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By Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. For this story, so long in the making, many tunes would have been good... Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop" (recorded in 1977) is not merely good; it's note and word perfect. It's a tune that means the human machine is moving again. That we're marching ahead! Moving, despite all inhibitions and blocks, towards the Promised Land. You'll find this number in any search engine. Listen to it a time or two before digging into this article. And be sure to save the link; you'll want to be reminded that humanity doesn't move inexorably ahead; it does so by fits and starts... even so, we move!

Saratoga all over again.

Back in late 1777, the fortunes of George Washington, his troops, and the entire Revolution were at rock bottom. All that was needed was one more British victory and the British would have the honor of catching Traitor George and his nefarious crew... then indeed would the revolutionaries who had not succeeded in hanging together would hang separately. Victory was close... temptingly close. It all hinged on a man called General "Gentleman Johnny" Burgoyne (1722-1792) an officer who loved the pomp and circumstance of war... and knew his comfort and fortune, his place in history, were secure if he won that victory. Unfortunately Burgoyne was better at striking martial poses (Sir Joshua Reynolds painted him grandiloquently in one) than winning victories...

At Saratoga, in New York, Burgoyne, so very arrogant, so very confident of crushing victory, lost the battle. And while there were difficult days ahead for the revolutionaries when Gentleman Johnny surrendered,  thereby bringing the French and Spanish support to their cause, the momentum shifted once and for all; the fate of British North America was glaringly apparent. All because of one  event in  New York, October, 1777.

And now New York has determined the fate of another revolution... same-sex marriage. There's no stopping it now.

The man who did it... and turned himself into a likely future president.

I have long thought that the problem with the same-sex marriage matter (which is not the most important problem on the nation's agenda), was that its advocates were flat-footed amateurs at the great American game of using our history, culture and values to get something you want, something others may not want to yield. Such situations scream for a fresh look... and a fresh, keen, credible leader... a person who knows the game and plays it joyously con brio, with the verve and style displayed in Reynolds' great masterpiece.

Andrew Cuomo is that person and every one of the approximately 45,000 same-sex couples in New York should be required by love (if not by law) to toast this consummate political animal at  their weddings, which can begin to take place July 24, 2011.

The 56th governor of New York, a sure-fire Democratic heavyweight.

The way Andrew Cuomo, who only assumed his high office January 1, 2011, handled the bug-a-boo of same-sex marriage displays political wisdom and skill of the first magnitude, because gay marriage is and always has been a political problem; a political matter masquerading as morality... when it was always about who gets what, just the way most American moral matters are.

Let's set the stage...

Two years ago, the New York legislature defeated same-sex marriage. One major reason for this humiliating set-back was the lack of leadership. Gay advocates were mostly gay people whose special pleading often sounded whiney with non-existent organizational skills and no "go -to" leader in sight. It all made for an inevitable result: defeat. Gay leaders got a pie in the face and learned a harsh lesson about politics the New York way... a brand-new approach was called for.

Andrew Cuomo's election at governor in November, 2010, to the office once held by his father, started the ball rolling. He told gay leaders he was the go-to guy... and that he'd call the shots and give them victory.  (He glossed over all the goodies he'd accrue... including the lifetime right to dip into the huge financial resources of gay Americans in  pursuit of La Casa Blanca.)

I don't know precisely what was in Cuomo's mind at that point but I can guess. He knew -- or had to know -- that same-sex marriage opponents had no case; or, rather that their case was based on denying their fellow citizens the very right they themselves had: the right to select the person you want to marry and spend your life with. The entire opposition stood for everything we abhor: getting told by others what we can and cannot  do, what is right and what is wrong, and being grateful for an inherently unequal second-class citizenship.

Oh yes, don't forget to bow your head , tug your forelock and say "merci, m. le marquis", while eating his dust while he throws you a couple of doubloons for which you are supposed to be eternally grateful. Can anyone say "Bastille"?

Cuomo, smart, smart, smart, cast the debate in terms of personal freedom, the "Don't treat on me" message of the revolutionary flag. Having forged the message, Cuomo -- audace, audace, toujours l'audace -- shopped it, to broaden support for the measure. The people he approached were not the people you'd think; they were the people he needed to secure his argument and get the votes... and they were called... Republicans.  Yeah, the supposed enemy.

He convened a meeting with Republicans who were squeamish about the discriminatory position the Roman Catholic hierarchy and other unenlightened folk were forcing on them, the policy of "I've got my main squeeze, I'll make sure you can't have  yours". This wasn't a case; it was adolescent one-upsmanship pure and simple... and it made some influential GOP types squirm with dismay and embarrassment. Cuomo made them a offer...

Admit it, he said. You feel uncomfortable supporting people who want to deny some of their fellow countrymen the very rights they have themselves. The guests admitted that was so; they felt like heels. Cuomo says, exactly. So, here's what we can do: you support same-sex marriage in the legislature, cough up some bucks to finance the effort, and I'll cover you back in your districts. A straight political deal of the kind practiced by their excellencies the governors of New York since Johnny Burgoyne handed them, on his silver platter, the state house... that famous launching pad for so many to the White House.

Just who was at that pivotal meeting and later discussions is not entirely known (the name of billionaire Paul Singer is mentioned and he has an openly gay son)... nor does it matter much. The point is Cuomo had a goal; Cuomo had a message; Cumo had a strategy...and in due course, a triumphant Governor Andrew Cuomo had a victory. The New York  state senate, 33-29 joined its House of Representatives to pass the bill that will get, in a suitably grand and significant ceremony, the governor's John Hancock. Signed, sealed and delivered, as promised.

New York's action is critical; it gives the cause major momentum, unstoppable now. And so is Cuomo. The most significant aspect of this victory may not be the thousands of couples it will benefit. It may be an oath that begins, " I, Andrew Cuomo, do solemnly swear...." He's humming "Don't Stop" under his breath right now; it's his favorite tune.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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By Dr. Jeffrey Lant

The number of adults with diabetes worldwide has more than doubled in three decades, to an estimated 347 million a new study says. The study, led by Goodarz Danaei of the Harvard School of Public Health and Majid Ezzati of Imperial College, London, analyzed diabetes data from 1980 to 2008. Their analysis found that 153 million people had diabetes in 1980; this number had swelled to 347 million in 2008.

Much of that increase is due to aging populations -- since diabetes typically hits in middle age -- and population growth, but part of it has also been fueled by rising obesity rates.

With numbers climbing almost everywhere, experts said the disease is no longer limited to rich countries and is now a global problem. Countries in which the numbers rose fastest include Cape Verde, Samoa, Saudi Arabia, Papua New Guinea, and the United States.

More alarming news.

These figures do not reflect the generations of overweight children and young adults who have yet to reach middle age. This will create a massive burden on already severely challenged health systems.

The most alarming news of all... Each of these people could take charge of their disease, but too often don't, thereby triggering even graver health problems.

"A disease of the mouth."

I like to say, tongue firmly in cheek, that diabetes is a disease of the mouth: open mouth, insert enough of the wrong things, get disease and all its myriad of complications. I should know;  I'm one of the world's aging diabetics. Now 64, I was diagnosed about 50.

The day my blunt, most direct physician delivered the news he asked me one question: "Do you want to live longer or shorter?" I chose longer; he then laid on me exactly what I needed to do to achieve the objective of more time and that of the highest quality.  While hardly an ideal patient, I was more than willing to make the necessary changes in diet and lifestyle.  Not only willing but committed and determined to do so.  Once over 205 chunky pounds, my 5' 10 1/2" frame is now a lean 157 pounds... with all other numbers appropriate; something to write home about, especially since I can wear the same trousers I wore in graduate school 40 years ago! Can you?

What I have learned along the way.

I want to say, right from the get-go, that I am NOT playing physician here; you need to consult yours at regular intervals as I do. Still, diabetes seems to me a disease tailor-made for personal management. There are things, lots of things, you can do to improve your situation. Here's what works for me:

1) Take ownership of your disease and decide whether you want to gamble with your life by doing little or nothing.

The great thing about diabetes is that its improvement or deterioration is very much in your hands. If you take charge in a positive, pro-active manner you are going to improve. if you persist in fighting your diagnosis and what you can do, right at home, too, you won't. In other words, you can be adult about it... or select adolescent petulance.

2) Don't try to change everything overnight; do start making changes at once. Remember, diabetes and what you do to manage it is a marathon, not a sprint. This is a disease without (just yet) a cure; it's a disease that's with you sleeping and waking. You cannot, therefore, do something today and then ignore it. With diabetes you're fighting a war, not a battle. Treat it accordingly.

3) Clean out your cupboards... clean out your refrigerator.

If you don't have readily at hand the destructive things... the high sugar drinks, the cakes and bakery goods... all the things that work against your success and create long-term problems, so much the better.

If you don't have readily at hand the bad things and have to make a special effort to go out and get them, you will, perforce, ingest less.

4) Don't think in terms of diets and deprivations. Think in terms of the additional life and time you're getting.

We live in a culture that screams "I want this and I want this NOW!" We are all influenced by the "I'm worth it and I'm going to have it" mentality. Thus you need practical ways to overcome these insidious influences.

To start with, never call what you're doing a "diet". Diets are about depriving yourself; think instead of buying your life back from the pawn shop. When you eat bad things you're cutting time off your life; when you make the necessary changes, you buy yourself back.

5) Count to 10.

Before you drink that sugary concoction or take another bite of your favorite confection, count to 10. This gives your brain time to remind you that you probably can live without the indiscretion you are about to make. The sequence goes like this: want. stop. count to 10.

Now, if you do  this and still eat the offending  morsel, even two, don't collapse with guilt and recrimination. Just resolve to do better next time... because you can be sure there WILL be a next time, and many such.

6) Eat all day.

Still eating big, set meals that leave you breathless and bloated? These constitute an assault on the body. Stop it now!

Instead eat frequently throughout the day, small portions that satisfy and which your previously overworked body can handle.

Start eating fresh fruit... nuts...  small snacks of maximum protein and nutrition, minimum sugars, calories, carbohydrates. Make the portions small but make their ingestion frequent. Your body knows its work. Don't overfeed... graze instead.  All day long.

7) Make breakfast your most important meal.

You've got  a lot to accomplish today. You're going to need a lot of energy and stamina. Thus, you must make breakfast your most important meal. Don't even dream of stinting here. Breakfast constitutes the launching pad for a successful day. Treat it accordingly. By comparison  never, ever eat your biggest meal at the end of the day or evening. Your body can't handle it and shouldn't have to try.

Before bed, give yourself a snack, fruit (raisons are always a treat), popcorn. You get the idea. Go to bed satisfied, sleep satisfied, wake up in productive good humor.

You'll start seeing -- and feeling -- results at once.

The great thing about managing your diabetes is that if you follow these sensible suggestions, you'll start seeing results at once. For one thing (and very gratifying it is) your weight will start to drop... reverting to your body's natural weight. And as you see and feel that occurring, you'll be spurred to keep on truckin', towards the Promised Land.

As you go, as you achieve results, reward yourself. You deserve it, not least because you are doing what every one of the 347 million afflicted should be doing... but aren't. Now that you are on your way to success, print  this article and share it with a friend. It's one of the privileges of your improved situation and state of mind. Use it... and help someone you know and love. Someday they'll throw their arms around you and tell you you saved their life. And it'll be true...

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. He is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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Author's note. This is a story you will never understand until you hear Joshua Bell play.  As he is an energetic, prolific artist this will not be difficult. .But what of his vast oeuvre to recommend?

Easy. Caprice No. 24 in A minor: Tema con Variazioni (Quasi Presto) by Niccolo Paganini (1782-1840). It was the last caprice (written 1817), the grandest, the most demanding, unyielding. Go to any search engine now to find it... and listen, enthralled.

