Why I Believe Privatizing Federal Functions is the Wrong Move

In my opinion, the federal government could spend money more wisely, but privatizing its functions isn’t the way to fix its inefficiencies. Having served almost ten years in the Navy and later worked as a Federal Contractor, I’ve seen plenty of waste in government operations. But from my perspective, it’s rarely due to corruption or fraud—it’s mostly inefficiencies and bureaucracy. I believe this is where the focus for reform should be, not on handing over responsibilities to private companies. 

The Problem with Privatization 

To me, privatizing federal services like Medicare or education seems counterproductive. Private companies exist to make a profit, and that doesn’t align with the government’s mission to serve its citizens. In my experience, privatization will inevitably lead to one of two outcomes: 

1. Services Cost More: Profit motives will force recipients to pay more for the same services.

 

2. Quality is Reduced: To maintain profitability, private companies might cut corners, meaning recipients get less for their money.

I find it hard to believe privatization could do anything but shift costs to the people who need these services most. For me, this is especially troubling when it comes to essential programs that millions of people rely on for health, education, and basic support. 

My Perspective on Fixing the Problem 

From what I’ve seen, the government can do better without privatizing. During my time as a contractor, I worked to improve the efficiency of federal procurement. These processes originated in an era when everything was done manually—with typewriters, carbon copies, and standardized forms like the SF279 and SF281. The problem is, when automation was introduced, it was often designed to replicate those old processes instead of rethinking them from the ground up. Even today, every agency seems to have its own variations of these forms, creating unnecessary duplication and inefficiencies. To me, this is a prime example of how government operations could be streamlined. Enforcing consistent, modernized practices could save a lot of time and taxpayer money without sacrificing service quality.

What I’d Like to See Instead

Here’s what I think the government should focus on to spend money more wisely: 

1. Streamline Processes: Enforce consistent use of standardized forms and procedures across all agencies.

 2. Bring in Efficiency Experts: Let contractors or specialists identify and fix inefficiencies, but keep the core services in-house.

3. Rethink Automation: Move away from outdated systems that mimic manual processes and invest in technology designed for the modern era. 

Why This Matters to Me 

I understand that some people see privatization as a way to cut costs, but in my opinion, it’s a short-sighted approach. It might save the government money on paper, but it’ll always end up costing recipients more or leaving them with less. As someone who has worked both in government and as a contractor, I know there’s plenty of room for improvement. But I feel strongly that we shouldn’t sacrifice the public good for the sake of private profit.

Catching the Software Bug: My First Taste of Programming

I wrote my first computer program in the summer of 1971, during a one-week course at the University of Missouri at Columbia. I was between my junior and senior years of high school, and it was my first experience with the mysterious world of computing. We learned FORTRAN WATFOR, punching commands onto stacks of IBM cards and feeding them into an IBM 360 mainframe.

The process was mesmerizing. Our job priority on the system was so high that we could feed our stack of cards into the reader, stroll into the printer room, and watch our program's output emerge almost immediately. That immediate feedback was exhilarating—computers were amazing, and making them work felt like unlocking some kind of magic.

That summer, I was fortunate to have extended access to the system. On my own time, I developed a simple program—nothing groundbreaking, but it lit a fire in me. The thrill of creating something functional, even on such a basic level, left a lasting impression.

Fast forward a couple of years, and I found myself at the University of Missouri at Rolla, punching those same cards and running FORTRAN programs on a similar mainframe. The excitement, however, was tempered by reality. Job priorities were lower; you’d submit your deck of cards and wait—sometimes a day or more—to see if your program had run successfully or crashed in a storm of syntax errors.

By my second semester, I had caught up on what I’d learned that summer and realized I wasn’t gaining much more. I turned in every program on time, they all worked, but my interest waned. Midway through the term, I quit attending class entirely, telling myself it wasn’t worth the effort.

Looking back, I see that was a mistake. Completing the course would have been an easy A—a rarity in my academic record—and I could have used the boost. But at the time, I was restless, my life was heading in a new direction, albeit a not so fruitful path.

Though I didn’t pursue programming again immediately, that early exposure planted a seed. Years later, I found my way back to software development, and that initial excitement I felt in front of the IBM 360 never truly left me. Accept now it was an Atari 800, and a 13" color television as a monitor.

Sometimes, it takes a while to find your path, but those early sparks of curiosity and passion have a way of guiding you—even if you don’t see it at first.

