The Art of the Deal vs. the Art of ...

War. 

In this corner representing the United States of America stands President Donald Trump (spit!). The former reality TV star and present day Commander in Tweet is 73 years old, weighs 243# and stands at 6’3”. He is the disputed author of “Trump: The Art of the Deal.” The real author is Tony Schwartz, who states the book should be “recategorized as fiction.” 

This former NY Times bestseller is part memoir, part how-to business guide. There’s pages about Don’s early years growing up in a log cabin with a dirt floor. (Whoops! Wrong President!) The book goes on to give 11 get rich quick ideas to all wannabe billionaires who happened to have inherited beaucoup bucks from their fathers. A notable quote says it all.

“I promote bravado. I play to people's fantasies. People may not always think big themselves. but they can get very excited by those who do. That is why a little hyperbole never hurts. People want to believe that something is the biggest, the greatest and the most spectacular.” 

In other words, if you can’t Wow them with facts, Wow them with “alternative facts.” AKA: Bull Poop. 💩 

BTW: Trump has filed Chapter 11 bankruptcies six times in his business career.  Then there was that $25,000,000 settlement to the students/suckers who bought into the fraudulent claims of Trump University.

Accepting business advice from this book would be like paying attention to a vegetarian explaining the best way to prepare and grill a steak. 

Despite all this, the Art of the Deal is “The Chosen One’s” favorite book. It’s probably the only book he’s ever read. 

Now we’ll expound about the “Tariff Man’s” opponent. China. 

A little about China. There’s nothing a little about it. China is the most populated country in the world. (Nearly one out of every five humans is Chinese). Size-wise it’s the third largest country in the world. As far as age goes China has been around the sun a few times. There’s over 3,000 years of recorded history. (I know it wasn’t written in English.) China was once called the “Sleeping Giant.” Well, Goliath is now awake and fully caffeinated. China’s economy is second only to the US. Globally, it’s a tough country to ignore.

China is all the above and possesses a secret weapon. His name is General Sun Tzu. He wrote the “Art of War” in the late 6th century BC. 

I’ll give credit to Wikipedia for this synopsis: “The Art of War remains the most influential strategy text in East Asian warfare^[1] and has influenced both Eastern and Western military thinking, business tactics, legal strategy, lifestyles and beyond.”

The book contains 13 chapters of brilliance. American General Norman Schwarzkopf has been inspired by this read. 

Here’s a notable quote from General Sun Tzu: “All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.”

In other words, don’t Tweet your intentions to the World! It’s my opinion the Trump vs. China Trade War is a mismatch. The Chinese powers to be think in multidimensional layers. The Chinese have learned patience through the ages. Our Man in Charge is no Economic Think Tank. He’s as impetuous as a Child. My analogy? It would be like me challenging Shaquille O’Neil to a One on One half court basketball game. No contest. 

You’ve heard it here first. 

Lastly, I once wrote a book. No other author has jumped up to claim it. It won the prestigious IPPY Gold Medal Award In 2012 for self-publishing. I think it’s a good read. It’s not my favorite read though. 

Pick it up on Kindle and you will donate $2.00 for my next Happy Hour IPA. 

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B006VXRMUG?keywords=Jeff%20Sambur&qid=1447125667&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1b

 

Cheers!

Jeff (the why can’t we all just get along guy)

“Hey Colorado it was not that long ago...

I left your mountain to try life on the road

Now I'm finished with that race it was much too fast a pace
And I think I know my place Colorado I wanna come home.”

Lyrics by the Flying Burrito Brothers

A few weeks ago, I moved all my worldly possessions (which happened to fit in my van with room to spare) to a townhouse in Durango, CO. For the first few days, I wandered around all this living space while making adjustments to the furnishings and framed artworks. I’d take down a painting that didn’t mean anything to me, and replace it with an old black and white family photo. I moved excess clutter and gizmos to one of the many empty closets I now have. I filled my cupboards and refrigerator with food items which would provide me with tasty and healthy meals. My personal comfort foods. I’m doing a deep cleaning of kitchen and bathroom counters, carpets and tiled floors. On my outside patio, I hung two bird feeders to attract feathered friends. I’m now buddies with a flock of hummingbirds, a squadron of rough-looking English sparrows and one peaceful mourning dove. 

I’m making the place feel like my home and sanctuary. 

As far as my new community goes, I’m making an effort to become more involved with the locals.

I’ve introduced myself to a few of my neighbors. All are young, pleasant, polite and friendly. I like that. 

I’ve joined the only Jewish Temple in the Southwest of Colorado. This doesn’t mean I’ll be attending services, (lightning would strike the synagogue) but I’ll keep my eye open for non-Jewish guilt events presented there.

