Harsh Economic Times

Because of the harsh economic times, FCN is...

- Ordering a tall
- Not buying shampoo
- Selling our old socks and underwear
- Selling our parents' old stuff (with permission)
- Selling our parents' old stuff (without permission)
- Answering emails from suspicious Nigerians
- Taking donations
- Abstaining from showers
- Dumpster diving
- Renting out our cars
- Running ads
- Packing a sack lunch
- Reusing disposable products
- Coasting more & accelerating and braking less
- Grocery shopping at the 99 cent store
- Clothes shopping at the 99 cent store
- Giving friends "one-of-a-kind worn-in jeans" for their birthdays
- Going on vacation...to the local movie theater
- Renting out our bedrooms
- Selling most of our organs
- Adopting kids for the tax deductions

I wrote this when I should have been doing something else

This post was written entirely in class. It 's 100%, guaranteed, genuine, certified contraband. I did this when I should have been doing something else. You see, in my easiest class (an economics course for general education students I somehow sneaked into), I "take notes" on my computer. When my professor is engrossed in one of his many tangents, I press my favorite shortcut key combination (alt + tab) and work on something else. Last week I wrote a term paper. Tomorrow I plan on Facebooking. Today, I am writing this tome of abject educational rebellion.

Someone, somewhere, estimated that students pay $50-75/lecture for the expensive private education I will pay for when my student loans come due. But like a headstone and life insurance, education is one of the goods we pay for when we don't want to consume it. In fact, if I paid only for the moments in class that I actually pay attention, my education would be so cheap, it could be sent to foreign countries as aid.

I used to doodle and write my funny notes on paper. That was my signature, my trademark. If I were Sitting Bull, that would be my "X." Students who sat next to me would sometimes lean in to get a preview of next week's posts. When the professor turned her back to the class to put something on the board, faces would crowd around my mead pad like surgeons over an operating table. On rare occasions, the surgeons would chuckle or issue forth that "smurphy" noise that generally accompanies partially restrained mirth.

Now I'm much more obvious. Students who take notes on their computers are highly suspect. Teachers are inherently suspicious of generation y-ers, especially those who get their technology on in class. When my bright computer screen attracts neighbors like an outdoor barbecue, my professor gets especially suspicious.

Three times already today, he's looked at me with a suspicious air. I think he suspects something. He looked at me again. I'll just save for publication and get back to class...

That's One Way to Do It

Dear St Mary's Really Expensive Private High School Family:

All of us have been hit hard by the current economic crisis. Unfortunately, many of last semester's students are no longer able to afford our tuition. Enrollment is down by 20% this semester.

In order to keep this school afloat and ensure we maintain the high standards of educational quality you've come to expect from St Mary's, we are raising your tuition by 20%. Thank you for understanding and have a great semester.

Robert Seems
Headmaster
St Mary's Really Expensive Private High School

That reminds me...

The following is a transcript of the first seven minutes of my upper-division economic theory and research course taught by Professor Dennis O. Doherty (above), a faculty member who has been at the university 35 years. His knowledge about the topic and acumen to discuss economics are unquestioned. His brevity and succinctness are not.

DENNIS O. DOHERTY: I love teaching in this room. The first time I taught a course in this room was in the fall semester of '84. They had just built this building five or so years before after a substantial struggle with the administration to secure funds. The former Department Chair -- actually the chair before him; the one two chairs ago -- felt we should direct our money toward sports -- football specifically. He was a big fan. He thought it would help recruiting. Ironically, after this classroom building was constructed the school did away with the football program, making this the only Division 1A NCAA institution to get rid of a football program in the last century. A real shame, if you ask me.

[DOHERTY PAUSES AND LOOKS AT THE WALL FOR A SECOND, COLLECTING HIS THOUGHTS.]

