Repo Man - First Blood

Fresh out of college with a Biology degree, I was eager to put my “science” to practical experience. However, pickings were slim and I soon reached the acceptance that ANY employer willing to pay me would be greatly appreciated. I accepted employment for a large Pacific Northwest Bank. As it turns out, as a scientist, I was in good company; virtually none of my fellow bank employees had degrees in finance or business – mostly Liberal Arts majors; there was even a guy in the commercial lending department who graduated from seminary. But I digress…

This bank wanted its future loan officers to understand implicitly what a “bad” loan was. Therefore budding young loan officers began their tenure collecting bad debts in “the field”. My entry level position was, therefore, as a “Repo Man”.

This was going to prove to be a tough gig for a shy, 5’ – 6” 145 pound middle class white boy. I was already fairly shy; so much so that I would avoid calling the movie theater to check show times unless I was fairly SURE I would get a recording. My first trial was making it through the interview, which I thought I had blown as the old codger interviewing me never gave me the opportunity to say anything. Miraculously I was hired and soon found myself in “training”. My training constituted riding along for two weeks with another experienced “Outside Collectors”. Once fully trained, I was issued my own vehicle, credit card, assorted Portland road maps and a briefcase full of delinquent accounts.

Here was the game: If the bank (me) could get the collateral back to the car dealership before the delinquency passed the 90-day mark, the car dealer would have to make the delinquent loan good for the Bank. We usually were assigned cases at the point where they were about 60 delays delinquent; previous collection efforts having failed to this point.

So here I am someplace in rural Oregon out on my own my first week on my own. I pull up to the delinquent customer’s house (referred to in repo jargon as “the Flake”). Step one; position your car (door unlocked) facing toward the street in the event one should need to make a hasty escape. There on the front lawn I positively identify “The Collateral”; a bright red Toyota Land Cruiser. Of course this house happens to be situated by itself in the middle of a field, visible for miles in any direction. My reconnaissance reveals that this location is NOT going to be an easy target to sneak up on should I have to return later in the dead of night. Noted.

I knock on the door; a HUGE man steps out the screen door and onto the porch. He’s wearing torn red and black plaid shirt and bib overalls. The stereotype generator in my mind suggests his name might be either “Tiny” or “Bubba”. I am dressed in a sky blue leisure suit.

I launch into my spiel – “…you are two months delinquent on your account, blah blah…ignored notices, blah blah blah.” Then I wrap it all up with my demand “… and if you do not bring this account current, I will be required to take yon vehicle into my possession.”

At the close of my speech – total silence… except for the annoying dog at our feet barking incessantly throughout my entire dialog. Bubba, not wanting his response depreciated by the interrupting dog, draws his leg back then punts the dog into the air and clean off the porch. While the dog is still in flight, he then turns to me and says: “So a little guy like you is going to drive my car away?” Summoning Herculean effort in retaining my composure, I respond: “Yes, sir… I’ll just move the seat forward and drive it off.”

I think the disparity in our body builds mutually suggested that physical combat, at this point, was not warranted. To my relief, he agreed to arrangements whereby he would come into the local branch office the following day and pay up his arrears. I believe I have pulled off a coup.

However, a few days later the branch informs me that Bubba never showed and his account is still delinquent; the guy just blew me off.

By now it’s a Friday afternoon. Having the “key code”, a local locksmith has cut a key for the Toyota. I am at “the Flake’s” place of employment, a manufacturer of railroad freight cars where he is a welder. I cruise up and down the employee parking lot until… there it is, the red Toyota Land Cruiser. I gain access to the vehicle; It is full of fishing gear. He apparently has a big weekend planned.

The engine fires and I slowly drive this guy’s car out of the employee parking lot. Damn, he’s going to be pissed when he gets off work and finds his car gone! I’ve just repossessed my first car. Oddly, my right foot is trembling... it will tremble like that with every car I repo over the next two years.

