Celebrating Black History Month on Long Hill

Below is my column, as submitted to the editor, that appeared in the February 2016 Sturbridge Times Magazine.

Long Hill Road celebrates Black History Month

by Richard Morchoe

It is February and time again for Black History Month. We have decided to observe it up on Long Hill, but not in the usual manner. All the civil rights pioneers and cultural icons are feted, most now post mortem, again and again. Who has not been honored in the second month celebration?

Up here on our hill, we consider ourselves an outpost of high culture. In consideration of that, we have decided to profile three men who were not merely artists, but exemplars of European civilization. Yet all three, had they been living in the American South at a certain time, would have been subject to Jim Crow laws.

It must also be observed that none of the enforcers of such statutes ever produced anything to compare with our subjects.

The work of the first name is known to everyone, or at least anyone who has gone to the movies. The Three Musketeers has been put on the big screen over 25 times and has had several animated versions. It is a novel that just cried for translation to film.

Set around the first quarter of the 17^th Century, there is little lacking in the portrayal of France and Europe in the era. There are of course, the Musketeers themselves who swashbuckle around the realm constantly crossing swords with all who serve what passed in those days for the Dark Side.

That Dark Side is represented by Cardinal Richelieu. The Cardinal was arguably the most able statesman of the age. He was also a subtle intriguer, and thus a man easy to portray as evil incarnate.

The Musketeers and their protege, d'Artagnan wish to protect the queen against the machinations of the prelate

How did it happen that the grandson of a slave came to write the quintessential French novel?

Alexandre Dumas' father had been born a slave,. The nobleman dad took his slave son to France. Since the Middle Ages, slavery had been abolished on French soil. The minute the young man stepped on Gallic ground he was free.

Dumas' dad had him educated and enlisted in the French Army. He eventually became the highest ranking black general ever in any European military. Thus the son had been born into some privilege. This is not to say he had any love for the Ancien Regime. Dad, after all, had been part of Napoleon's army.

The Three Musketeers is not pro-monarchy.

His other work, about as famous, The Count of Monte Cristo, may not have as many sword fights, but it does not lack for adventure. It begins as Napoleon is about make his last throw of the dice. A young sailor, Edmond Dantes is framed and imprisoned in a French Alcatraz, The Chateau d'If. His escape and adventures lead to fame and fortune. The tone of this novel is also anti-monarchy. No matter the politics, it's a great tale. Few writers have produced anything more French than this descendant of Africa.

When we think of Russia, maybe Putin comes to mind, or Stalin or the Gulag Archipelago. Few Americans learn too much about that nation, and my knowledge is hardly exhaustive.

So it came as a shock when I learned that the man who many consider the greatest poet in that great white north was a black man and also a descendant of slaves.

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin was born into the nobility, but his great grandfather, Abram Petrovich Gannibal, had been taken into slavery. If you are going to be in bondage, there are worse fates than being raised as part of the Tsar's household. The young man was well liked by the sovereign who stood as godfather at his baptism.

Alexander was thus, despite ancestry that would be crippling in much of the world, a nobleman.

He was also a literary giant. Pushkin's influence was most recently found in a film that featured beautiful music and a story of intrigue. The movie, Amadeus, was based on his drama Mozart and Salieri.

Pushkin was no stranger to drama in his own life. The last bit of it would be a duel in which he lost his life at the age of 37. His death would lead to more literature as many Russian writers would take up the subject.

Our last personality was not famous as a writer. In fact, he is not too famous at all. Unlike Dumas he did not write about men of action, but was himself a swashbuckler.

Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges  was the son of a rich planter and his slave wife. Brought to France and well educated, he was a prodigy as a swordsman and musician. Le Chevalier conducted orchestras, commanded troops and ran a fencing school.

All these accomplishments pale in comparison to one part of his life. The man is also known as the Black Mozart. He composed operas, concertos and a symphony, all while following other pursuits as well. For the skeptical, his music is available on iTunes, Spotify and YouTube..

Up on Long Hill Road, we hope we have broadened some horizons. There is nothing wrong with putting on an Ellington CD or reciting a poem by Hughes. Still, there can be more to life.

My Review of Killing the Host: How Financial Parasites and Debt Bondage Destroy the Global Economy by Michael Hudson

Below is my review of Michael Hudson's Killing the Host as submitted to the editor for the February, 2016 issue of the Sturbridge Times Magazine.  I don't completely agree with the author, but his analysis is better than much I've read.

