If you’re losing sleep over the global economic meltdown, this interview from last week with Charlie Rose on PBS is important viewing. I believe Warren is America’s greatest patriot. A capitalist in the very best sense of the word. (Link below)
http://www.charlierose.com/shows/2008/10/01/1/an-exclusive-conversation-with-warren-buffett
Washington has been host to many great political spectacles including impeachments, bedroom scandals, money grabs and the D.C. specialty, tuxedo mud wrestling. But the spectacle in Washington this week is almost unprecedented. It’s the squeeze play to end all squeeze plays. And we’ve all got a ringside seat. At least as long as we have something to place on that seat.
Consider the players. On one side we have Fed Chief Ben Bernanke and Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson. On the other is Congress. And in between, you guessed it, John and Jane Q. Public, awaiting financial Armageddon or a slow painful recovery.
The anxiety is palpable and the stakes are beyond the reach of fiction. Ben and Henry are predicting a complete global market meltdown within days unless a massive funding bailout is approved by Congress. And they may very well be right. But nervously seated across the table is the entire Legislative branch of our democracy, itching to wrap this up by the end of the week so they can return home and campaign for reelection. Each and every one of those legislators understands this may be the most important and far reaching vote of their political lives. Take too long and the bridge may fall away under their feet. Rush to judgment, make a mistake and those carefully crafted political careers will fold up like a sub-prime mortgage. And the squeeze is on.
It’s the perfect storm, Washington style. And everyone is getting clipped. No is left out on this one. Or maybe not. Perhaps there is one small group that isn’t getting pinched. I’m not a Wall Street wizard. And understanding the intricacies of high finance is clearly beyond me. But I have this nagging feeling that the same cast of characters who orchestrated this mess are quietly sitting on the sidelines, poised with sacks of cash, waiting for the deep discounts. And when the bailout comes, and it surely will, they’ll swoop in and make a killing…for the second time.
Greed
noun- The desire for or pursuit of money, wealth, power, food, or other posessions, especially when this denies the same goods to others.
+++++++++++++
I admit the recent string of setbacks on Wall Street have left me sad, angry and confused…Sad for all the fixed income seniors who have suddenly lost the metrics for retirement they so carefully planned…Angry for the lack of leadership by those we entrust with the public good…and confusion over why this has happened. But nothing I’ve heard or read left me in the condition I found myself after reading an article on Time’s website this morning entitled “How Financial Madness Overtook Wall Street. I was virtually apoplectic.
Here is the line from the article. Particular emphasis on bold copy.
“This latest go-round featured hedge-fund operators, leveraged-buyout boys (who took to calling themselves “private-equity firms”) and whiz-kid quants who devised and plugged in those new financial instruments, creating a financial Frankenstein the likes of which we had never seen. Great new fortunes were made, and with them came great new hubris. The newly minted masters of the universe even had the nerve to defend their ridiculous income tax break — much of the private-equity managers’ piece of their investors’ profits is taxed at the 15% capital-gains rate rather than at the normal top federal income tax rate of 35% — as being good for society.”
Oh baby, this sort of stuff has driven rational people into the streets. Are you kidding me? These guys have not only skimmed billions right off the top of our economy, fueled by lending practices that are nothing short of immoral, but they have been paying taxes at least 58% lower than everyone else in the country. And now the rest of us, who have been paying our taxes at the legal rate, are left holding the bag. Now I’m really angry.
Regardless of your political persuasion, I believe you would agree, this is a stain of monumental proportions on our country. We can begin to remove it on Nov 4.
After graduating magna butt laude and becoming a career Sendentarian, I find myself faced with the aforementioned choice, get off the couch or head back to the buffet. In a moment of weakness, I chose the former. I’m not honestly sure why. It could be vanity, a mid life thing or a desire to see my grandchildren graduate from high school, but I am serious about getting into shape. To a great extent it’s the final frontier for a Sedentarian. A life of activity, where inactivity once ruled. No birthday cake, beer at the ballgame or extra servings of pasta. Sounds like a blast. But a deals a deal and I’m publicly committing to getting off the couch and getting sweaty.
