I Read It So You Don't Have To (WSJ version)

Today’s big WSJ headline – nearly one-fourth of all US homeowners are ‘underwater’ on their mortgages. That is, nearly 25% of American homeowners owe more on their home than it is worth.

I remember when 10% underwater seemed high!

One such homeowner, a police officer no less, “argues the best government strategy would be to reduce the principal due on mortgages to reflect current market values. ‘You keep waiting and hoping that the government is going to step in and offer some relief.’”

Really? Best for whom?

A bit more detail…According to the story, about four years ago, this homeowner put $130K down on a house they paid $650K for. Today, the home is valued at around $400K. Indeed, if they’d stuck with their original mortgage, they’d be underwater by about $120K (or 30% of its current value). That would have sucked, and would have been largely driven by forces outside their control.

But that’s not all. In the last four years, the homeowner took out a second mortgage “to help pay for their daughter’s college costs, home improvements and a wedding…” Now, instead of having a mortgage of $520K or less (the original mortgage), he owes $647K.

And he hopes the government will step in and lower his mortgage principal, essentially asking that the taxpayers and/or the banks fund his daughter’s education, a wedding and home improvements. Why the hell not?

There’s two pretty weird letters in the Journal today. One is funny, in an “if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger” kind of way. Dr. William Burk, from Greenville SC, writes about germ-phobic medical professionals:

“As a retired anesthesiologist many years removed from the principles surrounding disease transmission, I nonetheless feel compelled to comment on neckties ("Nothing to Sneeze At: Doctors' Neckties Seen as Flu Risk," page one, Nov. 19)…Give me a break. I don't see any former colleagues falling dead from cervico-facial MRSA and they wear the damn things all day. The mere culturing of organisms doesn't establish linkage to transmission. If there are suspected Tie-phoid Martys out there who will send me their neckties, I'll volunteer to rub them on my nose.

One can get things practicing medicine. In my youth, I contracted Hepatitis B during a time when I was frequently sticking myself with needles containing the blood of jaundiced patients. There's probably a link there. In recent years, though, an intense paranoia seems to be pervasive among medical personnel. One cannot touch another human being without donning gloves. This is nonsense. In many years of cannulating tens of thousands of blood vessels and treating massive trauma from Cu Chi, Vietnam, to the Carolinas, I have countless times been "washed in the blood," and my skin has been up to the task of protecting me."

Yikes. I’m not agreeing or disagreeing with him! I’m just sayin’.

But the second letter takes the cake. It’s an argument against allowing skilled immigrants to compete for US jobs in science and technology. Why? Because seeing these smart and hardworking foreigners in such jobs is discouraging to Americans leading them to choose work in other fields:

“The analysis by Stuart Anderson, mentioned in your editorial, is based solely on the selfish and nearsighted economic benefit we receive from these talented people but ignores their effects on our own dysfunctional educational system. I am sure Mr. Anderson would expect his children's schools to emphasize science and mathematics in their curriculum so their students could obtain jobs in science, engineering and biotechnology, but children are not so easily influenced. When they see the scientific and technical jobs going to legal foreign immigrants, they get the idea that it will take exceptionally hard work to compete with the world's brightest, best and most competitive, and they (wisely) choose other career paths and carry on the vicious cycle of poor scientific and technical education leading to the need for more immigrant workers.”

So the problem is that Americans are lazy and lack confidence? And the way to restore a work ethic and confidence is to exclude foreign workers from high-skill jobs? Seriously?

Maybe he's pulling my leg.

I am reminded of a conversation I frequently have with undergraduates. I say, “You want to do forensics in law enforcement. You should take a chemistry class.” They say, “Nah. I don’t like chemistry. It's too hard.” Or I say, “Why haven’t you competed your Math Core course yet.” They say, “I don’t like math.”

And I think, “That’s it. You don’t like it. Yet you think that all your dreams will come true while you simultaneously avoid anything that seems difficult to you?”

How, I wonder, can we compete against the world – a hungry, ambitious, hard-working world – with that attitude at the heart of too many college students.

Bring on the immigrant labor, if you ask me. May the fittest—smartest, hardest working, most ambitious, least whiny—win.

