
Author Archives: Dick
Independence or Bust
I feel independent today.
Yesterday the 30th rendition of our local annual summer festival, Bay Day, fell on Independence Day. It was a day with far more than fireworks in St. Albans Town Bay Park in northwestern Vermont; it was a family day with a triathalon, lakefront games, sports, fair food, fireworks, and continuous live music. I book the music.
The Summer Sounds concert series starts on Bay Day each year and our kickoff yesterday was inspired. Carol Ann Jones and The Superchargers performed an Independence Day tribute.
Ms. Jones sang an Irving Berlin song at the end of her third set. God Bless America is the unofficial national anthem of the United States. Andre Maquera closed the show as the fireworks flew with a guitar solo of the Star Spangled Banner. In front of the stage, on his knees in the single spotlight, he shot down enemy rockets with his guitar and we heard the guns firing.
Inspiring.
Independence doesn’t come cheaply. Specialist Ryan Grady, 25, of West Burke was killed by an IED near Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan last week. “He made the ultimate sacrifice on behalf of a nation that he both loved and served” as a member of the Vermont Army National Guard, Maj. Gen. Michael Dubie said. He is the first Vermonter to be killed since the National Guard deployed.
We dedicated the concert to the Vermont Guard and we remembered Ryan Grady when the fireworks lit the darkened sky.
I feel particularly independent today of the bozos who want my town to take down its Christmas tree but won’t dare to offend anyone who would have an ayatollah take over City Hall. According to the Huff Post, President Obama “rebuked the old chestnut that the United States is a Judeo-Christian nation” during a press conference he held in Turkey last year.
I’m not very religious in an organized way but I went to Sunday School and drilled the catechism. I can recite the Apostle’s Creed and I know the Lord’s Prayer with and without the doxology, with debtors or with trespassers. That said, the evangelicals worry me. Pretty much anyone who trespasses against me does. If you, dear reader, didn’t understand this paragraph, we have little to talk about.
See, I also know that the 56 signers of the Declaration of Independence knew somebody’s God was lurking in our founding and I know that the 1892 Supreme Court decision that “this is a Christian nation” affirmed it.
When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator…
On the one hand, I’m very glad the Ayatollah Obama is not the head of the state church. On the other hand, it worries me that the ayatollahs of godlessness would assure that our kids grow up without the cultural teachings that make us the Good Guys. America is changing from a strong, independent leader to a nation of appeasers.
“Dear Mr./Ms. Bozo:
I don’t mind offending you. Nope, I don’t mind that at all.
Sincerely,
Me.”
Ryan Grady didn’t die because of oil no matter what some evangelical trespassers might think. Ryan Grady died so those bozos could say out loud that this nation never heard of God.
Sticks and (Rolling) Stones
SWMBO and I have agreed to split the chores around here. She, for example, mows the dooryard with the little rotary mower every four or five days when the weather is like it is now; I mow the rest of the lawn with the diesel tractor. She does the laundry; I rebuild the back porches. She complains to her friends about all the things I have to do; I blog.
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She can fire me if I don’t take care of my responsibilities. She prolly can’t fire me if I mutter under my breath but things may get a bit chilly.
Muttering is time honored. There has never been a time that a soldier — or a husband — didn’t sit around a campfire and complain about working conditions.
Sometimes, “I find myself on the receiving end of little burst of off-the-record trash talk,” David Brooks wrote in the NYTimes when he took a former Vermonter to task for reporting about Gen. Stanley McChrystal’s kvetching.
Imagine that. A soldier might complain about the yo-yos in his or her chain of command. Why, I simply can’t conceive the conversations between Hannibal (the Grace of Baal)’s conscripts when they had elephant duty. Except I reckon the language would have been … salted peanuts in nature. Used salted peanuts.
“General McChrystal was excellent at his job,” Mr. Brooks wrote. “He had outstanding relations with the White House and entirely proper relationships with his various civilian partners in the State Department and beyond. He set up a superb decision-making apparatus that deftly used military and civilian expertise.”
Then he called the boss a poopyhead.
Liberals, afraid of most dangers in their minds and unaware of most dangers in real life, have this mantra:
Words and poems can break my bones
But IEDs can never hurt me.
“I welcome debate among my team, but I won’t tolerate division,” Barack Obama said, showing his pettiness, his despottery, and his complete lack of understanding of either military or family life, as he relieved Gen. McChrystal as commander of American forces in Afghanistan. As an aside, I don’t think Mr. Obama or Mr. Bush before him fired enough generals. Generals need to be nervous. Generals need to work miracles or they need to get out of the way.
So far, Gen. McChrystal did seem to be doing a better job than Gen. Bluggett. Doesn’t matter. The words around the campfire haven’t changed much.
But they will. Our army (every army) does two things very, very well: eat and gripe.
Mr. Obama had the opportunity to treat the General’s campfire griping with grace. By not doing so, he put every soldier on notice that the chain of command will punish them the first time they get caught griping.
Scary stuff, that. Scary that the Despot in Chief doesn’t understand morale in the ranks.
Mr. Brooks thinks, “The culture of exposure has triumphed, with results for all to see.”
He’s only half right.
If we all got fired for kvetching, there wouldn’t be a marriage — or a soldier — left standing.
Agreement?
I am not a lawyer. Nor do I play one on TV. On the other hand, I am uniquely qualified to offer this legal advice because I wrote a rental contract while in college that the landlord’s lawyer could not break. Sam the Landlord learned from that experience (he never signed a contract again that his own lawyer hadn’t written) and I learned how much fun teaching can be.
