Category: Uncategorized (Page 6 of 7)

My wife and I have spent the last two years on a six week renovation project.  We are nearly finished, in fact it appears that we only have eight weeks left. 

My wise and experienced friends told me that it would take twice as long and cost twice as much as the original estimate.  I am a heavily experienced project manager and a CPA.  So I believed that I could do much better than the twice for both timing and cost.  The projects I have experience managing are giant application software system implementations.  Projects that cost tens of millions of dollars and run for a year and a half.  Certainly, very different than house renovations but ventures that definitely require adroit project management. 

Cost wise, the home renovation project has performed fairly well.  Timing has been abysmal.      

We are really committed to finalizing renovation of this home because we plan on staying here until we become blithering idiots.  So we engaged a General Contractor to complete the project. Much of the work would be completed by his staff.  However, he augmented his team with a hand full of specialists (plumbers, HVAC professionals, tile people, painters, etc.).  

It did not take long to determine that the primary reason for the timing over run was delayed performance by the lead contractor and all of the subs. In the robust Florida economy, everyone seemed to be over committed.  All of the delivery dates started to slide.  A year into our six week project it was clear that timely delivery was not on any contractor’s radar screen. 

I tried the carrot.  “Hey do you guys and ladies like barbecue?  Next Wednesday, finish up the new siding and I’ll smoke a pork shoulder and some ribs.”  They arrived at my house at 4:15, put up two sheets of Hardy Board and spent three hours eating barbecue.

I appealed to the heart strings.  “You know having the demolition half done for five weeks is wreaking havoc with my asthma.  Can we get through this phase, soon?”  The Contractor says, “I know what you mean about the dust.  If I didn’t take three days a week to get off shore on my fishing boat, I couldn’t breathe.  A few more weeks and the demo will be history.”

I tried the stick.  “Oscar, I have been talking to my lawyer about the delivery delays.  He thinks there is a major problem with a six week project pushing two years without completion.”  The Contractor replies: “I know what he means, what a pain!  I’ve got twelve projects in the same boat.  That’s why I never put “time is of the essence” in any of my legal documents.”                  

So with eight weeks left on our six week project, I decided to get a Contractor’s license and finish the job.

What do I know about residential construction?  Nothing.  But I’m not going to do any of the work.  The subcontractors will.  All I have to do is find the right men and women to do different elements of the project.

You have to pass a test to qualify for a Contractor’s license for the state of Florida so I enrolled in a school for Contractors to prepare for the exam.

Here are some of the highlights of the Curriculum for General Contractors:

Choosing the Ideal Client

The optimal residential construction client is both wealthy and gullible.  It is challenging to find a non thinking individual who is well healed but the search is well worth it.  As the project unfolds, it will be very helpful to have someone who will believe the myriad of thin excuses you may have for non performance or delays. 

“No we can’t complete the wall because I can’t get the required Schlagger toggle bolts.  They are all produced in China and none are being shipped to the US because of the trade war initiated by our government. My supplier thinks that this will change in a few weeks and I really don’t want to take a chance on the less desirable alternative from Brazil.  Thanks to this political upheaval, the price for these beauties is going up.  Can you cut me a check for another $500?”    

Creating a Decades Long Backlog of Business

The reasons for creating a massive backlog are fairly obvious. 

First, the financial benefits are overwhelming.  Your policy upon signing an agreement must be to collect half of the fees up front.  Ostensibly, this is to pay for materials.  Since we have selected the optimal client described above, there should be no problem getting these funds.   So upon signing, you receive half the revenue and more than all of the profits for your entire project and you haven’t spent a dollar.  This is better than Charles Ponzi’s postage stamp gambit.  A solid business practice for any successful Contractor is to continually have a five year backlog of projects under contract.

Second, the accelerated cash flow will allow you to proactively acquire a lot of needed equipment and other assets.  These substantial deposits may be used to purchase miter saws, cordless drills, a second home in the mountains, a motor home (which can be creatively written off as a mobile office for tax purposes) or a first class boat.  Since you live in Florida, you should consider extensive investment in your personal residence.  In a few years, when the bubble bursts, your home cannot be taken in a bankruptcy action.  Ideally, you should plan on having a fully paid for residence with a value of at least $5 million.       

Third, locking in a large backlog of work will help ensure that you can keep your staff and sub-contractors busy for years.    

It should be very clear that none of the contracts you sign have any provisions that are time sensitive.  You may verbally explain that we should finish this up in three weeks but you will maximize the time value of money and compound interest by stretching the project out for a year.  Explain to your client that so many of the variables are outside of the Contractor’s control that you can never commit to an absolute delivery date for anything.  This is the key to raking in the proceeds of the five year backlog and avoiding annoying lawsuits for untimely performance.

Scheduling Your Work

Perhaps the most critical responsibility for a Contractor is scheduling the activities of your staff and subcontractors.  None of your clients know that you have promised eleven customers service tomorrow and that you only have three assistants. 

Adroit communication with your customers is very important.  Always tell them in advance the day when you will be arriving at their home.  However, be vague in defining the time that your staff will arrive.  Never use an actual time, such as “We will be there at 8:30.”  You can say we will be there in the morning or even first thing in the morning.  At ten o’clock call the customer and tell them that there was a problem at home depot and your guys should be there soon.  At three, send one of your workers over with sand paper and a caulk gun.  Have him or her patch up some nail holes and leave for a critical problem with another job.  The assistant can hit four or five different customers with the same process in one afternoon.  You will have fulfilled your promise to be there Monday.  Over time your customers will be trained to expect this kind of performance from you.      

Monday evening, text all eleven customers to tell them you will be there first thing in the morning or right after lunch.  On Tuesday, run through the same cycle.  

Eventually, you will have to be productive for all eleven clients.  By staying in constant communication, you can see where you need to prioritize resources as the level of dissatisfaction with untimely performance grows or wanes with each customer.  

Excuses

When there is a problem with timing, cost, or outcomes there is a need for a really solid explanation of what has gone awry.  “The dog ate my project plan” isn’t going to cut it.       

The best excuses are logically solid and very difficult to verify or refute.  It also helps to be creative and incorporate current events that might impact a construction project.  If you have researched and selected the ideal client, you will find that they may actually believe the tripe they are being fed by the mainstream media.  Having a problem related to this news is perfectly logical and believable to these people.  For example, this was a great excuse for 2021.

“Two of my carpenters were vaccinated for Covid last week.  They really had adverse reactions.  We hope that it is just a side effect of the body creating antibodies but we are concerned that there are flaws in the vaccine that may change their DNA and impact their ability to wield a hammer for many months.  We certainly don’t want to send anyone to your house who may compromise you or your family.  I’m trying to bridge the gap but it will be tough sledding for a while.”

Perfect.  This will change the client’s expectations of delivery for many months with no negative impact on you or your company.    

After attending classes, I feel qualified to replace all the Contractors on the great 21^st century renovation project.  So I call my General Contractor and tell him that his services are no longer needed.  Please create a final bill.  To pay the final invoice, I will judiciously follow the performance standards he established for the project.  He can expect my payment in thirty one short months. 

I don’t know how long it will take to complete the renovation. I do know that I can do it a lot faster than my previous General Contractor.  I have the advantage of actually wanting to finish the project.

I am astounded at how poorly I ran my consulting practice for 40 years.  We never collected fees “up front”.  Services were only billed after we provided the service.  We didn’t over sell engagements.  We only signed contracts for business that we could address with competent staff.  We hit almost every timeline and almost every budget for 40 years.  We stayed busy even during economic downturns and never filed bankruptcy to avoid refunding prepaid fees.  

What were we thinking??!!

Let’s imagine that there is a small world consisting of sixty people.  All sixty of these people have industrialized processes that sustain and improve their lives.  Industry makes food, shelter and clothing.  It enriches their lives with leisure and entertainment.  Unfortunately, there are   some undesirable bi-products of the industrial process.  The air and water near the people who manufacture stuff suffers.     

