Davos and Me

It's 40 degrees and raining outside, trapping me inside the house on this Saturday. I don't have many options today, unlike the world's super elite who are gathered at Davos, Switzerland. They invented options.

This annual confab of politicians, CEO's and celebrities never gets old for me. It's called The World Economic Forum, and I love it! Nothing says "irony" like fifty billionaires lecturing me about conspicuous consumption and the evils of capitalism. This year someone actually counted the private jets...1,700. It took that many private, ozone-depleting airplanes to fly the world's richest people to a resort in the Alps to discuss climate change. The same people who lecture the rest of us about sustainable lifestyles are paying 47 bucks for a hamburger. Some billionaire gave a speech informing us that we Americans will have to learn to get by with less in the future. That same billionaire flew to Davos in a private jet with not one but TWO nannies on board.

Still, Davos is the place to see and be seen for the world's .003%. No oligarch would be caught dead anywhere else the third weekend in Janurary. There will be panel discussions on all of the trendiest topics of the day. There will be speeches by the most beautiful people on earth. The wealthiest men and women will have an opportunity to demonstrate their knowledge of world issues, and show their concern for the 99.997% of the world who can't afford two nannies. There will be cocktail parties and concerts, private screenings of earnest documentaries bemoaning some coming appocholypse. Al Gore, the patron saint of Davos will be there in his exalted position as "conscience of the planet." Bill Clinton always can be depended upon to make an appearance pitching some Global initiative or another, usually surrounded by a bevy of hot snow-bunnies. Bill Gates is essentially the mayor of Davos. He's on practically every panel, and why not? Between he and his wife Melinda, they give
away more money than the rest of the attendees combined, buying them a boatload of indulgence and
a coveted spot in the hierarchy of the most covetous people on the planet.

Meanwhile, we gluttonous Americans are at home be-spoiling the planet with callous disregard for the sustainability of our lifestyles, paying a mere $2.25 for a whopper with cheese at Burger King.

Somebody's Lying in Boston

Somebody's lying up in Boston and this time it's not a politician.

Yesterday, Bill Belichick and Tom Brady both held press conferences to give their version of Deflate-Gate, and each of them denied any culpability. If they are to be believed, the twelve game balls from the AFC championship game against the Colts lost a pound and a half of air pressure all by themselves. Meanwhile, Russell Wilson is studying game film until one o'clock in the morning in a basement somewhere in Seattle.

Frankly, besides Mr. Wilson, there isn't much to like about either of these teams. The Seahawks defense is full of trash talking egomaniacs, Pete Carrol isn't exactly a paragon of virtue even in comparison with Belichick. The Patriots, for all their record of excellence, give off an ugly vibe of arrogance and more than a whiff of cheating. So, what is a football fan to do?

And another thing... I love Russell Wilson, everything about him. I love that he's from my hometown. I love his leadership, his clutch performances, his professionalism and his character. But if I could have a word with him before the Super Bowl here's what I would tell him:

" Russell, love ya man and I'm pulling for you in the big game. But if you are fortunate enough to win today could you do me a huge favor and not tell everyone that God was responsible for the win? Listen, I'm glad you're a believer, so am I, but I'm pretty sure that God doesn't get involved in the outcome of sporting events and to suggest that he does makes him seem small somehow. I know that's not your intent, but that's the way it comes across to millions of people on television, so... I mean it's fine to thank God for giving you an opportunity to play in such a huge game, but to suggest that God was somehow on your side is a theological leap. Just sayin'.

State of the Union

There was a State of the Union speech last night. When it was over my son texted me for my thoughts. I had to confess to him that I hadn't watched. That's probably a bad thing, an unsatisfactory example of civic disengagement on my part. I almost feel bad. I can remember a time when I wouldn't have missed it. That was back when I had a more exalted view of the process, back before I was tasked with the job of paying for it all, back before I had much experience dealing with the federal government in the very real world of business ownership. Those were the days.

I'm informed by my much more optimistic and much less jaded son that the President proposed a treasure trove of new benefits and entitlements for the middle class, things like expanded child care tax credits and paid maternity and sick leave. "Why are we the only advanced nation on earth that doesn't have these things," the President asked. This on top of his new free community college for all proposal of last week, all paid for by a tax on the richest 1%, which my son gleefully pointed out doesn't include me! " You're off the hook Dad, relax."

That's great to know...that I'm off the hook. It's also encouraging to hear that the President actually at least tacitly admitted that all of these wonderful new free things are not really free, that somebody's taxes will have to be raised to "pay" for them. This amounts to political progress, I suppose. Who could possibly object to taxes being raised on a handful of billionaires, right? And what cold-hearted child hating person could possibly object to paid maternity leave?  Talk about your low-hanging fruit?

