Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Krait's Mad As Hell, And She's Not Going To Take It Anymore!

This blogger hates Senators who Twitter, too. Damn Twits! The Krait's dream Treasury Secretary would be "...so terrifying that if you were stuck in an elevator alone with him, you would just automatically hand over your wallet and credit cards." Indeed, this blogger viscerally wants a POTUS who is that terrifying. Perhaps "the community organizer" has the stuff to be terrifying when such a response is needed. Right now, the Land O'The Free and the Home O'The Brave doesn't need a leader carrying a pitchfork and a torch. Or, perhaps it does. If this is (fair & balanced) choler, so be it.

PS: The Krait (Gail Collins) is the distaff Op-Ed teammate of The Cobra (Maureen Dowd).

[x NY Fishwrap]
The Grievance Committee
By Gail Collins

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created at TagCrowd.com

Angry. So very, very angry. Unable to speak due to mega-anger washing over every pore and fiber of my being. Anger is in. (Hope’s so ... January.)

I am extremely angry at Tim Geithner for being such a baby that he couldn’t scare a bunch of American International Group quants into forgoing their bonuses. We need a Treasury secretary so terrifying that if you were stuck in an elevator alone with him, you would just automatically hand over your wallet and credit cards.

Somebody as weird and tirade-prone as Hank Paulson. Although when he had Geithner’s job we hated Hank Paulson. Hated, hated, hated. Many people thought he was the worst Treasury secretary ever, although at this moment I am hard pressed to remember the name of any of the other ones since Alexander Hamilton. Except for Robert Rubin, who we used to like but now we don’t because he was a banker.

Hate those bankers. However, Jimmy Stewart seemed nice in that movie about Christmas.

Geithner claims nobody warned him that this bonus scandal was coming down the pike. Is it because he doesn’t have any assistants? It appears there’s nobody in the world of finance who wants to accept a top-level Treasury job if it means letting the White House accountants go over their tax returns. Geithner is walking around listening to the hallways echo, like the only kid at boarding school who didn’t get invited home for Christmas.

I hate everybody in the world of finance. Also accountants, since it’s tax time.

And I’m totally angry at everybody in Congress for trying to pretend that they’re angrier than I am. Like Senator Chuck Grassley saying the A.I.G. execs should follow the Japanese model and “resign or go commit suicide.” Took him about three seconds to backtrack. “Inteligent journalist can’t recgnize rhetoric,” Grassley twittered.

The senator from Iowa is a big twitterer. On Monday, he shared the details of his day: “Red previous Twitter. Did get DsM Eastern Star EastGate Lodge Swiss Steak Dinner. Great food price of tip at any Sun dinner I recomend.” If Grassley was truly outraged at the seppuku-demanding level, wouldn’t he have reported that although the Swiss steak dinner smelled tasty, he was unable to partake because his digestive system was overflowing with bile? And do you think he knows how to spell “intelligent”?

I hate senators who Twitter.

On Wednesday, Edward Liddy, the head of A.I.G., was hauled in front of the House Financial Services Subcommittee on Capital Markets, Insurance, and Government Sponsored Enterprises where everybody was extremely eager to express their outrage about the $165 million in bonuses for employees in A.I.G.’s financial (Credit Swaps Derivatives R Us) products division.

This is the same subcommittee that came to our attention a year ago when then-Gov. Eliot Spitzer of New York wheedled an invitation to testify about bond insurance so he could go to Washington for a night of hanky-panky at the Mayflower Hotel. I really hate the House Financial Services Subcommittee on Capital Markets, Insurance, and Government Sponsored Enterprises.

Liddy, a retired insurance executive who took over A.I.G. six months ago at the behest of the Treasury Department, said he had asked most of those who got a bonus to give at least half back. This did not seem to calm the subcommittee members down very much, although the fact that Liddy is working without pay while getting mail from people who want to garrote him with piano wire seemed to have a slight dampening effect.

