Stowaway!

Hi! My name is Alladdin. I am a cute cocker spaniel. I live in Chennai, India. I have gorgeous, glossy black, floppy ears, a long snout, a docked tail and beautiful black and white fur. I am told that I have a perpetually mournful expression, but I am anything but mournful. I am a happy-go-lucky dog with a great temperament. I love the people I live with. It is only sometimes that I feel sorry for myself. At those times, I am awash with self-pity and feel like I am being treated like a dog in this house.

Who says that dogs don’t have goals? I have a list. First on my list is to get inside a closed bedroom door. I can stand and whine outside a shut door for hours until I am let inside. Once inside, I will climb onto my mistress’s lap and nuzzle until I am petted and feted. Then and only then will I flop onto the cool mosaic floor and take a nap.

Second goal by priority on my list is to eat. I can eat anything. And I can do anything for a morsel – jump, not jump, roll on my back, sit still… you name it.

My third goal is to race my mistress to wherever she happens to be going. For instance, if she plans to go up the stairs, I can race her to the top without stopping to worry that I may trip her up. So what if she is a spoilsport and decides not to ascend the stairs after all because I win the race every time? I can race her to the bottom of the staircase too!

My most important and top secret goal is to stowaway in the car when my mistress plans to go for a ride. I have mastered the art of stowing myself in the car every time she decides to go out without me. While she carelessly keeps the car door open and continues to talk with the watchman, I can slink inside in the blink of an eye.

All I then need to do is hide on the floorboard, close my eyes so I cannot see her until the car starts off. By the time she notices me, I am already in and it’s too late! There can be no turning back, can there? I have tried this multiple times and though I manage to get into the car each time, she somehow manages to catch me stowing away before the ship leaves and gets me to disembark every time. That doesn’t stop me from trying this every time she goes out.

My hero is Abraham Lincoln. I have heard that he tried and tried and tried to become President of America and failed many times until he finally won. I’ll finally win at this too! There will be a time when she won’t notice me until the car has started and I’ll be on my way!

Here is a picture of me in the car, camouflaged in the grey floorboards, my eyes half shut so no one can see me! Wish me luck in my achieving my most important goal.

Yours truly,
Alladdin

Charity begins at home

My tryst with the 3 Rs was no different from what many Indian school children undergo. Reading, ‘Riting and ‘Rithmatic was rote learning. The rote didn’t do much harm: I consider myself reasonably well read, reasonably able to write and reasonably able to add 2 and 2.

The rote, however, left some lasting impressions on my mind. Predominantly, it left some sayings seared in my memory.

As a 7 year old, I remember that stern looking teacher in a starched white sari, hair tightly wrapped in a bun, ordering us to learn 100 sayings “by-heart” over the weekend and come prepared to recite them on Monday. I remember spending hot Sunday afternoons, hastily reciting them aloud over and over, so I could escape the lashes on my open palm from the skinny, excrutiatingly painful cane on Monday.

Of all those hundreds of sayings that I learned “by-heart”, the first one springs to mind with explosive force when I read about the hullabaloo being created by the Congressional Budget Office, the private health care insurers, the sundry uninformed junta and the republicans about the cost of the GREAT HEALTH CARE REFORM proposed by the Obama administration.

It was called, “Charity begins at home!”

And I FINALLY understand what that means.  What it means is something similar to the Airline lifejacket rules: If you have a child or an elder sitting beside you, first place your own lifejacket and take care of yourself in the event of a disaster, before you help the child or the elderly. There is a good reason for this: if you become disabled, you cannot help anyone, so help yourself first. Before you give to Charity, first ensure that your plate is full.

And this is exactly what we, as Americans have failed to do. No one, not one senator or congressman really, truly, opposed the Bank Bailout or what is really the beautifully disguised Great American Transfer of Wealth. There were no rallying cries about cost and debt. Public opinion didn’t matter.  They gave to “charity”.

No one really opposed Bush’s built-on-sand war on Iraq that cost and still continues to cost us a big chunk of change.

