We’re really sorry about our most recent trading loss. People will say we require more oversight, and, in this case, maybe they’re right. It shouldn’t have happened, and we’ll take steps to make sure it doesn’t happen for a third time.

 The $4,000 or so ($4,882) of your money that we failed to bring back from our annual company trip to Hollywood Park Racetrack and Casino will in no way whatsoever impact our ability to pay our promised dividend of .1% on all investments. We remain financially stable, with significant capital reserves — thanks to you, our valued shareholders — and enough gains from our other departments that the latest debacle in our Trading Department will not affect our ability to make more trades in the very near future.

No, it’s not the $2 billion that JPMorgan Chase blew on derivitative bets, but still . . . → Read More: To Our Investors]]> Dear Inverstors in MichaelKonik.com,

We’re really sorry about our most recent trading loss. People will say we require more oversight, and, in this case, maybe they’re right. It shouldn’t have happened, and we’ll take steps to make sure it doesn’t happen for a third time.

 The $4,000 or so ($4,882) of your money that we failed to bring back from our annual company trip to Hollywood Park Racetrack and Casino will in no way whatsoever impact our ability to pay our promised dividend of .1% on all investments. We remain financially stable, with significant capital reserves — thanks to you, our valued shareholders — and enough gains from our other departments that the latest debacle in our Trading Department will not affect our ability to make more trades in the very near future.

No, it’s not the $2 billion that JPMorgan Chase blew on derivitative bets, but still $4,000 or so probably sounds like a lot to you when your entire investment in our company is $100. So, again, we’re really sorry.

Although we’re not legally required to provide a detailed explanation of how we lost your money, we feel that given MichaelKonik.com’s past calls for transparency and honesty from the rich and powerful we ought to ‘fess up. It’s not a pretty picture. But it is what it is, as people say (with alarming regularity).

Basically, our proven system for selecting the winners of thoroughbred horse races by deciphering suggestive anagrams from the horse’s name (Main Wire! = “I’m A Win!er”) did not produce the expected return on investment, in that we realized a significantly lower percentage of successful bets (0%) than anticipated by our computer models. We also learned slightly too late that when wagering on horses gamblers do not win a “show” bet whenever the horse comes out of the stable and runs.

Now, we can understand how investors in a Website filled with boring essays might not want their money to be comingled with funds from the MichaelKonik.com Trading Department. And we can also understand that you might wish for us to not trade in horse racing futures whatsoever. Totally understandable. We’d like to stress, however, that betting on horses is totally legal and, not to be a dick about it or anything, none of you would be complaining much if our can’t-miss $1,000 bet on “Mickep! Mickep!”  hadn’t missed.

With all due respect, it would be entirely inaccurate to say that we were gambling with “other people’s money.” Once you invested it in MichaelKonik.com, it became our money to do with what we felt was best for our shareholders — and what would get us most quickly into that sweet Gulfstream we’ve had our eyes on.

So, now that it’s been all entirely and completely explained to our satisfaction, we offer you once more our apologies for this unforeseen setback. We pledge to make better bets with your precious investments. And if that doesn’t satisfy you, our pal Jamie Dimon will bemore than happy to help you.

Women who say they prefer chocolate to sex either have bad sex lives or exceptionally great chocolate.

Male nipples simultaneously disprove evolution and intelligent design.

Marriage is the most reliable curative for hopelessly incurable romantics.

People who frequently “need to vent” to friends usually have previously failed to say what they really mean to those who inspired their need to vent.

Behind every vast fortune is a master criminal calling himself something else.

Those who employ the locution “eats like a bird” do not have backyard bird feeders in need of daily re-filling.

The most dangerous people are those who dedicate their lives to protecting people from themselves.

Sportscasters who frequently use the phrase “sacrifice his body” don’t understand what the word sacrifice means.

Professional athletes are paid handsomely not for their ability to throw or kick a ball, but for their . . . → Read More: Aphorisms, Epigrams, and Such]]> The truly wise man aspires to be ignorant.

Women who say they prefer chocolate to sex either have bad sex lives or exceptionally great chocolate.

Male nipples simultaneously disprove evolution and intelligent design.

