Liveblogging -- Halloween 2008

Happy Halloween!

From a demonic bunny ...

A Halloween traditionalist ...
And a truly scary something.


I decided to forgo my usual peace pumpkin this year to make a timely statement. I have a sneaking suspicion that mine isn't the only election-themed Jack-o-Lantern this year.


Mr. Ether has a gig out of town tonight, so I am the official candy hander-outer. I like this job a lot. One of the reasons I like it so much is that I teach at my neighborhood school, so it is a given that I'll see at least one of my students at my door. They always look a little stunned when I come to the door. Maybe seeing me is a scene from their own worst nightmare -- "Oh my God. She's probably going to tell me to spit my gum out in the wastebasket!" But, being kindergartners, they usually wiggle like puppies when they see me.

A few minutes ago it was Stephanie and her family. A slow smile spread across her face and she kept repeating herself: "Hi, Ms. Grindrod. Hi, Ms. Grindrod." As she walked away, one of the other kids said, "Is that your teacher??"

Here's my neighbor Mary with her son Jacob. Jacob is wearing an amazingly realistic costume depicting a 2-year-old boy. He's really 15.
Cigarette hanging off her lip, she rasps at me, "Yeah, Gramma's got the kid for the night. Honey, grab 2 or 3 candies for Gramma." A few Halloweens ago, she was out in front of her house in her bathrobe, terrorizing trick-or-treaters with a chainsaw. What fun!

Former students Lily and Owen have already been by. I didn't get their picture, unfortunately. Lily had the prize costume a few years back, when she was in kindergarten: a skunk! (That was the year she had a skunk infatuation. It was a good day indeed, the morning I got to go to school and tell her about the skunk Mr. Ether had seen waddling out of our garage. Unfortunately, I suspect the skunk may actually still be living under our garage ...)

Sparkly Seacow, aged 12, is out trick-or-treating with my cell phone. Her friends that we usually go with are at their dad's house this year, and Sparkly begged me to let her go alone. Since I'm the only parent home tonight, I relented and said yes. My baby is growing up! In a little while I'm taking her over to the Quaker Meeting House for a middle school retreat.

Speaking of scary things, I was doing carpool duty for Sparkly's play rehearsal and got pulled over by the police: "Do you want to tell me why you still have the 2007 stickers on your license plate?" Um, because the car was dead in our driveway for a good 5 months, and the stickers are on the kitchen counter? He was nice about it, and let me go with a warning to "Put the sticker on when you get home." Yeah, but first I have to find it.

Doorbell ringing slowing down. The last person to ring it turned out to be Sparkly Seacow, back with her haul of tooth rot.

There is a dentist in Madison -- the dad of former students of mine, for whom I have very little respect but that's a different story -- who makes a big deal of advertising that he will buy back kids' Halloween candy and send it to "the troops." What a guy.

My dentist, who happens to be a former union shipyard steamfitter from Duluth as well as a good leftist, just laughed when I asked him about Halloween candy and said he gives out as much candy as the next guy.

Here is Sparkly Seacow, dressed as the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland (a contemporary Mad Hatter.)
Wow, I just had visits from a bishop, a baby, and an Incredible Hulk-like guy. And another little girl who said, "Don't you teach at Emerson?" The little kids are tapering off, and now it's the older kids. In another half hour or so it will be the big kids in garbage bags, or no costumes at all.

Oh, I almost forgot! Joe the Halliburton Employee is here with me this evening! Stand up, Joe! Joe, are you here ... ? Well, uh, we're all Joe the Halliburton Employees so everybody stand up! You too, sir. And wipe that sneer off your face.
Let's get a close-up of your shirt. Nice!

I hope you had a good one!

Watching the Earth Move

There have been a couple of events in my adult life that were of such global significance that they stand out in my memory. One was the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany. The other was the end of South African apartheid and the release of Nelson Mandela. What they had in common was that they were things that were so institutionalized it seemed impossible that they would change in my lifetime.

Tonight I watched Barack Obama's 30 minute commercial and became acutely aware that we are on the verge of another of those events. I have not been a Rah Rah Barack supporter, but as the election approaches it takes my breath away to think that we may elect a black president. I think about what that means to the students I teach, for example. And I thought I would never see it in my lifetime.

I may go and vote tomorrow.

