Month: April 2021

Are you ready to talk some football? It’s that time again. Time for the eagerly anticipated, truly splendiferous, awesomely breathtaking NFL draft, when fans gather to listen to a gaggle of has-beens and never-weres pontificate endlessly about what a bunch of 19-year-olds will do six months from now when they finally get on a football field. Millions hold their breath as a middle-aged administrator walks onto stage to read a name. This could be the one. The savior who will lead us to Super Bowl glory (once Tom Brady finally retires). Be still my beating heart. 

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It is hard to overstate the hysteria that surrounds this annual jamboree. Last year over 55 million people tuned in to listen to Mel Kiper, Jr. and his team of troglodytes go on and on about the virtues and short-comings of a herd of acne-scarred behemoths who may, but probably will not, change the course of football history. That blows the World Series, the Oscars and the Presidential debates out of the water (not that I can argue with the viewer’s choice on the debates).  

I follow the picks on the internet on draft day, and tune in, if I’m not doing anything else, to see how the Eagles will throw away their first-round pick this year (remember Danny Watkins, Marcus Smith and Freddie Mitchell?). But as much of a football fan as I am, I cannot listen to 4 hours of a testosterone filled bitch fest with no games on the horizon, let alone bury myself in the three-day marathon that encompasses all seven rounds. There has to be a limit somewhere.  

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All that being said, you have to give Kiper and the Kipettes credit. They have an incredible amount of time to fill and have amassed an endless supply of meaningless statistics to do so. For instance, did you know that Zeplin Stankowitz of Hamburger U. led the Condiment League in balls batted back in the QB’s face (3), can bench squat a full-grown gnu, and credits his grandmother, who raised him in a chicken coop, for his success, making him a perfect fit for the Arizona Cardinals? Or that Orville Schicklgruber of the Maharishi University of Management ran a 3.8 40 after someone hit him in a sensitive spot during a fumble recovery, can chug 5 beers in 30 seconds, and credits his great Aunt, who once played for the Minnesota Vixens, for his success, making him a must for the Jacksonville Jaguars? 

The absence of a live audience again this year will make the 2021 “event” even more monotonous. Frankly, the most entertaining part of the spectacle is watching the crowd react to a bad pick. The shellshocked look on the team representative’s face as the boos rain down is priceless. That was why Philadelphia was the perfect city to host the draft in 2019. Our teams may stink, but we know how to boo!!!  

I must confess that I once went to an NBA draft party thrown by the Sixers with my friends Jon and Dawson. The crowd wanted the Sixers to draft Vlade Divac, even though none of us had ever seen this Serbian play, continuously chanting his melodic, vampiric name (Vlade, Vlade!!). When the Sixers chose Kenny Payne instead, we all booed (of course), until a Sixer rep came out and tearfully assured us that Payne would be a superstar. It turned out that the crowd was right. Divac was an outstanding player for many years, and Payne a bum from day one. By the way, the Sixers never hosted a draft party again after that. I wonder why. 

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I really shouldn’t complain about the draft, or sports generally. For many of us sports remains the easiest conversation starter, and one of the least fraught with pitfalls. It is one of the few things that people with strong opinions can talk about in this crazy world and still (generally) avoid screaming at each other. Plus it is fun to endlessly speculate on what might be before being hit in the face with reality (Unless you happen to be from Tampa – curse you Alfarone). Still, the religious fervor is hard to take.    

I sincerely hope that I have not rained on anyone’s parade. If you want to sit through this annual gathering of the football clans, have at it. I will undoubtedly turn it on for the Eagles pick, unless it’s opposite the episode of Love Boat where Doc falls off the boat while giving rhumba lessons. Julie and Gopher commandeer a dinghy to go look for him while Isaac plots to take over Doc’s spacious cabin. Captain Stubing turns the ship around, putting his job in jeopardy, only to find the three of them safe and sound drinking Mai Tais with Mr. Roarke and Tattoo on Fantasy Island. Phyllis Diller and Robert Goulet guest star.   

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Julie and I recently travelled to Pittsburgh to see Cal and get away for a bit (You remember travel, don’t you? Leaving your home and going somewhere else?). While we were there, we went to the Mattress Factory, a contemporary art gallery. It sparked my ambivalence about modern art, and, frankly, representational art in general. I want to get it – to understand what the artist is conveying – but no matter how close I seem to get to grasping intent, it always seems to elude me. It’s frustrating. 