Marriage is the most reliable curative for hopelessly incurable romantics.

People who frequently “need to vent” to friends usually have previously failed to say what they really mean to those who inspired their need to vent.

Behind every vast fortune is a master criminal calling himself something else.

Those who employ the locution “eats like a bird” do not have backyard bird feeders in need of daily re-filling.

The most dangerous people are those who dedicate their lives to protecting people from themselves.

Sportscasters who frequently use the phrase “sacrifice his body” don’t understand what the word sacrifice means.

Professional athletes are paid handsomely not for their ability to throw or kick a ball, but for their ability to distract us from all the vexing stuff that matters.

Billionaires and social justice make strange bedfellows.

People who like jazz don’t like smooth jazz, and people who like smooth jazz don’t like jazz, but everyone likes smooth.

No worries, bro.

The problem for those of us who read newspapers and have some time to think is that there seems to be plenty to worry about — if you’re into that whole caring about stuff mode. The world quite often feels like it’s on the precipice of disaster, a calamity (or apocalypse) about to be perpetrated against humanity by humanity. No worries? Well, not really, bro.

But after 4:20PM, when we brooding types might discover a more charitable and optimistic state of mind, the sentient observer begins to understand that, wow, yeah, everything we fret about already has been fully explained to everyone’s satisfaction and there really is nothing to worry about.

Lehman Bros. Bonuses. No worries, bro. Yes, shortly before the firm’s 2008 collapse, which precipitated the . . . → Read More: No Worries, Bro]]> You’ve talked to someone thirty-or-younger recently, so you’re aware that we’re presently living in the blissful state of no worries.

No worries, bro.

The problem for those of us who read newspapers and have some time to think is that there seems to be plenty to worry about — if you’re into that whole caring about stuff mode. The world quite often feels like it’s on the precipice of disaster, a calamity (or apocalypse) about to be perpetrated against humanity by humanity. No worries? Well, not really, bro.

But after 4:20PM, when we brooding types might discover a more charitable and optimistic state of mind, the sentient observer begins to understand that, wow, yeah, everything we fret about already has been fully explained to everyone’s satisfaction and there really is nothing to worry about.

Lehman Bros. Bonuses. No worries, bro. Yes, shortly before the firm’s 2008 collapse, which precipitated the global financial meltdown, Lehman Bros. awarded nearly $700 million to 50 of its highest paid executives. But DO NOT WORRY. The worthy folks who collected this bonus – which, let’s call it what it is: more like a glorious recognition of their inherent value to society — are capitalists. Surely they will spend the millions on houses and planes and whatever else they want, and many, many people will be employed to paint those houses and refuel those jets, so the proceeds of Lehman Bros. generosity to Lehman Bros. will trickle down quite nicely.

L.A. County Supervisor Campaign Chests. No worries, bro. Yes, even though they almost always run unopposed or against anonymous opponents and haven’t lost an election in more than 30 years, the incumbent members of the LA County Board of Supervisors up for re-election this year have accepted campaign contributions in excess of $350,000 (Don Knabe, unopposed) and $450,000 (Mark Ridley-Thomas, unopposed) for the grueling election season ahead. But DO NOT WORRY. The money came mostly from contractors, builders, developers, unions, healthcare workers, physicians, attorneys, and casinos. This is just another way that these winners can give back to the system that allowed them to achieve so grandly. Also, in the case of Knabe, $68,000 of the contributions were directed to a consulting firm where his son is partner, so you know it’s all in the family in a feel-good kind of way.

Taco Shells Made Out of Doritos. No worries, bro. Yes, the shells are made out of Nacho Cheese Doritos, the spicy kind, with extra flavor powder sprayed on them, and some folks might worry about the social costs of feeding low-income people low-quality food. But DO NOT WORRY. Taco Bell’s advertisements assure consumers that by purchasing the new Nacho Cheese Dorito Shell taco they’re fulfilling their destiny to “Live Mas!” It’s all about living more, not less, bitch!

Ah, yes. Life is good, except when it’s not. But even then it’s good in a way. So, yeah, no worries, bro. None.

