Bill Gates Calls for Modification to Capitalism

Of course he does, he's already made HIS Billions.

I wonder how Mr. Gates would feel about his proposal if I told him I just perfected a time machine in my basement, went back to 1973 before he made his fortune and implemented changes to the capitalist system. However, due to this, he never became wealthy and never got laid. How would you feel about that Bill?


I am curious to hear what some of the finer minds I know have to say about this. My first cut, but I need to read it again, is Crackpot Gates Scraps Capitalism after he's accrued a fortune that not even Brewster could blow.

Plus Melinda Gates is a HOTTIE! She looks like she's channeling Busta Rhymes in the photo.

From the WSJ article

javascript:vlaunch('http://www.marketwatch.com/tvradio/player.asp?guid={F45FABF8-F917-4D3F-B3CC-B08A7D15BD3F}'); (http://www.emailthis.clickability.com/et/emailThis?clickMap=viewTopTenItem&url=http%3A%2F%2Fonline.wsj.com%2Fwsjgate%3FsubURI%3D%252Farticle%252FSB120113473219511791-email.html%26nonsubURI%3D%252Farticle_email%252FSB120113473219511791-lMyQjAxMDI4MDIxNDEyMzQ0Wj.html&title=WSJ.com+-+Bill+Gates+Issues+Call+++For+Kinder+Capitalism&articlePartnerID=150&response=Y),

To a degree, Mr. Gates's speech is an answer to critics of rich-country efforts to help the poor. One perennial critic is Mr. Easterly, the New York University professor, whose 2006 book, "The White Man's Burden," found little evidence of benefit from the $2.3 trillion given in foreign aid over the past five decades.

Mr. Gates said he hated the book. His feelings surfaced in January 2007 during a Davos panel discussion with Mr. Easterly, Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and then-World Bank chief Paul Wolfowitz. To a packed room of Davos attendees, Mr. Easterly noted that all the aid given to Africa over the years has failed to stimulate economic growth on the continent. Mr. Gates, his voice rising, snapped back that there are measures of success other than economic growth -- such as rising literacy rates or lives saved through smallpox vaccines. "I don't promise that when a kid lives it will cause a GNP increase," he quipped. "I think life has value."

Brushing off Mr. Gates's comments, Mr. Easterly responds, "The vested interests in aid are so powerful they resist change and they ignore criticism. It is so good to try to help the poor but there is this feeling that [philanthropists] should be immune from criticism."

The old adage "Give a man a fish and he eats for a day, teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime" is apropos. But perhaps some of the Gates foundation money is mis-applied.

I applaud Mr. Gates for engaging in philanthropic activity. It looks like from his chart above that the lions share of the cash goes to "Global Health". I would assume that the needs in the poor areas he refers to are such that the basics of Maslow's hierarchy of needs need to be met before any significant progress can be made in development. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maslow's_hierarchy_of_needs).

I hope the disproportionate amount of cash going to Global Health is as a stopgap measure to set the table for future economic development. Granted, its hard to surf the Internet gleaning stock picks if you're starving or dying of smallpox. The basic needs must be met before one can expect to progress to the higher levels with any chance of success. I would hope to see in future years that the balance of the money shifts to Global Development. In my opinion, the most effective way to combat Poverty is to teach the man to fish.

And, as a final note, I have done some traveling myself. Some of it has been to extravagant destinations, but some of it has been to some of the most poverty stricken places on the planet. You would be surprised to find that some of the most impoverished areas are right here in the United States. Clearly there is opportunity here, readily available, in the United States. There may not be truly equal access to all the benefits, yet we are all born into different circumstances and our lot in life is to determine how to overcome the obstacles in our way. I wouldn't disagree that it is easier to overcome obstacles in the U.S. than it is say in Somalia or Bangladesh or Greenland. But the fact that there is abject poverty here in these United States, supposedly the richest country in the world, begs the questions what is the nature of Poverty, what is its vector? Why does it exist? Certainly, no one wants to be poor. However, I also don't believe that as some people might try to tell us that its a case of the man trying to keep his brother down.

I don't have the answers. But it is thought-provoking, as is the WSJ article that spawned this blog.

Whatever the common ground and views may or may not be, Mr. Gates philanthropic use of his Billions for the greater good is laudable. But Bill, leave the Capitalist system alone until I am right up there with you hanging out at the World Bank and making speeches.

Morning Start up

Yeah Come On Brothers!

I can smell the mesquite on the moist morning breeze before the hot Mexican Sun burns off the mist. Out in the disappearing gloom a quail whistles his other-worldly morning assembly call, and all the hunters look expectantly in that direction-"There's one more covey" they all whisper and nod to one another.

