Category Archives: Confessional

Do YOU feel sufficiently stimulated? ’Cause I don’t…

By BRAD WARTHEN
Editorial Page Editor
WHAT DID you do with your “economic stimulus” check from the government? Did you spend it in a suitably patriotic manner, doing your bit to kick-start the good ol’ U.S. economy?
    You did? Are you sure? I just ask because, as a member of the U.S. economy, I’m feeling a little understimulated.
    But then, I always had doubts about the whole scheme.
    Sort of like with the government’s bailout of Bear Stearns. I’m not a libertarian, not by a long shot, but sometimes I break out with little itchy spots of libertarianism, and one of those itchy spots causes me to ask, Why am I, as a taxpaying member of the U.S. economy, bailing out something called Bear Stearns? I didn’t even know what it was. Even after I’d read about it in The Wall Street Journal, I still could not answer the fundamental question, “If you work at Bear Stearns, what is it that you do all day?” I understand what a fireman does, and if the fire department were about to go under, I’d be one of the first to step forward and say let’s bail it out. Of course, if the fire department wanted me to lend it $29 billion, with a “B,” I might have further questions. Yet that’s what we’ve done for Bear Stearns.
    Apparently Bear Stearns is a financial institution that the federal government considers “too big to fail,” which makes me wonder, if it’s too big to fail, then why does it need to be bailed out?
    But things like this always perplex me. I am not an economist, nor a financial expert, which I’m told is different. Nor am I any kind of a businessman. At my house, I am not allowed to try to balance the checkbook.
    Anyway, while I’m still pondering why you and I and the guy down the street lent $29 billion to bail out this Bear Stearns, along comes Congress and the president wanting to send somewhat more modest checks to you and me and that same guy.
    I’m all for Democrats and Republicans setting aside pointless bickering to do something for the good of the country, but when the economy’s going into the tank, and the Democratic Congress and the Republican president are racing to see which of them can send us the biggest check, sort of like the Three Stooges all trying to get through a door at the same time, I begin to have doubts.
    I start to think, “With the national debt at — wait a sec while I go check the Internet — 9 trillion dollars, and climbing at a rate of more than a Bear Stearns bailout every month, the government is going to send several hundred dollars to every household in the country?”
    It seems that everybody in Washington was acting along the same lines of reasoning as when, in response to attacks upon this country more deadly than Pearl Harbor, we were told to go out and shop, instead of buying bonds or rationing gas or something that would have made sense to an earlier generation. And now, six-and a half years into the War on Terror, some of us weren’t shopping hard enough. So to help us get back into the fight, the government decided to send us all some more ammunition.
    As it got closer to time for me to get my ammo, my martial spirits rose, and I started thinking this was a better and better idea. If my country needed me to shop, I was going to make sure every shot counted. So I did some research.
    Finally, a suitable target presented itself. Week before last, we all went to Memphis for a wedding. The wife and I stayed with Mary, one of her best friends from high school.
    My wife has always held Mary up as one of the smartest in her class — not only a scholar, but a woman of great good sense and practicality. Mary had recently earned some extra money, and had spent it on a 42-inch, 1080-resolution flat-panel HDTV set. It had cost her $800 at Sam’s Club. I studied this item very closely while we were there, flicking back and forth between ball games on the HD channels and the same ball games on mere mortal channels, and came to the inescapable conclusion that Mary was indeed the smartest in her class, and had made an excellent investment — way better than the Bear Stearns thing.
    So by the time we got back from Memphis, I was all in a sweat to get that stimulus check, which would amount to $1,200.
    But when it came, do you know what we spent it on? A hospital bill. Not a hospital bill for major surgery or life-saving emergency treatment, because none of us had needed that, thank God. No, this was for a few X-rays for my daughter’s sprained ankle — for my baby, who was temporarily off my insurance but was covered by a separate policy that we were paying $117 a month for, which seemed like a really good deal until she needed some actual routine medical care.
    When you have five kids between the ages of 19 and 31 in the United States of America, you spend a lot of time holding your breath until they get safe jobs with their own group medical insurance. Two of mine have achieved that status, and both know they’d better not try to actually stimulate the economy by starting their own businesses or anything, because their Dad would have a stroke.
    All of this gets me to thinking… If Congress really and truly wants to help the U.S. economy, maybe, just maybe, it should pass a National Health Plan along the lines of practically every other developed nation on the planet, instead of sending me a check that would barely cover two months worth of premiums on health insurance for my wife and me and only one of my children.
    So Congress, I appreciate the thought, but I’ve got to tell you: Sending me $1,200 to throw into a debt hole that I wouldn’t have if I lived in any other industrialized country just doesn’t cut it.

Get stimulated at thestate.com/bradsblog/.

My wife says I’m a big, fat hypocrite (actually, to be honest, she didn’t call me ‘fat’)

Sex_and_the_city

While I was driving us up to Greenville on Saturday — meaning that I was a helpless captive at the time — my wife mentioned having looked at my blog, something she seldom does.

I thought, UH-ohhh, but out loud, I said, "Oh, you did?" I could tell she was about to light into me for something.

Sure enough, she called me a hypocrite for having called "Sex and the City" "trashy," because I watch and enjoy "The Sopranos." (On DVD, that is.) She submitted that there had never been, and never would be, anything in any episode that was anywhere near as bad as the fifth-worst thing that happens in the most family-values-oriented "Sopranos" episode ever produced. (She didn’t say it in those words exactly, but that’s the gist.)

"Of course, you’re right, dear," I said carefully, the way Tony spoke to Carmela at the end of episode 33, "Second Opinion." You remember — Tony comes home to find Carmela curled up on the couch, and she informs him that they ARE giving $50,000 to Columbia, and he starts to lay down the law, and she tells him again that they ARE giving the 50 Gs to their daughter’s college, and Tony wises up and realizes he’s being made an offer he can’t refuse, and starts try to think of what he can possibly say to get her to stop talking to him like this…

At one point, I did try to assert myself by noting that she watches "The Sopranos" with me — it actually kind of surprised me when she started watching it with me; I think she got pulled in because she sort of identified with Carmela (and she leaves the room whenever violence seems imminent) — but this was a tactical mistake on my part. It seems that that was neither here nor there; SHE had not publicly called anything "trashy."

So I thought hard about WHY I had written that post to begin with, and then I remembered, and it seemed exculpatory. So I explained that calling that lovely show with the nice ladies "trashy" had not been MY idea; I was simply reacting to a headline in the WSJ that raised the question of whether "Sex and the City" — actually, the fashion inspired by "Sex and the City" — was "empowering" or "trashy." AndLingerie I had just said, of course, it’s trashy; isn’t that the point? I mean, look at the title. (Extra points question for those who dare: With which program is the picture at right associated? Hint: This is not a dancer from the Bada-Bing!)

Yes, she understood that, but that was no excuse to go on and on in a holier-than-thou way about protecting children from "trash" like this, that a guy who watched all those naked women with their fake boobs at the Bada-Bing! doing nasty and degrading things in between the bloody murders had any room whatsoever to talk about such things. She explained that three of the women on "Sex and the City" are actually looking for love, that there was only one woman on the show who was an actual slut, and she recognizes herself as such, and that in any case sex was nowhere near as bad as violence, and for that matter the sexual content of "Sex and the City" wasn’t nearly as horrible and twisted as the sexual content on "The Sopranos." All of which, I’m quite sure, is true.

I sort of tried denying that the dancers at the Bada-Bing! were attractive to me — which they’re not; they’re too plastic-looking — and talked about how necessary it was for the viewer to be reminded how sordid Tony’s business was, so that we never start to think that the way he made a living was OK and start sympathizing with him too much, but I was not going to win this argument; it was fixed going in.

Then when we got to Greenville, I found out my sister-in-law had had a rare night away from the kids the night before — she’d gone to see "Sex and the City." Then this morning, I see a comment from Laurin Manning back on this post, in which she noted with amusement that no women had been a part of the discussion of this year’s biggest chick flick.

