May 31, 2018--You Say You Want A Revolution . . .

. . . Well, you know.

At breakfast the other morning John asked, "Have you heard anything about the Revolution?"

"God knows," Rona said, "There's good reason why there should be one."

"We're living in a second Gilded Age," John said. "What with 1 percent of the population owning 40 percent of the nation's wealth. That should be enough to get one going." 

Rona said, "Did you see the long piece in this weekend's New York Times about CEO compensation? Among other things, company by company, it calculated how many years workers earning average salaries would have to work to earn as much as their CEO makes in just one year."

"I did see that," I said.

John indicated he had as well and how outrageous the data were.

"My memory isn't perfect," Rona said, "So, John can you look the article up on your smartphone? I remember the title, 'Want To Make Money Like A CEO?'"

He did and cited some of the statistics--

At Walmart, for example, the world's largest employer, the median salary for workers is a paltry $19,177. Last year the CEO received $22.2 million in compensation. This means it would take average employees more than 1,000 years to earn what the CEO earns in 12 months.

"Unbelievable," Rona said.

Listen to this one," John said, "At Time Warner median compensation is a hefty $75,217 but since the CEO makes $49 million it would take typical employees 651 years to earn that."

Now I said, "Unbelievable. From the Times I remember the earnings numbers for a company I never heard of, where things are even more unequal. And that's saying a lot."

"Maybe Live Nation?" John said. "They are in the concert and ticketing business and the CEO last year made a whopping $70.6 million while the median salary there was $24,406. That means the workers have to live and work 2,893 years to earn that much."

"They should live and be well," I said, feeling my blood at full boil. 

"So, you asked about the Revolution," Rona said, sounding ironic. "Numbers like these should make everyone but CEOs crazy and take to the streets in anger to protest and, who knows, revolt."

"I hate to sound cynical," I said, "But who's more likely to make a revolution--Bernie's people or Trump's?"

We sat in silence for a few minutes not wanting to answer since we knew what we were feeling and it didn't make us happy.

March 1, 2018--President Pence

Yesterday I began to worry about what kind of president Mike Pence will be.

Among other things what will it be like having a genuine religious fanatic in the Oval Office after the current narcissist-in-chief resigns. 

I worried that Pence may do more harm by actually being effective, with "effective" measured by what he will be able to get done by strokes of the executive-order pen as well as through legislation--enough members of Congress will be so relieved that Trump and his enablers packed up and left that they gleefully will vote to pass bills to allow prayer in schools as well as arm the teachers leading those prayers.

I know, I really do, that contemplating this is premature and overblown--I don't want to jinx it--but after eternally-loyal Hope Hicks up and quit, beaten-down Jeff Sessions hit back after Trump savaged him again on Twitter, calling it "disgraceful" that Sessions did not do enough to investigate Obama's alleged illegal surveillance of the Trump campaign and transition, feeling safe to do so because he sensed that Trump has been substantially diminished, I'm imagining Pence in charge because, in addition to the above, Jared Kushner is a politically deadman walking, and, above all else, Robert Mueller allowed the news to leak out yesterday that Trump is now officially a target of his widespread investigation--that he may be indictable for colluding with the Russians and leading the obvious obstruction of justice--for these reasons and more, time is running out for Trump, running out faster than senior staff of the White House are running out on the incredibly shrinking presidency (Kellyanne Conway is the latest from the inner circle apparently about to leave), for these reasons and more this is why I've begun to think about what a Pence presidency will look like.

To move the process along here's what I think Trump should do. My two-cents--

Surprise everyone by holding true to all the things he put on the table yesterday before congressional leaders regarding what to do to implement gun controls. Follow Dick Sports' and Walmart's example by raising to 21 the age required to buy all types of guns from 22 pistols to semi-automatic weapons; require "hard" background checks for all gun purchases, including those through gun shows; provide money to enable schools to become "hard targets"; consider limiting the sale of military-style rifles, especially to the mentally disturbed; and forget the crazy idea to arm teachers.

Work hard at this during his remaining time in office and not by tomorrow abandon the agenda to the NRA.

Then, return to the deal that a bipartisan congressional group agreed to last month that peeked Trump's interest for 48 hours before he jettisoned it and the DACA youth it was intended to legalize. It was a potential piece of legislation that had a good chance of being enacted into law. Many Republicans as well as most Democrats want to dispose of this politically toxic issue so take advantage of that. 

