Another reason why U.S. Representative Michele Bachmann is unfit to be President of the United States.

Posted on August 21, 2011

August 21, 2011 | Author: Jeffrey Lant | Posted in Dr. Jeffrey Lant’s Article Archive

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
There is no question that Representative Michele Bachmann emerged as the big winner in the August 13, 2011 straw poll in Ames, Iowa. Her candidacy which was once rated nearly a joke now has a certain credibility. By that I mean, she is now being discussed as more than a candidate; rather as a potential president. As such, she will get enhanced and detailed scrutiny of everything she has said, endorsed, and embraced in the past. It’s all grist for the commentator mill. This includes the many bombastic statements she has made (many of which will be cited in this article) about homosexual American citizens.
It’s time she either confirm that these declarations of hate and ignorance are still her views… or make clear she has changed her mind (very much her prerogative) as she has matured as a politician and human being.
America must know, for a candidacy based at least partly on disdain, condescension, and repeated statements advocating discriminatory policies against gay and lesbian citizens is unacceptable in 2011 and must be protested and vigorously attacked. Whatever previous presidents may have thought, believed, and said about homosexual citizens, their civil rights, including their right to marry whomsoever they wish in the exact way anyone can do, we have now reached a new chapter in this struggle; where the rights of gay citizens should be viewed as a beneficial inevitability and that the hurtful, ignorant, bigoted views of any presidential candidate immediately mark that candidate as unacceptable, threatening to the fundamental beliefs of the nation, where the granting and maintenance of rights is what we are about… not blocking those rights, thereby creating a two-tier, fundamentally inequitable society, where some get rights and benefits withheld to others.
“It’s part of Satan I think to say that this is ‘gay’. It’s anything but gay.” Minnesota state senator Michele Bachmann speaking at EdWatch National Education Conference, November 6, 2004. Does Bachmann still believe this, or not?
Bachmann’s insistent bigotry against homosexuals began when she adopted evangelical Christianity. Such people, obsessed with sexuality, particularly homosexuality keep a constant focus on a topic they know nothing about. But knowing about the subject is not required. It is enough that they use it to “prove” their superiority, for without designated whipping boys they would have no one to lord it over. Hatred towards designated people, their livestyles and beliefs, is an essential element of being “born again”. God in their pinched view is a God of vengeance… and they are quite prepared to tell you that God has made it clear who should be scourged and berated… and who should be exalted and sanctified. Let me make this point abundantly clear; the evangelicals of the United States demand scapegoats; homosexuals are absolutely crucial to their well being.
Thus on the Sunday before the straw poll, Bachmann attended the Point of Grace Church, an evangelical megachurch with a 2,000 strong congregation in Waukee, Iowa. The program began when the lights were dimmed for a video testimonial from a “straight man who used to be gay.” The man is married now, his wife pregnant. Gays deserve to be in hell, he emphasized. He claimed to be living proof that the homosexual disease and affliction could be cured through liberal doses of prayer.
Bachmann listened to this standard bigoted attack and, through her smiling presence, indicated that she believed these sentiments, sentiments which she has advocated for years… and clearly still believes today.
“If you’re involved in the gay and lesbian lifestyle, it’s bondage. It is personal bondage, personal despair and personal enslavement.” Further comments from the EdWatch National Education Conference, cited above. Does she still adhere to this opinion, or not?
“You have a teacher talking about his gayness. /The elementary school student/ goes home and says, ‘Mom! What’s gayness? We had a teacher talking about this today.’ The mother says, ‘Well, that’s when a man likes other men, and they don’t like girls.’ The boy’s eight. He’s thinking, ‘Hmmm. I don’t like girls. I like boys. Maybe I’m gay.’ And you think, ‘Oh, that’s way out there. The kid isn’t gonna think that.’ Are you kidding? That happens all the time. You don’t think that this is intentional, the message that’s being given to these kids? That’s child abuse.” Further comments from the EdWatch National Educational Conference, cited above. Does Bachmann still adhere to this opinion, or not?
Does Bachmann still believe homosexuals are “sexually dysfunctional”?
At the same EdWatch National Educational Conference cited above, Bachmann also said, “Don’t misunderstand. I am not here bashing people who are homosexuals, who are lesbians, who are bisexual, who are transgender. We need to have profound compassion for people who are dealing with the very real issue of sexual dysfunction in their life and sexual identity disorders.”
The weight of opinion in this nation has been shifting steadily for years toward a complete, overall acceptance of homosexuals and rightly so. Bachmann’s view is wrong in every particular, and she is already being called upon to explain her current position on the matter.
However, Bachmann is playing the standard political game around these outspoken, prejudiced positions. On the one hand, she wants her right-wing adherents to know, and in no uncertain terms, that she has not changed her position one iota. However, she also wants these folks, who constitute her essential core constituency, to know that she cannot be as outspoken on these matters as previously… because her ultra conservative supporters are insufficient to hand her the nomination. She must expand her base, to folks who are far more moderate on the homosexual question, especially gay marriage, and would not only feel uncomfortable with Bachmann’s views on the subject but would oppose her outrageous language and unnecessary malevolence towards fellow law-abiding, tax- paying citizens of the United States.
Thus Bachmann, famous for her uncompromising views on any subject she takes up, is now doing some fancy footwork that will (wink, wink) reassure her most ideological followers that she is still the old Michele they love… while reaching out to moderates with a very different rendition.
And now the cherry on the cake..
On March 6, 2004, Bachmann was a guest on “Prophetic Views Behind the News” on KKMS 980-AM hosted by Jan Markell. She said, “It isn’t that some gay will get some rights. It’s that everyone else in our state will lose rights. For instance, parents will lose the right to protect and direct the upbringing of their children. Because our K-12 public school system, of which ninety percent of all youth are in the public school system, they will be required to learn that homosexuality is normal, equal, and perhaps you should try it. And that will occur immediately, that all schools will begin teaching homosexuality.” Does Bachmann still adhere to this grab-bag of intolerance, misinformation, ignorance, and malignity? America demands and deserves a straight answer.
Last words
Michele Bachmann has served in her state’s senate and in the Congress of the United States. From this combined public service she can point to absolutely no legislation of her sponsorship that benefited anyone except her own political agenda. She has no foreign policy experience, she knows nothing of national defence, she has no immigration policy and has no economic, financial or job-creation experience. She is a poorly educated woman who would need home schooling in the White House. Her strong suit is religious mummery, a smug certainty that she knows God and understands His will, and how to create sound bites which get the attention of a slothful nation, wanting quick fixes to endemic problems.
But above all else, we cannot afford the luxury of a candidate, much less a president who carries the burden of such hostility, spite, rancor and aversion to so many of our best and most productive citizens, whose mere presence on this planet she finds unsettling and unacceptable. Challenged though we are, we have not yet sunk so low in America as that, to see in Michele Bachmann a president, a woman who would divide rather than unify us. In conclusion, I refer her to the greatest man her party has yet produced, a man who spoke of “malice towards none, with charity for all.” Thus Abraham Lincoln in his second inaugural address… the man who died bringing together the great nation this misguided woman would rend.
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About The Author
Harvard-educated
Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com
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Smart Tips For Your Personal And Business Success Today……….The students return to Cambridge, August 2011…. I welcome them, remember…and smile.