Spitting Out the Truth

Say what you will about the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq, at least American and Coalition service men and women are receiving almost universally unflagging support and the highest praise. We should admire those among us to have the courage to make the ultimate sacrifice in protecting our freedoms. The intelligence, or lack thereof, on the part of our leaders in choosing to enter into such conflicts should in no way overshadow the sacrifice of those who have to do the dirty work. After all, we don’t want to repeat the disgraces heaped upon our returning Vietnam soldiers – of being spat upon and told they were “baby killers” when they returned home from an unpopular war.

Though I was in college at the time of the Vietnam war, I was called for my induction physical in preparation for being drafted. Fortunately, I never received my official “Greetings” letter. However I do have many friends and acquaintances who served, both voluntarily and involuntarily; some of whom were deployed to Vietnam. Oddly, only one of them ever said they were spat on while in uniform upon returning from the war.

Joe mentioned the incident during a party where he was talking about his two sons currently serving overseas. I like Joe but he has always been the kind of guy who likes to impress... particularly if there are attractive women present. Sure like many, he pads his credentials a bit and I usually brush off a lot of what he says as harmless bluster. But truthfully; I don’t believe for one moment that anyone spit on him… perhaps for other reasons, but not likely in the context of his being a uniformed returning vet.

I have always been troubled by these accounts of spitting on returning Vietnam veterans; frankly the image of such alleged deeds chaff against my “reasonableness meter”. Yet these stories persist in the news media. I heard it yet again this week cited by a National Public Radio reporter. Earlier this year, Conservative reporter Glenn Beck conjured up a story of an Iraq War veteran being spat upon at a rally in Washington.

The image of a war protester spitting on a soldier or veteran generates an extremely visceral response – and I believe that is precisely why this myth tends to persist. The metaphor is a strong indictment of those who oppose war in general and certain wars in particular. It has all the elements of a very jagged propaganda tool.

In researching this story I discovered a book written by Jerry Lembcke, "The Spitting Image: Myth, Memory, and the Legacy of Vietnam" (New York University Press, 1998). Jerry is an associate professor of sociology at Holy Cross College in Worcester, Massachusetts and a Vietnam veteran himself. Troubled by the pervasiveness of this story, his book is the result of direct interviews of hundreds of veterans claiming being spat upon. What he discovered was that ALL of these accounts appeared to fall apart when the claimants were pressed for details. Indeed, though the media still seems to report these incidents as fact, there remain no substantiating news articles, tape or pictures to support these claims.

What Lembcke found even more remarkable were that in virtually all such accounts, the soldiers always walked away in sadness or shame – never, it seemed, did any of these service men “punch the lights out” of any of these spitting war protesters. Such altercations would clearly have generated some level of media coverage, if not police incident reports.

Lembcke states: ” …the Veterans Administration commissioned a Harris Poll in 1971 that found 94% of Vietnam veterans reporting friendly homecomings from their age-group peers who had not served in the military.”^[1] According to the people I know personally who served in Vietnam, they recall nothing but praise and support for them. In fact, several remember their service as a positive experience.

Then why does this myth of war protesters spitting on veterans seem to persist? As Jack Shafer of Slate Magazine writes: “The myth persists because: 1) Those who didn't go to Vietnam--that being most of us--don't dare contradict the "experience" of those who did; 2) the story helps maintain the perfect sense of shame many of us feel about the way we ignored our (sic) Vietvets; 3) the press keeps the story in play by uncritically repeating it... 4) because any fool with 33 cents [postage] and the gumption to repeat the myth in his letter to the editor can keep it in circulation.”^[2]

With upcoming elections, currently our nation is awash in all manner of urban folklore being spewed forth over the airwaves in an attempt to sway the appeal of one political candidate over another. Unfortunately when emotionally-charged issues are involved, one of the first casualties is the truth.

~ ~ ~

References:

1. Spitting on the Troops: Old Myth, New Rumors, The Veteran, Vietnam Veterans Against the War, Spring 2003
2. Drooling on the Vietnam Vets, Slate Magazine, May 2, 2000
3. Beck went beyond NY Times' and Sparling's (contradictory) accounts of "spitting incident" to ask: "Have we learned nothing from Vietnam?", Media Matters for America, February 1, 2007

The Chase is Afoot

Back when I was in high school, a very interesting social network somehow formed. Nobody was really sure who the members of this group were as they were pretty much self-declared. Nor were there any apparent leaders; in fact, no one had any clear idea of who founded the organization. Nonetheless, it was not long before the high school administration became concerned that a local chapter of the HSJ, "The Horny Sons of Jerusalem”, had been established within the student body.

