Friday, July 31, 2009

A Thorough Review of the Gates Incident

The major gives great ponderance and time to this issue, more or less resolving it once and for all.

Ah, the Smoke and Mirrors Begins

GDP contracted at only 1% annualized. And the reason for the slow down in the "slow down?"

"Less drastic spending cuts by businesses, a resumption of spending by federal and local governments and an improved trade picture were key forces behind the better performance. Consumers, though, pulled back. Rising unemployment, shrunken nest eggs and lower home values have weighed down their spending."

In other words, everything still sucks, except for the government spending money which makes the numbers look better than what things really are.

And given the worthless programs the government is spending money on, I'm going to guess if we took that out, GDP would have contracted by the 1.5, if not 2.5% economists were predicting.

The Captain is Victorious - Update

This is an update. You will see pictures below:

A very Professor Farnsworth "good news" all fellow junior, deputy, aspiring, official and otherwise economists!

Today I finished a 20 mile hike in the Elk Wilderness area of the Black Hills. Hiked from Sylvan Lake to Horsethief Lake, then back up a tortuously long hike, plagued with poison ivy and switch backs that would make Currie Hill look like a cake walk (and no, I'm not joking).

Total time was 7 hours and 38 minutes.

However, even this feat is dwarfed to a microscopic level as to what happened yesterday.

Your Captain found (to his best estimation mind you) a fully intact dinosaur fossil.

The jaw bone, replete with two teeth, was found protruding from a cliff side in one of my many long hikes. Based on the way the fossil is protruding, it suggests the neck and rest of the body is still in the side of the cliff, ready for complete excavation.

I know this seems "nerdy" to most normal people, but a find this good is quite rare. Soon you will see me in "Amateur Fossil Hunter Quarterly" being fawned over by fossil hunting babe groupies (totally true, they totally exist!)

In any case, I am currently trying to find out what government agency I report this to, but will keep all of those interested updated.

Smiling John (Part 2 by Smiling John)

“Smiling John” Eastlack escaped from prison and was featured on America’s Most Wanted. He was sentenced to death for the murders he describes. When it was discovered that he has fetal alcohol syndrome, his sentence was reduced to life in prison without parole.

Part 1 left off with Smiling John pursued by the police.

I abandoned my jeep to the west, and crossed half mile of desert. I came out at Indian Ridge, leaving a monster fire in my wake.

Following the canals north again, I came up to a house with a FOR SALE sign. I wanted to get inside and off the street to use the phone ASAP.

I was not sure if the police had a description of me from Fort Lowell Park that morning or from the country club thirty minutes ago, but I could not take a chance.

My simple class 6 felony with an 18-month maximum sentence for escape had now turned into arson, burglary and possession of a dangerous weapon, increasing my maximum sentence to 25 years to life.

My mindset was in survival mode. By 8:30am on Friday 09-01-89, all I cared about was staying one step ahead and getting to Fort Huachuca by 2:00pm to pick up some passports for Monica and myself.

My friend, Ben, at Fort Huachuca was a Warrant Officer Class Two in the U.S. Army, doing some work with the 11th Signal Brigade in Sierra Vista.
He owed me from a 1972 Ford LTD in Texas in 1986. On leave we went to Dallas to see my wife Sherrie. Along the way, Ben killed a shoe salesman and stuffed him in the trunk of his 1972 Ford LTD then loaned me the car to take Sherrie out, never telling me there was a body in the trunk!
Well, Ben, the secret’s out, but his luck ran out in Operation Just Cause in December 1989 with the U.S. invasion of Panama. The army gave him a silver star for defending a bridge.

Seeing it was empty, I broke into the house with the FOR SALE sign. Looking around, I picked up about $3,500 cash from a safe, a Ruger Blackhawk single-action revolver and about $2,000 in jewelry. A watch, ring, and two necklaces.

Next I called Monica at Ventana Canyon and told her I'd got in a jam. To pick up the jeep, drop it off at her sisters, and meet me in San Carlos.

Catching my breath and turning on the TV at about 10:00am, I could see the special reports on the news about the chase. Escaped convict, armed and dangerous, burning down East Tucson.
They also used my mug shot from 1987. They darkened my features and bushed out my hair to make me look black and scare the mostly white upper classes of N.E. Tucson.
No wonder no one recognized me because I had a crew cut, was light skinned after spending 3 months in the hole in Central Unit under investigation for arson. And I was still dressed like a 16-year old surfer preppy frat boy, not a 25-year-old ex-army, ex-prisoner on escape.

I called Paul at Fort Bliss in El Paso to confirm, and Ben at Fort Huachuca, and told him I would be late. I still had to get a car or a cab.

When all of my phone calls were made, I felt like I could yet get out of the mess.

I pocketed the cash, put on the jewels and slid the .45 Ruger Blackhawk in the tote bag. The 9mm was still in my waistband.

With the search still in full swing according to the news, I needed just a bit more chaos to get to Tucson Country Club’s golf pro shop about a half mile west of my location. So I soaked the house in gas booze, put tin in the microwave, and a phone book in the oven at 450° then took off towards Tucson Country Club.

I was 5 minutes out the door when the house exploded, hitting some gas line, and within 7 minutes, cops, ambulances, helicopters and News Hawk 4 were all over the place so once again I had to get off the street.

I actually went to the nearest house, knocked on the door, and asked to use the phone to call a cab, saying I’d rolled my jeep in the wash.

She invited me into the house and led me into the kitchen to use the wall phone and handed me a phone book to call yellow cab to pick me up.

Within seconds I had the cab guy on the phone who would take me to Sierra Vista for $50, a set price – cool – now he wanted to know where to pick me up.

I turned around to ask the lady for the house address, and she was not there. I was alone!

I told the cab guy to, “Hang the fuck on. I don’t know where the hell I am!” Not very smart. I set the phone down on the counter top and started walking down the hallway saying, “Excuse me.”
I followed a noise to a closed sliding door, and pulled it open – smack!
A black blur flashed down towards the right side of my face. I threw my right forearm up and got slashed by a fireplace poker.

Holding the poker with two hands like an axe was a man! I grabbed the poker with my left hand and pulled my .9mm out with my right hand. I poked him into the hallway.

At the same time the lady tried to push past me into the hallway. Pushing her back into the room – a small TV room with 2 chairs, a bookcase, TV and fireplace – I hit her with the fireplace poker and she fell back into one of the chairs.
All I cared about was getting control of the situation. I had no idea why I was attacked or how many people were in the house.

The old man who attacked me with the fireplace poker was just standing there and threatening me to get out of their house before he called the police.
Yes, really! At this point a kind of out of body experience came over me and I decided right then and there I was going to have to kill them.

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.

Email comments and questions for Smiling John to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Recession Medicine

Hey, you unemployed?

Hey, you tired looking for jobs that aren't there, and even if they were, they were going to be given to the boss's nephew anyway and all you'd do is waste days, if not weeks pointlessly applying for them and futilely interviewing for them with some 23 year old HR ditz who had no intention of hiring your over-qualified patoot anyway?

Hey, you completely burnt out about worrying about things outside your control?

Well then just watch some cartoons!

Seriously, best thing you can do in this recession is realize you don't control this situation and just relax and let go of the guilt. No corporation will hire you unless you know somebody and besides which, they're laying people off. So don't sweat it, watch cartoons.

Organic = Pointless


Of course those of us with the slightest bit of sense knew this, but I just like to see another scam get exposed.

