Wednesday, November 30, 2005

twelve high-dollar days of christmas

Every year about this time, PNC Financial Services calculates the cost of the items in the Twelve Days of Christmas song. Those long time readers may remember my commentary on the numbers they presented last year. For those who may not remember, may not have been readers or just want to review those thrilling days of yesteryear, here his what I said.

http://jimboandhisfriends.blogspot.com/2004/11/twelve-days-and-sixty-six-large.html

Well, I read on their website today the updated numbers for 2005. Since they obviously went to a lot of trouble to compile these numbers, I thought it was only right that I include a link, so you can read their report, yourselves. Here it is.


http://www.pncchristmaspriceindex.com/pressrelease.htm



Not to rehash this too much, but you will remember that in the song, everything the protagonist gives his true love is repeated on consecutive days. For example, the first day it is a partridge in a pear tree. In addition to adding a new gift each day, in quantities increasing by the number of the day in the series, the dude repeats everything he has given before. Therefore, he eventually gives his true love twelve partridges in pear trees; two turtle doves eleven times, three French hens ten times, etc.

The aggregate cost of the individual gifts this year is a little over eighteen grand, an increase of 6.1% over last year. However, because of the generosity of the giver and the repetition of gifts, the overall cost of this operation is $72,608, an increase of 9.5% over last year. This is because some of the more expensive gifts are repeated quite a few times.

My first question is, what about this inflation our government tells us doesn’t exist? If it looks like inflation; sounds like inflation; feels like inflation and smells like inflation, then I contend it’s inflation. And what if the brother would have come across with some practical gifts like fuel for his true love’s car or some food, instead of dancing girls, musicians and birds? If our hero would have purchased items from the “volatile food and energy sectors” which the government leaves out of its core inflation numbers, we would have seen even more inflationary pressures. What if his gift the first day was a health care insurance policy? That poor dude’s wallet would be flatter than a pancake by the third or fourth day—and that is only if his true love was lucky enough not to have any pre-existing conditions.

Hang your head in shame, John Snow. Hang your head in shame. You too, Dubya. You two make the Grinch seem like a pleasant fellow.

It seems to me that inflation is eating us alive but our leaders are trying to convince us that everything is fine. They are trying to convince us that inflation is under control and our economy is booming and everyone is working.

The good part of this whole thing is that Jimbo’s girlfriend is a practical woman, and she would never want him to, or expect him to cough up the seventy-two large to come across with all of the crap that is described in the song.

We should all give our true loves practical gifts, but most of all we need to remember to tell them that they are our true love, and save the seventy-two grand for something like retirement.

At least that’s what we think in Jimbo’s world.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

a gift from the wise men

Jimbo has made mention, on occasion, that he is a working man. I’ve discussed my business travels, but I haven’t delved very deeply into my workday experiences. One reason I have stayed away from the subject of my employment is that I read early on about bloggers who commented negatively on their place of employ and were shown the door by management where they worked. I have a crappy job, just like most of the rest of you, but it keeps half of the food on Jimbo’s girlfriend’s table, so I didn’t want to take the chance of getting canned and not knowing where the next half of my meal was coming from.

The hell with that. Today it is work related and it is serious.

When I first came to the place I’m working, the Human Resources Manager told me the health insurance wasn’t very good, but she hoped we’d have something better next year.

They gave us the forms last week for enrollment in the health insurance plan. I noticed the premiums were going up, but it seemed a modest increase compared to the horror stories I had heard about companies suspending their plans or seriously ramping up their employees’ premiums. They sent some lady from the head office in today to explain our package and answer our questions about the plan. I would learn in that meeting that our premiums actually have gone down. This was sort of a new concept for me. My parents taught me that when you pay a certain amount for something and then the price is increased, that the cost of that item has gone up. I found out today that when your insurance premium increases, it means the premium for your insurance has gone down. Had I understood this concept better, it would have better helped me to understand why the price of gasoline went down so appreciably right after the twin hurricanes this fall.

