Casanova Works The Strip (DS)

We had a dream……and in that dream we found ourselves observing the high stakes action at a back room baccarat table in The Venetian Hotel, Las Vegas. The croupier was plumed to perfection as an 18th century Italian dandy - replete with the requisite powdered pony periwig - and the plastic name tag pinned to his left lapel was engraved with the name: CASANOVA - VENICE, ITALY.

A fresh deck of cards had been shuffled and cut, and the distinguished high rollers partaking in this very exclusive game of tomcat baccarat deliberately placed their ample bets on the table. Without delay, Casanova smoothly put the game in to play as he pitched the cards with precision to the roundtable of punting philanderers sitting before him.

Money was clearly no object to the big spending playboys who’d paid dearly for the privilege of being in the presence of the master of amore in the fleeting hopes that the master might throw a few lessons in the art of seduction their way, mano a mano. They gazed upon Casanova with veneration, and like puppies in love, waited with bated breath for him to bestow his tutelage upon them.

Our dream had cleverly dealt us an unexpected fusion of old world sagacity with new world emulation.

Being an observant man, Casanova felt it prudent to properly assess the skill level of the libertines seeking his instruction before doling out any sort of enlightenment. The swingers that were now gaping at him admiringly were overall a lamentable and disappointing array of wannabes, and he felt almost as if he’d be offering the precious gift of manhood to amateurs.

While Casanova knew nothing about men being from Mars or women coming from Venus, he did know that if any of these lotharios had bothered to read his memoirs, they would’ve saved themselves, not only a lot of money given the high price of his game, but loads of humiliation as well.

Casanova decided to begin their initiation with the basics, namely, his ‘ImaRAKE’ technique because the condensed wisdom he’d managed to distill from his life’s work would provide a succinct summarization of what was required to perpetuate the art of managing a successful seduction.

'ImaRAKE' in four easy steps:
Step 1. RESCUE said damsel in distress from her current oppressive lover or unpleasant situation.

Step 2. ALLEVIATE said damsel’s distress, console, comfort, and champion her.

Step 3. KISS her seductively, and move on to passionate consummation.

Step 4. EXIT STRATEGY, which should always include the popular “I’m not worthy" and "You deserve better” for a friendly, yet conclusive parting of the ways.

Of course, had they all practiced his tried and true ‘ImaRAKE’ in four easy steps, they’d still be shamelessly cavorting with an inspirational Muse with Benefits (MWB-see definition below) today.

Upon stressing to his ardent pupils that no man is the exception to the rule, no matter how confident the man, Casanova then proceeded to offer personally tailored insights to each of the cads seated at his table:

David Letterman, Late Night Talk Show Host
Pappagallo! Casanova could only say, “Mai merda dove si mangia”, which means in Americano, “Never sh*t where you eat”.

Eliot Spitzer, Former New York Governor
Ipocrita! The love gov thought he'd been a big winner all night with his lucky number 9, but Casanova dismissed it as dumb luck inasmuch as the love gov should never have paid for something he could’ve gotten for free if he’d only played his cards right. The master admonished him to be more cautious the next time he decided to point his finger at others because there would always be three more fingers pointing right back at him. Casanova also suggested he consider leaving the country for a while. Maybe he could lay low in France because they understand about these things in France. Just ask Roman Polanski.

Bill Clinton, Former U.S. President
Don Giovanni! The world’s greatest lover felt like he was looking in the mirror when his eyes came to rest upon Bill Clinton. He could've chided Bill a little about that blue dress fiasco, but frankly, he just didn’t think he could teach Bill anything Bill didn’t already know. In fact, Bill could probably teach him a thing or two. He suggested they have a private tête-à-tête when his shift was over to compare memoirs.

Mark Sanford, South Carolina Governor
Imbecille! Don’t cry for me Argentina. And soul mate? Casanova was confused. What’s love got to do with it? Then referred him to ‘ImaRAKE’ Step 4.

John Edwards, Former North Carolina Governor
Stupido! Never get caught with the evidence, and that especially includes leaving your DNA behind. Then referred him to ‘ImaRAKE’ Step 4.

