Update: “I warned you!” Dr. Lant’s dire admonitions on the Edward M. Kennedy Institute for the United States Senate were right on the money.




About six years ago, at the time of the ground breaking, I wrote the article that follows. It presented a number of serious objections to what the trustees were doing to revive the Edward M. Kennedy Institute for the United States Senate. It was a bad idea at a bad place and badly conceived, and should never have been started, much less advanced.

But because the late senator Edward Kennedy wanted this institute, the trustees went ahead. Now the chickens are surely coming home to roost.

A report on this matter has just been released by Michael Levenson of The Boston Globe. Its primary finding is that less than 50% of the visitors they expected, and whose revenues they counted on, have visited the institute.

62,000 came, 150,000 were planned on and expected. This is the basis for a mammoth white elephant and continuing shocks about a project which should never have been placed in Massachusetts at all, much less in the backwater of Dorchester, Massachusetts.

Reading Levenson’s article gives one a slightly sick feeling. For example, Jean F. MacCormack, president of the institute, is quoted as saying they are pleased with the number of visitors. How could she possibly be “pleased” when only 50% of the expected visitors have come?

Fatuous sentiments like this dot the report. No one wants to say what they see… a catastrophic volume of visitors, an institution which should never have been contemplated, much less advanced, but for the huge federal donation of $38,000,000. And nothing but platitudes and deceit in its future.

This institute proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Kennedys have sufficient influence to push an institution that is wrong in every particular. They know that it was positioned in the wrong place. They know that it is off the beaten path of other Boston cultural institutions. They know that when the money is gone the federal government, particularly under the Trump administration, will not contribute another cent, and rightly so.

It seems to me that otherwise conscientious rational people dilute their common sense with the so called “magic of Camelot”. But this magic, if it exists at all, will suffer a grave outcome if this project is not dealt with in a sensible way as quickly as possible. Let us extend to the trustees in the administration of the institute this suggestion. Take two years… take three… and do everything within your power to bring attendance to the 150,000 per year you originally projected. If the attendance drops below the current figure of 62,000, it should be construed as sufficient evidence for immediate closure. If however attendance increases in a reasonable and positive fashion, let us see that as an opportunity to grow further.

I do not, however, feel comfortable in the institute’s ability to raise further funds, and a substantially increased number of visitors. And let me say this, and say it so that all may see its clarity: just because the name Kennedy is placed on an institution is no good reason in and of itself for foisting this white elephant or any other Kennedy pachyderms on the public. If we needed a museum at all about the government, it should have focused on the Congress of the United States, House and Senate, and in a way that these institutions were explained, and not simply glorified by the name Kennedy.

I shall follow this matter further, and I shall await constructive debate in the creation of an institution that benefits the nation and the people of the Great Republic.

Now read the article that follows. It is not just prescience, it is common sense. And let us begin to focus on an institution based in Washington D.C. that explains our government by the people, for the people, to the people. That institution is long overdue.


Wrong right from the start. Problems, muddle, confusion, embarrassment at the Edward M. Kennedy Institute for the United States Senate

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. You’ve got to wonder whether the late Senator Edward M. Kennedy and his second wife Victoria Reggie ever bothered to read the Constitution of these United States before advancing what the Senator saw as his ‘legacy,” the Edward M. Kennedy Institute for the United States Senate.

Article 1 Section 1 of the most important and influential document of the Great Republic reads thus:

“All legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives.”

In crystal clear language, the Constitution lays out what legislative entities there will be, what powers they shall possess, how many representatives there will be in a state, who is eligible to serve, what officers there will be, how they are chosen, etc.

At no time does the Constitution state or imply that one branch shall be considered superior to the other. Instead, the Constitution lucidly makes the point that the two branches of Congress are equal.

This being the case, any discussion of the Congress, its history, and its place in the Great Republic must perforce focus not on one branch or the other but on the two co-equal branches and how they work together to advance the people’s business, or not.

Why did Senator Kennedy decide to focus his institute on just one branch? First, because he served in the United States Senate for nearly fifty years and was widely regarded as one of its Grand Old Men. Second, because it was the sole branch of government in which all three famous brothers served, John, Robert, and Edward.

Once the decision was made that the Institute should focus solely on the United States Senate, a host of otherwise avoidable problems was planted and began to grow. These problems are now numerous and acute, threatening an already illogical organization that wiser heads than those in charge would have seen as a disaster waiting to happen, taking prompt remedial action accordingly, not least to save the face of this celebrated family.

The project is born (2003).

When you’re a Kennedy of the Camelot Kennedys, it is expected, anticipated that you will have suitable monument, large, grandiose, something that adds to the family’s renowned place in the history of the Great Republic. For after all, to be a Kennedy is to be an historic figure. No one knows this better than the Kennedy in question, the next to be immortalized. Discussions amongst the cognoscenti go something like this: “Should I run for offices for which I am entirely unqualified… or not?” “Should the names of my several spouses and friends with benefits be included in my monument… or not?” “Should this stirring quotation attributed to me but written by my ghost writer be chiselled in my eternal stone… or not?”

Such questions are unending, continual… and treated with the utmost seriousness by those expecting apotheosis, victims all to a collective edifice complex, the latest example being the Kennedy Senate Institute, a whopping 40,000 square feet of hubris. And what is to take place in all that space? Just about everything that has to do with the Senate, including its history, members, operating procedures, educational programs, issues, debates, filibusters, legislative training et al. Only senatorial amours and favorite salad dressings have been left out.

The problem is, the way this institute is organized is egregiously incorrect. Just as love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage, so does the United States Senate go hand-in-hand with the United States House of Representatives. Whilst each has its unique aspects, neither makes complete sense (much less a productive legislative enterprise) without the other. They are two halves of the whole.

Imagine this scenario.

Ms. Martin’s 5th graders are learning about how Congress works, how bills become laws… or not. Emmy Sue asks what happens when a bill passes the Senate. What then? And there’s the rub… the Senate-only institute stops just when it needs to continue, so that people understand the complete Congress, the total legislative process, not merely its seigneurial “upper” branch. Even Emmy Sue, age 10, will know something’s amiss when the guide says, “Er, the Senate bill goes to the House, but this institute only covers the Senate, so I cannot tell you more….” Even ten-year-olds would consider this weird, bogus, dumb. And they’d be right. That’s why there must be a complete halt to the current farce… and a total rethinking of this embarrassing “institute” that has “Keystone cops” written all over it, before there are further cost over runs and another seventy million dollars, more or less, are wasted.

What must be done?

1) The Edward M. Kennedy Institute for the United States Senate as presently configured must be terminated. Its 40,000 square feet should be transferred to the JFK Presidential Library. Suitable spaces within the whole should be carved out for Robert Kennedy, Edward M. Kennedy, their wives and families, personal lives and professional achievements.

2) Focus should shift to a much needed Congress facility where everything about the Congress of the United States, past, present and future, can be showcased and presented to a nation which desperately needs a brilliant state-of-the-art interactive facility, the apogee of American technology, architecture, and historic preservation and presentation.