DENNIS O. DOHERTY: Actually, it would have been the spring of 1984. I remember because they were putting in the East lawn. Looking out this window, it used to be a mess of shrubbery that the science students would burn back with freshly mixed experimental weed killer. It was all very impromptu. The brass opted for aesthetics over academics and installed the sod. Their work was a major interruption. Every class period, it seemed, we'd be bothered by the sound of their travails. I like that word, travails, did you know it's borrowed from the French? Sometimes I think we ought to return it.

[PAUSE]

DENNIS O. DOHERTY: I had cold cereal for breakfast this morning. For years I had a regular breakfast of two eggs and toast. It was the perfect combination, I thought, of carbs and protein and it stuck with me pretty well. I never had any pre-lunch collapse. But my doctor is worried about my dietary cholesterol. Any biology students here? No? Well, the cholesterol you consume in your diet isn't nearly as bad for you as the saturated fat you put in your system. In fact, you can eat a lot of cholesterol and not have a problem as long as the saturated fat is kept to a minimum. But for some reason my doctor is worried about the cholesterol. He wants to put me on a statin drug -- some kind of HMG-CoA reductase inhibitor -- to reduce my risk of heart disease. But I'm concerned about the liver damage. My dad was an alcoholic and died of liver poisoning. Or whatever it's called.

[ANOTHER PAUSE]

DENNIS O. DOHERTY: Take care of your diet. Take care of your health. Life advice...
[ANOTHER PAUSE]

DENNIS O. DOHERTY: Oddly enough, they would use a drywall knife to cut the sod and they had to be careful how they placed it because the irrigation system was pre-installed. This was in the early days of low-evaporation sprinklers, when environmental consciousness was just starting to emerge as a dominant consideration. Nowadays it isn't nearly as much of an operation, but back then it was perceived as very innovative. A drywall knife. How many of you guys have seen a drywall knife? It looks like an oversized putty knife with blades that are almost too dull to justify the name "knife." I wonder why they never developed a tool explicitely for cutting sod. I have a buddy who works in the landscaping business -- he actually does design for upscale and bids out installation projects to subcontractors -- I ought to give him a call and ask about that. He's got a couple of kids, wonder how they're doing...

[PAUSE AS A STUDENT ENTERS AND SHEEPISHLY TAKES A SEAT BY THE DOOR]

DENNIS O. DOHERTY: Miss, you are late. You are fortunate I am so lenient on tardy students. When I was a graduate student at the University of Utah -- that's where all the backslidden Mormons go -- I was tardy for the first day of my statistics methods class. I didn't miss a day all semester and was never again late, but he really drilled me for it in his seminar review. Eugene Billington. That was his name. He specialized in regression analysis of demographics -- a field which is really quite large now, but was just emerging in the 70s. He gave me an A- in his class. I don't think I've ever worked so hard for an A-. I mean, I had classes at the undergraduate level that I just surfed through -- never did the readings, missed class, glossed over the homework -- but not in Billington's statistics methods course. He would grill you for that.

DENNIS O. DOHERTY: So, here's the syllabus...

Fashion #2: Tigers Are Cool

Funny Class Notes has a new guest contributor! A longtime reader and member of the faithful few has been accepted into the ranks of the writers who call this site their online home. Chip has been reading since August of 2007 and here is how we introduced him back then:

Reader number ten is an exceptionally overweight individual named Chip. Chip's main reason for coming to our page was to find solidarity. That's right, our tenth reader came to FCN because he wanted to find dumb people with whom to associate. Chip has, according to his G-Talk picture, an affinity for tight white undershirts and the style he chooses does little to hide his bulky middle or hairy back. He sent us a long email full of lovingly misspelled words in which he poured out his life's wish to work as a corporate executive at a Fortune 500 company. We assured him in our reply that white collar work isn't all it's cracked up to be and that he would be much happier working graveyard at Taco Bell while supporting eight kids and his own beer belly. We also advised that one major prerequisite to the Chief Executive's chair is teeth brushing and that he might want to consider other personal hygiene innovations as well. Yeah, we really hit it off.

