Recently in the Times. I'm surprised not to have been contacted for a quote. Clearly, my standing isn't what it once was in the transportation field. Seems these kinds of projects would be ideal for combating unemployment, especially into 2010 and 2011, when hard costs and serious labor dollars would start flowing. Instead, we get this. Ughh.
I've always been a fan of the Benders here in Maryland. They run a great program with Larry Murray at the helm. Nice piece in DRF on homebred Access Fee. Benders also bred Bocamis, the dam of Veiled Reference. You can read snippet on her in this MD newsletter. Scroll down to Boca Flyer write-up.
I'll try to sneak out and see Veiled Reference, maybe next week. She should be scheduled to start back at the gallop pretty soon. This will be her first time galloping since last February, so she probably won't know what to do with herself. It'll be like when you put a kid in a candy store and the sensory overload is so much that they start to cry. It's good for kids to learn decision making skills early on, though. I only stopped tearing up at breakfast buffets a few years ago, so I know the excitement VR will be feeling. Here's to her playing it cool.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
oh, nuts
Everybody has that guy in the office that you're just deathly afraid of engaging in any sort of conversation for fear that it will turn into a 2-hour ordeal. Even the idea of a friendly "hello," seems a bad idea, because the he or she in question will invariably proceed to talk you into submission about the weekend, their spouse that doesn't understand them, the Mets, or that special something that they're thinking about calling the doctor on. Whatever. The point is, once that door is open, once you even nod in their direction, it's over. Lights out. The conversation will not end until a) you walk off; b) ask him/her to leave; c) the boss shows up; or, d) your cube mate saves you with the fake call into your extension. And, sure, on the rare occasion that you've got some time to kill, or you're looking for super mild entertainment, it's a harmless enough way to while away the day. Mainly, though, it's proof that there are certain folks that, if you give them an inch, they're gonna take the mile. No two ways about it.
Once you've established this, though, the relationship is fairly easy to manage. Like Caesar Milan entering the homes of certain dog owners with his tennis raquet at the ready, when that guy comes round, you're always prepared to sprint for the bathroom as if something has gone terribly wrong, pick up a phantom call from your cell phone ("It was on vibrate, dude."), or just turn your chair and hope the storm passes. Most of the time, these tactics will work. The catch, though, for most decent people, anyway, is that you know you're being a bit of a punk, and so, the occasional feelings of guilt will strike at you, and you'll find yourself giving a big cheery hello the next time Sparky comes around. Twenty minutes of talk about strategies he's putting together for his daughter's youth soccer team, and you're ready to shove your head through your computer monitor, just to make it stop. Still, the cycle seems to feed on itself, and you winding up either hating your coworker or yourself, all depending on how you play the siutaion that day at the office.
What does this have to do with anything? It might be a stretch, but the whole deal between Democrats, and Obama, in particular, and the Republicans on this economic stimulus package strikes me as eerily famiiar to some of those totally whacked-out exchanges back at the office. You see, Obama wants to be nice; he wants to hear about the Mets and what's new and exciting in the lives of Rs. In return for listening, he expects the Rs to support whatever he cooks up to stimulate the economy. He expects them to get on board. And, so, his way of giving a big, cheery, "c'mon, guys, let's all play nice in the sandbox," smile to that crowd of evil-doers, is to throw them a $275B bone in tax cuts as part of the $825B package he cooked up w/ Senate Democrats. "I am your friend. I care about you and respect your opinion. Look how I honor Ronald Reagan and throw a bone your way. Vote yes."
I get the politics of it, really. The problem I have with the move, though, is that it legitimizes the notion that Reaganomics actually work. For anyone that's been around for the last decade and change, we know that's not true. Like getting a a pair of scissors lodged in one's eye teaches one not to run with scissors, the last few decades, culminating with 2008, have taught us that there ain't no trickle in trickle-down. So, if we know this, why concede the $275B in tax cuts right off the bat? Did Obama's people really think that McConnell and Co. would rejoice, say, "thank you very much, Mr. Pres.," and vote "yes," on the package? Really? Don't forget, these guys are like our co-worker friend: you give them $275B, they'll want $500B, plus, ask you to check out a mole on their back. Obama didn't have them pegged? I mean, were his people paying attention to the last 8 years of Republic rule? They built an administration on grabbing for more power, cash, oil, you name it. Now we're gonna kill 'em with kindness? Whaaat?
People a lot smarter than me have raised issue with the proposed tax cuts. Read Krugman, Mark Thoma, Stiglizt, and a whole host of others readily found with a google search, to learn more. My favorite idea out there is that Obama's folks are counting on the House Dems to do their heavy lifting. Obama will play to the Blue Dogs and moderate Republics by floating a sub $1 trillion figure and leave others to push for more. It's Obama as sensible and restrained, because Americans don't want their president talking about trillion, with a T, dollar packages. You're telling me, though, that Charlie Rangel is going to sort this out? He can't even figure out the taxes on his winter home! C'mon, man. Obviously, the $275B didn't get Obama support from McConnell (surprise!), so why not have offered up something closer to $0 and started negotiations from there?
