Much like a bear emerging from his cave after a winter's hibernation, or the Ayatollah Khomeini returning to Iran in 1979 after years of exile, I have returned to IcebergCarwash (barely) in time to uphold one of this blog's most cherished traditions.
Yes, readers, it is time for...
The 4th Annual Iceberg Carwash Stock Market Contest.
The rules remain as simple as ever.
Using the comments section, tell us where you think the S&P 500 Index will be at the end of 2012.
To qualify for entry into the contest, your forecast must be received by no later than the market’s open on the first trading day of next year, 9:30 AM EST on Tuesday, January 3, 2012.
The contestant whose prediction comes closest to the actual closing level of the Index at year-end wins the contest.
I know that we've given out a prize to the contest's winner in the past, but we make no guarantees about doing so in the future.
For reference, the S&P 500 closed today at 1249.64. With two trading days remaining in the year, the market is down about 0.7% so far in 2011. In technical terms, we refer to that as "flat."
My prediction for the S&P 500 Index’s level at the end of 2012 is 1,350.00.
We’ll announce the winner of the 2011 contest sometime over this coming weekend.
There are so many fundamental factors to consider when projecting the market's direction in the coming year.
Will the European sovereign debt crisis be resolved?
Will the Euro remain intact?
Where will commodity prices go, and what impact would a rotation out of "hard assets" have on equity prices?
Has the U.S. housing market finally hit bottom? Will buyers make a dent in the enormous inventory of unsold homes?
Will the jobs market finally improve?
How will the presidential election, only a little more than 10 months away, affect the direction of U.S. stock prices?
Will the wheels come off (or will the lead paint peel off) the Chinese economic machine?
These, and other important potential issues, must be considered when attempting to predict where the market will be a year from now.
Alternatively, make sure that no one is standing too close to your dart board.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Cop-Out
Right now in Mishpacha magazine there is a dialogue in the INBOX on the topic of chessed. This was precipitated by a feature called "words unspoken," in which those who feel they can not say what they would like to say to a specific person or group of people have a forum to do so anonymously and publicly ( as odd as that combination is)
The current topic is those people who feel put upon when they are called to make a meal for a family who has had a new baby or in some other way is in need of assistance in providing hot home cooked meals to a family. The main thrust of the first "words unspoken," was a woman who is just barely keeping it together herself, hardly managing her kids and workload in and out of the house, and then BOOM! a call to help someone else. Based on what she writes there is ample room for her to actually do what she claims she just absolutely cannot, and her whole premise for upsetting the apple cart of this social construct that gives assistance to those who need it seems dubious)
Some of the responses mentioned much of what I would say,(just say no, it doesn't mean someone shouldn't call you, don't try to be so fancy, whatever you're serving your own family people would be happy to have, don't try to impress, just try to help) and some agreed whole- heartedly with the original piece, banding the "chessed begins at home" banner. One person wrote that smiling at people is also chessed just as teaching your own children to be nice to each other is a chessed.
Bah! That's what I say to that.
Those are very nice things, but a family tends to be a unit. So if all one's chessed is directed internally it is not the same "giving" to another person. It does not teach you to get past yourself, and put others first. It does not help you to realize that you and yours are not the only people in the world. Why do these things matter? Because they paint your dealings in other aspects of your life. If other people are never the recipients of your kindness, and you keep that all within your home, then that's the outlook you will have to the whole world. Then you will be the one who is completely self focused while driving (why would I pull in to this CIRCULAR driveway to drop off my passenger, when I want to quickly move on? I will make everyone on this busy road wait while I drop my passenger off in the MIDDLE of the street, MY time is very precious don't you know), in the supermarket, and in all your dealings in life.
That doesn't mean one needs to be constantly giving their time, cooking, or volunteering. It just means people should get over themselves and sometimes do things that are not so simple, or even easy for them. Sometimes it can even be something that doesn't seem like a chessed, but is because it's outside your immediate comfort zone. Obviously, if one really can't keep it together at home, they should not be helping others in THAT way, but there are ways people can help that go beyond their own four walls.Plenty of organizations will be happy to have any help they can get, and telling people to feel bad about who they call is ridiculous. If we can't rely on people to help each other, and are made to feel guilty just for asking, then we are in worse shape than we thought.
If chessed begins at home, then do a chessed to your family and politely decline, and ask not to be called again for a while. Don't ruin it for the recipients of the help, and don't ruin it for the people asking, it's hard enough as it is, now they have to feel BAD every time they pick up the phone.
One of the letters quoted (I think) Rabbi Krohn:
"Chessed begins at home, but it doesn't end there."