In order to accept Chip as a contributor, we required he wait outside the door of our house for three days without food, shelter or encouragement and endure our verbal abuse without giving up. Chip succeeded and was invited into our ranks. Below is his first post as a guest contributor.

If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring? That's right, a new spring wardrobe! And if you're looking for the hottest trends, you will find no better role model than the perennial tiger, who burns bright in his jungle home. Tigers are slim, sleek, powerful, and always ready to kill. Here are ten eleven reasons that tigers are the greatest fashion and lifestyle freaks around:

1. Tigers have stripes.
I know what you're thinking. So do wasps, zebras, and "construction zone" signs, all three of which are not likely to appear in the latest issue of... whatever you read to keep up with style. But hear me out. You are forgetting that stripes are an old staple when it comes to pajama pants, which, in a glorious merging of hip culture and pariah college derelict culture, have become quite a hit for Spring of this year. So, stripes it is!

2. Tigers work out.
Tigers don't sit around in classes doodling and writing funny class notes, although that is a pretty snazzy thing to do. Nor do tigers pant on the treadmill. No—tigers run 50 miles per hour through snow and consequently they are pretty ripped.

3. Girls like tigers.
Don't believe me? Well, think back to the last time you saw a girl wearing a shirt that said something like "I heart Tigger." Actually, it's more likely to have mentioned Pooh, but that's a different story. Let's just say that A.A. Milne was pretty with it.

4. Tigers are tech-savvy.
Yes, I'm talking about Mac OS 10.4, "OS X Tiger." Since Apple chose a tiger as the mascot for its operating system, tigers must be cool. For one thing, Macs don't run Windows. For another, Macs are chic and youthful, just like Obama.

5. Tigers are down-to-earth.
Every lion claims to be king of the beasts, but have you ever heard of a tiger putting on airs? In fact, the tiger is so humble that it occasionally deigns to breed with a snobby lion and has a liger baby. That's a good thing, because ligers are seriously the greatest animal, and they have skills in magic.

6. Tigers are rich and famous.
At least the Asian Tigers are. Check out your T-shirt: it was probably made in Taiwan, Singapore, Hong Kong, or South Korea. Or if it wasn't, it will be as soon as McCain abolishes trade quotas.

7. Tigers are into sports.
The Detroit Tigers started their season by losing to the White Sox and beating the Red Sox, which shows that they're into clothes (i.e. socks), if not fashion. It also shows that tigers like sports, which is a plus when it comes to trendiness.

8. Tigers kill animals.
Killing animals is a valiant thing to do and, if you're of the male persuasion, you can always count on a good kill to show how macho you really are. Consider that day last Fall when you sauntered into the house of your old family friend, and found yourself staring into the glassy eyes of a giant buck, whose head had been impressively mounted on the wall. Chances are, your friend noticed your glance and offered some welcome explanation:

"Like it? Just had the thing mounted. We'd walked for ten miles, me n' Jim, and our water was running out. Then Jim put his hand on me and pointed. The wind was in our direction, so we knew it was gonna sniff us out fast. I leveled my sight on 'im and Bang! But the durn thing jumped up just then and set off running, so my shot got 'im in the left thigh, and he disappeared into the leaves, so we had to track him. We followed the trail of blood for five miles and found the thing curled up by a stream, with the buzzards circling overhead and the wolves howling in the distance. So we gutted it there and hoisted the meat up our shoulders..." Etc. Then your friend probably showed you the buck's hide, with two bullet holes in it, and told you that the taxonomist had said it was a first-rate piece of skin, et cetera.

9. Tigers kill people.
Have you noticed how popular the Bourne movies are? We're not talking about geek-popular, or even man-popular. Even your glitter-clad, texting teenage teenybopperette has seen them. What's the attraction? Having breathlessly watched all three installments, I can see only one reason for their popularity: the amount of people killed. Deadly is the new sexy. In California, they even made an "exterminator" their governor. Go figure.

