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

FCN Sells Out

Take a look around this page. Do you see anything different? New? Anything at all? No? Look again.

Yes, that's right. Very good! Go buy yourself Snickers TM Bar, Everyone's Favorite Candy Bar TM.

FCN has become ... ahem ... *monetized.* It means we have ads. Theoretically, those ads will mean we will eventually make money (and by we, I mean the 3 founding fathers of FCN - not the newcomers, who still allow us to beat down on them).

It's illegal for us to ask you to click on them. It's pushing the envelope to even point out that they exist. But we can't resist. Because if certain things go right in our world, we'll be ro-sham-bo-ing for the happy meal toy six months from now, courtesy of you, the faithful FCN reader.

We hope you enjoy our new, intrusive, tacky ads.

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

Not your father's wristwatch

For the last two years I haven't worn a watch. Not when I drive, not when I walk around, not in class and not when I run.

Most distance runners are chained to their timepiece and wear a watch with such regularity that they tattoo a white band into their wrists. This is called Ghost Watch and can be remedied by inexpensive outpatient plastic surgery and cancer-causing chemicals. Some runners have watches that are so advanced that their piece will measure heart rate or GPS and give the user a minute-per-mile pace calculation. Others just use a basic chronograph or even an analog unit to gage speed.

Not me. After a several years of running with watch, I decided the weight was too cumbersome to bother with on a regular basis. I didn't like the tan line, the itch or the hassle. And I was cheap. So when the last one broke I stopped using a watch.

If I really needed to know my time, on some tempo runs, I would bring a stopwatch, but most of my training was conducted without an accurate time appraisal. I would calculate my speed using a more precise version of the circadian clock, a built-in meter that lets us "feel" the passage of time. Granted, the brain powered watch isn't nearly as accurate as its human made counterpart, but it did the trick. And it was convenient. "That felt like a four-minute mile!"

I survived a career on a collegiate track team and over fifteen races without ever strapping on a digital watch. Sometimes my coach would advise us on the merits of being able to accurately measure our own time, but after each admonishing lecture I returned to running with a naked left wrist.

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago when I ran with a couple friends in a relay race. Both of my friends put up stellar performances (first and third in the field, respectively), but my time was much more pedestrian. We ended up getting fifth place overall, but it was obvious that my time held us back.

One of my friends kindly took me aside and gently advised that, perhaps, a watch might be the necessary addition to improve my training and racing. Maybe, he mused in a kind and gentle way that was insistent yet gave me room to wiggle, my times were suffering because I didn't have an objective standard against which to weigh my progress.

A couple of days later, I was at the watch counter at my sporting goods supplier weighing the merits of various "Running Accessories." Saying these devices are watches is like comparing a space shuttle to a Cessna. More than just tell the time, the products could measure heart rate, communicate with other watches, report altitude and temperature and conduct the kind of analytical mathematic calculations usually reserved for scientific calculators.

The watch technology has advanced significantly in the past two years! I wondered to the salesperson how long it would be before the SAT prohibited watches during the test taking.

I wasn't especially excited about spending two hundred dollars for an athletic wristwatch, so I settled on a less expensive unit that boasted "Tap Start Technology" and "200 Lap Chronometer." Tap Start means that the user can start the chronograph, just by lightly tapping a single button - as long as the watch is in the appropriate mode and of a friendly disposition. The 200 Lap feature allows the user to take 200 individual splits and, conveniently, uses the same tap start technology to begin split measurements.

Next morning I undertook my first run with my new hardware.

I pushed start and ensured that the watch was, indeed, counting. I then didn't look at the screen for the duration of the run. Those of you who are used to running with watches might find this unusual, but if watches aren’t your thing, looking at it during a run is one of the most unnatural motions imaginable. And in the last twenty-four months, I had run over 2,000 miles without a watch.

