Actual Guilt v Legal Guilt: and the winner is...

By Joseph Walther

Have you heard? Michael Vick, first-string quarterback for the NFL’s Atlanta Falcons, has entered a plea of guilty to, um… I’m not sure what. Yes, the Feds charged him with a bunch of stuff: funding a dog fighting operation, dog fighting, gambling, cruelty to animals, and conspiracy to do this stuff.

The maximum sentence, if found guilty on all charges, is 5-years and a $250,000 fine. However, the Commonwealth of Virginia has much stricter laws, in that the cruelty charges carry a maximum of 5-years per each charge. Of course, they’ve weighed in and will be presenting their evidence to a grand jury soon.

I’ve received about two-boatloads of email about this; most of it from people advocating the death penalty for Vick. “He’s pled guilty to the federal charges. That seals it. He can’t go back to Virginia and plead not guilty, now,” wrote Howard from Atlanta, GA.

At the outset, I think that Michael Vick is as guilty as hell on all charges. I also think that what he did is despicable. I’d support a lifetime ban from the NFL in a heartbeat. And, I’d have no problems with him receiving the maximum allowable sentence and fine if convicted.

However, this is MY personal opinion. It, along with around $2 will buy me a 20-oz cup of coffee at most coffee shops—but, not Starbucks. I sincerely hope that you’re sitting down because what follows is a real shocker. YOUR personal opinions carry the same amount of weight as mine!

Lawyers, the competent ones that people with Vick’s financial resources can hire, spend years honing the fine art of obfuscation. Humans are not born with the ability to write seemingly simple, straightforward declarative sentences that have the ability to change meaning with each reread.

This is why it is critical for everyone to understand, precisely, what Michael Vick pleaded guilty to doing. The actual plea agreement not only minimizes the legal impact for Vick quite adequately, but also leaves the door wide open for him to plead not guilty to anything the Commonwealth of Virginia seeks to bring against him.

I made the statement, in another article; “Government lawyers blinked but Vick’s lawyers blinked first.” Some people interpreted this to mean that Vick’s lawyers screwed up. Wrong! No, not only did they not screw up, so far, they’ve made the best of a very bad situation.

Michael Vick’s statement of fact (aka plea agreement) admitted to his sponsoring a dog fighting operation and that he was part of a “collective effort” that caused the death of at least six dogs.

His lawyers made sure that his specific denials of gambling, directly or indirectly, made it into the plea. They made sure of some other things, too.

A direct involvement in causing the death of six dogs and being part of a “collective effort” to do so, are not the same thing, legally speaking. His lawyers knew this and made sure that the distinction became part of the plea agreement.

This distinction is important because in the Commonwealth of Virginia, cruelty to animals is a felonious charge, carrying a maximum of 5-years per count. Do the arithmetic: 6-dogs times 5-years for each one, IF CONVICTED.

Vick’s federal plea agreement, in no way, precludes him from pleading not guilty to anything the Commonwealth of Virginia throws at him. His co-defendants said, unambiguously, that they, with Michael Vick’s help, killed six dogs that did not perform to standards.

Specifically, they said; “All three of them participated in the killing of dogs.” It simply does not get any more straightforward than this. Unfortunately, things become “iffy” in a jiffy as soon as high-priced, competent lawyers become involved.

Vick’s statement of fact admits to no such thing. It reads; “Peace, Phillips, and Vick agreed to the killing of approximately 6-8 dogs that did not perform well in ‘testing’ sessions at 1915 Moonlight Road and all of those dogs were killed by various methods, including drowning and hanging. Vick agrees and stipulates that these dogs all died as a result of the collective efforts of Peace, Phillips, and Vick.”

In the United States, there is a difference between violating the “spirit” of laws, and violating the “letter” of those same laws.

The former requires the simple application of some common sense. A simple preponderance of the evidence usually suffices. A preponderance of the evidence means that, given the weight of the facts at hand, is it more likely than not that a defendant acted as charged.

