Humanistic Economics

"Call a thing immoral or ugly, soul-destroying or a degradation of man, a peril to the peace of the world or to the well-being of future generations; as long as you have not shown it to be uneconomic you have not really questioned its right to exist, grow, and prosper." -- Ernst Friedrich "Fritz" Schumacher

A man's got to earn a living to get by in this world. But I have begun to take the approach that we should carefully control where we spend our resources to obtain what we need to be happy, provide for our family and support our community.  And community can be as large as you feel like defining it. 

Many major religions speak of the "community of man" in the broad context of the many "souls" that people the planet.  They look at the global development of their mission.

The flag wavers talk of "America" as the border of their focus. Buy American. Support Our Troups. America: Love It Or Leave It. Wonder what the American Indians would think about these slogans?

People in my home town say we need to narrow it down to our own local businesses. The ones that can outlast the Walmart and the Meijer stores.

But the one thing that I really try to do is find people that want to do things and are economically challenged. I found a couple reliable shade-tree mechanics that can help me when the projects get to hard for me with a car or truck I need repaired. Heck, they even work on my old John Deere Lawn mower at times. They are people that I can talk to--at length--about the vehicles problem. I can buy the parts at the local auto parts store and they charge me a fair price to install them. Or I can call them and talk about my problem and they can sometimes lead me to a simple fix on my own. These guys didn't go to school to be mechanics, they learned it by tearing down and building cars for mud bogs and racetracks. They seem to understand the soul of automobiles, if they have one. I believe my Jeep Grand Cherokee has one and it is headed straight to H#%@ when I finally pull off the road for the last time and put a bullet through its heart.

They are also schooling me. Showing me a way of looking at things. Helping me conquer the fear that always seems to proceed a major repair that I undertake. They have stopped by my garage when I reached a sticky spot to guide me along. They have shown me how to weld, use a torch and how to use heat to loosen parts. They have been customer support on the phone. They have "humanized" getting my stuff fixed.

I feel good about handing money over to people like that versus the dealership and the auto repair joints that I have dealt with in the past. They almost think of being paid as an afterthought. They love the challenge of auto repair. They love to talk about cars and their experiences with them. They smile and laugh about what they have done to help you. And they are the actual person that has done the work. Not the service manager with the manicured nails and the computerized billing that confronts you when it comes time to pick up your car.

So invite your mind to look for ways you can reach out to people rather than businesses. Find someone to sell you your meat from a farm and a butcher that can cut it the way you want it cut. Buy some produce from a roadside stand. Go to those garage sales that pop up all summer. Or find your own shade-tree mechanic, they are around every corner.

And find something that you can do for others that will fill you with the sense of accomplishment when you benefit others.

Wikapedia definition of Humanistic economics: Humanistic economics focuses on human economic activity as being social and altruistically constructed, not just individualistically and selfishly derived. The importance of the ethical individual living within a vibrant local community, not merely as a lone wolf nor as a consumer of mass culture and production on a global scale, is often stressed. The importance of accounting for externalities (items not always put on the economic balance sheet like pollution or loss of biodiversity) are other key concepts.

Organization Disaster Case

“Electricity is really just organized lightning.”—George Carlin

My wonderful (a true understatement) wife is perhaps one of the most organized people in the world, at least the known world of “Me”. She is accurate with scheduled appointments. Prompt to do assigned or needed tasks for work and pleasure. All things have a place and she is able to find them with outstanding ease of effort. I also benefit when I need to borrow something of hers as she can either point out its location, or, if it is an item I have used in the past and retrieved, I know where to look…if I remembered to put it away properly.

Then there is the recent case with my back-up staple gun.

Now it will be important to back up a bit and explain my approach to organization. I approach it with a lack of understanding that my brain no longer files away storage locations of things with the clarity that it used to have. A brain that used to run like a brand new computer works more like a Commodore 64 computer from the early 80’s. Google it if you can’t remember that “state-of-the-art” device. Basically it works slowly like it is infected with a virus. Scrambled as well and needing to be de-fragmented like the hard drives of computers. Projects are lying around in various states of completion and incompletion.

• weed wacker that needs a throttle cable (waiting for the part to come in the mail)
• 2nd weed wacker that needs repair if I could figure it out (trying to find the manual)
• boat seat needing to be reupholstered and repaired (trying to find my second staple gun)
• baseball officiating gear that needs to be stored and football officiating gear that needs to be found (just need to take the time to do it)
• garage door that is crooked when it closes (this could take an engineer or a professional garage door mechanic)
• a 1962 Chevy Nova II (more like a skeleton of a car at this point)
• a basement room with drywall hung and first mud applied (trying to find the motivation to plaster)
• fish tank that needs cleaning (just need to take the time to do it)
• lawn tractor #2 won’t start (battery, starter, solenoid?)

