Surviving

I do some part time driving hauling railroad crews to their trains patiently waiting on siding around the Nebraska countryside. I go as far West as Ravenna, NE and as far East as Creston, IA. Toss Sioux City in on the North and Kansas City on the South and you have my box of influence.

Sometimes, the conversation is very interesting. Most of the time it isn't. But last night was very interesting. The crew was engaged in a conversation about surviving. No, I am not talking about surviving my driving or them surviving their train trip, I am talking about people surviving in a country that could see total collapse.

Can't happen you say. I heard that on my Kilo Mike book tour and then 9/11 happened. Now this crew was a little different than most. They were Iraq and Afghanistan vets. I might add, highly trained ones.

And unlike most Americans, they are prepared. If the food supply got interrupted it wouldn't take long before shelves went empty and people started looking at your food as their food. Your animals would be their food. Your water would be their water. They are prepared for a total civil breakdown.

They discussed the various ways to purify water. They discussed the best places to go for such a problem. They discussed food. They discussed guns and which ones to have and for what purpose.

(My 380 is almost worthless because I can't find ammo for it.) They own 40 and 9mm guns. They own AK's. They own 22's and 17's. They are trained in how to use these guns and others and they have trained their wives and children.

They're ready. I am not. Are you?

Don't think it can't happen. A lot of things that can't happen already have.

The End of Fee Fargo

Let the horses and the chariot of the Wild West past on. I am done with this lame excuse of a bank. An overdraft fee on an insurance fee on a Wells Fargo insurance plan that I canceled finally sealed the deal. In questionable practices lingo, that's called a fee on a fee.

I was furious.

What set me off was a call from the "overdraft department" of Fee Fargo. "You will have to pay this our we will report it to the check approval companies and you won't be able to write any checks," the dizzy bitch on the other end of the phone said. She apparently thought I would drop to my knees and plead for mercy.

I unloaded. I told her that the overdraft was caused by a trial of an insurance product. The product came in a Fee Fargo promotional letter to me. The product had a two month "Free" trail period. I made a mistake and said OK. I corrected the mistake and called them after one month and canceled. At the end of two months, they billed and caused an overdraft to the no-longer-used account. Close the damn account!

Miss Sure of Herself told me she could not close the account because guess what..."it has a negative balance."

You caused the negative balance, Miss Dizzy Bitch. Close the account.

No, she didn't have the authority to do that. She was just a phone harasser.

About that time, CNN ran a story about how big banks, the big three, to be exact, were charging their customers more fees to make up for losses in their credit card division. Good for you Fee Fargo. Off to the bank.

I was hot when I entered the main downtown branch of Fee Fargo. After enduring their pleasantries of "Welcome to Fee Fargo, how can we help you today?"

"Close my damn account."

The "personal" banker looked around at the people waiting in lines to get some service from Fee Fargo who were now looking and listening to me.

"Well our systems are down so I can't close it right now," Mr. Helpful said.

I told him about the overdraft.

"Well I can't close a negative account. We will have to file a fraud request and recover that and then refund your overdraft fee."

"Send it back, return the fee NOW, and close the account," I said. "It's not that hard."

We went round and round and the volume went up and up until some in the line were listening.

"Please give me two minutes in my office," he said.

Twenty minutes later, my account was still overdrawn. My account was still open. I would receive a packet in a few days from the great Fee Fargo out there. I needed to fill out and sign what was ever in the packet and return it. Pending that, the fee would be credited to my account.

If Warren Buffet thinks this outfit is a winner, he is about to lose a lot of money.

Fee Fargo is good at screwing people and they use a network of local dummies with no authority to get the job done.

Some of my business friends have been teasing me for a long time about why I still banked at Fee Fargo. They learned the poor service/high fee lessons a long time ago.

Most people feel shame when they overdraw an account and banks play on that. Your "free checking" account at some institutions is planned to generate 9 overdrafts a year with overdraft fees ranging from lows around $20 to the real stinger in the mid to high $30 range that you will find at place like Fee Fargo.

