In doing some thinking and some reading I think I have come up with a way to get even with Wall Street. The reason I want to get even with “Wall Street” is simple: Wall Street is a shorthand for the big corporations who have jiggered the game with willing politicians to get around their collective responsibility for our financial mess.
Plus, we’re not allowed to talk about the physical, emotional, cultural and social mayhem that would result in the population rising up and taking control back from politicians who should be driven naked through the streets at the sharp end of a bullwhip. So, we won’t go there, or even suggest it. That would be wrong.
I’m calling it the Quo Bono Moment. Quo Bono means, approximately, Who Benefits, in Latin.
Here’s the nub of it. When you go to reach into your pocket to pay for something, ask yourself, “Quo Bono?” Who Benefits from me making this purchase? Where does my money go? Does it go to people, or things, or organizations that have my best interests at heart? Will this money I’m handing over provide benefit to where I live? Or does this money, that I’ve busted my hump to earn, go to some faceless anonymous corporation to piss all over the place like an incontinent raccoon?
(Before you go off on a “He’s a gol-durn Socialist” rant, I think profit is good. Very good, in fact. I just choose to be mindful of who benefits from my contribution to their profit.)
An example or three, should suffice. Tomatoes. You can buy tomatoes from just about everywhere in the world at your supermarket. Costa Rica, California, Chile and sometimes, local growers. You know that they all taste more or less the same and the prices are more or less the same. But somewhere in there is a Quo Bono moment that should help your decision regarding which tomatoes to buy.
Tomatoes from Costa Rica have travelled thousands of miles and were probably grown by some peasant getting a dollar per ton of finished product. Someone in the supply chain is making a lot of money and it isn’t the grower: The system is gamed to screw the grower and keep them poor.
Therefore, do you want to give your money to a middleman who is raking in gobs of profit for doing nothing except arranging long distance shipping?
Or, do you want to give your money to a local farmer, who actually makes more per pound, as he or she doesn’t have to ship the tomato 1200 miles through some broker and middleman? Who is more deserving of your money?
In a perfect world, it would be the organic, local grower who also lives in the local economy, employing people, buying things, paying taxes and contributing to the economy. Ideally, I’d be buying from the farm gate, but that isn’t always practical at 9:30 at night when you want a sandwich.
Quo Bono is, if nothing else, pragmatic.
Gasoline is another Quo Bono moment. Honestly, it is. Yes, the gasoline comes from a petroleum oligarchy that is determined to screw you as hard and fast as it can, as frequently as they can. This is hard to change, but you can still nudge the ship around. Don’t give money to a gas station that is owned by the oil companies. Those are called O&O (owned and operated) stations, as in O&O’ed by the corporate head office.
If you want to buy brand-name gas, look for a station that is a franchisee. A local franchisee. Look for a station that has a garage attached to it, as odds are the operation might be owned by someone you can walk up to and talk with.
Yes, that local franchisee makes a pittance on the fuel you buy, usually in the realm of 2 to 3 Cents per litre, but that 2 to 3 cents is important. That profit the local franchisee makes, although small, is going to feed and house the family, pay taxes, put the kids in school and, if profits are good, might even allow that local dealer to sponsor a softball team next summer.
The O&O store? The local community gets sweet Foxtrot Alpha. Don’t believe what the head office says. They are not involved in your community. Sure, they hire two people and pay them minimum wage, but that’s where it stops. The profit the O&O makes goes into a big pile in Houston for the executives of the oil company to roll around in while naked. (I’m making that up, but it isn’t too far-fetched as executive compensation. Ask the folks at the Department of Energy)
There are holes in Quo Bono and I’ll be the first to admit it. We don’t have a textile industry, or a cotton industry any more. The footwear industry is gone, along with office furniture, televisions, consumer electronics and a big piece of the steel industry. It is harder to buy strategically when entire industries have disappeared, but it can be done.
