'If we can do this, we can do anything.' An appreciation for the life of Geraldine Ferraro, ex-vice presidential candidate.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
In 1984 a streaked-blond, peanut-butter-and-jelly-making mom made history... before she became an object lesson in unwittingly hurting the candidate and political party she was there to help.
Her name was Geraldine A. Ferraro, and now she is dead at 75, March 26, 2011 of complications from multiple myeloma, a blood cancer she had doggedly battled for 12 years.
Her day of days, July 11, 1984.
Arguably the most important day in at least her public life occurred July 11, 1984 when Walter "Fritz" Mondale made history by selecting U.S. Representative Geraldine Ferraro as his vice presidential running mate. At a stroke, she became the first major-ticket VP candidate... and the first national Italian-American candidate, two facts which proved to be critical in her startling ascent and the muddle, distractions, and stumblings which followed.
A presidential candidate's first important act is the selection of a vice presidential nominee.
Americans look to their presidential candidates to demonstrate executive problem-solving skills and leadership. But such a candidate, unless he is president himself (when he and his record automatically become the focus of the campaign) have a big problem which must be handled early and without error.
While they might have the skills to be  president and even an impressive list of important accomplishments and decisions should they, say, have been governor of a major state (like Reagan and California), voters are still being asked to gamble that a person who has never made presidential- level decisions can, in fact, make them,  not surprise the nation (as has happened often enough) with ineptitude; (like Jimmy Carter, the master of Oval Office missteps and pratfalls.)
The only person immune from this aspect of any given campaign is an incumbent. If there is such an incumbent, he automatically becomes the virtual sole focus of the campaign, pro or con. (Obama take note).  But that problem, in 1984, was Reagan's.
Mondale's problem was the usual one of an out-of-power party... showing America it would be better off with a new president it didn't know much about, instead of retaining  the incumbent they already knew, but who now stood before them no longer fresh, battle-scarred, and, of course, (whatever his achievements) with the usual legion of second-guessing detractors.
For the challengers the selection of the right VP candidate is crucial, couldn't be more important. Yet candidates often (quick, can you say Senator John McCain?) muff this business... and help derail their own campaigns, by turning what should have been a plus into an unexpected minus. America always notes this with alarm, incredulity, disdain, and usually dismissal.
"Fritz" Mondale... the nicest guy in the world... except for Ronald Reagan.
Mondale, Jimmy Carter's vice president, was by common repute a deeply honorable, good natured, well balanced man. He was the boy next door about, so the Democrats hoped, to get the prize ordinarily kept from the nice guys famously finishing last.
But he had a problem. "(Most) everybody loves Ronald" Ray-Gun. He needed a way to lay a finger on the guy and help America wise up. Because the Democrats thought Reagan unsympathetic to women's issues... they needed a candidate who could help galvanize women. Abigail Adams, wife of the second president, had written him "don't forget the ladies." Democrats didn't intend to. But how?
There she is... Mrs. America... Geraldine Ferraro.
She was pert, lively, credible, a real-life mom with real-life mom joys and dilemmas. She was also  a former Queens, New York prosecutor. There she battled the intractable problems of a great city which had them to spare; her daily diet rape, crimes against the elderly, child and wife abuse, so draining she later rote they caused her to develop an ulcer. And the liberal principles which, at her best, defined her. 
At the urging of Mario M. Cuomo, then lieutenant governor of New York and another "Italo" wanting friends for his  own ambitions, suggested she run for Congress. She did, ultimately winning 3 terms, learning fast the tribal rituals of the House of Representatives and, most of all, learning to work with its chiefs. This included House Speaker Thomas O'Neill. He liked her and helped her advance within the establishment to chairwoman of the Democratic Platform Committee, a plum assignment for understanding the party and its players nationwide. In due course, it was O'Neill who urged Mondale to select her as his running mate. It goes without saying that all Democratic congresswomen (they called themselves the A Team)  were in her corner, saying that Geraldine was what they needed to wow the women, and the nation.
"Fritz" bit... and made the calculated decision to put a woman on the ticket. Whether she was the best available woman, or not, will always be argued. She was a gal, she was a great, tireless campaigner with a feisty, upbeat style people liked... all to the good. But... and these were big buts... she knew nothing of the world beyond Queens (a problem most of its denizens have); she had no executive experience at all... and absolutely no foreign policy experience or expertise.
But Mondale selected her anyway. This turned his dull nominating convention into a thrilling celebration of women in America, their inexorable, soul-stirring progress to the heights of the nation. As Ferraro said "If we can do this, we can do anything." Millions felt uplifted, glasses raised, tears shed. It was a signature American event...
