Chiefs Prospects 2012

Here we go again!

Instead of my usual shot in the dark kind of prediction for the Chiefs this season I decided to have a look at what the “experts” have to say.

The Chiefs are at 17 in one of the the power rankings and a few pundits have them as Div winners or wild card prospects. A few weeks ago, when I first looked, they were far more favourably assessed.

What's gone wrong?

Pre-season results were poor. In the areas where they were seen to be strong – they were weak. The defence couldn't do anything and the offence scored few points. A sure-fire recipe for dropping in the rankings.

The most quotable quote I saw is “As Matt Cassell goes, so go the Chiefs”. Matt is running out of time. He has to produce or he is gone.

Ignoring the pre-season, simply because it is the pre-season, things do not look so black. The running game is back and back stronger. Both offence and defence line play looks much stronger. The receiving corps looks very good. All positives.

The Chargers seem to be the favourites to win the Div. Nothing new there – they always are and always fail to produce. The pundits love them but they can't win consistently. The Broncos have the Peyton factor, but that's about it. He will bomb in Denver. Believe me, he will not be a factor. The Broncos will sink and sink fast. The Raiders will be the Raiders. They may win some games.

The Chiefs look the strongest in a weak Division. They should win it. I'm going with the positives from:

NFL Power Rankings: Chiefs at 13

The expectations are high in Kansas City after general manager Scott Pioli added a load of talent in the off-season. How well it pays off depends on the incumbents, not the newcomers.

The Chiefs offence will only be as good as Matt Cassel is at quarterback. He struggled in the 2011 campaign minus Jamaal Charles and Tony Moeaki, and the team hopes a shuffling on the offensive line plus the addition of Eric Winston will help Cassel play more consistently.

The defence was a great unit in 2011, but the front three in the 3-4 defence is a major issue. Glenn Dorsey and Tyson Jackson haven't lived up to their draft stock, and even 2012 first-rounder Dontari Poe is on the second team right now.

The Chiefs have stiff competition in the West, but the division is theirs if they play up to their potential.

Summing up: the Tribe are on the up. Cassel will have to play well for them to win. The running game will keep them in a lot of games. The defence will be better (barring injuries). They should win the Division and may win a play-off game. They are still a year or two away from a Super Bowl. But, who knows? As usual, the NFL will be super-competitive and very hard to predict. Everyone has the Packers as Super Bowl favourites. They were last year as well and look what the Giants did!

Keep Calm and Carry On

Bulldog spirit?  Nah, too wet!
Think it might rain at the Olympics?  You can't get good odds that it won't!

http://www.thehimalayantimes.com/fullNews.php?headline=Concerns+rise+about+incessant+rain+on+eve+of+Olympics&NewsID=338589

Despite all the contingency plans in place, the incessant rain during the Olympics will cause major headaches and possible calamities.  After all, the Olympic experience will attract many visitors to this island.  If we ever want them to come back, we better provide some kind of excellent experience.  One that doesn't involve an umbrella.

Mind you the Sunday Times had an article about how Washington DC can not provide electricity to run the air conditioners and folks are barely surviving as a consequence.  Totally unprepared and under-funded apparently. 

Some of us can remember a time when there was no aircon.  Oh happy days!  Not! 

Eventually, we did get one of the room air conditioners.  You know, the ones that just sit in the window and are propped up on the outside wall.  Mom and Dad had one in their bedroom.  Only fair when you have to get up and go to work, I suppose. Meanwhile, we poured with sweat and panted the night away dreaming of a cool dip in the pond.

And it is the pond that is the problem.  The big pond, the Atlantic pond, has gone haywire.  The jet stream is too far south and all the rain that usually falls on Scandinavian mountains is now falling on the East Anglian plain.

What's to be done?

Nothing as yet.  I predict the Olympic experience will sour relations with the rest of the world for a generation. Enjoy the Olympic experience while you can for London will not host another games for a generation (or two).  The games start in seventeen days.  Looking at the forecast for the rest of this week – it's a washout!

So the seventeen becomes ten.

Then the long-rage forecast will show even more rain on the way.

I can't wait for the 100m final to be run in a torrential downpour, or postponed or cancelled.

Misery loves company and if you are of that bent you have a lot of company in store.

We need some method of covering the country, like the centre court at Wimbledon.

Failing that:  I give up.

Then Germans Bombed Our Chippie

Germany 2 - Greece 0

Is anyone else just about fed up with Fat Frau Merkel? If reports are to be believed, she thinks we should all become more like the Germans. No, not marching with a funny walk and invading Poland, but being really thrifty and hoarding our cash.

Hang on! Have we not been here before? Let's remind ourselves. After WWII we gave the Germans millions of dollars and pounds and francs to rebuild their country. Everyone was scared they would choose the Commies (which Fat Frau's family did), so we bribed them to be nice Western Europeans. See my blog of 5 November 11 for more details.

The result is, apparently, now we all have to join up with the Germans in a kind of Pan-European superstate where the Krauts make all the rules and everyone else picks up the tab.

Unbelievable

There are people, of course, who consider that “let bygones be bygones” is correct. They are commonly called idiots. There are those who say “the sins of the fathers should not be visited on the sons”. They are well-meaning idiots.

My view is simple. The Germans owe us. Forget that the present generation might not have been born. They still owe us. They will go on owing us for about another 900 years. Then we might have a re-think.

An interesting programme was broadcast by the BBC the other night about Greece and the problems they are having. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. Also, beware of Greeks bearing grudges. An old Greek war hero (of the resistance) was interviewed. He forecast doom and gloom if the Greeks are forced to accept yet another form of German hegemony. Who could blame him? He was captured and tortured by the Germans. Now he is supposed to kowtow to them and accept a crust of bread as his reward? I think not.

Now the Greeks are hardly blameless in their present financial situation, but to hear Fat Frau lecturing them on the moral way to behave really must make them sick.

I can't blame them.

I like a lot of Germans I have met, as individuals. This does not excuse their guilt. The fact that they effectively rigged the Euro to suit themselves has somehow got lost.

They must not be allowed to forget. Neither should we.

Ukranians

A history lesson

A fascinating documentary last week about Nazi football hooligans in the Ukraine and Poland ahead of this year's European Championship.

Of course, everyone knows that Hitler and his Nazi cronies were quite the most unpleasant volk on the planet during the short-lived “Thousand Year Reich”. What is less well-known is the well-documented flirtation of the Ukrainians and some Poles with some of the more despicable acts of the Germans.

BTW, I have never understood why today we are so concerned with the Germans and what their attitude is to the EU.. They owe us. They owe us big-time. The only reason their economy is now so strong is that it is built on the back of the post-war handouts, chiefly from the US but also from other European countries. When they get on their high horse about Greek debt it makes me sick. Do they remember what they did to the Greeks only a short time ago? If I were in charge in Athens I'd invade the bastards and take all the money I needed from the Bundesbank. All citizens of countries devastated by the Germans in WWII should be entitled to a new Mercedes. Audi or BMW when they need one. Simply turn up and collect. See how much money they have then!

Back to the football. Some bright spark decided that rewarding the bad boys of Europe with a major tournament would be a good idea. What tosh!

Most of the really nasty concentration camp guards were Ukrainian. The Ukrainian anti-Semitism is well know and well-documented. So now we are to celebrate their culture, including Neo-Nazi hoodlums, and reward them with a major championship? Crazy.

