Thi$ i$ not a good deci$ion

I was stalking around on Facebook yesterday afternoon when I came across a post from a guy I know who is in Paris on business. According to him, a union protest attended by thousands had snarled traffic and disrupted his dinner plans. As an executive for one of the world’s most known retail companies, this guy’s sphere of influence is horrific, so lots of people are in line waiting for their chance to kiss his ass in the most public way possible. And yesterday they did just that. The comments attached to his status update were great examples of how people want to side with those who have power and money, even if they’re fortunes are far more aligned with those who do not. What could French workers possibly have to complain about? What do they want? More vacation time? Here’s how I see it: People who depend on earning an hourly wage are willing to throw grenades at people in another country because they’re in a union, because they get more vacation days and because they have the nerve to cause a traffic jam in Paris and delay their main man’s dinner engagement. This is done in order to suck up to someone who would, I’m quite certain, vote on the side of management and shareholders rather than on their behalf were he forced to make a choice. Pardon my language, but what a mind fuck.

Personally, I wish the Paris protesters had been in Washington, D.C. yesterday to clog traffic in our highest court’s neighborhood. I think it would have benefited all of us in ways we can barely imagine had some folks who think about more than their next promotion been available to distract the justices as they paved what I think is a major on-ramp to the road that will lead to the demise of our election system, or what's left of it. In their wisdom, they ruled that corporations can spend as much as they’d like on campaigns. In their benevolence, they tossed us a bone, I suppose, by granting unions and nonprofits the same green light. That assumes, of course, that unions and nonprofits will be able to sustain themselves through what I anticipate will be an onslaught the likes of which we’ve never seen, so forceful and relentless they may even interrupt dinner plans.

Picture tricks

In my family, there is no more effective way of dissing someone than the photo block. In one photograph, one of my aunts, according to my mother, who took the picture, leaned over half a second before the shoot button was pressed and blocked all of my grandfather (her father) except his right arm. He was shorter than my aunt, so in the picture she appears to have three arms – two bare and one in a suit jacket. In another, which is one of my favorites, my grandmother is sitting beside one of my sisters, who is blowing out eight candles on her birthday cake. The only problem is that the camera was held in such a way that only the right third of my grandmother’s face made it onto the print. In spite of the score settling, the picture is actually kind of artistic: a fraction of a mature woman’s face, part of her eye, the edge of her cheek, only a little bit of her mouth, which makes it impossible for a smile to offset other elements of her face.

So it’s through this lens, pardon the pun, that I reacted to a photograph I happened across in the business section of the New York Times a couple of weeks ago. There, in full color, was our president and three of his economic lieutenants strutting into a stuffy looking room to announce that they’re going to play hardball with the bankers over the bonuses they awarded themselves a mere year after being bailed out with billions of taxpayer dollars. Apparently I am not the only one who thinks these bad-ass horse and pony shows are a joke: I think a year ago such a story would have landed on the front page rather than being stuck back on the business page. But what was truly odd about the picture is what was missing. In spite of the tag line that read, in part, “Barack Obama and his team of economic advisors …” Christina Romer got cut. The only reason I noticed her absence is that the event was on the television news the night before, and Christina Romer, pardon me for saying this, is hard to miss. I didn’t read the story but as for the visual accompaniment, I suppose her image would have interfered with the tough guy angle. She’s possibly the only one of Obama’s economic advisors who is not beholden to Wall Street, which makes the photo editing even more interesting, I think.

That was on a Friday afternoon, when I was at a coffee shop where the New York Times just happened to be strewn across a table. That evening, it was briefly, briefly mentioned that the Republican candidate for the U.S. Senate seat vacated by Ted Kennedy’s death had put the goods on full display (with the good parts blurred out) for Cosmopolitan back in the early 1980s. He did this not just because he’s hot – which I think he is – but as a way of paying for law school. Good for him, I think, but it was funny to watch the male newscasters squirm a bit over it, and when the race in Massachusetts came up on Washington Week, his nakedness was not even mentioned. I applaud people who are happy enough with their equipment to share it in checkout lines at grocery stores across the land, but man, if it were revealed that a woman who was running for any public office in this country had once worked as a topless dancer to pay for graduate school, she’d be a household name by now.

Using my No. 2

On Sunday morning, I poured myself a big cup of coffee, got comfortable on the couch and voted yes on both measures 66 and 67. Never before have I been so indecisive on which way to vote, and never before – I think not coincidentally – have I invested quite as much time and energy into finding out exactly what I’m voting for, or against. After clawing beyond the messaging and sloganing from both sides, I have only two conclusions. The first is that our legislative system in Oregon is badly broken and in need of repair; the fact that the guide printed by the secretary of state with the express purpose of informing voters can be used legally to intentionally confuse them is an insult to anything we’ve ever imagined democracy could be. My second conclusion is that I think about 95 percent of our elected officials – from the city council to the governor – have got to go. They seem to thrive on underhanded power plays and deception. I think they’re unprincipled, most of them, and I look forward to doing my part to vote them out of office.

