K-Korner's Blog

Let’s Play a Little Math Game. Now bar with me. I was a history teacher by trade, not a math teacher. But I think I have it right. So here goes.

Like so many of us, I have been watching the gas prices drop like a stone for the past few months. As a consumer I am thrilled. But as an observer I am a bit confused. You see, here is what I keep thinking.

“They” say that fuel consumption and thus demand is down. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. I get it. Use less of something, there is more in reserve. Use less and demand drops. Demand drops and prices fall. Pretty good so far, ya think?

Okay, now here is where I get confused. Experts say that U.S gasoline consumption is down somewhere around 8-10%.  Worldwide consumption is down as well by a similar amount. So those poor Arabs, Russians, and Venezuelans are getting hosed—no pun intended-- right now and the price per barrel has gone from just short of $150.. per barrel to somewhere around $60.00 per barrel.

Now don’t get ahead of me here. Onward! So a few months ago, gas prices topped out around, $4.50 cents a gallon or regular. Right now it is around $2.10. If my math is correct, that is a difference of $2.30 cents a gallon. That works out to about a 54% drop in the price of fuel.

So if world energy consumption has declined 8-10%, but our gas prices have declined almost 55%, then it would seem that what we all believe about the oil companies is true. They have been artificially setting high energy prices that never stayed in step with price per barrel increases. After all, isn’t it supposed to take months for the foreign oil that was purchased to show up refined and sitting in our gas stations?

Trust me, I am not complaining about lower energy prices at the moment. I expect those Suburbans, Yukons, Expeditions, and Hummers to be dusted off, shined up and back on the roads, tailgating and intimidating all those Priuses, Scions, and Smart Cars just like in the good old days.

But the other good news is that Iran, Russia, and Venezuela’s budgets are pegged to run at oil prices around $90.00 per barrel. It is these inflated stacks of  petrodollars that have brought them back to the front as players, regional meddlers, and just plain pains.

But my inquiring mind still wants someone to explain how we can have a drop in gas prices that large in less than 3 months. And I hope our memories are not short, or they will rise as fast as they dropped.

As the Veterans Day holiday arrives, I am reminded of a story about a WWII veteran I met when I first began teaching. I want to share it with you...
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I can still remember him. He was a tiny man, at least a head shorter than me and I stand well under six feet tall. He had a shock of snow white hair that reminded me of the flowing mane of Robert Frost. Liver spots covered arthritic hands that shook ever so slightly, and there was the persistent smell of alcohol on his breath. He wore a soft flannel shirt and a wrinkled pair of Khaki pants. Clinched carefully against his side was an old musty scrapbook. "I'd really enjoy speaking to your class," he said.

 I had met him a few years ago when he came to my school to do an article for the local newspaper. He had retired a few years before and he did this to keep his hand in the business, he'd said. My class had just completed a unit on World War II and he had seen some of their reports on a bulletin board. It was then he told me about his scrapbook. He wanted to share it with my 8th graders; a piece of oral history.

He seemed a shy man. Quite different from what I would have expected an old newsman to be. He spoke haltingly and self consciously, no Walter Winchell type here, as he spoke of his background to the children. He had been a reporter with Stars & Stripes during the war, attached to Patton's 3rd Army. He passed his scrapbook around the room and answered questions. He told a few stories and explained that the army newspaper worked much like a regular newspaper. He tried to tell them what it was like gathering stories and fighting in a war. They listened politely. Soon he finished and my students applauded.

When the class ended, he motioned for me to come closer. "I want to thank you for letting me talk to the kids. I think they enjoyed it," he'd said, but it sounded more like a plea. "I'm sure they did. That's a nice scrapbook you brought with you."

He waved a hand as if swatting at a fly. "Yeah, it's what I did and I'm proud of it. But I have another story to tell and I didn't think I should tell it to a bunch of eighth graders." He was breathing harder now; agitated. The smell of alcohol clung to his breath.

The death camps. Hitler's demented handiwork. The Final Solution. 'By Your Work You Shall Be Set Free.' "You know, I was one of the first ones into Buchenwald. Went in on the third day," he panted. "We'd heard rumors you know-- about the camps. But we weren't prepared for what we found. I can still see it-- taste it..." He wiped a gnarled hand over his nose. "I can still smell it. Those bastards," he hissed.

 I took him by the arm. "Do you want to sit down for a moment?" I asked. His complexion had turned ashen. I was afraid the frail little man might faint. He shook his head, dismissing my question, unable to stop the memories flooding back.

