MUCH ADO ABOUT MADOFF

Ah, the "great men" of Wall Street are in a tizzy. "He's a sociopath," they cry as they beat their breasts and look towards the heavens. "He tricked us!"

That he did.

He harmed a great number of people. Innocent citizens whose entire savings were wrapped up in Madoff investments lost everything. Charities that helped the poor and those in need were left scrambling to survive and continue their good works. Make no mistake, Madoff's actions were those of pure malice. I feel for the innocent ones who were caught in his web.

Do I feel for the "great men" of Wall Street? Not so much.

These "Master of the Universe" are not so upset at the type of actions that Madoff took as they are at the fact that these actions were done to them. You see Madoff did to these titans of Wall Street what the titans of Wall Street have been doing to we, the average American, for lo these 30 years or so: he conned them.

What I resent, however, is the sanctimonious and cynical hand-wrining by his brethren on Wall Street. For well near 30 years now, we the American people have been subjected to the very same actions with the very same effects by countless denizens of that Financial Hades. We are a debtor nation and our economy is in shambles because of the same acts of greediness and heartlessness, the same acts of so-called financial wizardry that rewarded short-term avarice, insubstantial industries, and mendacious corporate heads.

We are told that the "market" prices in all information, that the market is savvy, that it sees six months ahead of the economy's present state. Well, if that were so, then how to explain a recession that already has lasted a year with a bull market that didn't catch up and become "bear" until more than a year after the downturned occurred? Not very persipicacious if you asked me.

We've endured the Internet bubble and the mortgage bubble, the astronomical valuations of corporations that have yet to turn a profit. We watch as the market soars on days when unemployment figures rise by nearly a half-million. We watch stocks go up when corporations post enormous losses because those losses were supposedly "not as bad as the market thought they would be." That's a bit like finding out that a loved one has died, but feeling happy because they were only hit by a truck when they could have been hit by a train.

Wall Street is obsessed with the most recent quarter of profits to the exclusion of that which builds strong companies and industries: long-range planning. This short-term thinking has hijacked the American economy and turned us into impulse financiers, only looking for what satisfies our obese cravings now, even if it will leave us hungry for a long time later.

Madoff is only a symptom of the sickness of the Wall Street Man. The only difference between Madoff and the others of his kind is that instead of relying complicated financial instruments like derivatives to pick our pockets, he did it the old-fashioned way: with a wink and nod.

ADVENTURES: HIDDEN DRAGONS TO SLAY

The day began in glittering light and then fog descended upon the oasis. Syren Sea had spread her quilt of thick air across the heavens. Night crept in shamefully with soft, dark, glowing shoes like an embarrassed offender exposed to her victims. The new year had come.

Let those who have ears to hear, listen: The Jabberwock will be exposed, the dragon will be slain. The battle with the Beast of Seven and Ten is here. That which is done in the darkness will be exposed to the light and extinguished. It will take time, but it has begun.

Some people don't think dragons exist anymore, but they're everywhere. They live within the heart of the American Psyche and the American citizen. The dragons don't always hiss fire now-- at least not in public. Now they wear fancy suits and smile a lot and have great slogans. Dragons are charmers. This makes them all the more difficult to identify and slay.

In the meantime, I'm polishing up my sword while polishing off some champagne. That's the American Way, isn't it? The Lady Joker and The Queen of Diamonds are coming over in a bit. Three is a magic number. Things should get interesting. They say they're ready for dragon-slaying too. I'm gonna need all the help that I can get.

Stay out of harm's way, Cristo. Papa's gonna show you how to fight and win. Just remember what ol' Dr. Jung said:

"Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit."

[ "Bidden or unbidden, God is present."]

BLESSINGS FOR OUR NEW YEAR

HAPPY NEW YEAR!




May all beings have happiness
May they be free from suffering
May they know the joy that has never known suffering
May they be free from attachment and hatred

"O, my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are most in need of Thy mercy."

I offer this for all souls that seek love, hope and faith.

And I give thanks for the blessings that this has brought to me.

May this be a year of love, good health, prosperity and good fortune for us all!

YE SHALL FIND A BABE WRAPPED IN SWADDLING CLOTHES

I awoke today with feeling of joy and light. I was filled with thanks for the blessings in my life: God's presence, my family, my friends, the comforts in my life, the creation that burns within. Cristo, son of my soul, always reminds me to give thanks for these things, and I shall and I do.

This is a season not of glittering trinkets and marketing ploys, but rather of the birth of He would redeem us, saves us, and offer us eternal life-- The child born in a manger in swaddling clothes.