Anyway, the premium increase—er, decrease—wasn’t that dramatic and I was fat and happy. That is, however, until they explained that our $250 deductible will now be $1400, and that our prescription co-pays will not go into effect until our deductible is met. For a family plan, the deductible is $2800. I work with a guy who is a single father of two and he was particularly concerned about the change. Because of the extra insurance cost, he and I and all of our fellow employees will be taking a dramatic pay cut at the first of the year. I guess this is our Christmas gift from the wise men that run our company. It reminded me of a little ditty I wrote last year around the Christmas season, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to link it. The link is below, with the caveat that it is a tad long.



http://jimboandhisfriends.blogspot.com/2004/12/gift-of-magi.html


Well, there you have it, along with all the best to the guys who messed up what little good health insurance I had. We wish them all a Merry Christmas, here in Jimbo’s world.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

on news media, doughnuts, lotteries and psychoses

On Sunday mornings Jimbo journeys forth to purchase the local newspaper and sometimes a half-dozen doughnuts. We like to read the paper on Sunday morning—especially Jimbo’s girlfriend—and we like to eat an occasional doughnut—especially Jimbo. On the way to the quickie mart, I pass a church that has one of those marquees out in front, white, with removable black letters behind a pane of glass.

The marquee usually has some sort of maniacal phrase on it. These are not verbatim examples, but rather a taste of the sentiment expressed on the marquee.

It’s easier for a camel to walk through the eye of a needle than for a gay to reach the kingdom of God

God loves us all, but he hates queers

Today, Jimbo made his usual journey to the quickie mart to acquire the news medium and the Krispy Kreme. On the way past the church, I noticed the marquee read as follows:

Why do you never see the headline psychotic wins lottery

That is a good question—a stupid question, but a good one. Perhaps they were too embroiled in their psychoses to find the time to play. Perhaps they were too afraid to play. Perhaps the newspaper was too busy to have them psychoanalyzed prior to going to print. Perhaps they were too busy putting letters on the marquee in front of their church and didn’t have time to buy a ticket.

All I know is that I bought a ticket, but I haven’t checked the numbers yet to see whether this prediction came true.

On the other side of the marquee it read as follows:

Too many people confuse loose talk with free speech

Yes, how true. My response to that is, please see other side.

One sees the strangest things when one circumnavigates Jimbo’s world.

Friday, November 25, 2005

shop until you drop

Today is a day that defines us as Americans.

Today is the day when millions of us get up early on a day we could sleep late, but we head off to the mall or the super center to plunk down our hard-earned money on those things we want or that we wish to give someone else. Today is the busiest shopping day of the year and all of the retailers extend their hours and reduce their prices in order to make it even busier. Some might say that this is evidence of what is wrong with America and evidence that we are taking Christ out of our celebration of Christmas. Many of you might assume that Jimbo would be among those making that criticism.

However, the truth of the matter is that our celebration of Christmas necessarily reflects who we are, and we are a capitalist country. Sure, we have gotten a little too materialistic, but as materialists, spending money on gifts for other people is our way of communicating affection. All of that spending helps to provide the fuel that keeps our capitalistic society running. The extended shopping day, today, puts a few extra dollars in the pockets of low-wage earning retail workers. Granted, it’s a shame they have to get up and go to work at an indecent hour, but capitalism, at its core, is not necessarily pretty, but effective.

At this point, I should slick back what is left of my hair, put on my dark suit and power tie and do my best imitation of Gordon Gekko and say that greed, for lack of a better word, is good and that the profit motive is what keeps most of us in business and working. Instead, I think I’ll remain in my pajamas, have another cup of java and tell anyone who will listen that I would never consider getting up before dawn and fighting the crowds. They’ll be plenty of time for spending later this holiday season.

My point, though, is this long shopping day is the starting point of the Christmas season. Celebrate Christmas the way you wish, and if it is your wish to go head-to-head with the shoppers today, then more power to you. Today doesn’t represent the totality of the holiday season, but it is a necessary aspect.

And, at the risk of pissing off a bunch of people on the religious right:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

Thursday, November 24, 2005

a hymn of thanksgiving

I’m thankful this morning we live in a country that can find its own way. I’m thankful we live in a country where the people are smart enough to govern themselves and will eventually do the right thing.

Sometimes I’m a little disappointed that we put the wrong people in power and that the special interests who put them there take it as their authorization to meld everyone into their own mindset. I’m thinking today specifically of Dubya and his many followers in the religious right. They have chosen to re-create us all in their own image, much as God did when he created man in Genesis.