No one opposed Bush’s tax cuts for the rich that cost us and continue to cost us a bomb. There were no stentorian shouts of injustice, unfairness or unlevel playing fields. They gave to “charity”.

But wait, when it’s Charity for home

-  When it is money for the Stimulus bill to help the unemployed who have been at the receiving end of the Banks deceit that brought the economy crashing?

- When there’s talk about universal health care for everyone in the richest country in the world?

THEN, it’s time to shout about debt, deficit, spending and cost.

When will we learn that Charity SHOULD first begin at home?

Ayan – Tamil movie review

I run a company called “Dash of Masala” and frequently have people ask me what “masala” means. I generally struggle to explain the meaning of this ubiquitous and uniquely Indian word, just because it is so pervasively used in India, not just to signify that perfect blend of spices that whet your appetite and add piquancy to your dish, but also to signify any kind of perfect, finely-honed blend.

And “masala” is the word that sprang to mind when I watched “Ayan” the tamil movie, last night. Why? Because it was the perfect entertainer. I am one of those people who prefer movies that are light, fun and exotic. I am also one of those people who love to watch beautiful people dressed in clothes that cannot be carried off by the hoi-polloi, prancing to throbbing music, beating up bad guys and becoming good by the end of the movie. So, by definition, I am a masala movie fan. And the movie “Ayan” was all that and more!

Take a large dollop of two extremely beautiful, young, vibrant, gorgeous, drool-worthy specimens of humanity. Saute that in a story line of drug lords, African diamonds, movie piracy, diamond smuggling, international travel, customs officers and a gory murder. Add a large cup of a steamy love affair, a back-stabbing brother-in-law, a huge lover’s tiff, a big misunderstanding, and a wonderful making up. Stir fry for about 3 hours. Add a garnish of a couple of sentimental scenes with a widowed, doting mother. And you got it! A masala movie!

Surya, as the hero, is the ultimate droolable male. Beautiful, with greek god chiseled features, gorgeously muscle bound, 6 pack abs, and wonderful emoting abilities, he commands the screen. Tamanna is his lissome love interest, she of the pouting lips, creamy skin, large doe-like eyes and a slender, curvaceous figure. Her role is that of a playful, flippant young college going girl, who is very sure of her beauty and her appeal. All other protangonists are a foil for this beautiful pair – you cannot take your eyes off the screen when either one or both appear.

No Indian movie is complete without the song and dance sequences. And this one has it in abundance: fabulous music, hip-shaking gyrations, gorgeous costumes, lots of supporting dancers, opulent scene settings, and above all, the Indian male’s dream – the heroine wearing the floating chiffon saris complete with beautifully cut backless blouses.

The scenes set in Congo were simply breathtaking with rugged landscapes, undulating deserts and vast rocky mountains.

Ok, now to cut to the chase: here is the story in all of one paragraph: Hero is a bad man who smuggles diamonds, indulges in movie piracy but has a good mom (Oh, glorious womanhood!), meets heroine, falls in love, dances with her, fights with her, makes up with her and then suddenly switches sides to help the cops catch a rival thug. So, he becomes a good guy and his mom asks the cop who worked with the hero to help her son become a good guy. So he becomes a good guy and makes his mom happy. End of story.

Rating: 5 stars, if you like easy-on-the-eye actors, glorious settings, fabulous dances, fantastic costumes, lots of fights, hot chases, and a forgettable story line.

If you are a girl, go see it for Surya’s glistening muscle-bound hot bod.

If you are guy, go see it for the curvy cute Tamanna’s beautiful pouty smile.

Controlling the Alaskan Predators

Sarah Palin’s defense for Alaska’s aerial hunting of wolves, was succinct and in her mind, very convincing. In her words: “Alaskans depend on wildlife for food and cultural practices which can’t be sustained when predators (?) are allowed to decimate moose and caribou populations.” This statement was made, in spite of the fact that aerial wolf hunting in Alaska remains highly controversial. Citizen efforts to stop it continue. Alaska voters have twice approved initiatives to stop the hunts, and another is slated to go on the ballot later this year.

