#go aging king go show off those dentures

[diamond-balloons]

murdoc's prefect pearly white teeth the last few phases are bc he has dentures

[justforbooks]

After 20 outings, the unconventional detective duo of Arthur Bryant and John May have solved their last case. But their creator is not willing to let them go entirely …

Christopher Fowler is picking at a healthy-looking bowl of protein and veggies. “I don’t have much appetite these days.” For the last two years he has been having cancer treatment, but remains upbeat. Lunch over, we move to the other end of his penthouse flat in London’s King’s Cross, where a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf houses a vast collection of London esoterica. Outside on the terrace, the large, shiny model of Marvel superhero the Silver Surfer that used to stand guard is gone. “He got frostbite and his fingers fell off. He couldn’t handle King’s Cross, let alone the depths of space.” A wide sweep of the skyline takes in the London Eye to the Shard, and far beyond.

This month London Bridge Is Falling Down, Fowler’s 20th Bryant & May crime novel, will be published, bringing to a close a much-loved series that started in 2003 with Full Dark House. The books feature the unconventional detective duo Arthur Bryant and John May of London’s Peculiar Crimes Unit, who solve arcane murders whose occult significance baffles more traditional detectives. Crime fiction aficionados can amuse themselves by spotting references to classics of the golden age, whose plots and twists Fowler ingeniously projects on to the era of computers and mobile phones. Everyone else can enjoy the endlessly bantering and discursive dialogue between the pair as they break all procedural rules, and the uniquely droll narrative voice with its sharp-eyed slant on modern life.

In 2003 Fowler was established as a writer predominantly of horror, with forays into black comedy and satire based around his day job in film marketing. Full Dark House was meant to be a standalone, which is why Fowler kills Bryant off in the first few pages with an explosion that destroys the PCU offices, about 60 years after his heroes first met as youngsters during the blitz. That first novel is set mostly in wartime flashback around the Palace theatre at Cambridge Circus, where a Phantom-like murderer uses air raids as a cue to run amok among the gantries.

The duo’s further adventures involve such site-specific elements as Punch and Judy shows, forgotten London rivers, Victorian boozers, the nursery rhyme “Oranges and Lemons” and, in the latest book, models of London Bridge. Fowler is clearly obsessed with the capital – was he worried the series might only appeal to those similarly inclined?

“I think everybody likes walking through London in their mind, and because it has so many literary connotations, London is already slightly blurred with fiction. I expected that I was writing very parochially for a very limited audience, and it turned out that what I was doing was the reverse – the more abstract, strange and esoteric I became, the more people liked it. I was going to finish at book six but it got a groundswell of very loyal – strangely loyal – fans.”

At this point sales also began to pick up in the US. “I’ve had a few complaints over the years – one from a Republican senator who complained it was ‘too deep English’ for him. But I’ve been lucky to have a couple of editors in New York who were absolutely brilliant. Their attitude was, don’t change a word.”

With a few exceptions – Hall of Mirrors is set in the 1960s – the detecting duo are of pensionable age. Bryant in particular crumbles away from book to book, wearing dentures and walking with a stick. Isn’t there a technical challenge with starting off with such aged characters?

“One of the curses of having an old guy is that you can only get away with having so many health scares. But it only gets tricky if you assume that fictional characters age like human beings! Why should the Simpsons age? It’s a ridiculous idea!”

May, slightly younger and much more charming, compensates for Bryant’s more abrasive style. Cross-grained, eccentric, erudite, he is steeped in London lore and apt to make bizarre connections and mental leaps that would faze anyone else. To what extent does Bryant resemble his creator?

“I am not Arthur Bryant.” At this point Fowler’s husband, Pete, a TV executive, appears in the background and mouths: “Oh yes he is!” Fowler pauses. “A little bit of me is, but I haven’t got that cantankerous … fuck off!” He jerks his thumb at Pete, laughing. “Someone who hasn’t read the last four books.”

Over the last couple of years, ill health has forced Fowler into different working practices. He worked on London Bridge Is Falling Down while receiving chemotherapy at University College Hospital. “It was great, they set me up with a desk. Yeah, yeah, just carried on with a thing in my arm. Who cares? And then I decided to bring [the series] to a definite stop. I cannot pull another Bobby Ewing!’

I ask if the cancer diagnosis had some bearing on his decision to wind things up. “It’s subconscious, but by book 18 I’d started adding details that would eventually dovetail the 20th book back to the first, completing a circle. I couldn’t even see it, that’s the weird thing. When I delivered it, my agent said: ‘I think you’ve been approaching this for a long time.’ I’d packed it with little things that were pointers back to the earliest books. Right towards the end, I didn’t quite have the last link of the story until I realised – it’s obvious. It’s a thing that happened at the start.”

It must have felt strange, to say goodbye after all these years. “People say, do your characters live with you all the time? No – they live with me when I sit down [to write]. I open the lid on the laptop, that’s the only time I think about them. Then I get really lost in that world, I have to be dragged out. The rest of the time they’re not living with me. But the characters are so clear in my head that writing the end was really emotional. I really did feel it was like losing family members, because my parents read the books and loved the characters and my parents are both gone, so …”

After a moment, he picks up again. “That’s probably why I did two volumes of memoirs in the middle of the series [Paper Boy and Film Freak], because Bryant’s memories are so churned up with my parents’ memories of London. It stirred up enough stuff to make me think I should actually do their story as well. They both lost their teenage years to the war: my mum joined the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force and my dad was a firewatcher at St Paul’s.”

London Bridge Is Falling Down is not the last we’ll hear from Bryant and May. In Bryant & May’s Peculiar London, coming out next year, characters from the series simply wander around the city having conversations about places they love. “I wanted to make it a really chatty, cheeky, irreverent, messy series of arguments about London. I delivered it thinking they’re never going to accept this, and the publishers went: ‘Oh we love it – it’s like a Bryant & May book without bodies in it!’”

Of course London has moved on inexorably since Fowler began his writing career, and co-founded his film marketing company the Creative Partnership at the age of 26. Soho is not the international film hub it once was, in the heady days when the company was working on 15 films a month, including marketing campaigns for Reservoir Dogs and Trainspotting. One of Fowler’s claims to fame from the time is mentioned in Film Freak. “Asked to provide poster straplines for Alien, I wrote several pages of them, including ‘In space no one can hear you scream’. I assume I wasn’t the only person to think of this – it’s an obvious line,” he writes.

“Someone else laid claim to it this month, I noticed,” he says now. “I love it! But we worked on it first, because it was shooting in the UK. Ridley Scott came to see us and gave us a drawing of an egg and said: ‘That’s really all I can tell you – and it’s going to be very frightening.’ We used to get paid £20 per page of copylines and that was the one they went with.”

For years he shuttled between the Cannes film festival and the Frankfurt book fair, twin poles of his existence. Though the company still exists in slimmed-down form, he retired 15 years ago. “The business model changed dramatically. Once everything went digital, America didn’t really need a London outpost. There are hardly any screening rooms left in Soho now. All these places I spent half my life in.”