... And it began to fall apart within just hours as questions began to be raised about her husband's financial and tax records. There were nasty innuendos, too, about organized crime, god fathers, the paraphernalia of ethnic hate. Mondale learned the hard way that behind every successful woman candidate is a husband... the man he didn't select, but who could cause  an entire campaign to stumble. So it was with Ferraro and the man she loved. Thus, Ferraro and her connections became part of Mondale's problem... instead of the solution she had once appeared to be.
In the end, of course, she probably wasn't the ultimate cause for Mondale's demise. Ronald Reagan was. America loved Reagan (despite lapses and errors). And he was becoming, right before their eyes not merely a president but a statesman, a man they liked, trusted and revered. Fritz never had a chance, and of course Ferraro went down with him.
Now the mom from Queens is gone, a footnote in history, not a chapter. But I prefer to remember the best moment of her busy life: "If we can do this, we can do anything." She was absolutely right about that.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Ray Wisniewski <a href="http://cashgrowthunlimited.com/

Reichen Lehmkuhl reveals all -- again. What a boy will do to get ahead.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
To be honest, I had forgotten  Reichen Lehmkuhl... and apparently a lot of other people had too. That's the kiss of death for Reichen, a boy who has spent untold hours getting to be "known", only to slip back into the unfathomable depths of obscurity.
If Reichen doesn't know about the Myth of Sisyphus, he should. Sisyphus was a figure of Greek mythology, a man condemned to repeat forever the same meaningless task of pushing a boulder up a mountain,  only to see it roll down again. It is a tale of frustration, futility, and despair.
Is it better to inform him about Sisyphus, or not? A scene from Sam Spiegel's epic film "Nicholas and Alexandra" (1971) frames the issue.
The Bolsheviks of Ekaterinburg have decided to assassinate the entire Romanov family, Nicholas II, his Tsaritsa Alexandra, and their five children, along with some members of their court, even  their dog. Their jailer knows this. He has been holding a sack full of their mail, wondering whether it would be "kind or cruel, cruel or kind" to give it to them.... He stands in the doorway of "The House of Special Purpose" musing. It is engrossing cinema but difficult to decide in real life...
I am faced by a similar conundrum. For it is painful to see what Reichen will do -- and has already done -- to capture the "bitch- goddess success". William James, a Harvard man, coined the phrase in 1906 here in Cambridge, Massachusetts. "The exclusive worship of the bitch-goddess success is our national disease."
James was celebrated worldwide when he made the celebrated observation. He was a man of family, education, worldwide renown, and substantial achievements.
All that he and Reichen Lehmkuhl have in common is the slender thread of Massachusetts birth, though James' insight is crucial to understanding Reichen.
Reichen, you see, will do anything, everything for the love and admiration of unknown people... this is his curse, and it is painful watching, and wincing, as he grasps at straws which cannot turn into enduring, useful bricks. He is the bitch-goddess' prisoner... no parole, no escape.
Born Richard Lehmkuhl, December 26, 1973.
Lehmkuhl's parents, a policeman and a nurse, divorced when he was five years old. Thereafter his mother moved to a trailer park on  the Norton, Massachusetts Reservoir, near Wheaton College geographically, but a world away from its privileged youths. He was known as Richard then; "Reichen" he adopted after 2002. It sounded butch.
At age 16 (so it says in Wikipedia) , he received and accepted an appointment to the United States Air Force Academy. After graduating in 1996, he served five years and attained the rank of captain before his honorable discharge.
That's the official story.
The unofficial story is more difficult, more important, and changed Reichen's life.
In his first autobiography "Here's What We'll Say: Growing Up, Coming Out, and the U.S. Air Force" (2006) , Reichen tells the tale of being a gay cadet at the Air Force Academy, living a secret life that didn't remain  a secret and  the harsh reality of harassment based on sexual preference. Writing this book with total honesty was perhaps his finest moment.
But the bitch-goddess success never makes things easy. She exacts a terrible price from those who worship at her shrine and want another dose of addictive fame, success, and the love and admiration of people they will never meet.
That dose, for Reichen, came when he and his "spouse" Chip Arndt were selected for "The Amazing Race 4" -- and won.... a cool million the richer. Life wasn't only good; it was idyllic. Youth, recognition, fans, money, love... it just doesn't get any better than that.
Reichen was about to learn just how true that was.The bitch-goddess came with her I.O.U...and, as always, it was staggering.
He and Chip, the picture postcard perfect duo, split.
The money, easily acquired, was quickly dispersed, easy come, easy go.