I’ve become a member of the “Friends of the Library” where I might volunteer to help in their used book store. All proceeds go back to the Public Library. 

I joined the San Juan Mountains Association. I’ll attend a meeting soon to hear more about events and volunteer gigs which might suit me.

I’ve became a dues paying member of Great Old Broads for Wilderness organization. No, this doesn’t mean I detoured to Trinidad, CO for a sex change operation; it’s a national grassroots institution dedicated to fighting the good fight for our public lands and waters. Women are more diplomatic about conveying ideas than men are. (Especially me!)

I’m now known by name (and IPA fan) to a few of the brewpub beer-tenders In Durango. 

Last night, I attended a concert in which the proceeds went to the local NPR station. The crowd was a stew of young families, older folks and tattooed, pierced and dreadlocked youth. There were even a few Hispanic and Black folks in attendance. Everyone seemed to play nice together. I liked that too. 

It’s a brave new world for me. I’m thinking this is a positive start. I’m feeling content about things. So far, so good.

All the photos have been taken in and around my new expanded backyard.  The final photo is located in the nearby San Juan Mountains. X marks the spot where my final remains will one day be placed. (Hopefully, a long time from now!). Yes. This move has always been about location, location, location. 

Chillin’ in Durango on a Sunday afternoon,

Cheers!

Jeff

Young Men and Firearms...

For years people have been asking me if I were afraid to hike alone in wild places. 

I had a quick, honest and made for TV response. “Not all at. When I walk away from the parking lot,  I leave most of the fear inducing life forms behind. People.”

Unfortunately, more people are venturing into wild places. For me, the scary ones are now carrying sidearms. 

A few days ago, i was returning from a delightful hike to the base of the iconic Lizard Head Mountain (13,114’). I was at peace with myself and the world when I noticed an upcoming Perfect Storm of potential people problems. 

In a lush field barely off the trail, I saw an adolescent Siberian/Attitude mix dog unleashed and chasing any and all things that moved. Nearby was a White Guy carrying no gear except a very prominent sidearm. (FYI. I’ve only seen multitudes of Caucasians civilians carrying. Never a person of color, unless they are Law Enforcement Officers).

Since I was moving, the cur bounded toward me. The four-legged assailant blocked my path.  It was growling between barks. I stopped. I looked at the owner and politely asked. “Sir? Could you please call your dog?” (Mind you, I was the senior citizen in this encounter.)

“Ahh! Don’t worry. He won’t bother you.” 

Well, that was Fake News. I detoured way off the trail with the sociopathic canine woofing and snarling at my behind. Yes. I was scared. A perfect hike, a perfect day ruined. All because a 9 mm toting White Guy had the upper handgun on me. I couldn’t raise a fuss. I couldn’t tell him the US Forest Service rules: “Domestic pets are allowed in wilderness areas. Pets should either be leashed or under direct voice control.”

 

I had to take the abuse because the White Guy was armed and maybe dangerous. 

Which leads me to this point. When I’m feeling brave, I’ll occasionally ask a Second Amendment supporter, “Why are you armed out here? What is there to be afraid of?” They usual answer is, “I’m carrying in case I’m attacked by wildlife.” 

That’s total bull-dinky. Marmots, pikas, deer, prairie dogs, wild turkeys and chipmunks aren’t biped eaters. As far as black bears go, they are rarely seen and not heard. My last Ursus Meetup was in 2015. All I saw was it’s big black furry butt trotting away from me. The chance of spying a mountain lion is even less. I got the drop on one over a decade ago. I slow blinked and it was gone. 

These folks carry because they fear the unknown equation of strangers. They don’t trust me. So...why should I trust them? The answer is. I don’t. 

Post script: When I returned my rattled self back to the parking lot, I noticed a manly red diesel truck displaying an AR-15 decal. Of course, there was an NRA bumper sticker too. I didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to guess whom the truck belonged to. 

I tossed my backpack in Barley the Van and fled. BTW. Below is a photo of my most aggressive bumper sticker. I know, very intimidating.

On a final note: I predicted an increase in gun induced Mass Murders/Mayhem and Hate Crimes in two post-Election Day 2016 blogs.

“There will be no new "reasonable" gun control legislation. The few constraints on procuring firearms will be shot down. Purchasing a weapon of mini-mass death and destruction will be as easy as "Coffee, Tea or Glock?" There will be an uptick in the number of mass murder incidents.” 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/07/freedom-is-not-free.html

“There will be an increase in Hate Crimes. No need to elaborate on this. It'll happen. Candidate Demagogue unleashed the hate mongers. (Hitler never directly murdered anyone, but his rants were responsible for 11 million victims perishing in Germany's concentration camps.)”

