Prabhupada Village

Yesterday Ken and I made a visit to Prabhupada Village, a 360-acre village of Hare Krishna devotees about 8 miles north of Acorn Abbey. They all live simply and close to the land. Many of them farm and are excellent farmers. In many ways, they live much as the rural people of this county lived up until 50 years ago. The village has been there for 20 years.


From a ridge, looking down on Prabhupada land


Water tower and hay shed


Ken with one of the village puppies


A living roof


Daffodils and crocuses, blooming too early in the warm winter

Royalty, rusting


[Click here for High-Res]

Fortunately I’ve never been badly afflicted with a craving for fancy cars. However, I’ve had a thing for Jaguars ever since I was a teen-ager — the sedans, not so much the sporty types. I came across this old guy today on a country backroad north of me, parked outside a garage. I believe it’s a 1957.

I was able to manage my thing for Jaguars by renting one occasionally for a road trip. One of the best road trips I ever had was in a Jaguar S-type, from San Francisco to Los Angeles, down Highway 1 along the coast. Driving down, when I was in the lane on the ocean side, I took it easy. But heading north on the return to San Francisco, with an empty lane between the car and a long descent into the Pacific, I must admit that I let that Jaguar show me what it could do, and it was thrilling …

Dying of consumption


Smike on his deathbed, dying of consumption — Nicholas Nickleby

It’s a dark pun, but the people of the 19th century, and we in our own time, are stalked by the same wasting disease that leads inevitably to ruination if not death — consumption.

Today is “black Friday.” The media (feeding the frenzy while pretending to cover it), is already full of horror stories. At a Walmart in Los Angeles, a woman shot pepper spray at 20 people so that she could grab the consumer goods she wanted first. At a mall in Fayetteville, North Carolina, there was gunfire. Last year, as I recall, people were trampled in stampedes when Walmart opened its doors.

These people were not looking to feed their families. They were looking for stuff, stuff that will be in landfills in a few months.

And here is yet another story from the right-wing blogosphere on how ill-prepared Boomers are for retirement. Fifty-six percent of retirees have debt. Forty percent of Boomers plan to work “until they drop.”

Metaphorically, at least, they are dying of consumption. How can they know so little about personal finance? I was stupid with money too when I was young, but I came to my senses around age 40 when I realized that I actually would be old someday (young people think that growing old is impossible). And I realized that I did not want to work for the rest of my life.

Strangely enough, we could learn much about personal finance from our archenemy — corporations. I’m talking about honest corporations, of course, not those that are looted in leveraged buyouts or executive scams.

I was lucky to have worked for a good corporation for the last 15 years of my working life — the Hearst Corporation. Hearst is a private corporation, so it doesn’t have to worry about a stock price and kiss the behinds of Wall Street. It was cash rich and, at least I was told, never borrowed money. It always spent cash. It didn’t lease — it bought outright if it needed something. And I was told that it didn’t even buy insurance, because the corporation had enough cash to be self-insured.

For years, I had to create budgets for my department and get them approved. I was in San Francisco, but the main office in New York approved the budgets. I never ever, in my career, went over my budget, though other managers sometimes did. It was a point of pride for me — to be able to anticipate my needs for the next year, to budget for those needs, to justify the costs, and then to stick to it.

There is a very important principle in how corporations handle money that every household would do well to keep in mind. That’s the concept of expenses versus capital improvements. Corporations do it that way because of tax laws that don’t apply to households, but the principle is still valid.

Expenses are roughly equivalent to consumption. Expenses, for a household, are things like electricity, groceries, gasoline, clothing, gadgets, etc. You can’t live without incurring expenses, but if expenses are not controlled they will eat your income and prevent you from making capital improvements and prevent you from accumulating assets. Expenses are the money we pee away. Expenses drain our income and do nothing to improve our future.