Tales From the Halls of Learning, pt. 2

Today, about 1/2 hour before school gets dismissed, I got a phone call from the secretary asking that I send a student to the office because her mom was there to pick her up. I hustled to gather a few things together that I thought she might need, because we're coming up on a 4 day weekend (state teachers' convention,) gave her a hug, and sent her on her way.

5 minutes later she was back. "My mom says to say good-bye because I'm not coming back. I'm going to a new school." Then she buried her head against me and started to sob.

I had heard from our interpreter that they might be moving, but as of yesterday they didn't know when. Unfortunately, because my school is very high poverty (>70%) this is not a unique situation. Part of me is angry with her mom. Why don't parents realize how hard it is on their children to just pull up stakes and leave? Our psychologist just told me that, on average, students lose 6 months of learning every time they move to a new school.

The fact that children grieve when they leave to go to a new school is very much unrecognized within school communities. I can't tell you the number of times that a student of mine has moved and I get a call from the new teacher saying, "What works to control this child? S/he refuses to learn and has already been sent to the principal's office x number of times!" or "We're starting an evaluation on this child and would like your input."

It stands to reason that the children who move most often are the children living in unstable housing situations and -- no surprises -- tend to have more behavior (and often academic) issues. They tend to express their grief at leaving their friends, their familiar teachers, by acting out. It shouldn't take a fruit fly scientist to figure that out!

In the case of my student today, her mom has the added stress of being a single parent because her husband was deported to Honduras last spring. I can't really stay angry with her, but I wish we had gotten a day to say a proper good-bye. The rest of my class was amazing. I told them that she was leaving, and they surrounded her in a great big hug. But man, it breaks my heart.

My school is home to an excellent program for homeless children and their families. Sometimes the teacher in charge of that program -- Jani Koester, a devoted advocate for kids so just give her a personal round of applause right now where you are sitting -- sometimes she pulls strings and arranges transportation for children to continue coming to our school even when they have found housing in a different attendance area. Once in a conversation with a neighbor -- usually a liberal guy, but with a few blind spots -- he started going on about how the district could save money by cutting out the excess transportation for the homeless students. I had to set him straight: For some kids, school is the most stable thing in their lives and keeping them in one place is a good investment.

Anyway, so ends my work week. Tomorrow I'll be in my classroom doing some much needed cleaning and organizing. Convention offerings don't look particularly compelling this year, so I don't think I'll go. (It's right here in town, so if I change my mind ...)

Tales From the Halls of Learning

At lunch in the teachers' lounge today, the music teacher shared this story: A fifth grade girl stopped by her room this morning. She was in some distress because she couldn't find her violin and was supposed to be going to Strings class. She had left it in the auditorium and it was no longer there. The music teacher commiserated with her and offered reassurance that she would surely find it. Still, the girl hung around and seemed to want to talk further. She said, "Can I tell you something else?" The teacher said, "Sure." The girl said, "Well ... I brought my pet hamster to school in the violin case and I'm a little worried about it."

I've said it before and I'll say it again, being a teacher is many things, but one thing it is not is boring.

Update: I don't know if the violin was found, but the general consensus around the school office was that the girl frequently makes up stories. I hope, for the hamster's sake, that is the case.

I'm a Maaaverick! Here's Proof ...

Today my neighbor came over to tell me that she had a dream about me last night. In her dream it was discovered that I was actually the daughter of James Garner, hiding out in my current identity. My real last name was Miller.

What does it mean?

This Just In

Pittsburgh police have just released new information that sheds light on the Ashley Todd assault. The twenty-year-old "volunteer" with the McCain-Palin campaign now describes her assailant as 6 foot 4 and purple.
Police are still unclear about a motivation for the attack.

My Wardrobe

I have no way of figuring this out, but I suspect in my entire lifetime -- from the day I was born 49 years ago up until today -- the total cost of my wardrobe has not totaled $150,000. The most costly garment I ever purchased for myself may have been around $150; that was a long time ago when I was still attempting to dress like a grown up. The most costly garment I purchased in the last few years was at an art fair -- a $60 skirt made from a vintage tablecloth. Buying it felt incredibly extravagant. And you know what? Most of the clothes that I wear eventually get donated to charity. (It's actually a great cycle: I buy it at the thrift store for a few bucks. I wear it for a while. Then I give it back to the thrift store.)