Of course (and get your paper and pencils out, because the Captain is about to make a very important point) IT'S NEVER BEEN ABOUT HEALTH AS MUCH AS IT'S BEEN ABOUT MAKING THOSE WHO BUY "ORGANIC" FEEL GOOD ABOUT THEIR PIOUS SELVES.

Ergo, even though this is a scam, a farce, a ruse, the sheople will continue to pay a 50% mark-up for...


Obama Soccer Moms

I drive a lot and the reason I drive a lot is that I teach a lot of dance classes. I know pretty much every gas station in between Cambridge, Minnesota to the far north and Mankato, Minnesota to the far south. But what I've seen more and more of is the Obama Soccer mom.

Let me explain.

At least once a week I see a 30 something mom. She has her children in the car with her. They are toddlers and thus have car seats as well as their mom hovering over them, trying to maintain order and avoid chaos as she tries to pump gas into her Subaru Forrester or some kind of SUV.

On the car though is invariably an Obama/Biden sticker.

Now I've made this chart before, but I think it behooves reshowing because it proves something Joe Soucheray always says;

Leftists/liberals can't link.

What this basically means is that when a leftist makes a decision, they cannot follow the chain of events that decision will trigger. They cannot see what the ramifications and consequences are of their actions. And what the chart above shows is how much new federal government debt has been saddled on each individual American.

And this is the point I am trying to make. These Obama Soccer Moms have NO CLUE what they've just done to their children. Not a clue. Be it ignorance about government finances, be it they're just suppose to stay at home and bring up the kids, but leave the finances to daddy, or they're too busy dreaming about the Magic Obama Unicorn Obama's promised to give them with the Obama Unicorn program, this particular Obama Soccer Mom has no clue she's just indebted her 3 children to the tune of $60,000.

Now I know, I know, she didn't "mean" to enslave her children to the government's debt, just like teenage mothers didn't mean to bring an innocent child into a life of abject poverty, but for once could I admit a bit of economic shadenfreude and say it's good to see people having to pay the price for having "good intentions" with no desire to have the intellectual rigor to see if those intentions are achievable, let alone adult?

Best Explanation of the Rationalization Hamster

For the younger men out there who are drifting aimlessly with no compass, here is a piece of wisdom I wish I had when I was younger.

Now go workout, buy a motorcycle and learn the art of indifference.

This is the story of a friend of Xena’s who was featured on America’s Most Wanted. “Smiling John” Eastlack was sentenced to death for the murders he describes. But it was later discovered that he has fetal alcohol syndrome, and his sentence was reduced to life in prison without parole. Alcohol damage in the womb warped Smiling John’s thinking processes. He was the first person to avoid the death penalty on the grounds of fetal alcohol syndrome, and his case has been cited in various psychology books. John describes the murders in a detached way that reflects the distortions in his mind. I’m going to run this story in back-to-back parts.

August 29, 1989
Wilmot Prison
Tucson, Arizona

The prison guard just walked past me and completed count. He left the dorm and went to the yard office to turn in his count sheet. I’d have 2½ hours before the prison would know I was missing and escaped.

I’d completed 2 years on a 9½-year sentence for Fraudulent Schemes and Artifices. Basically using a fake ID to withdraw from bank accounts.

Going out the back of the dorm, I crossed the prison yard to the east gate and perimeter fence. Waiting for the complex patrol trucks to pass, I sprinted the 90 feet to the fence, climbed up and jumped over and down.

Kneeling down near fence, I searched the parking lot and surrounding area to make sure I was not seen.

I ran 200 feet and dove into some bushes near the exit to the prison-complex parking lot. Still clear, I crossed the road, jumped over another barbed wire fence and then ran east into the Arizona desert.

After jogging about 3 miles, I slowed down to listen and watch for pursuit from dogs, helicopters, jeeps, horses or officers on foot.

West of me, flying south and north was a helicopter searching the area between the prison and the city of Tucson five miles to the north. I could also hear the chase teams. Dogs, horses and trackers off in the same area.

Picking up the pace, I continued east parallel to the I-10 until I came to Houghton Road.

I knew Houghton ran due north up into Sabino Canyon. My father used to own a condo in the early 1980's, so I was familiar with this area of Tucson.

I crossed the I-10 Freeway back into Tucson and followed Houghton Road north along the wash/river using the west bank as cover.

Around midnight I reached Pantano Park and used the phone to call my fiancée, Monica. She used to be a prison guard at Mohave Unit in Douglas in 1988. We became involved, got caught and then became engaged in March 1989. Since she left the Arizona Department of Corrections, Monica became a successful stripper at Bourbon Street Circus, and developed a $2,000 a week cocaine habit as well.

When I called Monica at midnight, she soon picked me up in a Suzuki Samurai Jeep, with $1,500 cash, a Browning Hi-Power 9mm and some clothes.
We then drove to Ventana Canyon Resort and checked in for 3 days under aliases as a couple from California on a honeymoon.

The next 48 hours I spent engaged in bliss. No worries.

On Friday morning 09-01-89 at approximately 6:00am, I kissed Monica goodbye and told her I had to go make plans to get an ID and get out of the country.

I drove to Fort Lowell Park, parked the jeep along the bank of a river, got out wearing Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, Vans deck shoes, and I had my 9mm in my back waist and a University of Arizona frat hat and Ray-Bans. I looked like some frat preppy out for a stroll.

I called three friends to set some plans up. One at Fort Huachuca, one at Fort Bliss, and one who owned a construction company in Tucson.
In order, I was getting cash, an ID and weapons.

I set a timetable for all 3: 8:00am, 2:00pm, and 8:00pm for Fort Bliss because it was in El Paso, Texas on my way out of the U.S.A.

My first meeting was set up at Pantano Country Club Town House Recreation Center. I chose the location as it's on the top of a hill. It had a clubhouse, tennis courts a basketball court, swimming pool and BBQ pits.
I arrived at about 7:30am. I parked the jeep in the wash behind Tucson Country Club, and then jogged up along the wash, under the bridge and then up behind the clubhouse.

At 8:00am, I saw a helicopter coming low from the west and then a line of police cars entering the country club down below me along half a mile of winding roads with speed bumps.

Danny had got spooked and set me up instead of paying me half of the $27,000 he owed me from 1987.

I had about five minutes before they reached my location, so I grabbed magazines, newspapers and lighter fluid from the BBQ pits, and set them all ablaze as a diversion to cover my exit into the east desert. I abandoned my jeep to the west, and crossed half a mile of desert. I came out at Indian Ridge leaving a monster fire in my wake.

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.
Email comments and questions for Smiling John to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood

Monday, July 27, 2009

Ah, Men Don't Want to Lose Half Their Net Worth

Sorry, friend sent this to me and I find it hilarious not one man was consulted on this.

No, seriously ladies, keep reading what other ladies write about men without even asking a single guy what he thinks. It's very cute watching the blind leading the blind.

A Reason for Culling the Human Population

Somebody shoot this preppy, spoiled, brat suburbanite for me, please.

And like, um, like I just think, that um, like, we should, um like, maybe, just uh, require that uh, like people should have to take a, like um, test to um like, see if they like, um, are smart enough to like be, uh, able to vote.

And you people wonder how Obama got elected.

Leftists Hate Math

A KEY and VITAL aspect to my philosophy of politics is that leftists/liberals hate math. The reason why is that math is not only difficult (therefore avoid it and major in journalism and gtget your masters in aromatherapy), but it also has a tendency to make things "right" or "wrong." Prove things to be "true" or "false." And otherwise provide empirical evidence that socialism doesn't work.

Ergo they avoid it like the plague.