Sadly, in America we harbor Home Grown White Guy Terrorists. A Wall won’t stop them. 

Last photos: A band of ISIS.

A band of Second Amendment supporters at a rally in Olympia, WA.

Personally, I’m not seeing many differences between the two photos.

We live in strange times...

 

“In America, if you don’t have an address...

you’re not a real person.”

Notable quote from Jessica Bruder’s “Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century” 

It was fitting that I read Nomadland before terminating six years and five months of a “Homeless by Choice” lifestyle. The book is a well-written account of the fringe members of American society who consider themselves to be “Houseless” although not homeless. Their domiciles are mobile. Ms. Bruder’s real life characters reside in vans, sedans, pick-up trucks and RVs. The author pens a not-so-glowing version of the stigma of the single man in the white van. Her description rates a Grand Slam. I know, I blogged about this one month prior to her book’s publication.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2017/04/the-stigma-of-single-man.html

The houseless subjects in Nomadland, had all fallen off the main grid of normal society. Their lifestyle choice was forced upon them. They had no other options. Simply put, they had zilch money for a mortgage or rent. (One interviewee had her $40 life savings in her pocket.) The reasons for their economic plight were many: divorce, job loss, the Great Recession or drug/alcohol abuse. Many had just made bad choices. They “zigged” when they should have “zagged.” Somehow they survived by taking seasonal gigs at Amazon warehouses, sugar beet factories and being campground hosts. I wasn’t envying them.

The 100 Watt bulb glaring difference between me and them is this. I have money. I can afford to pay rent or a mortgage. I don’t have to eat a steady diet of hotdogs on Wonder Bread. As I’ve said to many people, “I’m not destitute. I just look and act like I am!” Most of my fellow Americans didn’t believe me. I became adept at ignoring the incoming hairy eyeball looks.

It was in the Southwest Spring of 2018, when my lifestyle choice began to, I’ll say it, piss me off. It was a colder, windier and rainier/snowier spring than normal. Veteran NPS Rangers at Death Valley National Park said the temperatures were running 10-15 degrees lower than usual. In the campgrounds my neighbors RV heaters were humming throughout the night. I huddled under four blankets. 

My season of discontent moment came at Panamint Springs, CA. I had just returned from a pleasant amble to a few old mining sites. I was barely in Barley the Van’s sliding door when another cold front sprinted in. Wind,  rain then hail slammed into the Van. I made a Lipton’s Cup a Soup to alleviate the sudden chill. Outside conditions hadn’t improved by the time I finished slurping the chemical concoction. “Maybe I should just go home”, I thought  Oh yeah, I don’t have a home. Then I shouted into my 66 square feet of living space. “This sucks!”  Soon thereafter, I began to weep.

It was then, I knew,  I was ready for my own address. I wanted to be a “real person” once again. 

I warned you this day was coming!

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/05/seeking-contentment-in-land-of.html

Last photo: Proof of my entry into adulthood. House and van keys. A Durango Library card and a set of hearing aids. If I like you, I’ll stick them in.

Next post! A Jackie Kennedy look at the Town House.

Cheers from Durango, CO,

Jeff

Put a fork in me...

I’m done.

This past month-long trip to the U.K. validated what I already knew. I’m burnt out on being a solo International traveler. The reason I ventured way east was for the love of NY Yankee pinstripes. The why of  being in London was crazy, (and expensive) but I knew it was my overseas Swansong. A last BIGLY hurrah. 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/07/the-yankees-made-me-do-it.html

I’m not joking. No mas! 

I’m tired of eating in the bar instead of sitting at a proper restaurant table. The reason: A solo senior citizen occupying a table for two is a pitiful sight. The same idea applies to B&Bs. That’s why I eat breakfast early before the couples of the World awake.

I’ve run out of cute answers to the one inevitable question. “Are you traveling alone?” Sometimes my frustration surfaces when I answer, “Do you see anyone sitting next to me?”

I miss the company of a copilot/navigator when I’m driving in a foreign land. I once drove three complete circuits in a Lisbon roundabout before sprinting out of one of the many exits. Luckily I guessed right that time. 

I’m no longer making the International connections I used to garner as a younger man. I know I’ve become more introverted with age. That being said, I think the same is true about the rest of the World too. If you don’t believe me, notice how many people wear earbuds/headphones,  stare at I Phones, prefer pet connections over people connections and  text away instead of talk when in the company of others. There seems to be an uptick of people making an effort to avoid people. 

At least I don’t wear earbuds. 