This work, one of a bundle of caprices flowing fast from the facile pen of a grand master admired by Bell, must be played at the speed of love "quasi presto" -- "almost instantly" for nothing is more capricious than love...

... love can never be patient.... can never wait... is obsessive, thoughtless, bold, cruel and adamant. Love does not ask; it demands instant fulfillment. Love can never be rational, deliberate, cautious and sensible, and you cannot expect these from either Paganini -- or Bell either.

They are after you... They are about love, audacious love, a love of boundless energy and daring. They know you want it... and they mean to give you what you want... at the cost of your cozy, predictable, sensible, orderly life. That is the price great lovers, great romantics mean to exact from you for fulfillment... and Joshua Bell is a such a lover, agile, impetuous,  practiced seducer of even the most grounded and careful.

And it all started in Indiana.

Joshua Bell, for all he is the wunderkind of the greatest concert halls in the greatest cities on earth, is in fact a boy of the prairies. I know something about that; I am one myself.  He was born 9 December, 1967 in Bloomington, Indiana. If you are not familiar with this place it is a major research university, the intellectual heart of the nation's great heartland.  It's a place of God, country, solid living, of people you like and  trust; a true pastoral idyl that could well lead to humming about the moonlight on the Wabash, when you, now elsewhere, dream of your Indiana home.

The Bells were the kind of people you were glad to have as neighbors, not least because Joshua and his two sisters were so friendly and normal. Joshua was a boy's boy, handsome, smiling, polite, with a shock of hair falling over his forehead into his eyes, thereby causing local mothers, who could not help themselves to brush it back. Joshua was keen on video games... and sports. He once  famously won fourth place in a national tennis competition without benefit of a single lesson.

But this was only part of the story... for there was genius in this family and genius will out, whether you like it or not. Fortunately Joshua's genius was noted early and by his two educated parents, both psychologists who gave Joshua the time his special situation necessitated, without slighting his sisters, as could so easily have happened. That was deft indeed, and praiseworthy.

Bell began taking violin lessons at the age of four after his mother discovered her son had taken rubber bands from around the house and stretched them across the handles of his dresser drawer to pluck out music he had heard her play on the piano. His parents got a scaled-to-size violin for their then five-year-old son and started to give him lessons.

Soon Bell studied under Donna Bricht, widow of Indiana University faculty member Walter Bricht. His second teacher was Mimi Szeig. Later still, he switched to the violinist and pedagogue Josef Gingold after Bell's parents assured Gingold they were not interested in pushing their son but wanted him to have the best teacher for his abilities. Wolfie Mozard's father Leopold should have been as solicitous of  his famous son's human needs. Here again Joshua Bell was lucky. Satisfied that  the boy was living a normal life, Gingold took Bell on as his student. By age 12 Joshua was truly serious about the violin, which even as an adolescent he used to deliver magic.

Just 14.

At the age of 14, Bell appeared as a soloist with the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Riccardo Muti. He studied the violin at the Indiana University Jacobs School of Music, while managing simultaneously to graduate from Bloomington High School North in 1984. In 1989, Bell received an Artist Diploma in Violin Performance from Indiana University.

Now he was ready to take his place on stage as one of the world's notable sounds.

In 1985, age 18, Joshua Bell, carefully, thoughtfully tutored, was ready to face the world. His Carnegie Hall debut with the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra was the result.  The young man who had been given so much love by so many... was now ready to give love... to the multitudes who needed the healing balm he could so artfully coax from his instrument. This was his truest talent: turning music into solace, empathy, and always love.  For such a man just one thing was needed, the proper instrument... and in due course the instrument appeared.

Stradivarious, the master who accompanies every great violinist.

To  a violinist there is only one human being who made violins capable of touching the deepest part of every human heart and showcasing their talent. That person was Antonio Stradivari (1644-1737).  It is thought that this master crafted 1100 instruments (violins, violas, cellos); of these some 600 remain, many bearing the names of one or more owners so immortalized. Bell was now amongst them; he owned the "Tom Tyler"  Stradivarious... but he desired the 300-year-old instrument called the "Gibson ex Huberman",  made in 1713. It had been lent him, one memorable day, for a concert; thus Bell knew first hand how extraordinary it was, how desirable.

The owner who lent Bell this instrument jokingly told him the sale price, $4 million. But it was not for sale -- yet, and when Bell found out it was, it had already been sold to a German collector. In what can only be described as an act of rare, even unique, generosity amongst owners of these instruments, the new German owner allowed himself to be persuaded to give up what he, too, ardently desired... and so for $4 million the Stradivarious was Bell's... and the genius of Joshua Bell and Antonio Stradivarious were brought together, enriching lives worldwide from the mingled talents of two musical geniuses,a match truly made in heaven to create the richest and most poignant of sounds.

It was a sound that took the world by storm  in films like Oscar-winning "The Red Violin" (1998), "Music of the Heart" (1999), and "Ladies in Lavender (2004).  And in one recording after another, especially "Romance of the Violin" (under SONY Classical) which in 2003 sold more than 5 million copies and placed Joshua Bell, his boyish smile and colossal talent, among the true masters of his craft.

But amongst all his many honors, his wealth, and celebrity one gift especially touched the heart of the man for whom touching hearts was all in a day's work. It was a rare silhouette of Paganini autographed by the master. It  was now owned by Bell's teacher Josef Gingold. Two days before he died, in 1995, this uncommon man of musical knowledge and common sense, called Bell to his bedside and gave it to the pupil he had not released to the world too soon, thereby helping to shape Bell into that most uncommon man of genius, well grounded and equitable, the better able to uplift mankind with his talent.

You can hear all this in Joshua Bell, above all the love that has formed from so many over so long and which now he pours out, strong and constant, to a world that so loves him.

Program note: End this article by searching for Joshua Bell's rendition of Vincenzo Bellini's "Casta diva" from"Norma" (1831).  Keep a  handkerchief at  the ready...

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit,, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's note. To set the mood for this article, be sure to search any search engine for "Ladies in Lavender", composer Nigel Hess, violinist Joshua Bell, recorded by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, 2004. It is based on a short story by William Locke (1916), filmed in 2004.

Before starting this music, put aside all the cares of your day, make yourself comfortable, and allow yourself the shear bliss of indulgence in this most lyric and evocative of scores.

There is a famous quotation that one always finds the particular England  one goes in search of. Today we are en route, via the unrelenting power of remembrance, to the most loved England of all...

You are walking in the springtime of May through a woodland dappled with sunlight, repository of ancient secrets and long-ago laughter. Everything about this wood sings of a special place, a place of beauty and serenity, a place where there is peace, and to spare, for the weary traveler... without knowing why, you feel at home here, at once... every step taking you in a direction you now know you have always wanted to go...  you cannot say why, but this is home... the home you have always wanted and cherish.

Every fibre of your being is happy... such is your joy in  this place, a world apart where you are expected, as if everything about this place knows you and has been waiting, forever and patiently, for you.... and now rejoices at your arrival.

You are walking up a hillock... and in a moment you are at the top and then you know, no one needs tell you, why you are happy, at ease, serene...

On every side, you see -- and then inhale -- the sweet lavender. Fields of beauty! Acres so rich in flower you catch your breath... for there is such abundance that you are sure there is comfort enough here for the world burdened by its dismays and distractions.

You are glad that on such a day as this, glorious in every way,  this last glory, too, has been vouch-safed you, to live forever in your heart..

Lavender has done its healing work again, certain balm for the troubled soul, your soul.

"We shall find a cleanly room lavender in the windows and twenty ballads stuck about the wall."

Izaak Walton, "The Compleat Angler". 1653-55.

Facts about lavender.

The lavenders are a genus of 39 species of flowering plants in the mint family. An Old World genus, distributed from Cape Verde and Canary Islands and Madeira, across Africa, the Mediterranean, South-West Asia, Arabia, Western Iran and South- East India. There is some reason for thinking the genus originated in India.

The leaves are long and narrow in most species. In other species they are pinnately toothed, or pinnate, sometimes multiple pinnate and dissected. Flowers are borne in whorls, held on spikes rising above the foliage. Flowers may be blue, violet, or lilac.The calyx is tubular, with five lobes. The corolla is often asymmetric. All  this readies us for the most beloved lavender of all....

Lavandula angustifolia, English lavender.

Those without a drop of poetry in their veins call it "common" lavender, but wiser folk know there is nothing common about our relationship to lavender and the many ways it eases our lives.

Culinary uses.

Flowers yield abundant nectar from which bees, insightful and industrious, make a high-quality honey. Flowers can be candied and are sometimes used as cake decorations. Lavender flavors baked goods and desserts; it pairs especially well with chocolate and is also used to make "lavender sugar". Lavender flowers are occasionally blended with black, green, or herbal tea, adding a fresh, relaxing scent and flavor.

Lavender lends a floral and slightly sweet flavor to most dishes, and is sometimes paired with sheep's-milk and goat's-milk cheeses. For most cooking applications the dried buds (also referred to as flowers) are used, though some chefs experiment with the leaves as well. Only the buds contain the essential oil of lavender, from which the scent and flavor of lavender are best derived.

The French are also known for their lavender soup, most commonly made from an extract of lavender. In the United States, both French lavender syrup and dried lavender buds are used to make lavender scones and marshmallows.

Medicinal uses.

Lavender is used extensively with herbs and aromatherapy.

English lavender yields an essential oil with sweet overtones, and can be used in balms, salves, perfumes, cosmetics, and topical applications. Essential oil of lavender has antiseptic and anti-inflammatory properties. It was used in hospitals during World War I to disinfect floors and walls. These extracts are also used as fragrances by bath products.

According to folk wisdom, lavender has many uses. Infusions of lavender soothe and heal insect bites and burns. Bunches of lavender repel insects. If applied to the temples, lavender oil soothes headaches. In pillows lavender seeds and flowers aid sleep and relaxation. An  infusion of three flowerheads added to a cup of boiling water soothes and relaxes at bedtime. Lavender oil (or extract of lavender) heals acne when used diluted 1:10 with water, rosewater or witch hazel; it also treats burns and inflammatory conditions.

More uses.

Flower spikes are used for dried flower arrangements. The fragrant, pale purple flowers and flower buds are used in potpourris. Lavender is also used extensively as herbal filler inside sachets used to freshen linens. Dried and sealed in pouches, lavender flowers are placed among stored items of clothing to give a fresh fragrance and to deter moths. Dried  lavender flowers have become recently popular for wedding confetti.

Our constant friend and solace, humble despite such great gifts.

Ancient peoples were well aware of lavender's bounty and succor. So well regarded, it was one of the holy herbs used in the biblical Temple to prepare the holy essence. It was a plant, a scent that never intruded. It lifted! Soothed!  Gave respite and release! As such it helped deliver the peace of God.

The magnificent English poet Edward Lear (1812-1888), partaker of lavender's solace, wrote characteristic nonsense more revealing than lucid prose:

"... his aunt jobiska made him drink lavender water tinged with pink, for she said, 'the world in general knows there's nothing so good for a pobble's toes!'"

This is why when you are weary, sore oppressed, make your way, if only in memory, to the place of these amiable and most hospitable of flowers. Sit down and drink in their beauty, given to you at the moment you most need it, for these are the good Samaritans, offering you in all humility what they most embody --  the enduring comfort of God Himself.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc.,  providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Today, for the 360th time in its exalted history, a history far older than the republic itself, Harvard will, with all the colorful paraphernalia of the Academy, send a goodly percentage of the brightest young people on earth on their way to kismet.

Some of these people will become heads of state, women too; that is why the address of Her Excellency Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the President of the Republic of Liberia is so important.  It proves that even in territories inclement towards women, women may rise high indeed.

Some of these people will head corporations and reap billions, some of which will undoubtedly be given to Harvard in the form of very public generosities.