It is not particularly satisfying to complain about businessmen who answer their country’s call for $1 a year. However, Liddy does have three houses, which is one above the new quota.

Let’s complain about Barack Obama. Why doesn’t he sound angrier? Doesn’t he understand that his job right now is to be the Great Venter?

Sure he keeps saying he’s mad. But you can tell that he secretly thinks it’s crazy to obsess about $165 million in bonuses in a company that’s still got $1.6 trillion in toxic assets to unravel. “I don’t want to quell that anger. I want to channel our anger in a constructive way,” he said on Wednesday. Everybody knows constructively channeled anger doesn’t really count. It’s like diet pizza.

If John McCain were president, you can bet that we’d be getting outrage 24-7. McCain would be so angry that we’d be scared that he’d have a coronary or invade a new country. The New York Post would be running “Calm Down, Mr. President” headlines.

Except, of course, the whole reason we elected Barack Obama was because when the economy started melting down, Obama seemed sane and calm while McCain appeared to be a loopy visitor from the Planet of the Overwrought.

I hate it when we make irrational, contradictory demands of our president. But, it seems as if that’s what he’s there for. ♥

[Gail Collins joined the New York Times in 1995 as a member of the editorial board and later as an op-ed columnist. In 2001 she became the first woman ever appointed editor of the Times editorial page. At the beginning of 2007, she stepped down and began a leave in order to finish a sequel to her book, America's Women: 400 Years of Dolls, Drudges, Helpmates and Heroines. Collins returned to The Times as a columnist in July 2007. Besides America's Women, which was published in 2003, Ms. Collins is the author of Scorpion Tongues: Gossip, Celebrity and American Politics, and The Millennium Book, which she co-authored with her husband, Dan Collins. Her new book is about American women since 1960. Collins has a degree in journalism from Marquette University and an M.A. in government from the University of Massachusetts-Amherst.]

Copyright © 2009 The New York Times Company

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Copyright © 2009 Sapper's (Fair & Balanced) Rants & Raves

March Hoopsteria: A(kron) Zips To Gonzaga Z(ags)

The Beach Boys once sang, "Catch a wave, and you're sittin' on top of the world." Eags captures March Madness with a comparable riff: "Win six in a row, and you're King of the World." However, Eags hits a rare clinker with the braggadocio that Gonzaga has become "the Duke of the West." Puh-leeze. If you're going to play the elitist card, go the whole way. This blogger's alma mater, in a fit of madness during its centennial celebration, referred to itself as "the Harvard of the West." In the other March April collegiate championship: men's hockey, the Univesrity of Denver (currently 4th in the nation) ranks second with 7 national championships. (Michigan has 9 banners.) Harvard has one banner (1989; the first national championship of any kind in Cambridge) and, as Charles (Casey) Stengel (and James Thurber) said, "You could look it up." Truth be known, in Cambridge — when it comes to men's hockey — they ought to say that Harvard is the "DU of the East." Or, they can just get the puck out of there. If this is (fair & balanced) March bombast, so be it.

[x NY Fishwrap]
The Case for Hoopsteria
By Timothy Egan

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At a time when more than 4 million Americans have lost their jobs and a wobbly nuclear Pakistan is acting like a drunk with the car keys, why should anyone care whether the Zags beat the Zips on Thursday? Or, for that matter, why should the fate of Robert Morris and Stephen F. Austin — colleges? or WASP fashion labels? — concern a country at the depth of its worst economic crisis since the Great Depression?

The answer: in troubled times, more than ever, our nation turns its lonely eyes to the best national diversion we have – the annual men’s college basketball tournament. All cultures have something like this: the Irish and their hurling, the Italians and soccer, the Aztecs and ritual sacrifice.

March Madness is our greatest sideshow, mood-lifter and time-suck all in one. It’s sports at its most thrilling, more so than the slow choreography of baseball’s World Series, the bloated spectacle of the Super Bowl or the go-through-the-motions slog of professional basketball playoffs.

