TFP Column: The Little Bus That Couldn't

Someone on the staff at a recent editorial meeting had the temerity to bring up the thought that were a couple of things we hadn't done here at "Just Blowing Smoke" in quite some time: 


1. Release another Fracture Fairy Tale to the public
2. Pick on the Toledo Area Regional Transit Authority (TARTA)


After a bit of verbal abuse was exchanged over who would be held responsible for these lapses (someone must always be blamed in the end), it was decided to kill not two, but three birds with one stone (which was rolling by at the time, having not gathered any moss) and do a Fractured Fairy Tale on TARTA as our offering for the Toledo Free Press.  (The fact that doing so allowed the editorial staff to go back to their normal slacker ways, and to do so with rather smug expressions on their faces, I'm sure occurred to none of them.)  The result of these combined labors was an effort that came to be known as "The Little Bus That Couldn't".


If there's not time to talk TARTA down from the ledge of offering us a choice on this new misguided more egregious way into taxpayer's pockets, there's plenty of time to get the word out and vote this potential monstrosity into the seventh level of Hell that it came from.  


Of course because of the nature of this week's effort, I don't know when it will go into the TFP.  Have no fear however, the mid-week 'Star" edition should more than entertain; and come what may, there will be another weekend edition of Toledo's largest Sunday circulation Ohio's best weekly newspaper (for the third year in a row) to amuse and inform you. 

Fractured Fairy Tales: The Grasshopper and The Ant

It has been some time since we have delved into the world of Fractured Fairy Tales, a lapse for which I heartily apologize. It seems that the Just Blowing Smoke librarian misplaced this tome during one of the inventory relocations of recent months. Rest assured that this lackadaisical lexicographer will be properly disciplined.

But enough of ancient history. It's time once more to journey to the land of "Once Upon A Time" for a twisted little tale about economic theory and reality as understood by two common pests.

Once Upon A Time (see I told you) in the land of YouAssAye there were an Ant and a Grasshopper who ran for Congress (and you thought it was only rats). Both were elected, and soon began to determine their party's fiscal policy within government.

The Ant said that government should be careful about spending everyone's hard-earned tax dollars. He told us that he would do everything in his power to be more responsible and thrifty with everyone's money. He also told us that it was not the job of government to spend tax dollars in a vain attempt to protect taxpayers from all of the bad things that might happen to them.

Now many said that the Ant did this in order to pander to the richest in society, and to reassure them that as little of their money would be taken from them in taxes as possible. They said that by telling them this, the Ant was not only assuring their continued support to keep him in his cushy government job, but encouraging them to contribute to his campaigns to help him do so. (... and they might be right.)

The Grasshopper had an entirely different economic philosophy. (I know, who knew that Ants and Grasshoppers had economic philosophies? But heck, this is a fairy tale. Give me break here.) The Grasshopper understood that sometimes taxpayers fall on hard times and needed to be helped. He told us that life is hard and mostly unfair, giving most of the breaks (and money) to those who didn't deserve it. He told us government needs to be there to provide a safety net for those most in need and least able to take care of themselves; and to help redress the terrible injustice of unfairly distributed wealth in the YouAssAye.

Now many said that the Grasshopper did this in order to pander to the poorest in society, and to reassure them that whether they were in actual need or just simply lazy, the government would see to their every want and need. They said that by telling them this, the Grasshopper was not only assuring their continued support to keep him in his cushy government job, but encouraging them to contribute to his campaigns to help him do so. (... and they might be right.)

Strangely enough, no matter whether the party of the Ant or that of the Grasshopper was in charge, the government of the YouAssAye continued to spend more money than it was taking in. This was bad of course, but none of the money was actually theirs, and spending it on projects large and small made a great many people very happy (you know, like lobbyists, special interests groups, and sometimes even large corporations). So they went ahead and did it, and refused to think about what harm could come one day.

Some years were better than others and some were worse of course; but even when they used accounting tricks only allowed to governments (using them outside of government usually got you some time in secure government provided housing), there was no denying that the YouAssAye was getting further and further into debt as a nation. Finally the situation got so bad that people who rated debt thought it was too much and even those in government decided that something must be done.

The Ant told us that it was imperative that we stop this runaway train perpetrated on society by the Grasshopper, and only by putting him in charge was there any way to bring it to a halt before it went off the tracks. He told us that it wasn't a problem of revenue (taxes), but one of spending that only he knew how to best handle.

The Grasshopper told us that the train was indeed a runaway, but that it was the fault of the Ant. He said that it wasn't a problem of spending, but of revenue; and only by getting those who could afford it to pay their fair share could the impending wreck of this runaway train be prevented. He said that only he could prevent such disaster.

The truth of the matter is that both the Ant and the Grasshopper were right. There are economic realities that must be faced no matter how grim they are. There are likewise some people doing better financially than others and there always will be. There will also be some people who pay little or no taxes (both rich and poor), some people who pay a lot of taxes (mostly the top and middle earners who can't get Congress to rewrite the tax code with them as winners instead), and some people get more money back in tax refunds than they paid in (usually those who have learned how to best game the system).

There are also people that at times in their life need a little help in order to survive. The best way to do this of course, is to have those who choose to do so give a portion of their wealth in support of others. There are many groups to assist them in this and they mostly do an excellent job. Not only is it not the business of government (and I use that term in its broadest sense), to demand those contributions (taxes) at the point of a gun; or to pick the winners and losers in life; but if the truth be told, they do a lousy job of it.  Come to think of it, they do a poor enough job at the things they're supposed to be responsible for and cannot be trusted with matters of such far-reaching consequences.

As a rule in fact, the larger the group that attempts to solve such problems, the worse these solutions become. Governments (especially ones like that of the YouAssAye) are far too large, self-serving, and greedy to wield such authority. Their efforts, no matter how well intentioned, are usually doomed to fail. When not contributing to fraud, abuse, and waste; they overlook, misdirect funds, or reject out-of-hand the claims of the very people that require their help.