Some of these people will buck the capitalist trend and found worthy causes of every kind. The world has need for every one of them and the people who give up much, the better able to give more.

Others will rise high in the military, in governments of every nation on earth, in education, science, medicine, the arts... there will even be a movie star or two but, perhaps, no rap musician. Not, however, because Harvard would not welcome one; it would. Rappers, however, may demur; it's a matter of image.... and no people on earth are as stringent about image as they are.

One more category may well appear: terrorist, revolutionary. Harvard does not go out seeking such people, but Harvard has helped shape many such. Red John Reed, Bolshevik, (class of 1910 ) is buried in the Kremlin wall... a signal honor for a gentleman of Crimson. Like so many Harvard graduates he rose high, though this time for a cause most every other Harvard graduate loathed and disdained. John Reed wouldn't have cared about that; Harvard graduates are above such trivia. They know that what they do is important, even if no one else on this planet agrees. This profound conviction is part of what the graduates take away today... you can be sure of it. It is one of the best reasons for the very existence of Harvard.

Many of today's graduates will write about their Harvard experiences; I am one of them. Most will cherish happy memories and say so, fudging the truth on which Harvard prides itself and pruning things not quite happy enough. In truth, their classmates were probably never as bright as they will remember, as bright or as dedicated. The faculty never as welcoming and helpful as they will recall. And the university overall not as profoundly influential. But embroidering your Harvard past is winked at since happy memories beget handsome legacies. And there is no need to remind so many, and in print, too, that their time here was not as sun-kissed as they ardently desire it to be. You were young, vibrant, surrounded by possibilities, and you'd been marked with the most winning brand of all. Under the circumstances, the utmost joy and contentment are understandable; indeed mandatory.

There will be some of course, but just a handful who will write otherwise, telling, years from now, of painful isolation, alienation and the persistent thought that they never were, not for a moment, good enough to have gone to Harvard in the first place, that they were a fluke, a sport of nature. Perhaps. But they will write such sentiments in a ringing style, lyric, too, that shows in its careful refinement and clarity another benefit of a Harvard education.

This day, the most important day in the life of virtually every graduate, save only the day on which they were born, will start early; the ceremony commences in Harvard Yard at 9:45 a.m., but Harvard Square is awash with the camera-totting hours before, even from first light. A sign of  the times: persons unable to be present can see it all, and clearer, on the Web. There is not a one who so watches that does not wish to be in Cambridge instead... for all that they see more and better than the audience shaded by the great trees in Tercentenary Theater.

Graduates, at once shy and proud,  will move today surrounded by their personal claques, the lucky ones invited to see and venerate. Proud parents, who often dipped deep to make this happen, have been admonished, several times, to be prompt and organized. Graduates have conflicting feelings about these folks. They are grateful, of course, though never as grateful perhaps as they should be. It would not do to slight them, but, this is the last day, the very last day, they can see their classmates and friends, similarly burdened,  as they will never be again: present, accounted for, resoundingly young; friends, colleagues, lovers, too. This recognition, this sadness is palpable. The pull of the golden past, slipping away forever, against the dawning future, ardently desired... but not this day. This is why the tears fall today for this must be a bittersweet moment for all. In these precincts the past and future truly collide today, to roil emotions.  Parting is indeed such sweet sorrow... and now they truly know it.

It is now just 5 a.m., the dawn of this day of days is nigh. It is a day of memories, memories retrieved, memories born. Parents will recall memories unbeckoned of their beloved graduates and their brief lives. They will have, for themselves alone, moments poignant and keenly felt, the more so if they had, once upon a time, a Harvard Commencement of their own. Then Cambridge becomes the best it can be: an ever- renewing place of reverie and remembrance, a place where you are always welcome, for you are part of what has shaped this special place.

The trickle of early comers, seeking parking spaces more valued than gold, will soon grow into serious traffic. Ladies in hats otherwise known only at weddings and gentlemen in ties they will later shake off as gladly as a noose begin to appear as do the marked men of the day... the sheriff of the county who will ride in on white horse to declare the proceedings open; officials in their always ill-fitting cuttaways and top hats... and of course and always the brightly garbed graduates in mortar boards they never wear quite right. With their gowns a Rosetta Stone clearly indicating just where the graduates have been and where they are going, these players gather together, together to march into the ceremonies where they shall become, so the University's president will pronounce, members of the company of educated men and women.

This is what every graduate has earned... and everyone has come to hear.  And it is a marvelous thing, not just for those present but for the entire world, soon to benefit from the skills, dedications,and hard work of this renewed company, the company we all rely upon so much.

Think of these new members of this company today. They have much to accomplish and many lives to touch and improve. We must all be glad they have such a day as this to start them on their way, for they go forward for us all.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Have you been the recipient of unwelcome or even scurrilous printed comment and criticism? Face it. It's a very irritating thing. You're human. It hurts. Visions of legal recourse, even mafia-style revenge, dance in  your head. You have been damaged. They'll be hell to pay.

WHOA!

Before rushing ahead, pause and consider the case of Harriet Wilson and the celebrated Duke of Wellington, victor of Waterloo.

Harriet Wilson (1786-1845) was a Regency courtesan. She was beautiful and knew how to use her charms to maximum advantage. The Prince Regent (later King George IV) headed an A-list of beguiled English gentlemen, including four future prime ministers. The Duke of Wellington appeared prominently on this  list.

Alas! Even the most dazzling get old... and charms which were over powering diminish.So it happened with Harriet Wilson. Harriet, however,  understood that "kiss and tell" had its advantages. So, enterprising woman that she was, she hired a ghost writer and began to spin tales of the gentlemen she had known, such tales to be included in memoirs which remain in print to this day.

As the chapters were finished, Harriet, ever resourceful, sent them not just to her publisher but to the gentlemen featured therein. Included, almost as an afterthought, was a number in pounds sterling. In other words, Harriet's price for NOT publishing and embarrassing the gentleman and his (sure-to-be-shocked) family.

When the Iron Duke received his chapter and "request", he, a man of sterner disposition than most, penned a line which put Harriet in her place: "Publish, and be damned!" She did... and no doubt she was!

How you should handle unwelcome comments and criticism

1) "Never complain, never explain."

The human animal is often an unthinking animal. People have always said the unwise, made hurtful comments without proof, thought the worst and published it. Nothing new under the sun here. Then enter e-mail and the Internet. Now the nasty, the haters, the merely gossipy and garrulous have the means to run amuck.

Should you find yourself the object of hurtful comments and criticism, on line or off, count to 10 and cool off. The worst time to do anything is when you're hurt and angry. Here Henry Ford II can help with his famous comment listed above. Edward VII's famous lines can also sooth, lines he prominently posted in a mistress' boudoir: "They say. What  say they. Let them say."

2) Have you really been damaged, or just your pride hurt?

The truth is, while people generally are quite prepared to believe the worst about any one (Mother Theresa herself was not immune), their interest in you and whatever they've read that you've done is brief and generally unimportant. They have, after all, bigger fish to fry: the details of their own enthralling lives. Beyond this, so much negative information pours forth daily, that even the most assiduous just plain haven't got the time to mull over the nastiness to which you've been subjected.

Thus, ask yourself: has the comment, no matter how negative, actually damaged you, or has it just hurt your pride? Have you been the victim of unsubstantiated comments and criticism (which mean little or nothing), or are the allegations so stated and presented to damage you?

On the Internet, for instance, negative comments are common place. That's bad. The good news, however, for those criticized is that such comments are usually anonymous and unproven, hence toothless.

Such being the case, NO response is appropriate. Let the comment or criticism die a natural death without increasing the number of people knowing about it by responding with even a single word. This is hard advice to follow since it leaves the false accuser unscathed.... but it is nonetheless what you should do: absolutely nothing.

3) You have been materially damaged

Ok, so more than your ego has been damaged. You feel you need to take action.

By all means schedule an appointment with your lawyer. What he'll want to know specifically is how you've been damaged, what the dollar amount of this damage may be, and whether the defendant has resources.

The lawyer (and be quite clear that  your lawyer is right for the job) will be hard-headed and direct, focusing the discussion not just on chances of winning... but the financial situation of the attacker. Plain and simple: can he pay for the harm inflicted?

The truth is, many of those posting nasty-grams online are judgement proof. In plain language they are dirt poor and thereby immune from action. Professional haters and dirt dishers, they know this, and it provides one of the few sources of happiness in their shabby lives.

If the lawyer comes to the conclusion that  you are better off to grin and bear it, no matter how hurtful the comments, accept this advice. It's to your benefit.

4) Console yourself by considering the company you now keep

EVERY great figure of history has been subject to  hurtful comment and nasty criticism: Jesus, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther King, Winston Churchill, Abraham Lincoln... they have all been hammered by the haters, the mental defectives, the small, the insignificant, the merely crude and vulgar. Now you are amongst their exalted number. You are among the saints who will go marching in!

Remember this: whatever hurtful people may say or publish about you today, you can disprove merely by continuing to be the good person you are. "This, too, shall  pass."  The Duke of Wellington's reputation, for one, was not tainted by Harriet Wilson's attempt to black mail... but that attempt has permanently tainted Ms. Wilson and made it clear to all the world what kind of person she was.

Now adhere to the old Irish saying, "Living well is the best revenge" and enjoy yourself while your attackers writhe because you have seen the value of ignoring them completely and enjoying yourself instead! Viva!

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About The Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc.,where small and home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Attend Dr. Lant's live webcast TODAY and receive 50,000 free guaranteed visitors to the website of your choice.

Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

First, the facts.

Just the other day, April 11, 2011, Princeton professor of African-American studies and religion Cornel West managed, in one fast-moving interview with the political blog Truthdig to

* make a series of outrageous, unsubstantiated remarks about his now former friend Barrack Obama, president of these United States,

*  act like anything besides the Ivy League social scientist and truth seeker he claims and is supposed to be,

* show that just because you have a fancy title at a fancy institution doesn't necessarily mean you're any better informed than the guys on the street who mouth off without one scintilla of fact,

* prove conclusively that West has aged from being an enfant terrible to being a thin-skinned cry baby, petulant, spoiled, coddled, and an embarrassment to himself and the great institution which, in getting West, clearly got a pig in a poke and may well wonder why they didn't scrutinize longer and better and what it says about their selection process.

Because he is a professionally angry black  man, he must always have a Cause (and because causes need to be photogenic and a fountainhead of publicity), these days West has massaged himself into advocate of the poor, clothing himself in moral hauteur and cheap outrage. Yes, when he sees himself in the mirror (no doubt frequently) he sees -- vox populi, and very much, vox dei.

Yes, to listen to West, he's morphed into a protege of Emma Lazarus, maybe la Lazarus herself whose iconic words (written 1883) grace the Statue of Liberty...

"Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free the wretched refuse of your teeming shore send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me".

West seems to think and certainly acts as if that last word, "me", meant  him, their self-appointed, self-aggrandizing, tenacious (for now), unyielding (until something better comes along) but never get your hands dirty advocate, thank you very much.

Well-known 18th century British author Dr. Samuel Johnson one April day in 1775, pronounced in his magisterial fashion that "patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel." Boswell  hurriedly wrote it down. I'll update that aphorism here and now for West's benefit: "the poor are the last refuge of the demagogue". ( Remember born-again populist Al Gore and that other glib Southern boy who belatedly discovered the poor,  former North Carolina senator John Edwards? Gore ditched his populist mode in favor of things green; Edwards is seeking a berth as a Trappist monk... or any locale that makes women difficult to access while keeping a photograph of wronged ex-wife Elizabeth always at hand.)

It was in this mode of unassailable moral superiority, as one of America's overfed collegiate intellectuals, and a pampered black intellectual at that, that Cornel West mounted his high horse... and made one thing shockingly clear: the intellectual has no ideas, just pettiness, bile, self- pity, and now a social calendar which will no longer feature cozy chats with the president chez 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Oh, my!

"Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad." Euripedes. (485-406 bc)

One may imagine West's state before this now infamous interview.  Like a colossus he strode forward, resolute, confident, his mere name a progressive statement, and much beloved too, of callow undergraduates. He would take his bro' Barrack to task in no uncertain terms and so reframe the whole debate on the poor... and keep the president where West wanted him, under his thumb, to be let loose only at the professor's dictate and whim and following a long course of Professor West's approved bromides and idiosyncracies. The gods had, as usual, done their work well...

This then is what esteemed Professor West outrageously said, each word an arrow into himself and any claim he could make, not just to truth, but to common sense and common civility.

Obama is a  "black mascot of Wall Street oligarchy and a black puppet of corporate plutocrats". There was more of this red meat, much more:

"I think my dear brother Barack Obama has a certain fear of free black men... It's understandable. As a young brother who grows up in a white context, brilliant African father, he's always had to fear being a white man with  black skin. All he  has known culturally is white. He is just as human as I am, but that is his cultural formation."

And still more...

Obama, he said, is "most comfortable with upper middle-class and Jewish men who consider themselves very smart, very savvy and very effective in getting what they want."

Then, after much more of the same, a glimmer of why this is all happening now: our pampered house intellectual has been disrespected:

"I couldn't get a ticket (to the inauguration) with my mother and my brother. I said this is very strange. We drive into the hotel and the guy who picks up my bags from the hotel has a ticket to the inauguration... We had to watch the thing in the hotel."

Of course, lese majeste', not what the majestic West is accustomed to and perhaps the reason for his astonishing words and equally astonishing foolishness. Political sage Niccolo Machiavelli (1469-1527) knew that if you intend to kill the king, make sure you do not just wound the king, for then of a  certainty, the king will kill -- you!

This is why, so long as former buddy Barck Obama, remains president,  Cornel West will learn why Machiavelli, long dead, is smarter than West, long on words and short on sense. For West is now not only intellectually irrelevant but a dead man, too, by his own hand.

One who no doubt saw this coming is Larry Summers. When he was president of Harvard, he had a celebrated run-in with West, (then on the Harvard faculty) whose friendships and professional relationships are prone to fray as folks come to know the man. Summers, a man of brilliance with his own propensities for self-destruction, rebuked West in 2000 for missing classes and other misdemeanors. But his major criticism was just: West needed to do a major book in keeping with his rank, giving tv talk shows and other trivial pursuits a pass, to concentrate on the really important.

Diva that he is, at this revolting development, West complained  high and low; he ranted, he raved, he took umbrage, he played for sympathy. And in due course, he took his leave of Harvard where, to his surprise, a great research institution demanded -- great research, not trite opinions masquerading as undisputed fact.

To the surprise of cognoscenti of such games, Princeton University took West; no doubt they needed his brand of glib inconsequence. Or maybe it's just, as Cambridge folks suspected, that Princeton is a backwater, out of touch with neo-realities. West, from his new tenured perch, did what West always does... he lashed out at Harvard... the hand that had fed him so well for so long. Such ingratitude being one of the things he does best, as in due course Princeton will no doubt discover.

In any event, this tempest in a tea-cup proved at least one thing: Cornel West is irrelevant as he has been for a long time. The black community has grown up; they wanted -- and got -- a president. Such men as West, with only rants and cants became, at the inauguration he wasn't invited to attend, obsolete in an instant. For all his high titles and purported intelligence, it took him a while to figure that out. I suspect he knows it now.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also a historian and author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

I was scheduled to write quite a different thing today from this, but when the shutters blew in and snapped against the glass with cannot-be-denied insistence, making me at once startled and alert, I knew another force, call it Nature, call it  Aeolus, Greek ruler of the winds; call it anything you care to... but certainly, a greater force than I was demanding, loudly too, my complete attention.  I gave it.

The air was pregnant with liquidity; the rain had pelted in the night, the ground now etched with the evidence of freshets as they danced to the sea, happy for their journey, kissing the land to bring forth the luxuries of fruit and flowers; the necessities of grain and every nutrient.

Even the least observant could tell, there was something lush about the air and its caresses, somehow reminding one of some tropical destination so fetching on fly blown papers in travel agencies... a destination you save to visit then find deeply disappointing upon going, though you'd die than ever admit it. (And never to those who have hung upon your not quite honest tales.)

The air was thick, wet, heavy... not at all oppressive, completely comforting. You feel somehow even the most rigid task master ever conceived would (you are sure) pardon the venal sin of laying abed this day, such sloth spurring no guilt at all but pronounced self-satisfaction that you have lived to feel such a day as this, and at an early hour, too.

Freshet, you think well of yourself for remembering this word, so apt, moribund now, the careless work of generations wanting more and more communication, but killing the words that make it all possible.

Freshet. You were 16 or 17 the year freshet ceased to be a factoid unknown to you one minute and became instead the embodiment of good habits and certain success, bet on it.

Flash cards

Prestigious colleges were competitive then... but not as sharply so as now. Some sage counselor (perhaps even me) had recommended improving vocabulary (so very pertinent) by copying words from the dictionary and becoming a presence in constant motion and cogitation, thus

(flash card  side 1) freshet, n.

(flash card side 2) rush of fresh water flowing into the sea.

New words added, new words mastered, and a wonderful way to torment parents and relations, one irritating but beyond punishment.

"Jeffrey, take out the garbage!"

But the-best-mother-in-the world quickly learned the inevitable response.

"Mom, I can't now. I'm working on my flash cards."

It was unanswerable... and one took pride in one's skill, for developing another useful talent, sure to come in handy with the she-who-must-be-obeyed certain to make her inevitable appearance in due course.

My parents never captured and reduced this irksome citadel, though on one memorable day, things reached a Crisis... and in front of Dwight David Eisenshower, too, his high and mighty duties at an end, shedding his celebrity and sharing his elder statesman years as grand marshal of a vastly honored Tournament of Roses, one new year's day.

Eisenhower brought his international renown and grandfatherly assurances. I brought my flash cards. The forces were nicely matched.

My father, a serving sailor in World War II, venerated  Eisenhower (as who did not at that day's splendid Rose Parade?) as the leader of freedom's army, our bulwark for goodness, the American Way, and the values and virtues of the great heartland of the nation where "I like Ike" was not merely a motto but an irrefutable mantra.

My father had moved mountains to ensure that his family sat so close to the former president we could see, quite clearly too, every move he made; had we been lip readers not a single word he uttered would have gone unknown. Alas, we did not have that skill.

Soon, however, it was time to turn our attention from the casual conversation of a legend to the day's truly important business, the football game. But I never thought that sport or any sport, no matter how agilely played, nearly as exciting as a single word of our word-blessed language... for a football player may move a ball... but a single word can move the world and the path of humanity.

Now as the teams kicked, ran, shouted, huddled, and caressed each other every now and again, I sat immersed in my flash cards, scarcely looking up. I think this day I brought the Latin flash cards. These were store bought, unlike the English language cards; I had several other sets for different subject areas, too. Eisenhower, the great magistrate of a great republic, surely would understand my priorities; preferring stern duty over mere recreation. Thus, I had no difficulty rationalizing my choice.

After all (though I didn't know it then), Eisenhower himself had given up the great love of his life and the divorce from Mamie, because his friend  and commander General George Marshall reminded him in no uncertain terms of where his duty lay and the heavy price the republic would pay losing him, as it would should he choose love. Perhaps the general was reminded of his chere amie that day. It might easily happen...

In any event, I soon became aware that my football crazed father was casting glances my way packed with aspersions and the promise of Serious Words, even a Lecture. I knew the harbinger's signs...

And soon came the preliminary salvo, along these lines etched in memory:

"Jeffrey Ladd...!" The exasperated tone.

Sotto voce to the stranger sitting next to him, "my son the intellectual..." Eyes skyward, touch of theatrics.

And then, not right away perhaps but as sure as sun, "Jeffrey, I am NEVER going to take you to a football game again."

And so he delivered the coup de  grace... that made me grateful then, and laugh today; to be deprived for life of a thing both onerous and dull, the better to arrange my legions of words, to play the most interesting game of all, the one you play within the world without walls, your own head.

But while I exulted then, for I was free! Free! I little knew or comprehended the pain this gave my father or the fact he thought such sentence meaningful, when I did not. The sad fact is, getting my way through disappointing my father cut one avenue producing shared experiences... and I regret this now as only an adult of some wisdom and insight can... and hardly an adolescent since the dawn of creation is equipped to handle.

It all came pouring out early this morning at the moment when the night hangs on for dear life because it knows so well its time is nigh... and that this night is about to be gone forever, replaced by a new day, fresh-as-paint, not content to wait a moment; pushing the old aside without compunction or regret.

One strong breeze so laden with moisture you could wring it out like a towel; one rap of the shutters on the glass... and the freshets of memory run strong and true to the immemorial sea, never stopping, always replenishing. Let them run as they will... and be thankful.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Many years ago Nancy Saunders, one of England's celebrated gardeners, informed me in no uncertain terms of one of the essential conditions for horticultural success: prune, prune, ruthlessly prune. Find the little buds and, ruthlessly, cut them off, focusing on just one bud, the bud you have selected for greatness. A house full of gardening awards great and small, local and international, testified to the lady's insights and no-nonsense approach to a stunning garden and a reputation as diva, sorceress, sculpter of beauty, impatient with anything other than the eye-catching and important.

The Grand Old Party could learn a lot from Ms. Saunders and her stringent regimen for success.

Politically alert Americans, particularly Republicans, have watched with growing dismay, chagrin and (let's be honest) complete fascination as the party of Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, and Reagan, titans all, revered by the nation, has become the Pee Wee league of presidential candidates -- and this despite stunning electoral success in 2010 and a Democratic incumbent who has failed, so far, to gain the affection of the nation and portray himself as more than the necessary evil.

In fact, there has never been (since its founding in 1856) so many GOP candidates for president with at least some (no matter how attenuated) claim to plausibility. Even in the days of brokered conventions with "favorite son" candidates given nomination just to impress the folks in Paducah, such lavish numbers were rare indeed.

Surely, the GOP should be glad that it has so many potential presidents at hand, but if you recall Nancy Saunder's stern admonition about how to produce gorgeous flowers -- prune, prune, prune -- you get the message that too many candidates produces weakness, not strength and is a sign that the party that believes America is safe when and only when it governs has lost its way, becoming rivulets, not the great river it has so often been.

This situation has produced torpor, procrastination, and a growing sense that the GOP is not up to the necessities for governing a great land beset by high and serious problems, and economic muddle.

The biggest most Republican donors are, in unprecedented numbers, sitting on the sideline, listless, uninspired, concerned. Fully 45 percent of Republican voters (as per a May, 2011 Associated Press poll) are dissatisfied with their presidential candidates, a figure that is growing, not diminishing.

Democrats, of course, are not-so-secretly thrilled by a scenario which already shows them far ahead in fund raising; (President Obama has made it clear he'll raise a billion dollars or more to keep the White House as his house), with GOP fissures now causing some of the donkey ilk to speak, not too loudly just now, of land slides and electoral college pulverization. Early days to be sure... but the possible is there, oh yes it is. It is unseemly for Democrats to be so exultant so early... but they are.

For Republicans to counter this political "Happy Days", they must Saunderize, at once, with a will, ruthlessly... for a chance to produce a winning candidate. Humbly, since no one of significance in the Grand Old Party has stepped forward with garden shears and  elimination list, I present myself accordingly. Without any expectation of power, privilege, patronage, or even gratitude, I am here to save the party, its chances for victory, and its (as yet) not obvious presidential candidate.

In the next few minutes, I intend, with a few deft moves, to change all that.

