OP-ed: Take it from the parents who know her, Douglas “scarily unqualified” to lead Arizona schools

This was published previously in the Peoria Times and the Arizona Republic's West Valley section.

It is printed here with the permission of the authors (h/t to ProgressNow Arizona) -

To every single voter in Arizona:
 

 As long-time education advocates in Peoria and Cofounders of Peoria United Parent Council in 2004, we have had long-term first-hand experience with Superintendent of Public Instruction candidate Diane Douglas.

We want to make this warning crystal-clear to voters: Diane Douglas does not even remotely have the skills to do the job.

Several years ago, before she ran for the Peoria Unified School District (PUSD) Governing Board, Diane was a member of our parent group. At the time, she seemed to be willing and able to make reasoned decisions and prepared to review all sides of an issue.

However, much to our chagrin and dismay, once she was elected to the PUSD Governing Board, an astonishing Jekyll-and-Hyde transformation took place.  Her dangerous extremism, and overwhelming anti-public-education, anti-teacher agenda came rushing to the forefront. Her micromanaging of educators and overwhelming partisanship — in a non-partisan position — was so volatile and divisive that it became nearly impossible to get even the most mundane day-to-day business of the district done, let alone provide additional support to kids and teachers.

Diane is an anti-everything candidate.  She repeatedly scorns the benefits of higher education.  She opposed every effort to provide adequate funding for our district.  While she was a PUSD Governing Board member, she lead the opposition against Prop. 100, the temporary statewide one cent sales tax initiative intended to provide a modicum of additional support to education. Fortunately, Prop. 100 was overwhelmingly approved by voters and supported by our Republican Governor, Jan Brewer.

Diane’s ONLY "experience" in the classroom is second-guessing thousands of highly educated, hard-working, overwhelmingly competent professional teachers in the district on a daily basis. And, no, teaching people how to make stained glass does not count. Yes folks, this esteemed candidate for the most powerful education position in Arizona most recently worked as an instructor at the local strip mall’s stained glass shop. An honest job, but hardly the background required for providing high-level educational leadership and policy direction for the state.

Please listen to the people who know her best. Don’t put Diane Douglas, who is scarily unqualified for this important state-level position, in charge of the future of our children’s and grandchildren’s education, and hence the future economy of Arizona. By any measure – professionalism, cooperativeness, experience and so much more -- David Garcia is the far more qualified candidate to lead our schools.

The above accurately describes our eight plus year experience with Diane Douglas, however, we are no longer spokespersons for PUPC.

Jan Wilson and Kim Price Olsen, Peoria Parent and Grandparent

 

Guest post: Children Don't Vote

By Jerry Gettinger

First our schools were targeted to be used as a well, where our legislators could go to, when there was a drought of money.  

Children don’t vote.  

And parents are too busy holding down two jobs to notice that their youngster is in a class of 30 plus students.  

Then suddenly Mr. Parraz became curious and subsequently discovered that the sheriff and his gang, oops, I mean his deputies, let a somewhat large number of child molestation complaints go unnoticed.  

Some would call Mr. Parraz rude while others characterize him as brave. I am of the latter.   

Although by now some of the children in the cases are adults.  The children grew up while the sheriff made excuses for the “oversight.” 

Whatever one calls it, the children once again suffered.

Children can’t vote and in some cases the parents might have been perpetrators.  The children continued to suffer.  As I mentioned, children don’t vote.  

And now there is the CPS scandal, where case after case has gone uninvestigated.  

 Is there a common thread or am I just imagining that the children of our state have a very difficult time while they are growing up?  

Schools, helpless at the hands of perverts and are just plain helpless.  The victimization of our children must stop.  

It is not only the school system that is in shambles, it is the entire system that is preying on the young.  

What has been done is borderline criminal.  No one person is to blame. 

It’s the whole bunch.  

The executive branch, county sheriff and a school system that has been robbed of its ability to teach.  

Remember this on Election Day.  

A Jewish prophet once said, “Suffer thy children unto me...”  

I am certain he did not mean make them suffer.

Guest column: Cinco de Mayo

From friend and occasional guest contributor Jerry Gettinger.

Apologies go out to both Jerry and readers for the tardiness on publishing this.

This was sent to me well before May 5th.  However, it went to an email address that I don't check often, and I checked that address earlier today.  After having last checked it at the beginning of April. :(

Anyway, on to Jerry's observations, published here with thanks -

Cinco de Mayo

 

It was 1959; I was almost finished with my second year in college. The subject came up in the telephone call to my parents I was obligated to place on an almost weekly basis. “What are your plans for the summer,” I was asked? “Nothing, yet.” Finals were in two weeks and suddenly that subject took up my entire thought process. “You can always come home and work at your old job,” my mother suggested hopefully. O my G-d! I had yet to consider my plans for the summer. My old job was working in the only drugstore in town. Selling cigarettes and various other items. Those other items were in the “family planning section.” That was not my first choice or even my last. I had lived in a big eastern city for two years and did not relish the idea of spending a summer in a very small town. So, I began investigating. Two days later a flyer was in my mailbox telling me about courses at the University of Mexico. I was born and grew up on the Mexican border, so the idea of studying in Mexico was not foreign to me. (Yea, I know. A pun).

On the next conversation with my parents, I broached the subject of studying in a foreign country. I outlined my pitch in such a way as to describe it as an academic exercise giving me the opportunity of becoming fluent in a specialized Spanish. I would live with a Mexican family and study Economics, both Latin American and Mexican. Those studies would compliment my major at the Wharton School. I had the trip detailed, the subjects outlined, and the transportation arranged. Since the university was based in Mexico City and academic in nature, receiving approvals from Dad was a slam-dunk. The key word was “Education”.

I had two roommates from Ohio. Until they crossed the border at Texas, they had not been south of the Ohio River. It was to be an interesting learning experience for all. Each had identical schedules at the University, so Fridays were open to our exploring Los Unidos de Estados de Mexico and learning not only the varied economics of the region, but its culture.

We would devote weekends to further our knowledge. We were 20 and our thirst for knowledge was insatiable.

By mid-July, my roomies and I had visited seven cities and could order cervezas and tequila in at least six ways. My vocabulary quickly expanded to include bartering for various local tourist objects and suggesting to a senorita that a late dinner would be an adventure.