Plan calls for $90B in infrastructure, which sounds like a lot until you remember that light rail in any kind of urban setting goes for about $1B/mile and the new NY/NJ crossing is $15B on its own. Factor in a good chunk of the $90B going to crucial transportation corridors of North Dakota, Wyoming and Kansas, a la Homeland Securty funding guidelines, and we'll be lucky to fund a few new rope-tows at northeastern ski resorts. Yes we can!
Once you've established this, though, the relationship is fairly easy to manage. Like Caesar Milan entering the homes of certain dog owners with his tennis raquet at the ready, when that guy comes round, you're always prepared to sprint for the bathroom as if something has gone terribly wrong, pick up a phantom call from your cell phone ("It was on vibrate, dude."), or just turn your chair and hope the storm passes. Most of the time, these tactics will work. The catch, though, for most decent people, anyway, is that you know you're being a bit of a punk, and so, the occasional feelings of guilt will strike at you, and you'll find yourself giving a big cheery hello the next time Sparky comes around. Twenty minutes of talk about strategies he's putting together for his daughter's youth soccer team, and you're ready to shove your head through your computer monitor, just to make it stop. Still, the cycle seems to feed on itself, and you winding up either hating your coworker or yourself, all depending on how you play the siutaion that day at the office.
What does this have to do with anything? It might be a stretch, but the whole deal between Democrats, and Obama, in particular, and the Republicans on this economic stimulus package strikes me as eerily famiiar to some of those totally whacked-out exchanges back at the office. You see, Obama wants to be nice; he wants to hear about the Mets and what's new and exciting in the lives of Rs. In return for listening, he expects the Rs to support whatever he cooks up to stimulate the economy. He expects them to get on board. And, so, his way of giving a big, cheery, "c'mon, guys, let's all play nice in the sandbox," smile to that crowd of evil-doers, is to throw them a $275B bone in tax cuts as part of the $825B package he cooked up w/ Senate Democrats. "I am your friend. I care about you and respect your opinion. Look how I honor Ronald Reagan and throw a bone your way. Vote yes."
I get the politics of it, really. The problem I have with the move, though, is that it legitimizes the notion that Reaganomics actually work. For anyone that's been around for the last decade and change, we know that's not true. Like getting a a pair of scissors lodged in one's eye teaches one not to run with scissors, the last few decades, culminating with 2008, have taught us that there ain't no trickle in trickle-down. So, if we know this, why concede the $275B in tax cuts right off the bat? Did Obama's people really think that McConnell and Co. would rejoice, say, "thank you very much, Mr. Pres.," and vote "yes," on the package? Really? Don't forget, these guys are like our co-worker friend: you give them $275B, they'll want $500B, plus, ask you to check out a mole on their back. Obama didn't have them pegged? I mean, were his people paying attention to the last 8 years of Republic rule? They built an administration on grabbing for more power, cash, oil, you name it. Now we're gonna kill 'em with kindness? Whaaat?
People a lot smarter than me have raised issue with the proposed tax cuts. Read Krugman, Mark Thoma, Stiglizt, and a whole host of others readily found with a google search, to learn more. My favorite idea out there is that Obama's folks are counting on the House Dems to do their heavy lifting. Obama will play to the Blue Dogs and moderate Republics by floating a sub $1 trillion figure and leave others to push for more. It's Obama as sensible and restrained, because Americans don't want their president talking about trillion, with a T, dollar packages. You're telling me, though, that Charlie Rangel is going to sort this out? He can't even figure out the taxes on his winter home! C'mon, man. Obviously, the $275B didn't get Obama support from McConnell (surprise!), so why not have offered up something closer to $0 and started negotiations from there?
Plan calls for $90B in infrastructure, which sounds like a lot until you remember that light rail in any kind of urban setting goes for about $1B/mile and the new NY/NJ crossing is $15B on its own. Factor in a good chunk of the $90B going to crucial transportation corridors of North Dakota, Wyoming and Kansas, a la Homeland Securty funding guidelines, and we'll be lucky to fund a few new rope-tows at northeastern ski resorts. Yes we can!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
right foot, left foot
Good things happening last night at Penn National, where our friend, Doug Nunn, had the winner of the last. He scored with Trefinity, a hard-knocking horse that has bankrolled close to $200,000 while racing during much of this decade, it seems. Win is especially cool for T Street, as we actually owned Trefinity's dam, Trevatha, a number of years ago. She was our first foray into the business, picked up as a broodmare prospect to send to the great Express Tour down in Florida. Things went south right out of the gate, unfortunately, beginning with serious difficulties getting her in foal. After a lot of wine, chocolate and all sorts of other tricks, the magic just wasn't going to happen. So, after shipping her back to NJ to wait for the following season, the poor mare somehow came down with strangles, and, after all sorts of efforts to save her, died. Bad, bad times.
