Destructionists who ruined millions of lives and whose toxic distortions destroyed multiple generations in more than a hundred countries around the world are *not* worthy of mass celebration.
But their deaths do provide us with an opportunity — and an obligation — for reflection, re-evaluation, and correction.
Alan Greenspan died yesterday. He was 100.
Like his disgraced contemporary the late Milton Friedman, and other Chicago School of Economics neoclassical free-market conservative ivory tower monsters, Alan Greenspan was a champion of unbridled consumerism. His most lasting pronouncement was/is that … “markets regulate themselves.”
[Note: I realize this terse comment is oversimplifying–my longer diatribe is available upon request.]
Greenspanomics: Markets regulate themselves. So, bad apples sour and fail. The strongest survive and prosper. And the scraps trickle down to the Plebeians. If we work like slaves, we get a sliver of the treasure. America 2026.
No, this isn’t just a historical reminder. We live now with the distorted theories of these economic pit bosses — everyday. At the gas pump and the grocery store and when we pay mortgages and rent and try to struggle with the fiasco that is the American healthcare system. And they sometimes blow it, big time. Reaganomics 101 (actually Laffer Curve economics). Trump Gilded Age Redux economics, the sequel. It’s all there in their own words and actions.
Thing is, Greenspan fucked up — big time. I mean, he and his appalling misappropriation of theory into practice resulted in the 2008 George W. Bush-sparked economic global meltdown that came very near to yet another (conservative-driven) 1929 Herbert Hoover worldwide depression. Free market conservative economics have a horrific track record.
But let’s credit Greenspan for doing something exceedingly rare in economics and politics. He admitted he fucked up. He thought “markets regulate themselves” and then testified before Congress that HE WAS WRONG. Yes, we need government to regulate. To police. To watch. To set up laws and establish guardrails. Without government, most of us would be digging in coal mines 80 hours a week for .70 cents an hour, right now. Government and regulation is the sugarcoating on the capitalistic poison pill.
Greenspan even went so far as to confess he (and his philosophy) were right only about “70 percent of the time.” That means, he was wrong 30 percent of the time. Those percentages don’t sound too bad, but when global economies crash about a third of the time based on their theories and actions, that track record sucks. By the way, I’ve yet to see “liberal” economists with any significant catastrophies within the American economic system.
Mea Culpas are worth acknowledging. And I will give Greenspan his due for being honest. I also agree that so far economists go, he seemed to be much better than his contemporaries. Compared with Friedman, Alan Greenspan was a saint.
I couldn’t care less about this free market capitalist’s legacy. But I will give him credit for being brave enough to admit when he was wrong. And when he and his sick school of economics was wrong, hundreds of millions suffered and continue to struggle today. We would all be wise to learn from his mistakes and confession.
Greenspan’s legacy is failure, admitted after it was way too late.
IS “THIEF” (1981 MOVIE) A MARXIST-THEMED INDICTMENT OF CAPITALISM?
“I want you to work until you are burned out, you are busted, or you’re dead.”
— Leo (the mob boss played by Robert Prosky in Thief)
Thief is a Marxist movie.
Really — it is.
And that’s what makes Michael Mann’s directorial debut so compelling, so timeless, so riveting, and so multi-layered….though the deeper meaning and hidden message was missed by audiences when this crime thriller-caper was released 45 years ago.
Thief (1981) was shown on one of the classic movie channels this past weekend. I put it on as background noise. But, I soon found myself pulled into this vastly underrated film that I hadn’t seen, nor remembered, in many years. It’s worth revisiting, and re-evaluating, now.
This isn’t your typical crime drama. James Caan, in one of his very best screen roles, plays a safecracker who agrees to pull off one last heist and big score. He’s hoping to do this one final big job, get out, take his money, and retire. Caan is us. He becomes our working-class hero.
The connection and conflict between contradictory forces are all right there in the dialogue. Motivation and ambition are driven by Marx’s “labor theory of value.”
