Fallen woman

So, it appears that that the trustee overseeing the liquidation of Bernie Madoff's estate (which was, technically, comprised of pieces of his clients' estates) has now gone after Madoff's wife Ruth for $45 million bucks, money he says was spent on a "life of splendor".

I have to confess, I find Ruth's song much more compelling than Bernie's. The guy was a conman and a swindler, an Upper East Side thief, liar and consort to the hyper-wealthy. He ripped off a bunch of rich people so he could be a rich person, and the regulatory coddling that (especially) Bush's administration laid on the super rich allowed him a fairly lengthy career at enjoying other people's money.

At the of appearing Marxist (which is what you get called these days when you question what value the super rich bestow to the society at large...), it's hard for me to feel too sorry for all of Madoff's victims, as I assume at least some of the wealth he squandered was probably inherited, stolen, chiseled, swindled...etc. More streams of nickels floating up from the people who actually work for a living, to the folks who have to hire people to count their fortunes. I'd love to riff on Madoff as a methaphor for what this nation really is...we'll save the plutocrat-harshin' for another time. (I will reserve some moral outrage at the charities that Madoff wiped out - different story altogether.)

But what of Ruth? Lets see...a $7 million penthouse in Manhattan. A nice place in Palm Beach. A little chateau on the French Riviera. At least two yachts. $2.6 million in jewels. All the usual rich-wife stuff. And in a matter of months, her husband is arrested for (and admits to) sheer, unadulterated stealing, to the tune of tens of billions . She is kicked out of her Manhattan penthouse. Her bank accounts (the ones they could find, anyway) are seized. Vacation properties, yachts...confiscated. All over. From being queen, floating atop uncountable frothy millions that seemingly appeared magically and effortlessly, to being nearly homeless, prison-widowed, estranmged from her two sons and probably the most reviled not-incarcerated person New York.

An ethicist pondered back in April what "duty" Ruth had, or may have had, to really understand where her husband's fortune came from...to reconcile her susupicions, if she had any, to her generous and seemingly unrestrained enjoyment of vast sums of money that Bernie seemed to make without actually doing anything. And what responsibility, if any, to make it right for the people her husband stole from. Seeing her suffer this fall may have to be enough for her victims, since you can't undrink fine wine, un-tip French waiters...un-live-it-up.

Personally, I'm okay being small enough to savor her crash and burn, the furrowed and shell-shocked expressions captured in NY newspaper photos. Anger, decompression, shock (yeah, right), righteous rage...."how can they take it all away??? "

One wonders how many other hyper-wealthy financial player couple are out there, similarly marinating in years' worth of entitlement, never wondering what the laid-off, uninsured, un- or under-employed moms and dads out there were doing, but merely pefecting the fine art of opulence, racing toward the finish line in a car whose license plates may not ever be spotted by someone looking out for thieves, conmen, economic vampires...the money changers and their companions, partners in fine living. Madoff got caught. How many of these cynical leeches (Dick Fuld, are you listening?) are doing it legally?

And what of what their wives? None of whom have done a goddamned thing to live like that....not even having had the ingenuity to steal .

How many will escape the plummet to earth that Ruthie Madoff did, but drift off instead on the gossamer wings of entitlement's guardian angels?

Upcoming

Busy next couple of weeks. Interviewing Kyle Hollingsworth, keyboardist for the mostly-retired String Cheese Incident, one of Boulder's premiere jamgrass outfits, tomorrow for a piece in the Fall edition of Boulder Magazine.

Then a piece on Nebula, fuzz-psych band from LA. Airborne Toxic Event next week, as well as a hoped-for phoner with guitarist legend Larry Carlton soon.

Los Lobos brings its endless road show to Chautauqua late in Aug - unknown if the paper will run a story on them. And Buckethead returns to the Fox - hope to catch that.

Summer in Lakewood

Nice visit to see the Rodemann clan this week - I am working most all day, spending evenings with Sharon's kids and related tribal members. Weather's been nice - not too muggy, unusual for July in the Cleveland area.

The drive out was long, as always - we caught a nice cemetery by chance when we stopped in Adair, IA. Old farming community cemetery, beautifully maintained and framed by a large windfarm to the south and east.

Michael Jackson's ghost?

Interesting video, I find it difficult to write off, but pretty long shot from convincing.

They don't know...

...where Michasel Jackson will be buried.

I know, but I'm not telling.

Jerry Joseph

Got Jerry Joseph today - one of the Boulder historic music scene's most famously neglected anti-heroes, Joseph graduated from party-fun-hippy-reggae band frontguy to a lethally affecting songwriter and jack of all trades, lurking as the resident Elvis Costello-via-Tom Waits songwriter sidekick to the jam scene (famously associated with tireless promotion of Widespread Panic back in the late 80's), and now fronting The Jackmormons (his day gig for the better part of a decade) and playing Stockholm Syndrome, a kind of jam supergroup made up of Panic and Gov't Mule members.

He brings both bands to Boulder for gigs late next week - interview went reasonably well, he's always good for wry observations on loads of subjects, although his cell signal kept blinking in and out, so patching together a story may be a challenge.

Worth mentioning - his latest EP, "Charge" recorded with his NYC songwriter/dobroist buddy Bret Mosely is a serious treat, and even features an oddly consonant cover of Modest Mouse's "Missed The Boat"

Shame on me

...for slacking off the blog thing.

No, I didn't join the Twitter thing.

No, I wasn't in mourning over Michael.

Just distracted.