Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant

A Florida man says that his son was taken advantage of by a Florida Panhandle strip joint. Seems the father gave his son his credit card to celebrate his graduation from Georgia Tech, and the boy ran up a $53,000 tab. This appears to be a case where the strippers were the ones who got a “happy ending.”

I guess the young man, catapulted to an undergrad degree at the tender of age 24, did not learn the economics of real life in school — chief among them is to never give strippers a free shot at your credit card, no matter how drunk you are.

Much like their brethren the lawyers, strippers quickly size up a potential client for how much they can fleece from them, based on how much money they have and how stupid they appear to be.  

I have always supported honest entrepreneurs, especially when pitted against the stupid. It is good for society when money is not left too long in the hands of idiots. It is God’s way of getting money into smarter folks’ pockets. For the less religious among us, I call it economic Darwinism, and it often happens one crumpled $5 bill at a time. As the old saying goes, “A fool and his money are soon parted.” In this case, a fool and his dad’s money were soon partying.  

I do understand these men who spend silly amounts of money in strip clubs. I have had friends whose longest female relationships have lasted two table dances. Men go to these clubs to make themselves feel important because they are lacking in self-esteem or personal affirmation. They are paying for the illusion of being a big shot, and they convince themselves that these women actually think they are attractive. They usually get buyer’s remorse when the stripper’s cooing and ego-stroking ends, which invariably happens when the guy’s money runs out. Who knew?

Surprisingly, the government, which likes to wet its beak in all vices, has yet to devise a way to muscle in on the strip-joint business. They’ve done better with our other bad habits. The feds pay farmers to grow tobacco, then tax cigarettes, and then push lawsuits against cigarette manufacturers. Governments are also into gambling big-time now, sponsoring their own state lotteries (akin to running numbers) and licensing casinos. And of course, there is booze, where government takes an inordinate cut via taxes on alcohol sales. It is best to view the government as a mob boss without the protection racket — or moral consistency. 

I don’t go to strip clubs, but it’s not because I have any ethical opposition to them. The average stripper is doing the best she can with the assets she has to make money and provide for her famiy. And I respect that — especially her assets. Basically, I don’t go simply because I am too cheap.

As for the Georgia Tech grad, it sounds like he got a master’s in finance that night — for $53,000! Welcome to the real world, son! Pain is an excellent teacher, and often, in a society that makes excuses for bad behavior, it can be the only teacher. Of course, ridicule helps, which is what I do. It is my way of giving back.

Experience is how we learn life’s lessons. Experience delivers certain harsh truths to us Homo sapiens (and straight sapiens, too). This incident taught a young man the most valuable lesson in life: Don’t be an idiot.

See, everyone has a role in our society, even strippers.

Ron Hart is a columnist and former resident of Memphis.

Categories
Politics Politics Feature

New Game, Different Name

When Bruce Thompson, freshly charged with extortion and mail fraud, called a press conference last week to respond, the former county commissioner struck an unusual note of defiance, chastising My Harrison, the FBI’s local agent in charge, for the “same game, different name” remark with which she had characterized his place in the ever-burgeoning series of federal indictments of local officials.

His life was no game, Thompson said, making the issue personal, and since the distinguished defense attorney Leslie Ballin stood at his elbow when he said it, lending his considerable legal imprimatur to the statement, what Thompson said smacked less of pique than of considered strategy. Indeed, it seemed overtly political, the response of one contender to another in a heated public debate.

And make no mistake: Though both Thompson’s legal defenders and the prosecutorial team representing U.S. attorney David Kustoff will presumably offer abundant briefs, proofs, and exhibits in evidence as they join the issue, there is something political about not only this trial but the whole series of recent ones based on operations with catchy code names like Tennessee Waltz, Main Street Sweeper, and suchlike.

There had already been sporadic, mainly sub rosa efforts within the ranks of local Democrats to challenge the series of Justice Department prosecutions as partisan ones aimed at their party’s power structure. The presence of a nominal Republican, former East Tennessee legislator Chris Newton, among the Tennessee Waltz indictees, had done little to dispel the accusation, since Newton’s GOP colleagues had always considered him a fellow traveler with the General Assembly’s Democrats.