At which point, it’s probably a good idea for all guys present to stick our hands in our pockets, stare at the floor, shrug and go silent. I mean, Whaddaya gonna do?

Sopranos

This makes me feel SO much better

Energy Party think-tanker Samuel Tenenbaum gave me this book to read this morning, but knowing how slow I am at getting books read (currently I’m slogging my way through The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt and Breaking the Spell simultaneously, and have promised myself a novel when I’m done with those), I figured it would be awhile before I’d be in a positive to comment on it, which I figure is something Samuel is hoping I’ll  do, which is why he gave me the book.

… To increase the pressure, Samuel emphasized I was one of the few he’d given it to, the others being Barack Obama, Joe Biden, U.S. Sen. Amy Klubocher (yeah, I had to ask, too — it’s the woman who spoke to the state Democratic convention over the weekend), Capt. Robert Miller (a Democrat, late of the U.S. Marines, who is trying to challenge Joe Wilson), Harris Pastides and John Mark Dean at USC… He plans to give one to Lindsey Graham tonight.

… you’ll notice a trend toward Democrats there. Samuel says Dr. Dean did complain about the book’s politics, to which Samuel said, Ignore the politics! Read the science!

But apparently it’s not necessary to read the book in order to blog about it. This guy panned it without Samuel even giving him a copy. That is, I think he panned it — the post was so long that I figured I could read the book quicker.

I mention this because I’ve got to hand it to the guy for admitting that he didn’t read it. Did I tell my 11th-grade English teacher I hadn’t read Moby Dick? No way (if I had, she might not have given me an A-plus on the essay test, which still stands as a great moment in the annals of the Golden Shovel). Did I tell the audience at the Salman Rushdie symposium I moderated recently that I hadn’t read any of his books? No way. They might have thought less of me…

But this guy, who just comes out and says it, and dares ’em to come on (as Huck Finn would say — and I did read that), is an inspiration to B.S. artists everywhere…

By the way, here’s my short synopsis of what the book’s about. Mr. Zubrin says thumbs-down to hydrogen, thumbs-up to methanol from coal.

How clueless is Brad? Check his brackets

Brackets

Y
es, it’s that time of year when I truly do what so many of you think I do every day — offer my assessment about something that I know nothing about. In this case, the NCAA basketball tournament. Here’s last year’s effort. Above is an actual, undoctored photograph of the one I completed earlier today. (To keep me honest, you might want to print this one out, if you’re really that suspicious.)

I assure you that, once again, I’ve gotten through an entire season without watching, or checking the paper for the results of, a single game. No, wait — after hearing how excited my in-laws in Memphis were about a game between U. of Memphis and Tennessee, I did check the next morning to see how it came out. But I don’t remember which one won. I’m thinking it was UT, but then how did Memphis get seeded so high if that’s so? Whatever.

And no, I’m not going to go look up the answer, which would spoil the purity of my system for making predictions. I generally give the advantage to three kinds of teams:

  1. Schools that I or someone in my family have been associated with at some time or other (Like Fred Thompson, I’m a Memphis State grad, from the days when it was called Memphis State.)
  2. Catholic schools, or schools with Catholic-sounding names (I don’t know about St. Mary’s, but any school named for the Mother of God has to be good for at least one round, don’t you think?)
  3. Schools that were roundball powerhouses back when I was in college, as near as I can remember.

Oh, and I have one other rule — all things being roughly equal, bet on Duke. I did that for several rounds this year, getting them into the Final Four, but didn’t take them all the way.

Anyway, you’ll see that this year, I gave the most emphasis to Rule 1. Only time will tell if I was right.

‘They’re panicking out there right now, I can feel it.’

Yes, that headline is a quote from the wisdom of Billy Ray Valentine, former star of that once-great Philadelphia commodities brokerage, Duke and Duke. Sorry, but with me, analysis of financial matters doesn’t get much deeper than that. That quote popped into my head yesterday morning as I was observing, with my PDA brower set to the WSJ site, the reaction on Wall Street to the Bear Stearns bailout.

The latest word is that the crisis has been averted, or delayed, for what that’s worth.

I must confess that, since I get a bit confused just following what Winthorpe and Valentine did to the Dukes at the end of "Trading Places," I hardly know what to think about this supposedly Earth-shattering set of events surrounding Bear Stearns.

This is a barrier to my reading the news stories about it. As an editorial page editor, I read with the constant question in my mind, "What do I think about this?" I read any news story skimming past most of the who, what, where and blow-by-blow stuff, looking for answers to specific questions that will help me come to a conclusion.

But I don’t find answers even to the preliminary questions that occur to me regarding the buyout of Bear Stearns, such as, "When people go to work in the morning at Bear Stearns, what do they do?"

I do get a little more sophisticated than that. I also ask, "Why did the Fed deem it necessary to prod J.P. Morgan Chase to buy out Bear Stearns?" And wasn’t there something really unseemly about the government helping one financial firm buy out another at $2 a share? (I am reminded disturbingly, and almost certainly irrelevantly, of the case I read about recently regarding the Manhattan Elevated Railway, which Jay Gould bought at a fire sale price in 1881 after a judge had helped run down the value of the stock — young Theodore Roosevelt built his early legislative career largely on the basis of fighting such deals.)

What would have been the awful thing that would have happened had the bailout (or purchasing at a ridiculously low price — which seems to me like a really, really different thing from a bailout) not occurred? And why did the markets panic so AFTER it occurred? Was it because having the Fed invest $30 billion on behalf of you and me? Should I be freaked out, too? Should I be pleased or ticked off that the nation’s central banker exposed itself like that for the sake of one company?

What does this mean to us average Joes? Are we going to be more or less likely to buy our little boys the G.I Joe with the kung fu grip? And will anything ever happen on Wall Street that will get me that 52-inch HD TV with 1080 resolution? Let’s get real here, people.

But the people who allegedly know the answers to these compelling questions just drone on and on in a language of their own…

I’m not as arrogant as I look

Folks, it takes a certain amount of conceit to express opinions day in and day out, but it is not an unlimited commodity. I would even go so far as to say what Twain’s Hank Morgan said:

Now what a happy idea that was! — and so simple; yet it would never have occurred to me. I was born modest; not all over, but in spots; and this was one of the spots.

Well, this is one of my spots: I do not draft highly technical policy proposals. I’m a pretty fair hand at deciding what works and what doesn’t in somebody else’s policy proposals, and suggesting improvements. But I lack the confidence to take a blank sheet of paper and sketch out a full-blown projet, as the French would call it.

bud and Doug, our regular correspondents, probably have their own humble spots. This isn’t one of them. Both of them have recently sketched out a number of smart ideas about how to improve health care in this country. I admire their ability to pull something like that from thin air. I particularly admire the tiered approach that bud came up with (no offense, Doug; yours was good too).

The two of them are constantly hitting me up for projets of my own, but my brain just doesn’t roll that way — and if it did, the kind of time I would have to spend on something like that to feel confidence in it would demand that I publish it first in the actual newspaper. Dismiss me for lack of  seriousness if you will, call me the critic who never creates, just criticizes. But hey, I can praise, too. That’s something.

Part of it is the aforementioned humility; part of it is my attention deficit problem. I am endlessly fascinated by everything, and I am dependent on other people to call my attention to a particular thing in order for me to focus on it effectively. Once I’m staring at it, I can get creative and sometimes even clever. But I’ve got to have that focal point.

Anyway, back on this post bud challenged me again to come up with my own original plan, and this is all I can say in reply (I tried to post it as a comment, but my browser collapsed, and I decided then that this was worth a separate post on what this blog is and what it isn’t):

bud, if reform is dependent on me coming up with the details, we’re
sunk.

Maybe if I quit my job (thereby
losing my expensive benefits) and spent a year immersing myself and
sweating over it, I could come up with something that would satisfy you, but I’m not sure I would succeed even then. But it’s a moot point. My job, and my life, demand that I address many different things a day, every day.

We all have our strengths and weaknesses. That’s one of my weaknesses. I drown in unlimited possibilities.