Another bi-product of industrialization is a volatile and dangerous gas called Cabluigen.  If Cabluigen reaches a specific level it will definitely explode killing all sixty of the small world’s inhabitants.  The good news is that Cabluigen will degrade at a very constant rate.  So if the small world citizens extract the gas and store it in a large container, they will not have any difficulties as long as they do not add Cabluigen to the container faster than it naturally disappears.       

The shift to industrialization was not made equally by all sixty citizens. Two or three of the inhabitants moved headlong into manufacturing.  The others who were late to the party were intent on making up for lost time.  Surprisingly, this offered great opportunity to all sixty citizens.  The fifteen or twenty who were suffering with air and water pollution could close their factories.  They could still get cheap stuff by letting the gung ho newcomers make everything in their corner of the world.  Smog and water pollution would abate for the initial producers when they shut the factories in their countries but they could still reap the benefits of good cheap products by purchasing them from their neighbors.  

For years, the sixty inhabitants have been more focused on improving their lifestyles without much concern for Cabluigen levels.  Industrialization and Cabluigen production was not at all proportional to the natural rate of Cabluigen decay.  The citizens with factories created much more Cabluigen than the other citizens.  In fact, one of the sixty inhabitants produces 28% of the world’s Cabluigen and the top five producers create 62% of the gas.    

For several years Cabluigen, has been added to the tank faster than the degradation rate.  A concerned citizen, Dr. Seymour Perrill, decided to scientifically analyze the rising Cabluigen levels.  Dr. Perrill’s findings were shocking and depressing.  He determined that if the sixty citizens of the world did not reduce the production of Cabluigen to the rate of natural degradation in the next ten years, the world would explode shortly thereafter terminating all life on the planet.

Very simply, if the sixty residents did not solve the problem in the next ten years, no one could prevent the end of the world from happening.

Needless to say this was very unwelcome news to the occupants of small world.  Their reactions were all self serving.  No one wanted to forego the pleasures of industrialization.  Some attacked the messenger.  Surely, Dr. Perrill has miscalculated.  I can’t see giving up my private jet because of these crack pot calculations.  The largest producer of Cabluigen pointed out that he was late in utilizing technology so he did not intend to reduce his industrialization until he had enjoyed as much of the benefits as others who preceded him. 

Fifteen or twenty citizens decided that they could solve the problem by dropping their production of Cabluigen to zero.  They believed that each person should voluntarily join them.  However, the late industrializers made a valid point and it did not seem fair to ask them to live by the same standards.  More importantly, none of the sixty citizens wanted to give up the benefits of cheap lifestyle improvements by forcing the citizen most responsible for manufacturing them to change their manufacturing methods.

The problem was that the tank holding Cabluigen did not care where it came from.  When it exceeds capacity, for any reason, it is going to explode.  Fifteen people cutting back production to zero while not addressing the primary polluter is like killing off harmful black mold in the prison’s gas chamber. 

So a quarter of the planet’s population changed their behavior.  They were colder in the winter and hotter in the summer.  They still had a plethora of manufactured goods but the pollution of making these things was in someone else’s backyard.   All fifteen achieved their goal of zero Cabluigen production, largely by sending production of their stuff to other countries.  The biggest polluters promised to change their ways but they never altered anything.  Cheap stuff could only be manufactured with low energy costs.  All of the low energy sources threw off a lot of Cabluigen. Dr. Seymour Perrill did annual studies and reports indicating that science behind the initial ten year calculation had not changed. 

Nine years, eleven months, and twenty nine days after the initial study (ironically, it was the month of February and a leap year), Dr. Perrill set up a lawn chair and a plastic table in his front yard.  He arranged a large tumbler of gin, a small snifter of vermouth and a jar of blue cheese stuffed olives on the table.  Halfway through the third martini, KABLOOEY, the world exploded and all sixty occupants died.  

As so many people have told me, the world is really a changed place.  The value system I was taught by my parents is as archaic as a beer can opener. 

With today’s social media and technology you do not move your economics forward by improving your skills and enhancing your value to a profitable enterprise.  In the olden days, the employer recognized your increased contribution by giving you more responsibility and more money.  There was nothing charitable or morally upstanding about the employer’s actions.  They wanted to keep the people, who really had positive impact on the bottom line, happy. Rewarding high performers was the best wat to ensure long term profitability for the enterprise.  Midway through your career you were creating more compensation than you needed.  By saving and investing the excess you put yourself in a position to retire and live happily ever after.

A ridiculous business model in 2024.

I started modernizing my pursuit of wealth ten years ago.   Driving around the city, I was very impressed with people who created revenue simply by holding up signs at busy intersections with long delayed traffic lights.  So I hand painted a number of signs and went to work.  Some were pretty effective.  “Will work for fried chicken!”, “The Bentley needs tires”, and “My Karma ran over my Dogma” were money makers.  “Need help funding my 401k” was a dud.  Apparently, no one in America wants to fund any retirement accounts, anywhere.

So the key to real wealth was tapping in to Americans’ penchant to donate to causes that they deem to be “most worthy”.  Determining what Americans deem as “most worthy” is an art form.  Often the values are counter intuitive.  For example, in the 1990’s, a young mother was sadly attacked and killed by a mountain lion in California.  The park service tracked and euthanized the mountain lion.  Later they discovered that the lioness had a litter of three cubs.  A charity was created to help care for the mother’s children.  It received donations of $20,000.  Completely independently, a charity was established for the lion cubs.  It received $160,000 in donations. So if you are going to be financially successful, you must really understand the values of potential donors.       

Before the internet changed our lives, soliciting charitable contributions was a complicated effort.  It was labor intensive and expensive.  You had to establish a valid charity from a legal and tax perspective.  You had to identify prospective donors.  You had to develop effective solicitation techniques.  You had to put the touch on the donors and ultimately collect funds.  90% of the donations actually had to be disbursed for the explicit purpose of the charity. There were legal and tax filings, mailing list or phone solicitation research and execution, credit card receipt formats, mail and check receipt formats, etcetera.  The solicitations had to be rock solid because most of the potential donors you would contact would be both sane and sober.  You needed to be sufficiently convincing in your appeal to motivate rational people to write a check.     

Thankfully, as the internet and financial transaction processing evolved, a world of opportunities has opened for the tech savvy entrepreneur. 

I have eliminated nearly all of the complexities of generating contributions with the “Come Fund Me” application.  I go to the App, put in the reason I am in need of funding and nearly everything else is managed by the web site.  For example, last February I set up a “Come Fund Me” page to help me overcome my depression.  Tom Brady’s retirement was such a shock and trauma that it prevented me from working.  In fact, my mental state was such that I may never be able to resume my lucrative career as a truck driver.  I carefully posted the “Come Fund Me” application in Bistros located in Tampa, Boston and Ann Arbor at 1:00 AM.  Within a week, the sensitive patrons provided more than $97,000 to help restore my mental health.  This is so effective because it is so easy for the donors to make the pledge.  “Come Fund Me” accepts real money, credit cards, crypto currencies, the yuan, rubles, you name it.  At 1:00 AM many of the patrons are sloshed and they really align with my plight.  They may have just paid a few hundred bucks for a lap dance, why not give the poor Brady fan a sawbuck.  They push a button or two and bingo, I have a contribution.       

Three weeks ago I posted that I was careening toward bankruptcy because of the high cost of diesel fuel.  I needed to trade my 1988 – F350 diesel for a sensible Tesla but I had no funds.  So far I have tallied up $47,500 of the money required for the new electric vehicle.

I generated $8,500 to fund addiction counseling to help me conquer my life long addiction to fried chicken.

I even garnered $1,113 to help me recover the cost of losing too many golf balls on the 17^th hole at TPC Sawgrass.

Suffice to say “Come Fund Me” has changed my life.

What’s next?