If you grew up in this country before the 1970s, you experienced a world that is nothing like today. Back in that other reality, there were factories in abundance employing full complements of workers, sometimes in multiple shifts.

American Optical, with beginnings in 1833, was a powerhouse, with its great factory complex in Southbridge. Once dominant in its field, it is now defunct, brought out by others.

Driving along the Quaboag River on Route 67 in Warren, you can see the Wright's Mill Complex. It seemed like everyone knew someone who worked there. Since 2008, no more.

There are still factories, but they are all too often, sans workers. How could our region, let alone country go from having workshops everywhere, all highly productive, to the point where they have almost died out?

One man has an answer, debt.

Michael Hudson is a research professor of economics at the University of Missouri Kansas City. Your reviewer discovered him accidentally. As a history nerd, I came across his writing and was surprised to find out that his research found the builders of the pyramids were not slaves but well paid, skilled workers. It's too bad Charlton Heston and Yul Brynner are no longer with us, as some corrections need to be made to their movie, the Ten Commandments.

Mr. Hudson avers that the debts owed to the FIRE (Finance, Insurance, Real Estate) sector were causing labor and industry to suffer. American labor, squeezed by debt becomes over priced as do American products. Debt is taking a greater and greater share of revenues from non-financial businesses, and workers have to pay more in interest such that they are on the way to debt peonage.

According to Professor Hudson, we are headed to the day when the parasite of a financialized economy will kill the host, or the debts will have to be reduced or even forgiven. Your average free-marketer might be scandalized by the idea, but it is no more unfair than the bailing out of the banks in 2008.

The concept is one that raised its head with the phenomenon of the Occupy Wall Street movement. Mr. Hudson, among others, noted that student loans exceed credit card debt. Paying that debt takes a toll on graduates whose salary prospects may be less than what they can afford to service the loan.

As Michael Hudson states many times in his book, “Debts that can't be paid, won't be.” The FIRE Sector would want it to be for the debtors to sell off assets. As there are less and less assets with enough equity, that is not going to be too popular and one day it will be impossible. A reduction of debt or even forgiveness would be inevitable as an alternative to national ruin.

Many consider Hudson a bit of a commie as he participates in Marxist conferences and has good words to say about Karl. To be fair, he has some nice things to say about Adam Smith and Classical Economics.

He has, however a special dislike for free market economists. He sees them as champions of the FIRE sector. Free market advocates would disagree with that characterization. They would be adamantly against the existence of a central bank and would claim the crony capitalist shenanigans were only possible because there is a Federal Reserve. That discussion is for another day. If there must be a central bank, the author's points are well taken.

In his last chapter, he offers Reforms to Restore Industrial Prosperity. Will they bring economic nirvana? Some make common sense, such as writing down debts that can't be paid and letting people stay in their homes rather than protect the second homes of Goldman and Morgan execs.

His suggestion to tax economic rent to save it from being capitalized in interest payments has merit in that we should have a tax structure that promotes production over financialization. Is his emphasis on land taxes as the way to do it the right idea?

Revoking the tax deductibility of interest has some good arguments, but will not go over too well with every home buyer.

The public banking option, similar to the Japanese Post Office banks is not a bad idea, but my local savings bank provides most of those services. The Japanese system had low interest on savings, but they had been tax free. Bring that on any old time.

Funding government deficits by central bank, and not by taxes, is, for a true believer in that system, reasonable. Of course, if you are going to create money to cover the shortfall, hey, why not fund the whole budget in the same manner. No IRS or Form 1040 would make a lot of people happy this time of year.

Paying Social Security and Medicare out of the general budget has some appeal as there are demographic problems and the last deal raided SS for $150 million for the Disability Trust Fund.

Keeping natural monopolies out of the public domain is okay. Privatizers have taken over some water departments and gouged the public. No, one, however, is remotely thinking of trying to take the MBTA away from the government.

As most capital gains are in real estate, taxing them at progressive rates should dampen speculation.

Hudson's desire to deter irresponsible lending by making the creditor bear the cost of any loan that could be considered a fraudulent conveyance is worthwhile. Many loans have been made that there was no way that they could be paid without looting assets. That should be stopped.

One question about his reforms is why he did not propose a restoration of the Glass-Steagall Act separating retail deposit banking from investment banking. It would seem if you are not going to hang investment bankers from the lamp posts, you would want to restore that law.