"We went into the camp. It was horrible. The place was still crowded with inmates. Bodies were stacked everywhere. Our doctors and medics were working round the clock." He grimaced. His bony knuckles shone through his mottled skin as he gripped his beloved scrapbook. "They brought a few of us in. The locals had already been through the place by the time we'd gotten there. Said they didn't know anything about it. Jesus Christ, how could they miss it?" he hissed. "The smell was something awful. Never smelled anything like it! Don't ever want to again."

"Some of the locals committed suicide after they visited the camps, didn't they?" I asked.

"Yeah, they did, the good mayor and his wife, some townspeople, too. And it was too good for them, I tell you. I had all I could do to keep from killing a few of them myself." His hands were trembling more now. "They took us through the camp. The barracks. You should have seen them. They were these thin, drafty, rickety, wooden buildings with dirt floors and no insulation. Bunks on both walls, three high. They say that the barracks were originally designed to hold about 200 men. They said more like 500 men lived in each one."

The old man's eyes had taken on a far away look. He was back at Buchenwald again.

"Anyway, they took us into one building. It was like all the others except this one had a cellar. They brought us down there. The smell was terrible. The army'd cleared it out but our captain said the damned Nazis had stacked the dead down there because they were dying faster than they could get rid of them. We walked over to one of the end walls. It was lined with stones and a thin layer of cement had been applied to it." He waved his arms as if he was a laborer. "You know, almost like a plaster. I remember it was still white."

A shiver suddenly wracked the old man's body. "I walked over to the wall and noticed that there were regular marks on it-- in pairs-- that went right up the wall until they reached the ceiling. They were more like discolorations than marks. They seemed so familiar yet I couldn't place them. I asked the captain what they were."

The was a long silence. He swallowed repeatedly before he could go on. When he did, his voice sounded strangled as it came out. Tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. He wiped at them with the backs of his hands. "You know what'd made those marks? The captain said those were oil marks-- from the soles of the feet of the corpses that had been stacked up so tight that they'd left stains against the walls." He sighed. "They went all the way up to the ceiling. Must have been close to ten feet high."

"I see why you didn't want to tell that story to the students," I mumbled. "I know. They're not ready to hear that. And I wasn't ready to see that." He turned and started down the hallway, scrapbook under his arm. Suddenly he turned back. "You know," he said in a voice barely a whisper. "That's why I drink."

He turned on his heel and shuffled out the door, into the daylight, into the clean air beyond.

This is an excellent Piece by Campbell Brown. Food for thought. This is why politicians are held in such bad esteem with the American public. Actually I apologize for insulting sharks.
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(CNN) -- Whatever you may have thought about John McCain's running mate -- about whether she was qualified, prepared or experienced enough for the job -- try to put all of that aside for just a moment, because Sarah Palin is who she is.

She did not become measurably more intelligent or measurably less intelligent during this campaign. Remember, she was only part of the campaign for a matter of nine weeks.

Sarah Palin is who she is, which is why I find it so stunning that the very people who introduced us to her, who told us she would make a great vice president, have now turned on her with a vengeance.

They are the top advisers to John McCain's failed campaign and they are desperate to find someone to blame for their long, long list of mistakes. They have been launching grenades at Palin and her supporters. CNN has found some of their allegations to be patently false.

You will hear people say, "This is what always happens with a losing campaign," and hopefully, this is the last time we will be talking about these people. But what they have done just in the last few days to save their own skins is worth a final comment.

To those top McCain advisers who leaked the little story about seeing Sarah Palin in a towel; to those who called her and her family "Wasilla hillbillies" while using her to stoke class warfare with red meat speeches and an anti-elitist message; to those who claim she didn't know Africa was a continent; to those McCain aides who say she is the reason they lost this election: Can I please remind you of one thing? You picked her.
You are the ones who supposedly vetted her, and then told the American people she was qualified for the job. You are the ones who, after meeting her a couple of times, told us she was ready to be just one heartbeat away from the presidency.

If even half of what you say now is true, then boy, did you try to sell the American people a bill of goods. If Sarah Palin is the reason some voters chose Barack Obama, that is no one's fault but your own.
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John McCain, as he so graciously said himself the other night, lost this election. He lost it with your help, your advice, your guidance, and yes, your running mate recommendations. And that is crystal clear to everyone, no matter how hard you try to blame Sarah Palin or anyone else.

The Problem with Sustainability

Here is a question. How long will there be a global recession? Here’s another. How long will global oil demand drop from it’s pre-recession peaks, sending the price of a barrel of oil plummeting  to below $60 dollar levels? Here’s one more Will the price of oil re-stabilize at or near the old levels or return to the $115 dollar mark?