I guess it’s pretty easy to agree with them when they talk about leading their lives according to the good book, and not to kill, to steal or to hate. We could all strive to live by that creed. We’ve all known Christians we could look up to and to whom we could aspire to lead our lives by their example.

Unfortunately, history is a littered with the corpses of the victims of Christians and other monotheists who used the symbol of the cross of Jesus or the Qur’an as their license to hate, steal and kill.

It seems as if Dubya and his followers have gotten more conservative in their emulation of their model, Osama Bin Laden. The truth is that they will never be more focused in the pursuit of their conservative ideals and the worship of their God as Osama is, because we are Americans and our constitution prevents it. Plus that, why would anyone want to be like Osama, anyway? He’s a jerk.

Sure, Osama’s religion puts women in a subservient role just as that of the Christian right. Osama hates gays just as much as they do. Osama is just as opposed to modern thought and new ideas as they are. The difference is that Osama really believes that the life we live is just a temporary detour on the way to the afterlife. We believe we are here for a reason and we plan to make the most of our time on this earth.

If you want to know why I am thankful today, it is because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I can see the evidence that at least a few people are trying to differentiate us from Osama and are distancing themselves from the religious right. Earlier this month, voters in Dover, Pennsylvania, voted out their school board, which was championing “intelligent design.” It happened on the same day the Kansas Board of Education approved new standards ensuring intelligent design will be taught in Kansas. I guess you could say, win some; lose some. When it came down to it, however, the people of Dover decided that in the final analysis, when we put morality and beliefs on the line, that we are not going to put our children at a disadvantage by not allowing them to be exposed to modern thought. A year of two from now, the voters of Kansas will come to the same conclusion and make the same decision.

Pat Robertson went on record suggesting the people of Dover turned their backs on God and God would do the same to them, if they ever needed him. I think Pat Robertson is as appropriate a spokesman for God as Osama Bin Laden is. If there is a God, I would like to think he would turn his back on Pat Robertson or Osama long before he would desert his people in Dover. But, there I go, putting words in God’s mouth, again.

Anyway, it’s Thanksgiving, 2005, and I hope yours goes well.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

more changes

When my blog became black a couple of months ago, I felt it reflected my “bad-boy” image and I felt it gave my blog a look that reflected my own personality. Those of you that know me are aware I’m kind of a rebel and a hard-guy. I’m a guy that is out of the mainstream, and what could be more like me than a totally black blog. It’s kind of like the Oakland Raiders. You may hate them, but you have to respect their blackness.

My son, who studied Advertising, as well as Business Administration, told me that there is a cardinal rule against an all-black page in advertising. Sure, the kid is a lot smarter than me, I thought, but this is blogging, not advertising, and I’ve been doing this a while. I know what I am doing. It turns out the boy was right. I spent some time this morning reviewing some of the Christmas-related blogs I did last year, because I will link some of them in December. After a while I thought, damn, this is hard on the eyes.

Although I predicted that my blog would change from time to time when I changed it to all-black, I didn’t think I would be changing this soon. However, for the sake of my eyes and yours, we have a new look this morning.

I’m sorry for any discomfort I may have caused.

the truman show

On November 14, 1959, a family of four in Holcomb, Kansas, was slaughtered by two men who came into their house to rob them. The murders, the capture of the killers and their ensuing trial and execution were the subject of Truman Capote’s non-fiction novel, In Cold Blood. The movie, Capote, was based on those events. Jimbo and his girlfriend saw the movie last night and I’m adding it to the recommended list.

First, I noticed a bit of a boner. At the very first of the movie they display the date and then fade to a field of ripe Kansas wheat. In Kansas we grow hard red winter wheat that is planted in September or October and looks like a field of green grass until about March of the following year. Sometimes farmers plant spring wheat, but it is harvested by September. Sure, wheat is a great symbol for Kansas, but we don’t have ripe wheat fields in November. Right now many of you are probably saying, “Picky, picky, picky.” All right, I’ll drop it.

The movie begins with Capote reading about the killings in southwestern Kansas and he and longtime friend Harper Lee travel to Holcomb so Capote can do research for a book. The following year, Lee’s novel To Kill A Mockingbird was published, making she and Capote two of the literary notables of the twentieth century.