Newt Gingrich, Former Speaker of the House
Stronzo! Stronzo! Stronzo! Casanova logically understood the marital strategies of a power hungry social climber, yet he warned the man with the reptilian eyes of a water lizard against letting that power go straight to his engorged head. Not one to judge his fellow rakes too overtly, Casanova couldn’t help but silently wonder if the stepping stone wives really believed that kissing the toad would turn it into a prince.

Larry Craig, Former Idaho Senator.
Signore Craig didn’t stick around long enough for Casanova to speak insightful words to him like the others. When Casanova directed his attention toward him, he simply stood up from the table, took a wide stance, and slipped Casanova a note wrapped within several large bills as a generous gratuity for the master before walking away. The note read “Meet me in the men’s room at midnight”.

On that note, Casanova looked up as Signore Craig moved to leave the room, and it was then he noticed the throng of starving seekers who were gathered by the thousands – the Moby Dicks, the LAB-Rats, the Trolls (see definitions below), the greedy, and more - all lined up along the corridor waiting for their chance to play tomcat baccarat.

And then we woke up and realized that despite modern man’s pretense of civilized evolvement, the primitive instincts are still running the show, and the show apparently must go on … even if the ending is always the same. Perhaps it’s time we finally change the channel. Who’s got the universal remote?

There’s no rest for the wicked. Bernie’s next assignment can be found in our ‘Dream Sequence’ March 16, 2009 posting "The Devil’s In The Details".

www.InTheRearViewMirror.com

Faux Food

Another summer has ended, and our nation’s school children have returned to their classrooms thanks to the old agrarian calendar. While the school year may continue its primitive revolution around the seasonal till and harvest, few are the children who have personally beheld the phenomenon of fertile farmland, let alone worked in the fields at harvest time.

Although many of our children will probably never participate directly in the hands-on science of crop cultivation, most are taught in science class about a very fundamental part of the earth's ecosystem called the food chain. A grade school science lesson on the food chain teaches us how energy flows from one level of existence to another upon consumption; and since food is energy, every living creature in the food chain gets its energy from the food it eats.

Naturally combining food chain principles with proverbial wisdom never fails to yield the ever popular: “You are what you eat”. Nutritionists have been preaching these timeless words of warning for centuries (and so has the Catholic Church with its Eucharist for that matter; but contrary to parishioner belief, the church isn’t part of the earth’s ecosystem).

The irrefutable science supporting the importance of a balanced ecosystem prompts us to question the motives of Big Food (and the reason behind government farm subsidies) when we consider the methodical alterations being perpetrated upon the natural flow of our food chain.

Foods today are described as processed, fabricated, artificial, and synthetic; and are full of chemical flavorings, artificial color, preservatives, fillers and binders as if this is normal. Even our basic staples like sugar and flour are known to be bleached, processed and refined. And let’s not overlook the customary corn syrup and casein infusions found in most things prepared and pre-packaged for human consumption.

Perhaps the reason we eat three times more than we should is because we’re unable to get the nutrients our bodies need from the foods we're eating and consequently, we never truly feel full or satisfied. Grade school science reminds us that it’s impossible to get life sustaining nutrients from something that is not alive and a natural part of the food chain.

We had a flashback in the rear view mirror that made us gasp in horror right alongside Charleton Heston as we watched a long line of waste disposal trucks pull up behind the Soylent processing plant, and proceed to dump one cargo of corpses after another. After the dead meat was delivered and then cleverly reconstituted into soylent green wafers, we could only gag when the recycle of life was fed to an unsuspecting and hungry population of 2022.

To dismiss “Soylent Green” as just some old 1973 dystopian sci-fi flick that couldn’t possibly have any relevance to our 2009 reality seems logical. Surely everyone knows that only in the movies would people be dumb enough to fall for a corporate gorilla marketing campaign designed to convince them that soylent green was a nutritious processed food made from high-energy plankton, and something they couldn’t live without.

Well, no one ever said that truth in advertising standards actually require anyone to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Far from it, for standard marketing practices make it a point to routinely stretch and manipulate the illusion of truth for maximum profitability. Any detrimental consumer side effects are usually considered negligible when measured against bottom line profit margins.