Unfortunately, the “plucky Poles” of legend pale into insignificance when set against the collaboration of a large proportion of the Polish population who not only collaborated with the Germans but actively supported the final solution. It's no accident that a large proportion of the Nazi death camps were in Poland. Local Poles could be relied on to keep stum. The Polish Home Guard refused to arm the Jews of the Warsaw ghetto. No Pole raised their head above the parapet to save the Jews of Poland from mass extermination.

I saw an interview with the head of the Polish FA saying that there is no neo-Nazi problem in Polish football. Time will tell, but it still looks like UEFA are rewarding criminal behaviour.

Before we go further, let us deal with the “sins of the fathers” argument. It is crap. Nations which have contributed to mass murder and torture in the 20^th century will need a lot more that 70 years to redeem themselves. We should have no truck with those who would forget the past for they are destined to relive it in the future.

Back to football. I enjoyed the Italian politician who suggested that in the wake of the match-fixing debacle in Italy all football should be banned for, say, three years. I want this man on my team. What a blessing it would be.

Is it only consequential that the most base elements of society find expression at a football match?

It is not. There are nutters everywhere, but only football gives them an excuse to get together and a rationale to behave like morons. Why?

Because football in inherently inane. Football relies on so-called supporters hating the opposition as well as “supporting” their own team. It is beyond contempt. Football provides the vehicle for morons to behave appallingly and call it legitimate. Our Ukrainian friends were defended by their FA saying that their chanting anti-Semitic garbage was OK since one of the local teams was owned by Jews. Unbelievable.

When I take over football will be played in the park. Leagues will be outlawed. I'd love to see Cartoon Rooney try to make a living doing something useful, like hospital porter.

I await the day.

The Angevin Empire

“The problem with the weather is that everyone talks about it, but nobody ever does anything about it”

So true. But, I have a plan. It's a bit radical but it will work. I think.

Let's all up sticks and move to France – well acutally let's move to the best bits of France, kick out the cheese-eating surrender monkeys that are currently infesting the area and take over.

Sound good? It should do, for it's all been done before.

The Angevin Empire of Henry II was a cracking example of how to both improve the area and also get rid of the Frogs. Henry nicked the French king's wife and with Normandy already his dukedom by the time the French woke up to what was happening all they could do was shout Merde!

Cracker!

We'll even let them keep Normandy – after all the climate isn't really much better that England's. What we really want is Gascony, Maine, Aquitaine and Anjou. These are the best bits climate-wise and also grow some great wine grapes!

Is there room? Well it might be a bit of a squeeze but what the heck, the English are used to queuing!

Wait a minute, if we go for the whole nine yards and hit the Froggies with the Henry V thing, we can get the lot!

You will remember that Henry would have become King of France had he lived just a little while longer, but passed the crown to his son, Henry VI, who was crowned King of France.

Cracker!

Now the Queen is pretty much a decendent of Henry VI (give or take a few Germans along the way) so all we have to do is swap places with the Frenchies and we take her with us! I think she'd be Elizabeth I of France.

Works for me!

So we swap the whole country. Even the bits of France which aren't completely sun-drenched could be useful. There are some English people who don't really relish the sun and the heat. (They are probably direct descendents of the Germans who took over the place in the 450's). Hengst and Horsa, eat your hearts out!

Sometimes I frighten myself with my own brilliance!

Chiefs Go for the “Big Boys”

The only way is up!

Another draft class is on-board at Arrowhead, assuming they all sign contracts.

The 2012 class is an interesting one. There are no “big names” even though the Chiefs were picking at 11. Rumours of trades eddied and flowed all day but the Chiefs were content to pick where they were.

The biggest boy is undoubtedly Dontari Poe – the number one pick. This guy is a monster nose tackle. Truly big. Not surprising the Tribe went for him to fill a real need. If you are going to play 3-4, and the Chiefs are committed to it; you must have a big man to plug the middle and keep the offensive line-men off your linebackers. He fits the bill - big time. Now we can move Glenn Dorsey and Tyson Jackson outside and see if anyone can run on that formation. You stop the run and bring pressure up the middle. Simples. With the addition of Poe we should be able to do this all day. Welcome to the AFC West, Peyton.

So, with a big man at number one, what do the Chiefs do with picks two and three? Get some more big men. This time we may have to part company. At two we have Jeff Allen and OL. Big guy, yes. Big enough and good enough to beat out the incumbents? Hard to say. Same for pick three – another OL, Donald Stevenson. I hope these guys pan out and provide depth and competition on the OL, but I'm not convinced. This league is about scoring points. I read the offence as shaky. With people coming off injuries, maybe a round two or three pick at RB or even QB might have been more insurance. Hope I'm wrong.

At four we get Devon Wiley a wide out. Fine we could use someone to be a slot receiver, I'm not sold on Breaston. Could this kid do it? We'll find out.

We get another DB at five, DeQuan Menzie. Could he challenge for a spot at Safety. Chiefs look a bit thin there with Berry coming off an injury. I never did like last year's back-ups.

A running back at six – Cyrus Gray. Who knows? Special teamer or find of the season.

By the time you get to round seven it's a bit hit and miss. We got another DL, Jerome Long and another WR, Junior Hemingway. Experience tells you that these guys, although they will have a shot, will probably not make the team. Quite often there is a surprise and we could sure use one.

Okay, so what did we miss? LB. I'm surprised we couldn't find a good linebacker somewhere in the draft. Does the front office know something we don't? QB? Brady Quinn is in and is as good a draft pick. Stanzl may struggle to stay on the team. Chiefs are again committed to Cassell. For better or worse, till death do us part.

Summing up: an interesting draft class which if it all pans out could propel the 2012 season in the right direction.

The jury is out.

Grampa Goes to Galesburgh

The Journey of a Lifetime - or Two

The truth is I didn't know my Grampa Kauffman very well. The truth is, I suspect, not many people did. He certainly didn't get along with my father. Perhaps he held it against me that I was born to be named after him and my birth certificate confirms this. I am, officially, Kendall Edward Kauffman, though I was only ever known by this name for a short period. Then, according to family accounts, my old man fell out with Grampa big-time and I was named Malcolm Rodney instead ( I have a name change document from Cook Co, Illinois to that affect) – maybe just to spite his old man!

Add to that I was never Grampa's favourite. My cousin Jerry Stone took that honour. When he drowned in a swimming pit aged about 12, it affected Grampa almost as badly as My Aunt Mae and Uncle Mel. Somehow I always felt that Grampa wished it were me that had drowned. Just a feeling I had.

Anyway, he was from a different generation by a long way. In the fifties he must have moved to Independence for he was about with my Grandma Erickson.

He was definitely in charge of whatever house he was in. Aunt Jane and Uncle Bud never had children so perhaps Grampa had forgotten what it was like. My Grandma died in 1960 and after that Grampa must have moved in with Aunt Jane and then remarried.

Family tradition has it that he was bit of a ladies man. I've heard stories that Grandma threw him out on occasions for womanising. You might have thought that age had slowed him down but apparently not, as he took Ethyl from Galesburg, Illinois as his second wife.

By 1965 or so he would have been well into his late seventies.

I was fairly shocked and not a little displeased when my old man said to me one day, “Grampa wants you to drive him to Galesburg.”

This was typical. Grampa would not deign to ask me – he would tell my old man what he wanted and expect it would be provided.