As far as anyone could tell, the sole purpose of this organization was to orchestrate the annual “HSJ Nude Relays”. Held each year during a warm spring evening after school at an undisclosed location, the school would become abuzz over the anticipated event. Someone even circulated the club’s alleged logo; an erect “flying” penis, sporting a set of Roman god, Mercury style wings. Fanciful versions of the HSJ logo could be glimpsed penciled on the back of notebooks or book covers. Cute.

Of course, due to the evocative nature of the HSJ’s principal activity, to avoid the authorities, the precise whereabouts of the “relays” was announced strictly by word-of-mouth, usually the day of the alleged event. Not surprisingly, as the word spread like a chain reaction through the school, it wasn’t long before the school administrators would seize upon this intelligence… which they then passed on to the local police department.

As fate would have it, though, gossip mills the following morning told of how the local police had been thwarted in a fruitless attempt to locate and bust the HSJ Nude Relay participants and “supporters”. (Yes, pun intended) Apparently skittish that the cops might have been tipped, the Relay had been postponed at the last second… another time and location to be announced.

Before long word would again spread of another HSJ Nude Relay, the school would once again pass the info on to the cops…only to find themselves yet again on another Wild Goose Chase.

This cycle repeated for weeks before the school administration and police began to suspect that there may not actually be any Horny Sons of Jerusalem or clandestine Nude Relays.

What is most remarkable about this story is that large groups of people actually BELIEVED this organization was reality. School officials wanted to believe there was an organization that was promoting students to naked through the streets of town. Their belief lent credibility to the cops who were no less in a position to doubt the school administrators. So fueled by hormone charged adolescent imagination, the HSJ took flight even though it didn’t really exist.

Yeas later when I was out of state in college my mother sent me a clipping from the local town newspaper. The article described that police had been tipped to be on the lookout for naked runners in the streets, apparently part of an organization of local high school students called the “Sons of Jerusalem”. (The newspaper editor obviously dropped the word “horny”). The torch, as it were, of a noble tradition had been on passed to the next generation.

Michigan Mai-Tai

Something on a lighter note to usher in the weekend after all this talk of cancer and surgery and the like - Introducing: The Michigan Mai-Tai

The back story:
Our good friends Kate and Will used to travel back to Kate's hometown in Michigan every year to visit parents and siblings. Each time they returned they would present me with a special gift: a six-pack of Vernor's Ginger Ale. At the time, the product was not available to us here in Oregon. This woman would lug six heavy bottles of this delicious golden concoction in her luggage. It was "manna from Michigan" to me.

Upon experimentation with this product, I found that mixing it with a splash of rum accentuated the sweet biting taste of this ginger ale and it quickly became my favorite drink.

Since then the Vernor's marketing conglomerate extended it's product base to the wilds of Oregon and so I can now pick up six-pack cans at the local grocery store. After a while I was introduced to the Cosmopolitan Cocktail which became my new favorite.

As my cocktail science began to diversify, I started making Cosmos out of all kinds of juices; blueberry (pretty good), pomegranate (mediocre), cherry (mmm, no). But mango worked wonderfully well and so my Mango Cosmo became the new family favorite.

Then one day I found myself out of Mango vodka; though I had rum and, of course, the fridge was well stocked with Vernor's. Well, science is all about experimentation, so I poured some rum over ice in a cocktail glass then added a jigger of Mango Nectar, floating Vernor's ginger ale over the top to fill the glass. The result was a lovely gradient of yellow to gold and an exquisitely tropical lilt to the palate. It was like a Mai-Tai but with ginger ale.

I dubbed it the Michigan Mai-Tai in honor of Kate who introduced me to Vernors by graciously lugging her luggage from the mid-west weighted down with bottles of ginger ale.