3) A suitable Washington, D.C. location should be scouted, considered, selected… no other location can or should be reviewed, much less Dorchester, Massachusetts, its current pied-a-terre.

4) ALL current administrators should be graciously, courteously shown the door forthwith.

5) The highest possible blue ribbon advisory board and trustees should be appointed with the sitting president a must as honorary chair. Mrs. Victoria Reggie Kennedy can have an honorable seat amongst them, but no more. An important institution requires important governors, and it is telling that the current institute has none.

6) A complete fund raising plan should be drafted with both private and public funds to be raised.

7) A knowledgeable, hands-on, organizational expert must be appointed, an individual of skills, deep pockets, and determination. My suggestion? Mitt Romney, if the presidency eludes him. After all Romney salvaged the 2002 Olympics. He is even an historic footnote in the story. He ran against Senator Kennedy in 1994, and lost. Mitt would do the project proud. His considerable pride alone would see to that.

Can such a radical shift take place? Of course. IF the principals now bobbling the matter are open to reason and a willingness to put the needs of the Great Republic above their own. Thus we need a “fixer” to arrange matters with grace, kindness, clarity, efficiency and such ruthless and surgical incision as may be called for.

In short, we need Joseph P. Kennedy, Patriarch. He would have seen the point, dragooned the personnel and raised the lavish funds required. Oh, where is Joe Kennedy now, and where shall we find his like — and fast enough to avoid more muddle and abashment? For these, muddle and abashment, have set the two surviving children of Edward Kennedy against the woman he loved and revealed how toxic this situation already is and how much more poisonous it could get. For now, this is the sad legacy of Edward Moore Kennedy, and until it is firmly taken in hand, rethought and redirected it will fester and deteriorate into rancor, bitterness, and enmity.

Musical note.

As the music to accompany this article, I have selected “The Country’s In The Very Best of Hands” (music by Gene De Paul; lyrics by Johnny Mercer) from the 1956 production of “Li’l Abner.” Go now to hear this ironic gem… and let’s hope it motivates the folks so over their heads and misguided at The Edward M. Kennedy Institute for the United States Senate, so obviously not in the best of hands, or anywhere thing near.  

Howard Martell is the Owner of http://HomeProfitCoach.com/silver . Check us out anytime for marketing tips and a free subscription to our cutting edge newsletter.

Revisiting “I Have A Dream” by Martin Luther King, Jr. What He May Say To The People Today…