Anyway, Capote, with Lee’s help and using his own fame and notoriety, is able to put himself into a position to get the details of the story from witnesses and law enforcement. When the agent in charge of the case is not forthcoming, Capote discovers the agent’s wife has read his work and uses his fame to get a dinner invitation, and therefore access to the agent in charge. When the suspects are arrested and jailed, he is able to gain access to one of them by leveraging his celebrity and a signed copy of a book. He is able to cultivate a relationship with that suspect, Perry Smith that lasts for several years and allows Capote access to information necessary to complete his book.

The movie shows Capote using his money and fame to “buy” the data he needs. When the murderers are convicted and go to death row at the state penitentiary at Lansing, Capote gives the warden an envelope of money so the “people of Leavenworth County” won’t have to absorb the expense of the author’s unimpeded access to the prisoners. Capote has frequent visits with Perry Smith over the next few years, while helping him obtain a lawyer for an appeal and doing other favors for the murderers. Capote is able to gain the confidence of Smith and able to probe the psyche of the convicted murderer by intimating to Smith that Capote is his friend. Perhaps Capote, himself, is convinced that the two are friends, but we are able to determine that it is a manipulative relationship. We see Capote tell Smith the things he thinks Smith wants to hear, and not hesitate to tell any lie he thinks will cement their relationship.

The one thing Capote wants to hear from Smith, however, is a detailed recounting of the night of November 14, 1959, which Smith will not tell. Finally, like the gold-digger that wants unfettered access to your bank account, Capote uses the “you’re not really my friend if you can’t tell me” tactic. Smith finally comes across with the details of the grizzly murders and Capote has his book.

Capote visits Smith on the night of his execution and is overcome with grief. He stands at the back of the room and watches with a tear in his eye like every Mata Hari or most any femme fatale, as Smith dangles from the gallows and eventually all movement stops. He speaks to Harper Lee on the phone and says he did everything he could to stop the execution, but was unable to do it. Lee tells him that is not true, that the execution was necessary for him to finish his book. Capote acted as if he may not have known it, but Lee did, and we knew it, too.

This movie was not funny; it was not lighthearted. It was, however, damned good. Philip Seymour Hoffman was spectacular in the featured role. Overall, the quality of acting was excellent.

For those of us old enough to remember Truman Capote as a raconteur, and a talk-show regular in his later years, who jabbered on about other celebrities, acted flamboyently gay, and accomplished little after writing In Cold Blood, this movie provides us an insight into his character. In a society where we don’t much care how something gets done, but what the results are, then Capote, as a writer, may have foreshadowed our times.

If the opportunity arises to see the movie, Capote, I say you should probably do it. Plus that, you won’t have to wade through an ocean of kids like at the Harry Potter movie in the next theater.

At least, that’s our view in Jimbo’s world.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

the cold hearts of crime

Years ago, while attending a state championship basketball game, I couldn’t help but notice there was a group of young men wearing matching “letterman-type” jackets—the type made of a fuzzy material with leather sleeves. Usually these are worn by members of the sports teams, with their letters sewn on to the front. I’m sure there is a name for the fuzzy material, but I can’t think of it and Jimbo’s girlfriend is, unfortunately, no help this morning.

Anyway, this group of young men were probably not sports lettermen, but they were likely all fellow members of some sort of a youth group. On the back of all of their jackets, in identical lettering, was the phrase “Cold hearts of crime.” I’m certain that was the name of their youth group. I’m guessing they probably celebrated their comradeship by doing helpful work around the community and supported civic causes.

I am reminded of that long ago spring evening today in reading two separate stories about cold-hearted bank robbers and their modus operandi. First, there is a woman in the suburbs of Washington D.C. who is robbing banks while talking on a cell phone. The story I read describes her opening her purse and showing the teller a gun and a note demanding money, all the while jabbering on a cell phone. Police may have connected her to several other bank robberies, where the robber was also chatting on a cell phone during the holdups. A police spokesman suggests she may be using the cell phone to look like everyone else.