Breaking through is a two step process, lose weight and get in shape. That can happen simultaneously or one following the other. I’m starting at 225lbs, not morbidly obese, but according to the National Institute of Health, and who can argue with them, my body mass index (BMI) is 32. Not bad if I was playing the front nine at Augusta, but obese per their scale:
The NIH says I have to drop down to 175 to be normal. Sorry, but I think I’ll have to pass on normal and split the difference at 190lbs and be a pleasantly overweight BMI of 27. No sense in looking like I did a tour at Guantanamo just to keep the folks at NIH happy.
Now we arrive at an interesting question. Is it better to drag all 225lbs off the couch and get sweaty, or perhaps diet for a while and lose a few first? After all, no one at the gym totes a backpack loaded with fat just for fun. So it makes sense to diet first, from the safety of the couch of course.
After dropping 15lbs in six weeks, I’m ready to move to phase two and hit the gym. A client recommends a personal trainer who runs a boot camp style program. It sounds good. Maybe I can work out in khakis. But fashion sense aside, the first visit reveals the depth of my Sendentarianism.
With visions of a herculean performance and starring in my own Nike commercial, I head to the gym. Not necessarily confident, but optimistic. After completing the two page form that guarantees the trainer I won’t call to complain if I seize up and die in the first week, I start a series of simple exercises. I’m pretty sure it was a test to see if I was a ringer from a fitness magazine doing market research. Seems easy enough. I start with 500 meters on the flywheel rowing machine at pace with resistance. Not too tough. Then we move to some weird pull ups on rings at the ends of two straps from a 45 degree angle. I’m supposed to do 20, but after about a dozen I am pretty well tapped. We then move to push ups (20), sit ups (30) and squats (30). Sounds simple enough right? The entire routine took 9 minutes and 30 seconds. Nothing to it.
Here’s where things go south. Within minutes after the squats, I am on the floor flat on my back, breathless, cramping and fighting waves of nausea. And try as I might, I can’t sit up. Awesome, this is just dandy. And right on cue, some guy at least 10 years older than me looks down and says, “hang in there buddy, it gets easier.”
It gets easier? Hey pal, I am pretty sure I see a tunnel of bright light in front of me. Is that what you mean by getting easier? Then I swear I hear someone say something about an EMT. Great, I’m going out of the gym on a stretcher after a nine and a half minute workout.
I think I stayed in the prone position for about 20 minutes before I could crawl to my feet and grab a chair. After another 10 minutes in the chair, I head for the door. All I can say as I pass the trainer is, “Thursday.” It’s the date when I return for my next suicide attempt.
After winding my way through the parking lot like a drunk sailor, I get in my car and head for home. Once home, I spend 20 minutes laying on the floor of my bedroom, shower briefly and lay on the bed for half an hour.
It’s at this point I wonder just what the heck I was thinking. Life on the couch was decent enough. No one got hurt. And I wasn’t really expected to be fit as a fiddle at 55. I could return to my life as a Sedentarian. But a deals a deal. I’ll stick with it. At least until I break the 10 minute barrier.
The dictionary defines sedentary four ways.
1. involving a lot of sitting and correspondingly little exercise
2. tending to sit most of the time and getting little exercise
3. used to describe shellfish that remain in one place, usually attached to a rock, for most of their lives
4. remaining in the same area throughout the year and not migrating
Considering I haven’t attached myself to a rock lately and occasionally travel, I’ll assume that only the first and second definitions apply to me. I have spent the better part of my adult life flattening the old cheeks and rarely exercise. So in a nod to of our ever evolving English language I hereby christen a new demographic subset of the US population, the Sedentarians, those individuals who like me tend to sit a great deal and get little or no exercise. It’s is a modern affliction that magnetically affixes more butts to chairs than in any previous generation. Our parents only had TV and radio to glue their posteriors to a sofa and succumb. We have endless electronic appliances all with the same goal in mind, to hold us completely and utterly motionless. And don’t start with the Wii Dance Dance Revolution shtick. I’m not buying it. We’re all sitting on our asses and wondering why the seat cushions in our sofas look like waffles after a year.
