Monthly Archives: February 2010

Obama’s Annual Physical in Glorious Technicolor

Obama’s Annual Physical in Glorious Technicolor
Obama has no privacy. He had his annual physical this morning, and we already have the results. Yes, I’m nosey, so when Mediaite sent them to me, I read them.  Chalk it up to being a health care blogger:-)

Mediaite thought Obama was a cyborg because he had 20/20 vision and no surgeries at age 48. Well, so did I, and neither did I. That really doesn’t make him a cyborg. It’s actually quite common to be healthy until you are 50, but it sounds like Obama’s heading for knee surgery, because he has some patella issues and the knee is our most primitive joint. Between running and playing basketball, he will almost inevitably do in his knee. And because he’s on a special health plan, he will be able to have his knee replaced before he limps over the finish line to Medicare. Most of my friends have had to wait.
Obama has cholesterol as high as mine, and I’ve got 20 years on him. I also have higher HDLs and lower triglycerides. He needs to cut out the smoking and eat less meat. Apparently, he is trying.
He should also quit taking those NSAIDs for his knee, because they will destroy his stomach. Or at lease he has a good chance of that.
And, he had a pretty bad night last night.  How do I know that? Because he had a CT-colonography this morning and you have to clean your colon out for that, which is the worst part of the test.
It’s unbelievable that we worry about the privacy of the ordinary citizen’s health records so much and then put the President’s up on the internet almost in real time.

Posted via email from Not Really Stealthmode

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Judging the Hive Awards

Judging the Hive Awards

I'm in the process of judging the First Annual Hive Awards, to be presented on March 12 at SXSWi , which honor the unsung heroes behind the great products we're all using on the web. It's an awards program for the people who make the apps work: make them do what the marketing department says they do.

The criteria are simultaneously simple and complex: does the product do what the awards application says it does? And is it special?

I've been in so many meetings with developers where the question  "will my mom be able to use this?" has not been asked, This question is code [oops, not code but English] for "can any fool figure this out." 

Now these apps are being put to the "mom" test. I'm a mom, even a grand mom. And I also beta test apps for a few hours every day, just for fun. So I'm the perfect cross between the power user and the ordinary citizen. Not only do I have to be able to use the fifteen apps I'm judging, which range from enterprise sales training to iPhone music, but I have to know whether they can differentiate themselves from everything else that's out there competing for attention.

You'd be surprised what I'm finding. Very high quality of entries, especially from unexpected sources.

Of course I can't tell you whose products I'm judging, or what I like, or who will win, but I am honored to be a judge. 

Posted via email from Not Really Stealthmode

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Meet Metro Phoenix (Again): Now Opportunity Oasis

Meet Metro Phoenix (Again): Now Opportunity Oasis

Every time the economy goes bad, Phoenix does a re-brand.  It makes up a new story about itself, and tries to sell that story to the masses.  We’ve gone from trying to be the “West’s Most Western Town,” to being the “Solar Oasis,” to being “Copper Square,” to being whatever the latest branding agency thinks will encourage people to move here. This time it is Metro Phoenix DNA, Phoenix as an” opportunity oasis.” The three main “story” messages are Urban Pioneering, Upscale Desert Garden, and Open Space thinking. These are the flip side of our problems: no real urban center, not enough water for ultimate growth, and sprawl. They’re the positive spin. In an age of authenticity, I find them difficult to deal with.

All of these positive messages, of course, are designed to re-ignite growth, the engine that has always driven us. This time the euphemism for growth is “talent.” We’re not looking for retirees, or escapees (our original settlers).  How can we make Phoenix grow again? This time the buzz word is “talent.”

CEOs for Cities is the group helping us this time. We’re listening to a big pep talk from the head of this group, Carol Coletta. I get up to remind her that I’ve been in Phoenix for forty years and have seen multiple re-brands, none of which are kept long enough to stick.  I already know what will happen: the economy will turn around, we will start to grow again, the real estate people will get re-rich (the same people get rich, poor, and re-rich in Phoenix because they are like riverboat gamblers), and the collaborators in the brand strategy for Phoenix will lose interest and retreat into their private gated communities.

Yes, I’m cynical. I know we have a horrible education system, and our state government does not wish to spend one dime on our children. In fact, it is trying to opt out of as much government as it can, from Medicaid to running the prisons.  We have outsourced everything.  If we are going to raise a tax to cover a record budget deficit, we refer it to the voters, so that no legislator has to take the rap for raising taxes.

