A loon was calling its unmistakable cry this morning.  What the!?!  Poor creature needs to get out of town; the windchill is -10 this morning.  Has the bird (have we all) gone loonie?  Yes, I say.  Move on.  Yet that cry is right-on, as today marks the heartbreaking swan song of my favorite radio show.  Period.  

I believe in radio. Love it with all my heart—more than TV, more than this silly, cold computer screen.

Just one more time, while I’m doing my morning rituals, I get to start my day with Minnesota Public Radio’s The Morning Show.  They sign off tomorrow, with a raucous and live (and thus uncharacteristic) performance.  Not sure I can get out of bed without this show’s homey charm, humor, and eclectic music mix.  

Jim Ed Poole and Dale Connelly (whose real name is Tom Keith) have been up long before sunrise for decades.  But Jim Ed wants to retire.  Hey, ain’t nothing wrong with that!  As Michelle Shocked (the kind of artist this program will play that you won’t hear anywhere else) sings:

“The secret to a long life is knowing when it’s time to go…” 

Yes, even people with (what would appear to be) one of the funnest jobs in the world need to retire now and then.  Jim Ed is ready for perma-Sabbatical.  Good on ya, mate.  

The show was started by a guy named Garrison Keillor who promoted Jim Ed from board operator to co-star, and then moved on to become a superstar himself.

Having met Dale, I can safely say that with these gentlemen, what you hear is what you get.  I’ve known Tom too. Used to play softball with him—often scheming the right to sit next to him at the Chalktalk (bar) after the game. I was a bit star-struck of course. But above all, he was and is just a complete sweetheart of a guy. He can make people laugh with the most subtle, natural move or comment.    

We all need more laughter!

Their retirement will leave a void for many of us. But nothing lasts forever. Not even radio (which, someday, will BURY television). Be well, boys. Thanks for the memories, the music, and making it such a pleasure to get up, stand up, and face a new day.

In the old days, people were allowed to use a lot of commas, and they wrote some pretty cool stuff, especially this dude, who also wrote that bit about history repeating itself, but we’ll not feature that here, as we are not a HISTORY site, but rather, a BREAKAWAY site.  

“A string of excited, fugitive, miscellaneous pleasures is not happiness; happiness resides in imaginative reflection and judgment, when the picture of one’s life, or of human life, as it truly has been or is, satisfies the will, and is gladly accepted.”

Thanks to George Santayana, no relation to Carlos, 1863-1952, Spanish-born philosopher, essayist, and poet.  

Is there any doubt that he practiced silence?  Took Sabbaticals?  Found what he was looking for?  Had a good time?  Wish he were here…

The news has been all over the airwaves and screens for ten days now. Say it ain’t true: Consumer spending in October slipped by 1%.

Yet when I painstakingly avoided Shoporama-Land last weekend, Black Friday looked as busy and crazy as ever. Parking lots were jammed. Movie theaters were packed. And when out celebrating my birthday on Saturday night, most bars and restaurants were bustling and hustling hash to ravenous partiers.

Hey, didn’t they get the bad news?

Recessions aren’t fun. Losing a job sure can stink. And watching your investment portfolio shrink hurts. But 1%? That’s a mere penny per dollar less that we’re spending as a nation. Let’s break it down a few ways.

• Having a $9.90 martini instead of a $10 one. (Absolut instead of Gray Goose?)
• Getting a $4.95 candy snack at the movie instead of the $5.00 one.
• Splurging on a $198 cashmere sweater and letting go of the $200, better beauty.
• Offering $29,700 for that new Toyota and steadfastly refusing to pay $30K sticker.
• Spending $396, rather than $400, for your holiday gifts this year.
• Sending 99 holiday cards with 99 stamps (instead of 100) and skipping your slacker college roommate who has never sent you one, anyway.

It’s amazing to me that this kind of news actually alarms people. Markets? Sure, all they do is behave in bipolar ways. But the rest of us? Hey, we’re still having 99% as much fun as we did last year, as a whole.

