It Looked Good on Paper

by Bill Fawcett

  The Starr Report didn’t just fail to win most people over to the side of impeachment; it marshaled them against those who did support it. As a result, between the report’s publication and the actual impeachment trial, the pro-impeachment Republicans suffered a backlash in the mid-term election and the majority party actually lost almost ten seats in the House of Representatives.

  Moreover, President Clinton’s job approval rating rebounded and remained high throughout his term, even though his personal approval ratings slipped.

  The Starr Report had the exact opposite effect than had been intended. The only architects of its publication who came out ahead were the New York publishers who reprinted it. For them it was just a best-selling dirty book that filled their coffers with profits.

  “We are from the government, and we’re here to help you.”

  —This has to be one of the most frightening phrases ever uttered

  When Good Ideas Are Ignored Just Long Enough to Turn Very, Very Bad

  Jaki Demarest

  Tax the extremely rich to alleviate the burden on the poor. Sounds like a good idea, right? That was the plan for the Alternative Minimum Tax, soon to be a hot-button issue. If you haven’t already heard about it, or worse, been bitten by it, it’s all too likely that you will by the end of the decade.

  The AMT was initially created to apply to multimillionaires, in an effort to ensure that they paid a more proportional share of taxes. (High-end tax shelters have historically had a tendency to reduce the tax bills of the non-working wealthy to a pittance, with the relatively historically brief exception of the late 1960s and early 1970s, as pointed out by economists Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez in a recent article in the Journal of Economic Perspectives.)

  The aim of the AMT was unquestionably a good one, but it’s beginning to backfire, in part because it’s been allowed to ride without being adjusted for inflation for so long, and in part because lawmakers have willfully undermined the tax’s intent since 2001, with generous tax breaks for investment income that enable an overwhelming percentage of the richest Americans to escape the AMT altogether.

  The AMT was a part of the Tax Reform Act of 1969, and has been in effect since 1970. It was intended at the time to target 155 taxpayer households with high incomes but whom used deductions to pay no taxes in 1966. In the middle of an expensive war in Vietnam, the last thing Congress wanted to hear was that that many multimillionaires were dodging the Federal Income Tax.

  In recent years, the AMT has come under increasing fire, but hasn’t been either adjusted for inflation or repealed as of the date of this writing, though the newly Democratic Congress has vowed to make an issue of it. Because the AMT has never been adjusted for inflation, an increasing number of middle-income taxpayers have been finding themselves subject to this tax. In the meantime, the multimillionaires for whom the tax was meant have, naturally, found ways to skip out of it entirely, thanks to legislation that favors them.

  An estimated 3 percent of those who paid AMT for 2006 are tax-sheltering multimillionaires. The other multimillionaires have found tax shelters that have let them skip out of the AMT altogether. The majority of people actually being caught by the tax are upper middle class, one-quarter of whom are in the $75,000–$200,000 combined family income bracket. (On average, the AMT has boosted those filers’ taxes by an estimated $4200 for 2006.)

  In point of fact, the AMT can now hit households earning a mere $50,000 annually. Didn’t know they were rich, did you?

  Under the AMT, capital gains aren’t classified as income subject to the tax. And thanks to Bush’s tax cuts, the majority of capital gains and dividends are now taxable at a mere 15 percent, down from a top rate of 39.6 percent. Since the majority of income at the top economic tiers comes from capital gains and dividends, as opposed to wages and salaries, the rich and shameless are currently paying taxes at around the same percentage as their underpaid pool boys and golf caddies.

  The end result is that the richest taxpayers get a spectacular windfall, while the burden intended for them shifts to others—specifically, the middle to upper-middle class.

  By 2007, the AMT will affect an estimated twenty-three million filers. By 2010, an estimated thirty-three million. According to Leonard E. Burman, William G. Gale, Jeffrey Rohaly, and Matthew Hall, better still, the AMT is going to be a bitch to get rid of. An expensive bitch—which is why it’s been allowed to ride. By 2008, it will cost more to repeal the AMT than to zero out the regular income tax. Without revenue offsets, reforming or revoking the AMT would reduce 2005–2014 revenues by a projected $450 billion if President Bush’s tax cuts are allowed to go gentle into that goodnight, and $780 billion if the tax cuts are made permanent.

  Simply put, the money to run this country is going to have to come from somewhere, and if the top 1 percent are basking in the sunshine of Bush’s tax cuts, it’s going to be up to the rest of us to pick up the slack.

  It looks fantastic on paper, to 1 percent of us.

  “Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain.”

  —Friedrich von Schiller

  Y2K

  E. J. Neiburger

  One of the strangest phenomena to happen to mankind, especially “civilized” mankind, is the doomsday scenario wherein a careful and well-theorized hypothesis of disaster, documented on paper, grabs hold of society and expands with an uncontrolled life of its own. This seems to happen on the anniversary of every millennium. Thousands of people believed the earth would end the first day of AD 1000. It didn’t. And yet the panic returned in AD 2000, commonly called the “Y2K Problem” or just plain “Y2K.”

