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Could he win Iowa? It seems feasible.

Could he win Iowa? It seems feasible.

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"If we expect to maintain any semblance of “normality,” we must fix the financial system. As noted, the implosion of the financial sector may not have been the underlying cause of our current crisis—but it has made it worse, and it’s an obstacle to long-term recovery. Small and medium-size companies, especially new ones, are disproportionately the source of job creation in any economy, and they have been especially hard-hit. What’s needed is to get banks out of the dangerous business of speculating and back into the boring business of lending. But we have not fixed the financial system. Rather, we have poured money into the banks, without restrictions, without conditions, and without a vision of the kind of banking system we want and need. We have, in a phrase, confused ends with means. A banking system is supposed to serve society, not the other way around."

The Book of Jobs | Politics | Vanity Fair 

Incredible article about how we got out of the Great Depression and why we might be headed into another one.

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The Sun will stab you in the eye!

The Sun will stab you in the eye!

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Great video. Its time.

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Call Delta right now, and this is what you will get

*”Due to drastic weather conditions we are unable to answer your call at this time. Please hang up and try again later, or go to delta.com Thank you.”* THEN, they hang up on you. BTW - delta.com shows me no available flights to get me home either.

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Sunrise in Detroit…

Sunrise in Detroit…

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My cat loves the camera…

My cat loves the camera…

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The rise and fall of Hermitage Capital inside Russia.

The manager of Hermitage Capital - which was once the most profitable investment vehicle in Russia tells the story of their rise and fall.

On October 11, 2010, a Bloomberg Business Week article titled Schwarzenegger Says Russia is Gold Mine for Investorssaid that Governor Schwarzenegger met Russian President Dmitry Medvedev for the second time in half a year and has embraced the Russian leader’s plan to recreate a Silicon Valley in a suburb outside of Moscow. Governor Schwarzenegger compared Russia to a gold mine of economic opportunity as he led a trade mission to Moscow. But there is price for the opportunity. Zealous government oversight and corruption continue to plague even the most stable developing market.

This is the price. Click here to watch the entire video - it is 40 minutes long, but it is worth watching.

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On My latest Crazy Idea

On my last idea for a business I was told by a friend, “its a tough market for an engineer.” I’m not sure if that was a compliment, or an addition to the list of problems. :)

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NJ sunset

NJ sunset

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This is from 1 of Esquire’s 7 best articles. Clicking thru takes you to it. H/T to GMSTR

In the picture, he departs from this earth like an arrow. Although he has not chosen his fate, he appears to have, in his last instants of life, embraced it. If he were not falling, he might very well be flying. He appears relaxed, hurtling through the air. He appears comfortable in the grip of unimaginable motion. He does not appear intimidated by gravity’s divine suction or by what awaits him. His arms are by his side, only slightly outriggered. His left leg is bent at the knee, almost casually. His white shirt, or jacket, or frock, is billowing free of his black pants. His black high-tops are still on his feet. In all the other pictures, the people who did what he did — who jumped — appear to be struggling against horrific discrepancies of scale. They are made puny by the backdrop of the towers, which loom like colossi, and then by the event itself. Some of them are shirtless; their shoes fly off as they flail and fall; they look confused, as though trying to swim down the side of a mountain. The man in the picture, by contrast, is perfectly vertical, and so is in accord with the lines of the buildings behind him. He splits them, bisects them: Everything to the left of him in the picture is the North Tower; everything to the right, the South. Though oblivious to the geometric balance he has achieved, he is the essential element in the creation of a new flag, a banner composed entirely of steel bars shining in the sun. Some people who look at the picture see stoicism, willpower, a portrait of resignation; others see something else — something discordant and therefore terrible: freedom. There is something almost rebellious in the man’s posture, as though once faced with the inevitability of death, he decided to get on with it; as though he were a missile, a spear, bent on attaining his own end. He is, fifteen seconds past 9:41 a.m. EST, the moment the picture is taken, in the clutches of pure physics, accelerating at a rate of thirty-two feet per second squared. He will soon be traveling at upwards of 150 miles per hour, and he is upside down. In the picture, he is frozen; in his life outside the frame, he drops and keeps dropping until he disappears.Read more: http://www.esquire.com/features/ESQ0903-SEP_FALLINGMAN#ixzz0QpvOHMNp

This is from 1 of Esquire’s 7 best articles. Clicking thru takes you to it. H/T to GMSTR

