Euphemistic Euphoria

I love semantics. Webster’s defines semantics as “the meaning of a word, phrase, sentence or text”. The innocuous definition itself lays bare the conundrum—one man’s “meaning” is another man’s call to arms. The most infamous semantician in recent memory is, of course, Bill Clinton. Who can forget how he brilliantly parsed “is”, a word that had previously been shrouded in mystery and nuance?

Indeed, politicians are the master race when it comes to employing semantics. Every utterance becomes a virtual taffy-pull, subject to a variety of interpretations depending on which direction the latest Gallup poll is blowing. Does this infuriate anyone else? I know I long for a representative who will say something because he or she believes in it, sticks by it and does not cave with the first puff of ill wind.

Along these same lines, I’m also a little steamed at the way our current administration is reworking some tried and true terminology that has become part of our common parlance. In an effort to apologize to the international community for the United States and its primacy on the world stage, the Obama administration is adopting a form of international political correctness that is cowardly at best and revolting at worst. Thus, terrorists are now known as “Enemy Combatants”, the War on Terror has become “Overseas Contingency Operations” and terror attacks have been renamed “Man-caused Disasters”.

I don’t know about you, but to me these newly-minted euphemisms do not carry the corollary amount of gravitas. For instance, a contingency plan in my household might mean throwing a container of wet wipes or a box of granola bars in the car as we head out on a road trip. And a “Man-caused disaster” recalls a time my husband accidentally applied spray-bleach rather than carpet cleaner to our previously brown carpet. Or inadvertently crushed my daughter’s guinea pig.

It’s obvious we’ll continue to head down this road, soaking tough reality in a palatable and aromatic marinade. Particularly when it comes to our posture internationally, the United States, aka The World Safety Net, appears to be losing its confidence. Or at least that’s the face our leaders are presenting.

Lucky for the Obama administration, constructing unintentionally ironic euphemisms is right up my alley. I am happy to stay way ahead of this trend and help put a softer face on pesky traditional American forthrightness. And when I survey the news, I think there are plenty of in-your-face phrases that are just begging for a bow and a lollipop.

Here’s a sample:

Somalian Pirates—that just really sounds too menacing—we wouldn’t want to make them mad. Let’s start calling them…Overzealous Marine Opportunists! They’re just a couple of fishing poles away from an honest day’s toil!

Crushing Budget Deficit—OUCH! The American people sure don’t like to think about that! Let’s soften the blow…Pre-Natal Patriotic Financial Service! Kind of like Original Sin but less venal. After all, why shouldn’t the unborn be expected to pitch in?

Income tax increases—is there any phrase that causes more anger? Let’s give it a more charitable veneer: the Unborn Debt Burden Relief Fund.

Cap and Trade—don’t call this another new tax. It’s a way to help make our world a little greener by allowing some companies to continue polluting but having to pay other companies who pollute less to cover for them whilst passing along those additional energy costs to taxpayers... Sooooo….as we all lower our thermostats even further to soften the financial blow, let’s just call this the HVAC Rollback Initiative. Pretty soon it will make sense for homeowners to just pitch a tent and build a fire.

Amnesty—this concept really gets people riled up. I think the President would be wise to call this the “Taxpayer Creation Project”. I think that would allay the fears of many Americans. And, once explained to illegals, would also create a huge sucking sound along our southern border as Mexicans flee the country en masse.

Dictators—we need a descriptor that says, “ I will bow down to you, shake your crazy ass hand or even help you sell your political manifesto if it means we can be buddies!” So let’s scrap “dictator” in favor of “L’il Rebel” as in “Oh jeez, that L’il Rebel Kim Jong Il just launched another missile!”

Our new administration is not yet 100 days old. So I am sure there will be many more chances to witness our president calling a “spade” a “heart”. Or learning new descriptive phrases that go around the rear, through the legs, up and around the neck and back down to the toes before reaching the elbow in an effort not to raise one eyebrow follicle on anyone, anywhere. I’m a little skeptical that the rest of the world will see this as a sign of national self-esteem and strength, but now maybe at least Hugo Chavez and President Obama can be friends on Facebook.