When I finished my outing (six miles, in case you just had to know), I checked my new watch and was excited to see a new personal record. According to the screen in front of me, I had run six miles in 4:22.89; Four minutes and twenty-three seconds.

My tired, endorphin laden brain interpreted that number with euphoria. But then reality took over and I measured my circadian measurement against the digital contraption in front of me. It really felt as if I'd been out for fifty minutes. I wasn't even pushing. A reality check also told me that a per mile time of less than a minute was fast in a car and humanly impossible.

On investigation, I discovered that this number represented only my latest split time. Apparently my long sleeved shirt kept bumping the tap technology button and, while my cumulative time remained accurate, the splits recent constantly. In all, I had used 142 splits in 46 minutes of running.

Maybe I should have stuck with an 8 lap model.

Deconstructing Black Friday

I was considering a lawsuit. I consulted my attorney and discussed the possibility with likely co-plaintiffs. I even drafted a letter of intent. But I think I have recovered sufficient sleep and wits to keep my claim out of the civil courts. At least for now.

The events of Friday, November 23rd - Black Friday in everyday parlance - will remain forever etched in my memory and in my pocketbook. It is a story I will use on many a date, a cautionary tale that will be sternly retold to my children and my grandkids will hear a heavily embellished version of it.

If only I had been forewarned.

FCN got a monitory email from You Can Call Me Batman on the 24th, just one day after my fateful encounter with the corporate world of electronics and just a few hours too late. YCCMB had this to say:

Dear FCN,
Memo to the file: never go shopping the day after Thanksgiving, because you WILL be eaten alive. Yes, those sales are very tempting, but unless you are willing to risk life and limb, you should stay at home cowering under your bed and not spend any money in the first place. I discovered this firsthand. It even started out painful! We (my mom, cousin, aunt and I) had to wake up at 6:45 (a completely unrighteous hour in the morning) though the stores were opening up at about 4 a.m. We started out at Walmart, and it was already a madhouse of people. Emerging from there with only a few scratches and bruises, we continued on to Joann fabrics, which was a really bad idea. We lost one of our company there due to the HOUR LONG WAIT to get our fabric cut. And that was only the beginning! By about 10:00, we ventured into Kohls, and were almost immediately suffocated by the amount of people in there. And to top it all off, the line wrapped around the store. Luckily, I was able to dust off my (horrible, but nonetheless valuable) Ninja skills, and we were out by about sundown. Most of our group was injured. We returned from our venture battered and bruised, but we had saved a lot of money, and that made us feel better. (except me, but I didn't have any money to begin with.) So, unless you are willing to die to get that one pair of jeans that's 80% off, never go shopping on Black Friday.
-You can call me Batman

If only YCCMB had contacted us with this advice a few days earlier, we might have avoided a frigid night on the hard cement and a difficult lesson on the trials of consumerism.

'Twas not Walmart, Joann's or Kohls that the FCN contributors and a few friends found themselves in front of, but rather BestBuy, a major electronics store with some of the most scandalous BlackFriday deals. Despite this difference, YCCMB's advice is still pertinent.

The newspaper advertisement, lovingly clipped by so many in preparation, told of discounts of up to six and seven hundred dollars on hot ticket items like big screen TVs, laptop computers and GPS devices. Because the deals are meted out on a first come, first serve basis, it behooves the consumer to arrive early.

In past years, BestBuy has announced its price and informed prospective customers that tickets would be handed out to the first people in line a couple of hours before the store's doors open. Last year, you may recall, I gave a couple of hours of my life to BestBuy and was compensated handsomely. I didn't actually purchase any of the items I stood in line for; rather I resold the ticket (scalped it, if you prefer the vernacular) to those who had more money than time.

The way I see it, my scalping activity provides a legitimate service. Certainly, middle men are not the most respected of enterprisers, but in the big picture they act as wards of Adam Smith, pushing the financial advantage of Black Friday to those who are willing to pay for it.