But Steve sent me this article which reminded me again of the reality of the labor market.

Thanks Steve!

Uncle Jay for President 2012

Seriously, he would make a grand candidate...and by comparison with Obama he'd be godlike.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Central Unit (Part 7 by Warrior)

Warrior - Serving fourteen years for kidnapping and aggravated assault. Half Hispanic and Scottish-Irish with family still in Mexico. Brought up by a family steeped in drug commerce. He writes some of the best prison-fight stories on the Internet.

Central Unit began with Warrior discovering a race war is raging, and the guards are staging human cock fights. Part 6 left off with Warrior’s cell opening, and him stepping out expecting to be attacked.

With my stomach knotted, my eyes narrowed as I glared at the cells, trying to discern another open cell or one that was about to open. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I saw a cell open. I was more concerned with who would be coming out, rather than me going in. What seemed like minutes was probably just a few seconds. No one came. I didn’t hear another cell open. An officer’s radio garble snapped me back to reality.

Once again the sound of steel against steel made me recognize my cell was racking closed. I dashed into the closing two-foot gap.
Tigre’s voice boomed, “Watch your back!”
My peripheral vision caught movement headed my way. My instincts kicked in, lunging me further into the cell, to where I hoped I’d put enough distance between the incoming body and me. I did a 180 in preparation for a hit or a tackle. What I caught instead was an arm slicing down and out from in-between the remaining 6-inch gap. Then my door shut. I’d failed to realize the sound of my cell closing had overlapped the sound of another opening.

At my door was a dark man, his smouldering eyes giving off spasms of irritation all across his face as if to say, “You’re fuckin’ lucky!” He looked to be about my age at the time: 26. He was holding a toothbrush fastened with two razor blades on the end – a prison scalpel.
“You fuckin’ chicken shit,” I said, my eyes blazing.
“Chinga tu madre!” He hawked spit right in my face.
My eyes winced shut in disgust, and then I felt explosive rage. I turned my head and gave my cell a once-over for something within reach to throw. My cup was convulsing with boiling water due to the stinger still left plugged in. I threw the cup at his face, but he turned his head. Some of the water got the left side of his neck, and he bolted back to wherever his cell was, shrieking in pain.

At my sink, I washed the spit off. I heard keys clanking against my bars, a guard trying to get my attention. He was stood in front of my cell, wearing a khaki jacket and matching hat.
“What’s up?” I asked, wondering if he’d seen what had took place.
“Your tray.”
“What?” I asked, my attention still stuck on what had happened.
“Your tray. It’s pick-up time. I need your tray.”
“Oh yeah. Here you go.” I handed him my breakfast tray. Whether he was aware or not, he didn’t let on. Even if he did know, I was sure he didn’t care. He just wanted the tray. He took it and left.

Tigre appeared, mirror in hand, his face lit with bitter triumph as if he’d expected a better show. “That was a close one.”
“Yeah it was,” I said. “Good lookin’ out. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“I saw the fool creep around the corner as you were stepping in. He had a blade.”
“That woulda left a mark,” I said.
“Fuckin’ A, it woulda.”
“I got something for his ass next time. Believe that.”
“Hey, that’s the vida in this pinta homeboy.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re right. It is.”

Click here for Central Unit Part 6.

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.

Email comments and questions for Warrior to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Henry Gates

Richard, is a young black friend of mine.

I call him black because he is too proud, too upstanding, and just too damn much of a man to suffer the politically correct term of "African American."

He is like Lawrence, a common caller to my radio show of yore who happened to be black too, and he was proud of it. He, on my show, adamantly insisted he was not an "African American" but was a damn proud black man. God bless him.

In either case, both men stood on their own ground based on their own accomplishments and gave TRUE, GENUINE pride and honor to those who call themselves black.

But this schmuck, is just that, a schmuck. And though I know that I risk being called a racist, and that my black friends risk being called an "Uncle Tom" we all agree that this Henry Gates Jr is the epitome of schumkiness. Not because he's acting like an ass. Not because he's acting like a hypersensitive putz looking for the next excuse to claim victimhood like the "Reverends" Hackson and Sharpton. But because he disgraces those true and honorable people who happen to have the same hue/pigmentation of skin that he does, but share nothing of his cowardly and childishly morality.

I have said it before and I will say it again.

I befriend all people of all stipes and the reason you're my friend has nothing to do with the color of your skin or your ethnicity, but your quality and caliber of your person. And this putz, this vermin that falsely postures himself as a "representative" of black people while acting like a complete ass only belies the fact he's in it for himself and nothing as noble as bring about true and genuine progress to those of different colors.

It's also a damn good reason not to send your kids to Harvard, let alone hire any idiotic worthless Blue Blood moron that came from that decrepit school.

Different Types of Recession

An outstanding review of the different types of recession.

Notice the V - recession is where you let free markets correct on their own and the recovery is the quickest.

The L recession unfortunately is what we'll have.

The S - Recession though is a very nice idea.

While on Vacation

My girlfriend likes to sleep in late, and since we're on vacation, I figured I'd run some morning errands and get things situated before we start another big day. This way no time is wasted, my beloved can sleep in, but when it's time to get up, there's nothing to do, but GO and DO!

Today we are going to climb Battle Mountain, about a 4,500 hill really, but it's a good morning workout to begin the day with. I spent part of the morning tracking a place to climb it, part of the morning putting in a new air filter on the car, part of the morning getting supplies, and part of the morning getting my girlfriend coffee.

I return to our cabin and what do I see?

My girlfriend watching You Tube videos on the laptop whilst STILL in bed.

Middle of the world's most beautiful country, mountains galore to climb, tons of streams to fish and she's watching You Tube videos.

I said, "you're watching You Tube videos?"

Sheepishly she replies, "yes" and then giggles at me.

God bless her.

Friday, July 24, 2009

This is Our President?

Have a beer? You're kidding me?

Don't you have more important issues to tend to?
Jul 23 09 8:15pm

Dawn of a New Adventure (Part 4)

I’m sat in a fast-food lounge at London’s Euston Railway Station. I’m facing a row of vendors staffed with fresh-faced minimum wagers: Burger King, Harry Ramsden’s, Delice de France Pattisserie Boulangerie… There are no empty tables. Most of the occupants – an international crowd – are chatting amongst themselves or into cell phones. The rest are staring up at small departures and arrivals screens hanging from the ceiling. I am inhaling the smells of French fries, tomato ketchup, coffee and milk shakes, but I am not hungry because I had a mountain of rice and veggie curry before I set off over an hour ago.
“At Platform 2 the 20:33 service to Wolverhampton is now boarding.” A female BBC-quality voice keeps making such announcements.

Outside of the lounge is the main waiting area, about the size of a warehouse with over a thousand people stood facing a row of massive timetable screens, and an almost-movie-theatre-sized screen playing Sky News complete with an electronic ticker tape.
Over hamburgers and fries, the conversation between the two businessmen on the table next to me is heating up. They are gesticulating with their hands, flailing their pinstripes, hurling Cockney twang as if on the verge of fisticuffs. Their table is the only one the homeless young lad selling The Big Issue is skipping.

Today is the last day of the English school year. I have only done one talk on drugs and prison so far. And I only got that due to a cancellation. The lack of work is due to my talk only being advertised so close to the end of the school year. The feedback on the one talk I did was good, and I’m pleased to report that I’ve already got two bookings for the next term. Let’s hope my calendar fills up before September comes around.