Yes, Phoenix is a clean canvas.  That’s because people come here, discover they can’t get a good job, and leave again. You don’t stop that with a branding campaign.

Especially if the first plank in that platform is a….print magazine. Yes, that’s what we’re being shown here. Is this what the community thinks will attract talent????? After that comes the web site and the (nearly ready) iPhone app. We are assured that the GeoPhx iphone app will be “viral.” There’s also a social media plan, WhyPhx that will also, he assures, us, be viral.

Across the room are my friends Derek Neighbors from Gangplank and Tyler Hurst from CenPhoCamp. As this speaker explains why social media is viral, I can hardly contain my laughter. I want to believe, but I can’t. I’ve been betrayed by this religion too many times.  My own children have left the community.

Look around you, branders. What about Gangplank? What about the tech community that’s already here, that doesn’t get included in these efforts?  What about the downtown Phoenix people who are already involved? The Local First people? We’re so splintered that we don’t even know each other.

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Bloggers Know Joe Stack is America

Bloggers Know Joe Stack is America

The day an unbalanced, disgruntled Texan named Joe Stack flew a small plane into the IRS offices in Austin, I wrote an immediate blog post about it. As always, I wrote it to collate and express my own reactions, which were surprisingly strong. Only when I finished the post did I look back on it and realize how I really felt, which is what the writing process does for me. I felt a surprising empathy for this Joe Stack after I read the six-page manifesto he left on his web site explaining why he did it, so I wrote about it. To me, he was more than another “crazy.”

I never expect many comments on my posts, although occasionally they are re-tweeted by three or four loyal readers. This one has had dozens of comments, almost all from people I don’t know. I think they shared my opinion that he was more than just another crazy.

The interesting point about the comments is that they are thoughtful, long, and substantive. While some of them berate me for sympathizing with Joe even a little, and others berate the US, the federal government, the population, etc, and still others relate their own stories, that’s not what made me devote more space to this subject.

Why I’m so impressed is because people took so much time to think and write in their comments. Admittedly, most of the big blogs get lots of comments, but I don’t.  And long comments, long enough to be their own posts, are even more rare. Clearly, I hit a nerve. But that’s not the point either.

The point is that people are willing to devote time and energy to expressing the opinions and frustrations to relative strangers online. It means there is hunger for a real discussion or dialogue, and an opening for change. The “attention gestures” represented by comments on blogs, by re-tweets or by other recommendations, seem more accurate to me than typical political pollsters in gauging the state of public opinion and the relative importance of one issue over another.

This week’s incident and the microcosm of my blog comments catch the essence of what the US has done to its citizens over the course of the last, say, thirty years. From the 80s, known even then as the “me”decade, to the mortgage bubble, we have all been told we’re entitled to all the consumer goods and life experiences credit can buy.  We’re told this by both government and advertising, which during my lifetime has penetrated the surfaces of everything I see and become embedded in everything I hear.

Of course these high expectations become a sort of inner cattle prod, fomenting entitlement and dissatisfaction, culminating not only in Joe Stack’s actions, but in the  fear, anger, and unmet “needs” of an entire population. This population  can elect and unelect any party or person it wants, but out problems are internal, not external.

IMHO, we don’t look at this enough. People are desperately trying to be heard, and I’m not sure who is listening.

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Aurora Loan Services Saga, Part 2

Aurora Loan Services Saga, Part 2
After my blog post on Huffpo about Aurora Loan Services, a friend of mine suggested I try to find someone from the company on LinkedIn, and I did. I found the COO, who referrred me to the VP of Quality, and within 48 hours I was in a trial modification program, supposedly 2% for 30 years. Why didn't I jump up and down for joy?

Because, it's a trial program, during which they evaluate my financial statements again and can throw me out if my income is too high or too low (I have no idea of the criteria), and because I also have a HELOC (a second) that I need to modify and I couldn't find anyone relevant on LinkedIn from Citigroup.

So now I get a statement online from Aurora, cheerfully telling me I owe $7201, which represents two months payments on the NON-modified mortgage. For purposes of the record, here's what I wrote back:

I just got a statement online from you saying I owe $7201, which appears to be 2 months.  I know I have to send $2320 before March 1, and that's queued up in my system to go already.  The last check for $2320 went into your mortgage modification program separately and was a hand check in January February. Please confirm that you got it.  It looks like your online system still thinks I am not in the program. 