Smart Tips For Your Personal And Business Success Today……….The students return to Cambridge, August 2011….  I welcome them, remember…and smile.


By Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author’s program note:

There could only be one song to accompany this article,the theme from the 1970 film “Love Story,” written by Harvard classicist Erich Segal. You see, this article is about a love story, too, a love for a special place…and for a lifetime of memories launched from this very neighborhood.  Start by going to any search engine and finding the lush “Love Story” theme… designed to put you in the mood for memories… deep, poignant, infinitely touching, forgiving.It has been 42 years now, almost to the minute, since I first arrived in Cambridge,Massachusetts to commence my Harvard education. It was, in fact, the Friday of Labor Day week-end, and I arrived here without benefit of previous visit, without knowing a single person, and with an incipient case of mononucleosis. To compound the challenges, I had about $50 to my name.And yet, when I first saw Harvard Square… then Harvard Yard… I knew that I was exactly where I wanted to be… exactly. Such insistent insights irrevocably change lives.The privileged students of Harvard are now just beginning  to arrive, the anxious freshmen…desperate not to show the anxieties they could not hope to conceal; the insouciant upper class-men, omniscient, whose every move tells the world that they have been here before and are now the repository of the Harvard mystique, which they know…and defy the rest to find, if they can.The returning students are keen to put you in your place by retailing the stories of their life-shaping, exotic, privileged summer vacations. This one drops the name of a well-known candidate with at least a chance for the White House. “I had lunch with him just the other day,” the student avers. He does not say the candidate had dropped into a sandwich shop in New Hampshire to shake hands.He bought a tuna on dark rye, extra pickles, to go. He gulped a bit, handed the balance to the student who was go-fer of the day. Such was the lunch they shared… but while the actuality was unimpressive, the massaged tale more than serves its purpose of enhancing the student’s perceived altitude in the pecking order, where perception is everything.And every Harvard student is a master of perception.Other returning students drop the names of congressmen in whose crowded offices they interned. There are the many who served the green movement… the others who scrutinized the “must see” locations of a dozen European countries,including the young woman entertained at dinner by the president of Latvia,who just happened to be a distant cousin. The welcoming meeting was capped by a photograph of the president en famille with cousin, autographed of course, very much on display in the student’s dorm room where the flag of Latvia was immediately visible and impressive upon entrance. Harvard students know the value of presidents,to whose powers and office many naturally aspire.The returning students have a pecking order for everything, including just when and how they return. Upper class men in positions of power and influence (like editors of”The Crimson,” the most influential student newspaper in the nation) come early.They wish to demonstrate their seriousness and control. The best writers, including those already published in “Cosmo” or the “Village Voice” with even a soupcon of name recognition, come later, at the very last moment. They wish editors to know they are beyond the mundane banalities of time and place… from the very way they enter the newsroom,they tell you the paper is the better for their presence, not the other way round. It’s an advantage they intend to press. Such students, an early book and film deal already in the offing, know not only the essentials of smooth condescension but the knack of sailing near the edge of impudence and imprudence, without missing a beat. Too, they know the secrets of a glamor so serviceable on a walk down Holyoke Street… or a book jacket with attitude. They walk. Heads turn and boys from small towns and respected families know the misery of sharp desire… never to be fulfilled.These students, who scoff at the unending ways aristocrats at the Court of Versailles insulted their inferiors while toadying to those they intend to insult tomorrow, are themselves and undeniably masters of such nuances. Who is greeted, how they are greeted, whether there is allowable physical contact or not and where,all these are subject to the most arcane rules and procedures. You have only to watch a small group of students as they walk through the Yard to see it on full display.Find the person in the middle of the group, the most verbal, the most voluble, the most directive, without even a scintilla of hesitation or doubt. He is on display…a beau brummell, for all his shoes are scuffed and jeans ripped. A cox comb, a popinjay,he yet has claims to your life… and  makes suggestions with impunity on what you must do and how… whilst  his followers listen, follow and take no liberties, for all they want to. Their  time will come… and they will put these invaluable insights to work…Some students, of course, do not participate in these tribal rites of the young and upwardly mobile. Instead, they sit in their unkempt rooms and vow terrible vengeanceon the chosen ones whom they envy and dream of. Years from now they write novels and memoires about how miserable and oppressed they were. They were neither,of course, they just didn’t know what to do and lacked the gumption required to take their places amongst the glorious.Jenny Cavalleri could have gone either way.Jenny Cavalleri was a character in “Love Story” so great a hit that people worldwide came to Harvard to see where its protagonists cavorted, played, and loved. She came from no family either and, but for an accident of fate, might have gone through four lackluster years at the College, and then married a suitable Italian boy passing muster with her father.But she knew how to wisecrack… and one deftly timed comment opened her way to a world as unknown as Mars, where those selected by God and birth to flourish had names like Oliver Barrett IV and Harvard buildings named after clever ancestors, the better to mark you, too, for life and ease your way.Oliver Barrett IV was most assuredly in… and he was determined that Jenny should be in, too… but she, famously, died young, the experiment incomplete and inconclusive.Youthful disdain.Like many people in Cambridge, I did not read “Love Story” or even see the film in 1970.They were, after all, infra dig and would never do. I probably thought like many here abouts that he, a renowned classicist, had let down the side by writing something so UN-Harvard.But then I was firmly in the thrall of what one did and didn’t do to make friends and influence the right people.Years later, when I did my book “Our Harvard” I asked Erich Segal class of ’58 to provide a chapter. He couldn’t have been nicer or more professional to work with. He opened his-essay with this paragraph:”In September 1954 I and a thousand or so other freshmen gathered in Cambridge, sharing the confident assumption that, having been chosen for Harvard, we were, ipso facto, the best and the brightest. And that very first day we learned the most painful lesson of our young  lives: most of  our classmates were better and brighter. We spent the rest of our college years coming to terms with this and spent the rest of our lives trying to disguise it. This is the root cause of the infamous Harvard arrogance.” Now a brand-new crop of Harvard students is arriving, each to learn this truth and promptly lock it away, as they master the ways of getting others, especially  those better and brighter than they, to believe what they want them to  believe… When they fully learn this lesson, they will not only be a success at Harvard… they will be ready to take on the world and leave it breathless at their high skills, unmatched abilities,and, most of all, a charm that moves mountains and peoples of every kind. And it will all occur just paces from me… while I watch and enjoy, as I have for so very many years, with many more to come.
About the Author Harvard-educated
Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com
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Hot off the press 325 article in the series I’ve got you under my skin.’ Bed bugs on the rise!

