Don't ya get it?

Today's subject is a cosmic joke, and I'll get to that in a minute. First, though, a video that brightens my day and, I hope, yours, if you haven't already seen it. Frankly, there's just not enough art done in the medium of sheep.




Anyway, on to the joke.
I've been thinking some more about the Deepak Chopra book. (I cannot believe I'm saying this.) And it strikes me that I have been the subject of a huge cosmic joke this past week.
When I started this blog, the idea was to look at all the bad stuff happening out there--the stock market, the unemployment--and match it up with traditional self help literature. The huge dissonance between the two would provide me with miles of material. I'd have a few laughs and perhaps make a few bucks off ads to buy a stove.
As for the pessimism...I did want to quit being so negative, in a way. When you can't convince yourself that the years spent raising kids were worth it, you've crossed some kind of line that was never meant to be crossed. But I knew if I quit being a pessimist, I'd miss the satisfaction of always being right.

So I decided to try and have it both ways. I would lament about my minuscule problems and fears, while sniping at the silliness and hypocrisy that is the self help industry. All the while, I'd be safe on my blogger's perch--delivering judgement and snarkiness from above it all. (Snarkiness always sells, doesn't it?)
In short, I'd be like many in the blogosphere: Grotesque and alone in the dark hours on end, spewing gibberish and leaving everything they touch reeking in malodorous slime.


Then came the big joke. Financial crisis. Uncertain future. For real, not just in my imagination. A cutback--better than a layoff in some ways. Worse in others.
Suddenly, an attitude of detached irony is no longer an option.

I've had a week to deal with it. I've trembled. I've walked in the dark netherworld of attack writing. I've stayed awake worrying. And now that that week is done, I find the experience has been...liberating.

Really. Deepak was right about the whole fear thing. It is an illusion. The bad thing is not nearly so bad as the fear of it was. Now, at least, there are actions that can be taken to save ourselves. I've even stopped checking the stock market, so that must mean some healing is taking place.

I doubt I'll ever become the caricature of an optimist that so infects the writings for sales reps. I'll never be able to jump out of bed, fling open a window and scream, "This is the best day ever! I feel happy, healthy and terrific!" Because that's just not me.
I'll never stop being a smart-ass, probably. But the kiln fires of this week have wrought some kind of change. I am, at least some hours of the day, not afraid.
So bring it, Cosmic Joke God!

Back Atcha

I've tried. Lord knows I've tried to get back to the optimism that is supposed to be the object of this blog. Positive ideas. Self help. Etc.
But it's hard, y'know?
This morning I had every intention of getting back on track when my attention was diverted. It seems this blog was mentioned in something called Tony's Kansas City. (Note to female readers: Tony is one of these guys who must constantly prove his manhood by putting up centerfold-type shots with lots of cleavage. Well, I guess in fairness he may not be compensating. Maybe he just wants to be able to brag about the hits on this mess of a site and hope we won't realize it's just the same 10 teenagers in their moms' basements clicking in over and over again.)
But he mentioned me so of course I had to spend some time looking around his site and quid pro quo, I'll link him (ewww) just this once.
Tony is a bitter and unhappy blogger. He does not like the Star. Even so, as the names of those laid off began to dribble out, he played it all solemn. "Damn," he wrote, after announcing the first few names.
Of course, he called Mike a d-bag, as he seems to have a case of d-bag Tourette's where Mike is concerned. That whole shtick has become something of a yawner. Really, he goes after my husband with a stalker's intensity that's a little..uh...weird to be honest.
But here's the reason I'm writing anything at all about old Tony. In an earlier post, at the end of "Five Reasons to Fire Mike Hendricks!!!" he wrote about the Star:

"...the Kansas City Institution (the Star) deserves every bit of financial hardship that comes their (sic) way as I link their stuff, make their content my own and chuckle as their business model is cleaned away from the digital age."

"As their business model is cleaned away from the digital age." The last part of that sentence is a mystery (seriously Tony. I can recommend some good English usage textbooks). But it's clear enough that TKC has been spending some time alone, working himself into a sort of auto-ecstasy over the mental anguish of not just Mike, but everyone who got bad news yesterday.
That's what gets me. To the Tony's and the Rush Limbaughs and the Ann Coulters of this world, this whole thing is a big game. No real people are involved. Just cardboard cutouts from the imagination impaired. And oh, how it messes with their minds when you don't fit into the perfect little category they have picked out for you. That's what comes, I guess, of sitting at a computer all day and never venturing out of your comfort zone.
In the meantime, people who've been dealt the indignity of layoffs and cutbacks worry about paying the mortgage and feeding their families. Should they also have to deal with these little Rumpelstiltskin creatures dancing around and cackling about it?

I've seen a lot of hateful stuff on this site before but never replied because until recently, I assumed Tony was 15, and how would that look? I decided today, though, that enough was enough.
Dwelling on this is seriously damaging my optimism vibe. So this will be the last time I write about this site. Ever. I have bigger flies to swat.
Tony, best of luck with your career. Hope you get a girlfriend or a high colonic--whichever is most effective. Adieu.