Wolves, in Palin’s book, are predators. Because they hunt and use up moose and caribou for their own sustenance.
For one moment, I want to flip this around so I can see it from a wolf’s viewpoint.

If I were a gray wolf, I would consider Sarah Palin a predator. Palin and her cohorts who hunt and decimate the moose and caribou populations that are the wolves’ main sustenance, are the true predators. Predators who, hunt and kill not only for food, but for pleasure, for sport, for fun, for thrill and to feel macho. Predators who, somehow think that this world is theirs to desecrate, theirs to plunder, theirs and only theirs to do with, as they please. Predators who justify the gassing of wolf pups left orphaned after their mothers and fathers are chased and shot from the air.

A wolf kills caribou and moose so it can eat. That is its natural instinct. It does so, with no guile, no guns, no helicopters, no shooting at the back, no selfish and self-centered arrogance. Whereas, Palin and some of her fellow Alaskans seem to think that the moose and caribou exist for their sole pleasure. The Alaskan land exists just for them. What gives humans the right to label other animals as predators?

Are we not the biggest predators on this planet? Is there anything left to plunder, pillage and rape on any land, after a human being has set his foot on it? Is hunting ever played on a level playing field where we hunt on the ground, without fancy rifles, airplanes and shotguns? Do we ever hunt and kill only what we can consume? Do we ever desist from senseless murder of God’s living beings?

Who is the real predator?

Until Nirvana do us part!

Hindus are united in the belief that human life is actually a cycle – a cycle of birth and death until one attains “Nirvana” or eternal relief. Life on this earth, according to Hindu religion, is all about experiences which lead to the soul’s evolution, until it becomes one with God. And that act of becoming one with God, releases the soul from this cycle – called “Janma-mrityu” (life and death).

Ever since I was a child, I had heard mention about this life, the next one or the one before. Whenever something good happened in my life, I was told that it was the fruit of my actions in my previous life. And when something bad happened, for example, if someone cheated me of money, I was told that I probably owed money in my previous life and was repaying that debt off now. Thus it is, that I am constantly watching my deeds in this life, so that when I am reborn, I am that much closer to attaining Nirvana and hoping to be released from the “Janma-mrityu” cycle.

And as far as I can remember, people in India routinely cursed others who upset them by informing them that they would regress and be born a dog or a cat in their next life for their misdeeds in this one! Stands to reason that I inferred from those remarks that Hindus consider humans as the highest form of life, closer to God than any other being. For a very long time, I have accepted this edict, because it was inculcated in me as a very young child.

That was until we got Subbu, our cat. I am now forced to re-evaluate my assumptions. As I watch his life fly by, day after peaceful day, starting with early morning hugs, caresses, kisses and eternally full food bowl, I am starting to wonder: are humans really the superior beings? Are human closer to God than animals? Are we, indeed, born as humans in this life because of our past good deeds? Or could it be that we are born as humans in this life because we have committed sins in our past lives? Had I been good, and kind and compassionate and loving and grateful, should I not have been born as someone as peaceful, as serene and as happy as my cat?

I think Subbu’s life. more than mine, resembles that of the revered Indian sadhu (ascetic), whose meditations bring him close to God.

I’ll demonstrate with a run-down of his typical day:
5:00 am: It is wake-up time. If the ones who are fortunate enough to serve Subbu aren’t awake, no problem, he is happy to go the extra mile to wake them up so they can finish up their chores of taking care of him, before heading out to work to earn money to feed Subbu. He does that by crouching low by the side of the bed and pouncing on their toes jutting from under the bed cover. He does this repeatedly, all the while making mewing sounds until they wake up. Then he promptly flops on their feet and does a few somersaults to show them that he loves them. Because he looks so sweet when he flops on his back, Subbu’s owners forget to scold him for waking them up at an unearthly hour, in this fashion, and he gets a belly rub, many strokes and lots of kisses instead.