Anyway the deal was already done. I was to drive Grampa's car – with Grampa for company – to Galesburg. I was to stay overnight with Grampa and Ethyl and he would put me on the train back to Independence the next day – and give me £10. That's the way it was explained to me.

Would that it were as simple in execution as in inception.

Now, to get to Illinois the traditional route was 40 Hiway across the state and then US 54 to cross the Mississippi at Louisiana, Missouri and then US 67 to Galesburgh No dice for Grampa. He always went US 24 to cross at Quincy and then catch up with 67 and on to Galesburg. This was not the way to go and I told the OM so. It did me no good. It was 24 Hiway all the way. It was two lane most of the way. It took a century as you went through innumerable hick towns along the way. Such metropoli as Bucknor, Levasey, Lexington, Waverley, Moberly, Paris, Monroe City and Paris slid by slowly, re-pleat with traffic lights and stop signs. It was early evening before Galesburg hove into view.

Ethyl was a very nice lady and I had dinner with her and Grandpa. No other form of entertainment being on offer, I went to bed early.

As promised next day Grampa took me to the station, got my ticket and put me on the train to Independence.

Yes, there were still trains in those days which serviced small Illinois and Missouri towns.

I duly arrived back in Independence a sight quicker than it took to get to Galesburg.

I never saw the $10 and I never had the nerve to ask Granpa for the money.

Chiefs Prospects 2012

The Draft Approaches and Free Agency is open.

Oh, what could have been. Strangely, the Chiefs remainded in the AFC West race for a long time despite the crippling injuries that blighted the 2011 season. This may be a reflection of the weakness in the AFC West with the Broncos (with no real QB) slipping into the playoffs and getting murdered.

It is so easy to blame the Chiefs' demise on the injuries in key positions, but good teams have depth and the Chiefs were not a good team in 2011 – their lack of depth, particularly at the crucial skill position, was there for all to see.

We move on.

Because the West is so poor, the Chiefs may start as favourites this season despite some woeful games last year.

Why? Everyone else may be worse – assuming Payton Manning doesn't sign for Denver!

Free Agency opens soon, so it's a good time for a review of each position.

Offence

QB

Got to start here as so the QB goes, so goes the Chiefs. We have Matt Cassell and Ricky Stanzl under contract. Kyle Orton did a passable job at the last minute last season. We have to assume that Cassell will still start, poor old Tyler Palko will disappear and Stanzl will get a shot at the back-up. Orton will not be resigned. Personally I think Cassell is in the Last Chance Saloon and if a top QB was available he could go.

Options? Go for a QB in the draft at number 11? Not likely. Sign a free agent back-up to challenge for Cassell's job? I hope so. Clearly we need a battle to become the starter from all the incumbents and any joiners – otherwise there isn't much point of having a training camp. For the record, Cassell has never convinced me he is a tier-two QB – and that's all we need.

RB

Lost Charles almost before the season started and never recovered. There is no reliable back-up – assuming Charles returns to action and is as productive as he has been. I think this is a big “if”! There is a long tradition of low draft picks and even undrafted rookies making a bit impact in the NFL. The Chiefs could use some of that!! But Chiefs will probably not “waste” a round one or two pick on a running back. Fullback is an area of concern. Free agency?

TE

Tony Moeaki. That's it. When he went down (and he has a long and well-documented history of injury) the Chiefs had no real back-up. The Chiefs offense, along with almost every other team in the NFL, now relies on a pass-catching tight end who can also block. Remember Tony Gonzales? I was hoping he might win a Super Bowl with Atlanta but not that seems unlikely. Shame for a future Hall-of-Famer. When will we see his like again?

WR

I called for a number one pick to be a wide reciever last year and was rewarded with Jonathan Baldwin. He promptly and mysteriously injured himself and didn't see action until about game six. He may well, we hope, have a break out season. We still need depth at this critical position. Free agency may be the answer. I see Colston of New Orleans is available. Absolute magic!!

OL

With Casey Wiegmann retiring it looks like his replacement is already on board in the person of Rodney Hudson. If he is as good as the retiree then the Chiefs are set at this position for the next decade. Albert and Asamoah look like sure starters but again there is little depth. I would not be surprised to see the Chiefs Number One pick be a offensive lineman.

Defence

Safety

Eric Berry should be back and healthy. But, anyone coming off a complete season-ending injury may not ever be as good again. That's football. Kendrick Lewis looks like the other starter with some depth at this position as well.

CB

One of the Brandons – either Flowers or Carr is almost sure to go in free agency. We have Areanas as back-up. Corner backs do not grow on trees. Chiefs to strengthen through the draft with free agency a possibility.

LB

The lack of depth and quality scares me. After Hali and Johnson there are lots of possibles and not too may certains. Strangely, the Chiefs' heirarchy seems very upbeat about this position. I wish I could join them.

DL

After Dorsey and Tyson Jackson this group looks solid but unspectacular. There is no nose tackle with Gregg almost certain to retire and Gilberry and Gordon in free agency. Lost of activity predicted in both the draft and free agency or we are in big trouble.

Kickers

There is none better than Colquitt and Succop usually performs well. No point in wasting a draft choice as you are only as good as your last miss and field goal kickers are always available. Wouldn't be surprised to see an undrafted rookie providing the competition in training camp.

Coaches

I was surprised at Todd Haley's dismissal. The Chiefs rarely do things that way. Rumour is he lost the dressing room big time. Romeo Crennel has experience and some good coaches around him. Apparently the players like him. It's a precarious occupation.

My prediction for 2012: Chiefs to improve to 10-6 or 11-5, and will win the AFC West and promptly depart in the first round of the playoffs.

Close Up the Wall

Afghan Worries

I'm back.

Actually, I never when very far away. I did go into hospital in Cambridge in early December and had my left knee replaced, but that isn't, I guess, very far.

I strongly urge anyone who is advised to have a knee replacement to give it some considerable thought. By comparison, I'm reliably told, hips are a piece of cake. Recovery time for knees is long – about six months. Now, after three I'm beginning to see the benefit. But, my knee is still worse than before it was done. I wasn't counting on that! Actual improvement is by very slow steps, with some one-up and two-back involved.

Summing up: it ain't no joke!

The pain in my knee is overshadowed by the dreadful news from Afghanistan today. Six soldiers have been killed by a massive road-side bomb. Over 400 British servicemen have now died in what is a a waste – a dreadful waste. Over 1800 American troops have also lost their lives.

What for?

The politicians are struggling to explain. Quite right as there is no real explanation.

The Afghans have been fighting, mostly each other, for hundreds of years. The whole society is based on tribal warfare. The old adage “rather fight than eat” fits perfectly. They have no real state as we know it. They are bandits and drug lords. They have no concept of democracy and are unlikely to get one. The Soviet Army could not do them in the 1980's. Britain's involvement goes back into the 1840's when Britain couldn't do anything with them despite a lot of trying and a lot of dying.

Everyone, including all politicians, knows this. That's what makes it so despairingly tragic!

What's the solution? Get out. Get out now. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

By comparison, my knee is a trifle. It hurts a bit. It's a bit depressing. Six young men, mostly in their early twenties are not coming home from Afghanistan. Six families are doomed to a life-time of remorse and agony. It's a travesty for politicians to pretend that there is no alternative. There is.

Get out.

Any Given Sunday

Chiefs inconsistent or just normal?