For all that Governments say that they care about people, the truth of the matter is that they don't. They care about growing in size, getting votes to stay in power, and controlling as much money (another name for power) as they can. The more we turn to them for solutions, the more power that we give them and the more we get away from the individual responsibility and freedom that make nations (and governments) truly great.

You know, sometimes I think that this is actually two different Fairy Tales told in two different languages that will never be reconciled. For example: when the Ant talks about economic Darwinism where only the strongest will survive, the Grasshopper tells us that such a world cannot exist; and that if it did, that a loving and caring government (which many worship in place of a Supreme Being) must seek to change it. When the Ant talks about a world which must surely have a Supreme Being that orders and guides it (and they are not referring to government), the Grasshopper tells us that facts points to the truth of biologic Darwinism. Both are right and both are wrong, and the truth of the matter will probably never be reached by those who fundamentally and purposefully choose not to understand each other.

For while understanding the nature of the problem, coming to grips with it, and attempting to solve it are the right things to do; none of these things wins elections for either the Ant or Grasshopper.

Fractured Fairy Tale: The Watchdog

Yes boys and girls, I know that it's been a while, but fear not, for it's time for another Fractured Fairy Tale. Time once again for one of those cautionary tales of life and politics in this crazy, mixed up world around us. Much like the first fairy tale that I wrote for this blog, this one is an original, if cautionary tale of "what if" that may very well soon become a "what now". I hope you enjoy it. 


Once upon a time there lived a man named John Q. Public. There was nothing at all remarkable about Mr. Public. John (and I'm sure he'd let us call him that) did have one thing that set him apart however, it was his watchdog. 


 Now this dog was not really owned by John in the strictest sense of the word, as he had never actually purchased it. The truth of the matter was that he had simply started feeding this dog upon discovering it, eventually naming the animal Newspaper. 


Newspaper, liking the attention that he got from John (and more especially the feeding), adopted John Q Public as its master, and was soon performing the duties of watchdog where John was concerned. Now Newspaper was never the most attractive of dogs, though occasionally he cleaned up rather well. Neither was he particularly well-behaved, sometimes serving his own or the needs of others as well as those of his master. 


Newspaper was in fact an often ill-tempered mutt, treating John with measured disdain (much like a cat, come to think of it). In fact if anything, Newspaper behaved more like a junk yard dog than anything else; good enough at being a watchdog, but just as likely to bite the hand that fed it as it was to snap at that of strangers and villains. 


Time passed, and Newspaper had been around for some time. Some had begun to say that he was getting a bit long in the tooth (if you know what I mean), and no longer able to hold up his end of the bargain. John of course, was no youngster either, though he often acted like one. Quite frankly, he was reaching that age where one begins to think about turning things over to the next generation, and if the truth were known they didn't much care for his watchdog. 


Much like the wayward child that he had become, John had begun to pay less attention to the care and feeding of his long-time adopted pet. This treatment did nothing good for the health and well being of his watchdog, and as a consequence it began to look even thinner and shabbier than usual. 


As time passed, an almost starving Newspaper began to become a bit resentful of this treatment. It howled at its sorry lot in life and tended to snap at anyone who came near it. While never completely leaving off at its watchdog post, even Newspaper had to admit that it wasn't doing the job that it once did. 


Now one day, one of the worst of the miscreants that this watchdog had kept at bay crept forward once again to work his mischief. This ill-mannered neighborhood bully had been hanging around for years, often trying to do ill to Mr Public; but with Newspaper on the job, he was never really able to succeed. 


This nefarious individual (let's call him Government) was well known as one of the worst of criminals. A strong-armed thief who was often known to take money at the point of a gun, a loan shark who lent money that always had strings attached, and a bully who loved to throw his weight around in the neighborhood; Government was most well known for his operation of a massive protection racket and for running the biggest Ponzi scheme that had ever been seen. In other words, Government was a pretty nasty guy.


With the lack of attention from his adopted owner and a hunger that was soon bordering on starvation, Newspaper finally started sniffing around at the treats that had been dangled for years in the outstretched hand of Government. Knowing that continued refusal of these morsels might portend the end of its days (while perhaps scarcely realizing that accepting them could do likewise), this watchdog began to whimper over the potential of such offered nourishment. 


Long at the service of its adoptive master John Q Public, Newspaper didn't know what else to do if he was to survive to continue in his duties. While still somewhat loyal to his master's needs, Newspaper was equally interested in his own survival. And so there we see them, much like the scene of Kevin Costner extending a bit of jerky to the wolf 'Two Socks' in "Dancing With Wolves". Government now carefully extends the hand of potential survival to Newspaper, and this once faithful watchdog creeps ever closer to accepting it.

THE END

I know, I know, this is one hell of a way to end a Fairy Tale. The truth of the matter is we don't know the end of this story yet. Quite frankly, the fate of Newspaper, Government, and John Q Public are hanging in the balance right now. If this self-appointed watchdog of our freedoms begins to accept anything from government, there is little doubt that it will be unable to properly perform this long-held function in the future. If it doesn't however, there is real doubt that this watchdog may be around much longer. For good or ill, the end of this tale has yet to be written. For newspapers, for government, but especially for the Public; these are perilous times indeed!

Fractured Fairy Tales - Little Ben Riding Hood

I know that's it has been far too long since I shared one of my "Fractured Fairy Tales" with you, and I apologize for that lapse. Quite frankly I had lost track of this dusty tome amidst the piles of books that these days seem to have all but pushed me out of my humble hermit's cave. I promise that I will not let such a shirking of responsibility occur again.

Now for those of you only recently come to the party here at Just Blowing Smoke, these slightly twisted (OK, more than slightly twisted) fables are stories of a far-away magical land known as Toodledeedoo (pronounced Tuudle dee duu), where unusual things have been known to happen from time to time. But hey kids speaking of time (and unusual things), let's not waste any more of it letting me attempt to describe the almost indescribable. Let's get right to our story.