I remember that I was out after after work that night, playing wing man for a co-worker buddy, when I got the call. It was really loud at the bar, so I ducked into the alcove between the men's and women's restrooms to take the call from her vet, who had cared for her entire family before it was broken up and sold at dispersal after the patriarch died. So, he passes on the crummy news, which sent me reeling back into the pay phones, while trying to avoid (teary) eye contact with traffic in the area. We're both sniffling and whimpering on the phone, feeling bad about the whole deal and I began wondering how the hell I was gonna tell everyone that she had died. "Oh, umm, yeah, you remember how we recently became horse owners?..."
I had to pull myself together and head back to the bar, quickly, of course, because my man was likely struggling without me trying to charm these two girls we had been chatting up. I didn't need to do much talking, necessarily; my role was just to look my usual handsome self, which, in turn, was supposed to elevate his standing on the looks meter. (It was heavy lifting, man). I go back to the bar, tell them it was just a buddy calling, and get back to looking beautiful. I had a serious urge to fill the next conversational void with news of my mare's demise ("Whyyyyyyy??" sniffle, sniffle, followed by "I probably shouldn't be alone right now. Hold me."). Instead, I kept my mouth shut, nursed my beer and hit the road.
I cried like a baby on the drive home that night (happy hours always make me emotional to begin with, so it was a given), broke the news to my family, cried a bit more with them, and hit the sack. It always hurts some to think back on good old Trevetha, even today, but news of one of her kids doing well, especially now with Trefinity running for Doug, helps take away a bit of the sting.
I remember that I was out after after work that night, playing wing man for a co-worker buddy, when I got the call. It was really loud at the bar, so I ducked into the alcove between the men's and women's restrooms to take the call from her vet, who had cared for her entire family before it was broken up and sold at dispersal after the patriarch died. So, he passes on the crummy news, which sent me reeling back into the pay phones, while trying to avoid (teary) eye contact with traffic in the area. We're both sniffling and whimpering on the phone, feeling bad about the whole deal and I began wondering how the hell I was gonna tell everyone that she had died. "Oh, umm, yeah, you remember how we recently became horse owners?..."
I had to pull myself together and head back to the bar, quickly, of course, because my man was likely struggling without me trying to charm these two girls we had been chatting up. I didn't need to do much talking, necessarily; my role was just to look my usual handsome self, which, in turn, was supposed to elevate his standing on the looks meter. (It was heavy lifting, man). I go back to the bar, tell them it was just a buddy calling, and get back to looking beautiful. I had a serious urge to fill the next conversational void with news of my mare's demise ("Whyyyyyyy??" sniffle, sniffle, followed by "I probably shouldn't be alone right now. Hold me."). Instead, I kept my mouth shut, nursed my beer and hit the road.
I cried like a baby on the drive home that night (happy hours always make me emotional to begin with, so it was a given), broke the news to my family, cried a bit more with them, and hit the sack. It always hurts some to think back on good old Trevetha, even today, but news of one of her kids doing well, especially now with Trefinity running for Doug, helps take away a bit of the sting.
Friday, January 9, 2009
stimulus 2009
Tax cuts??? Please. Keynes had it right way back in the day: we need dollars pumped into the economy on a massive scale, primarily in the form of serious public spending. Sure, you'll deal with inefficiencies (couldn't be worse than NJ or Baltimore), but we'll get more bang for the buck, dollar for dollar, plus the longterm benefit of actually having built something. Like, maybe a bridge or two, or, a few rail lines so average folks will be able to get to one of these millions of jobs that we'll create. Put money in the pockets of big business, and my bet is they're mighty slow to spend it. Besides, they seem more inclined to pay out retention bonuses and create footholds in China these days. How about our own Marshall Plan, because there's no good reason why we shouldn't have the best infrastructure system in the world. Is there? Are you telling me that Eisenhower gets the last word on how we get around in this country? Sheeeeiiiiit. Say it ain't so.Stopped in to see Veiled Reference yesterday and got a shot of her without the blanket. I was really pleased to see that she didn't blow up over the holidays. Here I went and got all fat myself, just to put on sympathy weight, or whatever you would call it, and then I show up to see her all skinny and stuff. What's up with that? Well, she didn't call me out (I was wearing black, though, plus I'm still quick on my feet) and we had a nice few minutes hanging out. Had a chat with Tim and he seemed pleased enough with how she's settled in. She's mellow now, having had the break, versus her rowdier ways when only allowed to go at the jog. This time around she'll jog for around 30 days and then start back galloping. I made a point to explain to her that she needs to do her part to grow the economy in '09, but she didn't seem too moved. I tried to detail how every win she can manage translates to a new Xbox 360 game for very important people affected by these global economic forces, but she shot back about Xboxes being made in China, and not wanting to support communism, indirectly or otherwise. I didn't have an answer for her, naturally, so I quickly left, wondering on the drive home how it had gotten to this point. She did look good, though...
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