5:10 am: Stroking and petting done. It is time to refill Subbu’s food bowl which has been licked clean during the night. Subbu doesn’t mind having to lead them to his food bowl. He does this by walking a few steps, sitting down facing the direction he wants to lead them, and looking back at them, with his unblinking stare and eyes speaking volumes. As they follow, he’ll walk a few more steps and repeat performance, until he leads them to his empty bowl. Then, an indignant meow will let them know that while they have been remiss in letting his bowl get empty, he’ll forgive them if they refill promptly.

8:00 am: Time to see off the guy who goes out each morning to bring home the moolah! That’s the least Subbu can do. He does this by running down the stairs to the door to say bye and then running up the stairs and racing to the deck to wave goodbye from upstairs.

8:30 am: What is this other person doing? Shouldn’t she be petting Subbu, rather than being stuck in front of that screen? Oh well, Subbu drapes himself on his favorite black chair (the one that attracts the most fur) and looks bored. He spends the next hour or so, staring unblinkingly at the back of her head while he meditates on how wonderful his life is.

9:30 am: Time for a nap. Subbu retires upstairs to the master bedroom. The comforter is a dark red one so it is a perfect foil for an utterly indolent, beautifully soft, gorgeously gray and white fur ball. Subbu settles down for a nap, so his owner can come by and admire his killer looks and take pictures.

9:40 am: Subbu is now on his back, hind paws airborne, fore paws covering his eyes, pink little tongue sticking out, flesh reposing in utter stillness. Life is good.

4:00 pm: Wake up, stretch on the wall, fling oneself on human toes for more petting.

5:00 pm: Time to go out! Run down the stairs and mew loudly by the door until it is opened. Peek out, watch out for dogs, and run outside into the wilderness. Ah! the freedom to chase bugs, climb trees, watch birds and root around nature!

6:00 pm: Here is a strange human who’s walking towards Subbu. Subbu promptly does his “damsel in distress” act! Runs towards the stranger, flings himself at her toes and rolls on his back, all the while watching the human’s reaction out of the corner of his eyes. Predictably, she coos, ooohs and aaahs, stoops down to rub his belly and exclaims loudly about the cute cat! With one more feather in his hat, Subbu gets up, dusts himself off and walks away, tail in the air to resume his wilderness foray, while cruelly leaving behind a damsel in the throes of Subbu love!

9:00 pm: Subbu’s owners are being pests, scouring the neighborhood for him, calling his name loudly and disturbing the peace. Subbu comes bounding out the darkness, his beautiful eyes gleaming and promptly flops at their feet to indicate that he has no plans to go back inside.

9:30 pm: Back home. Its time to play. Subbu races up and down the stairs, pushing the torn cloth mouse and trying to get the lazy owners to work up a sweat. He tries valiantly for about 15 minutes and then gives up and runs up and down on his own, chasing many imaginary mice.

10:00 pm: Time to grab the foot of the master bed before those humans can come by and stretch out in Subbu’s space.

Life, as I said, is good. Peace, happiness, contentment, love, acceptance – complete acceptance of every situation that life throws at Subbu, and so Nirvana cannot be far away.

Now you tell me, my dear reader: is the cat’s life not one of complete surrender to God’s will? Is it not a life filled with positive emotions of love, (universal love, remember the demonstration of love for the stranger who happened to cross his path?), acceptance and peace?

Doesn’t it seem as though a cat is closer to God than man is?

Woman enough!

I am woman enough to be curious about Michelle Obama’s clothes, her hair-do and her new international friends. And I am proud enough of America to want the whole world to swoon at Michelle’s good looks, her carriage, her smartness and her organic vegetable garden like we all do here.

While it is nice to hear once in a while about banalities, it seems almost like a cult following – almost every site I visit, writes with obsessive fervor about her clothes, Oscar de la Renta’s disapproval of her clothes (or designer choice?), the kisses she received from Carla Bruni (more than the kisses received by OTHER first ladies, who only got one kiss, while our Michelle was favored with two, so there!…STOP!