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s program note. I found lots of songs for the musical accompaniment to this article, but one in particular really stood out, Cole Porter’s smooth tune “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” It was introduced in 1936 in the Eleanor Powell MGM musical “Born to Dance” in which it was performed by Virginia Bruce. It was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Song that year.
It was given a new lease on life by Frank Sinatra. He first sang the song in 1946 on his weekly radio show. It immediately became his signature tune, amorous, hummable, sophisticated in the distinctive Sinatra manner. In 1963 he included it in his album titled “Sinatra’s Sinatra”… and it will indeed get under your skin… like those pesky bed bugs. You’ll find it in any search engine.
Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite. But if they do. Take your shoe and hit them till they’re black and blue.
My grannie said this to me at bedtime all the time, but I didn’t know what a bed bug was until I went away to college. Then I promptly got the infernal itch that comes when grannie isn’t there with her strict hygienic standards and proven bug eradication methods. The bugs know this, of course, and know they’re in for a long feast where you, itching in places you didn’t know existed, provide a most diverting floor show.
New nationwide survey shows bed bugs on the rise.
According to a survey released August 17, 2011 by the National Pest Management Association and the University of Kentucky, pest control companies said there was double-digit growth in infestations in the past year. These infestations are particularly noticeable in college and other school dorms, hotels, nursing homes, hospitals, office buildings, schools and day-care centers.
About 54 percent of pest companies reported treating bed bugs in college dorms, compared with 35 percent in 2010; 80 percent treated hotels, compared with 67 percent the year before, and 36 percent report treating schools and day-care settings for the bugs, more than triple the 10 percent in 2010. In short, this is a problem with real bite.
What is a bed bug anyway?
Cimicidae (bed bugs) are small parasitic insects. The most common type is Cimex lectularius. The term usually refers to species that prefer to feed on human blood. All insects in this family live by feeding exclusively on the blood of warm-blooded animals.
The name “bed bug” is derived from the insect’s preferred habitat of houses and especially beds or other areas where people sleep. Bed bugs, though not strictly nocturnal, are mainly active at night and are capable of feeding unnoticed on their hosts.
Physical description of bed bugs.
Adult bed bugs are light brown to reddish-brown, flattened, oval shaped and have no hind wings but front wings are vestigial and reduced to pad-like structures. Adults grow to 4-5 mm in length and 1.5-3 mm wide. Newly hatched nymphs are translucent, lighter in color and become browner as they moult and reach maturity.
Reproductive habits of bed bugs.
All bed bugs mate by traumatic insemination. Female bed bugs possess a reproductive tract that functions during oviposition, but the male doesn’t use this tract for sperm insemination. Instead, the male pierces the female’s abdomen with his hypodermic genitalia and ejaculates into the body cavity. As they mate, of course, your eradication problems grow and grow.
History of bed bugs.
Bed bugs may have originated in the Middle East, in caves inhabited by bats and humans.
The ancient Greeks, who chronicled everything, first wrote of bed bugs as early as 400 BC. They were later mentioned in Aristotle and in Pliny’s “Natural History” first published in Rome circa 77 AD. Pliny claimed bed bugs had medicinal value being able to treat such ailments as snake bites and ear infections. He did not explain where, should you be bitten by a snake, you would quickly find the necessary number of bed bugs to treat the bite… but no doubt that problem would be solved at the time, especially if you were bitten at home and had a large bed bug infestation to hand. “Flavius, I’ve been bitten by a snake… go fetch me as many bed bugs as you can… right now!”
Fast forward to the 18th century where Guettard recommended the use of bed bugs to cure hysteria. Not to quibble with a master, but I should have thought applying bed bugs, especially crushed and in a pasty mass, was more likely to induce hysteria rather than cure it, but I defer…
Infestation and eradication of bed bugs.
The goal of the bed bug is to infest your dwelling in every way possible:
* “hitchhiking in” on pets, on clothing or luggage.
* infesting items such as furniture or clothing brought in to your home
* infesting your dwelling by entering through duct work or false ceilings
* brought in by wild animals such as bats or birds.
Once they’re in your house, you’ve got a real problem, not least because bed bugs are elusive and hard to spot. They often lodge unnoticed in dark crevices and eggs can nestle in fabric seams. Aside from bite symptoms, signs include fecal spots, blood smears on sheets, and molts.
Bed bugs can be detected by their characteristic smell of cilantro, coriander, almonds or over-ripe raspberries. Bed bug detection dogs are trained to pinpoint infestations, with accuracy up to 97.5%.
Practical steps for getting rid of the pests.
1) Clear the infested area. Get rid of everything you don’t need and place it in tightly sealed plastic bags.
2. Remove all bedding, clothing etc. and place this in sealed plastic bags also. Launder everything at as high a temperature as possible. Items which cannot be laundered may be placed in your tumble dryer on a high setting for about 10 minutes. Alternatively you could use a steam cleaner to kill any bugs in garments unsuitable for laundering or tumble drying. Once items have been treated place them in fresh plastic bags and seal them up again to avoid recontamination. REMEMBER â?? you will have to check closets, drawers etc. because bed bugs will hide out anywhere.
3. Once the room is completely clear, vacuum everywhere in a methodical, thorough manner. This must include the bed, soft furnishings, curtains, inside furniture, etc. Also check places like smoke alarms, light switches and alarm clocks. It is vital that you also empty your vacuum cleaner into plastic bags and seal them tightly immediately you complete this task.
4. Repeat step three using a steam cleaning. Bed bugs cannot withstand heat and a steam cleaner delivers an immediate, intense source. This should get rid of bed bugs at all stages of their development from eggs and nymphs through to full sized adult bugs.
5. If you have any small cracks or crevices in walls or floors now is a good time to carry out repairs. This will get rid of bed bug hiding places!
Beware of extreme eradication measures.
Bed bugs cause acute human exasperation, especially if you’ve tried to get rid of them and failed. In this case you must beware of the “I’ll get you buggers” response. Here folks engage in extreme, dangerous measures, including the use of kerosene, alcohol, gasoline, or diesel fuel.
In July, the owner of an infested Ohio home, heated his dwelling to 140 degrees… and promptly started a fire that destroyed it. On the whole it’s better to call a pest control company. And if all else fails, sing some Sinatra beloved of the bugs who love us so, “Don’t you know, little fool, you never can win. Use your mentality. Get back to reality…” and learn to live with them…
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About The Author
Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com
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Economic times dismal at your end? Here are 5 positive things you can do RIGHT NOW to beat them and smile the smile of the shrewd!