Yet if you’re looking for me on Facebook, I’m not there.

There’s an official Michael Konik Author page, which serves as a publishing conduit for my Thoughts. Dozens – dozens! – of people “like” it. Facebook also offers several Michael Konik Community pages, the equivalent of digital flypaper, where people who are looking for me on . . . → Read More: Free to Be Disconnected]]> If you’re reading this essay on MichaelKonik.com, you know that this is a reliable place to find “me,” the me who shares his ideas with the world, whether or not any part of the world is interested. This is where I unilaterally invade my privacy, allowing strangers to read my mind, exposing my beliefs and my doubts, keeping very little secret. You want to know what I think about something? It’s pretty easy to know. My Thoughts are even searchable. Hiding is almost impossible when you’re trying to be unflinchingly honest.

Yet if you’re looking for me on Facebook, I’m not there.

There’s an official Michael Konik Author page, which serves as a publishing conduit for my Thoughts. Dozens – dozens! – of people “like” it. Facebook also offers several Michael Konik Community pages, the equivalent of digital flypaper, where people who are looking for me on Facebook get stuck when they’re lost and confused. In order for the official Author page to be activated, I’m supposed to have a Michael Konik personal page. So I do. I have the mandated minimum number of friends: one. My wife.

I have a Twitter account. My daily and weekly Thoughts get posted there in the form of short hyperlinks. But I don’t tweet, and I don’t “follow” anyone else’s tweets. OMG!

I don’t text. My antiquated mobile phone isn’t smart. It’s old. It has a rigid antenna nub. And no camera. LOL!

Also, I don’t “blog.” Very few readers care what I think; even fewer care about my diet, exercise, travels, extra-curricular amusements, or photogenic relatives. WTF!

Am I a misanthrope? A Luddite? A fool? A loser?

Maybe all four. But primarily I’m someone who cherishes fully examined ideas, not simple glosses; someone who thinks a 140-character limit is acceptable only in medieval epics; someone who wants to prevent his passions and preferences from being treated like commodities.

I reveal these embarrassing details not to confess how behind the times I am but to emphasize how out of step I am with the times. Sure, I know how these newfangled gadgets work, and I’m acutely aware of how integral a “device” is to many modern people. But I’m unconvinced and not seduced. Just as I don’t enjoy most of the movies and TV shows and music that my fellow citizens proclaim Number One, I’m perplexed by everyone else’s compulsion to expose themselves – figuratively and quite literally – on the Internet, along with their children, their family and their friends.

Another old-fashioned concept: friends. My wife (as well as millions of others) has 5,000 of them on Facebook. I don’t think I know 5,000 people, let alone consider them friends. Strangers are welcome to the entire archive of my candidly composed essays, not what my hot nephew looks like with his shirt off.

No smartphone. No texting. No Facebook. No Twitter. I’m free.

I’m still here and present. But I’m free.

ROTFLMAO!

Principles like free speech, you see, are “important” according to moldy textbooks, but, really, let’s be honest: it’s hard to care about silly old constitutional precepts like the First Amendment when we’re permitted to express our opinions in the form of Facebook “likes.” Plus, Ozzie offended a whole bunch of people, and there’s got to be some punishment for that, right?

For those who missed the imbroglio, what the baseball skipper said was that he loved . . . → Read More: Suspension of Disbelievers]]> North Korea is launching rockets, Syria is slaughtering its citizens, and the Filipino community is organizing a massive get-out-the-vote campaign for a crucial election (not for something boring and unimportant like a public office but a cause that’s got folks passionately engaged: the American Idol finals). So the astonishingly weird five-game suspension of Miami Marlins manager Ozzie Guillen — for comments emanating from his mouth — came and went with little comment.

Principles like free speech, you see, are “important” according to moldy textbooks, but, really, let’s be honest: it’s hard to care about silly old constitutional precepts like the First Amendment when we’re permitted to express our opinions in the form of Facebook “likes.” Plus, Ozzie offended a whole bunch of people, and there’s got to be some punishment for that, right?