The question mark over his health means that by the time the Peculiar London book comes out next July, he might, as he drily puts it, not be “available for the tour”. Given that during our interview he comes up with two new book ideas and is currently putting the finishing touches to a fantasy novel, the prognosis isn’t slowing him down. However, we finish on a melancholy note, discussing how many of his short stories over the years describe a London that has now gone. His film anecdotes, too, evoke a vanished world, one where you could take George Hamilton to Bruno’s Sandwich Bar in Soho or get the concierge at the Athenaeum Hotel to put you through to any visiting star. But Fowler’s voice is growing hoarse and it’s time to stop for a coffee.

On the way home, I peek at my copy of the final Bryant & May mystery. He has inscribed it with the characteristically jaunty words: “The Big Finish!”

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[opheliagardinier]

jamboree

I’m sorry for having disappeared recently. I think some of you know that I’m in the process of moving back to the US so things are hectic right now and writing hasn’t been my priority. I also couldn’t post it because of what happened with the last fic.

Speaking of the US happy 4th of July! I forgot it was today, haha but I hope everyone that celebrates it is having a good and SAFE day!

Anywho- I’ll probably be posting the ball fics with Wyatt and Vivienne tomorrow if I can get them written. But like I said haha packing.

Thank you Brianna @benjaminschreave for the RP!

I’ll post a dress edit later! Basically it looks similar to the dress in the cover.

word count:2847

I was positioned in front of the floor length mirror in my room, with all three of my maids fussing over me.

“How about this way?” Louisa asked, pulling my hair up to show me what it would look like in a bun. “Or we can leave it down?”

I nodded. Keeping my hairstyle simple seemed like the best idea. Putting it up would have distracted I thought,

I don’t know what exactly I’d been expecting when I’d told Astrid I wanted to make a statement with my ball outfit but she had gone above and beyond and had more than delivered. The dress was bolder than I could have imagined.

“Suck in,” Astrid instructed.

I did as I was told as I felt her pull at the small zipper on the back of my dress. At first, it felt tight, but when I exhaled I was able to settle into the gown a bit more.

My fingertips brushed against the corset of the dress as I did my best to not focus too much on the upper portion of the gown. I was used to the desire to be bold but tonight was different. Tonight I felt almost naked wearing something that normally would have given me confidence.

Before leaving Astrid pulled a little bit of my hair to the side and fastened it in place with some pins. She told me she just couldn’t let me leave looking like nothing had been done to my hair.

When I entered the ball I wasn’t sure what to do first. Not all of the girls had arrived yet, and anyone else who I knew was otherwise occupied.

After grabbing a glass of water from the bar I made my way around the room and talked to various other guests, none of whom really held my attention that well. But all the same, I still tried to be sociable.

At some point, I caught sight of Ben who was speaking with an older couple. When they had finished their conversation I politely said goodbye to who I’d been speaking with and then snuck up behind him.

“Hey there, birthday boy,” I said, covering his eyes.

I felt his cheeks scrunch up beneath my hands as he smiled.

“Trying to do the job the mask couldn’t?” He asked.

I pulled my hands back and grinned at him.

“I think I'm a bit better than a mask, don't you?”

He turned to face me. For a split second, I wanted to laugh at his mask because it was strange to see him that way but I didn’t. And I wasn’t one to laugh anyway considering that I had a mask on as well and it was definitely over the top.

“It’s possible.” He gave me a smile after giving me a quick once-over. “You look very nice tonight, Lia.”

Why thank you, Jam.” I chuckled, feeling my cheeks heat up just a little as I blushed. “You don't look so bad yourself considering you're an old man now.”

“You’re older than me,” Ben told me, with a flat expression.

I tilted my head in amusement. At least he isn’t focusing on this darn dress… But I almost wanted him to.

“You know, I think the first rule of being a gentleman is that you don't bring up a lady's age.”

“Simply clarifying that I am in no way old.” He stated. “And neither are you.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes at his comment. After a little look around I leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Old or not I believe congratulations and- gifts are in order.” I smiled up at him as I rubbed the lipstick off of his cheek with one of my thumbs.

“I hope it’s not dentures as a sign of my old age.” His brows raised with expectancy.

I shook my head. Dentures would have been a funny gift and I almost wished I’d thought of it. But I had to say I did like what I’d picked out for him.

“Unfortunately it's harder than you think to get those on such short notice. So I got you the next best thing.”

“And where would this next best gift be?” He asked.

“It's waiting for you outside,” I told him. “But first I'd like to ask if I can steal you for a dance.”

His lips pursed as he pretended to think about it.

“But am I really in the mood to be stolen? That’s the real question.”

I’d always wondered if the Ben I’d been getting to know would be the same person around others that he was when we were alone. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but I was glad that he seemed to not change too much.

“I guess I'll just have to go ask someone else to dance- maybe Prince Aran perhaps?” I sighed.

“And deny the birthday prince his dance? Outrageous.” Ben took my hand as he flashed me a smile and whisked me away onto the dance floor.

“Drama queen.” I rolled my eyes.

I place one of my hands on his shoulders while the other went the gently hold the back of his neck.

“King.” Ben corrected, as he put his hands on my waist.

“Prince.” I countered, raising my eyebrows at him.

You aren’t the king yet, Jammy Jam… and hopefully you won’t be for a long time. It wasn’t that I didn’t think he would make a good king- I just didn’t think he was ready. Ben deserved to spend the next few years getting to finish growing up and starting his life without all the pressures that came with the crown his father wore.

“Touché.” He laughed.

“Just keeping you in line.” I teased, giving him a wink.

“An excellent Selected in my book.”

“Excellent?” I smirked at him. “That's a big upgrade from ‘meh’.”

As we swayed to the music I commented about how he seemed like he was in a good mood and he filled me in about his day. It seemed like he’d had a good time with his family- off-key singing in all.

We continued dancing, discussing birthday wishes, and joking. I was hoping he would let me in and tell me what he’d been hoping for, but no such luck. But things seemed like they were always that way with Ben.

Ben, of course, asked me if my birthday wishes had come true, but I returned the vague answers he’d given me. Eventually, he broke me and I told him that I had gotten my wishes, which had been a little bit of peace… and a chance.

“Chance for what?” He asked me, with his brows knitting together.

“That's for me to know.” I gave him a sweet smile as reached up to tap his nose.

His nose wrinkled in response.

“And for me to find out?”

“If you're good I might just tell you.”

“Aren't I good already? He asked.

I told him that I thought being a little too good could make you bad. He asked how with that chuckle of his I loved hearing.

“It adds some mystery. And makes me wonder what you're hiding.” I smirked. “I already told you mine- but have you told me yours?”

“I don't have very many secrets.” Ben shook his head. “Nothing as bad as you're probably imagining.”

“If it isn't so bad then tell me?”

I gave him a soft smile. The more time went on the more I felt like he was holding back, and I could just never understand it. Ben knew almost every dangerous or risky detail of my life… and yet… I couldn’t name one bad thing he’d ever done.