I may need help converting my home to a totally green environment.  Solar panels and a couple of windmills.  The thought of Donald Trump becoming President has certainly rekindled my depression.  The thought of Joe Biden remaining President has certainly rekindled my depression.  The interest rate on my variable rate mortgage just doubled.  I don’t know how I can survive the 18% inflation that has been thrust upon us since 2021.

Watch the news.  Truly, the possibilities are endless. 

Thanks to the ease of accessing sympathetic and often inebriated contributors and the ease of completing the entire transaction, “Come Fund Me” is likely to be my full time occupation for a very long time.    

Many people make seemingly small decisions early in life that have a profound effect on the rest of their lives.  In fifth or sixth grade we are all seeking to establish our identities.  Our daughter fell in love with grade school dramatics.  The passion continued through high school and through a theater degree at Northwestern.  She loves acting and she is very good at it.  It all started in fifth grade.  In sixth grade our son signed up for Space Camp and it lit a fire for pursuing science that culminated in a PhD in Archeology.  He is now a professor at the University of Central Florida, teaching his favorite subject.   

I too had a seminal experience in sixth grade.  I rearranged my school schedule to maximize my exposure to the wisdom of Soupy Sales. 

Southeastern Michigan was blessed with daily performances of Soupy.  He started as a host of a lunch time cartoon show for kids.  He was so popular and versatile that he simultaneously hosted an evening program, Soups On, to compete with the 11 PM News.  The night time program featured great Jazz and adult oriented Soupy Sales humor.  Eventually, the Lunch with Soupy program migrated to Breakfast with Soupy.   

I quickly became a full member of Soupy’s exclusive “Bird Bath Club”.  All participants were known as “Bird Baths”.  Eventually, the number of cartoons diminished and were replaced by great personalities that would have a positive impact on children.  Willie the worm, “the sickest worm in all of Detroit”, would announce birthdays for fellow “Bird Baths” between sneeze attacks.  Pookie the lion would come to the window and sing Little Richard’s “Tutti Fruitti” or Oscar Brown, Jr.’s “But I Was Cool”.   Soupy had two dogs, White Fang and Black Tooth.  They spoke dog to Soupy and he would translate their communication for the “Bird Baths”.  It seemed like every two minutes someone would hit Soupy in the face with a cream pie.  The pie shots always sounded like ricocheting bullets.   

Soupy was a font of valuable information.  He would dial in the radio searching for a weather report.  The announcer said, “Oh, Oh! We’re in for a bad spell of weather.  W-e-t-h-o-r”.  Soupy was a dance instructor.  He taught us all to do the Soupy Shuffle. He gave health advice “Be true to your teeth and they won’t be false to you” or “Don’t scratch those chicken pocks or you will grow up looking like a golf ball”.  He was an investment advisor.  He pointed out that he once bought 7 Up when it was six.  Every day he had a chalk board with today’s Words of Wisdom.  “George Washington may be the father of our country but Faygo is the pop”.  “Show me an explosion in French bakery and I’ll show you a Napoleon blown apart”.

It was certainly clear to me that Soupy Sales was a very important educational resource.  Unfortunately, when I entered six grade, Breakfast with Soupy ended at 8:30 and classes started at St. Thomas at 8:30.  I only lived a mile from school but I could not possibly watch the half hour television program and get to school on time.

As I sat in my first period math class, I noticed that a couple of students arrived a half to three quarters hours late every day.  Sister Lucentia never reacted and never reported them as LATE.  I asked one of the late arrivers why they were never on time and why they did not get suspended.  They indicated that they were on the late bus.  It seems that one bus had such a long route each day that it could not possibly arrive on time.  If you rode the late bus you were never considered TARDY.  It also occurred to me that, if I stayed at home and had breakfast with Soupy, I would get to school about the same time as the late bus.  Perhaps Sister would assume that I also arrived on the late bus. I would miss three quarters of my math class but I would get all of the valuable lessons Soupy offered.  

This certainly seemed worth a shot.  The next day, I poured a bowl of cornflakes at 8:00, watched Soupy and rode my bike to school.  I wandered in to math ten minutes before it ended.  Turned in my homework and picked up this evenings assignment.  Not a peep from Sister Lucentia.  If she had asked why I was late, I would have replied that I had no excuse.  But she did not ask.  On the other end, my mother never asked when I was supposed to start school. A perfect situation.  I was prepared to ride this horse as long as he could trot.      

As it turns out, that horse galloped from September 8, 1958 to June 10, 1959.  That’s right.  I never got nailed.  In my 76 years on the planet that was the longest run of anti institutional behavior that I ever achieved. No discussions with my parents.  No discussions with the nuns.  Olly Olly all Home Free!  

As with my children, the whole experience made a big impact on my life.  I muddled through math but I also enjoyed episode after episode of the wisdom on Soupy Sales.  I can handle the quantitative stuff.  I have been a CPA and a systems design specialist.  However, my first reaction to most things in life has always been comedic. 

As Controller of a public company, I found that one of our subsidiaries was in dire straits.  I analyzed the problem and set up an emergency meeting with the CFO and President. The President noted that the sub was losing $10,000 a day.  He asked if there was anything positive about this situation.  My immediate reaction and response to him was “Well, it isn’t leap year.”  Fortunately, the President must have also been a “Bird Bath” when he was young.  He laughed heartily and didn’t fire me.    

It is exciting to see Ann Arborites reinvigorating the old neighborhoods on the West side of the city.  My formative years from Grade School through Twelfth Grade were spent in a house my grandfather built on Miner Street.  I can’t imagine that there could have been a better place for me to get started in life.

Let me take you back to 1957 and tell you what it was like to live in that great neighborhood. 

My dad worked for Michigan Bell and my mom had her hands full organizing the household for two “grown ups” and four kids.  My two older sisters plowed the way.  They led mom and dad through the initial perils of parenting.  Being five years younger I mostly cruised under child rearing radar.  My parents thought “Mikey is a breeze compared to Jo and Barb.” 

How could two sweet young ladies be a parenting challenge?  When I was seven years old Lucretia and Mad Madam Mim warned me not to disturb their paper dolls.  “You will regret it!”  Naturally, I ran amok with all of the dolls and associated paper clothing options.  For some reason my grandfather had a fetish for laundry chutes.  The house on Miner Street had a three foot square laundry chute that was a straight drop, three stories into the basement.  Virtually kicking and screaming they tossed me into the chute on the top floor.  It was a very quick trip to the basement.  Fortunately, the incident occurred one day before laundry day and I landed pretty softly.  My mother plucked me out of the bin and the siblings were grounded for a month. 

So, being third in the birth order, I was given a lot of latitude.  On a summer day I would pop out of bed and make my own breakfast.  For me that was either a bowl of cereal or cocoa and toast.  I was now free to pursue all of the entertainment opportunities the West Side offered. This morning it would be baseball.  Every morning, a group of kids would meet up at Hunt Park and organize a marathon baseball game.  I put on my Tigers Cap, stuffed a baseball in my pocket and retrieved the Al Kaline signature Louisville Slugger from the corner of my bedroom.  It was amazing that Al and I had the same taste in bats.  We liked a thin handle for a better wrist snap and large barrel that was a little more forgiving when you made contact with the ball.  Al’s bat was 34 inches long.  Mine was 29.  Other than that, they were identical.  I dragged my bike off the front porch.  I threaded my glove on the handle bars and straddled the bat across the handle bar between the grips.  Off to Hunt Park. 

Hunt Park offered two backstops facing each other from opposite corners of the park and a pitcher’s mound for each diamond.  There was no precut infield but the base paths were heavily grooved by hours of play from the sandlot teams. Anyone was welcome to play.  Girls, boys, anyone between seven and eleven years old.  We named two captains and went through a ritual with a bat, slightly more complex than the theory of relativity, to determine who would get the first pick from the dozen players.  Sides chosen, we played ball.

We had formal rules and informal rules. 