One of the reasons I voted in favor of the measures is that funding issues don’t affect the people running the show, who are experts at looking after their own interests, but the people who rely on public services. The children, for example, who walk by my house on their way to and from school each day will at some point be running the state of Oregon, if not the world, and I’d like for them to be educationally equipped to do something more meaningful than what’s offered by a career in the fast food industry or at Wal Mart. The fact that they’re spending their formative years in a state crawling with short-sighted “leaders” is not their fault, and yet, when it comes to accountability – don’t you love that word? – they’re the ones on the hook. The strategists will continue to mine the system for their own gain, while the children will continue to graduate from schools in Oregon without knowing much about science or math or English composition. On a purely selfish note, when I’m in the rest home, I’d like very much for them to know the difference between a plus sign and a minus sign and the implications of each.

For me, the least compelling of my reasons for voting yes is the issue of business taxes. I think the in-favor campaign has used some cheap tactics about the corporate tax, implying, with lots of intentional holes and blanks, that you can do business in the state for $10 a year, which is like saying it only costs $10 to go to the doctor’s, when in fact what costs $10 is to park in the garage, making it technically true that that’s what the visit costs, but only technically. At best, tripping people over technicalities is an unethical campaign strategy, something I previously would have only expected from the anti-tax crowd. But personally, I was more offended by many Oregon businesses and their associations, which threatened the state with additional job cuts and higher costs for their goods and services. After hearing their message a few times, it occurred to me that they’ve already done just that. Have you noticed that the price of a yellow jacket with a certain logo and the name of one of the rivers in town on it hasn’t exactly come down over the past few years? Have you noticed that a manufacturer in North Portland last year moved a lot of jobs to a state with “a better labor climate”? Over the past decade have you heard that whispery whooosshh – usually late at night – as companies throughout the state send jobs to other countries for no other reason, they say, than to better serve their customers? Like the test scores of students who graduate from public schools here, even with increased fees the tax burden for businesses in Oregon will remain among the lowest in the country. Hell, even with a new tax or two, some businesses may still have a few million sponsorship dollars left over to throw after professional athletes who don’t even live here. The ads complaining about the state budget increasing every year were tiresome also. There are other things that have increased every year in Oregon as well: the number of people living here, the cost of almost all goods and services, including private groceries and private health insurance, and the amount of money earned by CEOs. I’ve heard enough threats from whiney corporate people to last me the rest of the year.

On that note, I don’t think affluent individuals or couples are to blame for the economic shambles that is Oregon. At the same time, the people I know who make more than $125,000 or are part of a male-female couple earning more than $250,000 can spare a few bucks to keep the state in business. I have to admit that a big part of what I think about that is that the people I know who earn those kinds of salaries aren’t any smarter or hard working than those I know who manage within a more realistic income bracket. They’re just better liars.

Finally, the main reason I voted in favor of the measures is that funding public services is in my DNA. My parents, who were from a very different era (obviously) believed that this country needed a strong progressive base in order to save itself from existing only in service of the interests of the very wealthy, who generally hold the power. Going after things like public education and other services designed to alleviate poverty, according to my father, was generally the first line of attack taken by the rich and those who represent them. My parents both believed that there were quantifiable differences between liberals and conservatives, and, to that end, that the Democratic party – it was a group of liberals at one time, I’ve heard – could be counted on to speak up for those who most needed speaking up for. While those notions are as dead as my mother and father, filling out my ballot on Sunday morning felt, in a small, brief way, like honoring what they taught their children.

Powder Blue

Movies are a challenge for me. I usually feel like I’m missing the point, that I don’t quite get – or don’t get at all – what makes one good and another not. I think my main problem with movies is that they’re overwhelming. There are the visuals, of course, but also characters and a story. Most movies, to me, seem like an on-screen competition among those elements. Unlike books, which I read at my own pace while picturing images as they occur to me, I feel like I often miss huge parts of movies.

Which is why I love Netflix. As much as I bitch and moan about the Internet’s creeping deeper and deeper into our lives (and conversely, becoming more and more irremovable), this, my friends, is some technology I can get behind. I signed up for Netflix last fall, and to be honest I did it because I thought I should. I would horse around with it for a couple of months, I thought, and then my Netflix membership would quietly go the way of YouTube, which I OD’d on a couple of summers ago, and Facebook, which I came to regard as a troubling attempt to confirm the fact that we are indeed alive.