Anonymity in Alcoholics Anonymous: Protecting People, Places, and Events

Anonymity is a cornerstone of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), crucial to its success and the safety of its members. The principle goes beyond mere privacy—it serves as a protective shield for individuals in recovery, ensuring they can focus on their sobriety without fear of exposure, stigma, or judgment. In this article, we'll explore how anonymity relates to people, places, and events both within and outside the fellowship, and why it’s important for the continued growth and effectiveness of AA.

Anonymity and People

At the heart of AA is the belief that the fellowship should protect the identity of its members. This allows people to attend meetings without the worry of being identified as someone struggling with alcoholism. It's not just about personal privacy—it's also about humility. Anonymity discourages ego from becoming a driving force in someone's recovery, keeping everyone on equal footing regardless of their status outside the rooms of AA.

Consider, for example, a public figure who attends an AA meeting. If their attendance were made public, it could discourage others from attending for fear of being associated with alcoholism. It could also turn the meeting into a spectacle, where the focus shifts away from recovery and toward curiosity about the individual. By staying anonymous, both the person and the fellowship maintain integrity, and the individual is allowed to recover without the added pressure of public scrutiny.

Anonymity and Places

When people gather for AA meetings, they typically do so in specific locations—church basements, community centers, or rented spaces. These places are generally neutral and do not publicize AA’s activities to the broader community. If meetings were highly publicized or linked to specific organizations or venues, it might deter newcomers who feel self-conscious about being seen entering a known AA space. Additionally, the locations might develop a reputation that could compromise their purpose as safe, judgment-free environments for recovery.

A lack of anonymity regarding meeting locations could also lead to a phenomenon known as "attraction rather than promotion." AA operates on the principle that individuals should be drawn to the program based on its merits, not through aggressive advertising or publicized events. Anonymity ensures that meetings are primarily about recovery, not about the place or its associated reputation.

Anonymity and Events

Events related to AA, such as conventions or sober retreats, also operate under the principle of anonymity. While these gatherings can be vital for connection and recovery, they generally avoid publicizing attendees or activities outside of the AA community. For instance, an AA convention held in a public venue might list only the time and place, but not publicize individual speakers or notable attendees. This maintains the focus on recovery rather than personalities, ensuring that those attending feel safe and respected.

A public event that ignored anonymity could become more about the spectacle than the substance. Imagine a well-known speaker being announced at a convention in a way that attracts public media or curiosity-seekers. The event would lose its primary purpose—helping individuals recover—by becoming a public affair. Anonymity preserves the spirit of recovery by keeping the focus on principles, not personalities.

Examples of Breaches of Anonymity and Improvements

History has seen several instances where anonymity in AA was breached, often with negative consequences. One such example occurred when a famous actor publicly disclosed his involvement in AA. While his intention may have been to destigmatize alcoholism, it inadvertently placed him as a representative of the fellowship. This contradicts AA’s Twelfth Tradition, which states that anonymity is “the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.” By placing an individual’s identity in the public eye, it distorts the purpose of anonymity and shifts the focus away from recovery.

In contrast, consider how anonymity could have improved the situation. The actor could have shared about recovery in a more general sense, avoiding specifics about AA. This would preserve his personal choice to speak out while still protecting the fellowship’s core value of humility and equality. Alternatively, he could speak about addiction through a professional or charitable organization, removing the direct link to his AA participation.

Conclusion

Anonymity in AA is not just a privacy measure—it’s a foundational principle that protects individuals, creates safe spaces for recovery, and ensures that the focus remains on sobriety rather than personalities or public perception. Whether related to people, places, or events, anonymity safeguards the fellowship’s integrity, allowing it to operate based on attraction rather than promotion. Without anonymity, the dynamics of AA could easily be compromised, turning recovery into a public spectacle or leading to stigmatization. By honoring this vital tradition, AA ensures that anyone seeking help can do so without fear, in a place where their identity and privacy are respected.

The Heartlessness of Capitalism: A Call for Compassion in Business

The audacity of capitalism never ceases to amaze. Recently, I heard a story that epitomizes the cold, unfeeling nature of many modern businesses, revealing a systemic issue that demands immediate attention and action.

A good friend of mine has a brother who had been diligently working at the same company for nearly forty years. As he approached retirement age, he decided to give his employer ample notice of his plans, informing them in February that he intended to retire the following January. This gesture, intended to provide the company with enough time to plan for his departure, was met with an astonishingly callous response. Less than sixty days after his notification, the company informed him that he would be laid off by the end of June.