Worst of all, Reichen, an officer and a gentleman by the act of Congress, a man of goals, deadlines, missions accepted, missions accomplished, now was ay loose ends, careerless, without the structure successful people know is crucial to their achievements and emotional well-being. The Air Force Officer who once flew high wasn't grounded anymore.
For immediate recognition, strip and show all.
Reichen was gifted by God and hard work with an eye-catching bod. Now he decided it could be his passport to greater glories... not to mention lots of dates. And so, no doubt after due deliberation, he decided to put that body, all of that body, on display. Someone should have reminded him of a scene from "Saturday Night Fever." (1977). A character named Annette wants a relationship with John Travolta's character Tony. But he warns her, "Good girl or slut," you can only be one or the other.
Stripped, Reichen started his descent, one provocative image at a time, flexed,  nude, the sex tiger...
He was buff, he was tan, he was chiseled, he was out-of-control.
And the bitch-goddess was grinning in the background... she was enjoying her work.
Every time you saw Reichen in the media, and Reichen sightings were frequent, he had less on, showed more beefcake and was with yet another, always younger guy friend. He made the West Hollywood party scene, where he party-hardied. There were the usual rumors of drugs and the usual frantic dissipations.
Then Reichen found love, or so he said. Lance Bass, younger, richer, celebrated (but dowdy), himself a former 'N Sync band member wanted what Reichen had in spades... sex appeal to the max. Now there were endless Reichen and Lance sightings. For a while... then this relationship, too,tanked, so fast. It got ugly, it got messy, it got in the papers.
Now Reichen is shopping a new autobiography "It'll Be Great Exposure." On Twitter and Facebook, he says he's dedicating this volume to "all who get fed this line." In short, Reichen has become the "older but wiser boy"; or at least he says so.
The flesh is older now, though still alluring. It isn't go much fun to do the party thing either. And it gets old, just ask him, being asked to strip and smile.  He was after all an Air Force Officer, a order giving man of spit and polish, destined for more than an aging boy toy. Now he's angling for a second chance, a reformation. Only the bitch-goddess success knows whether he can have it... If you don't see him in the papers, unclad and oiled, perhaps he got it after all.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc.  providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses.
Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Ray Wisniewski <a href="http://cashgrowthunlimited.com/

Comments are appreciated.

'Tell mama... Tell mama all.' An appreciation for the life of Elizabeth Taylor, who did it her way.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
First you saw two of the most beautiful people you had ever seen, Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift. That was reason enough to pay attention.
Then, all of a sudden, the film made a quantum leap from eye-candy to the profound mysteries of sexuality, eroticism, desire. And Elizabeth Taylor was no longer merely the spoiled teenaged daughter of the country club set. She was a man's ultimate desire... because she understood that desire is not about who you are... it's about understanding what the other person needs, deep down inside... and making it, if only for an instant, temptingly available.
"Tell mama," she whispered, "Tell mama  all."
It was unexpected! It was erotic! It was kinky! This was the woman you'd kill for... as Montgomery Clift's character did... it couldn't be any other way.
This was Elizabeth Taylor... on the prowl, mesmerizing, entrancing, a woman who used her deep psychological insights to ensnare the man she wanted, the man who would ultimately bore her and so trigger another installment of the great game that was hers to play.
Was she just a character in "A Place In The Sun" (1951)... or was this the exciting, desirable woman herself? We didn't know... but we definitely wanted to find out, whatever the cost. And we knew there would be a cost, a terrible cost.
"Tell mama... tell mama all." We wanted the opportunity to do  just that.
And they say the 'fifties were dull....  Not when Elizabeth Taylor was around. She didn't know the meaning of the word and always chose mayhem over the placid and serene.
Now the woman is gone... but her great renown, her celebrity,  the legend all remain to titillate, captivate, thrill. All that will never be gone.
Elizabeth Rosamond Taylor, born February 27, 1932 in London.
Her father was an American art dealer, in London to open a gallery. Her mother,was an actress.  Although only 7 years old when her parents decided to remove her from war-threatened England and return to Los Angeles, there was always a faint hint of an English girl about her. But she was American through and through for all that Queen Elizabeth II in 1999 made her a Dame of the British Empire. And always remember this: at the supreme moment of American hegemony, Elizabeth Taylor was  the woman we  made one of our signature images. We were her co-conspirators every step of the way.
"National Velvet"  (1944).
Taylor's parents wanted her to be an actress.  They packaged her like laundry soap and made the rounds of the studios. She did a successful screen test for Universal Pictures with her eyes -- violet and soon to be world famous -- the subject of comment. They always were.