These Republican candidates (declared or still ruminating) are a bad joke:

Newt Gingrich, former Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives

Ron Paul, Congressman from Texas.

Michelle Bachmann, Congresswomen from Minnesota.

Rick Santorum, former U.S. Senator from Pennsylvania.

Rudy Giuliani, former Mayor of New  York City.

Sarah Palin, former Governor of Alaska.

Buddy Roemer, former Governor of Louisiana.

Herman Cain, Godfather's Pizza executive and Georgia talk show host. (An expert on three cheeses, but anything else?)

The unanswerable reasons for eliminating this drab, unappealing crew of Tweedle Dees and Tweedle Dumbs? Not one of them alone, or all of them together, have one ounce of charisma and the kind of  fundamental popular appeal a winning presidential candidate must have.  None is even remotely a household name (or done the exceptional to deserve it); some are so threadbare (Santorum) that they didn't merely retire from public office; they were booted out by local voters presumably the most knowledgeable about them.

In short, these are the Morgan Memorial, the Salvation Army candidates, colorless, spent, yawn making, infuriating... their highest potential service to the party to be placed as vice president on a sure-to-lose ticket.

Nice guys... too early.

Tim Pawlenty, former Governor of Minnesota.

Bruce Johnson, former Governor of New Mexico.

Jon Huntsman, former Governor of Utah.  These three have legs... but they are too short and undeveloped just now for the Oval Office. They should be planning to emerge, not now, but as the most beautiful, fascinating candidates of 2016. Needless to say, each will disagree vehemently with my patriotic assessment and so, like Pawlenty, build candidacies on the irrelevant details of personal resume. ("I was born in the meat packing town of South St. Paul; my father was a truck driver.") Stop it, stop it at once!

Some who were in or contemplating, now (gratefully) out.

Haley Barbour, Governor of Mississippi.

Mike Huckabee, former Governor of Arkansas.

Donald Trump, billionaire enfant terrible.

John Thune, U.S. Senator from South Dakota.

Mitch Daniels, Governor of Indiana.

We owe them profuse thanks and appreciation for reading the tea-leaves early and right; no one wanted them for any reason and certainly not for president.

What's left? Just one.

Mitt Romney, former Governor of Massachusetts, though capable of denying it, stiff, austere, little loved, policy wonk, 100% committed to becoming president, doing whatever he must.

Romney may very well be the eventual nominee, but he must learn how to rouse America and make us not only think well of ourselves... but do well, too, a surgent nation again.

No one from this huge field of candidates has been able to do this and make themselves seem the inevitable resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And that's why Republicans of every stripe are becoming increasingly desperate, tossing even more names in the hat. They should instead solve the problem as Nancy Saunders would: prune, prune, prune. Then focus on turning the last bud into something glorious, historic, larger-than-life. For whatever pygmy we select today... by election day 2012 that candidate will have been massaged into history, person of legend, colossus. Let's hope by then he or she is ready for what we insist they be....

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. , providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also a historian and author of 18 best-selling business books.  Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's note. To get into the right mood for this article, search any search engine and find the well-known gospel tune "I'm on my way (to Canaan land)". (Written by William M. Golden, 1914) . My favorite is the version by the great Mahalia Jackson.

Chances are over the last few days you've heard of a zealot named Harold Camping. He's the originator of Oakland, California based Family Radio... and he's got a bee in his bonnet for sure.

He's a man so fervently longing for the world to end, so that righteous rewards and punishments can be meted out, that he's willing to risk (over and over again) the public ridicule and mockery that inevitably follow when his specific world-ending predictions fail to occur.

Today he'll be especially busy explaining to his discombobulated flock just why he goofed on this occasion and why his absolutely precise prediction for the end of terra firma -- 6 p.m. May 21, 2011 -- was erroneous... but not, he'll aver, wrong,really.... in fact perfectly reasonable once you understand the minute horological calculations and Biblical truths he will be, today, explicating a mile a minute, without apology, embarrassment or any excuse whatsoever.

For you see, divinely appointed prophets like the egregious Camping are never, ever wrong. In Camping's case when he seems to be in error, it is rather that he, for an instant, misunderstood God and His purpose. But shortly and with prayer, God corrects his misapprehension and gives him yet again, total clarity, complete understanding, and a vision which cannot be doubted of how and when rapture will occur -- this (next) time for sure. Eternal damnation and total perdition will come to those who doubt... never mind the muddle that just occurred and the complete chaos and disruption to the lives of the disappointed True Believers who were certain today they would awake to eternal bliss in the bosom of the Lord... but instead heard nothing but the insistent assurances and renewed certainties of the prophet they trusted... the prophet who mislead them, again.

Camping's legacy: lives high jacked, disrupted, shattered without compunction or remorse.

When one is a prophet, with a speed dial to God, one has better things to think about and deal with than the tiresome, annoying but essential realities of life. Those are beneath the notice of the Elect of God. The job of such is to seize your body and soul; to prepare you for revelation, exaltation, rapture, for total immersion in eternal God. These prophets, with the stern message and visage of their ancient prototypes, are masters of agitation, fulmination, damnation and submission.

They -- and Camping is very definitely one of them -- tell a parent whose children are not believers that they shall not be together in the infinity of Paradise, because the children are on Satan's path. Prophets want total submission.... and so, obsessed by their mission, they are happy to spread fears, terrible fears, and profound anxieties, the better to achieve their objective. Believers in a household have an obligation to cause pain to those still at risk... if by so doing they can capture the soul and shepherd it to Heaven and bliss. They are under a moral obligation to do this... and they must act promptly since their leader and prophet has revealed God's specific date when personal choice ends...

And so, with the complete support of Harold Camping believing wives tell still disbelieving and unsaved husbands that they shall be separate through eternity if the husband will not submit. Day and night this argument is made, made again, insistently made, made with sincerity and profound belief, disrupting everything until it is resolved and the soul garnered....

Believing children turn the tables on non-believing parents and, speaking of eternal love and togetherness, work their will on them... and so, worn down, these parents announce, for love of child, their born-again belief. Hallelujah!

And so it goes as each family member using the potent threat of eternal loneliness and isolation, of alienation, despair, profound miseries and the unspeakable pain of Hell fire work tirelessly to capture the souls of the people they most care about. For so important are these people, that the pain Camping encourages you to give must be the greatest pain of all; you love them so and must, therefore, do everything, anything to harvest their souls. And the date, the date when you will be irrevocably placed throughout eternity is coming, coming... a God-given certainty, Prophet Camping says so... and he is a goodly man.

About Harold Camping

Harold Egbert Camping, born July 19, 1921, is a Christian radio broadcaster and president of Family Radio, a California-based religious broadcasting network that spans more than 150 outlets in the  United States as well as website. Educated at the University of California, Berkeley, he earned a B.S. degree in Civil Engineering in 1942.

Camping early saw the potential of using media to establish a ministry without walls. His first acquisition was station KEAR in San Francisco; his mission to broadcast traditional Christian Gospel to conservative Protestants. During the 1960s, Family Radio acquired six additional FM stations and seven other AM stations under guidelines established by the Federal Communications Commission (FTC).

Camping went on the air at once and made an impression with his deep, sonorous voice coupled with a slow, emphatic cadence. Right from the start he was fascinated by and often broadcast about Bible-based numerology to predict dates for the end of the world.

Central to Camping's teaching is the belief that the Bible alone and in its entirety is the Word of God, absolutely trustworthy. However, he emphasizes, this does not mean that each sentence of the Bible is to be understood only literally. Rather the meaning of individual Bible passages also need to be interpreted in the light of two factors. The first is the context of the Bible as a whole. The second is its spiritual meaning.

With these guidelines, Camping has moved step by step towards ever more radical beliefs, including his oft broadcast assertion that the date of Christ's second coming can be worked out to a precise moment of time.

He regards three factors as essential to this precise determination:

1) Jewish feast days in the Hebrew calendar, as described in the Old Testament, 2) the lunar month calendar (1 synodic month = 29.53059  days), and 3) a close approximation of the Gregorian calendar tropical year (365.24219 days, rounded to 365.2422.)

He projects these into modern times and combines the results with other information in the Bible. His predictions, based as they are on the infallible Word of God, follow as a matter of course, including both his original prediction that the Lord's return would be in 1994; then when that failed, he lay low for a while, before announcing the amended prediction that this return would be May 21, 2011 with the entire world destroyed in a fiery inferno, October 21, 2011.

Nothing that Harold Camping has predicted with such absolute assurance and ringing certainty has come to pass. But hundreds of people revere him anyway and still pay credence to what he says, no doubt his reassuring voice assisting.  But I say this unto these poor souls. Is what you are being asked to do truly what a loving God would ordain? Thus I admonish you:

"Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves". (Matthew 7:15).

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Of course you already have a blog, right? You are, I mean, on the cutting edge of the Internet, yes?

Well, if you are still blog-less today is indeed your lucky day, because I am going to show you right here, right now how to use your blog to get not a few but a positive avalanche of the best prospect leads on earth. And the great thing is, you can start today, this very minute.

Now affirm and reaffirm this: when you're in business, running a business blog, the objective is and always will be to generate terrific prospect leads... and follow them up to make money.

It's easy to forget the objective when you're publishing a blog which can all too easily be seized by the shear joy and vanity of seeing your name in print. Folks, if you need lovin' and crave adulation get a dog. They give unqualified affection. But don't subvert the purpose of your blog.

Nothing sells itself, absolutely nothing.

I have amongst my marketing students some of the very brightest people around... and when they make a mistake, I know the pedestrian run of mankind and marketers are making it, too, in spades.

One of the most rooted errors of these folks is the pernicious, invidious notion that their blog and its contents will sell themselves; that what they are promoting and selling in their blogs needs no introduction, nor powerful words of recommendation; it's good enough on its lonesome.

In a word: rubbish! In two words: complete rubbish!

Dear friend, there is nothing in this world, not the policies and messages of presidents, popes, and sovereign  kings; not the very finest example of the most potent of salubrious medications; not the safest swiftest modes of transportation.... absolutely nothing sells itself.

Once you have realized this essential truth of business, you enter a new,  higher level of commerce and marketing... for you are now a puffer in the Great Age of Puffery.... and your daily objective is clear: to puff better, more artfully, more carefully, more successfully than any other puffers on this planet.  He (or she) who puffs the most, the best, reaps the most.

Thus, say you intend tomorrow to publish a jim dandy article on some subject of note and significance. The duffer puffer, the one on the bottom of the marketing heap, merely publishes the article, with this unvoiced sentiment: "Here's the article. Make of it what you will. I can't be bothered to tell you why you should read it... perhaps I don't even know."

And some dare call this marketing.

Now, try this instead...

(puff the day before you publish the article.)

Tomorrow, you readers have an incredible gift coming. I persuaded internationally known author and commentator Dr. Jeffrey Lant to let me have, in advance of publication, his latest article. It details the truth about the relationship of Snow White with those with-it guys, the 7 Dwarfs. You won't believe what one of the most perceptive commentators around has discovered about Snow... and those Dwarfs. Can you say 'Happy.' You certainly will tomorrow...."

With these fast-moving words, you are keeping your audience, your present and future customers all, on the very edge of their seats. You want them in a pother of anticipation and excitement about What Happens Next. You, cleverkins, are ascending in the crucial business of puffery; selling the sizzle, not the steak. And you're frolicking all the way to the bank.

Remember, puffing is not something occasional or episodic. It is not merely one essential thing in marketing; it is the essential thing and it must be regarded accordingly... from this moment on. Let me make this point absolutely, crystal clear:

If you want to sell a product, you must puff it.

If you want to sell your service, you must puff it.

If you want a person to read your blog, you must puff it.

If you want that same person to read an article in that blog, you must puff it.

Get the picture?

A few more hints

Your puffs must appear prominently in your blog, at least 1 at the top of the first page.