Case in point offers us a side mirror view at the marketing strategy for a popular brand of sucralose, and how its no calorie sweetener is a better alternative to real sugar. The product slogan rationally asserts “it starts with sugar, it tastes like sugar, but it’s not sugar”. What is never disclosed in plain speak, however, is that this artificial sweetener is basically chlorinated table sugar, and after intensive chemical processing, took what began as natural and made it unnatural.

An appeal to our collective need for sweetness without caloric consequences or accountability makes it a profitable marketing triumph, and the masses have been properly convinced that real sugar is bad and artificial sweeteners are good.

Corporate capitalism shamelessly intent upon increasing profits without a conscience has worked hard behind the scenes to remote control every facet of contemporary life. This clearly includes what we’re being fed, on every level.

Our supermarket shelves and delicatessen counters are being stocked daily with tasty mystery foods - foods consisting of unknowable and unnatural ingredients that are incongruent with the very food chain ecosystem we are an integral part of. We suspect changes in the lucrative business of reconstituting food will not be forthcoming from Big Food any time soon … not until of course it gets outed like Big Tobacco did. Until then, caveat emptor – let the buyer beware.

So will the cumulative effects of consuming nothing but faux food eventually turn us all into mannequins?

What’s the rush? Take some time to weigh in on our ‘In The Rear View Mirror’ September 18, 2009 posting "Wait Weight".

www.InTheRearViewMirror.com

Rise of the Global Republic (DS)

We had a dream……and in that dream we saw Julius Caesar riding into Pittsburgh for the G-20 Summit on his white horse, just about the time Libya’s Colonel Gaddafi was trying to pitch his party tent on The Donald’s Bedford lawn. It took 94 minutes for Caesar to maneuver through the fray of plebeian protestors before triumphantly marching up the civic center steps where the new millennium’s world leaders were assembled en masse under the banner of economy and democracy.

Caesar may have lost a battle or two in his day, but he never lost a war, and his dark age old debate with Jupiter was no different. None of the gods were surprised to see Jupiter finally acquiesce in allowing Gaius Julius to transcend the millennial span on a dream ride into 2009 A.D. so he could see what remained of his illustrious legacy.

Sitting astride his fine steed 'Toes' in the middle of Pittsburgh, Caesar broadly surveyed his modern day surroundings, took inventory of what old Republic hand-me-downs were still in evidence today, and made a summary assessment of Roman contribution to 21st century operations.

Every direction he surveyed prominently flaunted vestiges of ancient Roman-Greco urban master planning. J.C. found himself surrounded by a forum of modern day government buildings, civic centers offering public gathering places, plenty of holy temples to the gods, sports stadiums modeled after the beloved Coliseum, amphitheatres for the performing arts, parks, and even the standard victory parade route.

Togas were obviously out, and sadly there was not a public bath house in sight. The closest he could get was a 24-Hour Fitness and everyone he saw sweating in the window had their clothes on ... well, sort of. Surprised by the overall plumpness of the populous not sweating at the gym, Caesar thought a vomitorium comeback might not be such a bad idea.

And the month of July? It was still coming around once a year right in time for his birthday.

While he can’t take credit for the Caesar Salad or the lifesaving Caesarean Section (even though he and Queen Cleo did have a son name Caesarion), J.C. was shocked to see that his melting pot blend-n-merge approach to religious doctrinal unification had been cast aside in favor of pronounced civil dissention born out of intolerance and arrogant sect supremacy.

Back in Caesar’s prime time, marriages were simply mergers designed to create corporate-styled alliances for the purpose of growing the family business. He could see little had changed in that arena. As far as strong, powerful women who knew how to rule a kingdom went, few could equal Cleopatra in his experience (and his old buddy and cousin Marc Antony could back him up on that one). As far as women knowing their place in a man’s world, it looked as if the campaign for gender equality was still waging on.

Little seems to have changed in the political arena as well. He watched as those G-20 global governments predictably finessed their way through the agenda in the traditional part-democratic, part-oligarchic elitist manner he knew so well. Caesar did, however, find the new Republic’s budgetary crisis a bit intriguing. Perhaps that’s because Rome had ruled for a millennium without ever having a budget. He couldn’t help but laugh though when he heard the familiar high-pitched squeals of the upper classes when the subject of them paying taxes came up, again. Some things just never change.