As the Raiders beat the Chargers to move to 5 and 4 the Chiefs wait in the wings to pick up the pieces and get a grip on the AFC West. Will it happen?

Who knows?

What is certain is that nothing is certain. That's for sure.

Why? Because the old any give Sunday has never been so true as it is today. Just look at the San Diego – Raiders game. Experts called it a San Diego opportunity, but the Raiders had different ideas. Still, the game was close and Carson Palmer performed well after the mauling the Chiefs dished out to him.

Except for a few big plays the game was a toss-up.

The Chiefs host a much improved Denver team this week and desperately need a win to keep up with Oakland. Have they any reason for optimism? Not really.

Last time out they were embarrassed by a Miami team without a win (any given Sunday).

Their home form has been erratic to say the least.

If you were a bookmaker you'd bet on Denver, and this is not just getting down on the home boys, but a measure of how poorly the Chiefs are look at the half-way stage.

The offence cannot really generate a running game and therefore Matt Cassell cannot generate a passing game. QED, the Chiefs are going to struggle unless they can untrack some kind of rushing game. Can they do it? Looks problematical.

Tebow dishes out something different and the Chiefs look vulnerable to a running game.

The defence will have to have a big game, with interceptions as well as hurries and fumble recoveries.

Prediction time: hate to say it but Denver may well win.

Re-group time for the Reds – it might be next year before we really have a team.

German Guilt

A thousand years will pass and still this guilt of Germany will not have been erased – Hans Frank

Let us leave it to a convicted Nazi war criminal to provide the twisted rationale for a French surrender and the collective European amnesia which allows the Germans to play hard ball with the EU.

So what do we get?

That fat Hausfrau Merkel dictating to Europe what the Germans will allow them to do.

That Eau d'Dwarf Sarkozy, product of a Greek Jew and a Hungarian aristo ( I know, you can hardly believe it) is still so frightened of the big bad Germans that he hides under a Carla's skirt whenever he sees one approaching the long-extinct Maginot Line.

That arch-coward George Papandreou, instead of reminding Merkel of the debt Germany owes to Greece, cobbles together an unlikely looking coalition of losers to placate the Krauts.

I can not believe it!

Meanwhile President Obama sits on the side-lines and waits to see how the Europeans can screw up the world's economy because he does not have the stomach for a fight with Germany. The war-time coalition must be spinning so fast in their graves that if only we could harness the force involved we could solve the energy crisis for another generation.

Let us forget the economics of the situation. Like all economic arguments no-one, least of all the politicians, really understands what's going on.

I'd rather focus on the Germans.

How did they, seemingly all of a sudden (in economic terms), become the all powerful super-Krauts who must be obeyed?

Don't forget barely a generation ago they were destitute, relying on the rest of us, mostly us as in U.S., to make sure they didn't starve. So we did.

Remember the Marshall Plan? (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marshall_Plan) Read carefully what the Germans did with the money!

Regardless of how you slice it, the Germans owe us all big-time.

Billions were spend trying to get rid of the Nazi crowd. Whole European countries were bankrupted – including Greece. Millions of Europeans perished.

Then we gave the Krauts a lot of money to prevent them from turning Soviet.

My plan. The Germans should underwrite the Greek debt. All of it. And, for all time.

Then every year British, Irish, French, Dutch, Norwegian, Belgian and Danish citizens should form an orderly queue outside their chosen German auto factory to collect their new BMW, Audi, Mercedes or Porsche.

No payment due cause they owe us and owe us big-time.

That's my economic plan to solve the Euro crisis.

You tell me why it's wrong. Go on, tell me.

Tabac

Evil is as evil does

I'm taking a completely different tack on the conviction of Vincent Tabac for the murder of Joanna Yeates. You can read details at http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1350309/Joanna-Yeates-murder-Vincent-Tabak-remanded-custody.html – the case is, sadly, a fairly usual murder tale. The person most likely to harm you, after your family, is someone you know.

Vincent Tabac has been justly convicted. We can be fairly sure of that as he pleaded guilty to manslaughter. The jury decided it was murder. I've no problem with that.

I do have a problem with some aspects of the media reporting of the case; because, other than some fairly dodgy reporting, there is not much else of interest or renown.

Vincent Tabac killed his neighbour in a fit of rage/depression/desperation/perverse excitement or something else. Only he really knows. He then tried to dispose of the body. He failed miserably.

The media make great play of the fact that he went shopping with Jo's body in the back of his car – as if this some great indicator of his evil nature. This is nonsensical. If, and he never claimed otherwise, Tabac was not suffering from some mental disturbance at the time, going shopping is simply an indicator of the stress he was under at the time – not some Machiavellian machination.

His half-hearted attempt to dispose of the body again shows that he was not thinking clearly. The media have portrayed him as some kind of techno-weirdo, highly educated and somewhat of a misfit. Much has been made of his “odd” personality.

Actually, he seems no more odd than any number of people you and I know.

Finally the media have sought to sensationalise his interest in internet porn, and violent internet porn at that. It also appears he paid for sex and visited some fairly decadent quarters to find it.

It would be great if this were so abnormal as to be outrageous. Unfortunately, it is not. The internet is awash with sites that you and I would find very disturbing. One thing you can be sure of – if no-one looked at them then they wouldn't be there. Not only Vincent Tabac looks at disturbing web sites.

Vincent Tabac is not a very nice person, despite the fact that neighbours found him fine and his girlfriend had no suspicions about him. So, but for the grace . . .

He will pay dearly for his crime, and so he should. But, to portray him as something so out of the ordinary that it is beyond comprehension is wrong.

Sadly that part of the human condition which “allows” us to mistreat, murder, maim or pervert our fellow humans is just not understood, either by the public, the police, the courts or the sociologists.

I suspect it never will be. Tabac will have a long time in prison to think about it, and so he should.

Dale Farm

Fascists take over Basildon

There are some notable flaws in the English character. For one thing, all Englishmen love a “fiddle”. If they can see a way to make a few bucks without the tax-man knowing, they are definitely up for it. Every time. Fiddling the system is a “victim-less crime” and the English view it as almost a national past-time.

Perversely, they are not so eager to view anyone else's fiddle as victim-less. The papers are usually full of stories about how someone has diddled the authorities and got caught. They receive no sympathy. So, cheating the government whey you do it is good, when someone else does it - it's bad.

Odd.

So, we come to the Dale Farm saga. (Google it to get the details – it's too tedious to recount) The very odd thing about Dale Farm is that it is a victim-less “crime” - yet seemingly the whole nation is united in condemning the travellers who have (horror of horrors) simply fallen foul of the draconian planning process.

The sanctimonious rabble who keep banging on about the law is the law are not only hypocrites (witness the penchant MP's have for fiddling their expenses) but also fascists worthy of a place in the Adolf Hitler Movement for the Elimination of Gypsies and Other Undesirables, and we know where that leads.

Before you conclude that I'm exaggerating or have lost my marbles, let us examine the facts.

Time to check out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dale_Farm

It should not take too long to realise that the travellers have made a lot of mistakes, yet that pales in comparison to the gormless idiots who are currently running Basildon Council. What is clear is that the idea that Dale Farm is or ever was green belt land is ridiculous. It used to be a scrap yard!

The only reason this has become an issue is because the people who live near the site don't like it. They have hi-jacked Basildon Council and put a bunch of little Adolfs in control whose only mandate is to shift some of the travellers no matter what, no matter how costly and no matter if common sense has to be sacrificed on the altar of bigotry.