Take the installation Surmatants, Mars Rising, by Andrea Stansilav. After walking through a room featuring an upside-down white horse, and whirling curtains reminiscent of a Twin Peaks set, you come to a triple movie screen showing traditionally clad dancers whirling about in front of a derelict industrial building. A beautiful, highly ornamented woman on a white horse (death?) rides slowly into the circle and all of the dancers fall down, as if they were playing ring-around-the-rosy. It was unbelievably striking.

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 Striking, yes, but what was the artist trying to tell us? It is advertised as “an elegiacally [serious reflecting for those, like me, who would have had to look that word up in the dictionary] visceral response to the COVID-19 pandemic in three acts”. Really? My best guess was a commentary on the way in which heavy industry gobbled up immigrant workers, but what do I know.  

Or take the mind-boggling Museum of All Things. This was a room rendered by Jennifer Angus which featured thousands of mounted bugs. Some created a macabre wallpaper. Some were in bell jars and narrow display drawers, where the bugs were doing all kinds of things, like reading books or holding court. In the middle was a dining room table with various stuffed creatures and more bugs enjoying an elegant meal. All quite jaw-droppingly, wonderfully, bizarre.  

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There didn’t seem to be a deeper message here, or, at least I couldn’t discern any. I think that we were supposed to just stand back in awe that someone would so painstakingly create this incredible alternative universe. And it worked. I was in awe, even though there was so much there I doubt if I took in even 1/3 of the exhibit. 

I’ve had this same reaction in conventional art museums. I stand before an acknowledged masterpiece, and, being the pretentious, intellectual wanna-be that I am, I want so badly to grasp the symbolism, analyze the brush strokes, and place the work in its historical context. Instead, my depth of analysis is usually something akin to “Me like pretty picture”.  

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I have even recently had this experience while reading. I just finished George Saunders terrific “A Swim in the Pond in the Rain”, where he has us read seven 19^th Century Russian short stories, and then after each dissects them the way that you would in a Masters level creative writing course. It was exhilarating to follow his course of thought, which brought these stories to life with great insight and humor. But it was also humbling to realize how much I missed in each of these stories, and how often I failed to grasp what was, in retrospect, the most basic points. 

And yet, about 2/3 through this book, a light came on. Wait a minute (I thought), this guy is a professional writer, who teaches writing, and has not only read these stories 50 times, but has also had numerous discussions about them with graduate students and other professionals year after year. Of course he is going to be able to miles deeper than I could possibly go in one quick read. 

The same is true for representational art. People don’t just go into their basements and throw this stuff together. They study what others have done. They consider the symbolism they are invoking. They go through trial and error to get what they want. And those that curate these exhibits have spent hours and hours honing their craft, taste and sensibilities so that they can evaluate what they are considering and separate the wheat from the chaff.  

So why should I feel bad about my inability to fully understand what these artists are doing?  Can any of them dissect a reinsurance contract? (Of course, why would they? In fact, as I occasionally asked myself in the 20 years that I did reinsurance, why would anyone in their right mind do so? Then I would think of Mark Megaw’s inspirational speech about how reinsurance made the commercial world go round and feel better about myself, for at least 10 minutes or so).             

There is no reason for any of us to believe that we can truly grasp what artists are trying to do. However, there is also no reason that we shouldn’t interact with what we see and get out of it what we can. Maybe it will be something the artist never considered (I still think that Surmatants, Mars Rising, works better as a commentary on the immigrant experience in the steel industry than it does as a COVID-19 response). Maybe it will be nothing more than “That’s cool” or, “That’s silly”. It really doesn’t matter. It’s still worth the interaction. 

Despite my frustration and ambivalence, I will continue to go to these galleries whenever I can. I will take in what I see and occasionally be transported to another world, like I was by the Museum of All Things, even if I can’t figure out why I am there. I will revel in the creativity of people whose imagination dwarfs mine. We all need something to take us out of the “real world” and art does it as well as it can be done.    

