Category Archives: social behavior

Lifting A Finger! [audio]

April 26, 2016political commentary, psychology, public education, slum culture, social behavior, social commentary, sociology, The Independent Party, the power grid#FeeltheBern, Bernie Sanders 2016, Billionaires Can't Buy Bernie, Feel the Bern, options traders, Presidential election 2016, spread traders, the richest country in the world, Wall Street speculators, What does Bernie Sanders mean by "taxing the Wall Street speculators?", Who are the Wall Street speculators?ruth ann scanzillo

THE NEW ENTITLEMENT: Restricted Access and “Reimbursement.”

“FREE MONEY! FREE MONEY!”

This writer is feeling the burn, today.

Yesterday was the first day in my life that I got within eye contact of a living American Presidential candidate. It was also the first time in my life that I was ever so convinced by everything said, so aligned with every outlined principle and proposed policy.

Looking around me I saw a room, filled with young adults and poor people. Over two thousand, showing up with less than 24 hours notice, at least five of them my former students.

We all heard him say that America is the richest country in the world, and that he’d come to tell us we deserved a piece of the proverbial pie provided we worked to earn it. I wondered if everyone present fully understood the underlying structure of our candidate’s position – particularly as it related to money.

The teacher in me revved its engine; I came home compelled to speak. Here is my story.

About ten years ago, I signed up for a course in spread trading options. This course was held both online and over the phone, a group conference call in session two nights a week with a handful of participants. It came with volumes of hard copy reference material, which I have saved in my storehouse of human experience.

I learned buckets about the massive industry that dispenses free money. And, it ain’t what yer thinkin’.

I learned that, with essential skills in chart reading of key indicators and prudent decision making, putting down small money can, by day’s end, yield unbelievable windfall. How? By betting on the stock market. Betting that prices will rise, and betting that prices will fall, and doing so simultaneously.

The course trainer said to watch for a 20% move, and then act – in both directions. And, he was teaching caution!

What I discovered about myself was that chart reading was a piece of cake for me. What I also discovered was that I was far too impulsive to make the prudent decision. I’d place a trade, the smartest option on the boards, and then either close it out too soon or wait too long and watch my bet evaporate. Yes; along with obeying the indicators, timing was absolutely key.

But, what everyone needs to know about all this is: the training necessary to do the thing right, that which yields incredible profits purely on the investments made by OTHER PEOPLE (i.e. their money (!), comes with a hefty price tag of its own: $10,000. And, though, by some fluke, my credit card was only charged $2000 for the course, in the end, I barely broke even on the trades I placed.

Yes; any American dream of making millions can come true. But, the price tag restricts that option (npi) to only those with enough to pay for the course in the first place. And, even then: one false move, and somebody else takes every penny.

Sound like the story of life in these United States?

Yeah.

And, here’s what: trades on stock, from the big corporate Blue Chips to the pennies, are happening every second, twenty four hours a day. There is computer software that does the thinking, following formulae (algorhythms) that would make the average math hater run for the vomitorium. And, by only lifting a finger, the top one tenth of one per cent of the American population is cashing in.

One key Presidential hopeful wants to impose a tax on the finger lifters. He’s the man I saw and heard, yesterday.

It only takes a fourth grader with the skill set and a calculator to estimate how much $$$ such a tax would generate. Senator Bernie Sanders would use that money to fund public education at the college level. Heck. There’d be enough left over to fund public education, period.

Yes. Wall Street has some ‘splainin’ to do. Problem is, there are those who are protecting their own stake in it who are fighting to prevent this. Certain Presidential candidates come to mind. The biggest among them, however, are the pharmaceutical giants, the ones who make the pills you take daily.

There’s a word, in the recording industry: payola. Look it up. Ever get free sample packets from your doctor of the latest drug to treat your condition? You’re right about one thing. Ain’t nuthin’ really free; somebody benefits. And, here’s the worst of it: medical oncologists get kickbacks for prescribing chemotherapy drugs. These kickbacks are called “reimbursements” and, for every drug that costs [the insurance company] 10 grand (and, you an increasing co-pay), the doc gets 600 bucks. Imagine 600 extra bucks for every customer who walks into a hardware store; if you’re the owner, you can by a yacht AND a second home.