That contract was brief and undistinguished, although she was paired with Carl Switzer ("Alfalfa" from the "Our Gang" movies) in the comedy "Man or Mouse".  It was the last moment of her life when she would be unknown to the  world... although not the last where both the film and her performance were underwhelming. She got used that.
Her character, Velvet Brown, was a horse crazy adolescent. But what Hollywood and the discerning public saw was the way she talked about horses -- she visibly throbbed with emotion. Her eyes -- those famous eyes -- gleamed, and her whole body shook with passion. "National Velvet" was a great hit... and it made Taylor, the mistress of passion, one of the hottest people on earth. She was just 12 years old, a real life Lolita. People talked about her; people always would.
The real problem was finding the suitable vehicle for her undeniable talent. It took 7 years -- and a series of not-quite-right roles; (can you say "Conspirator" with Robert Taylor, 1949?)... but at last it all came together in "A Place In The  Sun." Velvet Brown no longer was passionate about ponies; now she wanted men... when she wanted them, even if they had to kill so she could have them.
In that moment of profound psychological insight, Taylor realized that power and satisfaction grew out of the ability to be what every person needed. As she leaned into Monty Clift's ear she was telling him she understood him and his needs and was ready to deliver. No wonder audiences thrilled. Women wanted to be her, so they could profit from this insight.
And men?
They would tell mama all; knowing that she would give them just want they wanted... and they would give her the world.
This role, this insight lead to everything that followed. Her motto now was "Let them come to you." And they did... a worldwide caravan of admirers, followers, fans... including the men she selected to share her journey, then discard. Of her 7 husbands (if you count Richard Burton twice), Michael Todd, showman, dynamo, impresario, was the most important. She might not have stayed with him, either. However he would have known how to fight for her... and she would admire that. She understood the crucial difference between men who desired her... and men who knew what she needed: a fighter. Tragically, he died in 1958, in a plane  crash. It was the year of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof", where she elevated insistent sensuality and the demands of desire to an art form. What "Maggie" wanted, Maggie got. Good women called her a "slut." But, when  honest, women cheered her for doing what they could only dream of doing, with male management on top of the list. Elizabeth Taylor was never a hypocrite, something the hypocrites could never forgive. Her boldness affronted them, irritated them, infuriated them. It made the rest of us admire.
If Elizabeth Taylor cared, she never showed it or complained. It all worked to make her Larger than Life, the world riveted by every little move she made, with new husband in tow, or between "I do's."
Her last role was her finest, using the death of friend Rock Hudson from AIDS (1985) not as something to be ashamed of and forgotten, but as what it was: a  medical challenge to be confronted directly, honestly. If there were any justice, the Vatican would make her a saint. Predictably they vilified her for "erotic vagrancy." It never said that about men and their amatory gyrations...
Dead at 79, March 23, 2011.
Now the lady is dead, a figure of history and lore... a creature of astonishing beauty with those violet eyes and talent, too, though not always seen in her films. Reports said she died of congestive heart failure, but that cannot be right, for she had nothing if not heart. It's what defined her.
That's why we believed her when she said,"Tell mama. Tell mamma all." We knew she meant it and had the heart to carry through, even unto our most secret needs. We had to have such a person in our lives... and would do anything to keep her there. Now she abides with each of us alone, forever.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses.
Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Ray Wisniewski <a href="http://cashgrowthunlimited.com/

Mastering the fine art of reading aloud... and why you must do so.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Go into any office in the world and its busy denizens will be emailing, leaving telephone messages, text  messaging, etc. Each and every time they use these admittedly convenient devices, their necessary human to human communications skills are melting away. Tools that are supposed to help us communicate exact a terrible price for convenience; that price is the whittling away of our language skills.
Go into any home in the world and the same perilous, reprehensible trend is immediately apparent. The members of most families rarely function as a united, cohesive unit. Instead, they spend their time text messaging, emailing, leaving telephone messages and, when not otherwise engaged, they sit before their home entertainment devices alone, very much in their own worlds, the occasional grunt and interjection all that passes for conversation and togetherness.
Now consider the classic film "I Remember Mama" (released 1948). Here family is not a thing. It is everything. Each evening this Norwegian immigrant family, now resident  in San Francisco, sits together at the supper table once the dishes have been removed... and they read to each other.
They read the great classics, adventure stories, mysteries, romances, travel, history... and they are expected to read well and to make every attempt (depending on their ages) to read clearly and to be able to discuss what they are reading.
