Adam Smith Institute Blog - Appreciating patients

This entire post is worth noting. Further evidence of why the private sector always is the trump card. (Via Adam Smith Institute Blog)


Thanks to the market economy, we are used to companies that appreciate our business. If a company doesn't seem to care about us as consumers, we can go elsewhere. Consumerism empowers us. Yet in the state sector, we are expected to be grateful for what we're given. We rely on the 'benevolence' of the National Health Service, and should be grateful for the treatment we get, accepting waiting lists and dirty hospitals. If a supermarket that was being inefficient told us to be grateful for what they give us, we'd be outraged. In the NHS, however, we're supposed to think that attitude is OK. It is not.

A Politician's Economic Policy.....

Was reading the WSJ this am on my walk to the train and saw the words "Kerry's Economic Policy" and I felt like I was struck by lightening. What can a president do to create economic prosperity? Now it is much easier for a president to destroy economic prosperity, as we have seen pretty much throughout history, but actually creating any....I don't think so. Well unless of course they ran under a policy of decreasing governmental power, increasing liberty and freedom, and basically rolling back years and years of laws that stifle productivity, inovation and creativity. The would also have to agree to end the government pillaging that takes place on a daily base for the wealth producers and gets redistributed as King government sees fit. It is kind of funny (or maybe I should say sad) that people talk about Regan's economic revolution or Clinton's "its the economy stupid" referring to these comical political figures as sort of demigods, who can create economic growth with the wave of a wand. Alan Greenspan is another economic clown, who the masses bow down to as a creator of wealth and prosperity as opposed to the redestibutor that he is (ask your real estate buddies about that). All that these characters can do is to create mal-investment and shift resources from what the market deems productive to what they deem productive (and they will always be wrong mind you) or to where they think the hand outs will most likely help them get re-elected. It is sad that the only place that one can go to realize this fallacey is to the Austrain Economists, who admit that the power is in the indivuduals and no one person can stop the business cycle (even you GWB). Reading Krugman, Kudlow or Delong conveys to the masses that government welds this power and history and common sense show us that this is just blatantly wrong. When will people listen to Hayek and Von Mises and not pray to the god of government, which will only lead to our destruction? Hopefully sooner rather than later. I have faith....

Time Is Money by Gary North

Great piece by Mr. North on how to make money and how to make even more money. Gary has become one of my favorite weekly reads and his common sense solutions and adroit way of looking at society are refreshing. Another recent article that I more than fully relate to was on if college was actually worth it -- NO! Before you dismiss this idea as completely absurd, check out the article. I've harbored these feelings since entering the workforce and ever preceeding that date (they probably began in 6th grade when school began to bore the crap out of me). I also strongly recommend his archieves.

INVEST IN YOURSELF

Because most people don’t like their work, they don’t like to work. The pioneer likes his work. He understands that the extra hours invested in his work are in fact invested in himself. He chooses his work in such a way that he is happy to invest the extra time in developing his skills and his business.

If you hate your work, you will find it difficult to work the extra hours needed to master the field. This is why a young person would be wise to take less pay in a job that draws him deeper into it. He will then be willing to invest that extra 25% or more that it takes to be successful in any field.

If you have above-average intelligence – that is, if "reality TV shows" bore you, with the possible exception of "The Apprentice" – an investment of 1,000 hours will make you competent in any field for which you have innate ability. An investment of 5,000 hours will make you a master.

OUT OF CONTROL: Another desparate shot at WalMart

This made me laugh today and goes to show why all the socialist thinkers out there are such morons.

Another desparate shot at WalMart
It's true, you know. The fact that we don't require all businesses to pay each employee $1 million is the only reason we are not a nations of millionaires.

I expect that to be the next report from the UC Berkeley Labor Center.

Their latest report digs into the wages and use of public benefits by WalMart employees. See, since WalMart pays less than other retail firms more of its employees use public benefits. So WalMart actually costs us taxpayers money. Get it?

Why aren't those workers getting jobs at the higher paying retail outfits? If we all paid 10-times higher prices, could everyone get 10-times higher wages?

Stop it! Questions like that just inject messy reality into a perfecly lovely ideological attack.

I have 6 gmail invites. Shoot me an email if anyone is interested.

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From Paris to Turkey on a Bike!!!

This is an email that was forward to me from a friend from college. The emailer is another graduate of Wake Forest who I've met, but I am not intimately familiar with. She is biking around the world having started her journey in Paris. This is similar to the Jim Rogers exploits, but significantly less comfortable and more risky. Currently she should be back in Turkey and recently treked through Syria and Turkey and is planning a trip to Iran. Here is her latest email from abroad....

Hello Everyone, Sorry that we haven't given you any tidings for such a long time. To fill you in a bit, we left Ankara (Turkey's capital) in mid-July and biked to Cappadocia, a region in the central Anatolian plateau known for its unique rock formations, underground cities, and cave dwellings.