The list just goes on like a bad romantic comedy. Or a slow action film.

But when I think about things and put them in perspective, the broken and lost stuff is old like my brain. Old stuff needs to be fixed. Stuff that hasn’t been used in years is gathering dust in spots around my house like my knowledge of college calculus, dwelling in some far-off corner of the gray matter in my skull. So my brain needs to be fixed too. Brain dust is covering it. Picture that if you can. Need to find a “brain-duster-off-er.” I kind of feel like George Carlin looks in the above picture. Or maybe I just need to quit putting so much pressure on it and give it a break. Let it just go where it wants to go and stop forcing it to work so hard. Maybe like water it will flow to the lowest point, scouring itself out while it races to the sea of knowledge.

I would apply Leo Tolstoy’s following quote to the brain as well as to the body as he inferred: “Our body is a machine for living. It is organized for that, it is its nature. Let life go on in it unhindered and let it defend itself, it will do more than if you paralyze it by encumbering it with remedies.”

I truly do hinder myself with a desire to remember everything, I need only remember what is available to me, close to my mind’s surface.

And I almost forgot, the back-up staple gun was found where I last used it. In the toolbox I take to the rifle range to attach my targets down range.

How to Forget?

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.--Henry David Thoreau

I need to learn a new skill.

A skill that can help me to be able to see things in a truer light. A light that casts a shadow of truth on objects, people and thoughts. I must learn how I can make space in my cluttered, unfocused mind and that restless spirit of mine that troubles and toys with it. I seem to be seeing many things in new perspective. Bright, new visions. As I am growing older, aging and evolving, the universe of my memories is growing crowded and confused.

I look around me and I am surrounded by so much that talks to me of what I have done in my life. There are the bookshelves filled with the volumes I have read. My favorite authors, collected and shelved for me to see, take down and turn to that certain passage that pleases. A snow goose mount from a special hunt with dear friends. Pictures and autographed baseballs and elephant bookends.

But perhaps I should begin to remove some of these things. Take the books I probably won't read again and donate them. Give away my drawings and art that lies flat and unviewed. Mostly forgotten things. Unused. Should be discarded. Simplify a bit more.

What I truly need to develop is not the ability to remember more, but the ability to forget. Give up certain ways and things. That would bring a peace to me and allow more joy to work it's magic on my life.

Gary Ryan Blair, "The GoalsGuy®", kind of sums up what I am contemplating when he wrote, "Learning is about more than simply acquiring new knowledge and insights; it is also crucial to unlearn old knowledge that has outlived its relevance. Thus, forgetting is probably at least as important as learning.”

Let the forgetting, begin.

Karma…or Is It?

"According to the karma of past actions, one's destiny unfolds, even though everyone wants to be so lucky.”--Sri Guru Granth Sahib

They are cute little industrious critters. Enthusiastically scrambling around the edges of the woods, up the bird feeders and diving under the deck. Excavating tunnels throughout the planters surrounding our house and devouring or disrupting the root systems of the plants my wife and I cherish in the landscaping surrounding us. Industriously destructive is their true essence.

And every spring and early summer, the population of them surges to the point of overflowing in the area surrounding our house and yard. Such is the plight of rural dwellers.

Chipmunks. Gophers. Ground squirrels. Oh my! (Sorry, I couldn’t help myself from using a cheesy rip-off from “The Wizard of Oz”)

So population control measures need to be enacted around our residence, and since the critters don’t provide much meat and I am not partial to killing without consuming, I broke out the Hav-A-Hart live trap and proceeded with control measures. Catch and release style. Now it should be noted here that my record of gopher trappings the previous year was 11 total chipmunks and a small possum that wedged its way into the trap. Don’t eat possum either. Catch and release.

This spring and summer I was well on my way of reaching that previous years mark--and possibly breaking it as well--the way they were throwing themselves at the sunflower-seed-as-bait suggested by “The Wife” when my bread crumbs were not drawing much action. However, this bait did lead to a male cardinal and a red squirrel falling victim as well.

Now my method of relocation is to hop on my bike and ride about a half mile to a stretch of road where no houses are present. I then release them to hopefully take up residence away from civilization. Then I ride my bike home triumphantly. And here is where karma comes into the story.

Number 12 was reached in early July, a milestone in chipmunk catches for the season. So with “catch” accomplished I went on to the “release” stage. After peddling down the road the required distance and releasing the quarry, I turned home with trap in right hand and left hand on handlebar. About 50 yards from the release site, a chipmunk dashed out in front of my bike and I instinctively applied the brakes with my left hand. Now if you ride a bike, with handlebar brakes, you may realize that when only the left brake is applied, only the front brake is engaged. This locks up the wheel in the front and immediately flips you over onto (in my case) the asphalt surface of the road. Then the bike continues its tumble and lands on top of you even as your fall was broken by the live trap and road surface.

