The New Jersey Housewife vs. Goldman Sachs

Greetings Friends,

Can I just say how much I love People.com's Archive? It is an unparalleled wealth of cultural zeitgeist going back to their very first issue in March 1974. As a professional procrastinator, I can spend hours on it, reading the stories and looking at the pictures. At least the "People" back then were legitimate public figures, as opposed to the "stars" that dominate their pages today. Case in point: Teresa Giudice (pictured above), a "Real New Jersey" housewife and Carmela Soprano wannabe, who shopped her way to a $10.9 million bankruptcy filing, and is not the least bit shy about telling the world how she got there. 

First of all, why do I care? In the grand scheme of things, I normally get a big jolt out of hearing about this type of garden variety dysfunction. Lately, I've been trying to understand how the gang at Goldman Sachs legally managed to make billions out of sub-prime mortgage derivatives. Realistically, Goldman's behaviour mirrors the behaviour Ms. Giudice is guilty of, although she's really not hurting anyone but herself, her family and her creditors. The Goldman gang blew up the world; Ms. Giudice only took down her little corner of New Jersey. Yet, we all know about it, courtesy of Bravo, and their need to fill the cable universe with bickering, silicone inflated caricatures that are supposed to pass for "real" housewives of Orange County, New York, New Jersey, DC, Atlanta...where, oh where will it end?

I'm not suggesting Goldman Sachs is any less culpable because they set off a financial nuke within the letter of the law. They should be tried at a financial crimes tribunal, found guilty, and executed for their shameless greed. But, should the same fate befall a financially clueless spendaholic like Teresa Giudice? I'm not sure. She and her Tony Soprano-doppelganger of a husband Joe, were living fairly large on his successful business ventures, until they decided to build a 10,000 square foot mansion in some ritzy North Jersey enclave, sparing no expense on every accoutrement and amenity. This, on top of Ms. Giudice's already lavish spending habits that apparently included (according to People) in-vitro fertilization treatments, furs, clothing, shoes, and whatever else contributed to her alleged $80,000.00 in personal credit card debt. Her claim is that she does not understand finance, and her husband could not be bothered to explain it to her, because all the bills were getting paid. When the gravy train pulled into the station, their world exploded, leaving them millions in debt, and Ms. Giudice with what appears to be a severe case of shopaholic's denial. The rest of us are watching, rapt with schadenfreude, waiting to see what befalls Ms. Giudice and her family, now that most of her possessions are being auctioned off to repay creditors. Reality television audiences are snickering away while her comeuppance gets played out for their viewing pleasure. And, yet, she allows it to happen.

Here's what I'd like to see happen: Take the cameras off people like Teresa Giudice and aim them at the modern-day Wall Street robber barons, like the mooks at Goldman Sachs, et al. Stake out their mansions and yachts, and leave people like George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie alone. Let them get a taste of what Hollywood has to deal with every time they go to Starbucks or grocery shopping, or attempt to enjoy a quiet holiday with their families. Really, what is it that fascinates us so? I have no desire to make a living as an actor, nor do I plan on acquiring another advanced degree so I can fully unpack the meaning behind a mortgage backed security. My rudimentary understanding of it is enough to know that none of it should have been legal in the first place. But, no use crying over spilled milk. However, I wouldn't mind seeing the Wall Street set subjected to some intense flashbulb misery above and beyond those ridiculous dog-and-pony show congressional appearances. Those are nothing but a profound waste of taxpayer time and money. Wouldn't it be thrilling to see nebbishy little Lloyd Blankfein get stalked by a pack of paparazzi like Britney Spears? Have his wife followed around while she shops away at Bergdorf's, documenting every penny she spends? 

People like Teresa Giudice bore me; she is nothing more than another unwitting architect of her own misery. Yeah, I enjoy wasting time reading about her ilk, but eventually, I have to put her aside and get on with my life. People like Lloyd Blankfein and his ilk bug the shit out of me. They exploit greed and ignorance within the letter of the law and get away with it. They're the ones who need a financial education, even though they've got diplomas on their walls documenting that they've "been there, done that". It's not enough. Send them back from whence they came, without the millions they "legally" stole, and let them see what it's like to deal with real vilification. I'll be sitting front and centre for that show. 

Nava

Moms from Hell

Greetings Friends,

Before I get to the nut of today's post, I must admit my technological skills are not as advanced as they should be, so please forgive me for providing a link, rather than an embedded video. Once I figure out how to accomplish that task, I'll give you something worth watching. Like my favourite Monty Python Spam clip. For now, please click here to view footage of Dina Lohan from this morning's Today show, where she speaks to Matt Lauer about her daughter Lindsay's situation. In my opinion, Nassau County New York's child welfare services failed that family miserably. Dina and Michael Lohan weren't fit to raise snakes.