Posted on August 17, 2011

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant


Author’s program note. I’m sure you know the song “Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream… Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.” It’s an English language nursery rhyme, sung as a round. At the commencement of each line another person joins the chorus until all participants are engaged. It’s a tonic for depressed spirits… right now there are millions of those as the world economy resembles nothing so much as a pogo stick — up, down, up, down. But not for you… I’m dishing out today the sane, safe, superior advice that’ll enable you not only to get through these difficult days of Chicken Little and the doomsayers, but actually be better off. And by the way, if you’ve never heard the immemorial round above, you can easily find it in any search engine. It’s a grand song…
1) People panic. You cannot.
The first thing that happens during bad times is that millions of people panic, thereby causing an avalanche of bad news, thereby causing millions more to panic. And so on until you’re thoroughly alarmed, depressed and, you’re convinced, in financial extremis.
This is happening right now.
My father, and the Good Book, deliver the sage admonition “This too shall pass.” And so it will. Good times, bad times, mediocre times, entirely unforgettable times, and the entirely forgettable ones which precede and follow, it’s all just fodder for the newspaper. What matters is not so much what’s happening, but what you do with the intelligence.
Lots of people refuse to accept this economic gospel and run themselves ragged in days like these, lamenting the condition of the world and their own impending penury and residence in the poor house.
You’re smart… you take the long view. You realize that,for all investment strategies you need a window of AT LEAST five years, and that the minimum. Only if like scaring yourself should be reading economic data on a daily basis The long view is the only view.