Little Ben Riding Hood was wandering through the woods one day, looking for any money left lying about that he could use to pay for college educations for complete strangers (something he often did when not trying to lend people money to buy artwork or making a big deal out of poets), when he spied a young taxpayer making her way down the same path just a bit ahead of him. Curious as to why anyone would want to copy his journey and hoping that she might be someone that he could get a few bucks for his project from, he called out to her.

"Where are you off to little girl, and why are you following me?" he asked.

"I am off to my granny's house for a visit," she replied turning back to look at him, "and how can I be following you when I'm ahead of you."

"Never mind that nonsense," he said. "People are always trying to copy me. It's the sincerest form of flattery you know. Now be off with you, don't try to steal my best ideas."

The young taxpayer, shaking her head in confusion, resumed her journey; but didn't realize that it would no longer be the same one that she started. For your see, Ben Riding Hood knew of the granny that she was talking about and that there were often lovely tidbits there to be had there for the taking. So he conceived of yet another in a long string of 'bold, fresh ideas' (many of which, strangely enough, seemed to have originally come from ideas previously put forward by someone else, but I digress), and he decided to get to the granny's house before the girl did. When he did, our young taxpayer would be in for quite a surprise.

So off he ran to granny's cottage just as fast as he could, arriving well ahead of the young girl, and knocked on the door. When granny answered, he quickly bound and gagged her and locked her in her own closet. Then, donning one of the granny's wigs and flannel nightgowns (hey, no comments here please, it is after all a "bold" idea), he climbed into her bed and waited.

It wasn't much later when the next knock on the door came and without waiting for a response from within, the young girl came in. Not seeing her granny at first, she entered the cottage, looked into the bedroom, and discovered the disguised Ben Riding Hood, lying in granny's bed now and with the covers pulled up over his chin.

"Granny, is everything all right?" she asked, sensing something strange in granny still being in bed this late in the day. The concern was obvious in her voice.

"Why sure it is," Ben Riding Hood replied, nervously pulling the covers a bit higher.

"I was just worried that maybe those 'good old boys' had been back again to torment you like they always do," she responded.

Ben Riding Hood merely shook his head, but was now looking around the room as if fearing that they would appear at any moment.

"OK," the little girl replied dubiously. "Well listen Granny, I brought those checks that you asked me to. You know, the ones for the windows for your cottage and the ambulance service. What do you want me to do with them?"

"That's lovely dear," Ben Riding Hood replied, visions of those long awaited scholarships now dancing in his head, "just set them on the dresser there next to you and leave."

"Well maybe I shouldn't just leave them, with you in bed and all. There's a lot of money here. Beside, I came to visit and I just got here, and well ... OK," she replied disappointed. "Listen though Granny, you really don't look so good. Is there something wrong with your eyes?"

"No, no, nothing wrong here," Ben Riding Hood replied with an anxious quiver in his voice and another darting glance around the room as he tried to hide them. "I'm just happy to see you stop by."

"OK Granny, if you say so; but I have to tell you, you kind of sound funny too."

"Yes," he croaked, the anticipation of that money all but taking his voice away. "Yes, you're right. I must have some kind of frog in my throat. I'm sure it will be fine though. You should just go ahead and leave the money and go."

But the girl had become suspicious now and said, "Granny, I really think that there's something wrong. You seem awful jumpy and now your hands are shaking really bad. Maybe I ought to get someone to have a look at you."

And she was right. Ben Riding Hood was now trembling almost uncontrollably, thinking of what he could do with that kind of money with nobody able to tell him he couldn't. Worried that the jig was up, and simply unable to resist the urge any longer, he leaped from the bed and dashed to the dresser, grabbing for the checks as he did
.

"Say," the little girl said, "You're not my Granny at all."

"Maybe not," he replied, "but I'm going to use this money help people whether they want it or not. I going use it to do the right thing the way that I see it, and there's nobody to tell me that I can't."

"Help!" the girl cried upon hearing this ridiculous statement. "Save me from this madman trying to steal my Granny's money!"

Now it just so happened that a group of people were passing close by the cottage at the time, heard the girl's call, and rushed to the rescue (I think they call them voters). Sizing up the situation quickly, they grabbed the checks from Ben Riding Hood, grabbed him by the seat of his short pants, and threw him out the front door into the street. Quickly freeing Granny and safely reuniting her with the girl, they then turned and chased Ben Riding Hood down the road and all the way out of Toodledeedoo, never to be heard from again (or at least we hope not).

The End

Yes, yet another happy ending to another potentially tragic tale in Toodledeedoo. Perhaps those 'voters' are finally beginning to wise up to some of those smiling faces in this city masquerading as something that they are not. Perhaps they will in fact show up in force to chase both the madmen and miscreants from our fair land. Perhaps at long last, we will see that you truly cannot fool most of the people most of the time (even here in Toledo). 

Fractured Fairy Tales - The Little Dutch Boy Of Toledo

Hello boys and girls, and welcome once again to "Fractured Fairy Tales". These slightly twisted fables of an imaginary land known as Toodledeedoo (pronounced Toodle-dee-doo) have amused and fascinated so many over time. OK, they have slightly amused some once in a while. Alright, they bring a smile to my face from time to time as I am writing them. At any rate, it's time for another one, so let's waste any more precious time and get right to it.


Once upon a time in the mythical land of Toodledeedoo there lived a little boy named Carty (OK, he was actually a man, but trust me when I tell you that he was really immature). Now it seems as though this man was walking through town one day when he noticed the city's dike. Now the dike (which for some strange reason was called Budget) was important to the town, as it provided the protection for Toodledeedoo, and made the town a livable place where people and businesses could flourish. (Hey no snickering here, I said it was a Fairy Tale.)


Now Carty worked for the city, and one of his jobs was to make sure that the dike (Budget) was OK. You could say in fact, that one of his jobs was to make sure that the Budget was doing its job (and I just did). Carty wasn't very good at this job however, and seemed to go out his way to perform this service poorly. 