I think the main reason I signed up for Netflix is that I felt like a bit of a dweeb for having never tried it, so the fact that I’m love with it surprises nobody more than it does me. It’s cheap, easy and convenient: the movies, without due dates or late fees, come and go in the mail. The main reason I like it is that I can watch movies as many times as necessary. I recently took two days and three viewings with Angela’s Ashes, two run-throughs on a Saturday evening and a rainy Sunday morning for a quiet little gem called In the Bedroom. With Netflix, I can watch a movie with the volume off and pay attention only to the camera angles. Nobody needs to know that I was unable to grasp an entire movie having watched it only once, unless, of course, I chose to share.

Which brings me to Powder Blue, which I watched – once – this weekend. I don’t understand movies deeply enough to articulate this in a fancy way, but for some reason the script, the acting, the story and the visuals all worked together on this one. The way I know that is that I didn’t hit pause or rewind a single time. I paid no attention to the clock. I let the phone ring its way into voicemail a couple of times. The plot goes like this: a group of people in Los Angeles seek solace in the week leading up to Christmas. I did a search on the movie on Monday morning, and was surprised to learn that Powder Blue was made in 2009 (it seeemed older, for some reason) but only had limited release in the U.S., which seems weird to me given some of the big names in it. I’m not in the film biz, so I have no idea why. Another strange thing: how did Netflix know, based on my ordering history, to recommend this movie?Anyhow, I do not work for Netflix in any capacity, and I recommend Powder Blue.

You can trust us

Well, I guess things are returning to normal after last week’s earthquake in Haiti. Today, Robin Roberts was back to making inane comments about football on Good Morning America, and the main story on MSN is no longer the disaster. Images of the dead and dying have been replaced as of this morning by news of the Golden Globes. The stars were out last night, expressing their gratitude and their solidarity with the people of Haiti. Touching.

Over the weekend, I was a bit surprised that some humor – unintentional probably – crept into the news. I was almost ashamed of myself for having a good laugh at the brief remarks made in the Rose Garden by Obama and the two men he’s asked to lead the country’s efforts to help the people of Haiti, Bill Clinton and W. It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a year since W. was our president because on Sunday morning I was caught completely off guard by his presence. I forgot what he’s like. He swaggered to the podium, very much like a cowboy, and made some comments that were either completely off the wall or truly clever. “Now, I know a lot of you want to send food, and, and other provisions,” he said. Listening to W. speak is like watching a toddler take his first, tentative steps: you know he is going to fall at some point. I cannot tell if he drawls, or twangs, or, as a result of talking out of the side of his mouth, both. Anyhow, he went on. “But what we need, what we really need here is your cash.” Then he smirked at everyone – I had forgotten how good he is at doing that – and said, “You can trust us with your cash.” Was that a slam on Obama not being able to manage the bankers? Was it a slam on Clinton’s reputation as a notorious compulsive liar? Was it self-deprecation? Or was it just W stammering his way through yet another occasion that should have been dignified and solemn? I have no idea, but I thought it was hilarious.

On Sunday, the president went to Massachusetts to rally the troops in support of the woman running for the senate seat vacated by Ted Kennedy. My laughter over that is more along the lines of gallows humor, but man, if I don’t laugh I’m afraid of the options. The entire healthcare reform issue, we are told, is, in a way, riding on this one election for this one seat in the U. S. Senate, a fact that strikes me as a cartoon in the making considering there are more than 300 million people living in this country. According to the news, one of the factors making the race too close to call is the statement the Democratic candidate made about someone being a Yankees fan. The fact that we cannot manage to put together a healthcare system that works for everyone is, on some level, comical; the fact that an election that could determine if our half-assed attempt at doing so could feasibly be impacted by a comment about a sports team is hysterical, in my opinion. I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t a comment about football.

But it was the president himself, I thought, who provided the most fodder. He parachuted in to “fire up” the crowd, speaking about speaking up not just for the privileged few, but for all of us, the people. The Democrat, he rumbled, has the crowd’s back. “But her opponent,” he said, “has Wall Street’s back.” I apologize in advance if this sounds like a racist remark, especially since it’s on the day we pretend to honor the legacy of Martin Luther King, but Obama’s words, to me, were like the pot calling the kettle black.

What's important

To put it mildly, the images being beamed out of Haiti are disturbing. Although I’ve never been, Haiti has always kind of intrigued me. When I was growing up, a philosophy professor who lived in the neighborhood, along with his most Catholic wife and their eight children, declared Haiti their cause. They went there many times, and many times they returned to our neighborhood with orphans, who were adopted, I believe, via a Catholic charity in Saint Louis. This was in the days before charity was openly mined for the sake of publicity, so our knowledge of the place and what our neighbors were doing there was spotty. All we knew about Haiti is that the politics were dark and the people poor beyond comprehension. Since the children were black, Haiti was placed in my young, uninformed mind somewhere in Africa. I was shocked when I realized how close Haiti is to the state of Florida, a fact that remains shocking to me today.