I'm So Crabby

I'm still sick, Mr. Ether is still unemployed, election theft is looking very real, I have NO TIME for myself ... and the poor young woman canvassing for signatures for health care reform, who just knocked on my door as I was putting dinner on the table, got the brunt of it. I'm sorry.

Watch this!

Steal Back Your Vote! from Greg Palast on Vimeo.

Ron Howard and Friends for Barack Obama

See more Ron Howard videos at Funny or Die

Parenting Issues

12-year old Sparkly Seacow is learning a hard lesson this week. She is somewhat scattered and frequently loses things -- jackets, water bottles, her lunchbox ... It drives me a little nuts.

She is in a play right now, and rehearsals take place at a public library. On Friday she left her iPod in the rehearsal space. When she went to rehearsal again on Monday, it was gone. She is very sad. I am sad for her, but I'm also aggravated. For one thing, she didn't mention that she had forgotten her iPod there until Saturday afternoon. Had I known earlier, I would gladly have taken her over there first thing Saturday morning to look for it. For another, I question the wisdom of taking her iPod with her, especially if she's not carrying any sort of a backpack or purse to keep it in.

She checked the lost-and-found at the library yesterday. Today she took a poster that she had made to put up, but then she didn't put it up anywhere. She says she'll do it tomorrow.

Of course, I think like an adult, while she thinks like a 12-year old. She probably needs some help to deal with this, and I have to bite my tongue not to lecture too much. It is very frustrating all the way around.

It's a tough lesson, but maybe this will be the one that sticks. She saved up to buy the iPod with her own money, and there is no way that we can afford to replace it (nor would we,) so she's just going to have to save up again. Of course, there is always the chance that it will turn up. Fingers crossed.

Domestic Scenes 2

I am somewhat obsessed with knitting lace these days. I also love to knit socks because as projects go they are small and easy to carry around, they use small amounts of yarn, and I can always use more socks. I also get a kick out of making things that one normally buys.

So, voila! My newest pair of lace socks, finished last night.
Enlarge the photo to see the creative use I make of dog hair in my knitting -- in fact in all my home decorating schemes!

[For knitting geeks: The lace is an Orkney Island pattern called "Columns and Arches." I adapted the pattern from one in Nancy Bush's book Knitting on the Road. I used KnitPicks' Risatta yarn, a blend of cotton, wool, and elastic.]

Domestic Scenes 1

When life gives you purple cabbages, make cabbage salad! I photographed dinner tonight because the colors were so stunning. The ingredients are purple cabbage, steamed broccoli, chopped onion, raisins, and bacon. The dressing is a mixture of yogurt, mayonnaise, and lemon juice. It's a variation on the "Creamy Broccoli Salad" from Molly Katzen's Enchanted Broccoli Forest. The ingredients are partially locally grown: the onion from my gardening group and the cabbage from a cow-orker's parents' truck farm. I wish there was a way to get local broccoli in the colder months.

Colin Powell speaks

I was pleased today to hear that Colin Powell endorsed Barack Obama. I was going to say, "for what it's worth" because I tend to see Powell as a cowardly man who has often not done the right thing (all the way back to the Vietnam War and the investigations of the My Lai massacre.) But reading through the statement he made outlining all the reasons he supports an Obama presidency, my opinion of him changes somewhat. I especially liked this:

Powell also spoke passionately against the insinuations by some Republicans that Obama is a Muslim.

"Well, the correct answer is, he is not a Muslim, he's a Christian. He's always been a Christian," he said. "But the really right answer is, what if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer's no, that's not America. Is there something wrong with some seven-year-old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she could be president? Yet, I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion, 'He's a Muslim and he might be associated terrorists.' This is not the way we should be doing it in America." Read the rest.

He said something there that not enough people have in this post 9/11 world. He may not always do what I think is the honorable or courageous thing, but I am aware that there are many many people who see him as some kind of a beacon, and the fact that he said this is huge. I thank him for that.

Say it with me: "Jesus, I'm Sick of These People!"

Apparently it is time for Minnesota representative Michele Bachmann's proverbial 15 minutes of fame. I've gone my entire life without being aware of her existence, and then -- BAM -- here she is on my radar screen. First, there is her appearance on Hardball with a horrifyingly McCarthy-esque call for an investigation into the anti-American tendencies of all the members of Congress, starting of course, with the Democrats.