So back to the end in question, mine. As a confessed Sentenarian, I am faced with a couple of tough choices. Do something about it or call the Scooter Store and put the black one with the Harley logo on layaway.
More on next post…Flat on the Mat.
A number of years ago I watched a 60 Minutes interview with Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates. In classic 60 Minutes fashion, he was pressed about his limited philanthropic activities. As I recall, he replied that he was focused on his business and would take the time to share more of his wealth when he was older. The roof caved in on Bill. He got ripped. After all, Americans admire the super rich, but not ones that don’t give back. They can lavish wealth on themselves to our endless entertainment. But if they don’t extend a hand to someone in real need we can turn on them in a hurry.
Following that disastrous interview, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation was formed and the rest is charity history. They created a philanthropic juggernaut. And in 2006, American billionaire, Warren Buffet pledged the vast majority of his $44 billion empire to the B&MGF. The combined effort must surely be the greatest gathering of private wealth for charity in history.
But looking back on the original interview, I recall feeling more than a bit smug about Bill. After all, how could someone with so much, be so unwilling to share it? I mean, hey, if it was my money I’d give it away. Not a moment of hesitation on my part. No sir, I might even give all of it away, move to a tenement flat and live on ramen noodles and rice. Or would I? After all, in some respect, Gate’s fortune is relative. To an upper middle class couple like us it dwarfs our earnings. But to a goat herder on the Serengeti or a homeless family in Portland, our lifestyle must look every bit as enormous. So there I sat, smug but slightly defensive. I knew I wasn’t much different from Bill, except for the cash. We were two peas in a pod, focused on making money with limited concern for those around us.
That interview and the effort the Gates ultimately mounted was a wake up call. In fact, I’d say it served as inspiration to pursue philanthropy for the little guy.
Sharing the process get’s a bit sticky. I’m not really comfortable disclosing the details of what my wife and I give. That’s personal. And honestly, the scope of the giving really isn’t the issue. The change in mindset was. I began to take a look at how I lived and the stuff I had. And I didn’t like what I saw. Not only was I dedicated professionally to promoting unbridled consumerism, but I’d sunk my incisors right into the meatiest part of it. In short, I had too much stuff and not a great deal of peace about it. The stage was set for change and giving more away was the agent.
It didn’t happen overnight. In fact, the early stages took place over several years. But as we began to give more each month, we gained confidence. And as our confidence grew, our effort followed suit. And now we’re blessed to be able to support people close to home and far away. There’s no fanfare, no board of directors and no glory. But there is a link with Bill and Melinda. They do with their fortune as they feel led, and we do the same with ours. Because we know there’s a place in the vast world of philanthropy for the little guy. And we can make a huge difference, because last time I checked, there were a whole lot more little guys out there than billionaires.
For anyone in the business world breaking into their 40’s or 50’s, check out this excellent article on sustaining your business. It’s written by David C. Baker from Recourses, Inc. David is a very talented speaker and consultant to the Design and Ad biz. He touches brilliantly on the necessary steps to keeping your business creatively vibrant and fiscally healthy.
Thanks David.
http://www.recourses.com/2008-09
David C. Baker, Recourses, Inc.
At the Acme School of Advertising, we were taught to discuss absolutely anything with clients with the exception of religion and politics. In essence, keep it lively but never personal. It seemed reasonable enough at the time. Sports, movies and weekends at the lake were low risk. And yet, as we meet people we admire and respect, getting to know more about what’s important to them and revealing more about who we are and what we believe remains a thorny point of navigation for many professionals. In the ad biz, clients often want to talk about things outside their professional scope, like family, money, faith and politics. Our common denominator is high pressure lives. And as we begin to know more about each other, we often share in the modern afflictions that ail us all. We’re over connected, over worked and grasping for real moments. So within the workplace, how do we connect with transparency, honesty and openness?