My agent and I are in the final stages of fine-tuning my jail memoir. He intends to begin shopping it to publishers in September. So after years of perseverance – including emotional ups and downs ranging from delusions of grandeur to utter disbelief that I’d ever make it – it looks as if I’m finally near the finishing line.
The English version is going to be titled Green Baloney and Pink Boxers: Surviving America’s Toughest Jail, and the American version, Green Bologna and Pink Boxers: Surviving Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s Jail.
When I get a publishing deal, the publisher’s editor will probably want to tweak the manuscript a final time before it hits the bookstores.
As the jail memoir only covers my 26 months in Arpaio’s pokey, my agent has suggested I write about the periods before my arrest and after my sentencing hearing as separate volumes.

Flap-flap-flap… The wings of a pigeon just rustled by my right ear. In here! This place has a roof, so it must have snuck in through one of the doors. It’s homing in on some fries abandoned by a Chinese family.
“At Platform 7 the 21:07 service to Liverpool is now boarding.” That’s my train to Runcorn, so I must get going. I’m en route to my parents’ house for a month, to be joined by Kathi from Germany who’s flying in next Tuesday.

I’ll endeavour to locate the Max-Zucchini series while I’m there. I suspect it’s been hidden from me in the attic as my parents don’t approve of the content. I’ll post the next instalment of Central Unit soon, and I must say how impressed I am with Warrior’s writing development – we have a star in the making right there. I’m also going to try something new by way of posting the story of Smiling John in back to back instalments. Smiling John is Xena’s friend who was on America’s Most Wanted and Arizona’s death row.

Click here for Dawn of a New Adventure (Part 3)

Post comments or questions below or email them to To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The Captain's Great Expedition!

Howdy All!

Your beloved captain is off! Off to the blessed land of South Dakota for 6 weeks. 6 blessed weeks of...




and as one reader wrote me...


Yes, what trials and tribulations await the Captain!?

In any case, starting tomorrow our beloved guest writers will be chipping in as I will be in arguably the remotest parts of the country hunting down fossils, venturing where humans haven't in 500 years, catching MUCHO fish, and bagging peaks.

Also, we filmed the seminar last night and it went very well.

The video in its entirety is about 20 hours 10 minutes. A "professional" version will be compiled which will only be 30 minutes to an hour. I will be putting together a full You Tube version, unless it is too cumbersome, in which case I will just burn it to DVD and for shipping, handling and some profit priced in for myself, will be selling it (it won't be that expensive).

In any case I will miss all you guys, but will be checking in intermittently to see how youse are all doing.

The Captain

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

We Don't Spend Enough on Health Care

Given Obama's socialist agenda to spend more on health care, may I point out, we already spend more than most nations in terms of BOTH private AND GOVERNMENT SPENDING?

It begs the question to all liberals out there, "HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?"

Mike Castle

Looks like Mike will pay just like Norm Coleman did for being a politician and NOT a statesman.

Get's interesting around the 4 minute mark.

ht to Kate
T-Bone Attacked

I just received a letter that includes some details about the attack on T-Bone.

T-Bone is no longer at Buckeye prison. Some drama happened. Two guys tried to test him. They attacked him. He defended himself, and they were both seriously hurt. One is in hospital, needing reconstructive surgery on his face. I was shocked as he’s so laid back, but it wasn’t his fault. Because of the injuries, the staff are scared of him. They’ve rehoused him at the supermaximum-security prison in Florence.

Click here to read T-Bone’s previous letter.

If you wish to send a message to T-Bone post it below or email To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Captain's 6 Week Vacation

I have a 6 week vacation planned.

The reason I have a six week vacation planned is;

1. I do not have children.

2. I am self-employed and instead of answering to some PHB, middle aged moron who maintains the status quo, I've set up a nice little operation that is above all other things, EFFICIENT, and permits me to take this 6 week vacation instead of the paltry (gee-thanks-master) 2 week vacation most other people seem to slave themselves over

3. I spend less than I make, don't buy new cars or clothes, and more or less have rejected the consumption mentality that has driven most other Americans into debt, and thusly have a small, but positive cash flow that affords me this lifestyle and opportunities as such

4. Obama and the socialists in congress has made it economically not worth my while to work more.

5. I deserve every second of it because of how much I've worked in the past 20 years and instead of mommy and daddy paying my way through a 2 week vacation in Europe when I was 19, I'm putting myself out to the Badlands, Black Hills and Big Horns in the South Dakota Wyoming way and will not be in any rush to do anything but fossil hunt, mountain climb, rock climb, fish and explore.

Regardless, as I will be gone for quite some time and out in the middle of nowhere, I will not be making as many posts between July 23rd and August 31st. I will still be making the occasional post, but not as much.

HOWEVER, do not fear!

I have high trained and DEPUTIZED Cappy Cap guest writing economists that will help pick up the slack.

Our very own and beloved Prisoner of War in California, The Major (who is an actual, real, official economist) will be writing for your reading pleasure, as well as an associate of mine, who will remain anonymous.

Understand their writing does not necessarily reflect my own beliefs, but for the most part probably will.

In any case, grant them the same honor and privileges as you do me. I will be moderating comments though as always to keep the trolls out, not to mention the daily moronic commentary I get from rabid leftists that want to believe their journalism degree will somehow save the world.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Central Unit (Part 6 by Warrior)

Warrior - Serving fourteen years for kidnapping and aggravated assault. Half Hispanic and Scottish-Irish with family still in Mexico. Brought up by a family steeped in drug commerce. He writes some of the best prison-fight stories on the Internet.

Central Unit began with Warrior discovering a race war is raging, and the guards are staging human cock fights. Part 5 left off with Warrior getting a new neighbour, Big Tigre.

I noticed a large arm, twice as big as Cowboy’s, holding a mirror and getting a view of my cell and me. I pretended not to notice. Hearing the rapping of the mirror, I turned and walked towards the bars.
“Q-vo, ese. Yo soy [I am] Big Tigre.” My new neighbor then put his hand out for me to shake. He certainly was a big man. His hands were more like bear paws in comparison to mine. But they were also oddly soft. Not what you’d expect of a man his size. He probably led a life of leisure on the outside.

We exchanged small talk, engaging in verbal chess as we attempted to feel each another out. He told me where he was from and how much time he had left: 3 years. I exchanged the same info. We touched upon a couple of names we both knew from other yards, along with who was here with us at Central Unit. Prison is one of those subcultures where everyone knows everyone, or that six degrees of separation ties you to someone somehow.
He had to organize his cell, so we closed the conversation.

Two weeks went by. We exchanged the usual prison banter, and accustomed ourselves to each other’s personalities. I maintained my workout routine and distance from Tigre. When we’d talk, Tigre had this ritual he’d do after each sentence when the topic was a serious one: a nervous compulsion of chewing the inside corners of his lips, as though he were in constant suspense. Little by little, I started figuring him out.

Within this time, several cells housing opposite races opened up. Due to the ongoing war, if a cell housed a Mexican national, a fight occurred. The question on my mind was, When will it be my turn?

Mexican nationals had their own version of nicknames, usually based on what region of Mexico they were from. If they were from Durango, they’d go by that. If Tampico, they’d be referred to as Tampico.

There was one Mexican national in particular I kept an eye on. His name was Chicali. He was popular among his race. I noticed him always unravelling or ravelling up his fishing line to receive or send out kites. By his size, it was evident genetics had smiled upon him. He must have weighed 225 to 250 pounds, bull-like with muscle just slabbed onto the bone. The tight cords of muscle in his neck told me he was consistent in his workouts. He wasn’t tall, about my height, 5’10”. His hair was black and feathered back, parted in the middle, like a style from the 1970’s. Probably in his mid 40’s. I kept him in focus because if my cell were to open at the same time as his, he was one individual I was uneasy about facing.