You’re overreacting. He’s probably right… No… stand your ground… sharing is a two-way street.

“I... don't really know what you want to hear.” 

He stopped dancing, causing me to look up at him in surprise.

“Hey, it's okay. I can stop.” I told him in a soft tone, rubbing his arm. “ know we said no secrets but if you aren't comfortable you don't owe me anything.”

I cringed at my own words. I was right… he didn’t owe me anything and I foolishly kept forgetting that. There were nearly a dozen girls here. I wasn’t any more special to him than the rest of them.

“No, it's not that I'm uncomfortable. I just…” He glanced away for a moment then looked back at me as he tried to force a smile. “Why don't we go get that gift you mentioned?”

“Jam.” I murmured, looking at him in confusion as I quietly nodded.

I let out a sigh as I pulled my hand off of his shoulder and instinctually went to rub my arm. I said a hushed apology as I followed his gaze to the balcony doors.

“Don't be sorry. You don't have to be.”

Ben put one of his hands on the small of my back as he guided me towards the doors. I went without saying anything, glancing back towards the room as we went out onto the terrace. He tugged his mask off and rubbed his eyes for a moment as we got outside. I decided to leave mine on, not feeling like letting him clearly see the less than joyful look on my face.

I reached into one of the many potted plants that lined the balcony and pulled out the small box that I’d wrapped earlier in the day.

“I'm sorry if... that was weird. I didn't mean for it to be.” Ben tucked his mask into his pocket, before looking at the box with a little smile that wasn’t quite all there.

I began to say something back, but instead of finishing I just shook my head and held out the box. He eyed me for a moment before taking it with a much more genuine look of happiness.

“Are you sure there's no dentures inside this?”

I let out an unexpected laugh but told him I was sure. Dentures wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. I almost wished I had thought of it.

He began by taking off the bow then tore off the paper and lifted the lid. After pushing aside the tissue paper he reached in and pulled out the chains inside, dangling them before me.

“Are these... necklaces?” He gave me a confused look.

To be fair the pearls on the chain could give anyone the wrong impression.

“Actually it's a chain for your glasses, so you don't lose them, grandma.” I gave him an amused look, having eased up a bit.

“You bought me chains for my glasses?” He laughed, giving the gift a once over. “That's amazing”

“You like them?” I nodded.

Astrid had just about told me off when I’d revealed what my birthday gift was for Ben. She didn’t find it as funny as I- or Ben- had.

“I love them. They'll probably never leave my room, but they're great.” He let out another laugh, then leaned down to give me a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

I reached up behind my head and pulled at the bow that held my mask in place.

“I'm glad, I wasn't sure you would.” I tugged my mask off.

“A grandma needs her tools.” Ben put the chains back into the box.

“And grandchildren.” I laughed.

“I'd need children first.” He joked.

“Slow down there, at least buy me a drink first.” I chuckled.

Thinking about it he sort of already had. That first night after we’d met and he’d caught me in the wine cellar he’d shared a bottle with me.

“Don't worry, that's many years coming.” Ben rolled his eyes, giving me a smile. “No matter who this ends with.”

I let out an overdramatic sigh- choosing to ignore his last comment.

“Thank goodness, I was so worried.” I winked at him.

“Good to know where we stand,” He said in a dry tone, making sure to add a chuckle.

I curiously asked if he wanted children before I could think about it. But to my surprise, he nodded and said he did, and that it was expected of him. I told him that I mattered what he wanted, which he agreed with, but assured me that his only reasoning wasn’t the expectation that came along with being the heir.

“Do you want kids?” He asked, after watching me for a moment.

“I think so,” I answered, looking up at him in surprise but still managing to nod. Unfortunately, a frown also crept in. “I just never really thought it was an option for me. But if I could I'd be happy.”

“Why did you never think it was an option?” Ben inquired.

“It would be risky for them I always thought…” I shifted my gaze from Ben towards the garden sprawled out beneath the balcony. “And Alex never wanted them, so I haven't really thought about it too much the past few years.” “Regardless of Alex, did you want them?”

“I did,” I answered, surprised by how confident I sounded.

I was pretty sure I’d had the world’s best mother and that I could never live up to that. Part of me thought it would be unfair to any children I might have.

“Then I think that’s settled. Mostly, at least.”

Ben gave me a small smile and told me he hadn’t been expecting to talk about children that evening. It was fair to say the feeling was mutual. The night was young and it already seemed like it had been a roller coaster.

“Really.” I scrunched up my nose as I gave him a smile. “Because that was the whole reason I dragged you out here.”

“A very coercive woman.” He gave a pointed look as he tugged my hand to lead me back towards the doors.

“I didn't threaten you though.” I laughed, relaxing more as I held his hand back. “You came out here to spend time with your favourite bird.”

“Did I? Thanks for refreshing my memory.” Ben looked down at me in amusement.

“Anytime.” I smiled up at him. “I've got to make sure my favourite grandma doesn't forget things- which can be hard in your old age.”

We joked more about his future dentures and I told him that if he asked nicely I might even put them in the glass for him. He seemed horrified at the thought, telling me it was gross and that he’d never ask anyone to do that for him.

“When someone cares about you then you shouldn't have to ask.” I snorted.

“My point is, I wouldn't even expect it.” He smiled.

“Well I'm pretty sure I've told you before- expect the unexpected.”

He told me he’d make it a priority as we stopped just short of the ballroom doors, still out of sight from everyone. Ben leaned forward and kissed my forehead, which sent a small shock down along my spine.

“Thank you again, for the gift”

“You're welcome, grandma.” I smiled up at him, looking back towards the ballroom for a moment. “Even if you missed the mark.”

I leaned up and kissed his cheek then took a step back.

“Next time I won't.” Ben chuckled, as he went to take his mask out of his pocket.

“Let's hope not.” I watched him slip his mask back on, then remembered my own and lifted it up to my face. “Help me?”

I turned around and Ben tied the ribbons for me, perfectly securing my mask back in place.

“That shouldn't fall off for the rest of the night.” He told me.

“Good.” I turned back to him. “Can't have anyone knowing who I am.”

I ran my fingertips over my mask as I made sure it was where it should be, then I thanked him.

“Enjoy some cake for me?”

Ben took a step in the direction of the doors, as I gave him a curious look.

“You're not having any?” I asked, also moving towards the doors.

That feeling of not getting the full story began to creep in again…

Stop it.

With a sigh, he told me that he wouldn’t be having any just yet. I must have looked dumbfounded because he laughed at me and promised that he’d get a piece at the end of the night.

“I'm going to be really upset if I find out you didn't get any cake.” I threw him a pointed look. “Especially when I'm expecting that it's chocolate.”

“It shouldn't disappoint there.” He grinned. “I heard it's delicious.”

“I'll just have to go find out, won't I?”

I gave him one last smile- that hopefully didn’t look as forced as it felt- as I reached forward and pulled the door open for him. He flashed me a smile and told me to enjoy it as he went through. “I'll do my best.” I nodded, rubbing my arm.

“See you later, Lia.”