I can react to your details because they are finite. If I try to
come up with my own, I would never be satisfied that THESE were the
right, proper and inclusive things to consider. To give but one
example, I would NEVER have confidence in my ability to compute the
costs of a plan. A lot of people tell me they would be intimidated at having to write
a column for the newspaper. I am not. Different
strokes.

Anyway, the subject is so complex that it’s taken me a lot of years
to get to the point that I can say with confidence that what we have is
fundamentally flawed (that it’s not just case of a few uninsured; it’s
a bad deal across the board), and that the biggest thing that is wrong
is that we expect private employers to help us purchase insurance from
for-profit providers, and do so from the relatively weak position of
having purchasing pools no larger than the companies’ respective
rosters of employees.

That leads me to single-payer (and if you want to see that spelled out as a specific proposal, see HR676),
and the way I approach that — knowing how complex this is — is by
asking my readers to help me find flaws in it that maybe I’m missing.
After we go through that for a while, and I’ve heard lots of pros and
cons. I might gain the confidence to say that yes, I endorse that
bill.The bottom line is, I’m not as arrogant as I look. So if you’re
waiting for detailed plans to come from me like Minerva springing from
the brow of Zeus, you should go to another blog.

 

Sure, I’ve come up with "proposals" in the past. But when you see me set out something like my suggested platform for the Energy Party or the UnParty, what I’m doing is selecting from among ideas that are already out there, and which I’ve had plenty of time to mull over. I didn’t invent the gas-tax increase idea; I was persuaded to it by a lot of people whom I regard as smarter about it than I am.

I wouldn’t attempt a health care plan from scratch without a team of experts from various disciplines helping me.

The War on Spontaneity

This morning, I had a meeting with Supt. of Ed. Jim Rex, Education Oversight Committee czarina Jo Anne Anderson, and various members of their respective retinues.

That is, I was supposed to have a meeting with them. It was placed on my calendar a couple of months ago (and had somehow neglected to set the Treo to remind me the way I always do), and for a time earlier than I usually arrive at the office, and I didn’t realize it was happening until I was halfway through breakfast, and by the time I got here I was more than half an hour late for it. I can’t remember the last time anything like this happened, and I am very, very sorry it happened this time; it was embarrassing.

The meeting was ostensibly to talk about the 2007 Report Cards, and I missed that part (since Cindi Scoppe had been hosting them, and I rely on her to pay attention and remember stuff even when I am here, we were covered — I just haven’t had time to get Cindi to regurgitate it to me yet). I know that the info they had to share wasn’t amazingly good news, since we had already seen the PACT scores — upon which the report cards are mostly based — and because I saw Jim Foster’s face (see below). Jim’s more of a class clown than I am, always with the jokes. (Long ago, three superintendents ago, Jim worked at the paper.) If he’s looking this glum, watch out.

Anyway, right after I got into the room, talk turned to discipline, and I started to squirm, not only because I’d come to class late and unprepared, but because I was once one of those one or two kids who distract the class, to put it mildly. (So was Jim, I’m sure, despite his severe mien below.) I sat there thinking how very, very lucky I am that I made it out of school before the era of Zero Tolerance. Which suggests a digression…

Honest, I’ll try to come back with some serious info from this meeting once I’ve caught up with it, but for now I’d like to share a piece from this morning’s WSJ about how increasingly unfriendly this country is getting toward kids like me. The op-ed was headlined "Adult supervision." An excerpt:

    The Christian Science Monitor reports that colleges across the country now require permits or permission slips for undergraduate pranks. This was perhaps inevitable: First they came for dodgeball. Then tag. How long could something as spontaneous and fun as the prank escape?
    Educational administrators justify the new prank rules by invoking 9/11, though most college pranks have as much to do with terrorism as a greased pig in the hallway has to do with the invasion of Poland. But the war on spontaneity continues….

At this point, either you’re nodding in smug approval at efforts to get those hooligans in line, or you’re cringing like me. Another taste:

At Mascoutah Middle School in Illinois, 13-year-old Megan Coulter was recently given detention for hugging two friends goodbye before the weekend — a violation of the school’s ban on "public displays of affection." One California school district worried about "bullying, violence, self-esteem and lawsuits" also banned tag, cops and robbers, touch football and every other activity that involved "bodily contact."

You know, when it comes to most things, I try to side with the grownups. Society needs to have rules. Hence my strong disagreements with the libertarians. But at some point, short of engaging in life-threatening behavior of the kind I worried about in my Sunday column, there’s a space where adults should let the children play. And please, please forgive them when they wander in a bit late… I’m sure they feel bad about it.

Photo_110807_001

Catholics Fed Up with Partisanship

At least, that (what my headline says) would probably have been the name of this group if I had been the one to start it. Or perhaps, "Catholics Cracking Heads for Civility."

But Catholics in Alliance for the Common Good is kinder and gentler than I am, so they take a more easygoing approach in their approach to promoting our common goals — more civility, more respect for reason in debates, and less mindless partisanship.

I just received a release from the group announcing that "A diverse group of prominent lay Catholics — including 11 former U.S. ambassadors and former chairmen of the Republican and Democratic National Committees — have called for a more civil tone to replace the divisive rhetoric and partisan attacks that define our national political debates." The release provided a link to the document signed by those leaders, "A Catholic Call to Observe Civility in Political Debate." So I went and read it.

You gotta love such statements as this:

  • As Catholics we must learn to disagree respectfully and without judgment to avoid rudeness in expressing our opinions to those whom we suspect will disagree with us, or in reacting to others’ expressions of opinion.
  • As Catholics we need to keep in mind the common humanity that we share with those with whom we disagree. We must avoid seeing them as "the enemy" in a life-or-death, winner-take-all political contest.
  • As Catholics we should never lose faith in the power of reason – a unique gift from God to mankind – and we should always keep ourselves open to a reasoned argument. In this spirit we should defend our views and positions with conviction and patience, but without being obnoxious or bullying.

I’m a little less certain over the signatories’ tiptoeing around the issue of whether the church should act to correct Catholics who clearly do not support the Church’s social teachings, whether it’s Democrats embracing abortion or Republicans dissing various forms of public assistance. Ultimately, I have to applaud the nuanced, soundly Catholic approach that the document takes, including the following elements:

  • It chides "Catholic politicians who advertise their Catholicism as part of their political appeal, but ignore the Church’s moral teachings in their political life…"
  • It adds that "we should not enlist the Church’s moral endorsement for our political preferences," and "we should not exhort the Church to condemn our political opponents by
    publicly denying them Holy Communion based on public dissent from
    Church teachings."
  • At the same time, it says, as "lay Catholics we should not pass judgment, and should avoid public
    statements that undermine the authority of the Church’s leaders.
    American Catholics know who their Church leaders are: their Bishops,
    Archbishops, and Cardinals." While an "individual’s fitness to receive communion is his or her personal responsibility… it is a bishop’s responsibility to set for his diocese the guidelines for administering communion."
  • In other words, it’s up to bishops whether they want to deny communion. A very Catholic answer, and I agree with it.

But… the group that’s promoting this laudable call for civility is also one that promotes Catholic Social Teaching, and I wish priests and bishops would speak from the pulpit more about our moral obligations in those regards, and do so without worrying who’s getting their feelings hurt.

It’s one thing to engage in the idiocy of the perpetual struggle for supremacy between the two, equally morally objectionable political parties. Catholics should never engage in the dumbing-down of issues or ad hominem rhetoric that the parties and their auxiliary interest groups promote. All of that is extremely destructive. (And we Catholics should challenge ourselves whenever, in others’ eyes, we are seen as guilty of this.)

But if the Church truly believes in the dignity of all human life, in our obligation to be stewards of the Earth, our duty to the poor, and so forth, then it ought to be no respecter of persons as it speaks out in a bold way that makes these positions crystal-clear. (That would of course include challenging me on my support of military action, which puts me in the position of justifying whether our presence in Iraq or Afghanistan or anywhere else is in keeping with the Just War doctrine, or can be made to be in keeping with it.)