Half-fill a highball glass with ice. Add:
1 jigger rum
1 jigger Mango nectar
fill with Vernor's ginger ale
Add a "squirt" of grenadine to give it a sunset blush
Drop in a maraschino cherry for good luck.

Mango Cosmo:
Fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Add:
2 jiggers Mango vodka
1 jigger Triple-Sec
1 jigger sweetened lime juice
1 jigger Mango nectar
Shake well then strain into (very important:) "chilled" martini glasses after coating the rims with a dusting of sugar.

History Repeats

Following-up on my previous posting, The Black Spot, about Nancy's Melanoma - Since my annual checkup with my Dermatologist earlier this spring, a painful little nub showed up on MY forearm recently. This time it was Nancy who suggested I have it checked; I did and it was removed and biopsied last Thursday.

I just got off the phone; the pathologist report came back Squamous cell carcinoma. I go back in the day after tomorrow to have them carve into me a little deeper.

The upside: Nancy and I will now have "matching" forearm scars... and hopefully live to share them with one another for some time in the future!

~~~

I have also posted a follow-up on post publishing the two videos of the interview with Bill Clinton. (The Man Knows) Many of my overseas readers said that they are blocked from viewing the videos; I have added a link that shows how to circumvent the blocking. Special thanks to the blogger at Broken Secrets. The link to the fix is in the updated post.

The Black Spot

Nancy is a lovely fair skinned blonde; and because of this, she and direct sunlight do not get along well. It’s often humorous to see pictures of the two of us vacationing in tropical climates – we are the ones under the sun umbrella with cover-up on.

One day I noticed Nancy had developed a dark mole on her forearm. Tucked away in our medicine cabinet we had one of those little paper cards with pictures of various skin cancers printed on it in color. The mole on Nancy’s arm looked an awful lot like the photo example of Melanoma. She was scheduled to see her physician shortly anyway so I reminded her to have her doctor have a look at that mole.

When she came home from her exam I asked what her doctor had said about the mole. “The doctor said it was nothing; she told me that she had done her residency in dermatology and for me to not be concerned about the mole.”

But I was concerned... very concerned, in fact! For one thing, the picture of the Melanoma example on the card could have been taken from the mole on Nancy’s arm. So if what was on Nancy’s are was NOT Melanoma, then of what use is the stupid card? Troubled by this, I asked Nancy to go back to her doctor and have the mole removed anyway.

Nancy agreed and again visited her doctor. They discussed doing a simple a “punch biopsy” but then opted to allay everyone’s concerns (especially mine) and have the whole mole completely removed.

A week later we were out driving in the car, Nancy became very quiet. Then said she needed to tell me something; the results of the biopsy had come came back – Melanoma!

We immediately scheduled Nancy with a dermatologist who promptly carved a deeper chunk out of her arm. Nancy ended her relationship with that general practitioner.

Being scientifically trained, I have a healthy respect for professionals, experts in their fields. It is why we consult lawyers, accountants or landscape specialists rather than try to bang everything out ourselves. It is a perfectly reasonable approach; we recognize that these people have devoted full attention into their interest of study. We correctly rely on the fact that they are the consummate experts in their respective fields.

However, part of being of a Skeptic is to not “blindly” accept the testimony of all “experts” unquestionably. At some level we need to have at least rudimentary knowledge to assess the expert opinions given to us, seeing if they match up with our internal “reasonableness meter”. If the information doesn’t, then it is incumbent upon us to request clarification or justification from the expert until we are satisfied that their expertise is indeed sound.

I am sure there are many people would have just accepted their doctor’s opinion thinking, “Well, she’s the expert”. But I know that had we not questioned the advice we were given, we would have faced a very different and unpleasant outcome. Would we have still celebrated a 25 year anniversary?

The Man Knows

Update - Viewing blocked video:
My overseas readers have informed me that they are unable to watch this video content due to internet blocking. However, a timely article just appeared in another blog, BrokenSecrets.com which explains how to use a Firefox plug-in to circumvent the blocking. Give it a try; I'd be curious to know how well it works.

Former president Bill Clinton recently appeared on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. It was a surprisingly sober, but enlightening, exchange for a comedy news show. In fact, Stewart remained remarkably quiet during the interview.