Gaius Julius Caesar had naturally been born into patrician high society, yet he’d always prided himself on being a populist and man of the people. The Republic of Rome was more important than the individuals it was comprised of, and he was pleased to hear that a contemporary world leader named John F. Kennedy had kept the torch burning when he proclaimed “ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country”.

After gloriously expanding Rome’s real estate holdings during the course of an exemplary military career, Caesar could deservedly declare in triumph “I came, I saw, I conquered”. Unfortunately the fateful demise of Julius Caesar didn’t occur on the battlefield as one would expect, but it came shrouded in cowardice from those closest to him. Like the Roman Republic itself, Caesar was taken out from within. Et tu, Brute?

And then we woke up and knew the die had been cast. It seems the world leader crusaders have mobilized a campaign in earnest to defend democracy as the new religion, and internationalism as the new book of doctrine. As the crusaders press on for absolute global conversion, do we need to worry that the new global government will become too big to fail?

America made us do it. Find out why in our ‘In The Rear View Mirror’ April 13, 2009 posting "Greed Goes Underground".

www.InTheRearViewMirror.com

Wait Weight

The times they are a-changin’, and America’s double helping of new century change has stimulated its population to TARP their tears away three times a day with take out. True capitalists know that when it comes down to the emotional buttons pushed by recession and social depression, there’s little a super sized, super value menu can’t fix.

Nothing like a severe economic downturn, no paycheck, and a heap of recession depression to tempt even the heartiest of weight watchers with the promise of an extra large, cheap meal offering little but a week’s worth of empty calories in one sitting and high cholesterol. The fact that cultural perceptions about food consumption have shifted (to the delight of advertisers) from healthy sustenance to an emotionally needy pastime hasn’t helped either.

High speed technological advancements have obviously changed the way we work and play as well. One side effect of this change has been society’s overall devaluation of basic social skills and interpersonal connection. The ensuing social retardation, and the isolation and loneliness it begets, goes a long way toward creating a void that only sugar, fat, salt, and lots of sense-assaulting noisy stimulation can fill.

Upon heavy reflection in the rear view mirror we couldn’t help but see that extra large “Closed for Repairs” sign hanging on the entrance gate of Disneyland’s “It’s a Small World” attraction for the good part of a year.

Originally designed in the 1960’s, the ride was unquestionably in need of some 21st century updating. The sense of urgency prompting 2008’s closure, however, seems to have sprang from a chronic dilemma that even strategic rider placement couldn’t resolve ... the ride’s fiberglass boats were routinely bottoming out on cellulite sandbars and protruding paunches, thereupon bringing the entire ride to a constipated standstill. Logically, swift removal of the damming girth from the grounded lead boat was the sole remedy for restoring the ride to a normal flow.

With this recurring delay in passage came the certain knowledge that our world wasn’t so small after all.

While Disneyland eventually got around to dredging the plus-sized waterways it needed to accommodate the bulk of Americans, newfangled stadium movie theaters were long in the game with a “build it and they will come” approach to larger cushy seats, king size cup holders and mega-sized buckets of popcorn that any properly stocked self service condiment counter could help saturate in buttery flavored grease.

Hollywood then hit a homerun by offering more to love in casting plenty of big screen super (sized) stars who delivered body image peace of mind to movie goers as they pac-manned their way through the raisinettes and the previews.

In an era of survival aero-mergers, the airline industry has taken a more tightening-of-the-seatbelt approach to the expanding American waistline. Weight restrictions aside, the more seats crammed on to an aircraft, the more tickets to be sold. No one cares whose roly polys onto whom. Instead of enticing passengers to fly with the promise of a comfy seat and airy comfort food, they just stopped feeding everyone altogether. Everyone except perhaps the growing number of highly stressed, plump pilots who hold our lives in their hands at cruising altitudes (and are severely under compensated for it when considering their liability), yet look like a heart attack waiting to happen when the plane is parked at the gate.

Time has always been of the essence, but anymore, time is just a mcflurry in our world of instant gratification at the speed of a search engine set to find “now fast”, “a lot a deal”, and “cheap free”.