2) When the world sells, buy.
Over the last days, especially in the light of the downgrading for the historic first time ever of Uncle Sam’s credit rating, the markets have experienced hyper instability. This worries you. But what you should be worrying about is whether you’ve been buying stocks at often dirt-cheap prices enabling you in later days to exult at your cleverness and cause involuntary cheer that “life is but a dream.”
Virtually every company on earth is for sale RIGHT NOW at rock-bottom, fire- sale prices. As stock prices tilt (or even careen) lower, you are handed on a sterling silver salver one buying opportunity after another. Smart money, therefore, is buying today, even if there is a reasonable likelihood prices may go lower tomorrow. But the smart money never lives to micro-time the markets. The celebrated Victorian financier J.P.Morgan when asked by someone in search of a hot tip what would happen on Wall Street, majestically opined, “The market will vary.” And so it will.
Bet that the worldwide economic order will not collapse under Chicken Little’s jeremiads, and buy, buy, buy. To bet on the economic future of the world is hardly much of a risk at all… and all investment harbors some degree of risk, even Uncle Sam’s (still golden if a bit tarnished) bonds. 3) Pay off debt.
We New Englanders have an expression for roiling seas, “Hunker down.” It means secure absolutely everything you want to keep, then sit back to ride out any storm, even the most destructive.
Commandeer your kitchen table and artfully arrange the invoices and statements for every bill you pay. Your first job is to see where the money actually goes. Surprisingly large number of people haven’t got a clue, much less the precise figures to hand. You, protecting wealth, building wealth as you are, cannot afford to be so cavalier. Get the bills and the details of every cash outflow. Ask yourself these crucial questions:
* Can I either dispense with this item altogether or at least reduce its cost?
* Will pre-payment of this account garner useful cash discounts or other savings?
* Can I get a lower priced alternative to the service I have now?
In good times, many of us are casual indeed about undertaking new expenses; we can afford the liberality and the laxity. But in bad times we cannot. Thus, invite yourself to a thorough review of every expense with a view towards eradicating, eviscerating or even just mildly reducing your current financial burden. Remember, “a penny saved is a penny earned.”

4) Enhance your physical surroundings.
When turbulent economic times hit not only do companies and their stocks go on sale but so does the combined physical heritage of mankind, including paintings, fine furniture, carpets, silver and goldwares of royal and imperial provenance… and every kind of valuable and historic artifact. Smart shoppers, smart collectors, insightful connoisseurs are ready to pounce. And you must be ready, too.
In the darkest days of the great recession of 2008, when purveyors of the dismal science were at their most bleak indeed, smart buyers were intensely scrutinizing the worldwide economy; as it tanked, they exulted. Every brilliant artifact on earth from the great Impressionists to the storied Easter Eggs of the Romanovs went on the block… and sank… to the glee of discerning — and patient — collectors worldwide. Such people — and I unabashedly include myself –live for such moments, of war, revolution and acute economic distress. Why? Because each artifact no matter how grand and impressive its provenance changes value as often as stocks, bonds and commodities. And they know that what goes down will (if an artifact of beauty, refinement and appeal) go up again. Thus you should welcome economic downturns, the more acute the merrier, as an opportunity to live like the Windsors (who are by the way such canny “fire sale prices” collectors.)

5) Put off non-essential purchases.
To be an American is to be born with a credit card. “I buy, therefore I am” is our national motto and birthright. As a result, we all buy too much, including way too much of the inessential. During periods of economic confusion and anxiety, intense scrutinizing every purchase before it’s made is essential.
List every single thing you intend to buy in the next month, two months, and quarter. Grade their necessity, with 1 being an item of little need… and 10 being one of acute and pressing want.
Remember, buying things, especially non-essential things, is the quickest way to punch a gaping (and avoidable) hole in your rowboat. You avoid it by becoming a “conscious buyer”, never an impulse purchaser, no matter how tempting the item in question.
Last words
To build wealth is a matter of constant scrutiny and penny-pinching frugality, the kind so beloved and extolled by Benjamin Franklin, the original “time is money” man. And remember this: when all the trees of the world are gone, when all the water in the world and all the air are gone, when every animal species is not just endangered but gone, there will still be money and lots of it. Why? Because money is manmade and therefore capable of infinite expansion. Use these timely tips to make sure you get more of it, much, much more. “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…” For now your financial betterment is not a dream but daily improving reality.
 

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About The Author
 “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…” For now your financial betterment is not a dream but daily improving reality.* * * * *

Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com
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Wanted: A Good Job and Some Understanding

Posted on August 17, 2011

For everyone who hasn’t had a chance to serve your country wanted to bring to light and important topic this is Hire Veteran we bring the following qualities: Dedicated towards a principle of family, teamwork, working in diverse environments, highly stressful situations, and we show up on time.
I was honored to know that a fellow veteran is writing about this experience and wanted to share this on my blog:
August 16, 2011, 10:52 am