“Bye, Jam,” I mumbled as I watched him walk away.

[citizenscreen]

Special guest post by Jeff Lundenberger @jlundenberger

My Feud with Feud

When the ads for Feud: Bette and Joan began to appear I considered watching it, thinking it was a made for TV movie — this despite the fact that the image of Jessica Lange and Susan Sarandon posed as Joan Crawford and Bette Davis in a promotional photo for Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, made me think of two children playing dress up. When I discovered it was a series I decided that I definitely would not tune in. I’m a commitment-phobe when it comes to television series. I try to limit my TV viewing time and the thought of having to set aside one hour each week for the length of a series season makes me terribly anxious. It’s much more comforting for me to turn on TCM. Ninety-nine per cent of the time it will be something I’ll watch. And if it’s not, I have a DVR crowded with TCM movies going back several years. (As for my difficulty making a selection from that group, well, that’s another story.)

I was also put off by the fact that the series was created by Ryan Murphy, of American Horror Story fame, a show that I didn’t find appealing. I tried a few episodes of the first season at the urging of my sister but the violence, something my younger self would have relished, had me averting my eyes and squirming in my seat. I turned on an episode from a different season a few years later to see if anything, including my taste, had changed. The subject was a freak show and I couldn’t even watch the entire hour. The production seemed oddly lackluster, the story pretentious.

My husband started watching Feud from the beginning and he loved it. I read an intriguing interview with Lange in which she talked about the attempt by those concerned with the production to humanize the characters, placing their struggles firmly in the male-dominant, ageist Hollywood of the time. Finally, I received a text from a Joan and Bette-loving friend asking me if I was watching what he described as a weekly Christmas gift. All resistance crushed, I watched episodes 1, 2 and 3 in one sitting.

I’ve been a fan of Jessica Lange and Susan Sarandon since they first appeared on the scene in the 1970s but, lets face it, Joan Crawford and Bette Davis have some pretty big shoes to fill, especially if the viewer was, like myself, a fan of those two actors well before the arrival of King Kong and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. When we met, my first long-term boyfriend told me that I reminded him of Hank Fonda. Hank Fonda, Bill Holden, he threw the names of stars around as if they had been high school classmates. Ridiculous as it seems, we feel like we know them all intimately. How many times have I watched Mildred Pierce and All About Eve, The Women and Now, Voyager? Mildred and Margo and Crystal and Charlotte are only characters in movies, but my familiarity with them and my knowledge of their creators — from books, magazines, talk shows, and, yes, their films — grants me, in my mind, at least, some insight into the personal worlds of Crawford and Davis. Could Lange and Sarandon possibly live up to my perceptions and expectations?

The show’s 8 episodes have finished and I’m still on the fence. I thought the last episode the best and I’ll go into that more, but as for the show in general: Lange and Sarandon are fine as Joan and Bette. Lange’s voice is a bit soft for my idea of Joan but she never wavers from that peculiar, precise diction of Crawford’s, while Sarandon captures Davis’ clipped delivery and abrupt mannerisms. But I also have, to a lesser extent, a viewer’s intimacy with both Lange and Sarandon and I watch and listen carefully — where do those two end, Joan and Bette begin?  Do these interpretations at all match up with the interpretations I have in my head? Lange or Sarandon utter a line and I immediately run it through my filter: does this sound like my Bette or Joan?

One scene with Davis and ex-husband Gary Merrill (Mark Valley) struck me as feeling painfully realistic. Merrill angers Davis and they begin braying at each other when, suddenly, both burst out laughing at the battle that has obviously been a constant in their lives together, perhaps the basis of their relationship. Crawford’s dressing room attempt to convince Anne Bancroft (Serinda Swan) to allow Crawford to accept Bancroft’s Oscars were she to win — flattering, cajoling, insinuating — seemed utterly realistic. But there were also moments that left me cold. Nothing specific, just a vague mistrust, as if the creators were more interested in effect than intent.

The performances of Alfred Molina as Robert Aldrich, Stanley Tucci as Jack Warner and Dominic Burgess as Victor Buono are convincing but, of course, I’m not nearly as familiar with those men. I sense a bit of Joan Blondell in the performance of Kathy Bates, but Olivia de Havilland is nowhere to be found under the blonde wig of Catherine Zeta-Jones. Jackie Hoffman’s Mamacita and Judy Davis’ Hedda Hopper are more caricature than character. Grim and stoic, Mamacita has no subtlety. She might have been an escapee from Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS. And while I’m an admirer of Judy Davis, she doesn’t seem to be able to pull a person out of the sartorial flamboyance that defines the gossip columnist. Then again, if Hopper’s actions in the series are at all to be believed, perhaps she wasn’t human at all.

Other “real” characters pass in and out of the story – Gregory Peck, Geraldine Page, Rip Torn, Patty Duke, George Cukor, to name but a few — some more effective than others. John Waters appears as producer/director William Castle, turning that scene into utter camp while humiliating poor Joan in the process. Crawford’s twin daughters show up several times, as the teenage version of the murdered sisters of the Overlook Hotel.

But does it all work? Perhaps it’s my unfamiliarity with modern TV series but I find an hour each week to be too long. Dense with self-conscious detail, I’m worn out by the end of each episode, wanting to know what will happen next while at the same time relieved that I no longer have to notice that it is Aqua Net hairspray and Dickinson’s witch hazel being used by the stars. It’s Joan and Bette, the graphic novel, elaborate and over-blown, the costumes too costume-y, the sets too perfect, the attitude too proud of its own cleverness. But it is also fun. Sarandon as Davis performing a silly Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? song on the Mike Douglas show seemed just too good to be true — until the original video was trending on social media the following day.

And then came that final episode, which came closest to finding a kernel of authenticity and some kind of longed-for, idealized truth. We saw Joan at home, alone, cooking, drinking, cancelling a lunch date because she is unable to zip up her dress. Bette at home with Victor Buono, who questions the reasoning behind her continued attempts at landing a television series. Joan with her dentist who recommends a denture that she refuses. Bette’s doctor urges her to give up smoking, with the same result. Joan endures humiliation after humiliation while shooting her final film, Trog. Bette maintains a game face during the Dean Martin Roast. The subject of Christina’s book comes up in a conversation with Joan and her other daughter, Cathy, who tenderly comforts her. Bette spends time with her brain-damaged daughter Margot after being berated and dismissed by her other daughter B.D. The two have much in common at this stage in their lives, both touched by longing, sadness and the realities of old age.

But there’s more to it than that. In a Lynchian dream sequence Joan wakes up in the middle of the night and hears voices coming from her living room, where she finds Hedda Hopper and Jack Warner drinking, laughing and playing cards. She takes a place at the table with them, now in full makeup and dress. With biting humor they recall the past, struggle, triumph and pain. Bette arrives and takes her place at the table opposite Joan who is, at first, insulted by Bette’s presence. But it is Bette who asks Hopper and Warner to apologize to Joan for the miseries they have caused her. They consent but both, finally, are incapable of saying “I’m sorry.”