To hell with shame. Let's remember who is really writing the biggest bad checks. 1929. The South American loan crisis. The Savings and Loan crisis. And now the current mess. In all of those instances, Fee Fargo had a hand in creating them and had a hand out for a taxpayer bailout to save them. Maybe this time, they should go the route of the DeSoto or Chrysler.

If we are going to have a secure banking system, the people overseeing them have to be more upright than the ones we have doing that job now. Sen. Dodd got a sweetheart deal from Countrywide. I don't want to know about Congressman Frank's sweetheart deals. Both have to go and some of the corrupt banks have to go with them. Gitmo might be a good place for them to go.

Get a smaller bank like Pinnacle. You'll get the service you really should get instead of the screwing you might get from a bank that has a history of screwing the country.

941 Freedom Day-01/15/2010

They were called Minutemen. They were simple farmers and shopkeepers who were trying to live in peace and freedom in our nation's early history. But, the government at the time pushed them too far. They taxed them too much. They restricted their freedom. One named Patrick Henry said..."give me liberty or give me death."
That was the kind of passion that created this country. Not only did they have passion, those simple farmers and shopkeepers backed up their passion by putting down their rakes and brooms and picking up their muskets. They took on the best and biggest army in the world and they won. The prize was the free country that has been handed down to us.
What have we done with that prize? We spend our days pointing fingers at each other. We elect people and put them into powerful positions where they expect to be treated better than the rest of us. They pass laws which reward the incompetent with billions of dollars of our money instead of dozens of years in prison. Not only have they ruined the retirement plans of millions of our elderly by destroying the free market economy, they are destroying the future of Americans yet to be born.
What would those brave Minutemen think of us? What would they say? Would they praise the way we take such abuse from a new type of ruling class who lives above us all in Washington? Would they call us cowards like our new Attorney General did? Would they tell us to rise up?
No, I am not advocating a violent overthrow of the the federal government but I do think it is time to get their attention. But how? They already have our money. We live in fear of April 15 and the IRS audit. Our elected officials can give grand speeches but they do nothing because they know we can't do anything. Or can we?
It's early spring in Nebraska. I am grateful for that because I have spent the winter living in my car. And on those coldest of nights, when sleep was almost impossible, an idea kept coming back to me. How can we get Washington's attention. How can we stop this spending madness and corruption? The answer is 941 Freedom Day.
Any small business person knows, a 941 is a quarterly tax form that the business owner is required to fill out which details and employee's wages and deductions. A check for those deductions has to be sent to the IRS along with the report. That's how the government gets our money. That is the critical link.
What if, in a massive display of civil disobedience, small business owners stopped filling out that form and stopped collecting taxes for the federal government. What if January 15, 2010 became 941 Freedom Day?
What would be the purpose of 941 Freedom Day? We have five demands:
1. By election day in November 2009, the congress and the senate must pass legislation that:
Eliminates the Internal Revenue Service
Eliminates the Tax Code
Offer the voters a choice of two new means of federal taxation not based on current methods. The plan that receives most votes, becomes the new means of collecting government revenue AND it goes into effect on January 1, 2010. No ifs. No ands. No buts.
2. The congress and the senate must pass legislation that restricts the terms of committee chairmen to a term no longer than the current term of the body. Let's get new blood into old chairs and clean up corruption. That also includes the Speaker of the House.
3. The congress and the senate must pass legislation that makes it illegal to buy political candidate advertising in the private media for senate and congressional races. Those candidates will have an equal amount of time given to them on two or three specific dates to offer their ideas live on public television. That will eliminate their need to spend so much time raising money and put them back to work doing the people's business instead of being perfect targets for bribes.
4. No more earmarks. If the ideas is good enough to stand the light of public scrutiny, let the bill be introduced by itself.
5. The Congressperson or Senator must sign off that they have read any proposed bill-not just their staffers-before they can vote on a bill. That bill must also be put online for a period of three days so the public can read it.
It's time to let the congress know their games are done. It's time to let the congress know that a new breed of Minuteman is alive and well and ready to act.
Here's what we would like you to do:
On April 15, send your representatives and senators a hand written postcard that simply says:
I Support 941 Freedom Day. January 15, 2010.
On October 15, send another one.
Send this email to every small business owner you know. If you don't know their email address, drop off a printed copy.
There are no lists to sign up for so their will be no "enemies list" threat for you to worry about. There are no dues or fees to pay.
If the congress does nothing and if no bills are passed or no new tax measure are scheduled for the November election, AND if you are a small business owner, simply stop filling out the 941 form and stop collecting tax payments. If only 10% of you take that action, it will cripple the IRS. This action is no different than the Civil Rights Marches of the 1960s.
941 Freedom Day
January 15, 2010
Are you one of the new American Minutemen?