We, all three of us, were 20 years old and bulletproof. So when we spotted a cantina on the edge of Taxco, fear was not a commodity that night, nor was any thought given to using one’s IQ. It was Cinco de Mayo, Independence Day in Mexico, and we all celebrated. The cantina looked as if it were right out of a Hollywood set. Low lights, maybe 10 or 11 tables, half-occupied and even a piano player. We sat down. My roommate motioned to the bartender. He brought over a bottle of tequila and waited for the forty centavos each shot cost. I gave him 2 pesos ($.17) and motioned to keep the change.

Oh, did I mention that the bar was co-ed? One of the ladies was showering attention on a patron at table across the room. It looked like date night. We kept quiet and courteous. When the young (?) lady strolled over to our table, she decided not to use a chair. Instead, she sat on my roommate’s lap.

I was relatively fluent in Spanish by now. When the ladies’ previous boyfriend muttered in Spanish to his cohort, an observation, I understood. He was about to use his machete to chop more than sugar cane. I turned to my friends, brought them up to date as to the mood of the crowd and led my roomies toward the car: rapidly. Suddenly, there were at least 5, maybe 6 customers in the bar, all with very sharp machetes, and all having decided to celebrate Cinco de Mayo in a very unorthodox way. My body would never be found,for this was a real jungle. My life flashed before my eyes.

Suddenly, with the three of us half way to the car, a big, obviously strong Mexican came from out of nowhere and adroitly stepped between the others and us. They paused when Jose` Manuel raised his big machete and announced that it was over. By this time, we were almost to my car. The crowd differed in opinion from Senior Manuel and continued toward us. Jose swung his machete and cut one, superficially. He was strong, and when we were in the car and I started it (praying that it would start), Jose got in the front seat, closed the door and yelled “Vamanos!!” We understood and complied with his wishes, tires screeching. Jose`Manuel had closed the door so hard the window glass shattered and the inside came apart. A small price to pay in exchange for our lives, however.

But why would a stranger come to the aid of three gringos he had never met? During dinner later that night, he explained. When he was barely 12, he and his parents became separated (I never asked why) and he was taken in by an American couple. Educated, honest and, it turned out, a good person, he felt obligated to help and protect norteamericanos. Jose Manuel had suggested a different bar where we had excellent service, good Tacos and the opportunity to buy a very good Amigo a meal and a few tequilas to celebrate Cinco de Mayo. It turned out he was visiting a friend a short distance from our cantina and stopped in at the previous cantina for a cerveza. Fortuitous. He said he could never allow anyone to be hurt. As we continued our foray, and he started to return home, we were grateful that Samaritans were Mexican, as well as Biblical. And that Cinco de Mayo was not a body count of gringos.

Electric

Just in time for the third night of the DNC, Jerry Gettinger's dispatch about the second -

It’s continuing!

The atmosphere, the attitude, the clean, modern look of “uptown” remains intact just as it was the first full day of the convention. I was talking with a fellow delegate this A.M.  He pointed out that the three days instead of four or five days that the convention scheduled in the past has compressed the entire agenda. The result is not one gap in the schedule.  Also, all the ”rock star” speakers keep the festivities going and building up to a fever pitch.  

 

I don’t have to say that president Clinton was nothing short of magnificent yesterday.   I have heard him speak several times.  In the baseball lingo, the pres always gets on base with his talent for speaking. Singles and doubles.  This one was over the fence with the bases loaded.   The electricity of the crowd was captured by Clinton and used to completely mesmerize the audience.   Yet, at the same time, he conveyed the feeling that he was speaking directly to each of us.  I have spoken to other attendees and each had the same reaction. I am aware he was televised, but you had to be there to understand that this wasn’t just a speech, it was an experience that bordered on an out of body encounter.   All the while he clearly made the case for we Democrats. I’m glad he is on our side.

I heard some discussion concerning the “man hugs” that took place at the end of the speech.   One ‘pundit’ thought it was staged.  I can say with certainty that it was not.  I watched closely as Barack came over to Bill.  He first extended his hand for a hand shake.  But then, instead of Clinton acknowledging the gesture, he grabbed Obama in a bear hug which Barack quickly returned.   No way that could be staged.  It was totally and completely spontaneous with emotion that that was tangible.  The feeling between the two was genuine, a combination of respect and friendship.  That can’t be staged.

The place went crazy.  Noise, applause and electricity that could have powered a city.  What an experience!!   TV cannot do the night justice.   I looked around at the signs being waved, applause with everyone cheering, the two men on the stage and thought “this is one of those experiences that I will remember from now on.”   We all have those moments.  I was lucky that I was there.

Tonight, Barack, and before, a meeting.  Later, I will talk about the private meetings.

More to come.

 

 

Later...

Charlotte: People, and rain, everywhere

The second dispatch from Jerry Gettinger, our correspondent at the DNC -

Charlotte, North Carolina is a Jewel! 

 

The city is not large and the result of that is one might call this beautiful town “Democracyville.” Downtown, which the natives call ”uptown”, is literally swarming with Democrats. 

 

Add demonstrators, (both for and against any and everything), police and security that makes the most stringent airport look unmanned, and the media, and the result is a carnival atmosphere. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is very friendly and anxious to have us all feel welcome and comfortable. It appears that the convention attendees have joined into the festivities which can only be described as one big family reunion. It puts me in mind of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. All that is needed is decorated floats and streamers. Just amazing.

I have to spend a few minutes talking about the security. One report on the local news said that 10,000 extra police have been brought in. I believe it. Every street bordering the Time Warner Cable Center has been closed and the various delivery vehicles are subject to intense and complete scrutiny. Every building uptown has several guards and they mean business. I overheard one exchange between a TV announcer and a guard. The guard said “if you want to push it I can push too. But I guarantee I will push a hell of a lot harder than you.” The TV announcer didn’t argue. A wise choice.

Inside the center, the entire scenario that was taking place outside was continuing inside. It was wall to wall people everywhere. I estimate that there were two members of the press for every attendee.