This is because, regardless of what your opinion is of Clinton, the man knows about government and the economy. The shows producers apparently thought so as well; they made the unedited video available on the Comedy Central web site.

These two videos are very much worth watching. Clinton tells it like it is regarding the economy, the intent of the Conservatives to further dismantle government to convert more power into private hands, and the role of the Tea Party as dupes to this end.

My apologies to my readers overseas as this deals mainly with American politics, yet there may be something of value for you here as well.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Exclusive - Bill Clinton Extended Interview Pt. 1
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Bill Clinton Pt. 2
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

[Note: in some cases this may take a while to load... apparently it is receiving a LOT of views.]

The Fairy Scientist Returns

Back in February I produced a short film as an entry in Sam Harris' "Project Reason" video contest. My original "The Fairy Scientist" (YouTube) starred my granddaughter, Lydia, as she attempted to employ the Scientific Method to discover if one of her favorite things in the world, Fairies, really exist.

Though the short was selected among nine finalists, unfortunately if was not selected among the top three winners. However, it did receive a lot of attention on the Internet and was featured on the MSNBC and Discovery Channel web sites, to name a few. And it got the attention of the Walt Disney Company!

I received a call from the promotional department at Disney about featuring Lydia as the Fairy Scientist in promoting their new film, "Tinker Bell and the Great Fairy Rescue" set to be released on DVD September 21st. The film is about Lizzie whose father is a scientist and fairy non-believer. Lizzie meets Tinkerbell and all manner of excitement and drama ensues between Lizzie and her scientist father.

My initial response was skeptical (no surprises there). I made it clear that we did not want to participate in anything that might convey the idea that fairies were in any way "real". My production company, Skeptical Media, is a fairly small operation; Disney, on the other hand, is a somewhat larger company. This was a first time experience for both companies, contracting with an independent producer for content not created within Disney's studio control.

Negotiations took several months to put together a contract. But due to the looming release date, we went ahead and began filming. We were under a non-disclosure agreement and a remarkable amount of behind-the-scenes regulatory and bureaucratic hurdles had to be cleared. For example, we needed to obtain a work permit for my 7-year old granddaughter to work in the film industry. Disney required assurances that all the legal hurdles were being cleared.

As was the case with our first Fairy Scientist video, the film was not scripted - captured are Lydia's own unique thoughts on how one would determine if fairies are real or not. She develops her hypothesis then searches for evidence while keeping a journal of her findings, much as Lizzie does in the Tinkerbell DVD.

We received great feedback from Walt Disney Entertainment and are proud that Lydia could participate in helping to promote enthusiasm about science among girls. Our short will be used by Disney on marketing and social networking sites to promote the release of "Tinker Bell and the Great Fairy Rescue".

Here is Lydia, The Fairy Scientist, in her latest video:

25 Years

Today is Nancy’s and my 25th wedding anniversary. I had planned on a longer post for today; stories of how Nancy and I met and relating some of our adventures along the way. However our lives are rather hectic at this moment so those interesting tales may have to wait for another blog.

I will say that my partnership with her has been a remarkable experience. Anything I could imagine about the perfect wife has been far surpassed by the reality. She has made my life immeasurably profound and richer and I am damn lucky to have found her.

We met through singles ads; this was pre-Internet times we are talking about. I asked her to marry me after we had known each other only ten days. I guess we have answered the question already about whether it will last.

We had tentative plans to arrange a celebration with friends and family; well, the family is scattered here and there and the friends are traveling and we are up to our ears in managing the mundane, time consuming, aspects of our busy lives. But then that is what our marriage has always been about: working together, building a life together.

It’s been a great ride for 25 years and we will continue to appreciate each day together for as long as we can hold our feet on this planet.

Happy Anniversary, Nancy – I love you more than I could ever fully convey.

Mining the Miners

When I was a little kid growing up in California I recall my father referring to me as a “49er”. Puzzled, my father explained that the “49ers” were the men who had come to California seeking riches mining for gold – the California Gold Rush. My dad was, of course, teasing me – I had been born in 1949, a century late for the Gold Rush.