The Gift to Gaza

Hilliary Clinton, our much heralded Secretary of State, gave $900 million dollars to Gaza reconstruction on his first outing in her new job. Isn't that wonderful!

That's almost $2,200 each for the 410,000 or so folks living there. Remember how much those folks love us, too. I can still remember that large woman in a black Berka dancing and clapping in a Gaza street after they learned that the two World Trade Towers had been destroyed and 3,000 American had been killed.

Why in the hell are we giving these people $900 million dollars when we could have used that money to do something here at home like more bank bailout money for Barney Frank, or redo Chris Dodd's mortgage, or pay Charlie Rangel and Tom Daschle's taxes?

Have the wheels totally fallen off the lame brain Washington train? Giving money to the Palestinians is about as popular as running Heidi during the NCAA National Championship basketball game. And to be totally Barney Frank, I could use the $2,200 to help pay my taxes.

Where is the outrage? The Palestinian people need to rebuild their mud huts because Israel knocked the hell out of them because they wouldn't stop shooting little missiles into Israel.

Maybe we should have given them 410,000 shovels and 410,000 bags of good 'ole American cement. As long as the shovels didn't come in at $2,000 each, we would have done a better thing than giving them a turbo ton of much needed-at-home cash.

After all, they may create a truck bomb and kill more American Marines somewhere in the desert hood. Nice job Hillary. We can't wait for act II.

Jeffer is losing his battle.

It's a sad time for me. One of my dearest friends is losing his battle for life to brain cancer. His pain level is down but his brother Scott tells me he is fading away, both physically and mentally.

That's a shame for the Mountain Man. Yes, Jeffer as we like to call him, flipped the bird to the ladder climbers a long time ago and did what all of the rest of us threatened to do. He moved to the beauty of the Colorado mountains and for the most part, he made a go at it. He knew his wines and could cook with the best of them as he went through a variety of hotel management and chef jobs. He lived where he wanted to live and did what he wanted to do.

He finally settled in the stone business and was the guy to call when your million dollar condo need some nice high priced stone counter tops.

Even in his mid 50's, Jeffer was in top shape. While some of us developed new belt sizes and had to move over the bigger pant sizes, Jeffer continued shopping the skinny section. His closets were busting with designer suits and shirts and shoes, but close to the door were his muddy work boots and a working man's hoodie.

His skin looked like it was painted on him and he blazed up and down Vail pass on his expensive bike when the rest of us could barely negotiate a steep driveway.

I went trout fishing with Jeff several time. We never caught a thing and never had a strike. There was a good reason. Jeffer plowed through the bushes and weeds and into the stream with the gentleness of a bull elephant on the way to a late lunch.

The trout were long gone by the time he whipped his line back and fourth and sent it upstream in search of the"big one." He laughed and talked loudly about the beauty of the day and the mountains. I don't think anyone appreciated his life as much as he did--with the possible exception of his big sweet dog Zusie.