Hopper and Warner depart while Bette talks Joan into playing a game of Wishes and Regrets, “The only game I know” says Davis. Joan pulls a pip card and says, with sincerity, “I’m sorry I wasn’t more generous with you.” Bette pulls a face card and responds “I wish I’d been a friend to you.” Mamacita wakes Joan from her trance and returns her to bed. Touching and wistful, Joan’s dream, but could that have been her real attitude towards Bette after all the hostility they had shown one another?

Bette’s real response certainly might have been different. Later in the episode she answers a telephone call and is informed of Crawford’s death. Asked for a comment she replies “My mother always said don’t say anything bad about the dead. Joan Crawford is dead. Good.” But there is ambiguity in her face. Is she saying this because she feels it, or is she saying it because that is what she thinks she would be expected to say? The series ends at the beginning, the two stars in their studio chairs at the start of production of Baby Jane, hoping to become friends. Wishful thinking? Who knows.

Faye Dunaway is mentioned ironically in the final episode, and it’s all but impossible to talk about Joan Crawford, post-Mommie Dearest, without bringing up Dunaway’s portrayal of her. Has there ever been another movie with a more determined and driven star surrounded by such mediocrity? Dunaway’s Crawford is riveting but the other actors are unable to rise above the dull cinematography, the bad editing or the banal script. I watched the film recently and was struck by the overblown grandeur of the performance, but also its touches of subtlety and, dare I say, reality? This is, after all, not the Crawford of Feud but the Crawford of Christina, an angry, troubled, driven women seen through the eyes of her child. For better or worse, Dunaway’s performance, crafted from a rib tugged from Crawford’s own work in Johnny Guitar, defined the woman in a way that has stuck since the film’s release in 1981. It will be interesting to see if Lange’s Crawford, or Sarandon’s Davis for that matter, has the power to maintain such longevity.

◊

About the author: Jeff Lundenberger is an avid classic film fan, was a TCMFF Social Producer and is active across social media sharing his love of movies. You can follow Jeff on Twitter and Instagram @jlundenberger. I was thrilled when he agreed to share his thoughts on Feud on this blog and cannot wait to share my own thoughts in the comments below. I hope you’ll do the same.

  My Feud with FEUD Special guest post by Jeff Lundenberger @jlundenberger My Feud with Feud When the ads for Feud: Bette and Joan…

[101percentindia]

Saasha Ramsay Talks Ghosts, Vampires And Bringing Back The Dead

Now showing: The making of ‘101Phir Se Ramsay’.

Waiting eagerly at the Art House for Saasha Ramsay and Shyam Ramsay to arrive is more nerve-wracking  than I can express. Having been a devout fan since I was two feet high and their show-time was past bedtime, I couldn’t believe I was here – interacting with the kings of horror about the upcoming web series for 101India.

The stalwarts of hammer horror in India, the Ramsays heralded the genre in Indian cinema since the ‘80s. Images of Veeraana and Zee Horror Show pop up in your mind, don’t they?

With a childhood where witches, vampires and ghastly spectres were rife in conversation (and perhaps even appearance), I had imagined Ramsay’s daughter to be a kaftan-wearing, kohl-eyed woman. My mind had to shift gears though, as this bright young woman in a stiletto-print crisp white shirt walked towards me, with a smile as bright as day.

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Prop shop for Ramsay movies

While most people would define the scariest moment of their lives to happen in their late 30s & 40s, young Ramsay had hers’ at age 5 - during the making of the film Purana Mandir. Seeing a ghost in its entirety walk across you was an imaginably terrifying experience for a child. She was in shock. To help her recover, her father took her back to the set – making her sit in that very ghost’s lap as the artists peeled off his make-up and reveal the human underneath the monster. In fact, Shyam Ramsay went so far as introducing the ghost as her ‘uncle’.

Perhaps that’s why she also defines the incident as the turning point of her life. That was when innocent, childlike fear transformed to fun and passion for cinema. By age 16 she knew she was going to be a filmmaker and continue the proud Ramsay legacy of horror.

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The famous seductress/witch. Image source: firstpost.com

Particularly attached to the film Veeraana, Saasha has followed the making intently, also falling in love with the protagonist - Jasmine. The transformation of Jasmine from an entrancing, attractive woman to a chilling witch is her favourite phenomenon.  So deep is her love for Jasmine that she is looking at making a sequel, having created many characters inspired from the original.

As we talk about the many props being so integral to the Ramsays films, I ask her how she plans to use them in her upcoming web series. Shrugging, she explained that though she has used some props here & there, she doesn’t personally connect much with them. She added jokingly, “My father was very kind to the dead, giving them huge graves in his movies. I don’t know if I can be as kind as him. Even in real life, I am the bad cop.”

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Walking down memory lane

It doesn’t take much time to gauge the intensity of some relationships, as an afternoon with the Ramsays taught me. Besides the mammoth impact her father had on her professionally, the two are also heartwarmingly close - Saasha being as protective of him as he is of her. “It was a Sunday afternoon and dad was heading out. He asked me if I wanted to come along. Thinking it was going to be a regular Sunday drive for ice cream, I was surprised to see an entire production team behind us when I entered. When he said we were en route to the dentist’s, I thought he had tricked me into coming! Only when we reached I understood that we were actually there to get dentures for the witch in Veeraana. It was quite a unique car journey for a kid.”

Bonding over our mutual love for Desperate Housewives, Saasha expressed her passion for dark drama. We spoke about the scariest scenes from Conjuring (*clap clap*) and Evil Dead - two of her favorite modern horror films.

While discussing her love for travel and the shared fascination of the Ramsay unit with the Northern hills and Mahabaleshwar in particular, we listened to Shyam Ramsay intently explaining the role of music in his films. Nodding in agreement, she spoke about the pathbreaking songs from those films; her favourite being Woh Beteein Din (Purana Mandir), Saathi Mere Saathi (Veeraana) and Tere Jaise Koi Nahi (Hotel). Goosebumps run down my arms as she explains the visuals of the songs.

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From the web series #101PhirSeRamsay

With a gap of almost two decades between the beginning of her career and the waning of her father’s, they realize things have changed a lot. Graphics, the variety and quality of grading, sound effects, gloss – everything that’s commonplace today was not available earlier. Add to that, the vast difference in mindset. “It’s easier to make people laugh or cry, but the common challenge dad and I have is to create the element of fear. That’s a difficult task, second to which is bringing it all together.” She went on to explain her take on fear, which is far more under the sheets and subtle compared to her dads.

Cheekily titled ‘101Phir se Ramsay’, the web series is a tribute to the pulp and classic horror the Ramsay family pioneered. It is also an honest attempt to bring the style back. Saasha believes there’s no module or design that’s set in stone, only a conscious effort in sticking to the classic combination of sex, horror and gore. Trademark Ramsay. The inspirations for many of her characters are also from the old Ramsay films, such as a witch inspired by Veeraana, a vampire taken from Band Darwaaza and the dead coming alive in Dehshath. Even the ghosts pulled out from the old films have modern layers, a contemporary narrative and what she calls an ‘era mix’.