One is left to wonder why the President waited until his party lost both houses of Congress to go all
FDR on us. Perhaps he is as cynical as he accuses his opponents of being. Maybe he knows that he
and his party can get the benefit of being seen as "concerned" about the middle class without having
to go to the trouble of actually getting these programs passed and administered. Then they can run in the next election against the obstructionists in the other party. " It's those nasty Republicans standing between you and all of this cool free stuff!" Good strategy actually.

Let me try to answer the President's question. He asked  rhetorically, " why is it that we are the only advanced nation on earth without paid maternity leave?" By asking the question, he is clearly suggesting that this is a grand failure on our part, that despite our wealth and power we have failed our citizens by not adequately protecting them from the vagaries of life. My answer is this... The reason we don't provide the sort of cradle to grave social safety net that is common in much of Europe is the fact that up until maybe twenty years ago a majority of Americans felt that it wasn't the proper role of government to do such a thing. Even FDR' s signature achievement, Social Security, was made possible by and is still sustained by the notion that it is most definitely NOT a welfare plan.
It is a retirement plan that we CONTRIBUTE to. Americans have had for most of our history this
quaint notion that we are responsible for our own lives. We haven't wanted or needed a bunch of do-gooders from Washington or anywhere else coming in telling us what to do. This fiercely independent streak has in no small part been responsible for this nation's astounding and unprecedented rise from colony status a mere 250 years ago to the world-striding powerhouse of today. It has also been the reason that our shores have been the beacon for millions fleeing places with much more intrusive governments than our own. For most of our history, Americans have thought it ridiculous that we would tax the man down the street or across the State in order to force an employer to pay someone else to stay home after the birth of a child. Sure it's a nice thought, but not something that any government should have the right to INSIST upon.

But, the times, they are a changin'. Most Americans I would imagine think that all of these free things are a great idea. Why shouldn't we be more like France? Especially, since it's only the "rich" who will have to pay for it all.


I believe that the future belongs to the Democrats. There are far more voters who are middle class than there are millionaires and billionaires. There are many more voters who want more from their government than there are those who want the government to leave them alone. I hope it works out. But my reading of history and my experience with government is that entitlements that are sold as being free or that are described as benefits that will be financed by the idle rich have a way of morphing into something that costs an awful lot more than advertised. And when that happens, it won't be my generation who gets stuck with the bill.

Lucy's New Thing

Now that all remnants of Christmas have been returned to the attic, Lucy seems back to normal. By normal I mean her regular skittishness as opposed to the manic, projectile-pooping mess of a dog she was once the trees went up. With each new day she is more confident, playful and adventurous. Hopefully by next Christmas she will have grown out of all her neurosis.

Now we only have one major Lucy related problem. Although she is our third Golden Retreiver, she is the first to ever manifest this particular tendency. At least we think so since neither one of us remember Murphy or Molly...shedding. Lucy is a shedding machine! We only allow her to get up on one piece of furniture in the house, our sofa downstairs. Accordingly, we drape a blanket over it each and every morning. By the end of the day the thing is covered, plastered in short, blond hairs. But it's not just the blanket. Every piece of clothing that we own proudly proclaims evidence of her existence. The inside of our dryer is covered with the stuff.

Since getting Lucy was my idea, I feel a special guilt when it comes to any added hassle or work that she visits upon us. So, I'm the one who is in charge of it. I take her to the vet, I bathe her, I feed her, take her for walks and now...I give her her daily brushing. My Dyson vacuum is going to explode one of these Saturday's from exhaustion.

I keep thinking that maybe it's a puppy thing. Maybe when she gets older and stops growing the shedding will stop or at least lessen. Maybe she sheds because of her skittishness and once she chills out a little it will stop. And maybe President Obama will become a raging conservative. It could happen, right?

Grove Avenue Baptist Vs. Bedside Baptist

This Sunday morning features low skies, steady rain and 41 degrees. The pews of Bedside Baptist are destined to be packed on a Lord's day like this. I must make a decision soon. The clock is ticking.

"Do not forsake the assembly," the old prophets said. A more modern version of this truth would be the adage that one raindrop can prevent a thousand Baptists from attending church. My Dad used to say that the crowd on bad weather Sundays amounted to the mysterious "faithful few." I'm sure there is some truth to that, but I always thought as a kid that the people who showed up literally every single time the church doors were opened were a little weird. I always felt like..."Dude, get a life!" It was like they were keeping score somehow and wanted to win eternity's perfect attendance award. Such were the sacrilegious thoughts that would ramble through a preacher's kids 12 year old brain as he stared out the church windows in a blinding snow storm. Whenever I would ask Dad about my ideas he would launch into a theology-heavy lecture about grace vs. works when all I wanted to do was go sledding.