The California Gold Rush is one of those stellar periods in western history, conjuring up all the values associated with the quintessential American individual; full of pluck and ambition, self reliance, rugged determination, entrepreneurship. How we love those stories of self-made men and women who grab opportunity by the horns and make their mark.

I can say now, though, that after residing just over half-century on the planet, this “49er” has become skeptical of buying into this mostly a great American myth.

The historical truth is that not one single millionaire was ever unearthed from the Gold Rush. Instead, the men who came to California to "strike it rich" more often fell into poverty; owning worthless claims and suffering fruitless labor. But three men did become very wealthy during those times: Leland Stanford, Mark Hopkins and Collis P. Huntington. These men came to California with a more shrewd plan – they became millionaires by “mining the miners”.

These businessmen, who would later join with Charles Crocker (“The Big Four”) and invest in the Central Pacific railroad, instead made their initial fortunes through selling picks, shovels, provisions and equipment to the gold miners. The real gold was to be found in the pockets of the eager “49ers”.

My wife and I have long understood the concept of “mining the miners” over our careers. For example, we encountered it during Nancy’s brief foray into real estate sales. As an agent, she was constantly presented with opportunities to part with her money. There were (required) regional, municipal and professional association licensing and membership fees. There were companies hawking customer management software and marketing gimmicks such as personalized pens, magnets, and sign riders. She was constantly bombarded by someone pitching a device, tool or fool-proof marketing system. Real estate agents were exposed to perpetual shake-downs; and she bought a lot of this stuff.

I was exposed to marketing hype as well as a filmmaker. I began searching for a distribution channel after my documentary was completed. Film festivals are often to most accessible venues for emerging filmmakers. Submitting a film to the Sundance Film Festival costs $75. But Sundance is only one festival; there are hundreds of them, each requiring a separate submission fee and one or more copies of your film. For the privilege of sending your money and free films, scant few festivals even bother to e-mail you that your film was rejected. From most, you hear nothing. There is even a company that will broker this shakedown for you – pay by credit card and enter as many festivals as you like. Oddly the two festivals my film was selected for contacted me, requesting me to submit my film.

On the other hand, we have successfully played the “mine the miners” game ourselves. During the High Tech Boom, back when everyone was going to get rich investing in web sites, we took a queue from “The Big Four” and invested instead in companies that supplied the infrastructure; the picks and shovels, for the emerging Internet. Sun Microsystems and CISCO Systems made the servers and routers on which these ethereal web sites would pay to exist. For a short time, at least, we enjoyed feeling a little smug about our nice returns.

Still our society is awash with “mine the miners” schemes; multi-level marketing, online investment opportunities, franchises, work-at-home schemes, “natural” products with miracle health properties. Attend the free seminar and learn how to become independently wealthy without leaving your home. The pitch usually focuses on getting you to imagine how you will spend your newly acquired wealth. Yeah, there is wealth there to be had – by selling these schemes to others.

Success stories are the darlings of the media, and there seems to be on end to them. What you never hear are the stories of the majority who tried, failed and went broke or quit. Whenever we see these stories about some entrepreneur who plied their great idea into a successful business, we often wonder; what part of the story are they leaving out? The secret truth is often a bit more arcane; how the individual had an inside track to the people who could facilitate the idea, or the vague source of adequate capital backing by the unseen investor. Sure it has probably happened where someone has gone from “rags to riches”, but dig deeply enough and more likely you will find an unseen hand and/or luck were involved.

The “49’ers” often sold their only possessions to book passage to California; most left family behind, or hauled them across the plains at great cost and personal sacrifice. I recently read an article that sadly revealed today many low-income people actually purchase lottery tickets in a servile attempt at retirement planning. I guess desperation makes the odds appear better than they are.

Still, in America, “there’s gold in them thar hills!!” – the trick, it seems, is knowing whether you should be the one buying, or selling, the shovel.