And when they have finished, what will have been accomplished? The original site, which does have planning permission will remain. The hard standing and fences on the “illegal” bit will stay. Some of the caravans and structures on the “illegal” bit will also stay. Some of the travellers will have to leave, but the local councils will not provide suitable sites for them to go to.

Result? More agro in more places.

The government should have told Basildon to grant planning permission retrospectively to the site. It's done all the time!

End of problem and 18 million pounds saved.

The rate-payers of Basildon are getting just what they deserve, The travellers are not.

The Better Angels of Our Nature

Lincoln compromised?

Abraham Lincoln appealed to the better angels of our nature - attempting to persuade the South not to secede from the Union. It was in vain; though, perhaps even Lincoln could not foresee the four year nightmare that ensued.

Lincoln's response was, eventually, to free the slaves and seek to form that “more perfect union” as promised in the Preamble to the Constitution. Had he lived he may have succeeded. Without him, we got a century of discrimination and Jim Crow.

When we seek to imbue foreigners, other races, other religions and other creeds with demonic attributes, we are guilty of that most obvious of sins – the sin of self-righteousness.

Which brings me neatly to the UK Border Agency – an institution which would not have been out of place set up during the Spanish Inquisition or purposed by the state legislature of post-bellum Alabama.

A brief Wikipedia:

The UK Border Agency (UKBA) is the border control body of the United Kingdom (UK) government and part of the Home Office. It was formed on 1 April 2008 by a merger of the Border and Immigration Agency (BIA), UK visas and the Detection functions of HM Revenue and Customs. The decision to create a single border control organisation was taken following a Cabinet Office report.[1] The agency is divided into three broad command structures, each under the management of a senior director:

* external controls including visa issue in overseas posts

* borders, including passport and customs controls

* internal immigration controls including asylum, management of applications for further stay and enforcement.

Its head office is 2 Marsham Street, London. In 2011, the Chief Executive is Rob Whiteman.

The agency has come under formal criticism from the Parliamentary Ombudsman for consistently poor service, a backlog of hundreds of thousands of cases, and a large and increasing number of complaints.[2] In the first nine months of 2009-10, 97% of investigations reported by the Ombudsman resulted in a complaint against the agency being upheld.[3]

Whilst it is popular to blame the Border Agency for all sorts of problems it is important to remember that it is an organ of the government to whom all cock-ups are to be ultimately attributed.

Therein lies the real problem. The government is obsessed with and committed to pandering to the worst angels of our nature – not the best. Grab a Tory from the conference with any force, shake it and out will fall a True Blue Little Englander filled with True Brit. In other words, a bigoted fascist is semi-disguise.

Why should this be so? Simple, most Tories realise that the great British public are revolutionary fascists at heart and are petrified that they will desert en masse to the National Front. So, they ritually abuse immigration and wreak havoc with any rational discussion of the question.

Meanwhile, the neo-fascist voters are massaged with unattainable goals and half-truths in order to convince them that something is being done. Simples.

Without the better angles of our nature we are left to the sins of our fathers. Lincoln knew this and knew that the only sensible course was to confront ignorance and prejudice head on.

Would that the Tories had the same type of leader.

If wishes were horses ….

Doomed

As Frazier from Dad's Army Would Say, “We're Doomed”

My assessment of the 2011 Chiefs chances focussed on the QB, the offence in general and the defense's ability to chip in.

They have all gone to hell in an handcart.

Two demoralizing losses to what are perceived as average teams have highlighted the inadequacies in both the performances and the planning.

Remember: I commended the Chiefs for drafting a top receiver. He has not been seen so far in somewhat suspicious circumstances. Baldwin appear to be Baldlost.

Remember: I predicted that as Matt Cassell goes, so go the Chiefs. He has only gone to the toilet so far and has found it as difficult finding an empty cubicle as finding an open receiver.

Remember: I reminded all that if you can run the football you can win a lot of games. The Chiefs promptly lost Jamal Charles to an ever-lengthening injury list and have no real replacement in line.

Remember: I predicted that with an adequate defence a cracker-jack offense could make up the difference. 80 odd points have been conceded in two games.

Is the season over?

Yes, probably.

With San Diego coming up on Sunday, the prospect of 0-3 looms large.

It would take a miracle to win out on the coast.

If a week's a long time in politics – it must seem an eternity to the Chief's players, coach and management as they try to prepare for what could be a ritual slaughter.

Has Todd Haley had it?

Maybe, but unlikely. He shoulders some of the blame, but the real tragedy is that the steady progression plan ( ala Pioli) appears shot.

It's going to be a long season.

Hope Springs Eternal for Chiefs

Play offs or Goof Offs

It's now more than 40 years since the Chiefs Super Bowl win.

Could this be time to do it again? Is there ever a bad time!!

Reality check – The tribe won last year's AFL west title mostly because everyone else was worst than they were. Tough – but true. They finished 10-6 (coming off a 4-12 season) and lost their first play-off game since pigs stopped flying. Not exactly cause for organising a premature Super Bowl party!

But, things are looking up.

It appears the management have a plan and are sticking to it.

The Chiefs will run the ball and that's generally how you win football games. They drafted a top receiver in the first round and this will finally give Matt Cassel some weapons on offence. The defence look ok and this is the worry.

With an average offence and cracker-jack defence you can win a Super Bowl. The other way around and you'd have to get lucky.

So, as this year's defence goes, so go the Chiefs chances of a deep run into the play-offs of a shot at the big one.

How are they shaping up?

Coaches are expecting a second and third year burst from many players, particularly on defence. The secondary looks strong – very strong at the corners and safety. This is essential. The D-line is less secure and will have to play big to bring results. Chiefs have moved to strengthen the line in free agency. Good move.

Line backers are a worry. Almost to a man they are still learning the 3-4 and how they improve this season will probably decide how the Chiefs progress.

Then we have QB. This is the season for Matt Cassel to join the the premier league of quarterbacks. If he does then the Tomahawkers are sitting pretty – if not the tomahawks may be out for his scalp!

In the end, as Cassel goes, so goes the Chiefs!

Retirement

49 Years, Some Days and a Wake Up

You may have read my Grandad's diary. I put it on-line some time ago. ( http://www.beltoncricket.co.uk/Downloads/fletch.html ). The most frustrating part of the transcription is the technical terms he uses which must be specific to the cloth trade. It's often difficult to make out what he's talking about. He didn't have the internet, but I do - so I'm determined not to make the same mistake.

We are popularly told that this present generation will have far less job security and will have to work until they drop because the pension system is so screwed up (many thanks Bankers!).

This may be so, and if it is, I'm truly sorry; but I've done my bit, and I retire in a very short time without any compunction.

As part of the process, I decided to note all the different jobs I have had and briefly describe the how, why and where.

This may be a salutatory message for the generation to come, or the last ravings of an overworked retiree and loon.

Here goes.

I started working on the old man's milk route when I was about 11. That would be in about 1957. I know this because by then I was old enough to be of some use and stupid enough to think it was a kind of treat to be able to help on the milk route. In a very short time, I was dissuaded from both innocent ideas.