City Crazy

You can travel further by car, but you don't see as much. What with going 25 mph, and paying attention to stop lights, and looking for parking spaces, and all. So I have been exploring Providence on foot. Today I walked north on Hope because I'd heard there was a little shopping district in that direction.

Between here and there, Hope Street reminded me of Willetts Street, where my grandparents lived when I was a kid. It was a street lined with up-down duplexes in old houses. (Now I hear it has deteriorated, as has much of Schenectady NY, but it lives on unchanged in my memory.)

Other veritable institutions were interspersed. The pubic library, with people playing chess outside. The YMCA which was having a neighborhood rummage sale. The Jewish Welcome Center, with a quote from Allen Feinstein posted out front. Hope High School, an imposing structure, also -- oddly -- with a quote from Allen Feinstein posted. Who is Allen Feinstein?

And then I arrived at the commercial district, with gas stations, pizza places, a children's store, dry cleaners...all the things of day to day life. I liked this area even a bit more than Thayer Street. Thayer is a highly concentrated restaurant-coffee house-boutique district for Brown students. I like that just fine! But north on Hope was business for the people, including a bakery called Seven Stars (with a fabulous blueberry pastry) and something called Not Just Snacks. Had I not know what it was, I probably would have passed it by. But a friend had told me that Not Just Snacks had really good Indian food.

So I stopped by and asked if I could be served some vegetable and meat samosas on the front deck (there is lots of outside restaurant seating in Providence). I had my mid-afternoon snack right there on Hope Street, watching the people go by. The couple overloaded with dry cleaning. The woman in the cross walk who was understandably alarmed by the car that sped towards her. The mother and her child who wandered by. The Jewish families going to Roshashona services. All the things that happen in a city.

Maybe some people don't like this: long walks on urban streets, buses roaring by, hoards of teenagers celebrating the end of the school day, the grimy settledness of the city. But I'm crazy about it.

Indulging my inner introvert

At the end of August, I went to five major league baseball games: two in Kansas City, two in St. Louis and one in Cincinnati. I saw Zack Greinke strike out fifteen, Albert Pujols hit a walk off home run, dazzling double plays and diving catches, and throws to the plate that nailed the runner. I enjoyed every minute of every baseball game, even though I had never been to any of these ballparks and I didn’t know anyone there.

And since arriving in Providence I’ve been wholly content to wander the streets of this old city and settle into my apartment, speaking to nary a soul. Full disclosure: I have not been all alone in this transition, as my mom was excellent company on the trip here and I have a few friends here. But I have relished – on the cross-country trip and in the time that I have been here – all the time I get to spend alone.

Being in a strange place, I don’t listen for my name. I don’t eavesdrop on conversations. I don’t run into anyone I know. No one asks me anything. No one needs anything from me.

In the last couple of years, I coped with the constant interruptions by reminding myself that it was an unavoidable part of my job. And when someone came in my office I would take a deep breath, preemptively calm myself, and give what I hoped was my full and resentment-free attention. But purging the resentment did not come naturally; it was an act of will.

I am an introvert who gives a good impression of being an extrovert. That probably makes me more extroverted than those who can’t play act enthusiasm for constant social interaction. But it wore me down over time. I was very glad to go home to a quiet empty house each night. And, during the work day, I was always acutely aware of the distance between what made me most comfortable and the role I was expected to play.

And so, here in Providence, I am happy to indulge my inner introvert. I promise I will not hole up in my little apartment for all of the next year. But I hope I’ll be excused for enjoying the peace and quiet as long as it lasts.

Day One

Some people associate sabbatical with 'taking time off from work'. I hope they aren't saying that to my dean! I explain it to those outside academia as 'working for myself for a year'. And, really, that's a good explanation.

For the last 16 years, I have worked mostly for other people: teaching and doing administrative work. I've been able to work some for myself -- on research and writing projects -- but over the years it has been harder and harder to focus on my agenda rather than everyone else's. Therein lies the value of my sabbatical, where for the first time in years I get to work for myself.