One might grant a federal reserve run by Mr. Hudson or someone like him would establish policies that would better serve the economy as a whole. It is hard to believe it could be anything more than an interregnum as capture by interests is what happens to bureaucracies.

Still, it should be given a try. It would be hard to do worse. If it fails, we can bring in Ron Paul to shut down the Fed.

How Sweet It Is - Maple Syrup in the Sturbridge and Quaboag area.

Below is my column as submitted to the editor for the March 1, 2016 issue of the Sturbridge Times Magazine.

by Richard Morchoe

The little boy put a few pancakes on his plate. That task done, he grabbed a jug and, proceeded to drown the flapjacks. After a short while, the syrup being absorbed, he added more. At this point, his father, no longer able to contain himself said to the lad, “Do you think you might have a little pancake with the maple syrup?”

I remember well my dad's gentle teasing as he observed the gargantuan appetite.

Maple syrup is a pleasure of life. Unfortunately, another region has done what it could to capture the brand. The Green Mountain State wants the world to believe the brown juice should not be mentioned without the word Vermont prefixed.

Don't be fooled. The syrup most associated with our northern neighbor is fraudulent. Vermont Maid Syrup is glutted with high fructose corn syrup and contains only maple flavor of natural and artificial provenance.

Fortunately, you don't have to leave town and go north for the real thing. You can head out to the back yard and produce it yourself. We are coming into the season.

Granted, it's not without some hard work. That said, the basic method is fairly simple. You may have seen those homey pictures of men emptying buckets in winter. Well most of it is like that, heavy routine labor.

The first thing you must do is make sure you have the trees. We caution you right away that, sans les arbres, the degree of difficulty reaches a level that can only be described as insurmountable. Once you are certain that you own or have permission to tap and you are sure they are sugar maples, proceed.

Next, you need taps, at least one for each tree. They are available at farm stores and some hardware shops. Make sure your drill is working and you have a 7/16” bit. A clean plastic gallon milk jug with a hole made off to the side at the top can be used to catch sap.

For storing fresh sap, clean is the word. Depending on volume, it could be galvanized or plastic cans or pails. A deep metal pan that can hold five gallons should do for an evaporator.

Your going to be boiling on a wood fire outside so set that up and gather dry fast burning wood. You want to do it out of doors or there will be problems, but not for the gas or electric company as they will clean up, and so will you, differently.

Locate a candy thermometer to test when the syrup is done. You will need clean glass or metal jars for storing. Did we mention clean?

Ready, drill the hole and bang in the spout, but not so hard you split the tree. Hang your jug or container on the hook of the spout. Be sure to cover to keep out rain, snow and foreign material.

That fireplace you set up should be ready. When the jugs have enough sap, fill the pan, and start the fire. Don't fill your pan to the top as it will boil over. As the water boils away keep adding more sap to the pan. Do not have less than an inch in the pan or it may burn down. Keep pouring the rest of the sap in to the boiling liquid. It will take a lot of boiling to get it to syrup as about ten gallons of sap make one quart.

Sap is finished when it is seven degrees warmer than boiling temperature at your elevation. That's what the candy thermometer is for. Pour the hot syrup through a syrup filter or a double layer of outing flannel. Store in sterile canning jars in a cool place. A freezer is ideal.

So that is the basic process. Full disclosure, we did it once. It is work and maybe you were born to do it. Most of us, however, would be satisfied with just the finished product. You probably have a neighbor or at least someone in the vicinity who boils. If you don't know anyone, read the list of local producers below.

In Sturbridge, KE Farms is on Leadmine Road. They have a website at http://www.maplesugarhouse.com/index.html with everything you want to know about their operation.

Maple Ledge Farm is in Holland on Vinton Road. Best to connect with them through Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/maple.ledge/.

On Little Alum Road in Brimfield is the stand of Freeman Farm. To contact Jane or John call (413) 436-7621.

On the south side of West Brookfield, Amy and Jeff and their son Nick, boil sap this time of year. If you are interested the email is jeffrobbins@charter.net or (508) 867-5428.

Same town on Long Hill Road is the Meade's Bucket List Farm. Call (508) 637-1297 or email at thomas.meade53@yahoo.com.

Head a little south on that street and you come to a farm operated by Abraham and his family and they have a website at http://browniefarms.com/maple-syrup/.

