nowhere did you see "why me" or "our defense wasn't good enough" or "I'm gonna sign with another free agent." There was not a shred of hubris or cocky overconfidence amongst the bunch. Tom Brady could have been a primadonna and blamed everyone; he didn't. His candor and "yes, we lost the Super Bowl and the perfect season, but hey, we made it this far and we're proud to do it for our fans" is a stark contrast to players who mail it in, take dumb penalties, moon the crowd, talk trash, and then when contract time comes around demand salaries in the nine figure range. Never mind that Brady's amour is a supermodel and demands payment in Euros; Brady might have had a bad night strategically, but he skyrocketed to professor emeritus of the class department.
Randy Moss, he of the mooning the crowd while a Viking, would be expected to throw a hissy fit. He too was subdued, humbled, and willing to give credit to the Giants where it was due. Will he come back? I don't know.
On the other side, it was surprising that Bill Belichick left the way he did. Giants coach Tom Coughlin, had he been on the other side of the ledger, would not have done what Belichick did; the only good thing that happened was that for a brief moment, the two coaches congratulated one another.
While still not primadonna-ish, the coach's sudden and brusque departure left me wondering what was going through his mind. Unlike his players, I swear Belichick was pouting for not winning the match.
The Patriots played cleanly, lost admirably, and will return next year with their head held high. They proved loss can be painful, but class is forever.
2/03/2008
Better to be an * than an a**
I don't know about many of you, but I'll be glad the football season is over.
Perfect is indeed the enemy of good. Yes, you can have straight A's from first grade to college, graduate with a summa cum laude, ascend from the ranks to the CEO, and then end up dead at your desk from overwork. You can be a child actor pulling in millions to billions of dollars, and then at 21, end up in the streets, partially nude, babbling incoherently, or at worst, be dead from a shotgun wound or drug overdose. You can meet your soul mate from first grade, marry after college, have two boys and two girls, and then end up dying from cancer at the ripe old age of 40.
Perfection above common sense kills. I will never be perfect. In fact, I was a straight B student, and nothing dastardly happened to me. I'm not married, and my world is not falling apart. The promoters, the hangers-on, and the Simon Cowells of the world thrive on perfection. They want to make sure their product has no flaws, no dings, and no skeletons hiding in their closets.
The Patriots may or may not have a perfect season by the end of the night. If they win at 19-0, it won't bother me. If the Giants win, making the Pat's season 18-1, it won't bother me. Both are excellent teams, no matter how much the New York Post asterisk-tsk-tsks the situation.
That's because after tonight, all that talk and hype building up over the past six months will be gone. The dopey stories about intermayoral bets, stock markets, inane commercials, premature claims to winning, scandals, and speculation will be lanced out like a giant boil, draining its poison into the sink, and salve of "no football" antibiotic smeared generously on the wound, covered by a six-month bandage.
UPDATE AT 10:08PM: The Giants won the Super Bowl, 17-14.
Perfect is indeed the enemy of good. Yes, you can have straight A's from first grade to college, graduate with a summa cum laude, ascend from the ranks to the CEO, and then end up dead at your desk from overwork. You can be a child actor pulling in millions to billions of dollars, and then at 21, end up in the streets, partially nude, babbling incoherently, or at worst, be dead from a shotgun wound or drug overdose. You can meet your soul mate from first grade, marry after college, have two boys and two girls, and then end up dying from cancer at the ripe old age of 40.
Perfection above common sense kills. I will never be perfect. In fact, I was a straight B student, and nothing dastardly happened to me. I'm not married, and my world is not falling apart. The promoters, the hangers-on, and the Simon Cowells of the world thrive on perfection. They want to make sure their product has no flaws, no dings, and no skeletons hiding in their closets.
The Patriots may or may not have a perfect season by the end of the night. If they win at 19-0, it won't bother me. If the Giants win, making the Pat's season 18-1, it won't bother me. Both are excellent teams, no matter how much the New York Post asterisk-tsk-tsks the situation.