In the picture, he departs from this earth like an arrow. Although he has not chosen his fate, he appears to have, in his last instants of life, embraced it. If he were not falling, he might very well be flying. He appears relaxed, hurtling through the air. He appears comfortable in the grip of unimaginable motion. He does not appear intimidated by gravity’s divine suction or by what awaits him. His arms are by his side, only slightly outriggered. His left leg is bent at the knee, almost casually. His white shirt, or jacket, or frock, is billowing free of his black pants. His black high-tops are still on his feet. In all the other pictures, the people who did what he did — who jumped — appear to be struggling against horrific discrepancies of scale. They are made puny by the backdrop of the towers, which loom like colossi, and then by the event itself. Some of them are shirtless; their shoes fly off as they flail and fall; they look confused, as though trying to swim down the side of a mountain. The man in the picture, by contrast, is perfectly vertical, and so is in accord with the lines of the buildings behind him. He splits them, bisects them: Everything to the left of him in the picture is the North Tower; everything to the right, the South. Though oblivious to the geometric balance he has achieved, he is the essential element in the creation of a new flag, a banner composed entirely of steel bars shining in the sun. Some people who look at the picture see stoicism, willpower, a portrait of resignation; others see something else — something discordant and therefore terrible: freedom. There is something almost rebellious in the man’s posture, as though once faced with the inevitability of death, he decided to get on with it; as though he were a missile, a spear, bent on attaining his own end. He is, fifteen seconds past 9:41 a.m. EST, the moment the picture is taken, in the clutches of pure physics, accelerating at a rate of thirty-two feet per second squared. He will soon be traveling at upwards of 150 miles per hour, and he is upside down. In the picture, he is frozen; in his life outside the frame, he drops and keeps dropping until he disappears.
Read more: http://www.esquire.com/features/ESQ0903-SEP_FALLINGMAN#ixzz0QpvOHMNp

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How the world really is

squashed:

I read today that 9/11 shocked us from a complacent naivete and awakened us to the way the world really is. The idealists, this editorial asserts, believe in a world of hope and reconciliation while the realists know that the world is a terrifying place full of dreadful people seeking to destroy everything we care about. The realists know that we always need to be vigilant because suffering is only a heartbeat away and that things like art, community, and whatever affectations we wrap ourselves in cannot keep horror at bay. Nasty things lurk just outside our comfortable, too-frail bubbles.

I don’t deny that there are nasty things in the world. Nor should we pretend that they cannot hurt us. And yet, when did bad things become more “real” than the good ones? Why do the people who see only ugliness get to call themselves the realists? Is love so impotent and illusory? Is sickness more real than health? Are we only alive when we are unhappy? When the worst happens, do the best things vanish? Do people stop caring for each other? Do people think only of themselves? Do we stop believing in everything we once believed in? Are our ideals so fragile? Does the inevitability of our death mean we can never meaningfully exist? Is the entire project of civilization a denial of reality?

We are not as invulnerable as we pretend to be. Others can hurt us. We can hurt them. But the things we care about are real as well, even if they look distant through the shock and smoke of tragedy. In the most desperate times, the best things are most important. In a sudden medical emergency, we may not be aware of the doctors caring for us and of the family or friends watching by our bed. That does not make them less real. Let us not define humanity by our failings.

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langer:

Each year it gets a little easier.

Yesterday I was only dimly aware of the approaching anniversary. This morning it didn’t even occur to me until I was riding the subway and caught sight of the headline on someone’s newspaper. There were no inadvertant countdowns, no subconscious staring at the clock as its hands swept past 8:46.

But because others remember, so too must those of us who wish so desperately to forget.

The remembrances are everywhere: on Facebook, on the news, in those two shafts of light rising skyward from southern Manhattan. And so we have no choice but to grieve. Again.

And grief subsumes. It guides our hand to the darkest places as it seeks out its own indulgence, until, by no conscious choice of our own, we find ourselves actively looking for pain, just to feed this hungry monster that climbed inside our heads so many years ago, this monster that haunts us still, this monster that thrives only on sadness and tears.

And so you look at pictures, the same pictures you see every year. You wonder which one of those ashen faces running up West Broadway is yours, just like you do every year, to just sob gently to yourself at your desk and feed this cruel monster.

You watch the new President deliver a memorial and you realize how weak you are, how much what you really needed at the time was a leader. You remember the morning of the 12th, when you stood on your front steps shaking debris out of your shoes, hearing words like “vigilance” and “revenge” echo from the TV, and you remember how bizarre those words sounded when you were still so shocked and saddened, still so shaken by all the death that happened right in front of your eyes that you weren’t ready for vigilance or revenge and all you needed at that moment was for someone to tell you why.

Why.

You watch the new President and wonder if your monster would look any different if there had only been different leaders at the helm, if your trauma hadn’t been paraded all over the campaign trail the following November. You wonder if your monster would look any different if only your leader hadn’t said bring ‘em on but instead had just told you that the mountains may fall and the Earth may give way and the flesh and the heart may fail but after all our suffering God and grace will restore us and make us strong, firm, and steadfast.

So it is, so it has been, so it must be.

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Ordered by most used:people time love nature life doesn american beer obama friends human world marriage natural person money post college live little

Ordered by most used:

people time love nature life doesn american beer obama friends human world marriage natural person money post college live little
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"To the Republicans … we should work together to address any legitimate concerns you may have."

President Barack Obama

Think he’ll get any takers?

(via squashed)

I hope so, and if not, I’d really like to know why not?