Up in North Brookfield, the Warren Farm and Sugarhouse has been around forever. They are on the web at http://www.thewarrenfarm.com.

The Harms Family Farm operates in Brookfield and way out in Colrain. Their web address is http://www.harmsfarm.com/.

East Brookfield has Triple Oaks Farm Sugarhouse owned by Lori And William Gregoire. They can be reached at (508) 294-5990.

If you still are bound and determined with that unquenchable do it yourself spirit, a better set of instructions is provided at the Massachusetts Maple Producers website www.massmaple.org/make.php. They can also help if you decide to turn pro.

We'll be thinking of you as we pour warm syrup on hot pancakes.

Review of The Quaboag And Nipmuck Indians: The Quaboag Indians, A Loup People and the Nipmucks of the Upper Quinebaug River Valley

Below is my review of The Quaboag And Nipmuck Indians: The Quaboag Indians, A Loup People and the Nipmucks of the Upper Quinebaug River Valley as submitted to the editor of The Sturbridge Times Magazine for the October 2015 issue.  

The Quaboag And Nipmuck Indians: The Quaboag Indians, A Loup People and the Nipmucks of the Upper Quinebaug River Valley By Donald Duffy

Book review by Richard Morchoe

It has been said that the closest a human population has ever experienced to an invasion from outer space was the American Indian encounter with Europeans. To say that the native population was blindsided is understatement. Out of the blue, beings with different appearance, outlook, history and customs appear, and the invaded must make sense of it, quickly.

No more was that the case than out here in Western Central Massachusetts. The indigenous people had to deal with a geopolitical situation for which they were not and could not be ready.

The meeting of English and Indian in our region has been the subject of a few books. The latest is The Quaboag and Nipmuck Indians. The subtitle, The Quaboag Indians, A Loup People and the Nipmucks of the Upper Quinebaug River Valley is descriptive of where the people lived and that's where we live. The Quaboag tribe made home along that river and the Quinebaug, where it flows through Sturbridge, was the abode of a segment of the Nipmucks.

The author, Donald Duffy of Palmer, has not written a book that will replace any that went before, but is an addition to the genre and stands on its own. The author refers to previous work in the text and the bibliography.

What is an enjoyable aspect is the exploration of geography. The author goes over the conjecture of where places really were. This is useful as we are dealing with a population that had no written language. Never was the term, lost in translation more apt. There are often many spellings for a place. The Brits did as well as they could phonetically, except when they didn't.

Language misunderstandings were a problem, mostly for the indigenes. The settlers had a talent, if not genius for putting more into a deed then the sellers thought was included.

One bit of difficulty for the reviewer is the Massachusetts Indian campaign against the Mohawk. In 1669, an alliance of tribes from the Pioneer Valley eastward mounted an expedition to deal with depredations of the New York tribe. The Mohawk were formidable and feared so the adventure involved serious risk. According to Duffy and some others, it was an unmitigated disaster.

Ill planned and ill executed from start to finish, the Indians from the East came home weakened and some bands were effectively ruined. The defeat was so all encompassing that the Quaboag were happy to have the English settle as protection against the bad boys to the west.

Leo Bonfanti, author of several pamphlet size booklets of English-Native history from settlement to conclusion of the Indian war in Maine, viewed the Mohawk-Massachusetts encounter in a different light. In Volume II of his BIOGRAPHIES AND LEGENDS of the NEW ENGLAND INDIANS, he essentially agrees with Duffy and other writers up until the end of the battle.

According to Bonfanti, under their leader, Chikataubut who fell in the encounter, the Massachusett counterattack defeated the Mohawk. The reverse was enough to cause them to request mediation from the Dutch and English.

This is an important, as Duffy notes the Quaboag welcomed protective English settlement. If they had lost heavily against the Mohawk, siding with KingPhilip could only have been suicidal as they would now have two mortal enemies.

Success against the Mohawk might have allowed them some confidence in their own ability against the colonists.

Then again, maybe none of that mattered. Michael J. Tougias, in his novel of the era, Until I Have No Country, writes of an older Indian speaking to a younger warrior, telling him that the tribes would lose the war. The youthful man asks him why fight then. His reply was that they had, more or less, to do something

That has its own logic, somewhat. Duffy details the fate of the Nipucks of the Quinnebaug who tried to stay out of the war. They avoided the fate of the Quaboag which was immediate death, slavery or exile. In the end it did not matter. They were effaced from the land as were their neighbors to the north, albeit in slow motion with all legal niceties observed, sometimes.

