LMD May 2015

Page 1

Riding Herd

“The greatest homage we can pay to truth is to use it.”

by LEE PITTS

– JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

MAY 15, 2015 • www.aaalivestock.com

Volume 57 • No. 5

Now What Do I Do?

I Where Did It All Go? Lawyers, bankers, S and hoot owls by Lee Pitts

ometimes you have to really dig to find a story. And then sometimes it finds you. In the past few weeks I’ve received several phone calls from people associated with the beef checkoff. This alone is a minor miracle because I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms with these folks. Suffice it to say, I’m not on the Christmas card list of the NCBA or the Beef Board. At first I was skeptical. The callers, fearing retribution, did not want their names used but insisted their information was accurate. Were they setting me up by feeding me incorrect information? So I checked out the sources and the information they gave me as much as I could, after all, getting any information out of the NCBA usually involves the Freedom of Information Act. I found that the callers all had something NCBA execs don’t have...a conscience.

The Right To Know

NEWSPAPER PRIORITY HANDLING

Believe me, I really did not want to wade into the checkoff mess again as it has only brought me grief and an enemy’s list a mile long. I’ve learned the hard way that you can’t criticize anything about the beef checkoff. That would be heresy! UnAmerican! It’s like criticizing mom and apple pie, only when it comes to the checkoff, mom is

sleep with one eye open.

a street-walking harlot willing to do anything for money, and the apple pie is made with horse apples. Still, I thought you had a right to know how your money is being spent. Just to make sure I have your attention let’s start with a big bombshell. Prior to the phone calls, the last info I was privy to about the salary of NCBA’s CEO, Forrest Roberts, was from his 2013 federal tax forms when

he was paid $428,319. That’s extravagant enough but according to a Cattleman’s Beef Board big wig who called me, Mr. Roberts is now allegedly making $550,000 per year! But that’s not the biggest insult. I wouldn’t have a problem if Mr. Roberts was being paid with NCBA dues money, that’s their money and let them spend it how they want. But according to my source, 72 percent of Robert’s salary is paid by the beef checkoff because

that’s how much time the NCBA says he spends on checkoff matters. 72 percent! The NCBA sure couldn’t pay that kind of a salary if they had to live off dues, now could they? One of the reasons they found ways to appropriate the checkoff money to begin with 30 years ago was they were slowly going broke. Keep in mind that the NCBA is a lobbying organization and checkoff money is not supposed to be spent on lobbying because the checkoff is a government program. It is supposedly illegal for Congresspersons to levy a tax which will then be funneled back to those same Congresspersons in the form of campaign contributions. Anywhere but Washington, D.C., this is known as a bribe. Mr. Roberts is not the only one with his hand deeply into the checkoff cookie jar. According to one source, there are at

continued on page two

The Trouble with Google as Truthsayer BY RON ARNOLD

G

oogle, Inc., with its $385 billion share value, has bumped Exxon to become America’s No. 2 ranking company in market capitalization. That may not be a good thing. A February article in New Scientist announced, Google wants to rank websites based on facts not links, and writer Hal Hodson said, “The internet is stuffed with garbage. Google has devised a fix – rank websites according to their truthfulness.” The idea of changing page rank from popularity to “truthfulness” based on a Google-made “knowledge vault” did not go down well. Fox News reported, “Google’s plan to rank websites raising censorship concerns.” Douglass Kennedy opened with, “They say you’re entitled to your own opinions but you are not entitled to your own facts. It’s a concept not everyone is comfortable with.” They’re saying we’re only entitled to Google’s facts, which completely shortcircuits how slippery facts are and naively equates facts with truth. Ask any lawyer about truth. Today’s climate wars consist of arguments between highly qualified scientists about facts

that some sincerely believe are true and some sincerely believe are false, each for solid reasons. It should be an honest debate among equals, but it’s degenerated into a power play by alarmists to kill debate for policy’s sake, pushed by politicians and their social base. Google’s truth plan is not so simple. Facts are statements about existence. Statements about existence can be true or false. Existence itself – your kitchen sink or the climate or whatever – can’t be true or false, it just exists. Say anything you want about existence and it won’t change a thing – it still just exists. Existence doesn’t give a damn what you think about it. Facts are statements about existence, and statements are always arguable. But get everyone to believe Google Facts, and you can enforce political policy worth trillions to climate profiteers. You can see where this is going. Imagine: Big Google the Universal Truthsayer. That’s as scary as “Mr. Dark” in Ray Bradbury’s 1962 novel Something Wicked This Way Comes, only worse, because it’s the perfect machine to kill all dissent and wither the Internet continued on page four

hope I never have to retire because, quite frankly, I’m not very good at it. My friends can’t understand why I don’t want to retire while I can’t understand why they worked their entire lives doing something they can’t wait to quit. My wife and I don’t own a motor home, nor a second house, and I don’t fish, play bridge, golf or belong to any fraternal organizations. And I don’t have any relatives I’m dying to visit. I love my life the way and what I do best is work. Having said all that, I thought I’d retire for a one day just to see what all the excitement is about. Here is my diary from that day. 4:30 – Tried to sleep late but I was so excited about my first day of retirement I couldn’t wait to get started. 5:00 – Read the paper to see if any of my retired friends had died, and decided to catch up on some long overdue personal hygiene. Trimmed my toenails and pruned the brushy outgrowth in my nose and ears. So far I was really liking this thing called retirement. 7:00 – Sharpened my chainsaw, put new line in the weed whacker, saddle soaped my saddle, polished my boots, sorted some screws, filled the birdbath and dusted the inside of my mailbox. 9:00-11:00 – Alphabetized all my books by the author’s last name, dusted my old FFA trophies, inked the rubber stamp pad, changed a weak light bulb, and removed all the Rolodex cards of people who had died in the last 20 years. Getting a little bored, I wandered into the kitchen where my wife was preparing lunch. “Let me help,” I said, dropping a jar of blackberry jelly on the floor and breaking it. My wife suggested it would be better if I wouldn’t help. “Why don’t you sort the everything-drawer,” she suggested. Noon – After I separated the rubber bands from the old keys, my wife and I had lunch together. “Isn’t retirement nice?” I said. “Now what do we do?” continued on page seven

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