I also just sent two more documents you said you needed: verification of my Social Security benefits and a 2009 P & L.  Please verify that you got those, too.

And while you are at it, please verify that I am actually in the trial loan modification program, because I went into it through your VP of Quality, who sent me an email saying I had been selected for a trial modification, 30 years 2 % program for the next four months to see if I could afford it.

Everyone from your organization tells me something different. Thank goodness email provides an audit trail.
 
And your web site does not work in Safari or Chrome? Why not?

For the record, I've stayed current, although depleting all my liquid assets, throughout my fifteen-month ordeal to get this loan modified. So this is almost  like a game to Aurora. Everyone else who comments on my blog posts about them has either walked voluntarily or been foreclosed. I'm like a pit bull, but I have better things to do. More later:-)

Posted via email from Not Really Stealthmode

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Joe Stack, R.I. P.

Joe Stack, R.I. P.
I've just taken the time to read all of Joe Stack's suicide note. What follows is sheer emotional reaction and unfiltered, so if you disagree, remember you certainly have a right to do so, and I will expect it.

I have shared many of Joe Stack's experiences. Like him, I've been 'wiped ou't financially by every crash, and like him, I've recovered. Like him, I've been targeted by the IRS while it desperately tries to collect money while not disturbing the big guys who are headquartered in the Bahamas. Like him, I hired an accountant whom I discovered early on was much more interested in preserving his good standing with the IRS (and thus a stream of future revenue beyond just me), and therefore was less than helpful to me. I ended up going in by myself and making a deal. (Try it; it's not so difficult.)

Like Joe Stack, I am a product of the educational system that taught me American is a land of opportunity, and that if I just get my education, I will be fine. And like Joe Stack, went to more than 16 years of school (twenty, because I have a Ph.D).
Like Joe Stack, my life has been impacted by divorce, and by the current economy, and by the constant devaluing of the middle class's labor. Like him, I see the inequities in the health care system, where how long you live depends on how much money you have for both preventive care and end-of-life care.

When I read his suicide note, there was a lot I could identify with, nod in agreement with.

So why haven't I flown my plane into the IRS building in Austin? And why won't I ever? (This is a metaphor. I don't own a plane, and couldn't fly it if I did. Even a Cherokee).

Because I look at these things from a different perspective.  I've been in Africa, India, China, Costa Rica, Mexico. I've seen people literally without a pot to pee in. I understand that if I have to eat cat food or peanut butter and jelly, it will be at the end of a life that has been rich with learning, relationships, friendship, love, and good health. And at times, great wealth, which I hope I use wisely when I have it. Usually I give most of it away in one way or another: foster parenting, investing in startups, working for nothing, contributing to charities. That was a shocking realization I came to a few years ago: throughout my life, I have never cared about money. Something else motivates me. 

I understand that shit happens, and that it's never what happens to you, but how you come to it that counts. A long time ago, without even knowing when, I decided to come to it with joy, and an open mind, and no attachment to outcomes. I left go of a lot of expectations: whether any of the companies I invest in will succeed, whether someone will fall in love with me, whether I will die rich or poor. So far, I haven't starved.

Yes, all the things that demoralized Joe Stack could, and perhaps even should, demoralize me. But I don't want to live that way. I sure don't want to die that way.

Posted via email from Not Really Stealthmode

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Why Linchpin Changed My Life (Again)

Why Linchpin Changed My Life (Again)

Even in the world of Twitter and Buzz, once in a while a plain old book comes along that resonates with you, makes your pulses vibrate faster than social media. It's not so much that the book teaches you something new: more accurately, it hits you where you already live. Seth Godin's new book, Linchipin, did that to me. About half way through it,  I blogged about it and got an immediate response from a friend in India, a Sanskrit scholar, reminding me that the core message of Linchpin was the essence Vedic philosopy. In the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna tells Arjuna repeatedly about what Godin calls "emotional labor."

Um…there's nothing new under the sun. The Eastern truths are more than just ancient; they are almost primal. While they resonate with me, they also resonate with Jews, Christians, Muslims, atheists artists, and entrepreneurs.