Wanted: A Good Job and Some Understanding

By JONATHAN RAAB

My father and I don’t talk much about my time in the war. I’ve told him a little about my frustrations with the experience and about my contradictory feelings of pride and humbleness. During dinner one evening, when we were discussing my difficulties with juggling my civilian job and National Guard responsibilities, my father finished chewing his food and placed his fork down on the table.
“When I look at a guy who has to report to drill every month, as a manager and as a hirer, I have to think about that,” he said. “I know he’s gonna be asking for a lot of days off, and that isn’t easy to give. Some guys come back from the war with all sorts of issues, which is understandable, but I have to deal with that. Honestly, I think about it twice before I hire them.”
My mom snapped at him for being insensitive. I sensed an argument brewing, so I intervened.
“No, mom. It’s O.K.” I said. “He’s just being honest.”
Whatever a veteran’s experience — that of an Air Force postal clerk on a F.O.B. outside of Kabul, a Navy engineer developing construction plans for local security forces, a Marine fighting through Fallujah, or an Army grunt living atop a ridgeline with a number for a name — we all share the unsharable. When we leave active duty, or our reserve or National Guard units release us from federal orders, we return to our families and our homes. And we are alone. Our families and our friends did not come with us, and they cannot follow us back when we think and re-think of our time away as part of the military machine and culture.
We keep in touch with comrades from the deployment, but they are not always around. Some are lucky enough to discover new friends — veterans from other units or branches or deployments who, though they may not have served alongside us, served with us, and speak the common language of slang, memories and symbols.
Usually though, we have to walk the paths of memory and experience alone. Some people are scared to ask questions, because they don’t want to sound insensitive or uninformed.
I’ve decided that it’s better to remain cryptic and silent in most situations, because being honest with people is like a magician revealing the secret to his tricks — you lose any semblance of honor or professionalism that the other person may have projected onto you, and you are left feeling pretty foolish about putting on the little show in the first place.
When I came back from Afghanistan in 2008, I set about trying to reconnect with my family and friends. When I saw my civilian peers advancing in their careers or personal lives, I felt as if I had been left behind — that the year I spent serving my country was a waste, because I could have stayed home to improve my education or résumé.
Very quickly I discovered that my anxiety about getting blown up in unfamiliar places with alien-sounding names like Baraki Barak or Kharwar (yes, those are real names) was replaced with anxiety about not getting into school, finding a job, or meeting new (or reconnecting with old) friends in once-familiar places like Buffalo or Rochester.
When I interviewed to get into the University of Rochester’s graduate program for teaching, my second interview was with a younger professor who had instructed and advised hopeful social studies teachers for several years.
With my shaved head and crisp “… sir” tacked on to the end of every sentence, I no doubt came across as ridiculous to the young jeans-wearing academic with a Che Guevara poster on his office wall and plastic toy soldiers next to his Howard Zinn histories.
“So, why did you get out of the Army?” he asked, again and again. I kept giving nonanswers like, “I wasn’t totally happy,” or “It was time to move on,” but he wouldn’t let it go. I did not feel like talking with a complete stranger about some of my more difficult experiences. I felt like he had a political diatribe lined up for lunch in the staff lounge about our interview. I figured he wanted something cutting to tell his friends, and I didn’t want to give it to him.
Finally, feeling nervous and with a sheen of sweat beading along my forehead, I looked him square in the eye and gave him an honest answer.
“I didn’t feel like we were fighting to win.”
When I received an acceptance letter to the school, I was pleasantly surprised. I became one of only two veterans attending the entire school of education.
After I finished the program, I interviewed for several teaching jobs. The questions about my military experience could be uncomfortable, and prospective employers didn’t always understand how serving in the infantry could relate to teaching. One principal even joked that if I had dodged grenades, I could handle a few kids.
A false smile through gritted teeth was the best that I could offer in response.
When I landed a long-term substitute job, things were beginning to look up. The principal, after seeing me sub for several different grade levels, committed to hiring me as a teacher’s aide for the rest of the school year.
Because I was not working as a full, independent teacher, most of my day was spent assisting another teacher. When I had conflicts with her, however small, I didn’t want to come across as an angry, self-righteous, or “crazy” veteran. So I kept my mouth shut.
When I informed the principal that I intended to re-enlist and deploy to Afghanistan at the beginning of the next school year, I thought that he would appreciate my honesty.
A few days before coming home from my three-week National Guard pre-mobilization training session, I received a call from him.
“I wanted to let you know that the woman who’s been subbing for you has really worked out, and I have decided to keep her on for the rest of the year. We all think it would be best for the kids because she’s going to be around next year, and you’re not. You can still come in every day, of course, but we’re going to move you around from room to room where we need you …”
His voice faded away as I withdrew into myself. I was exhausted. I hadn’t showered in days, and my uniform was caked with dirt and sweat. Three weeks was all it took to replace me. Was I that bad at my job, or was I that much of a burden on the school?
When I finished training, I went to the school to meet with the principal. I told him that no thank you, I wouldn’t be available to sub for the rest of the year. I had developed a relationship with the kids and did not want to have to start all over again. We talked politely and with respect, but it took every ounce of self-control not to burn that bridge.
The veteran unemployment level is currently four percentage points higher than the national average. Although most people are not paying attention to the wars, their legacies are filtering back into our communities, one veteran at a time. Most of these men and women are just glad to be home and are ready to work. Some have many problems, some have just a few. What we all share is the desire to be respected and appreciated for our service — whether completed or ongoing in a reserve capacity — and to be seen as a benefit to the employer, or an opportunity by the employer to directly support a military that is all too often cleaved from the civilian world it fights to protect.
Back at the dinner table, my father looked off into the autumn hills before speaking again. I followed his gaze but didn’t see the colorful foliage. I saw jagged peaks and swirling sand.
“The reality is that training and weekends off costs us money and time, and I gotta track down someone to fill in, or I get calls from his unit telling me that I can’t put him to work some days. It’s a hardship.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” my mom said. “They are serving their country.”
“No, I didn’t say that it was right,” he answered.
“I know a lot of employers think this,” I cut in. “They won’t admit it — they can’t, not legally — but they think it on some level.”
Both of my parents stared hard into their dinner plates. “Everybody wants to support the troops until they have to share in the hardship and sacrifice,” I said. “Then all of a sudden that bumper sticker or that flag pin doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
Jonathan Raab is a spokesman for Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America who is currently preparing for his second deployment to Afghanistan with the New York Army National Guard. He is a certified Social Studies and Special Education teacher, and will be looking for a job when he comes home.
You can follow his blog at www.withabibleinmyruck.blogspot.com.
About Author
19 year active duty member US Navy about to complete a successful 20 year career and will be joining the Civilian workforce next year to help the right company prosper into the 21st century and beyond!
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Howard Martell
Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com Check out Google Cash Monster ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=nt55xgzO

‘Help me! Help me! For God’s sake, help me…’ but answer came there none, a tale of horror and primal fear. August 16, 2011

