On Bernie Ebbers (WorldCom  $11 billion accounting fraud in 2002) being released from prison for medical reasons Snarky Jackhole posted: "'Pity for the guilty is treason to the innocent.' - Terry Goodkind" on finance.yahoo.com.

He's probably suffering, but the judge, Valerie E. Caproni, said she'd explain her reasoning later.  For those who saw their 401K's wiped out, their future stolen, there was no mercy.  He served 13 years of a 25 year sentence.

People will be watching to see if he miraculously recovers.

Palin Divorce

I was struck by this line in the  Washington Examiner story:'"It's not over': Sarah Palin says she is fighting to repair her marriage ":
"Former Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin said she learned her husband, Todd, wanted a divorce in an email from his lawyer and that the two are seeking counseling."  (www.washingtonexaminer.com/news/its-not-over-sarah-palin-says-she-is-fighting-to-repair-her-marriage)

My first thought was, "What a gutless jerk!"  What, he wasn't man enough to tell her face to face?  (I stare in fascination that I even write "man enough".)  My second and subsequent thoughts were still "What a gutless jerk."  

There are many reasons to avoid Sarah Palin, so I can't blame her husband, former First Dude of Alaska, for wanting to get away/come to his senses, but her husband didn't have the simple courtesy to do it himself.  

What am I missing?  Was this executive type behavior: delegating authority so he could attend to the important business at hand like, driving a snowmobile , playing cards with the gang, or shooting wolves?  Or, wait!!  Maybe it hurt more to hear from his lawyer rather than him directly?.  Yeah, sorry, Todd is too busy binging on Queer Eye reruns.

We'll have to wait for the divorce.  

Barneys New York is Closing

Here's the NY times article describing the sale of the brand name: Barneys is Being Sold for Parts (www.nytimes.com/2019/11/01/business/media/barneys-bankruptcy-authentic-brands.html).

Over the years, when I would hear the name or see an ad for Barneys I would remark, "The only reason I'd go to Barneys is to pass a bad check."

Many years ago I went to Barneys to buy a suit.  I was young (and stupid -and as Mark Twain remarked, I repeat myself) and wore sneakers.  Anyone interested in selling would have pointed out that one should wear the same foot ware when trying on a suit as one would wear with the suit so the suit could be properly fitted.  A good salesman might take a chance on suggesting that I should buy shoes and then the suit.  I didn't emit a master-of-the-universe vibe, but maybe I was a rock band's tour manager looking to go legit with cash to burn.   If Barneys had loaner shoes, but those weren't offered.

I felt that they actually sneered at my ignorance.  Fine enough.  I've suffered worse insults with a shrug.  What really made me mad was the way the salesmen treated the Japanese customers.

The Japanese economy at the time seemed poised to dominate the world.  The salesmen, most out of hearing of their Japanese customers, but well within mine, made insulting remarks about them.  While I can no longer quote what was said, the image of one salesman playing with a very young child as the mother stood near by has stayed with me all these years.

I presume the mother knew no English or had a will of steel because she didn't show any response as the salesman's smile as he played with the kid contrasted with his insults.

When the store was renovated to great acclaim I considered a visit, but never got around to it.  With the announcement that it was closing the Internet satisfied my curiosity.  An open sculpted look by the look of things, but not worth a personal look.

May Barney Pressman rest in piece.  The arrogant poseurs who worked there can rot in hell.  The rest will stand out from the rests of the unemployed with their bespoke suits.

My Lost Weekend

This was written over a month ago after the midterm exam in my computer drawing class but I didn't get around to editing it until just now about six months later..

This past weekend will be my Lost Weekend.

Film and literary historians will recognize the reference to the 1944 novel by Charles R. Jackson and the Academy Award winning movie of the same name made the following year.  In my case, the central problem obliterating all else in my case was 3 classes worth of midterms, not alcoholism.  At this point in my life, the trauma is in grading, not taking midterms.

As with the protagonist in the reference, the problem is my own character flaw: I want to be perceived as grading fairly.  Grading correct answers is easy: students get full credit and I'm on to the next answer.  Incorrect answers requires much more time.  For the course involving AutoCAD, I annotate each incorrect drawing  (incorrect or missing dimensions, lines not meeting correctly, or other technical errors), save a screen shot of the student work, and post that image to the grade book in the course web site to leave a clear record for the student and myself.

It takes a loooong time.

There was a particular problem on the final which could be an easy two minute job if you knew the trick.  The trick was covered in class, described in the book we use, and to make things even fairer, I posted a video online with the midterm so there should be no doubt how the drawing should be structured.  After all the midterms were submitted online I asked who in the class had watched the video.  Nobody.  Sigh.

So dispiriting.

Some  drawings had kinks where curved lines met where supposed to join seamless. Did the students not see the problem? 

(I fantasize about adapting Jack London's comment that after he's completed a piece he looks at it.   If it's good he sends it out.  If it isn't he sends it out.  (A web search couldn't find a reference to this quote.  A Jack London scholar/devotee couldn't place it either.)  Maybe, in those courses which there are written assignments I can just hand out slightly lower grades based on the quantity of buzzwords and wait for the students to complain.)

Welcoming Samara/International Living

The subject line gave me a start because of the obvious association with the preface to the famous  John O'Hara novel, "Appointment in Samarra".  The names are different, but close enough for me.

The email from International Living magazine described the marvelous expat life of a Canadian couple among the welcoming local Costa Ricans.  Ever cynical I couldn't shake the city's name association.

(For those who forgot the forward, here's the brief version of the brief story: a servant in Bagdad is startled by Death staring at him in the market place.  Frightened, the servant begs his master to let him flee to Samarra where Death won't be able to find him.  Later, the master accosts Death in the market and asks why Death frightened his servant.  Death replies that, contrary to what the servant said, it was he, Death who was startled be cause "I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.")

The tale is neatly told and always gets knowing approval the first time someone hears it.  I see fleeing the northern climes to a sunny retirement only to suffer some brutal misfortune in an otherwise delightful clime.

Although I enjoy reading "Internal Living" email, most of the activities that the expats enjoy shopping, golf, snorkeling, fishing, happy hour, are things which have minimal appeal.  I keep looking for description of broadband access and internet connectivity.

What am I ignoring?  One day someone will point out that life is meant to be enjoyed. 

Ooops.