The Best and Worst in Obamaland

It’s been a couple of weeks since I posted my last article. I think that’s the product of a couple of different things. Number one, I was just out of juice if you don’t mind. A person does need to just fall off the treadmill once in a while. And number two, so many potential topics have been launched out there in Obamaland, I don’t know where to insert myself. I feel a little like Wile E. Coyote after his most recent tangle with the Roadrunner, birdies a-tweet in an orbit around his trauma-proof noggin. But like Mr. Coyote, it will take more than a crushing blow to the head with an anvil to keep me down.

A couple of weeks back, what started for me as a rumination on the AIG Bonus debacle got abandoned for the GM/Chrysler debacle which ran into the 2010 Budget soon-to-be-debacle. Then Tim Geithner limped out from his bunker, Michelle Obama skipped through Buckingham with the Queen and those wacky jokesters from North Korea had a little fun with a missile.

I will be the first to admit that there is just too much material here for this humble scribe to properly analyze and comed-i-fy (joke-i-fy? snark-i-fy?). So I’m going to take the lazy way out and just throw out my best pitch for the best and worst developments in the news, according to me, of course.

Worst Attempt to Feign Outrage and Surprise: Congress was shocked, absolutely SHOCKED to learn that retention bonuses would be paid to AIG executives within the same Financial Products division that many credit for igniting the financial crisis. Did they approve the bonuses last fall—YES! Even changing the wording at the urging of the Administration to make sure they would be paid out—YES! Please Chuck Schumer, give it a rest all ready. The Academy Awards are still about a year away. Coming soon: more Oscar-worthy performances as Congress gasps and wails in disbelief to learn that Social Security has run dry. Finger-pointing and indignant speechifying ensue.

Best Power Grab: Barack Obama kicking GM CEO Rick Waggoner to the curb. The poor guy could only wave a hanky as he watched the Prez zoom off in a cloud of exhaust and chutzpah. Wall Street just LOVED watching that little curbside dust-up. The market had a good cry, waxing nostalgic about the good old days when businesses were part of the private sector and “subject matter experts” called the shots. Not to worry though. I’m confident that this is an isolated incident—surely we won’t see more Big Government playing Big Brother in the private sector…right?

Biggest Waste of Time and Ink: The Republican Budget alternative. With great fanfare and press coverage, the Republican leadership on Capitol Hill came forth with their answer to the debt-soaked budget proposal from President Obama. Except the Republicans used their time in the spotlight to hand out a brochure that basically said “Stay tuned…”. By the time they brought out the real goods a week later, no one gave a rip, and more to the point—why bother? I’m sure Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid are now using the Republican recommendations as toilet paper.

Best Show of Tenacity: You have to give some props to Tim Geithner. The day he announced his plan to help the banks climb out of their toxic stupor was a banner day for Wall Street. And Geithner needed a big win. But I still wonder whether he’s got the stamina for the long haul. I’m no body language expert, but have you ever noticed how he talks? Head angled slightly down and forward, eyes peering up under his brow toward his audience—the way a guilty child might look up at his mother after supergluing his baby brother to the refrigerator? His is not the face of certainty. I want a bold visionary with steely-eyed confidence! Someone who’s a mix of Oprah and Warren Buffet with a dash of Putin—now we’re talking!

Most Overblown Accolades: The Obamas recent overseas visit anchored by the G-20 summit was a huge success. As predicted, Michelle Obama stole the show and generated more excitement with her outfits than with anything she actually did or said. Now I ask you—was she really that spectacular? Believe me, I love her fashion sense—the way she mixes color and pattern are right up my alley. But I think the press acted like the “Koo Koo for Cocoa Puffs” bird in their coverage. I really didn’t see anything so stunning, and there were certain outfits that I thought were downright unflattering! And please, make it official all ready and plaster the J. Crew logo on Air Force One. Come to think of it, offering sponsorships like this could certainly open up a whole new revenue stream. After all, somebody’s got to pay for the G-20’s 500-person entourage and $40MM price tag.