However, in matters criminal, neither the “spirit” of the law nor a preponderance of the evidence has any bearing on legal guilt. “Beyond a reasonable doubt” is the only thing that matters. This doesn’t mean “NO” doubt; it means, simply, that given the facts at hand, do they give a reasonable person pause to wonder.

Competent lawyers cost a lot of money because people pay them for their skills at flicking fly-shit out of pepper and making sure that juries see the defense’s version of what constitutes “fly-shit” and what constitutes culpable fact.

Whether you consider such skills as remarkable and good versus detestable and evil, depends on whether your seat is at the defense table or the prosecutor’s table; whether you believe in the “innocence” of a defendant or whether you’re a victim of the defendant’s alleged crime.

No matter, the Michael Vick case is far from resolved. It will eventually reach legal resolution, though. However, no matter what that entails, for some people, Michael Vick will forever represent a system out to make an example of him, while for others, no amount of jail time will ever suffice, given the nature of the things he’s admitted to doing.

The task right now, though, is for all of us to figure out exactly what he’s admitted to doing.

I’ve never been a Vick fan. I’ve always rooted for the blitzers when it came to his quarterbacking. Now that he’s admitted to whatever it is that he’s admitted to doing, instead of rooting for blitzers to break one of his legs, I’d be hoping that they’d break both of them. This assumes, however, that the NFL ever permits him back onto a professional football field as a competitor.

I’m going to keep following this one. It’ll be interesting to see what the Commonwealth of Virginia does in the coming months. I don’t think that the judge in his federal sentencing will simply slap his wrists.

As for the Commonwealth of Virginia’s case, it’s going to depend on which side’s lawyers are better at flicking that fly-shit out of pepper. Hopefully, the Virginia prosecutors will be much better at it than were the California prosecutors in the O. J. Simpson case. But, I wouldn’t count on it.

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.

Here, let us replace that JOINT!

By Joseph Walther

No! This has nothing to do with “wacky tabaccy.” I’m talking about body joints; you know… knees, elbows, hips. It’s far too detailed and complex to cover in a single article. First, there’s the rationale behind replacing a joint in the first place. Second, there’s the very nature of joint replacement centers, themselves. Next is the actual surgical procedure. And, finally—this is CRITICAL—you’ll need a true, non-edited picture of after-care physical rehabilitation.

I’ve spent considerable time analyzing this stuff. Based on my experience, I’m telling you not to overlook two alternatives: amputation and suicide. Personally, I lean towards the latter. It’s cheaper and there’s NO post-operative pain.

Look, let me explain joint replacement in non-medical terms. Then you folks can make an informed decision as to what to do. I’m coming from the perspective of knee-joint replacement, but the same principles apply to elbows, hips, etc. So, if you think you may want to go through such agony, pay attention—make that NEED; only idiots WANT this.

OK! OK! I already know what some of you are probably thinking. I just thought about it, too. Some people get their rocks on pain. If you’re one of them, email me, maybe we could, you know…get together or something. JUST KIDDING!

Another thing I’m telling you, right up front, is that I’ve eliminated ALL of the marketing brochure, feel good hype. For example, I don’t use the phrase, “initial post-surgical discomfort.” Why? Because there’s no such thing. What you experience is heart-stopping, searing pain—the kind that morphine can’t touch.

So, do you need joint replacement surgery and how much does it cost? The honest answers are; it depends on which surgeon you see first, and a cargo ship full of money. But, if you have insurance, who cares about the cost?

Actually, the insurance companies care. They really do. Of course, it’s not about you, as a person. Insurance companies are conflicted. Life insurance companies want the people they insure to live forever. Health insurance companies want the people they insure to die quickly. The older the insured, the more claims health insurers deny. They can outwait you!

Now, assuming that you’ve decided to undergo the surgery, the next step is to find a place that does it, preferably, one with a low mortality rate. Don’t worry too much about finding such a place, though. The chances are that the orthopedic surgeon who told you that you need surgery will send you to “his” hospital.