For those who missed the imbroglio, what the baseball skipper said was that he loved Fidel Castro, mainly for his longevity and ability to stay in power while so many wanted him dead and gone. Very admirable, Guillen opined. When he was reminded that many people in the Miami community have suffered unspeakable horrors at the hands of the Cuban dictator – as have millions more who couldn’t escape to Florida – Guillen realized he had said something stupid and apologized profusely for his callousness and ignorance, blaming an internal translation problem between his brain (which thinks in Spanish) and his tongue (which communicates in Spanglish or ESL-level English.) “I’ve learned my lesson,” he confessed.

Whatever, Ozzie. You hurt a lot of people with your words, so you’ve got to face the consequences. This being America, land of the free and so forth, the proper thing to do, of course, is to keep your dumb-ass opinions to yourself – and if you’re going to be foolish enough to tell a journalist what you’re thinking, then you ought to be prepared to be suspended from your job. The logic is, um…clear?

Major League Baseball approved the suspension, handed down by the team. People’s feelings had been hurt after all, hurt even more profoundly than when they discovered their beloved home run hitters were drug addicts and liars (and that Major League Baseball permitted the naughtiness). So it was decided: say something inappropriate, get fined. Equilibrium restored.

But what of precedent? How about all those other sports figures who once said something idiotic, disrespectful, or painful? Is it too late to retroactively suspend them?

Johnny Miller, NBC golf analyst: “Let’s face it, the LPGA Tour would be a lot more popular if they had fewer Koreans and more Americans with nice boobs who know how to put on a little makeup.” [Suspension: three broadcasts.]

Sidney Crosby, NHL player: “The reason there aren’t more black people in our league is because most of them live near the Equator, where they don’t have much ice. That’s why they call them African-Americans.” [Suspension: the entire regular season; reinstatement for the playoffs, when NBC might broadcast a few games.]

Sean Payton, NFL coach: “Everyone’s crying about our so-called bounty program. But financial incentives worked for the Stasi in East Germany, so how bad can it be?” [Suspension: one full season.]

Rick Adelman, NBA coach: “Am I the only one who thinks having lesbians officiating pro games is a mistake?” [Suspension: four games.]

Kobe Bryant, NBA player: “I wouldn’t say Wilt Chamberlain is my idol, per se. But maybe you could call him a role model. I mean, he sure did bang a whole bunch of white girls, and never once had a rape charge brought against him. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” [Suspension: all games conducted south of the Mason-Dixon line.]

John Calipari, NCAA basketball coach: “I’m against paying our collegiate players. They get a scholarship and a chance at a fine education. It’s not our fault that they’d rather listen to jungle music instead of learning to read.” [Suspension: banned from recruiting for one academic quarter.]

Alex Rodriguez, MLB player: “Three words for Madonna: vaginal rejuvenation surgery.” [Suspension: one game and a donation to the Susan J. Komen foundation.]

Wayne Rooney, soccer player: “Maggie Thatcher was the best thing that ever happened to England. At least she got the Pakis to take a bath every now and again.” [Suspension: first-half of game versus Arsenal.]

Manny Pacquiao, boxer: “I love Ferdinand Marcos for bringing law and order to the Philippines. Plus, his wife has great fashion style, and that should count for something.” [Suspension: none; ordered to distribute free boxing gloves in the provinces.]

Eli Manning, NFL football player: “If I weren’t playing in the games I’d probably be betting on them. I mean, everyone does, right? At least it makes some of those boring late-season games a little interesting for the fans.” [Suspension: lifetime ban.]

Last week provided several of those The Way It Is moments, with several illuminating events happening almost simultaneously, twinned like opposite sides of a coin, as though the worm-hole theories of modern physicists were getting an earthbound demonstration. Our chief prophet of change you can believe in, President Obama, who seems intent on being as big of a disappointment to as many . . . → Read More: Perverse Priorities]]> Sometimes our chaotic, unknowable, seemingly random Universe arranges itself with perfect symmetry. In these moments of bracing clarity, authored by a Creator (in whatever guise or nomenclature you prefer) whose sense of irony is matched only by her/his/its sense of wicked humor, our innate foolishness and learned stubbornness are robbed of their pretensions. We see what we have wrought – and then pretend we didn’t, because, despite our professed wish for “change you can believe in,” change is the process we’re most unwilling to endure.