But geography is only one aspect of what shocks me about this week’s earthquake there. Late last year I helped a friend with a press release about a business in Haiti, which included some amazing statistics about the country’s economics, but even with some basic knowledge, the proximity of the poverty is something I can still only describe as shocking. I am shocked at the number of U.S. media people who broadcasting from there even though reports say that water, power and food are scarce. Did they bring their own provisions? I am shocked at how truly heartwarming – I am not being sarcastic – I found reports of the U.S. military sending people there to help. I am shocked that this country is sending $100 million today. Generous, to be sure, but a drop in the bucket from which the banker bonuses are being poured. Perhaps I am shocked most of all by the people I know, marginally, who are littering the Internet with word of their awakening about now knowing what’s really important. “What was important yesterday is not important today,” someone declared via Twitter. My question: what was important yesterday? And a woman I know, who lives as if PR is the work of God, is announcing today that she just cannot focus on the action items on her desk because, compared to Haiti, they're just not important. Not to worry, though. This woman has an assistant, whom she degrades regularly, so I’m sure her action items will be tended to just fine.

Managing the money

On Friday nights, at 9 o’clock Pacific, I offer up silent thanks to the goddesses of reason that for at least one more week, none of the PR people have managed to shut down Bill Moyers’ studio and put him behind bars. Clearly, when it comes to his show I am a confirmed member of the cult, but I am not naïve about it. Even if the worst-case scenario were to be revealed – and for me that would be that Bill Moyers is actually an instrument of the financial officials – I think I would still love his show.

That’s because the show is relevant. And the more interesting and relevant the subject matter, the more amped up Bill Moyers is during the opening. On Friday evening, he was on fire about one of his favorite topics (and mine): money. After an impressive onslaught of trough metaphors, he announced that his two guests, both of whom report for Mother Jones, would be walking us through just a few examples of how the bankers have considerably more power than the people we elect to (allegedly) represent us. This, I thought, snuggling up beneath my afghan and sipping a cup of steamy tea, is going to be a very good hour.

There is, unfortunately, nothing new about the reporters’ premise: the outrageous tricks played by the banking people are in no way against the law. In fact, they’re perfectly legal, thanks, in large part, to the fact that the laws governing the conduct of the bankers are written, believe it or not, by the bankers. The guests produced a staggering list of contributions made by the money people when a group of elected officials – almost all of them Democrats and many of them members of the committee that ‘oversees’ the financial industry – came to New York for a visit. This money has no impact on how we legislate, the elected liars proclaim, over and over again. It would funny if it weren’t so insulting. Equally troubling is the fact that a lot of people who lobby for financial institutions are former congressional staffers.

And, faithful to the beauty of symmetry, some former lobbyists now work for the government. First, an admission: I do not like Timothy Geithner. His entire existence, from childhood on, has depended on bankers and their children receiving as many unfair advantages as possible. Putting him in charge of reforming the financial industry makes as much sense as putting me in charge of cigarette patrol. And besides, he looks like one of my brothers, which takes my dislike for him to a new level. But here’s yet another bullet point in my list of reasons I think he was, and remains, one of Obama’s worst appointments: his chief of staff, Mark Patterson, is a former Goldman Sachs lobbyist. Of the $700 billion bailout Timothy Geithner administered, $10 billion of it went to Goldman Sachs. During his lobbyist gig, one of Patterson’s projects was to derail legislation meant to regulate executive pay, legislation that was sponsored by a then-junior senator from Illinois. On the other hand, to be fair (sort of): the main criticism of Geithner thus far is that he doesn’t have much of a staff to speak of because his picks keep backing out of the vetting process or declining outright. So maybe his chief of a practically non-existent staff doesn’t is a ceremonial figurehead, a payback for a favor extended long ago. Maybe he’s just some guy who likes to wear feathered headdresses to the office. Who knows?

What shocked and aggravated me the most about this tid bit is not that it’s just one more example of the blatant smokescreening that goes on with the money being saved to send the children to college, or to retire, or to finance dignified end-of-life care or to simply fall back on if things go lean. What aggravates me about it is that I cannot blame the ‘mainstream media’ – I hate that term – for not covering it, because it was, in fact, covered. Among others, I discovered that USA Today ran a few paragraphs about it in the Fall. I’m apparently as prone to distractions as those I criticize routinely and with great joy. I’ve never denied hypocritical tendencies, and I guess I cannot start now.

For me, the show didn’t really end at 10 on Friday night, because on Saturday morning it occurred to me that I really should subscribe to Mother Jones. I had some errands to run that day, and I made a mental note to help myself to one of those tear-out subscription cards if I found myself at a magazine rack, which, of course, I did not. But that was okay, because when I got home, tucked in to the wad of junk mail was an envelope from Mother Jones offering me a special: one year, six issues, for $10. So I subscribed, but rather than “Send your $10 check payable to Mother Jones today!” I sent cash instead.