Once you’ve settled on where, you’ll need to arrive several hours before the start of your scheduled procedure so that they have plenty of time to get you into their “new” computer system. By the way, they prefer the term “procedure” because it’s not as scary as “surgery.

You’ll check in at the surgical center’s admissions desk, where they’re obligated to say, “Sign this and take a seat. Someone will be out shortly to take care of you.” And, whatever you do, please understand that “shortly” is a secret hospital term that means “around the middle of next week.”

Even though they provide free coffee in the waiting area, YOU can’t have anything—not even water—because you’re going to have a procedure. You have not had anything to eat or drink since last midnight. Only God knows when they’ll give you something to eat or drink. But, yes, they DO validate parking.

Once they get you in the “back,” the fun really begins. First, they start with a game called, “getting you into their computer system.” It begins with simple stuff like name, address, phone number, next of kin; you know… all the stuff you’ve given them at least one hundred times over the phone.

They then up the ante to the more complicated medical history questions, like whether you great, great, great, great first-cousin on your mother’s side ever had gas pains. It goes on and on.

While this is going on, someone hands you one of those hospital robes, the ones that are wide open in the back. You’re supposed to take your clothes off and put it on. They put a patient bracelet on your wrist and start taking your blood. They take it from your arm veins, wrist veins, and any other place they think may contain some blood.

They take your temperature, put another bracelet on your wrist, take some more blood, and give you a couple of “shots” for…um, I not sure why, but you must need them or they wouldn’t give them to you.

While they’re doing this, someone will notice that you still have some color left in the cheeks of your face. God, they hate THAT! So, sure enough, they’ll take some more of your blood and put another bracelet on your wrist.

And, since you’re getting groggy from those earlier shots, they figure it’s a good time to ask some more medical history questions, only more complicated than the earlier ones were.

They look one last time. If there’s still any color left in your face, it means that you still have some blood left and they take it. Of course, this requires another bracelet and another scan. Then you just sit there, nodding off and waiting for someone to take you “to surgery.”

Ok, now you’re on your way. They are taking you to the “OR.” This means operating room. Once inside, they’ll start drawing stuff on your knee, hopefully the correct knee. They’ll soon start administering some anesthesia, but not before placing another patient bracelet on your wrist. They need this one to scan the stuff about the anesthesia.

There’s an interesting twist to this anesthesia stuff when it comes to joint replacement procedures. They don’t actually put you to sleep. They now administer what they call “spinal” anesthesia. It simply numbs everything from a given point, up or down, depending on where they have to operate. They say it’s safer.

Well, at least that’s the current theory. But, what happens if they scan the wrong bracelet? They could mix them up, and scan the wrong stuff in the wrong place. What happens then? A lawyers’ Hootenanny, that’s what’ll happen! But it won’t bother you, though. You’ll probably be dead.

Regardless, since you’re not actually asleep, you can hear everything that’s going on. Did you know that they tell a lot of dirty jokes in the operating room? Think of the sounds made by power saws, hammers, chisels, and power screwdrivers. You get to hear all of these, too, not to mention the realization that they’re using them on YOUR body part.

“EEEWWW, look at THAT,” blurts one of the operating room personnel. “Oh, shi…I mean, oops, where’s the glue?” asks the surgeon. Trust me; being awake may not be all that it’s ballyhooed to be. I wonder how many bracelets it takes to scan THIS stuff.

Mercifully, in spite of all efforts to the contrary, you do fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. The next thing you recall is Frau Helga rousting you to make you sit up in a chair to keep your blood circulating. You’d think she’d have remembered to check the “new” computer system and realized that they took all of your blood in preparation for the procedure.

But, will Frau Helga be around when the bathroom calls? Don’t bet on it. She’ll be busy trying to get some other patient’s bracelets to scan properly.

Summarizing in the interest of space, you’re in for some painful bumps over the next four days. The physical therapy will be nasty. The hospital personnel will lie to you and tell you how great you’re doing, but it’s still going to hurt.