I think this speaks unfavorably for our society as a whole. It is criminal how many people you see in malls and supermarkets and on the street with a phone pressed up against the sides of their heads. Doing it while knocking over a bank adds even more criminality to the act.

The other bank robber is operating in Canada and uses recipe cards to communicate his demands to the bank tellers whom he encounters during his caterwauling. One can assume his recipe cards call for a cup of flour, a pinch of salt and a wad of bills. Police say that they have connected him to thirty bank holdups, but they are closing the net on him.

One hopes that when the law catches up with these two desperados and they are put in the slam that their tools are taken away from them. Otherwise what prison is going to hold a woman talking on a cell phone? The guards will watch her walk by talking on the phone and it won’t occur to them to stop her from walking out the front gate. After all, who will suspect a woman talking on a cell phone of being up to anything. And once she is out, she’ll blend in with the surroundings.

And somewhere in a Canadian prison the bank robber will pass a recipe card to the guards with the following written on it:

“Guards,
Let this man go.
-the Warden”

I’m afraid it going to take an effort to keep these two behind bars and keep us safe from their cold hearts of crime.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

a year and counting

Today marks two anniversaries.

It was thirty years ago today that the Edmund Fitzgerald sank in a storm in Lake Superior. As Gordon Lightfoot sang in The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald:

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy.

I mentioned in my blog a year ago today about the demise of the Edmund Fitzgerald. That is the other anniversary. A year ago today was the first blog I ever posted. Those of you who are long-term die-hard readers may remember the short murder mystery that was included in that very first blog. Oh, that’s right. Most of you would prefer to forget it.

A lot of things have happened during the past twelve months. I started a new job and the company I work for is still in business (but for how long)? I moved into chez Jimbo’s girlfriend. Jimbo’s son graduated from college. I sold my house. I broke a finger on my right hand and I butchered a finger on the other hand.

Mostly, I’ve had a good time telling you what I think about things and I plan to keep doing this blog thing. Maybe by this time next year, I’ll figure out how to do this.

Anyway, thanks for reading and coming back for more.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

spiders and snakes

This week at work, someone made a comment to me about their pets and how close they were to them. I commented that Jimbo’s girlfriend and I have no pets or creatures around chez Jimbo’s girlfriend. I think I spoke too soon.

This morning, while assembling my blog about the coins, I had a confrontation with a wolf spider. At least, I’m pretty sure it was a wolf spider. One of the guys who was in here earlier this year giving a quote to spray for termites identified a similar spider as a wolf spider. They are scary looking bastards. Please observe the photo below. Or, at least it should be below when I get this thing organized. If it is someplace else, I apologize in advance.




wolf spider
Posted by Picasa
The spider walked up the wall next to my desk and gave me a nasty look. I don’t want to offend anyone who is an animal lover, but I took a junk mail envelope out of the trash, put in on the wall on top of the spider and smacked it. I somehow missed hitting him and he ran down the wall and hid behind my desk. I pulled out the desk and sent the spider to his reward with a shoe, repeatedly bashing him.

Then, this afternoon, we cleaned up the yard and I cut the grass. Afterward, when I was putting away the mower, I noticed a dead snake at the front of the garage. It appears he made a dash for freedom or a dash inside out of the cold one night this week and only got as far as the garage door, where he met an untimely fate. It looks as if he was crushed by the door on the downward cycle. I looked up the snake on the internet and found some that looked like he did. Their countenances are below, again if I get this thing laid out correctly.





ringneck snake
Posted by Picasa

yet another ringneck
Posted by Picasa

I've read the wolf spiders aren't deadly, which is good. I also read the ringneck snake is not poisonous but will bite viciously. I hope the snake is indeed a ringneck and not an eastern diamondback rattlesnake, or that deadly little bastard that Aldo Ray had in the movie We're No Angels.

All of this had led me to rethink my statement of earlier in the week. While we officially don’t have any pets, it appears we have more critters around here than Ellie Mae Clampett.

Now all we have to do is get us one of those cement ponds.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

a penny, a quarter and heartbreak


a penny and a quarter. heartbreak is more difficult to picture
Posted by Picasa

Jimbo has money on his mind, this morning.

