Since the Congressional Republicans are hell-bent on self-destruction. Here's what they should be saying, every time they get near a microphone.
Keep in mind, the Community Reinvestment act FORCED banks under pain of lawsuit to give out these loans. But the FHLMC and FHLMC securities are not funded or protected by the US Government. FHLMC securities carry no government guarantee of being repaid. This is explicitly stated in the law that authorizes GSEs, on the securities themselves, and in public communications issued by the FHLMC. I'm guessing Congress never read the law that said "securities, including any interest..., are not guaranteed by, and are not debts or obligations of, the United States or any agency or instrumentality of the United States other than Freddie Mac." or Fannie Mae.
Well, now they will be, thanks guys!
Labels: dragged off and shot
Thanks for nothing, assholes. Hope you enjoy President Obama.
Me? I'm stocking up on pencils to sell and working to get your ass fired.
Done, I'm done with you.
Three pages. It was a three page plan. You played right into Barney Frank's hands you idiots. And do you have any idea where they've been?
You poor dumb assholes, you really...really need to stop listening to talk radio.
And what about talk radio? All of the big guys want you to vote for the package? Why the hell are you listening to the little guys? Even Bill O'Reilly wants the package.
Let's make this really clear, as a conservative guy, who's never, ever voted for a Democrat. I blame you for this. You are mental pygmies. Idiots. Stupid.
You are supposed to be the party of small business, the party of the man on the street with the kids and wife and house and job. The people in the middle with the most to lose. Obviously, you don't know or care how things are done in this country.
You had a job to do. You didn't do it. No amount of finger-pointing at poison pills the Democrats put in the bill is going to save your ass. No one cares. Shit like that could be fixed when and if the banks stopped failing.
2008 Pontiac G8 GT Take Two
I have a horrible weakness for Pontiac. It's a soul sickness.
Chevy doesn't do it for me. Buick? Yes. I'm ashamed to admit, I may have had a secret longing for a Buick or two.
But Pontiac, oooooooo. I can't help it.
Oh, she's bad for you. She has no taste. All of your friends will laugh at you behind your back. She's flashy, has no manners, smokes like a train and swears like a teamster. She'll show up to Easter dinner in a mini skirt, red heels and a Fredrick's of Hollywood bustier. It takes seven kinds of artificial stimulants to get her going in the morning. Her hair, eye color, teeth and nails are fake. None of the women in your family will be seen with you in public.
When she goes...she goes fast and you know you've got at least 6000 terrifying and exciting miles before she blows a gasket and melts down on the side of the Atlantic City Expressway or pulls a knife on your boss at the company outing to Six Flags. You also know that your brothers, with their sensible, tweedy wives, are secretly jealous. No matter how much they clucked and tittered at all the smoke and noise at your great-aunt's funeral.
Through all of this you think you can make a go of it, something's there. Maybe if she cleans up. Puts on a nice dress, tones down the make up...but then you meet her family. In the three hours you spend at her grandmother's forty-ninth birthday your credit rating will tank, you'll catch a creeping fungal infection under your left toenail and you'll lose you wallet and any shred of self respect you may have had left.
Once you meet her family you know the best you can hope for is a couple of months without sleep, a broken finger that will just not heal, a closet full of clothes smelling like baby oil and flecked with glitter, and one single clear Plexiglas platform high heel left behind the couch for your new girlfriend, the Asian medical student, to find the day you forgot you were to meet her parents and instead went out drinking after work with some guys you've never met from the Minneapolis office in town for systems training.
And yet, two weeks later, while sipping a Diet Coke in the Applebee's next to the outlet mall, you catch a whiff of hairspray and hear the flat, nasal bray of "You're such an AZZHOLE!" and you find yourself drawn, like a moth to a flame. Another round of "meeten the gurls" at Dave and Busters and cigarette butts in your garbage disposal.
Pontiac, I can't quit you.
Rosenberg sons acknowledge dad was spy
All it took was the Russians to admit it, his Dad's friends to admit it, now all we need is for Hollywood. lawyers and history professors to acknowledge it.
I'm off to see some golf. Right now, I don't care about politics. The US is seven points away from the Ryder cup.
My friends, if I am elected I promise to sign into law a bill
requiring the TSA to summarily execute anyone over the age of 10 who
blocks a moving sidewalk or escalator by standing on the left. The
parents of those under age 10 who are caught blocking said escalators
or moving sidewalks will be subject to fines and custody hearings. If
the blockage is egregious, ie one or more travelers miss a flight, the
children will be taken from their parents and placed into a school for
developing waitress skills and traveling cat neuterers.
In addition, my friends, if you are caught standing in the doorway of
the rental-car bus, blocking the exit while other, kinder people try
and collect their luggage and get to the terminal, you will be shipped
to Canada's Northwest Territory where you will be forced to to sit and
take detailed statements and family histories from the dropouts of the
reality series "Ice Road Truckers" until such time as you lose the
power of speech. Or grow one of those over-done Canadian prospector
And speaking of beards my friends, I know that the Constitution
forbids the mass burning of those who would wear a goatee or vandyke
beard. But it is an affront against nature for any man to make his
mouth look like a vagina. Therefore, when I am elected, wearing face
pubes will require a license. The same license will apply to;
man-earrings, spandex, low-rise jeans, big ugly white belts, CNN, six
cylinder Mustangs, tattoos, Underarmor athletic shirts and frosted
tips. A fee will be collected monthly and the proceeds used to send
unused electric razors to the masses of pouty french skinny boys held
captive by the print ad industry.
Fist-bumps, "taters" and high fives by white men over 15 will no
longer be tolerated! We will roll back the tide of the pudgy middle
aged who use teen slang. Boys in stovepipe jeans will have their
testes forcibly descended! Forty year old women in short shorts and
ugg boots will be forced to work at Talbots! My Friends! My Friends!