The only thing that will keep you going is the prospect of going home and getting some real sleep. Yes, it’ll still hurt, even after you’re at home, but there’s a liquor store not far from your house.

OK, you’re finally going home, bracelets and all. From this point on, for the next two weeks, additional administration of pain will now be in the hands of a visiting nurse. That’s right; if your insurance covers it, a nurse will come right to your home and hurt you. You won’t have to leave your house at all.

But, on the bright side, you won’t have to scan anything because you don’t have a computer to worry about at home. Well, maybe you do, but that one’s probably just for downloading pornography. OK! Email, too.

Regardless, you’re beginning to feel hopeful again. It still hurts, but not as bad as before. Of course, you can only go up and down stairs once a day: up in the evening to go to bed and down, in the morning, after you wake up for the day.

The fact that the BATHROOM is on the second floor is just tough nuggies. You just have to take your daily dump sitting on a porta-potty in the middle of the kitchen and get someone to take it upstairs to empty it. It could be worse, you think to yourself.

Yeah, right. This is OK for you to think, but I assure you that the person who has to empty the damn thing does not follow your trend of thought!

Still, though, you’re feeling much better about yourself. With each day, there is less pain. You look forward to the day that you’ll be able to go upstairs to the bathroom and go behind a closed door. You look forward to other things, too: going outside and driving your car.

Then, as cockiness increases and without warning, BAM! You’re on a rack in the outpatient physical therapy room, staring right into the eyes of Mistress Marylou. “Vee vill teach you how to bend that knee. Yes, trust me, you VILL learn,” she taunts. PAIN? Up until now, you've had no idea!

From what I can gather, outpatient physical therapy (motto: “Here, let us show you how to BEND that!”) is where you go when you have to satisfy an overwhelming need for more pain…EXCRUCIATING pain, the kind that either makes you pass out or experience an orgasm! If you fall into the latter category, look out; you could have a coronary!

Mistress Marylou, and ALL of her physical therapist associates, is a certified pain specialists. This means that they’ve gone to school to learn how to hurt people and that they’ve ALL passed a standardized pain administration test to prove it. It’s all perfectly legalized assault. Hell, Mistress Marylou even has a PhD.

They’ve scheduled you for no less than ten (one and a half hour) sessions with these people—and, Mistress Marylou is the best. Trust me; before it’s over, you will have slapped yourself in the head and exclaimed, “Boy, I could have had an amputation or, better yet, committed suicide.”

In my opinion, a dentist, drilling through one of your live tooth nerves, without using anesthesia, is less painful than physical rehab therapy. In fact, I’d rather reach back there and yank out bleeding, grossly inflamed hemorrhoids using a pair of industrial sized needle nose pliers. It’d be less painful.

So, there you have it, a real-life picture of the joint replacement hype; a complete portrait with all of the ugliness of facial blemishes, pimples, outright zits, and discolored teeth included. I hope you’ll be in a better position to make a more informed choice when it comes to ALL of your options regarding your screwed up joints: live with the pain, replace the joint, amputation, or suicide.

While the first choice is not really an option, don’t jump into a decision too quickly! Always remember; there are things that can happen to you that are far worse than death. You’ll only die once! Then, no more pain. Think about THAT!

I’ll be back next week unless I have to face a joint replacement procedure. Also, in all fairness and truth relative to the pain of physical rehabilitation therapy, if I have to go through it, I’d definitely want to have Mistress Marylou in charge. She’s the BEST!

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.

Racism: There's nothing humorous about it.

By Joseph Walther

Unless you’ve been in a coma for the past 3-years or so, you’ve been hearing a lot about illegal immigration and the need to strengthen our border security. Even the most liberal-minded person in the country has to agree that this has become a serious national security issue.

However, like most other political discussions over the past fifteen years, this one has descended into the depths of the usual “righty/lefty” personal pissing contest, where the goal seems to be a competition to see which side can demean the other in the most effectively vile way.