Many months ago, when it appeared my house was sold and I was going to have a few pesos in my pocket, I saw a desk at Nebraska Furniture Mart that I decided I wanted to buy. I made the leap of the imagination that if I were to have a nice desk on which to keyboard, the quality of my weblogs would improve. The desk was too expensive just to grab a wad of bills out of my pocket and throw them on the counter, but they had a “twelve months, same as cash” payment plan that would have eased the pain of the financial outgo.

Last weekend, after the sale of my house was finally completed, and I had a few coins jingling in my pocket, my girlfriend and I went back to look at the desk and I still liked it and the payment plan was now twenty-four months. That made me think I should buy the desk, but I decided, as I do with any major purchase, to think about it for a few days. I became convinced late in the week that I should act, and so last night we went to make the purchase. The result was less than satisfactory.

I found out that delivery would be an extra $50. With diesel fuel and gasoline prices up, they have to charge for delivery, now. I could have lived with that, especially since the salesman hinted that he could waive the delivery charge. In the jargon of business, that means I would have had free delivery, had I insisted on it. However, I found out that the twenty-four-month interest-free payment plan was over. It is now sixty days. I told him I was no longer interested. He followed us for a while sweetening the deal, but he couldn’t do the financing, so we walked out. If one reads Chester Karras, the accepted master of negotiating, his principal is to be able to walk away if the deal isn’t what you want. I applaud you, Mr. Karras, and I followed your advice, but I don’t have the damned desk. Oh, well, this is just reward delayed, rather than reward denied. My love for that desk will not be unrequited. I’ll have it someday on my own terms. You’ll just have to be content with lower-quality blogs for a while.

The other financial episode about which I wish to inform you happened on Thursday night. Jimbo and his girlfriend decided we would take advantage of the Arby’s “five for $5.95” deal for supper. Procurement of the evening repast fell into the capable hands of Jimbo—a man whose litany of journeys into fast-food establishments are epic as the tales of Homer. Anyway, Jimbo ordered two roast beef sandwiches, two orders of fries--one regular and one curly—and mozzarella sticks. I tendered a $10 and the total, with tax, was just over $6, so I received three ones and a handful of change.

After dinner, sometime later in the evening, I emptied my pocket, so I could put my coins in a jar. In among my change was a 1941 penny—which I will add to my coin collection—and a 2005 Kansas quarter. I have scanned both of them for you viewing enjoyment, however the penny is pretty much unreadable. My bad.

The Kansas quarter has a bison on the back and sunflowers beside him. There is a herd of buffalo along the highway between chez Jimbo’s girlfriend and Jimbo’s son’s new residence. Some days the bison come out and stand by the fence so you can see them as you drive by. It is pretty impressive to see one (or a bunch of them) in person. They are a lot bigger than you would imagine. I think this is a good symbol for our state. If you don’t live here you probably have the impression that we are pretty backward, but we have had our share of intelligent people. When you read the news and find out we are still debating evolution eighty years after Scopes and 150 years after Darwin, you probably have to wonder. But even though Sam Brownback and Pat Roberts are from here, we have produced some leaders who knew what they were doing. You may recall Dwight Eisenhower, who was also a Republican. He was a “conservative,” but not conservative by today’s standards.

You may recall I talked about the movie Good Night and Good Luck last week. It was actually the Eisenhower administration that Senator McCarthy targeted. McCarthy was diminished while Ike survived. I thought it was appropriate that, in the movie, when all the dust had settled, Eisenhower was shown giving a speech, basically defining American civil liberties.

This is a place where William Inge taught high school in Columbus, and William Allen White published the Emporia Gazette and advised Presidents. Langston Hughes matriculated elementary school at Pinckney in Lawrence. Kerry Livgren, Steve Walsh, et. al. rocked Lawrence, Topeka and most of the rest of the world.

Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see

I defy you to show me a better song that rhymes see and sea. I defy you to show me a better song, period.

Melissa Etheridge came from here, as did Jimbo’s girlfriend and Amelia Earhart.

Many of you are probably asking yourselves right now, “How can Jimbo go on and on about twenty-six cents? How long could he have jabbered if it had been a dollar?”

I don’t have an answer, but if I find a dollar, somewhere, we’ll find out. But, for the time being, I guess I’ve put in my twenty-six cents worth. And that is about what it is worth, here in Jimbo’s world.