Let them eat cake

I purposely did not say yesterday that things couldn’t get any weirder, and I’m glad. Because a couple of twits from the inner circle of kleptocracy just raised the tone-deafness stakes.

First, Lara—wife of Qusay—had this message for the 800,000 federal workers being held for ransom by her increasingly unhinged father-in-law. “It’s not fair to you, and we all get that, but this is so much bigger than any one person. It is a little bit of pain, but it’s going to be for the future of our country, and their children and their grandchildren and generations after them will thank them for their sacrifice right now.”

The image of this gilt bimbo dismissing the very real hardship of everyone who’s gone without a paycheck since before Christmas as “a little bit of pain” is just beyond the beyond. But then Wilbur Ross, the grifting commerce secretary, stepped into the ring.

Like his master, Ross’ ego is tied up with being perceived as a billionaire but he’s been outed by Forbes as a mere millionaire. Also like the Kleptocrat, the equity manager was supposed to have divested himself of his financial interests, but so far nah. Also, he has remarkably robust connections with Russian oligarchs.

Also—like everyone in the Cabinet—despite his unquestionable wealth, he doesn’t seem to ever have enough. Forbes reported last August that while running his private equity fund, Ross consistently stole money from his client accounts, to the cumulative total of $120M. He settled lawsuits, and paid a multi-million dollar fine to the SEC in 2016. But here’s the absolute corker: his employees revealed that Ross used to take handfuls of Sweet’N Low packets from a nearby restaurant.

Thus the measure of the man.

So with that background, let’s cut to the tape.

Yes, the necrotic gargoyle is not only utterly without empathy for actual humans, but he’s completely clueless about how finances work; he likens borrowing against the expectation of getting paid at some point in the future to a “government-guaranteed loan”. He concedes that the workers will “have to pay a little bit of interest”, but he shrugs that off. Because of course he thinks the little people ought to float the government while he and his ilk continue their grifts.

But wait, there’s more. Because Ross went on to dismiss concerns about the hundreds of thousands of feds who are furloughed or being forced to work without pay. They’ll get paid eventually… But even if they never do, 800,000 people is “a third of a percent of our GDP, so it’s not like it’s a gigantic number overall.”

Here’s what Paul Krugman had to say about that:

Because of course it’s not just the actual government employees who are screwed, it’s all those contractors (and their employers), as well. And they won’t get back pay out of it. Plus, there’s the knock-on effect on all the companies—shops, restaurants, healthcare providers—whose business from the feds and contractors are drying up. And all the scientific research that’s been halted for lack of funds. We’re now being told that our much-vaunted miracle economy may wind up with zero growth this quarter.

(Then there's White House economic adviser Larry Kudlow referring to the people forced to come to work without getting paid as "volunteering". And White House economic adviser Kevin Hassett declaring that all 800,000 furloughed/"volunteering" workers are really getting a vacation.)

But Lara, Wilbur and their grotesque ilk will no doubt shrug that off. Extending their Ancien Régime mindset, it's après nous le déluge.

Oughta be a law...

As you are all too well aware, we are living in interes utterly bizarre times. I was alive in the 60s, and it still wasn’t as batshit crazy as what we’re seeing now.

For today’s example, I’m going to step away from the lunacy emanating directly from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and give you a bill proposed in the Arizona state legislature by a whackadoodle named Gail Griffin (RWNJ). Her House Bill 2444 w-wou (sorry, laughing too hard) would require (hahahaha)…

Well, first of all it’s the “Obscene and Criminal Blocking Software” law. And it requires all “product[s] that make content accessible on the Internet” bought in the great, regressive state of Arizona to block by default access to porn. (Think about that. By default.) And if you want to unblock your, er, device to view “obscene material”, you have to pay $20. To some state entity TBD.

And your $20 and all the $20 of your porn-fan brethren will go to fund the Kleptocrat’s wall along the southern border. Imagining the Tea Partiers who infest Arizona forking out any amount of money to unblock their “obscene material” is just hysterical.

