Well I received a lot of suggestions for having some of you guys co-author/write for Cappy Cap.
I am certainly up for that. Shoot me an e-mail at CAPTcapitalism@yahoo.com and we can discuss.
Cpt.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
The Captain's New Year's Resolution
The Captain has many New Year's resolutions.
Boost my bench press to 175.
Keep Natasha's cooking off my waist and keep under 145 lbs.
Get Cisco certified.
Increase revenues for my various ventures by 20%.
However, sadly the Captain has another one.
The Captain will be scaling back Captain Capitalism.
This is not an end of the blog, but rather a drastic reduction in posts. The reasons are multiple but basically boil down to two things;
1. I've made a conscious decision to spend more time with Natasha. Fun as this blog is, it doesn't really pay the mortgage, plus you have to have your priorities straight. And as much as I all love you, Natasha is that special kind of dame.
2. The blog has already achieved what I wanted it to and that was to establish the empirical data that proves whether capitalism or socialism is the optimal economic system. After 5 years I now find myself simply updating charts or reiterating topics I've already written at length about. The posts are just simply short posts or links to other posts that highlight either the proof that capitalism works or the inanity of liberals and leftists.
This of course does not mean there won't be any posts, but the posts I do make will basically be one of three things;
1. Long, more substantive postings that could be considered essays that will tackle larger concepts than simple correlations between economic growth and taxes.
2. Short, quick charts where there will be little, if any commentary in that I trust you are all smart enough junior, deputy, aspiring, official or otherwise economists to figure it out on your own.
3. Video/audio of some speeches/seminars I plan on putting together which I think is the new way blogging/media in general are going.
I certainly welcome any links you guys want to send that you think are post worthy, and as always, all Cappy Cap readers are allowed to contribute their own writing if they so desire (CAPTcapitalism@yahoo.com). However, posts on my own will be of no particular frequency, probably averaging around one per month.
Regardless, I wish you all the best in 2010 and the best for capitalism. However, if there's one thing I've learned about capitalism it's that it doesn't need luck. It's reality. It's the people that need the luck if they ever decide to abandon it.
Boost my bench press to 175.
Keep Natasha's cooking off my waist and keep under 145 lbs.
Get Cisco certified.
Increase revenues for my various ventures by 20%.
However, sadly the Captain has another one.
The Captain will be scaling back Captain Capitalism.
This is not an end of the blog, but rather a drastic reduction in posts. The reasons are multiple but basically boil down to two things;
1. I've made a conscious decision to spend more time with Natasha. Fun as this blog is, it doesn't really pay the mortgage, plus you have to have your priorities straight. And as much as I all love you, Natasha is that special kind of dame.
2. The blog has already achieved what I wanted it to and that was to establish the empirical data that proves whether capitalism or socialism is the optimal economic system. After 5 years I now find myself simply updating charts or reiterating topics I've already written at length about. The posts are just simply short posts or links to other posts that highlight either the proof that capitalism works or the inanity of liberals and leftists.
This of course does not mean there won't be any posts, but the posts I do make will basically be one of three things;
1. Long, more substantive postings that could be considered essays that will tackle larger concepts than simple correlations between economic growth and taxes.
2. Short, quick charts where there will be little, if any commentary in that I trust you are all smart enough junior, deputy, aspiring, official or otherwise economists to figure it out on your own.
3. Video/audio of some speeches/seminars I plan on putting together which I think is the new way blogging/media in general are going.
I certainly welcome any links you guys want to send that you think are post worthy, and as always, all Cappy Cap readers are allowed to contribute their own writing if they so desire (CAPTcapitalism@yahoo.com). However, posts on my own will be of no particular frequency, probably averaging around one per month.
Regardless, I wish you all the best in 2010 and the best for capitalism. However, if there's one thing I've learned about capitalism it's that it doesn't need luck. It's reality. It's the people that need the luck if they ever decide to abandon it.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Everything Wrong with California
Summarized in one succinct proposal.
C
R
I
P
E
S
I would go on my regular tirade about how the sciences and what not, not only gets people out of poverty if you study and major in them, but is also the primary factor in what drives the wealth producing capacity of a nation. I would also point out this is the bonafide definition of racism. I would also point out some saying about "socialism" being "equal misery and poverty for everyone" but why bother. It's Berkeley. Self-prescribed medicine couldn't have happened to a more deserving people.
C
R
I
P
E
S
I would go on my regular tirade about how the sciences and what not, not only gets people out of poverty if you study and major in them, but is also the primary factor in what drives the wealth producing capacity of a nation. I would also point out this is the bonafide definition of racism. I would also point out some saying about "socialism" being "equal misery and poverty for everyone" but why bother. It's Berkeley. Self-prescribed medicine couldn't have happened to a more deserving people.