10. Tigers procrastinate.
Have you ever been to the tiger cage at the zoo? Those lazy things lie around all day in the sun, their bellies full of free fresh meat and their tails too sleepy to bat a fly off their magnificent fur coats. If you're an average cubicle slave you probably grit your teeth at the sight and wish the government would support you instead of those feline dukes and duchesses. If, on the other hand, you're a college derelict, you probably don't even look twice. Those tigers know the secret of a happy life, just like you.

11. Tigers are carnivores
A tiger is one of the few fell creatures besides a human that would enjoy an animal-style feast from In-N-Out. Tigers don't eat sissy greens or wimpy fruits. If they went to Subway, they'd pass on the peppers and have a sandwich, not a salad. They gorge themselves on bleeding red flesh with the gusto of an obese American.

Cold Turkey

Diverting large quantities of carbohydrates and investing billions of our hard earned dollars into research and development has failed to quell our dependence on foreign oil or have any discernible impact on our oil consumption habits. We still shell out for gasoline like booze before the prohibition and guzzle the stuff like a lineman drinks Gatorade.

Do I really need to convince you all that gas is expensive and it "ain't gettin' any cheaper no time soon," as a particularly eloquent commentator explained our situation. If you aren't convinced, run outside to your local filling station and look at the price posted by the pump. If you live within 7,926.41 miles of my house, you will see the price is out of hand. Actually it was out of hand a year ago; now it's out of this world.

Still not convinced? Try walking up to the minimum wage compensated attendant and ask if s/he can cut you a deal. Explain that you are a student strapped for cash or that you just want to stick it to the Saudis. Tell the gas station employee that you want to make a political statement and start buying your fuel less expensively. Ask whether the attendant can help you in this effort by giving you a $1/gallon discount and close the pitch with your best Bob The Tomato smile.

I've tried it a few times. The reaction is either a blank stare followed by a 911 phone call or a response in some Middle Eastern language in a tone that promises a future 911 call. Either way, I am encouraged to shut up and let my pocketbook be gouged.

Oil prices have been linked to all manner of negative impacts. When oil prices rise, we have to spend more on fuel to maintain our current driving habits and have less money to spend on other things. This reduces our overall consumption which means we buy less candy which, in turn, causes General Irritability (GI), a condition that induces such varied and extreme symptoms as increased unemployment, rising suicide and divorce rates and more consumption of such damaging social instruments as alcohol, cigarettes and television. In extreme cases, General Irritability can cause extreme sensation seeking, explosive anger and, yes, even road rage (not to be confused with Road Rash [CAUTION DISTURBING], although that is probably another impact of elevated GI)

You think I'm making this all up, but check it out; it's all in the research. A few years ago, a law was passed to help reduce this General Irritability. Called the GI Bill, the new regulation called for candy drops (like the leaflet drops in Afghanistan (YouTube video below), only sweeter) to solve for the root cause of GI. The law was largely ineffective and found its only real support from the dentists lobby.



Publicly touted solutions to the "Oil Problem" have about as much currency as mercury-filled sandbags for flood prevention. We could invade Saudi Arabia, start drilling in the mountains of Canada or, God forbid, impinge on the breeding ground of the sacred Alaskan caribou (or are they Reindeer?). Since the tranquility of some snow mice in the frozen north is more important then the GI index, we get divorced and commit unholy sepuku whilst the polar bear lobby has delicious meals on K Street.

FCN will not stand by idly as our economy is thrown into a state of total disturbance. With the zero assumption that we are not powerless to halt the reign of oil over our finances, FCN hit the lab and assigned our crack(pot) researchers to developing a solution to this problem. After several hours, a carton of Red Bulls, a visit from a brownie laden Mommy G and a 911 call, we found the solution:

Go Cold Turkey.

Cold Turkey is, of course, a technical term for "just stop it, dang it!" The phrase's etymology takes us back to the days after the First Thanksgiving when the Pilgrim mothers (all four surviving moms, that is) brought out the leftovers from the big feast. At first the Pilgrims were excited to partake of the delicious turkey, until they discovered its temperature. Cold meat isn't nearly as good as the warm stuff, especially in the days before refrigeration. William Bradford is famous for shouting "Cold Turkey" as he overturned the thanksgiving table and threw away the leftovers, thus halting the celebration after three days. Alternate theories of etymology can be found here.

