So, dig:  I had a couple of Sams in my new glass, I’m about to watch the Cotton Bowl, and this is the extent of your post tonight.  Thank you for reading BoWilliams.com.  Have a good weekend.  God bless.  Roll Tide.

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Occasionally I think about things like how old my dad was when things in his life happened.  Mom’s been gone for ten years; at 40, Dad’s mom had been gone for 21.  I’m two years older than Dad was when he and my mother divorced.  However, the ages of my children, and the length of my marriage, are essentially identical.  I’m about the same age now that he was when he decided “what he was going to be when (he) grew up.”  I’m about to start my 19th year in the same occupation, and I still love going to work in the morning.

We’ve done things differently, he and I.  He’s less risk-averse than I am, for one (big) thing.  That’s meant less stability, but greater rewards, in his professional life.  Sometimes I’ve wondered whether, and to what degree, he’s looked disapprovingly on the somewhat safer paths I’ve chosen.  But you know what?  He told me not long ago over a whiskey that he was proud of me for being such a conscientious father, and that he sometimes considered whether he’d been there enough for us.

I was moved and humbled by that, because he was and is a great dad.  I also related to it, because I think I can look mostly objectively on how I do things as a father and feel pretty good, but it’s not a long walk to a scary neighborhood where I’m riddled with guilt at things I remember not doing so well.  (You know, guilt gets a bad rap.  I don’t think it should consume, but why can’t it motivate?)

So when I take inventory, on the negative side:  I’m sitting here managing that guilt, working on not being a fat guy anymore, and trying to get a bit more of a leg up on some things I need to finish around the house.  On the positive side:  I have a strong marriage, healthy children, good friends, a job I enjoy, a warm church home, a father who is still making me a better person, and the objective knowledge that my “negative side” list is full of mere details.

In short, most of the time I have peace, and I am deeply thankful for it.  I know too many who are tormented by its absence.

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I have so far concluded that it’s run-of-the-mill, predictably-stoked wealth envy and class warfare.  (When The Nation is calling it the most important thing happening in the world, you can be pretty certain it’s receiving some heavy-duty PUUUUUUUUUSH from the clowns to the left of you.)  Our esteemed president has signaled that he intends to attempt to smear Romney with it.  (I am shocked that a hard-left ideologue would try to use class warfare as a political weapon, aren’t you?)  Finally, it seems pretty clear to me that they’re considerably more vulgar and enamored of much less personal hygiene than your typical Tea Party crowd.

Well, they are filthy hippies.  I kid, I kid!  You know, mostly.

Here’s the thing, folks.  You can throw all of the endlessly fascinating charts showing supposedly grave inequalities at me that you want.  You can find heart-rending anecdote after heart-rending anecdote allegedly illustrating that decent, solid people with good work ethics can’t get ahead because the deck is so stacked against them.  I shall continue to calmly maintain that the most reliable path to a comfortable living is a willingness to work hard.

That’s the truth most of the time.

Consequently, to the extent that I believe the government should be involved in legislating here at all, it should be with that at the forefront.  Consequently, to the extent that I believe the government should be involved in educating here at all, it should be with that at the forefront.

Consequently, it’s tough for me to discern anything truly resonant with thinking, reasonable people in the rhetoric I’ve encountered, so far, of the average “Occupier.”

Now I certainly did not grow up rich, but some good things happened to me by the grace of God.  I have never disputed that.  I am highly intelligent, and I had a conscientious mother and father who recognized that and nurtured it.  I had a father who made the tough call to move our family to northern Alabama right before my junior year in high school, and increased opportunity for me and his stepchildren was a significant factor in his thinking.

I was making $6 an hour at a bookstore when I moved into my first apartment, and things were tight.  More than once, I had a weekly food budget of $10 or so.  But I don’t pretend I was ever truly poor, because had I ever been in imminent danger of being hungry or cold, my father would have helped me.  I’m glad he never had to, but I don’t minimize the confidence boost that knowledge gave me.

(I also had a father who worked his ass off and didn’t teach me to resent rich people, by the way.)

I’m confident that a lot of these malcontents squatting at these gatherings can tell similar stories, if not better ones.  To anyone who had it significantly worse, I offer that our government has never in history offered more legs up—from student grants to small business loans—to anyone willing to pull a load.  If you want a better life, for the most part, it’s out there to get.

If you work.

For those of you working and making a good living, isn’t it nice?  Want more?  Work harder.  Take risks.  Sacrifice.  Did you know that’s what most rich people really do?  (You know, as opposed to sitting around lighting Cohibas with $100 bills, swilling 20-year-old Scotch, and thinking up ways to screw poor people?)