TURKEY

We stayed with a family for almost a week, while we explored the valleys, gorges, and canyons by foot. Our hosts were Mehmet (the first guide of Cappadocia who spoke perfect French), his wife Binas, and his 14-year old daughter Tuba. This area of Turkey was very conservative. Just to give you an example, although Mehmet had been a guide of the region for 22 years, his wife and daughter have never seen the area. They didn't even know where the closest town was, which was only 5 km. away. The women stay at home, between the four walls of the house, while their husbands go to town to socialize with other men, to work, or to do the grocery shopping at the local market. We absolutely loved Cappadocia. The area must be one of the most beautiful in the world. Mehmet took us to the valleys to barbecue with his friends, they played the Turkish instrument called the saz, and cooked eggplant, potatoes, and meat in a large pot over a fire. One night, we hiked to the top of a mountain and watched the sunset over the fairy chimneys and then pitched our tent for the night, barbecuing chicken for dinner. We hiked through valleys, climbed up and down mountains, crossed rivers, and even found a mass grave in a rock church at the top of a mountain filled with old bones. Cappadocia was unforgettable.

SYRIA

Afterwards, we headed south for an unscheduled detour to Syria. We planned on biking the small country in two weeks, but were there for almost a month because of an injury I had to my neck. The injury was caused by something so stupid that I'm embarrassed to admit what happened, except that some of you may worry that it was a biking or car accident if I don't tell you. Actually, it was just caused by sleeping in a bad position for one night. From something so idiotic has come six weeks of neck and head pain, unending. The doctor said it may last months. We spent 2 1/2 weeks in Aleppo, Syria because I needed to rest. (And this is why you had no news, because I was between the four walls of a hotel room in 105 degree heat most of the time and didn't make it out to the Internet cafe). The first doctor called the condition "acute something". I think he must have meant "acute pain." Two doctors, one hospital, one massage therapist, and one X-ray later, and the diagnosis was that it was better for me to move. Biking would be fine, the last doctor said. So we finally left Aleppo and headed south and east towards the Syrian desert. One good thing did come out of our stay in Aleppo. We befriended a man our age named Abdul-Hamid, who had invited us to stay at his house upon our arrival in the city. After four days, we decided we couldn't lean upon his hospitality any longer, so we moved to a hostel. But he came every day after work to take us around the city, and took us to some of the must-see tourist spots in Syria on Fridays, his day off. Some of the laws in Syria are interesting. Abdul was told by the hotel staff that he shouldn't come to visit us as the hostel because it was illegal for Syrian people to talk to tourists in hotels. The government worries that they will say something bad about the government. One man had been caught talking to a tourist in the same hostel a week previously and had been carted off to jail for two weeks. The plain-clothes police officers came to the hostel every day at a different time and acted like tourists, joining in conversations and listening to what people had to say. Abdul insisted on coming anyway, and more than once, we had to leave in a hurry as the hostel staff warned us that the police were there. Then, the staff warned him that he could be arrested for talking to me because I might be an American spy looking for information about the Syrian government. Another time, as he and his friend Ali drove us on his motorcycle (with a sidecart) to a Byzantine citadel outside of the city, one of the men working at the site gave them a lot of trouble because they were with us. We had to enter and leave the site separately and meet them at the bottom of the hill so that no one would see us coming or going together (in case they might be giving secret information to us...). Ali himself has to change residences every six months because he is still hunted by the police for having spoken out against the government back in the late 90s. He has had more recent run-ins with them, but being a champion athlete, he can always outrun them. Syria was a mixed bag. The people were very hospitable - if you were from the right country - but sometimes their smiles would freeze when they found out I was American. The talk always centered around "Bush, Bush, Bush." "Don't tell anyone you're American," they would say."or people will hate you." Of course, they were always the exception. "Why? Will they be violent?" I asked one man. He didn't respond. The conversation, which had been friendly when he believed I came from France like Stephane, turned rather heated when he found out where my family lived. "France is good. America is bad." is something I got sick and tired of hearing. People seem uncapable and unwilling to distinguish between a government and its people. Although the people seem very hospital and welcomed us into their houses everywhere we went, I was ready to leave. (The political view changed in northern Syria, where the Kurds adored Bush and called the Arabs "terrorists". The war has allowed the Kurds to set up their own government in Kurdistan Iraq, with their own president, even though it is not recognized officially by the UN).