Revisiting what has been deemed one of the greatest speeches of the 20th century, the historic speech “I Have a Dream” by Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.
Tune in and read along as Dr. Jeffrey Lant revisits that speech with words of what might have been Martin Luther King’s if he had been alive to speak to the people today.
Excerpts from Dr. Lant’s book “We Are Not Afraid”  Revisiting the Life and Work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Author’s Program Note
Good day, my fellow Americans and my fellow citizens of
Planet Earth. We have gathered today to hear one of the
greatest orators in the history of our species. He has let it
be known that he has something of epochal importance
to impart…. and we have gathered in our billions to hear it.
I do not overstate the case when I say “billions”, for Dr. King’s
audience today is composed of more people than any other
event in human history. Why so many? They know this man…
They respect his vision… He has helped them before, and they
feel certain he will help them again, touching their hearts, changing
their lives, soothing their troubled spirits.
“I Have A Dream”
The last time he called us together was August 28th, 1963, for what
came to be known as the “I Have A Dream” Speech. He reminded us
that without dreams there can be no progress and without progress the
people suffer and die, tragic evidence of our undeniable culpability.
That was a great day for dreamers and visionaries across the globe;
a day when light replaced darkness for so many and millions felt
hope for the first time in their challenged and overburdened lives;
blessed at last by “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness”; mere
words no longer but active possibilities to be used and enjoyed.
“Sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation.”
Consider the man and his titanic mission. An entire race danced noxious
attendance upon an anxious majority of the population; the one determined
to preserve its superior position; the other oppressed and fearful they would
make even some trivial error against the baleful Jim Crow system of profound
segregation, thereby calling upon them their “betters” certain and severest
Trust between the races was non-existent; cooperation unknown; amity
as fleeting as a frosty smile that didn’t last. The richest soil of the nation
produced only a bumper crop of fear, hatred, and the “strange fruit” of
premature death and hideous disfiguration, no one safe, black or white,
north or south, day or night, no matter how acquiescent or careful.
Let us now consider this man and the responsibility he shouldered, always
at terrible risk. He was in the prime of his productive life when he heard and
took to heart the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last.”
He has come here today to bring freedom to us all, freedom and joy.
Part 1 Dr. Lant introduces the program and comments on the action.
Good-Day, World. Welcome to the WritersSecrets Sky Box high above the
stern, majestic Lincoln Memorial, scene of so many historic moments in the
life of our Great Republic, including Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr’s iconic
1963 “I Have A Dream” speech.
We have gathered here and around our tumultuous globe to hear a revered
and venerable man of God help us at a time of earthly crisis and unparalleled
challenge. The program begins with the greatest of Martin Luther’s hymns, “A Mighty
Fortress Is Our God”, written in 1529 by a man so honored by Reverend Michael
King, Sr. that following a 1936 trip to Germany he renamed himself the Reverend
Martin Luther King, Sr. and his seven year old son Martin Luther King, Jr. Access
any search engine and feel the power of the church militant tapped by the Reverends
King for their great endeavors; available, too, for yours.
“With our powers we will fail/ We would soon be defeated/
But for us fights the chosen man/Whom God Himself elected.”
And so the adamant, soaring words are lifted higher today on the largest video
screens available. Now the colors… the music… the lyrics punch the sky as we
move gently in Washington, D.C. from radiant afternoon to expectant evening.
One senses destiny here today. It is the kind of day you will relate to your
grandchildren with pride. “I was there!”, and those who had neither time nor vision
will rue this day of loss for a lifetime, bowing their heads in shame…
“There you catch a glimpse of Dr. King being helped out of his car, to be greeted
by the Mayor of Washington, DC at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. His son Michael
King, Jr. helps him out and hands him his cane. This cane was given to him by a
former member of the Georgia Ku Klux Klan who participated in lynching a young
black man. A silver plaque was engraved, “Father forgive me.” When questioned as
to why he used this cane, his invariable response was, “There but for the grace of
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of  the coming of the Lord.”
On the night of November 18,1861 Julia Ward Howe went to bed as usual and
slept quite soundly, waking up to await the cool gray of dawn. Then, all of a sudden,
she experienced the thrill that is creation, long lines of a desired poem clear in
her mind.
“I must get up,” she said, “So, with a sudden effort, I sprang out of bed and found
in the dimness an old stump of a pen which I remembered to have used the day
before. I scrawled the verses almost without looking at the paper.” As so was
born “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”, with its perpetual call to action and robust
certainty indicating purity of heart and God’s will and glory.
Now these irrefutable words are playing above me for the world to know, along with
the inspired music. For this night at least, God’s in his Heaven, all’s right with the
world. Find it in any search engine for here is happiness, too long deferred, too little
known, our right, pilgrim that you are.
“Glory, glory Hallelujah/ His truth is marching on, and you are called to join “while
God is marching on
Part 2  “Here in my heart I do believe.”
The most mild of twilights is now the most perfect of nights, the huge crowd
disciplined and respectful, intent alone upon listening to the final notes of Julia
Ward Howe’s magnificent poem on freedom’s cost.
Then her notes of adamant purpose are superseded by the anthem of the
Civil Rights Movement, the cause that changed America and brought
international leadership and renown to Martin Luther King, Jr.
The man, his moment, his anthem, his message all come together here,
now. If there is kismet, it is here.
The crowd leaps to its feet as if by a single movement. There are cheers,
shouts, whistles, and most of all a million clenched fists, the symbol of
revolution and what its supporters can and will give towards its success,
not just now… but every day in its ineluctable purpose. This is why Dr.
King has come again to the Capital of the Great Republic. And so this 87
year old leader is wheeled to a shared destiny, for we have all travelled with
him and shared in the important results we have achieved together.
Thus the men’s chorus of Morehouse College serenades with the greatest
tune in their repertory, sung to the most famous of its alumni (class of 1944,
aged 15). “You can do anything” they have been told since birth… and today they
believe it and know they have never walked alone.
“We’ll walk hand in hand”… “We shall live in peace”
and then alternating on the vast screens;
“We are not afraid…” and “We shall overcome.” Like so many worldwide I
brushed away a tear, then another, and said a private prayer, for I knew, we
all knew, we could do this thing and be the better for it, or we could die by certain
inches, excuses, denials, expert only in looking the other way.
When I looked up, this man of men was at the platform, frail, held so he would
not fall; the prophet who had come so far over so long a distance. He knew what he
must do to ensure we would do what we must do. If this could be done, then anything
could be done, and we must work hard to ensure it would be, for our chances were
dwindling, the planet, our single home, at greater risk every single minute; our end
if not yet predictable, at least imaginable.
After wave after wave of cheers, the acclaim began to subside. A professional
to his fingertips, he knew just when to step in and take command. After several
raucous minutes, he grasped the podium. We knew he would give his last drop
of blood, willingly, joyfully, with gratitude, glad to have what he needed, the
support of generations, including even the love of those who had once upon a time
hated and despised him, anguish and murder their ready tools.. These, too,
against all predictions had learned from him. “Father forgive me…” The power of
redemption was always near at hand when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was nigh.
As he took his place at the podium, each and every one of the giant screens
burst forth with the most famous of his many famous quotations, “I Have A Dream”
and as these words took flight to the very gates of Heaven, the crowd was on its
feet again, with their thousands of approbations, approvals, enthusiasms, and
motivations. The crucial connection between Prophet and people took place
making this a thrilling experience for all.
Just then a gust of wind blew through the assembled masses, his striking
doctoral gown from Boston University billowed, reminding us that here was a
scholar, a theologian, a pastor, an historian, a writer, an orator,  a visionary,
a thinker and most of all a seeker after Truth. He had done his work, and it was
well and truly done. Hallelujah!
The Speech
“I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest
demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.”
This is how I began my remarks to you in 1963 and this is how I begin them to you
today. My words were candid and urgent then. My words are candid and urgent
to you today. Let me begin with gratitude.
So many  of you here today, so many of you around the globe have worked
together that I can report with pride this day dawns better than yesterday, and we
stand together to ensure tomorrow will be better yet. This is good news
indeed, and we can feel proud of what we have done and what I know we will do
together. Hallelujah!
There are many reasons why we are better off today than then, and I place them
before you now. We achieved them together. Let us then celebrate them together
too, always remembering that further progress is dependent upon maximum unity.
I call upon you now for that essential unity. I have a dream… and that dream is
your complete and utter commitment to freedom here! Freedom now! Freedom
forever and ever. Amen!
Will you, dear friends and colleagues, join me in making that commitment,
for the good of all is dependent on the work of each?
I have a dream that all are equal before the law, no one above the other, fairness
and equality our constant and never-ending goal.
I have a dream that the benefits of education be available, and joyfully too, to every
child, and that this education include art, music, and all the liberal arts, for these
contain the essential wisdom of our species.
I have a dream that no one should want for health care. No people, no nation
can be great when so many lack the basics of sustained health and necessary
nutrition. Now is the time to achieve this goal.
I have a dream where women who want to work do so with equal pay for equal
work. A great nation must be a fair nation and that fairness, long overdue, must
come now.
I have a dream that air be clean…. that water be pure… that animals be
protected and plants as well.
And most of all, I have a dream that there be peace on Earth, good will towards men.
This is the most important dream of all, and the most pressing.
Whether these dreams stay dreams or whether they become hard-won reality and not
just philosophical possibility depends on each of us. If a single person hearing this
message declines to help implement it, the dream must wither and die. You see, we
either ascend together or we decline together to that extent.
That is why, as I conclude my visit with you, I remind you all not just that we shall
overcome but that we are not afraid. We know the work is long and arduous. We
know many will obstruct and deride. We know this is not the goal of days, weeks,
or even decades.
However, we must take up the burden for it is not just my dream that is at stake.
It is the dream of every one of us, all children of God wherever we are, however we
pray. Be not afraid we shall fail, rather be afraid we must fail if we do not walk
together hand in hand. If we do this, failure is unthinkable, our victory sure and
certain; once blind, now found, each and every one of us by amazing grace
that saved a wretch like me.
Having finished his historic remarks, he slumped in the arms of his first
son. But he wanted just a minute more, to look at the site of his great triumphs.
He was tired now and it showed. But what also showed was his confidence
that his message was even now growing, his life’s work secure.
All over the great mall people were singing “Amazing Grace”, the well-known
lyrics on every screen. and holding hands, each link a bridge to tomorrow..
One giant screen showed Dr. King shaking hands with the people great and
small who came to touch him and see him off. In a moment, he was in
his car, now speeding into the dark night of eternity, his home for the ages.
This e-book is dedicated to Patrice Porter who urged me to write it and watched
it grow until her tears showed me I had written it just as she had wished it to be…
About the Author
Dr. Jeffrey Lant is known worldwide. He started in the media business
when he was 5 years old, a Kindergartener in Downers Grove, Illinois,
publishing his first newspaper article. Since then Dr. Lant has earned
four college degrees, including the Ph.D. from Harvard.
He has taught at over 40 colleges and universities, quite possibly the
first to offer satellite courses. He has written over 50 books, thousands
of articles and been a welcome guest on hundreds of radio and television
He has founded several successful corporations and businesses
including his latest at … www.drjeffreylant.comHis memoirs “A Connoisseur’s Journey” have garnered nine prizes
that ensure its classic status. Its subtitle is “Being the artful memoirs
of a man of wit, discernment, pluck, and joy.” You’ll enjoy the read by
this man of so many letters.