You will say, but that is only a film, only fiction. But I shall say to you, most every family then spent most of their evenings so, even if the books they read were the King James Version of the Bible, The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan (1678), and a volume or two of "improving" stories and sermons; in English-speaking lands quite likely the works of William Shakespeare, too.
In those days when a family was a family, people read to each  other. And they derived a plethora of benefits, immediate and long term, to wit, how to
* pronounce words properly
* discover the proper definitions of words and so increase vocabulary and language usage
* read for greatest personal understanding and the greater understanding of all auditors
* learn all the nuances of language from its greatest practitioners
* use language to make yourself completely clear and comprehensible, using the right word at the right time
* "read" your audience as you read to them
* make a presentation that influences people
* read at the right speed
* perfect daily language use
* talk to people, not at people.
Even merely perusing this list of benefits establishes just how far we have descended from the far more literate ages preceding our own. They spoke more clearly, read more clearly, and wrote more clearly than most people today, despite the trillions of dollars we spend on education generally and human communications skills particularly. Education, in this regard as others, has manifestly failed; as a result we have millions of people who have passed through the public (and private) educational systems (with graduation certificates to prove it) who are daily humiliated and shown to be completely inadequate at their own language.
If you are satisfied with this result, with producing children with less verbal dexterity and understanding than you and far, far less than their grandparents, then do nothing. Clearly you are part of the problem, not part of the solution.
Otherwise, resolve to save your children, with or without the help of our schools. Most of these will advance a million "reasons", or more, why reading aloud is impractical. The extent to which they do so is the extent to which they, too, are part of the problem, sabotaging the solution.
But let us begin, if only like the characters in "I Remember Mama" at the kitchen table... it will do just fine.
1) Start now. If you wish to save whatever communication and language skills remain, act at once to do so. Remember, they are at peril.
2) Read this article to your children before starting. It will help them understand the negligence of the schools, their own at risk position, and the need for as much of their cooperation as they can give.
3) Tape your sessions. No one can ever believe without such irrefutable proof that they read quite as badly as they do.
4) Keep sessions to 60-90 minutes. Even that, I admit, may seem unreachable, but what are goals for, after all, if not to challenge and set a clear objective representing improvement?
5) Select material which is interesting. Remember, you are competing against thousands of distractions which have been expertly developed by folks to steal your children's attention and keep it squarely where they wish. So, select something decidedly interesting.
6) Keep a check list of things which can be improved. Keep a note pad at the ready so you can recall good things needing praise... and bad things needing attention.
7)  Ensure that all participating (and, remember, it needn't be just children) have the opportunity to read aloud each session. This is a hands-on event, and no one should be just "audience."
More tips
You must have  procedures in place for maximizing results. Here are some suggestions:
1) When the reader doesn't know a particular word, do not give the definition yourself. Keep a dictionary at the ready and have the reader look up the word in question.
Idea: you can also ask the participants to write down what they think the definition is, then check the dictionary. Make this a game. No dictionary in your house? Get one at once.
2) Do the same where the reader trips over the pronunciation of a word. Here the dictionary is again invaluable.
3)  Keep close attention to the speed at which the reader reads; odds are, it will be too fast. That must be eradicated. You'll find yourself saying "slow down" often, and quite right.
4) Make sure the reader doesn't sit stiffly but instead naturally. The pose the reader adopts will influence the entire atmosphere. Calm and amiable are good objectives.
5) Make sure the reader learns the art of looking up from time to time, thereby establishing and maintaining complete audience contact.
Conclusion
What is great about learning how to read aloud is that the benefits will resonate through your entire life. They are crucial, aiding you in your educational endeavors, employment, relationships, and more.  Our schools have let your children down... don't compound their problems by failing to do what you can. From this very moment.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. He is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Ray Wisniewski <a href="http://cashgrowthunlimited.com/

It's official. There is finally a real GOP candidate for 2012: ex-Governor Tim Pawlenty. Did anybody notice?

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Let me tell  you something about presidential candidates: the day they announce for the highest office in the land, they figure they'll be the top story... their mug on the front page of America's great dailies, their story featured on the three major commercial networks... and, of course, the object of endless glib commentary on Fox News and CNN.
For Pawlenty, the first announced Republican candidate, it just didn't happen.
To be sure, there were really major stories being covered  March 21, 2011. Can you say nuclear reactors in Japan? That military dust-up in Libya? But even so, you would have thought Pawlenty would have gotten something.
And what's got to irk Pawlenty good and plenty is that he has at least some credibility, not least that he was a moderately conservative governor (twice!) of a reliably Democratic state. When Pawlenty looks in the mirror, mirror on the wall... who's the one he sees most of all? Can you say Ronald Reagan?