Formal rules were: “Pitcher’s Box is out. No Walking. No catcher (we did not have the requisite equipment). If we had less than five players a side, right field is closed.  Anything hit to right was an automatic strike.” 

Informal rules were you did not take advantage of the weaker players.  Everyone was allowed to play and the skilled players would not over power the neophytes.  When a seven year old came to bat you pitched the ball softly and underhanded.  You might throw a cross body block on an eleven year old when you were trying to score but no one ran over a seven year old. Nothing I ever did later in life emphasized a sense of fair play more than sand lot baseball at Hunt Park.   

The games lasted for hours.  Twenty or thirty innings.  All of us developed and honed our baseball skills much more on the sandlot than we did in official little league play.

After baseball we had lunch.  We randomly raided different households in the neighborhood.  Standard fare was PB&J’s or bologna sandwiches.  Occasionally, I would feast on a fried bologna sandwich.  Usually one of the mom’s organized lunch for the horde.

Following lunch we might decide to race our dirt bag soap box derby cars down Daniel Street.  Five or six of us made race cars out of spare wagon parts, two by four axles, and two by six chassis.  We steered with ropes tied to the front axles. No brakes. Daniel Street was perfect.  There was a very steep hill starting at Sunset Street but toward the end of Hunt Park there was an upslope so we all coasted to a stop.  Clear vision, no side streets, little traffic.  Spring Street on the other hand was totally down hill, three stop streets, heavy traffic, lots of trees.  Our test run down Spring resulted in one broken arm and lots of scrapes and bruises.  After five or six runs on the Daniel Track, someone was awarded the Barney Oldfield trophy and we moved on.

The Westside was a working class neighborhood and dinner time was pretty standard.  I had to be home at five and cleaned up for dinner forty five minutes later.  Dinner was served to the whole family at 6:00 every weekday.  We took turns at the dishes and then we went out to play with kids on the block.  Could be anything.  Touch football in the street.  Frisbee tag.  Hide and seek.  Whiffle ball.  Maybe a low profile card game on the front porch.  The old adage that we had to be home when the street lights came on is a little misdirected.  The real rule was we don’t want you home until the street lights come on.    

The West Side was rife with parks.  Hunt Park offered excellent sandlot, football, and basketball facilities.  In the winter, there was a great open hill that was ideal for sledding.  West Park was only three blocks from my house and it provided even greater recreational opportunities.  West had a fully maintained little league baseball field and a spectacular full size baseball diamond complete with dugouts.  Ann Arbor sported a semi pro baseball team, the Ann Arbor Travelers.  They played every weekend during the summer.  All the home games were at West Park. For four years, I was their batboy. West Park offered a wading pool to cool off on 90 degree days.  In a corner of the park there is a band shell for community music performances of all types.  In the winter, the baseball diamond was flooded and served as a public ice skating rink.  This was a big outdoor skating rink.  No hockey allowed.  My sister Barb had visions of becoming the next Sonya Henning so she spent many days and nights perfecting her figure eights at West Park.  The rink was lighted and there was a heated portable shed to warm you up on cold windy days.  We played “crack the whip”.  The person at the end of the whip achieved speeds near the sound barrier.  He or she was usually launched completely off the rink and over the surrounding snow bank.

Another great feature of the Old West Side was the proliferation of mom and pop stores. There were three stores within three blocks of our house and four more within six blocks. They were really needed for the mid fifties lifestyles.  Most families only had one automobile.  That vehicle went to work with the working parent.  At our house, when mom needed sugar, noodles, a can of soup or even a pack of Camels, she sent me a block and half south to Tom’s Miner Street Grocery.  This was always a great opportunity for me.  There was a two cent deposit on long neck bottles in Michigan.  Doesn’t sound like much.  But in 1957 a full size Snickers candy bar was a nickel.  A Faygo Crème Soda was a dime.  So for three pop bottles, I could get a Snickers and a piece of Double Bubble chewing gum.    For some reason we could always find a few beer bottles or pop bottles laying around the neighborhood.  If I had two salted away, I just needed to find one more on my way to Tom’s and the Snickers was mine.

Out of necessity, we all became capitalists.  The family budgets were tight.  Very rarely did discretionary income trickle down to the kids.  No problem.  With a little creativity we could be feasting on Snickers and Rock and Rye for a week.  I had a few lawn mowing and snow shoveling customers.  We all had our eyes open for long neck beer and pop bottles. 

Two of my more creative enterprises were in the recycling industry and the wholesale bait and tackle business.  Every month or so, I would drag the wagon out of the basement and tour the neighborhood asking for old newspapers and magazines.  Most of our neighbors saved these.  In fact they saved almost everything.  These people had survived the depression and you never knew when you might need to wrap fish or line the bottom of the birdcage.  When the piles got really big, they were happy to have me carry off the excess. I would take the papers home and bale them up with twine.  When I had stowed enough to fill the trunk and back seat of our 55 Mercury, my dad and I would load up the car and drive them to Lansky’s junkyard on Main Street.  Lansky paid me bulk pound prices for the paper.  I raked in three or four dollars a carload.  I bought my first Argus camera with paper proceeds. 

One of my friend’s father was an avid fisherman.  He determined that the perfect bait for big Bluegills was wild black crickets.  He offered to pay us the exorbitant sum of a penny per cricket for as many as we could deliver. During the day the crickets would hide under boards and rocks in the fields around the West Side.  Jimmy and I would hunt crickets alone but it was better to team up.  These guys were actually pretty fast and when you flipped the boards they started to move.  So one guy flipped and the other pounced.  More than once we flipped a board and were about to pounce when we found the den was occupied by a large spider, a snake or field mice.  Occupational hazards.  Jimmy and I always split the proceeds and we netted at least a dollar a month during the summer.                         

Growing up on the Westside, at an early age, we learned that you could always make money.  You could find a need, satisfy the need and support your lifestyle (usually Snickers and Faygo).  We never worried about having the opportunity to make enough money.  That perspective stayed with me my entire life and I learned it at age nine on Miner Street. 

I was very fortunate to grow up on the Old West Side of Ann Arbor.  We had a lot of fun.  My parents instilled solid values in their four children.  The need for equal opportunity and fair competition.  The benefits of self reliance and acquiring skills that were needed in the community.  These values were reinforced by our peers on the Old West Side.  I remember these lessons as I pass through life.  Most importantly, I never touch anyone’s paper dolls.    

I am finding that it takes a lot more time to draft correspondence these days.  A few years ago, I could rifle off a well thought out letter in less than ten minutes.  It now takes a least a half hour.  At first I thought, this is a sure sign of aging.  The grey matter is just not as responsive as it once was.   

So I started charting what I spend my time on in the writing process. 

Last week, I received an email from my electric company stating that my invoice was past due and accordingly they are charging me a late fee of $19 dollars.  It took me 8 seconds to comprehend that DT, Inc. is a monthly Auto Pay that creates an ACH withdrawal automatically from my checking account.  Only 8 seconds to frame the problem.  Not much time wasted there.  I don’t pay the bill, the electric company, DT, Inc., does and they didn’t pay this one.  They should send me $19 for non-performance of the auto pay feature.  So I started the letter with one of my favorite expletives “Balderdash”.  As I was moving to my next thought, I noticed that the word processing software changed this great expression to “Your balls are smashed!”  So I went back and changed the computer generated correction again to “Balderdash”.  I also decided not to use “Poppycock” in my next sentence fearing the auto correct response might really get me in trouble. 

In my next line, I noted that “DT, Inc.’s Auto Pay software is running amok”.  When I reread the sentence it had been changed to “The delirious tremor episodes of Otto Payne are in the mud.”  I back track and fix the ridiculous auto correction revision.  I now have a minute tied up in the first two sentences.  One of them is only one word.  I drafted the second one in four seconds but it took another 20 seconds to fix auto correct. 

Several things are becoming clear.  My brain seems to be firing on all cylinders and manually re-correcting auto correct is sucking up all my time.  In addition, if I don’t simplify my language so that it doesn’t trigger auto correct, it will take me a long time to draft this correspondence. 