Last week provided several of those The Way It Is moments, with several illuminating events happening almost simultaneously, twinned like opposite sides of a coin, as though the worm-hole theories of modern physicists were getting an earthbound demonstration. Our chief prophet of change you can believe in, President Obama, who seems intent on being as big of a disappointment to as many of his former supporters as possible, played an alarmingly large role.

In Oakland, California, a man armed with a legally procured gun took his weapon to a small Christian college campus and started shooting people. He killed seven unlucky victims before being apprehended.

 On the same day in Oakland, less than two hours later, just a few miles away, the federal government, in the form of agents from the IRS and DEA, trampling on the voter-approved laws of California, raided the apartment, dispensary and trade-school of one of America’s highest profile medical marijuana activists, Richard Lee. He was the paraplegic former Republican behind Proposition 19, a living refutation to all the invidious stoner stereotypes propagandists use to scare uninformed citizens. Candidate Obama, you may recall, promised not to prosecute medical marijuana users who comply with state law, and his Deputy Attorney General David Ogden reiterated that unambiguous position in a 2009 memo credited with sparking California’s “green rush” of pot-related businesses. Lee is the latest and most blatantly obvious victim of the Justice Department’s intimidation tactics, in which individuals are targeted for their political speech. Since the Ogden Memo, nearly 200 marijuana-related operations, many of them dispensaries that serve medical patients, have been raided, and more than 300 landlords of dispensaries have been sent letters threatening them with seizure and prosecution.

On the very same day as the Oakland events, President Obama was hosting a summit with leaders from Canada and Mexico. President Calderon expressed his concern over the unthinkable violence – the equivalent of a gunman shooting up a Christian college on a daily basis — that occurs when his rich neighbor to the north offers a combination of loose money, an insatiable appetite for mood altering substances, and fatally porous gun laws. Might legalization be the answer? President Obama has already declared that idea not open to discussion. The War on Drugs marches on.

That was one day in Oakland. A few days later, the administration announced that several terrorism suspects would soon be tried – at Guantanamo Bay. The place that candidate Obama promised to close. The War on Terror marches on.

Our same President Obama, he of the dangerously progressive bent that real Americans hate, spent some of last month on a cross-country “energy tour,” in which he adopted the formerly Republican stance of “all of the above” when it comes to feeding our appetite for energy. “All,” of course means fossil fuels, and that’s convenient since Obama pledged to expedite the southern leg of the controversial (to lefties) Keystone XL tar sand pipeline. The President is intelligent enough to know that our gasoline prices are actually too low and should be taxed more aggressively to discourage consumption, not encourage it. He understand that you can’t be pro-environment and pro-pipeline — not if you want to look your grandchildren in the eye. But his priority isn’t to make America an altogether healthier and better place; it’s to get re-elected.

Meanwhile, our Supreme Court justices taught us in Florence vs. Board of Chosen Freeholders of Burlington County, that strip-searching jail inmates is always permissible, even if those inmates are being held in jail for traffic violations. The War on Crime marches on.

Meanwhile, the General Services Administration chief, Martha Johnson, the person whose responsibility it is to be a steward of the public’s money, resigned her post after it was revealed that her GSA gang partied in Vegas at taxpayer expense. The boondoggles recalled the recent revelation that Eric Holder’s Justice Department, the same one that is on a mission to prosecute state law-abiding cannabis users, spent $32 per-person on Cracker Jacks and $600,000 on event planners, none of whom, one assumes were instrumental in planning the raid on Richard Lee’s Oaksterdam complex.

And amid the shooting and arresting and pilfering and prevaricating, we’re still fighting over how much (or little) of our national treasure we should spend on education.

If Mr. Darwin was right about the whole evolution thingie, let’s hope it doesn’t take our species as long as the insects and the birds and the fish. Because we’ve got to get our priorities straight. And fast. Before it’s too late.

The prospect of a $640 million jackpot and the assurance that some of the money would go to our schools made throwing away hard-earned wages seem like an altogether fun thing to do. At $1 a pop, the lottery is a cheap fantasy while it lasts.