"In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
'Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.' "

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Here's wishing that everyone's Christmas dreams come true tomorrow! Merry Christmas to all!

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by Clement Clarke Moore or Henry Livingston

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

ABSINTHE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER

What is there to do when Yuletides are simply dreams and no chestnuts roasted await you? I am not home this Christmas. I'm three thousand miles away sitting in the desert looking for a star to follow.

Would that I could see my family's faces, those faces that are reflections of my own-- so similar, so familiar. Would that I could heal my father faster. Would that I could console my mother in person. Brothers and sisters, we'd exchange gifts, then gather around a meal, first in prayer, then in joy. The air outside would be sharp and cold. Snow, like the feathers of angels, would fill the ground. The house would be warm with heat and light.

Instead I wander these sands of cinematic mirage, this place of gilded temptresses, this land that buys your hopes for pennies on the dollar and sells them reconfigured and unrecognizable. The years here have baptized me in fire. I am reborn same as before and wholly new.

I've carved a small place in the dunes where I find solace. In my apartment by the oasis, I sit in the solitude of prophets and artists and sip the drink of madness, the verte liquor that worms through the wood of the iconoclastic brain and lights the fire in the soul of creation.

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.

Daughters of the Green Lady, lovers of artists and poets, actors and musicians, all manner of thieves and outcasts-- for this night they are my Yuletide companions. They will see me through to the dawn when we give thanks for the birth of the Prince of Peace. They will see me through the longing for home.

ALL HAIL THE AMERICAN NIGHT

The nights have grown cold here in Syren Sea. The world around me seems drunk with delusion. Painted ladies, beautiful in their madness, crane their necks to the sky for answers. The stars stare back with rueful smiles. "Figure it for yourselves," they respond. The painted ladies strip down to frozen flesh in hopes of absolution. The moon sneers, "Your flesh cannot outshine me."

Townsmen, drunk with ale, brag of conquests and treasure. Boisterous in taverns, they wear the garlands of their heroes' triumphs as their own. "We are champions," they cry and the desert laughs at them. "You are made of what I am and no more," the desert says, "You are sand and dust. There are no monuments to your feats as there were to your fathers'."

Gentlemen of leisure in silken suits hand them pouches of pyrite, glistening golden in the night. They take their gifts and gamble for the Savior's robes and wage their children's souls. They sell each other casks of wine and fatted calves. They think nothing of the dawn.

I call to them in the distance, but no one seems to hear. Jack Knave has smiled his easy smile and sung tunes that drown my words.

Along the horizon, barely seen against the sky, the Beast of Seven and Ten arises, beckoned by the siren song. My nation's fate awaits the light.

Some say the last fight will come in a whimper; I say it will be a roar.

All hail the American Night.

FATIMA

"O, my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are most in need of Thy mercy."

I offer this for all souls that seek love, hope and faith.

And I give thanks for the blessings that this has brought to me.

STAY TUNED: COMING SOON

I've been remiss in posting the last few days. There is much to talk about: Palin vs. Biden, Obama vs. McCain II, more on the Financial Apocalypse, etc. Fortunately, I've been caught in a whirlwind of positive personal change which has taken up most of my time here in Syren Sea. However, that change has left me little time to post-- but it has not stopped my observations, incantations, pronouncements or prophecies.

The desert winds are blowing strongly and they carry within their roar the whispers of truth. I have much to tell you of what they say.

I will post on all these issues and many more very soon. Until then...

Stay tuned.

FATIMA BLESSINGS AND THANKS

"O, my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are most in need of Thy mercy."

I offer this for all souls that seek love, hope and faith.

And I give thanks for the blessings that this has brought to me.

THE PROBLEM ISN'T WALL STREET, IT'S MAIN STREET

The nation is in financial crisis and the citizens are aghast. Well, well. "How did we get here?" a woman asked when interviewed about our economic woes.

How did we get here?

Open your wallet or purse. Look inside and find the rectangular plastic thing that you use quite often. I believe it's called a credit card. It buys you shiny, pretty things.

How does it work? Let's see. From what I hear, a bank or other financial institution "credits" you with money that you don't actually have. You use that money you don't actually have to buy shiny, pretty things. Then you spend so much of that money you don't actually have that, eventually, you can't pay it back.

Not to worry.

Your bank or financial institution will allow you to pay a percentage of what you owe. If you're good at paying that percentage, they'll sometimes "extend" your credit and give you even more money you don't really have so that you can buy even more.

Now you own many shiny things. There is much rejoicing.

You also owe a great deal of money that you'll probably never be able to pay back to the bank.