I realize I’m not being terribly clear myself here. OK, go back and read what I wrote about the moral instruction regarding political issues that I heard in a synagogue a couple of weeks back. No individual was trashed or called names; no political party was condemned. But it was made clear that as Jews, you are expected to believe in certain things, and act accordingly in the public sphere.

That ought to go double for Catholics. Jewishness is to some extent tied up with ethnic identity, whatever one chooses to believe. Catholicism is purely a matter of what you believe, and there should be no shyness about pointing out where Catholic teaching begins and ends, and when policy proposals are in keeping with it and when they are not.

If this petition leads to less of the vicious nonsense that I decry constantly on this blog, then praise be to God for the miracle. But I hope it will also encourage bold declarations of what is right and wrong in terms of policy, and whether a given proposal is in keeping with such standards or not.

Dying is easy; comedy’s hard

Boy, did I bomb today at Rotary! My face is still red, and I have a powerful urge (an instinct left over from early childhood, I believe) to lay my head down and pretend to take a nap, but in the interest of the no-holds-barred ethic of blogging, I come here to confess my failure to you, o my brothers (and sisters).

I agreed to do another year on the Health and Happiness committee of the Columbia Rotary. I did this because it is a form of "service" that does not require attending meetings. All you have to do is show up about once a quarter, step up in front of the largest civic organization in South Carolina (more than 300 members), and try to be funny.

This is especially difficult, because it has to be clean and wholesome — suitable for all audiences. The kind of stuff that may crack us up in an editorial board meeting, or in the State House lobby, won’t work. It has to be everyone-will-laugh-and-no-one-will-feel-bad humor, which is a tough destination.

The thing is, I’ve done this with success in the past — compared to today, wild success. I step down off the podium, and collect handshakes and grins all the way to the back of the room. This track record builds upon itself, because such positive feedback creates confidence, and confidence is essential to getting a big crowd of nice people to crack up over fairly bland fare. Well, I’ll be in the hole, confidence-wise, next time I get up in front of this crowd.

That confidence, I believe, was my undoing, because it led me to step boldly to the lectern with what I knew was sorry material, believing that I could sell it with my delivery, no matter how bad it was. And then, when I saw it wasn’t working, I just totally fell to pieces. In the world of comedy, there’s nothing worse than bad material, badly delivered.

How bad was the material? Well, if you demand it, I’ll send you the full routine as I had it written out before me. But believe me, you don’t want to suffer that much. Basically, it was one extended bad joke — which meant I had nothing to fall back on once it started going bad. Real high-wire stuff, but I was so cocky I thought I could carry it off.

The joke was, I know y’all are tired of all these people running for president (got a little applause on that), so I’m going to save you from choosing from all those people by running myself.

I had thought about being halfway serious and pushing either the Energy Party or the UnParty, but decided to be completely (and, I hoped, obviously) satirical, as follows:

I am seeking the nomination of the Birthday Party. Elect me, and every day will be just like your birthday. And that’s not just because after I finish raising taxes on you, all you’ll have left is your birthday suit…

Yes, it was that bad. In fact, that was probably the height of it. But as bad as it was, I still might have sold it, but I just wasn’t feeling right. I think I was just a tad over-caffeinated or something. (Or it might have been an attack of conscience — I was bothered a bit by the fact that the "humor" depending upon trashing the world of politics, and I feel like we media types have done too much to give public service a bad name. I had tried to brush this off by thinking, "They’ll all know it’s a joke," but I had qualms all the same.) Anyway, I had a very negative attitude from almost the first line, and the dead silence with which I was greeted shattered what ability I might have had to salvage it with a sterling delivery. I fell to pieces. I started just reading, rather than riffing, not looking people in the eye, and racing through it as fast as possible to get it over with. Once that happens, you’re dying a thousand deaths, and it gets worse with each second. Talk about your cold sweats.

Fortunately, this is a very polite crowd, so there were no spoiled vegetables flung at me. But the silence was just as bad. And it was all my fault. These are people who want to laugh, and will meet you more than halfway. When you bomb with these folks, you’ve really bombed.

When I got down, someone brushed past me and said — in order to have something nice to say — that he liked my column Sunday. Wow. Then Dr. Sorensen, who was our main speaker, set up something he was saying by mentioning my "Birthday Party," and adding only "As Forrest Gump would say, ‘That’s all I have to say about that.’"

Ow. Et tu, Andrew?

Why John McCain thinks I’m a big fat idiot

Mccainwaits
    OK, go ahead — ask the man something…

We were driving out of Lexington and about to get on the highway for Aiken, with B.J. Boling at the wheel, when it occurred to me that I was in a situation that felt familiar, though I had not encountered it for a long time. I thought back, and it was even longer than it felt:

1980 — that was the last time I found myself riding around with a candidate for public office, or his campaign. That last time was with Howard Baker (see photo at bottom), who was also running for the GOP nomination for president, and we were in Iowa in January of that year. It was the last year that I was a reporter. Before that, most of my experience along this line had been traveling with the candidates for governor of Tennessee, 24 hours a day, in the last weeks of the 1978 general election. In those days, we did things like that — travel, live, eat with the candidates. Few journalists do it to that extent today.

B.J. had asked if I wanted to ride along with John McCain on the famous bus, and I said sure, after a glance at my calendar. It would take me away from the office for half a day, which seemed doable. He was driving me and some colleagues to Aiken, and we were riding the bus back.

The ride to Aiken had been pretty much as I expected, as had the event at the VFW hall there. Things shifted a bit when I got onto the bus.

There were, of course, two buses. One held most of the media herd, the other held the candidate and his inner circle — in this case the candidates’ wife, his press secretary, a camera crew, and several of his old buddies from Vietnam War days. There were only about eight seats in the main compartment — those big, plush captain’s chairs that turn around. But we were put in the little room at the back, with one continuous, curved seat that shaped itself around a table, perfect for private meetings — or interviews.

I had not counted on an interview. I had just interviewed John McCain. I had no new questions to ask. IMccainbus_108
thought being "on the bus" would be a matter of passively soaking up the ambience, collecting some color, and maybe exchanging a word or two with the candidate as he walked up and down the aisle. (Truth be told, this is my main reporting technique, when out in the field — the fly on the wall. I like to go into a situation, look and listen, and then write about what I saw and heard. I don’t like interacting with the subject out in the field, because it changes the reality of what I’m there to write about. In the office, that’s cool. I expect to conduct an interview in the office. But in the field, I like to blend into the woodwork.) I figured a guy running for president had stuff to do other than talk yet again to me.

But it wasn’t like that. I was to be jammed into that little room with the main guy, with him expecting questions, and a press secretary standing in the door as a witness. I had the feeling that the press secretary would crack me on the head if I didn’t keep coming up with questions: "Bradley, don’t be such a dunce! Ask a question!" And for all I know, she might have.

Worse, if you admit to being at a loss for questions when you have a golden opportunity like this — an hour with a guy who might become president, just waiting for your questions — you draw the ire and disgust of your friends and your readers (especially your blog readers; just watch the way I get nailed for this). To increase the pressure, I had a bad record pitching to this guy. That’s why most journalists just go ahead and ask questions, any damn questions, even foolish ones, in an effort to provoke the guy to say something, anything that you can write about.

So I asked questions. In fact, I probably asked the most questions, despite two reporters being in there with us, because that’s my habit in interview mode: I’m accustomed to directing the conversation when I preside over editorial board meetings, acting as a sort of host. One must keep the guest entertained. So I tried, lamely.

At one point I was tempted — and I’m very embarrassed to admit this — to ask him the Spin Cycle Question of the Day, which that day happened to be the "controversy" over whether he was an Episcopalian or a Baptist. But the veterans at the front of the bus had specifically razzed me in advance on that — You’re not going to ask him about that Baptist stuff, are you? — and that helped keep me in line. The thing is, I hate the Buzz Question of the Day; it’s one of the most idiotic things about modern political reporting. In fact, I avoid such things so assiduously that I didn’t even know about "the Baptist stuff" until they mentioned it and I looked it up on my Treo. (Even as I was looking it up, poor Jim Davenport was having to ask him about it. That’s the curse of being the AP guy on the spot — you have to ask the Question of the Day while your local colleagues are able to cover the actual event. I’ve written about this before.)