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Hip Hop meets Ramsay in this music video

Pulp horror isn’t for everyone, which is where 101India comes in. If you’re looking for the subtlety of James Wan, it may be better to look the other way. This is vintage, this is gore, this is a lot of sex and this is in your freaking face.

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Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are independent views solely of the author(s) expressed in their private capacity and do not in any way represent or reflect the views of 101India.com.

By Suman Quazi Cover photo credit: welcomenri.com

[ileneca7]

The Velocity of Money… and Revolution

  David Brin is an astrophysicist, technology consultant, and best-selling author who speaks, writes, and advises on many topics including national defense, creativity, and space exploration. He’s also one of the “World’s Best Futurists.” Find David’s books and latest thoughts on various matters at his website and blog. If you missed my interview with David, read it here. ~ Ilene 

  The Velocity of Money… and Revolution

Courtesy of David Brin, Contrary Brin Blog

If you’re perfectly comfy with the economy’s gyrations, then pay no attention as I explain what’s actually going on. Economists have been recognizing signs of serious dislocation for some time. Even right-of-center fellows like newsletter mavens John Mauldin and Lacy Hunt have finally recognized the core indications. I wish I could share their excellent newsletters with you. But – at some risk of misinterpreting or even treating them unfairly – I intend to paraphrase. And criticize.

A recent Mauldin missive correctly cites the most disturbing symptom of trouble in the U.S. economy: a plummet in Money Velocity (MV).

To quote John:  “You may be asking, what exactly is the velocity of money? Essentially, it’s the frequency with which the same dollar changes hands because the holders of the dollar use it to buy something. Higher velocity means more economic activity, which usually means higher growth. So it is somewhat disturbing to see velocity now at its lowest point since 1949, and at levels associated with the Great Depression.”

Somewhat… disturbing? That’s at-best an understatement, since no other economic indicator is as telling. MV is about a bridge repair worker buying furniture, that lets a furniture maker get dentures, so a dentist can pay her cleaning lady, who buys groceries….

There are rare occasions when MV can be too high, as during the 1970s hyper-inflation, when Jimmy Carter told Paul Volcker “Cure this, and to hell with my re-election.”  But those times are rare. Generally, for all our lives, Money Velocity has been declining into dangerous sluggishness, falling hard since the 80s, rising a little in the 90s, then plummeting.

Alas, while fellows like Hunt and Mauldin are at last pointing at this worrisome symptom, they remain in frantic denial over the cause. Absolutely, it is wealth disparity that destroys money velocity. Bridge repair workers and dentists would spend money – if they had any.

We have known – ever since Adam Smith gazed across the last 4000 years – that a feudal oligarchy does not invest in productive capacity. Nor does it spend much on goods or services that have large multiplier effects (that give middle class wage earners a chance to keep money moving). Instead, aristocrats have always tended to put their extra wealth into rentier (or passive rent-seeking) property, or else parasitic-crony-vampiric cheating through abuse of state power.

See my earlier posting: Must the Rich be Lured into Investing?

Situation Normal: Cheating Flows Up

Do not let so-called “tea party” confederate lackeys divert you. The U.S. Revolution was against a King and Parliament and royal cronies who commanded all American commerce to pass through their ports and docks and stores, who demanded that consumer goods like tea be sold through monopolies and even paper be stamped to ensure it came from a royal pal. Try actually reading the Declaration of Independence. “Taxation without representation” was about how an oligarchy controlled Parliament through jiggered districts and cheating, and used that power to funnel wealth upward.

Here’s a fact that shows where we came from… and might be going: over a third of the land in the thirteen colonies was owned – tax-free – by aristocratic families.

The U.S. Founders fought back. After their successful revolt, they redistributed fully a quarter of the wealth and land, and they did it calmly, without the tsunami of blood that soon flowed in France, then Russia, then China. That militantly moderate style of revolution actually worked far better at fostering positive outcomes for all. For the people… and yes, for local aristocratic families, who retained comforts, some advantages. And their heads.

Nor was that the only time Americans had to push back against proto-feudal cheating, which we now know erupts straight out of human nature. The Civil War was certainly a massive ‘wealth redistribution’ by giving millions of people ownership of their own lives and bodies. During the 1890s Gilded Age, we avoided radical revolution in favor of reform – e.g. anti-trust laws.

Our parents in the Greatest Generation – who adored FDR – sought to prevent communism by keeping market enterprise flat, competitive and fair. Far lessradical than the Founders, their reforms created the flattest social structure and the most fantastic burst of economic prosperity, ever.

And dismantling the work of that generation has been the core aim of the confederate aristocracy, since Reagan.

Dire beasties! Debt and the Fed

But let me share with you more of the myopia of decent men. John Mauldin continues: “Debt is another big issue for Lacy Hunt. People compare debt to addictive drugs, and as with some of those drugs, the dose needed to achieve the desired effect tends to rise over time.”

John then shows a chart (he always has the best charts!) revealing the additional economic output (GDP) generated by each additional dollar of business debt in the US. Needless to say, the effectiveness of each dollar of debt, at growing healthy companies, has plummeted.

Um…. Duh? Once upon a time, the purpose of corporate debt was to gather capital to invest in new productive capacity (factories, stores, infrastructure and worker training), with an aim to sell more/better goods and services that would then produce healthy margins that pay off the debt, across a reasonable ROI (Return on Investment) horizon.

This would then actually decrease the net ratio of debt to company value, across a sapient period of a decade or so.  This approach still holds, in a few tech industries, but not wherever companies have been taken over by an MBA-CEO caste devoted to Milton Friedman’s devastating cult of the quarterly stock-price statement.

Today, companies borrow in order to finance stock buybacks, market-cornering mergers and other tricks that our ancestors (again, in the Greatest Generation or “GGs”) wisely outlawed. Tricks that GOP deregulatory “reforms” restored to the armory of cheaters. Tricks that enable the CEO caste to inflate stock prices and meet their golden incentive parachutes, with the added plum of pumping rewards for their Wall Street pals who arrange the debt.

Every parasitic act of “arbitrage” is justified with semantically-empty incantations like “correct price determination” – mumbo-jumbo spells that bear absolutely zero correlation with reality.

No wonder each added dose of debt is ineffective at actually growing long-term company value! What’s so hard to understand? Why are Mauldin and Hunt puzzled?

Oh, yeah. They are honest and sincere men, at last able to perceive symptoms. But alas, they are also far too stubborn to acknowledge the root disease — a conspiratorial cabal of would-be feudal lords. Loyal to a fault… (well, these plutocratic connivers are their friends)… John and other residually-sapient conservatives choose denial over admitting that Adam Smith had it right, all along.

Instead, Mauldin focuses again and again on his chosen Bête Noir … theFederal Reserve, even though the Fed has almost insignificant power over any of the things we’ve discussed here.  It’s Congress – Republican for all but two of the last 23 years – who sent U.S. fiscal health plummeting, from black ink to red that’s deeper than an M Class dwarf star. Congress did this while devastating every protection against monopoly/duopoly or financial conspiracy.

