Archive for the Dick's Desserts Category

Keys Disease

I like the Keys. I like living in the Keys. I like writing in the Keys. I like people watching in the Keys. I like sitting on the beach in the Keys. I like the Keys.

I do not like shopping in the Keys. It is simplicity itself to find a hat shaped like Flipper or a concrete mailbox support shaped like a mermaid or a manatee in the Keys. But KMart™ never has Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi™ when it is on sale, Home Depot™ doesn’t have the hinges I need for my kitchen cabinets, and Walgreens™ is out of milk. Again™.

Who cares.

It’s the Keys, mon.

Last week a manatee came right up to the boat to say Hi. With Mother’s Day just passed, another momma manatee with two calves swam in and out of our canals. Fisheries experts count just 1,000-3,000 manatee in all of Florida, so passing the time with one right here is special. I also saw my first leopard ray at my own beach last week. I swam with the dolphins. OK, OK, I actually swam near the dolphins but that was probably wise when a pod of them herded their evening meal up near the beach.

And today, I was attacked by a little amber colored crab in about three feet of water. That sucker was outgunned about 1,040:1 if we count sheer avoirdupois. I guess I should be glad he saw my back before he realized he could swim up the leg of my trunks.

I took one of my most praiseworthy photographs in the Keys last year (You can see that one along with some other seascapes here). But I took the best ever photo today and you can see that one right here.

[Image]

I like the Keys.

Big Thoughts, Part I

I had a (lower case) epiphany.

This is neither the user friendly GNOME web browser nor the Christian feast. It is not a revelatory manifestation of a divine being. It is, however, a sudden intuitive realization that gave me a little flash of political reality.

I’ve been reading Maslow today because I’ve been thinking Big Thoughts. The readings reminded me that our political candidates always, always, always promise to provide health and well-being to every living American; to secure our borders and stamp out crime; to bring the Financial markets back under control when they are not or boost them even more when they are; and to improve the safety net we expect from our gummint against illness and accidents and the impact of hurricanes. The promissory order depends on their polls.

We are affluent and relatively safe. Most of our physiological and safety needs are met. So why would a political candidate promise us this stuff?

  • It is safe to promise what we mostly have
  • They figure to motivate us to choose them because they can scare us into thinking we aren’t fed and housed and safe.
  • They aren’t smart enough to promise what we really want.

What do we really want? Really?

I already have a chicken in my pot. In fact I have more than one. The army got it right; I want to “be the best that I can be.”

John F. Kennedy didn’t electrify two generations of Americans because he delivered universal health care. After all, he promised the Moon but didn’t actually accomplish much here on Earth. He electrified two generations of Americans because he showed us Camelot.

Can John McCain deliver that passion? Can Barack Obama?

If that wasn’t clear enough, my friend Bob reminds me that the election year question I asked is this: what do we voters really want? What new goal will captivate two generations or three? Have we settled for smaller and fancier widgets and lost our passion for inventioneering on a grand scale?

We make grand choices when we have great passion.

And vice versa.

Sit Next to Me

Alice Roosevelt Longworth embroidered on her sofa pillow, “If you haven’t got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me.” Gossip is the chief currency in news and in “news” magazines, so that may now be the majority motto.

Loving gossip isn’t new. Alice Roosevelt became an idol to Progressive Era women around the world, Carl Anthony wrote, and her style of detached disdain is celebrated today.

Two of my acquaintances are worlds apart in that attitude. One whom I’ll call John because his name is John, revels in gossip and in bad news about anyone outside of his own circle of friends. Maybe even within his circle of friends. The other whom I’ll call Juan because his name isn’t, is more data driven.

Juan works for “Infonablah,” an electronics company that is a very likely takeover target. They have a couple of new products and a still-useful older product line. (This is not a Microsoft v. Yahoo story.) The WSJ has reported talks about a joint venture between the large Chinese conglomerate Batooey-dot-com and Infonablah. Juan designs interface modules for Infonablah’s consumer goods division here in Vermont.

Juan foresees Infonablah stocking up on next generation goodies and letting the current customer stuff go to the “low cost” manufacturing centers Batooey maintains in China and on the South Pole. He figures the Batooey engineers are thinking the same thing.

I don’t know that Batooey would give Infonablah its next gen stuff; I think it’s more likely that Infonablah will be stripped and will disappear. Their current customer stuff will definitely go to low cost centers no matter what else happens.

That said, “combining synergies” in B-speak always means more layoffs.

Here’s the heart of it. John doesn’t know Juan but his reaction to this story would be glee when he figured out that Juan’s job might be in jeopardy.

That saddens me.

We peeps spend entirely too much time reveling in the downfall of our peers.

I like gossip as much as the next guy, but Alice was wrong. My mom and hers before her were right. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

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When I wrote this piece, I used TLAs (a three letter acronym for “three letter acronym”) to stand in for the real company names. Juan then worked for DGX, a biz about to be consumed by Wall Street Greed and a Large Chinese Conglomerate (LCC). A quick Google search showed me that DGX is Quest Diagnostics and LCC is the USAirways Group. I neither recommend nor pan these securities.

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