By doing this Trump would leave behind something of an actual legacy. Not just the obverse of everything Obama stood for and accomplished. 

Thus fortified by history, before things with Mueller get worse for Trump, as they now rapidly will, Trump should declare victory and join Omarosa, Kellyanne, Hope, and Ivanka wherever they settle. 

If Gerald Ford who succeeded Richard Nixon after he resigned the presidency claimed when he assumed the presidency that as a result "Our long national nightmare is over," Trump justly would be able to say his long nightmare is over.

Then we know what happened to Ford after he pardoned Nixon--in 1976 he lost the presidential election to Jimmy Carter. If this is a harbinger that would mean we'd have to endure President Pence for just a couple of years.

But we will be able to quote what Gerald Ford also said on the day he assumed the presidency--"Our constitution works."

December 15, 2017--Snowbirding: Half & Half (Originally Posted April10, 2014)

Parking at Walmart in Delray is more likely to get Rona and me spatting than even my tentative approach to left turns.

For example, yesterday--

"You park like an old man."

"I'm just trying to be cautious. With people backing in and out and others pushing shopping carts in the roadway, I think it's smart to be extra careful."

"I think the way you park is the way old men park."

That would be enough to get us not talking to each other and leave me on my own--as I then was--to creep up and down the aisles looking for a space that I could squeeze into that wasn't filled with abandoned shopping carts.

Then yesterday, making matters worse, there was a truly old man in the road along which I was waiting to pounce on an empty space. He was attempting to navigate in a motorized wheelchair in the basket of which was stashed a folded walker. At least he was going in the right direction.

"I wonder what he's doing," I said, knowing Rona was ignoring me and I was in effect talking to myself. "I can't believe he's looking for a car. From the looks of him they shouldn't even let him drive one of these electric scooters." I was aggravated and not feeling compassionate.

"He's probably . . . can't . . . This makes me . . . I don't know." That was Rona sputtering to herself.

"What did you say?" I was hoping to break the ice by having us talk about someone with even more driving issues than I.

"He's probably a Silver Alert person." Puzzled, I looked toward Rona. "You know, someone who has Alzheimer's, or something, who wandered off and the police and his family are looking for him. This makes me crazy. I think of myself as understanding and empathetic but this is . . ."

"You are. You are." I thought if I said it emphatically Rona would believe me and we could resume being civil to each other.

"Look. He found his car. Can you believe it? He's trying to get into it. He can't drive a scooter, but a car?"

I sighed in agreement.

"You know I love being here and I love you, but I'm glad we're heading north at the end of the week. I need a dose of New York. And I know--you don't have to say it--after three weeks I'll want to leave Manhattan and hide out in Maine."

"Let's make a quick hit here." I had finally eased into a parking space. "All we need is some bottled water and laundry detergent. We could have avoided Walmart and gone to Publix, but we were in the neighborhood and so I thought . . ."

"That's OK, love," Rona was at last smiling, "I can handle one more trip to Walmarts. Ordinarily I really like coming here. But it's just so hot, I didn't sleep well last night, and I guess in spite of myself I'm having some separation anxiety. It won't be easy to leave your mother. She's not doing as well as she was back in January and at nearly 105 you never . . ."

"I know. I know," I sighed.

"Let's get this over with quickly and head home. I think we both could use a nap."

"Deal." We exchanged fist bumps.

Once inside we quickly rounded up the water and detergent. "Can you believe it, this laundry soap is less than $4.00. At Publix it would be twice that. Like millions of others I suppose that's why we're here like."

"Billions," I corrected her.

"It is a little funny," Rona said, "to be here on Equal Pay Day. Walmart's a case in point about why we need that--more equal pay regulations."

"Indeed, indeed." I noticed I was repeating everything. Another sign of aging that annoyed Rona. This time thankfully she let it pass.

"I almost forgot."

"What's that?"

"We need a small container of half-and-half. We have three more breakfasts before we leave and I ran out this morning. I don't remember where they keep it. We never buy it here."

"I think over there where they have the orange juice. Sometimes we get our Tropicana here. The prices again are . . ."

"Yes. I see the refrigerator chest over there by the wall." Rona cut me off, clearly having had enough talk about comparison-shopping. We were soon to be back in about the most expensive place in the world, New York, where my yogurts are by now probably $2.00 rather than the 72 cents we paid for them last week at Publix. Rona understandably, before the fact, didn't want to make the sticker-shock worse that it inevitably will be.