The 2021 World Happiness Report is out. I am sure you, like me, have been waiting with bated breath to find out whether we are ecstatically happy, marginally happy, in a bit of a funk, or in full Oscar the Grouch mode (actual happiness categories, in case you were wondering). It turns out we are somewhere between ecstatically happy and marginally happy (pretty darn happy?). More importantly, we are just as happy as we were last year, supposedly a testament to our resiliency.  

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Researchers produce this annual bacchanal, by taking a poll in 95 countries, asking people to rate their current life satisfaction on scale of 1 to 10, with the highest rating being “the best possible life for you”. In this latest poll 58% of Americans rated their current life satisfaction at 7 or above, and approximately 67% said that they expected their life satisfaction to be an 8 or above within the next five years. That ranks us 18^th in the world, between Germany and the Czech Republic. (U.S.A., U.S.A.).    

I am not sure what to make of this. As we all know from the 2016 and 2020 elections, we can’t trust polls. Unless those polls support my point of view, and then they accurately reflect that most people agree with me. It would be easy to just dismiss this poll as another goofy survey.  (Did you know that 43% of Republicans said Olive Garden is a “quality source of authentic ethnic food”, and 41% of Democrats agree, showing how highly we all rate on the delusion scale?). However, if we take this poll at face value, what does it tell us? 

We spent the last four years being told by pundits that the United States is a nation of angry, frustrated, scared people, who think that this country is going to hell in a handbasket (I love that phrase). Is that wrong? A media invention? Are the majority of Americans Pollyannas, who think that the grass is growing just fine, and that it will get even greener soon (they obviously have not seen my lawn!!). Are we just heedless optimists ignoring the death and devastation around us (to be overly dramatic)? And how could this view of life possibly survive the pandemic? 

Actually, I think both, admittedly exaggerated opinions, can be held at the same time. The truth of the matter is that the vast majority of Americans are doing pretty well. We have become jaded to the extent of our wealth in this country, but when we sit back and reflect, it’s downright amazing. We abound in food, fresh water and secure shelter. The vast majority of us are gainfully employed. We have gotten to the point where expensive technical marvels, like cars, cell phones and computers, are not only commonplace, they are necessities. And we have the free time to indulge in things like writing silly blogs.   

With that abundance, maybe it’s not so surprising that people in this country, reflecting on their individual status, are bullish on the days ahead. Most people do not have have realistic fears that scarcity is right around the corner. They live their lives getting pretty much what they want, when they want, and more. Why shouldn’t they say “Yes, I am happy”? 

At the same time, when we look out of our bubble, life doesn’t appear so rosy. We know that there are too many people who live paycheck to paycheck, such that any unexpected expense could be a disaster. We know that our healthcare system could bankrupt anyone caught in a long-term illness. We know that violence potentially lurks around every corner (or in the next aisle). We know that for many systemic discrimination limits options. We know that major, seemingly insoluble, potential catastrophes await us, such as climate change.  

Plus, we live in a society that promotes fear. Our politicians tell us that our way of life is in jeopardy as a means to get elected, using fear of the criminal, the immigrant or the “socialist” (they’re all the same, aren’t they?). Our news sources distort any event with little regard for facts to enhance ratings. Our religious leaders tell us again and again how decadent and depraved we are as a society, and how our rejection of traditional values is leading us toward hedonistic chaos. How can anyone be happy with all of that baggage?  

Maybe what this poll really tells us is how open to suggestion we can be. Faced with the question of whether we are happy, we think of all the good things in our life, add them up, and say “Yes, I’m pretty happy”. However, if we ran an Unhappiness Report and asked people to rate their current dissatisfaction on a scale of 1 to 10, we would probably get the exact same numbers, in reverse. People would think of everything that’s wrong and say, “I’m pretty dissatisfied, and expect to be even more dissatisfied over the next five years”. 

I also don’t think that this poll tells us much about our resiliency. The last year has been difficult for many people, but most have considered it a temporary blip.  For the larger part of society there was a sense that we would be back to our old ways before we knew it, for better or worse. There has been no real fear of a permanent loss of the things that we depend on. Can we be said to have rebounded when we never really fell?  