My first official day here was a wash administratively. I started the day not yet 'signed in' at the university and ended the day the same way. But in the meantime I enjoyed meeting the very friendly staff in three different central administration offices: the Dean of Faculty, Human Resources and the 'card' office. Unfortunately, there is some confusion about what unpaid visiting scholars are to do in order to get an ID card. I-9 form? Yes, but then no. Letter of appointment? Carry that around with you, and don't let anyone take it from you: Live and learn, as my copy of the letter was graciously confiscated from me by the charming receptionist in the Dean of Faculty's office. Go here, go there, find the door around the corner from the bookstore and just before the construction site (construction seems to be a running joke around here). Bur everyone is so sincere and nice, so it's hard to be upset. Tomorrow is another day.

Substantively the day was better, a lot better. A little mucking around with data, some notes on research questions and approaches, some exploration of other secondary data that I can draw on. Working for myself! Very satistfying.

And, at the conclusion of the day, I went to a talk by an anthropologist of law out of Cornell who discussed her research on regulation of global financial markets from the bottom up. So invigorating! It made me realize how much I miss having scholars with similar interests around on a day-to-day basis. In fact, it's been so long that (1) I had completely forgotten what it's like, but (2) and perhaps more significantly, it suggests why I have veered towards being a superficial generalist of a scholar rather than an expert in a given area.

So, by the end of the talk, I had noted that 'this was a very good day'. That's a good sign -- that my first day back at my working sabbatical went so well.

Body art

I was sorry not to get a picture of this:

A young man, with elaborate tattoos, entered the Vietnamese Noodle House where Brandon and I were having lunch. He carried a bouquet of flowers and sat down at the table next to us. We waited for about ten minutes to see who would join him, but eventually left. I hope she showed up!

Eastern Montana and North Dakota

I had random thoughts driving through Eastern Montana and North Dakota this week:

1. There were only about 4 radio stations in Eastern Montana, and it seemed like each got its news feed from Fox News. That was eye-opening.

2. North Dakota had more variety, probably because I-94 passes through a number of towns of size. Occasionally I got ABC News, and NPR had a much stronger presence.

3. By the time I got near to Fargo, after 750 or so miles of driving, I was sufficiently bored that the billboards on the side of the road seemed fascinating. I'd ease off the gas to read them carefully, and then realize that I'd slowed to 65 mph, and then speed back up again.

4. I went to a minor league game yesterday, the Fargo Redhawks played the Gary IN Railbacks. I noted that the Redhawks replaced their pitcher four times, but pitching did not seem to be their problem. They had multiple throwing errors, as if where the ball went had no relation to where the intended recipient stood. I'm betting they do some throwing drills today.

5. Fargo is a bigger place than I thought, with an Asian market to die for. It has welcomed a large number of refugees from all over the world.

It's on to Brookings SD next.

Bucket List

On Monday, I got a letter from a college professor in Canada. It seems I am on his bucket list. To paraphrase, he wrote:

I have terminal cancer. I am dying. But before I die, I had to write and tell you how much I hate your book. Too much Durkheim, not enough Weber. It's a disservice to the field.

So I and my co-authors have achieved a bizarre status where a total stranger thinks about us as he lays dying. One of my co-authors wants this on the cover of our second edition.

It made me wonder, however, what I would be doing if I were him. I'm not profound, I realized: I would be eating donuts.

Memo to Sarah

From God, upon the news that Ted Stevens lost:

Don't let the slamming door hit you in the ass on your way out.

See Below

OK, I get that the entry just below this one is completely out of character with one below it. I'm still struggling with idealism and internal consistency.

The New GOP

Last night, as the election results rolled in and the map took form in red and blue, my friends and I discussed the future of the Republican Party. We agreed: it is unlikely to change in fundamental ways but might benefit from a new name, one that better reflects its base.

The Confederate Party, anyone?

Heck, they already have a flag.

This is America

Not us, apart from them, but every one of us.

Let no one ever say that to be an American you must fit a narrow mold: looking, thinking and living just like all the others.

Let no one ever say cookie-cutter conformity is a good thing.