The conservative Thompson, a bona fide upscale Gucci-wearing Republican with strong connections in the local business community, would seem to be a different matter. Yet it can be argued, at no prejudice to the legal merits of either case, that both Thompson’s prosecution and that of former MLGW head Joseph Lee, currently under indictment for improper collusion with city councilman Edmund Ford Sr., are inherently political.

Rather than instances of out-and-out bribery, conveniently staged and videotaped by the government itself, these two cases are not stings but the results of real ex nihilo investigations of actions initiated by the principals themselves. What connects them to the prior cases is that they expressly target the freedom-of-action of public officials.

The prosecutions of Thompson and, even more obviously, Lee are aimed at what had previously been a no-man’s-land of politics, the domain where favors are done in return for favors, where one hand washes the other, and where if you scratch my back, I’ll sure as hell scratch yours.

Did MLGW president Lee choose to look the other way at Ford’s thousands of dollars’ worth of unpaid bills because the councilman changed his mind on Lee’s acceptability as the utility’s head, and because, even more crucially, Ford headed Lee’s oversight committee? It might once have been said: That’s just politics. But Harrison and Kustoff have now declared that statement inoperative, as chief prosecutor Tim DiScenza shortly will in court.

Thompson’s case is even more ambivalent. Before he went to work on getting the Memphis school board to approve a school-construction contract for a West Tennessee company (for an ultimate fee of $250,000 for himself), the then commissioner sought — and got — the formal sanction of county attorney Brian Kuhn.

No conflict of interest, said Kuhn, who reaffirmed again Monday his belief that Thompson, distanced by the state’s funding formula both from city-school spending per se and from oversight of specific school construction, was within his rights to act as an advocate for the company.

That was on pure conflict-of-interest grounds, stressed Kuhn, who eschewed any judgment about various potential illegalities associated with other aspects of the case. Asked whether the Thompson and Lee cases could be interpreted as incursions by federal authorities onto turf previously regarded as exclusively and flexibly political, Kuhn allowed — unofficially and informally, you understand — that he understood how somebody could see it that way.

In an interview with the Flyer back in 1994, when he was first running for the Senate, current presidential hopeful Fred Thompson mused on the then ongoing Whitewater investigation into President Bill Clinton‘s private finances and, at some passionate length, expressed regret at what he saw as the creeping criminalization of politics.

Locally as well as nationally, what Thompson then lamented seems now to be the very name of the game.

Categories
Opinion

Get Wise: Monetize

Ethics codes are so yesterday. Tennessee Waltz, Main Street Sweeper, Tarnished Blue, Tarnished News, and “Same Game Different Name” have thrown politicians, cops, and journalists into a hopeless state of confusion.

Ethics shmethics. What they need is a fee schedule to help them fairly and honestly value their services in today’s ever-changing marketplace.

Well, Mr. Monetize is here at your service.

Dear Mr. Monetize: What would Kant say about all of this?

Immanuel Kant, a founding member of the Memphis City Council, is famous for his “categorical imperative,” which reads in part: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”

Because of the confusing structure and irregular syntax of this sentence, it was later amended by ordinance on a unanimous vote to read: “Do what you can get away with as long as you can point to somebody else who had an even better deal.”

Dear Mr. Monetize: I’m an elected official who’s bad at math. How many ways can I monetize?

A bunch. There are 13 City Council members and 13 county commissioners plus 14 city and county school board members. Like Kant said back in the day, each one of you is a potential independent contractor or consultant-to-the-max under universal law. Multiply all those numbers and the result is a really big number.

Dear Mr. Monetize: So how much should I charge for services?

It depends on the nature of the service, the timing, and the size of your cojones. But these guidelines should be useful. Prices are subject to change without notice, and holiday discounts may or may not apply. Coupons may not be used in some situations.

Consulting: The sky’s the limit! A monthly retainer of $5,000 is entirely appropriate. On an annual basis, $100,000 and up is more like it. The “contingency fee” or “finder’s fee” of one-half of 1 percent may yield a better return if the contract is large and the client is generous, stupid, or desperate. Step one is to print some business cards that list your occupation as “consultant.”

Setting up a meeting: A fee of $20,000 is standard, plus the cost of food, drinks, and napkins if required. (A mark-up should not be charged on those items, however.) For a simple office meeting, a fee of $1,000 for the first consultation is reasonable and customary.

Phone call to mayor: $100, plus carrier charges.