Misunderstanding your own icons and heroes

Consider that Friedrich Hayek – often touted as the “opposite to Keynes” – actually agreed with John Maynard Keynes about many things, like the need for a very wide distribution of economic decision-makers. In an ideal market, this would be all consumers, empowered with all information. (There goes Brin’s broken record, repeating “transparency!” over and over.) Though yes, a 21stCentury Keynsian will call for a government role in (1) counter-cyclical stimulation and (2) inclusion of externalities, like the health of our children’s children and their planet. (Note the spectacular success of the greatest modern Keynsian politician, California’s Jerry Brown.)

Hayek complained that 500,000 dispersed and closely watched civil servants could never substitute for the distributed wisdom of an unleashed marketplace of billions. Hm. Well, that’s arguable. But so?

What does the right offer up, as its alternative? A far, far smaller, incestuous cabal of a few hundred secretly-colluding golf buddies in a circle-jerking CEO caste? That’s gonna allocate according to widely-distributed market wisdom?

Hayek spins in his grave.

This selfsame CEO-caste went on a drunken debt spree that blatantly served the cabal and not their companies, nor the economy or civilization.

Blaming the Federal Reserve for that is like condemning the owners of a liquor store for all the drunk drivers crushing pedestrians. Sure, the low price of booze might have contributed, but it’s not the primal cause. Oh. And yes, it’s been Congress that keeps funneling wealth from the middle class into gaping, oligarchic maws.

Some of these guys almost get it

How I wish I could share John Mauldin’s newsletter with you! It’s smart! I mean it. I always learn a lot, the charts are excellent. Moreover, I get self-pats on my own back, for assiduously reading the smartest commentators that I can find, from every side. Also, John’s a cool dude and way fun. I read every word and its maybe 70% real-smart stuff!

(For contrast, see the super-smart liberal “Evonomics” site; the place where Adam Smith is most-discussed and would be most at-home.)

Moreover, John does honestly acknowledge – forced by the blatantly obvious – that income and wealth disparities are problematic and rising, while money velocity plummets.

Only then he goes to the newest catechism of the rationalizing right… arm-waving that technology is at fault.

Yes, okay, automation has a depressing effect on middle class wages. So? Then it is time for a conversation about the social contract again. Like how to keep the middle class “bourgeois” – by keeping them vested in shared ownership of the means – as well as output – of production. It’s what the Greatest Generation did, while troglodytes accused them of “communism.” The most-entrepreneurial generation in history, they were far from commies.

Some in-yer-face time

Okay, it’s that time again; so let me talk again directly to the confederate/feudal elites aiming to restore inherited hierarchies of old. This is no longer about Mauldin, but the would-be overlords standing right in front of him, in his blind spot.

Dear oligarch-traitors. Let me avow that human nature and history seem to be on your side. Our experiment in flat-fair-open systems always had the odds stacked against it. Hence, you feudalists will probably get your wish. Briefly. The middle class will very likely fall into proletarian poverty while you rake it all in.

Your evident plan is to leverage new technologies to entrench oligarchic rule, right? I depict something like it in EXISTENCE, though done by far smarter zillionaires than you.

Only – was it really part of the plan to wage open war on every single fact-using profession? Now including not just science and journalism and law, but the FBI, intelligence agencies and the military officer corps?  And all the folks who are innovating in genetics and artificial intelligence, too? Really? Are you that confident?

Or else, perhaps you are like so many past lords — so lulled by sycophants that you cannot hear Karl Marx chuckling, as he rises from his mere-nap. (Copies of his works are flying off the shelves, faster than any time since the 1970s.) If so, you may get much more than you bargained for. More revolution than any sane person would want.

Adam Smith wasn’t the only one to seek a way out of this dilemma. Nor were the U.S. Founders. Will Durant – one of the greatest historians – said this, in his book, “The Lessons of History“:

“In progressive societies the concentration (of wealth) may reach a point where the strength of number in the many poor rivals the strength of ability in the few rich; then the unstable equilibrium generates a critical situation, which history has diversely met by legislation redistributing wealth or by revolution distributing poverty.”

The recent “great” time for America was built by moderate, if somewhat leveling, legislation. The Greatest Generation chose a Rooseveltean alternative to violent revolution. And it worked — inarguably, spectacularly — till cheating once more gained the upper hand.

Me? I stand with the Founders. With Adam Smith and a flat-fair-open market society filled with opportunity for all and grand, cheat-advantages for none. A relatively-flat society that still has loads of incentives. One wherein true competition among healthy-confident equals can thrive, pouring a positive-sum cornucopia for everyone.

And now, yes, “equals” must include all previously-squelched sources of talent – genders, races and the raised-up/blameless children of the poor.

You confederates, you are the traitors to that flat-fair-open-accountable Better Capitalism. The form that stood up to Marx and quelled him to sleep. The only kind of market system that can withstand the coming wind, when he awakens.

I stand with the Greatest Generation… and greater ones to come.

I stand with the moderate, scientific, flat-fair revolution that accepts facts and complexity and denies simplistic incantations. Moreover, that moderate/calm/eclectic kind of revolutionary numbers in the tens… hundreds of millions. We include nearly all of the most-skilled, and our growing cadre hears the alarum.

We awaken. We rise. And you had better welcome this. Because it will either be our reforms or the tumbrels of Robespierres.

Choose.

[Read also: Must the Rich be Lured into Investing?, “Class War” and the Lessons of History, and our recent interview with David Brin.]

The Velocity of Money… and Revolution was originally published on MarketShadows

[healthpolicymaven]

How America Co-opted the Future of Generation X and Y and How We Can Fix It

Bernie Sanders was no fluke, his appeal to the youth of Generation Y and to some extent Gen Xers is marked by real evidence showing how their futures have been muted by financial decisions made by Congress. The President of the nation, theoretically, is elected by us, although recent elections have shown the arcane electoral vote, meant to secure the democracy when many voters were illiterate, has called this into question. It turns out the electoral college is just another version of the “old boys club”. This article examines the social contract for Social Security which the United States has made with its working class and what that means for the future for your children and grandchildren, in other words, those whom will be paying the tab.

Payroll tax rate is based on wage income and is split evenly  between the employer and the employee

In 1940- The Social Security tax was 1% capped at $3,000; Medicare did not exist then

In 1977- The SSI tax was 5.85% of wages, capped at $16,500; Does not include the  Medicare tax

[1]

In 2017, the SSI tax is 12.4% of wages, capped at $127,200; Does not include the  Medicare tax, which is separate

 When Social Security was enacted, it was meant as a pension for those whom would otherwise be destitute. Retirement age, at which a beneficiary could start to draw benefits was age 65, when the law was enacted on August 14, 1935, by President Franklin Roosevelt. [2] Life expectancy at the time was 62.9 years, so as you can see, only the lucky ones received any benefit. Fast forward to 2017 and life expectancy is dependent on where you live, and other factors, some women will live past 86. But the mean life expectancy for all people living in the U.S. is 79 years.[3] This ranks the U.S. 49th in the world, below all countries with national health plans and at the bottom of all industrialized countries.  South Korea, Jordan, and Hong King residents all live longer than Americans living in the U.S.