The last minute preparations of each hunter donning chaps or boots or vests, loading up with shells, is reminiscent of a combat platoon preparing for a long patrol.

Its still so dark that a photograph turns out all black, but one can see 150 yards of Buffle Grass stretching out past the cortina in the grey-light of the morning. On each side, still invisible to the eye, are the arrow-straight tangled boundaries of the pasture, marking out the playing field where we are about to do battle. This is where the quail will fly when we wake them from their sleep and they explode in a whir, hurtling themselves to the safety of the thick hedgerows guarded by thorns and rattlers.

But for now four or five coveys sit bunched up in their little knots of eyes, blinking at the morning light, waiting for us to rudely roust them from bed.

Quivering pointers whine in the truck box, looking like track stars waiting their turn to run a heat. Who will be first? Who will strike the first covey? Pointers are eternal optimists, and they all look wide-eyed like a freshman wanting to get in his first game-standing taut at the sideline all suited up & ready to go-every turn of the coach is attended with absolute attention.

The guide moves around the truck; all the pointers lean and look as he moves, shifting and scuffling to stay in his view. He reaches for a door, out shoot Bud & Sally-winding the quail before they hit the rank floor of buffle grass. They work fast and careful, taking in scent like a vacuum on a pendulum, arcing towards the point that will produce the first covey of the morning.

As we step off, individually we convince ourselves the dogs will point, the birds will make a perfect covey rise, 3 shotguns will bark twice and six birds will fall. We walk on, following the lead of the dogs who really only seem to be toying with the quail, zig zagging back and forth, all the time knowing exactly where the birds are roosted.

Then suddenly Sally hammers them, cast in iron, every muscle tight and still, tail pointing to the grey sky. Bud immediately slams to a halt, honoring the point. A ball of quail boils up through the thick grass with a thousand fairy-drum beats, coming apart as they rise. "QUAIL" rings out and a series of pops, a measured shot, then a pause and another shot nailing the sleeper that always waits for the rest of the covey to flush.

Feathers float down on the breeze and lodge in the brown grass tops. Calls of "Two down in front", "I got one on the left" and a mumbled curse from the one that emptied both barrels at thin air shock the time back into a normal pace. Several still warm birds are gathered, and the skirmish line marches on.


"One of the sanest, surest, and most generous joys of life comes from being happy over the good fortune of others." - Archibald Rutledge

Bird Boys

I can hear it now...


El General barks out "Straight Line, Straight Line"

The skirmishers carry their doubles at port arms and step into the waist high buffle grass. Bird boys "Oishe" and swish mesquite sticks in the brush.

Suddenly, a huge covey whirrs from underfoot like a swarm of angry yellow jackets. Some go high, some go low, some left or right, and a few behind, and as shotguns bark, some go back into the bufflegrass. The survivors regroup in the air and light 150 yards away to our right and dumps into the buffle grass just a shade behind us as the last shots fade.

Burnt powder drifts on the breeze, the left ear stops ringing and El General is heard commanding "Turn around to the right".

From the far end, a tall distinguished gentleman in a knee brace fitted over his brush pants and snake boots yells out "You know what we're going to do? We're going to wheel F**k 'em!"

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

More on Rattlesnake Chaps

From an email to a friend...


Subject: chaps

Probably thought you'd never see the subject line above from me, but you did ask about what kind of chaps I wear. I assumed you meant the bird-hunting ones.

Here is the kind I use…nothing gets through them, not even prickly pear at Mach 2.0. That first year glorious year in San Fernando I wore just my regular brush pants on the first day and my legs felt like they were full of shrapnel from an airburst of German 88mm guns.

My knees in particular took some hits and my right knee swelled up from a Granejo sniper shot to the outside, just beyond the wimpy cordura on my totally inadequate brush pants.

However, the next day was Coturniz Heaven because my Rattlers Brand Snake Chaps were on the job and eventually my green-thorn impregnated basket-ball sized knee began to loosen up after about the 6th hour of pounding the ground while I sated my blood feud with our nefarious quarry.

http://www.rattlersbrand.com/snakechaps/originalrattlerschaps.html

Here they are at Bass Pro
http://www.basspro.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/ProductDisplay?storeId=10151&catalogId=10001&langId=-1&partNumber=47887&hvarTarget=search&cmCat=SearchResults

I think the key is the thick weave cordura (1000 dernier-I have no idea what that means, it just sounds cool, despite being of French origin. I think it has something to do with the thread count and density of the fabric).