What do these questions all have in common, you ask? Well in the past year Russia, Iran and Venezuela have taken advantage of the skyrocketing price of oil to re-insert themselves into the global political scene. The Russian bear came out of hibernation,  Iran began some serious meddling all along the Middle east, and Venezuela became the new Cuba.

Petrodollars. They allowed the Russians to become players again in Eastern Europe and Asia Minor. They allowed them to start rebuilding their military, go into Georgia, and play with gas prices as they opened and closed their pipeline.

The Iranians became much more active in the Middle East, and poured more resources into Hezbollah and Hamas and rattled  Islamic swords throughout the region. In addition, Ahmadinejad  used petrodollars to silence internal unrest and bribe his enemies as the inflation rate topped 36%.

Venezuela used their petrodollars to  create some reforms to calm the population, to buy Russian weapons , and to stir up trouble throughout Latin America.

But all three countries now face a sustainability problem now that oil prices have dipped  from $115 per barrel to the low 60’s. Their budgets were based on continued high oil revenues and increased demand, but now world prices have fallen and they may soon be cash starved again. In Venezuela’s case, they were forced to sell off government bonds and cancel some public works projects. This, in turn reduced their ability to obtain more credit in the worsening financial environment.

What does this all portend? Well, if the present oil prices stay low, all three nations will be cash starved. They will have to retrench much of their spending, which will in turn reduce their briefly found influence. So then what’s the big deal? The big deal is that it is in each country’s interest to manufacture a crisis, seemingly created by foreign sources—namely us—to take the pressure off their economies and policies, while at the same time driving oil prices back up as a crisis looms.

If Biden is suddenly correct and our new President will be tested within the first six months,  then put away the Suburbans , the Expeditions, the Yukons, and the Hummers for good.

Is it just me? Am I out of touch with the political process swirling around me?  Am I naïve? Am I uninformed? Am I ignorant? Has modern media changed the rules of the game? Maybe I’m just stupid?

Last night, along with millions of the believers, disbelievers, and the just plain curious, I watched Obama’s infomercial. It was the best infomercial I have ever seen. Much better than anything Billy Mays shouts about as he hawks miracle product after miracle product. The visuals were outstanding. The personal stories were guaranteed to bring out the handkerchiefs all across America. Obama was eloquent. Obama was the visionary. Obama was… well, the man.

He had 25 minutes to get his message out without being interrupted or held accountable by questioners or the press. And if he flubbed a delivery, it was reshot and re-edited as Obama strove for audiovisual perfection. So what is the problem then?

Well, I found myself very uncomfortable watching the show. Here was this smooth, polished, photogenic guy who is running for perhaps what is the most important election in our history—more significant even than the election of 1860, or the election of FDR in 1932. Again, so what and why was I uncomfortable?

Because it reminded me of George Orwell’s 1984, or one of the many early Twilight Zones that dealt with a charismatic figure speaking to the masses from the wide screen. Because throughout the infomercial there was a slug that ran at the bottom of the screen saying, “There will be a live Obama event following this broadcast.” A Live Obama event?  Like snagging tickets for a rock and roll concert? When did giving a political speech become a political event?

And sure enough, after we had all gorged ourselves on the infomercial, there was Obama, live, in front of a throng of adoring believers, laying his political “amen” to the end of the show. Somehow, it just didn’t sit right with me. I was uncomfortable at the show of ego and confidence that his political train was pulling into the station way ahead of  the McCain train and there was no need to look back.

It seems almost like a done deal that Obama will be our next president. He and his supporters certainly believe it to be so. And I, one of the yellows in a contest of reds and blues, is still confused. I will be listening until the very end of the ride. I suspect that I will make my decision on the most significant election in our history, when I shut the curtain, when people are outside the booth waiting for me to cast my vote and I have to make that decision. I sure hope I get this right.

Recently I have been writing about how important it is to look at both candidates or each ticket with regard to the possibility that both men might not see the end of their terms-- one because of racial bigotry and violence, and the other because of old age and cancer. And now, one week before the election the FBI nabs two dumba$$es who were trying to take out Obama. One can only shudder at how many other DA's are out there with a breathing flat line recording where their brain activity should be.

Again, the ugly septre of race rears its head. It is real. So, when we look at all the polls, with all the "undecideds" and all the battleground states,  do we see accuracy, or do we see the Truman Effect lying in the bushes?