“I can see my money is still in your pocket, which is from the yield of my labor.”
“You’re making big profits from my work, my risk, my sweat, but that is okay. because I elected to make that deal. But now, the deal is over and I want my end.”
(and delivered with dripping sarcasm) ….. “Join a labor union.”
As great as Caan is as the “Thief,” the mob-boss villain (played by Robert Prosky) may be even better. Prosky, often typecast as the jovial grandfather, or Santa Claus, or the family’s favorite uncle in so many smaller roles, including Robin Williams’ jolly boss in Mrs. Doubtfire, isn’t someone to be crossed. He seems to have his laborers’ best interests at heart, but the loin’s share of profits are going straight into his pocket. When that’s threatened, he devolves into a vicious and vindictive sociopath.
Organized crime as a metaphor for capitalism is nothing new. While the perpetual class struggle between owners and laborers has been explored before in movies, Thief makes no attempt to mask these comparisons. Caan slowly becomes wielded to responsibilities which turn into a chain of obligations — money, home, family…..force Caan to do one job, and then another. Life becomes a hamster wheel.
Throughout the movie, from one scene to the next, Caan plays by the rules. He doesn’t make waves. He obeys the chain of command. He goes along with the system. That is, until they all betray him.
This scene perfectly sums up the socio-economic game and then shows the rug pull — 3 min. video:
When I moved to Las Vegas in 2002, there were four Tony Roma’s restaurant locations spread all over town. I tried them all–many, many times.
Tony Roma’s wasn’t just a good place to eat. It was a meeting destination, err make that a “meating” destination. It always was reliable. It was a spot that most people could agree on, at least it was back then. And there always seemed to be a wait at the door, the sure sign of good food.
Tony Roma’s initially started out in Miami, and by 1972 the chain had opened up it’s first Las Vegas location. No one would call it fine dining or anything fancy. And the spartan surroundings resembled a Denny’s more than a luxury steakhouse. TR’s wasn’t destined to win any Michelin stars. But, it was — affordable. Half rack of ribs was around $20 (back then). Full rack cost $22. So, for just $2 more, you got twice as many ribs. Plus two sides.
As for memorable meals–I’ve lost count. The food wasn’t particularly memorable. It was pretty much always the same, which is what we all expected. Here in Las Vegas, I remember dinners from nearly 30 years ago:
— That same location was where the real car explosion happened back in the 1980s, when Lefty Rosenthal’s Cadillac blew up in an assassination attempt (featured in the movie “Casino”).
— When I worked as the PR Director for Binion’s Horseshoe, I often ate in our steakhouse. But the ribs across the street at Tony Roma’s in the Fremont were a special treat where I went with friends all the time. I must have enjoyed 60-70 meals at that flagship location.
— Tony Roma’s used to have a spot at the old Stardust. Again, this was the restaurant that was really tied to the “old” Las Vegas. Those were the good times when Friday nights included dinner at TR’s, a free radio show and handicapping seminar with weekly picks during NFL season inside the sportsbook, where we naturally also put in a few bets.
— Tony Roma’s even opened a location closer where I live on the west side of Las Vegas. This store never got the crowds of the other spots, so they began running Happy Hour specials.
— The last time we went to a Tony Roma’s was back in February. But we made the mistake of going to the Fremont location (which by then was the only one left in Las Vegas) and we showed up at 5 pm when they opened and the line was out the door and around the block. Somebody told me this was a daily thing because TR’s offered an early prime rib special and every grizzled local in the city must have gone there at least once a week. We looked at the line with perhaps 150 people, and said fuck it. We left. Reminds me of the old line — “nobody goes to that restaurant anymore, it’s too crowded.”
