Letter to President Obama

Yesterday was Veterans' Day and for the first time, I wrote Barack Obama a letter. Here it is...

Dear Mr. President,

I voted for you because I admired your intellect, your selflessness and because I trusted you.
I'm writing to you today because I'm concerned about what you'll decide about Afghanistan in the next days or weeks.
I believe that the United States went there after 9/11, botched up its work and distracted itself in invading Iraq for no valid reason. Today, Osama bin Laden is probably dead and perceptive people know that 9/11 happened because of the way America never took the plight of the Palestinian people seriously enough.
So the Jihad against our country will only be silenced if we take care of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. This has nothing to do with Afghanistan. Its population wants us out and Karzai is a brigand. We have no business in being there.

This is what you must feel deep inside, but I realize that you must are under intense pressure from the military, your defense secretary and Mrs. Clinton to keep the war going. You've got to stand up to them and say no. You need to listen to your guts and your sense of pragmatism.
You see, Mr. President, I was born in the French Alps from a very modest, should I say poor parents. I never went to college education but came to America in 1977 with my dear wife, our two suitcases and tons of common sense. We worked hard, were very thoughtful, had a good share of luck and did very well for ourselves. Not by doing what folks on Wall Street do in stepping over others but by working assiduously, intelligently and being "street-smart."

Now, having said, let me come to the most important point of this letter. Using the same “street-smart” qualities you have, project yourself ten or twenty years down the road and try to see what would happen to Afghanistan whether we were to pull out today or carry on for five more years with 50,000 or even 100,000 more troops. The place would be the same mess, because it will take at least three generations to change the culture of that country if the nefarious influence of religion could ever be neutralized.

So, with that in mind, why prolong the torture and continue the exercise if it's indeed for naughts. Our country needs all the help it can get and the top priorities are waiting right here, at home.
Mr. President, with all due respect, be courageous, say no to the military-industrial complex and pull out of Iraq and Afghanistan now! You are to smart and too important to America to get bogged down into this fruitless conflict!

A two-state “solution” will never work!

It's been my long-held opinion that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the reason why we're stuck in Afghanistan. I also think that a “two-state solution” is a pipe-dream and a product of political compromise that will never work economically and politically if we consider that the 11 million inhabitants of the region are equally split between Jews and Arabs, but that the former enjoy 80% of the land and a per capita GDP ten times greater than the latter.

It's time for Israel to give up its status of “Jewish State, ” become inclusive and emancipate its entire Arab population including its Palestinian enclaves and let the refugees return. Benjamin Netanyahu doesn't want it and instead wants to buy time, hoping among other things that Obama will only be a one-term president. Yet, a two-state solution won't happen if we don't return to the 1967 borders and maintain interfaith access to Jerusalem. The world has already enough serious problem without tolerating that stalemate and it's time for our leadership to muster enough courage to tell the Israeli government what to do.

No political pundit and head of government ever thought that the Berlin Wall would fall; it's time to change our paradigm about the middle-east and embrace a secular one-state solution integrating both Israelis and Palestinians. What happened in Germany shows that “Gated Communities” never work and are a thing of the past in this global age. If you disagree with that view, let's discuss it.

Fiat & Chrysler: Another Italian miracle?

No one wanted to tackle Chrysler and the only car manufacturer that did was the brand no one wants: Fiat. When the Italian brand-acronym that stands for “Fabbrica Italiana Automobili Torino” left the American market it was essentially better known for “Fix it again Tony.” Today, it has raised the bar to unprecedented heights by setting totally unrealistic goals for the number three domestic brand it now controls. Mercedes tried and it failed and now Fiat wants to use Chrysler as a Trojan horse to sell its Fiat 500 to Americans...

Am I the one delusional or what? The only intelligent point made by Sergio Marchionne, Fiat's megalomaniac CEO was to recognize that the only brand with some equity in that new group is Jeep, but that's likely to be an asset he sells down the road to a Tata in order to shore up his company finances. Aside from that, even including a typical Italian miracle, with saints, Pope and processions, I bet ten to one this marriage is doomed. Okay, I'll admit, I've been wrong before!

Welcome to Poop City

Responsible dog owners should use dog poop bags, right? That would seem to be the least they should do. We run in the morning along McLeod Creek, a pristine little trail, neatly asphalted and bordered with willow trees. As we've been for several years into a brand new millennium, you'd think that people who live in Park City and walk their dogs along that path would be civilized enough to pick up after their pooch; no, too many still don't and make sure their dogs leave their dropping right in the middle of the path.