Phone call to cuss out reporter: $500, plus carrier charges. The fee must be returned if the reporter bites back.

Phone call to constituent: no charge. But remember: leads, leads, leads!

Phone call to assistant U.S. attorney Tim DiScenza: oops! Wrong number.

Personal visit to member of quasi-public board with power to dispense monies in excess of $10 million: $750 per visit. If provider is a member of board, fees are tripled.

Sucking up to mayor: job paying at least $80,000 a year plus pension benefits.

Insulting or cussing out mayor: $50 per television interview, with an additional $50 each time the clip airs. Get residuals!

Dear Mr. Monetize: I’m a cop who knows some bad shit that went down in the department. What should I do?

Get in line.

Dear Mr. Monetize: I am a print journalist. Recent actions of the City Council, the County Commission, and federal prosecutors regarding so-called strip clubs have caused a certain amount of shrinkage, if you know what I mean, in our publication, which used to feature full-page pictures of sexy young women with huge monetizers. What can I do?

You could start with that picture at the top of this page.

Categories
News The Fly-By

Ethical Dilemma

Local governments have attorneys, planners, and engineers on staff, but it might be time to hire an ethicist. Or at least put one on retainer.

Under state law, local governing bodies are required to approve a new ethics policy by June 30,
2007. But last week, after a discussion over who should review ethics complaints, the County Commission ethics policy ad hoc committee sent its lawyers back to the drawing board.

Last year, in the wake of the Tennessee Waltz scandal, the state legislature enacted the 2006 Ethics Reform Act, which stipulates that local governments adopt ethical standards relating to conflicts of interest and gifts.

Under a mandate from the state, the County Technical Assistance Service developed a model policy that included a five-person County Ethics Committee to receive and investigate ethics violations. The model committee was to be composed of three county commissioners, one constitutional county officer (or another county commissioner), and one member of another board governed by the committee … or another county commissioner.

Mayor A C Wharton went before the ad hoc committee last week to suggest that the Shelby County panel should be composed of retired judges, lawyers, and business leaders.

“Whatever model we go with, there’s got to be a window that the public can peek in,” said Wharton. “We’ve got to get the public away from the idea that … elected officials just look out for each other.”

While Wharton thought that public involvement would add credibility to the county’s ethics policy, some members of the commission bristled at the thought of the general public constantly looking over their shoulders.

“I have a problem with laypeople trying to determine what’s legal and what’s not,” said Commissioner Sidney Chism. “You go on Web sites and read comments from people who think they are highly intelligent, and I find they’re just straight-out crazy.”

It’s an interesting question: Who is best suited to judge the ethics of elected officials? And who do elected officials think is best suited to judge them?

Commissioner Mike Carpenter noted that people face a jury of their peers every day at 201 Poplar, and those decisions can result in life sentences. Or worse.

Lawyer David Cocke, a member of the ad hoc committee, said that the public often demands ethics reforms that are more stringent than what is legally required. But even though that may scare local politicians, public involvement is the only thing that will satisfy and reassure an increasingly jaded citizenry.

“Everyone suspects politicians are going to take care of their own,” said Cocke. “You’ve got to find people who are impartial to make recommendations.”

The public cannot be blamed for believing that politicians look out for other politicians. Think about last year’s motion to censure City Council members Rickey Peete and Edmund Ford in the wake of federal bribery charges. The council couldn’t even find the votes to ask them to resign, much less censure them.

After the County Commission committee decided to craft a new draft based on the model policy, Commissioner Henri Brooks proposed keeping all allegations secret until an investigation had determined that an ethics violation had actually taken place. The commissioners wanted to protect against someone making ethics violation allegations for political gain.

Fair enough, but keeping allegations secret — even false ones — would be so much worse. Someone would leak the allegation to the media, reporters would call, and no one would be able to comment officially. But I’d bet the person who reported the ethics violation would be more than willing to talk, especially if it was a false allegation for political gain.

Too many politicians have abused the public’s confidence. If the public is going to trust elected officials, it’s going to take a lot more openness and a lot more information.

But as jaded as Shelby Countians are, they also seem very forgiving. Look at some of the dubious things John Ford was reportedly doing before he was indicted. People still like him. And Rickey Peete was reelected to the City Council after a bribery conviction.

But I could be wrong. Maybe my ethicist will know.