The Budget tried to protect the city, and Carty would poke a hole in it to water some flowers, flowering shrubs, and things that say welcome. Someone would come along and patch that hole and Carty would poke another one in, this time to help the Erie Street Market grow (it didn't). The Budget would get patch for that hole, and Carty would poke another one in to keep COSI alive until somebody could figure out what to do with it. Another patch would be provided, but soon another hole would get poked, this time to help win a contest that no one had ever heard of or cared if we won. Patched once again, the Budget continued to try to hold back the waters, but Carty poked yet another hole in it, this time try and bring back a shopping mall that had died. (It stayed dead.)

It seemed that no matter how many times someone came along to patch the Budget for Toodledeedoo, it's keeper Carty would poke yet another hole in it. In all fairness to Carty, he sometimes tried to fix the holes in the Budget himself, usually by stuffing them with things like furloughs that he wasn't supposed to use; but being Carty his fixes only created bigger holes that required even more fixing. Sometimes some of the other things that he did (like getting himself and the city sued for doing other parts of his job) made holes in the Budget all by themselves, and once again repair was required. 


Finally, it seemed that Carty's efforts had all but destroyed the Budget and only massive sacrifices on the part of the citizens would allow the Budget, and Toodledeedoo to survive. Looking to their future, it was obvious to even the most dense of its citizens that even greater sacrifice would be required to keep this Budget functioning ... or they were going to have to find a different protector of the Budget. 


Now this might seem unlikely, as on previous occasions these same citizens had given Carty back his job every time that he asked, and all previous efforts to remove him from this job had proven unsuccessful in spite of his poor job performance. But so egregious were his poor performance and so great was the damage done however, that this time our ne'er do well keeper of the Budget might indeed have to look for another job.


Like many of the Fairy Tales about Toodledeedoo, this story doesn't have an end yet. There appears however, to be enough anger out there in the citizens of this fair city that change may finally be in the wind. A group of citizens called "Take Back Toledo" has begun to get organized. It appears that this time the torches are being lit and pitchforks have been sharpened. I haven't seen any tar and feathers yet, but I'm sure that they can't be far behind. I suspect that the end, at least for Carty, and a new beginning for Toodledeedoo is closer than ever before.

Fractured Fairy Tales - The Boy Who Cried Potential

Yes boys and girls, no matter how much we try to avoid it, it's time once again for another of those wonderful stories that you have all come to know and love. (Hey, no complaints. You just have to read them. I'm the one that has to to write them.) Today's tale is another of those cautionary tales about a magical land that we have come to know and love as "Toodledeedoo". But let's not waste any more time in idle chit-chat and get right to our story. 


Once upon a time their lived a man (well, more of a boy actually), who lived in the magical land of Toodledeedoo. This man/boy was a civil servant, in a position of some authority, and had been given direct responsibility for the economic development of the land. Now this was something that is very important to any community, and unfortunately something that he knew absolutely nothing about. But such was the makeup of this over-age child that this lack of knowledge or skills in no way prevented him from blundering forward at his assigned duties. Time passed, and little of this responsibility was actually accomplished.


Toodledeedo's situation in fact got progressively worse under his stewardship. Soon even blissful ignorance made it impossible for him to ignore the fact that he was failing miserably at this given task, but being the creature he was he decided that if he couldn't fulfill his obligations he would ignore his failures and attempt to draw attention to himself and his supposed efforts anyway. 


So one day, he simply went to one of his failed ventures (in this case the downtown Erie Street Market), and cried, "This building has potential!" Everyone came running to see what all of the fuss was about, but when they came, all that they saw was a sad little man in a sad little place. If once the Erie Street Market had potential, it had long since passed. It was little more these days than an eyesore and a drain on Toodledeedoo's scant resources, and a source of embarrassment to it's citizens. Disgusted at being pulled away from their own lives (and with this tired little performance), they shook their heads and sadly walked away. 


Determined to gain praise when he had failed before, he chose another site. This time standing in front of the closed COSI facility (Center of Science and Industry), and again he shouted, "This building has potential!" Once again everyone came running to see what all the excitement was about. Once again they were disappointed. This time the citizens were being presented with a project whose potential, if it ever had any, had long since passed under intellectual laziness, operational neglect, and poor fiscal management. Once more disgusted with a fuss being made over nothing, they sadly shook their heads and walked away, this time mumbling as they left. Infuriated now over his lack of success in drawing the praise he felt he so richly deserved, and undaunted by his continuing failure to garner the proper attention, our subject tried a third time. 


Standing in front of the United Way building this time, he once again shouted, "This building has potential!" Once more, everyone came running (well actually more like trotting this time, but at least they showed up again). One glance at where he was standing was enough for the crowd this time however. The United Way building had been written off by the very people that it was built for as a white elephant, and merited little more than the demolition the owners already had planned for it. The tired efforts or our sorry little civil servant, having passed mere annoyance by this time, were really beginning to aggravate the populace however. They left again, but not without a few angry shouts about bad judgment, abuse of power, and sheer bull-headed ignorance this time. 


Surprised over his complete failure to garner the praise and attention that he felt he so richly deserved, he finally gave up and began to make his way slowly back to his office. It was while make this somber journey however that it occurred to him that the answer to economic development he was looking for had been right before his eyes all the time. It was something that many had been telling him about for years, but which he pointedly ignored because he hadn't come up with the idea first. Toodledeedoo was on a really big lake (some might even call it great) so it could handle shipping by water, was in the middle of a bunch of great 4-lane roads that could be equally helpful, had an airport that nobody was using for much of anything these days, and was surrounded by rail lines to add to the mix. 


If all of these things could be combined (Can you say intermodal facility?), he could turn Toodledeedoo into a commercial hub for the transportation of goods from one end of the country to the other. This realization struck him so strongly that it was all that he could do to continue walking. Almost in spite of himself, he had finally found the answer he was looking for. (After everyone else of course, but that's beside the point.) "This has potential!" he cried, but this time nobody came. "No, this time I really mean it. This has potential!" he screamed again even more loudly, but again no one came. He screamed and screamed again. He screamed until he finally made himself hoarse, but no one ever came to see what the fuss was about. 