But in my desperation not to ask him some variant of a question I had asked him before, I almost stooped to ask about that one, and for once I had sympathy for the desperation of the traveling press corps, who grab desperately at any new wrinkle, however inane or irrelevant.

Fortunately, I was NOT in the traveling corp. I was Local Media, which means I was not expected to be hip to the latest. I could ask about anything in my ignorance, and it would be forgiven. At one point the candidate misunderstood me and thought I had asked a question that — coming from me and directed at John McCain — would have been particularly idiotic. I asked him whether he thought the U.S. had made a mistake in not going in and toppling Saddam in 1991. He thought I had asked whether we had made a mistake to go in and topple Saddam in 2003. (It was noisy, as you can see on the video.) So he started patiently offering his boilerplate defense of that, before I corrected him and gave him another chance at it.

   

Several thoughts ran through my head: Does he think I would ask that, when I have written in defense of our going into Iraq so many times? But he doesn’t know that… but he is aware that I’m the guy from The State, and he always seems to remember my name, and … oh, man! I hope he doesn’t think that I’m doing the reporter thing of getting him to say what I want to say, so I can quote it — editorialists don’t have to do that; we just say what we think…

In any case, it was disorienting, and I didn’t do a very good job. So I think I went away with John McCain thinking I’m an idiot who can’t come to an interview with some good questions. And I guess he’s right. But at least he probably didn’t expect any better. After all, I’m just Local Media.

Aw, geez, I just remembered — I went blank almost exactly that same way (worse, even, since I was a rookie then) during an interview op with Howard Baker on his campaign plane over frozen Iowa, the last time I was in this situation. I should just leave the campaign trail to the reporters.

But I probably won’t.

Baker2

Sure, and now I’ll be after havin’ the Irish on me case

There was no way to avoid it, I suppose. It was inevitable from the moment I put a lame, mildly joshing headline on this item about Bill Murray.

Next thing you know, I get this e-mail from a fella name of … well, let’s call him "Kelly":

Sent: Thursday,
August 23, 2007 8:41 AM
To: Warthen, Brad – External
Email
Subject: Irish Catholics
Brad,  Thanks for another brain-dead stereotype of
Irish Catholics on your blog.
 
I understand that you are a parishoner at St.
Peter’s.  How does someone like you write a headline like that on your blog and
then actually show up for mass?  I appreciate you revealing who you really
are.
 
I know about 42 Irish-Catholic men in my Ancient
Order of Hibernians group in Columbia.  None of which are anything close to how
you stereotyped them.
 
Its despicable that you believe it is OK to trash
us for no reason on your blog.  Lets see if you do the same to Jews, Muslims,
Protestants, etc.  I know that you don’t have the cohones.
 
Please RSVP

Ah, now, it’s the Hibernians, is it? Are yeh sure they’re the genuine article, if none have been known to take a dram now and again?

I happen to be Irish — well, with some English and Welsh and Scot mixed in — and I’m Catholic. By choice — not one of your low-commitment, let-Father-worry-about-paying-for-the-new-roof cradle Catholics. I’m hard-core, a true believer. And I’ve been known to hoist a jar, perhaps two (last time I checked, that wasn’t against our rules). And, most to the point, it’s not beneath me to have a bit of craic — but to my thinkin’, a proper gentleman has craic at his own expense or his own lot’s, not at other peoples’.

So when I wrote back to ask Mr. Kelly — rather brusquely, I’ll confess (but subtlety is not "our people’s" forte) — to lighten up, it was a failure:

    Thanks for the reply. I figured something about
not having a "sense of humor" would be all you had to give me.
   
I just don’t know how you see an AP story about
Bill Murray getting drunk and driving a golf cart in Sweden and turn that into
some stereotypical cheap-shot at Irish-Catholic people.  I don’t see how you
make that connection.
    You should apologize on your website for that blog
entry headline.

Oh, I’m sorry — sorry that it bugs you so much. (And how did I make the connection? Let’s see — his name’s Murray. He’s the fifth of five kids. He has a brother named Brian Doyle. He has a sister who’s a nun. I put two and two together.) Folks, all craic aside — this kind of defensiveness regarding one’s own sort is at the heart of most of the sorrow in this world. It’s had men at each other’s throats in the Balkans, in Iraq and yes, back on the Auld Sod. We’re never going to have peace on this planet until we can wear our ethnicity lightly, if we must wear it at all.

And if we can’t even have a smile at our own, well, we don’t stand a chance.

But I’ve probably dug this hole deeper than I intended, and I’m no doubt going to run into "Kelly" at Mass, and if I’ve really hurt his feelings, I’ll feel bad about it. I already do. But what I really want, what I really hope for, is for him not to be so bothered by it. That would make be feel better about the whole world. Let’s let all those other groups play the Identity Politics game of resentment, while we try to set an example by letting it go.

Look — it was a stupid joke. I feel ridiculous defending it. But it’s the chip-on-the-shoulder readiness to take offense that gets my goat enough to make me not want to back down. There’s another stereotype for you — that "donkey" stubbornness.

Now I’ve got a phone message from a "Kennedy," wanting to know if I wrote that headline. I called him back, but I had to leave a message, too. I left him my cell number. Now I’ve got that hanging over my head all weekend. Sigh.

That infuriating John McCain, or, How do you pitch to a hero?