There is no joy in Mudville… Thoughts on Hillary Clinton and her supporters.


by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. The first time I heard her introduced as Secretary Clinton, I knew that she had a huge problem, and nobody was there to advise her about it. Secretaries are, after all, people who take dictation, and that was just not the right image for the hotshot, glass-ceiling-breaking, “I’m smarter than you are Hillary Clinton.”

By the way, the first woman in the cabinet, Frances Perkins (1933), was called Madam Secretary, but it always sounded pompous and out of touch – the way Secretary Hillary turned out to be – and was seldom used thereafter.

On November 9th, 2016 Boston Globe columnist Yvonne Abraham, one of Hillary’s most fervent supporters, floated another “poor little Hillary” column. She was the best. She was the noblest woman of them all. And she lost because a few tardy supporters were late picking up their mochas and the polls closed on them, and on America.

I don’t want anyone to doubt any of my words, so let me say it smack up front: people like Yvonne Abraham make me run for my nausea capsules. Any pretense she ever had of an impartial look at the subject of Hillary and company was made a mockery. I’ve been reading Miss Abraham’s effusions now for over a year. Trump is the big bad guy who rapes and uses bad words… tsk tsk.

There has never been, nor will there ever be a word of censure from Miss Abraham for Secretary Clinton, though many are needed. Now get this… Miss Abraham is from a foreign country, I think they call it Australia… a liberal nation which just voted against gay marriage, and is one of the least progressive places on Earth. Don’t let that “Waltzing Matilda” stuff fool you.

Why Hillary Clinton lost

I’m the kind of guy she should have wrapped up months ago. But she didn’t. Every time she pursed her lips, it reminded me of my third grade teacher, that is instead of expressing disappointment about some student and his work, she pursed her lips and we’d all stand abased and miserable. Hillary was an Olympic class lip purser.

Or consider how often Hillary muffed the opportunity to give a needy person a hug. Hillary loved humanity, but hated people. You will find with difficulty any photograph in the Clinton record that shows she actually liked anyone. In fact, I think Madam Secretary was just the reverse of Will Rogers, who never met a man he didn’t like. Hillary never liked anyone, except the ones who praised her, and it showed. Anyone that is, except the girls of Wellesley College, who thought Hillary was just swell.

Now, I’ve worked in one of the Seven Sisters colleges. I was the assistant to the president. And I want it to be clear: I no longer believe that segregating women’s colleges do what their leaders purport. That is, to produce women who are competitive to men in the real world.

Seven Sisters executives, who idolize Secretary Hillary, truly believe that the education they provide makes their women students competitive and indeed superior to men. Who can believe this schmaltz, given Hillary’s abject election fiasco?

Hillary should have known… you can’t win the presidency of the United States and write off Minnesota, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Iowa… get the picture? Hillary literally insulted the people of each of those states, and not just on one occasion either. In her mind, she checked her electoral college math and said, “I can get away without talking to these rubes.” Her decision to avoid these places to the max possible told me everything I needed to know about her Wellesley education, and just how superficial and unrealistic it was.

Somebody should have told those girls that the real world is a miasma filled with people you could never take home to mother. By the way, the smarter girls know this already. At Radcliffe, where I worked, the women were totally committed to getting a Harvard degree, not a Radcliffe diploma. This was a point of view administrators found hard to accept. What was wrong with Radcliffe? Just this: it wasn’t Harvard.

As I sat on election night watching the returns pour in, I thought many things, one being H.V. Kaltenborn (1878-1965)Kaltenborn was in 1948 arguably the most well-known correspondent, the most well-known radio commentator. He also hated Harry S. Truman, the president. And he let his dreams of a Truman crash overcome any logic he had on the situation.

And so, he, along with Col. McCormick (1880-1955), another Truman hater, of the Chicago Tribune, produced the two biggest bloopers ever. One by Kaltenborn, one by McCormick.

Kaltenborn’s goof went like this. In his distinctive voice, he said “President Truman is ahead in the popular vote by 1 million, but will certainly lose the presidency”… “Now President Truman is ahead in the popular vote by 2 million, and will certainly lose the presidency”. He reiterated his increasingly out of touch view over and over again on election night until it became a joke. It was Kaltenborn’s last great moment, and his career tumbled after that.

Col. McCormick’s goof was when he released for the Chicago Tribune the most notorious headline ever: “Dewey Defeats Truman.”

Truman so liked the Kaltenborn goof that he turned it into a winning line  that showed just how out to get him smart people like Kaltenborn really were. And as for Col. McCormick, he probably hoped that only a copy or two were released. But here it is, a better part of 100 years later, and every political jockey knows it and laughs at it and Col. McCormick.

The equivalent anecdote for 2016 will be about how CNN commentators cute Jake Tapper and cuter Anderson Cooper goofed. These guys and their whole damn tribe literally couldn’t believe that Hillary Clinton was going to lose. Tapper came across as a boy who expected to be whooped if he didn’t support the house line, but he didn’t know what the house line was; Cooper looked clueless as he stood there with his hands in his pockets hour after hour. In other words, they were prepared to discuss a Clinton victory, and nothing else. Some jounalists!

But of course, the biggest whopper of all was the Huffington Post (and their ilk), which predicted Hillary’s eminent election at 98%. They’re still eating crow, and will for donkey’s years.

So here’s the question: every newspaper in the land, with only one exception, endorsed Hillary. Hundreds of millions of dollars was spent on ads of the tsk tsk variety. Madam Hillary was exposed to the nation in every way, every day, not just for weeks, but months. Hillary was the subject of tens of thousands of favorable newspaper and magazine articles, and radio and television pieces, not to mention on the internet.

So, Madam Yvonne, riddle me this: after this barrage of favorable content, how can you have the unmitigated gall to say “It is worth noting the woman we passed on”. She was a bad candidate who ran because the nation “deserved her”, and because she would not do the necessary to become president. She wanted the goal, but not the endeavor.

Now hear this, all you opponents to the president-elect. At no time during the election cycle was he the beneficiary of positive, witty content. At no time was he anything other than Al Smith’s “Happy Warrior”. He liked the battle. He fought the battle. And to the consternation of every media person like you in the nation, he won the battle.

Now answer me this: can you see Madam Hillary issuing as her first major policy statement, a decision to remove 3 million or more aliens from our midst? Frankly, she wouldn’t have had the guts, and the nation sensed it.

The nation knew, even if all the Yvonne Abraham’s didn’t, that we needed a new direction, a house cleaning of mammoth proportions. Oh yes, we need one more thing too, and that is a censure of these silly articles by the likes of Madam Secretary Yvonne. She should stick to Australian politics, not that she understands anything about it… just that it wouldn’t take as much time and space.

And for all of you proper young ladies at Wellesley College, listen up. You are not learning how to compete with men in an abusive world. You are instead, merely learning how to write a charming address that bears no relation to reality. That is Madam Clinton’s legacy, and it is a very costly one indeed.

Note: you will probably recognize the opening line of this article as one taken from “Casey at the Bat”, written in 1888 by Ernest Thayer.

“Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
but there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out”

Secretary Clinton should have read it before she played in the big leagues.

