MOMENTS IN TIME : JANUARY 1, 2000

A REFLECTION

Sometimes memories return to me with uncanny clarity. It is not just the clarity that strikes me. More often I wonder why certain memories return to me so long after the event. After all, of all the things I have experienced in my life, why would one day's details suddenly reemerge? What triggered it? And then a more vexing thought crosses my mind: As clear as my memory seems to me, perhaps reality was very different from what I remember? Who can say now? That is one reason why memory fascinates me so much. It is exquisitely subjective. It seems real, but only to ourselves.

I got up this morning and suddenly remembered December 31, 1999. On that day, I worked from morning to night and beyond. Back then, I was a 22-year-old kid with a "bowl haircut" and a jean jacket. I wore ripped $30 pants for days at a time. I was a college senior who memorized Nietzsche quotes without fully comprehending them. I basically had no money; my mother gave me about $20 a week to spend. So starting in 1997 I worked as a DJ to make a few extra bucks. Much to my good fortune, I met a much older guy named Joe who had been DJ'ing parties around the city for decades. He used to tell me stories about going home with women after disco parties in the 1970s. He was a Vietnam veteran and--to be kind--rather eccentric. He lived alone in a food-strewn apartment on 122nd Street brimming with records and 5 or 6 yappy Chihuahuas (one or two died over the years; but a few more were born, so I can't remember the exact number). Basically, the place was squalid. But somehow Joe kept getting gigs and holding his life together really well. He kept a zillion post-it notes all over his bedroom to remind him to do this and that each day--and he always got it done. For years, we worked really well together. He farmed me out to jobs he couldn't do and I gave him a cut of what I made. Plus we became really good friends.

Both Joe and I knew that New Year's Eve on Y2K would be a gangbuster night for DJ's. After all, everyone was partying that night. Some people thought the world was going to end. I knew it wouldn't. But it was an unprecedented atmosphere. And most importantly, entertainers like us were in demand that night. So we could charge huge fees and we knew people would pay. We could name our price for a change.

Joe wound up scheduling a $2000 job. At the same time, he booked me a job for $1800. We agreed I would get $1500. He would take a $300 commission. That seemed fair to me; in fact, I was thrilled. For a kid who wore torn pants and got $20 a week to spend, $1500 was a treasure trove. I could live the whole semester on that--and all for just one night's work.

I remember the job exactly. We did it in a brand new loft apartment on 21st Street near 6th Avenue. Some nouveau riche woman and her husband were throwing a party. Joe and I drove down to the apartment the morning before the gig to set up. Joe drove a virtually unroadworthy mid-80s Chevy station wagon. It had no muffler and a pretty disgusting, food-like crust clung like a glaze all over the interior. The car had roaches. And Joe stuffed in so many speakers, wires, amps and record crates into it that I was amazed the bumper didn't scrape the pavement as we drove. In short, despite all appearances, Joe was a master of limited space management. The cops never pulled the jalopy over, either.

I remember schlepping all our equipment two flights up to the apartment. The woman and her husband were frantically decorating the place and setting up long tables for the hors d'oeuvres. I had a few words with her. She said she liked hip-hop and R&B. I said that was great because "that was my specialty." She seemed to like me. She didn't seem to like Joe too much, though. After all, at first glance he looked really gruff and he spent his time hauling speakers and wires all over the place. He was always polite and even charming. But he just didn't look the part. Some customers really used to treat him badly, and that hurt me.

After we set up the equipment, Joe and I sat in the car for a few minutes and talked about the plan for the evening. I would show up at the gig and do my thing. He would go to his gig and do his. Then he would pick me up from my gig and I would give him his cut. We would drive back uptown together and call it a night around 4 AM. It was a good plan. We then went our separate ways.

I remember the party went very smoothly. I got to play the music I wanted. The crowd was easy and did not complain. My DJ station faced east; the crowd looked west out the windows over 6th Avenue. Joe set up the lights and I controlled them with a little hand console. It took a while for the alcohol to get the party moving; eventually it did. I started off playing 70s funk and rare grooves. That gave a nice ambiance to the early part. Later, people started asking me to play hip-hop and assorted Top Ten pop. I obliged. I remember one Asian chick kept asking me to play Lauren Hill's "That Thing" over and over again. That tune always generated a huge crowd response, so I waited to play it until the place was really hopping. I kept telling her "it was in the pipe." She never quarreled with me; she just kept going back to her friends and dancing.

Before midnight, nervous excitement came over the room. People started wondering aloud whether the world would end at 12:01. I remember people throwing their drinks and hooting in the minutes leading up to midnight. I also remember looking outside and seeing helicopters flying low over the city with spotlights on. There was a lot of honking and yelling on the street below. I could hear it even over the music. Finally, 12:01 came. Nothing happened. A huge cheer went up on the dancefloor. Then the party went into overdrive. "Hypnotize," "Walking on the Sun" and "Backstreet's Back" were particularly popular that night. Oh, and of course "Groove is in the Heart" and "It Takes Two" made everyone move, too, even otherwise respectable-looking bourgeois with jobs: I always laughed when I saw white bankers singing along to rap songs. But by that point at the party, the alcohol was guaranteed to make everyone dance, no matter what was playing. Even so, as a DJ, I felt like I had accomplished something. Lots of drunk, happy people profusely thanked me for "all the great tunes" as the evening approached its end. It was always a nice perk to get compliments, even if the partygoers were fall-down drunk and virtually incoherent.

At about 3 AM, Joe showed up from his party. People had already started to leave. Beer and broken plastic cups littered the dancefloor, along with squashed finger foods and dirty napkins. Everyone was shouting, hugging, hooting, caressing and laughing. The mood was very good. Almost all the food was gone and the wine was running low. Joe went over to the hostess and whispered to her. She then came over to me and told me it was OK to start wrapping up.