Mccain1

By BRAD WARTHEN
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITOR
HOW ARE YOU supposed to do your job with professional detachment when every time you see one of the main guys running for president, every time you read about him, every time he opens his mouth or takes an action in public, you think, “Hero”?
    How are you supposed to keep your rep when you keep thinking, I admire this guy? Of all things, admire! It’s embarrassing.
    On top of that, how do you do it when so many of the smart, hip, unfettered, scalpel-minded professionals around you snort when the hero’s name is mentioned, and use terms like “has-been” and “loser” and “that poor old guy”?
    It’s not easy. Maybe it’s not even possible. It wasn’t possible on Monday, when John McCain visited our editorial board.
    I presided as usual, asking most of the questions and so forth. But I never quite hit my stride. I was uneasy; I stumbled in bringing forth the simplest questions. It was weird. I’d pitched to this guy a number of times before with no trouble, even in post-season play. And here he was stepping up to bat in my ball park, where the rubber on the mound has molded itself to my cleats, and I can’t put a simple fastball over the plate, much less a curve.
    I kept remembering our last formal meeting with him, in 2000, on the day that we would decide whomMccain3
to endorse in a GOP primary that would either slingshot him onward toward victory, or enable George W. Bush to stop his insurgency cold. I wasn’t out of sorts like this. I had stated my case — my strong belief that we should endorse Sen. McCain — several days before in a 4,000-word memo to my then-publisher, a committed Bush man. I was fully prepared to make it again to the full board once the candidate left the room. And I was ready to lose like a pro if it came to that. Which it did.
    But now, 9/11 has happened. The nation is at war, and bitterly divided, even over whether we’re “at war.” And I keep thinking — as I sit a couple of feet from the candidate, aiming my digital camera with my left hand, scribbling the occasional haphazard note with my right, glancing from time to time at the audio recorder on the table to note how many minutes into the interview he said such-and-such, so busy recording the event that I don’t really have time to be there — this is the guy who should have been president for the past seven years.
    The odd thing is, a lot of people who now dismiss the McCain candidacy also believe he should have been president — that we’d be less divided at home, more admired abroad, more successful at war. But they talk like the poor old guy missed his chance. It’s like candidates have “sell by” dates stamped on them like bacon, and his was several years back. Too bad for him, they say. But I think, too bad for the nation — if they’re right.
    The best thing for me, as a professional critic, as a jaded observer, would be for those people to be right. I have no trouble assessing the relative merits of the other candidates in either major party. I even like some of them. Life could be good, professionally speaking, if that old “hero” guy really did just fade away.
    But he doesn’t. There he is, sitting there, being all honest and straightforward and fair-minded and brave and admirable. Dang.
    Go ahead, get mad at him. He’s let the moment get away from him. You can’t take a man seriously as a leader when he’s blown all that money only to lose ground, when he can’t stop his hired rats from diving overboard. Focus on his mottled scars. Murmur about how even the best of men slow down with age.
    But then you think about how this guy aged early. You look at his awkwardness as he holds his coffee cup, and you think about how the North Vietnamese strung him up by his broken arms, and all he had to do to end it was agree to go home. But he wouldn’t.
    That was then, of course, but it’s just as bad now. Think about how you asked him several months ago why he thought he had to do something about immigration now, when the only people who cared passionately about the issue and would vote on the basis of that one thing were the ones who would hate him forever for being sensible about it. He had no excuse; he just thought it was the right thing to do.
Mccainstarbucks
    You think of all the Democrats and “moderates” who egged him on when he was Bush’s No. 1 critic (which he still is, if you actually listen), but who now dismiss him as the president’s “lapdog” because he (gasp!) — supports the surge and actually, if you can stand it, thinks it’s working! These political goldfish forget that their favorite maverick criticized Bush for not sending enough troops, so of course he supports a “surge” when the president knuckles under and implements one.
    Oh, but don’t speak of such people dismissively. This ridiculously admirable guy at the end of the table, who long ago forgave both his communist torturers and the protesters at home who would have spit on him given the chance, won’t have it. When I speak less than flatteringly of the impatience of Americans on Iraq, he corrects me, and relates a list of perfectly good reasons for them to be fed up.
    So when it’s over, you try to produce a McCain column for Wednesday, but you can’t. Wednesday, Sam Brownback steps to the same plate, and your arm is fine. You interrogate the guy, assess him, reach a conclusion, and slap a column on the Thursday page. Three up, three down. You’ve got your stuff back.
    But Sunday’s deadline draws nearer, and it’s gone again. Desperate, you think: How about a bulleted list of what he said Monday? There’s plenty of it. Naw, that’s a news story, not an opinion column.
    And you know, you just know, that the one thing you can’t write is the truth, which is that you just admire the hell out of this infuriating old guy. The fans won’t stand for it. You can hear the beer bottles clattering around you on the mound already.
    But it’s no use. You just can’t get the ball across today.

For actual information regarding the McCain interview, and more, go to http://blogs.
thestate.com/bradwarthensblog/.

Mccain4

This is what conventional wisdom holds to be ‘solid evidence’

One of the most common criticisms aimed at my infamous Edwards column is that my "evidence" was "thin" or "flimsy"– a mix of casual personal observations and "hearsay" (God forbid we should trust anyone else’s account, right?).

Conventional "wisdom" puts a whole lot more stock in this kind of evidence, which was in the WSJ today:

Edwards, Foreclosure Critic, Has
Investing Tie to Subprime Lenders

By CHRISTOPHER COOPER
August 17, 2007; Page A1

As a presidential candidate, Democrat John Edwards has regularly attacked subprime lenders, particularly those that have filed foreclosure suits against victims of Hurricane Katrina. But as an investor, Mr. Edwards has ties to lenders foreclosing on Katrina victims.

The Wall Street Journal has identified 34 New Orleans homes whose owners have faced foreclosure suits from subprime-lending units of Fortress Investment Group LLC. Mr. Edwards has about $16 million invested in Fortress funds, according to a campaign aide who confirmed a more general Federal Election Commission report. Mr. Edwards worked for Fortress, a publicly held private-equity fund, from late 2005 through 2006….

Well, I don’t roll that way. D-Brad doesn’t roll that way. Most of my colleagues do. They treat "Deep Throat’s" suggestion to "follow the money" as some secular equivalent of Holy Writ, brought down on stone tablets from Mt. Vernon.

My problem — and it is indeed a problem, as you can see by watching me struggle with such basic tasks as paying monthly bills — is that I don’t find money very interesting. I don’t find it solid and meaningful the way most hard-headed, sensible folk seem to do. To me it is ephemeral, abstract, gossamer stuff. It’s slippery. Its very fungibility causes me to feel like I’m gazing into a shifting cloud when others see sharp outlines.

I prefer personal observation of an individual’s behavior. Preferably my own observation, but the reliable accounts of others as well. And reliability depends upon the circumstances. When my discrete, reserved assistant, whom I trust absolutely with all that money stuff that so befuddles me and who never says a bad word about anybody, is so struck by a candidate’s callousness that she says something about it, that has meaning to me. When a guy tells me about the candidate jogging by his house after an event was supposed to start, it’s just interesting. But when an independent source sufficiently unimpeachable that he will never speak on the record because it would ruin the connections that give him such access backs it up without my having mentioned it, and even throws in such unnecessary details as the wetness of the candidates’ hair from his post-jog shower, and there are hundreds of sweaty witnesses to the fact that the candidate was two hours late to said event — well, it  becomes memorable, and gathers meaning.

But if the WSJ wants to document the candidate’s insincerity by following the money, fine. Better them than me.

Touchy Catholics

Confession

W
e generally don’t run letters from non-readers, from out-of-state, or from professional advocates. But if any of the above is outweighed by good reasons to run it, any or all can be overcome. This is intentional. I think it’s stupid to have a rule that "we will never" run a letter that has this or that characteristic. You can end up poorly serving readers.

So sometimes the colleague who sifts through letter submissions asks me about one that has two or even three strikes against it. That happened today, with this one:

Do we want to consider this as a letter to the editor?

—–Original Message—–
From: Ken Foye [mailto:dn@catholicleague.org]
Sent: Friday, July 20, 2007 3:51 PM
To: StateEditor, Columbia
Subject: Robert Ariail cartoon June 19

Dear Editor,
Criticizing the Catholic Church in the wake of the recent sex-abuse settlement in Los Angeles is fair game. But associating the sacrament of reconciliation with this sordid scandal, as Robert Ariail did in his July 19 cartoon, is out of bounds.

This sacrament is a key element of our faith, administered by a group of fine men whose rate of sexual abuse of minors is no higher than that of the general population. There are legitimate ways to object to the Church’s handling of sexual misconduct by priests, but demeaning and trivializing one of our sacraments is not one of them.

Ken Foye
Senior Editor
Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights
450 Seventh Ave.
New York, NY  10123

The answer for me was pretty easy:

No.

But I could say more. The person double-checking with me is Catholic, as am I. I haven’t asked why she asked, but I know why I would have: The tendency with me would be to want to ditch such a letter, so I would want somebody to back me up on the fact there it was out of bounds on the basis of several objective criteria. In other words, when there’s a letter you don’t like, and you know you don’t like it on personal grounds, and you know you could bend over backwards and run it if you really wanted to stretch the boundaries, do you make yourself go through those gymnastics, or just do the normal thing and ditch it?

This is what it’s really like in this world. I know all you cynics out there think it’s just the opposite of that, that we twist and manipulate things to advance personal agendas, yadda-yadda. But the truth is that we are so obsessive about avoiding even the appearance of doing that that we often hesitate to make the simplest, most open-and-shut decisions. And of course, no one can obsess like a Catholic.

It helps to pretend to be someone who doesn’t have a conflict or the appearance of a conflict, and act accordingly. And move on, because you have lots of tougher decisions to make today… In this case, it’s fairly easy for me to pretend I’m a Protestant editor, because once upon a time I was a Protestant editor. And that Protestant editor says, "Aw, come on. Talk about your oversensitive mackerel-snappers. If this were one of our readers, that’s one thing. But this professional complainer? Are you kidding me?"