Howard Martell is the Owner of http://HomeProfitCoach.com/silver . Check us out anytime for marketing tips and a free subscription to our cutting edge newsletter.

About the author
Dr. Lant is the author of 57 books that you can find at www.drjeffreylant.com. His most recent is “Guaranteed Millionaire”, a book that shows you in detail how to become a millionaire.

“To be Norfolk is to be sufficient.”

The Silver Lining… Near Wipe out in Vienna… Avoided.




by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

If you have been reading my arts columns over the last several years, you know that I have a particular fondness for the largest auction house in Continental Europe, Dorotheum.

Based in Vienna since 1707, Dorotheum presents over 600 auctions in a year on a wide variety of subjects. In fact, one might visit Dorotheum for one thing, find another, and be lost amongst the glittering gewgaws. At least that was so for me.

Over the last several years, in and around the year 2008, annus horribilis, that it is, I have savored the low prices Dorotheum has presented on a silver salver, of course. I would walk away from a single auction with a shower of historic silver.

The folks in Western Europe at the usual suspects, Sotheby’s, Christie’s, and Bonham’s, didn’t seem to know anything about the attractive doings of Eastern Europe. And their advice was always bland and unsatisfying. They did not care. It was all reminiscent of British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain and his famous statement just before WWII:

“How horrible, fantastic, incredible it is that we should be digging trenches and trying on gas-masks here because of a quarrel in a far away country between people of whom we know nothing.”

Well, if the statesmen of Europe knew nothing about Eastern Europe, the silver connoisseurs knew even less, and cared not a whit.

Enter the dashing American (that would be me)

I am a firm believer in the oldest business adage there is: buy low, sell high. And by dint of constant effort, I expanded my hunting territory from just Manhattan, to London, Paris, Amsterdam, etc. And while I looked at these places with keen interest and growing success, I was certain that the great kingdoms of Eastern Europe had produced a plethora of beautiful objects, storm tossed by war and revolution… ready for a perspicacious hunter and collector like me. And I was right to do so.

Eastern Europe is a treasure trove of items made for kings and princes, buffeted and crushed by communists, fascists, and silverfish. In short, a delightful place in which to saunter through a lifetime. But the price is always less than you’d dare imagine.

Unfortunately, as the other old adage says, all good things come to an end. So it was in the residue of imperial, royal, and noble artifacts… dispersed by the wind, and the tramping feet of careless soldiers, eager only to go home. Now, times have begun to change at the Dorotheum. And the results of today’s silver service sale proves this point beyond cavil.

As usual, I had prepared for the silver market with exemplary habits. I knew what I wanted, I had read the provenance, talked to the experts, I had my money ready, and my battle grit, too.


But Eastern Europe, and the Dorotheum with it, are no longer the imperial cousins down on their luck. I love those cousins… I love their lousy luck… I love the cascade of imperial artifacts at bargain prices. And that is why I was unhappy today when I bid on over 20 items, and got just one.

Prices have now exploded, as I must honestly admit they were bound to do. In the light of this price explosion, I am grateful that when their luck was down, I bought and bought and bought, and came home with my last penny in my pocket, and a song in my heart.

The item is a sugar box. Now it is difficult for us in America to understand how important sugar has been throughout our history. In the French and Indian War (1756), the French gave away the Canadas for the isle of Martinique. Why? Because Martinique produced sugar. And so a tiny island was exchanged for what the acid critic Voltaire (1694-1778) called a few acres of snow. There are no statues of Voltaire in Canada, not even in Quebec.

Sugar was so valuable that it was locked in boxes, often with several keys, and always retained by the chatelaine of the home, and woe betide any schoolboy with mischief on his cheek and a single granule of sugar about his person. Sugar was the master’s prerogative, and he used it ruthlessly to gain his domestic objectives.

I have been collecting boxes for some time now, and I own to being intrigued by them. A box means something important. A locked box means something of great importance, indeed.

I first became interested in boxes when I worked in the public records office in London, working on my book “Insubstantial Pageant: Ceremony and confusion at Queen Victoria’s court”.

In 1887, Queen Victoria held her 50th anniversary, her Golden Jubilee. Every person of consequence in the Empire on which the sun still never set, and many who were not, sent boxes to Her Majesty filled with the loyal addresses of their constituents. And the higher the rank of the individual submitting a box of consequence, the more unique, valuable, and awesome it must be.

No scholar had ever studied these hundreds and hundreds of loyal addresses and the caskets that carried them to the foot of royalty. No one that is until I came along. These boxes had, during WWII, been buried beneath the streets of London, the better to preserve them against the inroads of the Luftwaffe.

Sadly, many had been destroyed by those Nazi aces. But now, each day the antiquated elevator brought from deep below the great city its cargo of boxes, sent by the maharajah of this, the prince regent of that, the ambassador of, and each and every cabinet minister and public servant from realms and republics great and small.

It was an avalanche of the historically unique, beautiful, and never before seen, now exhumed for me. In short order, I gathered an immense following of people who wanted to see what I dug up. I was in short the toast of the public records office, if only champagne had been allowed.

I shall continue to collect boxes, particularly boxes with royal coats of arms and heraldic devices, with engravings which often are cryptic, as if between two lovers. Boxes suggest things of value, kept only for the sender and the recipient. With a box, we can hear in our mind the sounds of the owner, the sender, the thief who stole them, and the rescue squad, which dug out the owner and spilled his box across the fragments of what had once been a great house on a great road, now just shards and confused survivors.

I am, you see, of a fanciful disposition. If I do not know the history of the box I can, working with incomplete shards and pieces, weave you a story. And I am pleased to note that whenever I talk about boxes, I always gather a crowd, for they too want to know what each box contains. And so I have come to learn that boxes have an important role in our history, right up to Her Royal Majesty Queen Elizabeth herself.

Each day, each hour, Her Majesty is besieged with boxes, cabinet boxes. To these boxes Her Majesty has the key. And so as she sits unlocking the boxes that arrive any time of the day or night, she is answering for herself the question of every hour: what is in the box?

Now there is nothing in my sugar box except memories. But I can change all that in an instant. Some of these days I will want my breakfast cereal to have what I usually forego… that is to say, sugar. And when I want it, I want it delivered in a box. A sugar box. Then set upon my table, ready for the compliments which inevitably come. “Oh, what a lovely box!” It is, isn’t it?

And that is why today, with soaring prices, causing me to overbid my usual amount, still without success except in this one instance, a day which initially promised success along the usual lines, surprised me with a huge increase in prices, thereby leaving me nothing to show for my efforts. Nothing, that is, except this box. I shall enjoy unraveling its mysteries, and sharing them with you.

Musical note

I have chosen as an accompaniment to this article a song by sultry Nina Simone (1933-2003). She wants some sugar in her bowl. Will you be man enough to give it?

“I want a little sugar
In my bowl
I want a little sweetness
Down in my soul
I could stand some lovin’
Oh so bad
Feel so lonely and I feel so sad”

Man, open that box and let the lady in. You haven’t been there for so long.