I pushed the shopping cart toward the juice and cream chest and stopped a few paces away. "Where do they hide the half-and-half," I muttered, scanning the shelves. "It must be near here somewhere. Ah, I think it's over there right by the whipping cream."

"I see," Rona said, "But what's going on over there?"

"I don't know."

"There," she pointed, "There's an old man holding onto the door handle of the other refrigerator. It looks like he's having a seizure or something."

Concerned but not knowing what to do, I asked, "What do you mean? He looks like . . ."

"Like he's holding himself up by clinging to the handle."

"Maybe I should tell someone who works here that . . ."

"Before you do, let's see if we can help him."

By then we were within five or six feet of where he was obviously struggling with something. Maybe Rona is right, I thought, that he's experiencing some kind of neurological incident.

"Do you hear that?" Rona whispered. She had stopped and held onto the cart so I wouldn't push it any closer.

"Shouldn't we . . . ?"

"Quiet. I want to listen."

"Listen to what? He looks like he's in trouble."

"I forget you can barely hear anything. But I think he's OK. He's talking. He must be using a cell phone. Like in New York, you remember, all the people walking in the streets who appear to be talking to themselves but are on their iPhones."

I did remember that. In fact I hate it. But how unusual, I thought, that someone who looks as if he's at least 90 should be doing the same thing that twenty-somethings do so routinely.

But I did hear him talking. Actually, it sounded as if he was having an argument with someone.

"If I told you once, I told you a thousand times," he yelled, hunched for privacy close to the refrigerator door, "leave her be." He was gesturing with his free hand. "You don't need this. No more. Enough."

"I think . . ." I said.

"Quiet. I don't want to disturb him. And also, I want . . ."

"I know, to listen."

"Like I told you," he continued, still agitated, "she's no good. No good. What did she ever do for you except make your life miserable? Mis-er-able. You did this; you did that. Always thinking about her. Her good-for-nothing husband. Her children who never raised a finger to help. You, always you. Always you." His shoulders were heaving and it looked as if he was about to cry.

Rona moved us half a step closer and held a finger up to her lips to shush me.

"Remember when she came home from the hospital. After her hyster-memory operation. Who took her in? Who took care of her? Nursed her? Bathed her? Took her back and forth to the doctor?" His whole upper body throbbed. "You. You. You. No one else. You. Who gave up your bed for her and slept on the sofa? And for how long? Days? Weeks? No, months. Months."

I noticed, like me, he too was repeating himself.

"For days and days after she was strong enough to go home. If I didn't put my foot down she would still be living with us. Even though she's dead, she'd still be living with us. Wanting you to take care of her. To do her every bidding." I heard the beginning of a sob.

"And now? What now?"

By then there was someone else standing next to us who apparently needed some orange juice, But she too didn't advance further and stood patiently next to me.

"Gone. Everything is gone. Everyone gone. Over. Nothing is left. Fartik. Turned to scheisse. Scheisse. Shit!"

With that he let go of the handle, turned, and, trembling with tears, shuffled unsteadily toward the front of the store.

Rona touched his back as he passed close to her. I looked the other way at the woman who was loading a quart of juice into her cart.

There was no cell phone.

August 23, 2017--Spectre of Decline

Edward Luce's persuasive but highly disturbing 2012 book--Time to Start Thinking: America and the Spectre of Decline, in just two paragraphs, sets the context for the rise and election of Donald Trump.

About the hollowing-out middle class--

According to the Economic Security Index, which tracks the number of Americans who experience a drop in their annual income of at least a quarter, the rate has almost doubled since Reagan was president. In 1985 just over one in eight Americans suffered an income loss of a quarter or more. By [2008] the time the financial meltdown hit, almost one in five Americans were affected. Since then, that number has grown sharply. . . 

Since one year's casualties are mostly different from the next, much more than one in five Americans now live in semipermanent fear of falling off the precipice. In the decade leading up to the collapse of the subprime market, more than half of Americans experienced an income loss of a quarter or more in one or more years. Think of the General Motors worker with his pension and health care plan. In the 1960s he earned $60,000 a year in today's prices. Walmart, which as the largest employer is the equivalent in today's economy, pays its 1.1 million mostly female employees on average $17,500 a year, most of them without . . . pension or health care benefits.