But since I’m no longer a Protestant editor (and haven’t been for about 26 years), there’s an emotional response I have to set aside:  As a Catholic, this people who go around looking to be offended as Catholics really gripe me. I don’t feel like a member of an aggrieved group, and I think the Catholics who do — especially when they form associations that exist just to gripe about being aggrieved — are a pain. They give me the dry gripes. To start with, I’ve got that sort of general White Guy sense of discomfort with the whole Identity Politics thing to start with; I certainly don’t want anybody being all whiny on behalf of any group I belong to, or am perceived as belonging to.

But never mind that. This letter does not offer reasons to run it that make it worth ditching a perfectly in-bounds letter from an actual reader expressing his actual opinion that he’s not paid to have. And that’s the choice for us. We can’t run them all, so we have guidelines to give a leg up to our actual readers.

So I ditch the one from the guy who says I ran a cartoon that mocks the sacrament (which I don’t think it does). My question is, do I have to go to confession about this? Or does this post count? As a convert, I’m still not clear on a lot of stuff like that.

Being for the benefit of Mr. Burbage

Lately — since I started fooling around with my comment policies, and constantly changing settings — TypePad has been sending me e-mails every time someone tries to comment. It’s pretty irritating, but it’s easier to keep deleting them than to republish my entire blog to change the settings. Besides, it reminds me to keep checking comments, so I can approve them — or most of them. (That, in case you forget, is the current policy. You don’t have to authenticate, but it doesn’t post until I approve. A drag, but blame those who don’t play well with others.)

Anyway, as I was deleting e-mails in batches, I noticed there was a comment from a name I hadn’t seen — Bill Burbage. I checked. No comments awaiting approval from a Burbage. I checked other ways — sniffing around the docks, leaning on my snitches and such. He’s not someone I banished under some pseudonym (that was a disappointment, as I hoped for some mild mystery or other to be solved). So I got all radical and wrote back to him. He replied as follows:

Mr. Warthen,
    Twice I have tried to post a message on your blog.  The first time I thought it was rejected because when I entered the "code" word I put spaces between the letters.  That’s the way it looked to me.  I don’t know what happened the second time.
    My message concerned the annual interest rate (APR) on a periodic interest rate of 15% every 14 days.  The 391.07% figure put out by the Consumer Financial Services Association (CFSA) is an egregious error.  They have succeeded in selling it to The State, The Wall Street Journal, NBC Television and even the Federal Trade Commission’s Consumer Protection Agency website.   I have emailed the CFSA at 515 King Street in Alexandria, VA and asked how they computed that APR.  After  mulling it over for12 days they answered: "Our members calculate the APRs in accordance with the federal law requirements in Appendix J of the Federal Reserve’s Regulation Z.  In that regard the 391.07 APR is accurate in accordance with federal law for the fourteen day loan."
    I pointed out to the CFSA that if something grows at a rate of 15% every 14 days, in 26 periods it will grow to 37.8568 times whatever you started with.  Compound interest or exponential growth is such a powerful phenomenon that it is literally unbelievable until you take out your scientific calculator or Excel spreadsheet and ‘do the math’.  Albert Einstein called it the 8th wonder of the world.
    It would be greatly appreciated by this reader if somebody would explain how the CFSA arrived at that 391.07% figure.
    Thanks for the quick reply.  I have been unable to get any response at all from the editorial staff at the WSJ.  I think they think I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I can’t get them to say so.
Bill Burbage

Being the helpful guy with the jiffy service that I am, I responded thusly:

Well, I certainly don’t know what you’re talking about, but then I don’t write about that. My usual response to such subjects — and I’m not terribly shy about it — is, "That’s something about money, right?" Not my forte. I just know that no matter the terms, it seems like I always end up paying more in interest than want to — unless it’s me getting the interest, in which it never seems like much.

The "miracle of compounded interest" I’m always hearing about only seems to work with money flowing away from me. I think it tends to work in favor of people who have a lot of capital to start with. I think if I had a lot of capital, I wouldn’t much care what the interest did. I’d still have a lot of capital.

Anyway, thanks for trying. I’ll put this on the blog for you. And I’ll ask your question for you. I can’t guarantee a satisfactory answer (I probably won’t understand it, anyway).

Of course, I’m not quite as stupid as all that; I just think modesty is becoming, don’t you? I’m almost entirely sure that this is about predatory lending — and most likely the payday loan version we’ve written about most recently. But that’s about all I know, or think I know. As for the rest, well, if you think I understand personal finance, ask my wife. Or anybody who works with me. It’s one of those things I’ve tried hard not to learn, because what little I have learned about it has never been pleasant. I’m not dumb, but I’m not Einstein.

Knowledge can be dangerous. For instance, I’m the only full-time person in the Editorial department with a working understanding of QuarkXpress other than Mike Fitts, who until today was cruelly absent in the Rockie Mountains since July 6, causing me many long days and nights. Bad case of too much knowledge.

You may find this hard to believe, but I’ve been plagued by knowing too much quite a few times before. In Wichita, I bothered to figure out how the UPI photo machine worked back in the mid-80s (it was a very strange machine that operated according to strange principles). The nearest official UPI repair guy was, I think, in Oklahoma City. I spoke to him for a long time one night when we really, really needed one of their photos. Big mistake on my part. I was in charge of the whole newspaper every night after 6 p.m., which sounds grand, but I often spent the night with my head down the UPI machine (that’s enough; I know that sounds like a straight line).

When I worked in Jackson, TN, before that, I figured out how to operate the lighting setup in the photo studio. I had made the  mistake of mastering the 35mm SLR earlier. So if anybody in the world walked into the building needing to have a mug shot taken and our two or three shooters were out, guess who stopped everything to set up the studio for a shoot? The putative city editor.

So you can have your financial expertise. If I learned about that, I might have to balance somebody’s checkbook. Maybe even my own.

Errors in two previous posts

This morning, I had this message from Cindi waiting for me:

One of the notes I sent you on the competitive grants said there were eight items, which I described as 3 funding lines and 4 provisos. Of course that was wrong. I should have said FIVE provisos. You posted it uncorrected.

Also, somehow the underlines and the strikethroughs on the main proviso disappeared by the time you posted them. So that’ll need some attention.

And attention is in short supply, since I’m writing a column on deadline. Fixing this — particularly the strikethroughs, as I have no idea at this writing how to make Typepad keep such coding — will take a good bit of time, which I won’t have before this evening.

So in the meantime, I give you this heads-up.

Sunny says Fred still popular

When I saw this on a certain other blog, it gigged me — I need to make sure I can get into this Fred Thompson thing.

So I wrote to erstwhile blogger Sunny Phillips over at GOP HQ saying, "As a fellow Memphis State alum, will I be able to get into this?", and she responded:

For the record, the story is wrong.  The event tickets have been selling at a brisk pace.  Regardless, are you requesting media clearance or a luncheon ticket?  I can totally do the media credential…

I of course responded about how I hate standing behind a rope with the media critters, that the only way to get the real story was to mix with the regular folks, but of course I’m not offering to buy a ticket to a political fund-raiser — an obvious conflict of interest — and…

Well, so far, she hasn’t bitten. Weaker folk will break down in the face of that kind of wheedling, but our Sunny is a thorough professional, and made of sterner stuff. She has not yet said, "Oh, that’s OK, just come on in and sit anywhere." So my usual stuff’s not working. Which makes me think that perhaps the demand for tickets to this thing are a little too brisk.

I’ll let you know after I go to it, one way or the other, next week.

And one of these days we’ll corrupt Sunny into coming back to the ‘Sphere.

Another clueless man asks, ‘How come ladies act like that?’

This one will really get me into trouble, but the trouble won’t start until tomorrow, because for once, I’m not outnumbered by females at my house. I’m home alone at the moment, with one of my sons coming over later. My wife and daughters are all out of the state — one’s even out of the country — so here goes…

The other night I was at this black-tie affair at which Darla Moore was being honored, which is only right, because she’s done quite a bit for her home state in recent years. Anyway, when it was her turn to speak, she made a big deal about being a woman — even though I would have known she was a woman right off, without her calling attention to the fact — and that she was among the few ever inducted into the Business Hall of Fame who was not a white guy.