You see, when you abuse the power of your position and falsely claim successes that don't really exist, eventually everyone stops listening. Fed up with the natural fertilizer and noise that you have generated in the past, people eventually wise up, tune you out, and in the end ignore you completely. Even if you come up with a great idea after that, no one will show up to hear you; and it is highly unlikely that any good idea that you come up with will ever be realized as a consequence.

THE END

Let us hope that this is a fate that those of us not living in a fairy tale can yet avoid. Real opportunities don't come very around often, and if you continually pass them up, eventually they stop coming at all. Perhaps such cautionary tales will help to curb the noise and nonsense that some of our civic leaders generate in their need for self-aggrandizement, focus our attention on real opportunities, and give good ideas a chance to yet succeed.

Fractured Fairy Tales - The Emperor's New Clothes

Yes boys and girls, it's time once again for another of these unique fables of our times (well, kind of anyway). This tale, like most of the others, should really need no introduction. So let's not waste any time and get right to it ...


Once upon a time, there was a ruler known simply "The Gov". Now The Gov liked to hold a parade that he nicknamed "the election" every couple of years (with bigger parades every 4 years) where he would smile a lot of smiles, shake a lot of hands, and kiss a lot of babies. As part of this bi-annual event, The Gov used to let the people of the kingdom send him the clothes that he would wear while walking the parade route. The people took this form of parade financing very seriously and rather enjoyed participating in so personal a way in the process. Neighborhoods, trade guilds, and even the local businesses would compete with each other by carefully selecting what they were going to send in the hopes of getting some special notice from the Gov.


One day, two tailors by the name of McCain and Feingold came to town. They listened to the story of the semi-annual parade and the clothing competition and were appalled. Such a system had to be rife with graft and chicanery, and as such must be ended immediately. So they went to The Gov to see if they could impose a more fair system of clothing financing (at least in their minds) and set things right. Knowing that changing tradition is often difficult, they realized that they would probably have to approach this change gradually. (Can you say incremental ism?)


"The shirt," they said, "is the most important thing that you wear. As such, it's simply not fair to let the people spend their 'hard' earned money and not achieve the desired access to you. Besides, the businesses can afford more than other people and that gives them an unfair advantage. So what we propose is to limit the amount of money that can be spent and let everyone send us the money. We will make your shirt."


"That seems fair," said the Gov, and that's how he decreed it.
Having gotten this far in their plans, McCain and Feingold soon approached The Gov again.


"The pants, when you think about it," they said "are just as important, and must match the shirt besides. Now a lot of people are trying to get around the shirt rules imposed by contributing to the pants. This is just as unfair, though the approach here is more of a 'soft' one than that used for the shirt. We think that there should be limits on this too in the true spirits of fairness. So we should limit the contributions on the pants and have them send the money in to us. We will make the pants as well."


"When you're right, you're right," The Gov replied. "See that it's done." ... and it was.


Now having all but achieved their goal, the two approached the ruler a final time.


"Gov," they said (they were long since on a first name basis). "No outfit is complete without a proper jacket. And with the fairness imposed by the previous restrictions for the shirt and pants, shouldn't we do something about the last loophole in the system? Shouldn't we do something about how the 'issue' of this jacket money is handled?"


"Goodness," The Gov replied. "How could I have missed this? Of course we will change this 'issue' of money for the jacket and fairness will thereby be assured."


Time passed, the day of the parade finally arrived. The Gov. was dressed by his two "Tailors of Fairness"; and to his amazement, The Gov discovered that all three garments; shirts, pants and jacket were all see-through. Now this seemed a bit strange, so he questioned his tailors about the nature of his attire. How could there be all of these new rules, how could all of this money be coming in, and nothing of substance emerge?


"That's the beauty of the system," they replied. "The Gov should have no secrets. The new fairness that has been brought to the process of clothing selection assures that all parts of The Gov will be visible. This of course, is as it should be. The fact that all of this money is now being regulated and dispensed by us is simply a bureaucratic necessity, and you shouldn't worry your head about it."


Embarrassed over his apparent lack of understanding of so simple a concept, The Gov finished dressing and entered the streets to begin the parade. He soon discovered that he wasn't the only one embarrassed however. You see, The Gov was never very attractive to look at and it was only the participation that the people had in influencing his raiment that made the process (and The Gov's appearance) bearable. It was likewise this freedom of expression in influencing the very nature of The Gov that made the parade worth having. The more The Gov walked on the route, the more the parade became a disaster; with fewer smiles on the faces of the people or The Gov (Would you be smiling if everyone could see through your clothes?), many shunning the offered handshakes, and no self-respecting mother holding her baby forth for kissing by what they could see walking down the street.


Attendance is going down at the parade these days, though the two tailors seem to be happy enough. While the clothing choice method may or may not be more fair than it was, people find that when they aren't going to get to fully participate in the process, why show up for the party at all.

THE END

Our newly arrayed election process is happily parading itself in the streets of the country these days under the McCain-Feingold legislation, and the results are anything but satisfying (0r pretty). These new clothes are anything but fair, and the very politicians who sought their implementation are now seeking new ways around them. The story above hints at the madness of the past and the next round of "fairness" lying ahead, with legislators feeling that only the government can properly dispense the money if elections are to be truly fair.


These new clothes provide less protection and less Freedom of Expression that they were supposed to, and less than is guaranteed us in the Constitution; but we are asked to ignore that in the name of "fairness". And as for the amount of money being spent, it's even greater than it was before these so-called protections were put in place. The ugly truth of the matter (which is fairly easy to see through to) is that this kind of "fairness" is anything but.

Fractured Fairy Tale - The Finkas Touch

Yes boys and girls, once again it's time for Fractured Fairy Tales, and another fable of times and occurrences that may in fact never have happened (and as such carry no legal liability). But let's not keep our story waiting ...


Once upon a time long ago, there was kingdom known as Toodlededoo, which was ruled by a "Man Who Would Be King" by the name of Finkas (no insult intended to the Rudyard Kipling book and certainly not to the Sean Connery / Michael Caine movie which I happen to love). Finkas was not the wisest of leaders, nor was he particularly beneficent in his dealings with his fellow man (or animal for that matter). In fact, Finkas was not a good ruler at all. Unfortunately for the citizens of Toodledeedoo, Finkas was a bit of a tyrant whose only care in the rule of his subjects was ... Finkas.