As I said, Go Cold Turkey. To stop consuming oil, all we need to do is, well, stop consuming it. Forget a holiday from gas taxes, let's have a holiday from consumption. Ditch your car wherever it runs out of fuel and start walking everywhere (or find a sucker who still buys gas and ask to borrow his wheels). Quit your job - you won't need to work when you don't have to pay for gas anymore - and become a hermit. Chillax in your own energy freedom.

While everyone else scurries around gobbling up oil, you will know who the real turkey is. And when that gets old, write us and tell us how it went.

Elephant Bar Restaurant

My hometown - not the city where I receive my mail or my parents pay property tax, but the town where I attend college - used to boast a Lyon's Restaurant. I use the past tense because the decrepit building that housed the senior's diner beneath its 60s era architecture was given the demolition ball a few months ago. Before the destruction, the Lyon's building had a rusty [Ralph Nader] orange exterior that looked like it would be more at home on a shag carpet than on the outside of a dining establishment. Soon the citrus relic was replaced with wood frame that shouted "what will I be?" for several months.

My hometown has been inundated with a spate of new eateries of late as food businesses try to fatten the otherwise health conscious populous. Restaurants of all varieties have opened their automatic doors and extended the greasy hand of hospitality to diners, a gesture that reflected poorly on my town in Forbe's recent evaluation. Even restaurants that serve trans fat have started doing business which, in an odd sort of way, makes me happy.

The fate of the Lyon's lot was recently revealed as the new owners opened up for business. Decrepit Lyon's was replaced with Elephant Bar Restaurant - An Exceptional Dining AdventureTM. Exceptional is the keyword, as the greasy-spoon experience was also a dining adventure.

The restaurant serves American and Far Eastern food, where, surprisingly, the only elephants are in zoos.

While in theory there's no connection between the name Elephant Bar (An Exceptional Dining AdventureTM) its menu choices, one need not look farther than the portions to comprehend the descriptive nature of the title. The company's website even advertises "elephant sized eats"- a accurate description proven not only by the plate sizes, but by the many heavy customers. Only the dedicated are fed, as the restaurant does not take reservations (much like African watering holes) and the reward for waiting is a salad bar that encourages grazing.

When I entered EBR, I was greeted by a buffalo head, a lion and, of course, an elephant. I asked the waitress, a lady with a few faded 30 year-old tattoos, for a picture with the monkey. I was ignored (I hate it when characters block!) and promptly escorted to my seat where I was handed a large menu, filled with all sorts of scrumptious Asian and American delicacies. Being a true patriot and red-blooded American I ignored a delicious passing Chinese chicken salad and went for the Elephant Burger, a delicacy designed to serve up USA-sized myocardial infarction.

Fifteen minutes later the waitress returned with my drink order, and asked if I was ready to order my meal. Unfortunately, my sarcasm genes kicked in (my buck passing ability was also inherited, in case you were wondering) and I said no. Faster than I can laugh at my own joke, she was gone, and I was once again left alone with my menu.

10 minutes later when she returned, I simply answered, "Elephant Burger, medium-well, on white, no pickles or onions, and light on the fat, please."

30 minutes later when my burger arrived, I finally knew the reason I had chosen this establishment. It wasn't the creepy tattoo lady, or the menu, or the awesome monkey - it was for the "elephant." The elephant of aburger. I could do nothing to fight my heart's desire to eat it, to sink my off-white daggers into its tenderness and explore its juicy flavor. I didn't notice that they had added both onions and pickles or that they seemed to have given me some extra complimentary adipose. That didn't matter anymore; not when you've waited 45 minutes for your food.

I do vaguely remember that the burger was a little pinker than normal, a fact that manifested itself in flu like symptoms the next day. Bother.