Within 30 minutes, almost everyone had left and I stopped the music. The house lights came up. Joe started breaking down the lights and sound equipment. I chatted with the hostess for a while. She complimented me in the highest terms, even though she was utterly shitfaced. I still felt like I had done a good job; for my part, I did not touch a drink that evening. I had a few Sprites and some ice water. Finally, the hostess pulled out an enormous wad of $20 bills and handed it to me. I thanked her. She went away and I started helping Joe move all our stuff downstairs. Meanwhile, the hostess and her husband started brushing trash off the floor with two big push brooms.

It took us a good 30 minutes to haul all our stuff downstairs. We loaded it into the car and--once again--got it all to fit. After that, Joe and I shook hands and congratulated each other on a job well done. I handed him his $300 commission. Then he headed back uptown and he dropped me off at my dorm on 114th Street and Riverside. I wished Joe a happy new year and thanked him for being so generous to me. He said no problem and drove off into the predawn darkness.

I went upstairs to my room on the fourth floor. There was no way I could sleep after the night's toils. It was about quarter to five in the morning, January 1, 2000. I walked over to my single-size mattress. I took the enormous cash wad from my pocket and laid all the money out on the bedspread. I was in awe: $1500 in cash, all for me. I never thought I could ever make that much in one night. It was unbelievable. What a way to start the new year, the new decade, the new millennium. I felt like life could not get any better than this. I even felt that time had suddenly stopped, as if I could never get older, that this moment would last forever. After all, it was the year 2000! To that point in my life--indeed, in everyone's life--it had always been the 20th Century. I couldn't really fathom that life would go on as it always did. On that night, time froze as I sat there ogling my massive money pile. For a few hours, I felt utterly invincible. I felt that I controlled time and that I would never age.

I was hungry. I went out to get some food at Tom's Diner. It was extremely quiet. All the partying was over. A few stragglers appeared here and there, but that was it. I saw a few "2000" party eyeglasses in a trash can. It was still dark. As I headed down Broadway, a New York Times truck pulled up and a man tossed out the morning edition. I bought one. It had an unforgettably bold headline: 1/1/00. Underneath, in typeface almost as big, was a headline saying that Russia's President Yeltsin had resigned. A new man, Putin, was taking over.

Wow, I thought, everything was looking up! It was a fresh new morning in a fresh new millennium. I had $1500 in cash and there was a new Russian President. One era ended. Another was dawning. Time stood still and I was in control.

Then I went to Tom's and ordered a shake and fries. I stayed there for a while. I let myself get tired. Finally, I headed back to my dorm to go to sleep. It was dawning. Time for bed. It was a good night.

I still have never made that much money in one night as I did on January 1, 2000. I think that's why I remember it so vividly. It felt really good.

Too bad life got harder after that. But on that night, I didn't think anything could ever go wrong.

CELEBRATE BLACK HISTORY MONTH : DRINK HEINEKEN

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

You might think that title is a joke. It isn't: I actually saw it printed on a New York City bus.

I thought I had seen everything in advertising. I thought I had cataloged every species of commercial dishonesty. But I should never underestimate commercial speakers: Their innovation knows no bounds. They push the limits every time. And in cases like this, they push straight into the surreal.

What the fuck does Dutch beer have to do with African-American identity and history? How does Heineken in any way relate to the black experience in the United States? How does Heineken reflect this country's poisonous racial legacy, or in any way symbolize it? I have no doubt that many African-Americans like Heineken beer. But would an average black man in America instinctively associate Heineken with black issues?

I can understand associating George Washington Carver, Crispus Attucks, Martin Luther King, Jr., Scott Joplin or even Snoop Dogg with Black History Month. All those men achieved prominence in American life through the decades. But Heineken? Where was Heineken during the Freedom Marches? Where was Heineken during the Civil War and Reconstruction? And where the hell was Heineken during the L.A. race riots?

Heineken is not African-American. It is not even a person. It is a beer. What role could it possibly have played in a Nation's development?

To suggest that blacks should celebrate their history in the United States by breaking open a Heineken is just asinine. After all, it was a Dutch merchant who brought the first African slaves to Virginia in 1619. That's not to say that Heineken reflects modern Dutch views about slavery. But the fact remains that the Dutch played a very dark role in the history of American slavery. In that light, it is especially perverse to suggest blacks should celebrate their history by drinking Dutch beer.

Heineken's ad is not just historically incongruous. It also shows just how little taste--or sense--most advertisers bring to their work. In this case, the advertisers did not ponder the embarrassingly weak connection between African-American history and Heineken beer. No, they merely identified a potential market (i.e., African-Americans), then matched their product to an important month in the "African-American calendar." Perhaps Heineken intended to forge a mental link between "African-American pride" and Heineken. Perhaps they wished to dupe African-Americans into believing that Heineken played a substantial role in their history. Maybe Dr. Dre likes Heineken. Maybe Duke Ellington drank it after his shows in the 1940s. Who knows?

Heineken simply concluded that African-Americans represent a "market:" Namely, a discrete body of potential buyers and sellers at a particular time and place. Any advertising that incites a market to spend money on the advertiser's product is worth the price. It does not matter if the message is crass, off-color, inappropriate, incorrect, counterfactual, counterintuitive, silly, ridiculous or just wrong. Those concerns pale next to the advertiser's mandate to generate profits.

In the end, advertising is not about consistency. It is not about respect, either. Rather, it is about implanting mental connections so that people spend money. In advertising, facts need not be accurate. Indeed, facts are not even necessary at all.

And taste? That's the least concern. If taste mattered, what self-respecting student of American history would dare to assert that Heineken beer has anything to do with the plight of African-Americans in this country? The thought is almost too embarrassing to entertain.