Worst Excuse for Firing a Rocket: North Korea was clearly looking to test its ability to launch a long range ballistic weapon. But they sure cleared up that misconception when they explained they were absolutely NOT doing anything of the kind (WINK!). They were simply launching a satellite (WINK!) and the world should just keep its panties on (WINK!) I’m sure they are now scratching their heads wondering what happened to that rascally satellite since all three stages of the rocket detached and fell harmlessly to earth, minus any distinguishable satellite. Nonetheless, the stunt stole Obama’s European spotlight and you could almost hear crazy old Kim Jong Il screaming, “I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE!” Stay tuned as they launch their next missile carrying a payload of Girl Scout cookies.

Whew! Felt good to get all that bottled-up dart-throwing off my chest. But now, even as I post this, I feel a swirl of new material coming at me like a fast ball on opening day. Time to climb out of my stupor and get back in the game. With so many balls in the air, I don’t want to miss a single play.

TV: The Opiate of the Martins

I don’t know if I’m proud of this, but I have to admit that my family watches a lot of TV.  And if we can’t claim family bonding rituals over the Scrabble board, we can at least take pride in the fact that we are experiencing the TV together, staring in the same direction heaped under afghans on the same couch.

When my kids were little, I might have taken the initiative to hoist my keester off the couch, play a game or grab a book and curl up on the bed with my progeny spread out around me.  Now, I’ve caved in to the inertia of passive entertainment—hey, if you don’t like it, go play a computer game or zone out to your Ipod. 

Now that’s parenting.

Lest you start planning an intervention on behalf of my poor children who are obviously receiving substandard cultural influences, please know that we sometimes watch shows like “Planet Earth” and…well, that’s pretty much it in the educational column.  I’ll cop to the fact that we’re much more likely to be watching “Ugly Betty”, “Grey’s Anatomy”, “House” and my seasonal favorites, “American Idol” and “Dancing with the Stars”. 

Now my teenagers have their own shows, most of which I think caused the V-Chip in my TV to explode—“The Secret Life of Teenagers”, “Gossip Girl”, “Real World”, etc—but they will still join us for some “wholesome” family viewing.  If they are completely desperate.  Or all ready asleep on the couch.

But you know, you can make what you want out of family time.  Even when it involves staring at the flat screen.  For instance, my youngest has created a ritual around “American Idol” nights.  We like to watch together in our rec room, which has a long sectional sofa and a large TV.  So on Idol night, she stretches ribbon across the entry to the room and allows access to only those who have made a “reservation”.  She will check your name off a list in her folder and escort you to your assigned seat on the couch.  Everyone goes through this process, even the dog.  We listen carefully to the judges’ critiques—except for when Paula speaks, when I might take a quick toilet break or a catnap—and have gotten a bit of a music education.  Now my daughter understands what it means when I describe her dad’s singing voice as “completely wretched” with a British accent.

“Dancing with the Stars” nights involve a lot of dancing during the commercials.  Except for me—I’m the judge.  And I am usually handing out raspberries rather than raves—no natural rhythm in this house!  Which makes it all the more hypocritical that we have spirited discussions about some of the dancers and their very sketchy abilities.  But even my daughter could see that Steve Wozniak deserved to be booted this week before the slightly less dubious Denise Richards.  Steve’s partner, Karina Smirnoff, is virtually grimacing with embarrassment after each dance.  And the judges are searching for paddles with negative numbers on them to score him with. Surely it won’t be long before Karina (gladly, I’m sure!) and Steve get jettisoned and she can join her fiancé, Maksim “My Chest is on Fire” Chmerkvoskiy (who was attached to the beautiful but bumbly Denise Richards).

Can you see that I am just completely a loser here?

And there are sub-rituals.  I usually DVR one of my faves, “24”, since it is airs opposite the aforementioned “Dancing”.  And my oldest daughter and I try to watch this together after school the next day.  We expel the same sigh of frustration at the end of each episode that the show has shockingly, once again, left us with a cliffhanger!  My two oldest daughters together have roped me into Food Network’s “Ace of Cakes”, which follows the real life adventures of Charm City Cakes in Baltimore and the extravagant custom-order cakes they make.  That show has inspired some very interesting conversations about careers and how my kids can apply their creativity and passions to make a living.  We are even going to try to visit the bakery when we are in Baltimore in April.