I always thought Jeffer would meet his maker in some kind of spectacular mountain event, like running into a tree while skiing on his 82nd birthday. But, he is wasting a way an inch at a time.

Jeffer is a lone wolf like me. His Mom and Dad, brother Scott, and sister Annie are the ones suffering the most because Jeffer's memory has been claimed by cancer.

The end is never fun and even though Jeffer may be around a long time, the Jeffer I knew is the guy in the picture I took a few years ago.

He will always be the happy-go-lucky Mountain Man who put life first and everything else, including the IRS, in a distant second place. That's a two howls up for this Mountain Man.

Jeffer is losing his battle with cancer but put a smile on your face. He won the war.

Good for you, Jeffer. Good for you!

Here's to Charlie

Charlie Senter was a sign painter. I followed him around Hartington, Nebraska when I was a boy and watched as he transformed the car and truck doors into interesting advertising for the local business folks. (He took time to redo the sides of my dad's wrecker so Miller Motor was shine and sparkle just as brightly as the People's Store delivery van.)

I watched Charlie demonstrate perfection. An empty door was in front of him and a tray full of brightly colored enamel paint was right next to him. He rough sketched what he wanted to do, and hopefully what the owner wanted him to do, on the car or truck door. Then he bagan to paint. He used a long stick with a little skin bean bag attached to the end of the stick. Later in my life, I would discover that stick was called a Mahl stick and no sign painter worth a lick could paint without it.

Charlie rested his brush with paint hand on the stick and used the other hand on the end opposite the bag to guide the paint hand in a perfect harmony of design. No a wiggle. Not a run. No line where there was not suppose to be a line. He was as perfect as a graphic computer printer with one exception. Charlie was human.

I was taken by Charlie's art and his ability to produce it. As summer came to a close, Charlie was on his way. I asked dad where Charlie was going. "South," he said. "My guess is Florida. He likes to spend his winters there."

I thought I might become a sign painter like Charlie. I got some paint from the body shop and a couple of brushes from Hergert Hardware and made my own stick with, at that time anyway, an unknown name. My lines didn't go where they were suppose to go. My paint ran. My designs looked like 1st grade stuff and I was at least an 8th grader. My frustration grew and before long, the paint went back to the body shop and the brushes into the trash. But Charlie was forever etched in my mind.

One day, the man who owned the Dairy Queen store stopped by the garage. He told dad that his sign out on the highway had seen better days and wondered if I could repaint it for him. He wanted a picture of a Dairy Queen cone and an arrow and the words, "1 mile" painted on it.

Dad assured him I could deliver. I was scared to death but a promise from dear ole' dad was as good as a blood oath. My quivering hand and mind set out on the task and a couple of days later, there was a new sign on the highway. Northern Natural Gas stopped by not long after that. But that was the end of my sign painting career. I was off to college and a careers in advertising and flying.

Now I am the old guy and they are right. Social Security isn't enough. Some say I played too hard during my life and here I am paying for it at the end. I would have to turn to something else. Perhaps another minimum wage job to tide me through.

But I have worked enough of those kind of jobs. I have seen the bad side of Best Buy and Value Place. No benies. No praise. No raise. And in some cases, downright danger.

What could I do that I could make some money doing; enjoy what's left of my life; and let me have some freedom.

Charlie would like the answer. After all, he was the wizard of sign painting and he painted a colorful vision of the future in a small boy's mind.

I decided to do splash painting on car windshields. (That's some of my work in the photos.) That type of painting doesn't have to be perfect. It has to get attention. It has to be colorful. And, it doesn't have to last more than a couple of weeks until the sale is over and the next opportunity presents itslef.

I will never be as good as Charlie was but there are plenty of people who think I am good enough. And that's good enough for me. After all, how many people have a guardian wizard in their back pocket for 54 years and a sudden love for Florida winters?

Cute logo don't you think?