Somehow, it seems extremely flippant and juvenile when the media focuses so much on such trivialities. Like I said, I too, like to hear about clothes, and air kisses, and hairdoes once in a while. I am woman enough for that.

But day in and day out? When we are in the midst of so much crises? When we should be talking about how the Obama administration is trying to circumvent congressional rules for bailout recipients? When we should be demanding that the administration honor the rules instead of flouting them? When we should be asking how is it that the Obama adminstration can pretend that they are more knowledgeable, smarter, more efficient, more rational, more honest, have more integrity (?) and know best what is good for our country and tax payers than the whole country, its people – (who have voiced in no uncertain terms that handouts must be accompanied with straitjackets), and its congressional representatives?

When we should be waking up and demanding that our leaders truly represent us, the taxpayers and the voters rather than big corporations and their interests?

STOP already, about Michelle’s clothes. Get serious. Get real. Enough of the superficiality!

Fat cat squeezing under the fence – AIG, Bankers squeezing into our yard with Geithner’s active help!

Easy does it! Slow and steady.

First, an itty-bitty subprime fiasco.

Then, a housing bust.

Next, a  bailout  of AIG on the quiet. Tell the public AFTER you’ve given them the money.

How about some spice?  Sprinkle a bit on  Fannie and Freddie.

Say it aint so, Lehman’s.

Now, pour $700 billion down the Bank drains.

Oh no! it’s time for AIG once more.

How about some theatrics during the intermission about the Auto industry?

Ah! Time again for AIG!

Not enough?

Let’s put together a TRILLION dollars. It will go to buy the same toxic assets that have been bought again and again, first directly from the banks themselves, then again from the banks via AIG, and now once again…

Like the fat cat squeezing under the fence, we have Corporate bigwigs squeezing into our yard – thanks to help from politicians (like Christopher Dodd) who rewrite the law in the dark of the night to provide loopholes, and a Treasury Secretary who is anxious to please the bigwigs by freely giving away our money!

Oh, look! The head came through!

Oh no, the fat cat is half way in!

Whoops! He’s all the way into our yard!

Jeez! He’s settled in!

Wrapped in TARP

Have you heard of the story of the Camel and the Arab?

It is an interesting story. A story with a moral that we would do well to learn about. A story with an uncanny parable to the behemoth, too-big-to-fail, too-large-to-be-kicked, thumbing-its-nose-at-you AIG’s relationship with the American Taxpayer.

Once upon a time, an Arab was riding his camel across the desert. It was a dark, cold winter. Night was upon him and he decided to take a break. So he set up camp in the desert sand and pegged down his tent. He laid his fine wool carpet on the sand floor of this tent. Then he went outside and lit a fire, cooked his meal over the crackling, smouldering wood, smoked his hookah, downed some wine and finally decided to turn in, into his warm tent. No sooner than he fell asleep, he heard a snort and a head poked into the flap of his tent.

It was his camel. The camel beseeched him to let him keep its head in the tent as the wind was howling loudly and it was very cold outside the tent. So the kind-hearted Arab let the camel keep his head in the tent. In a few minutes the camel edged in further into the tent – upto its shoulders. The Arab protested, but the camel gave him a woebegone look and begged to be allowed to keep his shoulders inside the tent as it was freezing outside. So the Arab took pity on the camel and allowed him to stay half way inside his tent. As the night progressed, the camel pushed in more and more into the tent. Slowly, insidiously, the Arab was shoved outside the tent, until suddenly, he found himself outside the tent, bracing the cold, winter storm, while the camel slept cosily inside the tent.

What does this story remind you of?

AIG and the American Taxpayer!

At first, it was a $5o billion bailout that the public was not even informed about until after it was paid. Before we knew it, the Government had bailed out AIG. They didnt have to come with their begging bowls to Congress like the Automakers had to. They just told Paulson to slip ‘em one and they were paid. We were presented with a fait accompli.