Someone made the claim to me that it had become impossible to mention race in a discussion of the illegal immigration problem without the “far left” labeling it racist. Well, it could be racist, but maybe not. The point is that race need not be mentioned at all.

Regardless, though, given the diminished level of civil discourse in this country over the past twenty years, the mass media will emphasize the negatives of the matter by putting the worst possible spin on them.

Whenever race, alone, is the impetus for criticism, it IS racist. Relative to the immigration thing, the topic seems replete with racial innuendo. And, the stuff flies off the shelf from both sides of the political aisle.

The legal fact of the matter is that when people enter this country and reside without the proper authority, they are ILLEGALS. There are millions of them in the United States. They come from virtually every continent on the globe and consist of many different races and creeds.

I follow the illegal immigration reports on a daily basis. It is virtually impossible to find the topic discussed, outside of the most professional circles, without resorting to racial inferences, 99% of the time to Mexicans.

If you want to discuss illegal immigration, do it without making race the prime impetus. If a person wants to state that the bulk of the illegal immigrants along the California/Texas/Arizona border are Mexicans, it's not a racist statement, as long as the facts back it up.

However, blaming the "Mexicans," or any other specific race for that matter, for all of this country's illegal immigration woes IS as racist as the Ku Klux Klan blaming the blacks for every evil this country faces.

I am for stricter immigration laws. I make the point without bringing race into the discussion. Inadequate immigration laws have diminished the level of national security for all of us. I don't care where the illegals originate. It’s imperative that we, ALL of us, force our central government to secure our borders more thoroughly than in the past.

We permit the argument to descend into the pit of racism the second that we let inferences—often subtle—that it’s “race” causing the problems. It’s not. It’s the fact that we have failed to secure our borders…ALL of them. Neither race nor country of origin matter.

I’m on record as claiming that 75% of racism in this country is subtle and not intentional. All of my life, I’ve heard people preface a statement with, “I’m not a racist, but…,”then proceed to make a racist statement.

I’m 65-years-old, and I’ve heard this around 1,300 times during my adult life. The fact remains, though, that hatred based solely on race is racism, whether it comes from the Ku Klux Klan or the NAACP. Nor does it matter whether you intended it to be racist or not.

Crime statistics is another fertile breeding ground for racist conclusions. Illegal immigrants now seem to take a lion’s share of the blame in recent years. It used to be the blacks, though.

I’ve taught courses in Inferential Statistics. Black/white crime statistics have always been a prime way for me to get the point across.

For instances, in a given area, where blacks outnumber whites, it makes sense that the crime statistics will hold true along racial lines. More blacks will commit crimes and go to jail than whites. Saying so is NOT racist. It’s a simple statement of objective fact.

On the other hand, inferring that blacks are committing crime because they are black, IS racist.

If a region's population were 75% black and 25% white, I'd expect the crime statistics to break down along the same lines. More blacks committing crimes than whites, not because they are black, but because the blacks outnumber the whites 3 to 1.

For the same reason, I'd also expect to see more blacks apprehended and sent to jail than whites. But, given righteous arrests, if 90% of the apprehended blacks are convicted and go to jail, but only 10% of the apprehended whites suffer the same fate, it would seem to me that there is more at play here than legal guilt.

Overt racism in this country is a problem, but we can deal with it openly because reasonable people can see it for what it is. Conversely, subtle racism is a major problem, precisely because many of its practitioners don’t understand it as racism.

I always try to balance my articles with seriousness and humor. When it comes to subtle racism, though, there’s nothing humorous about it. I’ll be back next week.

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.

Bam! Oh crap, I've been wounded... in my self-esteem, I think.

By Joseph Walther

It’s all over, now! The “experts” have weighed in. They’ve concluded that, YES, parents CAN give their children too much self-esteem. It took many years, untold millions of dollars, and God only knows how many juvenile encounters with the police for these “experts” to reach this mind-blowing conclusion.