I woke to the sound of the steel doors of the chow carts being opened and slammed shut as two guards began passing out breakfast trays. It was about 5am, one hour left until shift change.
A short balding guard wearing the traditional safety glasses set my tray on the food trap of the cell door, then continued on his way. Breakfast was two pieces of bread, two hardboiled eggs, a scoop of potatoes, and a small carton of milk the size of what a school cafeteria would serve. The bread was dry and hard, the potatoes greasy, and the milk warm. Only fit to eat were the eggs, which I ate with small packets of salt and pepper.
I got up, put my shoes on, and began to wash up. I started to make my morning cup of hot water for coffee.

I wasn’t exactly sure what time it was when my cell racked open. All I became aware of in that instant was that I was more alert than what ten cups of coffee could have done for me. The separate pieces of steel that constituted my cell door quavered against each other, resonating a familiar clanking and grinding. As the iron bars opened, the concrete floor trembled from steel against steel. I felt my door open, in place of hearing it.

The unwritten law dictated I step outside. It was a good law in my eyes, as I’d rather clash in an open area than take my chances against an added adversary of a knife-edged desk or bunk. I stepped out and noticed that all of the prisoners were at their cell bars staring at me. Some had barely woken up, I could tell by their matted hair and red eyes, yet they were as alert as I was. Instinct adopted a cell opening as the warning signal to each man.

With my stomach knotted, my eyes narrowed as I glared at the cells, trying to discern another open cell or one that was about to open.

Click here for Central Unit Part 5.

Just received news that T-Bone was attacked by two prisoners. Will post the details in the next blog.

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.

Email comments and questions for Warrior to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Saturday, July 18, 2009

How to Argue Against Socialism and Defend Capitalism

Hi All,

I have finalized a date and a location for the seminar. It will be THIS TUESDAY, July 21st from 5-745PM.

Unfortunately only folks within driving distance of Minneapolis will be able to attend conveniently, but for those of you still interested, we will be filming it and putting it up on the internet (assuming we can put 2 hours worth of seminar on the internet).

There are only 30 spaces available so please let me know if you want to attend by e-mailing me at

I will then send those interested the location and details.

Please do dress up a little bit as we will be filming this and I think it's going on the local public access cable show or something.

El Cap-i-tan

Associated Bank

I came up with a brilliant idea.

Since bankers were corrupt and would always try their best to get loans, no matter how bad, approved, and this would run contrary to the job of credit analysts whose job it is to guard the bank's capital and prevent bad loans from going through, I would outsource the underwriting process to an independent third part.

I called it "Independent Analytics."

I then drove around the Twin Cities metro, gave them my presentation about the merits of outsourcing their underwriting to me, and presumably the staff of analysts I would hire to handle all the demand.

Of course there was no interest because "they" knew what was best for the company and keeping the underwriting process in house and under the influence of commission driven bankers. Besides which they were fully "banking" on a bailout.

However, there was one bank where the gray haired, middle aged man assured me that they did not need my services, not because it wasn't a good idea, but because they had seen this housing bubble coming a mile away and their analysts were good, fine analysts.

Associated Bank.

Well, like many other banks, turns out "they" were not special and "they" had just as many bad loans as the next bank.

So to the middle-aged dumbass at Associated Bank (and perhaps any shareholders that are listening) allow me this one question;

"If you had hired the services of Independent Analytics, would you be in this situation?"

I didn't think so.

Friday, July 17, 2009

The Best Is Yet To Come

Listen to this first, then look at the chart below:

Monthly "Obscene Profit Break"

Hi All,

It is once again the monthly time to push my wares and services so that I, your beloved Captain, may continue to put food on the table, pay the mortgage, and go fossil hunting in South Dakota.

Yes there is of course the book you may buy, however, more importantly are my online classes, which have sustained about a 40% drop in enrollment. Obviously due to the economy, however, what better time than a RECESSION to take a class on finance and economics? Regardless, the drop in enrollment is really actually hurting me financially, so if you know anybody interested in taking a class on either investing in stocks or just a damn fine class on personal financial management, send them my way.

You may also help the Captain by just making a donation. You don't get anything but warm fuzzies from this. Of course, if you are a super rich person and want to make a donation of an amount that would sayyyyy, pay off my mortgage? Imagine the lifetime of super warm fuzzies that would generate. It would also make Natasha very happy, and who wouldn't want Natasha to be happy?

What will also make Natasha happy is just buying some "stuff." "Stuff" of the capitalist nature. Not much up there, but hey, if you need a neato shirt or a neato coffee mug

Finally, you can just mention the Captain to family, friends...enemies... or people you're just indifferent about.
Question Time with Shane

Shane - After being denied psychiatric medication by ValueOptions, Shane turned to illegal drugs financed by burglaries. For stealing a few hundred dollars worth of goods, he was sentenced by Judge Ron Reinstein to eleven years. Shane is the author of the blog Persevering Prison Pages.

Shane responds to the questions raised in the comments on his $115,000 court victory over the Arizona Department of Corrections.

In response to the anonymous disgruntled taxpayer who opposes my financial settlement:

I am well aware that trust and redemption will not come easy, and I will need to earn it. However, some in society will never allow me to earn it, for one reason or another, be it due to warped ideologies (tough on crime, ie. Lock ’em up and throw away the key) or some form of psychosis caused by being victimized. It’s those people I will unfortunately have to disregard as requiring to earn from. It’d be futile to continue to try, as well as counter-productive.

For anyone to suggest that I deserved or caused the injuries I suffered while in ADOC’s custody and care is simply warped thinking, hateful and incorrect. Furthermore, the “legally correct” term of what I was required to prove was “deliberate and/or callous disregard” for my “serious medical needs.” A far higher standard of proof than mere negligence or malpractice. I basically had to prove the each and every defendant 1) knew I had hepatitis C, 2) knew it was causing pain, 3) knew it was going to worsen, 4) knew it would cause me permanent physical injury if not treated, 5) knew it put my life in jeopardy and 6) still denied/delayed me the necessary medical care. I proved all of this, thus after years of costly litigation, they settled.

I find it shameful and a perfect reflection of some people in society’s double standard when it comes to the law.

Some people are all for locking up every person who breaks the law, for long sentences, at taxpayers’ expense. Yet many of those same people think it’s just fine to break the law against a prisoner when you’re an employee of the Corrections Dept. or Police Dept. without any reparation or repercussions. To those people, I say that you are the minority in these changing times and it’s time to evolve or silence yourself to save face.

Finally…I do not “rail” against the establishment. “Railing” implies that I use theatrical language. I simply state the facts as they occurred, my opinions, etc. If it was baseless rantings I’d have been silenced long ago by the Establishment. I’ve kept my blog for nearly FIVE YEARS!

I’ve tried, and succeeded, to better myself while in prison. I was paid $115,000, as reparation, by ADOC. If this is a problem for you, contact your legislator, Gov. Brewer, Director Ryan, or A.G. Goddard and complain to them. We all know how concerned they are about your (taxpayers) economic complaints. (That’s sarcasm for those of you who missed it! LOL)

P.S. Ironman, Red & a few others send their love & respect to Weird Al. Hello, Al!

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.

Email comments for Shane to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Thursday, July 16, 2009

The Department of Walking

I was listening to Garage Logic and this just needed to be pointed out:

The City of Minneapolis now effectively has a department of WALKING.