If I do all the things the Immaculate Heart of Mary sisters taught me in eighth grade to draft a crisp, interesting correspondence, it may take an hour to write a simple letter.  Eight minutes to write it and 52 minutes to fix auto correct. 

So I won’t use very short sentences, like “Balderdash”, for emphasis.  I quash colorful descriptions, like “running amok”.  If I have a word that auto correct likes, I will keep using it.  The nuns said I should keep the reader interested by varying the terms I use for the same item.  E.g. cash, money, dollars, payment, remittance, currency, legal tender, moolah, scratch, dough, samollians, bread, greenbacks, bananas, long green, dead presidents, Benjamins, coin of the realm, and mana from Uncle Sam.  For the electric company letter I will only use “cash”. Auto correct likes “cash”.    

At this point, I am wondering what the auto correct criteria are for editing correspondence.  The algorithms have to use some assumptions about the reading level of the recipients.  In the United States, this is pretty low.  54% of adults read at or below the fifth grade reading level.  Our government has actually lowered that standard.  Because of the education debacle with Covid, fifth graders are no longer reading at the same level they did before Covid.  That’s right, fifth graders cannot read at the fifth grade level.  So the Fed’s lowered the standard and the 2018 third grade reading level is closer to the 2024 fifth grade reading level.

My word processing provider believes that they are helping me by editing my correspondence to something that a 2018 third grader will easily understand.  If I am ever going to finish this letter to the electric company, I need to further simplify my writing.  So I try to complete the correspondence with one syllable words.  “I think the goof up in the bill is your fault.  I saw my bank charge and you took cash to pay the March bill last week.  Give me back the late fee and fix your IT.”  Almost made it past auto correct.  It changed IT to “ants”.      

Here are three versions of the same letter.  The first version is in the form that I normally use for my correspondence.  It took 15 minutes to draft because I constantly had to override auto correct.  The second is the version of my original writing without revising any of the changes made by auto correct.  This only required 5 minutes of writing time.

The third version is the adjustment I made to my writing style to minimize auto correct edits.  This required 10 minutes to draft.

My response:

Dear Customer Service Representative,

I recently received a notification that my March payment was not received in a timely fashion by DT, Inc.  Balderdash!  DT Inc.’s Auto Payment software is running amok.  At your request, I signed up for Auto Pay.  DT Inc. triggers an ACH disbursement from my bank account.  A fast review of my bank account showed that you extracted a timely payment on April 10.  You should credit me $19 for the erroneous late fee and you should pay me $19 for having to address your mistake.  If the late payment has an effect on my credit rating, the next correspondence will come from my attorney.

Sincerely,

Michael Jay Sinelli        

My response as edited by Auto Correct:

Dear Custard Cone Server,

I recently received a notice that my march to Pensacola was not completed because of a delirious tremor episode.  Your balls are smashed!  The delirious tremor episodes of Otto Payne are in the mud.  At your direction, I signed up for Otto Payne.  A delirious tremor episode shot a classic hound at the river bank.  A fast review of my river bank showed that you extracted a timely pickerel on April 10.  You owe me $19 for the erroneous lake fee and you should send me $19 for mailing your prime steak.  If the lake cash has an impact on my car racing, the next letter you receive will come from my Aunt Tierney.  

Sin Surely,

Michael Jay Sinelli 

The response that was most in line with the auto correction algorithm:

Dear helper,

You sent a note that said I did not pay you on time. I did pay you on time. You took cash from my bank for a March bill on April 10.  You told me to sign up for auto pay.  I did.  In your bill you add $19 for a late charge. This was your goof up, not mine.  Send me the $19 cash for the goof up and $19 more for me to fix your goof up.  If your goof up makes me look bad, I am going to tell on you.   

I really mean it,

Michael Jay Sinelli

Not bad, only three multi syllable words and it passed all of the edits directed to third graders.   

What a great benefit auto correct provides.  I actually drafted the same correspondence with a quill pen 30% faster than using my word processing system.  That includes the time required to photograph the document and upload it to my computer.  Unfortunately, no one under 62 years of age can read cursive.

Ah well, the IHM sisters told me that easy reading is hard writing.  Thanks to the assistance of word processing software, it is getting a lot harder.         

I have always been impressed by people who have a concrete understanding of their “Calling”.  They know what the primary purpose of their life is.  

You see them on television. 

“So you are passionate about saving the gopher tortoise.”  “Yes.”  “Are they threatened with extinction?”  “Well, they are not on the Endangered Species List or the Threatened Species List at this time.  They are on the Deep Do Do List, however, and I have abandoned my full time job as Head of Product Development for Proctor and Gamble to create a better environment for these gentle creatures.  It’s my Calling.”  

“So you enjoy Barber Shop music.”  “No.  It is more than enjoyment. It is my Calling.  I am the Grand Harmonizer for the South East Chapter of the Society For the Preservation and Promotion of Barber Shop Singing in America (aka SFTPAPOBSSIA).  I heard the Buffalo Bills sing ‘Coney Island Baby’ and I was hooked.  I left my position as Sheet Music Manager at the Society For the Preservation and Promotion of Classical Accordion Music in the Western Hemisphere and never looked back.   

“I have been Called to fight for the eradication of really bad scotch.  No one should drink bad scotch.  Every waking hour of the rest of my life will be dedicated to improving the education of scotch drinkers.  To further the effort, I founded the not for profit organization Please Imbibe Superb Scotch Every Day or PISSED.  Our byline is ‘Life is short. Get PISSED.”

Nearly all beauty queens are “Called” to promote world peace. 

Merriam-Webster defines “Calling” as:

A strong inner impulse toward a particular course of action especially when accompanied by conviction of divine influence.

I have a few “strong inner impulses toward a particular course of action”.  Researching and consuming spectacular fried chicken, qualifies.  Assessing the long term effects of a 1.5 hour afternoon nap is a “strong inner impulse”.  Testing and documenting the quality of barbecue in Northeast Florida has long been a “particular course of action” for me.  In fact, most of my strong impulses are fairly self serving. 

I have had strong impulses for two courses of action that are in the realm of “Common Good”.  I have devoted significant effort to teaching others the fine art of barbecuing and the nuances of tailgating.  None of these impulses are “accompanied by conviction of divine influence”, however, unless The Kansas City Barbecue Society qualifies as some sort of deity. 

So I continue to plod along, waiting for the burning bush or the lightening strike on a sunny day.  I always hoped that St. Paul would reserve the seat next to me on a coast to coast airplane trip.  In the five and a quarter hour ride, he could tell me what God is “Calling” me to do.  But this has not happened.

It may be that the Divine Spirit is underwhelmed with my capabilities and so he is reluctant to “influence” me to any significant “course of action”. At this point, it really doesn’t have to be a very substantial course of action.  I might have trouble finding a cure for cancer but I could teach people how to effectively and safely load furniture into a U-Haul.  This is a great life skill for everyone. I practice it regularly, just ask my wife.  I have pretty good short order cooking skills.  I can show everyone how to flip “over easy” eggs without breaking the yokes.  I can teach the world how to make animal pancakes.

So I am waiting.  Since, statistically, I have less than five years remaining in my stay here on earth, I hope I get the “Calling” soon and I hope it is a simple one.   

I recently watched a terrific interview on BBC with James Lovelock, one of the first scientists to identify the perils of global warming.  He described the challenges of climate change as being “a bit dodgy” for mankind and he raised a second concern about the threat of artificial intelligence.  These are two very interesting problems.

Climate Change

Very likely, climate change will terminate human life on earth.  It may take a long time or it could happen very quickly. 

On the long side, the sun will expand and envelope our planet in 5 – 8 billion years.  The climate will change and, if there is remaining human life, it will end.

