01 December 2010

Geography Lesson

(Map of either New York or Iraq on Willow napkin. Drawing by Jon, no H, photo Socotra.)

I got a note from a really smart colleague who said intelligence professionals should leave the Dismal Science of Economics to the economists and stick to planning things to blow up.

I am inclined to agree with him, since he pointed out the internal problems with the graphic that Mr. Hauser uses to demonstrate the folly of raising taxes without providing a stimulus for growth in the Gross Domestic Product. I demurred a bit, since I think close enough is good enough in economics, hand grenades and horse-shoes, and whatever is going to happen, we are all going to get…well you know.

The plan to eliminate our deductions in the tax code will be out today. Stand by. This is going to suck.

It was not a bad day, despite all that. There was warmth and moisture in the air mass over Northern Virginia, the southern breeze slowly losing the battle with the bitter northwest arctic express. But it was still pretty much OK.

There was nothing on the menu for social activity and I was thinking about going to the gym after work. And then I thought that the Bush tax cuts expire in exactly a month. I don’t know what it is going to cost, this big fixit plan for the country, but I do not trust anyone in a position to do anything about it, and went to Willow instead.

No expectations, and the rain was just starting as my partner in crime and I stood against the frantic traffic on Fairfax Drive, waiting to cross. The darkness by five o’clock is so profound and so depressing that whoever says Vitamin D supplements are not critical is out of their mind.

As we came up to the entrance to the bar Elisabeth-with-an-S blew out in the other direction. Her second shift had been cut, and she was off for the evening. I contemplated following her, since she is about as smart and saucy as you can get, but I realized that the Willow is performance art, and you have to let the performers have their privacy.
 
Inside there were some of the usual suspects: Old Jim, his wife Mary, the new couple from Seattle who look like they might be contenders, Jim from Pittsburgh behind the bar, and Jon-with-no-h who passed the John who had one on the way out.

Jon apparently had embarked on a geography lesson, and we all joined in. The Empire State is where he was from, originally, and over Gray Goose martinis and crisp cheap white wine we peppered him with questions:

“Finger Lakes? Camp Drum?” asked Jim from behind the bar, pouring a very neat dirty martini.

“It is Fort Drum, now. Home of the Tenth Mountain Division, the veterans of which formed the National Ski Patrol,”

“Gateway to Watertown and the Thousand Islands!”

“Saint Lawrence Seaway- how many Great Lakes share New York’s coastline?”

I looked owlishly at the napkin. “It looks like Iraq,” I said. “Where is Basra on that map?”

 Jon carefully placed a dot on the place where the Shatt al Arab would be, if it was in New York state.

I had to give him a toast. I may not know beans about Economics, but I know you can always learn something new at Willow.

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
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