Sometimes keeping up is just so damn hard

From the "Facts" folder...

                     The new administrator of the VA has no administrative experience, none.

To replace David Shulkin, an experienced hospital administer who previously oversaw Beth Israel Medical Center and was a pioneer in patient centered care, Trump has selected … his personal physician. The one who says Trump is 6’3” and not obese. 

The experience that the new head of the Department of Veterans Affairs has in running healthcare organizations appears to be limited to the running of himself. Dr. Ronnie Jackson finished medical school in 2004, and served a year in Iraq as an an emergency physician. From there he was appointed a White House physician in 2006, and has been there ever since.  Now he is running the 2nd largest organization in the Federal Government.

Beer Sales by millions of cans sold

Bud Light     35.250        16.2%

Coors Light   17.125       7.9%

Budweiser    14.375       6.6%

Miller Lite     13.240      6.2%

The vast majority of Americans drank no Bud Light in 2016.  In fact the total number of people who drank Bud Light at any point in the previous month during that year is estimated to have been about 28.5 million.  That, as it were, is the Bud Light nation — a nation not much smaller than Canada or California, whose residents imbibed an average of 409(!) Bud Lights in 2016.

Given the typical distribution of consumption within this sort of cohort, this means that the 10% of regular Bud Light drinkers who performed the most herculean feats — that is, a group made up of nearly three million people — must have each on average drunk many thousandsof Bud Light beers in the course of the year that.

I know a guy who averages roughly 22 beers a day or about 8,000 beers a year. Starts promptly at 7 each morning and rolls with a nice, mellow buzz all day long.

From the "Quote of the Day" files...

"White Castles are what you eat when the only alternative is the baby"

An un edited beginning

1.

Christ it’s windy at Logan, Larson pulled the collar up on his coat as he waited for his turn in the taxi line outside terminal B. January in Minnesota is brutal, January in Boston only brutal every couple of weeks, mostly it’s annoying. Slushy, slippery, white then dingy gray and windy like today. The wind is from the southwest, generally that means warmer temperatures. Wet and slushy and slippery at night. 

Larson checked in to the Ritz Carleton at the corner of Arlington and Newbury Streets, he was in his room and unpacked just after 4. He drank a scotch from the honor bar, his room is on the 5th floor on the Arlington Street side, as he drank the whisky, he looked at the snow covered Public Garden, on to the Common and the Golden Domed statehouse on Beacon Hill. He lay down on the bed and immediately fell asleep. He was up at 6, showered and shaved, he put on a Brooks Brothers suit, black with a faint red pinstripe, white long point collar shirt a red rep tie with black stripes. He used the shoe cloth in the bathroom to buff his black, monk strap shoes. He looked in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door, he thought he looked good. He folded his lined raincoat over his arm, in case he needed it. He was in the 1st floor bar by 6:50, ten minutes early, sitting at a table for two under the window looking out on Arlington Street. The traffic is bumper to bumper outside the window. The car’s lights reflected on the wet street. 

The old waiter,Walter, in his starched white jacket brought a silver bowl of mixed nuts and a cloth napkin, “Will another party be joining you sir?” 

“Yes in a few minutes.”

 “May I bring you something while you wait?” Larson ordered a Johnny Walker Blue, water on the side. “Very good sir.” Walter was back in minutes with a silver tray. On the tray was a glass for the whiskey, a small bowl of ice with silver tongs, a water glass, a small crystal pitcher of water and the Johnny Walker served in it’s own 3 ounce decanter. At a traditional bar like the Ritz, you mix your own. it’s very, very old school. Walter also brought another starched white napkin, he set it across from Larson and smoothed it. “Is there anything else I can get you sir?” 

“Not at the moment, thank you.” Larson made his drink and watched the door, he was nervous, sitting here, waiting for her. At 7 there she was, she looked the same, better really after 12 years. Her hair is still long and shiny. She's wearing a long black wool coat, a red scarf. She’s looking for him. 

Larson stood and smiled at her across the room, Caroline Mackenzie smiled back. They met in the middle of the room. Caroline put her hands on his arms, looked Larson in the eyes and said,”It’s my Goddamned Viking Prince.”

Larson kissed her lightly on the lips and said, "It’s my Goddamned New Bedford fisherman's daughter.” They held each other for a long time in the middle of the room, surrounded by people. Some of them stared at their little reunion.

Caroline ordered a Vodka martini, very dry, from Walter, who said, "It will be my pleasure, mam."  

Larson couldn’t take his eyes off her, “No wine, you always drank wine.” 

“I still do, I need something stronger right now.” 

They finished their drinks and ordered two more. Caroline looked across at Larson, reached out and took his hand, “I have an idea, let’s get an appetizer, eat ,finish our drinks and then go up to your room and fuck our brains out , how does that sound?” Caroline looked sly and sincere at the same time, no easy thing to do. 

“I think I just came in my pants.” Larson said. 

“Save that for later Larson. How do oysters sound to you, we can get a dozen,”

“Make it two.” 

“Now you’re talking.” Caroline said.

Random Thoughts as I Un-Ass a portion of the Connected World

I'm tired of being a product, tired of being sold to bidders who want me to buy stuff i don't need. I'm tired of when a facebook friend invites me to play Candy fucking Crush my stuff is put up for sale again. I'm tired of quizzes that data mine me , my family and friends, sure they're fun but, they slice and dice us even more, but most of all II'm tired of the lack of security of our personal information, Zuckerberg's attitude is, "That's What You Signed Up For" Facebook doesn't need me and I need them even less. Buh-Bye.

I was in the radio business for a huge part of my life, my generation put rock on FM at a time when the so-called smart/big guys didn't care about the FM band at all. They were blindsided by it's success.

Two things happened to radio, the first was deregulation that gutted the ownership rules and the ensuing increase in station evaluations. The investment bankers and venture capitalists poured into the business with huge bags of borrowed money and now the loans are due and they can't pay them. The VCs and Bankers never missed a paycheck but the employees have and will. I hope the station values crash and creative people can get their hands on them again.

In the past few weeks, Mitt Romney's company Bain Capital has declared bankruptcy for three of their major investments, IHeart Media, Toys R Us and Guitar Centers. Romney,s MBA financial engineers extracted over 400 million dollars in fees from IHeart alone, toss in the other two companies and the fees approach a billion god damn American dollars. Once again who will pay the price for these colossal fuck ups? The employees and the small shareholders.

Elliot Broidy, the deputy finance director of the Republican National Committee is a convicted felon. Let that sink in for a minute. Okay?

From the NY Times:  

An investor and defense contractor, Mr. Broidy became a top fund-raiser for Mr. Trump’s campaign when most elite Republican donors were keeping their distance, and Mr. Trump in turn overlooked the lingering whiff of scandal from Mr. Broidy's 2009 guilty plea in a pension fund bribery case. After Mr. Trump’s election, Mr. Broidy quickly capitalized, marketing his Trump connections to politicians and governments around the world, including some with unsavory records, according to interviews and documents obtained by The New York Times. Mr. Broidy suggested to clients and prospective customers of his Virginia-based defense contracting company, Circinus, that he could broker meetings with Mr. Trump, his administration and congressional allies. Mr. Broidy’s ability to leverage his political connections to boost his business illuminates how Mr. Trump’s unorthodox approach to governing has spawned a new breed of access peddling in the swamp.

Like I've said a million times, "You Can't Make this Shit Up"

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