Capital improvements have to do with things that last a long time and that improve your quality of life. One’s house is the main capital item. A car is another. Even a washing machine is a capital item. A Jaguar, though, is not transportation. That’s a luxury. When you spend capital, you determine what meets your needs and buy that much, no more. Where cars are concerned, for example, the right solution for me was a Jeep, which was a good San Francisco vehicle because it’s short and has real bumpers, and also a good country car, because I now live half a mile down an unpaved road, in the boonies. Similarly, a McMansion is not a dwelling, it’s a wasteful luxury. I have found that 1,250 square feet is more house than I need most of the time. Money well-spent on capital needs also can reduce your future expenses and thus help pay for itself — gas-frugal cars, for example; or energy-efficient houses; or an efficient new heat pump to replace an old, energy-hogging heat pump. In a corporate budget, a capital item must be “justified.” It has to make sense when you do the hard-nosed, cold-blooded number crunching. It has to get past the “bean counters,” as we called them.

If you look at how chronically poor people spend their money, you’ll usually find that they are pissing away their income on consumption and wasteful “expenses,” leaving no surplus for capital improvement and asset accumulation. And, when they incur debt to acquire a capital item, they tend to buy far more than they need because they bought what they wanted rather than what they needed and could justify.

It used to be, in this country, that the centerpiece of household finance was to buy a house with a 30-year mortgage, pay it off, and then retire in that house, mortgage free. The abandonment of that idea is one of the things that is killing the middle class. People started drawing on the equity in their homes to increase consumption. Even when they spent that equity on their homes, it was on stuff that cannot be cost-justified, like granite countertops. Thus they end up with no assets, debt that financed consumption, and out-of-control expenses for processed food, eating out, gadgets, gas-guzzler gasoline, cable television, and stupid luxury items that they saw on TV.

I often tell any young person who will listen the two most important things about personal finance that I ever learned: You must spend less than you make, substantially less when possible. And you must accumulate, else you will have to work forever.

And if I was made dictator for a few seconds, long enough to be granted one wish for my pathetic fellow Americans, it would be this: I’d cut off their cable. That would save them $150 a month while cutting off their access to propaganda and advertising. It also would kill a few corporations that deserve to die — Fox, for example.

But let’s learn from our enemy — corporations, the very people who sponsor the propaganda and the advertising. Again, I’m not talking about scam corporations like Enron. I’m talking about real businesses that actually do productive things and make money at it. They are usually very prudent and hard-nosed in how they spend their money. And that’s one small reason why they are rich and we are not.

The power of ridicule

Now is a good time to try again to make my point about using ridicule to shut down right-wing craziness. I think that some people think that I’m only just being mean-spirited when I argue that liars must be told that they are liars, that people who talk crazy must be told that they are crazy, and that we must do everything possible to make them objects of ridicule.

More thoughtful people might object that if you stoop to such tactics, you risk becoming just like them. Others seem to think that to be shrill is worse than to be a liar. But I would argue that shrillness in defense of truth is not a vice, and that it is virtuous to spray ridicule in the faces of ridiculous, dangerous people. Ridicule in their faces is more effective than pepper spray.

There is historical support for this. Strident condemnation (during Senate hearings) helped bring down Joseph McCarthy. It has often been written that it was largely the work of H.L. Mencken, heaping ridicule on William Jennings Bryan in Mencken’s coverage of the Scopes monkey trial in 1925, that shamed fundamentalists out of the public square for decades until they re-emerged rebranded as evangelicals. They are back, calling themselves Christians even as they despise and blame the poor, cheer for war, worship the rich, and torch the planet. Religion like that does not deserve the slightest scrap of respect or deference. It deserves our contempt.

We could use a few Menckens right now. Though today’s gelded mainstream media would not print a Mencken, now we have the Internet.

I’ve been reading some Mencken lately. I don’t particularly like his voice (just as I don’t like the sound of my own voice when I am talking about fools), and I doubt that he was the nicest person in the world. But he did the country a huge service simply by telling the truth, by writing in such a way that the ridiculousness of deluded and dangerous people is self-evident.

Protest music


Makana

As the protest movement takes root, one of the things I’ve been wondering is: Where is the protest music? The 1930s had its Woody Guthrie. The 1960s had its Bob Dylan.

Well, here it comes. I understand that he ambushed President Obama with this song at a summit meeting in Hawaii on Nov. 12.

Poets for president!