Now in those days, there were many strange and magical powers wandering the world (no, I don't mean Unions ... and stop trying to change the subject). These powers sought justice for and the general betterment of mankind, and were not without a sense of humor in their attempts to achieve it. They often set forth examples to illustrate what good behavior was or how to exercise the proper use of power. One day, one of them took notice of this petty tyrant in Toodledeedo and decided to grant him a very special power in order to teach him a lesson. It was because of this rather unique gift that Finkas was granted the ability to turn anything that he touched into natural fertilizer (crap, for those who choose to be obtuse).

From then on no matter what the project was, once Finkas touched it, it turned into an odoriferous mass that no one wanted to be near. From classic old apartment buildings to museums, from public markets to bike paths; nothing was beyond his power to convert into a malodorous mass once he his hands were laid upon it. Even if a project were seemingly perfect for his land, combining housing and shopping, and with the scenic river of Tooledeedoo as a setting, it attained a monstrous stench from his contact and kept the money lenders of the day (often accused of their own foul odor) from looking with favor upon it.


Finkas, completely unaware of this baneful power blundered on, though its effects and his constantly failing efforts were a certainly a vexation to him. Convinced in spite of the results achieved that he was operating for the greater good (his own) he continued to plow forward, becoming more angry and frustrated as each new application of his unrecognized power manifested itself. Loud tirades were often heard from the top of the tower where the self-serving Finkas ruled, and more than one of his minions suffered abuse, or even bruises from the frustrations of this miscreant ruler and the power that he possessed. Soon, even many companions of old began to draw away, fearful that the stench that now pervaded the air around Finkas would likewise become attached to them.

Great fear (and smell) pervaded the land of Toodledeedoo, as the citizens began to realize their fate under Finkas' rule. A blight had settled on the land, and many merchants and craftsmen fled, fearing for both their lives and livelihoods. Opportunities which once constantly presented themselves for the betterment of the local citizenry dwindled, as it became apparent that they were fated only to die and leave the stench of putrefaction behind. All attempts to circumvent the ruler failed, as his presence and power inevitably intruded itself and wreaked its noxious effect. Remaining blind in recognizing himself as the crux of the problem, Finkas only became more compulsive in this interference in the name of assistance (and in the hopes of gaining credit for any success that might be achieved). Of course these additional frenzied efforts could only make things (and the smell) even worse.


In the end, it is thought that all but the cursed ruler himself abandoned the once fair Toodledeedoo leaving it as an empty, rotting shell; with only the smell and the flies to remember it by. Its buildings stood crumbling, like the broken teeth in a fetid mouth. Its streets as empty as the unfulfilled potential that once it held. Does Finkas yet remain there? No one knows, and even now none can bear the smell long enough to discover. But down through the long ages since we remember the tale of this cursed community and its fate. All who do are truly fearful of the effects of "The Finkas Touch".

THE END

Of course this isn't really the whole story, or nearly the end of it. The true end of this story has yet to be written. Let us hope that some day we are able to put a happier ending to this tale, and perhaps see such a special place prosper once more.

Fractured Fairy Tales - The 3 Little Pigs

Yes boys and girls it's time once again for Fractured Fairy Tales (cue the music). Today we have a very interesting tale about 3 very tenacious little pigs.

So let's begin ...
Once upon a time in the magical land of Toodlededo (pronounced Toodle Dee Du) there lived 3 little pigs: Cosy, Finky, and Blocky. Now these weren't ordinary little pigs. These were 3 very determined little pigs who were used to getting their way.

Well one day, the 3 pigs decided to build a house for Cosy. Well actually, they decided to take a really nice building along the river in downtown Toolededo that was not at all suited to be a house and give it to Cosy to live in. The only problem was that they didn't own the building. The building was owned instead by a big, bad wolf by the name of Votaire (apologies to the philosopher, but it seemed like a funny idea at the time). 

Now Votaire wasn't really sure that he wanted Cosy in the building, but Cosy had managed to raise some money to really fix the place up, hire some people, and buy the stuff he wanted to put in it. Then he, Blocky, and Finky told Votaire that if he would just give them the building for Cosy to live in that they would never ask for anything from him ever, ever again. Then Blocky and Finky got all the neighbors worked up about how good a thing it would be to have Cosy living there on the river and how good it would be for Toodlededo in general (besides, nobody was using the building at the time anyway). In the end, they convinced Votaire to let Cosy go ahead and move in.

Well it started out well enough, Cosy brought lots of the bright and shiny stuff to the house, hired some people, and before you know it he had made the place on the river his home. It wasn't long however before things started to go bad; for you see Cosy was a bad tenant. He barely paid the meager rent and he squandered all of the money that he had raised originally to pay for the stuff and people to take care of it (which he never really had much of a plan to do). As time went on, it was discovered that Cosy couldn't do a very good job taking care of this bright and shiny stuff either, nor could he manage to pay the utility bills on his new house. He went to Blocky and Finky, and they in turn told everyone that this wasn't Cosy's fault. Cosy was a good, but terribly misunderstood pig whose house was vital to Toodleededoo, and that he just needed a little more help to make ends meet. So they decided that Votaire should pay for Cosy's utility bills for the good of the neighborhood and told him so. Votaire wasn't very happy about this either, but conceded that maybe they were right and grudgingly agreed.

Things continued along, with conditions in Cosy's house getting worse all the time as it did. The stuff in Cosy's house was no longer bright and shiny any more, the repair of the building was getting worse, and still not enough money was coming in to replace that going out. By then however, Cosy had decided that even though he didn't fit in the house and couldn't pay his bills, he didn't want to leave. He had gotten used to the place that he was in, liked the people working for him, and liked even more the free ride that he had been getting from Votaire. Cosy went to Finky and Blocky once again for help and together they hatched a plan for Votaire to not only continue all of the support that he had been giving Cosy before, but come up with some additional cash to help pay for the bright, shiny things and the people to take care of them. That was the final straw for Votaire, and he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew the plan down.