That’s the truth most of the time.

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However, I certainly understand the temptation to do so.  Even the best jobs present occasional spleen-venting opportunities, and the drive to publicly tell one’s side can be strong.  Even after initially inflamed passions fade, though, there’s another generator of desire to blog about it that I’ve only just discovered (or perhaps that I’ve only just been able to articulate).  Dig:

I think by most counts, I’m a prolific blogger.  Now I’ve never cared anything about blogging every single day without fail, mostly because I’ve seen too many bloggers commit to such and then wind up throwing substandard crap up just so they can say they posted for the day.  (I’m certainly not claiming I’ve never thrown substandard crap up, but I do feel like there’s probably less of it because I don’t have a post-every-day-by-God mentality.  Got me?  OK.)

So being prolific means you start thinking about your day-to-day life in regimented ways, because you always have a dragnet out for things to blog about.  It also means you might train yourself to break down a complex topic, not only to figure out how to write about it but maybe also to help sort out how you feel about it.

And that’s been an ongoing frustration I’ve had with what I’m not going to tell you happened at work last week:  I’m having trouble shutting those subroutines off.  My mind is still acting like I’m going to write about it.  Worse, those subroutines are massive resource hogs.  I haven’t figured out how to run them on something else simultaneously.  So part of what I’m trying to do about it is give you a post about it that’s not really a post about it and see if that helps.

You just read it.  We’ll see.

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And it’s not conducive to a particularly stimulating post tonight.  Sorry about that.  Have a good weekend.  Be back soon.

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I don’t want to get too much into vehicular physics with you, but sir, when you drive so close to me, I slow down not to irritate you, but because you have forced me to drive for both of us.  You see, I am trying to maximize the space in which I can stop my vehicle, should that become a sudden requirement.  Because you are leaving yourself essentially no space in which to do so yourself, I am hoping to be able to do so slowly enough in time for you to react as well.

(This would be in the interest of avoiding a collision, causing near-certain property damage and possible injury.)

I was duly impressed—indeed, I nearly swooned—when you zoomed around me on the double-yellow line.  Oh man, that was awesome.  I really got it just how fast your car is, and just how pissed off you were.  Really really.  I mean, my testicles retracted miserably into my body.  I was so humbled and shamed.

(You know, funny thing—after you did that, I was able to safely resume a travel speed of 40 mph or so, and the Taurus that had been behind you felt no need to do anything but follow at a safe distance.)

Now sir, in the interest of full disclosure, I have been guilty of just such a rage-generated maneuver before in my driving career.  I’ve probably done it four or five times, actually.  But I haven’t done such since my late 20s or so.  Sir—receding hairline, full gray beard sir—that’s not good for you to be so wound up at your age.  Our vascular systems don’t last forever, you know.  Even douchebags often have families to support, so I’m guessing you may have one.  You might think of them a little more.

Oh, and a final note:  you’re much too old for that car.  You really look ridiculous.  If you insist on keeping it, may I suggest the vanity plate HNGR ON?  Or maybe CLNGING?

(TINY PP seems too obvious.)

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The ongoing blurring between genuine contrition and “I’m sorry I got caught,” on all-too-regular display when someone prominent “apologizes,” angers me.  On those occasions when I must apologize, I try to a) make sure I’m sincere before I offer it; and b) examine carefully what I’m going to say before I say it.  Whether purposely or accidentally, ultimately I don’t want slimy little loopholes worming their way in there.  “I’m sorry you were offended”?  Don’t bother.  That’s worse than saying nothing.

I’ve been fortunate not to have been deeply wronged very often, but when it has happened, sometimes I’ve had trouble forgiving.  I can know intellectually that it takes energy to keep such a wound open, and that it’s not well-spent.  I can also know intellectually that there is a difference between feeling actively antipathic toward a person, and simply avoiding being put in a position to be hurt by that person again.  However, rational thought faces formidable opposition in deep anger, does it not?

The Chuck Colson essay linked above is excerpted from the anthology Acculturated.  It’s worth your time.  I suspect I’ll read it a time or two more, at least.

I hope you have a good weekend.

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About a month ago, I had to make a decision.  It was hazy, with no way to gather more meaningful data.  Just had to make a call and go with it.  I won’t know if it was the right call for several months; maybe a year or longer.  It still feels right, I think.  I’m encouraged by that.  So, one door closed today.  Another opens Monday.

You ever have a situation where you don’t even realize how much tension you’re carrying until you release it?  There you go.  Wow, I’m wiped.

Have a good weekend.