A milk route is really quite hard work. You start early. In the early days, I only helped on Saturdays (it was a six day operation) and gradually this expanded to working also during the school vacations. It worked like this: you went to Myers Dairy on Dodgion (I have a photo which clearly shows the old loading dock) and after the Old Man messed about filing out paper work and getting the order organised you loaded up the truck with the day's dairy goods and set off. In a day you travelled at least 100 miles – stopping and starting and knocking on doors with milk in your hands. The OM was famous for quipping (after you had left the truck and taken a few steps) - “watch out for a dog up there”. I was bit once and nearly was more than a few times.

Early routes included Ruskin Heights in South KC where a tornado smashed through on 20 May 1957. OM and I were among the first to see the damage as we were allowed in to deliver milk supplies. I also distinctly remember seeing the swath of damage on South Noland Road (south of 40 Hi-Way) where the same tornado cut a passage through trees either side of the road. This bare swatch was visible for many years afterwards.

I'm sure I couldn't count this as paid work for Social Security purposes, but the old man would buy you a cup of coffee and a sweet roll and sometimes, particularly when I got older, give you 50 cents for helping. Getting older was a two pronged fork. You always got the 50 cents but you also had to do six days a week in the summer. It's not easy getting up at 4:30 when you are barely a teenager.

My next foray into work was doing my cousins paper round for two weeks whilst he was on vacation. I'm not really counting that.

The best way out of this (I figured) was to get a real job, so the day I turned 16 I both passed my driving test and went to work as a fry cook at 70 Hi Drive-In on 39^th and Noland Road, Independence, Missouri. We were living on 39^th street terrace at the time. I could walk to work. We worked a shift system - Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday evenings (maybe 5 till 11) one week and Tuesday, Thursday Saturday nights in the next week. Or, did we do lunchtimes at the weekend? I think maybe we did and the system was more complicated that I have described. Sorry, it was a long time ago.

Sam Lerner was the owner and I was paid the princely sum of 75 cents an hour. After training in the gentle art of cooking hamburgers I got 90 cents an hour. The first week I worked I made $18.75. I remember that because I had to use the money to buy some new trousers for school. We really were quite poor. Over the years most of the people I knew as close friends ended up working for Sam. Larry Stoner was my bun boy for a while. I taught Bosco Cox how to cook hamburgers.

Sam was an old man then and now must be long dead, but he was a first class boss and a first class human being. He gave us “kids” real responsibility and thought nothing of going away for the weekend ( his passion was horse racing – for which you had to go to Omaha, Nebraska to indulge in )and leaving me more or less in charge when I was barely 17. He taught me a lot about the world of work. He taught me a lot about growing up.

We moved to 28 Berry Lane and Bobby Lawless lived a short walk away. The OM was in his racing stage and so I was in it too. Bobby was quite successful in ¼ midgets, and I won lots of trophies in my go-cart. Bobby and I hand-built a motorcycle and rode it around the neighbourhood. It was hairy. It had no throttle so he would sit front and steer and I would give it the gas with a cable direct to the carb whilst riding pillion. We didn't kill ourselves, but I don't know how.

Anyway, Bobby worked at the Kansas City Booth Manufacturing Co ( http://www.kcbooth.com/ ) - they are still in business! He got me a job there, but I can't remember the chronology? It was an education! It must have just been for the summer cause I wasn't there long. I think I'd have been about 17 or 18 and must have left 70 Hi (at least temporarily).

Anyway, the KC Booth Manufacturing Co was in North KC and was populated by a crew of Mexicans who did the real work. There is quite a large Latino population in KC and they must all have relatives who worked at KC Booth. I swept the floor and generally tidied up. They did all the skilled jobs. They made beautiful booths for posh restaurants and the quality was superb. They also taught me Spanish – of a sort. Mostly how to swear. It was an education.

I was 18 and at Central Missouri State Residence Center in Independence – right behind the Harry Truman Library. I had no money. I had to borrow some from my Grandad and Aunt Jane to get started. Borrowing money from my Grandad is one of the supreme accomplishments of my life. I temporarily had no job.

My sister, Ruthanne was waitressing at an Italian Restaurant on 71 Bypass just south of 39^th, or it could have been further north? She got me a job as the dishwasher. I joined the Honorable Company of Pearl Divers. Washing dishes in the Italian Restaurant may be the worst job I ever had. What my sister didn't tell me was that there was no dishwasher at lunch-times. So, when I got there at (say) 5 p.m. all the dishes from lunch were waiting for me. It took two hours to catch up – just in time for the evening's dishes to arrive. Trying to remove caked-on Italian sauces from a large pot requires a hammer and chisel. I kid you not. At one stage I thought that Tootie did this to me on purpose, but that was being uncharitable.

I was there only for a few months when I made it up with Sam and returned to 70 Hi. I had only left because I wanted a raise to $1.25 an hour and he wouldn't agree. He let it be known that I could come back and have the raise. I took it. Gladly.

Eventually, I ran out of money good and proper – as in stony broke – as in no pot to pee in and no window to throw it out of. I'd exhausted all the available avenues and had to drop out of school and get a real job. By real, I mean 40-ish hours a week and wages that put you in the paying income tax bracket. I went to work for 7 Eleven. My first and last foray into the retail trade.

I knew soon I was not cut out for it, but I needed the money and it was steady work. Not withstanding getting robbed - (http://malkauffman.blogspot.com/2011/06/raytown-bulls.html ) - it wasn't all that bad. Fortunately for us humans - as the years fade we forget lots of the bad things and only remember the good. It was boring and dealing with the public is a pain in the bum.

Whilst waiting to get drafted, my sister Ruthanne and her husband Alan managed to get me on at the Western Electric factory in Lee's Summit, Missouri ( http://www.thinkkc.com/sitelocation/realestate/section/summittechcampus.php ). I did the night shift ( 15:00 to 23:30) and like all factories it was boring but it paid reasonably well. I was back to sweeping up with a little light production work as well. I stayed there until I got drafted, St Valentine's Day 1968, and I returned there after I completed my time in the U.S. Army.

I suppose the United States Army qualifies as a job, but it sure didn't feel like one. A whole blog should be devoted to my time serving Uncle Sam. Mayhaps I will get back to this one day, but not now – it would simply take too long and take up too much space. I will say this – I did have some interesting experiences and met some very interesting people.

Returning to civilian life also meant a return to Western Electric. Even though the country was going through a mini-recession they had to take me back. It's part of how the government looks after its veterans. So, I spent a week on days more or less doing nothing and then they found a spot for me in the packing department. Obviously, if you make things they have to be packaged up and sent somewhere before they can be used. We packed. We packed everything that was made in the factory and sent it places. I was back on the night shift (good thing because I had resumed my glittering academic career at CMSU) and the packing department was no picnic. First thing at 3 o'clock I had to move all the packing stuff from one side of the bench to the other – to accommodate my left-handed outlook on work. Many times I was told that I could not do a particular job at Western Electric because of my left-handedness. I ignored them and after a few minutes studying the task, re-arranged the work space and got on with it. It was tedious work and my work mates were uninspiring. I can't think that I made anything like a friend among fellow workers in the packing department.

I wasn't there for long. I got moved to transistors and back to the designation “floor hand”. Glorified cleaner and odd-job person is what it was. We arrived. We got our floor sweepers. No brooms – too much dust would be whipped up. We wandered about for two or three hours sweeping and chatting to the ladies who did the actual work. We killed time. We did some production work on the “dirty room”. Some manufacturing processes produced dust and grime so an enclosed space within the department housed the “dirty” processes, even to the extent that the air pressure was lower inside so when the door opened the air came in – not out. I worked with Danny Ray Grimm, what a character. Danny Ray was once was arrested for drink driving whilst sitting amidst a pile of empty beer cans that completely obscured the floor of the car he was driving at the time! He, somehow, talked his way of that one! He was a character. He used to come by my house on South Lynn and we would ride motorcycles to work in the summer. He had a Honda 400 cc and my 350 cc Yamaha would really shift!