(Question: Does Russ Feingold simply seethe inside every time someone refers to Barack Obama as the most liberal member of Congress? Does he call up Dennis Kucinich and Bernie Sanders to go commiserate over a beer? Just wondering.)

If you have not seen this video clip on any number of other blogs, here it is. Be sure to watch Katrina vanden Heuvel's follow-up response. She hits the nail on the head. While it is easy to dismiss Bachmann as another far right nut job, what she is saying, combined with the bile that the McCain campaign has been churning up, is very scary. You can also go here to ask the rest of Congress to censure Representative Bachmann -- an entirely appropriate response her performance.



But that's not all Bachmann is speaking up about. The Star-Tribune reports that Bachmann is advocating for consumer choice with the introduction of a bill called "The Light Bulb Freedom of Choice Bill." She believes that government has no place telling consumers what kind of light bulbs they can buy (although apparently it is a-okay with Michele for government to tell women that they have to carry an unplanned/unwanted pregnancy to term, for example.)

Titled the "Light Bulb Freedom of Choice Act," the bill seeks to repeal the nationwide phase-out of conventional light bulbs, the kind that have been used for more than a century -- pretty much since the invention of the incandescent light bulb. Read more.

I know that becoming outraged over her wing-nuttery is just one more distraction in a time when serious issues abound, but it really gives me pause. It reminds me that things could get even worse than they have been under BushCo, and that's just plain terrifying. For 8 years I have been saying that bullies at the top give rise to bullies at all levels of society, and that is perhaps the most harmful legacy of the Bush years. Here is hoping that Bachmann's 15 minutes are up.

I'm Speechless. No, really.

Light blogging this week because I haven't been feeling up to snuff. I caught a virus that seems to be sweeping through the school district; suspiciously, it seems to strike the adults and leave the kids alone. In fact, while I've been feeling crummy, they've been extra boisterous. Vast kid conspiracy? You decide. Anyway, I've been without a voice since Monday. At various times my ears, my throat, my sinuses and/or my muscles ache. As my daughter Cinderbelle used to say when she was 4, waaaa poo.

(Incidentally, yesterday I had an all-day training and no less than 3 people commented on the fact that I was unusually quiet. One of them was the trainer, whom I've only met once before, last spring. It's tough when you've got a reputation.)

Hmmm ... What to read next?

Reading has really tapered off for me since school began. Between writing here -- which truly gives me a lot of pleasure, fretting about the state of the world -- which gives me no pleasure at all but is inevitable, lots of outside commitments, knitting, putting up the gobs of produce that came out of the community garden, cooking regular meals ... well, reading has gotten relegated to just the few minutes between when I crawl into bed and my eyes slam shut.

I have this stack of books though. It never seems to shrink much. From the public library:

• The Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama by Pico Iyer
• The Art of Peace by Morihei Ueshiba

A loan from my friend Mary:

• Silk Road: A Novel of Eighth Century China

A recent acquisition from a used book sale:

• the first three books of the Tuesday Next series by Jasper Fforde

And then there is the brand new book, Nation, by my favorite author, British satirist, Terry Pratchett.

I have also been enjoying two books that might fall into the reference or coffee table book category:

• Beyond the Great Wall: Recipes and Travels in the Other China by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid
• Japanese Quilt Blocks to Mix and Match by Susan Briscoe (Just what I need: another craft!)

These are both library books as well, but I am thinking of buying them because they're beautiful, inspiring, and fun to peruse.

Dear readers, what would you do?

Book Review: Sylvia's Farm

I finally finished another book -- Sylvia's Farm: The Journal of an Improbable Shepherd by Sylvia Jorrin. One of my fantasy lives involves living on a farm and owning sheep, so Jorrin's book was right up my alley. Jorrin was in her fifties and the granddaughter of a farmer, but raised in a city and afraid of all animals. When she bought her property in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains in the 1980s she had no intention of having a working farm, but a neighbor talked her into sharing a small flock of sheep, and then he promptly quit the business. Jorrin discovered that she loved animals, and at the time of the book's publication, twenty years later, her farm was home to 120 sheep, 21 goats, 2 Jersey cows, 4 geese, 50 chickens, 4 cats, 1 dog, and a donkey. Every one of her animals has a name (but not "Bob" as in the shish ke-variety, like the sheep belonging to a friend of ours) and a story.