SYRIAN DESERT

We did enjoy the Syrian desert, however. 400 km. of biking through desert, on a little-travelled road, either staying with people we met or sleeping outside under the stars, as we chose. The days were extremely hot - up to 114-117 degrees - and there was always a strong breeze in the morning and at night, from the difference in temperature as the earth would either cool down or heat up. Pretty much the only company we had as we biked was the bedouins (semi-nomad sheep and camel herders), clothed in white robes and red and white checkered head scarves. Small dusty villages with make-shift tents were sparse in this arid landscape. On day 3, I found myself thinking about the ocean and the Jersey shore, and then about swimming in the river. Every day afterwards in the desert, I thought about the ocean. Even a drop of water would have been welcome. We stopped in the oasis town of Palmyra, hottest spot in Syria, where we explored the 2000-year old ruins. This was supposed to have been Solomon's city. We had a special invite one night to a special show at the Roman ampitheather. A Syrian fashion show (fabulous - from Cleopatra-type dresses and crowns to evening gowns to more modern clothing) and a Syrian dance troupe enacting the history of a Syrian princess become Roman queen. We spent one evening with a group of Syrian construction workers who were finishing work on a new hotel in the oasis (palm trees in the middle of the desert - there is water in the winter!). They sang and danced and clapped and Stephane was made to join in the synchronated dancing. Not me! There were too many men! We ate sheep meat and rice from huge bowls in the middle of the floor under a tent. Another night, we spent drinking tea and camel milk in a bedouin's tent. The camel milk was rather salty - I prefer cow milk. All of the men insisted a hundred times over that I would be very happy if Stephane would drink camel milk every day, as it makes men very strong, and thus they can make their wives happy all night long! I drink camel milk every day, they all said. One of the men offered to take us for a little tour on his camel. However, the saddle was made for only one person, and after a short time, our weight pulled the saddle backwards off of the camel's hump and we fell backwards off the camel as we were climbing up a hill! Only a few cuts and bruises, and I was happy enough that it wasn't worse! All I could see was the sky and the camel above us. In the desert, a man's wealth is measured by how many camels he owns. Most men brag about how many camels they own, and more than one told me that every time there is a camel on Syrian TV (like in the soap operas, for example), it was only his camels. Pretty funny. They also seem proud of how much they weigh (the more the better - the men were always proud to compare how much they weighed to how much Stephane weighs!). And proud also of how many children they have. Most families we stayed with had between 15 and 20 children. Sometimes this was with two wives. But several times we met women, who alone, had 19 or 20 children. They start young. Marry young. Have kids young. Kids having kids. And then, while they're still having babies, their babies are having babies.

TURKEY AGAIN

We're back in southeast Turkey and will be entering Iran on September 15. Between 3 and 4 weeks in Iran, then we'll be meeting Vince for two weeks in India. I can't wait! Two weeks with the best brother in the world!!! Hope you all had an enjoyable summer.

ESPN.com - NFL - High times

Interesting ESPN piece on Shawn King and getting high in the NFL. I don't understand why the NFL tests for marijuna, and according to King 1/3 of the league is getting high (then again they test for roids too..hahaha). The amazing thing to me is the length that King went to be able to smoke weed.

King was in the NFL's drug program his entire career, and smoked marijuana through 2½ of those years. He was caught only six times because during his early years he said he substituted clean urine for his "dirty" urine. He got away with it because, contrary to NFL protocol, the man assigned to administer his tests failed to watch him urinate.

"During the [rookie] season I didn't smoke, so I just filled up a bunch of Gatorade bottles [with clean urine] and put them in my carport," he said. "I said to myself that after the last game I'm going to start smoking during the offseason. You know, because I had three years to go in which I couldn't smoke or drink, and I couldn't fathom that. So I saved up about 18 months' worth of urine." Since he could be tested anytime and anywhere, he said he brought along a bottle of the clean urine on vacations. During the football season, on test days, he placed the urine in pill bottles and condoms -- anything small enough to carry in the waistband of his pants. And the urine he emptied into the cup was not just clean, but warm, as he knew the NFL also performs a spot test to make sure the fluid is body temperature. To achieve that effect, he turned to his home whirlpool.

"I'd put it in the Jacuzzi all night," he said. "I'd get up in the morning, get it out of the Jacuzzi, tape it to the vents in my truck and turn the heat on. I would drive to [the test site]. I'd have it stashed right there on my waistline, and when I got there I was ready to use the bathroom.

"I put a lot of work into it. I incorporated it into my everyday life like I wasn't going to get caught. Probably wouldn't have gotten caught if I had called this other girl."

Agitator on Sept 11th 2002

Radley Balko opined on the WTC tragedy one year after. One of the best thoughts on this subject I've read.


An interesting thought occurred to me. It was reported that U.S. fighter jets were a mere eight minutes from the planes when they hit the WTC. My thought: what if they had made it? What if they had intercepted them? Then what? Shoot them down? Imagine the world reaction. Bush would’ve had to have convinced the world that these planes were hijacked, that they had been commandeered by terrorists, and that these terrorists were ready and capable of flying a an unwieldy passenger liner into a skyscraper. No one would’ve believed him. Lawsuits would’ve flown. Conspiracies would have peppered the newspapers. Can you imagine? Two U.S. military planes shoot down two unarmed passenger planes, raining fire, metal and civilians down onto the whole of New York. Perhaps the third plane may have hit the Pentagon, bolstering the case. But what if they’d shot that one down, too? Who’d have believed such an unlikely scenario? Perhaps the investigation would’ve uncovered what we now know – that the hijackers had pilot training. Would that have helped? Could a civilian with six months of flight training under his belt have navigated a passenger jet into so precise a target? Who’d buy such a story? Historical what-ifs have long been the subject of academic fancy. The sad answer is that once those men boarded those planes, once those planes took flight, there was likely no stopping them. Once the back wheels separated from earth, those bastards likely bubbled with glee. Because in their fucked up mythology, once those planes separated from earth, a door opened for them to heaven.