Skip to main content

Modest Proposal Part 1

Modest Proposal Part 1 - 2008-06-30 11:30



Modest Proposal #1

For efficient use of limited governmental resources and better economies of scale, consider this:

Fold the dept. of education and the Department of prisons into the Department of defense.

That's what change is all about -- doing things differently.

If you watch the MSNBC prison specials on TV and see the high school graduation rates now that No Child Left behind has taken full effect, (or remember, faintly, the word Haditha) -- you must be ready for this. Especially if you are no longer eligible to join the army because of age or infirmity.

We have confused our next generation with words and titles -- and since they are going to have to pay for our retirements and clean up the messes anyway (plural -- spell check has more of a problem with the concept than we do,) I think that a better structure is needed to channel our bovine-ey children.

This will also allow for a better cash flow -- the money is going to be tight and every dollar saved from administrative overhead can better go where it's needed. We know where it's needed -- hell, we've already budgeted it in to our futures.

And, really, it's better for the children and will allow them to plan map out their years in a straighter forwarded way. Not so much better as clearer -- and that's got to be good for them on a lot of levels.

Social security is only going to pay for us if we take care of it now -- and since we are too stupid to budget and live within our means as a society -- we are going to have to either make more money, or charge it off to the next generation. Honestly -- I think we've already made the hard choice -- just not out loud.

What would this look like, and how soon could we see they money? And what would we call it to make it less sinister (like Homeland Security?)

That's for tomorrow's blog -- so stay tuned!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Wedding and Funeral

Went to a wedding and a funeral this weekend with Mary. Sacramento, Santa Rosa, then home– a whirlwind trip through weekend bay area traffic. The traffic was horrible – life changing horrible, but not unusual.
As with most things, it’s a balance of an the unnamed terror and an easy chair in a padded room that rocks. 
The wedding was delightful, part of an interconnected strong woman’s club that marries off their daughters to provably weaker men. And so, the cycle continues, but the company was nice and I’m too old to wonder at the process anymore.
The funeral was for another interconnected strong woman, who, by hinkey or dinky, was a scary woman that I used to work with as a nurse. She would have been surprised that I outlived her, much as Charles the cat was. Please pay attention out there – this is how life works.
(To be fair, she didn’t put up with shit and I liked to throw handfuls of it around as if I were Christ standing on the back of a broken piƱata heaving candy cigarettes to the…

Only once

For clarity, I think I will write this only once.I do not write confessional poetry, and I do not write things down as a form of therapy. I write because I have something unique to say in a unique sort of way, a way that I think is universal in an analogous manner, not as any sort of literal telling of the truth.  I trowel spackle onto pages with a straight edged blade, I don’t paint aging widows with a brush. (My soul has been psychedelicized, but this shit’s not about me.)It comes in this form – that this relates to that, in this way – A form that I think illustrates things that are too true to be looked at straight on – personal truths that are usually discovered through interactions with other people – truths that are often relational, unreliable and subject to the weavings and debris of human beings. Truths that sneak out and become a miraculous surprise of insight – like a Zen master hitting you on the head with a baseball bat at just the right time.I don’t think I’m the only on…

How do I know when I'm done?

I left a message on Facebook for someone I care about that ended with the words, “one won”. I did it just because I thought was funny. That led to a whimsical discovery that I no longer had to place a period at the end of my sentences – in fact to do so would be rude and identify myself as an old person. 
It seems that, for online use anyway, a period has become a loud shout -- a purposeful exclamation point useful only in drawing unnecessary attention, or as a way of making an angry burp of anti-social angst. Sentences no longer end, they gently back out a side door when no one is looking -- they’ve become bars without a jail, or that angry driver just ahead of you who hesitates before moving through an intersection just to make a point of how stupid you are.
Since a period is no longer an end to a thought, its new function has evidentially become nothing but a stuffy ritual of formality that writers can now use to mark up or down generalized feeling of huffiness, or perhaps a way to s…