But that didn't stop Heineken from entertaining it. There is no shame--or dignity--in commerce.

That's another reason I'm not good at it. Damned ethics!

LAW OR MORALITY? THE PROBLEM WITH UNDERAGE DRINKING LAWS

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

Several days ago, I saw a curious poster alongside the usual commercial garbage on 22nd Street. Next to a print ad for Lady Gaga's new album and a placard about McDonald's meal deals stood this message: "The Legal Drinking Age is 21. Do Your Part This Christmas. Don't Give Alcohol to Teens." The poster showed a wine glass with a Ghostbusters-style red circle around it; a red diagonal line crossed out the glass. On the bottom appeared the following slogan in stern capital letters: "Serving Alcohol to Teens : It's Unsafe. It's Illegal. It's Irresponsible."

What made this "ad" so curious? Several things. First, it was not a commercial message. Most "ads" are crass commercial messages that aim to excite an urge to buy in the viewer. They communicate selective information intended to entice a person to spend money and enrich the speaker. In short, advertising is about making money. It is morally indifferent. In fact, it is morally destitute. Morality and commerce have little to do with one another. A dirty dollar is still a dollar. And people with more dollars are stronger than those with fewer dollars, dirty or not.

In traditional terms, then, this message against underage drinking was not an "ad" at all. It did not aim to excite an urge to buy in the passing viewer. No, it aimed to evoke a moral impulse; it beseeched people not to buy alcohol for people under 21. It asked people to refrain from commercial activity. If an advertising firm came up with a campaign that asked people to refrain from buying the product, it would go out of business faster than you can say: "Madison Avenue." In that sense, this message to stop underage drinking was not an "ad." It was an anti-ad.

But what good is an "ad" if it does not propose a commercial transaction? Can "ads" also promote morality? This one certainly tried. As long as an organization coughs up cash to buy posters or airtime, they can say basically whatever they want. It is their choice whether to say something that will generate no profit. Advertisers generally only advertise commercial stuff because it has the potential to create profits. And no one does anything in business that does not attempt to make money. Morality does not create profits. You can't buy it and it's not very exciting. Face it: It's easier to sell Dewar's than chastity.

In this light, we can conclude that some nonprofit organization paid for this message. It did not intend to make money with its speech. Rather, it aimed to foster public morality. Of course, the poster never uses the word "morality." In fact, everyone who supports underage drinking laws rarely speaks the word. Rather, they couch the issue in legal terms. The poster, for example, references the law twice: "The legal drinking age is 21;" "It's illegal to give alcohol to teens." It is easy to make a law; you just need a majority vote at the State house. But the underlying message here is moral, not legal. And it plays upon the popular confusion between law and morality.

People always mistake the law for morality. Morality existed among human beings before law. Morality refers to the average man's sense that something is disgusting or intuitively objectionable. It has more to do with popular social values than reason or abstract truth. Men created laws to embody their moral judgments, but law never could--and never will--supplant morality. In fact, the law is supposed to be morally neutral. It is supposed to operate according to pure reason and extrinsic evidence. Morality, by contrast, appeals to deep-seated intuitive prejudice against particular conduct within the dominant value system. When enough people in a society think something is disgusting, they call it "immoral." And that judgment passes down across generations. They don't need to verify it. They just need to feel it.

Still, people have more outward respect for the law than morality. It sounds more official. After all, the law has sovereign power behind it. It can attach bank accounts, imprison bodies and garnish wages. People fear those consequences. Morality, by contrast, is more basic than that. Morality informs almost everything a society does. Law simply represents the society's effort to assure a minimum baseline of behavior consistent with the dominant moral code.

Law enforces morality. The sovereign enforces the law with penalties on the body and property. But unlike morality, there are practical problems associated with enforcing the law. The sovereign cannot punish everyone for every illegal or immoral act that occurs. And there are some immoral acts that are not even illegal. The law must verify acts before it can punish them. That is not always easy.

Why, then, did the underage drinking poster harp on "illegality" in connection with serving alcohol to teens? After all, the overall message was a moral one. On a basic level, Americans have a troubled--and borderline schizophrenic--relationship with alcohol due to their cultural and religious heritage. The same cultural forces that culminated in Prohibition remain at work today in American society. Hostility toward alcohol is a moral judgment; it has to do with social values and disgust, not reason. Americans have always embodied their moral judgments about alcohol in law. The law gives official expression to their traditional moral queasiness on the subject. But to be abundantly clear, hostility toward alcohol--especially when coupled with children--is a uniquely American moral judgment.

Consider the interplay between law and morality in the poster. Even without understanding America's long history with regard to morally-nuanced alcohol regulations, the poster's own language reveals the connection. It says: " Serving Alcohol to Teens : It's Unsafe. It's Illegal. It's Irresponsible." It draws a linguistic connection between "illegality" and "irresponsibility." Strictly speaking, it is not "illegal" to be irresponsible. In American cultural parlance, however, "responsibility" is a sweeping moral judgment. It refers to "proper living" according to dominant social morals. That means acting and thinking in a certain way, especially when it comes to recognizing obligations and power relationships.

But "legality" is a technical inquiry. Unlike morality, the law must be specific in its prohibitions. Any aggrieved mother can complain that her child is "irresponsible" because he is not "living correctly." Yet that does not mean the child is acting "illegally." Legal violations must match specific language. They must be investigated and proved according to objective procedures. Yes, it might be irresponsible to violate the law. But not all "irresponsibility" is illegal. If it were, virtually everyone would be a criminal.