It is fascinating to think that events that shaped where we live played out almost outside our doors. The battles that happened here were local events, but also involved the three major imperial powers of the day, England, France and The Dutch Republic.

It is conceivable that the Quaboag who ambushed the colonials in Wheeler's Surprise could have wiped them out, had it not been for the “Praying Indians” aiding the English. Had they destroyed the remnant on Foster's Hill as well, it would have been an immense victory, but in the end, would have probably changed little.

The Quaboag and Nipmuck Indians is far more than battles in scope, and even if you've read other books, this will be worth your while. The author has a previous work, Around Pottequadic, that looks at the native people and settlers more to the Ware and Palmer area. I look forward to reading it.

Review of Where the Bodies Were Buried: Whitey Bulger and the World That Made Him by T. J. English

Below  is my review of Where the Bodies Were Buried: Whitey Bulger and the World That Made Him as submitted to the Sturbridge Times Magazine for the November 2015 issue.

Where the Bodies Were Buried: Whitey Bulger and the World That Made Him

by T. J. English

Book Review by Richard Morchoe

September seemed to be Whitey Bulger Month in Massachusetts, if not the Nation. Johnny Depp gave an excellent performance as the South Boston gangster in the movie, Black Mass. His character exuded menace in most every scene.

Crime in Boston, however, did not begin with Bulger, and though the players have changed, has not ended with his incarceration. Around the time the movie came out, Where the Bodies Were Buried: Whitey Bulger and the World That Made Him also appeared. The book, by veteran crime reporter T. J. English, is in the words of the late Boston radio personality Larry Glick, “The story behind the story.” English is probably most famous for The Westies, the story of a deadly New York Irish-American gang. Havana Nocturne, about how Meyer Lansky and the Mafia lost Cuba to Castro is a finely crafted story reviewed in the September, 2010 issue of The Sturbridge Times Magazine. The author has, as the saying goes, “been around the block.”

According to English, the FBI, who are supposed to be a law enforcement agency has systemic problems and they long predated Bulger and continue to this day. Rules were not just bent, but broken if the agency wanted. He concludes the book with the statement, “In the end, the system protects itself.”

Joe Salvati was an average guy and no criminal. He did like to bet on horses and had borrowed money from a loan shark. Joe ran afoul of a man who, before Whitey's time, had a reputation for brutality maybe worse than Bulger's. His rep did not include sanity. The FBI wanted to use mad man Joseph Barboza to gut the Mafia or LCN, short for La Cosa Nostra. Barboza would testify that Salvati had been part of a murder, and Joe would do life until his vindication after 30 years in jail.

Barboza lying under oath would be protected by the FBI because they wanted to keep him as an informant even if an innocent man would rot in jail.

The men who handled Barboza would run other gangsters who would lead to Whitey. They would eventually pass the baton to agents who would carry on the tradition. When Bulger finally had to face a court of law, the government prosecutors tried to portray history as a couple of bad apple agents. John Connolly and John Morris, in a good system serving justice.

Before Connolly and Morris, there was H. Paul Rico. Rico ran Barboza as well as the the Flemmi brothers, Vincent and Steven. Steve Flemmi would become Whitey's partner. Connolly would work with Flemmi and developed Whitey Bulger as a “Top Echelon Informant.”

What did this lead to? Getting away with murder. It turned out that Whitey and Flemmi were running Connolly, his supervisor, John Morris and the Boston office of the FBI rather than the other way around.

The whole thing was so absurd that it had to end. Whitey would go on the lam until he was captured and bought to trial.

There was no chance Bulger was ever going to end his life a free man. He was interested in making the case that he had the FBI's approval. His defense team, headed by Jay Carney wanted to show that the corruption was pervasive and historic. The prosecution, lead by Fred Wyshak attempted to build a cordon sanitaire around the agency and limit the damage to the Whitey era.

Judge Denise Casper, presided over the trial in the Moakley Federal Court Building. Though English does not come out and say it, it did appear that she favored the prosecution. Carney's attempt to show endemic corruption led to constant objections by the prosecutors. Judge Casper seemed to sustain most of them. Then again, she is a federal employee and the same treasury that issued Attorney Wyshak's paycheck issued hers.