Howard Martell is the Owner of http://HomeProfitCoach.com/silver . Check us out anytime for marketing tips and a free subscription to our cutting edge newsletter.

About the author

Author Dr. Jeffrey Lant, still knocking them dead at 70, has just completed his 58th book. The more he writes, the more he publishes, the more he has to say. In the last few paragraphs of Volume 1 of his two volume autobiography “A Connoisseur’s Journey: Being the artful memoirs of a man of wit, discernment, pluck, and joy.”, Dr. Lant’s stern and loyal seneschal Sir Maximiliano von Rabbit hands a golden box to his ailing master and whispers a secret to change his life. He then places a letter in the box, and locks it, taking away the key and leaving us all to wonder, what secret did Max pass to the Prince?

To see Dr. Lant’s complete oeuvre, go to www.drjeffreylant.com. And never eat your sugar alone.

Big day in the Big Apple for Dr. Lant and The Lant Collection

In the 1950’s, if you were lucky enough to live in Chicagoland as I was, you would inevitably encounter the Wanzer milk television commercial starring Carmelita Pope, “Wanzer on milk is like sterling on silver.” And no doubt it is.
But I went for the cream, not the milk, on this trip to New York, and walked away with seven pieces of highly desirable antique silver. What’s more, each piece was acquired at below the low estimate. Each and every one, that is to say all four were as reasonably priced as one could wish, always allowing for the fact that one had to pay something.
My Sotheby’s representative was astonished that all four of my acquisitions came in at below the low estimate. “How did you do that?”, she asked. No cat could have purred a better response.
Thus, this report from the silver lining is a testament to my modus operandi: how to acquire more for less.
First of all, this desirable outcome can only be the result of prolonged study and application. In short, you have to know what you’re talking about. And it has taken me any number of years, plus any number of silver catalogs, from all the major auction houses across the world, to feel reasonably confident that I cannot be completely humbugged, and that, from time to time, I may be fortunate enough to outsmart the experts… which happened with these four pieces.
So, let us review my bounty.


Lot 715
First, four silver salad bowls by William Fountain (1819), fluted, the centers engraved with arms, marked on sides below rim. 67 oz 15 dwt; 2108.6 g; diameter 10 1/4 in; 26 cm.
This period of English silver is called Regency, after the Prince Regent, later George IV. Every element of the fine arts is stylish and in your face during the Regency. It is almost impossible to buy a bad artifact from the Regency, though many have tried (quite successfully too). And for those of you who have your lunch salad out of a styrofoam container, eat your heart out.
I shall be feeding milord and his lady with subdued, unmistakable splendor. By the way, the arms you see on these bowls are those of Neville impaling Cornwallis. You will remember Lord Cornwallis, who surrendered to the Americans at Yorktown, thereby ending the revolution. I hope his salad bowls cheered him up.


Lot 762
My second acquisition is a George II Silver Salver, Edward Feline, London, 1734; circular with lobed border, engraved with strapwork border and arms in a baroque cartouche; marked on base; 16 oz 10 dwt; 516 g; diameter 9 3/4 in; 24.8 cm; the arms are those of probably Aiton quartering Campbell, impaling Bottell, Fraxine or Ponsonby.
This dish is part of a set, dating from 1734, about the time English silver begins to be the envy of the world. Lovely, isn’t it? When you pop by, I shall be sure to show it to you.


Lot 771
My third acquisition is a Queen Anne silver salver on foot, Jacob Margas, London, 1706; plain circular on trumpet foot, engraved with contemporary arms in baroque cartouche; marked on surface and foot; 15 oz 10 dwt; 485 g; diameter 9 3/4 in; 24.8 cm.
The thing you must keep in mind about silver from the reign of Queen Anne (1665-1714), is that it is valuable simplicity. At the Court of Queen Anne, people tried to impress each other (as they always do at a royal court), but it was impressing each other with how little decoration they could get away with, not how much.
Anne herself was a plain spoken woman, burdened by too much weight and the death of every child she ever conceived (13). But she knew who she was, and what people say is that the silver from her time is real, actual, not overwhelming, but always valuable.


Lot 779
My fourth acquisition is my only one from this auction from the Victorian age. It is a stunning inkwell, so emblematic of the age in which it was produced. It is heavy, impressive, in your face, bombastic… a thing to be reckoned with, used by the paterfamilias, whose desk in the library it would have graced, saying the the world, “Here’s a good English gentlemen, a man of money, reputation, and stern consideration.” Here is a description:
A Victorian silver large inkstand, Benjamin Preston, London, 1832; on four scrolled shell feet and with bold rococo borders; the central seal box supported by two fully-modeled eagles and topped by a taperstick, fitted with two silver-mounted cut-glass jars; marked throughout; 74 oz weighable; 2301.4 g; length 15 in; 38.1 cm.
I shall enjoy placing this stunning object, for it deserves our full attention. It will join what some are now calling the largest collection of inkwells in the world, and perhaps it is… after all, I know a good thing when I see it, and have snapped up any number of inkwells, a suitable emblem for writers, don’t you think?
All three volumes of Treasures From The Lant collection can be found on Dr. Lant’s author page at: http://www.amazon.com/author/jeffreylant/
Howard Martell is the Owner of http://HomeProfitCoach.com/silver . Check us out anytime for marketing tips and a free subscription to our cutting edge newsletter.
About the author
Now 70, a bonafide septuagenarian, Harvard educated Dr. Lant looks upon his much favored life with happiness and joyful acclimation. Author of nearly 60 books and well over 1,000 articles, this is a man who knows how to tell a story and tell it well. To see his complete oeuvre, go to www.drjeffreylant.com.
There, you will also find details on our Guaranteed Future Millionaire Club. You’ll certainly want to join us.

New acquisition for The Lant Collection highlights how you build a collection.


Today’s auction at Sotheby’s in London of European ceramics, silver, and objects of vertu showed me, as usual, front and center. As I sat by the telephone waiting for my auction representative at Sotheby’s to call, I considered what traits you must necessarily possess to build a valuable collection and asset.

First, you must be constant in your task. Whether you like it or not, you cannot let an auction go by, for that may be the very auction in which the best deal of your life could appear. It happens all the time, especially to those who are assiduous, like I am.

Second, you must always be in pain. Ardent collectors know exactly what I mean. To build a valuable collection means extending yourself and popping up in the red at regular intervals. In other words, no pain no gain.

Third, you must be regular in your auction view, general research, and overall education in your field. You cannot say you’re a collector if the last thing you purchased was five years ago in a flea market.

Fourth, you must want to astonish the rubes. One of the main reasons for collecting is to awe people who do not have your taste, sophistication, talent for skullduggery, and strategy. They need to see what you have done, and you need to be magnanimous in showing your brilliant work, after all, you have been assiduous, efficient, and determined, and your friends and neighbors should be given the opportunity to say so.

Now, having said all this, I welcome a new object in my family… this 17th Century silver dish. Now think for a second at how much water has gone under the bridge since 1659, when Johann Hofner of Nuremberg fashioned this bold and in-your-face composition.