Further--

In 2009, "Lee Scott, then the chief executive of Walmart, . . . earned more in two weeks than the average Walmart employee does in her lifetime."

April 10, 2014--Snowbirding: Half-and-Half

Parking at Walmart in Delray is more likely to get Rona and me spatting than even my tentative approach to left turns.

For example, yesterday--

"You park like you're an old man."

"I'm just trying to be cautious. With people backing in and out and others pushing shopping carts all over the place in the roadway, I think it's smart to be extra careful."

"I think the way you park is the way old men drive."

That would be enough to get us not talking to each other and leave me on my own--as I then was--to creep up and down the aisles looking for a space that I could squeeze into that wasn't filled with abandoned shopping carts.

And yesterday, making matters worse, there was a truly old man in the road in which I was waiting to pounce on an empty space, attempting wobbly to navigate a motorized wheelchair in the basket of which was stashed a folded walker.

"I wonder what he's doing," I said, knowing Rona was ignoring me and I was in effect talking to myself. "I can't believe he's looking for a car. From the looks of him they shouldn't even let him drive one of these electric scooters." I was aggravated and not feeling compassionate.

"He's probably . . . can't . . . This makes me . . . I don't know." That was Rona sputtering to herself.

"What did you say?" I was hoping to break the ice by having us talk about someone with even more driving issues than I.

"He's probably a Silver Alert person." Puzzled, I looked toward Rona. "You know, someone who has Alzheimer's, or something, who wandered off and the police and his family are looking for him. This makes me crazy. I think of myself as understanding and empathetic but this is . . ."

"You are. You are." I thought if I said it emphatically Rona would believe me and we could resume being civil to each other.

"Look. He found his car. Can you believe it? He's trying to get into it. He can't drive a scooter, but a car?"

I sighed in agreement.

"You know I love being here and I love you, but I'm glad we're heading north at the end of the week. I need a dose of New York. And I know--you don't have to say it--after three weeks I'll want to leave Manhattan and hide out in Maine."

"Let's make a quick hit here." I had finally eased into a parking space. "All we need is some bottled water and laundry detergent. We could have avoided Walmart and gone to Publix, but we were in the neighborhood and so I thought . . ."

"That's OK, love," Rona was at last smiling, "I can handle one more trip to Walmarts. Ordinarily I really like them. But it's just so hot, I didn't sleep well last night, and I guess in spite of myself I'm having some separation anxiety. It won't be easy to leave your mother. She's not doing as well as she was back in January and at nearly 106 you never . . ."

"I know. I know," I sighed.

"Let's get this over with quickly and head home. I think we both could use a nap."

"Deal." We exchanged high-fives.

Once inside we quickly rounded up the water and detergent. "Can you believe it, this laundry soap is less than $4.00. At Publix it would be twice that. I suppose that's why we're here like millions of others."

"Billions," I corrected her.

"It is a little funny," Rona said, "to be here on Equal Pay Day. Walmart's a case in point about why we need that--more equal pay regulations."

"Indeed, indeed." I noticed I was repeating everything. Another sign of aging that annoyed Rona. This time thankfully she let it pass.

"I almost forgot."

"What's that?"

"We need a small container of half-and-half. We have three more breakfasts before we leave and I ran out this morning. I don't remember where they keep it. We never buy it here."

"I think over there where they have the orange juice. Sometimes we get our Tropicana here. The prices again are . . ."

"Yes. I see the refrigerator chest over there by the wall." Rona cut me off, clearly having had enough talk about comparison-shopping. We were soon to be back in about the most expensive place in the world, New York, where my yogurts are by now probably $2.00 rather than the 72 cents we paid for them last week at Publix. Rona understandably, before the fact, didn't want to make the sticker-shock worse that it inevitably will be.

I pushed the shopping cart toward the juice and cream chest and stopped a few paces away. "Where do they hide the half-and-half," I muttered, scanning the shelves. "It must be near here somewhere. Ah, I think it's over there right by the whipping cream."

"I see," Rona said, "But what's going on over there?"

"I don't know."

"There," she pointed, "There's an old man holding onto the door handle of the other refrigerator. It looks like he's having a seizure or heart attack or something."

Concerned but not knowing what to do, I asked, "What do you mean? He looks like . . ."

"Like he's holding himself up by clinging to the handle."

"Maybe I should tell someone who works here that . . ."

"Before you do, let's see if we can help him."