The invention of the selfie stick has been a bane to us old fashioned travelers. Everyone wants to post a Facebook photo of themselves with scenic, historic or iconic backgrounds. There’s tour companies who cater to this narcissistic crowd. Those I Phone wielding folks have to sleep and eat somewhere. The days of just showing up in a town and scoring a room are gone. One has to make plans. Traveling has become more complicated and stressful. A missed plane/train/ bus can throw a schedule into a free fall. 

I need a break from my international travel agent duties. 

Lastly, it comes down to Milton Friedman economics. I’ve been spending oodles of bread, cha-ching, £s, €s and $$$$$ on overseas trips. Once in those jet-lagged lands,  I walk all day by myself and eat and drink marginal beers alone. Lately, I haven’t been getting the fun per cost benefit from International tours. 

Truthfully, I can travel solo cheaper and easier by just remaining stateside while visiting my favorite western wild places. In between I’ll be at my new base camp townhouse in Durango, Colorado. Who knows? Maybe I’ll become a Home Shopping Network junky.

Does this mean I’ll never need another Passport? Not at all. I’d love to see the fjords of Norway, the Pyrenees of Spain, the Italian Dolomites and the southern Alps of Slovenia. I’d go through all those time zones if I could walk into a restaurant and say, “Table for two. Please!”

I don’t want to hide my aloneness in a foreign bar anymore.

From NYC to Colorado in a few days,

Cheers,

Jeff

“We Will Build a Wall...

and make the Barbarians pay for it.” 

was a quote attributed to the Roman Emperor Hadrian in 122 AD. Mr. Emperor went onto say, “Those Barbarians are nothing more than murderers and rapists. They eat haggis and carry diseases too. We’ll build a very, very BIGLY Wall. We’ll hire the best people to build it. We will conveniently place the Wall near airports, train stations and highways so all can access this UNESCO World Heritage Site. We will Make Rome Great Again!” 

Hadrian might not have said those exact words even in Latin, but as I walk his legacy through a narrow waistband of mainland U.K., I wonder. Why did Emperor Hadrian order the Wall built?

The answer is, no scholar knows for sure. Somehow, Hadrian’s Tweets were lost in the fog of history. 

Here’s what we think we know.

Hadrian was a hands on Emperor. There’s more than speculation that he designed the 73 mile Wall. His creation took about six years to build with 15,000 Roman legionnaires doing the heavy lifting. Once it was constructed, the Romans couldn’t just walk away from it. The Wall was manned by Calvary and Legionnaires brought in from across Rome’s far flung Empire. (Some from as far away as Syria.) There were forts, milecastles and turrets for the soldiers to live and work at. The members of the Roman Border Patrol slept eight to a tiny room. They spent a lot of time gazing north along a stark, barebones windswept landscape keeping a leery eye out for possible Barbarian intrusions. It wouldn’t have been a gig I’d want to have.

Photo below: That’s me pretending to be a Roman Legionnaire. 

Back to the question that’s on every wondering person’s mind. Why a Wall?  

Those in-the-know scholars have a Chinese take away menu’s worth of options to believe in. 

Here’s a few: 

It served as a defensive deterrent against those uncouth Barbarians. 

Hadrian might have been consolidating his Empire. He was setting limits on Rome’s expansion. The Wall is the Rome’s northern most boundary. Or as Hadrian claimed to say keep “intact the Empire.” Under Hadrian’s rein, physical borders were constructed in other regions too. The British version just happened to be Rome’s most ambitious and expensive project. 

Since there were gates, it might have have been a customs post monitoring the comings and goings of citizens and non-citizens. Maybe the Wall was an ancient toll and taxation booth. 

Another speculation is the Wall represented Rome’s might. Was Hadrian on an autocratic ego trip? Was the Emperor saying, “Dude! Could you do this?” to the rest of the World? 

No one knows for certain.

So... Did the Wall work?

From a military standpoint probably not. There were too many unmanned gaps. There were incursions from those Scotch Whisky guzzlers from the north. Another Wall (the Antonine) was built further north 20 years later. It’s primary building material was turf. (A nice way of saying grassy dirt.) . It didn’t work either. The Romans fell back to the comfort of Hadrian’s Wall, at least it was made of stone. 

Which brings up my final point. 

Walls don’t work. It’s human nature to figure out ways around them, through them or over or under them. These unnatural physical impediments cost a lot of dinarii (an ancient Roman silver coin, originally worth ten asses) to construct and maintain. In the long run, it’s more cost effective to build bridges of diplomacy between people and nations. 