I came across an article in WebMD magazine. There’s a section of the magazine dedicated to Mind Matters. The article was titled, Brat Pack: Can children have too much self-esteem? I don’t know if she does all of them, but this article was reviewed by Patricia A. Farrell, PhD, WebMD mental health expert.

“Back in the 1990s, ‘self-esteem’ was a potent buzzword in parenting and educational circles.” This was the opening line of the article. It continued, “High self-esteem, the thinking went, led to high achievement in both school and relationships. Low self-esteem was thought to lead to problems such as substance abuse, teen pregnancy, crime, and poor scholastic performance.”

Virtually every gullible teacher in the public school system, young parents by the millions, and every behavioral shrink in search of a doctoral degree hopped on the “praise but don’t criticize” bandwagon. The bandwagon took off, reaching a break-neck speed, headed straight for only God knew where.

The bandwagon seems to have run smack, square into the brick wall of stark reality. The impact was so intense that there are ejected bodies and body parts strewn all over the roadway of life.

The bandwagon itself… well, it didn’t receive so much as a dent. It’s just sitting there awaiting the next stupid idea to come along. They’ll be no scarcity of passengers, either.

“But has the combination of too much self-esteem and ‘over parenting’ led to a generation of youth whose sense of entitlement far outweighs their actual abilities—never mind their achievements?” the article asked.

The article’s answer? “Some child development experts are beginning… Can you believe it? JUST beginning? to think so.” Note the word, “some.” I’ll come back to it.

These so-called “some” experts concluded that, “The commonsense understanding of self-esteem has been obscured by its over-application.” Note the word, “commonsense.” I’ll come back to that, too. No! Let me get to that one right now.

Good commonsense and gullibility cannot co-exist. The reason for this is that gullibility stems from ignorance. We can overcome ignorance through a willingness to learn. In the absence of such willingness, however, ignorance becomes abject stupidity, something far more difficult to overcome.

Abject stupidity becomes impossible to overcome when the teachers are as equally gullible as their students are and equally unwilling to admit this fact.

Unfortunately, psychologists are like economists when it comes to ego. If we locked fifty of them in a room and told them that we’d not allow them out again until they agreed on something, we’d never see the lot of them again.

The evidence of self-esteem overuse has become so apparent that even the most ardent adherents of the “praise but don’t criticize” movement should be able to see it. However, only “some” behavior experts admit to it. The majority still has not seen the light, and many never will.

Parents can literally destroy a child’s self-esteem early in the child’s life. I’ve seen it happen many times. However, these are parents whose own self-esteem was destroyed the same way. It’s a vicious cycle. It can be broken, but there are no easy fixes.

The reason that so many people jumped on the “praise but don’t criticize” bandwagon was because the “experts” failed to mention, let alone explain, the nature of building a positive self-esteem.

The prospects of praise, praise, praise, NEVER criticize, criticize, criticize, seemed so simple. Just do it this way, and the kids will turn out great. Wow! We got it all under control, now.

Most people with IQs of at least 95 have long known something about the human psyche. It’s this. Rational people cannot perpetually lie to themselves. They can rationalize. They can repress the truth. But, in the final analysis, they have to view the image in the mirror and come clean.

The moment that a human reaches the stage of self-awareness, age ceases to be an immunizing agent against such denial. Call it whatever you wish, but youngsters, even as young as grade school, know when they’re “dogging it,” which also makes them realize when their parents are being less than truthful with them.

Try as hard as you want, but you cannot make people feel good about themselves if they flat out don’t have their own justifiable reasons for doing so. Self-esteem is as much governed by internal feelings as it is by external agents.

In other words, kids, or whoever, have to experience the exhilaration of positive self-accomplishment before they feel good about themselves.

High levels of self-esteem occur in people who know that they’ve done their level best. If you have done your best to accomplish something and fail, it simply means that you’re not yet good enough. Whether you’ll ever be good enough depends on your self- honesty and determination to overcome your failings.

The parents of the ‘40s, ‘50s, and ‘60s, to some extent, knew this. They made sure their children had what they needed to succeed. They didn’t hand out pats on the back for doing things they were supposed to do anyway. They praised accomplishments, not with material things, because most of those parents didn’t have material things to hand out.