Even my Very Close Personal Friend, THE ARMCHAIR ECONOMIST, told me:

“YOU’LL KNOW THIS DOWNTURN IS SERIOUS WHEN PITCHERS OF BEER BECOME MORE COMMON THAN THE PINK MARTINIS. BUT WORRY NOT: THE PEOPLE WILL STILL DRINK!”

I’ll drink to that—and I miss pitchers. Makes me sort of nostalgic (and thirsty) just thinking about it. Thanks, Old Sport. And may we all survive living on 99%.

Sorta brings new meaning to the term “Black Friday,” doesn’t it?  

From our good friends at Wiki:  

“In many cities it is not uncommon to see shoppers lined up hours before stores with big sales open. Once inside, the stores shoppers often rush and grab, as many stores have only a few of big draw items. On occasion, injuries and even fatalities are reported; in 2008, a worker at a Wal-Mart in Valley Stream, New York was trampled to death by shoppers who broke through the store’s glass doors minutes before the store’s scheduled opening at 5:00 am[7][8]; a pregnant mother was hospitalized from injuries in the same human “stampede”, though early reports of a resultant miscarriage were determined to be in error[9] [10]. And in Palm Desert, California two people shot and killed each other after an argument, possibly over merchandise, in a Toys R Us store.[11]”

Rest in peace.  

Okay, let’s be frank. Does anybody want to read rants about a guy who’s trying to get 555 things done before running away for the winter? Probably not. That kind of ‘journal’ writing best be kept by the bedside, along with the Mylanta, the Trojans, and the Bible.

Those rants and lists, by the way, kept me awake most of the night while the crazybusy brain labored away in fruitless tedium.

Today’s sunrise, oh-so forced Yoga regimen (outside, where it’s covered with slippery frost) did NOT quiet the mind. I just froze the belly and teased the to-do list. A slip-and-fall seemed likely. Yoga has risks. Do they practice yoga on snow in India?

Hello-o-o-o-o!?!?!

• What about finding a new gear bag to haul the snorkel stuff and the new Martin mini-guitar and all? (And what good is a trip without those non-digital toys? How will AllBoy keep up his music learning without a musical instrument?)
• What about the complex list of chores that must occur to launch this website—and who’s the sick dominatrix who created that Responsibility-Hell program called BaseCamp?
• Why do people, as they find out about the Sabbatical, tend to ask a really good question that I’ve yet to worry about, like, “Who’s going to take care of your snow shoveling?”
• Why aren’t the kids helping? I mean, do they ever? No! But….HELP!
• How come the 2 Heads duties don’t stop? IRS red tape (that can feel like a thug who ties you to your desk chair)…payroll and expense and pointless paperwork up the wazoo?

This will be worth it, right?

I suddenly have a deep, huggable respect for the many folks who, upon learning of our brilliant scheme, simply laugh and offer,

“Oh, I could NEVER do THAT!?!”

Kudos to Common Sense. Bravo for loving what you got. Let us now praise unfamous men (and women).

Alrighty. I feel better now. NOT! So obviously, it’s time to seek silence. And try to make my bossy brain do the same.

“Silence is the language God speaks and everything else is a bad translation.” –Thomas Keating, Cisterian Monk

• ODDS OF GOING TODAY: 86%
• BIGGEST OBSTACLE: THINKING

Read it and reap. Or weep. But read it, and realize (if nothing else) that there are a few BreakAway Brethren out there. There are even gracious employers out there using the downturn as an excuse not to downsize, but offer Sabbaticals!   Sign me up!

We shall change the world! One blogpost, one BreakAway, one bobbing head at a time!

(Excerpted from his annual “Night-Before-Turkey” speech, as given to family and friends at the Rob Roy Club in Midtown, Manhattan)

FRIENDS, FAMILY, WORLD LEADERS,

IT IS WITH A TEAR—OF JOY, OF COURSE—THAT I MUST TODAY EXPRESS MY PARTICULARLY HEARTFELT THANKS TO ALL MY FRIENDS AND COLLIES, I MEAN COLLEAGUES, WHO HAVE MADE POSSIBLE THIS $15 BILLION QUARTERLY PROFIT FROM THE ESTEEMED EXXON CORPORATION.