They must be short, enticing, action oriented. They must radiate a single imperative message: Look at all  you get, look how delicious it is, grab it, grab it now...'

Here's another example.

"Wow! I'm ecstatic to tell you that I've snagged another one of Dr. Lant's superb articles. Yesterday nearly 400 of you smarties emailed me with your thanks, congratulations, and sincere appreciation for his last insightful article. Now I've got another for you. Stay tuned... you'll have it in just HOURS. Make sure to email me at once with your reactions and compliments... it's another winner!!! You can reach me by email (email address here); cell phone (number here)... or land line (number here.) And I want to hear from each and EVERY one of you!"

You must get on with the essential business of puffing each and every day, without exception, that you want money.

And, I guarantee you, that as you improve in your puffery, you will improve your prospect responses, dramatically.

And your bottom line? Why that will improve, too, and dramatically so if and only if you follow up each and every response, as quickly as possible, with a special offer. In other words, thank the respondents, thank them as soon as possible... and always give them a thing (or two) which makes you money.  Thus are you benefited as you benefit your fast-responding prospects.

There are many things, of course, which factor into consummate blog success. They include

* having good content, interesting, practical,  timely;

* publishing according to a schedule, never missing a deadline;

* writing directly to your readers, always using "you";

* keeping every word of text short, peppy, upbeat,

* and, always and forever, every single day, puffing.

Because if you don't puff, if you do not encourage, recommend, admonish, excite, and motivate you are leaving the crucial act of marketing in the hands of  those least able to discern for themselves what to do. That decision must be yours. You and only you must advance the necessary reasons for acting as you want them to act. That crucial aspect of marketing belongs to you... and you must do this every time you want results. Like today.

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About The Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., where small and home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books.

 Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's note. To get the most from this article, go to any search engine and look for the recording of "It's so nice to have a man around the house". Eartha Kitt's is the best; she was the mistress of steamy insinuations and wanton sensuality, implied, but never quite stated. Every word of her version takes on a whole new meaning when the subject is Arnold Schwarzenegger and his carefully calibrated infidelities.

Admit it. You would have liked to have been a fly on the wall the day the governator spilled the beans to the woman he cheated on for such a large chunk of his "perfect" 25-year marriage.  But we can imagine, can't we?

Arnold: "Umm, Maria, have you got a minute?"

Maria: "Sure, hon, be right with you.... now what's up?"

Arnold: "Darlin', I've got a little confession to make. Something I've been meaning to tell you for a while."

Maria: "Oh, really, sugar babe. What's that?"

Arnold: "Well you see, it's like this. For the last, er, 15 years or so I've been bonking the maid, yeah Patty... and I've got a 14 year old son. Yah, funny isn't  it? He's just about a week older than my other son, I mean your son, I mean our son, I mean Christopher. Can you believe it? I kinda thought you'd like to know."

But Maria, who has her lawyer's number on speed dial, is already on the phone, faster than you can say "community property". Arnold's double life ain't a secret anymore.

What's a guy (with a once gorgeous body) gonna do?

Have you ever heard of "Pumping Iron"? It was both a (1974) book and (1977) docudrama about the run-up to the 1975 Mr. Olympia bodybuilding competition. The film focuses on Franco Columbu, Lou Ferrigno and, above all, on Schwarzenegger. It gave him just what he most wanted in life: fame, recognition, esteem and -- love. These were just the things he didn't get at home.....

Spurned by his father.

Schwartzenegger was born in the small village of Thal, Austria, July 30, 1947. His father was local police chief, a tough man who fought with the German army in World War II as a Hauptfeldwebel of the Feldgendarmerie. In 1945 (then 38) he married Aurelia, 23, with a son named Meinhard. Gustav showed a strong bias in Meinhard's favor, which stemmed from unfounded suspicion that Arnold was not his child. Arnold, then, grew up in an atmosphere of suspicion and lack of fatherly love. Such things reverberate for a lifetime. What goes around comes around...

His parents' aspirations for him were not high. Gustav wanted him to be a police officer; his mother recommended trade school. But Arnold had something bigger in mind; he went to the pictures to see Reg Park, Johnny Weissmuller and his true idol, Steve Reeves. And so at age 14, he started weight training. He was assiduous, dedicated, obsessed in the way of all true champions, so obsessed that, at 18, during his one-year of compulsory military service in the Austrian army he went AWOL so he could attend a bodybuilding competition. He went to prison for a week.... it showed just how serious he was.

At age 20, he had the first great triumph of a life that was to be filled with triumphs. His assiduity paid off and he won the Mr. Universe title.  He had the drive, the beautifully sculpted body, the goofy "boys will be boys" smile and the shaggy do... he had acclaim... but only in the very marginal bodybuilding world. What he needed was what Steve Reeves had: a camera that would love his body and project it, larger than life, on movie screens worldwide. He needed "Pumping Iron", the film that had " heart, soul, blood, guts, perspiration and plenty of muscle".

To achieve his objective, he needed to keep winning the bodybuilding competitions that kept him in the limelight... and he needed to learn English. He knew these were critical aspects of his success, and he did what was necessary. That is the way of all champions... and Schwarzenegger proved to be one of the best.

He pumped iron... and, with the help of such trainers as Joe Weider, Ric Drasin, and "Superstar" professional wrestler Billy Graham... won the big titles, including in 1970, age 23, the first of his seven Mr. Olympia titles.

While he pumped iron, he took English classes at Santa Monica City College and earned a B.A. degree by correspondence from the University of Wisconsin -- Superior where he graduated in Business and International Economics, in 1979.

Oh, yes, and very much as an afterthought, he had women... a lot of women. He liked them... and they, knowing every curve and sinew of that magnificent body... liked him... and wanted a piece of what male perfection could be. He gave... he enjoyed for the moment... but such women were never a part of his grand plan.

"I'm going to become the greatest actor!"

Despite one bodybuilding title after another (and he bagged them fast and convincingly), he wanted something else, something more lucrative, something that would make him a household name. And at last, in 1982, his wish came true with the sword-and-sorcery epic "Conan the Barbarian". It was a box-office hit, immediately followed by "Conan the Destroyer" (1984), not quite as successful as the original but keeping the unpronounciable name and very pronounced body before the public while looking for the next triumph.

In due course, after a number of unmemorable moments (can you say "Red Sonja", 1975) he lucked out (in 1984) with the first of three Terminator films, which placed him exactly where he had always wanted to be: at the top of the tree, rich, famous, desired... and finally, fervently loved by millions worldwide.

Maria Shriver, the perfect wife for the man who had everything... and wanted more.

On April 26, 1986 Arnold Scwarzengger married one of the beautiful and talented princesses of the Kennedy dynasty, Maria Shriver, niece of President John F. Kennedy. This made him a member of the most famous family in the land. They have four children.

But Arnold, being Arnold, was not satisfied... though one didn't know how unsatisfied until just the other day in May, 2011. Then it was announced that  Conan truly was a barbarian, furtive (like all cheating husbands) but audacious, too -- for he never left the confines of his palatial 11,000 square foot home in Brentwood, California for his adulteries. He did them under his own roof with the family maid, Mildred Patricia Baena ("Patty").

There for some 15 years he made suitable excuses to the old ball and chain ("honey, I've got a little paperwork..."), striding down the corridor... to his mistress Patty's room. Then right back to the arms of his Maria. With careful  logistics, without much effort but with great boldness, the man renowned for pumping iron and governing ungovernable California (2003-2011), produced a boy by each woman, the births just a week apart.

Those boys, particularly Patty's, are the ones needing special attention and care now. Maria will get half of everything, or at least $100,000,000. She and Arnold are separated now. When they divorce Maria will again be a very desirable heiress indeed. Patty won't do as well, of course; unmarried mistresses never do. But Arnold helped her get a loan from the Federal Housing Administration and ponied up at least some of the $219,224 down payment.

But it's Patty's son we should worry about. Schwarzenegger has called him an "accident". We can well believe it. But Scwarzenegger, who grew up under a cloud, his father questioning his legitimacy, Schwarzenegger of all people should have been more empathetic, more kind, considerate.

Instead in his most important role as father he proved to be nothing more than a cad who once pumped iron.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

It happened yesterday...  "it" being the most frustrating thing that can happen nowadays...

"it" being the one eventuality absolutely certain to throw off your day and ensure you fall behind...

"it" being the event guaranteed to change you from someone calm, reasonable, the nicest of people, to a mad person whose blue words could make a sailor blush.

Your computer crashed... and you wondered what in God's green acre you had done to warrant such a malady and imprecation. It just wasn't fair...

That's what the computer crash does... and certain too. One of these days you are going to have "the crash"... the only real question is: will you be ready for it?

What every boy scout knows... be prepared.

Cambridge, Massachusetts satirist Tom Lehrer  wrote a song (1953) when I was in first grade, a million years ago. It was called "Be Prepared!". I thought of it for the first time in years yesterday as I surveyed the most important machine in my life just sitting there, non functional, turning me from an acutely productive member of society to drone, in an instant.

"Be prepared! as through life you march along. Be prepared to hold your liquor pretty well, Don't write naughty words on walls if you can't spell".

Yes, I thought of Lehrer and his rollicking, rather sophomoric, school boy humor yesterday... as my world came to a screeching halt. Lehrer at least made me smile... Lehrer, that is, and the knowledge that I was prepared for The Crash.  Here's how you can be prepared too and actually smile as you resolve one of life's most aggravating and irritating problems.

1) Make sure you copy your files.

The most avoidable problem when you work with computers is to lose files because you have not copied them in an organized, consistent fashion. This must be done completely, regularly -- not intermittently, casually, whenever you get around to it. That's the wrong way for sure, completely unsystematic.

Instead,  as I write articles like these, I make a copy of each paragraph as I write it; to do less would be to turn me from copywriter into gambler. And there is absolutely no need for that. To write is silver;  but to copy is gold.

2) Print out details of key data you will need when (not if) your computer crashes. For instance, I have in my computer a list of vital telephone numbers. That's just the thing you'll need when your computer crashes. Make sure to print out a copy (from time to time, too, so that you have readily available the most current details) and have it easily accessible.

3) Get an external hard drive. You just plug it in, back up your data, and then continue with the work at  hand.  It's affordable. Most people and businesses can get by for one in the $100 price range. That's peanuts compared to the actual and psychic costs of replacing data lost because of inadequate protection and preservation. Oh, yes, it's light weight and portable, too; easily connected to any computer where you have data to be copied.

4) Peruse notes of previous computer crises. You do have them, don't you?

Problems occur; the same problems may recur. Are you ready to solve them? You are if you wrote down the problem last time and clearly indicated what you did to solve it. These notes are vital, given the fact that  the problem you have today may not recur for months, even years. Your notes, therefore, are necessary. Never assume you will remember the problem and what you did to solve  it. As soon as you have a  free minute after your computer is up and running, record the solution. This solution should not be left in the computer alone where some future crisis renders it inaccessible; you must print this and keep it in an off-computer file.

5) Don't sit in front of your computer and fret. That won't help.

One of my father's favorite expressions was "a watch pot never boils". Now I know what he meant... to sit in front of a non-functioning computer will only increase your unhappiness and discontent. Instead, if your computer remains on the fritz, turn your attention to other useful things you could be doing whilst you're waiting for help (see below).

If you spend as much time as I do on your computer (easily a consistent 12 hours a day), some other things in your life are bound to be neglected. Make "crash day" productive in other ways. I used the extra time to research a future article and while the computer on which I planned to write it was down, I made considerable progress, thereby infusing some necessary uplift into this "what a revolting development this is" situation.  6) Have a trusted computer consultant at the ready.