Posted on August 16, 2011

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant,
Author’s program note. Do you remember the theme music for the 1958 Alfred Hitchcock classic “Vertigo”? That music was composed by master mood manipulator Bernard Herrmann, one of the best. I selected this music, of course, because it accentuates the words of the article; also because I suffer from vertigo, and know the fear of falling, out of control, unable to stop. It is terrifying. You will easily find this tune in any search engine. Find it now… and play it loud. You are about not just to read but participate in a story of primal fear… and this music sets just the right mood of alarm, panic, and heartrending despair.
It was a late July 2011 evening in Johannesburg, South Africa, and the household of the unidentified man at the center of this story was in shock, sorrow and lamentations. Their 80-year old patriarch had died unexpectedly after complaining of chest pains and difficulty breathing. The family had been through this before; he suffered from acute asthma. They had urged him to lay down and rest, never thinking that these pains were any different from those which came before, that this time they signalled the end. However, they did and within just a couple of hours the family was dealing with the shock and horror of his unexpected death.
In due course the family called in an undertaker to help.
The morgue was owned by Ayanda Maqolo who asked his driver to visit the family, work with its members at this difficult moment, and take the body for burial. It was in every way a standard case, the most difficult part, as always, dealing with the grieving family and the usual “What if…” questions, wondering if they couldn’t have done more… if there wasn’t something they might have done. The driver did his best to reassure and comfort, but he was on a tight schedule… and he had things to do before taking the body away.
He therefore set about examining the body, checking the victim’s pulse, looking for a heartbeat… but, as Maqolo said, there was no sign of life, none at all. Again, it was all standard, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The poor old gentleman was well and truly dead, but then he was eighty and ailing.
And so the driver took the body to Maqolo’s morgue, put it into a locked, refrigerated compartment. It was now an object subject to rules and regulations, on its way to cremation. The owner locked up for the night, going home to his family, glad to be alive.
But the old gentleman wasn’t dead. He was as alive as you or me. And now he was alone, more alone than he had ever been….
Perhaps the coolness of the facility helped… but in a while the old gentleman began to stir. He thought he was dreaming… and in this dream he was on his back, confined in a small compartment, just big enough for him. He sensed he was not alone… that there was something else, many somethings near at hand. He shook himself… he didn’t like this dream… and, besides, he needed the loo, as old gentlemen do.
But in an instant, he knew that this wasn’t a dream. It was terrifying reality. He didn’t know where he was… but he knew he was trapped there. He began to scream for help; these screams didn’t sound like him; they sounded like yelps of terror and despair, sounds he had never heard himself make before. There was no answer…. nothing stirred in this facility of death, where oblivion was always the order of the day.
After a while, his strength abated; his were no longer sharp and piercing but the pathetic sounds a wounded animal makes as its lifeblood runs out and its smells death. Besides now his cool compartment smelled. A supremely clean man, he now lay in his own dirt and urine, frightened… disgusted. This was not the way in which he wanted to meet his God.
And now he passed into a new, different stage. At first, like all victims of every accident, his focus was on his escape. He was certain he would escape; that getting out was simply a matter of shouting the right number of screams… kicking the door the right number of times… and persisting. But that hadn’t worked… and he knew the acute sensation that the world and he were now disconnected and that the living were already in the process of moving on, even discussing how they would spend the little windfall his death would provide.
Now he flashed angry… He thought: they always tolerated me just for the money; they never truly loved me or even wanted me around. His vulgar daughter-in-law was the worst of all… she had always had her eye on the money. And then, alone in the dark recalling the miseries, insults and humiliations of life, he considered how easily she might have doctored his food…. or his medicine. She had motive, access, and no doubt the potion required to simulate death. He felt indignation, rage, hatred… and he beat on the unyielding bright steel compartment with renewed energy fueled by murderous wrath. If he was doomed to die here… he would go happy with her blood on his hands. This thought irradiated his withered face with a happiness formed from bile, acid and disdain.
Trapped on his back, able to wiggle fingers and toes, but little more, every sense was accentuated. It was as if he were experiencing them for the first time. He could smell the smells of old age and evacuation… and… then he remembered. When his aunt had died in a car accident when he was a boy, his father went to the morgue to identify her; he had insisted on you going too; it was a thing a boy must know. Now he knew he was in a morgue… and that the somethings around him were each a formerly sentient human, now a husk awaiting the flames… and he sobbed. For he knew that that was his fate, too.
He beat on his cage, with every ounce of his dwindling strength. For he was not ready to go… not ready to die… he had life to claim and not a moment to relinquish.
He was old, alone, buried, unheard, despairing… and yet alive.
He tried to comport himself for God, for now he knew (how had he ever doubted) that God was real and waiting… but he kept reverting to thoughts of life… and how he was being cheated of what was his, for all there was little of it left. It’s mine, he shrieked. Mine! And he thought he saw the countenance of God, smiling, beckoning… calling him home…
… and so he passed into uneasy sleep.
Then he felt, rather than saw, there was a pinprick of bright light… which motivated him to beat on his compartment and scream for assistance. His unearthly yells were heard… and frightened the workers, who always knew the devil and his helpers were real. And now they were in this very room… purveyors of mayhem and damnation. Maqolo, as owner, though frightened out of his wits, went forward and with fearful trepidation unlocked the fetid compartment where a pale, agitated but grateful old gentleman with great civility asked to be taken out… and taken home. His family was ecstatic though his daughter-in-law looked apprehensive as well she might.
The old gentleman had passed 21 hours in desperation… weighed down by doom, death a growing possibility. He had screamed for God and deliverance… losing hope, sobbing as he confronted the theft of his life. But this time, God answered the prayers of torment and dismay… and gave the man a renewed lease on life and a profound relief at the shear joy of escaping death, with a new ability to live! Live! And be grateful. Still the unloved and suspected daughter-in-law had best step lively….