I'll never understand what possesses parents to put their children through the meat grinder that is Hollywood, except of course, if it is on some level to live vicariously through them. I watched Dina Lohan's interview with Matt Lauer this morning, and I thought to myself: there has got to be some sort of law against stuff like this. Lindsay Lohan is 6 years past the age of majority, but I can't help but feel that more responsible parenting would have saved this girl from all the boozing, drugs, and God knows what else, and ultimately would have kept her out of the tabloids, jail, and now a fourth stint in rehab. But, Dina Lohan, in all her cluelessness, was content to sit there and toss up ambiguities, blaming the judge, the press, the man-in-the-moon, and everyone else for her daughter's shameful station in life. Again, here is a case of someone who could have given herself truckloads of credibility by saying, "You know what? I screwed up. I shouldn't have gone out partying with my daughter all those times, making her think that dressing like a skank and guzzling vodka at 17 were things all mothers and daughters do for fun; like having tea parties and braiding each others hair." Instead, it's everyone else's fault but hers. Thanks Dina; that's 10 minutes of my life I'll never get back; not to mention the 20 minutes it took me to bang out this post. Then again, if it wasn't for you, I would have punted another one today.

Stage parenting isn't going anywhere. Neither is helicopter parenting, overbearing parenting, and parenting in general. When I think about all the child stars who are irretrievably broken because of all the bad decisions their parents made, it's a wonder anyone today would let their kids loose in Hollywood. For every Brooke Shields, who managed to survive the "mother" of all stage moms, there's a Michael Jackson, a Gary Coleman, a Macaulay Culkin, a Cory Haim, a Britney Spears and now, a Lindsay Lohan. Mary-Kate and Ashley Olson might be billionaires with their DualStar empire and their Dumpster-chic style, but can those two possibly be happy? My guess is no.

Sure it's easy to blame the press and just about everyone else, but the bottom line is: if mommy and daddy can't hack it in the real world, plying your children in show business is not the answer. Take responsibility for your actions and parent to the best of your ability. Attempting to turn your kids into meal tickets should be a recognized form of child abuse. I'm sure Christina Crawford would agree.

Enjoy your weekend.

Nava

Reputation, Reputation...

Greetings Friends,

As I look at Gene Wilder collapsed in defeat as Dr. Frankenstein, I think to myself: that will not be me; I have my reputation as a freelance writer to consider.

So, with that in mind, I must get back to my work. I have deadlines, on top of deadlines, and more deadlines after that. Could be worse...could be raining.

See you on Friday.

Nava

Writing on the Arm

Greetings Friends,

Sometimes, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. That statement can cover a wide variety of topics, but when it comes to writing, you have to make peace with the fact that there will not always be a paycheck at the end of every project. I'm not advocating writing everything "on the arm" (for free), but in the name of hitting the ground running, there is always going to be a scenario or two, where your intellectual property must be submitted without the promise of monetary compensation.

A few weeks ago, I was invited to join an online community of writers at The Perpetual Post. My first two contributions will be appearing there this week, one in Sports, and another in Arts & Culture. I am in very esteemed company in that group, including that of Howard Megdal, the irreverent New York sports writer, whose blog link appears on this blog, and who, at this time, aspires to get elected the next general manager of the New York Mets. Howard doesn't really want to be the next GM of the Mets, but he does love the Mets enough to give of his time, gratis, to make his feelings known about his displeasure with the job current Mets' GM Omar Minaya is doing.

I was indirectly "introduced" to Howard by one of my former Hofstra University professors, whose blog is also on my list. Dr. Dana Brand has written two books about the New York Mets, and blogs about the team regularly on Dana Brand's Mets Fan Blog. Since I am a Mets fan, and I read Dana's blog, I found out about Howard's campaign to become the next Mets GM. I e-mailed Howard to offer my support for his campaign, and to tell him I admire what he is doing. Little did I know that Howard was the founder and Editor-in-Chief of The Perpetual Post. The rest is history...

In these interesting journalistic times, writers regularly explore new frontiers of communication, testing the waters to see what works and what doesn't. In doing so, we find we must donate generously of our time and talents in order to navigate the new roads of creativity that are constantly shifting beneath our desks. We are not forsaking our day jobs; we still need as many shekels as we can get to keep food on our tables, clothes on our backs and the bills paid. So what if we guzzle buckets of coffee and are sleep deprived because of all our extra-curricular writing? It's an important part of who we are and what we do. It took me a long time to realize that; with sleep deprivation comes opportunity - both paid and unpaid. For the sake of nurturing our talents and keeping our voices relevant, we write. And let's not forget about how much we love it.

