Experience is Meaningless

Everyone knows that "history repeats itself."

That must explain why we keep making the same mistakes. After all, since we all know that you can't change history, why even bother?

Unless you're Newt Gingrich. In that case revisionism seems to work, as long as he remains the victor and in charge of re-writing history.

For example, Newt's current position, which seemed to make hostess candy Crowley's eyebrows rise about 5 inches, is that his congressional reprimand for ethics violations occured only because he convinced Republican members to vote for the reprimand so that they could get back to the business of working on a balanced budget.

He credits himself with getting the Congress back to work and selflessly sacrificing his reputation.

After all, is there any politician that wouldn't put nation before self?

History tells us that the victor writes history until the next victor comes along.

Once you call yourself an "historian," you get a free pass and can alter immutable laws of time and place and make the details of the past fit nicely into the current version of the past. Again, being ascendant helps.

But we're also said to be able to learn from history and especially to learn from our mistakes. In fact, "fool me once...." speaks to the expectation that we won't make the same mistake a second time.

Sometimes, though, the past may lead us down the wrong path.

My guess is that it would be a grave mistake, perhaps literally, were Newt Gingrich to ask Callista to accept an "open marriage." The fact that she reportedly supported the concept before their marriage probably has little predictive capability in 2012.

There's no greater indicator of our pre-occupation with the concept of changing the past and our mistakes than the fact that the single most aired movie on broadcast television and cable is "Groundhog Day."

I may have made that statistic up, but right now, I'm the one re-writing history.

Had we really been able to learn from the past there would have been Stephen Tobolowsky film festivals competing with Sundance and Cannes.

So clearly, we are all idiots, but at least Tobolowsky is front and center on Twitter and forms the basis for a more hopeful view of the future.

Not so long ago, only the spoken word was available to document our history and experiences. Life spans were short and there were people whose sole reason for existence was to maintain a culture's hold onto its past and pass it on to the next generation.

During those days mistakes were often fatal. That's a strong motivator to not repeat some dead guy's mis-step.

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Friendly Competition

I must be fixated on "oxymorons," just having written about them a few days ago.

Had it not been for a Tweet from Marek Fuchs of TheStreet.com regarding his attendance at a Fordham versus Harvard college basketball game in the Bronx, I'd never have known about the event, despite the fact that I'm an alumnus of both.

On the other hand, I did know that CNBC was broadcasting live interviews from within Goldman Sachs and was wondering whether a high school classmate, CFO David Viniar, would appear.

To his great credit, absolutely nothing untoward was ever said about him throughout the slew of slings and arrows directed at Goldman's higher offices. Sometimes, keeping a very low profile is a good thing, so it's not overly surprising that he didn't make an appearance.

Fuchs, who somehow finds the time between filming his entertaining and educational series "They Just don't Get...." for TheStreet.com and his parental responsibilities, Tweets with regularity. At last night's game his Tweets ranged from wanting his money back, despite the fact that his ticket was free and it being one of the most exciting games he'd ever seen.

He also was the halftime entertainment and penned an article for a local newspaper, while simultaneously putting out a fire in the Village of Tuckahoe.

Really. That's the name. Tuckahoe.

Oh, and did I mention that he was an author?

My guess is that somewhere along the line either the ecstasy kicked in or the game got competitive. I doubt that the halftime sermon alone would have moved him to hyperbole.

When I went to Fordham, there was a general understanding that Fordham alumni went, in disproportionate numbers into the service of the FBI and CIA and in turn, spent an inordinate amount of time investigating Harvard graduates.

Competition. Think G. Gordon Liddy and then think dirty competition.

Great mustache, just nasty competitor who believed that in order to protect our nation from its enemies you had to use the U.S. Constitution for personal rectal hygiene.

Friendly competition is more like the sort Inspector Clouseau engaged in with any of the adversaries that he faced, yet nonetheless, respected.

The adversaries, in turn, received amusement for their troubles.

I really don't know who won last night's competition, but I doubt that it was friendly.

There's a big schism between "The Bronx" and Cambridge. "Jenny from the Block" and William F. Buckley are reasonable poster children of their respective homes, just add some needle tracks to the former and ample elbow patches to the latter's images.

Whereas the stereotype of the Harvard man would have him asking "may I top you off, my good fellow?" the Fordham man was just as likely to ask "Yo, you gonna finish that least slice, or what, Mofo?"

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Achilles and his Heel

Whether you favor classic Greek mythology or good old fashioned American superhero fantasy, there's a heel or a piece of Kryptonite that's bound to spell doom and spoil all of your hopes for mankind..

Was there ever a single episode or comic book story about Superman that didn't contain some kind of Kryptonite or at least its metaphorical equivalent? It was so predictable. There was always something to stand in the way of justice reaching its just destination.

For me, the image conjured up by the designation "super-committee" has to be on par with the mythical heroes of generations past and generations lost.

Just imagine. A collection of seemingly normal people, collected together forming their very own band of super-heroes. As if one super-hero wasn't enough, surely only good things can come when the many are united as one.

This august group of super-patriots assembled to save our way of life from the predatory grip of a growing and deadly deficit.

Surely, we weren't Greece and we weren't the Weimer Republic.

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Got Anything Better to Do?

The other day was a perfect sign of the doldrums we're in at the moment.

No. it wasn't the boring day in the stock market that I discussed yesterday. And sure, today was more of the same.

Regardless of how boring these first two days of the week have been, no one that I know is about to complain about the extra 200 points that have been tacked on to the Dow in the absence of any tangible news. Since I don't consort with short sellers for the most part, everyone I know has been happy with the relative calmness of the past two days and happily accepted the added bonus of gains.

Actually, as I look at my Google+ circle I guess I really don't consort with anyone, unless geometry now allows you to define a circle on the basis of a single point.`

In what seems a lifetime, I haven't heard anyone mention the word "volatility" or use the phrase "risk on/risk off." For that matter, "catch a falling knife" and "rip your face off rally" have also taken much needed breaks. Although that, too, may be related to my lack of circle size.

But I do watch lots of TV and those sounds have been silent.

What could have been a day of great excitement on Tuesday turned into just another great yawner as Italy failed to live up to diminished expectations.

Conrad Murray guilty of involuntary manslaughter of Michael Jackson?

Yawn.

Silvio Berlusconi, Prime Minister of Italy, set to resign once economic reforms are passed?

Yawn.

But the real sign of the boredom that's set in centered on the latest Republican dynamics in their contest for the 2012 GOP Presidential nominee.

Had you not known better, you would have thought that the debate a few nights ago from Las Vegas was part of the process of coming down to the wire with the last remaining and surviving candidates.

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