Each of us brings a life history, a perspective informed by experience, a set of connections to other human beings and a dream for the future. God bless America for that!

Diversity is our strength.

And for those who fear, remember: Respect for diversity, and the rights and dignity of every last one of us, is the glue that will hold us together.

Bob the Plumber

My next door neighbor, Bob, is a plumber. And a lifelong Montanan.

I ran into Bob and his wife on my way to the polls this morning.

They voted for Barack Obama.

Joan explained: It was his confidence and his demeanor in the debates. He was, all in all, the more presidential of the two.

Mr. Bill Speaks

Mr. Bill is my other cat. He's shy, which is why you haven't heard from him before.

Mr. Bill wants me to remind you that he is not named after the famed Saturday Night Live character -- oooooooohhh, noooooooo, Mr. Bill (splat, as some object falls on the claymation character)! Instead, he is named after the lesser known brother of a famous baseball player: Bill Ripken. A noble tradition.

Anyhow, this morning Mr. Bill made an unprecedented request. You see, he doesn't ask for much of anything except a little taste of yogurt once in a while. But as I rolled out of bed this morning, Mr. Bill looked up at me with his soulful green eyes and he said, "Would you please vote for the black cat?"

And I said, "But Mr. Bill! Why?"

And he said, "As you know, I am a black cat and I am a uniter." (Indeed, Mr. Bill is: for more than a decade, he mediated Bessie and Harry's often tempestuous relationship!) "And," Mr. Bill continued, "I just think that other black cat, he's what we need now to unite America."

Nice to know my cat agrees with me.

Pity Party II

Sarah Palin got a prank phone call yesterday from Montreal's Masked Avengers posing as French President Nicolas Sarkozy. The conversation went on for about six minutes. It was recorded and broadcast around the world. The pranksters said all sort of outrageous things, and Palin did not catch on.

The conversation revealed a lot about Palin. She was clearly starstruck, giggling and gushing over the impostor. She apparently does not have a professional voice and persona for conversations with world leaders: it's Sarah the hockey mom all the way. But most off all, I noted that this woman, who rapidly rejects what she sees as offensive statements from her enemies (e.g., the media, political opponents), lacks a nonsense detector for those who seem to agree with her or those who flatter her. That does not bode well as an indicator of her judgment.

Nonethless I feel sorry for her because:

• Her staff is so incompetent that they put her on the phone with the impostor without checking to see if the call was legitimate or, apparently, checking with the campaign leadership about it.
• She answers her phone just like I answer mine: "Hi, this is Sarah" (except I use my first name, not hers). If the President of France called, I might or might not have the good sense to do different.
• Despite copious clues that the call was a hoax, it is hard to imagine who would get up the gumption to contradict, challenge, correct or hang up on someone you think might be the President of France.
• Pranks derive their humor from making another person look stupid and feel stupid about themselves, and I have always found intentional humiliation of another person hard to laugh at.

The marginal value of what we could learn from that call was not worth its price in mean-spiritedness and incivility.

A dingelhead on the first amendment: Run for cover!

Sarah Palin on conservative talk radio today:

"If [the media] convince enough voters that that is negative campaigning, for me to call Barack Obama out on his associations...then I don't know what the future of our country would be in terms of First Amendment rights and our ability to ask questions without fear of attacks by the mainstream media."

The first amendment says that "Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech."

Wake up, Sarah! Is there a law against what you are saying? Does the media even pass laws? Are the media and Congress the same thing? Are in you jail? Have you been fined for what you said? Have you been told that if you don't shut up you'll be charged with a crime? (Is that too many questions, with too many big words, for you to keep track of?)

If the answers to those questions are "No", then your first amendment rights have not been abridged. The first amendment says you can say whatever you want. So can I. So can the media. It doesn't say I have to agree with you or nod along. It lets me, and the media, dissent. Down in the lower 48, we call that Democracy. So, bite me.

Your understanding of the US Constitution, however, abridges my right to live in a society where candidates for national political office have the decency to understand the most basic elements of the US Constitution.

Though I am sure it looks that way from Alaska, you are not the center of the universe.

Real Montana

Finally, something about Montana that sounds like the real deal.