Then it was another $80 billion. And so on until AIG now has the largest infusion of Government money in history. As more and more money gets poured down AIG’s drain, the company gets more and more arrogant. No one can question them any longer. There are no rules they play by. There is no integrity, honesty or shame. They know, as did the Arab’s camel, that once they have their grimy hands on so much of taxpayer money, there is no option but to continue to bail them out, regardless of how they behave. Hark the latest of AIG’s ignominious behavior: paying $164 million in retention (what the??) bonuses to the very executives who have run the company aground!

Like the Arab’s camel, we shouldn’t have let them into our tent in the first place. Now they are wrapped in our TARP and we have been shoved out of our tent!

Obama’s Housing plan and the Responsible Renter

There is a cry of injustice in the air.

This is from people who have been responsible renters. They question the fact that they are being asked to bailout irresponsible homeowners who have bought larger homes than they can afford and are now going into foreclosure. They point out the unfairness of Obama’s housing rescue plan to people who have been renters .  They aver that it is better for home prices to fall due to foreclosures, so that finally, they too, can afford to buy homes that they can now afford.

A completely fair question. A very fair concern. And a very fair free-market expectation.

Let me see if I can help address this concern. Before I start to make my point, I want to clarify: I do not personally stand to gain from Obama’s Housing rescue plan. Not a cent. While I am not an Economics expert, I do try to see both sides of the coin and am trying to look at the economy as a whole.

This downturn has affected all of us and is a danger to this country’s long term stability. From that standpoint, it is important to go to the source of what started off this cascading disaster. The subprime loan fiasco and the foreclosure of homes has been identified by experts as the root cause of this economic meltdown. So, it makes sense that we fix the cause and not the symptoms of the illness.

Job losses, failing banks and auto companies, unemployment lines, disrupted children and families, increase in number of people without health care… all these are symptoms of the disease that has taken hold of our economy. The root cause is the housing market collapse.

As long as most people were diligently paying their mortgages, the banks continued on their merry route to making more and more money. Everything was fine. The sun shone.

As the subprime market started to melt, we felt the first tremors of the housing market. Like any untreated illness, the disease soon spread to other areas and now we have otherwise healthy mortgages failing, sometimes due to a job loss, sometimes due to forces beyond a homeowner’s control and sometimes due to the sheer irresponsibility of being overextended on debt. As more and more homes started to foreclose, it brought home prices down all across the country. Responsible homeowners were now upside down on mortgages that they have been paying diligently. They owed more than their house was worth. And so began more defaults leading to the avalanche of sliding home prices.

In order to staunch that bleeding, the Obama administration has correctly addressed the root cause: stem the foreclosures.

But what does that do for renters?

Now, there are two types of renters: ones that will probably always rent their whole lives for a variety of reasons – maybe they are nomadic, or they love the freedom of not being tied down to a home or they choose to rent for a variety of economic reasons. The housing meltdown does not affect them significantly, other than the fact that their rents probably came down a bit - they now have more bargaining power because there are many more homes for rent in the market.

The second kind of renter is the one who, with the falling prices, can now finally afford to buy a home. These are the people who have protested Obama’s Housing rescue plan vociferously. They feel they can now finally afford a home because home prices are where they should be.

Nobody is arguing the validity of their point.

But here is my opinion: if a renter can now finally afford to purchase a home, there is no dearth of foreclosed homes to purchase. Allowing foreclosures to continue unchecked will cause great danger by letting the markets go into a free-fall  until the entire economy collapses. And a collapsing economy will certainly hurt everyone. Even though a renter can finally afford to purchase, he/she may not be able to get a loan as banks which have been singed by defaulting homeowners will now be extra careful about giving loans to new homeowners. In addition, even if banks are willing to lend, they do not have the money to do so.