Whether or not Bulger, or his legal team actually proved anything, “juror number twelve” Janet Uhlar came away with questions about the system. English would get to talk with her and she was appalled at the deals the government had made for testimony with criminals arguably as bad or even worse than Bulger. She was pilloried in the media, but if the English book is accurate, she is right in her opinion.

Big Pharma has the FDA in thrall. The Department of Agriculture does the bidding of Monsanto and Big Ag. If you have been following the F-35 fighter jet debacle, the Defense Department seems to be serving contractor interests. Why should anyone be surprised that the FBI can be captive to Big Crime.

Where the Bodies Were Buried is typical T.J. English, hard to put down and filled with informative detail. I admit, however, it was not pleasant to read. George Orwell wrote that the England of his day was corrupt, but it could only get so corrupt. I'm not sure we can say the same.

Review of How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big: Kind of the Story of My Life

Below is my review of ScottAdams' How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big: Kind of the Story of My Life as submitted to the editor and appeared in the December 2015 issue of the Sturbridge Times Magazine.

Worked for Him

How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big: Kind of the Story of My Life

By Scott Adams

Penguin Group, 2013

Hardcover, 231 pages

ISBN-13: 978-1591846918

ISBN: 10-1591846919

List: $27.95 Amazon: $17.10

Book review by Richard Morchoe

If you don't know who Scott Adams is, you may have heard of Dilbert. Dilbert is the non-hero of the comic strip that bears that name. It may or may not be today's most popular strip, but it's hard to think of another as well known since Gary Larson stopped doing The Far Side.

Dilbert chronicles a bunch of cynical cubicle slaves as they deal with corporate America. Adams, drawing on his life in that milieu has become hugely successful. How he got there is the subject of his book, How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big: Kind of the Story of My Life.

A book with “How to” in the title sounds like a self-help tome. Adams claims it is not. On Page 180 he writes, “This is a good time to remind you that nothing in this book should be seen as advice. It's never a good idea to take advice from cartoonists, and that's a hundred times more important if the topic is health related. I don't know how many people have died from following the health advice of cartoonists, but the number probably isn't zero.”

One might guess the lawyers told him to put that in as he makes a heck of a lot of suggestions and if someone passed away after acting on one, the author could be spending more than a little of his fortune on legal proceedings.

His speculation that at least one person has shuffled off the mortal coil due to following the guidance of cartoonists is dubious. Certainly, more folks have left us because of the advice of the medical establishment. Are carbs okay this week?

Though Adams’ comic strip has a cynical tone, How to Fail is nothing like that. There is a lot of self-deprecation that one would expect from the author of Dilbert. He knows he is not a great artist, but is proud of being an accomplished cartoonist.

As part of his advice to readers, he tells us we should not have goals. The author writes,, “To put it bluntly, goals are for losers.” This seems to go against the reigning success culture. Adams reasons that, “If you achieve your goal, you celebrate and feel terrific, but only until you realize you just lost the thing that gave you purpose and direction. Your options are to feel empty and useless, perhaps enjoying the spoils of your success until they bore you, or set new goals and reenter the cycle of permanent presuccess [sic] failure.”

Instead of goals, Adams believes in systems. He came to that conclusion sitting next to a businessman on a flight to California, when he was succeeding in the “goal” of escaping snowy upstate New York. The fellow told him his “system was to continually look for better options.” This meant he started searching for a new job as soon as he began one.

Dilbert’s creator more or less followed his seatmate's advice over the next several years, in the process no doubt garnering fodder for the comic. He recounts failing at every position yet moving up a rung each time. Eventually, he was told he could go no higher, but not because his incompetence had been discerned. Rather, they were no longer promoting Caucasian ineptness. They were now affirmatively advancing groups that had not been represented in high management. After all, it’s not like we cannot find equal inability among people of other races.

It is worth noting that the two large organizations he mentions most were bureaucracies with many positions that were little more than sinecures. One of them, Pacific Bell, no longer exists, having been swallowed up with much of the busywork being eliminated. The other, Crocker National was also taken over with deadweight being shed. It is unlikely the author could have pulled off what he did at a high tech startup.

Was his experience with continuously moving up from job to job a system or sequential goals? He should get the benefit of the doubt on that one, and it leads us to the subject of “affirmations” that he addresses.