You would perhaps think that these same selfish folks would feel a tiny bit guilty and muster the strength to kick the poop sideways, out of plain view. Nope, they'd never bend over to pick up a twig and do the job or, God forbid, kick the pile with their own shoes! They'd rather have you and me step smack in the middle of it! I'm not finished; among the exceptional individuals who walk their dogs equipped with poop bags, some “conveniently” drop them to the side, presumably to pick them up on their way back, but guess what?

Many often “forget” the little, white wrapper; put this on the account of absent-mindedness... Some are of the “saving” type and may be betting on canine feces taking off as our dollar nosedives. These speculators pile them up behind a rock at the corner of Holiday Ranch Loop Road and we've got another daily eyesore to contend with. I'm telling you, now that it has built its own canine park, Park City is irreversibly gone to the dogs!

Three-wheel wheelbarrow ride

Risk taking has always attracted me and it can be traced back to my very early years. One of my first high-stake adventure happened when I was about five years old and was playing around my parents home in the French Alps. My dad had a 3-wheel wheelbarrow, an unusual contraption that could only be found in Haute-Savoie, I guess. That unique cart, used mostly to carry manure, was parked behind the house and next to a steep slope that dropped more than 200 feet below to “La Dranse” the local torrent.

While still a tiny tot, I managed to climb into the cab and began to roll the front wheel with my two hands. Slowly, I managed to maneuver the heavy wheelbarrow so it pointed straight into the slope and before long, it barreled down like a rocket with me as its unique passenger. The first part of the slope was about 20 degrees followed by a short, flatter ledge before plunging again into a 30 degree slope that generated a high rate of speed close to actual flight.

Amazingly, I managed to hang on during the ride, hopefully enjoying the acceleration until the steep section transitioned with the much portion near the riverbed. The wheelbarrow hit the transition with great force and I flew up in the air before landing in the meadow while my ride continued and came to a stop a few yards short of the water.

I then managed to crawl half the way up the steep hill, because one of my knees was hurting badly, and was met by my 12 year old brother who after seeing both the wheelbarrow and his younger sibling missing, ran almost all the way down, picked me up and carried me back up the best he could until he was met by my panicked parents who had just figured out the situation. I had enough strength and audacity left though to tell them that if they had put that terrible wheelbarrow away, I wouldn't have been hurt. I obviously survived the ordeal to write this blog, only had a sprain knee but a lifelong appreciation for high speed and for becoming an adrenaline junkie. Even today, I still wonder why I never mentioned this remarkable performance on any of my résumés!

Want vs. need

Since I broke my mountain bike bell wen I fell, I had to replace it and yesterday morning went out to get a brand new one before our daily outing. I found a fancy yellow and pink bell that would not have been my first choice, but was among the few left-overs the store still had from its summer season. When I returned and dangled the brand new accessory in front of her eyes, my wife asked me if I had also bought one for her own bike. I said no, you don't NEED one.

Since, I'm always ahead, I'm the trailblazer and the only one who needs to warn other bikers or hikers of our impending arrival, before a blind corner or when we're in the woods. She was utterly disappointed and told me that she had – just the day before – requested a bell too for her own bike. She agreed that she didn't particularly NEED it, but she WANTED it, and me – the macho and overly pragmatic husband – had just denied her that basic wish under the guise that she didn't need it. That same day, I went to Jans to grab another copy of that all-important warning device. Now, I love that bell's contrasting color and the crystalline sound it makes; whenever I'll hear it, I'll remember forever the fundamental difference that exists between want and... need!

Mountain bike: Don't fall!

Yesterday, I took my first spill of the year while mountain biking. Thanks god, I wasn't riding too fast but was also not paying enough attention to the turn I was in the middle of. Suddenly my rear wheel skidded and I went head over heels into the providential sagebrush that surrounded us. A few minor scratches and a broken bike bell were the only unpleasant results from that flight over the handlebar causing a brush with the native vegetation. In retrospect, I felt extremely lucky that no sharp rocks where hidden in the scrub; had that been the case, there would have been plenty of blood gushing out to color the incident.

It's also quite possible that if I had not been using pedal clips, I might have altogether avoided the fall; an important safety feature sacrificed on the altar of performance? Something to seriously ponder, when at my age, falling from a mountain bike is never a good option...