BestBuy's doors were scheduled to open at 5:00 AM on the 23rd. The first faithful shoppers got in line at 4:00 PM...on the 21st. We here at FCN value our turkey and stuffing too much to give up the warmth of a Thanksgiving fire in favor of a lonely line so FCN found its place on the cold sidewalk at approximately 8:30 PM, eight and a half hours before opening and after an estimated 120 people.

There is little to do in a consumerism line other than wait. We felt like children of the Soviet Union, joining breadlines for our daily fare. We experienced first-hand the rigors of communist living and counted ourselves fortunate to have thought to bring lawn chairs.

But not everyone was so miserable. The place immediately down wind from us was occupied by a few bong-hitting hippies who let the sweet scent of their Wacky-Tobackie waft over everyone. (I am amazed to this moment that those folks were so brazenly consuming illegal narcotics. The line was heavily policed to ensure that nobody did anything untoward, but not one officer stopped to ask about the smell.) Still others watched DVDs or played cards, keeping warm with expensive looking blanket-like coverings or seeming not to care about the weather.

Eight hours in 37 degree cold. Some in Massachusetts scoff at how wimpy I sound complaining about any temperature that far above freezing, but to me, a California-raised kid who worries more about his state's radical politics than extreme weather, 37 degrees might as well have been zero degrees. I bundled up like an Eskimo papoose, with gloves, thermal undergarments (yes, long johns) and a heavy jacket. I even wore a beanie (no, this isn't F).

As cold as we were, shivering against BestBuy's stuccoed wall, a warmth surged through our very being when blue shirted employees began passing out the tickets.

By the time they reached our place in line, the most valuable tickets had already been claimed, but, remembering last year' success, I selected a 42" LCD HDTV (read: really fancy and expensive television) and headed to the back of the line to begin my sales.

That's when Black Friday took a turn for the worse. On my way to the rear, I passed two would-be scalpers as they followed BestBuy employees to the front. I recognized them as scalpers by their sheepish looks and the half-hearted attempts to plea their case. Several of my friends, including both F and N, bailed and gave me their tickets. I now had the salesperson's greatest wish: variety.

I was undaunted by the busted scalpers I had just seen. I couldn't understand what they could possibly have done wrong. Maybe, I pensed, they were liars who tried to cheat prospective customers on the value of the tickets. Or perhaps they were being detained for an unrelated offense; their past crimes were catching up to them. Certainly their fate would not befall me.

When I reached a likely group of line dwellers - they reminded me of people waiting to board lifeboats on the Titanic - I began a series of pitches:

"42-inch widescreen high definition television as advertised. $499 instant savings. I also have 32-inch, 30-inch and the 40-inch DLP. Anyone interested in purchasing the right to buy this discounted TV? Do I hear any offers?"

I was explaining how the deal worked to an elderly gentleman who looked genuinely interested in purchasing when I noticed a blue-clad female behind me and to my right. She wasn't saying anything, but listened intently as I plied every trick of Cialdini. I had nothing to be ashamed of, so I continued to plow on. It wasn't until we were just about to exchange money that she intervened and asked me if I was selling my tickets. When I answered in the affirmative and asked if she was interested in buying one, she asked to see the tickets.

Her move was quick and reminded me of something I'd seen Chuck Norris do. Before I could say "fifty bucks" the tickets were out of my hand and traveling and a brisk walk to the front of the line. I followed, protesting my view that these were my tickets, earned through hours of waiting and that the act of taking them was a blatant violation of my constitutional right to property.

Her response was to direct me to her superior, Chris, a man I victimized with my further remonstrations. I explained that if scalping were illegal or frowned upon, that fact ought to be detailed along with all the other fine print in the ad (which I had meticulously read in preparation for such an encounter). I pointed to the rapidly disappearing tickets and asked Chris where they intoned that they weren't for resale. Finally, I pled with Chris to listen to the voice of entrepreneurial reasonability and reward a derelict's money making efforts with official sanction. I pointed out that my service was legitimate and that there was a clear market for my activity. Chris never answered me, but instead asked me to leave.