 

The carnival atmosphere was just exciting and overwhelming all at once. A great people-watching place. The surprising and enjoyable part is that the majority of people were smiling. Wow. As you can imagine, the lines to the concessions were huge. They moved fast, but they were still long. I had gotten up from my seat to get a bottle of water for a friend who was handicapped and myself. I stopped a guide to ask if there were any stand s in other parts of the center since the closest one was inundated. A young woman overheard me talking, put her hand on my shoulder and bid me to follow her. She said that she had water in the refrigerator. I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but it couldn’t be worse than waiting in line. It turned out she worked at a souvenir stand. She grabbed two bottles of water from the cooler and handed them to me. I offered her a fiver. She waived her hand and said it was a gift. Amazing.

It has rained every day. More later.

 

 

 

Arrival

The first missive from Jerry Gettinger, a delegate to the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte.  Jerry has graciously agreed to send nightly updates on his experience at the convention, and he has done so. 

Unfortunately, he sent the updates to an email address that I don't check more than once every few days, and I was oblivious to the fact that he is most familiar with that address.

I received this message on 9/3/2012, but did not post it until 9/5.  It has been backdated to reflect the time that it should have been posted.

My apologies to readers and to Jerry for the screw-up.

On to the post (it's a brief one) -

Jerry Gettinger.  Pic courtesy Jerry.

Sept 3.

We are here. The day was long, as was the trip. But we made it and, miracles do happen, my bags made it through Chicago. It took 2 hours to travel from the airport to the hotel. Part of that was waiting for the shuttle. But everyone has been extra and that counts for a lot. Oh indecently, it rained or better yet, I would describe it as a downpour. The hotel is very nice with a welcome that indicates we have rented the entire hotel. (I will have photos tomorrow) Tomorrow is breakfast for the Delegation and Governor Brian Schweitzer, Mayor Greg Stanton and Jonathan del Arco speaking. Then on to “uptown” which is what they call downtown. Tomorrow night the business end of the gathering starts. Speakers will be president Jimmy Carter, first lady Michele Obama and keynote speaker, San Antonio Mayor Julian Castro. (Everybody who is anybody gets to make a speech. That is, as long as they are Democrats)

By the way, the hotel is in a town called Ardsley. A new suburb built to look like a well-aged towne (notice the “e”). It’s very pretty and very new south.

Until the morrow,

Jerry

The Immigrant Problem

From Jerry Gettinger, friend and friend of the blog...and correspondent from next week's Democratic National Convention in Charlotte :) .  He wrote the following as a "My Turn" column and submitted it to the Arizona Republic, which published it in one of their print editions.  Since the Republic isn't publishing those columns online right now, he sent it here.

I have thought long and hard, and yet, I cannot understand what the problem some have with immigrants. Sure, I have heard all the standard reasons immigrants (legal and otherwise) are a problem. But when I go into the details of each reason, the reason doesn’t hold. I have been told that the crime rate is higher in areas where there are many immigrants (legal or otherwise), but the statistics say otherwise. Some elected officials cite the danger of immigrants and their propensity to commit illegal acts. However, the crime rate is no greater among immigrants than native born. I suspect that immigrants are used to scare residents gaining reelection. Incidentally, that tactic is as old as the United States. During the mass immigration of the late 1800’s there were leaflets warning citizens about people from Eastern Europe who were likely to “steal or commit other heinous crimes.” In many cases the flyers were referring to our relatives. How soon we forget!
 

There are those who insist that immigrants take jobs away from “law abiding citizens.” I may have looked in the wrong lot, but I haven’t seen many “law abiding” citizens looking for day jobs. Granted, there have been immigrants who have contributed ability and knowledge to a profession. Albert Einstein comes to mind. His knowledge helped populate NASA, which incidentally had several newly immigrants in its employee ranks. They became citizens with the stroke of the president’s pen. True. Look it up. Several of the scientists who developed the V2 rocket became citizens because of their knowledge. The fact that they were responsible for many deaths during WW2 was overlooked. (We sometimes come to conclusions based on the reality of need rather than morality). 
 

At this juncture I still cannot find out what the “immigrant problem” is. I know there are some who have offered conclusions, but to no avail. A man named Plumber Joe wants to build a high fence and shoot anyone who climbs it. That solution really doesn’t appeal to me. I would imagine the law (if implemented) would have to be evenly applied. I just don’t see shooting an older man with bushy white hair as he walked off a boat. Another interesting point I discovered. The immigrant problem changes identities as one changes location. It’s Asian In nature in parts of California, It was Irish and Italian on the East Coast, and there were times in New York City that everyone was against everyone. I suspect that some who profess to be “anti-immigrant” are actually racially motivated. The color of one’s skin seems to be important to many. Much to my surprise I discovered the second greatest number of “illegal immigrants” is the Irish. I don’t hear about Plumber Joe wanting to shoot them as they overstay their visit with their relatives.
 

Our country’s history is one of taking in people and patiently observing their assimilation. The Vietnamese boat people are a good example. Their children are grown and many are contributing. To see the number of “dream” youth who want the chance to be part of our country’s achievements makes me proud. I don’t hear of anyone lining up to be a citizen of Azerbaijan or the like. So Governor, instead of putting roadblocks in the path of the “Dream “people, how about helping them. The impressive contributions immigrants have made in every aspect of our country cry out for a positive resolution. Educate, employ and train is the solution. Sheriff Joe, Gov. and even Plumber Joe would benefit. Jonas Salk’s family immigrated.
 

Jerry Gettinger

V for Victory

Jerry Gettinger, fourth from the left

The next in a series of guest posts from Jerry Gettinger, a delegate to the Democratic Convention in Charlotte, and a friend -

I had indicated that I was not going to write until I was in Charlotte and the Democratic convention had begun. However so much has happened and the excitement has soared. In view of that, I want to share with you some details that I have learned. The goings on at and before the convention are quite intricate. As you can imagine, there are thousands of people converging to meet and spend time smoozing, socializing and politicking. In order to keep the proceedings from deteriorating into sheer chaos, every detail has to be coordinated to the smallest item. Credentials are the currency of the event. And, not everyone has the same credential. In order to attend presentations or meals or locations, delegates need certain credentials. For example, one of the days, the vice president may make a presentation concerning civil rights. Not everyone in the Arizona delegation will have the credential to attend the presentation. As you can imagine, security is very tight. So far, the list of items that are not allowed on the floor is 2 pages. It makes an airport checkpoint look easy. By the way, it is reassuring to have such care.
 