Maybe some seasoned brush busters in Texas can give you some other brands or tips, but I know that since one of the Mexicans was asking me for my chaps they are the real deal. There might be a lighter weight solution that works as well, but I just wear them now with a pair of carhart pants. The chaps themselves are heavier than brush pants, and you can sweat in them, but they turn the thorns and there are few things worse than hobbling along with 48 prickly pear spines in your knee cap, scraping on the inside of your pants every time you take a step.

Besides, the heat generated from the Carhart-Snake Chap-Snake Boot combo keeps the hammies and the calves loose and ready to rock and roll for the next assault on Cactus Mountain. An added bonus is that the 48 pound per leg combination of snake boot and chap turns my gelatinous stems into fat-free rippling cords of steel while the un-chapped rest of my body pushes into the 30% body fat realm.

My snake boots have a heavy leather boot foot to them and anything above the ankle is doubly protected by chaps & boots. And after seeing that dang rattler last year I am thinking of going 100% coverage head to toe 1000 dernier cordura, even my skivvies.

A Cordura Banana Hammock would probably induce some serious chafing, but I am not real fond of rattlers with baseball sized heads zapping me in my privates either. Risk vs. Reward brother. Come to think of it, I might add a cup to my repertoire of protective gear…there's no way I want a giant Rattler hitting me in the Jimmy and once he gets a feel of my Johnson, decides to make Sweet Snake Love with it.
I
am forwarding to Big Bad Bill the W'Fer in case he wants to go all Georgia Wussy on the cactus this year too. If you dudes from Texas want to tough it out in blue jeans and regular brush pants, that's fine but I don't want to hear any whining when your sac is impaled on a Mesquite or your knees look like you lost a bar fight with a 200 pound Bobcat on steroids.

I don't mind admitting to being a pansy when it comes to thorns. The worst thing we have here is called Cat Claw Briers, wickedly curved, 3/8 Inch talons of the devil. But we have nothing that approaches the length of some of that thorny crap you guys call brush. My first purview of quail habitat in Mexico made me think I was looking into one of those Biohazard trash cans full of hypodermic needles, and once I waded in after it looked like everybody else was going in without blinking, it felt like it too. The bird boys were yelling Oishe Oishe, El General was barking at us to stay in a straight line, and I had run full speed into what felt like a bed of nails in a torture chamber.

The only thing that kept me from screaming like a little girl and crying like a baby was all the quail rocketing out of that infernal combination of foliage and some shred of pride that welled up out of my deep recesses to be regarded as a man among men. Texas Men. Men that tackle brush wearing blue jeans. Either you all have no feeling in your lower extremities, aren't smart enough to realize you are in pain, are insanely motivated to pursue quail like madmen, or have some Matrix like trick up your sleeves to weave through the stickers unscathed.

I'll keep wearing the chaps.

Stocks and The Seven Deadly Sins

Hieronymus Bosch's The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things The painting is presented in a series of circular images. Four small circles, detailing "Death", "Judgement", "Hell", and "Glory", surround a larger circle in which the seven deadly sins are depicted: wrath at the bottom, then proceeding clockwise, envy, avarice, gluttony, sloth, extravagance (later, lust), and pride. At the centre of the large circle, which is said to represent the eye of God, is a "pupil" in which Christ can be seen emerging from his tomb. Below this image is the Latin inscription Cave Cave Deus Videt ("Beware, Beware, God is Watching"), implying that no sin goes unnoticed (this last paragraph and art above is from Wikipedia, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_deadly_sins).

The 2% C H I N G A L E.

That's what a good friend of mine from Texas named my get-rich-quick stock scheme.

But it's not a really a get-rich stock scheme. It's not a buy and hold scheme either. It's a formula for wealth-building that I am testing with some experimental capital. Real money to be sure, but money that was "found" basically.

The source of my capital was a small amount of stock awarded to me by my company. Knowing only the most rudimentary aspects of stocks, trading, investing, etc. I proceeded to watch my vested stock award go down like a darted rhino. I was tired of my equity getting beat up like a tied up goat. I started reading, doing some research, and educating myself about the stock market. In the process I embarked upon a psychological journey that resulted in an epiphany for me.

My goal is 2% a day. I achieved that today (24-January-2008) with Nokia (NOK). Actually I exceeded it, with a 4.4% growth of my capital assets today. The 2% Chingale is alive and well.