The Gift of Nothing
I received many gifts this Christmas. A sweater, some chocolate, some scotch. But the best gift, the absolute best gift I received was a gift from three of my friends.
Nothing.
Three men, three of my buddies, all three of them got me nothing.
And I'm being sincere when I say I appreciate nothing. And the reason why is this;
Nothing necessitates nothing in return.
It reminds me of the scene in Donny Brasco where Al Pacino and Johnny Depp are exchaning gifts. Both work for the same mafia so they basically just give each other handfuls of cash. Never mind this is essentially what happens on Christmas anyway (except there is a loss of efficiency and utility when cash is traded via goods). What I'm talking about is they effectively gave each other nothing.
This is why nothing is the best gift. You are not compelled to get a gift in return. Not only does this save you the hassle and the money, it alleviates you of the guilt or the compunction to get somebody something because they're probably going to get something for you.
I looked at one of my buddies who got me nothing and I said, "hey, thanks for the nothing." And with a sincere face and retort he said, "Hey, no THANK YOU for getting me nothing."
Now in general girls have a hard time understanding this. They seem compelled to get SOMETHING for every one. Can be the most worthless freaking crap trinket on the face of the planet, but they still feel compelled to get their far-removed acquaintences something. And the reason why is they think that if they don't display some kind of action or show some kind of affection for their friends via buying them gifts, their friends are going to somehow think they don't like them anymore.
But men have this unspoken understanding that we basically don't like spending money and our true gift to our true friends is to make it so they don't have to spend money either.
Even on birthdays. I don't know when my dad's birthday is, and he knows mine is sometime in July, but he doesn't know the day. We don't exchange gifts either on birthdays or Christmas and we're fine with that. The true gift is the convenience of not having to worry about it, nor compelling one another to do something about it.
Ergo my fellow junior, deputy, aspiring and otherwise official economists, take it from the Captain. The best thing to give your fellow chum is nothing. Nothing is the greatest gift an economist can give. I wouldn't recommend giving "nothing" to a female loved one, but for the guys nothing is as good as it gets.
Nothing.
Three men, three of my buddies, all three of them got me nothing.
And I'm being sincere when I say I appreciate nothing. And the reason why is this;
Nothing necessitates nothing in return.
It reminds me of the scene in Donny Brasco where Al Pacino and Johnny Depp are exchaning gifts. Both work for the same mafia so they basically just give each other handfuls of cash. Never mind this is essentially what happens on Christmas anyway (except there is a loss of efficiency and utility when cash is traded via goods). What I'm talking about is they effectively gave each other nothing.
This is why nothing is the best gift. You are not compelled to get a gift in return. Not only does this save you the hassle and the money, it alleviates you of the guilt or the compunction to get somebody something because they're probably going to get something for you.
I looked at one of my buddies who got me nothing and I said, "hey, thanks for the nothing." And with a sincere face and retort he said, "Hey, no THANK YOU for getting me nothing."
Now in general girls have a hard time understanding this. They seem compelled to get SOMETHING for every one. Can be the most worthless freaking crap trinket on the face of the planet, but they still feel compelled to get their far-removed acquaintences something. And the reason why is they think that if they don't display some kind of action or show some kind of affection for their friends via buying them gifts, their friends are going to somehow think they don't like them anymore.
But men have this unspoken understanding that we basically don't like spending money and our true gift to our true friends is to make it so they don't have to spend money either.
Even on birthdays. I don't know when my dad's birthday is, and he knows mine is sometime in July, but he doesn't know the day. We don't exchange gifts either on birthdays or Christmas and we're fine with that. The true gift is the convenience of not having to worry about it, nor compelling one another to do something about it.
Ergo my fellow junior, deputy, aspiring and otherwise official economists, take it from the Captain. The best thing to give your fellow chum is nothing. Nothing is the greatest gift an economist can give. I wouldn't recommend giving "nothing" to a female loved one, but for the guys nothing is as good as it gets.
Wild Man's Hooch Causes Chaos
Wild Man - My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He looked out for me after we were arrested, and is one of the main characters in my jail memoir. His first day at Buckeye prison, he knocked out the head of the whites in his dorm, so the Aryan Brotherhood put him in charge, and authorised him to brew hooch.
“So how did your first batch of hooch almost cause a race riot?” I asked.
“In prison, you’re supposed to stick with your own race,” Wild Man said. “The gang leaders tell you you can’t break bread with the other races.”
“Explain that a bit for the public.”
“You can’t share food with the other races. You can’t buy drugs from them. But everyone does, especially once you meet some alright guys from the other races. The Chicanos always back up the whites if there’s a race riot against the blacks, and the paisas back up the blacks.”