This isn't an isolated incident. I myself experienced a similar situation, though in my case, I was fortunate enough to receive a decent severance package and some health insurance assistance. My friend's brother, however, received none of that. This lack of support for a long-term, loyal employee is not just crass but heartless.

Such stories highlight a broader, more disturbing trend within capitalism. Businesses that rake in hundreds of millions, if not billions, of dollars, often do so at the expense of their workers' well-being. The focus on profit margins and shareholder returns has created a corporate culture that devalues loyalty, experience, and human decency.

It's time for businesses to do better. It's time for businesses to prioritize compassion over capital. This involves recognizing the value of their employees, not just in terms of the labor they provide, but as individuals with lives, families, and futures. When an employee dedicates a significant portion of their life to a company, the least that company can do is ensure that their departure is handled with respect and care.

We need to hold businesses accountable for their treatment of employees. It's not enough to expect less from capitalism; we must demand more. Companies must be pressured to adopt policies that reflect a commitment to their workers' well-being, not just their bottom line.

It's time for a shift in corporate culture, from one that values profit above all else to one that understands the importance of compassion, loyalty, and respect. Businesses that fail to make this shift will continue to lose the trust and loyalty of their employees, leading to a workforce that feels undervalued and dispensable.

As consumers, investors, and workers, we have the power to influence this change. By supporting companies that demonstrate ethical practices and treating their employees with respect, we can help foster a more compassionate form of capitalism—one that recognizes the true value of its people.

A Different Breed of Geek: My Frustration with Facebook

I’ve always been a geek, ever since the summer of 1971 when I was programming Fortran on an IBM 360 using punch cards. But I wasn’t your typical pocket-protector kind of geek. A friend once called me a “different breed of cat,” and I’ve always relished that description.

Over the years, I’ve dabbled in various technologies and projects. From using FidoNet with a 300 bps modem to working with dBase on a Navy work planning app, I’ve seen it all. My first paid programming job involved maintaining a gas station accounting system using compiled BASIC on dual floppy PCs. I’ve rebuilt the engine in my MG B, replaced clutches in a Dodge Colt and a ’65 Corvair, built a coffee table, and even painted farm buildings one summer. My first email address was with ix.netcom.com, which later got absorbed by earthlink.net. I was thrilled to get my Gmail invite, thanks Eric B.

I’ve always considered myself an early adopter, not bleeding edge, but I like playing with the new stuff. I’ve used Twitter, LinkedIn, and soon found myself on Facebook. Over time, I’ve become pickier about what platforms I use. Facebook has been my go-to social media for a while. I understand the algorithms and what they do with my data based on my interactions. I’ve had blogs hosted on various services, and I enjoy writing and sharing my thoughts.

Here’s where my frustration begins. I’ve tried multiple times to post a link to my blog, [Finest Kine Aloha Friday](https://finest-kine-aloha-friday.blogspot.com/), on Facebook (or should I call it Meta now?). Every time I try, my post gets rejected for violating community standards. I don’t get it. There are far more controversial reels out there that don’t get flagged. 

I suspect there’s a Google-Meta issue at play here. I’ve never been keen on sharing personal stuff on Meta anyway; they already know too much. I just want to point my friends to my blog, where I’m working on writing more. 

Is it too much to ask for a little leeway to share harmless blog posts with friends?

Navigating the culinary landscape in the US can often feel like a whimsical adventure through a tapestry of diverse and often amusing restaurant names. Just the other day, I found myself enchanted by a supposedly Italian establishment proudly bearing the name "XYZ Ristorante." The word itself seemed to demand a melodious, exaggerated Italian accent—"Ris-to-ran-te, Ris-to-ran-te, Ris-to-ran-te", echoing in my head like a delightful mantra. This compulsion to mimic the phonetic flair of the name was irresistible, transforming a simple glance at a restaurant sign into an impromptu language lesson and a playful moment of cultural immersion.

This isn't a singular quirk reserved for Italian eateries alone; it extends to a myriad of cuisines. Whether it's a French "Boulangerie," a Japanese "Sushi-ya," or a Mexican "Taquería," each name carries its unique rhythm and charm, begging to be pronounced with as much authenticity as my imagination can muster. It's a fun, albeit mildly obsessive habit that turns every dining decision into a theatrical performance. While this may be a lighthearted way to engage with the cultural diversity of the food scene, I can't help but wonder if there’s a support group for those of us who find ourselves repeatedly chanting restaurant names with exaggerated accents. If there is, I need help...