Now you would think that this would persuade the 3 little pigs that their game was up, and that they should fold up their plan and go; but not these 3 little pigs. These little pigs were so determined in fact, that they came up with another plan a few months later (amazingly, it looked exactly like the first one, with Votaire picking up the tab for everything). They said that this was a much better plan, and that Votaire would be really stupid, wrong, and mean if he didn't agree to it. Well Votaire could be pretty determined too, and once again he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew the plan down.

Cosy was despondent, but reconciled. He said that he finally got the message that Votaire didn't want him in the house any more. As much as he hated to do it, he would go ahead close up the house and let all the people who took care of the bright and shiny stuff go. Finky and Blocky were very sad too, and a more than a little mad about it (angry, not crazy ... at least I think that's what it was). They said that it was a damn shame how short-sighted and mean-spirited that Votaire was, and that Toodlededo needed Cosy in that house They further said that Votaire would live to regret it if Cosy left. Votaire was not to be moved by such words however, and soon the house was closed and Cosy was out.
Time passed and things had seemed to settle down, when one day Votaire got a bill for $6,900.00. Perplexed, he called for the pigs.

"What's this bill for?" he asks.

"Why that's for Cosy's house," Finky replies.

"Cosy's house," Votaire says. "We closed that months ago and I had almost forgotten about it. Why in the world does it need $6,900 now?"

"Oh that's for the monthly upkeep on the place," said Finky. "Cosy has been taking care of it as best he could since he left in order to keep all the bright and shiny stuff, but he's finally run out of the last of the money he originally raised and needs this from you so that he can move back in later."

"Move back in later?" said Votaire. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, didn't we tell you?" says Cosy, obviously very excited now. "We are going to ask for that money again in a couple of months. We thought that this time you wouldn't be as short-sighted, mean-spirited, and stupid in looking at this situation as you have been in the past. We thought that this time you might see fit to give us what we want; in spite of the fact that we really don't have much of a plan, that the plan we have still really hasn't changed much and has you footing the bill for everything, and that you've already said no to this plan twice before. All of our plans would be in vain however, if we didn't take care of all of the stuff in the meantime, so..."

"Yeah, isn't this a great idea?" chimed in Finky and Blocky together (they seem to do that a lot for some reason). "You could give Cosy all of the money that he wants and he could go back home where we think he belongs. Then we could all live happily ever after."

THE END

Well of course, this is not anywhere near the end. In fact, it may be that we will never see the end of this story. After all, these are 3 very determined little pigs.

Fractured Fairy Tales - The Wizard of Oz

I would like to revisit the classic tale in the title of this posting, with a more modern twist, based on recent history. So with apologies to L. Frank Baum for butchering what was and is a wonderful series of 14 books (there's a lot more to this than the story told in the 1939 Victor Fleming film), here is my version of "The Wizard of Oz".

Dorothy finds herself terrified and in trouble. It seems as though she was innocently sitting in her home one day in Kansas, doing nothing more than minding her own business, when disaster struck. Now before I go on, I should tell you that the home Dorothy was in was a house purchased some time back. She got a really good price on this particular piece of property because it was in "Tornado Alley", a place where tornadoes often came. Now she couldn't really afford the house at the time, owning a home in tornado alley was a bit of a risk, and quite frankly it wasn't in very good shape; but it was such a great deal that she couldn't pass it up. Besides, Dorothy had always wanted a piece of the American dream that meant owning a home. You might even say that she felt that she had a "right" to it. So she went ahead and took the plunge regardless of the long term personal consequences. One day a tornado came along (which was no real surprise in Tornado Alley, of course) and lifted Dorothy's house right off of Kansas and sent it flying through the air. In no more than what seemed an instant, Dorothy was whisked away to a far away place known as Oz.

Now Oz was a great place to live. The climate was moderate, the land productive, and the people there were of reasonable temperament and good moral fiber (well, at least as good as they are anywhere). They didn't take too kindly to having a house dropped in the middle of their fair city however. (Then again, who does?) No, there are laws even in Oz, and one of them was that people couldn't just drop houses anywhere that they wanted. Regretfully, Dorothy was told that she was just going to have to move her house. 


Tearful and in pain, Dorothy explains to the local media covering the event that it is not her fault that her house fell here, that she has no idea how one would go about moving a house, and that moving a house probably costs a lot of money of which she has none considered local tender in Oz. (Of course actually she has no money good in any land, having spent all of it on the house in the first place, but that's beside the point.) She is merely a victim in this situation, and begs for help. The locals are sympathetic to her plight, but want the house moved never the less. A few of the more compassionate citizens realize however that everyone can be a victim sometimes. They understand her plight, and suggest to her that perhaps she should seek help from one of the three government agents in Oz. Since she feels are no other options (though she hasn't really looked for any), she decides that they are right and that as both a stranger and victim in this strange land, she deserves such help.

First she sees the Tin Man. Now the Tin Man has no heart. (We suspect that he is a closet conservative or perhaps even a whacko Libertarian, but he has neither confirmed or denied such leanings.) He tells her that there is really nothing that he or the government can or should do for her. They didn't cause the tornado, they don't own the land that the house has fallen on, and it isn't the government's responsibility to move houses or to help people who choose to drop in on Oz unannounced (see illegal immigration). He is very sorry, but he considers this a problem of personal responsibility. He would like her to take responsibility for her situation and leave the government out of it.

Next she goes to see the the Scarecrow. Now the Scarecrow has no brain. (I know, a bureaucrat with no brain, who would have believed it.) He tells her that he really doesn't know if the government can do anything for her. Quite frankly there are so many rules in government these days, that these rules are confusing and contradictory, and no one really understands them; least of all the government. He explains that making tough choices like this is ... well tough, and that he will neither support nor deny help to her at this time. He does say however, that he would be happy to initiate a government funded study to help determine why her house fell there, how it might be moved, and ultimately whose responsibility such a move might be. He smilingly says that he thinks that such a study might be able to be completed in as little as 18 months.