Michael D. Higgins, the new president of Ireland

Today Ireland inaugurated a new president — Michael D. Higgins. Higgins is 71 years old. He is a supporter of the Labour party. He is an intellectual, and he is a poet. Few countries other than Ireland are capable of electing a poet for president.

Ireland seems to be returning to its senses after years of whoring itself out to international corporations. When the boom turned to a bust, Ireland’s “business friendly” government bailed out banks with taxpayer money. This was a direct bailout in which taxpayers took on bad debts, not merely an extension of government-backed loans. Consequently, austerity is now the rule for ordinary people in Ireland, though rich bankers took no losses. Once again, Ireland’s population is declining as people move elsewhere, now that the boom is over. The unemployment rate is 14.4 percent.

Predictably, this awful misgovernment led to a backlash. Higgins has promised that he will govern from values other than wealth. Considering his history and his character, he might just keep that promise.

A columnist for London’s conservative newspaper The Telegraph, which doesn’t like Higgins’ kind, made fun of Higgins poetry. I strongly suspect, though, that the Irish wouldn’t trade a turnip for what the banker-loving Telegraph thinks. (I certainly wouldn’t.)

Here is one of Higgins’ poems.


When Will My Time Come

When will my time come for scenery
And will it be too late?
After all
Decades ago I was never able
To get excited
About filling the lungs with ozone
On Salthill Prom.

And when the strangers
To whom I gave a lift
Spoke to me of the extraordinary
Light in the Western sky;
I often missed its changes.
And, later, when words were required
To intervene at the opening of Art Exhibitions,
It was not the same.

What is this tyranny of head that stifles
The eyes, the senses,
All play on the strings of the heart.

And, if there is a healing,
It is in the depth of a silence,
Whose plumbed depths require
A journey through realms of pain
That must be faced alone.
The hero, setting out,
Will meet an ally at a crucial moment.
But the journey home
Is mostly alone.

When my time comes
I will have made my journey
And through all my senses will explode
The evidence of light
And air and water, fire and earth.

I live for that moment.

— Michael D. Higgins

Robin Hood


Some of the cast of Robin of Sherwood, the 1980s TV series

The story of Robin Hood is one of the oldest stories in English literature. The references start in the 13th century and never stop, all the way up to our own times.

When “Robin of Sherwood” became a cult television item during the 1980s, I never saw any of them. But they are available on DVD, and Netflix’s system for recommending things recommended it to me, since I have gotten so many BBC series through Netflix.

In a way, Robin Hood is always timely, because the rich are always looking for ways to steal from the poor, and always pervert justice to get away with it. But now, as the Occupy Wall Street era begins (I hope it will be an era), Robin Hood is particularly timely.

Michael Praed as Robin Hood, episode 1:

You were sleeping. You slept too long. We all have… Villages destroyed so that princes can hunt unhindered, the people bled white to pay for foreign wars. No voice. No justice. No England! Well, it’s time to fight back.

As the world turns


Steve Jobs’ high school photo


Arrested at the Wall Street protests


Old people can be so dumb.


Steve Jobs, Stanford University commencement, 2005:

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because death is very likely the single best invention of life. It is life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”


Back in May when I wrote the “Got a revolution” post, I was in almost a state of despair at the passivity and invisibility of today’s young people as our democracy and our economy are stolen out from under us by our political and corporate elite. How could they — for a timely example — be flocking to Apple stores and building entire lifestyles around their technology, while failing to grasp the message that Steve Jobs, a heretic and a visionary, was trying to put across to them. Could today’s young Americans really be as stupid and deluded by propaganda as today’s older Americans (see Medicare sign, above).

How ironic, that Steve Jobs, one of the greatest free spirits of our time, the son of an Arab father, a rabble rouser, became CEO of the biggest corporation in America. Does that change my views of corporations? No. It just reminds us what corporations ought to be, and what corporations ought to do: Bring good things to people at prices they can afford, don’t prey on your customers, beat your competitors by being better rather than seeking a monopoly like Microsoft, and leave government to the people.

Steve Jobs was a philosopher. He was a Martin Luther. He was a Martin Luther King. I hope he is remembered for a long, long time.