I wrote about Linchpin before I even finished it, and then went on to become more and more impressed until yesterday, when I finally got to the summary, in which Godin again exhorts readers to make a difference.

And then I pulled out my own business card, which is a Hugh McLeod cartoon that says "Life is too short not to do something that matters."

Hugh is one of those artists whose work also resonates with me. I've tried to support him over the years in small ways — buying a set of cards here, a framed print there, and reading/commenting on his blog. Hugh suffers openly, and he celebrates openly. He's authentic, and he gets it. He brings his emotional labor to his work, and he doesn't have a "job." He defines himself as an artist, and he admits it is hard work, but he commits to it. He "shows up" with a cartoon in my inbox almost every day.It's his gift to me.

When I opened my daily email from Hugh this morning, I learned that the cartoon I love so much that I use it on my business card is…part of the "Linchpin Series." 

 Hugh, Seth, and Baba SND (my friend in India) are on the same "page." And so are all the people in our entrepreneurship programs who know, inherently, that entrepreneurs will pull us out of the economic funk (or not) through their emotional labor, not their physical labor or their money. It won't be the Wall Street guys, and it won't be the VCs. It will be the people who bring their hearts to their work that can change the world.

Posted via email from Not Really Stealthmode

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Linchpin

Linchpin

I have to admit I wasn't anxious to read another Seth Godin book. I felt as if I already knew what he'd be saying, because I have read almost all his other books, and even been in one of them (he crowdsourced it). But listening to Linchpin has changed my mind. Now I not only want to read it, I want to give copies of it to other people I know.

While Linchpin does belabor its thesis (I think it was probably a series of small pieces) its major point is one that has emerged from the past two years of economic turmoil: the world we were all educated for has vanished. 

You may have already noticed this in your own life: college grads can't get jobs; workers with years of service at the same company were laid off; white collar and professional jobs in accounting, radiology, and finance have been outsourced and off-shored. In many ways, the only people who were safe were the people who worked for themselves in the first place.

Most people think this sucks, and have become bitter and disillusioned about the American dream. Godin thinks it's an opportunity: the creative genius of individuals is needed more than ever, and has a greater chance of being noticed.

Godin admits that no one can expect to be paid for a job that involves just showing up — that was the industrial economy. You showed up, you did the repetitive work, you were obedient, and you were rewarded. 

No more. Those jobs go to the lowest cost provider in a race to the bottom. As an example, Godin uses Amazon's Mechanical Turk, through which tedious tasks like transcription can be outsourced cheaply to a virtually unlimited supply of workers who compete to be low cost providers, working from home at their own convenience, globally 24/7.

What is rewarded? Creative, problem-solving efforts that involve "emotional labor." I love this phrase, because I know exactly what it means. It means you're working because you love what you and would do it for nothing — it's how I have always felt about advising entrepreneurs and helping companies start and grow. Emotional labor creates bonds between you and the person you work for, and it makes you a "linchpin," an indispensable part of someone's company or their life. 

Emotional labor is the desire to create value, rather than the desire to avoid defects. Emotional labor is what the entrepreneurs put into their startups, the passion that engulfs their lives and makes them forget fatigue, failure, and sometimes even family.

I haven't been hearing as much about Linchpin as I should be. More people should be talking about it, and taking its message to heart.  Only by contributing our emotional labor will we turn the US around.

Posted via email from Not Really Stealthmode

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John Murtha Died For Our Sins

John Murtha Died For Our Sins

But everyone knows that the long-term debt problem is a health care problem, we spend far more on health care than we get back in outcomes, and cutting health care cost growth is the key. If we don’t, then we’re completely screwed no matter how much we cut Medicare–someone has to pay those health care costs, and if we cut entitlements we’re just shifting the problem onto individuals.–The Baseline Scenario

It is now an accepted  fact that Rep. John Murtha died of a medical error: he was undergoing “routine” laparoscopic gall bladder removal, which has been around for almost two decades, and a surgeon nicked an intestine. As a result, he developed an infection. In medical journals, there have been articles about the limits of laparoscopic gall bladder surgery.

All this happened at Bethesda Naval Hospital, the place where the members of Congress, with their “Cadillac” health plans, routinely go. He was not poor and uninsured, or part of “socialized medicine.” And yet, he died of complications from a “simple” surgery.