Sylvia's Farm is a collection of columns that she wrote for her local newspaper. It is a chronicle of the ups and downs of those twenty years, the despair of bitter cold winters when the water froze continually, the joy of bottle feeding lambs, the struggle to fit in as a somewhat eccentric stranger in a relatively closed rural community. (This last piece was interesting: Jorrin does not drive, so she is dependent on the kindness of her neighbors for just about everything.)

In some ways, Jorrin reminds me of the children's author/illustrator Tasha Tudor, who has lived her adult life on a Vermont farm, dressing and living in a style from the mid-nineteenth century. Jorrin gets much of her farming wisdom from reprints of books from the early twentieth century. She is, however, conscious of her place in the newest millennium, and even has a chapter that is clearly written after the attacks of 9/11/01.

The language in this book struck my ear as somewhat awkward or old-fashioned, particularly the frequent use of the word "shall" as in, "I shall make a pear tart" or "I shall repair the pasture gate and paint it green." But that was a minor quirk, revealing much about her upbringing. Some of the chapters were very poetic. I was moved by one called This Is A Day that opened with

"This is a day the Lord has made. Those words are usually the first that come to my mind each morning when I get up."

I don't know that I could live the life that Jorrin has chosen to live. The drama, the stress at times all felt overwhelming just to read, to say nothing of experience on a daily basis! On the other hand, I could certainly see myself living in that kind of a rhythm.

I shall say that I enjoyed this book.

Dana Perrino is a nasty piece of work.

This response from the White House to the bill that would extend unemployment benefits across the country is about as callous as anything I've seen. She makes it sound like people who are unemployed are sitting on their asses, eating bonbons, and watching daytime television.

Believe me, Mr. Ether would like to have regular employment.

How do these people sleep at night?

Field Trip

I'm taking my kindergartners on their first field trip tomorrow. We're going to "The School Forest", a lovely patch of oak savannah about 25 miles out of town that our district has owned for 50 years. Before sending them home today, we had a talk about it, because I wanted to make sure that they all come dressed appropriately, etc. Here is how our conversation went:

"Remember, we're going on our field trip tomorrow."

"Yay! We're going to the pumpkin patch!"
"The pumpkin patch! Yay!"

"No, we're not going to the pumpkin patch. We're going to a forest. When you come to school tomorrow we're going to get on a bus --"

"I no ride the bus!!"

"Yes, all of us get to ride the bus tomorrow. We're going to ride for a little while and then we won't be in the city anymore. We'll be in the country, in a place with lots of trees ..."

"Will we ever come back to America again?"

"We're not leaving America! We'll be back at school in time to eat lunch. And I want everybody to bring a sweatshirt--"

"And sweat pants."

"You don't need sweat pants, just plain old pants. It might be kind of chilly, so bring a sweatshirt--"

"And sweat pants."

"--and good shoes for walking, like sneakers."

"Are these sneakers?"

At this juncture I make a show of putting on my glasses and quickly "examine" everyone's shoes.

"Yup. Everyone just wear the shoes you're wearing right now."

Sometimes teaching kindergarten is like being in a Marx Brothers movie:
"2 hard-boiled eggs."
Honk!
"Make that 3 hard-boiled eggs."

But I love it.

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's ...

Just a question ... what is the obsession with comparing the McCain-Palin ticket to t.v. shows we of a certain age remember from the sixties? First we get Maverick
and now this:

But Palin is aware of her ticket's political situation. Asked on the plane about
her reflections from her first month on the campaign trail, she used a word she
would repeat at the rally here: "underdog."

Next week will she be referring to the two of them as "Super Chickens"?
BkKaw!

Keating 5 Video

This is being widely posted in the 'tubes today. If you haven't seen it, it is well worth watching -- and then circulating.

Can we just drop the bullshit about Sarah and Todd Palin being "working class"?

Can we? Please?

Working class couples are not worth $1.2m. They do not own 3 houses, not to mention their own planes.

Let's talk about the hockey mom thing: hockey is one of the more expensive sports in which to have your kids involved. It is outside the realm of possibility for many working families.