I lay there and began to wonder why I felt no pain. I must have fallen just right.

But I know in the distance I heard the chattering of the chipmunks I had released, saying “gotcha!”

Now about the chipmunk: Eastern chipmunks mate twice a year, in early spring and again in early summer, producing litters of four or five young. They are prey and predator both, as they are consumed by an assortment of larger predators and when not eating nuts and seeds will eat bird eggs, nestlings and small mammals like baby mice.

Random Bothersome Things

When people bother you in any way, it is because their souls are trying to get your divine attention and your blessing” --Catherine Ponder

Here are some random things that bother me. Perhaps I will feel better if I write them down. Therapy. Also, I will note that the gal in the picture at the top of this blog entry isn't Catherine Ponder. We'll get to the half-naked Lydia Guevara and her carrot bandoleers in a bit.

Fencerows…or the present lack of them and the removal of them

On my way home from work, I drive along a road with a fence row that borders our local airport. It was getting a bit overgrown with some autumn olive but from what I could see, posed no significant air traffic risk to the planes landing and taking off. For the last 3 years, I would see my first—and the only so far--Eastern Meadowlark working along this fence row and the field that it edged. It also was where the Redwing Blackbirds first returned in the spring to begin their territorial dances awaiting the female of the species arrival. Unfortunately, this past spring marked the demise of the overgrown fence row. Some genius must have only concluded that this was not the neat appearance needed in a rural area. So out came the chainsaws and manpower and trimmed it up like a residential lawn. So our county gained a more uncluttered, less natural view of the asphalt landing strip and lost a song of a relatively rarely seen bird in these parts.

Ernesto Che Guevara T-shirts being worn by anyone, let alone the celebrities

Why do people have to look at a mass murderer’s image on T-shirts? Think of it as a Cuban version of despots like Stalin, Hitler, or Pol Pot. Would we see actor Johnny Depp sporting that profile on his chest? Carlos Santana dedicating songs to Manuel Noriega? Even my favorite organization to hate, one that exploits anything with disgustingly nauseating ad campaign approaches, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals), found that Che’s twenty-something granddaughter, Lydia, was a dedicated vegetarian and enlisted her to pose for ads that reminisce visually the feel of the revolutionary’s time. The tag line of the ad: “Join the Vegetarian Revolution.” How many vegetables must die to suppress us carnivores? She posed sans clothes of course. Nudity, sex appeal, and serial killer imagery. Genius. Oh, and Hitler was a vegetarian as well. Where's his PETA poster?

Turn signals

People who don’t use turn signals, “Nuff said.

People who don’t understand the U.S Constitution

We live in the greatest country in the world. Remember to love what we have and to love the rights of others to live here with what they love. Not a single thing in the United States Constitution talks about what citizens can’t do in the pursuit of happiness. It spends most of the time explaining what the elected government can’t do to its citizens. Think of it in the manner of Kings are not elected by the citizens, they seized their power by suppressing them. Remember that when your representatives seek to pass a new “law.” They were not elected to be lawmakers; they were elected by us, their constituency, to represent us in the different branches of government. I try to remember whenever one of those elected officials says they are going to give us something, it is time to start searching which of my pockets they are going to take it from.

Share your annoyances with me in the comments section, I bet we share many of them.

I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and long words bother me.” –Winnie the Pooh

Gotta’ Have Heart

"Deer flies are vicious painful biters that are relentless in their pursuit of blood to the point of a meal or death". --Unknown

I’ll give it to the deer flies: they sure have heart.

This observation came to me as my wife and I ran down the trail along the river for a summer evening run. Well, actually it would be more like a creek, but they call it a river trail. Mosquitoes have been sort of bad this early summer, but we hadn’t run into the biting deer flies yet in any great number on the runs. With mosquitoes, as long as you keep moving it is generally hard for them to take up a grip on the skin and bore their vicious hole into your skin. Deer flies are a completely different matter.

This relative peace all changed as we ran through a new section of trail, just being developed, that cuts through a small section of woods. The deer fly hordes denizen was breeched by us in this route, at this time of day, and the little ba@*!#ds commenced their attack. Now I luckily had on my new breathable hat which effectively covers up the bald spot opening at the top of my head that is the preferred target of the deer fly. Warm, sweaty areas that are moving tend to draw them “like flies.” You could be running naked I swear and they only would want to lodge in and around the hair on your head. When I don’t have a hat on the deer flies bounce and bounce repeatedly on my head causing me to begin to slip into insanity. Tap. Tap. Tap. Swat-miss. Tap. You get the picture. Diving in, attaching to flesh and proceeding to use their razor edged mouth to drain your blood into their eager mouths. And bug spray, I think it is like ketchup and mustard to deer flies, just a topping to the blood they are sucking from the wounds they inflict.