I worked at Western Electric all the time I was at Warrensburgh finishing my degree. So, I got up early, drove 50 odd miles to Warrensburgh, went to class, drove 50 odd miles to Lees Summit, worked until midnight and drove 10 miles home. Easy when you are in your 20's. Wouldn't want to try it today. I used to “hide” in the dirty room and do my required reading.

Summer of 1974 we moved to England. Even though I was on a visitor's visa at the time, I went to the labour exchange and got a job at Klingers Gasket Factory in Foots Cray. Their headquarters are now in Bradford, and the Foots Cray site seems not to be in existence any more. This was quite an introduction to the world of work in England.

First of all this was pre-Maggie Thatcher; therefore, everyone had a job. Well, everyone went into a place of work, even if they didn't do much of a job when they got there. That was definitely the system at Klingers. We had breakfast in the subsidised staff canteen. We did a bit (actually it was quite like the Western Electric packing department – we had a trolley and we went and found the gasket material for the order then we packed it up for shipment).

We had a long lunch. We did next to nothing after lunch. Jimmy and Taffy, my work-mates were big into horse-racing so they had fixed up a rest area, made out of old packing crates, complete with tea pot and radio. My job, being young and fit, was to take the bets to the bookies.

Good thing was the number 52 bus ran almost to the factory door from Welling and it was convenient to get to work. It was certainly an eye-opener! Meanwhile I was trying to get my first job in teaching.

I had already figured out that the best weather in England is in East Anglia. It's the warmest and driest part of the country – statistically speaking.

So, when I saw an advert for a job near Gt. Yarmouth, I applied, and I got it. I started my teaching career at Duncan Hall and was there for 12 years. I learned was humility among many other things.

There was a little lad named Toby – only about six. One day as they lined up for afternoon lessons he looked up at me and said, “I like you Mr Kauffman.” I was about to say something appreciative when he continued, “Mind you, a lot of people don't.” A real definition of deflation.

One of my ex-pupils works at Roys of Wroxham and I see him often. Occasionally, I hear news of one or other “Old Boys” and it never fails to make it all seem worthwhile.

While I was there as a struggling, ill-paid teacher, I always had a job in the summer holidays. I scrubbed toilets and took care of the swimming pool at a Caister holiday camp. I delivered papers for Menzies, the wholesale newsagents. I refuelled helicopters and checked bags at North Denes airfield.

In order to make ends meet, I cycled from Winterton to Yarmouth every morning at about four to do the papers. I drove the van and Jimmy worked in the back sorting out the bundles. Jimmy had been a prisoner of the Japanese during the war and really hated them. Even in the 1970's if he saw an oriental-looking person he would go mental.

I'm glad I was young when I had to cycle miles to work for about £10 a week. I'd hate to try it now! I was delivering papers when they tracked me down to attend the birth of son number two.

Duncan Hall closed in 1986 and I was temporarily unemployed. I did some supply teaching at Feltwell. Uncle Sam had a High School there for children of Air Force personnel at Lakenheath and Mildenhall. I needed a steady income and a return to teaching, but I found myself, instead, working as a security guard for Dardan Security at the gas terminal near Bacton, Norfolk. It was local, and it was steady work - if uninspiring. Night shifts were interminable. I was only there a few months when an opportunity came up at Finborough School near Stowmarket. I knew many of the teachers there from my time at Duncan Hall and was appointed third in the English Department with a little Science teaching thrown in for fun.

I was at Finborough from 1987 until I took early retirement in 2004. I did my best work at Finborough. There developed over the years an excellent staff, and I made some friends who will stay with me until we are all too old to care!

After some lazing about I got a job on the “bank staff” register at the Norfolk County Council. My first appointment was to edit the gibberish produced by a Social Worker who insisted she was severely dyslexic. She couldn't write for toffee and that's a fact. So, I would take her notes and bits of paper and produce statements for the courts. Some of them were just sad, as when grandparents (who just happened to be heroin addicts) wanted access to their grand children. Others were hair-raising, involving some shocking cases of child abuse here in tranquil Norfolk. It was an education. I did some work for the careers service in Yarmouth, mostly creating a database of service users and amenable local companies who might employ them to improve their chances of getting a real job. All in all it was very part-time and not very lucrative.

I saw an advert in the Eastern Daily Press. It looked interesting, so I logged on to the NHS web site and applied for the job of Housekeeper at the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital. Next thing you know I got an interview and – sure enough – I got the job. I was just over two years from retirement.

Working in a hospital is really interesting. Especially on the Acute Medical Unit. People die at a steady rate, pretty much one or two a week – sometimes a day! I gained a new and enthusiastic appreciation for the work of the nurses. The doctors are good, but generally they live in a world of their own and often seem either lost or just about to be lost. The ancillary staff without a doubt are excellent.

At the N&N there are some superb people who will look after me when I am so aged that it becomes my final stop-over before the grave. There are a lot of worse places to end your days.

Unfortunately, that's where most oldies in Norfolk go to die. The scenario: GP is called out to oldies house and, despite knowing that they are coming to the end of their life, feels Hypocratically bound to call an ambulance and have them taken to AMU. They are put in a bed and kept comfortable but they will not leave the hospital except to go the the morgue. Far better to die at home. Unfortunately, in this litigious society the doctors don't have much choice. They should, perhaps, say to the relatives that Granny is dying so just let her die in peace at home. But, they daren't.

So that's it. Nearly 50 years of work. No wonder I'm tired sometimes.

Defining Characteristic

Why we are what we are.

Endless learned literature, endless speculation, endless theories attempt to define the human condition. We are, rightly, fascinated by who we are, how we got here and where are we going.

We see ourselves as special in so many ways. To the religious we are God's chosen. To the secular we are the pinnacle of a vast web of genetic mutations which, without pre-ordained purpose, lead eventually to us.

Whichever is your view, we can agree that we are unique. Well, almost. Elephants have great memories and appear to grieve when another elephant dies. Dolphins famously once said, “Goodbye and thanks for all the fish.” (Douglas Adams – Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). Very human indeed. Chimps can plan an attack and work out that only co-operation between individuals will bring success. This is one, but not the most important one of being human.

I often illustrated the defining human characteristic to children by using lions as a prompt. We have all seen wildlife programmes and are intrigued by how lions will work together to bring down their prey. This is very human-like. They have a plan – though it does not involve much communication between pride members - mostly instinct. We seldom focus on the poor gazelles.

They graze, head down. They look up to see where danger lies. Nature has provided them with excellent vision at spotting moving lions. In the long grass and still (and down wind) the lions creep closer and closer.

Eventually the lions charge. All the gazelles run and run very fast. One lion trips a gazelle and it's down. A quick bite to the throat and it's dinner time for lions. Darwin's survival of the fittest in action.

What about the other gazelles? Do they stop to see what has happened? Do they remonstrate with each other at their compadre's ill-fortune? Does one gazelle cry, “Ouch, that's gotta hurt!”

No.

They are unable to summon up that most defining of human qualities – empathy.