We are going on year 2 of unemployment for my spouse. We own (sort of) a very nice, but modest, house. (And 3 tents. Do those count as houses?)

I am aware that we are far better off than many others.

Sarah Palin's down home populist crap is offensive.

One more thing ...

This constant barrage of "Maverick, Maverick, Maverick, Maverick" reminds me of a coloring book that kicked around my house when I was a little girl. It was The John Birch Society Coloring Book (not approved by the John Birch Society.) I read it a lot -- once I even colored in it, a picture of a witch burning at the stake, but someone put a stop to that -- and I had no idea what any of the captions meant or what the John Birch Society even was. But I pretty much memorized that book, and remember most of it to this day.

So, there was a double page spread of a row of men in suits, wearing hats, carrying briefcases. The first one is saying, "I think for myself." The second one, "So do I." The third one, "Me too." The fourth one, "Ditto." and so on.

The thing is, if you have multiple people all claiming to be mavericks, don't they kind of cancel each other out?

In Memorium -- Shirley Holzman Grindrod Durkin

Tomorrow marks the 7th year since my mom's death. I think I miss her more with the passing of time, not less. She wrestled with her demons. I've written it before, but it bears repeating: after years of saying, "I don't want to be like my mom" one day I had a revelation that she didn't really want to be that parent either, and I was able to say "I want to try to be the mom I know she wanted to be." This picture was taken about a year and a half before my sister Lisa was adopted and I was born (in the same year!!! That's enough to make any mom go slightly askew) and really shows the sweet and soft side of her. I love how my brother's foot is in her pocket. L-R, that's my mom, Pauly, Meggie, Jimmy and Davey. Aren't they cute?

(A sisterly aside: Nice undies, Meg. If you pulled them any higher, you'd be in a gunny-sack.)

Is a "team of mavericks" something like a "close-knit organization of anarchists"?

Molly, the Official Spokesdog of the Impeachment Movement™, is attempting to slink upstairs with her tail between her legs because -- even if Sarah Palin didn't "implode" -- I think my head may implode listening to the wienie pundits. I am screaming at the television. Molly thinks I'm angry. Maybe at her. She does this when I play PacMan too.

OK, here's my punditry:

I couldn't help a smirk and an off-color joke about young Bristol when Palin mentioned "early withdrawal."

God help us if we have 4 more years of someone who pronounces the word nuclear "nookyooler."

Since when is Alaska the flarging "Heartland?"

I HATE HATE HATE the way she talks. I hate the dropped "g" at the end of every "ing." I hate the "ya" instead of "you." But you know what? I was PISSED OFF that I never got to check off the "Gee" on my Palin Bingo board! And I was even more pissed off that I accidentally gave Mr. Ether the Bingo board with "maverick" on it. Damn, damn, damn.

Palin directly answered only ONE question that the moderator asked, the question about gay marriage. She evaded each and every other question. She didn't even attempt to answer one other question.

Palin has a mean-looking mouth. She reminds me of my psycho principal from a few years back. Very disturbing.

I was moved -- for personal reasons that those who have read my blog for a while may remember -- when Biden choked up speaking about losing his wife and daughter. Unfortunately, that's when the dog chose to give me a big lick across my nose and glasses. Maybe she was picking up on my emotions.

I was so pleased when Biden called Dick Cheney the most dangerous vice president in history. And when he talked about the whole "maverick" thing. (I swear, if I hear that word much more I'm going to barf.)

When Palin went off-question to talk about health care, I wish that Biden had pointed out that he, McCain, and Palin (if the worst happens and the election is stolen once again) will all [continue to] enjoy socialized health care paid for by us, the taxpayers. While I -- with my supposedly "Cadillac insurance policy" -- am drowning in accumulated medical bills and put off going to the doctor more often than not.

Well, I probably would have been better off watching The Hudsucker Proxy which I picked up at the library this afternoon. Sigh.

A Continuation of a Theme

I couldn't resist picking this up this evening at one of my favorite stores.

A Must-Read Blog Post

No, not here. At Enriched Geranium, my beloved's blog. It's about the so-called bail out and is called "Follow the Money." It knocked my socks off -- and I live with the guy! I mean, we talk about this stuff all the time, and I was still impressed. He pulls a lot of things together in a way that makes an enormous amount of sense.