By then we were within five or six feet of where he was obviously struggling with something. Maybe Rona is right, I thought, that he's experiencing some kind medical incident.

"Do you hear that?" Rona whispered. She had stopped and held onto the cart so I wouldn't push it any closer.

"Shouldn't we . . . ?"

"Quiet. I want to listen."

"Listen to what? He looks like he's in trouble."

"I forget you can barely hear anything. But I think he's OK. He's talking. He must be using a cell phone. Like in New York, you remember, all the people walking in the streets who appear to be talking to themselves but are on their iPhones."

I did remember that. In fact I hate it. But how unusual, I thought, that someone who looks as if he's at least 90 should be doing the same thing that twenty-somethings do so routinely.

But I did hear him talking. Actually, it sounded as if he was having an argument.

"If I told you once, I told you a thousand times," he yelled, hunched for privacy close to the refrigerator door, "leave her be." He was gesturing with his free hand. "You don't need this. No more. Enough."

"I think . . ." I said.

"Quiet. I don't want us to disturb him. And also, I want . . ."

"I know, to listen."

"Like I told you," he continued, still agitated, "she's no good. No good. What did she ever do for you except make your life miserable? Miserable. You did this; you did that. Always thinking about her. Her good-for-nothing husband. Her children who never raised a finger to help. You, always you. Always you." His shoulders were heaving and it looked as if he was about to cry.

Rona moved us half a step closer and held a finger up to her lips to shush me.

"Remember when she came home from the hospital. After her hipso-memory operation. Who took her in? Who took care of her? Nursed her? Bathed her? Took her back and forth to the doctor?" His whole upper body throbbed. "You. You. You. No one else. You. Who gave up your bed for her and slept on the sofa? And for how long? Days? Weeks? No, months. Months."

I noticed, like me, he too was repeating himself.

"For days and days after she was strong enough to go home. If I didn't put my foot down she would still be living with us. Even though she's dead, she'd still be living with us. Wanting you to take care of her. To do her every bidding." I heard the beginning of a sob.

"And now? What now?"

By then there was someone else standing next to us who apparently needed some orange juice, But she too didn't advance further and stood patiently next to me.

"Gone. Everything is gone. Everyone gone. Over. Nothing is left. Fartik. Turned to scheisse. Scheisse. Shit!"

With that he let go of the handle, turned, and, trembling with tears, shuffled unsteadily toward the front of the store.

Rona stroked his back as he passed close to her. I looked the other way at the woman who was loading a quart of juice into her cart.

There was no cell phone.

March 3, 2014--Pain Points

I had an idea for a business venture. Since it appears someone is already doing a version of it, I am comfortable sharing it.

I needed vitamins and we went to CVS to buy them. At checkout, I saw Rona struggling to find her Master and CVS cards. I had seen this struggle before in other stores. At Staples, Kmart, and Walmart among others.

This inspired my One Card idea.

Like a universal TV remote control where you can merge various remotes into one--your TV, cable system, DVD player, ROKU, whatever. So you don't have to juggle 3 or 4 of them while watching House of Cards being streamed by Netflix.

One Card would allow you to merge all your credit, debit, and store rewards cards into just one, making a busy life a little simpler. I even had thoughts about how to monitize this. "Monitize" being the current buzz-word for making money.

Since I knew absolutely nothing about the technical issues (or much about business for that matter) I wondered who to ask for a reaction, to assess its uniqueness, feasibility, and how perhaps to proceed.

Rona said, "Think about people we know who are younger than 35. Anyone older than that will not know how to evaluate this much less have the technical knowledge to know if it's doable or what to do next. It's a whole new world out there."

"Don't I know it," I sighed.

"So, who should we ask?"

"I know just who--JE. He's in his 20s, smart as a whip, is working at a software startup doing technical stuff, and has a good head for business. Maybe he'd be willing to help with this."

"Perfect," Rona said.

And so I wrote to him as follows--

JE 

We have a whole lot of credit, debit, and individual store cards from Staples, CVS, Kmart, etc. that are not credit cards per say but give points toward future discounts. So when shopping for vitamins, to pay, Rona has to dig in her pocketbook for two cards--her Master and CVS cards.  

This is not the end of the world, but inconvenient. So, I was thinking, like a universal remote control, do you know of something that already exists to do this--to make it possible for someone to consolidate all these kinds of cards into a single, universal card? I've never come upon the existence of something like this, but what do I know?  