So, yeah. I don’t blow the hot air. I might be a little behind on occasion [ totally missed Mellencamp at the Warner ], but I only speak when I’m as sure as I can be at the moment that I know what I’m talking about. And, if you find me errant, you tell me and I’ll be on it.

[ insert extemporaneous audio ]

Meantime, take a second look at the candidate you’ve been supporting for President. Then look, again, at Senator Bernie Sanders. There is far, far more under that shock of white hair than you’ll find inside the cranium of anybody else telling you for whom you should vote.

Speaking of voting, catch the latest in fraud following the still open New York primary. One hundred twenty five thousand New York voters, stripped of their option to vote at all, one of whom the daughter of an American veteran I know personally. Just enough to tip the scales for the other Democrat’s 10%, according to my calculations – and, my math skills are fairly rudimentary.

The verdict is not yet in. But, there are plans – concrete plans, in the mind of the only real visionary on the horizon. If you think for yourself, without fear, you’ll make the choice that will be right for you and everybody else. And, you’ll only have to lift your hand.

Bernie Sanders for President 2016.

LITTLEBAREFEETBLOG.COM

How to [Mis]Handle a Woman.

April 11, 2016commentary, human behavior, light verse, love, personal ads, psychology, relationships, social behavior, sociologyCAMELOT, How To Handle A Woman, men in relationships with women, men misunderstanding women, misunderstanding womenruth ann scanzillo

1.) Ask her, in print, if she is attending an event. Then, tell her you’ll pick her up.

[ Women have cars. ]

[ Generally, women prefer being picked up only by elephants, and even then, prickly backs.]

[ Never tell a woman what she is going to do. ]

2.) Show up at her house, in the rain, while she is having company, and begin to alter the appearance of her property.

[ Women actually own property. ]

[ Generally, women prefer to make the decisions regarding their property. ]

[ Trespassing is a misdemeanor. ]

3.) Offer to come over and set her mousetraps. When you arrive, declare that the house needs to be cleaned first, and then sterilize the floor. Don’t apologize when none of the traps are tripped.

[ Women know when they are pigs. ]

[ Generally, offering to do something for a woman that she is capable of doing for herself is considered condescending. ]

[ Mice urinate on their trails, so they can return to where they found the food.]

4.) As a surprise, give her a gift of shower soap.

[ Women have shower soap. They get it from their nieces on Christmas. ]

[ Generally, a woman wears deodorant.]

[ Never imply that a woman smells funny. It’s probably the henna.]

5.) When a woman puts on her coat, size her up and tell her you will buy her one that is black and more “appropriate” for the occasion.

[ Women are tired of black.]

{ Generally, a woman chooses outer apparel first for comfort, then for fabric quality and, finally, for color. ]

[ Never tell a woman what is appropriate for any occasion. ]

6.) When a woman steps into her boots, tell her she looks “like an old Polack from the East side.”

[ Women wear the boots. ]

[ Generally, women both choose their own footware and the way in which they kick with it.]

[ You are a bigot and a jerk. Go home and [mis]handle yourself. ]

All rights strictly reserved; permission to reprint granted only by written request. Thank you for your respect.

littlebarefeetblog.com

Single Inflection.

March 25, 2016Christianity, classical music, classical musicians, psychology, relationships, sectarian Fundamentalism, social behavior, sociology, travelogues1984, contributing to the greater good, Eiji Oue, European languages, Frankfurt, gin, inflection, language and culture, living single, Merriam & Webster's definition of "single", Plymouth Brethren in Zurich, Princeton, Purple Rain, Scotland, Switzerland, the American blind spot, the Great Singularity, the healing arts, the single life, Zurichruth ann scanzillo

[ final edit. ]

Single — def.

not having, or including, another ; only one.

