No Plan Obama

What's the Plan, man?  The country needs a plan, a path, a roadmap, guidance, leadership, something.  Where are we going?  What are we going to do?

Speak up!

Let them eat cake?

No plan.  That's why you're losing the mid-terms.

Time Marches On

It's been nearly a year since we've had a posting here, and lots has been happening.  The Worldview has a whole new perspective.  From way further North.  Brett Favre and I have left southern comfort to "enjoy the seasons" in the land-o-lakes.  Of course Brett's situation is more comfortable than most, while mine is more "average American."

There is good news in the world.  The Iraq War appears to be somewhat over.  More or less on some kind of Korea model.  Anyway, it's good news.  Maybe this will do for Obama what winning the first Iraq War did for the first President Busch.

The politics are active but not much fun these days.  Up here opinions rum the spectrum, just like down south.  Here both Michelle Bachmann and Al Franken represent us.    Back home both Jimmy Carter and Newt Gingrich are on the local scene.  So while our states might be red and blue on the electoral maps, they really are both mixed bags of political opinions.

Braving the Cold of a Blue State

Word on the tv is that our Republican friends are on verge of a big victory in the "mid-terms."  Not tests, elections.  Obamamania is all but dead.  The consensus is that he blew his big chance.  It's hard not to agree.  We can only hope that the next batch of pols will hold true to form and not do what they say once elected and actually come up with a way to fix the economy.  Expectations are universally low.

Obama's fall from grace may seem counter-intuitive.  He won the war in Iraq against . . . the bad guys, and the troops are coming home.  He took office in the midst of a true economic crisis, and managed to contain it.  But memories are short and distorted.  The urgency of the financial meltdown and the bogginess of the war don't seem so serious as they fade into memory.  Obama is the cleanup man with the mop who gets blamed because he is found in the middle of the mess.

The country will muddle forward.  It reminds me of the 1970's.  People will turn inward and reevaluate their priorities and the meaning of our lives.

So it's September and a brand new season is upon us.  A thankful time to enjoy life.

Labor Day means that Fall has come to this part of the country, along with the start of school.  This is a mark of a civilized sensibility that is a comfort to traditional minds.  School (and football) should not start before Labor Day.  The seasons of our lives should not be slaves to meaningless celestial occurances like equinoxes and solstices.  It is Fall now.  Days are shorter, golf is cheaper, and sweaters are occasionally needed in the evening.  There is a fresh crispness in the air and khakis are on sale. Eating dinner outside is truly pleasant.  Hmmmm. 

Life can be beautiful.

Dog Day

Four appointments today. Spread out around the metro area. Equipped with printed mapquests, an aging and out of date GPS in the car, the sporadically functional Sprint navigation system on my Blackberry, a full tank of gas and a 12-pack of Diet Coke, I head out to earn my daily bread.

House calls. That's what's happening today. Meeting folks at their homes to close their loans. Generally it's OK. Today all the folks seemed nice on the phone, and I am on schedule, so things look good.

I'm leaving appointment number 2, driving and typing in my next destination on the GPS when - BAM! - I've hit some crazy huge pothole in the road. I feel like one of my tires is flat, and the road is windy and fast, so I vear into an uphill side street as the dashboard lights start to go crazy, and then pull into somebody's driveway.

I stop and catch my breath. Well! That was stressful. Now what?

I look at the house and it seems that nobody is home. Check out the car and sure enough, a back tire is cut and flat. F-word. What to do now?

I call my wife to come pick me up. She's not answering. I'm thinking I'll need to find a number for a tow truck. Obviously it has been a long time since I've had a flat tire and I'm not thinking clearly because it takes me a while to remember that cars come with a spare tire. An extra tire! Just for this situation!

This is the kind of realization that makes you feel stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

So my first step is to the glove compartment, to flip open the owner's manual and figure out where this spare tire might be. It's in the trunk! Finding it under the carpet back there, I reach in and grab it and give a mighty heave and . . . nothing. Try again. And again. It won't budge. Boy, I am really out of shape. Then I realize that the tire is screwed into place back there so it won't bounce around.

This is the kind of realization that . . . well, you know.

Eventually the tire is out, leaning against the back bumper, and the jack is affixed to the car and I am jacking away to lift the deceased tire off of the ground. Then suddenly I see a shadow move out of the corner of my eye, and thinking that someone has approached (perhaps a suspicious neighbor), I look up to see the spare tire rolling away down the hill of the street. By jacking the car up I've caused the spare tire to stand up as well. And it is doing what all tires are born to do - hit the open road.

Thinking quickly, I decide to panic. I run after the tire toward the fast windy road at the bottom of the hill, waving my arms ridiculously and yelling "look out!" Cars stop. The drivers are polite. No honking or glaring looks. I wave apologetically and retrieve the tire.

It's getting hot. I'm wishing I wasn't wearing a suit.

Back to business. I carefully place the spare tire along the side of the car this time, and return to jacking the car up. I successfully unscrew the flat tire and haul it around to the trunk, where I (FATAL MISTAKE ALERT!) proceed to heave it into the trunk. Then I proceed to push and pull the tire to get it into the trunk's special spare tire wheel well that hides under the carpet back there. As I'm pushing and pulling, suddenly space and time seem out of sorts and I think I might be dizzy, but a loud crashing sounds makes me suddenly realize that the car has been moving and has now fallen off of the jack and the car and the wheel hub are now lying flat on the ground.

Thinking quickly, I decide to flail my arms up and down and yell the F-word repeatedly. Then suddenly I see a shadow move out of the corner of my eye, and thinking that someone has approached (perhaps a good samaritan who will change the tire for me), I look up to see the the spare tire rolling down the hill AGAIN.

Feeling that fate is against me, I am even more panicked this time, and run down the hill once more. Arms flailing, yelling warnings, hoping that nobody gets hurt because I cannot change a tire properly. Rolling the spare tire up the hill, again, I wonder about how to get the car off the ground.

Amazingly, the jack still fits under the car even when it is flat on the ground. Maybe there really is something to that German engineering rep. I silently thank whoever designed the jack for doing a good job, and start cranking.

A short time later, I'm back on the road. I'm not even that dirty. I wonder if I have a road hazard warranty for the flat tire. The whole episode only lasted about an hour. Not so bad.

If I hurry I can get back on schedule. Here's another insight I'd learned and forgotten, when towns run into budget problems, like now, police seem to give out more tickets. Hurrying begets speeding which begets speeding tickets. So a nice police officer reminded me to drive safely by begiving me a ticket. I can't say I didn't deserve it.

Tomorrow I'll be more careful.