We just learned that the voting delegates (of which I am one), will be sitting in the choice area called the bowl. All 46 will have seats in that area. That is new. The last convention the seating was all over the place. I recently discovered that I will be having breakfast with a member of the president’s staff, a good friend. In politics, as in other gatherings, it’s how close to power one can get that measures a person’s importance.
 

The campaign has gotten fierce. The birther issue was raised by Romney who claimed it was supposed to be a joke. It reminded me of the Jackson girl saying that she had a wardrobe malfunction at that Super Bowl event. I didn’t believe her anymore that I believe Romney. Shameful name-calling is rampant and the opposition would seem to fall back on using lies and half-truths to make a point. I’m reminded of a Jewish saying that goes “a half-truth is a whole lie.” There is a mean tone to the Republican words. A hint of racism and xenophobia. And while we Democrats have not been exactly pure at heart, rarely have mean and vicious themes been used to gain voters. The effort to re-impose on women restrictions that were lifted in the mid-1960s is troubling. It is similar to the type of restraints the Taliban imposes when they are in control. The attitude toward women is as if they were chattel to be owned with limited liberty.

 

I just received a revised schedule of the convention. And the city is going all out also. Complicated and exciting. The Arizona delegation will have the entire hotel except for one area where CBS will set up shop. Is there an interview in the future? As I write, a hurricane is coming within shouting distance of the Republican convention in Tampa. Divine intervention? Most likely not, but Michele Bachman blames the Democrats for climate change, then why not a hurricane? One never knows.
 

Next stop…Charlotte and victory!!!!!

More victories in '12

The second post in a series from Jerry Gettinger, a friend and a delegate to the 2012 Democratic Convention in Charlotte...

In the last communique I promised to explain why it was important that I declare my representation as a delegate for a particular candidate. Since there is an incumbent, it is assumed that the president would be candidate and the VP would also run. However, if there was no one in office, then my declaration of candidacy would mean that I was obligated to vote for the candidate that I stipulated in my application. The vote would be binding on the first tally. After that I could vote for whomever I chose.

However that is only important if there is a convention where there is more than one candidate. At any rate, I declared for the president and the VP. By the rules there would be only a certain number of voting delegates. As I mentioned before, the number of delegates was based on the number of Democrats in the state. So, the race was on! The contest was between a relatively large number of candidates vying for the positions. There would be a total of 46 elected delegates, of which I was fortunate to be one. The 46 was in addition to the PLELO delegates.(party leaders). This year was more desirable because of the president. There would be no contest as to who would be the candidate. Just fun.

It is August 6^th. The time is rapidly approaching when I would leave. It will be very exciting to see democracy in action. I can’t say that I will write again until the start of the convention. If anything of interest and/or importance comes about, then I will make certain it will be conveyed. If not, I’ll see you from Charlotte.

Later...

The way to Victory

This is the first in a series of guest posts from occasional contributor and steady friend (and friend of the blog) Jerry Gettinger concerning the Democratic National Convention taking place in Charlotte in September.  Jerry won a spot in Arizona's delegation to the convention earlier this year.


The delegates elected to represent the Democrats of CD5.  Jerry is fourth from the left.

He has submitted the first piece in the series.  This one is on the genesis of his run for a delegate spot.

More will follow.

From Jerry:

A few months ago, my wife Ruth, who is as apolitical as you can get, was reading her email. An announcement from the State Democratic headquarters asking for applications for State Committee persons who would be interested in an appointment as a delegate to the national convention in Charlotte, North Carolina. Up until then, I hadn't thought about it. However, at my wife's urging, I began thinking. (That may sound bad, but I tend to leave the thinking part to my wife). This time, I decided to look into the matter on my own. The editor of Random Musings has been kind enough to allow me to tickle my ego by writing a travelogue detailing my experience. If all works, I will be writing in a Random (get the pun?) time frame inviting you to share. Anything in particular you would like to hear about, let me know.

Here is what I found out in order to be a delegate to the Democratic Party convention this year: First of all, the purpose of a convention is to nominate a candidate to be president and a vice president. that is what the Party officers want you to think. But...there is also the matter of having fun. And a convention is fun. anyone who has attended one comes back with the same description..."wow, did I have fun".

However, you have to get there. So I looked around and found the page that explained what I needed to do to become a delegate. In order to be a delegate one has to be a Democrat. That is a registered Democrat on the state of Arizona.  In order to become eligible, I had to submit a statement of candidacy.

What does it mean to become a delegate? Quite simply it means you can vote to nominate the Party's candidates to be president and vice president along with any other business relating to the state. That said. I was curious as to how many and what determines the number of delegates from each state.  Each state has a number of delegates according to the number of registered Democrats in that state.

   Part of my statement of candidacy was if I were to be elected a delegate, for whom would I vote. So there I was, telling everyone that if you elect me a delegate, I will vote for OBAMA. I'll tell you why that makes a difference in my next epistle.

 

For now, adios and hasta la vista, baby



Guest post: Wall Street, part 2

From Jerry Gettinger of Scottsdale...

What's Broken on The Street
My previous essay proffered the idea that Wall Street was broken and needed a major overhaul in order to "fix" it. First, it is important to identify what is broken and then we can suggest how to fix it.

30 years ago, The Street was the center of the world when it came to Capitalism. Socialists saw it as the root of all evil relating to our society. Graduates saw the Street as a most desirable career choice.

Companies such as MCI received capital to innovate and challenge competitors with new ideas and inventions. Money flowed from investor to company.  Employment thrived with every new business. Brokers made money, investors made money and business made money. An example of capitalism working the way it was meant to.

What happened?

No one change can be attributed to the malfunction. Several changes in the mobile seem to be responsible.  Competition for listings among exchanges, making memberships (to exchanges) more available, globalization and, probably the most important factor that caused changes... computers.  As competition between exchanges grew, rules concerning what type of trading was acceptable changed in order to attract speculators. This type of business served no purpose but to generate profits. It did not take long for "program trading" to dominate transactions on various exchanges.