I have probably felt more violated at some point in my nineteen years, but I don't care to recall when. The reality is that I was totally deflated by BestBuy's betrayal. I had promised a couple of friends that this could be a money-making opportunity, I had placed my dignity and credibility on the alter and it had combusted with a bright flash before my innocent eyes.

Over the weekend, I thought long and hard about the possibility of pursuing legal action. I may very well have a claim for false advertising, fraud or misrepresentation. The doctrine of detrimental reliance might be deployed to show how BestBuy broke an implied contract with me and I am confident I could convince a small claims court judge of the justice of my plight.

I have at least a year until the statute of limitations expires and my claim is legally preempted. And I will consider the courtroom every time I drive by that store on my way to school. But for now I am going to leave well enough alone. The civic minded side of me says that my claim isn't sever enough to drag BestBuy into court. But then again...

$175,000

The comptroller general of the United States, the man who has the very stressful and harried job of measuring how far in debt our government is and reporting said number to the Department of Treasury, recently released the current data on our financial situation. And the synopsis was, at predictable face value, very red.

According to report that made its way to Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson's desk late last week, if the national debt were divided up evenly over the entire population, we would each owe $175,000. The comptroller general wasn't specific as to whether this number includes illegal immigrants and minors, who in their own way contribute to the national economy, or was just limited to taxpayers, but regardless the number does look very red. But I said that before.

Financial experts will give themselves a litany of medical conditions as they worry about this new information and poorly informed Americans - those who don't read FCN - will wonder why this figure is so high and how such seemingly gargantuan debt is justified. Dogs will also bark, terrorists will blow themselves up and the Olsen Twins will lose weight, but none of these are, as far as I can see, related to the debt issue.

What a lot of Americans are ignoring when they decry the $175,000 is that this debt provides some serious lifestyle advantages to us. The funds are not wasted. In fact, some would say debt is the path worn smooth by the American Dream. We, the FCN staff, took a vacation from our usual dereliction and went to the library to conduct some research on the advantages our government is providing you and me with the $175,000. Here's what we found:

$1,000,000 (about six people's worth of debt) from the Defense Department is spent to fund an Allen Telescope Array in Mountain View, Calif. This “alien” project is part of SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence). SETI describes the telescope as “dedicated to astronomical and simultaneous search for extra-terrestrial intelligence observations.” A good investment considering the dangers aliens pose in our modern world. The Defense Department was thinking ahead with this one. I'll bet this Allen fellow was happy to spend $175,000 on it, too.

$5,500,000 (about 31 people's worth of debt) from the Defense Department to fund the Gallo Center, a neuroscience clinic designed to study the effects of alcohol and drug abuse on the brain. The folks in DC figure that, after aliens, drunks are the biggest threat to national security. No private sector organizations were willing to undertake this responsibility The government is looking out for us.

$352,000 (about two people's worth of debt) from the Department of Agriculture for floriculture research. It's only two people out of 300 million and think of how much more beautiful flowers will be. You will be thanking Uncle Sam for this expenditure next Valentine's Day.

$2,300,000 (about 13 people's worth of debt) from the Foreign Operations budget for the International Fertilizer Development Center (IFDC). The IFDC, now in its ninth year, helps to augment foreign soil management. Because soil is a terrible thing to mismanage.

$350,000 (about two people's worth of debt) from the Department of Interior to fund hanging baskets in Chicago. Boy, those little floral and straw arrangements really spruce up the Windy City. In fact, the program managed to design, install and maintain 950 baskets so far, at a price of roughly $368 each. Money well spent.