Like any fixed-odds proposition, a category that includes almost every casino game, including slot and poker machines, roulette, craps, and baccarat, lotteries are unbeatable. There’s no such thing as a professional lottery player; it’s not a viable way to end up with more than you started with. Sure, someone has to “win” the Mega Millions or Powerball, or . . . → Read More: Lotteries, Poker, and Other People’s Money]]> Braving odds of 176 million-to-1, scores of otherwise sensible Americans, including several of our intelligent friends, were infected with Lottery Fever this past week, standing in lines of up to three hours to buy a ticket at “lucky” liquor stores and gas stations.

The prospect of a $640 million jackpot and the assurance that some of the money would go to our schools made throwing away hard-earned wages seem like an altogether fun thing to do. At $1 a pop, the lottery is a cheap fantasy while it lasts.

Like any fixed-odds proposition, a category that includes almost every casino game, including slot and poker machines, roulette, craps, and baccarat, lotteries are unbeatable. There’s no such thing as a professional lottery player; it’s not a viable way to end up with more than you started with. Sure, someone has to “win” the Mega Millions or Powerball, or the progressive slot jackpot in Atlantic City. But the house – in this case, our State Governments – always pays out less than it takes in, gifting the minority with some of the majority’s money and keeping the rest for themselves. In a state lottery, the percentage returned to gamblers is usually 50% or less; casinos, which no one has ever mistaken for bastions of kindness and charity, usually return more than 90% of the collected wagers to their customers. And serve free drinks. And miraculously pay the electric bill.

Having written a few books on the twinned subjects of risk and reward, we’re in the unusual position of knowing a little bit about how all this gambling stuff works. We’ve found that people who genuinely want to win, who put money at risk not for fleeting thrills nor to reinforce perpetual self-loathing but to profit, don’t gamble. They find games and situations where the player occasionally has the advantage, such as blackjack, which is sometimes beatable because the odds are dynamic, changing slightly as the composition of the deck changes.  After learning all that can be learned about gambling – a quest that really doesn’t take very long, given the dearth of long-term winning opportunities – most sharp people turn to games in which their superior skill (in calculating, in deciding, in acting) produces an edge, an exploitable advantage that gives them an improved chance of winning.

The most popular and easily understood of these games is poker. It’s the one game in a casino in which players compete against each other, not the house. (The casino makes its money by renting out the table and dealer). Over time, when short-term fluctuations get ironed out by long-term mathematical constants, the better players end up with the money and the weaker ones go broke. Along the way, the losers cash a figurative lottery ticket or two, improbably triumphing when the odds are stacked against them. But with proper bankroll and emotional management, the superior poker player gets rich. He builds his endowment on the mistakes of those less clever, less disciplined, less prepared, less capitalized, and less educated.

If this sounds to you like a pretty good description of how capitalism works (or is supposed to work in its most gloriously unregulated form), then you can understand how being a wildly successful poker player is in many ways like being a wildly successful arbitrageur, bond trader or stock picker. You’re a winner. You’re rich. You’re a predator, not prey. You buy automobiles whose advertising tag line is, “Aggression in its most elegant form.” You[re an achiever.

Huzzah and hooray. Even in 2012, knowing what we know about the winners of our economic game, knowing how the banking, housing and political sectors were conquered by those who gamed the game, many of us still celebrate the champions. (Or give them multi-billion-dollar “bailouts.”) They accomplished the main thing: they won.

Never mind that most of these winners create nothing. Forget that even a lowly toilet-cleaner or lettuce picker or house painter (or school teacher) does something useful with his labor, something that benefits others. Like poker players, masters of money play a zero-sum game better than most people. They earn their prizes legitimately. They deserve to prosper while others suffer. Thems the rules.

In a previous chapter of my life, I admired great poker players. I wanted to be one. I thought it was cool to earn a living by playing a card game, getting rewarded for being better. Telling lies and getting paid. But the more time I spent around serious poker players, culminating in several years serving as a commentator on TV broadcasts of poker tournaments, I realized that what I had been aspiring to was a peculiar kind of sociopath.