If this is a viable concept, I envision a kiosk kind of thing where someone could swipe all cards of this kind onto a single one. And if this is needed and can be made to work, I can see various ways to monitize this. 

Please let me know what you think. If it is something newish and of interest you, I'd be happy to pass the idea along to you, maybe help figure out how to get it financed, and work as a silent partner with you. 

SZ

Within 24 hours JE wrote back--

SZ 

Everything is going well. I'm starting a contract with a company that builds software for  ____ . 

There is currently a universal credit card called Coin.  You can check out their product, and watch their marketing video here: 

https://onlycoin.com/ 

They had their product crowd funded on KickStarter in November.  This was after a round inside an incubator called Y Combinator.  Anything that gets heavy funding on KickStarter draws a lot of media attention.  Y Combinator is also the most well known and respected incubator in the startup scene. 

Competing with their level of media attention, along with their community acceptance through Y Combinator's nod would be difficult this early on. 

There is also the issue of PCI compliance.  PCI compliance is a "proprietary information security standard for organizations that handle cardholder information for the major debit, credit, prepaid, e-purse, ATM, and POS cards."  It's extremely expensive to get right.
The current CEO of Coin, Kanishk Parashar, is especially well suited for running this particular type of company, because of his prior experience working within PayPal and starting a peer-to-peer mobile payment startup in 2010.  

I'm always opened to hearing new idea, so please feel free to share. 

I find that I'm most attracted to simple ideas, such as automating a specific work flow for a particular industry.  These ideas generally have an easily definable implementation, a simple business model, and a niche market with a strong need. 

For example I've worked for 2 different agencies, who had 4 separate clients asking for the same product.  A content dissemination system for sales aids to pharmaceutical sales reps in the field, which regulated the documents they received by expiration date, region and sales unit. 

If you could think of any pain points that involved heavy coordination, paper shuffling or just a lot of redundancy throughout your career, there could be an awesome, actionable product to be made.  There is an added benefit of you being an industry expert, which makes it much easier to pitch to investors.  Additionally, you can leverage the network you already have, to bring on early adopters who can provide extremely valuable feedback on the way to the product going mainstream within the chosen industry. 

I'd love to hear your thoughts. 

JE

Well, I thought and took a deep breath.

I sent back a quick note thanking him for taking this (and me) so seriously, turning to it so quickly, and blah, blah, blah.

Without acknowledging it I felt as if I was way out of my depth. More honestly diminished by the passage of time and a shift of generations. On the other hand, I've never been thought of as a hotshot even in a field where I was "an industry expert." In small consolation, I said to myself, "Thank you JE for thinking about me in this way. For being so nice to me as if you understand my . . ."

My ego wouldn't allow me to ask for translations of a few things he wrote so I could better understand what he was saying and thereby prepare me for a meaningful back-and-forth with him. 

For example--

"Product crowd"
"Peer-to-peer mobile payment startup"
"Content dissemination system"
"Pain points"

Pain I could understand. I know from pain. But more of the lower back variety than having to do with "incubating" business ideas.

Nor was my bruised ego going to allow me to ask more about KickStarter or Y Combinator. Even Rona, who has an MBA in marketing, had never heard of these and she was at an uncharacteristic loss for words. 

"Combinator?" I muttered.

"I told you, didn't I?" Clearly, Rona was not entirely at a loss for words.

Still deflated, with an edge, I asked, "Didn't you what?"

"Tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"That this is no game for people like you."

"Meaning?"

"It's a young person's world." She was trying to be kind.

"But," I puffed myself up, "My One Card is good enough so that a real hotshot came up with Coin, a stupid name," I said as an aside, "which is just like my idea and good enough to get financing."

"Fair enough," Rona said.

That made me feel a bit better. "But still I don't know from this product crowd business. One thing I'm sure about though--it doesn't have anything to do with a group of people. "

"I love you anyway, and JE too, even if you are older than you'd like to admit and don't know anything about content dissemination systems."

"I too think JE's great."

 "And, in the meantime, industry expert," Rona smiled, "see what you can come up with. JE said he'd love to hear your thoughts."

"About the real thoughts I'm having, I'm not so sure."

November 11, 2013--Amazonia

Is Amazon on a course to take over the world? The world of commerce? And who knows what else?

What started in 1994 as a small scale on-line book store has become a retailing behemoth--the world's largest cyber retailer.