As soon as I knew yesterday's computer crisis was beyond my admittedly limited technical skills, I placed the necessary call to my computer consultant Justin Lyttle of Help Desk Services, Hanover, Massachusetts. I received what I have always received from Justin for many years: his prompt, full attention and (despite the fact it was Friday afternoon) the promise he would solve my problem promptly. This he did... arriving at about 6:00 p.m., getting down to business at once, solving my multi-part problem. Within an hour the problem was solved, I was back online, and Justin was on his way.

People like Justin Lyttle are a find. A critical component of what makes you and your business (including your computer operations) successful is ensuring you have just the right competent and sympathetic people like Justin on your team. Never wait to find them until you are frantic. Remember your Tom Lehrer and be prepared; ask business people from your neighborhood who they use... then call up to introduce yourself. Do ALL this before the pressing need arrives.

Last words.

Days of computer crisis are never pleasant, especially if you are technically challenged like I am. Still, if you follow these recommendations you'll get through them as comfortably as possible.  Oh yes, just one more suggestion: keep ice cream in the refrigerator. It helps while away the time and makes you feel better until reinforcements arrive. Ice cream is like that.
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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Authors note: To set just the right atmosphere for this article, search any search engine for one of the blockbuster tunes of all time, "Everything's Coming Up Roses". Many great ladies of the theater have given this "take no prisoners" masterpiece their all -- Patty LaPone, Angela Lansbury, Rosalind Russell, and my personal favorite Ethel Merman. Turn one on... and you are ready for the turbulent life and times of Arthur Laurents, the playwright for two immortal productions, "Gypsy" and "West Side Story".

"Nothing's going to stop us 'til we're through".

This is an appreciation for the life of one of the titans of the contemporary American theater; a man who wrote hit after hit and, most importantly, two productions which will never die. This is about a man of talent, a man of energy and drive... a master of the vulgar put-down and sharp remarks designed to wound.

It is the story of a man forgiven every infraction, every crudity, because he could, in the right circumstances, move a nation and deliver to theater audiences worldwide just what they always asked for and demanded, to be touched by the magic of theater, to be taken out of their quotidian miseries and limitations and be transported to another, better place --- a place that would give them, at once, excitement and release...and always something larger than life.

Arthur Laurents trod these boards... and he did so with genius, giving all, demanding all, controlling all, an unstopping piston of a man.

He was at once the appalling, vicious man, malevolent to a degree... who from noisome ingredients (strange alchemy) brought us beauty, glory, and  made us feel we were well and truly alive!

Born July 14, 1917, Brooklyn, New York.

July 14th is celebrated in world history as the day the lowest of the low seized the Bastille in Paris (1789), cutting off the head of its aristocratic governor and parading it around the city on a stick. Arthur Laurents chose this day (for one must presume that such a man dictated the time and place of his birth) to make his entrance. He was always the master of timing and presentation and a day when the old world order began to crumble would have appealed; for he, too, presaged a revolution; this one in the theater.

His parents were lax Jews... but they were Jewish notwithstanding. Thus when son Arthur (who rejected the Jewish religion but celebrated his Jewish heritage) went looking for a job, he judged it expedient to change his last name from Levine to the less Jewish- sounding Laurents," to get a job". It was one of the few compromises he ever made; his compromises were few, far between, grudgingly given, usually regretted.

After graduating from Cornell University, Laurents took an evening class in radio writing at New York University. His instructor, a CBS Radio director/producer , submitted his script "Now Playing Tomorrow", a comedic fantasy about clairvoyance, to the network, and it was produced with Shirley Booth in the lead role.. It was Laurents'  first professional credit. The show's success led him to  being hired to write scripts for various radio shows, among them "Lux Radio Theater". He was on his way... then the nuisance of World War II intervened.

He had what was called in those days a "good war", meaning one that didn't interfere too much with a comfy life and positioned one for post-war success in a new, surgent America where there was success enough and to spare for anyone with the energy and gumption to grab it.

Arthur Laurents was ready to grab with the best of them... and make sure the world understood just who he was and just where he was coming from...

In just 9 consecutive nights in 1945, he wrote a play inspired by a photograph of GIs in a South Pacific jungle. The result was "Home of the Brave", a drama about anti- semitism in the military. It opened on Broadway on December 27, 1945, and ran for 69 performances. Stanley Kramer filmed it in 1949, changing the character from Jewish to black to keep the message timely. Updating productions to keep them fresh and relevant was always something Laurents understood and approved. If changes were required, he made them. The success of the production was always his #1 priority... for only success made people tolerate the bile that spewed from this New York gay man without a particle of restraint or civility.  And Laurents was nothing if not a fountainhead of malice with an unequalled propensity for menace until he got his way. 

... but success, the kind of awe-inspiring, legend-creating success he craved and had dedicated himself to achieving, eluded him... until one never-to-be-forgotten day he had the inspiration and temerity to revise Shakespeare, to turn those fustian characters of Montague and Capulet into Jets and Sharks, wise cracking, on the edge, pulsating with energy and high octane adolescent sexuality. It was brilliant theater! It was timely theater! It was the best theater there could be...  It was "West Side Story", and it took the theater world by storm in 1957. Laurents was on his way to the fame and enduring celebrity he desired; so were his essential colleagues, Jerome Robbins (choregraphy), Leonard Bernstein (music), and a young Stephen Sondheim (lyrics).

Two years later, Laurents teamed up again with Robbins for "Gypsy", based on the memoirs of stripper Gypsy Rose Lee. The music, with a score by Julie Styne and Sondheim, told the story of Rose, a domineering stage mother who pushed her daughter into show business. As Rose, Ethel Merman had the greatest triumph of her long and distnguished career. So did Laurents...

No wonder.

The production was mesmerizing! Energizing! Goose-bump producing, one uplifting, exciting, psychologically revealing moment after another... a production that could rouse the dead, injecting the raw material of real life right into your blood and brain. Yes, all that, and even more...

Laurents now had everything, including a stream of steamy relationships, that included actor Farley Granger and Tom Hatcher, male model, aspiring actor. Laurents' friend Gore Vidal found Hatcher in a Beverly Hills, California department store.. He told Laurents to go check him out. He did... and 52 years later, at Hatcher's death (2006), they were still together. Life with Laurents was always challenging, but it was never dull... as the handsome Hatcher must have known better than anyone.

Now Arthur Laurents is dead, at 93, May 5, 2011, in New York City.

At 8 p.m. sharp, May 5, 2011, just hours after he died more peacefully in his sleep than he had ever lived, the bright lights of Broadway were, in accustomed theater tradition, dimmed for one minute for one of its enduring luminaries -- Arthur Laurents. Now this man of fiery temper, often embarrassing outbursts, and socially unacceptable language -- but always remember, of true genius and originality, was at rest; his truest legacy being the way his audiences felt about his best work....

"Tonight, tonight The world is wild and bright Going mad Shooting sparks into space."

That is what Arthur Laurents at his best did to us all and why we'll miss him.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Do you have a need to write non-fiction articles for your blog, newsletter, or other purpose? Then you'll find this article timely, apt, and practical. I am going to share some tips which have stood me in good stead... and should be most helpful for you.

My writing credentials.

I have been a published author now for nearly 60 years; my first non-fiction article appeared in the Downers Grove (Illinois) Reporter and was a look at the neighborhood through the eyes of a five year old. Since then, I have written 18 books and thousands of articles on a wide range of subjects. I also have taught expository writing at several colleges and universities, including Harvard. In the last year I have written over 200 non-fiction articles of about 1,500 words each. You could say, and you'd be right, that scribbling is in my veins.

1) Have a writing place, a room or even just a desk that's used only for your writing.

Have you got a place now that's dedicated to your writing and to nothing else? Probably not... and that's your first problem. All serious writers (and by that I mean writers who are dedicated, productive and focused) know the importance of a room all their own, a room where the rest of the world is cordially not invited. In this space -- sacrosanct to your craft -- there is NOTHING else going on but what helps you write. These days that means a computer with at least a 36" screen. The older you (and your eyes) are, the more you'll appreciate the screen size.

Make it clear to all the world that they are not to touch, ever, a single thing in this space. ALL writers have idiosyncratic organizational systems. Whatever is yours must be for you and you alone.

2) Have standard reference books easily at hand.

Good writers have a good working library containing appropriate reference books. For instance, I have standard dictionaries in English, French, Spanish, Italian, and German. I use them daily... and so must you. Good writers are expert are finding just the word they need... the dictionaries ensure they get it.

Note: Some, presumably younger, readers will argue that everything they need is available online. It may be a function of my age and habits, but I like the old paper dictionaries and other reference books. That may make me an anachronism... but a happy and productive one.

3) Set up a filing system.

You should have files for articles and books you intend to write. These files should contain ideas and research findings. Do not be casual or disorganized about these things; losing them could set you back days or weeks and is sure, at the very least, to leave you in a nasty temper.

You also need files for all the articles you have written. Such files will contain your notes and research data and a copy of the final article, as well as any fan letters you received (yes, you'll get them) and other pertinent correspondence.

4)  Have a handy place for all your writing supplies.

Writers need lots of supplies, including reams of paper, fax supplies,  etc. You'll need good pens, too, for editing. What you write online should always be printed out when it's time to review what you've written.

5) Select your writing time and strictly adhere to it.

Seasoned writers are methodical writers. They set the exact time they intend to write, starting and concluding, and then proceed accordingly. In his must- read autobiography prolific Victorian novelist Anthony Trollope made it clear when he wrote and what he aimed to produce (250 words the quarter hour). He set the objective and then made sure he achieved it by being in his writing place at the set time... and focusing exclusively on his craft and output at that time.

6) Never take phone calls or other interruptions during your writing time.

Non-writers do not understand writers and our often curious ways; no, they never have and never will. That's why they think of telephoning or even showing up during your essential writing time. Such people must be politely but firmly told that you never answer calls, etc. or attend to any other interrupting thing during that scheduled period. Life's little interruptions are severely detrimental to what we must do, and we must be strict about controlling their access.

5) Write daily.

There isn't a day that goes by, not Christmas, Thanksgiving or the 4th of July, that I don't write. Thus, by adhering to a strict schedule, I produce about 325,000 publishable words each year. What's important, however, is not the quantity of words produced but their consistent quality... and the fact that not a single day ends until the quota for that day is finished.

I live in an academic community where there are lots of experienced and even more aspiring writers. When one identifies himself to me, I always ask what he's working on now, when he expects to finish it and when he finished his last writing project. The answers provide irrefutable proof as to whether the person in question is a writer... or merely a dreamer. Writers write... more importantly writers write daily.

6) Learn to use the search engines.

As a prolific writer, I spent in earlier years a great deal of time in libraries garnering necessary information. Nowadays, with up-to-the-minute data available online at your finger tips, I hardly ever set foot in such an archaic place. The key here is knowing how to use search engines, the "card catalogs" of the Web. Here are some tips:

a) never limit  your search to a single search engine. Different search engines can and do produce different results.

b) never restrict yourself to one search term. Brainstorm different search queries; they will produce different results.

c) Print the data and documents you discover as soon as you find them. What you find today may not be there when you return.

d) Do your search engine researching during time you are not writing. Searching is not only necessary; it is actually fun and relaxing.

7)  Set up a blog where you can showcase your work.

If you have a blog, use it. If you don't, set one up at once as a useful place to showcase your work.

A blog gives you, unlike all previous writers, the opportunity to tell the world who you are and show them what you can produce. It should be well-written, simply but eye-catchingly presented, and always timely.

Last Words

Writers are special people; we have a privilege that most of the world can only imagine: the need, the obligation, the absolutely necessary task of seeking truth, contemplating what we find, then writing about it in the clearest, most honest way we can. In the process we touch people's lives, inform them, change them, improve them. There is absolutely nothing more essential and more rewarding than that.

Now, with this article in hand, you are ready to perfect yourself as a writer and the process that produces just the words you want, just when you want them; for that is the last of today's advice.To set a deadline for all  your writing tasks... and stay focused so you achieve it...