Apparently the citizens of Minneapolis are so stupid they need a GOVERNMENT PROGRAM TO TEACH THEM HOW TO WALK OR BIKE! Here is the PDF file in its entirety, but allow me to point out three major things.

1. The goals or objective of this program only betray it for it's true purpose: to employ otherwise unemployable people.



How, precisely is the government supposed to do this? Is this not just done naturally? And when it is -10 degrees outside with 13 inches of snow, HOW DOES WALKING/BIKING BECOME A PART OF AN EVERYDAY ROUTINE?


-Holy "My Nephew Needs a Job" Batman. A WALK AMBASSADOR???? Seriously, what worthless individual with a worthless degree is going to get that job? How much you want to bet he's related to somebody on the city council? Any takers?
- CLASSES ON WALKING??????? Wha, huh, fra?????
3. You combine this BS with the $200,000 used to get Minneapolis Citizens to drink tap water and the $50,000 per drinking fountain program, AND THE CITY COUNCIL, ALONG WITH THE IDIOTIC VOTERS OF MINNEAPOLIS WONDER WHY THERE'S A BUDGET CRUNCH!?
So look, let me put it to you this way folks.

Never move or invest in Minneapolis. Seriously. Just don't bother investing or living here. The voting population is so liberal and so damn ignorant of basic public finances, that you may as well live in North Korea. You will see Minneapolis become a colder version of Detroit before your days are over, please be an observer, not a participant.

Joe Biden is an Economic Dumbass


Wednesday, July 15, 2009

I'd Say 48% Booing, 52% Cheering

Regardless, he is not walking on water anymore;

Another Reason Not to Move to Or Invest In California #2

Ah, California. Again, "lamest state, EVER!"

From T-Bone (Letter 10)

T-Bone - Radiating power and strength, this deeply-spiritual massively-built African American towers over most inmates. He is a prison gladiator with more stab wounds than Julius Caesar. A good man to have on your side.


Hello My Friend,

How are things over there? I hope this letter finds you in good spirits with a positive attitude and surrounded by love. Sounds like you had fun in Deutschland, with the lovely lady you went to see. Man, I can’t wait to get out and enjoy the natural things in life a man is supposed to enjoy.

Things here are the same. I am into helping people who are on edge because of their time and what not. I mentioned to you that I had a situation a few years back with another guy who did a lot of dope, but the guy blamed me, and I had to pay it off. The same type of people are here now, but I’m not looking after any of them. This place is really a joke, and the administration doesn’t do anything to help people with problems.

So tell me, what do you do for fun in England? It seems like such a small place. That pic you sent me of Hadrian’s Wall was cool. It looks like it might be an out of the way place. You know how it is in America, a man can get lost if he wants to. The things to do are endless. When I’m out of here, I’m going to do my best to get there and visit and learn. It’s such a place of history! After being here, how does it feel to be there? You have such a limited amount of climates. But then again, you could just drive through the tunnel and go to France and the Med for some real heat. Or Spain.

I really do miss our conversations. I miss your smile, and I can’t wait to talk to you even if it’s on the phone. We can really get things together then.

Say hello to your folks and stay strong, my brother! Peace and happiness, Shaun!

Each one
Teach one
Strength and Honor



ps) You stay strong, Shaun, and don’t ever give up, man. Positive thoughts, positive actions. Love ya, man.

Click here to read T-Bone’s previous letter.

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.

Email comments for T-Bone to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Appraisers Are Preventing a Recovery

As you all know, I am not one who has a vested interest in inflating property values. Matter of fact, I was sounding the alarms when I saw bogus "name your price appraisals" come across my desk whenst I was in the banking industry.

However, today the pendulum has swung to the other side and not just the other side, but to just as much of the extreme as when prices were outrageously high. For when I had my house appraised recently, not only did it come in below what I was expecting, but so low that I literally laughed at it. Not only because I would never sell it for that, not only because the LAND alone (in my humble opinion) was worth more, but because the rental income I generate alone would be 50% MORE than what a mortgage would be to finance it 100% for that price.

So let me explain to you what is going on.

First of all you must understand that the appraising industry which is a VITAL part of this economy (as it conveys price information to the market about the largest single asset people own - THEIR HOMES) is occupied by nothing more than 100%, grade A, morons.

First they would whore themselves out to whoever would pay them the most to "deliver" the price the borrower or the bank needed for the deal to go through back during the bubble days.

Now they're just engaging in CYA.

So you're not dealing with brilliant people, you're just dealing with people who go where the money is.

Second, because of their stupidity the problem is that they're not doing their job and that is ACCURATELY APPRAISING PROPERTY. The problem this presents is that it stunts or at least mutes part of the "stimulus" plan in that while (presumably) all this TARP money and bailout money was to be used to help provide low interest rate loans so the masses could refinance at lower rates and thus improve their personal finances, it's never loaned out because why????

Oops! Sorry, your house appraisal came in too low. We can't refinance.

(Never mind that in some cases if the banks don't refinance they'll end up foreclosing and repossessing a house that is less than what is owed to them and it would be in their best interest to refinance, but, eh, banks are even more moronic than the appraisers)

Regardless, the whole point is that while people would like to refinance, they would like to save money, and we would like to get this economy back on the road again, the appraisers effectively prevent this with their insanely low appraisals.

Now I know why this is happening, for whilst my days as a credit analyst, part of my job was to audit these appraisals. And to understand why your house is "worth" only 50% of what it was before and why you were shot down for the loan and the bank is now going to repossess a presumably worthless property, you must understand the three appraisal techniques.

First there is the cost approach. This basically states the value of the home is the amount it costs to build it.

Then there is the income approach. This is like a "discounted cash flow" approach to valuing property. It theorizes if it was rented out what kind of value would those cash flows give the property.

Then there is the all important "sales comparison" approach. This takes sales of similar properties in similar areas and then applies similar prices to your property.

And that is the approach where the problem lies.

For you see, appraisers take RECENT sales. The problem this presents is that "What if you were in a bubble?" Or conversely, "What if you were in the worst housing market ever?" When housing, and the mortgages used to finance it, are presumably long term assets.

Understand the problem this presents when trying to value properties.

If you valued on property based on the sales approach 3 years ago, it would be overvalued.

If you valued it today (I'm getting the feeling) it would be undervalued due to the majority of sales being foreclosures.

But the bank has typically a 30 year mortgage on it, and you would plan to live in the home for more than 5 years.

This means the value of a home shouldn't be based on the current, minute to minute market fluctuations in home prices, but rather a long term rolling average.

But, of course, again, try to tell that to appraisers or explain that to banks. And you'll see why we have to bail out the banking industry and while the appraisal industry, vital as it may be to our entire financial system and economy, is nothing but a bunch of lemmings.

Monday, July 13, 2009

There's No Point in Folding Clothes

I have returned from a small vacation I took up north where there was



Cliff jumping into old mine pits!

Shooting guns

And other manly activities as well!

However, within our platoon of fearless vacationeers were none other than (dun dun dunnnn!!!!)


Yes, females in our midst!

Originally we think they snuck onboard without our knowing as they were dressed kind of like us, wearing jeans and baseball caps and participated in our arm-pit farting contest that usually denotes the beginning of the vacation.

In any case, given all the activities we engaged in, it was only inevitable that we would have to do a load of laundry as we would dirty up our clothes mighty quick.

So I threw a load in the wash. Transferred it to the drier.

Hopped in the shower, and upon exiting the shower, there they were!



Now I tried to rationalize with them about the fact that I was only going to put them back on again, thereby obsoleting the need to fold them in the first place.