Computer generated trades and anomalies between and within exchanges generated substantial profits with little or no risk. It is worthwhile noting that not one of these transactions sent monies to corporations for expansion or modernization. In every instance, the only reason for the transaction is to make money! A financial dead end!

Let me explain how this type of trading works: suppose there is a stock that trades on both the NYSE and the German Stock Exchange. At a particular time, there is 5-cent difference in the price with the stock on the NYSE selling at $23.10, and on the German Exchange at $23.05. Computers that are programed to monitor for this situation will simultaneously buy on the German Exchange and Sell on the NYSE for a 5 cent profit. Not much, you think? Multiply a nickel times 200 million shares! Then, take that figure and multiply by six, (that number is an example of how many trades of this sort is done daily by one broker.  It may be more or less.). The transaction delivers riskless profits that serve no function in the economy. No job creation, no business expansion. Just more money.

In addition, the "Bush tax cuts" have encouraged this type of business by taxing the income from this type of transaction and all related transactions at a more favorable rate.

That is the problem.

The game, which use to have rules to protect the individual now have none. Wall Street has gone from a level playing field to a 90-degree hill for the single investor. The market place is completely distorted. The individual is at the mercy of the big traders (spelled computers). An estimated 85% of the trades on the NYSE are computer generated.

Guest post - Education

Part 2 in a series of guest posts from contributor Jerry Gettinger...

Education budgets are easiest to reduce. It is only the courageous and forward-looking governments that will use schooling to turn around this situation and offer their constituents a new path to success. If this is not done soon, there will develop a permanent unemployable class that will foster social upheaval. There is not much time left to induce positive change. It still can be done, but only with a government that sees education as a desirous utility, much like a $300 million football stadium.

Unfortunately, in some communities, education is a burdensome necessity or a social institution useful as an ideological tool that inculcates our children in religiously acceptable behavior. What is needed and needed immediately is a national goal that remakes the U.S. into a High Tech country with communities teaching the most sophisticated protocols to give students the intellectual means of, not just competing, but surpassing the rest of the world in innovation and production.

If there is one then there are hundreds, if not thousands of Stephen Jobs in our country. Those students will only evolve into highly productive individuals in a school system that encourages individual thought and critical thinking. Ours does not, and in fact, discourages such thought.

Teachers and parents feel threatened and intimidated by schools that allow students to consider all perspectives and question each one. This effort can become a part of the need to become energy independent. That coupled with changing the U.S. into a "green" nation can justify the metamorphosis. However, do not make the mistake of approaching the problem as needing justification. Educating our young to achieve the same goals in our country that were achieved during the last century is a necessity.

The love-hate relationship we have with our public schools must be turned into an attitude that values an education. Schools must receive whatever is needed to become an institution that encourages independent thinking. I suggest that the reader study the case of Intel and what saved the company from becoming a 2nd rate manufacturer of computer chips The Company had developed the computer chip to the point where when it ran faster it would over-heat and literally catch fire. The research facility in Israel came up with the idea of using a dual system instead trying to add speed with one.

It solved the problem. The suggestion came from a research assistant. The fact that the assistant promoted the idea and his supervisor was receptive resulted from their service in the Israeli army. As such, a private might be a high up officer at Intel and vice-versa. As a result, everyone had the freedom to try ideas and do critical thinking. An employee would be encouraged to present his idea to his supervisor.

We need that freedom in our schools and companies. The freedom to fail as well as succeed.

Guest post: Wall Street

This is part 1 of a three part piece from occasional guest writer (and good friend) Jerry Gettinger.  The next two parts of the series will go up this weekend...

I recently attended a rally a group named "Occupy Wall Street" sponsored.  For the most part, the gathering was calm and peaceful. It was an experience totally unlike the scene I remember in the late 60's and 70's when it was a pitched battle between the participants and the police. Every speaker spoke of Wall Street as uncaring and corrupt.  Speaker after speaker forcefully called for executives and hedge fund managers to give up their earnings in higher taxes. There were also accusations that our elected officials were bought with "Wall Street Money."

The subject of the gathering raised questions about why attitudes have changed from young people seeing Wall Street as a career goal to it being a source of anger and frustration. Having worked on Wall Street, I can view both periods in such a way as to render what I consider a unique perspective.

There is no doubt that Wall Street is not the same as when I worked there.

As a matter of fact, if one goes back to the late 1800's, one will discover that the product of Wall Street firms today bears no resemblance to the past. Like many of our institutions, Wall Street is broken. When I was in sales, I went home in the evenings with some pride and a sense of accomplishment. Those feelings came from knowing that my efforts served a purpose. That was that I sold bonds (or stock) for a company so the company had money to expand, which led to hiring additional workers who bought goods that resulted in profits used by owners to buy bonds etc. The product of Wall Street was not money; Wall Street functioned as a conduit that funneled value into production of goods and services. Not so in this age. The only thing Wall Street produces is money... to make money. That is where Wall Street is broken. Money in itself does not serve any purpose. In a capitalistic economy, money must be used to help business, not generate more money. Even the Robber Barons of the 1800's recognized the fact that unless their money was put to good use, it served no purpose. Even though the J.P. Morgans, Carnegie and Rockefeller amassed great wealth (even compared to today's wealthy), they invested their wealth in areas that benefited their country. Railroads, Oil and Steel Mills provided the products that fed growth and allowed a middle class to enjoy a lifestyle second to none.

Sadly, today's economic atmosphere is chasing the middle class into oblivion. The major source of wealth, their house, has become a burden rather that a unique investment. The ability to succeed through one's job and/or education has become unattainable to all but the very wealthy or talented. Pensions and self-contributed saving accounts are structured in favor of the rich. The worst part is that there is nothing in the foreseeable future that provides hope. While it is true that manufacturing jobs have all but disapered, careers in the IT industry offer both advancement and premium incomes. However, the mood and myopic view of governments in distressed areas add to the despondent feeling of futility.

Guest column: Lunch anyone?

By Jerry Gettinger, friend and friend of the blog

I was invited to lunch by an acquaintance the other day. I had not known this person very long. The occasion was a gathering of people who shared a communal interest. Those that were there had a common look… a look of resignation and fatigue. There was not much in the way of small talk; I imagine chit-chat had all but left their minds some time ago. I looked around the room and saw that most everyone just sat and waited, as if they had done this before and often. One person told me that it took almost an entire day to get her unemployment check. Paying the babysitter did not leave much in the way of spending money. Not if you want to feed your kids. Her husband worked two jobs. Still that was not enough.