The current topic is those people who feel put upon when they are called to make a meal for a family who has had a new baby or in some other way is in need of assistance in providing hot home cooked meals to a family. The main thrust of the first "words unspoken," was a woman who is just barely keeping it together herself, hardly managing her kids and workload in and out of the house, and then BOOM! a call to help someone else. Based on what she writes there is ample room for her to actually do what she claims she just absolutely cannot, and her whole premise for upsetting the apple cart of this social construct that gives assistance to those who need it seems dubious)
Some of the responses mentioned much of what I would say,(just say no, it doesn't mean someone shouldn't call you, don't try to be so fancy, whatever you're serving your own family people would be happy to have, don't try to impress, just try to help) and some agreed whole- heartedly with the original piece, banding the "chessed begins at home" banner. One person wrote that smiling at people is also chessed just as teaching your own children to be nice to each other is a chessed.
Bah! That's what I say to that.
Those are very nice things, but a family tends to be a unit. So if all one's chessed is directed internally it is not the same "giving" to another person. It does not teach you to get past yourself, and put others first. It does not help you to realize that you and yours are not the only people in the world. Why do these things matter? Because they paint your dealings in other aspects of your life. If other people are never the recipients of your kindness, and you keep that all within your home, then that's the outlook you will have to the whole world. Then you will be the one who is completely self focused while driving (why would I pull in to this CIRCULAR driveway to drop off my passenger, when I want to quickly move on? I will make everyone on this busy road wait while I drop my passenger off in the MIDDLE of the street, MY time is very precious don't you know), in the supermarket, and in all your dealings in life.
That doesn't mean one needs to be constantly giving their time, cooking, or volunteering. It just means people should get over themselves and sometimes do things that are not so simple, or even easy for them. Sometimes it can even be something that doesn't seem like a chessed, but is because it's outside your immediate comfort zone. Obviously, if one really can't keep it together at home, they should not be helping others in THAT way, but there are ways people can help that go beyond their own four walls.Plenty of organizations will be happy to have any help they can get, and telling people to feel bad about who they call is ridiculous. If we can't rely on people to help each other, and are made to feel guilty just for asking, then we are in worse shape than we thought.
If chessed begins at home, then do a chessed to your family and politely decline, and ask not to be called again for a while. Don't ruin it for the recipients of the help, and don't ruin it for the people asking, it's hard enough as it is, now they have to feel BAD every time they pick up the phone.
One of the letters quoted (I think) Rabbi Krohn:
"Chessed begins at home, but it doesn't end there."
Thursday, December 15, 2011
I Fought the Law
Having done my civic duty (or attempted to), it was now time for me to be on the other side of the bench. No, not the judge, but as the scofflaw, "Speedy McSpeedspeed."
Before the sermons and the lectures about setting examples and the appellations of "lead foot," and so on, it's important to note that although the ticket was officially for 20 miles over the speed limit, it was in fact a true speed trap. There's a road, like many in New Jersey, that stretches from one town into and through the next, and on to even another. A true journeyman, or peddler, going from town to town with no place to call home. OK, maybe not, but certainly a stretch of asphalt that can and does change names as it wends its way through various municipalities. But names are not the only things that change midstride. Apparently speed limits too, and right smack in the middle of this long (and in parts winding) road. BAM! it was 35 mph, so it's easy to be doing a respectable, all cops look the other way 10 over the limit 45mph. No problem, until that three or four BLOCK stretch where the speed is reduced to a paltry 25. TWENTY-FIVE? I understand wanting to maintain certain speed in the traffic, but it's smack in the middle of a pretty busy thorough fare and doesn't last all that long. Certainly a speed trap.
Well, it trapped me. The real kick in the head is that I had been on such a high. It was one of the girls' birthdays, I was on my way back from a very positive follow up appointment for the boy, and I was in that neighborhood to buy INEXPENSIVE coffee. I am the proud owner, as you may recall, of a wonderful Keurig coffee machine. Lately, the price of coffee has gone up approximately 25% from the past few years, so a place that sells coffee for the original low price is worth a slight detour.
Unless you end up with a speeding ticket and fine of over two hundred dollars (pleaded down). I'm sure MBB will be happy to do the math and let me know exactly how much each box of coffee actually cost me that day. I think I'd rather not know.
I wish it would have been that day. Just pay the cop, and move on. But nooooo. I have to spend two plus hours going through a "process' that is designed to extort money from fearful, (mostly) law abiding citizens who are intimidated by the unfamiliar circumstances they find themselves in. Obviously, I am not referring to those there on assault charges, or multiple housing violations charges, or second or third timers driving with out a licences types. No I am referring to the good citizens of this fine country who are caught in speed traps, and shuffled from place to place to agree to a "plea deal." This usually just means a way for the town to keep more of the money for themselves, and not share much of it with the state.