Then my husband and my youngest break away for their own little ritual watching “Ugly Betty”—which I sometimes watch with them—and “Ghost Whisperer”—which you would never find me watching even if a nuclear holocaust wiped out all television transmission and this one program somehow survived.  I have to draw the line somewhere.

Every once in a while, I feel a pang of guilt that we have so many TV moments together.  I’m trying to remember what my habits were growing up, and I do seem to recall there was a good amount of couch time.  Who could forget the “Partridge Family/Brady Bunch” dynamic duo?  Or “Donny and Marie”, “Sonny and Cher”, and my personal favorite, “Lost in Space”.  Man, I loved that show! 

Now that I think about it, my sister and I had some rituals of our own.   Especially on Saturday nights.  We would get in our jammies, wash up, grab some blankets and settle in on the couch to watch Saturday Night Live.  We fully intended to fall asleep right there, and often woke up to the only program that aired after 1:00 a.m.—a static picture of the American flag set to the soundtrack of an air raid siren. 

My husband talks nostalgically of his family’s weekly TV event watching “The Wonderful World of Disney” on Sunday nights.  He and his brothers had the once-a-week thrill of eating dinner off of those foldable TV trays right there in the family room.  As they enjoyed the rare treat of TV-side dining on grilled cheese and root beer floats, my mother-in-law must have enjoyed the relative peace and harmony.   That poor woman could have used a good dose of Nickelodeon to get her through her days.

So there’s probably a genetic component at work on both sides.  But maybe it’s also the economy, the nature of the winter months, or maybe my people are just human tubers.  But we’ve managed to cobble together our own fun and family togetherness using the path of least resistance.  I guess we’ll just have to wait for the next blackout to start reading “Wuthering Heights”.  My kids will like that one—they watched it last month on The Movie Channel.

A Liberal Dose of Moderation

If you live in the Northeast like I do, you know that by the time March rolls around, you are ready for spring. I have to admit though, I like my four seasons. (I spent a Christmas in Jamaica once and watching people walk by on the beach with umbrella drinks, speedos and Santa hats did not underscore the gravitas of the season.) I always appreciate the upcoming season mainly because I get tired of the clothes I’m wearing in the current one.

As with most people who live in the northern climate zones, when the winter weather moderates, so do my spirits. And there seems to be a lucky concurrence this year of the arrival of spring and the appearance of some voices of moderation within the Democratic Party in Washington. All of a sudden, I’m starting to feel how my grass must feel after I get out there and poop-scoop my lawn. Wow! Sunlight and air! And the possibility that I might actually stand tall and thrive!

It’s sad that I can relate to a blade of grass weighed down by dog poo, but it’s true thanks to all the talk of monstrous budgets, more taxing and spending. I know we’re in a recession and there must be some infusion of cash, but we’re kidding ourselves if we think we can spend our way out of this on every front. Since Obama’s inauguration and the onset of the massive spending bills, there has not seemed to have been any cogent opposition. The Republicans can wield the equivalent of a Swiss Army knife in the Senate, and the House Repubs might as well just pull a Rip Van Winkle and snooze this one out until at least 2010.

So I have been reading with great interest about a group of 13 moderate Dems and one Independent in the Senate who have been quietly coalescing to exert their own more centrist views. Finally! I just knew that there had to be some rational voices among the Democrats, regular-thinking “Joes” who felt that the Republicans screaming “Hit the brakes!” might be onto something. Now the House is a different story. Those poor Blue-Dog Democrats are stuck on the SS “Crazy Eye” Pelosi, and that boat is listing so far to port, they’ll have to jump overboard to make any kind of splash.

I anxiously await the fight over the budget that will be upon the Congress in a matter of days. The spending of $3.6T is no small thing. The President characterizes his budget as a way to cut the deficit, boost spending on education, invest in alternative energies and reduce our dependence on foreign oil. The opposition sees this as a massive spend/borrow/tax scenario, one that could bankrupt the United States according to Senator Judd Gregg, Obama’s onetime pick for Commerce Secretary.