It is significant that the poster equated legality with responsibility. It forges a direct thematic connection between law and morality. In most cases, the average viewer has no idea that the two concepts are distinct. He simply assumes that all laws are moral, and that moral people are responsible. That assumption is false. Yet the law benefits from the false assumption because morality acts as a sort of "self-executing enforcement mechanism." After all, people stop themselves from acting in a particular fashion when they think it is "immoral." No law constrains them. Rather, innate cultural conditioning influences their decisions. If the law can harness that innate cultural conditioning, it can successfully thwart certain behavior before it happens. And from the law's perspective, whenever someone refrains from prohibited behavior, it has done its job. If morality helps enforcement, then the law will appeal to morality. It does not matter that the law has no power to shape individual morals.

At this point, however, a substantial problem arises: What is so immoral about serving alcohol to a 20-year-old? Or even a 14-year-old? This suggestion might arouse revulsion in the typical American listener. But that shows once again that underage drinking is essentially a moral issue. After all, Americans somehow feel queasy when they think that children are drinking alcohol. That reaction is a cultural. It has survived for generations.

And it is not a universal reaction. People in European Nations, for instance, do not flinch to serve alcohol to teenagers. There is no dominant public rhetoric that equates underage drinking with illegality, irresponsibility and "evil." Quite the contrary, life goes on in Germany, France, England and Holland quite well, even when 16-year-olds sip beer--even in public. Society does not collapse. The sky does not fall. And religious leaders do not spread hellfire for it.

In my mind, this illustrates the point that American concerns over underage drinking are essentially moral concerns. No matter how much public rhetoric couches the debate in legal terms, the fact remains that Americans just don't feel culturally comfortable with the idea that teenagers are drinking. It is a question of cultural heritage, not wise policy.

Of course, those who support widespread bans on underage drinking will never say that morality motivates them. In fact, they probably do not even realize that it does. Instead, they point to safety statistics and other supposedly "neutral" indicia to show a "practical" reason why teenagers should not drink. Because fewer teens die in alcohol-related accidents, they say, underage drinking bans are good laws.

I think this is a dishonest argument. If safety were really the main objection to alcohol, Prohibition should still be in effect. Alcohol causes untold damage to countless lives every year, not just among teenagers. It causes thousands of accidents. It ruins families. It leads to violence, disruption and turmoil. Why protect only children from those hazards? If a legislator identifies negative social consequences that flow from a particular behavior, he should ban that behavior in toto. Only a fool would argue that alcohol does not cause myriad social problems. Yet for some reason Americans tolerate those consequences among adults, but refuse to tolerate them among children.

At this juncture, it is hard to escape identifying some hypocrisy in the clamor over underage drinking. After all, the essential argument against underage drinking is to ensure safety. But if safety were the ultimate goal, then all alcohol should be banned, not just some. Yet despite Americans' moral qualms about underage drinking, they sure love to drink. So all their talk about safety goes out the window because they want to keep drinking. They can be "responsible" with their drinking, even though experience shows that alcohol continues to ruin lives on a daily basis. Yet they have the gall to label underage drinking "immoral." Immoral for some, but not for them? This is deeply problematic. And it renders all opposition to underage drinking disingenuous.

Let's be honest about alcohol. Everyone likes it. But there is a cultural tradition in America that teaches against it. That tradition forms a moral baseline that enables Americans to say with a straight face that underage drinking is bad, while "legal" drinking is good. All drinking creates pernicious social consequences. Yet legislators--and popular moralists--only ban it among children. In my view, this makes little sense. If you identify a social problem, you should root it out wherever it appears, not just in a subset.

But I ask too much. American morality is a complicated thing; there's no sense applying logic to sort it out. Let's just try to separate it from law. No matter how much we hear about "legal" drinking in America, the whole debate is really just a moral battle. And moral battles are never logical.

VLADIMIR PUTIN ON TIGER WOODS

СЕГОДНЯ ИЗ МОСКВЫ

By : Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, Prime Minister of the Russian Federation; Former President of the Russian Federation (2000-2008); Former Chairman of KGB State Police, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics; Outdoorsman; Certified Judo Expert.

Иногда я совсем не понимаю этих американцев. Sometimes I completely do not understand these Americans. Earlier this year I wrote how silly it was that they wasted valuable State news service time covering--I believe I say this correctly--"R/B Star" Chris Brown. This Chris Brown supposedly beat self-proclaimed American Cultural Ambassador to Barbados named Rikhanna. For a brief moment, I thought my comments would lead the Americans to believe that they should attend to more pressing matters. I, for example, took the opportunity to move Russian troops closer to our border with Lithuania and Latvia. After all, at that moment, the Americans were distracted wondering whether this criminal boy who wears "bling" ("блинг") and sings soul rendition called "This Christmas" actually struck Cultural Ambassador of Barbados. Ну же, у меня права не был. Oh well, I was wrong. No, these Americans again waste all energy talking about--do I say this correctly?--black star of golf (чёрное звёздо голфа), Tiger Woods, who cheats on wife, the Swedish woman named Nordegren.

Here was my reaction when I heard about this latest American "scandal:"

Americans now hear that the Tiger Woods is untrue to this blue-eyed, ice-cold Swedish wife. They even hear that the Tiger Woods has several mistresses, including good-looking models and temptresses. The newspapers spend great amount of time discussing phone calls between the Tiger Woods and other women. They say that the Tiger Woods is womanizer. They say he drinks alcohol and takes medication pills when he is not sick. Newspapers in America say that the Swedish woman named Nordegren knew about affairs of the Tiger Woods and hit him with a golf club because she was angry about it. She now has returned to Sweden.

Мы Русские тоже знают o шведском предательстве. We Russians, too, know about Swedish treachery. Those dirty blond-headed barbarians from the North twice invaded our motherland and destroyed many Russian villages. Swedes are icy, aggressive, tall and violent. We Russians do not trust them. The Tiger Woods should have expected that this Nordegren would attack him sooner or later. That is a very Swedish thing to do. Because of Russian history with Sweden, I am not surprised that this Nordegren smashed the Tiger Woods with golf club.

