The Spectator interviews Michael Lewis on the 2008 financial crisis.
The author of The Big Short weighs in:
“Not nearly enough has been done — the regulatory response has been totally inadequate. The big banks have blocked serious reforms, meddling in the process so incentives haven’t changed enough to attack the heart of the problem — which is why it could happen again.”
“We still have the same short-term-oriented compensation, the same big bonuses at year-end…”
“I’ve never gotten over the feeling when I learnt Goldman Sachs had designed securities that would fail, so they could then short them.”
“The 1997 repeal of the Glass-Steagall Act was part of the problem  but it goes back even before that. The earlier transformation of investment banks into public corporations was a big mistake — with bankers using shareholders’ money to bet, rather than their own.”
“It isn’t just the big campaign contributions. Anyone at the table talking about financial reform is a potential hire and likely to end up working in the financial sector for huge sums, so they get captured.”
Mediterranean Stuffed Peppers
1 large red pepper, 1 large yellow pepper
(Serves 2 – adjust as needed)
Green peppers less sweet, then yellow, red sweetest. You choose.
3 oz Couscous
1 oz toasted pine nuts
Handful of black olives, roughly chopped.
Green olives or capers if you prefer
I detest olives. And capers. I use cocktail onions or diced chorizo.
If I want to spice it up a bit, I use diced jalepeno 😀
13/4 oz feta cheese
13/4 oz semi-dried tomatoes, snipped
or handful of cherry tomatoes quartered.
2 tbsp shredded basil.
In the long run, all that will remain of most of us will be whatever memories accrue among those we leave behind. When they are gone, so are we. Few will make the pages of the NYT, but some people deserve a wider remembrance than just family and friends. Continue reading
Just to get it out of the way, my thoughts on this ‘holiday’ haven’t changed since my earlier post. All the spin and political soundbites, the one-day sales and commercials, the war-mongering and propaganda have buried the truth, along with what little decency we had as a nation. The unfashionable virtues of humanity and love, of fellow-feeling and compassion, of peace and good will now only exist on the personal level. Americans as individuals (or at least most of them, including some we all recognize as assholes politically) are generally more caring than their government, even if they loudly support a draconian regime. Continue reading
“Belief is the death of intelligence.”
– Robert Anton Wilson
“True knowledge exists in knowing that you know nothing.”
“Of all that I hold probable, only this I know:
My wisdom only takes me where my folly wants to go.”
– Ray Saunders
Wise Old Indian says:
(How come we don’t have sayings of old Drunk Uncle Billy Bearpaw?)
A man must discover who he is.
A man must discover where he comes from.
A man must discover why he’s here.
I’m still working on #1, have a growing understanding of #2 and have at least discovered #3.
I’m here to learn and appreciate.
When I was growing up in rural Colorado, I didn’t feel much connection with my contemporaries. For the most part, they prided themselves on being anti-intellectual, clung tightly to their ignorance and bullied anyone the least bit different or smaller. I was quite small for my age until my high school ‘growth spurt’ & was the teacher’s pet, so I came in for a lot of nastiness. Eventually, I learned to look out for myself, becoming a good boxer and wrestler who could think and act faster than the assholes, so they learned to leave me alone. That did not suddenly open the door to socialization and while I’m not anti-social, I decidedly failed to develop the usual social skills of teenagers. Continue reading
I’m with a group of hang-glider pilots bound for the top of a cliff on some island in Polynesia. Looks a lot like Diamond Head in Hawaii. As we’re schlepping our gear, we’re joined by a group of ‘natives’. No idea who they are and even the locals don’t seem to speak their language nor do they speak English. They range from mid-life to pre-teen. All have painted faces a la Melanesians. Each has the same particular symbol painted on his cheek (no females seem to be in the crowd). As we start up the back of the cliff, they drop back and watch. One smiles and we exchange thumbs-up.
We all set up and launch. I find a thermal and am soon sitting about 3500′ above the beach. Normally, one kind of ‘sloshes around’ in a thermal to ‘feel out’ the configuration and find maximum lift, then ‘cores the thermal’, ascending in ever-rising circles. Instead, I decided to trace in the air the pattern I saw painted on the cheeks of the natives.
Wham! I am instantly lifted to about 20,000 in a matter of seconds. Aside from the thin air and extreme cold, it scares the living shit out of me (almost literally). I think, “Hey, if you’re looking for my limits, you just exceeded them about 15000-feet ago”. It – whatever IT is – relented and stopped the elevator. I cranked the kite 90° vertical and dropped like a rock until I got back down to about 5000 feet. Catching my breath, I headed for the tip of the island, which had a small fishing shack and bar. Figured I deserved a beer. Once I started descending, the natives had followed my progress in crowds, VERY excited. I was tired, still trembling. I landed the glider and collapsed, gasping for breath, then walked over to the shack and was handed a beer.
The natives talked excitedly to an old man sitting aside, watching the world go by. He caught my eye and motioned to come sit beside him. I plopped myself down and offered him a swig. He sipped a bit of beer, obviously as a gesture of courtesy. This man had no paint on his face, but I saw the mysterious symbol on his upper left chest. He leaned back and looked intently at me, then called out to someone in a language I cannot identify – and I’m a linguist. A woman came up bearing a black goo. He painted the symbol on my upper left chest, to match his decoration. A second woman provided a paste which he plastered over the symbol. By signs, he indicated I was not to wash off the paste until after 5 days.
That symbol, which I cannot identify and will never forget does not appear on my body. But if there’s something deeper than the bone, flesh and skin that I’m familiar with, the symbol is there for all to see who know how to look deeper.
I think of the Lakota Sioux blessing/farewell “Mitake Oyasin”. It literally means ‘All My Relations” but the idiomatic meaning is “We Are All Related”. I can’t really say what the native symbol means, but it connects me to every human on earth. And probably all who have ever lived or will live; and probably all living things since Day One. I am blood-brother to the first bug oozing out of the primordial slime; and to the Dalai Lama; to you and probably to the rocks that lie underfoot.
We are born alone. We die alone. In between, we can only learn to appreciate life – and each other.
The late Richie Havens sang;
We are all alone
Each one his own
We are all alone… together.
With all that solitude, remember to be Alone Together
For reasons of no particular interest here, a perfect storm of conditions recently caused my first-ever COPD flare-up and subsequent five-day hospital stay, the only time in 77 years I’ve been in for more than same-day surgery. The process left me somewhat chastened and realizing that using good genes as an excuse to ignore my health was probably not a viable long-term option. I will therefore have to take seriously the task of regaining and preserving as much as possible of my health going forward.
The process also left me with some memorable experiences which I will chronicle here, in case anyone’s interested.
When I was a teenager, I came into possession of a large amount of booze. (It’s a long story). I kept a bottle in my school locker and used to take a nip between classes – more to cock a snook at Authority than because I really wanted a drink. I used to lie in bed at night with an 8oz tumbler full of whiskey and read, listen to country radio until about 4am as I sipped my booze.
Greece is rebelling in the streets and the halls of government.
Spaniards are following suit in the streets – government’s not onboard but it may not matter.
The Euro is tottering and NATO is a lot shakier than it wants to admit (it’s in denial).
Sanctions are failing. Banksters fear jailing – or poverty or the guillotine.
Control is slipping here at home – it’s desperation that’s making the PTB escalate repression.
Times, they are a-changin’