I predict this bill will ultimately sail through the House as breezily as pollen in the spring air, but my hope resides with the Senate. That group of 14 moderates gives me optimism that there will be some real exposition of how overzealous spending leads to crushing debt. And if members of Obama’s own party shake off their stupor and start exposing these realities, perhaps these more moderate views will gain traction with the American people.

After a true “Winter of Discontent”, I think it’s safe to say most Americans are looking forward to a season of literal rebirth for our country. Major changes are afoot and it is my pledge to pay closer attention than ever before to the breadth and scope of what our elected officials claim is necessary to move us forward. The seeds of moderation that are being planted now are barely sprouting and are in need of care and feeding. I, for one, will be lining up with my watering can.

Reining in the Madness

If you are one of those people for whom the month of March brings to mind either pre-emerging your lawn or puking up green beer, then read no further.  But for the rest of you, March can only mean one thing—though it may well involve beer, green or otherwise.  And lots of nachos. 

I’m speaking of course of March Madness, the most extreme incarnation of basketball fervor, the likes of which surely could never have been imagined by James Naismith, the founder of modern-day basketball.  When Dr. Naismith nailed a peach basket to the wall of a gym at Springfield College in Massachusetts circa 1891, he was just looking for a way to encourage indoor physical activity during the long New England winters.  More than 100 years later, we still look for ways to keep ourselves active during the winter months.  Though it more likely involves lying prone on a couch watching others play basketball on TV.  And the physically active part entails a repetitive motion of hand to mouth, with the occasional fist pump or leap of excitement (e.g. three pointer at buzzer or completely blind ref).  Believe me, I have been known to have heart palpitations and struggle for breath while watching games, so I know I’m getting some sort of workout!

It’s hard to imagine a day when spectators calmly enjoyed the simple pleasure of men tossing a ball into a basket that hours before had held actual produce.  Today the NCAA tournament is big business—sponsors, media, bookies, crazed fans—a moveable feast spread out across the country for three weeks.  It’s impossible to think of any other single US sporting event that elicits so much excitement and attention over such a prolonged period as does the Big Dance.  By the time it’s over, I actually feel a little blue.  In fact, this is probably the best way for men to experience something akin to post-partum depression in women.  We build up the main event for so long, once the new champion is born, we realize the hoopla is over and we may have a baby we weren’t expecting…like one that isn’t wearing navy and white with a big, ugly Blue Devil head. 

Have I mentioned that I went to Duke?  Yes, I’m SURE I have (ad nauseum), so I don’t need to tell you where my sympathies lie.  And because I went to Duke, I am prepared to be hated and reviled during the NCAA tournament.  I think it’s safe to say that Duke might be the most despised team in college basketball.  (NY Yankees—we feel your pain!)  I’m sure the evil plotters down the road at Chapel Hill are responsible.  But we can’t help the fact that just about anybody can go to Carolina and Duke actually has standards.  People think of that as elitist.  That and the fact that that half of Duke’s student body is from New Jersey which is never something a southern school wants to advertise.

But I digress…the tournament is way beyond the marquis programs.  It’s as much about the dreams of the “who’d a thunk?” teams—can Robert Morris get by Michigan State?  Does Stephen F. Austin have a prayer against Syracuse?  Anything can—and does occasionally—happen in a one-and-done bracket.  After all, 2008 was the first time since the tournament started seeding teams in 1979 that all four #1 seeds competed in the Final Four. Remember also that in 2008, #10 seeded Davidson made it to the Elite Eight and #11 seed George Mason to the Final Four in 2006. 

So even though you may think you’re hosed little #16 seed Radford, having drawn the short stick for Thursday’s match up with #1 Carolina, take heart.  Ty Lawson might not play and maybe Tyler Hansbrough slips on a well-placed banana peel.  A victory could be just one undercooked burrito or late season flu attack away.

As excited as I am about the upcoming spectacle, I had a philosophical epiphany about our collective sports-watching psyche recently.  In the lead-up to the tournament, I was watching one of the Duke’s home games and observing the infamous “Cameron Crazies”—legendary student fans so queasily over-the-top, yet so creative and zealous, you have to give them props.  (I can remember sitting in the stands of Cameron Indoor Stadium myself yelling, “I beg to differ!” in unison with the crowd at a questionable call by a referee.  I mean anybody can drop the f-bomb—it takes true inspiration to take it to the next level!)