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I am a bit surprised at the size of the purchase price.  That Brother Bill thinks the company is worth that much perhaps indicates a higher level of adoption than I think.

Still, I think it’s interesting how many things we “knew” were going to be true of voice-to-voice communication by now just aren’t, and indeed, probably won’t be.  Most of us are surrounded by equipment that is easily capable of videotelephony—in our homes, in our offices, usually in our pockets/purses, and increasingly even in our cars.  Yet, despite its ubiquitous depiction in film, books, and so forth of the past few decades that attempted to portray the future, how many of us view it as a default mode, or even an expected option?

Remember early in Aliens, when Ripley plugs Burke’s business card into her videophone to call him?  That touches on another thing we all sort of implicitly expect that never seems to happen.  I remember chuckling at that scene, because I thought the idea that people would still be carrying physical objects like business cards in the 22nd century—even if they doubled as pieces of communication infrastructure—was ridiculous.

Yet as you sit reading this in 2011, do you think business cards are going anywhere anytime soon?  The .vcf file format has been with us for what, a decade and a half?  No matter who made it or what the OS is or what have you, every piece of electronics you have that is at all concerned with contacts knows exactly what to do with a .vcf file.  When was the last time you used one?

More germanely:  when was the last time you gave yours to someone, or someone gave his/hers to you?

I think that for all of the technology in which we are immersed, we remain interestingly quaint about some things.  I think business cards have held on because their tangibility is comforting.  There’s a vague romance about them, too.  I think that on some level, we enjoy their direct connection to a time when a calling card was one of the primary forms of communication.

I think part of why videotelephony never acquires default status is that there’s just too much decorum that it shakes.  There’s an implicit dignity, with well-established manners, in proper telephone conversation.  What are the rules for video calls?  Well, until they’re everywhere, nobody cares; and (maybe) as long as nobody cares, they won’t be everywhere.  (That could be a factor, anyway.)  Plus, how often do you need to see that person?  If it’s a soldier talking to his family on the other side of the world or an executive talking to her family on the other side of the country, then sure.  But setting up lunch?  Confirming a doctor’s appointment?

Perhaps these attitudes really are conventions of a conservative past, and shall fall in time.  I think that day is probably far enough out that it won’t affect my life much.  I think I’m glad for that.

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(Liberty Dollars are composed primarily of silver.  I guess he has this crazy idea that money should have intrinsic value.  What a nut, right?)

Thing is, the feds’ case seems to be that von NotHaus is trying to pass these off as official U.S. currency, and it seems very clear to me that he’s doing exactly the opposite.

U.S. attorney Anne Tompkins has called this “a unique form of domestic terrorism.”  A spokesman for the all-but-worthless-anymore Southern Poverty Law Center is tossing around “radical right” and “anti-government patriot movement” in description of this effort.

Why?

I’m not going to get too deeply into monetary theory here, but the U.S. dollar is fiat currency.  Basically, that means it’s valuable because the federal government says it’s valuable, not because it’s of actual material worth.  So how’s the federal government’s financial stewardship?  Are you filled with faith in said government’s word?

Have you read Charles Krauthammer’s piece on exactly how the Obama administration is claiming Social Security is solvent through 2037?  Did you know it’s essentially IOUs, issued by one part of the government to another?  It’s exactly like when our joint checking account “owes me” $100.  Is that a relationship, or potential transaction, that has any meaning outside my family finances?  Is that of value to a creditor of mine?

Did you know that the percentage of U.S. dollars held by foreign governments as reserve currency has steadily declined since 2005?

We’ve got to get over this notion that this interest in precious metals—even interest extending to in-use alternate currencies—is a radical concept.  What is it but concern borne of responsibility?  In a larger sense, what is it but an opening to a sorely-needed conversation about really solving our country’s ongoing financial crisis?

I know a fellow who makes a good living providing a (legal) service.  I last saw him about two years ago, and he told me then that he had moved largely to accepting bullion and “junk silver” (the common term for older, typically circulated, U.S. coinage that is numismatically worthless but remains valuable for its silver content) as payment.  I said “interesting.  Do you still take cash at all?”  He chuckled, took a tug on his whiskey, and said “yeah, but it takes a hell of a lot of it!”

Now he’s just that sort of guy to me—a pleasant acquaintance, not really a friend friend—so I didn’t get too much into his personal business.  But I suspect what he does is deal with U.S. currency just enough to get groceries and keep the lights on.  I’d bet 90+% of his savings are physical assets, and I’d bet 90+% of those would fit in a briefcase.  Is he a kook?

Or just ahead of the curve?

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