I was getting close to despair after the recent sell-off on Wall Street, and the associated world-wide market ripples. However, the rally from the past 2 days has put me back on track. For the record, my MTD since 3-January-2008 is 116.7% increase on my capital. Compare that to your Dad's favorite mutual fund, or the S&P 500 for that matter. (At the same time, my YTD on my 401K with an "expert" allocation of mutual funds is -14.9%. I need to look at that later)

If you're at all math inclined, run for yourself what a compounded 2% return per day on your capital will get you in a month (20-22 days of trading). In a 2 month period, or a quarter. Then sit-down with some oxygen and figure your annual return in about 220 days of trading. This even gets you 30 weekdays off a year-like France. The market trades about 250 days a year. All work and no play will make you very dull and probably frazzled too. The point is you can start with a small sum of money and by being disciplined and not really super-smart you can end up with a much larger sum of money.

I think I quote Warren Buffett in writing "Never lose money in the stock market". This is as fundamental as buy low sell high. Ridiculously simple in theory, but oh so hard in practical application. One of my own rules which I try to enforce on myself with iron will is "Get out of losing positions immediately". The reason is that to erase a 5% daily loss takes several days of 2% performance (Obvious). But the name of the game is to preserve your capital. I see no reason to take a five or ten or fifteen percent loss in a day as has been common in recent times. Even a 1% loss for me is likely too much. Set your limit for a loss, say $100 or whatever for a given position and stick to it. Just like your grades in high school or college, or your prom date, stocks go down really fast but come up a lot slower. Emotion or loyalty has no place in what I am doing. So far the stocks don't seem care that I am really rooting for it to go up 20 cents.

Unfortunately, I don't really follow my own rules very rigidly. I have taken some real poundings in January 2008. At one point very early on my capital was up 143.9%. Yes, you read that right. Even more unbelievable is that happened in the first 6 trading days of this year. But since then, by hoping against hope, making some bad choices and failing to act when I needed to get out, I lost a lot of money. That's why I am back to only +116.7%. I have learned this lesson over and over again, yet seem to continue to make the mistake of staying in a position too long. It happened at the end of December 2007, where I essentially erased all the gains I had made in my first, experimental month. And I have allowed it to happen to me on several occasions this January as well, thus erasing a lot of my gains. When I was up more than 140%, I was joking to myself that I should take the rest of the month off because I had exceeded my capital appreciation goal for the first month in the first 6 days. But Greed crept in...

So really the lesson for today is Protect Your Capital. You have got to ripcord out of a losing position as fast as you can.

"Fortune Favors The Bold" - Virgil

This goes both ways-bold into a position because you believe in why you are buying the stock and bold out of a position because you predetermined your exit point and you are disciplined enough to stick with it. The exit point discipline applies in either situation-exiting a win and exiting a loss.

Don't get greedy and don't be envious when you miss out on additional gains. Remember that all we need is 2% per day, compounding every day to make some pretty impressive returns.

You must be disciplined because Greed and Envy are two of the Seven Deadly Sins. Both will cause your ruin.

Good luck in your own wealth-building quest.

Attention: Animal Rightists

Occasionally on this blog you will find references to hunting, eating meat, wearing leather (shoes, you perverts), and perhaps the occasional recipe that involves the preparation of animal flesh for human consumption.

If you are inclined to support Animal Rights, and fancy yourself an Activist, please heed this warning. I am a stubborn, vindictive and virulent foe. However, you & I arguing about whether we should hunt, consume meat, wear animal skins, etc. is going to be totally fruitless and a waste of your time. As such, I will spend about as much time discussing your asinine viewpoint as I would if you proposed the Sky is Green.

For the record, I think PETA stands for People Eating Tasty Animals. In fact, there is a website dedicated to such:

http://mtd.com/tasty/

And, at the risk of blatant plagiarism, because I have heard this somewhere else before so I am sure someone wrote it down: If God didn't want us to eat animals, He would not have made them out of meat.

In short, don't bother flaming me for my conservationist viewpoint and consumptive attitude towards the fauna of the earth. My opinion on this is like Nomex or a fire-resistant gun safe, your small-minded and emotional pleas stand no chance of penetration into my thick-headed viewpoint.

PS For you rabid vegetarians out there, don't try changing me because I will not waste one breath trying to change you. More power to you in your convictions, but remember I can hear the asparagus screaming.

Quail Hunting in Mexico

Quail hunting in Mexico ranks up near the very top of my favorite experiences in life. I think the only events that are higher are the births of each one of my kids and the day I got married.

This is my third time going down to Mexico for a hunt and in many ways, so far the best.

I don't know if it looks like it to you, but that is a genuine smile on my face. I call it the Perma-Grin. It starts before I leave for the trip and it doesn't end until work stresses erase it a few weeks after I return. It takes that long for the good mojo to wear off. It returns from time to time when I reminisce, like right now as I write this I am grinning like an idiot. If anybody saw me they'd probably wonder what was wrong with me or what did I just do.