Yet when it comes down to the fundamental task of feeding our bodies, we suspect if one were to simply practice a slower more nutritious approach to dining – or to wait – odds are the load will become lighter, both emotionally and physically. And conversely, to habitually gulp down fast food on the go –or to not wait- odds are the load will end up much heavier all the way around.

It would appear excuses hold little weight when personal prerogative gives us permission to prioritize the time we need to properly nourish our bodies, for in the end, we alone are physically accountable for what we put in to our mouths.

A very weighty issue indeed, but what we really want to know is how do you weigh in? and what are you waiting for?

Sleep it under the rug with our ‘In The Rear View Mirror’ February 15, 2009 posting "Catching a Few Xe’s".

www.InTheRearViewMirror.com

Reinczarnation (DS)

We had a dream……and in that dream we saw Nicholas II, the last Czar of Imperial Russia, standing with great distinction in his trademark uniform before an otherworldly horde of dearly departed leaders from history past.

The people’s revolution was as much a thing of the past as the eclectic group standing before him, but after Czar Nicholas had been officially canonized ‘Saint Nicholas the Passion-Bearer’, his ethereal vocation aspired to that of magisterial guardian.

History’s penchant for repetition supported Saint Nick’s dreamy notion that there was no time better than the present to decree the reincarnation of a new Czar-based administration consisting of several well-chosen individual Czars, each to be placed in charge of its own single purpose fiefdom.

Consideration for each incarnated inauguration was to be based solely upon the candidate’s special abilities, and not necessarily upon any aptitude for running an empire. Saint Nick immersed himself accordingly into the rigid Czar selection process by meticulously profiling this pool of old world ringleaders and how their best abilities could be utilized.

Although Nicky had plenty of royal relatives to pick from, our dream showed that he had no propensity toward nepotism this time around, for his elevated position had offered him an awareness level enhanced enough to realize that ancestry does not always a good Czar make.

And so we watched as he threw himself into the momentous task of divvying up his old Czar job between some of the local talent...

BANK CZAR: J. P. Morgan. Don’t just control it, own it all.

BIG TOBACCO TAR CZAR: Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, Co-Czars. Teepees, hookahs, and riding the “Wild West” war path going East.

CAR CZAR: Genghis Khan. All terrain Land Rover with the ability to conquer invaded markets.

CENSUS CZAR: Pol Pot. Committed to keeping the numbers manageable.

CYBER CZAR: J. Edgar Hoover. Where paranoia is the name of the game.

DOCTRINE CZAR: Torquemada and Saladin, Co-Czars. A perfect blend of “it’s the one true religion or the rack” and jihadic crusadism.

DRUG CZAR: Ronald Reagan. Just say NO.

FOOD CZAR: Henry VIII. Corpulence is King!

HEALTH CZAR: Achilles. Uncompromising mercenary with a talent for strategy and group motivation, in spite of that little hitch in his giddy-up. Second runner up for the post was Empress Alexandra’s favorite, Rasputin.

INSURANCE CZAR: Il Duce, Benito Mussolini. Fascism and survival of the fittest.

PAY CZAR: Caesar, Julius. Rape, pillage, and enforcement of the “if you scratch my back, I’ll scratch your back” bonus payment system.

TARP CZAR: John D. Rockefeller. Failure is not an option, especially when you’re big.

And then we woke up and realized that by assigning these historical vanguards a mini-Czardom in accordance with their best abilities, Nicholas had unwittingly employed a basic tenet of the very ideology that had ultimately rendered him impotent and superfluous. While communist credo had promised the people “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need”, the overall consensus seems to be that the people never really did get what they needed, regardless of the regime ruling the land.

It appears the real Czars assigned to do the regulatory paperwork these days, however, are merely public relations puppets whose strings are being adroitly manipulated by some unseen puppet master hidden behind a stage curtain. Will this Grand Puppet Master ever come out into the light and offer us unveiled illumination?

What goes around, comes around, and the proof is in the publishing of our ‘Dream Sequence’ April 5, 2009 posting "When Karma Comes Calling".

Mediocre Minds Think Alike

The 1894 legislation making Labor Day a national holiday essentially worked out to be a hasty bureaucratic effort to appease American labor forces after the militia opened fire on striking railroad workers in the Midwest. Few today, however, would expect that bit of ancient history to influence procession motifs along the nation’s holiday parade routes.