No, I swear I am not making this up. You can read the whole farkochte thing here. Her definitions of “specified anatomical areas” alone are worth the wading through all the all-caps.

Griffin apparently isn’t the first legislator to display her complete and utter ignorance of how The Interwebz works; other porn-blocking nonsense has been attempted in Kentucky, Alabama, Utah, Rhode Island, South Carolina and Virginia—all proud bastions of ignorance. (Well, I don’t know what’s up with Rhode Island.) But she seems the first to tie porn to the wall. Publicly, at least.

Okay, but today’s post is not so much about Griffin’s idiocy as it is about Twitter’s response. Because this thread is smashing. I started taking screen caps to give you an idea:

But you should really just go here and start scrolling. Just don't be drinking anything while you do that.

Auto parts

Yesterday I was catching up with a colleague; the topic of auto repairs came up and I told him about my turbocrash. (I did get the car back late Monday, thanks be to God.) Turns out he had some woes of his own last week.

Thursday afternoon he was driving home when the check engine light started flashing and the motor ran really rough. He limped the two blocks home and did what pretty much anyone would do these days: he consulted Google to diagnose the problem. Evidently it was a bad lead from one of the spark plugs, which could be replaced fairly easily; just follow the YouTube video.

“The part only costs $50,” he said. “So I called around. No one had it in stock.”

I started laughing. “Well, sure. If they had it in stock, it would cost $300.”

He grimaced and went on with his narrative.

He called an Acura dealer, who said they had one, and he asked them to hold it; he’d stop by Saturday morning to pick it up. Fine; they could do that. Saturday morning he showed up for the whatever-the-part-was.

Turns out I was off by $70. The Acura dealer price was $230.

(He got it and installed it. And he ordered another one for extra, over the Internet. For $75.)

Visualizing...

Lest you think that only no-name amateur-hour numbskulls engage in cold-calling come-on spam (like the one I reported on last week), I assure you that actual employees of legitimate companies do it, too.

For example, here’s one I got from Tableau Software, clearly courtesy of LinkedIn:

Now, in fact, my company does deploy Tableau’s data visualization application, but I have no need for it. Moreover, I’m not in IT, nor does my LinkedIn profile in any way imply that I do. So for the life of me I cannot imagine what Adam w/Tableau thought his email would accomplish. From his LinkedIn profile (with a lot of sales jobs), it appears he sent this a month or two after he moved to Tableau. Maybe he sent the same, sadly incoherent email to lots of my colleagues in hopes of upping the number of user licenses.

I dunno, but this kind of thing is not a good look for a company that’s supposed to be a leader in business intelligence.

Gratitude Monday: #StandWithBennett

We live in strange times; indeed we do. And I confess that I’m struggling today to find anything in my life or the world in general to truly appreciate.

But it’s the day the United States has assigned to honor Martin Luther King, Jr., which reminds me of the mission of historically black colleges and universities (HBCU)—institutions that educated the sons and daughters (and their sons and daughters, down to this day) of men and women brought to this country as slaves. For generations, they’ve enriched our nation by providing that education that would otherwise have been denied citizens on account of the color of their skin.

A couple of weeks ago I learned that one of these schools—one of only two serving black women—is in danger of losing accreditation because of finances. Bennett College, a small liberal arts college in Greensboro, S.C., was founded in 1873, and became single-sex in 1926. Its students are known as Bennett Belles, and (from what I’ve read) display extraordinary sisterhood. They have until 1 February to raise $5M.

I heard the story on NPR, found the page on their website where you can donate and whipped out my AMEX numbers. I’m an alumna of another women’s college; I felt I owed it to them. My contribution is small, but I’m hoping that others have given as well, that they’ll reach their goal and that they’ll find a way to continue their mission into the next century.

So this is what I’m grateful for today—that I was able to play a small part in helping keep Bennett College going. If you’re able, I hope you’ll do the same.