This situation reminds me of the “dog and pebble” story that Indians love to tell – When one finds a stray dog and wants to aim a pebble to chase it off, one cannot find the right sized pebble. And if there is a right sized pebble, a stray dog is nowhere in sight.

Likewise, this feeling of being able to take advantage of the foreclosure market. Homes are now available and affordable, but loans are harder to get. And with more homes being foreclosed, the cascading effect on the economy as a whole, is terrible to contemplate.

So, Renters! The govt. is not just using our hard-earned tax dollars to benefit irresponsible homeowners. The dollars are actually being used to prop up our economy by fixing the root cause of the disease, so that we all may have jobs, stable homes and health care.

Foreclosures are a lose-lose for EVERYONE – homeowners, lenders, banks, renters and new purchasers. If we take a step back and look it from a bird’s eye view, we will see that Obama’s plan, while not perfect, will eventually help prop up the economy, IF carried out without interference from vested interests.

But that’s a big IF.

Obama’s Housing Rescue Plan and the Responsible Homeowner

There is an uproar in the air.

Rants like the ones by the (in)famous Rick Santelli, has people up in arms, about not wanting to pay for their neighbor’s mortgage.  Rick’s rant reminds me of the Sudanese people who protested the International Criminal Court’s arrest warrant for their President, who has been accused of committing war crimes and genocide against the people of Darfur. The depths of ignorance that encourages such great manipulation is stunning. That the very same people whose friends, neighbors and relatives have been the target of genocide, now protest the arrest warrant of the person who is responsible for the genocide, is at best very sad and at worst, another crime of exploitation against the ignorant.

Like the Sudanese, some of our people are being misled, once again, by the likes of Rick Santelli. I know the example of manipulation and exploitation I gave above is hard-hitting, but the point is this: we shouldn’t miss the forest for the trees. Let us not cut off our noses to spite our face.

Obama’s plan to rescue homeowners who are stuck in high interest, fancy mortgages that they are unable to pay has gotten a lot of people’s (especially Republicans!) knickers in a bunch. Many have said that they do not want to rescue irresponsible people who have taken out a larger mortgage than they can afford or bought a larger house than they can afford.

For one second, lets set aside the fact that the taxpayer is rescuing irresponsible banks and financial companies to the tune of many billions, even though many have knowingly sold bad mortgages to people by misleading, mis-stating or misinforming them. That is a debate for another blog post.

Even if the American taxpayer was not rescuing the banks and financial industries, I would still recommend we stand by Obama’s plan to rescue the distressed homeowner.

Why do I say this? It is not because I stand to gain personally. No, I will not benefit from Obama’s plan, so there is no vested interest here. The reason I support Obama’s plan, even though it is not perfect, is this: If there is ever a chance that the housing market recovers and by virtue of its tight interconnection, the financial markets recover, the only hope is to stem the foreclosures.

The banks which are opposing or dampening the extent of Obama’s homeowner rescue package are continuing to exhibit the very same behavior that caused this collapse: that of greed, selfishness and short term mercenary avarice. What they do not understand is this: foreclosure benefits no one. NO ONE!. Not even the neighbor who has been very meticulous is paying his mortgage, very responsible in buying the home he can afford and who now resents having to rescue someone he considers irresponsible.

When a home in a neighborhood goes into foreclosure, all the bank is interested in, is to retrieve the principal they put into it. The homeowner might have had about 10% or 20% invested in the home. But the bank will very easily price the home down to get it off its books. What does that do to a neighbor’s home, the one who has been responsibly paying his mortgage? It automatically brings the value of his house down to match that of the foreclosure. In the end, as more foreclosures hit a neighborhood, the value of all the properties go down – it no longer matters if they are foreclosed or not.

So it is in the best interest of ALL of us, even those who have been religious about paying our mortgages, to stem foreclosures. The money spent will eventually benefit EVERYONE, not just the ones who are being rescued.

And Obama’s plan, tries to achieve some of it (provided the banks don’t lobby the House and Senate to add their riders to mangle the plan.)