All-in-all, I would give EBR a good review. Despite the fact that all the elephants were (big) belly-up to the bar instead of on the menu and my Sprite tasted more like Sierra Mist, I would definitely visit again.

Todd's Economics

Todd is studying for a big examination in his tough economics course. He doesn't particularly enjoy studying, but he still finds his book or notes open in the oddest of places. This morning, he takes Gregory Mankew's Macroeconomics with him to the bathroom as he puts in his contact lenses. With one eye focused on the Cobb-Douglas Production Function, he places a thin film of soft plastic over the other. The process is painful, awkward, dangerous and inconvenient, but it is efficient and brings more utiles (units of utility) than waiting to read the book until the vision of both eyes is corrected.

Todd begins his day with a number of basic assumptions. His zero assumption is that everything will be recounted in the present tense. This assumption is self contradictory, but Todd doesn't let that minor difficulty discourage his believing. Todd sometimes wonders why this fundamental presupposition isn't given the number 1, but he doesn't let this undirected curiosity distract him from his list of assumptions.

Assumption one is that darkness follows periods of light. While this has been observed, it cannot be proven predictively. Therefore, Todd assumes it.

Todd's third assumption, and one that always makes his father laugh, is that people are rational. Todd doesn't understand why this assumption is so funny.

Assumption four is that all assumptions are exogenous, meaning they don't make any sense.

Assumption five is that more assumptions can be made at any time, with little or no warning and that these assumptions can augment or weaken preexisting assumptions. That is, no assumption goes assumed.

At breakfast, Todd pulls out his notes from a lecture about population. The lecture focused on an English demographer (someone who studies demons), but Todd forget the name and thumbs through his notebook to refresh his memory. With his free hand, Todd shovels cereal into his Malthus.

Todd groans at the pun and then checks his watch. Language class is in forty-five minutes and Todd debates the marginal advantage of attendance. Todd has already skipped class twice this semester, a behavior that puts him squarely in the "poor student" bracket. Todd takes out a piece of paper and quickly graphs a model of the Marginal Product of Attendance (MPA). Todd enters arbitrary values for each of his graph's four inputs and looks at the result with a frown. Todd erases his inputs and enters new arbitrary values. With a satisfied grin, Todd leans back and finishes his cereal.

Todd puts a third tick mark on the blackboard above his fridge.

Todd goes alone (Solow) to his computer to check his email. A classmate sends him a competitive study challenge. Apparently studying alone brings all the dangers of monopoly: High prices, less output and, worst of all, incessant loneliness. Todd objects that the addition of a second student would actually be an oligopoly since perfect competition requires a large number of students.

A third classmate joins the discussion and a triangle is formed. The Harberger Triangle.

Todd groans again and navigates to the online study notes. Demand for the site exceeds the supply of bandwidth and the page takes a while to load. Todd guesses that too many students are trying to access the page because of the demand created by the examination but considers other options. Perhaps the site is undergoing renovations and no longer has the supply to handle the same number of accessing students. Or, alternatively, the university has imposed a quota on simultaneous website to reward those who don't wait for the last minute to study and thus kept the market from clearing. Or...

The doorbell rings, waking Todd from his causation reverie. It's Janet. She wants to go to the library to work on the exam. Todd doesn't like the library. The busyness creates a confusion that reduces his overall study output and his tastes and preferences are better satisfied by a quiet room, alone with his Macintosh.

The mental mention of busyness draws Todd's mind to the professor's lecture on business cycles and Todd absently shuts the door without an explanation for Janet. Even though no words are exchanged, Janet understands that Todd is in the valley of his cycle and does not take offense. She also knows Todd can be a very nice person at his peak. After all, Janet is an economics major.

Todd is beginning to feel dismal. All economies will end up stagnant according to David Ricardo and it won't matter anyway because we will all be dead in five generations (prediction made circa 1798).

With a sigh, Todd puts aside his study materials and grabs his coat. Language class is in ten minutes and he doesn't want to be late.