Which is true. OK, fine. Then she kept going on about it, telling an anecdote about a previous inductee — it seems that somebody writing about over a century ago praised her for founding the indigo industry in our state in these terms: "Indigo proved more really beneficial to Carolina than the mines of Mexico or Peru were to Spain." That was fine, but then he made the mistake of adding, "was a result of an experiment by a mere girl."

Darla really teed off on that, allowing as how if she had been around when he wrote that, he’d have regretted it. She kept repeating it, packing maximum irony into "mere girl" each time she said it. The ladies in the audience seemed to like this, while the men tolerated it the way we always do when ladies go on like this. We’re used to it.

Here’s the thing: Darla Moore was there because of what she’s done, not because she was a woman. Eliza Lucas Pinckney would also have been there for what she did. From a man’s perspective — and that’s the only one from which I know how to write — it seems to take away from the accomplishment to go on and on about gender. Like you’re a token or something, when you definitely are not. Tokens don’t found agricultural empires, or give their alma maters $25 million at a pop.

One other thing: Eliza Lucas Pinckney was born in 1722, and moved to South Carolina in about 1738. Her experiments with indigo took place "in the late 1730s." So she was what — between 15 and 18? To me, that’s a mere girl. And the fact that she was a mere girl, and her mama had died and her father had had to run off and leave her there almost as soon as they moved to the plantation (he’s the one who sent her the indigo seeds, from way off in Antigua where he was serving in the British army), make her achievement all the more impressive.

I say all this not to put down Darla Moore. I’m just saying I don’t think I’ll ever understand the impulse from which such comments arise.

Oh, I can explain them intellectually. I can give the very same explanation most women would give about such things: It’s a man’s world, a woman has to work harder to gain acceptance, she has to overcome expectations and gender roles, etc.

But I still don’t get it. It seems that once you’ve overcome such obstacles, long ago, and you’ve more than made it in this world, such things would lose their power, and it wouldn’t occur to you any more to bring them up. The fact that she — and so many other powerful women — do bring them up, and often, just seems odd to me. Does it seem that way to other guys?

I think it’s kind of a woman thing, like enjoying "click flicks" or something. And I don’t think it arises from the ostensible causes. I think it arises from the differences in the way women perceive and interact with the world, as a result of physiological difference — no, not those physiological differences, I’m talking about differences in the brain.

I think it’s easier to see that with a related phenomenon — the way successful women are always turning and helping out younger women coming behind them, and the younger women sort of seem to expect that, and it’s a big social thing with lunches and mentoring sessions and seminars and so forth and so on. Nobody in the white-collar world makes anything of this, it’s just so common and all very out in the open and expected. And it’s very much a female thing.

Yes, I realize that the feminist explanation is that guys — white guys, at least — never needed such support system, and that’s why it all seems a little odd, and even unseemly, to us that anyone would be reaching around them trying to boost up people like them instead of just people in general. We’ve been indoctrinated to know that we’re not supposed to do that, and besides we don’t need to do that, yadda-yadda.

But I suspect that while such causes are present, there’s something deeper, something inherent, going on. It’s the same thing about how when boys play games, it’s all about rules and keeping score and competing, while girls tend to emphasize the social aspect, and want it to be about everybody having a good time and getting along. I’ve read about this, and I’ve seen it in real life. Guys tend to go out for a sport because they like it or think they’re good at it (or because they think girls might see them doing it). Girls — my daughters anyway — tend to only go out for teams that their friends are going out for. It’s frustrating to see a girl with ability quit a team because her friend quit a team, and it’s very hard for me to imagine doing that. But on a when it’s happened, after a debate or two I’ve just had to swallow and accept that.

And note that the reason it’s frustrating is that I want the girls to do well; my raising this issue isn’t some anti-female thing; it’s just an I-don’t-get-it thing.

I’ve probably made enough trouble now. I’ll move on …

My big mistake

Here’s a confessional memo I just sent to my associate editors here at the paper. While I await their responses (which could take a while, since one of them is out of the office), I seek your advice as well:

Folks, I need
your advice as to whether I need to do a correction and, if so, what in the
world it would say. Here’s what John McCain said last week during the debate, in
the context of general remarks on immigration, following an accusation from Tom
Tancredo that he (McCain) had favored "amnesty." (Note that he was not
responding to anyone else having said anything about the Fort Dix plot; he just
brought it up.):

My friend, the people that
came, that almost attacked us at Fort Dix — thank God they did not — these
people didn’t come here across our borders; they came with visas that were
expired. So, we’ve got to enforce our border, that’s our first and foremost
priority, but we also have to have a comprehensive solution and it has to be
bipartisan, and I believe we’re close to reaching that, and that’s what the
American people expect us to do. The status quo is unacceptable.

THIS is what I wrote in
my column Sunday:

    Former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani’s campaign
put out a statement purporting to address the proposal that was, to say the
least, oblique: “The recent Fort Dix plot is a stark reminder that the threat of
terrorism has made immigration an important matter of national security. We need
to know who is coming in and who is going out of this country if we are going to
deal with those who are here illegally.”
    As Sen. McCain had said during the debate, the
Fort Dix plotters didn’t sneak into the country illegally. The issues are
completely unrelated.
Essentially, I was
expressing my objection to Giuliani linking Fort Dix and immigration, and I just
dragged in a paraphrase from McCain in which I had thought that he was agreeing
with me. Of course, I still think what I think regardless of what McCain said.
But I was wrong that none of the plotters had entered illegally, and I later
changed the blog version of the column to say, "the
Fort Dix plotters didn’t all sneak into
the country illegally."
 
That’s one thing that
would warrant a correction, if y’all think it’s worth it this late. But then, at
the start of the interview this morning, McCain said:

First of all and foremost it
is a national security issue. Since 9/11 the issue has gone from one of either
social or economic or humanitarian to one of national security. The six people
that were apprehended that were planning on attacking Fort Dix were in this
country illegally; three of them had crossed our border illegally, and the other
three had overstayed valid visas, which also describes the dimension of the
problem as well. Now we can’t have 12 million people in the United States of
America who we don’t know who they are or where they are and what they’re doing.
So it has become first and foremost a national security issue, ,and of course,
border security and enforcing our border should be and is in this legislation a
first priority.

Thinking uh-oh, I
screwed up, I said this when I had a chance to ask a
question:
I’m
a little embarrassed because I think I misheard you last week in the debate; I
had thought that you were making the point that what happened at Fort Dix was a
separate issue from this particular immigration issue, but what you’re saying is
the opposite, is that you believe that they’re very closely
connected…
And he
responded thusly:

As I mentioned, three of the people who wanted to
attack Fort Dix came across our Southern border. Every nation has the
requirement to secure its borders; if it doesn’t, it’s not carrying out its
obligations to its citizens.

… I don’t know what impression I gave you, but if we
have people who are able to cross our borders and come into our country without
us taking every step to prevent them from doing that and they do it in an
illegal fashion, then we’re not fulfilling our
obligation.

After all
this, I still think it’s a stretch to conclude that the Fort Dix plot teaches us
that the 12 million people in our country illegally, mostly Mexicans, are a
threat. And that’s what I meant. But I think McCain is right when he points out
(as he did a moment later in the interview, but I’ll spare you THAT quote) that
while most of the illegals are no threat, how will we separate out any who ARE a
threat — and it only takes a few — and protect our country from them, if all
these folks are invisible and underground?
 
So — what do
you think I should do, aside from posting all this on my blog, which I already
plan to do? And if I do a correction, how do I explain what I did wrong in less
than column length?
 
Folks, I
can’t remember when I’ve screwed one short paragraph in a column this
thoroughly. I’m sorry, and embarrassed.
 

Brad
 

Brad Warthen
VP/Editorial Page Editor
The State

Actually, I can’t remember when I’ve screwed anything up that thoroughly — particularly, I don’t remember ever having mischaracterized the thrust of what someone was saying to that extent. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to get that right, whatever my flaws. So yeah, ditch that one little paragraph and the column is fine; I stand behind what I said. But that doesn’t make me feel better about it.