Но и что? But so what? What's the big deal with this Tiger Woods and beautiful women? So what if he slept with brutal Swedish temptress and assorted ladies of Las Vegas? So what if black star of golf drank too much liquor and crashed car? In Russia, men sleep all the time with women, drink and crash cars--or at least fall off horse-drawn carts. No one thinks anything of it--or any less of the man. Жизнь, женщины, алкогол. Life, women, alcohol. This is a man's existence in Russia. So he gets drunk and sleeps with women. His wife beats him because he is a drunken idiot. Is this a world-changing event? Конечно нет. Of course not; it happens every day over here and we just keep living until alcoholism kills us. And we certainly do not waste valuable State news service time condemning black stars of golf for something most men do in Russia: Drink and carouse.

But all this works to my advantage. While Americans look at half-naked pictures of Swedish woman named Nordegren, I will have time to negotiate secret military pact with Germany. Even new President Obama is too worried about the Tiger Woods to notice what I am doing in Eastern Europe and Central Asia. Let the Americans talk about Las Vegas ladies who travel festively in the Tiger Woods' automobile. As they wonder about the Tiger Woods' golfing future and endorsement opportunities with capitalist sports apparel manufacturers, I will continue massing tanks near Mongolia and Uzbekistan. Who will notice? The Americans are reading about the Tiger Woods and treacherous Swedish women named Nordegren. Россия им равна. They don't care about Russia. No, they don't care about anything except spring training baseball, new Kanye West music video, Hollywood blockbuster and next paycheck. Это удобно. Fine with me. Soon the Russian Empire will again reign over central Asia.

Американцы очень интересные люди. Americans are very interesting people. Many here in Russia simply say that they are stupid belligerent capitalist dogs. But I know that the question is more complicated than that. Yes, many Americans are stupid belligerent capitalist dogs--and fat, too. Yet that does not answer the ultimate question about Americans. Кто эти люди такие? Who are these people? Это ностоящий вопрос. That is the real question. They hold public figures to high moral standards, even when they do not observe those standards themselves. They live for riches, then criticize those with riches. They preach equality for all, yet they are content to see many of their citizens in terrible economic despair. They think about sex all the time, but they ridicule those who get caught having affairs. They say it is immoral to drink too much alcohol, yet everyone goes out and gets drunk on weekends. They promise freedom and justice to the world, yet fail to provide basic necessities to their own people.

Ух, у меня сейчас болит голова; я слишком долго думал о Америке. Ouch, now I have a headache; I've been thinking about America for too long.

Perhaps this Tiger Woods serves a function for us here in Russia. If we can understand why Americans spend so much time thinking about this black star of golf and his "problems," perhaps we can understand Americans. To us, the whole situation is silly, illogical, petty, superficial and insignificant. Yet it fascinates Americans. Perhaps that means that Americans, too, are silly, illogical, petty, superficial and insignificant because they care about it so much. You see, as Prime Minister of all the Russias, I must find reason in every situation, even situations that make no sense to a Russian.

Вот так! Сейчас это ясно. Look there! Now it's clear. Tiger Woods helped me understand the American spirit. For the longest time I simply could not figure out why Americans wasted all their time writing and reading about black star of golf. But now I've got it. I am always happy when I learn something about my adversaries. And this time I have made a great discovery: Because Americans spend valuable time on superficial, petty and insignificant matters, it means that they will never seriously attend to anything meaningful. That means I can continue absorbing former Soviet satellite Republics and no one will notice.

Even the President Obama will not notice me: He will instead decorate White House Christmas tree, pardon 44-kilogram turkey and participate in children's Easter egg roll on national lawn. Then he will read latest news story about hip-hop artist in trouble or Hollywood movie star in rehab clinic. Пусть он! Let him!

Earlier this year, I was not sure if Americans would change with this Obama as their President. I thought perhaps they would take an increased interest in my activities in Eastern Europe and Asia. After all, this Obama is significantly smarter than the Bush who preceded him. But thankfully I was wrong. They continue to fixate on silly stories about black stars of golf and--I believe I say this correctly--Little Jon (Маленький Джон) crunk (кронк) ringtones for overpriced mobile devices.

When the most powerful country on earth spends all its time worrying about such things, how can I go wrong? Спасибо, Тайгер Вудс! Thank you, Tiger Woods! You have indirectly influenced new Russian power in Europe and Asia.

Извините, но сейчас мне надо летать в Берлин. Excuse me, but now I must fly to Berlin. I am discussing secret arms cooperation treaty with the Germans. Once I complete alliance between Germany and Russia, no Nation in Europe will stand in my way. Спасибо, Тайгер Вудс! Thank you, Tiger Woods!

THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF EMPLOYED PERSONS WHO DEMAND PAID TIME TO GET DRUNK ON TUESDAY MORNINGS

POLITICAL PARTIES FOR A CHANGING WORLD

By : Mr. G. Horace Bierbauch, B.A., Office Administrator & Party Advocate; Record Holder, Michigan State Brewers’ Chalice Upside-Down Beer-Hose Competition.

Life is difficult for American workers. For two centuries now, workers have propelled our Nation to incredible success. We know how to get our jobs done. We show up every Monday morning and work every day straight until Friday afternoon. We even show up on the weekend if we need to. When we are not working, we try to take our minds off work with beer, ale, wine, spirits, shots and tequila. We need alcoholic interludes every weekend to keep focused on our work during the week. We work long weeks. Although we love our jobs and our tasks, we are tired. Put simply, weekends are not enough. We need more alcoholic interludes during the week.