  How could this happen? It all started with a simple short cut. When computer memory was dear and every data entry long and hard: why not use only the last two digits of the year? Then came the year 2000, and suddenly there had to be four digits or at least some way to distinguish between 1900 and 2000. Worse yet was what the short entry meant to programs that required the date and simply could not accept one. The result was dire predictions of doom and desolation. But saving those two digits looked like a great idea back when the original computer languages and formats were created. Then those same programmers and engineers, now older and some even wiser, realized what they had done, or what they thought they had done.

  We live in an enlightened age of computers, education, free thought, and unlimited communication. We do not believe in devils nor do we burn witches (though in the Congo they burned three hundred people as witches last year). We look at nature with a scientific and objective eye. Yet we had a very odd reaction to Y2K. Our civilization panicked. It went nuts. Dire predictions, repeatedly quoted by the media and supported by many self-proclaimed “experts,” spread like wildfire and claimed the ultimate destruction of our civilization. It really looked good on paper. A secret glitch in our most popular computer operating systems (e.g., Windows) would go wild at the stroke of 12:01 after midnight, January 1, 2000, and cause millions of computers to crash, turn off, malfunction, and drag all the data and control systems, depending on those computers, into the depths of non-function, mal-function or worse.

  These control systems operate our communications, transportation, banking, industrial machines, weapons—everything. It all seemed possible. People believed it and panicked. Our civilization spent at least six hundred billion dollars to prevent this mythological problem.

  Y2K has come and gone. There were a few problems. One army communications system that was operating between posts on computers so old some of them were TRS 80s and Apple 2s went down. A few kids aged a hundred years when their birth certificates were registered on uncorrected sites, but the dire predictions of worldwide shutdowns, mass computer crashes, aircraft falling, missiles detonating, homicidal riots, ill-fitting jock straps, electrical outages, and senior citizens, with starving pets on their laps, dying in their frozen apartments did not materialize. They did not happen in North America, where billions of dollars were spent on computer corrections; the
y did not happen in Europe where billions of pounds and lire were spent; and they did not happen in countries like Ethiopia, Russia, China, and Gambia, where few funds were made available for their “old” computers. No serious problems occurred at big corporations, which spent millions, or at little one-person dollar stores, which spent nothing for Y2K. Some estimates of the actual money spent on Y2K run as high as 300 billion dollars, when you include the new computers and hardware purchased just to avoid the “problem.” It was essentially much ado about nothing.

  So much for modern, twenty-first-century man. What first looked like a threat, wasn’t. But for all that computer power, no one figured that out. Do you want to take bets on what will happen on Y3K?

  Auto Absurdities

  Modern Man has an unquestioned love affair with the car. For over a century it has been the focus of the efforts of thousands of inventors and designers. In the nineteenth century doctors were fairly sure that going faster than 50 mph would prove fatal. With the modern auto, superhighways, and the traffic jams we know it is not deadly, just nearly impossible during rush hour.

  “We are the first nation in the history of the world to go to the poorhouse in an automobile.”

  —Will Rogers

  Starter Problems

  Bill Fawcett

  Wheels Within Wheels

  By the start of the twentieth century the basic design of a car had pretty well been established. But Milton Reeves just wasn’t happy with it. He felt the ride was too rough. Now a lesser man might have invented the wing suspension, but that was a few years off. Mr. Reeves decided the problem was that there were not enough wheels to absorb the shock of that day’s rather horrible roadways. So he appeared at the 1911 Indy 500 (the first such race) with his OctoAuto. The eight-wheeled car was long, heavy, and a bit hard to turn, but all that extra rubber gave it a smoother ride. People evidently were not ready to look silly in return for less jostled kidneys and not a single order was made. But not to be discouraged Milton Reeves returned the next year with his Sextauto, which refers to six wheels, not making out in the back seat. But it still turned poorly and cost a lot. Later Mr. Reeves decided to solve a different problem with the early auto and found much greater success. He is the inventor of the muffler.

  Something Completely Different

  In 1913 the heir to the Scripps publishing fortune decided to make his name by introducing a new and unique auto. He invented the Scripps-Booth Bi-Autogo. He was a good engineer and well funded, so it can only be concluded that it was the desire to create something notably different that led to the introduction of his unique machine. The Bi-Autogo was basically a one-and-a-half-ton motorcycle that held only a driver and a passenger, was powered by the already respected V-8 engine, and steered with a wheel. The vehicle was longer than most cars, heavier, and that V-8 meant it was really fast. Unfortunately it had a tendency to fall sideways at slow speeds, but that was corrected by adding two small wheels that could be lowered by the driver. The big engine proved to be a hit, but not the Bi-Autogo.

  No Dealer Add-Ons

  More than once the idea of an auto everyone can afford to drive has inspired automakers. In 1920 cars were actually comfortable. Such renowned names as Cadillac, Oldsmobile, and Rolls Royce were producing luxurious vehicles. The engine maker Briggs and Stratton decided they knew how to make a car that everyone could own and drive. The result was the Briggs and Stratton Flyer. The vehicle consisted of a frame, an engine, gas tank, a seat, steering wheel, and four wheels. What it did not include was any body, windows, suspension, lights, or anything else. Basically the Flyer was a frame with a small two-hp Briggs and Stratton engine (yep, the same size a smaller lawnmower has) and a seat. It was in theory a good idea, but slow, cold, uncomfortable, and not very popular.