But Pawlenty got skunked... his Hollywood style introduction video ignored...  his message to America undelivered. What a revoltin' development this is. If it had been Tim's predecessor in the Minnesota governor's office -- colorful ex-wrestler and mouth man Jesse Ventura -- you can bet there would have been coverage, lots of coverage.
Tim's gotta wonder...
"Gentlemen prefer blondes" (1926),  Anita Loos said. In the sequel, she told us "But Gentlemen marry brunettes" (1928). Tim can only hope that he's seen as the man America wants to marry. If only he can figure out how to get a date to strut his (good boy) stuff...
Minnesota... always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
Pity the state of Minnesota. It has had a respectable number of presidential candidates... but nary even a one-term president amongst them.
Harold Stassen was the hot stuff in 1938 when he was America's youngest governor. He got a really bad case of Potomac Fever right away (1944) and never did get rid of it. He became a national  joke running for president over and over again, a (bad) joke. Minnesota cringed.
Then there was Hubert Horatio Humphrey Jr., who actually got the Democrat's nomination in 1968... and came within a hair of winning the presidency. "Tricky Dick" Nixon's most important trick was getting the presidency that year. A profoundly decent man, Humphrey learned the hard way that loyalty (to Lyndon Johnson and his Vietnam policy) isn't what gets you elected; hard headed realism is. Nixon had it... Hubert didn't.
The next presidential candidate from Minnesota, Jimmy Carter's vice president Walter Mondale had this fundamental decency and honesty, too, and it killed him.
Right out of the box Mondale, the very essence of the Minnesota boy next door, you know, the one who carries in your groceries with a smile and declines the tip, slaughtered himself. He told America the truth -- that the deficit was unsustainable and there would have to be new taxes. (Deja vu all over again....)
I had to admire the man's guts...  but you knew, right then, he was a goner. Ronald Reagan crushed him... and went on to GOP sainthood, the prototype of how to finesse the truth and become the Big Winner.
Get the picture?
Now there's Timmy Pawlenty, and here's what you need to know about him. His original career choice was... dentist.  I kid you not... and once you know it you can see him in white coat, dazzling smile, personable, confiding manner; the man who says "open wide", "little pinch", "spit here."
He'd have been a cinch for president of the Minnesota Dental Association... and a lifetime achievement award from the Kiwanis.
What's he bring to the table?
The problem with those Boy Scout types, the nice guys, is that nice is what they've got, all they've got. Timmie's got likability all right but anything else?
His ascent.
He was born November 17, 1960, of German and Polish ancestry. You'll hear about his teamster father; his mother who died of cancer when he was 15. And about his meat packing neighborhood with that all-pervasive dead meat smell. (Don't mention that bit too much, Tim; it definitely puts people off. Ask not for whom the smell tolls... it tolls for thee.)
Born Roman Catholic, Pawlenty became an evangelical Christian... a fact he will leverage to the max, to get those all important conservative Republican and Tea Party supporters.  Powerful, they'll demand  a hefty price.
Pawlenty's political career shows what nice guys are capable of achieving. He was elected to the Egan, Minnesota city council in 1989, age 28. Elected to the Minnesota House of Representatives in 1992, he was re-elected five times and was chosen House Majority Leader when Republicans became the majority party in the State Legislature in 1998.
He won a hard fought victory in the Republican gubernatorial primary in 2002... then beat aggressive candidates from the Minnesota Democratic- Farmer-Labor Party and the Independence Party. He was re-elected in 2006. Impressive yes. Memorable no! And the high point of his rhetoric was: "We need to be a party of Sam's Club, not just the country club." Churchillian, he isn't. And America likes its presidents to be masters of soaring speech.
Now the nicest guy aims at the highest office. Everyone will like him. Almost no one with think him the Great White Hope of America, and his poll numbers will always be anemic. Just as they are now.
You see Tim suffers from  Minnesotitis... the disease that takes boys next door and turns them into likable cogs in the wheel... always on the team, hardly ever the captain and never ever champion.  Leo Durocher summed up their plight in 1939 with his immortal line, "Nice guys finish last." Tim Pawlenty is about to discover just how deflatingly true that is, as he joins the list of nice guys from Minnesota who couldn't wow America.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. He is also the author of 18 best-selling business books.  Republished with author's permission by Ray Wisniewski <a href="http://cashgrowthunlimited.com/

Do you REALLY want to be rich?

