Conspiracy theory

Here's a brilliant conspiracy theory that was recently uncovered by an anonymous but brilliant blogger from Frisco Texas whose turn it is to talk:

The Republicans lost the 2008 presidential election on purpose.

How do I know this? Here is my theory:

First, they knew we were in trouble. The economy was plummeting, the Iraq War was hopeless, and massive reform was clearly needed in health care, education, energy, Social Security, and Medicare. Not to mention personal hygiene. And don't even get me started on our nationwide lack of basic spelling skills. NOBODY knows when to use "its" versus "it's." Even professional journalists like the people responsible for the crawl on CNN, which has spelling errors approximately every fourth word.

Second, they knew that nobody really had solutions for these problems. I mean, if journalists don't know when an apostrophe is needed, how are the rest of us supposed to figure it out???

And third, they realized that as the losers, they would be in the perfect position. They can now sit back, criticize every move Obama makes, predict the end of the world as we know it, and vote "no" over and over again.

Do we need an apostrophe? "No!"

Could we please have an apostrophe if it might bring back my 401(k)? "No!!!"

Well what if we added some apostrophes in key places to try to get things turned around?
"No!!!!!!! In fact, if you give me an apostrophe I will refuse to take it, even though it could help the unemployed pronouns in my own state."

The thing is, some of us watch punctuation pretty closely. We know!! All those exclamation points!! Are supposed!! To make us forget!! How we got here!! In the first place!!

But. It's. Not. Working.

On a lighter note ...

No politics today. My blood pressure can't take it. No more pondering why elected officials whose policies have led us to this mess would dig in their heels and throw temper tantrums and compare themselves proudly to the Taliban.

Nope. Today I will play with Riley, and ponder more important things.

Like, why did my new jar of honey have a seal on top, with no pull-tab? How was I supposed to get that off? I jabbed it with a knife, knowing full well that anything I do with a knife at 6 am is a bad idea. Then I tore it off in little sticky sections, leaving smears of honey all over my fingers, glops of honey on the counter and a little honey trail leading to the trash can.

I think I'll leave it.

While I'm off at the park with Ry-Ry, maybe some little ants will come along. Maybe they will happily follow my trail. They won't bicker about who is in charge. They won't complain that there is too much honey being wasted. And even though they will encounter some trash along the way, they will end up in a huge smelly landfill where they can make a better world for themselves.

Or maybe I will squash them all with my shoe.

I just don't get it

Somebody sent this email to my husband yesterday. I don't get it. First, please read the email. Then see my questions at the end. Maybe you can help me understand.

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To All My Valued Employees,

There have been some rumblings around the office about the future of this company, and more specifically, your job. As you know, the economy has changed for the worse and presents many challenges. However, the good news is this: The economy doesn't pose a threat to your job. What does threaten your job however, is the changing political landscape in this country.

However, let me tell you some little tidbits of fact which might help you decide what is in your best interests.

First, while it is easy to spew rhetoric that casts employers against employees, you have to understand that for every business owner there is a Back Story. This back story is often neglected and overshadowed by what you see and hear. Sure, you see me park my Mercedes outside. You've seen my big home at last years Christmas party. I'm sure; all these flashy icons of luxury conjure up some idealized thoughts about my life.

However, what you don't see is the BACK STORY :

I started this company 28 years ago. At that time, I lived in a 300 square foot studio apartment for 3 years. My entire living apartment was converted into an office so I could put forth 100% effort into building a company, which by the way, would eventually employ you.

My diet consisted of Ramen Pride noodles because every dollar I spent went back into this company. I drove a rusty Toyota Corolla with a defective transmission. I didn't have time to date. Often times, I stayed home on weekends, while my friends went out drinking and partying. In fact, I was married to my business -- hard work, discipline, and sacrifice.

Meanwhile, my friends went to their jobs. They worked 40 hours a week and made a modest $50K a year and spent every dime they earned. They drove flashy cars and lived in expensive homes and wore fancy designer clothes. Instead of hitting the Nordstrom's for the latest hot fashion item, I was trolling through the discount store extracting any clothing item that didn't look like it was birthed in the 70's. My friends refinanced their mortgages and lived a life of luxury. I, however, did not. I put my time, my money, and my life into a business with a vision that eventually, some day, I too, will be able to afford these luxuries my friends supposedly had.

So, while you physically arrive at the office at 9am, mentally check in at about noon, and then leave at 5pm, I don't. There is no "off" button for me. When you leave the office, you are done and you have a weekend all to yourself. I unfortunately do not have the freedom. I eat, and breathe this company every minute of the day. There is no rest. There is no weekend. There is no happy hour. Every day this business is attached to my hip like a 1 year old special-needs child. You, of course, only see the fruits of that garden -- the nice house, the Mercedes, the vacations... you never realize the Back Story and the sacrifices I've made.

Now, the economy is falling apart and I, the guy that made all the right decisions and saved his money, have to bail-out all the people who didn't. The people that overspent their paychecks suddenly feel entitled to the same luxuries that I earned and sacrificed a decade of my life for.

Yes, business ownership has is benefits but the price I've paid is steep and not without wounds.