  Fuller Up

  One of the least orthodox thinkers of the last century was Buckminster Fuller (1895–1983). The inventor of the geodesic dome excelled at making things happen, but not all of the things he created were good ideas. One of his favorite projects was the Fuller Dymaxion, first shown in 1933. This vehicle, by courtesy a car, was actually supposed to be part of a combination machine that would add jet engines and inflatable wings to allow it to fly. Of course jet engines had not been perfected yet, but that was a tiny detail. So, Fuller created a prototype of the three-wheeled, multi-tone zeppelin on wheels, his first Dymaxion. Seating a dozen and looking more like today’s motor homes, the Dymaxion had three wheels with just one in the back that could be turned to any direction. This was to attach to the tail and aileron when the Dymaxion converted into a jet. In the garage it was impressive, or at least impressively large and shiny. On the highway, however, even a moderate breeze threatened the three-wheel design. Two more models were made, the last with a stabilizer fin on the top that gave it an even more “Buck Rogers” appearance. But nothing really helped and the design was abandoned as Fuller went in other directions. But other than being too big, unstable, slow, hard to steer, and expensive, it had seemed like a great idea.

  “Soon shall thy arm, unconquered steam! afar / Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car; / Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear / The flying chariot through the field of air.”

  —Erasmus Darwin, 1731–1802

  Well, It Worked for Trains…

  Douglas Niles and Donald Niles, Sr.

  The innovations that made the steam engine the driving force of industry were patented by James Watt in 1769. The device went through many improvements during the following century and a half, but the fundamental principle remained the same: fuel was burned in a firebox or furnace attached to a boiler containing water. When the fire got hot enough, the water in the boiler would, well, boil. The resulting steam created pressure, and the pressure of the steam—channeled through airtight, strong pipes and valves—could be used to turn a piston that, in turn, could provide power to an engine or pump.

  Steam engines are by nature large, and fairly simple. They are considered “external combustion engines” because the fire (“combustion”) does not occur inside the engine itself. The first practical uses of steam engines were made in industry, but soon they had been employed to drive ships, and then trains. Despite their size, the power and capacity of steam engines improved transportation efficiency and reliability, provided that the engine was installed in a device (like a locomotive) that was large enough to carry the engine, along with some other payload.

  The more complicated internal combustion engine, wherein the fuel burns right within the engine itself—usually on top of the piston—was a relative latecomer to the history of transportation power. The first was built by Nicolaus Otto in 1876. It was a “four stroke” engine, with each piston cycling through these steps: (1) inlet air and fuel; (2) combustion; (3) expansion; and (4) exhaust. The process was improved upon by Gottlieb Daimler and Karl Benz over the next ten years. (The names Daimler and Benz, of course, remain well known in the auto industry some 120 years later.)

  During this same time period, approaching the end of the nineteenth century, the concept of the horseless carriage was coming into vogue. People who had been raised to appreciate the use of trains and steamships were naturally inclined to want to expand this technology toward more convenient individual use, and many inventors strove for ways to install engines in “carriages,” thus doing away with the need for—and attendant pollution of—single and double horsepower rides.

  Since the steam engine had been around for more than a hundred years, while the gasoline engine was a relatively newfangled concept, much of the initial design in what would become the automotive industry focused on making steam engines small enough to power individual passenger vehicles. The most notable inventors in this field were the twin brothers, Freelan and Francis Stanley.

  By 1897 they had a workable model of a horseless carriage powered by a steam engine, and by 1902 they were ready to commence regular production of their Stanley Steamers. The vehicles were met with enthusiasm, and for a time became a commerc
ial success. Yet, by 1927, the company ceased operations, as the Steamers were so clearly falling behind the smaller, more modern gasoline power autos.

  Despite a popular misconception of lumbering locomotives on wheels, Stanley Steamers were sleek, classic-looking vehicles. By 1906, a steamer had established the land speed record in a number of categories, topping out at an eye-popping 127 mph! A number of companies were manufacturing steam automobiles by 1910, and they were engaged in stiff competition, mostly with each other. Yet, 20 years later, they were anachronistic antiques.

  Why did the steamer fail to catch on? The reasons lie in the technology itself, in a comparison along which almost all the advantages come down on the side of the gas engine. The internal combustion engine was more efficient: it could travel farther on the amount of fuel carried. It was easier to carry a small supply of gasoline, which would directly fire in the engine, than it was to carry a bunch of coal or firewood that was guaranteed to lose efficiency as it burned to heat up a boiler. The gas engine had more, and more readily available, power—when the operator wanted to increase speed, he could do so quickly, while the steam engine still required heat to build up pressure in that boiler. The final factor was purchase price: A Stanley Steamer would set a person back several thousand dollars, while Henry Ford was able to sell his Model T for only about a tenth of that price.

  “Indian motor maker, Tata Motors, gives the go-ahead for £1,200 ‘people’s car.’”

  —Randeep Ramesh, in New Delhi, Saturday, May 20, 2006, appearing in The Guardian (London)