Well, back to this tale. We came out of the woods and were enthusiastically joined at this point by several flying companions, whose soul purpose was to eat…US! But for some reason they were much more interested in my wife’s lovely, long brown hair so prettily flying about her as she ran. I think they may have been attracted to the bright yellow shirt she was sporting, a top that before the run I had commented on what a nice color combination it was combined with the blue shorts. Think maize and blue, University of Michigan. Go Wolverines! Little did I suspect it might be the team colors for those nasty insects.

I took off my hat and began swatting the circling demons from around my darlings head. I swear when I hit them with the crushing blows it either just made them madder or they were split in two and doubled the intensity of their attack. As I was doing this, I noticed that they had no interest in my head at all. Then I suggested maybe if she ran fast she could shake ‘em, which was a dangerous suggestion this late in a run with fatigue a factor. God knows what would have come on us if we for some reason tired and had to slow to a walk. I pictured two corpses found along the trail by strangers passing by, corpses drained of blood through hundreds of seeping wounds. But she tried the sprint move and I only think it got the flies blood competitively flowing.

So I offered my hat to the wife. After much cajoling for her to “just take it,” she did. This seemed to ease her discomfort caused by the flies and they still were ignoring me mostly. Eventually, the farther we found ourselves from their lair, the attacks subsided and we were able to peacefully finish the run, ironically among the living in a cemetery.

Here is a remedy for deer flies that just might work:
http://www.flypatch.com

Here is a great blog on the deer fly:
http://naturejournals.blogspot.com/search?q=Deer+Fly

From Wikipedia:
Deer flies (also known as yellow flies) are flies in the genus Chrysops of the family Tabanidae that can be pests to cattle, horses, and humans. A distinguishing characteristic of a deer fly is patterned gold or green eyes.
Deer flies are a genus that belongs to the family commonly called horse-flies (Tabanidae). They are smaller than wasps, and they have colored eyes and dark bands across their wings. While female deer flies feed on blood, males instead collect pollen. When feeding, females use knife-like mandibles and maxillae to make a cross-shaped incision and then lap up the blood. Their bite can be extremely painful, and allergic reaction from the saliva of the fly can result in further discomfort and health concerns. Pain and itch are the most common symptoms, but more significant allergic reactions can develop.
They are often found in damp environments, such as wetlands or forests. They lay clusters of shiny black eggs on the leaves of small plants by water. The aquatic larvae feed on small insects and pupate in the mud at the edge of the water. Adults are potential vectors of tularemia, anthrax and loa loa filariasis.

Dazzled With Jargon

Our business is infested with idiots who try to impress by using pretentious jargon. -- David Ogilvy

Here is my message to everyone or anyone who cares about others sanity.
 
Cut the crap.
 
Please, when you explain something, try to use terms "normal" people with any kind of brain can understand. Don't talk down to us to try to make yourself sound important or more educated or vastly more worldly than the rest of us. Keep what you are saying interesting and keep our attention. I don't want to wish I had had five extra cups of coffee--no, a whole pot of Java--to try to stay attentive to what you are relaying to me.
 
Entertain us with a story, don't dazzle us with all the jargon and scientific names of what you do, how you do it and what equipment you use. Make us sit in awe of your work. Show us examples with words and gestures. Trace the object you are describing with your hands in the air between us. I can picture it if you keep my interest.
 
I also don't want to just hear all your success stories. Don't just leave out the errors and mistakes. Tell them as well, the many or few wrong turns, blind alleys and the twists of fate that put you where you are. Led to how you got there. We all make mistakes and blunders, shout them out to us. It only makes you more human and lovable when we can see your warts. We truly need to know how you have learned from mistakes and made a better world for your neighbors, family and the rest of the planet.
 
This goes out to the guys that know all the specs from the manual and want to give them to you...I just want a simple understanding how it works. Instruction please, simplified.

And if you can't talk to me without making me feel like an idiot, just point to what I need in the aisle or even send me down the road where they are as dumb appearing to you as I seem. You don't probably have time to lower your brain to my level. You probably have some theorem to resolve or technical manual to dissect that would hold your interest.

I will go hang out with the ditch-diggers. We will always need ditch-diggers. We can talk about shovels.

You must learn to talk clearly. The jargon of scientific terminology which rolls off your tongues is mental garbage. -- Martin H. Fischer