But oh, no. They were adamant that the clothes be folded.

I pointed to the fact that I was standing in nothing but a towel and would be putting on the shirt that one of them had just folded, but oh no, they just kept on folding.

Now ladies, we men do appreciate everything you do for us. We know you do this because you love us. But there is no point in folding clothes in that they are only going to get wrinkled up again.

Making beds is the same thing.

There is NO earthly, godly or economic reason for making the bed.

You will just sleep in it again that same very night.

Thus, ladies, please permit us to make your lives easier.

Do no spend any time folding our dirty nasty clothes!

Opening a beer or pouring a martini is much less time consuming and much more appreciated!

Sunday, July 12, 2009

On Prison Ink Both Good and Bad but Mostly Bad (Part 2 by Polish Avenger)

Polish Avenger – A software engineering undergraduate sentenced to 25 years because his friend was shot dead during a burglary. In Arizona, if a burglar gets killed, the accomplices get 25 year sentences.

I do like gaol tattoos, and had planned on getting at least one or two. While in the Joe Arpaio Hilton we experimented with the low-tech method. No Walkman motors were available to make the usual powered gun, so we went Polynesian style. Sharpened up a staple, mounted it on a pencil, and started digging.

But that method doesn’t produce very good results. Sure it gets in there, but clean lines are nearly impossible. Still, it’s enough for a couple of starter tattoos.

Being scared of carcinogenic soot, I ground up some pencil graphite for ink. For my first tattoo, I decided to face my fear of the pain head on. Some places hurt a lot more than others: elbows, ankles, and the sides atop the rib cage are about the worst. I cut right to the chase, pulled out my penis and carved a smiley face into it.
Yes, seriously.
It actually didn’t hurt all that bad, just bled a lot. Like we talked about in Part 1, it has blurred and faded over the years, but Mr. Smiley still grins back at me every trip to the loo!

The second tattoo is one I regretted. Trying to impress an ex girlfriend, I drilled her name onto my ankle. Don’t ever do that. It just comes back to haunt you. Especially with a staple tack. It looked horrible. Of course she was unimpressed, and I was stuck with it for several years.

A normal person would have just got another tattoo over it, a “cover up,” which is a common thing. However the Polish Avenger can not be accused of being normal. No, I had to got he extra mile and erase it.

Erase, you say, how is that possible? Well, I don’t recommend this except as a last resort. When they really have to come off, there are ways. Our collective archive of prison lore turned up these methods:

1) Run an empty tattoo gun over it. Leaves a scar of the outline.
2) Tattoo lemon juice into it. Supposedly bleaches it out. I couldn’t find any.
3) Cut it off. Yikes!
4) Burn it off. Eek!
5) Sand it off.

Believe it or not #5 works pretty well. In the next instalment we’ll cover all of the gruesome details.

Click here for Part 1.

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.

Email comments and questions for Polish Avenger to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Where Housing Prices are Going

People keep asking me "when are housing prices going to recover."

The answer is simply;

They won't.

Understand the economic problems the US is having today are IDENTICAL to those of Japan back in the 1989. Stock market bubble AND a housing bubble, followed by a crash and then MASSIVE government "stimulus" spending that only managed to get the economy to limp along at 0% growth rates.

ERgo you can expect US property prices to go where Japan property prices have gone.

Now I know how to fix this. I know how to get not only property prices back up, but stock prices back up as well as GDP. Alas, "capitalism" is out of favor and the idiotic masses who don't know a damn thing about economics ( but know the top three contestants on Teen Idol) have opted to go the socialist route. Thus, all Americans can enjoy their own "lost decade" just like the Japanese did.

Friday, July 10, 2009

From Iron Man (Letter 5)

Iron Man - A martial-arts expert and personal trainer whose crimes include smashing someone’s door down: "I didn’t hurt anyone. I just wanted my fuckin’ money." His workouts are brutal. "I’ll have you in the best shape of your life by the time you get out," he told me.

Jun 16, 2009


Hello, brother. Thank you for your recent letter. It is always great to hear from you. Things are going fine for me, spending my time exercising, studying and making the most of every single moment.

It really does my heart good to hear that you’re practicing martial arts and that you are dedicated to your physical fitness training. Have you decided which weapon you will master first? My first weapon was the nunchaku, and like your first true love, the first weapon that you master will always hold a special place in your heart.

I am so looking forward to mastering the way of the sword. The Samurai sword is such a beautiful weapon, so perfectly designed. Did I ever tell you that I own an authentic Samurai sword? My grandfather brought one home from World War II that he took in battle from a Japanese soldier. He passed the sword to my father, and then my father passed it to me. It is my most prized possession.

It is 8:30am and I just got through with a 2 hour workout. I remember with fondness the evening workout we used to do on the big field. The burpee-run combo workout at sundown after doing an hour and a half of strength training in the 110°F heat. Great times. I miss you, brother.

My workout partner for the past year went home. He was in great shape. I walked him to the gate, and he said, “Check your watch today at 3:30. I’ll be on the golf course.” I know that he’ll fare well. He never let this place affect his mind nor his spirit.

Congratulations on getting the new literary agent. I know that your big break is coming. All you must do is stay the course.

Yes, brother, I can definitely almost taste the free air again. Just a few months to go…

A wise Samurai used to keep these words carved into a plaque on his wall: “Always on the battlefield.” Make success happen, my friend, and always remember to rejoice in the present moment, and live life in every breath.

Love and Respect,

Iron Man

Click here to read Iron Man’s previous letter.

Our friends inside appreciate your comments.

Email comments for Iron Man to or post them below. To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.

Shaun P. Attwood


For lighter fare given this recession practically mandates it.

From Frank! (You all know Frank!)

Thursday, July 9, 2009

The Captain Puts on a Public Seminar

I have a 6 week vacation scheduled. The reason I have a 6 week vacation scheduled is because Obama has made it economically irrational for me to work more, to make more, only to be taxed more, which in the end, frankly, means I shouldn't even bother working because I'm slaving away for people who deem it beneath them to slave away and just prefer to live off of schmucks like me. Ergo, I refuse to be the schmuck and good luck raising federal revenues while me and millions like me just refuse to work any more because it ain't freaking worth it.

Regardless, the vacation I will be taking will be in the Rapid City, SD area where I plan to hunt Californians and beat them down for the money they owe me for the bailout we're sure to give them...errr...I mean "I going fossil hunting."

In any case, before I take off I will be giving a seminar open to the public in the Twin Cities area. The title will be

"How to Defend Capitalism and Argue Against Socialism"

I've been asked by several people to put such a seminar given the wave of socialism winning over America and I will be delivering it before I take off for vacation. The time and location have yet to be set, but it will be before the 23rd because that's when I'm off to shoot Californians...errr...I mean "going fishing in South Dakota."

All are invited, including stalkers, impersonators, communists, socialists and varied psychopaths because not only myself, but pretty much all of my friends have carry and conceal permits and we'd love to have you.

I will post details upon finalizing a venue and a date, but in case anybody was interested in a seminar that pretty much succintly makes the arugment for capitalism and blows socialism out of the water (whilst shooting Californians...errr...I mean "hiking in the Black Hills"), all with the lovable personality, character and color of your beloved Captain, feel free to show up.

Finally Getting Their Heads Out of Their Asses

I don't know if it was the youth who were all in love with his pretty, nice words who all of the sudden realized "holy crap, he just made me a slave to US debt"

or the 30-50 somethings who are being starkly reminded of what the Volcker Recession was like and just how much recessions suck;

Honeymoon's over you effing moron.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Education v2.0

My classic 1990 Chevy Donk was practically spewing coolant.