But now, I am an adult, so I get to make my own church attendance decisions. Today, I really would rather stay here in my pajamas. I have no burning desire to go sit for an hour in a pew. There's all the standing and sitting, all of the group dynamics putting terrible pressure on you to sit and stand at the "correct" times, whether or not you are so moved to do either. There's the music, the interview( a new addition to our weird liturgy), and then the sermon. Today there will be a baptism and I think a baby dedication.

I suppose if the parents of a new born can drag themselves out of the rack and get to church, then I better get my lazy backside in a pew. Besides, seeing a baptism is about the very best thing that ever happens at my church. It never fails to inspire. It's evidence that somewhere, somehow, somebody is doing something right.

American Sniper. A Review.

Chris Kyle was a complicated guy. Reading the book about his four tours of duty in Iraq was fascinating and horrifying. While I can be thankful that there exist men with the combination of courage and brutality that Kyle possessed, he's not exactly the sort of guy you invite to a barbecue. Still, the book was so intriguing, I read it twice.

I was anxious to see how Hollywood would portray the man. Would they turn him into a psychotic, trigger happy, brainless patriot? Would they turn him into a super hero? To my considerable relief Clint Eastwood presented as faithful a portrayal as I could have hoped for. The Chris Kyle of American Sniper was a man of flesh and blood with feet of clay, who was torn between his obligations to his family and the prodigious martial gifts that made him the most lethal fighting man in Navy Seal history. Bradley Cooper's performance was astonishing, worthy of an Oscar. The depictions of urban battle weren't  staged and neat, but rather, chaotic and confusing, lending an authentic madness to the film. When a sandstorm overwhelms a battle towards the end you can practically feel the grit in your teeth.

Eastwood did clean Kyle's character up a bit. In the heat of battle, he was known to have described the enemy in several pithy, colorful and racist ways. In this characteristic he was not unlike past generations of warriors. To the American GI in WWII, the Japanese and the Germans were called every degrading term imaginable. Part of this can be attributed to the necessity in war of demonizing the enemy. Killing someone doesn't come natural to most, even in wartime. If thinking that the guys on the other side who are trying to kill you are less than human makes it easier for you to pull the
trigger...well that's just part of what makes war hell.

In the weeks leading up to the release of the movie I happened upon several message boards that featured people in great distress over what they perceived to be the glorification of war and warriors that American Sniper represented. Many were horrified that there were men like Chris Kyle in the world. To them he was a sadistic, cold-blooded killer whose primary motivation was racism. In truth, there was a cold bloodedness to him, in that he was remorseless, convinced in the justice of his cause. He had little time for doubt, for in his mind doubt is what got people killed. But, there was no sadism
in him, no blood lust. Asking your most lethal fighting men to be deep-thinking, conflicted metro-sexuals is asking an awful lot! You don't have to love the Chris Kyles of this world to be thankful and appreciative that they exist.

By all accounts Chris Kyle was a brave and courageous man with a bit of a savior complex and a servants heart, who in the course of four tours of duty in one of the most dangerous places on earth managed to kill over 160 people who were attempting to kill American soldiers. For this he has my admiration and gratitude. 

The Great Beach House Search of '15

It's January of an odd year, and that can only mean one thing. It's time for the great Dunnevant family beach house search! It will come as no surprise to regular readers of this space that our search features a family-only search website called, "Beach Central" administered by my wife. All of the research leg work has been done by Pam and my niece Jenny. They then post the finalists onto the website, where the rest of us are encouraged to make comments as to our preferences. From all of this input, a decision will be made no later than this coming Sunday. Then some unlucky sucker will be chosen to be this year's banker, send in the deposit and collect everyone's rent over the next six months.

Whenever I hear politicians moan and groan about how difficult it is to obtain consensus in Congress over some issue or another I always think, "Psshhtt! Try getting 14 adults in MY family to reach consensus on a beach house!" First there's picking a week that fits everyone's calenders. Then there's the price range, finding a house nice enough aesthetically but not so beautiful that it winds up costing a fortune. The battle then becomes location, location, location. Do we want to be right on the beach or across the road, Nags Head or Hatteras, ocean front, ocean view, or simply ocean scent?

But despite this stunning array of variables, each and every year we manage to come to agreement, unlike the mental midgets in Washington, and with rare exceptions we wind up deliriously happy with our choice, once again, unlike DC. We do this without going over budget, no bribes change hands,(not that I KNOW of anyway), and without vicious ad hominem attacks...although this year there was a snide comment about one particular house being about as exciting as Hillary Clinton on her wedding night. The point is, if the Dunnevants can do it, then surely our elected officials can.