• THANKS…TO THE EXXON EXECUTIVES, WHO HAVE SO BRILLIANTLY SHOWN NO SHAME IN EXPLOITING CAPITALISM TO NEW RECORDS. RATHER LIKE A GREAT ATHLETE, THEY JUST KEEP SHATTERING THEIR OWN WORLD RECORDS! (aside: HOW THE HELL DO YOU DO IT!?!) {applause, applause}
• THANKS…TO THE U.S. GOVERNMENT (aside: OR SHOULD I SAY, “LACK THEREOF”). {chuckles and guffaws} WITHOUT SUCH OIL-FRIENDLY KINFOLK IN POWER, WELL, PERHAPS OUR PROFITS WOULD HAVE BEEN A MERE $14 BILLION! {laughter, back slapping}
• THANKS…TO THE U.S. PEOPLE, WHO WILLINGLY PAID MORE THAN $4 A GALLON FOR MONTHS ON END SO WE COULD ACHIEVE THIS MILESTONE. NOW, HOW DO I SAY THIS?…YOU ROCK?
• THANKS…TO THE OTHER PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, WHERE-EVER YOU ARE, FOR FOLLOWING OUR LEAD IN GAS GUZZLING? AIN’T IT GREAT? {applause, clinking of glasses, more back-slapping}
• THANKS…TO THE CAR MANUFACTURERS. MAKERS OF BIG VEHICLES, PICK-UP TRUCKS, MOBILITY, AND FREEEEEEEE-DOM! AND MAY I SAY, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY PIGGY BANK, I SURE HOPE YOU GET YOUR $25 BILLION BAILOUT. (aside: IF TIMES WEREN’T SO ROUGH, I’D SUGGEST WE AT EXXON GIVE THEM A FEW BUCKS!) {loud laughter, shouts of “no! no!”, temporary chaos}
• THANKS…TO THE DINOSAURS—WHO LONG AGO GAVE THEIR GUTS, JUST SO WE HERE AT EXXON COULD FUEL THIS LIFESTYLE REVOLUTION.
• THANKS…TO THE EXXON SHAREHOLDERS, WHO SO SMARTLY GAVE ME A SEAT ON THE BOARD. I MAY BE OLD AND FADING AND COULD CARE LESS. BUT I ALWAYS VOTE “AYE.” AND TONIGHT, I VOTE “ME, MYSELF, AND AYE!”
• AND FINALLY, MY DEEPEST THANKS GOES TO THE EXXON BOARD OF DIRECTORS. THANK YOU, GENTLE MEN, FOR BRINGING ME TO YOUR TABLE. OH SURE, I SKIP THE MEETINGS. BUT I ALWAYS VOTE YES. AND TONIGHT, I VOTE YES! YES! 15 BILLION TIMES YES! {uproarious applause, group hugs, champagne everywhere)

PLEASE, PLEASE…I’M ALMOST DONE (aside: WITH MY SPEECH, BUT NOT WITH MY PROFIT-TAKING!). IN CLOSING, MAY I JUST WISH YOU ALL THE HAPPIEST OF THANKSGIVING. YOU’VE SO MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR: MONEY, POWER, GREED—BUT I MEAN THE GOOD KIND. LET THE FREE MARKET—AND THE OIL—FLOW…LIKE FINE WINE! {glasses clink}

AS YOU BREAK BREAD TOMORROW, PLEASE REMEMBER THE LITTLE PEOPLE, AND THE LITTLE THINGS.

BY LITTLE PEOPLE, I MEAN ANYONE WHO HAS NOT THE GOOD FORTUNE TO BE IN THIS ROOM, OR EVEN BEAN EXXON SHAREHOLDER. MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON THEM, EVEN AS THEY GO BROKE BUYING GAS.