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
One day years ago when I was having dinner with her in New York City, the celebrated entertainer Pearl Bailey told me in her inimitable way: "I've been rich. And I've been poor. Rich is better!" We laughed... and the conversation went on, but the comment reverberated: "Rich IS better!"
EVERYBODY wants to be rich, of course; that's a given.. However, being rich is not a condition; it's a process that each and every wealthy person must master. If not, this is what  happens: "A fool and his money are soon parted."  That will never do.
"The rich are different than you and me."
The writer F. Scott Fitzgerald, who wanted so very desperately to be rich, knew whereof he spoke. It's not just that they have money.. it's that they know how to use it for maximum comfort and convenience. You probably don't.
The average un-rich person thinks that being rich is like a fairy tale; once you're rich you  simply live happily ever after. Nothing could be further from the truth. The business of being rich takes constant work, dedication, knowledge, and professional assistance. Being rich is a job, and like all jobs there are those who can do it successfully and there are those who cannot.
Rich people have help. You don't.
The "silver fork" novels of the early 19th century deal endlessly with "the servant problem." It's easy to see why. When you have the means, you want the help; but this help needs constant management.
Do you know how to select, manage and maintain
* house cleaners * chauffeur * cook * people to run your errands * and those to take care of clothes and personal effects?
Rich people have the luxury of being waited on. However, such assistance comes at a price. People who serve you have substantial access... and they can use this access for good or will. There is an old saying: "No man is a hero to his valet." As a wealthy person, you will want an enhanced level of service... but will you be ready for the diminished privacy this brings?
You must have financial representatives and ensure they produce for you
Money cannot simply be earned and  left to itself; its increase must be your constant objective and goal. That's why each and every rich person on earth has one or (more likely) more financial representatives. It is only in fairy tales where "the king is in the counting house...." In real life, that's where his "people" hang out... preparing reports showing escalating wealth or grounds for concern.
Rich people understand that money, properly handled, begets more money. Thus, selecting and working with smart people who can take your fortune and increase is key.
Who have you got advising you these days and are they proving by tangible results that they are worthy of assisting you grasp and maintain the lifestyle you truly want?
These representatives must deal with
*  your current income requirements
* tax issues
* estate issues.
Because of their pivotal importance in your life, you must be prepared not just to select them, but oversee and manage them too. This is one of the crucial aspects of your new life as a rich person. It's not all champagne and yachts, you see, and only the uninitiated are so naive to think so.
Prepare for the exigent, the wheedling and those who feel you should support them because YOU are rich!
People without means have the enduring belief that the rich are here for their benefit, with the result that rich people find themselves the focus of constant, annoying wheedling by the down-at-heel.
Count on it: your riches will draw forth a legion of beggars, distant family, long-ago friends... and never-ending solicitations from endless "worthy" causes and organizations.  Be prepared to learn how to hear with attention but refuse without regret.
Last Words
Being rich will change you in ways subtle and substantial.
* You will not have to dream. Instead, you can plan.
* You will have at your disposal the most important thing in life: choice
* You will know deference, an enchanting thing the poorer never receive.
What's more, as  compound interest, time, and financial growth work for you, you will surely know the best is yet to be!

About The Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., where small and home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Attend Dr. Lant's live webcast TODAY and receive 50,000 free guaranteed visitors to the website of your choice. Republished with author's permission by Ray Wisniewski
http://www.CashGrowthUnlimited.com/?rd=zc1bgC6t

Tufts University president ends Naked Quad run, naked students protest.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Pity the president, any president, of Tufts University. Based in Medford, Massachusetts, just a few miles from Harvard  and M.I.T., Tufts is engaged in an ongoing struggle to get out of their shadows and breathe free, a distinguished institution of undergraduate education and research, justifying the Really Big Bucks they charge dazed parents to educate their "not quite Ivy quality" children.
But it just ain't happenin'.
Whatever good things, whatever great things are going on there, today people worldwide want to know only one thing about Tufts: what's the Naked Quad Run and why has it been cancelled?
My research reveals all.
No one seems to know the exact year the Naked Quad Run commenced but authorities agree that it's been going on since the 1970s. It started, as many undergraduate events do, on a dare. You can see sophomore Herbie egging on freshman Bobby in, say, 1970. "Come on, Bobby boy. I dare you." "Gee, Herbie, I don't know. I'm a good boy and what if my mother ever found out?"
"Just as I thought Bobby boy. You're a weenie."
And to prove that he wasn't... Bobby downed a quick one, doffed his clothes and became the first Naked Quad runner, cold (it was December after all), blue, a champion. Herbie, irked, spent the rest of his life pointing out that it was Really His Idea.