In Arizona, the four main racial categories are blacks, whites, Chicanos and paisas. The Chicanos are descended from Mexico, but born in America. The paisas are Mexicans born in Mexico. For a more in-depth account of the history of these gangs, including the ongoing war between the paisas and Chicanos, click here to read Warrior’s blog.
“A member of another race can’t sit on my bed under any circumstances,” Wild Man said. “I’m not supposed to sit with the other races and get drunk. But I have a friend who’s a Chicano, Casper, who was getting drunk with me, mind you he’s not sat on my bunk. He’s sat on a chair by my bunk. A white guy, Adam, is sat on my bunk. Me and Adam are messing around, stabbing one other in the arm with a pen. The deal was to see if you could get the pen in just enough to make it stand up, but obviously not get half the pen in. We were just drunk, you know.”
“Yes, sounds about right for you, Wild Man.”
“The youngsters were getting rowdy, all kinds of horseplay among themselves, getting drunk on my hooch. A Chicano youngster threw his mate on the floor, and a white youngster said, ‘Fuck that! I wouldn’t have anyone do that to me!’
The other Chicano lad said to the white youngster, ‘Shut the fuck up, you little punk. You know where the baño is. It’s chingaso time.’
The white youngster stood up, and looks at me ’cause I’m the head of the whites.
I said to him, ‘Go handle your business, and next time don’t even wait for approval. If anyone ever calls you a punk, you hit on sight.’
The youngster goes to handle his business in the bathroom.
Now Casper, the Chicano who’s getting drunk with me, is the head of the Chicanos. And Adam, the white guy stabbing me with the pen, says to Casper, ‘Fuck you, wetback!’ completely out of the blue.”
“Are these pretty big guys?”
“Adam’s about my size. Works out a lot. Has WHITE PRIDE on his chest in German. Doing time for hate crimes. Casper’s small, but stocky. Works out a lot. Has BROWN PRIDE on his belly. Casper jumped up, and hit Adam where he was sat on my bed. Adam fell back, and hit his head on the metal bunk. They were fighting in my house, so I got out of the way. I grabbed my TV, so it didn’t get knocked off the shelf.
Meanwhile, the two youngsters have finished fighting in the bathroom. They’re leaving, so Casper and Adam go to the bathroom to fight. But the Chicano youngster who’s leaving walks towards them as if he’s gonna do something, so I grab him, and throw him up against a wall. The white youngsters see this, and automatically want to fight. They’re taught to protect their head. That’s how they earn their ink. If there’s a confrontation like this, the ones who show heart will get tattoos. The Chicano youngsters are getting ready as well, so it looks like a riot is going to go off.
I say to the white youngsters, ‘Don’t boot up! It’s cool.’”
“Please explain that for the public.”
“No matter where you are or what you’re doing, if the head of a race shouts ‘Boot up!’ then the work boots go on ’cause they’ve got a rubber grip, and the sneakers are too slippy for fighting. They get their stash of shanks out, and it’s out-and-out war. They strap National Geographic magazines on their stomach and arms for body armour.
So it’s all going pear-shaped in the dorm. The cops are looking. There’s peeps stood at the window trying to block the cops’ view, but you can’t block it completely. I’m telling the youngsters, ‘Boot down!’
The Chicano youngsters are still booting up. Casper’s telling them, ‘There’s no problem. Leave it.’
One of their youngsters says, ‘Fuck that! The woods are booting up, so are we.’
Both me and Casper are yelling, ‘Everything’s alright. Boot down.’
The blacks are tripping now. They’re grouped up in a corner.
The white youngsters are drunk and looking for trouble. One says, ‘What’s the blacks fucking problem?’
Then all the youngsters who’ve booted up, whites and Chicanos, start getting ready to go and smash the blacks.
Casper says, ‘No go!’
I yell, ‘No go unless they say anything!’
Then everything settles down. The blacks are OK. The paisas are OK. The chiefs are cool. Everything’s OK, except the dorm has drunk so much hooch, I don’t have enough to pay the Aryan Brotherhood.”
“How much did you owe them?”
“They’d approved me to brew the hooch provided I paid them twenty percent, which in this case was five bottles out of twenty-five. Only I didn’t have five, I only had three left.”
“Uh oh.”
In Wild Man's next blog, he has to answer to the Aryan Brotherhood for the missing hooch.
Click here for Wild Man's previous blog.
Post comments for Wild Man below or email them to writeinside@hotmail.com To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Wild Man - My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He looked out for me after we were arrested, and is one of the main characters in my jail memoir. His first day at Buckeye prison, he knocked out the head of the whites in his dorm, so the Aryan Brotherhood put him in charge, and authorised him to brew hooch.
“So how did your first batch of hooch almost cause a race riot?” I asked.
“In prison, you’re supposed to stick with your own race,” Wild Man said. “The gang leaders tell you you can’t break bread with the other races.”
“Explain that a bit for the public.”