As an example, the big screen TV you want to buy. Televisions are no longer made in North America. They are made in China, Korea, Taiwan and less so, Japan. You could buy that big screen at any one of the big chains. You know who they are: The Smiley Face Place, The Bulls-Eye, The Yellow Price Tag, or any of the regional chains.
Assume you’re at The Smiley Face Place and are ready to put your hand in your pocket to pay for the big TV you want. Stop and think: Quo Bono? Answer: A Big Corporation.
Could you buy the same big TV at a local store? Probably, assuming you have any local stores left. Would the local dealer (Crazy Ernie’s?) price be the same as The Smiley Face Place? Probably not, but a price difference of $20 on a $1,200 item is less than 10 percent.
That 10 percent difference means that a local business, (who might even deliver your big TV, set it up for you, as well as take away the box and your old TV for a nominal fee) gets to stay in business, employing people like your neighbours, paying taxes and contributing to your local economy.
(If that extra $20 on a $1,200 item is going to bankrupt you, then you don’t need the TV: Try buying your kids some food and clothes. Pay the back rent on the trailer before you’re evicted.)
There are places where Quo Bono does not work. There are no ‘local’ or ‘regional’ credit cards: They’re international Big Corporations. Insurance is Big Corporations, but a few still have local brokers: Try a local broker.
Banks generally are Big Corporations, but many have local branches that employ a few people. Go into the branch and actually use a teller (pardon, Customer Service Associate) instead of online banking or the ATM.
I’ve found at my bank, when confronted with a long line at the ATM’s, that even a pudding-headed teller can deposit my cheque to my account faster than I can, waiting in line to use the ATM. Going to a teller contributes to the usage statistics of the live humans employed by the bank. Higher usage statistics means a few more branches might actually remain open, employing people. I not only save time, but I screw the bank out of the ATM ‘convenience’ fee, which feels really nice.
The objective of Quo Bono is to speak to Wall Street and big corporations in the only language they understand: Profits. Wall Street and Big Corporations do not care if you like them, but they will do anything to get your money.
In asking yourself Who Benefits, if the answer is Wall Street and Big Corporations, then consider putting your hand back in your pocket and not giving them your money: It is imperfect, but it is a start.
Quo Bono can’t happen overnight, as big businesses think in terms of financial quarters, at least when it comes to change that affects the bottom line profit.
There is a second component to Quo Bono that I’ll post later this week: It involves you complaining creatively while using your money strategically.
Quo Bono?
Mason Baveux Watches the Debates
There was a bit of a scheduling conflict on the tube last night. The Canadian Leadership Debate was on at the same time as the US Vice-Presidential Debate, essentially 9 pm to 11 pm. I can watch two car races at once, as I am motivated and card-carrying gear head, but two political debates? Not in this life.
We called on our 500-channel Universe expert, Mason Baveux to watch both debates at the same time. I stuck with a book (Morell’s Contract Law for Third Year Students) and called it a night around 2200 hrs. Here is Mason Baveux’s commentary:
So’s Davey said I could do him a favour and watch both debates one on the US and t’other on Canada, then write‘er up. Now I don’t follow the politics as close as he does, so I’m gonna get some wrong, but you can figure it out, if you’re smart.
First off, what tool told the CNNers that we wanted to see all that stuff up the sides and bottom of the screens. They had doodads for their analysts to say good or bad as she went. The dials went back and forth all the time.
Then there was some bar graphs along the bottom from where they had a bunch of citizens hooked up to electronic things based on their sex (Gettin’ Some/Gettin’ None) and their political twist. The graph’s would go up and down depending on who said what and how much electricity was goin’ through their heads. Almost made me dizzy, but I cracked the top of a couple more wobbly-pop and she straightened out by half time.
Now over at the CBC (them holes what lost the rights to the theme for Hockey Night in Canada. Don’t get me started.) they did ‘er easier. Big-arse table the shape of an egg with the Leaders around it and Mandy Patinkin as the question guy. I liked seein Mandy again. Last time he was on the TV was “Dead Like Me” and he’s lost some weight too. (Ed.: It was Steve Paikin from TVOntario, not Mandy Patinkin)
The CBC had the leaders around the table and Mandy would shoot questions at them, then they’d have a go at each other. While over at CNN, they had the two podiers up there one for Biden and one for Palin, with Gwen Iffile in the middle asking questions of each.
