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…

You can’t make this stuff up. This really just happened to me.

Along with millions of others in our great nation, I’m having a little issue with the IRS. Without getting technical, the story goes something like this…

The IRS owes me money. The IRS not only won’t pay it, but…

• The IRS decided I owe THEM money instead.
• They DOUBLED the amount without reason when I begged to differ.
• They REFUSE to offer calculations or reasons.
• And yes, my accountant and I are simply playing by THEIR RULES.
• (BTW, Minnesota accepted our claim and paid the refund immediately!!!)

This sick dance has been going on for months, and they keep failing to respond by the dates they say they will. So yesterday, I did the unthinkable: I called the IRS.

Note to self: Never again.

I waited. And waited. After a half-hour or so, I got a live person! She read me the standard greeting script (name, rank, location, this may be recorded, etc.). I talked back, ready to dig in.

But guess what? She couldn’t hear me. Just kept saying,

“Hello, hello? Is anybody there? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Please call back Monday through Friday at the hours of…”

I’m literally SCREAMING into my phone, which has NEVER malfunctioned and worked fine before and after. She hung up. I fell to the floor. It was too late in the day to try again; they close up early.

Yes, I fell to the floor. Uh-huh, I kicked and screamed and wailed like an baby in a tantrum—this, despite my ever-evolving Work in yoga, meditation, and other stuff to help me remain calm. Accepting. Open. Nonjudgmental and all that crap.

Fuggetaboutit! Mindfulness does not apply to dealing with the IRS.

Hey, I’m only playing by THEIR RULES. Following their instructions, their code. But they somehow turn my refund into a substantial bill. Won’t give their reasons or figurings why. And then can’t hear me when I finally get them on the phone.

See? So may of the rules we live by are just plain bogus. Absurd. There’s nobody home, not even at the IRS—the Taxman for the US, the largest financial entity in the world. We try to play by these “rules” and still, those in charge, can’t even hear us.

You can’t make this stuff up. So although it’s clear that you can run but you cannot hide (or be heard), I see yet another reason to run away: The IRS.

God Bless America. We need all the help we can get.

A dear friend whom I’ve known since I was 5 sent me this. RULES from a club we had as 4th graders. We met twice a week (or more) under a stairway in his house. There were old Playboys (he had 4 older brothers) there! We learned to BreakAway from those brothers, our parents, and all the RULES of the world…only to make our own.

CLUB RULES

No cussing.

No teasing.

No yelling.

Don’t damage other people’s property.

No bribery.

No stealing.

No ripping magizane.

No prank call to nobody you know.

No squealing.

No hiding.

No locking people in the club.

Don’t tell anybody our secrets.

No leaving the light on.

No writing notes about club members.

WOW! Can’t believe we came up with all that, in pencil-perfect, as 9-year-olds. What might we be learning about rules through this exercise in nostalgia?

Rules are smart.

Rules change. (Some no longer apply, like that one about cussing.)

Non-puter text was primitive, though poignant.

Do unto others…

Times were tough! (Tough times don’t last; tough people do!)

Life was sweet and pure…in the day…

Is there a bigger lesson here? But of course! The four young men who wrote those rules and met often for soft porn, bowling, pool, and ping-pong were simply escaping their dads, moms, sibs, and more…to hang out together in some parallel universe where there was not cussing, teasing, yelling, or squealing!

To be sure, there was probably plenty of cussing, teasing, yelling, squealing, and more. But in The Club, you could claim Higher Ground and stop such nonsense by merely invoking….The Rules.

So what are your Rules?

What are mine? Who wrote them? Do they still work? Or did we write them in the 4th grade? Or did we just inherit them from our upbringing? Are they as dated as the Mayberry RFD? Polaroid? Milli Vanilli? WebVan? Why are we still sticking by them?

“Hack” is a word, they say, that suggests living by your own rules, carving your own path through this planet. My advisors say it’s a good word to use in your blogs and things.

Hack! Hack! Hack! (Excuse me. Got a Kleenex?)

Yes, rules are everywhere. Omnipresent. As a community, we are better for it. Beyond that—and there IS life beyond rules—hack away. Remember the Goldens, do no harm, and hack your own bliss.

These stats are ill enough to make you sick.   

• 33 Estimated percentage of Americans who report their family has had problems paying medical bills in the past year.
• 47 Percentage of the public who report that someone in their family is skipping pills, postponing or cutting back on medical care they needed in the past year because of the cost of care.

What is wrong with this picture? Just about everything.

How can people stay healthy if they can’t afford the costs? Won’t they only get worse and it’ll cost our society (and themselves) more? What good is a BreakAway or even an evening out if you don’t feel good?

Don’t take your health for granted. If you’re planning a vacation of any kind, know you’ll enjoy it much more if you don’t go into it sick and tired.

A BreakAway, at its best, is a time to rejuvenate. Not to recover.

Fight to feel good. Apparently, that’s not always easy.