Turbo not

So, this happened: yesterday on the drive home from Metro, the check engine light came on, the engine ran really rough and white smoke billowed out of the exhaust.

This kind of thing is never A Good Sign.

I had it towed to my mechanic, and it seems the turbo charger has died. And it’ll cost $2500 to replace it. Plus new spark plugs.

And, if I’m lucky, they can get the part from New Jersey on Monday and install it.

Which means I’m stuck in the People’s Republic over the weekend without a car.

Yay. /s

Birds and berries

Heyheyhey! I was sitting in the livingroom yesterday afternoon when I noticed a large-ish bird in my holly bush. Large and kind of reddish.

Then another, and then about 20 others.

At first I thought Bird One was a juvenile cardinal, because they’re regulars at the feeders. But I realized that it was bigger than the cardinals, and not quite the right configuration.

Robins!

Now, you may wonder at my excitement, but—while I have seen robins out and about, even in the front of the house—this is only the second time I’ve seen them in the back. And—just like yesterday—they were here with all their buddies, absolutely denuding the holly of its berries. They flew up, snatching the berries on the hover, then dashed off to one of the conifers to eat. They pretty much picked the bush clean, except for a cluster right next to the dining room window, where I was trying to photograph them.

(Here’s a kind of crappy video—they were not cooperating, and it was late afternoon.)

The one other time was about two years ago, when I was on the horn with Comcast because their X1 was malfunctioning (again). It was around dusk and as I was talking with the tech, I looked out and saw a whole gang of them milling around the patio. Comcast Guy probably notated my account with something like Crazy Lady, because I stopped mid-sentence and screeched, “Robins! There are about fifteen robins right outside!”

The roving band did not stick around either time; they were here a maximum of 20 minutes. I guess they have places to go and berries to eat. (They certainly look well-fed.) But I’m just fascinated by their social organization. I wonder if they have scouts that scope out the feeding grounds and signal the flock where the next course of their progressive dinner is to be found?

Entrepreneurship

I’ve marveled here many times at the completely ham-handed gambits sales/business development people deploy in an attempt to make a sale. It’s the business world equivalent of robo-calling: flinging vast amounts of emails chockers with faux bonhomie and presumptuous expectations that you’ll set up a call to buy their products or services.

Many of them are funneled through LinkedIn—the predators do keyword searches, see one they like and, without bothering to read further, they fling off an email. I don’t have my email account in my profile, but it’s not terrifically difficult to suss out possible addressing protocols and take a flyer. The results are risible, particularly when the perps are trying to be subtle.

Viz:

There’s nothing like a segue from an intro from someone claiming to be a “research analyst” for a bogus company (who can't even be arsed to drop my name into the salutation) exploring “entrepreneurship opportunities” via a “market survey” to who buys office supplies in what quantities to make me want to “take a quick call”. By replying to a Gmail account.

Pedal politics

It’s a time-honored American custom to wear your political opinions on your vehicle. Usually that means bumper stickers on your car or truck.

However, here’s something a tad out of the ordinary, spotted outside Eastern Market Metro last week:

Gratitude Monday: work ethic

We here in the District They Call Columbia got more than a dusting of snow through Sunday. I don’t know what the official tally was, but in the People’s Republic, it felt like I was shoveling about a foot of the stuff off my front walks.

But in the course of that activity I found my Washington Post, right where it normally is on a Sunday morning. The cluster parking lot hadn’t been plowed and I certainly had no intention of trying to drive anywhere, but the guy who delivers the newspaper had done his job.

And I thought about all the people not getting big bucks who do their jobs come day, go day, and keep things humming for the rest of us, even when the rest of us don’t venture beyond the mailbox. The ones who stock the supermarket shelves, repair the power lines, run the cash register at the pharmacy and, yes, deliver your papers. In this day of elected officials pulling down six-figure salaries (plus whatever they snarfle up at the lobbying trough) who can’t be arsed to perform their actual Constitutional duties, I am grateful for these folks who show up and do what they’re paid for, no matter how little the amount.