Denny’s was gracious enough to let us use a private room. As the server took our orders, I glanced up and saw that people were concentrating on the price, not the food…the right side of the menu. No one ordered a big lunch…a plain hamburger was the usual, and for some, that was a stretch. Maybe I read too much into the body language. However, it seemed that ordering was difficult; I imagine it was the fact that eating out was a luxury that was seldom enjoyed. A different occasion that came about only recently.

 My host had been out of work over 18 months. That was not unusual. We were asked to introduce ourselves and say a few words about why we were here. The stories began to take on a rhythm. “Worked for a company for 12 years, got laid off with 2 weeks’ pay,” or “the regional came in, called a meeting, said the company was relocating to Mexico, apologized, and left.” Strangely, there was no anger from anyone, from no one but me. When it was my turn, I began speaking in a soft voice, almost a whisper. I’m not comfortable speaking in front of a large group. But then, as I began to recite why I was there, my voice began rising. “They are ruining my country, they take and never give, one word is never used, “Compassion.” By the time I finished, I was shouting, and so was everyone else. Yelling and clapping! “Yes, yea that’s right they have to be stopped.” I was astounded at how angry I was, passed anger, actually enraged and passing the emotion on. Fury started coming out. And so it was with many of the others in attendance.

 Do not misconstrue what I have said. These are good people, the kind who would pick up a five-dollar bill you dropped, they would pick it up, and made sure you got it back. After all, you might need it to feed your children. I finished talking then lunch was brought in. I could not eat. The people with whom I was eating were the kind that made our country strong and resilient. They dutifully paid Social Security and maybe, during a war (and there seemed to be many wars) purchased savings bonds. These were the same ones who were told that they would have to forgo part of their social security because...well you know the story. I wonder what they thought when they hear about someone on Wall Street making $25 million in one year with their husbands working 3 jobs and college is unreachable. They have been so beat upon; they don’t have the strength left to fight. “What do I do now? I do not have anything left. They won.”

 The sad part is, they have won. They won, even though it wasn’t much of a battle. There wasn’t much left. Our representatives don’t represent and our clergy tell us that we have to die to find God, and honestly, what has God done for me, anyway? The richest people produce nothing but money…and begat more... for themselves. They conduct themselves with impunity, thumbing their nose at laws. Laws are for people of color or those without money. Education is out of reach. I cannot better myself without an education, but I cannot afford an education: you have priced it out of my reach. And so, I will flip burgers at McD or work as a cashier at a big box store.



This country lied. It said we would have the same opportunity as the person next door. We did not. Once they became powerful, they made certain that we would have no chance of achieving anything. There is nothing left to do but hope for the best. Every pol sounds the same; every leader promises then lies when he (or she) discovers how easy it is to live off the voters. Just promise every two (or six) years and you can relax and enjoy life forevermore. Remember “and they lived happily ever after.” Maybe someday! It is almost too late. Too late to take it back. The dictionary defines restore as…v. re’store 1. Give something back. 2. Return something to its previous condition



Join me. Come with me on a mission, a quest, what the dictionary defines as an adventurous expedition. Come help me pull our country away from the evil and return it to the goodness it once was. This is still a democracy and we still can vote change. We must take action or else all will be lost. The country is still ours to take back.

Guest Column: Sieg heil, Perry

Written by recurring contributor, friend of the blog, and friend, Jerry Gettinger -

In the late 1920's to the early 1930's a political movement called "The National Socialist Party" formed in a Germany that had been defeated and humiliated from a war and then economically torn asunder by inflation. The Nazi's, as they were to be called, promised prosperity and stability. An Austrian house painter named Adolph Hitler soon emerged as its leader.


Hitler's obsessive hatred of Jews soon translated into an explanation of the economic turmoil gripping the country. Soon the Nazis gained political recognition and began a systematic dehumanizing of Jews and other minorities. Laws were passed preventing Jews from owning businesses and denying citizenship to Jews. The torching of the Bundestag gave Hitler the excuse to declare martial law. The rest is history.


It is most interesting that there are similarities between the Tea Party and the rise of National Socialism. The Tea Party has come about from frustration of the middle class with the economic situation. The fact that we have been at war for such a long period adds to that emotion. There is the promise of prosperity from its leaders if the country takes a simple approach. (Reduce spending, cut taxes) Illegal immigration is identified as the root of many problems. The tea party has systematically dehumanized Latinos by calling them "aliens." The words "fathers, sons, mothers, daughters" are not heard. An additional stigma is placed by denying them the basic services we citizens enjoy. (Sound familiar?)


There are differences. Germany had a homogeneous population, ours is not. Hiter's anti-Semitism was met with almost unanimous acceptance. The tea party is not accepted by a unanimous population. The rush to do the Tea Party's bidding by our politicians is distressing. The signing away of our representatives' vote to an unelected person is comparable to the rush to join the Nazi party by the general bureaucracy. That similarity is chilling. The Tea Party is far from becoming a rerun of Germany. However, the framework is there. When viewed objectively, the similarities cannot be ignored.


The reaction of non-Party members is either denial or the it-can't-happen-here mantra. Maybe so, but....from my perspective, I think we should double the guard at the Capitol.


Later...

Guest Column: Caleb

Jerry Gettinger, friend and friend of the blog, occasionally shares his thoughts on various matters.

Today, he shared something deeply personal and totally non-political.

Caleb

I lost a very dear friend last week. Once one passes the signpost of 70 years, the obituaries often write about someone you know or knew. But this friend was special. His leaving was as difficult a loss as I have ever experienced.



There wasn’t one moment when our friendship was in doubt. Caleb was always there without question, much like a one’s child or brother. He was 15, a very old age for a dog that was sizable, and Caleb was a big dog. At the risk of sounding morose or self-indulgent, I request a few minutes of your time to tell you about Caleb.


I’ve always believed that it’s important for children to have a dog. The children learn from the dog and the dog is there to learn tolerance and devotion from the children. We had just put down our dog when I suggested to my youngest daughter that we go to the pound “just to look around.” My wife’s immediate response was “don’t you dare get another dog.” “Of course not’” I said. “We’ll just look.” And off we went.