And forget about college football, now facing the possibility of its championship system being determined by Congress. There, a mythical “national title” is conferred on a team that gets the highest ratings in a bowl sponsored by a company now in receivership.

Give me the clean, no-excuse trials of the young hoopsters. Hilltoppers and Huskies, Owls and Orangemen, Sun Devils and Blue Devils (the Satan subset) — starting today, one of 64 teams will emerge champion, with no dispute. Lose a game, you’re gone. Win six in a row, you’re King of the World.

Of course it’s a fantasy. Of course the highest-seeded teams, the interchangeable Louisvilles and UConns, are likely to end up in the Final Four. And of course we should continue to be outraged over those A.I.G. bonuses, through every game. In fact, we should suspend the national anthem for one round and just send a collective boo in the direction of the insurance company’s headquarters.

Then, back to the dream. We can imagine those Hilltoppers of Western Kentucky doing what no 12th-seeded team has ever done: advancing beyond the regional final to the big one. Or we can wonder if the Bison of North Dakota State will at least force people to a map.

Geography lessons, by the way, are among the many side benefits of the tournament. Who knew Morgan was a State? Or where it’s located?

And yes, I know there are people who say that precious New York Times digital space should never be given up to … this! But those people probably didn’t watch Syracuse beat Connecticut last week in six overtimes, or have not seen sufficient replays of the greatest upset of them all: 8th-seeded Villanova’s stunner against Georgetown in 1985.

It makes sense that there’s an increase in the number of men who schedule their vasectomies at tournament time, giving them an excuse to lay around the house in mid-afternoon on a work week, or another chance to use the word seed. At least that’s what the Cleveland Plain Dealer reported, so it has to be true.

In life, there are so few certainties. We muddle through wars, campaigns, jobs and attempts to make compost bins. In college basketball we have (1) an unknown outcome at tipoff and two hours later (2) an outcome! No appeals. No Bush versus Gore. No Franken versus Coleman. No Cramer versus Stewart (O.K., so Jim Cramer was more like Chattanooga playing Duke, a first-round slaughter).

But what about all the lost productivity, you say? All that time that could have been spent in meetings, and more meetings talking about how we feel about the previous meeting?

I bow to Jack Shafer, the media columnist for Slate, for nicely debunking the myth that March Madness cost employers nearly $4 billion. We simply replace one diversion with a far more focused one.

Do you think President Obama would have been shown filling out his bracket on ESPN this week in the White House Map Room if this was some frivolous waste of presidential oxygen? Hardly. He picked the Tar Heels of North Carolina to win it all — an easy choice. Always with the caution.

As any sane Bracketologist or reader of Malcolm Gladwell books will tell you: simply picking the better seeds can guarantee a high finish in the office pool. But why go safe? The thrill is in the upset.

Finally, a word about the Zags of Gonzaga and the Zips of Akron. For years, the little Jesuit school in Spokane was known primarily as the one-time home of Bing Crosby, a classmate of my grandfather’s, by the way. Then came basketball, and 11 straight tournament appearances by the Bulldogs.

Applications at the school have soared, as have donations and overall academic standards. Gonzaga has become, as one priest told me, the Duke of the West. You Zips of Akron could do the same thing except, I’m sorry to say, you’ll be going home after the Zags have their way with you on Thursday.

But better to have danced and lost, than never danced at all. ♥

[Timothy Egan writes "Outposts," a column at the NY Fishwrap online. Egan — winner of both a Pulitzer Prize in 2001 as a member of a team of reporters who wrote the series "How Race Is Lived in America" and a National Book Award (The Worst Hard Time in 2006) — graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in journalism, and was awarded an honorary doctorate of humane letters by Whitman College in 2000 for his environmental writings. Egan is the author of four other books, in addition to The Worst Hard TimeThe Good Rain: Across Time and Terrain in the Pacific Northwest, Lasso the Wind: Away to the New West, Breaking Blue, and The Winemaker's Daughter.]

Copyright © 2008 The New York Times Company

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