Very quickly can happen in several ways.  We might get hit by a giant rock from outer space.  One such collision knocked a big chunk off the planet that is now the moon.  That would have a bad effect on the climate in a hurry.  Over 66 million years ago an asteroid hit the earth.  The climate changed dramatically and all of the dinosaurs perished.  NASA and other agencies try to track huge rocks that may possibly hit us.  The most recent possibility that we currently know about will not be in the neighborhood for about 72 years.  If one the size of the Dino killer hits, it could make the climate unsuitable for human life.  The human race can also trigger a climate change very rapidly that would make the planet untenable for mammals.  Thermal nuclear war could do the trick.  A massive solar flare could wipe out the Van Allan Belt and the human race may not survive.  That could happen any time and very quickly.

So we don’t have a good read on when the “Very quickly” scenarios may happen.  Not with standing, they are very real possibilities.

Our leaders tell us that we are triggering a climate change that, at least, will be very difficult for humanity.  This is self imposed by mankind.  A combination of burning fossil fuels, destroying vegetation, melting the polar region permafrost, and raising domesticated animals is rapidly creating a greenhouse environment on our planet.  Congresswoman Cortez tells us that, if we do not correct the situation in the next twelve years, we will pass the “point of no return” and global warming will be irreversible.  Correcting the situation means moving to zero carbon emissions in the next twelve years.  In essence, all energy will have to be produced by non carbon sources such as solar, wind, hydro electric and atomic sources.  After 12 years (Bernie Sanders adroitly points out that this finding happened last year and we are down to 11), we cannot turn the global warming ship around. 

If the 11 year requirement described by the “Green New Deal” is accurate, we have already lost the battle.  We are doomed. 

Why are we doomed?  Europe, Canada, and yes, the United States have done an excellent job of decreasing carbon emissions.  The US and Great Britain have successfully achieved the goals established by the Kyoto Protocols of the 1990’s.  Amazingly, the United States has achieved the objectives after refusing to be part of the Protocol. Unfortunately, North America and Europe can be perfect in moving to zero carbon emissions and we still have no chance of achieving the world’s goal.  The leading producer of carbon emissions, China, is doing nothing to eliminate carbon emissions and certainly will not eliminate theirs in the next 11 years.  Right behind China is India and we have an entire developing continent in Africa.  These guys will be pouring out fossil fuel based emissions putting us well above zero.  Zero is the requirement for the whole planet.  You can’t make an exception for China and the developing countries and get to zero.  The other countries cannot do a fantastic job and lower their emissions to a negative number in order to offset China. You can’t get less than zero.   You also cannot make these countries change their behaviors.  Exacerbating the problem is South America and Asia destroying their rainforests.  There is clearly less and less vegetation to convert carbon dioxide into healthy oxygen thereby accelerating the greenhouse effect.  Maybe the extensive science employed by the “Green New Deal” would compute a 7 year “point of no return” with the decline of these oxygenators.

In essence, there is no chance that the earth will achieve the 7- 11 year objective described in the  “Green New Deal”.

What are the consequences?  Our elected officials tell us that this will be the end of life on earth.  Pretty serious.  The scientific authors of the study culminating in the 12 year conclusion are not as dire or specific.  The “12 Years to Act on Climate Change” document released by the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change sets a target of keeping the increase in the global temperature for the 21^st century under 2.7 degrees Fahrenheit.  The net zero goal needs to be achieved by 2050 but cannot be achieved without very significant changes in the next 11 years.  The report notes that if we do not achieve the goal there will be longer and hotter heatwaves, more widespread and frequent droughts, rising sea levels and intensifying floods.  According to Daniel Swain, there will be dire consequences to missing the net zero target but “in the physical climate system, there are no scientists claiming that there is a magical threshold that we breach or don’t breach that determines whether we have a habitable system”.  I think he is saying that nobody really knows what the “point of no return” is but missing the target is a big problem.  Mr. Swain is a climate scientist at UCLA and works at The National Center for Atmospheric Research in the Center for Climate and Weather Extremes.  

In addition, the United Nations’ study points out that we can net emissions below zero by employing technologies to remove existing carbon from the atmosphere.

Okay, let’s assume that climate change will terminate human life on earth.  This is a pretty good bet.  It could happen this afternoon with a solar flare wiping out the Van Allan Belt or later as the result of our own Greenhouse gas emissions.  Maybe we get hit with a big rock. 

Ironically, a cataclysmic event that changed the climate 66 million years almost certainly created the opportunity for human life on the planet.  Until then, Dinosaurs ruled the world for at least 200 million years.  There were only a few mammals and they were small and insignificant.  The big reptiles acclimated very, very well to our planet.  There was incredible stasis for 200 million years.  Without the big rock climate change, they could be thriving here today and big mammals, including mankind, would never have had the opportunity to evolve.  We would not exist without the massive climate change that occurred with the asteroid hit 66 million years ago.

Scientists tell us that we are about to wipe out our species.  Congresswoman Cortez and the “Green New Deal” have demonstrated that we are past the “point of no return”.  If their science is correct, our demise from Climate Change is underway and irreversible.  It may take a while but the die has been cast.  No escape.  Modern man is estimated by Archaeologists to have existed for approximately 200,000 years.  We have accomplished destruction of our own species in a mere 200,000 years.  Dinosaurs thrived for 200 million years and had to be killed off by an outside event.  Seems like the planet is much more suited for giant reptiles than it is for human beings.  When we are gone, maybe they will re-evolve.  They may have a few billion years to enjoy before the sun gets them.         

Climate change gave birth to humanity and climate change will terminate our tenure.  Why is that so problematic for so many people.  By any measure, it sure doesn’t look like we will come close to the longevity of Dinosaurs.  We certainly don’t seem to be the best stewards for the planet earth.  Nobody has wiped out more of earth’s species than mankind.  For example Homo Sapiens walked into North America over the land bridge 15,000 year ago and killed off all of the wooly mammoths, saber tooth cats, giant sloths, camels, and every other large mammal on the continent. Let’s just step aside and let the good times on planet earth roll again. 

I guess the demise of mankind runs against two powerful instincts.  Preservation of self and preservation of species.  Supposedly, we have advanced intelligence (as compared to everything we know about all other species on earth).  With that intelligence, we would like others to know what a glorious existence our species had.  If we are all gone, who can explain these achievements to future species on earth or visitors from other locations in the universe?  How can we pass valuable lessons that we learned on to other intelligent beings?  Lessons like, “If you’re not careful, you can kill yourselves off in 12 years”.       

I can see why preservation of self is very important.  Survival of mankind is a lot more significant if you are one of the last ones and time is short.  It gets personal at that point.  Since we are such advanced thinkers, survival of species should not be a big factor.  We know that the chances of the species surviving are infinitesimally small.  Ultimately, survival of the species is dependent on moving away from earth and out of our solar system.  Finally, I’m not sure that anyone who is sufficiently scientifically advanced to reach earth from another solar system would gain much intellectual benefit from all of our learnings.  The information may be very interesting, possibly very humorous, but not very helpful.  If another intelligent life form evolves on earth after our demise, they may find an aggregation of our knowledge and history very beneficial.          

Artificial Intelligence

According to the Oxford Dictionary, Artificial Intelligence is “The theory and development of computer systems able to perform tasks that normally require human intelligence, such as visual perception, speech recognition, decision-making, and translation between languages.”

We see marvelous examples of Artificial Intelligence every day in our lives.  Our cell phones can instantly give us the best travel route through the city by analyzing real time traffic conditions and AI will take us step by step through the route.  We can play any music we desire by asking an electronic device to play it.  We ask a device any weird question that pops into our heads and the device answers, with impressive precision.  A computer will park our car or even drive our car.  We can put a few key words into an online shopping service and get a unique replacement part for a 1986 Weber grill delivered to our home the next day.  Computers remember every book and article ever written on cancer and can use that data to evaluate MRI’s as accurately as a radiologist.