Deep in despair now over the inability of anyone to provide the help for her that Dorothy feels that she is owed, she goes to see the Cowardly Lion. Now the Cowardly Lion has no courage. He does however have a really big heart and a modicum of brains. (It has been said that the bureaucratic mentality is the one constant in the universe. I forget by whom.) He listens to Dorothy's story and breaks down into tears upon its completion. Overwhelmed with love and compassion for her and the desperate plight that she faces he promises Dorothy that he, as a representative of the government of Oz, will take care of everything and that she need not worry ever again. Putting the full force of the government bureaucracy to work, he sits down at his desk and draws up a mandate for immediate government funding for the moving of Dorothy's house to a more suitable location (of her choice of course), and while he's at it he has the entire home renovated. He knows and understands that Dorothy is a victim here (as only a government can understand), even if she did make some ill-conceived choices in her past, and even if she is not really a citizen of Oz. He knows that a caring, concerned, and compassionate government must take care of people in need (and sometimes even those not in need) regardless of the cost or the circumstances.

Dorothy is thrilled of course at having someone take over responsibility for her problem, and gladly accepts the assistance (after all, it doesn't cost her anything). She and the Cowardly Lion pick out a lovely site (which the government purchases, again at no charge to Dorothy), arranges for a contractor to move the house, and does a wonderful job in fixing up the place in the process. All of this is lauded in the local media, praising the compassion of the Cowardly Lion, and by silence, condemning the Scarecrow and Tin Man for their lack of support in this crisis. The people of Oz seem content as well. The problem of Dorothy's house is being addressed, and everyone gets to feel a little good about themselves for the government stepping in to save this poor girl. They don't know why they feel good, but they do; and that's enough.

Now just as Dorothy is about to move in to her now beautiful, relocated, and renovated house in a huge ceremony attended by the Cowardly Lion, the adoring media, and even some of the local populace; along comes a Wizard. The Wizard has nothing to do with the government, but he is a Wizard after all. So the media immediately swarm around him, explaining what's has happened and what's going on now, then ask him for his opinion on the whole thing. After assessing the situation for a just couple of minutes, he nods his head sagely (as all wizards do), then shakes it sadly.

"You'll be sorry," he says; and softly shambles away from the gathering, perhaps leaning on his walking stick a bit more heavily than he had before.

THE END

Well of course that can't be the end. (If it was it would be a pretty crappy ending, wouldn't it?) You see, it seems that the money that had been mandated by the Cowardly Lion for the Dorothy bail-out ended up causing a few problems for the government of Oz. Even government money after all, has to come from somewhere (usually it's citizens). But even government money isn't boundless, and in this case Oz was forced to issue a great number of bonds in order to pay for the unfunded mandates of the Cowardly Lion, so much so that the government soon found itself on the verge of bankruptcy. The Wicked Witch of the East, who had been waiting in the wings and had always wanted to take over things in Oz, saw this as the perfect opportunity to do so. She was able to move in and buy up all of the bonds, effectively putting her in control of the government. And the citizens of Oz who just wanted to get a small housing problem off of their back, ... well they lived in debt, fear, and misery for the rest of their days.

REALLY THE END.

Disclaimer:

Any resemblance to political ideologies or parties, current or proposed government policies, or particular politicians is purely accidentally ... maybe.

A Very Special Fairy Tale

(Please look up the definitions of irony and satire before reading the following.)  

Once upon a time in the deep green woods, their lived an evil corporation that built terrible machines that polluted the earth and threatened the planet's very existence. This evil corporation was called General Motors and was one of a bunch of nasty, despicable creatures who served no one but themselves, their executives, and their stockholders. This evil creature was helped by a group of kindly, but unsuspecting little people called the United Auto Workers who unknowingly aided this evil creature in order to make a lot of money to feed their families (and buy some pretty cool stuff). Other groups of the United Auto Workers helped the other evil corporations who were also doing terrible things to the planet, but they were also good people. 

Well one day, the UAW sat down with this evil corporation and said, "We don't really care about what you want to do, but we want to be sure that we get to continue to help you, and that you will continue to pay us a lot of money."  

Not terribly surprised at this statement, the corporation said in return, "What about your health plan and stuff like that?  The truth of the matter is that we're running out of money from giving so much to you, and the other evil corporations are slowly killing us. We don't know how long we will even be around, let alone whether you will get to keep helping us."  

The UAW had expected this, and replied, "Pay us some money and let us take care of the health care thing and all the rest of that stuff. We have some connections in government and we think that pretty soon they will take care of all of this for everybody anyway. Then neither of us will have to worry about it, and we will still be getting all that money. But in return, you have to make sure that we are still getting paid a lot of money to help you."  

And the evil corporation said, "Wait a minute! You've been getting a lot of money for a long time, and that's one of the big reasons that we are running out of it. We can't do what you ask."  

With that, the UAW got really mad, and said, "If you won't keep giving us the money, we won't help you anymore. That will mean that the other evil corporations will take over polluting the world, and by showing them that we mean business in dealing with you, they will do what we ask." And with that, they went on strike.  

The End  

Well of course that's not really the end of the story and every Fairy Tale needs a happy ending, so here it is: 

Eventually the two groups made up, GM caved in for the most part, and they went back to building the terrible machines that were destroying the world, but the damage to the evil corporation had been done. While it didn't happen right away, pretty soon the two were again fighting over money, and the evil corporation had even less than they had before; but they kept giving the UAW more and more, mostly because it had become a habit. Eventually the evil corporation died, because evil corporations can't survive when they can't make money doing bad things like polluting the earth. 

The funny thing though, is that the UAW died too. It seemed that the other evil corporations that gave in to the UAW died the same way that GM did, and the ones that didn't give in found out that they didn't need the UAW to continue to build machines to destroy the earth. They also found that they made more and better machines and made more money without them. But without the chance to help the evil corporations, the UAW couldn't survive. ... and the world lived happily ever after 

REALLY THE END!