As I watched the rabid fans, I realized how easy it is to lose perspective on the barest essential of the game—that these are just young guys playing a game of basketball.  Teenagers still, some of them. The players aren’t robots—they’re just kids.  Albeit very talented, athletic and well coached ones.  But think of them as human beings for a second—can you imagine being under the same pressure they are under and still performing at the highest levels? 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m as guilty as the most fanatical student fans—I scream at the TV, rant at players in frustration and take it personally if they don’t hit that crucial shot at the buzzer. But this year, I’m going to make the effort to remember that these are actually boys in the greatest pressure cooker of collegiate sports and I’m going to cut them some slack.  (I can hear their collective sighs of relief right now.)  I’ll try to think of them through the eyes of their parents who undoubtedly made sacrifices along the way to encourage and shape their natural talents. As a parent, I can’t even imagine having a child with this kind of ability—how proud they must be!  Now if the NCAA ever decides to have Texting Play-offs or How-Long-I-Can-Go-Without-Checking-My-Facebook-Page Endurance Matches, I’m nurturing a brood of champions!

So whomever you are pulling for this year, as the game is about to start and the players are warming up, take a minute to think back on the humble beginnings of basketball and the human face of the young players who are the engine of today’s vast tournament machine.  But by all means, pile on the nachos, ice down the beer and hand me the remote! 

Fight Blue Devils, Fight!!

Obama's Confidence Game

Our economy is saved! The market is up 300 points! Let the milk and honey flow and private jets once again course the heavens!

Oh, wait a minute. I lost my head there for a moment. We're still in the neighborhood of 6800 for the Dow which means now my investments are down only 40% rather than 42% from last week. A little premature to be popping open the bubbly. Tomorrow the whole fragile victory could disintegrate like spun sugar.

Such is the new reality. One foot in front of another, small victories celebrated cautiously. Followed by the inevitability of some bank toppling or a genius pundit tossing out the "D" word. Can't we just wallow in the recession for a while? Is it necessary to force us into a deeper ditch?

But I'm not ready to give up. Are you with me people? What do we need? Give me a C! Give me an O! Give me a...oh just spell it out all ready--CONFIDENCE! And who's our head cheerleader? BARACK OBAMA HE'S OUR MAN! IF HE CAN'T DO IT...then we're screwed.

Because really, who else is there? The American people are like the frightened townsfolk in “High Noon”. They’re huddled behind saloon doors and post office counters waiting for Gary Cooper to stride out and mow down the bad guys. They’re not looking for Elmer Fudd or Don Knotts. And they don’t want to see Gary Cooper pulling a bag of marbles out of his holster. They want the sheriff to haul out the AK-47 and git ‘er done!

Right now, I think the American people have more confidence in the aim of Simon Cowell than of anyone in Washington.

But why is that? Because apparently at the moment, there is no one attached to the White House that can call the plays and make the pitch like Obama. I mean it’s not even close! And they have tried to run others up the flagpole (think Tim Geithner doing his best deer-in-the-headlights impression during that Congressional hearing) with pretty horrendous results. For better or worse, for the moment, Obama has to play all the positions on the field. But he’s about to throw himself out if he doesn’t watch it.

Yes, his approval numbers are still high. But they should be because of the promises he made last fall. Obama campaigned as a blast of "The Master Cleanser" for the sludge-caked bowels of Washington. The public was tired of back-room deals, broken promises, presidential obfuscation. We needed someone to ride in on the white horse and throw the bums out, promising "Change We Can Believe In!"

Other than what I consider to be negative change—i.e. the trending toward socialism--I’m not sure I see a lot of positive changes, or even the momentum for change. And the things I remember Obama campaigning on that would inspire my confidence in his words--transparency, bipartisanship, an end to government waste and “business as usual”—don’t seem to be panning out either.