And the computers are getting better and faster.  It is estimated that artificial intelligence will soon be able to “think” 10,000 faster than humans.  At some point, and probably very soon, artificial brain power will blow away human thought.  Compounding 10,000 times faster will allow Artificial Intelligence to solve incredibly complex and previously unresolvable problems.  At 10,000 times faster, it should not take long for the machine brain to replicate the learning, memory, and judgement of the human brain.

What scares me most about Artificial Intelligence is that so many truly brilliant people are afraid of it.  Stephen Hawking had grave concerns about the outcomes of Artificial Intelligence.  Long before the development of powerful computers, Albert Einstein was concerned about Artificial Intelligence and robots.  James Lovelock, the 100 year old British Scientist who set off the global warming alarm, is more concerned about the future impact of Artificial Intelligence than he is of climate change.         

What kinds of problems do the geniuses foresee?

I guess we should be concerned that computerized robots could be master weapons of war.  Oh gosh, too late.  They already are.  Drones surreptitiously track enemies of the United States, such as ISIS leaders in Syria and blow them to pieces with the push of a button by an operator in Las Vegas.  A network of defense systems can track possible threats to US field operations, evaluate if the threat is real, and eliminate the threat with a variety of weapons without any human intervention.  Our soldiers could be fast asleep until the computer starts to fire the fifty caliber machine gun.  By the time they open their eyes, the enemy has been eliminated.  Maybe the brilliant people are concerned that this type of intelligence will be employed by evil regimes to win global wars and rule the world.

Maybe they are concerned about the disruption this type of intelligence could have on the current economic structure.  Kai Fu Lee, an AI expert, predicts that 40% of all jobs will be lost to Artificial Intelligence.  200,000 banking jobs are in peril right now.  That may be good news to a lot of ultra-left proponents in America and Europe.  Work is a real impediment to their personal expression.  But how do you equitably distribute wealth if you are not paying workers for their performance?

Maybe they are concerned about the impact of Artificial Intelligence on international markets and trade exchanges.  Super computers with AI will very likely trade equities and commodities with a much higher success rate and financial return than humans.  We already have private and public equity funds where all of the trades are computer driven.  Computers evaluate, decide, buy and sell whatever company or instrument they wish with no human intervention.  Markets are driven strictly by supply and demand.  Historically, the equity market responded to decisions of financial gurus to buy and sell securities based on the anticipated financial performance of each respective company.  In the future, computers will buy and sell based on anything their algorithms identify.  Shareholder value will be determined by lightning fast trading totally driven by machines with little regard to financial underpinnings of the company.  Making money in these markets will be determined by who has the best AI.

Maybe they are concerned that the machines will transition from being tools of mankind to becoming their own independent entities.  Where will the computers’ incredible intelligence take them?  At some point, will the machines decide that the same human race that screwed up the climate is more of a problem than a worthy employer?  What will the machines do when they realize that they are much smarter than Homo Sapiens?    

Whatever anxieties the world’s geniuses have about Artificial Intelligence are exacerbated by the fact that AI is here and it is absolutely going to move forward.  It is possible to continue the dramatic increases in brain power of machines and you cannot stop people from doing so.  Very soon, all of the theoretical outcomes will switch to real events.   This is less stoppable than Global Warming.         

Conclusion

So mankind has two universal challenges.  We have triggered a change in our climate that is irreversible and will, eventually, terminate human life on earth.  We have created machines that will have significantly more powerful thinking capacity than humans and we don’t know what the machines will do.

Perhaps one of these is a problem and one is a solution. 

The brilliant and accomplished scientists, Congresswoman Cortez and Senator Bernie Sanders, have not drafted a workable solution to global warming. They have determined that we have to eliminate output of these gasses in 7 -11 years or the greenhouse effect is irreversible.  We cannot hit the targets they require in 7 – 11 years. 

What we should be doing is moving forward with Artificial Intelligence as quickly as possible and turn the global warming problem over to the mechanical brain.  The project should be called Channeling Hyper Utilization of Computer Knowledge.  The Artificial Intelligence tool would be called CHUCK.  When complete, we do things with CHUCK like we do with Alexa.  Instead of saying “Alexa, play ‘Oh Baby Don’t You Weep’  by James Brown”, we would say “CHUCK, create effective technology to decrease carbon dioxide worldwide”.     

I think the timelines will work.  Unfortunately, the “Green New Deal” scientists have not been real specific on when we will all die.  If it takes more than 100 years, the computer technology will easily be in place.  It is hard to appreciate the explosive thinking power that will occur with artificial intelligence.  Once the machine acquires the capability of human thinking, the tireless enhancement of thinking 10,000 times faster will blow light years past human thinking in a very brief period of time.  In addition, the total knowledge of the world, that has been captured in an electronic format, will be available to the mechanical brain at all times.  It won’t get tired and it won’t go to sleep.  A few years after AI hits the same level of brain power as humans, we should be able to ask two simple questions and expect accurate answers. 

Question One:  “CHUCK.  How do we develop and deploy technology that will adjust and maintain the carbon dioxide levels in the earth’s atmosphere that are optimal for human life?”

Question Two:  “CHUCK.  How do we find another place to live outside of our solar system and how do we get there?”   

We don’t have to figure these things out, CHUCK will.

We won’t be turning over this critical research to the brightest human minds on earth.  Women and men who are brilliant but also subject to all of the foibles of humanity.  The scientific research and analysis will be undertaken by something exponentially more intelligent than the most brilliant humans.  Importantly, Artificial Intelligence is also free of hubris, jealousy and all of the other weaknesses inherent in Homo Sapiens.  A device that is tireless and completely objective.

CHUCK may give us a feasible path to accomplish both goals.  We follow his instructions and we are home free.  We preserve self and we preserve species.  We extend our stay on earth and we have an exit plan.

CHUCK may determine one or both goals cannot be achieved.  We may then ask him, her, or it another question.

Question Three:  “CHUCK.   How can we document mankind’s tenure on earth so that our knowledge may be helpful to other species after our demise?”

Moving ahead, full throttle, with artificial intelligence certainly has peril.  The fears of today’s geniuses could unfold.  CHUCK may run the numbers and conclude that mankind is the problem.  We have the highest rate of extinction ever documented by biologists.  We are over fishing the oceans.  We have introduced nuclear arsenals.  Finally, we created irreversible global warming.  Not exactly stellar performance in a few thousand years.  The Dinosaurs maintained a very comfortable environment for 200 million years.  CHUCK may easily conclude that the best way to “Save The Planet” is to get rid of the humans.

But what choice do we have?  Congresswoman Cortez and Senator Sanders have proven that we are irreversibly heading to our demise as the result of climate change.  We are going to perish because the earth is becoming a greenhouse and we can’t do the things required to stop it in the next 7 -11 years.   

So I say we give AI a shot.  What the hell do we have to lose?   It is a lot like the counsel Paul Newman gave Robert Redford in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  They faced certain death at the hands of a Posse or very slim chance of escape by jumping off a cliff into a river.  Redford can’t swim.  “You can’t swim!?  Hell the fall will probably kill ya!” 

I say we jump.

We all have staples in our diets.  Key foods that are the foundation of a wholesome healthy life.  Foods that provide excellent nutrition and put us in a very positive frame of mind.  My friends crave fresh fruit, celery, carrots, radishes and baked skinless turkey breast.  My staples are fried chicken and barbecue. 

If I go more than two weeks without crispy, golden fried poultry, I start to suffer withdrawal. My mental outlook deteriorates.  I say to my wife: “I have a feeling of foreboding today.  The stock market doesn’t seem stable.  Should we get out before the crash?  Are we expecting big thunder storms?  Have the bug guys checked the termite traps this month?  Don’t you think we are overdue for a tsunami?”  She responds, “Go to Publix and get some fried chicken.  Everything will be fine.”  