$150,000 (about one person's worth of debt) from the National Park Service budget for the Actors Theater in Louisville, Kentucky. One of the theater’s productions is called Bad Date, in which “a feisty single mom relocates to the big city, finds a new career and jumps back into the shark-infested dating pool only to find herself on the wrong side of the law…the hilarious and unforgettable story of one woman's love life, her anticipation of (and recovery from) each new date and the fabulous shoe collection that saves her every time!” Expensive and edifying!

$450,000 (about three people's worth of debt) spent by the Legislative Budget for plantings on the eastern front of the Capitol. This will allow members of Congress a chance to “stop and smell the roses” before they proceed with spending more of our money. Don't worry, though. For almost a half-million dollars, these roses are sure to be extra-nice.

$250,000 (about two people's worth of debt) from the Transportation Budget for the National Cattle Congress (NCC) in Waterloo, Iowa. Fair activities include: the Second Annual Cattle Congress Cage Combat, the ‘Survivor” Family Game Show, Jocko & the J’s Monkey Show, and Steeple’s Wild West Bear Show. Well worth the price of admission.

$47,326,000 (about 270 people's worth of debt) by the Department of the Interior for projects in the state of Alaska, including: $1,100,000 for the Matunuska-Susitna Borough; $750,000 for the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park; $450,000 for the Bering Sea Fisherman’s Association; $400,000 for the Ketchikan Wood Technology Center; $150,000 for the Alaska Whaling Commission; and $98,000 for the Alaska Sea Otter Commission. Too bad Alaska isn't pitching in more; at least the otters are happy.

And that's just scratching the surface. Our elected officials find so many ways to satisfy our every need and desire. It just seems so wrong to complain about the price tag. Capitol Hill means well and we end up will all kinds of cool stuff when they decide to be generous in what they bestow. Why do we have to be haters? Can't we just enjoy the blessings of our government?

An Open Letter to Uncle Sam

Dear Uncle Sam,

I’ve seen your picture several times on various billboards around town and always admired your stern confidence, unwavering confidence, and inspiring confidence. Your white beard reminds of Colonel Sanders, your demeanor like a car salesman closing a deal and your pointed finger looks a little crooked, but I’ve gotten past these aesthetic elements and fallen in love with the way you express yourself and the ideas you hold dear.

You see, I am a working man. While taking a full load at the university, I work part time at General Mills, where I perform an important security function and help to keep millions of Americans young and old from the dangers of rotten cereal. Some would say I help keep the cereal killers off our grocery store shelves. But that’s such a dumb pun, I would never use it.

For my work, I receive a paycheck. The compensation isn’t anything substantial – I neither work enough hours nor have enough skill to justify anything significant – but it is my money, a collection of hard earned pennies that I like to spend as I please.

Of course, I can’t spend all of the money as I please. Gas is expensive and driving between school, work and home requires a good lot of it. I also have to buy food and, while my housing costs are covered and I don’t have to pay an electricity or water bill, I eat a lot, so my meal costs can take quite a bit.

For entertainment, I invest nominal amounts of money into failed business ventures (although usually people don't tell me the business will fail beforehand) and I also have to keep enough on hand to cover the many chump change bets I place with family and friends.

Of all the things I devote my paycheck to, however, you are at the top.

My employer kindly provides a breakdown of little “deductions” taken off my check before I cash it at the bank. The sums aren’t huge, but they are persistent. The other day, I calculated that in a ten day pay period, I work the first day and a half to pay you. It’s not as if I am making enough money to place my earnings in a higher income bracket, either; I earn student subsistence wages.

The money isn’t taken from me, though. It’s not as if it’s stolen or anything like that. The funds are just withheld, which is a nicer and cleaner way of taking it. I don't have to hold the money and grow attached to its papery softness before your crooked nose enters my line of vision and carts it away.

I used to be kind of sore about all of this, but the more I think about it the more I realize that you are probably a better financial manager than me. So I am really not at all mad about everything you take before I have a chance at it.

In a few months when I fill out my first tax return, I will do so with a smile. Thank, Uncle Sam!

With all cyber-sincerity,

FCN