Oh, hey, did Gwen Iffiles’ Grandma knit that friggin’ sweater? Lord thunderin Jesus that was an ugly green. I seen better colours come out of my nose after an afternoon of layin fiberglass insulation in the attic.
So, the questions: Neither Mandy nor Gwen asked the really important question of their guests. Which was, “Are you fer friggin real, or are you piss drunk right now?” Jesus I’ve heard some bullshitters in my life, especially at the Legion, or when I worked at the plant before going on the disability, but the two Americans wouldn’t answer a straight question if you’da held a gun to a puppy’s head.
All’s I heard was sound bites for the news about how great their Presidential leaders was and how the other guy was a lying sack of crap. Palin came off like she’s the friend of the Working Man, what they called Joe Six Pack. Which means you can’t trust her worth a damn. Six Pack means you’re twelve years old. There’s twenty four in a case and twenty-four hours in a day. You figure it out.
Over to the Canadians. I think someone made Stevie Harper cry before the debates. His eyes look like he’s just finished watching “Old Yeller” then went on stage.
At the beginning when they introduced the leaders, Stevie Harper looked at the camera and smiled. Scared the shit out of me. At least he wasn’t wearing that pigs in a blanket sweater which makes him look like a pigs in a blanket made with a dog turd.
Then there was Stevie Dion. I wonder when he passed away, as he looked like he was sitting up at his own wake out of the casket. Liz May and Gilles Duceppe had a run at Harper, ignoring Dion the Dead Guy. Duceppe looks like someone run an air hose up his arse and inflated him out past 30 psi: His eyes were all bugged out and his hair looked like he’d been hangin out the window of a car going down the 401 at 130 per.
Liz May, she kept beatin Harper like a gong which was fun to watch for a while, but the fun was when Jack Layton jumped in with both boots and kicked Harper’s ass, then tag-teamed off to Liz May who cut Harper an extra one.
What scared me was Harper would smile at both of them with that half-arsed smile that makes him look like he’s got a weapon, a case of rounds and a high building all picked out if he loses. Didn’t nobody at the party tell him to never smile?
Harper with a smile on his mug looks like Geecher Brock at the arena did before he drove the Zamboni over to the railroad tracks and waited for the afternoon fast freight to come by. We had to get a Wintario grant to replace the Zamboni. We never did replace Geecher Brock as there wasn’t much left and his family buried him in an old Bell Canada reply envelope. Didn’t hurt the freight train none.
The Americans kept going at each other. You could tell that Biden was holding it back and not speaking his mind, which might have been fun. You could also tell what Palin was thinking: “Jeez there’s lots of folks out here and there’s shiny lights.”
She did good enough but I’m fed up with hearing about hockey-moms. Palin doesn’t know about real hockey-moms, at least in the Bantam league around here. There was hockey-mom I saw last season name of Maureen who cold-cocked the ref with a quart bottle of Ex when the ref came over to the timekeepers bench to call a five minute major on her son.
Maureen went over the boards and tried to get the linesmen too, but slipped on the ice so’s we could see she was wearing a tiger-striped thong under her miniskirt. That was a change, as Maureen didn’t normally wear any gitch.
The cops took Maureen away after gettin out the pepper spray, which only made her madder. Last we heard she got probation and had to stay away from the arena for the rest of the season. Constable Kutchkie wears a cup on patrol now, as Maureen got him once while they took her away.
All in all, by 11 o’clock I’d had enough. Harper got his ass kicked and Palin showed she can mouth off: She’s no idea what she’s sayin, but she sure can mouth off. Felt like someone’d filled my ears with Lepage’s mucilage by the time it was done.
Overall, she’s a tie in the US and Jack got’er done in overtime in Canada.
Thank you Mason. As always, insightful. Frightening, but insightful.
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