And finally, as the Wall Street protests show, our young people are waking up. They know who is eating their lunch. They know who is lying to them.

They also are wired.

The stage is set, I’m afraid, for unfolding events to slowly work out an extremely important historical question. Will technology enslave the people — top down, through surveillance, snooping, the commoditization of personal information, and 24/7 propaganda? Or will technology liberate the people, bottom up?

Our young people will decide. As of today, with young people in the streets, I am optimistic.

I’m also reminded of words by my friend Rob Morse, in his column in the San Francisco Examiner, on the death of Herb Caen, the venerable columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle whose death left San Franciscans almost traumatized.

“We’re on our own now,” Morse wrote.

In Ireland, it's cool to be a farmer again


The Irish Times


There are two dangers in not owning a farm: the belief that heat comes from the furnace and food comes from the supermarket. — Aldo Leopold


The Irish Times started a three-part series today on how family farms are making a comeback in Ireland’s depressed economy. In fact, farming is one of the most promising areas of the economy. Young people now see farming as an option. This, of course, is relocalization — a return to the land after people saw what the globalization of the economy got them.

What puzzles me is why that doesn’t seem to be happening here. Compare the story from the Irish Times with the link I posted yesterday to a New Yorker story about economic deterioration in Surry County, North Carolina, the county just to the west of Stokes County, where I live. Young people continue to move away, both in Surry and Stokes, while many old family farms sit more or less intact, but fallow. All too many family farms, however, have been chopped up into subdivisions during the past few decades, if they were near a population center or a main road.

I am speculating, because I don’t have nearly enough information to make such a judgment, but it is as though most people here are at an earlier stage in a process. They have perceived the downsides of the boom and bust and waste brought to us by globalization. But they’re not yet thinking much about what they could do, largely by themselves, with the resources that are close around them. I don’t know if it’s the truth or an urban legend, but one regularly hears that some children don’t know that French fries comes from potatoes. If that’s true, then the cultural connection to the land has been completely severed. Not to mention that education has failed. Maybe things never went that far in Ireland.

The New Yorker in Mayberry


Snappy Lunch in downtown Mount Airy

It isn’t often that urbane institutions such as the New Yorker find themselves in places like Mount Airy, North Carolina. In the September 12 issue of the New Yorker, George Packer has a must-read piece on how the United States has deteriorated — in almost every way — since the events of Sept. 11, 2001. The article is “Coming Apart: After 9/11 transfixed America, the country’s problems were left to rot.”

This piece is available on the New Yorker’s web site to non-subscribers, here.

This article is not in any way condescending toward Mount Airy. It’s hard to nail down the gist of an article this long and thoughtful, but these two paragraphs come pretty close:

While the media were riveted by the spectacle of celebrity wealth, large areas of the country were—like Surry County—left to rot. The boom had been built on sand: housing speculation, overvalued stocks, reckless deregulation, irresponsible deficits. When the foundation started to crumble with the first wave of mortgage defaults, in 2007, the scale of the destruction became the latest of the decade’s surprises. Hardly anyone foresaw how far the economy would fall; hardly anyone imagined how many people it would take on the way down. Even the economic advisers of the next Administration badly misjudged the crisis. The trillions of dollars spent and, often, misspent on wars and domestic bureaucracies were no longer available to fill the hole left by the implosion of the private economy. Reborn champions of austerity pointed to the deficits in order to make the case that the country couldn’t afford to spend its way back to health. And, like the attacks that were supposed to change everything, the recession—which was given the epithet “Great” and was constantly compared with the Depression of the nineteen-thirties—inspired very little change in economic policy. Without effective leadership, the country blindly reverted to the status quo ante, with the same few people making a lot of money, if a little less than before, and the same people doing badly, if a little worse.

This malignant persistence since September 11th is the biggest surprise of all. In previous decades, sneak attacks, stock-market crashes, and other great crises became hinges on which American history swung in dramatically new directions. But events on the same scale, or nearly so, no longer seem to have that power; moneyed interests may have become too entrenched, élites too self-seeking, institutions too feeble, and the public too polarized and passive for the country to be shocked into fundamental change.