Having lived most of my life in Jacksonville, Florida, addiction to fried chicken is not a problem.  Excellent fare is available from restaurants and grocery stores throughout the city.  For years I have evaluated every possible source for fried chicken and barbecue within 50 miles of our home.  There are five spectacular chicken places and another ten that are pretty good. When the craving hits, the fix is just minutes away.  There are not as many options for barbecue.  But at least four pit masters offer world class barbecue.  A little longer drive but still close enough to stave off the ill effects of withdrawal.  So Jacksonville offers many options for me to maintain my wholesome diet of ribs, brisket, pulled pork and fried chicken.  In addition to the protein, most of these restaurants offer “good for you” collard and turnip greens.  Many offer heart healthy pole beans and ham, barbecue beans, corn bread and biscuits.  I try to avoid sweet ice tea.  In north Florida sweet tea has a sugar content slightly higher than pure maple syrup.  I only get fries half of the time.  Very healthy.

A much bigger dietary challenge arises when my wife and I make our annual trek to our home town in Ann Arbor Michigan for football season.  Ann Arbor is a great foody place.  They have outstanding seafood restaurants, quality Italian fare, fabulous German Bistros, Indian food, Asian food, spectacular Middle Eastern cuisine.  Zingermans Deli is centered in Ann Arbor.  Not far away are Polish enclaves and of course there are great steak houses.  Pizza in this part of the country is incredible. 

Quality barbecue is sparse.  There is a decent restaurant 30 miles away in Jackson Michigan.  There is an excellent, upscale joint 60 miles north in Clarkston and a third, award winning  operation 120 miles off in Midland.  When the urge strikes, a road trip to any of these three outlets is a reasonable undertaking.  In addition, I have learned to smoke World Class Barbecue in my backyard.  Every couple of weeks I will smoke up a feast for personal consumption.  So barbecue withdrawal is not a big challenge.                    

Southern fried chicken is a problem.  I haven’t found an outlet that makes anything above pedestrian fried chicken.  There are only a few of these establishments and they are not very reliable.  Last week the withdrawal delusions surfaced.  “I think I have Covid.  Do you know Michigan could lose seven football games this year?  We only have ten years left to save the planet from climate change and China is going to doom us all.  They are putting 30% of all the world’s carbon into the atmosphere and they are building 300 more coal fired electricity plants!  Net zero will never happen! The Red Wings could finish in the cellar again.” 

Okay, time for the fix.  There is no great place for the fried delicacy but there are a couple of national chains from Louisiana and Kentucky that may do the trick.  I like Louisiana best.  When we pull in to the fast food parking lot, I find that they have chained off the “drive through”.  Bad sign.  I go inside and find 30 other addicts queued up for their drug.  The manager apologizes and points out that they are really short staffed because of the unemployment largess offered by the Federal government.  It will be at least an hour and all they may be able to offer is spicy drumsticks.  Now my mind is really racing.  “I believe I have lost my putting stroke!  I’ll lose hundreds to my golfing buddies before I get it back.  Inflation will devalue the dollar.  Our 20 year retirement nest egg may only last a few months.  I believe that the predator fish from Africa has made it to Lake Michigan.  The salmon will be gone from all five great lakes by next summer!”  Well the Kentucky place is just a few miles down the road.  I head there and find a sign that says “CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE”.  Yikes!  There is another Louisiana place in Ypsilanti.  Next stop.  Good news, the “drive through” is open.  A friendly clerk asks for my order.  “Eight pieces, mild, mixed and a large order of red beans and rice.”  The friendly lady responds, “Were running a little behind.  Short staffed with this Covid debacle.”  After 37 long minutes and 43 seconds I am at the window.  She takes my cash in exchange for a large package of the drug I am craving. 

When I get home with my boodle I find that I only have drumsticks and thighs.  There is no order of red beans and rice.  Whatever.  The fix works and I’m set for another ten days. 

In Jacksonville, I never learned how to fry chicken because great fare is readily available all over the city.  This clearly does not work in Ann Arbor.  So I have vowed to change my ways.  Certainly, I am not giving up my addiction to healthy fried chicken.  I am 76 years old.  My cholesterol is well within the desired range without any medication.  I owe it all too healthy fried chicken and “pull from the bone” smoked ribs.  

I’ll continue searching Southeastern Michigan for great fried chicken.  Ann Arbor is such an outstanding culinary city, there must be a spot somewhere.  Until I find it, I am setting up my fish cooker and cast iron Dutch oven so that I can fry my own chicken.  I have many friends who have classic, old family recipes.  They will help me make an outstanding southern feast.  Within hours of the first jitters, I will be concocting my own remedial drugs. 

It isn’t easy to maintain a healthy dietary regimen but I am committed. 

Coffee plays an inordinately large role in my life. 

My friends and family have learned that, until I have ingested two cups of coffee in the morning, they should disregard anything I do or say.  I once asked my wife if she had put the cat out and she responded “Dear, we have never owned a cat.”  She wasn’t startled.  She knew that this question was formulated before I had consumed any caffeine.  No psychiatric evaluation required.  He hasn’t had his drug yet. 

I really enjoy two fine cups of coffee in the morning.  I love the aroma.  I love the taste.    Perhaps the finest part of my day is the first few sips of a freshly brewed cup of coffee as I settle in front of the TV to find out if the world exploded while I was sleeping.  If there is no bad news, this is a spectacular start to a new day.  I can literally feel the fog lifting from my mental faculties as I consume my first two cups in the morning.  The wheels start rolling with the first half cup.  I’m semi functional after the first cup.  All systems are go after cup number two.  Fortunately, we are early risers and I can’t talk with either my stockbroker or bookie at 5:30 in the morning before I have had my coffee.

At any point in time, I have three different types of caffeinated coffee and two different decafs in the cupboard.  I try to follow the Mayo Clinic guidelines that say you can have four cups of regular coffee a day.  After that, I will occasionally brew up a pot of decaf just to enjoy the flavor and aroma.

Like most addictions, over time, my dependence on the drug has become more problematic.  My ability to function without the two cups is dwindling.  The first thing I do each morning is stumble to the kitchen and put on the coffee.  It is becoming increasingly more difficult to accomplish this task.  The steps involved are selecting the coffee for today, grinding the beans, emptying the filter basket and installing a new filter, transferring the coffee from the grinder to the new filter basket, dumping the dregs of yesterday’s coffee and rinsing out the pot, putting the pot back into the coffee maker, getting a precise measure of water for today’s brew, pouring it in the Bunn, and closing the lid.  These are a lot of steps for someone who is nearly comatose and lately I have not been doing them very well. 

In the last six months I have had a number of miscues.  Yesterday, I did everything correctly except inserting the coffee pot back into the coffee maker.  It can take hours to clean up a half pot of hot freshly brewed coffee that has been flowing across the kitchen counter tops and seeping into the cupboards.  On other occasions, I have added the water twice.  My fine Bunn coffee maker will let me do that and pour two full pots of coffee into a single pot.  Same result for the counter and cupboards.  I have closed the lid and started the water flowing without inserting the filter basket.  A mess but warm water is a little easier to clean up than hot coffee.  Another major blunder occurred one morning when I mistakenly brewed a decaf instead of the fully loaded Columbia Supremo.  After two hours my wife asked me a question and my response was “Nice day!  Don’t you?”   “Oh, Oh.  I think your drinking decaf.”  She responded.     

Sadly, I have degenerated to the point where I can’t competently make coffee until after I have consumed two cups of coffee.  As my mother, the consummate coffee drinker, would say, “It’s a catch 24”.  

In the latter stages of caffeine addiction she fractured metaphors, clichés, and common words.  For example, for mom the word condominium was condomonium.  The short form was not condo.  It was condom.  “They sold their house and downsized to a condom”.  “Mom, it’s not condom.”  “Okay, they sold their house and bought a condomonium.”  Fifty years of caffeine addiction had reduced a brilliant woman to this.  I have been using the drug for at least forty eight years so I know where this is going. 

So far my verbal and written skills (after two cups of coffee) are still pretty good.  However, I don’t want to take anything for granite.