Take transparency. I swear I remember our President promising not to hire lobbyists to work in his administration. Yet, there are waivers to his anti-lobbyist requirements being granted behind the scenes for just that purpose. And bipartisanship seems deader than Chris Brown’s endorsement prospects. It was clear from the budget and stimulus bill process that Republicans got the Heisman stiff-arm pretty much the whole way. Let’s face it—a White House tea and cookies reception or Super Bowl party invite do not constitute “Mission Accomplished” for productive bipartisan collaboration.

Here’s the one that really gets me steamed—President Obama’s vigorous and persuasive admonitions that there would be an end to pork barrel spending and government waste. And yet, the 2009 Omnibus Spending Bill sailed through Congress, dragging along 8500 earmarks totaling over $7B in spending on behalf of both parties! It is now sitting on his desk, waiting for signature.

I don’t care what excuses Capitol Hill throws out there to deflect attention away from the President on this one. Do you mean to tell me that Obama could not take a stand and send that bill back for some trimming? At least make a show of living up to his campaign promises? Of course he could! So why won’t he? Politics as usual, knowing that one hand washes the other. I do this for you this time, and you owe me a solid next time.

So my confidence in his abilities to be any different than any other politician is sinking fast. And on top of that, I’m worried about his ability to focus on and prioritize his “To Do” list. Is there any doubt about what needs to happen right now? Put the basketball down and listen to me please. Banks and financial markets need to be stabilized, not through wholesale takeovers, but through temporary government intervention that allows for relief from toxic assets so money can flow again. Because if I can get a loan to buy a house, then I go shopping for furniture to put in it. And that furniture purchase will allow the furniture retailer to keep the doors open. And that will funnel new orders to the furniture manufacturer who can keep his workers employed who will then go out and buy new TVs and DVD players so they can watch old movies like “High Noon” in “High Def”.

But Obama is spreading himself too thin. Like the Health Care Summit—was that necessary at this moment? Other than a lipstick-covered rear end, did Obama reveal any quantifiable result from this? And his pronouncements on Education and Stem Cell funding—all worthy causes, but our kids are still going to school, research is soldiering on and even health care is still available. Each needs attention, but they are not in danger of becoming extinct. Like my 401k.

I know how it is to want to be all things to all people. I have those instincts myself. But if you take on too much and don’t live up to your commitments, people lose faith. And faith (or the lack of it) seems to be trumping facts in the markets these days.

I was watching comedian Jimmy Fallon this morning on TV talking about trying to build an audience and confidence in his abilities as he starts his new late night talk show. He was giving himself 3 months to “figure out” his style, what worked and what did not. I think that’s fair. And I think he’ll succeed. He’s got good people around him, a great house band and a well-established format to work with. No matter what, though, the host has to be able to carry the show.

Like Jimmy Fallon, Obama’s got the established format to step into, but I’m not so sure about the people around him. And I don’t think he can afford the luxury of 3 months to figure out his style. Now if the President would just hire a (White) house band, I would be very confident in his hipness, but he’s still got to be able to live up to his hype and carry the show.

RIP to my Hard Drive (and My Optimism)

I’m one of those eternally optimistic people who never think the “worst case scenario” will happen to me. I never buy extended warranties on electronics, sign on for the extra insurance they try to sell you when you rent a car or get suckered into buying travel insurance when I’m planning a vacation. That’s all for losers, gloom-and-doomers who think every step they take is just another excuse to step in dog poop. So after the stock market crash wiped out my retirement/college savings and my husband and I both lost our jobs, I guess I should have adjusted my own view, become more cautious and stopped brazenly spitting into the wind.

Right now, I feel like I’m covered in loogies.

On top of everything else that has happened to us lately, here’s the latest: my hard drive crashed. Completely fried and deceased. I now realize I completely ignored the warning signs. My trusty computer was a Mac, after all. Aren’t they practically indestructible? Their clean, sleek forms lull you into a false sense of technological invincibility. I have to admit, my PC never makes me feel that way. It’s kind of like comparing Gwen Stefani and Heather Locklear. One seems smooth, hip and totally in control, out in front of the next trend. The other has held up well through the years and managed to stay relatively current, but really could self-destruct at any moment.