Generally speaking, we never see midday light. We arrive at our offices in the morning, when the sunlight slants from the east, and we leave in the afternoon, when the sunlight slants from the west. Sometimes it is completely dark when we leave. Sometimes it is completely dark when we arrive; it depends on the season and how long we stay at work. But the bottom line is that we never enjoy ourselves on weekdays while the sun shines brightest. During those hours, we are dedicated to our jobs. During the brightness of day, our minds fixate wholly on our duties. If we find ourselves outside the office at midday, we feel that something is terribly wrong. On weekdays, the light tells us that we should be working, not enjoying ourselves.

Yet we cannot work effectively without enjoying ourselves at least a little bit. On weekends, we feel comfortable outside the office in daylight. We feel comfortable drinking under the midday sun for hours on end. Yet in those circumstances, we are far from work. We no longer dress in pressed suits, ties and slacks. We dress in shorts, flip-flops, sunglasses and T-shirts. We are not in copy centers or cubicles. We are on beaches, at barbeques, street parties, fairs, dance halls, wine bars, in bed or sitting on comfortable couches doing what we wish from moment to moment. Weekends rejuvenate us. But they constitute only 28% of the week. For the remaining 72% of the week—a very large majority—we find ourselves contending with deadlines, struggling to eat within a 45-minute break, typing brainless memos, avoiding irate bosses and attending sleep-inducing sales meetings. These times wear on us. Until Friday, we have no respite. During our work weeks, we often dream about our weekends. We wish we were outside in the midday sun drinking and walking in flip-flops. But here we are instead: Another day typing data into a spreadsheet in a button-down shirt for $15 an hour plus a few basic benefits and an air-conditioned office. Put simply, we are tired.

We need a midweek break. We, The National Association of Employed Persons Who Demand Paid Time to Get Drunk on Tuesday Mornings, believe that rested, relaxed workers are good workers. Alcohol helps us rest and relax. To that extent, we demand that our employers give us three hours every Tuesday to kick back, crack open beers and get utterly hammered at the office. We enjoy our jobs. We respect our employers. We just need a little time for ourselves while fulfilling employer objectives. Our weeks would be much more tolerable if we knew that we did not have to wait until Friday at 5 to start enjoying life. If we knew on Monday that on Tuesday we would have a whole morning to chat with our coworkers, down martinis, socialize, play drinking games, throw darts and eat free finger foods, the entire week would seem so much more bearable.

Traditionally, Tuesday mornings breed hopelessness in American workers. Unlike Wednesday mornings—the so-called “hump morning”—Tuesday falls into the dreaded “early week” category. As on Monday, Friday remains a distant dream on Tuesday. Workers must work incessantly for three more full days before even thinking about drinking, dancing, carousing and watching live sportscasts with friends. If things go poorly on Monday, Tuesday adds insult to injury. On a bad Tuesday, the worker can expect no end to the misery for days. This engenders hopeless despair, empty panic and dejection. By contrast, bad Thursday afternoons and bad Fridays impart some consolation: While things may be bad at those times, the worker knows that the end is near. That enables him or her to quietly bear workplace adversity in the knowledge that soon he or she will have 48 hours to drink and watch television as much as he or she wishes. Professionals may not have this luxury. Truly great employees work 7 days a week. But every American worker—whether a mail clerk or a senator—needs time for alcohol and escape. In this country, we work hard and we drink hard. That is just how we operate. It is hard to imagine how we would cope without alcohol.

We believe that a Tuesday morning alcohol break will invigorate employees all over America. Great companies understand that employees work best when their morale is high. Compensated beer parties at the office will raise morale, leading to more vigorous performance. Additionally, great companies understand that employees work best as a team. Allowing employees to get thoroughly bombed at the office will eliminate inhibitions between coworkers, resulting in increased team spirit, group ethics and camaraderie. Few things unite people more than alcohol. And the best companies effectively unite people to fulfill company goals. For that reason, midweek drinking sessions will boost company performance. When workers are happy, they work harder. When workers work harder, companies benefit. When companies benefit, the economy improves. When the economy improves, America prospers. In that sense, allowing workers to get plastered on Tuesday mornings will help America prosper. In dark economic times like these, we can think of no better way to get America rolling again.

Detractors claim that allowing workers to drink during work hours will harm company business. These critics note that intoxicated people cannot effectively answer phones, fill in order sheets, process documents, send mail or render advice to customers. We disagree. These critics fail to understand that most employment tasks at a modern American office do not require total sobriety. Making copies, collating papers, delivering mail, welcoming visitors, punching time clocks and writing letters can be accomplished whether dead drunk or completely sober. Furthermore, there is no substance to the argument that drunk people cannot effectively make phone calls or send written messages. We urge our critics to visit any local bar on a Saturday night. There, they will see that anyone—even unemployed people—can effectively engage in telephonic communication, send text messages and render cogent advice (ie, “It would be great if we, like, hooked up later at my place,” etc.) while irretrievably intoxicated. In short, allowing employees to get drunk at the office on Tuesday mornings will not affect everyday business tasks. In fact, drunk workers may actually perform their tasks with greater care than they would when sober, morose and depressed.

Tuesday morning beer bashes will solve many problems. Happy workers are better workers. Our critics fundamentally fail to understand this, even if happy workers slur their words, fall over furniture, grope coworkers, dump beer on the floor or inappropriately mimic sexual maneuvers while crunk-dancing with deputy supervisors. Alcohol does not substantially affect most office work-related duties. And more importantly, allowing workers an “escape” on Tuesdays will offer them a much-needed second-day break during interminable work weeks. Depressed workers help no one. They do not produce. They are not happy. They have nothing to look forward to. But Tuesday morning alcohol breaks will give even the gloomiest employees something to treasure at work. It will break their desperation and give them a reason to enjoy coming to the office. Again, happy workers are better workers. Happy workers are more loyal and more productive. What company wants moribund, pasty-faced, sad, depressive workers who unenthusiastically plod through company tasks for five days straight? Any reasonable employer would much rather have loyal, enthusiastic, dedicated employees who are happy to be at the office. An alcohol party on Tuesday mornings will make employees happy. That is why we demand time to get drunk at work on Tuesday mornings—it is in everyone’s interest.

