Buddy, can you spare a dime?

All right, children, let's review the homework from last time:



300 people you know, 6 of whom make over $250,000 per year--we'll call them the Overs--and 294 who make under $250,000 per year--naturally they are the Unders.



To help you cogitate(means: think real hard) about these two groups and how they relate to you, to their own kind, and to the Others, the Chief will tell you a story.



A friend of mine, let's call him Bill, is a doctor. A surgeon, actually.



Yes, this is a real guy; names changed to protect the inveterate( you can try to figure that one out; I only used it cause I like how it sounds--inveterate, inveterate).



Anyway, Bill got the idea to start a weekly free medical clinic for the homeless in our town, Factoryville(real place, fake name).



Bill's definitely an Over; probably a Way Over--but not a Way, Way, Unbelieveably Far Galaxy Over.



Barbara Tuchman once said that even rich men can be patriots. So, even Way Over doctors can want to do something for someone else--for free.



The people who came to this 2-hours-every-Thursday-night clinic, which had no funds, but some volunteers and giveaway stuff for the patients, were for-sure Way Way Unders.



The Chief knows a good bit about this place because the Queen, who keeps the Chief well and truly on the road of righteousness, decorum, and good taste, was performing the same task for this clinic.



And she made the Chief come help.



Now these Way Unders were a surprise to the Chief: first of all, everybody who came in--Coughers, Wheezers, Drinkers, Mothers, Knee-Highs and Far Outs(and a number of other categories) had a lot more variety to them than I thought.



Some were living in houses, some in a tent city on some waste ground I didn't know existed(and Factoryville isn't at all that big, folks); some didn't qualify for Medicare(you have to have an address for that--doesn't matter what you don't have--no address, no Medicare), some qualified for some kind of gov't help, but they had never even thought to ask.



Drinkers I expected and there were plenty; Mothers and Knee Highs I didn't expect, and there were plenty of those, too.



Our Way Over treated them all, gave out old expired medicine, and tried to get his doctor friends to volunteer their time.



Not a one did. They were afraid of being sued by these Way Unders, Bill said.



Could have happened, I guess, but Bill has never been sued. Except by other Overs. Go figure.



There's a group of lawyers in town(all Way, Way Overs) who specialize in suing and defending doctors.



And after the suing and settling are done, they all belong to the same very Way Over country club as their Dr. client/targets, where they and the Drs alternatively celebrate, and complain about, the System.



But the System hasn't kept them from the country club. Go figure.



I drive a lot for work and listen to a lot of talk radio. I like the company.



Sports shows are good. Opinions about sports never hurt, maimed, bankrupted, or killed anybody I know of. And there is always next season.



The other shows I listen to are conservative talk--just because that's everything else except the chiropractor, the investment adviser, and the local hunting and fishing show(if you don't live in this part of the country, you probably don't believe there is really such a thing. Take your blinders off, urbanites--Left and Right Coasters--there are places where people really take the time to call in and talk about deer, quail, turkey, boar, bear, and how to outwit and take down these fellow creatures, whose brains are the size of a corn flake).



On the Conservative shows from time to time I hear the opinion that people who vote for the Other Side(the L word) are just looking for a free ride at the expense of the Rest of Us.



I don't know, maybe that's so. I'm sure on the grand Bell curve of our population, there are bound to be inveterate(!) free loaders.



All I know about this clinic is that the one common thing that I heard from every patient was that they either worked or wanted to know if I knew who was hiring.



Hiring.



As one guy told me, " Cain't nobody make it without workin".



What about your 300? Know any of them who are looking for a free ride? Do you know anybody in the 300 who is not only a Way Under, but a Way, Way Down in Australia Under?



Next time our homework, children, is to find a Way, Way Under and ask if they work. Also, find a Way Over and ask if they've ever been without--without money, a job, health, hope.



Compare and contrast.



Another Raw Data fact to consider:



The Chief pays 10,000 per year for health insurance(3000 deductible, etc.) Bill has the only other health insurance coverage available in town(through his work--he has no choice); Bill pays 13, 200 per year for the same coverage.