I remember my mother crying at my high school graduation. My father would have been crying, too, but he had already died. She didn’t have to tell me she was proud of me. She had control of the trust fund.

Let me give you readers an idea as to how the young people of my generation built our self-esteem. It was a tough, arduous job. We had to concentrate. One beer at a time and, perhaps, a joint or two. But it worked!

Throughout my academic tenure, I was quite intimate with the grade of “A.” I credit the beer. I must admit, though, that I had to socialize with a “B” a couple of times. I ran low on beer.

But, a “C,” never! This would have been caused by me running completely out of beer AND joints. I would have preferred to self-castrate myself with the jagged top of tuna fish can than let this happen.

The very thought of receiving an “F” constituted sufficient grounds for changing my identity and moving far, far away. This high-falootin attitude changed, though, the day I met Dr. Miller.

I HAD—we didn’t get to choose back then—to take a course in International Economics at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Finance. The professor’s name was Dr. Irvin Miller. He wrote the textbook we used. And, he was a member of President Lyndon Johnson’s Council of Economic Advisors.

In fact, one afternoon, a helicopter landed close by the Wharton School. Two big guys, wearing suits, with bulges at the side, came to our lecture room door and said, “Dr. Miller, the President is expecting you.” He left with them without so much as an EEXXXCCCUUUSSSEEE ME! Yeah, BIG WHOOP! That’s what I thought, too.

Of all of the grades that I received as a student, I’m proudest of Dr. Miller’s “C.” I consumed hundreds of gallons of beer, smoked joints by the hour, took thousands of aspirin tablets, and a boatload of NoDoz extra strength pills in my quest to receive it. I even drank a cup of coffee!

On the other hand, we made the man use gallons of red ink on our papers, most of it on mine. Of course, he always blamed me. He had it in for me because of it.

God! I HATED that course, and not just THAT course. I grew to hate the entire field of Economics, ALL Economics professors, and ALL Economics majors. I now hate ALL schools of Economics in every university throughout the world.

If they had to give a university an enema, guess where they’d stick the tube? My guess is that it would go right up the Department of Economics.

Happy, now Professor Miller? Screw you; I passed your stupid course. I hope you’re dead! I not only hope you’re dead, if there’s an afterlife and a hell, I hope you’re there and you have nothing to drink but RED INK! Choke, you lousy bast…

Um, sorry… I guess that’s been building up for quite some time. Anyway, passing that course did wonders for my self-esteem. Sexual ecstasy pales in comparison. Although, it’s an awfully close second.

What made it so satisfying is the fact that I beat that overbearing, egocentric, self-anointed god and, I did it all by myself. I still don’t know Jack about International Economics, but I don’t care!

All of you behavioral experts need to pay attention here. This is what self-esteem is all about, doing your level best and passing some white-haired, old, ivy-infested, Ivy-League-tenured old coot of a professor’s course. I mean, the old fart even had the audacity to expect the right answers to his stupid test questions.

And, while I have your attention, here’s something else you need to understand. I have it on good authority that substance abuse is primarily caused by a fear of studying. Teen pregnancy is caused by too much unprotected sex. Crime is caused by the rising prices of both drugs and sex. And, poor scholastic performance is caused by too little sex. Low self-esteem has NOTHING to do with it. I’m pretty sure Dr. Miller said so, too.

It’s a vicious, never-ending economic cycle. This much I learned from Dr. Miller’s International Economics course. It’s the same problem all over the world. So, if you’re going to place blame for low self-esteem, put it where it belongs: in our universities’ Economics Departments.

Now that we’ve settled this issue. I’ll be back again next week. I’ve been sort of wrestling with the concept of size; you know… whether it REALLY matters. God, I hope not. Now, there’s something that’ll knock the crap out of a guy’s self-esteem!

Joseph Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. Copyright laws apply to all material on this site. Send your comments. Just click here.