That's because after tonight, all that talk and hype building up over the past six months will be gone. The dopey stories about intermayoral bets, stock markets, inane commercials, premature claims to winning, scandals, and speculation will be lanced out like a giant boil, draining its poison into the sink, and salve of "no football" antibiotic smeared generously on the wound, covered by a six-month bandage.
UPDATE AT 10:08PM: The Giants won the Super Bowl, 17-14.
1/28/2008
Smoking - an addiction for people and politicians
My mother quit smoking on New Years Day 1991, and she does not miss the habit. Back in 1991, there weren't as many finger-waggers telling her all of those lovely chemicals she's putting into her body, and a pack of cigarettes cost about $2 a pack. Today, thanks to an excise tax of $1.51 per pack of cigs, the cheapest you can get a pack of cigs is $3.50, with the name brands clocking in at least $5.00. In New York State, a pack of cigarettes goes for at least $6 - and in New York City, you can't even get an ultra-cheap (as in no-name, you've got to be desperate) pack of cancer stix for less than $8.
When I went to Mohegan Sun for my birthday last year, I would have expected cigarettes to be much cheaper. Boy, was I wrong: a pack of Marlboros went for the princely sum of $9.65 per pack. (I have no clue how much the cheapos were, but a sawbuck? They were also selling bars of soap with real money for $13.95 - and of course, stupid me bought one. I did, however, use that dollar inside the bar of soap to play the daily numbers and ended up winning $721.)
In some of the New York State Indian reservations, however, you can still get name-brands for more than half the price. Why? The Indians kinda sorta don't put tax stamps on the packages.
This means the bridge & tunnel folks from Queens and Brooklyn (and their Manhattanite friends) who don't want to venture into their corner bodega can take a quick trip to the Hamptons for a family "visit" and stop by the Shinnecock Indian rez for a carton of Newports at $50. If their corner bodega is selling them for $8.50 a pack, that's $170 a carton there versus $50 (and $2.50 a pack) at the rez, meaning a savings of $120 per carton. No wonder the Indians in New York State like business the way it is, and the wholesalers are a bit miffed.
And believe the wholesalers with a fisheye when they say the cheap cigs are funding terrorism. Wholesalers who deliver to stores get a commission on all the sales they make, no matter what the price. So, when they go into the convenience store and set up their displays, it's not to make sure the lady in a bikini is not showing too much bodacious ta-ta; it's because that bodacious ta-ta is the difference between a stale pack that doesn't get sold and several hundred orders, perhaps with the bodacious ta-ta exposed. The wholesalers are blowing as much smoke to deceive the public; if the black market were as thriving as the wholesalers would have you believe, then New York City would have returned to the glorious cesspool of iniquity it once was. It hasn't, and it looks like the wholesalers are ticked that Indian tobacco sellers are cutting into their commissions and profits.
It doesn't mean I approve of smoking. I don't smoke myself, and I personally don't care if you light up, and I will not stop you if you're puffing away (if you ask nicely, all the fuss you'll get is a friendly hand wave and a "g'right ahead.").
Imagine, though, if cigarettes were ultimately banned. Everyone stopped smoking, no one got dirty looks when you lit up, and you didn't smell like an ashtray.
The politicians would have a hell of a time getting over their addiction - to smoker's money.
Here in Massachusetts, the excise tax for a carton is $1.51 x 20 = $30.20. $30.20 is not chump change, and a million cartons not being lit up means $30.2 million denied to the Commonwealth's coffers. Hence, you will see increasing and more constrictive rules on smoking, but you will never, ever see a complete ban, because once the commonwealth or any other state bans smoking completely, they lose hundreds of millions of dollars in easy, regressive tax revenue. The nanny state is not bold or ballsy enough to do a total ban, so they must do their deeds in passive-aggressive steps.
If there's anyone who really must get an intervention, it's the governments who use their insecurities and moralities to control people. Smoking is that perfect example: if smoking were banned, the states would require cases of Nicorette Tax patches.