The Chief knows someone else in a nearby big city who has a 250 deductible and pays 900 per year.



That's right--nine hundred dollars with barely a deductible, versus ten thousand and thirteen thousand per year respectively.



In the words of Yakov Smirnoff, "What a country!"



"In confusion there is profit"

Chief Tanasi 12/23/2009

Begin at the Beginning

Mark Twain said, " There are lies, damn lies, and statistics."

I, the Chief, am finally succumbing to the fatal allure of telling the whole world the entire and complete, unabridged, low ball truth about...well, about whatever I think I know the truth about.

I don't want to examine too closely what I think I know the truth about, because I know from past experience that I will begin to see the holes in my own argument.

And that is fatal.

At least, it's fatal to winning arguments. And arguing seems to be what our whole public life is about now.

This telecommunications age was once described by Andy Warhol(I think it was Andy...) as the future in which "everyone would be famous for 15 minutes."

Andy( or whoever) got it a little sideways: we are all famous all the time; at least in our own minds. If we aren't on tv or the internet, we supply ourselves with a surrogate self: Rush for the Dittoheads("Rush is right"), Obama for the Progressives("The audacity of Hope"), Dale. Jr for the Rednecks("them other drivers don't talk like us"), Tiger Woods for fat white guys who look past his color("when he won with his hurt knee, I cried")(no Tiger jokes--you've heard all the good ones).

So now we come to the Chief and the name of this little soiree(French for rodeo):

I've often heard arguments based on Twain's three categories; in fact 99% of what you hear is based on those three.

There's a great reason for this--it helps you, or your surrogate you, win that argument you have everyday on the drive home listening to the radio.

You know the dream; you corner that walleyed, pasty-faced, panty-wearing liberal(or Dick Cheney--looking Chicken Hawk; take your pick) and you blast him with a litany of unassailable facts(more like statistics) and he slinks away forever chastened.

This fantasy is really Americana with deep roots in our past.

Many years ago, a college friend of mine's father was a successful small town vet. He was a nice, short, bald, round man of middle age.

It just so happened that at this time one of the popular tv shows was "Cannon" starring William Conrad--a short, bald, round middle aged man, with a mustache.

We noticed the change first when my friend's father grew the mustache. Next, he bought a pale, ugly green Olds 88. Guess who drove one of those on tv.

When my friend came back to school from break, he related, with a bit of a tremor in his hands, that he had accompanied his dad on a farm call while he was at home.

"You know how Cannon always chases the bad guy down in the last scene--how he rips across a gravel parking lot and slides that big boat around and throws gravel everywhere?" my friend said, "then he jumps out and waddles off to punch the bad guy out?"

"My dad went across that pasture about 80; mud and cow shit going everywhere. We almost ran in the ditch and hit the farmer's fence. He made me clean the clumps of grass out from behind the bumpers."

"Mom says not to ask him about Cannon--it'll just make him mad. She says it'll be alright when that show goes off the air"

And so it was. But for a while Cannon lived at my friend's house.

Now the point of all this--the point of this blog--is to somehow get some perspective on our 21st century life, without becoming something.

I'm going to try to just be the Chief(just ignore the inconvenient fact that "Chief Tanasi" isn't my real name).

And I hope the Chief will present the Raw Data. Just what the numbers say, without the Live Wrestling aspect of things.

So now, I'll leave you with one:

There are about 300 million Americans today. Of those, somewhere around 6 million earn over $250,000 in income per year; obviously about 294 million earn less than that.

We'll leave it at that; I invite you to think that over.

No commentary, but just weigh those numbers in your mind for a bit. Think about how those people(including you) relate to and interact with each other.

Put it another way: out of every 300 people you know, 6 probably make over $250,000 per year and the other 294 make less than that. If you can figure out who is who, think about who they are and how they relate to you and to each other.

Consider it the Chief's homework assignment.

"Don't worry that the horse is blind, just load the wagon."

Chief Tanasi 12/16/2009