Bobby, who went on to being president of a Really Big Bank and a trustee of the university, got all the credit. It made for a great story every once in a while in the Tufts alumni bulletin. And it was no surprise when Bobby,  age 65, recreated his original Naked Quad Run, to whoops of joy from hundreds of naked undergrads; they had to admit Bobby was an inspiration to all and, all unclad, gathered to cheer on their hero, the man who started it all.
Yep, the story had to go something like that. Anyway...
Over the years, the Naked Quad Run became a firmly rooted Tufts tradition. The boys, sheepish, milled aimlessly about, blue and cold (it was December, remember). Of course there was alcohol (there always is at most every collegiate event) and of course some of those boys were underage and over indulged... but boys will be boys...
And so the run went on, gathering adherents and notoriety as it went. Ok, it wasn't exactly the Pulitzer or Nobel prize... but it did generate a bucket of PR and good vibrations for Tufts; when you're firmly planted at #3, you've got to take what you can get.
Cherchez la femme.
Some scholars, with a notably feminist perspective, have a decidedly different view on the subject; (they would). The Naked Quad Run (and they put on a learned symposium to prove it) was not held to celebrate the joys of "Gaudeamus igitur" in the great classical tradition of "mens sana in corpore sano". Rather, and one learned lady was quite adamant about this, rather it was designed for two purposes: to make newly arrived Tufts undergraduate women uncomfortable while at the same time showing off their hot bods, the better to get dates. A poll taken at the symposium registered deep disgust and disapprobation with this male only Naked Quad Run...
... and so supported by vehement feminists, women undergrads were permitted to doff their clothes, too, along with their male undergrad colleagues.
Thus, the ecstatic men of Tufts achieved , with the blessing of the Founding Mothers, a goal of young men everywhere and in all places: official permission to check out naked chicks.
Score another one for Tufts!
What a place!
And all officially sanctioned!
Predictably applications to Tufts soared. It was no doubt the enticing curriculum....
So things might have gone on forever... but all was not roses in this collegiate Eden.
There was more alcohol.
There were (I blush to tell) gropings... not just of young men to young women, but young women to young men; young men to young men... and young women to... but you get the point.
Too, the campus police say they were harassed.
What was going on here anyway?
In time-honored American tradition, the thing had morphed from a youthful, uncomplicated celebration of the end of examinations into an Event, where undergrads from other colleges came to participate (if they were cute so much the better) and where Japanese tourists arrived with their guide and video cams.
The university started to keep -- and release -- the findings of mayhem and dissipation. December, 2010 figures were the worst yet; 12 students were hospitalized for alcohol poisoning.
Tufts University president Lawrence Bacow (no doubt opposed by the admissions department every inch of the way) took action and banned the Naked Quad Run.
Bacow, clearly anguished by his decision, acknowledged (according to an editorial in The Boston Globe (March 16, 2011) that he has "long been uncomfortable with the run, but chose to work with students and  public safety staff to 'manage the run rather than end it'." Food was available... barriers were erected... the course was sanded, etc.
As a result the crowds got worse, drank more, groped with impunity and acted out. When Medford and Somerville police (always irked by hordes of insouciant undergrad nudists) refused to provide security details, the end had at last arrived.
That's why they pay those Big Bucks to Bacow, to make the really tough decisions.
There were student protests, of course. This was Something Really Important, and the creme de la creme at Tufts came out to signify their opposition to this edict and the diminution of the quality of life at Tufts. After all, the right to check out the naked bodies of their friends and colleagues was worth fighting for...
On March 14, 2011 dozens of students engaged in a partially nude run around the Res Quad in a peaceful, sober protect against Bacow's decision. They were not about to go silent into that good night. Text messages, e-mails, Facebook events brought them together, and they vowed, naked, to continue the good fight. And perhaps they will.
For now, however,  the naked paradise that was Tufts on the nights of the run is closed, no more happily ever afterings in Medford. Thus Tufts sinks back into sober, clothed obscurity, while the student affairs office brainstorms alternatives. One of them, as reported by the Tufts Daily newspaper, is a Winter Carnival. Another, a concert.
Hold it!  Kids, the carnival's already done. At Dartmouth.  As for the concert idea... old hat. If I were you, I'd hold out for reviving the Naked Quad Run. It's got eye-popping appeal, and it IS a bona fide Tufts tradition. They are few and far between.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., where small and home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Attend Dr. Lant's live webcast TODAY and receive 50,000 free guaranteed visitors to the website of your choice! Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Ray Wisniewski <a href="http://cashgrowthunlimited.com/