You like to buy so much! Fun! And the bank likes to give it to you! Yea! But the bank is out of a great deal of money because no one pays it back. Soon the bank starts to run out of money to give you. Boo! Eventually, it's no longer able to give you or anyone else more "credit" to spend money you don't actually have. *Gasp!*

But how will anyone be able to buy shiny things? What shall we do?

Never fear. The bank will borrow from someone else!

The bank has foreign friends who love it when Americans buy shiny things. See, in their countries, they make all the shiny, pretty things that you like to buy so they have lots of money. We stopped making shiny pretty things of our own because it's so much easier to have money given to us rather than actually work for it. And it's fun! We just sell each other shiny, pretty things made by people in other countries and sometimes they even let us take a small "cut."

So our nice foreign friends "credit" our banks and financial institutions with money it doesn't have so that it can "credit" money to you that you don't have so you can buy more of the shiny, pretty things that our foreign friends make.

Hurray!

Sadly, some of our foreign friends are more "uptight" about spending money that they don't have, so they don't tend to do that as much. And they're not too crazy about not being paid back the money they "credited" us. Party-poopers.

Eventually, they don't want to give our banks the money that they don't actually have so they can give us the money that we don't actually have so that we can buy the shiny, pretty things from foreigners that we no longer make ourselves.

Bummer. We're kind of stuck.

Up till now, it didn't really matter to us because we just love those shiny, pretty things and people gave us all that money to buy them and all we had to do was use that plastic card thingy. We never asked how the whole thing worked or how it was supposed to go on forever because that would've been no fun.

So, when it finally stops, we throw up our hands and ask, "How did we get here?"

FATIMA

"O, my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are most in need of Thy mercy."

I offer this for all souls that seek love, hope and faith.

DEBATABLE: PRESIDENTIAL FIGHT I - 2008

The first presidential debate for 2008 occurred this past Thursday. If it were a boxing match, I'd say there were no big blows, no knockdowns, no knockouts. It was won on a judges' decision. Fight one went to Obama on points.

Behind in the polls and bruised by the country's staggering economy, McCain needed a big victory. He didn't get it.

The debate featured a classic clash of styles. McCain is the slugger, the guy who throws hard all the time and likes to fight inside. Obama is what they call a "scientific boxer," a guy who jabs and moves.

The boxer took the early rounds. Obama was much stronger in his take on the economy and the current Wall Street woes. He focused on the plight of the average American, which is more important, and much stronger in its appeal to the electorate. McCain relied on the old "free market/deregulation" arguments. Those arguments fell flat.

McCain had better success in the middle and late rounds when he could go on the offensive about foreign policy (the topic of the debate). However, he was overly aggressive with his "Obama doesn't understand" comments, and it cost him. The boxer Obama was able to dance and parry his blows. While McCain landed a few good ones, they weren't enough to win him the rounds he needed.

All Obama needed to do in this debate was stay on his feet. Anything other than a knockout and he was likely to win. He did that. He showed that he could "look" presidential and that he could hold his own. The judges in the electorate favored that.

So the first "fight" goes to Obama. Two more to go.

And let's not forget Palin vs. Biden. That one should be fun.

GOOD-BYE SHEA

It may not have the history and prestige of its elder brother in the Bronx, but Shea Stadium in Queens is still a special place. The Mets as a franchise represent the scrappy overlooked guy who never gives up and always has hope. "Ya Gotta Believe!" That was the slogan for which they were known.

They started out as laughingstocks in 1962 and produced a World Series championship miracle in 1969. Fans fell in love with them. Even when they fell short in 1973, people still had hope. That hope was rewarded when they rose like a powerful phoenix in 1986 and produced a baseball juggernaut for the ages. They came back again in 2000 to take part in the World Series of my heart: The New York Yankees vs. The New York Mets. My two favorite teams. They fell short to their elder brethren, but they played hard and they played proud.

Shea Stadium gave us special memories in New York. Not everyone thought it was pretty, but we New Yorkers saw it as beautiful.

And it was ours.

We'll miss you, Shea Stadium. Here's to new, glorious memories in the 21st century for the Mets in their new home.

ACTIONS AND WORDS

This is a pivotal moment in American history. We will look back at this time, this year, this decade, as one which decided the fate of the soul of our country. It is a time to write and a time to act. I have found that it is often easier to reach people through drama than through essay. People more passively receive the former than actively seek the latter.

Writing essays and writing drama are completely different arts. The essay requires that one tell the reader, prove to the reader, the particular point of view. Drama is about showing through both word and action. Hammering viewers over the head with a theme serves only to alienate them. The viewer must be wooed subtly. The essay reader must be overpowered.