I kinda’ wish I’d stuck it out and dined one last time at Tony Roma’s. Had I know that final store would close, as they did last month, I’d have paid my respects. In fact, I didn’t know until very recently that the TR’s had closed. That idea seemed unthinkable. I mean, it was packed every night. There was always a wait. Naturally, a “wait” naturally meant many bored diners wandered over the video poker machines, or the pit, or hit the sportsbook — just steps away. I’m sure I’m not alone when I say I had quite a few $250 rib dinners at the Fremont Casino Tony Roma’s. But hey, I did get to enjoy the full rack. Oh, and damn the Phillies.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand why a no-frills casino downtown would want to lose a people magnet like Tony Roma’s. There’s one report the casino wants to expand the fancy restaurant next door, so they’ll knock down a few walls. The very last thing this city needs is another snooty high-dollar steakhouse.
I do miss the golden days when we could pull right up into the Fremont, complimentary valet the car inside their garage for a $3 tip, make a sports bet, enjoy a giant margarita, and two people could eat and leave happy and full. It was a reason to go downtown, and sadly there are far fewer and fewer reasons each time I read the news and see a story like this one.
Good article here, worth reading — and remembering. CLICK HERE
And now his bullshit is getting called out by courageous leaders who are fed up with the insults and stupidity.
It’s great to see a strong woman stand up to the buffoon. It’s encouraging to see world leaders refuse to go along as cheap props and cut-out cardboard photo ops for his own relentless propagandizing and tiresome self-promotion.
“She’s probably happy I talked to her. I didn’t have to talk to her. She begged me to take a picture with her. She wanted a picture with me so badly. I wouldn’t have taken it, but I felt sorry for her.” That’s what Trump said yesterday.
Just think of it. All that power. All that grifted wealth. And yet, the worldly vestiges of success eclipsed by the deep insecurities is what shall ultimately define him. Such a petty little man despite such a big job. Always having to humiliate and demean others around him, no matter who they are. He is the embodiment of perversion.
Today, Italians fired back on every front. They canceled what was to be a diplomatic visit that was planned next week, as a protest.
Gotta’ love Italian PM Giorgia Meloni who just kicked his ass and exposed his lie with a very simple remark:
“Neither I, nor Italy, ever beg.”
Now, that’s a boss.
Trump is having a miserable foreign policy week, failing with both adversaries and allies alike. Unfortunately, the damage done to this nation and image worldwide is irreparable for a generation.
A BLAST FROM THE PAST: HOW THE WORLD CHANGED 80 YEARS AGO IN JUST A FEW SECONDS
Eighty years ago — on June 14th, 1945 — Mr. Fred Trump of Queens, NY flexed his flabby sag loins, sucked in a deep breath, and then blasted his dribble into the motionless flesh of Mrs. Mary Anne Trump, half-asleep and bored out of her skull.
What next? Pawn Stars tents? Cockfights? Midget tossing? Girls in bikinis wrestling in jello?
Maybe they’ll turn the South Lawn into a giant parking lot for gas-guzzling monster trucks and tote-the-note rust buckets. Warm watered-down beer on tap. Premium seating on stuffed brown suede sofas splitting apart. A metal spike hammered into the former rose garden to tether chained pit bulls.
When it comes to the orange ass-slob, nothing surprises nor shocks me anymore.
Fucking lowlife trailer trash. Yet another desecration of the office and shame of our nation.
Way back in junior high school, in 1975, I appeared in my very first stage play. Our drama teacher was Mr. Brewer–I still remember his name. He made a bold decision for us to perform If Boys Wore the Skirts: A Farce in One Act — by Anne Coulter Martens. It was a polemical play about self-identity and gender reversal. All males in the cast wore skirts and were in subservient roles. All females in the cast wore long pants and were in dominant roles. I played the school’s star football player. And yes–I wore a skirt onstage along with a football jersey. When we performed the play live in front of the entire school including students and teachers, there were hecklers and much laughter. But it was all great fun. The challenge of that unusual experience really made me enjoy theatre and musicals, which I did from then on until graduating from high school.