So, look for me this week on The Perpetual Post. Remember how life always leads you down roads you don't necessarily think are the right ones, but somehow, they turn out to be. That and a comfortable snoozing chair can make all the difference.

Nava

The Dog Days Have Arrived

Greetings Friends,

August is one of those weird months; it's still summer, but there's that feeling of impending gloom as the clock ticks towards the new school year, cold weather, and 12 more months gone by. It's been almost a full turn of the calendar since I put down roots here in the Great White North, and although I've found myself a job I really enjoy, I still don't feel very "settled". Does anyone ever really feel settled? What does it mean to be settled anyway? If there are cogent answers to that question, please, by all means, make yourself heard.

In the meantime, I feel the need to make a list. It's something I have yet to do as a blogger, and now is as good a time as any:

I haven't read a newspaper in weeks; I can't bear to watch CNN, and even venerable CBC News anchorman Peter Mansbridge isn't doing it for me anymore. Clearly I am not well.

When I started this blog back in April, I had 49 Facebook friends. I now have 88. Does that mean I am 39 times more relevant than I was 4 months ago?

I spent all of yesterday within close reach of a Cinnabon pastry and never touched it. I swear.

I don't think I'll ever feel as Canadian as I do American. Although, I wish I could do a better job developing a Canadian accent. I hate getting busted for sounding so "Brooklyn".

Everyone is going on vacation by August 20th, except me. Am I in France or am I in Canada?

I am a huge Lady Gaga fan; think what you will.

I have more work than I know what to do with. If I had stayed in the US I'd most likely be unemployed.

Embracing social media wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I actually enjoy it now.

I want an iPhone 4 more now than when I wrote about it.

and last but not least...

I am "emotionally exhausted and morally bankrupt." Anyone who can tell me where that line is from wins an all expenses-paid trip to the Cayman Islands and a set of steak knives.

Have a lovely weekend.

Nava

Tomato Sauce for Your Ass

Greetings Friends,

I am embarrassed to say I actually own a copy of the above book. I think I purchased it when I was about to finish my undergraduate degree, or right before I started graduate school. I can't remember. That just goes to show you how important a volume it is in my collection. I pitched lots of books in the moves I've made over the past couple of years, and somehow, this one survived. It's a wonder it didn't wind up in the Goodwill store, but I'll just chalk it up to being one of those random mysteries of life. Like how my Uncle Matt's Brooklyn bookmark has been with me for about 8 years now. It's the only bookmark I use. 

As for the title of today's post, please don't be offended by my use of the word "ass". It has a most distinguished pedigree in this context, and I'll get to that later on.

Knowledge is important to me. It is an essential tool in the battle against ignorance, as is having an open mind and an empathetic heart. I came to my acquisition of serious knowledge a bit late in life; I went back to school at 32, and got my Masters degree at 40. I know this is far from extraordinary, but I acquired my knowledge during extraordinary times. I wasn't exactly a model student in my younger days, and last week, I confessed how important the acquisition of money was, back in the Halcyon Days of my late teens/early 20s. I was merely responding to the times I lived in, and in the late 80s, "greed [was] good", remember? 

Now, as I try to make my way in the world plying my talent as a writer, I feel so much better about myself than I did when I was a nondescript office worker, with my own ass spreading rapidly on a less than ergonomically correct chair. If I may place my revisionist historian hat atop my head once again, I will say I hated every minute of my time in the corporate world. I wasn't ever cut out for that station in life. I disliked my superiors, my co-workers, and especially a select group of individuals who thought they had all the answers, while the rest of us were no more than nameless, faceless automatons who were nothing except a financial, but necessary, burden. That sounds harsh, but - boil it down - things haven't gotten better, they've gotten worse. The Corporate American Kool Aid you must now drink tastes even more vile than it did when I landed in the workplace, a little over 20 years ago. Now, you work even harder, you get even less, and all you can do is bitch a hell of a lot more.

What I am trying to to with my life is not easy. However, it is honest. I don't profess to being the best writer in the world; in fact, I know I'm far from it. I do think I have a pleasing style that's straightforward and easy on the eyes. You'll never go running for the dictionary when you read something I write, nor will you always like everything I have to say. What I've learned is, "subjective" makes the world go round. You'll never get everyone to agree, simultaneously, that you're the best thing since sliced bread, and that you miraculously have more insight and talent than the editorial staff at the New Yorker. It's OK to have lofty aspirations, but you need to remain realistic as well. I may not ever be published beyond the garden variety home services or pharmaceutical products web site, but you know what? I'm fine with that. When I go online and look at what I've done, I'm proud if it. If my writing prompts one person to call and schedule an appointment for air duct cleaning, or to buy the particular brand of hemorrhoid cream I wrote about, then my job is done. Task accomplished. It's not exactly the pinnacle of The New York Times bestseller list, but honestly, I'd prefer to be a New York Times "Notable Book". Those usually kick ass. I like to think of myself as a "Trade" paperback, rather than "Mass Market". Much as I love chicken soup, it warms my tummy; it doesn't "feed" my soul.