When I went to Mohegan Sun for my birthday last year, I would have expected cigarettes to be much cheaper. Boy, was I wrong: a pack of Marlboros went for the princely sum of $9.65 per pack. (I have no clue how much the cheapos were, but a sawbuck? They were also selling bars of soap with real money for $13.95 - and of course, stupid me bought one. I did, however, use that dollar inside the bar of soap to play the daily numbers and ended up winning $721.)
In some of the New York State Indian reservations, however, you can still get name-brands for more than half the price. Why? The Indians kinda sorta don't put tax stamps on the packages.
This means the bridge & tunnel folks from Queens and Brooklyn (and their Manhattanite friends) who don't want to venture into their corner bodega can take a quick trip to the Hamptons for a family "visit" and stop by the Shinnecock Indian rez for a carton of Newports at $50. If their corner bodega is selling them for $8.50 a pack, that's $170 a carton there versus $50 (and $2.50 a pack) at the rez, meaning a savings of $120 per carton. No wonder the Indians in New York State like business the way it is, and the wholesalers are a bit miffed.
And believe the wholesalers with a fisheye when they say the cheap cigs are funding terrorism. Wholesalers who deliver to stores get a commission on all the sales they make, no matter what the price. So, when they go into the convenience store and set up their displays, it's not to make sure the lady in a bikini is not showing too much bodacious ta-ta; it's because that bodacious ta-ta is the difference between a stale pack that doesn't get sold and several hundred orders, perhaps with the bodacious ta-ta exposed. The wholesalers are blowing as much smoke to deceive the public; if the black market were as thriving as the wholesalers would have you believe, then New York City would have returned to the glorious cesspool of iniquity it once was. It hasn't, and it looks like the wholesalers are ticked that Indian tobacco sellers are cutting into their commissions and profits.
It doesn't mean I approve of smoking. I don't smoke myself, and I personally don't care if you light up, and I will not stop you if you're puffing away (if you ask nicely, all the fuss you'll get is a friendly hand wave and a "g'right ahead.").
Imagine, though, if cigarettes were ultimately banned. Everyone stopped smoking, no one got dirty looks when you lit up, and you didn't smell like an ashtray.
The politicians would have a hell of a time getting over their addiction - to smoker's money.
Here in Massachusetts, the excise tax for a carton is $1.51 x 20 = $30.20. $30.20 is not chump change, and a million cartons not being lit up means $30.2 million denied to the Commonwealth's coffers. Hence, you will see increasing and more constrictive rules on smoking, but you will never, ever see a complete ban, because once the commonwealth or any other state bans smoking completely, they lose hundreds of millions of dollars in easy, regressive tax revenue. The nanny state is not bold or ballsy enough to do a total ban, so they must do their deeds in passive-aggressive steps.
If there's anyone who really must get an intervention, it's the governments who use their insecurities and moralities to control people. Smoking is that perfect example: if smoking were banned, the states would require cases of Nicorette Tax patches.
1/17/2008
I'm an uncle again...
8 lbs, 5 oz (3770g), 20 inches (508mm), Riley Blake Colby. I already have a niece named Hollace; I call her God's Ultimate Trade: the girl that my mother always wanted, but to get her, we had to give up our father to lung cancer.
Somewhere along the line, God has to balance pain and suffering with hope and joy.
Somewhere along the line, God has to balance pain and suffering with hope and joy.
1/14/2008
Free Orange Julius or Cinnabon with each guilty verdict
If you're in the mall looking for random parts in Radio Shack, looking to complement your wardrobe in WalMart, looking for that kicky shredded denim skirt/off the shoulder T-shirt/footless tights/ballerina flats combo in Forever 21, or are just mall rats over the age of 18 with a clean record, the sheriff of Caledonia County in Vermont would like you to exercise your civil duty as a juror.
The bus is waiting to take you to the courthouse. Don't worry - by the time you've put the Level 3 Child Molester in jail, your iced chai latte will still be there...along with a fresh, warm Cinnabon roll!
The bus is waiting to take you to the courthouse. Don't worry - by the time you've put the Level 3 Child Molester in jail, your iced chai latte will still be there...along with a fresh, warm Cinnabon roll!
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