The part that rankles me the most is when the judge asks if you took the deal without coercion. Well, not really, everyone is in rush, and not really looking to explain anything to anyone. They were nice in the plea room, but definitely have the upper hand. There was no way I was getting an attorney for this, my apologies to all those attorneys who specialize in this type of law. I'm sure one of them could have helped me, but I did not wish to compund my guilt by hiring an attorney, though I may have saved an hour and a few bucks. It's doubtful an attorney would have saved from the comedy of errors that was my trip to the courthouse. First, I missed the ramp to get off one highway on to the next. Then I missed the first u-turn that would have allowed me to get back on track quickly. I found the second u-turn and made my way back to the spot of misdirection. At this point it was late, but I had time. Until I could.not.find.the courthouse. I went up and down that street, bumbling through no left turns, and no u-turn signs on driveways. I even tried to follow a cop to get directions, until FINALLY I saw an old Italian guy standing on the sidewalk, and he told me how to go. Yay. I'd get there with two minutes to spare! Except I had to park in the auxilliary lot, and I was halfway to the building when I realized I had left my phone in the car. Not that I am so attached to the phone, but I left all the kids home, and I wanted them to reach me if they could. I finally made my way into the building went up to the window, and got my number. 42. I asked if they had started at number 1, and the woman responded yes, but then kindly added, "don't worry, it goes pretty fast."
I guess that depends on whether or not you really want to get home. It wasn't unpleasant, though I did learn that throwing a drink on someone, according to the girl I was sitting next to, is considered assault.
So I've tried to get on a jury, I've stood before a judge, now I'd like to be a prosecutor.
Maybe I should go to Law School.
Before the sermons and the lectures about setting examples and the appellations of "lead foot," and so on, it's important to note that although the ticket was officially for 20 miles over the speed limit, it was in fact a true speed trap. There's a road, like many in New Jersey, that stretches from one town into and through the next, and on to even another. A true journeyman, or peddler, going from town to town with no place to call home. OK, maybe not, but certainly a stretch of asphalt that can and does change names as it wends its way through various municipalities. But names are not the only things that change midstride. Apparently speed limits too, and right smack in the middle of this long (and in parts winding) road. BAM! it was 35 mph, so it's easy to be doing a respectable, all cops look the other way 10 over the limit 45mph. No problem, until that three or four BLOCK stretch where the speed is reduced to a paltry 25. TWENTY-FIVE? I understand wanting to maintain certain speed in the traffic, but it's smack in the middle of a pretty busy thorough fare and doesn't last all that long. Certainly a speed trap.
Well, it trapped me. The real kick in the head is that I had been on such a high. It was one of the girls' birthdays, I was on my way back from a very positive follow up appointment for the boy, and I was in that neighborhood to buy INEXPENSIVE coffee. I am the proud owner, as you may recall, of a wonderful Keurig coffee machine. Lately, the price of coffee has gone up approximately 25% from the past few years, so a place that sells coffee for the original low price is worth a slight detour.
Unless you end up with a speeding ticket and fine of over two hundred dollars (pleaded down). I'm sure MBB will be happy to do the math and let me know exactly how much each box of coffee actually cost me that day. I think I'd rather not know.
I wish it would have been that day. Just pay the cop, and move on. But nooooo. I have to spend two plus hours going through a "process' that is designed to extort money from fearful, (mostly) law abiding citizens who are intimidated by the unfamiliar circumstances they find themselves in. Obviously, I am not referring to those there on assault charges, or multiple housing violations charges, or second or third timers driving with out a licences types. No I am referring to the good citizens of this fine country who are caught in speed traps, and shuffled from place to place to agree to a "plea deal." This usually just means a way for the town to keep more of the money for themselves, and not share much of it with the state.
The part that rankles me the most is when the judge asks if you took the deal without coercion. Well, not really, everyone is in rush, and not really looking to explain anything to anyone. They were nice in the plea room, but definitely have the upper hand. There was no way I was getting an attorney for this, my apologies to all those attorneys who specialize in this type of law. I'm sure one of them could have helped me, but I did not wish to compund my guilt by hiring an attorney, though I may have saved an hour and a few bucks. It's doubtful an attorney would have saved from the comedy of errors that was my trip to the courthouse. First, I missed the ramp to get off one highway on to the next. Then I missed the first u-turn that would have allowed me to get back on track quickly. I found the second u-turn and made my way back to the spot of misdirection. At this point it was late, but I had time. Until I could.not.find.the courthouse. I went up and down that street, bumbling through no left turns, and no u-turn signs on driveways. I even tried to follow a cop to get directions, until FINALLY I saw an old Italian guy standing on the sidewalk, and he told me how to go. Yay. I'd get there with two minutes to spare! Except I had to park in the auxilliary lot, and I was halfway to the building when I realized I had left my phone in the car. Not that I am so attached to the phone, but I left all the kids home, and I wanted them to reach me if they could. I finally made my way into the building went up to the window, and got my number. 42. I asked if they had started at number 1, and the woman responded yes, but then kindly added, "don't worry, it goes pretty fast."