[Editor’s Note: gekko and I are following in the footsteps of 60 Minutes’ Shana Alexander and James Kilpatrick in paired blog articles. After reading this article, please go read title for the counterpoint argument.]
Over on the other blog, gekko was spurred by a Safari program called Reader.
Reader is really neat. It strips the page of all the advertisements, sidebars, and inconsequential stuff, and pops up just the text in a translucent overlay. That scares the advertisers who believe they have a contract with the viewers, readers, or users on the site; seeing all the ads is the price they charge us to see the content.
gekko thinks the contract is not between us readers and the fodder provider. The contract, she says, is only between the content provider and the advertiser.
Contract is an important legal term. A contract is actually “just” an agreement between thee and me to trade something I have for something you have. To be valid, the contract must be (1) enforceable by law and (2) equitable.
Trade? That sounds like business and it is. I might have a book you want. You might have a dollar I want. We can contract to trade my book for your dollar and both walk away happy. Even if our contract is no more than this conversation:
“Hey, you got that book?”
“Yup, Cost you a buck.”
That fulfills the basis for a legal contract.
<pedantic mode> Both of us must be old enough and not impaired to buy or sell that book and the contract must be neither trifling, indeterminate, impossible, or illegal.
As long as the good or service we trade is legal, our oral agreement can constitute a binding legal contract. In practical terms, written contracts are more enforceable because they list all the terms we decided on at the time we made the agreement.
Enforceable means that we each promise to do something for the other guy and that the other guy has specific legal remedies if we breach that promise. A “compensatory remedy” means the Sheriff will make me pay what I said I would and maybe more besides. An “equitable remedy” usually means the Sheriff will stand over me to make sure I perform what I agreed to do and reneged on.
Equitable means fair to both parties. A court would accept as equitable the sale of a used copy of Pocket Shakespear for a buck — both parties benefit more-or-less equally. A court ought not accept as equitable the sale of an original signed manuscript of Macbeth for a buck — here the seller takes it in the ear. </pedantic mode>
Back to the Safari Reader.
Reuters reports that “the Internet is [now] by far the most popular source of information and the preferred choice for news ahead of television, newspapers and radio, according to a new poll in the United States.”
There are two contracts in play. In the first, the advertiser contracts with the Internet content provider (the fodder we want to read) to place the ads and other links on the content page so the viewer/user will see them. gekko contends that’s The One. In the second, the viewer/user agrees to view the ads and other links on the page in order to see the fodder we want to read. I maintain that’s The Other One.
In many ways, this is exactly the same model we have used for “free” radio and television broadcasts since 1920 when KDKA went on the air in Pittsburgh.
gekko believes the second contract does not exist, partly because we the viewer/user never agreed to it.
<pedantic mode> An implicit contract (A.K.A. an “implied-in-fact contract”) is one agreed by our conduct, rather than by the words we say. The U.S. Supreme Court defines it as an agreement “founded upon a meeting of minds, which, although not embodied in an express contract, is inferred, as a fact, from conduct of the parties showing, in the light of the surrounding circumstances, their tacit understanding.” </pedantic mode>
So. Does watching American Idol on Fox or reading the New York Times online mean we agree to watch or read the commercials that support it?
Yes.
TANSTAAFL (There Ain’t No Such Thing as a Free Lunch). The writers and publishers of the information we absorb so easily offer it in exactly the same way I sold you the book and for exactly the same reason you go to work each day. Paying the writer is at least as important as paying your mechanic to tighten the lug nuts when he changes a tire on your car.
I traded the book for a buck. You trade your hours at desk or workbench for, I hope, more than a buck. You may have no written contract with your employer but your boss offered you the position, salary, and appropriate working conditions in return for your appearance on time and performance of the assigned duties. That’s an implicit contract.
VCRs, DVRs, other recording devices, and now Safari’s Reader allow us to breach that contract with the broadcaster or website. The fact that we can breach the contract does not mean we should breach the contract any more than we should rob the gas station down the street just because the President did.
The contract hinges on enforceability but in this day of a Democratic President and Congress ignoring the law or changing it to fit their whims, I would not be a bit surprised to find the Library police reassigned to ad watch duty.
[Editor’s Note: gekko and I have written paired blog articles. After reading this piece, please go read title for the counterpoint argument.]
I have no advertising on this page, so there is no implicit contract that you, dear reader, will pay for these words. OTOH, donations via the Tip Jar are always welcome.
Pouring Oil on Troubled Waters
The networks made a big deal today of Tony Hayward sailing his yacht, Bob, in the clean waters of the English channel. There was one passing comment about President Obama playing golf. Yesterday the Prez visited a construction site in … OHIO.
“People here are not on their yachts today,” Senator Richard Shelby, R-AL, said. “I believe it’s the height of arrogance. He is the chief executive of BP, he was testifying in Washington and now he’s going out on his yacht in England.” Of course there were yachts sailing in the Gulf of Mexico today even if Sen. Shelby pretended not to know that.
Oddly, the networks didn’t show us a single image of Katie Couric, Diane Sawyer, Shepard Smith, or Brian Williams, all of whom were also enjoying a DAY OFF the job on a Saturday.
Mr. Obama called this the “biggest natural disaster” in the history of this country. Well, by golly, then he and Mr. Hayward should be out there personally scooping oil out of the water, shouldn’t they? Shouldn’t Ms. Couric, Ms. Sawyer, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Williams be out there, too?
I can understand that the people who live on or near the Gulf would get jacked up by the media with pictures of people relaxing on a day off. It really really irks me that the networks would send in their second team to stir up these troubled waters for no reason other than to sell toilet paper.
They all know better. And so, dear reader, do you.
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