If minds are to be opened, hearts reached and souls touched, we must use both words and actions in all their forms. That which we create can be a weapon of transcendence.

YANKEE STADIUM

The Yankees played their final game in Yankee Stadium last night. They won 7-3 over the Orioles. There were reminiscences. There were cheers. The good guys prevailed in their last night in their legendary home.

The grand cathedral of baseball will be gone. They greatest and most famous franchise in professional baseball will be moving to a new home. History will not disappear. It never disappears. It will be linked to a new stadium and a new future. There will be more days of greatness in a sparkling new baseball palace. Many more.

I remember going to "old" Yankee Stadium as a boy. This was the original structure, before it was remade and reopened in 1976. All I remember is how high up I felt. It seemed as if I had sat within clouds and looked down at the diamond in a steep angle.

The "new" Yankee Stadium will always be vivid for me. The victories, the championships, the loudest and funniest fans. Watching baseball there was always a party. Watching baseball there was sacred.

Each year I made my pilgrimage. Each year I planned my homage to the diamond deity, the god of the summer grass. The Staten Island Ferry into Manhattan. The "4" train into the Bronx. A procession of metal chariots that clicky-clacked their way up towards Olympus. My body, a fleshy carriage carrying my soul. I would see the Stadium rise up in the distance gleaming in blue and white, glowing iridescent in the summer dusk. The memories would rush through me. The seasons of hope, passion, triumph and joy. I could hear the thoughts of others around me, thoughts like mine, thoughts of memories past and victories future.

I will miss the old place.

Understand, though, I look forward to the new. Greatness is born only from challenge. There is no challenge that the New York Yankees cannot meet.

Here's to a new New York Yankee century in the 21st Century of Our Lord. Here's to new championships, new memories, grand stories that I will pass on to my children and my children's children.

Here's to the New York Yankees and Yankee Stadium.

FOR CRISTO: THE TAO OF A COSMIC SAILOR

We move forward, my son. Always forward. We live in the Eternal Now, ephemeral and everlasting. We do not mourn the past in a veil of tears or blind ourselves in false reverie. We discover the history of futures that we hope to be and sing songs to it with words that reveal themselves behind the second hand of the clock and notes that that are born each moment.

There is only The Now and The Now renews itself endlessly in a single stream forward, like an arrow unencumbered by the friction of gravity launched from the mast of a ship. We set forth upon The Ocean of Time and Space and the Cartesian grid of waves are the canvass of our creation and adventure. You are always here, I am always here, upon the deck of our souls, the stars above and within to guide us across the universe.

FATIMA

"O, my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are most in need of Thy mercy."

I offer this for all souls that seek love, hope and faith.

OF GEHRIG AND JETER

Lou Gehrig. Derek Jeter. Yankee pride.

Gehrig and Jeter are monuments to what makes the New York Yankees a special franchise, a legendary franchise. They represent an unbroken chain of baseball greatness that stretches across a full century.

Gehrig, the first Yankee captain, led his team to the start of its history of greatness in the 1920s and 30s. He was a native New Yorker, a product of the immigrant streets of the early 20th Century. He played hard, played the game right, never showy, but always great. We all know his story-- 2,130 consecutive games played, triple crown winner, most career grand slams. All cut short by the disease which killed him, ALS, shortly before his 38th birthday. During his time with the Yankees, they won six World Series. The great New York mayor, Fiorello La Guardia called him, "The greatest prototype of good sportsmanship and citizenship."

I never got to see him play. I wish I had.

I have had the privilege of watching Jeter play. Derek Jeter is a throwback to the kind of ballplayer that Gehrig was. He plays hard and plays to win. He's there for his teammates and he never shows up his opponents. He's a nine-time All-Star, a World Series MVP, and All-Star Game MVP, second on the Yankees all-time hits list (and closing in on 3,000 hits), and a four-time World Series winner. He's at his best in October, when the pressure is on and championships are on the line. He holds the record for most postseason hits and runs scored, batting .314 in his postseason career.

Yesterday, he passed Lou Gehrig for most career hits in Yankee Stadium. It was fitting that it happened in the year that they're closing the Big Ballpark in the Bronx, the baseball shrine. Would that the two always remained linked, reminders of the past, present and future greatness of the New York Yankees.

CULT OF PERSONALITY and GUERILLA RADIO

Living Colour. "Cult of Personality." Listen:




Rage Against the Machine. "Guerilla Radio." Hear:



Political vigilance is all. Never stop being vigilant. Never.