For many contemporary Americans, Labor Day is simply considered the symbolic end of summer, and a day of rest from the laborious task of looking for a new job.

For those a little more prone to introspection, this legislated day of rest can offer pause for reflection about what sort of creative approach might be needed these days in order to secure substantial and sustainable employment during the festerings of a chronic corporate dumb down overrun with mediocrity.

When the bar is never set above mediocre, it’s quite easy to be lulled into a false sense of competence…until one is downsized, that is.

Truth is, consistent guidelines and standards that support an entire organization as its staff works toward a common and (hopefully) profitable purpose are not only necessary, but can be mutually beneficial as well.

Obviously balance and common sense haven't always prevailed. Too many rules and suppressive regulations imposed by corporate brass onto its workforce have served not only to firmly secure the power held by those making the rules (since they are typically the exception to the rules), but appear to be the inspiration behind the mediocre brainstorming that has filled corporate think tanks across the board.

Hollywood satirists have yet to fail in scripting profound dialogue that truly mirrors this anomaly of corporate culture in a way that ironically makes us laugh about it.

We laughed when Jim from “The Office” said, “I’ve always subscribed to the idea that if you really want to impress your boss, you go in there and you do mediocre work, half-heartedly.” We also laughed in “Big” when Jon Lovitz’s “Scotty” said to Tom Hanks’ “Josh”, “Listen, what are you trying to do? Get us all fired? You gotta slow down. Pace Yourself.”

The propagation of modern day mediocrity has unconventionally integrated old world Machiavellian principles to culivate a corporate “crab bucket” mentality in the workplace. Sure we’d all like to see our friends and colleagues get ahead, but not too far ahead. So we work hard to never outshine our corporate comrades lest we forget that the tallest blade of grass is the first to get cut. And those clutching the ladder’s top rung continue to rule with little concern for those clinging to the bottom rung, for those at the bottom are too busy taking each other out vying for a position to ever challenge the powers roosting at the top.

We looked in the rear view mirror while listening to our iPod and watched the CEOs of the music industry spin 78 RPMs as they whirled to preserve their dominion when creative technology began to weaken their syndicated stronghold. Amazingly, instead of spending their billions on competitive innovation and integration, they chose to invest their dollars in litigation to halt the progress and then try to control it. Perhaps they thought they were too big to fail and didn't need to keep up. Or maybe they just believed the surrounding corporate yes-men spawned out of mediocrity who routinely tickled their executive ears with disconnected reinforcement.

And the music industry clearly isn’t the only industry reeling from the limitations inherent with mediocrity, for mediocrity and creative innovation are incompatible co-workers.

Albert Einstein’s belief that "Great spirits have always encountered violent oppositon from mediocre minds" would rarely find a true innovator and creative thinker in disagreement. So does this mean that when we hit a blockade résistance from the prevailing Lemming-Groupthink majority, then maybe we’re really on to something?

For a little mind control, surrender yourself to our ‘In The Rear View Mirror’ July 4, 2009 posting "Carnac the FMRI".

Short Sighted

Regarded by many as the father of American literature, humorist Mark Twain once said, “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence in society.”

20th century streakers sprinting through the ‘70’s in nothing but their Nike jogging shoes undoubtedly had a different opinion, but it seems reasonable to expect that lifestyle and environmental demands would considerably influence what society deems fashionably suitable as we transition further into the 21st century.

When Michelle O emerged from Air Force One in Arizona the other day, and catty commentary set the newswires ablaze as if the entire country had been sucked into the Grand Canyon, our rear view mirror conjured up an outtake from “Project Runway” we couldn’t help but call “First Lady on a Tarmac Catwalk”.

France's first lady, Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, was perfection in a drab Dior ensemble and as the outtake’s featured commentator. We listened keenly as she melodiously described the fashion show’s unfolding drama in her hallmark voice a la smolder. (We figure it’s pretty safe to assume Madam Carla would also disagree, like a true streaker would, with Mark Twain’s assertion, especially since her naked photos have been a favorite Christie’s auction item).