For me the answer has been a bit of a work in progress. As a young exec, I was cautioned to always remain guarded and never reveal anything personal. The result was an efficient, but isolated professional life. The job always got done, but work became somewhat compartmentalized. Co-workers and clients never knew much about me and vice-versa. My choice was to reserve the friendships and intimacy for old friends and family. Some people may be very adept at compartmentalizing. But it didn’t work for me. In a twist, I became increasingly isolated from everyone including family, friends, coworkers and clients. Not a great recipe for happiness or service to others.
So over the last 10 years I’ve learned to break old habits and find a balance that works. As a professional, a Christian, a father and a man, I’ve discovered there is little to fear about transparency. In fact, most of what’s revealed may not be terribly interesting, but the willingness to be open is. Obviously, there are certain lines of discretion and appropriateness never to cross. But for me, it’s proven to be healthy and promotes genuine trust and connection.
Don Miller is a writer from Portland, a deeply transparent guy and a Christian. He led prayer this week at the DNC.
The current US presidential campaign is arguably the most historic in modern history. It has all the elements that makes political debate in this country our true national pastime. We’ve had youth vs. age, conservative vs. liberal and men vs. a woman. For the political punditocracy their cup runneth over.
I confess, I’ve watched enough talking head commentary to claim a carbon footprint the size of Sasquatch. Some of the comments have been thoughtful. The vast majority has been inane, particularly multiple comments that run over the top of each other like a family dinner table discussion gone bad.
But there was one comment that shed a very different light on the campaign. It was during one of the most heated moments of the “D” primary. Barack Obama was navigating his way through the Rev. Wright controversy and Hillary Clinton was starting to really turn up the heat. There were lots of calls for Obama to take off the gloves and come out swinging, as if politicians can’t find a way to beat each others brains out without removing their gloves.
On CNN, network analyst Donna Brazile, an African-American Democratic party activist and former 2000 campaign manager for Al Gore, theorized why it wasn’t going to happen. Brazile explained that Obama had to avoid at all costs showing any anger. “If he appears to be an angry black man, the campaign is over.” she said. Her comment spoke volumes about the current state of race in the US and a double standard at play in the campaign. If Obama bristles, he shows signs of being an angry black man. And that would terrify some white voters. But if his competitors do the same, they’re usually viewed as seasoned, ready and tough.
These are extremely delicate waters for Obama to travel. But we’ve seen this before. In the late 1940s, Branch Rickey, club president and GM of the Brooklyn Dodgers, signed Jackie Robinson as the first player in fifty-seven years to break the baseball color line, a segregation practice dating to the nineteenth century. Rickey had to have a man who could restrain himself from responding to the ugliness of the racial hatred that was certain to come. When initially informed of Rickey’s requirement for the signing, Robinson was aghast: “Do you want a player afraid to fight back?” Rickey replied that he needed a player “with the guts not to fight back.” Robinson knew he would face tremendous racial animus, and couldn’t take the bait and react angrily. He agreed to abide by Rickey’s terms. The rest is baseball and civil rights history.
As the general election campaign begins, the attacks on Obama are sure to escalate. Not just the ones rooted in true discourse, like his experience or policy positions, but the ones carefully veiled or even blatant and ugly. Obama knows that if signs of confidence are characterized as arrogance, a single moment of anger will bring down the roof.
Race continues to be a tender point of discussion in this country. We are probably not as racially polarized as the left feels or as reconciled as some on the right claim. But one thing is certain, if Barack Obama is elected the first African-American President of the United States, it will be the result of his restraint, composure and dignity. And it will be unrivaled in political history. Why any man would want to subject himself and his family to such an ordeal is beyond me. The only person alive who may know is Rachel Robinson, Jackie’s widow.