Now for an explanation of my title: In Season 1 of The Sopranos, Tony's "goomah" or "goomar" (could a "Cujjin" or a "Guido" please step forward to help me out with that one?), Irina, reads a copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul while they are in bed together. He tells her she should read "Tomato Sauce for Your Ass", the Italian version, instead. I know he was being snarky, and it would take me hours to explain how brilliant I think that series is, but the sentiment is glaring (at least to me): Genuine self-help and inspiration comes from within; you'll never, ever find it in a book.

Nava

Could We Live Forever?

Greetings Friends,

One of my lovely Facebook friends posted a link to this article that appeared on Saturday, on The New York Times web site. It got me thinking about how real life is so very different from the fictional lives of Don and Betty Draper on the series Mad Men. That's another show I cottoned to early on, but lost interest in. Now, as the whole world obsessively tunes in, I would rather watch my Sopranos DVDs ad nauseam; despite my ability to quote most of the episodes verbatim.

The Times article suggests our love for Mad Men stems from our vicarious need to watch others court disaster with the inappropriate behaviour we ourselves would love to indulge in. There's a fine line between inappropriate and indulgent. In 2010, we know that drinking alcohol while pregnant and smoking cigarettes are verboten. But what of three martini lunches or casual adulterous trysts? Today, you can't come back from lunch three sheets to the wind, or cheat on your spouse without suffering the consequences of technology Don Draper could never fathom. Maybe that's why we revel vicariously in that behaviour: we know how hard it is to get away with in 2010, rather than in the early 1960s. I'm sure that just ups the ante for all you adrenaline junkies, but for me, it's not worth the risk. Escaping the consequences are virtually impossible today.

The cigarettes and alcohol consumption aside, what about the obsessive health consciousness that dominates today's society? The damage has been irreparable over the last 40 or so years, with all the genetically modified foods, hormone-saturated meats and high fructose corn syrup we North Americans have been known to ingest. If you're lucky enough, or gullible enough (depending on who you talk to), to be able to buy all organic from your milk to your clothing, are you really benefiting from spending the extra money? There are all kinds of theories out there, from what to eat and how much of it, to what to "avoid like the plague" - actual advice as part of a "plant-based" diet. It's about as confusing as choosing a mobile phone plan, because you never pay attention to the fine print until the first bill shows up, and it ends up costing twice what you thought it would.

Now that I've lived long enough to see 5 decades, I think I've made it through with flying colours so far. Is there the potential for me to develop a softball sized tumour somewhere in my body? I'd be kidding myself if I said, hell no. I don't subsist on an all Swedish fish and Kentucky Fried Chicken diet, but I'm not ingesting tofu, wheat grass, spirulina, Maca powder and hemp seeds on a regular basis, either. I'm trying to locate the happy medium, and so far, I haven't been very successful.

I like to hearken back to some of George Carlin's classic comedy, like when he said, "Maybe the kid who swallowed the marbles wasn't meant to make it anyway." Or, "Kids wearing bicycle helmets? I swam in the Hudson River as a kid for God's sake!" I'm not of George Carlin's generation, and as of right now, I'm still in the land of the living. But, I have to agree with what he said because, I didn't wear a bicycle helmet, and I survived countless skinned knees, a broken wrist and a badly pulled thigh muscle that kept me off the Varsity fencing team in high school. And here I still am telling you about it. I realize none of that is cancer, but I'm not sure I buy into all the propaganda out there about the food we eat. Just for the record, I don't believe Barack Obama is a Muslim, either.

Here in Canada, our "Socialist" government has a keen interest in keeping the population healthy because our health care costs are mostly on their dime. In the US, the government is waging a pitch-battle with the insurance industry to do away with things like pre-existing conditions, co-pays, deductibles and monetary health insurance policy limits. Who will emerge victorious? It will be interesting to see. In the meantime, Don and Betty, and the rest of the characters of Mad Men, will go on waging their morality wars of yesteryear, while we secretly wish we were them.

I have to ask: Is it worthwhile to worry about what you can't see coming? I plan on ruminating on that one over a bucket of chicken.

Check out the "Mad Men Me" I created here.

Nava