Presently Hadrian’s Wall is a major U.K. tourist attraction, despite the fact only about 10% of the original Roman Wall is intact. (The rest was reconstructed). I believe the Wall is generating more wealth now than it did as a border. I know I’ve been dropping the £s since I began walking it! 

I still don’t think it’s a good idea to build a Wall though.

Last photo: An authentic high tech Barbarian device once used to overcome Hadrian’s Wall. 

From Carlisle, UK

Iubentium!

Cheers in Latin

Jeff

The Yankees made me do it

My life and relations are interwoven in the pinstripes of New York Yankee baseball. While growing up in the Big Apple, the Bronx Bombers and me were practically neighbors. (The House that Ruth Built was only an hour subway ride away). 

Many of my fondest childhood memories revolved around the northern borough’s Boys of Summer. 

My personal highlight films are:

Sneaking a transistor radio under my pillow to listen to WPIX  and Phil (Holy Cow!) Rizzuto, when I should have been sleeping.

Talking Sid Sambur into taking me to Yankee Stadium, even though my European born father didn’t understand the game. It was an afternoon of Baseball 101, and a rare Sid and Jeffy bonding session. 

1961’s famous Home Run derby featuring the “M&M Boys,” Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. 

Seeing the aging and gimpy Mickey Mantle steal second base (Live!)

Somehow preserving through The Dark Ages of Yankee Baseball 1965-1976. Those were our summers of discontent. The stadium was so empty I remember sharing a joint in the bleachers with a few Black Brothers from the ‘hood. Afterwards, we watched the rest of the game with illegal smiles. 

Drinking my first-ever beer. It was a Schaefer, “ the one beer to have when you’re having more than one.” It was love at first sip.

I moved West in 1978, but my baseball allegiance still resided in the stands of Yankee Stadium.

Now, the Yankees are a common playing field for me, my family and a few friends. 

With my youngest nephew Justin, I’ll bring him up to date on the standings, who’s hot and who’s not and some questionable management calls. Doctor (of Chemistry) Justin is a busy guy. He manipulates sub-atomic particles, writes scientific papers, has a family life and teaches at Colorado State University. He’s well known in his field. Doctor J scores invites to science conferences all over the World. I’m proud to be his Uncle. I’m OK with providing him a short ESPN Yankee synopsis over an IPA.

Older nephew Keith is a high-end bankruptcy lawyer. He lives a frenetic life balancing work, family, Boulder to Denver commutes and a dog walking gig. He’s also my CFO keeping my vast financial empire afloat while I’m gallivanting around the globe. Despite wearing all these hats, he stays up on top of what’s happening with America’s Team. Keith will be aware of the latest trade rumors, rookies coming up from the minors and can name the current roster. His memory astounds me.

My brother/hero/mentor Mike and I are content to just chill in front of the tube while taking in a game. (Although he surprised me by securing tickets for Mariano Rivera’s farewell game at Yankee Stadium in 2013.) We’ll sit on the couch. He’ll sip vodka tonics, while I nurse a bottle of IPA. We’ll talk baseball, family, shared memories, travel stories and politics. My sister-in-law Robin will join us when the game is getting interesting. She knows when that’s happening. Mike and I both shut up to focus in on the action. 

It’s safe at second to say, being a Yankee fan is a Sambur family tradition.

So... when Keith informed me in the Fall of 2018, that the Yankees would be playing the Boston Red Sox in London in June of 2019, I said “I’m in!” 

I was hoping he’d say, “Me too!” But that didn’t happen. He’s a busy guy.

However, three others were crazy enough to travel overseas to witness the New World’s Major League Baseball debut in Old World UK. 

Big Al hates the Yankees but Is a true baseball fan. He’ll even keep score while taking in a game. His wife Jean (a 40 year friend of mine) likes to travel and observe how others go about life’s daily routines. She enjoyed sampling English Ales and British cuisine too. Samatha is a long time Yankee/baseball fan as well. In Colorado, we caught many Rockies games with our mutual buddy Joe. 

    

It was a wild weekend of baseball. The Yankees prevailed 17-14 in Saturday’s marathon session. On Sunday, the Bronx Boys must have been a bit beat. After spotting the Sox four runs in the 1st inning, the Yankee bats went nuclear for nine runs in the 8th. Final score 12-8.  A SWEEP! Clearly these matches weren’t pitching duels.

The MLB deemed the weekend a success. Next year the Chicago Cubs and the Saint Louis Cardinals will travel to London for a two game series.

Will I attend? 

Nope! Why would I go through all that hassle and expense to get to the U.K. if the Yankees aren’t playing?

Let’s Go Yankees! 

From the start point of Hadrians Wall,

Cheerio!

Jeff