Of course, there are dangers in Mexico...I almost stepped on this one. Snake boots are a must. I go overboard perhaps and wear full-length snake resistant chaps by Rattlers. They are a little heavy and can be hot, but worth the peace of mind.

We lost a dog to a rattler on day 3. She was bit in the evening and dead, or muerte, by the next morning despite treatment. It was a sad event and the only downside to the whole trip.

An added bonus is that the snake chaps turn most of the thorns in the brush. Wearing plain old brush pants will make you feel like your are running naked through a needle factory. Before I went to Mexico, I thought our briers and brush in Georgia were bad. Mexican Flora is the Devil's Garden on Steroids. Every plant in Mexico has something that can stick you. Its an infernal conglomeration of vegetation that no human would likely ever venture into, except a bunch of crazy quail hunters. Walking in in on the twentieth point of the day, somehow you don't notice the multiple spines that penetrated your patellar tendon until you get home at night and realized your knee is swollen like a football.

I want to try some Snake Armor TurtleSkin Chaps, supposed to be much lighter than the heavy Cordura chaps I wear. I am curious to see Turtle Skin is adept at deflecting the hypodermic inferno that quail inhabit in Mexico. I will probably wait until my stock investment plan pays off since I think the $225 for the Total Protection Chaps is better spent right now on baby formula and diapers. https://www.turtleskin.com/store/category.aspx?categoryID=1&referrer=GoogleAdWords&gclid=CLmqksSkj5ECFQFclwodhTNtHg

I picked up my Rattlers brand chaps for $5 at a garage sale years ago, but they can be had here:

http://www.rattlersbrand.com/snakechaps/originalrattlerschaps.html



At left is a Scaled Quail. Its the only one I've ever seen up close, and of course this will likely launch me on a quest for the Quail Slam. Up to this point I'd only shot Bobwhites, but now I think I need to travel around and experience some other quail hunting in other parts of the country.
Another genuine bunch of smiles, and my Perma-Grin grows. Good companions make the trip so enjoyable. Its a real pleasure how this diverse group gets along like Peas & Carrots.

I have been blessed with some good friends who are great to travel with and are as passionate about quail hunting as I am. Good people make for a good trip. The other guys are all native Texans but they don't seem to mind a Georgia boy tagging along.




Some tired quail hunters at days end. Also note the habitat. The part of Mexico we hunt is miles and miles and miles of endless habitat. There is a lot of diversity in the habitat as well. It ranges from lightly grazed pasture to the left, with bufflegrass planted for forage and interspersed with native grasses to thorny brush taller than your head, basically waste areas or old gr0wn-up pastures. There are also hedgerows and agriculture (mostly milo for livestock feed) on a grand scale. You don't see much center-pivot irrigation nor is there really such a thing as a clean fence-line. Clearly their farms are very productive, but they are also quail friendly.

It doesn't all look this wide open. Watching dogs work in this cover is a real joy and a lot different shooting in this wide open area than in the pines of Georgia. Some of the cover is pretty rough, but the shooting is just open enough to make it worth your while.

All in all, we found 113 coveys in 2-1/2 days of quail hunting. That is not a typo. One Hundred Thirteen Coveys in two full days and one afternoon of hunting over dogs. On the first day we hunted afternoon only and shot into 29 coveys. On day two, we hunted all day, including taking lunch in the field, and shot into 40, (Yes FORTY!) coveys. I nearly passed out from cardiac arrest. On day three we bested day two by shooting into 44 coveys. There was one stretch in the morning, with a single, excellent brace of Pointers (Bud & Sally you are Immortals!) where we shot into 11 coveys BEFORE Nine in the morning. This was certainly a hunt of legendary and epic proportions. I almost don't believe it writing it down here and now, but I was there and it is the real deal!

There was just some absolutely phenomenal dog work, but you would almost expect that with some much wild bird contact. If a man had this many quail and poor working dogs, he ought to be shot. Either he was victimized by some really bad breeding and genetics, or he doesn't know the first thing about bird dogs. Our guide and his staff however clearly know exactly what they are doing and they do it extremely well. I cannot compliment the guides, outfitter and dogs enough. There were times when we had a dry, stiff wind blowing pretty hard, yet these pointers were able to handle the coveys and we did not bust a single one because of flawed dog work.

I can't wait to go back. Its an annual pilgrimage that thankfully that is becoming a tradition. I feel truly blessed to have had the opportunity to experience quail hunting that is BETTER than the old days with a group of fine companions. Next year I hope to sport another Perma-Grin, Lord willing.