AND BY LITTLE THINGS, I MEAN LOBSTER—INSTEAD OF TURKEY. AFTER ALL, NOW THAT THE EXXON VALDEZ MESS IS FINALLY BEHIND US—IN SO MANY WAYS—WE CAN FINALLY GET DECENT SEAFOOD FROM ALASKA AGAIN. {Hear hear! Hear hear!}

GOOD NIGHT! MAY GOD BLESS YOU—AND THE EXXON MOBIL CORPORATION!

(The Armchair Economist shakes the hands of three Exxon “friends,” who shall remain nameless, and then is quickly escorted out of the building by umpteen bodyguards who whisk him into an awaiting, heavily armored, Toyota Prius.)

Oh jeez.  Looks like Santa’s going to be a bit of a Grinch this X-mas, among other signs of the times…

• 88% will spend the same or less on gifts
• 83% will buy more items on sale
• 75% feel pressure from debts
• 62% will wait for a sale
• 61% will focus on practical gifts
• 58% will cut back because of credit concerns
• 49% will cut travel plans
• Source: America’s Research Group/UBS, Maritz, Deloitte, Accenture, Consumer Reports, Thrivent

This stuff, or most of it, just don’t break my heart very much. I mean, who doesn’t complain about the over-commercialism of the holidays? What’s wrong with buying stuff on sale? What’s not to love about buying practical gifts instead of impractical ones?

Elsewhere in the newspapers, though, lurks news that strikes sadder notes. The downturn is causing closings of the little cafés that make Paris so distinctive—taking countless jobs and proud professions. Once there were 200,000; now there are 41,500. A way of life goes down the drain, rather like America’s farm crisis murdered small-town culture.

Meanwhile, in Boston, just outside the ivory-pearly gates of Harvard, a decades-old newsstand and gathering place is calling it quits. No longer can you get newspapers from all over the world, pick up the latest MAD magazine, or possibly meet a new friend.

Then again, who needs all that when you got texting on your Blackberry?

In record time, the Accommodations Kommittee has reached consensus. All nights are booked; all travel legs are known.

Now we shall learn time and time again that “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” But absent that, we’ll have…

St. John 19 days
St. Vincent 3 days
Bequia 17 days
Grenada 27 days
San Juan 3 days

TOTAL 69 days

Has it been fun planning this?  Not really.  (Okay:  Occasionally.)  Still, I’m thankful we’ve come this far.  Yet we have so-o-o-o-o far to go…

Here’s a book recommendation—for anyone who can handle relatively scholarly tomes.

It’s “The Great Inflation and Its Aftermath: The Past and Future of American Affluence,” by Robert J. Samuelson. He’s out promoting it now, so you may hear him on a radio, TV, or podcast near you.

Although the book is mostly about a past period (’62 – ’82), Samuelson has plenty to say about today’s conditions. Mostly not good. The stock market and housing booms that made us “rich” for so long are over. So over. Prepare thyself for…

Affluence deprivation. That’s one of his million-dollar idioms, although with the downturn in the economy such as it is, perhaps it’s now worth only half that.

Affluence deprivation is what we are about to encounter—when people gradually “have” less, and it hurts. His point is: We still probably have enough, and perhaps more than most of the world and than most points in American history.

But…we’ll feel deprived. We’ll talk poor. (“Poor talk” is another old cliché’; it’s when people talked poor for decades long after the Depression was over and times were relatively great.)

We’ll soon talk about “back in the day,” when we drove SUVs to expensive eateries and drank pink martinis while wearing Sex-in-the-City designer duds. We’ll lament that we no longer fly to Vegas for suites, shows, Gray Goose, and craps.

Don’t let this era be a dud. Speak not of depraved deprivation. We’ll be fine. In many ways, we’re no less rich with time than we were when our portfolios were fat, dumb, and happy. Keep hacking away at your dreams and Big Ideas. And BreakAway from the poor-tawkin’ crowd…