Unfortunately, the cost of running this business, and employing you, is starting to eclipse the threshold of marginal benefit and let me tell you why:

I am being taxed to death and the government thinks I don't pay enough. I have state taxes. Federal taxes. Property taxes. Sales and use taxes. Payroll taxes. Workers compensation taxes. Unemployment taxes. Taxes on taxes. I have to hire a tax man to manage all these taxes and then guess what? I have to pay taxes for employing him. Government mandates and regulations and all the accounting that goes with it, now occupy most of my time. On Oct 15th, I wrote a check to the US Treasury for $288,000 for quarterly taxes. You know what my "stimulus" check was? Zero. Nada. Zilch.

The question I have is this: Who is stimulating the economy? Me, the guy who has provided 14 people good paying jobs and serves over 2,200,000 people per year with a flourishing business? Or, the single mother sitting at home pregnant with her fourth child waiting for her next welfare check? Obviously, government feels the latter is the economic stimulus of this country.

The fact is, if I deducted (Read: Stole) 50% of your paycheck you'd quit and you wouldn't work here. I mean, why should you? That's nuts. Who wants to get rewarded only 50% of their hard work? Well, I agree which is why your job is in jeopardy.

Here is what many of you don't understand ... to stimulate the economy you need to stimulate what runs the economy. Had suddenly government mandated to me that I didn't need to pay taxes, guess what? Instead of depositing that $288,000 into the Washington black-hole, I would have spent it, hired more employees, and generated substantial economic growth. My employees would have enjoyed the wealth of that tax cut in the form of promotions and better salaries. But you can forget it now.

When you have a comatose man on the verge of death, you don't defibrillate and shock his thumb thinking that will bring him back to life, do you? Or, do you defibrillate his heart? Business is at the heart of America and always has been. To restart it, you must stimulate it, not kill it. Suddenly, the power brokers in Washington believe the poor of America are the essential drivers of the American economic engine. Nothing could be further from the truth and this is the type of change you can keep.

So where am I going with all this?

It's quite simple.

If any new taxes are levied on me, or my company, my reaction will be swift and simple. I fire you. I fire your co-workers. You can then plead with the government to pay for your mortgage, your SUV, and your child's future. Frankly, it isn't my problem any more.

Then, I will close this company down, move to another country, and retire. You see, I'm done. I'm done with a country that penalizes the productive and gives to the unproductive. My motivation to work and to provide jobs will be destroyed, and with it, will be my citizenship.

So, if you lose your job, it won't be at the hands of the economy; it will be at the hands of a political hurricane that swept through this country, steamrolled the constitution, and will have changed its landscape forever. If that happens, you can find me sitting on a beach, retired, and with no employees to worry about....

Signed, THE BOSS

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Ok, now here's what I don't get:

This email was not sent by a "boss." It was sent by a blue-collar worker. Let's call him Joe. (A random and over-used name, I know.) Why on earth would Joe feel sorry for The Boss?

Here is what The Boss was saying, as far as I can tell:

1. I am way smarter than you.
2. I work way harder than you.
3. You have a lot of nerve, aspiring to my lavish and well-deserved lifestyle.
4. I will soon retire and sit on a beach.
5. You won't.
6. Tough luck.

Now, maybe Joe sent the email around because he is outraged by it. But I don't think so. I think he agreed with it. I think an awful lot of Joe's believe that they made the right decisions, and worked hard, and saved hard, and are now being screwed by the Big Bad Government. I think Joe thinks he is The Boss.

Wake up, Joe. When was the last time you made enough money to generate a quarterly tax bill of $288,000?

Wake up.

Just calm down, people

Last year, Americans were scared. Why? This picture says it all.









Ok! Ok! We're terrified, already.

But this year, the new buzzword isn't "scared." It's "outraged." Why are we outraged? I can give you billions of reasons. The interesting thing is, our outrage is directed at all kinds of different people.

Some of us are outraged at the person pictured above. Some are outraged at Barney Frank and Christopher Dodd. Others are outraged at Barack Obama.

Lots of people make lots of money by telling us we should be outraged. Rush Limbaugh is a master at this. So is Chris Matthews. And Jim Kramer. And Sean Hannity. And Keith Olbermann. Pass around the Prozac.

What we really need to do, is to forgive and forget. Mostly forget.

Let's take a lesson from Sarah Palin. Not that long ago, she was outraged (OUTRAGED!) about Barack Obama's nefarious past. Who could forget those stirring speeches about pallin' around with terrorists? Where is Ms. Palin this weekend? Pallin' around with Barack at a swanky DC party. Hm.

And listen. Some of you are outraged (OUTRAGED!) about the $18.4 billion that was recently doled out in Wall Street bonuses. Now, sure, that was technically your money. But you need to look at the big picture. Take a lesson from Rudy Guiliani.

Mr. Guiliani has come to the defense of the generously-compensated folks on Wall Street, explaining that their bonuses help support restaurants and other businesses in New York City.

Of course! What were we thinking? All of you waiters out there who are slaving away for less than minimum wage should be ashamed of yourselves. Where would you be without those well-padded restaurant patrons who send back their Caesar salads because they specifically asked for three ounces of shredded cheese, not four, you bumble-headed moron?

They left you a fifty cent tip, didn't they?

Just calm down.