According to Adams, “Affirmations are simply the practice of repeating to yourself what you want to achieve while imagining the outcome you want.” As he explained it, it’s not as new agey as it sounds. He used this form to great effect, “I Scott Adams, will be a famous cartoonist.” Of course that sounds like a goal and your man is no loser.

There is a lot more to How to Fail than systems versus goals and affirmations. Much of it may or may not be great career or life advice. Scott Adams is a good writer with a great sense of humor, but we already knew that from Dilbert. If you get it in your stocking, enjoy it. Don’t mourn if you don’t. The verdict is similar to Samuel Johnson on the Giant’s Causeway, “Worth seeing, but not worth going to see.”

Straight Outta Spencer

Below is my column from the October 2015 issue of the Sturbridge Times Magazine as submitted.

It's not the largest fair in the world. It's not even biggest in Worcester County. It is, however, sizable in our neck of the woods and it is ours.

The Spencer Fair has to be the most un-hip place in the region. I love it. True, I'm not the country's foremost fan of Demolition Derby, but it's nice to know that there are people who have no problem banging into each other in a beat up old heap.

The plaintive sounds of Country-Western are heard from the loudspeakers on the main stage. Actually, the music is inescapable. With no chance of convincing management to book The Academy of Saint Martin in the Fields, I've long resigned myself to enjoying it. The rumors that my toes tap to some of the tunes are baseless.

Then there is the food. If you are part of Weight Watchers, Paleo, a vegan or kosher, there is something here for you not to like and much to scorn. That's okay, there's more for us who have thrown caution to the wind, at least for the duration.

Pork in most of its forms is available, if not avoidable. After that sausage sandwich, if one cannot find pulled pork, that is underachieving. Cheese fries were one of the first vendors to catch my eye. Normal french fries were also available, though the grease content was probably no less.

Had your minimum daily requirement of fried dough? Did you step it up a bit and get the fried oreo this year? There are strict rules for food safety and a board of health permit is required. One is tempted to think such requirements are superfluous given the nature of the fare.

Though known to give in to temptation after a not overly long struggle, I do tend to like to spend my money at more community based organizations like the David Prouty High School hot dog stand.

Despite all the social changes that have taken place in our country, some are still so retrograde that they judge a young man by the size of the stuffed animal he can win for his love interest at the games of chance. Plus ça change!

None of the rides are scary and appeal mostly to children.

The vendors are many and varied. If mass produced garish tee shirts are how you express individuality, you may find fulfillment.

The Spencer Fair is not just food and the hawking of wares. In truth, agriculture is the soul of the institution. It began in the 19^th Century with a local farmer displaying crops across his dining room table. That humble origin led to this year's 127^th edition.

There may not be a dining room, but vegetables are all over tables in the exhibition hall The tradition continues with displays competing for the blue ribbon. Almost anything that can be grown in Worcester County is here, from tiny veggies to giant pumpkins. I love to see these behemoths, but it's hard to understand the appeal. You can't eat them and they will soon be almost their own compost pile. I guess it's that we love big. As Josef Stalin said, “Quantity has a quality all its own.”

There is, in the center of the hall a glass bee hive that is a safe way to look at the little critters without getting stung. People hover around the exhibit all day trying to figure out which one is the queen.

Along part of the wall is the 4H table. It is refreshing to see young people out and about speaking enthusiastically about their projects and not obsessed with smart phones.

At one end of the building, life is emerging. First a beak cracks a shell and then with effort a wet, feathered little bird breaks out. It is the perennial favorite chick incubator.

Leaving the hall, we're not done with farm stuff. Integral to the fair is the cow barn. These are purebred animals that have been lovingly raised by the owners and are being shown off in competition. Inevitably, one of the ladies gives birth at her stall to a calf that will soon take its firsts steps. Doubtless, it will be to the gushing of the visitors.

There are tents with amazingly colored chickens and ducks and other fowl. Rabbits as well. Some animals are athletes as oxen and horses compete in feats of strength.

This is Labor Day Weekend at the Spencer Fair. There are larger such events, but they are far from here. This is a cozy, local affair. Would the world notice if it disappeared. Probably not, but something would be lost.

Where I grew up, in the next town there was the homey, little Weymouth Fair. It was part of the civic fabric and was well loved, then it was gone. That town is just an indistinguishable part of the Boston suburban sprawl.

The Spencer Fair reminds me I am a refugee here.