But I digress. Did I mention there were warning signs? Even as the trusty PC lumbered along like the steady tortoise, the Mac was the speedy hare and definitely the favorite thanks to its cool features. But a couple of months ago, we all noticed that the Mac seemed to be getting a little overloaded, asking us to delete files before more could be added.

Did I also mention that the two main users of the Mac are my teenage daughters? For those of you who don’t enjoy the privilege of housing teenagers in your home, here’s a simple equation: teenagers + Mac = Itunes. And Facebook. But Facebook doesn’t fry your hard drive. Massive Itunes libraries do. At least that was a major contributor. But I found out later that my hard drive was relatively puny by current standards—only 160 GB—and really was not able to withstand the amount of data and downloads that were being heaped on.

My bad. I forgot that a two-year old computer is really just one snotty-blow from being a used Kleenex these days.

Anyhoo, after the first signs that the computer was about to blow, came a real hard slap of reality. One night about a month ago, my daughter was on the Mac trying to get on the internet and the screen just froze. She eventually turned the computer off and when it came back on again, there was a grey screen and folder with a question mark in the center, blinking…and blinking. No amount of mouse clicking or rebooting could erase that malevolent, pulsing, question-marked folder of doom.

I ran to the Apple store the next morning. The Genius at the store sucked in her breath when I described the symptoms. It was clear this was terminal—the hard drive was gravely wounded and would not recover. However—I told you bad things didn’t happen to me!—the hard drive still had a pulse and the data could be saved. She recommended a larger hard drive be put in and nodded in a knowing way like Yoda when I mentioned that I had children in high school.

The Mac was scheduled for immediate surgery. The augmentation of my hard drive would take it from a boyishly-bosomed Kelly Ripa to a bodaciously-buxom Anna Nicole Smith overnight. (That’s from 160GB to 500GB for those of you who actually care.) Eureka! My luck was NOT turning for the worse! Could employment and a robust retirement portfolio be far behind?

We got the computer back and WOW! Faster, better, stronger—invincible once again! They even gave me the old, burned out hard drive as a souvenir and mentioned that backing up data once in a while might be a good idea. Whatever! Now all the data that had been overwhelming the old hard drive was just bouncing around in all that 500GB of space!

That was three weeks ago. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Last Thursday night, the same thing happened. My daughter attempted to access the internet, the Mac froze, then the blinking folder of doom again. HOW COULD THIS BE? I rushed the computer in again on Friday morning and they called me with the diagnosis that afternoon. Actually, before they gave me the bad news, they asked if I had kept the old, almost dead hard drive “souvenir” from when the hard drive was first replaced. Uh-oh. My mind flashed back to the day, about a week after we got the “new and improved” Mac back from repair, where I looked at that old, dead hunk of metal that had started this mess, and unceremoniously dropped it into the garbage. What use other than as a doorstop could it possibly be to me now! (Remember—I don’t ever think “worse case scenario”).

When I confessed to the technician that that old sucker was landfill bound, there was a moment of silence. When he told me that this time, there was no hope of reclaiming any of my data, that the new hard drive had some fatal flaw and would have to be replaced, I was stunned. I was actually at the grocery store at the time and had mindlessly wandered away from my cart as I took in this news. I found myself leaning against a freestanding display of precooked bacon and only snapped out of it when the whole display came tumbling down. I hung up with the repair guy, picked up the bacon, checked out and shuffled dejectedly to my car.

On the way home, I mused over the losses: the Itunes, the homework, the unfinished columns and worst of all…the photograph library. This computer only has two years of files on it and we did make prints of all the pictures, but still, that is a very painful loss.

We get the new, replaced hard drive installed on Monday, and should be back in business. But my sunny outlook on life has finally taken a hit. If losing jobs and crashing portfolios weren’t enough to do it, this event was the final straw. I’m buying an external drive and will actually “back up” my important data.

I really hate to give up my optimistic nature, but all of a sudden the thought of booking a rental at the Outer Banks in August is conjuring up the word “hurricane” in my brain. Did I say I never bought travel insurance? Time to start thinking like a “blinking folder of doom”. At best, a cautionary tale and at worst, an unfortunate reality of the times.