We, The National Association of Employed Persons Who Demand Paid Time to Get Drunk on Tuesday Mornings, want America to prosper. Prosperity in America depends on happy, motivated, dedicated and loyal employees. The five-day work week is outdated. Workers need more than two days per week to drink and be happy. For that reason, we insist that workers receive a much-needed, work-related alcoholic interlude on Tuesday mornings. If workers have something to look forward to early each week, they will be more dedicated, more loyal and more productive all week long. They will associate work with “happy times.” And it is always better to have a smiling employee than a sad one.

When employees are happy, America wins. We can save our economy from ruin by making American workers happy to do their jobs. All it takes is a little time each week—and plenty of beer. Do your part for a better economy. Get drunk at work this Tuesday at 9:30 AM.

AMERICANS PREFER WORK TO DRINKING, POLL REVEALS

NEWS FLASH

NEW YORK—Contrary to popular belief, Americans actually prefer employment and work to drinking and fun, according to a recent poll conducted by InformationPayz, Inc., a leading survey bureau serving Fortune 100 companies. “It’s true,” said InformationPayz’ senior statistician, Mr. A. Anderson Spotts. “No fewer than 93% of Americans say they like their jobs more than beer, wine, schnapps and malt liquor.” Moreover, according to the study, this is not because Americans need money from their jobs. “All those polled said that income had nothing to do with their opinions about alcohol. We can conclude on that basis that Americans like to work more than drink—whether or not they depend on their jobs for necessary income,” explained Mr. Spotts.

Americans gave detailed reasons for their opinions. Their answers were remarkably consistent across all racial, social and economic lines. Whether wealthy bankers or low-wage janitors, Americans revealed that they enjoy the feeling they experience when they work more than the feeling they experience when they drink alcoholic beverages. According to pollee Mrs. Mary E. Bickford, a Caucasian secretarial assistant at a Newark, New Jersey real estate brokerage house: “Just getting to work every morning makes me feel all tipsy and happy. Being around copy machines, paper clips and bitter women in cubicles who complain about their children gets me all warm inside. When I watch the clock and eat my bologna sandwich in the windowless coffee room for 30 minutes each day, I just want to get up, dance, party and find eligible men. By comparison, booze is a cheap high.” At the same time, Mr. Clarence F. Jackson, an African-American Senior Financial Advisor at a major New York investment bank, said: “Commuting makes me feel great. I love waking up at 5 AM every morning knowing that I will need to sit in traffic for two hours listening to bad talk radio, receive castigation from angry drivers, pay $40 for parking then spend 10 hours in an office speaking to an automated phone system. Who needs whiskey when you have a job? Just being at work—or sitting in traffic getting there—makes me feel like I’m on top of the world.” Finally, Mr. B. Jeff Puttz, Esq., a senior litigator at Puttz, Puttz & Stickett, LLP, said: “Nothing can quite match yelling at legal assistants who don’t file things properly. For me, there is something euphoric about waving papers in people’s faces while telling them they will lose their jobs if they put color-coded dividers in the wrong place again. And what’s better than reviewing financial records? Even if we have a losing month, I don’t have an ulcer when I look at cash flow spreadsheets. I start slurring my words, smiling goofily and getting chatty with the receptionists. By contrast, shots and beer don’t make me feel nearly as good as I feel when I’m in the office.”

Americans said they love to work for its own sake. Although critics may find it easy to dismiss InformationPayz’ findings on the ground that Americans must work to pay their bills, Mr. Spotts explained that: “Our findings are guaranteed accurate. We spoke to a representative sample of Americans employed in every significant field. Statistically speaking, our findings cannot reasonably be debated. They reveal that Americans categorically enjoy work for its own sake, not merely because they need jobs to survive. Over 98% of those polled said that work made them feel alive, free, euphoric, giddy, erotic, frisky and ‘young again.’ By contrast, 99% of those polled said that the emotions they experience at work are far more positive than the emotions they experience while drinking. Although these pollees said that work makes them get up painfully early in the morning, endure gossip, plod through mind-numbingly boring assignments, face angry superiors and customers, ignore family and health, expose themselves to contagion, fight for space on subway trains, rush carelessly down streets to avoid lateness, eat poorly, develop various health problems such as hemorrhoids, indigestion, intestinal polyps and stiff necks, beg for permission to use the rest room, attend emasculating quarterly performance reviews, lie to supervisors concerning work progress, betray acquaintances in order to obtain favorable work credit and miss daytime baseball games, they all would prefer facing these challenges than cracking open an ale and getting drunk. “Work makes me feel alive,” said a bathroom contractor in Florida. “Nothing can match the way I feel when I bicker over an invoice. Even a pina colada can’t give me the feeling I get when my boss calls me an asshole and threatens to fire me for forgetting an envelope. It’s not about the money. It’s about doing what you’re supposed to do. No alcohol gives you the high you get when you do that.”