You can vote however you like

In case you were wondering, these kids will set you straight!

They should be here

Tuesday I’m bringing my beautifully framed photo of Jackie Robinson to an election night party. It would not be a party without him.

After the ‘Barack Special’, I headed out for a walk to the sound of Aaron Copland's Appalachian Spring. It’s the first track on my Ipod. A quarter mile in I felt so good that I started to run, and I ran for almost 2 miles until I reached a steep hill. I walked up the hill, marveling at the stars. On a clear night in Bozeman, you can see infinity.

My Ipod continued through the tracks in turn, and as I crossed Wilson Avenue two blocks from my house, Amy Martin was singing her tribute to Paul Wellstone. You may remember him: the college-professor-turned-senator from Minnesota was the lone dissenting vote in our tragic march to war in Iraq. He died, along with his wife, daughter and several others, in a plane crash on October 25, 2002.

“And we cry in the night across the nation
There may have never been a time
When we more desperately needed him
They say we all march in lock step
To beat of the war drum
But this man raised his hand and said
No, not in my name
And he spoke for me
And my future children
He left us a legacy
Of what a true hero could be.”

And I sat in the dark on my porch and I shed some tears for someone else who should be here.

Just do it

In the worst of times, this family recognized the needs of others.

"And Cannady said Anne actually goes on, in a sense, telling Smith, "When it became evident late Saturday afternoon of the outcome for Anne, we discussed the organ donation, and knew that that was something she would certainly have wanted to do. Twenty-four hours later, Sunday evening, we were advised that six people had been the recipient of Anne's gift. So there's a legacy that will continue to live on in other people through her. And for that, we're thankful and grateful.""

Surely, in the light of day, when all is well in our lives, we too can sign up to be organ donors.

Crocodile Tears from Hypocrites

So spreading the wealth is bad? It's socialism, the scourge of the earth according to McCain, Palin and red-staters.

After his Meet The Press endorsement of Barack Obama, Colin Powell explained taxes and redistribution well:

"Taxes are always a redistribution of money. Most of the taxes that are redistributed go back to those who paid them, in roads and airports and hospitals and schools. And taxes are necessary for the common good. And there is nothing wrong with examining what our tax structure is or who should be paying more, who should be paying less. And for us to say that makes you a socialist, I think is an unfortunate characteriziation that isn't accurate."

So, let's take a look at how federal taxes are 'redistributed', on a state by state basis. Some states pay more in taxes than they get back again. Connecticut gets 73 cents back on each dollar it pays in, California - 80 cents, New York - 82 cents and Washington state - 89 cents. Other states get more back than they pay in: Mississippi gets $2.02 for each dollar it puts in, New Mexico - $2.00, West Virginia - $1.75, Kentucky - $1.48 and South Dakota - $1.51.

Pretty clearly, there is a redistribution of federal tax dollars going on: Some people are getting back more than they put in. It's an outrage. It's socialism. It's a travesty. It's downright un-American.

And weirdly, given the vociferous objection to 'redistribution' from red-staters, red states across the country get much more back from the feds than they put in. Take a look for yourself. And blue states? What a bunch of chumps!

Thank goodness McCain and Palin have stuck to their principles by pointing out the gross inequity of the redistribution of federal tax dollars!

Let's take a look and see how our candidates do here, just to make clear how awful and socialistic the Democrats are in stark contrast to the fair and just Republicans.

John McCain: Arizona gets back $1.19 for each dollar it puts in.

Sarah Palin: Alaska gets back $1.85 for each dollar it puts in.

Barack Obama: Illinois gets back 78 cents for each dollar it puts in.

Joe Biden: Delaware gets back 80 cents for each dollar it puts in.

Whoa, Nellie! My head just did the 'exorcist' spin. John McCain and Sarah Palin are accusing Barack Obama and Joe Biden of being socialists?! Really?

Based on the evidence, I conclude that Obama and Biden are really ineffective socialists, much less effective than, oh say, John McCain and Sarah Palin.

Luckily for the Republican candidates, Colin Powell isn't going to call them a socialist over this. He might, however, think they are hypocrites.