I guess that depends on whether or not you really want to get home. It wasn't unpleasant, though I did learn that throwing a drink on someone, according to the girl I was sitting next to, is considered assault.
So I've tried to get on a jury, I've stood before a judge, now I'd like to be a prosecutor.
Maybe I should go to Law School.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Smile and Say Cheese
There's a new product on the market called The Bais Yaakov Cookbook. It looks interesting, with pages on bug checking, halachos in the kitchen, tips on buying meat and wine, and a history of the Bais Yaakov movement and Sara Schenirer. Oh, and recipes.
In the ad I saw over the weekend it proudly trumpeted that this was not just a history, but a pictorial history. The cookbook in the ad was open to a page where one could see pictures of buildings and some great Rabbonim illustrating the pages of the written historical account of the rise of Bais Yaakov.
Before I let myself get too worked up,I decided that a trip to the local bookstore was in order, and a quick flip through the pages of this book would either allay my fear or prove once and for all that our world had in fact gone mad.
I am pleased to report, that based on this one cookbook, there seem to be some contemplative human beings around. The book is filled with pictures of women and families from that era, as well as the Mother of Bais Yaakov herself.
It sounds silly, but as I have noted before, as the mother of so many future women, I am disheartened by the disappearing woman in our society. Especially when she is expected to carry the burden of supporting her home, OUTSIDE her home. The hypocrisy s mind boggling to me.
But today I am heartened. I'll take any little thing I can get.
In the ad I saw over the weekend it proudly trumpeted that this was not just a history, but a pictorial history. The cookbook in the ad was open to a page where one could see pictures of buildings and some great Rabbonim illustrating the pages of the written historical account of the rise of Bais Yaakov.
Before I let myself get too worked up,I decided that a trip to the local bookstore was in order, and a quick flip through the pages of this book would either allay my fear or prove once and for all that our world had in fact gone mad.
I am pleased to report, that based on this one cookbook, there seem to be some contemplative human beings around. The book is filled with pictures of women and families from that era, as well as the Mother of Bais Yaakov herself.
It sounds silly, but as I have noted before, as the mother of so many future women, I am disheartened by the disappearing woman in our society. Especially when she is expected to carry the burden of supporting her home, OUTSIDE her home. The hypocrisy s mind boggling to me.
But today I am heartened. I'll take any little thing I can get.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The Book Was Way Better
Having kids at lots of different ages leads to the following conversation:
"Can we get a video for the little kids for Sunday, then we could study for our midterms in peace."
"Oh sure, for the "little kids""
"Can we get a video for the little kids for Sunday, then we could study for our midterms in peace."
"Oh sure, for the "little kids""
"Oh yes! I really want to watch "Ballerina Fairy Princess Tra-La-La Pony!"
Conviction
Why is it that if someone has a conviction about something that goes against what is considered a societal norm, or custom,they are put into a position of needing to explain themselves. Generally, there is an explanation, and it likely makes sense to the holder of said conviction, but then the one who notices tries to find reasons why that person is wrong.
If someone is running around pointing fingers and shouting about why they think what everyone is doing should or should not be done, then by all means, they deserve to be called upon their own actions. But if someone just does or doesn't do something within their family and people hear about it (and don't be disingenuous in the comments, people hear things, it comes up in conversation, and in no way am I saying that it needs to be kept secret) why do they need to prove that that person is wrong?
Is it because deep down they agree? Is it because it rankles them that someone can so easily NOT do what everyone does?
If someone is running around pointing fingers and shouting about why they think what everyone is doing should or should not be done, then by all means, they deserve to be called upon their own actions. But if someone just does or doesn't do something within their family and people hear about it (and don't be disingenuous in the comments, people hear things, it comes up in conversation, and in no way am I saying that it needs to be kept secret) why do they need to prove that that person is wrong?
Is it because deep down they agree? Is it because it rankles them that someone can so easily NOT do what everyone does?
Friday, December 2, 2011
She Passed!!!
After a long, long road, and lots of crying, cringing, shouting and maneuvering, she got her license. She's off already. My stomach hurts, but I have to let her go.
The next one will get her permit next week.
The next one will get her permit next week.
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