Many pollees echoed these sentiments. They said that work gave them a “sense of direction and purpose” in life, as well as “identity, camaraderie, cohesion and belonging.” Mr. Spotts analyzed the data as follows: “Americans like being part of a team. Over 99% of those polled said they approached their jobs as they would a sports event. These respondents said they enjoyed ‘helping the company win,’ or ‘playing their position,’ even if they receive poor pay for it. For these respondents, winning the game for the team gave them the best possible feelings.” At the same time, the data indicated that pollees generally considered “healthy team feelings” better than “drunkenness.” According to Ms. Maria B. Lopez, a checkout clerk at a Dallas, Texas supermarket: “Putting on my apron and nametag makes me feel like my life means something. I handle a lot of cash every day for the store but I know it’s not mine. I never think about stealing it; I don’t deserve it. It’s my job to make change, smile at the customers and ask if they are having a good day when they come through the checkout aisle. I only make $6.75 an hour but I love my job. My paycheck does not feed my kids, but I would not give up this job for the world. Does it beat drinking? Absolutely. Sipping a margarita and dancing in a club can’t compare to standing on your feet for 9 hours, suffering back spasms, repeating the same words to 500 customers and counting back change every day. Slamming shots can’t compare to getting screamed at by the assistant manager for talking to the lady who works in Aisle 5, or for coming up 2 cents short at drawer check time. I’m part of a team. I like what I do. I like helping my team win. Customer satisfaction beats drinking every time.”

InformationPayz recognizes that its findings may surprise some readers. After all, many readers may find it strange that Americans actually would rather work than drink. To some eyes, it appears that Americans do not want to be at work. To some eyes, it appears that they would rather be doing anything except working. “We often get that reaction,” said Mr. Spotts. “But appearances can be deceiving.” Mr. Spotts pointed out that InformationPayz never publishes misleading reports. He also explained that InformationPayz uses the most advanced statistical and survey methods, aided by several Yale-educated mathematicians. “The numbers don’t lie. And our polling methods are trademarked. They work. Guaranteed.”

What do the numbers show? Mr. Spotts said they show that Americans love work more than life itself. “Who can dispute that drinking makes you feel good?” queried Mr. Spotts. “If 98% of all Americans say they prefer work to drinking, does that not show that work makes them feel even better than drinking? In our professional judgment, we believe that Americans get a bigger high from service than from stimulating their senses with alcohol. This reflects that Americans enjoy acknowledging their positions in life, as well as their desire to identify themselves through their work. Americans like life the way it is. Drinking, by contrast, distorts reality and makes people momentarily forget their problems. The fact that most Americans prefer work to drinking therefore shows that Americans like their lives. The do not want to distort reality; they want to stay in reality. In reality, they are dutiful servants with a job to do. They feel belonging when they do their jobs. Drinking obscures those emotions. That’s why they prefer work to drinking. Americans like service. They like to listen to their bosses and get projects done. They like being part of a hierarchy and wearing nametags. They like commuting and suppressing their true feelings to avoid censure. The numbers show all these things. In short, Americans like reality. That is why they prefer workplace reality to drunken escape. And money plays no role in their preference.”

If Americans prefer work to drinking, what explains the fact that Americans complain about their jobs all week, then flock to bars, pubs and dance halls as soon as the whistle blows on Friday afternoons? Mr. Spotts reasoned: “Statistically, there is a tiny but vocal minority—less than 2%--who prefer drinking to work. These are the individuals who convey an impression that Americans would rather drink than work. In short, these ‘bad apples’ give all Americans an undeserved reputation for laziness. Additionally, even Americans who love work sometimes say they would like to drink, even though they do not really mean it. Experts from our psychiatric department advise us that this is perfectly natural. They inform us that all Americans are raised to respect their workplace superiors and to feel shame if they do not work. These entrenched values hold firm, even if an American employee may sometimes wish to suppress reality with alcohol. In short, these ‘passing desires’ to get drunk represent statistical aberrations. Even Americans who say they would ‘love to get plastered on Friday’ still love their jobs. If they were asked the question ‘Do you prefer beer to work?’ they would invariably answer ‘No.’ The mere desire to drink once in a while does not mean, in other words, that Americans intrinsically prefer alcohol to employment. In short, employment provides far more joy to Americans than beer, whether compensated or not. In short, employment fulfills the program to which all Americans aspire. Alcohol contradicts that program. That is why Americans reject alcohol for work.”

Americans do not like to drink because drinking induces unjustifiable pleasure. According to InformationPayz’ poll, Americans reject unjustifiable pleasures. Before Americans experience pleasure, 95% said that they must “earn” it through work or merit. Because alcohol produces pleasurable sensations without a “job” or “task” to complete beforehand, most Americans revile it. Respondent Mr. James G. Cork, a senior actuary at a Pittsburgh life insurance company, said: “I cannot feel good about anything unless I work for it. When I complete assigned projects at work, I feel terrific. But when I sit at a bar and drink tequila, what have I achieved? Who told me to drink? Not my boss. Basically, I cannot feel good about anything unless I first receive an order and carry it out properly. If I don’t deserve something, I don’t deserve to feel good. That’s one reason I love my job: I know I deserve everything I get, because I know who’s giving me orders. I know what my boss expects, and I deliver accordingly.” When it comes to pleasure, Americans believe that they must earn pleasure through hard work. InformationPayz’ poll reveals that they recoil from “cheap, unearned pleasures” like alcohol, sex, movies, amusements, games and parties. Mr. Cork put it best: “If I don’t receive an order to do it, I will not feel good about it.”

At Reason, Commerce, Justice & Free Beer, we believe in employment, just like the American people. InformationPayz’ studies provide a refreshing insight into American sensibilities about employment. Put simply, they confirm our abiding conviction that Americans love to work, achieve and win—as a team. Once again, fact contradicts cynics who believe that American workers watch the clock all day and secretly dream that they could be off fishing, drinking, dancing, carousing or just watching television. Fact tells us that Americans enjoy service. It even tells us that they cannot feel good about themselves if they are not serving someone in a superior position. From lawyers all the way down to checkout clerks, all Americans relish their jobs. They relish the spirit of achievement and hard work that makes this country great. Despite every contraindication, we now know that they actually prefer showing up at the office to showing up at the tavern—and money has nothing to do with it.

We salute every American who works for a living. Congratulations on living the dream. We do not live to drink; we live to work. After all, the numbers show one thing: Working makes us feel better than drinking. And who can argue with numbers?