Currently, residents whom have met the minimal ten years of contributions under include-able wages are eligible to start drawing benefits as early as 62, with a reduction, or age 66 ½, depending on their birthdate. The government has an incentive, of 8% per year in increased benefits to delay until age 70.

Mean income is the earnings amount by which an equal  number of workers are above and below this value

In 1940, the mean income was $1,368, with an unemployment rate of 18.26% and no  unemployment benefits[4]

In 1977, mean incomes was $12,224, with an unemployment rate of 7.5%, with  unemployment benefits

In 2017, the mean income is $44,980, [5]  with an unemployment rate of 4.3% as of May [6]

Though the unemployment rate is certainly low in 2017, it was just a few years ago when the nation’s banking system collapsed due to junk bond deals packaging subpar mortgages as investments, and provided to people who could not afford them. This fraud was conducted by all levels of banks (Lehman Brothers) and the insurance industry (AIG), many of whom went bankrupt, but not until thousands of American homeowners lost everything first.

Purchasing Power-to maintain the same value this is how  much you would need

$1 in 1940

Would need to be $4.33 in 1977

And $17.47 in 2017

Earnings needed to maintain equivalent value of mean wage  in 1940

$1,368 in 1940 would need to be

$5,921.49 in 1977 and 

$23,893.49 in 2017

 Though gross wages have increased over the years, real purchasing power has not kept up, as this table shows. Americans are only making a little over twice the 1940 per worker mean wage, when you adjust for inflation. The mean wage for all working Americans, which isn’t the average, but the midpoint, with an equal number of workers falling below the standard and above it, is currently $44,980 annually. So, for 77 years, this is not a lot of progress for workers, mainly because they have fallen behind since the 1970’s. Rising productivity of American workers has not resulted in a commensurate rise in wages for most workers, so the Republican trickle-down theory hasn’t worked. Real rise in wages, adjusted for inflation has been stagnant since 1980, the Reagan era.

 Change Social Security to a Farer More Secure System

Currently, a worker in the United States must accumulate forty quarters or ten years with earnings of at least $1,260 a quarter or $420 a month, to be eligible to apply for full social security benefits, depending on their age. Wow, what a deal, all you must do is work for a week each quarter, based on the current U.S. wage and you will have a pension! We can all think of our aunties and grandmas who took advantage of this benefit, by working part-time low-wage jobs, not because they needed to, but for spending money. I can’t think of any other part-time low wage job that comes with a lifetime pension.

Change #1 Social Security Benefits should be based on fulltime earnings for at least 10 years, not part-time. Working part-time does not guarantee you a pension.

Change #2 Social Security should pay more to workers who work longer, for example, workers who work unceasingly for 40 or 50 years, should get a larger benefit than those who work only 10 or 20 years, it is the time value of money. This would change the incentive from “do your bit to get minimum benefits’, to contributing longer for a proportionally greater earned reward. Though currently, Social Security offers a sizeable benefit increase to those who wait until maximum retirement age of 70, it does not look at the length of service.

 Spousal benefit provisions under Social Security allow full benefits to inure to persons who marry multiple times, ala Donald Trump. Though the worker’s tax contribution to the social security fund was capped, apparently the benefits which may be paid out are not. For example, a spouse, either male or female can elect to claim 50% of the partner’s social security benefits. Essentially, this means the value of the Social Security payout has increased by 50%, without paying additional taxes. And here is the real pot sweetener, anyone who has been married for ten years and has not remarried before age 60, gets this extra windfall election. The ex-wife can claim a benefit of 50% of her husband’s social security benefits, years after the divorce, but this doesn’t reduce his take, it is just a bonus to her from the federal government. And, the current wife (male or female) is still eligible to claim her share of the spouse’s social security pay out as well.

Change #3 You are welcome to marry as many times as you can stand, but the government is under no obligation to support your multiple wives/husbands. The total spousal benefit needs to be revised and social security benefits paid to ex-betrotheds should come out of a limited benefit based on the working spouse’s contributions. In other words, if $300,000 is allocated for spousal benefits, that amount must be allocated between all the former “love-of-my-life’s,” not increased exponentially because of salacious decisions.

 Survivor benefits can be collected by widows or widowers as early as age 60 and this means, if your spouse has died and was collecting Social Security or was eligible to collect, you can elect to collect full benefits, based on your spouse’s social security. Later, you can decide to switch to your own benefit, if it would pay more money.

Change #4 This seems like gambling against the house and holding the aces; once you start drawing your social security benefits, you don’t get a do-over. If you select your half of his benefits at age 60, that is what you get.

 Survivor benefits for children, are only payable for unmarried children until age 18 or 19, if they are still in high school. Children of a disabled or deceased social security participant are eligible to receive benefits if the parent had paid enough into the system, which we discussed, is a mere ten years of earnings. Since it sucks to lose a parent, or to have a disabled one, let’s leave this as is.

 Social security taxes have doubled in the last forty years and are not keeping up with the benefits which will be paid out to baby boomers, whom are now starting to enjoy their unreduced benefits. Since the younger generation will most assuredly be expected to pay higher taxes in Social Security and of course, Medicare, we need to shore up their future. It is time to have a national pension or Individual retirement account for those under age 45. Designate part of what they contribute to Social Security to their own private account, ideally 50%, but I will leave that up to U.S. Treasury and Social Security Administration to discern.  The money contributed to Social Security, would not be able to be borrowed against and hence, safe from creditors, could not be used for medical care, and would not be accessible until age 62.

Change #5 Let Gen Xers and Generation Y start their own government protected individual retirement accounts. At least they will have some money for their future and they won’t have to feel so bad about paying those extra taxes for boomer benefits.

 It is time for older Americans to wake up to the debt we have left our youth, who will be paying for our bad decisions for a lifetime. If I hear one more senior citizen, enjoying their social security checks and Medicare complain we can’t have socialism, I am going to remove your dentures. And this is the healthpolicymaven signing off encouraging you not to sign blanket releases when you are admitted to a hospital, please add the line, “I agree to pay for services of in-network providers,” as recommended by Dr. Elizabeth Rosenthal in her book, How Healthcare Became Big Business and How We Can Take It Back.”[7]

 This article was written by Roberta E. Winter, a freelance journalist and author of https://www.amazon.com/Unraveling-U-S-Health-Care-Personal/dp/1442222972

[1] https://www.ssa.gov/oact/cola/cbb.html

[2] https://www.ssa.gov/history/briefhistory3.html

[3] http://www.geoba.se/population.php?pc=world&type=15

[4] https://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/2012/spring/1940.html

[5] https://www.bls.gov/news.release/empsit.t19.htm

[6] http://www.ncsl.org/research/labor-and-employment/national-employment-monthly-update.aspx

[7] http://www.nyjournalofbooks.com/book-review/sickness