It is time to take back this country! And I am the man to get you
The revelations on Thursday “teach us what people will do to get a conviction,” said Bruce Craig, a historian and the former director of the National Coalition for History, a nonprofit educational organization. “They took somebody who they basically felt was guilty and by hook or crook they were going to get a jury to find him guilty.”
If you read the link, you'll see that Mr Craig smokes crack, because the revelations on Thursday were that the bastard CONFESSED to being a spy. Almost sixty years after his friend and FELLOW FUCKING SPY Julius Rosenberg was executed ALONG WITH HIS WIFE, who might not have been if Morton Sobel had said something in NINETEEN FUCKING FIFTY-ONE!
But he's a hero.
Let's shoot him now, then tell him we just didn't think of it that way back then.
Labels: dragged off and shot
That said, network administrators are carefully selected, and usually well looked after.
Having been a network engineer, I can unequivocally state that no, they are not always carefully selected. I wasn't. Not to say I was a bad Network Engineer, I was pretty damn good, but I was waaaay pissed off most of the time and no one around me thought that there was anything wrong with that because they were too.
In fact, I would bet you that in most Commercial-sized or SME businesses, the lowly network admin or engineer is probably borderline depressive and incredibly overworked.
I don't think that even now, some twenty years into the re-engineering revolution, that many companies have any idea how to manage their corporate IT infrastructure. I'm not talking about managing the data, the hardware or licensing, I'm talking about managing the people who have to do the work.
Go to any datacenter and you will see one of two things, either a group of people with nothing real to do, so bogged down in process that any new project or advanced integration is farmed out to vendors and forced into place by non-techy "business owners" or a smaller group of people constantly on-call and worked to death. Sometimes you'll see both types, in adjoining cubes. Maybe on the same team. But in both cases, the company sees these people the same way, overpaid.
I don't think anyone would ever think that the guy who sucks the crap out of your septic tank is overpaid. He'll charge you what the market can bear. And when the shit starts bubbling over, out he comes and cleans it up. You may have flushed six years worth of Extra-large Trojans, two dead goldfish, and that baggie of purple sticky on the wake and bake day the neighbor's son came home from military school and parked his 98 white Crowne Vic on the road. But he won't judge, he'll listen to your tales of tree roots and microwaved burritos for as long as he has to before taking his check and leaving. And you will not complain about the price when he's gone.
Network Admins in corporate IT do the same job, they keep the shit off of your floor and your backyard barbecue ready. But they are treated differently. Companies pick the least expensive person they can get, micromanage the hell out of them, and force them to work hours that a medical intern would think excessive. When this person becomes expert in their field, they get forced out.
Yes, forced out. Companies use little things to force attrition, "market pricing" strategies based on unrealistic salary surveys that take no experience into account. Required overtime, on-call hours, "productivity trackers" that require 60 hours of work and "Time sheets" that base your salary on 35 hours. They'll give you budget responsibility for a project but not give you authority to enforce deadlines or choose the product. Manager's bonuses are based on how much money their department saves, versus any real measurable metrics. SLA's for some services are 100% uptime which makes any call or maintenance of the system a pocketbook hit for the IT guy in charge. Most managers are picked from the ranks of non-technical people and team leaders that don't get manager pay or recognition end up running the day to day operations of the systems while managers sit in meeting after meeting.
And those are the companies that it's good to work for.
I went from IT drone to working in a Sales organization in one leap, and I can say that I have not seen the turnover in freakin' sales that I saw in corporate IT. I haven't seen half as many discipline problems, stress induced meltdowns or tears. I have yet to see someone dragged screaming out of the building because he just worked two straight days without sleep to fix a database issue and was let go once it was fixed. To me it's amazing that I know of only three people who did serious damage on their way out the door. One, the above mentioned DBA, stole all of the salary data from a program (rhymes with MeepleMoft) and ended up in jail, one signed a VIP up for massive numbers of gay porn web sites and email newsletters, and one simply deleted or disabled all of the administrative accounts when he left. (They were his account anyway, he made his personal account the Admin and service account for everything, no kidding. Took me weeks to straighten it out.)
Anyway, businesses are more aware of how sudden layoffs affect people who they think actually make a difference. Executives, Sales, Money People, HR. Grunts, like secretaries, support staff, mail clerks and IT admins can be let go at will, I guess they just never pay much attention to who it is that goes apeshit when work goes bad. Hint, it's not the boss.
I just called my boss and told him that while I did find the lack of a decent reach around disappointing, some people don't even get kissed. And I appreciate a man who'll show some affection.
Hit that link.
Well now, that was nice.
I'm back in my basement on a weekday! Whoo hoo!
If I told you how backed up I was thanks to the non-stop travel, I'd be even more backed up. So I won't.
What I will say is damn, I'm glad to be home.
It's my anniversary, and on my anniversary I post this:
A picture of maddmom and some dude in 1985.
Happy Anniversary maddmom.
It sure was.
Anyway, I was in Michigan and had to get to St Louis for an emergency. So I drove my rental car to the Cincinnati airport on Wed and took a flight to St Louis. Friday there was an issue at the site, so I missed the last plane back to Cincinnati, so I drove back to Madison in the rental car I had in St Louis. I then drove to the airport and picked up the rental I had in the parking garage and drove that home. Now it's in my driveway and I have to return it, because the rental car place was closed. So there's that.
But, I'm leaving for St Louis in fifteen minutes. Unexpected, and I'm pretty tired.
We'll see. Maybe I'll be home for my anniversary on Thursday, maybe I'll be home to see Skippy's High School graduation.
I had no idea 20% travel meant all in a row. I feel like Bob Seger.