The national achievement last night defies words of any consecration or commemoration. Finally this country sees through our legacy of mystifying fear and prejudice. Dreamers, for once, have prevailed.

part 1

part 2

As far and widely as I’ve read and listened to commentary about the economic crisis the country faces, this 60 Minutes story strikes me as the best explanation of what went wrong. Take note of this strand of the narrative: investment banks that sold the ‘repackaged’ mortagages of questionable credit also offered ‘credit default swaps‘ as a means to ‘insure’ investors against loss should the underlying investment result in default.

As most readers have probably already found out earlier this week,  a resumed search for cluesinto the disappearance Steve Fossett has lead to a discovery of wreckage from the plane flown by the millionaire adventurer.

In an entry back on June 12, I speculated on the possibility that he had intentionally vanished from human contact as an act of the ultimate adventure. At the time I was not aware of a suggestionmade by US Civil Air Patrol’s Lieutenant Colonel Cynthia Ryan - that Fossett might still be alive, since the aircraft had yet to be discovered.  Now that the revived search has confirmed the finding of human remains at the crash site, it appears likely that this story amounts to no more than the tragic end to an exceptional life.

However, I await the results of DNA testing to be absolutely certain that this was not Fossett’s greatest feat.

Dear Committee Members:

Over the past week I’ve paid close attention to the news headlines depicting the financial crisis the United States faces. Of all the solutions bandied about, I’ve yet to hear anyone propose a penny-per-trade tax on the execution of any equity, mutual fund, option, futures, or credit default swap transaction.

If trading has been the very mechanism that distorted the value of our assets, shouldn’t it also be the process by which Wall Street lends a hand in resolving this crisis?

Respectfully yours,

Dear Sen. Dodd,

I write to thank you for your efforts to hold Wall Street accountable over the current financial crisis this country faces. If I may be so bold as to suggest one phase of the solution to this potential economic cataclysm: a
$1-per-trade tax on buying and selling of securities (stock, bond, mutual fund, option, futures, credit default swaps, et. al.) that can go towards defraying the cost of the much-heralded $700 billion bailout.

If the investment banking and securities industries have had a part in bringing our economy to the edge of ruin, then perhaps it is a modest proposal to expect they participate in its salvaging.

Respectfully yours,

Jude Folly

In anticipation of the release of Indignation, the 29th book by Newark’s notorious son, Esquire has offered to its readers a ‘crash course’ guide to prepare readers for what I’ve seen with my own eyes is a standard, even whispy plot predictably taken from Roth’s biography.

Such Manhattanite pandering is only surpassed when Woody Allen releases a new film.

Pregnant and unwed are the least of her problems.  Anyway, I’m convinced that for almost every occasion there is a Smiths song that commemorates.

It hasn’t been too difficult to resist writing about Morrissey since I’ve not been an enthusiast for quite a number of years.  However, The Smiths remain, for me, the peak of pop music in the English speaking world; a rupture across the staid and dreary 1980s conformist landscape. They recorded sweet, enchanting tunes tilted by Morrissey’s exceptional lyrics - etchings of a whimsical pathos that would embolden the bashful and cause the brutish to blush.

Anyway, the Morrissey song I’ve posted above is a guilty pleasure given its scant lyrical content, tho’ I relish the Mancunian’s fatalistic conclusion, “My only mistake is I keep hoping”.  In concert, amuzingly enough, I’ve heard him change the chorus to “My only mistake is I’m English”.

Yet, the choice between Sen. Barack Obama and Sen. John McCain strikes me as overwhelmingly obvious.

Several years ago, when I had read Richard Branson’s profile (full disclosure: I am a Virgin Mobile customer) in Esquire’s recurring feature What I’ve Learned, the statement that jabbed me between the eyes was his headmaster’s parting words upon graduation: “Congratulations, Branson, I predict you will either go to prison or become a millionaire” (further support to the wisdom that the most brilliant people are incarcerated).

Not long after, I recall his cameo appearance on “Friends” as a souvenir vendor applauding Joey’s nutty determination to walk around London sporting a Dr. Suess ‘Cat in the Hat’ topper. Thereafter, I began to notice his television appearances, whether trying to break some hot air balloon flight record or launching space tourism - no matter the venue or occasion, he’s always flashing that toothy grin and never one to betray the starchy pallor you may notice in 90% of corporate executives.

As if to spite those who take exception to his risk-oriented approach to business, his ventures succeed just as well as the rest.