The show's highlights included a fashion plate roundup of Michelle O predecessors as they lined the tarmac catwalk before the first lady deplaned. Carla diplomatically described the summer vacation attire worn by those former first ladies in attendance….Jackie O in Oleg Cassini capris, Gap T-Shirt, custom visored pill box hat, and peds with Keds. Nancy Reagan shimmering in a one-shouldered Bill Blass sun dress (red of course), sheer cover-up, and strappy sandals. Hillary in jeans (to cover the cankles), yellow cotton blouse with matching shirt jacket, and Hush Puppies. Laura Bush in a tailored ecru pantsuit, pink floral blouse, nude Spanx panty hose, and open toed Naturalizers.

The shot heard ‘round the world must've backfired when Michelle O finally stepped out onto the tarmac in hiking shorts, cream camisole with khaki overblouse, and workout tennies.

Given the media’s reaction, you’d think Mr. Blackwell had turned over in his grave.

Our contemporary schitzo-media will undeniably go to great lengths to shear away anything akin to dignified boundaries in order to maintain a highly profitable double standard. All’s fair as long as it sells, and it’s clearly a two for one when it also stirs up a diversion from the doldrums of a boring summer.

Let it never be said that any self-serving mass media outlet ever rejected the opportunity to fill time and space with highly lucrative semi-nude and soft porn advertisements in the name of free press and capitalism, while simultaneously feigning outrage when the first lady has the audacity to expose her legs in hiking shorts while on holiday in triple-digit desert temps.

The fashion barometer once calibered by society's affluent does seem to be rapidly divesting alongside their depreciating balance sheets. Could it be that prevailing styles will begin to trend toward a life-in-the-real-world affordability making egalitarian standards more en vogue?

Get coifed with our ‘Dream Sequence’ July 11, 2009 posting "The Salon Beyond".

Ticker Trade (DS)

We had a dream……and in that dream we found ourselves hidden in the shadows near a second level banister that offered an unobstructed view of the active trading floor below and a panoramic ticker tape above. The open outcries reverberating from down in the pit were jumbled and chaotic, yet clearly influenced the ticker symbols as they scrolled along without delay.

First glance led us to believe we were observing a typical work day at the New York Mercantile Exchange (NYMEX), but something was amiss. The surprising sight of rabbi traders peppered throughout the pit seemed highly unusual.

It was then we noticed the large gold-plated letters affixed to the wall above the trading room floor which read: RED SHIELD ORGAN TRANSPLANT EXCHANGE (ROTEX). The signage was positioned underneath an emblematic logo displaying a golden medical Caduceus centered in the reverse on an ornate Red Shield.

We inaudibly gasped upon realizing we were really somewhere in New Jersey watching an unsanctioned commodities market trade in body parts on the world market.

As the symbols continued their repetitious flow across the ticker, we began to piece the parts together and the first piece belonged to black market capitalism. Heartless profiteering resounded throughout the pit below as kidneys, livers, pancreases, hearts, lungs, eyes, appendages, bones, skin grafts, and even soft tissues were being traded, hedged, arbitraged, forwarded, and futured for obscene under-the-surgical-table profits.

Our dream ticked along as many of the dark secrets surrounding ROTEX and its membership roster were unmasked. Member traders had been covertly cultivated and sponsored by the guts and bowels of health insurance heavyweights, and admittance didn’t come cheap. Although membership proved to be extremely expensive, cost was secondary to the covenant of absolute secrecy, and all members were blood-bound for life to a “Skull and Bones” code of silence.

The rise of ROTEX had naturally spawned the unquestionable need for a highly sophisticated organ matchmaker rating system similar to that of other legitimate commodities markets, and the “Serpent Index” was unrivaled in its ability to grade donor quality, provide organ inventory stats and harvest projections, and rate body part pools for securitizing.

And then we woke up and understood that when it comes down to the business of selling a person's body parts, society’s moral line seems to be drawn at “if it can’t grow back, it can’t be sold”. However, the indisputable human instinct for survival can sadly provoke those facing serious financial challenges to cross that moral line when desperation dominates, even if it means survival minus a part.

But what we really want to know is did those organ brokers first cut out and trade in their own hearts before turning to profit on the illicit innards of human beings in dire straits?

For the price of protection, see our ‘In The Rear View Mirror’ July 30, 2009 posting "The Sopranos Return for Another Season on HMO".