We are able to put ourselves in other's shoes and imagine what they feel like. We can vicariously live the life of a lion or a gazelle or another human being and learn. No other creature can do this.

This is our greatest strength. The gazelles are much faster. The lions are much stronger, but we overcome them by empathising with each other, feeling each other's pain, imagining each other's suffering and co-operating with each other to defeat the much stronger foe. We alone can do this.

It is when we lose this ability – either through illness, stress or pain that we are most vulnerable. We can no longer see the “bit picture”. We are unable to plan effectively to overcome our difficulties. We are at the mercy of what Freud called the Id – the set of uncoordinated instinctual trends that in times of stress can override our rational thought processes. The Id may save us when confronted with a hungry lion, but is no help in a modern society with it's pressures that nature hasn't prepared us for.

For that, we have to nurture and regain our sense of empathy.

Raytown Bulls

Magic days when you are young and stupid!

I have been remiss. I thought I had made a good effort to recount most of the really interesting things that happened to me in the early years. I did not. I forgot about the Raytown Bulls. How could I do that?

Having spend many years as a fry cook at 70 Hi Drive-In, I found myself out of money and with little prospect of being able to carry on at Central Missouri State. I needed a job. And, a job that actually paid full-time wages.

Therefore, I went to work for the Southland Corp – 7 Eleven to you and I.

I soon learned that I was not actually cut out for the retail trade. A valuable lesson, since I have never tried it since, and I'm now retirement age.

Nevertheless I did my best and increased my income dramatically. After training and whilst waiting for a full-time permanent job at a store, I did some shifts all over as relief for folks who were on vacation or sick or whatever. That's how I came to be at the 7 Eleven at 87^th and Raytown Road.

Raytown is a really interesting place. It's sort of south of Independence and north of Lee's Summit and east of Kansas City. Although surrounded by these other conurbations, Raytown is a entity in itself with its own government, fire and police service: rather like a boil on your bum – it's just there.

The 7 Eleven at 87^th and Raytown Road was a small one and not very busy. I was down for the afternoon and evening shift, as I recall, from about 3 till 11 – closing time. When I got there, I met the manager, who was there on his own (I told you it wasn't very busy), and he showed me around, though almost all 7 Eleven's are exactly the same. Before he left he gave me his home phone in case I needed anything – a fact which will become important later. I settled into the evening shift, waiting on customers and re-stocking as required.

7 Eleven are big on security. Every 7 Eleven has a safe. It's one of those hole in the floor safes in two parts. There is the main part, which you open with the combination and a slot at the side which you can push bills down into the bottom. The manager told me I did not need the combination to the safe as I would only put money in when required. Company policy was not to keep cash in any quantity in the cash register (till to British readers) but to push it periodically down the slot and into the bottom of the safe where it could only be retrieved with the combination. Sound procedure. But, in this case, one that caused me some difficulties.

Getting close to closing time and there was no-one about, so I decided to grab a few extra minutes and lock the doors early – only about 3 minutes - lest they try to track me down after all these years and claim back the 20 cents they might think I owe them. After I locked the doors, I went into the cold store to stock up the Coke and milk for the morning. The manager would be impressed!

From the inside of the cold store I heard a knocking, so (very stupidly) I came out to investigate. Someone was knocking on the door. I went to the door. A guy was standing outside coughing into his handkerchief. Through the cough he asked if I had change for five dollars. Very, very stupidly I opened the door to explain that all the money was locked up in the safe. Bad move.

He produced a gun (looked like a .38 from where I was standing) and told me to get down on the floor. I did.

He told me to crawl to the middle of the store and behind the serving station, where the safe and cash register were located. I did.

He told me to take my shirt off ( a rather swank little number complete with 7 Eleven badge) – this will become important later.

Whilst I was lying on the floor face down I could see little of what he was up to. Eventually the subject of the safe came up, as in “open the safe”. I distinctly remember saying, “I know you're not going to believe this, but I don't know the combination”. And, I explained why.

Thinking fast, I said that I could phone the manager and ask him if he would give me the combination. We went to the phone (pay phone) and dialled the number – then he sensed that this was not going to work and told me to hang up. Back we went to the serving station. Back on the floor, face down. He found the money order machine which was attached to the counter by a wire. He undid the wire and used it to loosely tie my hands behind my back. He took a roll of nickels from the till, a whole 5 dollars worth of five cent pieces – that's all the money that was left in there. He took my wallet – maybe a couple of bucks. He picked up what he thought were money orders (money orders are like postal orders) and, after admonishing me not to move for five minutes, he left with the money order machine and the money order receipts and my five dollars.

I stayed still for maybe a minute as I had heard the door close and could see no reason why he would try to trick me (how trusting are the young)!!

It took me about 10 seconds to get rid of the wire around my wrists. I got up. He was gone. I went to the phone to ring the police. I was lucky, somehow he had left a dime in the till. I simply said that the 7 Eleven at 87^th and Raytown Road has been robbed – come quick.

Now, the Raytown Bulls were not, and for all I know, are not known for their subtle arts of persuasion. I decided that the best place to be when they arrived would be outside in plain view. I went to the cooler and got a Dr Pepper. I went outside and stood leaning on the outside Coke machine in front of the store. I distinctly heard the Bull's sirens in the distance.

I looked up and my assailant appeared from around the side of the building. He said something like, “You called the cops!”

I said, “No, no – I called the manager and I don't know what he did” (sound of sirens in the distance).

He shouted, “Get back in the store!” I needed little persuasion.

Back I went on the floor and behind the counter. I noticed that he had put on my 7 Eleven shirt. ( I believe that what really happened was that after he left he realised that he had only the money order receipts – not worth a jot – and a $5 roll of nickels and decided – very stupidly to come back and have another go at the safe. )

The scene: I'm in my T-shirt and lying on the floor – he's standing by the till with my 7 Eleven shirt on. The bulls came charging in – I could hear them.

First cop shouts, “Which way did he go?”

Crook replies, “That way!” And he points.

Cop leaves.

I'm dumbfounded – but realise that he's got my shirt on and I'm not visible from where the cop was.

I stay put.

Eventually another cop arrives and is not so easily put off. I can see a bit of what transpires by lifting my head slightly and turning my head very slightly. The cop ( confused as only flat-foots can be ) keeps coming forward questioning the crook. As they draw even Crook grabs the cop and tries to get cop's gun from its holster.

Ever wonder why the cops have those straps on their holsters? This is why. Crook had the cop by the neck trying to get the gun from the holster which is strapped down. Cop is still as the crook still has his own gun at the cops's neck. More bulls arrive. There is a scuffle ( out of my sight ) and noise. I hear the door open and close. I stay still. Seemed a damn good idea to me.

Some time passes. I stay put.

Curiosity overcomes me. I get up and look. A cop shouts at me, “Get down and put your hands behind your back!” I do.

He cuffs me. I protest.

“I'm the guy who called you, I work here!”

Though not entirely convinced he lets me up and removes the cuffs. Another cop arrives and informs me that they saw me but thought that I was dead! Magic.

I go outside where the bulls are cuffing the bad guy and sticking him in the back of a Raytown police car.

I'm relieved.

Off they go leaving me behind. No such thing as crisis counselling in those days. I go home and recount my adventures to all and sundry. I'm probably in shock but am too stupid to realise.

I remember that the crook has my wallet. I call the Raytown police. They explain that it is evidence for the trial.

I never got it back.