For one thing, this period of European history found every King and Elector in constant war and thus in unending financial distress. What do you do when you need to pay the restive troops before they sack your palace? Why of course, melt every silver object you can see, and melt them quickly, since the money is overdue.

The melting of 17th Century European silver was erratic but thorough. Very few pieces of worth got through this periodic culling of valuable silver and gold objects. What you’re looking at in this plate is one very lucky example of something that survived.

Now the last thing I need at this precise moment in my life is another valuable thing. In the next few weeks, nearly 50 lots of astonishing European artifacts of all kinds are arriving from London, just in time for Christmas. If I were a lazy man, a slothful man, a man inclined to self-satisfaction, or any other derelict collector, I would say “Ho ho ho” and declare that enough is enough, at least for now.

However, I am of the obsessive genre who goes just a little further, whether money is readily available or not, and whether I “feel” like going through the aggravation (for there is always aggravation in acquisition).

To achieve the best, to achieve the impossible dream, one must push one’s self, like it or not. And that is why I was sitting at my end of the telephone line to London just a few hours ago, in the dark, in the cold, for Londinium is 5 hours earlier than Cambridge, and this was a morning auction (from my standpoint).

But it was all worth it. And so, a piece of rare 17th Century silver, dazzling, blinding, brilliant workmanship, finds a good home and a respite for its own constant travels, for you may be sure this stunning object has been atraveling throughout its long, lucky life. It has, for now, arrived at a comfortable locale, and that is enough for today.

A German parcel-gilt embossed silver dish, Johann Hofner, Nuremberg, 1659-60; the undulating border chased with flowerheads around a further central example between leaf scrolls, underside later engraved L.J.K.; 17.5cm, 6 3/4 in diameter; 115gr, 3oz 14dwt.

Howard Martell is the Owner of http://HomeProfitCoach.com/silver . Check us out anytime for marketing tips and a free subscription to our cutting edge newsletter.

There are now three volumes of “Treasures from The Lant Collection”. Dr. Jeffrey Lant, Founder
Find them plus other books by Dr. Lant at: http://www.amazon.com/author/jeffreylant/


About the author

Now 70, a bonafide septuagenarian, Harvard educated Dr. Lant looks upon his much favored life with happiness and joyful acclimation. Author of nearly 60 books and well over 1,000 articles, this is a man who knows how to tell a story and tell it well. To see his complete oeuvre, go to www.drjeffreylant.com.

[Video] Ex Libris


by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author’s Program Note.First there was the thunderclap, sharp, unyielding sound overawing all, pulling me anxious from my bed; to be swiftly followed by a cascade of erratic sound, my sundered rest punctured by noises that made the end of the world seem puny and insignificant by comparison. I was alone and soon to be unhappy, bereft, no comfort, my world altered forever.

This is the story of what happened just the other day. I know that sympathetic folk worldwide will join me in my lamentation… for this is a tale any one of us could have penned and which all of us might easily share and could as easily experience.

I call it Ex Libris, and it is a sad tale.

“84 Charing Cross Road”

If you’re a Bibliophile like I am, I don’t have to introduce you to this cinema classic released in 1987. It features an adamant, opinionated, chain-smoking, wise-cracking, irreverent New York writer (is there any other kind?) expertly played by Anne Bancroft (1931-2005), a lady in love with books, the more obscure and esoteric the better. Her correspondent is a soft-spoken London-based expert in finding out-of-print English books. (perfectly rendered by Sir Anthony Hopkins b. 1937).

He has at first no clue quite how to handle this rather alarming customer; then discovers that she is what all writers and lovers of  language require, a Kindred Spirit, puckish, golden hearted, honest to a fault, friend, jousting companion, lover of words, lover of those who shape these words, dram at the ready but never to excess; willing to let the rest of us into their enthralling lives, changing us forever, even the ones who bathe infrequently and are too vocal about their ill-considered (and frequently
changed) politics.

I had absolutely no trouble adhering to the rites and precise rituals of their arcane mysteries, not just in London either, but New York, Los Angeles, Paris, Oxford, Chicago. Chicago?

Purists may wrinkle their fastidious noses but, yes, Chicago where I sprawled for hours (age 12 or so, thank you very much) in the magic caverns tottering in unimaginably lofty formations on Clark Street. Yes, Chicago, “my kind of town, Chicago is” where I often heard my mother warn me that I could have all the books I could carry but not one more. Then hear my practised wheedling for more and still more, for my mother believed in the curative powers of disintegrating fine tooled leathers and the cats which could lead you if they would to wondrous editions not yet found by my tardy and less persistent competitors. Yes, Chicago, too, by all means, and proudly.

Where have these discriminating tabbies and their erudite successors gone? I feel guilty and ashamed that I don’t know, such is the undeniable pull of these establishments and their silky inhabitants down my ages. Forgive me!

“The Look”.

I know now what I could hardly even imagine then; that I was either born with or early acquired the unquestioned demeanor and certain stance and undoubted swagger of a Bibliophile. That is to say, I was a lad for whom doors were open wherever I went, wherever books in all their aspects and appurtenances were favored, as they were widely and worldwide.

Unfavored school mates and taunting cousins (self designated sans peur et sans reproche, especially if a grid iron and locker room were involved) might deride, but they would do so at their considerable risk and undoing. Bibliophiles, remember, have the benefits of deep memory and the certainty that revenge is a dish best tasted cold.

In those long-ago days I brought home a steady stream of prizes with resounding names, grandiose certificates, the letters patent of our realm, and even Yankee cash on the barrel head. Such unanticipated (to them), irritating developments, which caused my more brawny, athletic peers to rethink their positions, and (no matter how reluctantly) to treat me with the reverence and veneration I so richly deserved. Parents of such sad scoffers might be heard, and in public, too, intoning this righteous sentiment: “Why can’t you be a scholar like Jeffrey?,” words which no doubt enlivened and encouraged the sorry lot. Their roles in life have no doubt been the better for it.

Every click a diminishment, a certain loss, a looming tragedy.

I live in the middle of the greatest constellation of words in the Great Republic, Fair Harvard and dozens of institutions of higher and other learning, over 70 such institutions just minutes away, the whole one of the greatest achievements of our species and a light to people everywhere who appreciate and advocate humane values and a world of peace, serenity, fairness, and equality, the hallmarks of this special place and its abiding message to the ages.

Generations from now historians and other researchers into our past will call this the Golden Age, the final days of what we have worked so diligently for a thousand years to create, foster, and maintain, including language and the books which enshrine it forever.

The proven vandals, the assured barbarians are not just at the gate, they are placed within our glorious precincts by our very children, placed here by committed parental thrift and scrimping; each more adept than the one before in their proven ways to eradicate what we have so loved, supported and honored; imposing standards which are no standards at all.
Come to Cambridge, to Harvard. The future is breaking here like a brand new, unwelcome dawn. As if by wizard’s wand, institutions once boasting that they were citadels of progress and the liberal arts now are teetering on the knife edge of extinction; buildings gone, faculties dismissed, the very idea of liberal arts and progress derided and dismissed; the potent weapons click by click on the agile fingertips of the young and careless, are dooming not just multitudes, useless cargo on Spaceship Earth, but our very species. Truly Father forgive them for they know not…

I’m forced to join the revolution

I have for the last many years, harbored a guilty secret. I cannot bear to send my books to other homes and foreign shores. I hide them in places where even I forget, but better work of literature misplaced by sympathetic hands than gone forever, a sacrifice to the savages and their wanton ways.