I know very little about cars and bar something that is obvious AND within the fixability of the limited amount of tools I have, I usually have a mechanic friend of mine fix my car. However my mechanic friend is actually quite busy and quite successful, and this seemed to be something simple like a thermostat and so instead of waste his time, I contacted a friend's younger brother who is enrolled at the Dunwoody Institute for auto mechanics.

Dave stopped by, took two looks at it, BOOM, had it fixed for $20 in parts and $20 in labor, and the donk lives to drive another day.

But what Dave reminded me of, in his very quick and cheap fix of my car, is how the US education system today is broken to the point of obsolesence.

Dave, did a very very naughty thing according to conventional educational wisdom;

He went to a tech school.

There he learned a trade that everybody needs, but did not get a bachelors and will therefore not be able to become a failed quant over at Goldmans Sachs where he will make $250,000 to run the company into the ground. Tisk tisk tisk.

Stupid Dave.

But how stupid is Dave, really?

Currently Dave is employed and I (with my top ranked degree) am not.

Dave is also immensely more employable than I am in that financial services are laying people off, while industries that repair things cheaper than buying them new are booming.

And whereas everybody could use economic wisdom and advice, they're not willing to pay for it unless you have a nice suit and work for one of those bankrupt companies. EVERYBODY is willing to pay for a good, but cheap mechanic, especially if their car breaks down.

The only thing one can deduce from Dave's versus my education, is that Dave got a better one.

Now this is the primary problem with the US education system. It is NOT about preparing youth for the real world by arming them with employable skills. It's now about two things;

1. Generating money for those who work in the education industry
2. Brainwashing youth for political purposes, namely to vote in the future in the best interests of the education industry.

Or sure, they put it under the guise of "intellectual enlightenment." That education isn't all about just making more money (scoff scoff). Hoity toity academics claiming education somehow has a higher purpose than just training the masses to produce. But in the end, sorry boys and girls, reality wins and the reality is that education SHOULD be to train the masses with employable skills so they might have better lives in the future. And here is where the education institution fails miserably and makes itself progressively obsolete and unneeded.

First off look at most conventional colleges and what is required to get a simple bachelors degree. I don't know about you, but LESS THAN HALF the classes I took in college had anything to do with my degree. Accounting, Finance, and Economics classes were dwarfed by the amount of philosophy, theater, english, psychology, "pre-requisite" crap I had to take in order to get a "well rounded" education.

Let us not fool ourselves. This has nothing to do with making you "well rounded." It's to employ all the other idiots that majored in philosophy, pscyhology, foreign languages, etc. as TA's because the harsh reality (there's that word again) is that outside academia, THERE ARE NO JOBS FOR PHILOSOPHY MAJORS. To graduate from the U of MN's liberal arts college YOU HAVE TO TAKE TWO YEARS OF A FOREIGN LANGUAGE. WHY? You'll never use it. But hey, you employed several TA's for two years. Good for you. It's the test of whether a degree or study is worthwhile or not. If the only thing you can do with the degree is reteach it to future students, then the degree is worthless. If it has a practical application outside college, then it's worthwhile. Right now I'd say about 65% of the degrees being issued are worthless.

This is the second point about education becoming obsolete. It is no longer an education. It is a hobby for spoiled children. Brainwashed and told they MUST go to college (but without any explanation WHY they should go) kids pick degrees that reflect faux intellectual hobbies and approach NOTHING that is a true education.


Are you kidding me? Just listen to talk radio or watch the news.


Can't you just read the books they'd force you to read in college AND save on the tuition AND have the same employment prospects?

It's one thing to practically extort money from the student body to make all of them take 2 year's worth of this garbage, but to allow poor students to waste their time and money earning a full degree in these things is criminal.

This brings up a third point; the value of the degree.

I lament just how much more I could have learned had I been allowed to take more finance and economics classes instead of being forced to take HR or "marketing" or "logic." I theorize most engineering and computer science majors resented having to take worthless liberal arts courses. Imagine instead of 2 years of garbage and then 2 years of practical study, if all 4 years were dedicated and focused on ONE study. The amount one would learn would certainly be near double and the quality and caliber of your graduates would be vastly improved.

But no, now you have a computer engineer who is marginal, but hey, he knows the difference between Behavioral and Cognative theories in psychology. Instead of having specialized, employable labor (like Dave) we now have diluted, bland and non-refined labor entering the labor market.

Then there is a fourth point; grad school.

"Hey, that hobby not working out for you? Go to grad school." And invariably "grad school" means law school because law school takes those with worthless degrees and turns them into money grubbing lawyers. Great, just what this country needs. However, it's not just law school, but the grad school system of the liberal arts.

A reader in a previous post of mine made a great point in that if you look at it from the university's perspective why would they want to offer grad programs in engineering, computers, the sciences, biology, etc. The equipment and gear for labs and so forth is very expensive. But there is practically not capital outlay or expense if you want to set up a law school. There is no fix assets that need be purchased if you set up a "graduate program in education." And is there a degree more worthless than the MBA (passing the CPA test will earn you more). If these idiotic kids want to blow another $40,000 on an additional 2 years of a "education" let's make it possible for them. Meanwhile we can hire those washed up lawyers and sociology majors to become professors and TA's! Boom! A windfall of revenue for the U.

Now, as education starts to drift further and further away from its original purpose of educating the masses and instead starts to become a money making operation that poses as an educational system, it becomes obsolete. People will not expend their time and energy going to get "educated" when there is no financial return for it in the end. However, whereas in the past it seemed the masses didn't care if they were getting a good education or not, and pursued college more and more as a hobby, I do believe this "education bubble" is about to burst. The primary reason being that the factors causing the bubble are rapidly deteriorating.

1. To be able to afford majoring in a "hobby" you needed parents of a certain economic wealth to still take care of you when you graduate at 24 with your bachelors in anthropology. However, Mommy and Daddy aren't as rich as they used to be. Matter of fact, they weren't all that rich to begin with. And whereas daddy's 401k was $300,000, now it's only worth $125,000. And mommy just got laid off at Piper Jaffray, looks like they won't be able to "cash in" on that home equity line, because, well, heh heh, sorry junior, there's no equity left. They used that to buy the Lincoln Navigator and your trip to Europe.

2. The economy is collapsing so hard and crushing so many people that prospective students who would have normally relied on mom and dad to pay for it, find out their primary source of financing is gone. THEY have to pay for it. This crushing financial burden makes students realize REAL quick the value of money and if they started as a philosophy major, they'll quickly change their tune when dad can't cut the checks.

3. Youth will be affected by the harsh economic realities, not just psychologically, but financially. A 16 year old kid who just saw his parents get foreclosed on isn't only going to be thinking "gee, maybe I should switch from art to chemical engineering." He's going to be thinking, "Maybe I should just go to Votech and become a plumber so at least there's food on the table. I can't afford 4 years of school, the first 2 of which are nothing but BS anyway."

In otherwords, the economy will deteriorate so much that families and children will no longer be able to afford going to college like you would "go to Cancun." Education will once again take on the mantle of being a means by which to earn more money and with financial resources dwindling, demand for the "hobby degree" will dry up and demand for vocational programs will increase. The current educational system as we know it will collapse and instead of droves of poetry majors engaging in poetry "slams" or "peace studies" majors throwing down some mean candle light vigils perhaps maybe some of them can do something useful like fix my effing car or install some additional RAM in my computer.