Visiting the pound is difficult at the very least. A lot of dogs, very few potential owners. Most of the dogs are puppies that will grow into large dogs, but most never get that far. There are very few small dogs. We walked up and down the cement row looking at the puppies. My daughter and I did not say a word, but we knew that we were not going home without a dog. We just couldn’t. I started talking to one of the volunteers. She explained how few large dogs get adopted. I walked over to one cage where there was only one puppy. It was obvious by the size if the pup’s paws that this was going to be a large dog. The volunteer told me that the puppy had been at the pound the time limited to each dog and was going to be euthanized the next day. I looked at Sarah and she looked at me and we both said “you’re not going to hurt our dog.” Caleb was on the way home with us within a half an hour.


When we walked in the door with Caleb, my wife’s response was “I knew it.” As if on cue, Caleb walked over to my wife and started licking her toes. Caleb became family.


He was almost 15 when we took him to our Vet. He had been having trouble getting up and occasionally was in pain. A few days ago, he couldn’t get up without our assistance and was hurting almost all the time. I called our Vet and made the appointment. When we got there, I knew what was coming. Knowing didn’t make it easier.


Caleb was the kind of dog you would call “sweet.” He never hurt anyone, but there was that sense that you did not harm his family. When we had a gathering at our house, I would suggest to the visitor to have Caleb sniff his (or her) hand. Caleb did the duty and then walked away as if to say “OK, come on in.”


The only time Caleb was threatening concerned a time when I started receiving death threats because of a rather benign letter that was printed in the newspaper. We would come home from work and there would be messages on my answering machine verbalizing their opinions of me and what I could do with my opinion. And then one day, a car parked in front of our house and a man opened the car door and started walking toward the front door. The look on his face told me he wasn’t coming to praise me for my literary ability. Without my speaking or motioning, Caleb was by my side. We have a screen door, reinforced with wrought-iron. There was a slight hesitation when the gentleman saw Caleb. (Caleb was a wolfhound weighting over 100 pounds.) Then I heard a low, guttural sound from Caleb that I had never heard before. The man slowed down, but did not stop. Caleb’s posture and the depth in his voice became more intense and spoke volumes. The man was back in the car and driving away within minutes. Caleb didn’t move until the car was out of sight.


With tears in my eyes, I say goodbye to my friend and thank you. I will miss you and your presence. You were not just a good dog, you were family. There is an emptiness in our household that cannot be replaced. While your leaving has been painful, your friendship gave me something I will always cherish.


Jerry Gettinger
 

Top Secret!

Know the definition of "good" satire? 

You read it and think "this could really be true."

This is VERY good.


By Brent Abrahamson, of The Massachusetts Observer.  Gratefully reprinted with permission.

For Your Eyes Only


Gentlemen, thank you for joining me here today. For obvious reasons, I must ask that no notes of any kind be taken during our discussions. Recording devices of any kind are prohibited. Before you leave, you will pass through a scanner to ascertain that you have complied with our requests. Cell phones, of course, were to have been left outside this boardroom. Any questions before we begin? Good.


Now, Gentlemen, we know the problem. Our laboring class only has a certain number of productive years. Beyond that, they become a burden. As we plan for the future, we must capitalize on labor’s productive years while reducing each laborer’s longevity. Only then can we realize the maximum profits our shareholders demand.


Fortunately, we have greatly improved the landscape with our Tea Party promotions. This was a brilliant idea. Through strategic financing we have created what appears to be a grass roots movement from among the laboring class itself. There has been some minor vocal opposition, but this can be handled. Our advertizing folks tell us that just a bit of tweaking will make the Tea Partiers emerge as the voices of reason, the voices of morality, the voices of fiscal restraint, and the voices of patriotism. This is perfect.


It is therefore imperative, Gentlemen, that every proposal have those four elements. Each proposal must be seen as being reasonable, moral, fiscally responsible, and patriotic. And from our point of view, Gentlemen, each proposal must raise labor’s productivity while reducing labor’s longevity. When Wall Street teams up with Madison Avenue, nothing is impossible.


Here’s an example. Think tobacco. Think smoking. We need to reverse our policies here. We know, Gentlemen, that cigarette smoking can reduce the lifespan of the participant; yet public money is spent trying to get people to quit smoking. This works at cross-purposes with our goal, Gentlemen. The good news is that we can reverse this.


First, we must drop all taxes on cigarettes and other tobacco products. This will be seen as a victory for freedom. Then we must subsidize our tobacco industry so that buying a pack of cigarettes will be possible for even the poorest laborer. We must eliminate any age restriction on its purchase and use. And, Gentlemen, we must repeal restrictions on where the product may be used. It must be welcomed in restaurants and bars and clubs. Faculty rooms, break rooms. Anywhere people gather. Now some of you Gentlemen may be objecting that you might be subject to this second-hand smoke. Think about it for a moment, Gentlemen. You aren’t going to be going to those places and the places that you do frequent are out of labor’s price range.


We must allow for free enterprise by removing all restrictions on advertising cigarettes. Smoking must be “sold” in a variety of ways. It’s fun. It’s sexy. It’s macho. It’s for the modern woman. Above all, it is patriotic. Americans will be supporting an American industry.


People who are anti-smoking are anti-American. No public funds may be expended to determine health effects because we have already settled the case. Smoking is American. It’s cheap. It’s a way to help your country while helping yourself.


Don’t you see, Gentlemen, how perfect this is? When we couple this with no access to real health care, we can’t lose. (note: We need to allow free access to euthanasia. We must sell this option as “patriotic” and as a “family value.” “Lingering on robs your kids”).


This is only one example of so much more we can do, Gentlemen. I hope you great thinkers will get things rolling. The time to strike is now. Here’s a toast, Gentlemen. Long live our class.


©2011 The Massachusetts Observer

Guest Column: Stop! Thief!

Written by friend of the blog, and friend of the blogger, Jerry Gettinger.

Stop! Thief!