In addition to selling virtually every book in print as well as millions of used books via AbeBooks, Amazon now offers almost everything. There is a recent book, the well-titled, The Everything Store, that tracks this remarkable and potentially ominous growth.

From books Amazon quickly moved on to sell DVDs, CDs, video games, and consumer electronics such as TVs and VCRs. After they, from Amazon one could purchase furniture, appliances, apparel, toys, jewelry, and food. In fact, I buy my cookware from Amazon as well as olive oil and even pine nuts!

And then there are other, more exotic goods and especially services that Amazon has been successfully marketing. Best known, through cloud computing, they have been offering infrastructural computer services to some of the nation's leading companies as well as the U.S. government. Clients include NASA and the CIA. Also, the Obama reelection campaign used Amazon's cloud services! Too bad they didn't ask Amazon to run the website for the Obamacare federal health care exchanges.

Amazon discovered that the computer, information technology, data, and storage systems they devised to service their own customers could be used by others such as Netflix. Rather than Netflix developing its own  system to serve its subscribers they in effect rent space on Amazon's enormous computer and data networks.

Beyond this, Amazon has been a leader in the field of big data. They know so much about anyone who logs onto to their website either to shop around or buy something (200 million annually by objective measure) that they are able to mine that data and use it to market other enticing products to us.

If, like me, you buy olive oil, pots and pans, and spices from them, they can easily determine that I might be interested in cook books and kitchen electronics. Or, if I looked for information about Doris Kearns Goodwin's new book about Teddy Roosevelt, they pitch me with information and special deals about the equally recent book about the 2012 presidential election--Double Down.

Some people find this to be helpful; others, me very much included, find it spookily intrusive. I do not like the idea that "they" keep track of what I read and other items I look around for on the Internet. But I guess we are living in a post-privacy world and I should surrender to it since living off the grid--not attractive to me--is the alternative.

As Amazon has grown in size and the services it offers, there is mounting pressure by investors that it begin to make money. Though income last year was in the $61 billion range, as in all the years since it began, Amazon has lost money. Because of increasing its investment in its e-reader, Kindle, in 2012 it posted a loss of $40 million. Thus they pay no dividends, reinvesting almost all their gross income to scoop up other companies such as Kiva Systems and Zappos and expand the range of its own products and services.

People have been wondering what founder and CEO Jeff Bezos has in mind as his long-range business plan.

I think the answer is simple--drive competitive bookstores such as Barnes & Noble and electronics giants such as Best Buy out of business by underselling them; and then, after they are gone or reduced in size, begin to raise prices and allow income to move into the black.

Home Depot put local hardware stores and lumber yards out of business and Walmart wiped out downtown merchants on their march toward market dominance; and then, after doing that with deeply-discounted prices, began to raise them as the competition evaporated.

But I've noticed something new stirring in Amazonia--a few small steps to increase profitability that might suggest their future corporate strategy: rather than continuing to cut prices to undermine competition, Amazon has begun to raise prices. For example, they are charging more to ship books and some of their book prices--always heavily discounted--are beginning to creep up.

Until now, shipping has been free for orders of $25 or more. Soon, just in time for the holidays, customers will have to order at least $35 dollars of goods to qualify for free shipping. This will save the company a few million dollars a year and may also increase sales by prodding people to spend at least $10 more to continue to qualify for free shipping.

But then book prices are also quietly increasing. The evidence thus far is anecdotal. According to the New York Times, if you placed a "save-for-later" order recently for the University of Nebraska Press' bibliography of the novelist Jim Harrison, it was listed as costing $43.87 and then a week later returned to your "shopping cart," you might have found that if you wanted to complete your purchase it would cost $59.87. And this pricing strategy is proving true for some more popular books

That new Doris Kearns Goodwin biography of Teddy Roosevelt, The Bully Pulpit, offers another example. When I went to look for it on Amazon I found that though the list price was $40, it was available for $24, including shipping. Wondering if I could do better, I checked AbeBooks (ironically, an Amazon company) and found a bookseller who had them available for $19.88, also including shipping. True, from Amazon the book would arrive in 2-3 days and from the Abe dealer it would take 10 or so days; but, if you are not in a hurry, the savings would be $4.

I opted to be patient and ordered it in hardcover from PaperbackShop--US in Secaucus, New Jersey, the AbeBooks independent book dealer. I was not only happy to save a few dollars but also liked the idea, in a small way, of not so automatically helping Amazon take over the world.