In the end, this poll tells us little about our country. It doesn’t measure what it says it measures, and doesn’t impact how we live our lives. It may tell us something about the way that humans tend to compartmentalize, or confirm that some academics have way too much time on their hands, though I don’t think that was the goal. Ultimately, you can take this poll at face value and be amazed for five seconds at the human spirit, or dismiss it outright as smoke blowing in the wind. Your choice. As for me, I’m going to Olive Garden and have the authentic I-talian Lasagna Classico, just like my mother’s Austrian ancestors used to make. Oh, Happy Days!!!   

My Temple lifelong learning class (a nice euphemism for classes for us old people) recently discussed the new child tax credit just passed by Congress. It was generally a good conversation, until one of the participants asked whether we could be sure that the people who got this credit would actually spend the money on their children. This group is pretty much what you would expect from a Philly crowd – very liberal and very socially conscious – and yet this concern was being raised. And it was clear looking at the Zoom reactions that the gentleman who made this comment was not alone in his concern. 

There are so many things wrong with this comment – perpetuation of stereotypes of the poor, blaming those with less for their financial condition, a condescending “I know better” attitude – that it’s tempting to go on a general rant in response, but that would be meaningless and dull. However, there is one aspect of this credit that I think people ignore more than any other. That is the general economic benefit we get by putting more money in the pockets of people who don’t have much. 

Ronald Reagan made popular the concept of the trickle-down economics. The argument was that if you gave the wealthy more money to spend, they would put that money back into the economy and everyone would benefit. The Reagan administration predicted that their massive tax cuts would not result in a deficit because the additional money the wealthy now had in hand would spark an economic boom more than making up for the lost tax revenue. That didn’t happen, and by the end of the 1980’s we had huge deficit and a stagnant economy. 

There was a similar rationale to the Trump administration tax cuts over the last few years, though the focus was more on what corporations would do with extra cash if we cut their rates. The hope was that they would reinvest more in research and development, and increase hiring. This too never came about, as corporations generally increased dividends and executive pay, but did not expand as hoped.   

The problem is that those already well off, whether individuals or corporations, have what they need, and more. Anything extra does not really change their spending habits. Maybe someone buys a 2021 Lexus to replace the 2019 Beemer. Maybe they buy a luxury item, like a yacht. (I understand that the market for collectibles, like baseball cards, is through the roof. Woo Hoo!!!) More likely they invest this money in the stock market where it goes to corporations, which then increase dividends and executive pay. This creates a very nice circle maintaining and expanding the wealth of the wealthy, while doing little to impact the economy generally. 

Those on the other end of the economic spectrum don’t have the luxury to sit on any money they receive. The cost of living, especially for those with children, dictates that what they get, they spend. And they spend it on basics. Food, rent, computers, clothes. A luxury buy is trading in the 2011 Camry for a 2019 Rav4. Or taking care of the house repairs that have been put off.  

The extra money these people spend also goes back to corporations. However, it isn’t just extra cash. Companies now have to respond to a higher demand for their products. They respond to those demands through increased production. Increased production means more jobs. It also leads to more research, development and advertising because the corporations have to stay ahead of their competition.  

Look, I am not an economist, and know that I am dealing in generalities. I have no data to back up this argument, though I am sure I could find it, as well as data to back up the opposite view as well. However, this strikes me as common sense. I know, I know, that’s an old-fashioned concept, and hardly a basis for making decisions. But every now and then I fool myself that I can think rationally and fall back on what seems likely. Silly me. 

I also know that I am butting my head against basic psychology. We feel more of a loss if we give something up than if we fail to get something we were expecting. Failing to get $10.00 that you hoped to get does not seem the same as opening your wallet to give someone $10.00, and yet the economic impact is the same. Similarly, giving up tax revenue does not strike us the same way as money doled out by the government, and yet ultimately, we may get more back from what we shell out.     

Even if I am right, I am not saying that economics is the be all and end all of deciding what our policies should be. There are other considerations. Such as moral concerns (talk about an old-fashioned concept) and budgetary issues. All I am saying is that we should be judging tax cuts that put more money into the pockets of the wealthy by the same criteria that we judge subsidies that put more money into the pockets of those on the lower end of the economic spectrum. They are two sides of the same coin, though the impact may differ. 

As my father would say after one of my mother’s sermons, “And thus ends the reading of the word”.