They are stealing from your children. I mean they are taking away an important item from your child. Why aren’t you angry? If you came home one night after seeing a movie and discovered that your new flat screen TV had been taken by a thief, you probably would be quite angry. You would be even angrier if you found out that the person who took the TV was the same person you asked to watch your house while you were out that evening.


In a manner of speaking, that is what is happening to your child. They are taking away his or her knowledge that they will most surely need when they have to compete against those whose parents didn’t allow anything to be taken from their children. Why have you allowed them to do what they said they would not do…take your children’s education away. Oh sure, the schools are still open. But they are rapidly becoming warehouses where young people go to spend a day trying to get the teacher’s attention because they didn’t have a solution to a problem. 35 kids in a kindergarten classroom! What a nightmare!


What did they do with the money that they took from our children? They gave some to a sheriff to use to defend his county against illegal immigrants. Oh, by the way, his county isn’t on the border. They also gave Sheriff Joe some of that money to rescue a dog. I’m not against dogs; it’s just that we need to get our priorities straight.


My children are grown. I had six and they all received a good education. It shows now that they are adults. They are able to compete for good jobs, they learned how to reason and arrive at conclusions that aid them in making decisions. Sure, I paid higher taxes. But they went to school with a pencil box and 4 pencils. Everything else was supplied.


Think about it. They have taken from your children an education, they have taken the ability to compete, and most of all, and they have stolen the ability to reason.




Why aren’t you angry? You elected these people to represent you and what they did was take from you and yours. Why aren’t you angry?


Somebody yell “stop thief!”

Gettinger on "Illegals"

Friend of the blog Jerry Gettinger has written another piece, this one offering the sort of historical perspective on the immigration issue that I cannot, being a relatively new resident of Arizona (17+ years).

Here it is -

Every time I hear Pearce or Arpaio talk about “illegals” taking over, I think back to when I was growing up on a farm in South Texas. My dad’s farm was literally on the border with Mexico. It was during the Second World War when any young man who could went to war. My Dad was exempt because of the farm. It was a large farm (3500 acres) and the family also had a packing shed. The whole operation ran 24 hours, 7days. We shipped everything we grew. It was a year-round growing season.



In those days, the only mechanization on a farm was a tractor and a plow, and so manual labor was crucial. Dad had built a village for the workers where about 250 lived, some with their families. No one questioned who or where the workers came from. Without them the crops did not get harvested.


Every so often, a border patrol agent would stop by. Everyone knew each other and everyone knew that there was a war and food was most important. So the agent would mention to my father that the agent and one or two others might visit the next day around 3 o’clock to make sure everyone had papers. 3, maybe 3:30. I remember Dad half-smiling saying something like “well. Ok, but everybody here is where they are supposed to be.” The agent smiled, nodded and left.


The next day around 2:30, Dad would yell in his broken Spanish for everyone to take a break. Everyone knew what he meant. All of a sudden, the place was empty. Soon a Border Patrol car drove up, parked and an agent got out. He knew Dad and vice versa. “Everybody ok here, Joe?” (My Dad’s name) Dad would say “take a look,” and the agent looked at an empty village. “Looks OK to me.” And the agent got back into the car and drove off to the next farm. You see, without those “illegals,” crops didn’t get harvested, soldiers didn’t get fed and the war effort slowed down. During those difficult times no one was called an “Illegal.” They were workers and were important to the war effort as any factory worker. At times there was a problem, but not often. The workers were there to earn money for their families and the work they did was key. Without them a lot less food would get sent. I would imagine some of them stayed after the war and made Texas their home. They sure weren’t illegal in those days.

Thank you for your writing, Jerry.

Later...

Texas 1963 --- Arizona 2011

A guest post from Jerry Gettinger of Scottsdale, a friend and a friend of the blog -

I was a young 23, starting a career and living in San Antonio, Texas. It was late November in 1963 when I and the rest of a 50 person office heard that JFK was going to pass by the office on his way to the airport. Very exciting. The office was on the ground floor and maybe 20 yards from the street to where I was standing along with a few “buddies.” Suddenly, a wave of sound came around the corner and there he was…and Jackie also and in the back seat the Governor, John Connelly and his wife. The car was a Lincoln convertible, big and Presidential-looking. There was only one policeman who was responsible for keeping the crowd at bay. And he really wasn’t needed. We were all well-behaved in those days. Of course there were Secret Service men running along-side.

As JFK passed by a thought came into my mind. I turned to my friend and mentioned how easy it would be to put a bullet into the president. But who would think of doing such a thing? Would never happen. As I think back, it was so obvious and so easy that it should not have been surprising that it did happen. The next day, I was at my desk talking to a customer when he said there was something on the TV about JFK being shot. I put the phone down and was about to yell when someone came running in and yelled that the President had been shot in Dallas. I looked over at the friend to whom I had remarked the day before. Our eyes met and there was that look of disbelief. But it was true and JFK was dead a short while later.I can’t explain it, but I have always had the feeling that everything changed when JFK died. It was never the same again. No one was safe, there were no rules anymore. Martin Luther King, Robert Kennedy, Columbine High School, Virginia Tech and now Tucson. It sounds cold, but what happened in Tucson was not a surprise. It was shocking and even more so, sad, sad, sad. But not surprising. I haven’t heard anyone say that the senseless massacre was a surprise. It started on a chilly day in Texas and continues in Tucson. The players change. The method is the same (guns), although the numbers have increased along with the ability to kill faster. Hi-Tech. Tucson, we hope is a turning point, like Columbine High School, or Virginia Tech, or, who knows what is next.
 I remember as if it were yesterday. JFK was bigger than life in person, and Jackie was hot. Every time there is a tragedy I think back to that open car that the president was in. So vulnerable. Only this time, it was a 9- year-old child and many more. When are we going to stop the craziness? Buying assault weapons for target practice? On who? A nine year old? If something isn’t done, there will be another. That is certain. Tucson was not an isolated event perpetrated by a lunatic. (Shooting a nine year old child?). It was another episode in a series. An incident made all too easy by our so-called gun laws. Heck of a job, NRA. Your money has made gun laws a joke. The TV program Gun Smoke is now a reality show being filmed at your corner supermarket. Who knows, you too can be a star. Finally, explain to me how a magazine holding 50 bullets is good for anything but, oh well, you know.
 Jerry Gettinger

Later...