The books that fell were a small part of the thousands of books which have found sanctuary here and over the course of my entire life. They were stacked and crammed and buried and pushed and shoe-horned into a space sustained by the thickest of woods, mahoganey. Now and again I would look at them and sigh, for like “Sophie’s Choice” (1979) by William Styron, I knew I would have to make a decision, and that the decision would be unwelcome, whatever I decided to do.

And so, God stepped in, impatient with my inability to decide, and said, as sure as he’d send a telegram, “Clear the shelves of these books!” And He did.

Thus, my precious books, though only a few hundred of the total inventory, were marked for extinction, coming in the shape of the Goodwill truck from Somerville. They have pestered me often for them, and now, at last, they shall have their way. Of course I feel terribly, which is silly, isn’t it? Because as my assistant, Kris McNamara said as he helped me pick up the fruit of generations, “Everything you want is on the internet anyway, what’s the big deal?” But then, he is only 33, and can scarcely remember anything the outrage that I have lived with for so long. And so we in our turn shall be forgotten, too.

The Goodwill truck will come, life will go on, though admittedly altered and lessened. As for me, I have hidden as many of them as I can, in places no one would ever look. You see, I shall not go down without a fight, all flags flying, every page intact, every word. For even if I become known as the last man of suitable standards and goals, I shall accept that title, that honor, with gladness and pride, the stearnest demeanor… for even then there will be hope.


Whether you have seen “84 Charing Cross Road” before (lucky), or, whether this is your first time seeing this magnificient film (lucky), this distinctly moving film, I advise you to go to any search engine and watch it. In the meantime, here is the film score to whet your appetite:


In some ways, technology is a blessing.

Howard Martell is the Owner of http://HomeProfitCoach.com/silver . Check us out anytime for marketing tips and a free subscription to our cutting edge newsletter.

About the author

Dr. Jeffrey Lant, Harvard educated, started writing for publication at age 5. Since then, he has published over 1,000 articles and 57 books, and counting. For information about his oeuvre, go to:


Remember, even rich and successful authors derive acute satisfaction from letters of ebullient content and affection.
Tune in as Dr. Lant shares some of his favorite books in his Bibliophile Series Vol.1

Block Buster Dvd Rental-Has Good Competition

FREE consultation ($150 value). Expert shows you how to make money online.Call (757-647-2886) 24/7 Or Skype me homeprofitcoach NOW! Profit today!” Your success guaranteed. http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=kr2fDPDb

With so many ways today to get your entertainment, it can sometimes be confusing to know which company will provide you with just what you want and need. In this article, I will go over the block buster dvd rental program so you can compare it to others that are available.

With the block buster dvd rental you can either rent a dvd right in the store, if you have one near you, or you can get one sent to you in the mail.

There are pros and cons with each method I will go over some of the basics:

1. One of the best reasons to get a subscription, and get your movies by mail, is that you don’t have any late fees. you can keep your movies, or games, as long as you want.

If you rent in a store you will pay a late fee. One thing that I found out from the Blockbuster web site is a little sneaky and I wanted you to be aware of it.

It says on the website that “our stores no longer have late fees” but then it goes on to say that if you don’t return your movie or game by the date on the receipt you will be charged an additional daily rate of $1.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds an awful lot like a late fee to me.

Also, if you don’t return the dvds or games in a certain amount of time after your due date, they will charge you the price of the dvds and games.

If you eventually do return it, they will refund the price of the dvds or games but they will deduct the $1 a day from the refund price.

2. You can go to the website whenever you want and add movies to your queue. That means that they will be sent out to you in the order they are in your queue.

As soon as you send back the movies that you have already watched, they will send out the next movie(s) in you queue, automatically.

That can ensure that you always have something new to watch and you don’t have to constantly go looking for what movie you want to see.

3. Depending on your local store you may be able to return your dvds and games right at your local store. Again, that can vary so make sure you check in your area.

4. There are 3 different plans available:

1 movie sent out a time with unlimited free exchanges – $9.99 / month.

2 movies sent and free unlimited exchange – $14.99 / month

3 movies sent and free unlimited exchange – $19.99 / month

There are many places you can get dvds and game rentals. With the success of Netflix, many other options have sprung up such as Redbox and Blockbuster by mail.

Now that you have some more information, you can decide whether or not the block buster dvd rental program is the right one for you or not.

10 Military Habits That Make Service Members Stand Out

0 signs you were or are clearly in the military.

We all know the tell-tale signs of a military service member: high-and-tight haircut, camo backpack, polo shirt and cargo shorts combination, unit t-shirts or hats, decals on cars, and of course, “Affliction” t-shirts. These are all easy ways to spot military folks in public places. And while many of us try not to stand out, there are still subtle indicators. Most civilians would never notice these things, but they are dead giveaways to those who have served. Here are the top ten.

1. Walking fast. You might be doing a great job of blending in to your civilian surroundings, but your walk is always going to give you away. Military personnel walk with a purpose, as if their trip to the grocery store is actually a Pentagon press briefing.

2. Hair. Broke your habit of getting a high and tight? Good for you. But that leaves you two options: the fade and the classic “officer or pilot hair.” Yes, we see you pushing the edges of the “three inches on the top” rule as proscribed in Army Regulation 670-1.

3. Eating fast. Habits are hard to kick. And rarely in the military did you ever have ample time to appreciate your food even if you wanted to.

4. The power stance. Noncomissioned officers and officers are easy to spot: Just look for the person attempting to own the room through the “thumbs through the belt power” stance or the “crossed arms and not leaning against anything” stance.

5. Jargon. Just try not to say “roger” or “negative” in conversations. Just try. Eventually, your language will out you.

6. Walking. There is no way that a group of military members can take a casual stroll down a sidewalk without eventually falling into step. Even if you try not to, you will.

7. Sunglasses. Congratulations, you’re not wearing Oakleys or G.I. frames. Well done. But you’re still wearing sunglasses all the time. Even when it is cloudy out.

8. Absurd politeness. You can easily pick out service members by their over usage of “sir” and “ma’am.” It is a credit to the military’s discipline that a cashier receives the same clipped tones and politeness a four-star general would.

9. Scanning crowds. Go to a party and you’re bound to see the one person who is constantly scanning usually somewhere where they can see the whole room. And God help the person acting suspicious because the military promotes being confrontational.

10. Sleeping anywhere. Military personnel can sleep approximately anywhere, in any weather, on anything. They also come out of it rapidly and coherently, which paid dividends for the people aboard the Paris-bound train with the gunman aboard who was overpowered by two U.S. service members.