Defining words in any language is an exercise in understanding culture. This is unavoidable. So said the Swiss woman, at the head of the dinner table around which were seated: a younger, blonde French-Swiss woman; a middle aged, married couple from Kent, England, she with her brown hair rolled up away from her neck; a tall, good-looking, traveling salesman from Stuttgart; a young, bespectacled Scottish girl enrolled at university; and, one American woman of about twenty seven years; in 1984.

(There were no indigenous French represented at table, during that meal. Had there been, perhaps the conversation would have taken a decided turn.)

These had all convened around a common theme: one annual Bible Conference for the purpose of intensive study of the Word of God, held in a Zurich high school, complete with headsets and translators for those who had come from countries not fluent in Swiss-German.

I was the American woman.

That year, having embarked on my maiden voyage to Europe by way of Scotland, I was alone; meaning: nobody I knew personally had accompanied me on my trip.

Yes; according to a definition established by Merriam and Webster in the initial year of their copyright, I was a single woman. I knew it, most acutely, seated beside the two boys from Princeton on the flight to Frankfurt; the sassiest, plugged in to Purple Rain on his earphones, turned off to me as soon as I declined the gin. Failing the Test of Immediate Compatibility, here was a sure sign that I would be proceeding solo.

Not that I had any inclination to attach myself to either of the Princeton boys. I simply never figured in the equation established long ago by the Ivy League; their blood was blue, mine was too but, to them, a critical – if colorless – social component was missing .

The Swiss woman was dogmatic; the only way to truly know a people was through their language. One had to experience them in dialogue, to derive any understanding of their way of life. Inflection, the Swiss woman insisted, was the bearer of meaning.

(A decade hence, I would return to this table, after hearing a Japanese maestro articulate the meaning of his own name in his native language; he’d pointed out, none too subtley from the concert podium, that pronouncing his first name with the emphasis on the wrong syllable would render him nothing short of a hemorrhoid.)

I recall sitting and looking around that table at each guest, wondering, in my American English silence. Try as I might, I could not name a single descriptive adjective, noun, or verb in the language of my birth which, when pronounced differently, rendered a completely distinct meaning. I was able to call up several words, however, which had dual connotations but no alteration in their pronunciation. There were also words which were pronounced the same, but spelled differently according to their meanings.

With this realization came the sensation that singled me out: how could an American understand anybody from another country? Even the Brits, with their occasional syllabic de-emphasis, were a challenge to a fledgling on foreign soil. Here I was, singularly alone, and obviously about to make absolutely no connection whatsoever with any of the people in the room.

But, I had left a boy at home.

Long having moved on to pursue another skirt he had, however, managed to create a scandal in his wake. Here, in Switzerland, the home of his mother’s birth, I was supping with associates of the American employer she’d embezzled. Yes. I may have arrived alone, but there were those my presence represented who, after my departure, would remain; I had carried both of them with me, all the way to Europe, into a household diningroom of Christians in Zurich.

And, it didn’t matter to anybody that I wasn’t married to his mother. He would follow me for years thereafter, like a lurking shadow in the mirror, beginning the moment I left the premises. No one among any of those in attendance at the Zurich Conference, whether known to me or not, would be able to think of me in any terms thereafter without his name entering the conversation. Criminal behavior knew no cultural boundaries. No matter the country of origin; no matter the language spoken.

Recently, I became reacquainted with somebody I had only known in passing decades ago. A well and world-traveled American, he calls himself “single”. But, I beg to differ; his attributes draw the curious, the needy, the broken, the unfinished, the yearning. He works in the healing arts. His life has incredible, unmeasurable meaning in those of countless others. By the definition of any culture, he does not exist outside of their realm. He is, rather, spectacularly singular – part of the great Singularity.

None of us travels alone. We are never single, lest we attempt breath in a vacuum. If we do, we’ll be crying for help. And, we had better get the inflection j.u.s.t.right.

littlebarefeetblog.com