Let’s try to put this in a larger context, that of of the Great American Health Care Reform Debate Debacle. What conclusions can we draw?

Once again, I draw on my experience as the widow of a physician, his former “office manager,” and a long-time health care marketer.

1. Doctors make mistakes. They are human. No matter how much we pay them, they will continue to make mistakes. They feel terrible about them, they analyze them, but they continue to make them.

2. Hospitals are places where patients routinely suffer from infections — some preventable, some not. Medicare knows this, and has taken steps to stop paying for preventable incidents.

3. Accidents happen everywhere, from France to the U.S. to India, to Africa.  Above a certain baseline level, they’re not confined to “free markets” or government-sponsored health care.

4. Nor are accidents  confined to the poor,  at County Hospitals, or to those without insurance.

5. American physicians do care about their outcomes: after the Murtha incident, this week’s Medscape has a headline about “The Malpractice Risk When Your Hospitalized Patient Has a “Never” Event” (a “never” event is one that should never happen, and therefore is not paid for by Medicare or Medicaid and the patient’s family sues the doctor because they can’t pay the hospital bill). But they can’t predict them. That’s why they’re all so frightened of malpractice suits, and why their malpractice insurance is so high. Tort reform would help this, but won’t happen until we change our thinking about what health care should do.

So we, as Americans, have to change our expectations. We need to expect less from modern medicine. Yes, we can press for greater quality, but we have to recognize we’re not going to get immortality, no matter how much we pay.   We need to spend less, so that we align the outcomes with the expense, and the expectations with the realities.

That means every hospital may not get an MRI machine of its own, but perhaps one hospital in a municipality gets one, which means we as a nation pay less for every new medical technology.  RIght now, not only to hospitals all have MRI machines, but private partnerships also have them outside hospital settings. (My husband was a partner, with a group of other doctor-investors, in an MRI machine).

Or it means we  reimburse more for primary care, rather than for specialists. Or spend more on underlying process improvements (information technology, hand-washing training)  than on just paying providers (hospitals and physicians).

This kind of thought process, to me, is much more important than mere insurance reform. We have been taught to expect far too much out of our medical system, and to ignore its shortcomings or think we can fix them with more money, more technology, more whatever.

We spent a good deal of last year ranting about how Congress should be forced to buy the same insurance all Americans do. We didn’t pass any legislation, and Congress still has its fancy health plans. But is John Murtha still alive? No.

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John Edwards v. My Idealism: Vote at Your Own Risk

John Edwards v. My Idealism: Vote at Your Own Risk
No one should subject themselves to what I'm doing: reading Andrew Young's tell-all "The Politician" while watching the stalemate that is our federal government.  The combination of Edwards and his aide Young's efforts to preserve their own privileges with what's currently (not) going on in Congress makes the securitization of subprime mortgages look like Sunday School.

Our government is more bankrupt than Lehmann Brothers. This book admits it.

Not only did John Edwards lose all sense of reality while running for the Presidency, to which he began to think he was entitled, but Andrew Young lost all sense of both reality AND morality while working for his slimy boss. Knowing full well Edwards was on a collision course with self-destruction, Young abetted it because he was afraid for his own financial security. It's horrifying to see Young admit it all after the fact, but that doesn't make him an admirable person — it just makes him a person who has written a book about drinking too much of both the wine and the Kool-Aid at the Edwards' mansion. 

The Edwards' marriage isn't a particularly sordid story: many men are frightened when their strong wives, who have supported them throughout the marriage, suddenly become sick. They go out and find someone healthy to escape with.  You'd be surprised how many men divorce wives with cancer. They can't stand too much reality.

So that's not the point.  The point is that Edwards was running for President, and continued to do so, aided and abetted by Young, who says he knew it was wrong, but had a wife and three kids. Something doesn't compute. His wife was an Edwards skeptic. So why didn't he listen to her? 

It's okay to have those problems, but it's not okay to put them on the unsuspecting electorate, especially the young idealists who worked for the campaign.

I'm not finished with "The Politician" yet, but Rielle Hunter has come onstage, so I know the ending. I've already decided that "The Politician" isn't a book about politics at all, but a book about co-dependency: Edwards and Elizabeth, Young and Edwards. Two very prominent, destructive co-dependencies to which unsuspecting donors contributed millions in dollars and labor.

Bummer. Makes me want to puke.

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