“You can’t share food with the other races. You can’t buy drugs from them. But everyone does, especially once you meet some alright guys from the other races. The Chicanos always back up the whites if there’s a race riot against the blacks, and the paisas back up the blacks.”
In Arizona, the four main racial categories are blacks, whites, Chicanos and paisas. The Chicanos are descended from Mexico, but born in America. The paisas are Mexicans born in Mexico. For a more in-depth account of the history of these gangs, including the ongoing war between the paisas and Chicanos, click here to read Warrior’s blog.
“A member of another race can’t sit on my bed under any circumstances,” Wild Man said. “I’m not supposed to sit with the other races and get drunk. But I have a friend who’s a Chicano, Casper, who was getting drunk with me, mind you he’s not sat on my bunk. He’s sat on a chair by my bunk. A white guy, Adam, is sat on my bunk. Me and Adam are messing around, stabbing one other in the arm with a pen. The deal was to see if you could get the pen in just enough to make it stand up, but obviously not get half the pen in. We were just drunk, you know.”
“Yes, sounds about right for you, Wild Man.”
“The youngsters were getting rowdy, all kinds of horseplay among themselves, getting drunk on my hooch. A Chicano youngster threw his mate on the floor, and a white youngster said, ‘Fuck that! I wouldn’t have anyone do that to me!’
The other Chicano lad said to the white youngster, ‘Shut the fuck up, you little punk. You know where the baño is. It’s chingaso time.’
The white youngster stood up, and looks at me ’cause I’m the head of the whites.
I said to him, ‘Go handle your business, and next time don’t even wait for approval. If anyone ever calls you a punk, you hit on sight.’
The youngster goes to handle his business in the bathroom.
Now Casper, the Chicano who’s getting drunk with me, is the head of the Chicanos. And Adam, the white guy stabbing me with the pen, says to Casper, ‘Fuck you, wetback!’ completely out of the blue.”
“Are these pretty big guys?”
“Adam’s about my size. Works out a lot. Has WHITE PRIDE on his chest in German. Doing time for hate crimes. Casper’s small, but stocky. Works out a lot. Has BROWN PRIDE on his belly. Casper jumped up, and hit Adam where he was sat on my bed. Adam fell back, and hit his head on the metal bunk. They were fighting in my house, so I got out of the way. I grabbed my TV, so it didn’t get knocked off the shelf.
Meanwhile, the two youngsters have finished fighting in the bathroom. They’re leaving, so Casper and Adam go to the bathroom to fight. But the Chicano youngster who’s leaving walks towards them as if he’s gonna do something, so I grab him, and throw him up against a wall. The white youngsters see this, and automatically want to fight. They’re taught to protect their head. That’s how they earn their ink. If there’s a confrontation like this, the ones who show heart will get tattoos. The Chicano youngsters are getting ready as well, so it looks like a riot is going to go off.
I say to the white youngsters, ‘Don’t boot up! It’s cool.’”
“Please explain that for the public.”
“No matter where you are or what you’re doing, if the head of a race shouts ‘Boot up!’ then the work boots go on ’cause they’ve got a rubber grip, and the sneakers are too slippy for fighting. They get their stash of shanks out, and it’s out-and-out war. They strap National Geographic magazines on their stomach and arms for body armour.
So it’s all going pear-shaped in the dorm. The cops are looking. There’s peeps stood at the window trying to block the cops’ view, but you can’t block it completely. I’m telling the youngsters, ‘Boot down!’
The Chicano youngsters are still booting up. Casper’s telling them, ‘There’s no problem. Leave it.’
One of their youngsters says, ‘Fuck that! The woods are booting up, so are we.’
Both me and Casper are yelling, ‘Everything’s alright. Boot down.’
The blacks are tripping now. They’re grouped up in a corner.
The white youngsters are drunk and looking for trouble. One says, ‘What’s the blacks fucking problem?’
Then all the youngsters who’ve booted up, whites and Chicanos, start getting ready to go and smash the blacks.
Casper says, ‘No go!’
I yell, ‘No go unless they say anything!’
Then everything settles down. The blacks are OK. The paisas are OK. The chiefs are cool. Everything’s OK, except the dorm has drunk so much hooch, I don’t have enough to pay the Aryan Brotherhood.”
“How much did you owe them?”
“They’d approved me to brew the hooch provided I paid them twenty percent, which in this case was five bottles out of twenty-five. Only I didn’t have five, I only had three left.”
“Uh oh.”
In Wild Man's next blog, he has to answer to the Aryan Brotherhood for the missing hooch.
Click here for Wild Man's previous blog.
Post comments for Wild Man below or email them to writeinside@hotmail.com To post a comment if you do not have a Google/Blogger account, just select anonymous for your identity.
Shaun P. Attwood
Sunday, December 27, 2009
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