The Destroyer Reveals His Form

Laughing yoga takes on a whole different feel when you have just learned your income is going down by 33 percent.
Yes. 33 percent. The Destroyer has come.
Actually, the day got off to a pretty good start. I did the bills and we ended up a little better than usual. That plus the fact that we're making a dent in the credit card (which was driven up last year by--believe it or not--our late dog's medical care) put me in a more hopeful, less scared mood.
It was when I was driving to the grocery store that I got the call. Mike's employer, the Kansas City Star, wanted him to come in.
This could not be good. I had to turn around and bring the car back (we have one car) so he could go downtown. When we met at the house, we resumed our traditional roles of optimist (Mike) and pessimist (me.)
Me: Oh God. You're still don't think you'll be laid off?
Him: No. I think they like me. I bring in readers. It's probably about the pay cut. Maybe they're rearranging and I'll have to work more from downtown.
Let me insert here that we'd gotten an official email warning us that people below a certain pay level would get a 5 percent pay cut. Others might get more. We fit easily below the 5 percent line.
Me: You sure we can handle the pay cut? What if it's more? What if the email was a complete lie?
Him: I'm below the limit.
Me: If they make you work downtown how will you get there? We'd probably have to put up for a second car. Or I'll be stuck here with no car. (Trust me to always think of myself.)
Him: Let's not get three steps ahead. It will be okay.

Later he called back with the grim news. A pay cut of 33 percent. Full time to part time. No more life insurance benefit. No more vacation days. Accept it or take a buyout. But if you accept, there may not be another chance for a buyout. No promises. You have until Wednesday to decide.

Now, I was all prepared to be stoic about a 5 percent pay cut. I wasn't happy to lose the equivalent of two years, but I figured with some more piano students and perhaps monetization of this blog, maybe we could swing it temporarily. But 33 percent. Holy @*&# shit! Nothing in the email said anyone would get a 33 percent pay cut or that anyone would be knocked back from full to part time. And there's no way--no possible way--that my piano teaching can make up even half of what we're losing. Forget the two-year setback. Hello 1997.

And so, only 20 short minutes after pressing a cold cloth to my swollen eyes, I found myself driving my daughter and her friend to laughing yoga. I had promised.
It wasn't so hard to fake laughter. I'll probably be doing a lot of that in the future, so I guess it doesn't hurt to practice now. But...I don't know. It was different. I felt good afterwards, like before. Just not content. Not at peace. Not connected to the resonant good vibe of the past sessions. Maybe it's the shock.

Yesterday I vowed we are going to live not just good but better. We are not going to be just happy but happier.

Today that seems like a pretty tall order.

US vs. Mexico

I woke up an hour early this morning because of my husband's restless tossing. And he was up a full hour early because, once again, there were rumors of new layoffs, furloughs, etc. coming up. It seems inhuman to have to keep going through this every two or three weeks. I wonder how many people have gotten sick just off the stress of this economy.
So yeah, it's going to be kind of hard to be an optimist today.
There is a bright spot, though. The US national soccer team won its World Cup qualifying match against Mexico. (Here's a game recap.)

The 2-0 win, which I caught part of while making supper, was made all the sweeter by the fact that it was in spite of the voodoo magic Blockbuster encouraged people to use against the US team.

Yes, that's correct. Voodoo. Promoted by an American company against it's own countrymen.
Apparently Blockbuster made a deal to use its Mexico City stores to sell little voodoo likenesses of US players, complete with red, white and blue colors and the word "Gringo" on the back. (Read about it here.) Most news outlets treated it as a kind of cutesy story. Ooh look. Voodoo dolls. You stick pins in them. But it's all good-natured rivalry.)

But I was kind of offended. First of all, you'd never, ever, under any circumstances be able to sell dolls representing Mexican players to stick pins into. No one would think of it as good-natured rivalry. It would be bigotry, and rightly so.

But even if you could...even if you could, this is the World Cup we're talking about. If there's any time you should be supporting your own country--or even just pretending out of politeness--it would be the World Cup. Instead, we have a company that says one thing to its American customers, then goes across the border and makes a quick buck helping people wish for American defeat. What's the next step, selling effigy figures ready-made for burning during an overseas protest? I doubt a big Italian firm like Parmalat could get away with something like this. Something tells me if they tried, they'd find a lot of their boxes of milk dumped out in the streets the next day.

Blockbuster's attitude pretty much sums up what's been wrong with the direction of this country. Corporations begin to think of themselves as bigger than the country they're in. They get arrogant and start thinking that their good fortune is unrelated to the prosperity of those around them. And the next thing you know...well, you get them selling voodoo dolls and hoping for embarrassment and defeat for the home team.

Sad, so sad. But wait! Here's an idea!
What makes people buy voodoo dolls in the first place? A wish for some kind of power where you truly have none. So--I'm beginning to see my next career here--wouldn't there be a big US market right now for voodoo dolls relating to the economy? The defeat of Mexico shows Blockbuster's magic is weak. Maybe there are better sorcerers out there who could step in where the stock market has failed. I'd be happy to get out my sewing machine and whip up a few dolls for, let's say, $9.99 apiece.
Hedge fund manager anyone?

If you want a great soccer cheerer upper, watch this video on YouTube. Sorry I can't embed it here.

Update

McClatchy just announced it will freeze the pension and it won't be contributing to employee's 401Ks for at least the time being. This wasn't unexpected. As for the furloughs and layoffs, it may be a few more excruciating weeks until those things are worked out.