* * * * * About The Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Jeffrey Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com Check out Google Cash Monster ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=nt55xgzO

And as she aged, she asked with trepidation ‘Am I still beautiful to you?’ And he said, ‘yes, yes, more beautiful than ever….’ August 15, 2011

Posted on August 15, 2011

 By Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author’s program note.

The world is graying as the Baby Boomers, now millions of us in our sixties, get older and older still day by inexorable day. Farseeing Stephen Sondheim, who I once met when I was at Harvard many years ago, wrote the musical for us back in 1971. It’s called “Follies”, and it has the perfect music for today’s article…a knock-out number called “Beautiful Girls.” If you know it, you’ll be glad to hear again the lyrics and music to age by… and if you’ve never heard it before, you are in for a treat you’ll want repeated over and over again, not least for its profound message that, aging, we are yet deeply and profoundly desirable…and that if we’re lucky we have the empathetic people around us, especially that special person, to say so… You’ll find this song in any search engine. Go find it now… and listen to it, really listen… You are about to make a very special person so very happy…. Can you even remember the last time…? The problem with relationships is that the good thing, having it there every day, is the bad thing. It’s comfortable like an old shoe or bunny slipper. You don’t have to do much, maybe nothing, because it’s right there, right now…. and so it goes until you are well and truly in a rut, devaluing and taking for granted the most important thing you’ll ever have. If I’m describing things at your home, then this article is for you, and not a moment too soon! Not a woman’s issue, not a man’s issue, a human issue. We humans are social animals. We do not do well alone which is why solitary confinement in prison is considered the ultimate punishment… to deprive us of the necessary company of our fellow beings is completely unsettling. Thus, because togetherness is not merely a nice thing to have but an absolute necessity, we spend our entire lives, men as well as women, working (and working hard) to find that “perfect” mate… the one who gives us just the volatile mixture of peace and passion we require. It is a tall order; many never find it, many have much of it, but throw good relationships away trying to get the rest. In many ways the struggle to find and keep the “perfect” person constitutes the most important of life’s many struggles. People need to have their desirability noted, confirmed, extolled, especially as the burdensome years add up. I am 64 now and acutely aware of time’s winged chariot; I often feel it is running me over… or at least that I am slower these days about getting out of its way. It is an irksome feeling, irritating, exasperating and shared by millions worldwide. “Why,” we wonder “couldn’t we have had just a bit more of the magic of being twenty, thirty, thirty nine… even an extension on yesterday?” We’re smart… we know why… but we never stop wishing for more of what we had. But such wishes, as we know only too well, won’t add even a single moment to the brilliant events of our lives. Thus, we must focus on what we have, for that, too, will be gone too soon and deeply missed. Under such circumstances we must learn to enjoy… to appreciate… to celebrate… to exult. And that must start today. First, understand that it is the universal human condition to experience dismay, despair, even desperation as we age. We see aging as a process of diminution and diminishment. As a society, we are fixated on the bodies, the looks, the capabilities and agilities of the young, often the very young. We are a youth-centered society and as a result end up depressing those whose youth is often a distant memory. This is wrong. And Stephen Sondheim knew it was wrong, a situation screaming for a different emphasis. And so he wrote “Follies”. It’s the story of 5 women, all stunners, who have aged through the engrossing, demanding high times and low of their lives… Sondheim wants them to live again in all their beauty and jaw-dropping perfection. And so “Follies” was born. It was a great success, an enchantment that made an audience leap to its feet as one aging gloriosa after another came down the circular staircase into the limelight and applause she claimed by right. We all wanted her to have it… and we were all grateful to Sondheim for resurrecting the joy these women gave us, beautiful girls forever… whatever their chronological ages. Now for you… When was the last time you took a moment to consider the situation and desirability of the most important person in your life, the person who needs the balm of your reassurance. “Am I still beautiful to you?” This question is a gamble, only asked in extremis, out of anxiety, fear that their entire world will crash if they get the wrong answer. And so, first, recognize the courage of the questioner. They risk everything by your answer. In such a moment, seize your beloved as if this were your last day on earth and say, “Yes, yes, more beautiful than ever!”, a sentiment confirmed by the most passionate kiss ever. This does not end the matter… it just starts it… for from such a moment a greater love is born… the love that is greater and more important than any physical perfection. When you look at your beloved, man or woman, you are looking at the most significant person in your life. When was the last time you made that clear… clear that you understand his sacrifices, her unceasing focus on you and everything about you? Each wrinkle, each furrow on a furrowed brow is there for you… is evidence that you were wanted, desired, lived for and loved… You have been and are a lucky person indeed. Don’t wait for a special occasion, the fact that you both are here now is special occasion enough. Taking action today, on an “ordinary” day gives whatever you do its poignant significance and power. You are saying, and saying loud and clear, that your so special being is not merely special on the days society has appointed for such matters… but each and every day… a day which touched by your inventiveness transforms an ordinary day into one of the days of your life. Now use the magic of Sondheim’s music and profound understanding of the human condition to assist. in making a point which cannot be made too often.. Sondheim’s lyrics are about all beautiful girls; change them now to be solely for your special one: Hats off, Here she comes, that Beautiful girl. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Nature never fashioned A flower so fair. No rose can compare- Nothing respectable Half so delectable. Cheer her In her glory, Diamonds and pearls, Dazzling jewels By the score. This is what beauty can be. Beauty celestial, The best, you’ll Agree: All for me, my beautiful girl! I don’t have to tell you what to do now… the stage is now set for a day you will never forget… and which is there to remind you that what you once had you have again… … thanks to that beautiful girl, or guy, in your life, in whose grateful eyes you see the resounding.

* * * * * About The Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Jeffrey Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com Check out Google Cash Monster ->  http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=nt55xgzO