... Which is what I have just done... finishing today's article on time and the right length, too. In a few minutes it will be posted online, the next step to helping it wend its way to you. Thus we lucky scribblers change the world, one word, one article, one reader after another... people who make a difference every day and gladly so.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18-best selling business books and several blogs. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's note: Back  in 1977 a group lavishly named Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, recorded a peppy little number called "Cherchez la femme". Its lilt and lyrics are perfect accompaniment to this article. You can find it in any search engine. Then sit back and enjoy a story you'll find yourself shaking your head about... as you tap your toes to the music, ready to jump up and dance...

Dans la nuit...

As a acute student of French history and politics, no doubt Dominique Strauss- Kahn (universally known in France as "DSK" for his initials  knows the anecdote about Philippe,  Duc d'Orleans, Regent of France (1715-1723). His mother, the dowager duchess, exasperated by his mind-blowing promiscuity (prodigious even by ancien regime standards) asked him why.... His shoulder-shrugging response? "Dans la nuit touts les chats son gris." ("In the night, all cats are gray").

Now DSK has given the French such a rollicking sexual scandal it's outraged even the most insouciant Parisian boulevadier... affronted by the crudity of the alleged event and the charges, appalling to the most style-conscious people on earth. After all, as Professor Henry Higgins noted in "My Fair Lady" "The French don't care what you do, as long as you pronounce it correctly." It seems, judging from the outrage throughout France this week, that in fact there are limits and enough is enough even in the land of ou la la.  Here are the facts...

May 14, 2011 Dominique Strauss-Kahn, leader of the International Monetary Fund, was just inches away from becoming president of France, with every public opinion poll showing him trouncing little loved incumbent Nicolas Sarkozy and taking up residence in the Elysee Palace.  What happened that night has changed everything -- for himself, for France, and for Europe.

Since the event in question took place in Manhattan (doesn't everything?) it seems appropriate to quote some lyrics from local lad Stephen Sondheim written for "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum" .(1966).

"Everybody ought to have a maid. Everybody ought to have a working girl. Everybody ought to have a lurking girl... Everybody ought to have a  menial consistently congenial."

DSK took the suggestion literally...  though Sondheim no doubt meant "a" maid, not "the" maid, a nuance perhaps lost in translation. And Sondheim most assuredly did not mean the 32 year-old chamber maid (from Senegal) who was fluffing DSK's pillows in the luxury Sofitel hotel. Close to Times Square (always the epicenter of sexual squalor and never-tell-your-wife adventures), the cost of this eye-popping suite was either $1300 per night or $3000 per night, both figures reported by Associated Press. What matter? It had more amenities than Hotel 6 and perhaps the pampered and deferred to DSK thought the maid merely one of them... Moreover, when she declined his advances, he may have thought that was part of the service for stimulating a tired 62-year-old to improved performance. He lunged... she resisted... he lunged again. Kinky.

What happened in that luxury suite is (for the moment) only surely known to just the 2 people who were there. However, the maid (who had worked to the hotel's satisfaction for three years), immediately went to the management to report the incident. She may have told DSK as much... and there was perhaps something in her eyes and manner that suggested she would do so indeed.

In any event, DSK decamped (without even stuffing his travel bag with either the high class toilette amenities beloved of hotel guests or his cell phone, which helped track him down)  ... racing to the airport for a flight to Paris... and the usual limelight and deference. The doors were being closed when...

...  New York law enforcement officials entered the plane, arresting DSK, and charging him (just 4 hours after the incident was reported) with a criminal sex act, attempted rape, and unlawful imprisonment. Then they returned him to the city where, in the police lineup (so unchic) the maid selected him as her attacker, the man from whom she had to break free and escape. It was sordid... it was outrageous... and it broke the code of "do it if you must, but never, ever get caught", something every successful politician with a roving eye needs to remember.... particularly Dominique Strauss-Kahn, whose relations with women were frequent, flagrant, and always feckless.

In 2007, for instance, Tristane Banon, a French journalist and writer, accused DSK of attempting to rape her in 2002, but she did not press charges. In 2008, an independent investigator was appointed following allegations he had had an affair with a married subordinate, Piroska Nagy. She was later made redundant and DSK helped her get another job. DSK issued a public apology for the affair. Le Journal du Dimanche dubbed him "le grand seducteur" (the Great Seducer). It was a sobriquet of distinction, not obloquy, perhaps more useful  with voters than his Legion d'Honneur.

Perhaps more importantly, DSK's employer, the International Monetary Fund's board found that his relationship with Nagy was "consensual", doing nothing more than calling his actions "regrettable" and saying they "reflected a serious error of judgement." DSK (this mere hand slapping suggested) was too intelligent, too well connected, too valuable to lose for mere sexual peccadillos.

However, when the current allegations surfaced, the IMF acted at once and decisively, appointing an acting leader, distancing themselves from their man-of-the-hour only hours before. They knew the charges were serious... and high speed exoneration wasn't going to happen. After all, DSK stood accused of jumping out of the bathroom, naked, jarring but hugely appreciated (I'm told) from an aging lothario. The alleged victim, unimpressed, had tried to fight him off as he dragged her into the salle de bain and humiliation.

All this, and the rest, outraged his IMF colleagues... as it outraged the French nation, used to sexual scandals in the highest places, but drawing the line at such behavior with servants.

As the news reached Paris, the talk was wild, often bawdy, and, given the national character, conspiratorial. What's more, given the fact he's Jewish, there were echoes of the nation's most corrosive scandal, the 19th century Dreyfus Affair when the right-wing went out of its way to cover themselves for incompetence by destroying an innocent (Jewish) army officer. Why had two right-wing media sources been the first to release the news; how had they known so fast? DSK, his loyal adherents asserted, was framed. Maybe so. It will all come out in the wash in what promises to be one of the most lurid of trials, one every exultant conservative and every disgruntled,chagrined French socialist will scrutinize with care, the nation having lost a president but gained a steamy reality show.

Whilst he's being held at Rikers Island prison in protective custody (being deemed a flight risk), DSK has time to work on his very expensive defence and connive at his release. Maybe the music and words of "Cherchez La Femme" will cheer him.... but I doubt it:

"This man has learned his lesson, oh hey Now he's alone He's got no woman and no home. For misery, oh, oh Cherchez la femme." 

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. He is also a historian and author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Let's not delude ourselves. The Queen's visit to Ireland is not only a political statement of the first magnitude. It is also an act of great personal courage for which the 85-year-old sovereign deserves the highest praise.

There are at this very moment people in Ireland who have determined that the British monarch die in Ireland in the most violent and heinous way.

Item: On Easter Monday 2011, a representative of the splinter sectarian group called the Real IRA appeared in a video statement wearing a balaclava and military clothing and referred to the visit (which begins May 17, 2011) as "the upcoming insult" and the government invitation as "unrepresentative" of the wishes of the Irish people.

He said, "The Queen of England is wanted for war crimes in Ireland and not wanted on Irish soil. We will do our best to ensure she and the gombeen class that act as her cheerleaders get that message." ("gombeen" means corrupt.)

This statement also included a threat to kill more Northern Irish police officers just weeks after the murder of Catholic police officer Ronan Kerr in Omagh.

Item: The republican group Eirigi (Rise Up) has placed a countdown timer on its web site, calling for the Queen's visit to be met with "widespread opposition and protest". The group is asking those against the visit to occupy the Garden of Remembrance,  a memorial park in Dublin dedicated to those who fought for Irish freedom, which is part of the Queen's official itinerary.

She will also go to Croke Park Stadium, the headquarters of Ireland's two national sports, Gaelic football and hurling. It is the site of one of the bloodiest days of the War of Independence,  infamous as "Bloody Sunday" , November 21, 1920; 14 civilians were killed by British forces retaliating for the killing of British undercover agents earlier in the day. In a land where symbolism is potent and sharply etched it takes just a little to imagine some terrorist or other planning for the death strike at this place.

The Irish authorities are taking these and the hundreds of other threats and maledictions with the greatest possible care and concern. This visit is now Ireland's biggest (and most costly) security event. Up to 10,000 police and military personnel will be deployed at a cost of some $42 million. "Safety first" was British Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin's slogan; it would be apt, too, for Irish Prime Minister Enda Kenny. As for where the Irish government (mired in debt) will find the money to pay these costs  that is quite a different matter...

But this very practical question is of minor interest to Irish President Mary McAleese who was insistent that this visit occur... and occur during her presidency.  McAleese, like so many of the Irish, has been directly and personally touched by what locals, with stunning understatement, call "The Troubles". She grew up in Northern Ireland during some of its worst days. Her brother was nearly beaten to death for the crime of being Roman Catholic. She is feisty and unapologetic about why this visit is so important at this time:

"It would be the culmination, a celebration, of the efforts that both countries have put into bringing peace." Peace... so desirable, so elusive... now with the Queen's visit officially at hand. I wonder if McAleese  knows this famous speech by the Duke of Burgundy in Shakespeare's "Henry V"?

"That face to face, and royal eye to eye, You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand before this royal view, What rub or impediment there is, Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? Alas! she hath from France too long been chased...."

Change the single word "France" to "Ireland" and you have the very reason why McAleese has been so exigent on this subject. She and millions of storm-touched Irish wish in the catch-phrase of this moment, to "move on". They want peace and its bounties, not the traditional delights of murdering innocent people because they choose to address God the Father in their own way. For generations people worldwide looked at Ireland and its unending, always bloody, always painful troubles and wondered why a nation of culture, civilization, hospitality and charm could still be chained to the blood sport of human murder... At last the  overwhelming majority of  the Irish,  both northern and southern, too, have arrived at this point as the rationale for mayhem and murder has lost its persuasiveness. But not for all...

... which is why the visit of Elizabeth of England is so important and why this Queen of England can justifiably lay claim to one of the greatest speeches of her predecessor. Here is what Elizabeth I said as the galleons of the Dons of Spain moved on England in the Great Armada of 1588:

"We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you that I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear, I  have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have but the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too".

And so she does...

For, you see, Queen Elizabeth II has been profoundly and personally touched by the sea of Irish troubles.  In 1979, the Irish Republican Army planted a bomb that killed, in his boat, the Queen's cousin Lord Mountbatten of Burma, a distinguished theatre commander of World War II. Mountbatten was killed instantly along with his daughter's mother-in-law Lady Brabourne, his 14-year-old grandson, and a local boy, age 15, who was piloting the boat. Prince Charles wept that day for the death of his mentor... and the good people of two nations wept with him. Thus have sovereigns and princes been afflicted along with the rest, so desiring peace as fervently.

Never forget, there is danger in this visit. There are those who prefer the grisly past. And they will move mountains, or at least attempt to, to wreak havoc and dismay. That is why in Dublin today, specialists will complete their second or third reconnaissance of the city's sewers and all such places where bombs and other devices of death and disfigurement could be planted.  Over these her majesty will travel starting tomorrow in Dublin. Thus does a queen do her duty... and demonstrate the valor which has always been one of her sterling qualities, doing the job no one does better. God Save The Queen.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. , providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also a world recognized historian, an expert on the British Royal Family and author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Of course you already have a blog, right? You are, I mean, on the cutting edge of the Internet, yes?

Well, if you are still blog-less today is indeed your lucky day, because I am going to show you right here, right now how to use your blog to get not a few but a positive avalanche of the best prospect leads on earth. And the great thing is, you can start today, this very minute.

Now affirm and reaffirm this: when you're in business, running a business blog, the objective is and always will be to generate terrific prospect leads... and follow them up to make money.

It's easy to forget the objective when you're publishing a blog which can all too easily be seized by the shear joy and vanity of seeing your name in print. Folks, if you need lovin' and crave adulation get a dog. They give unqualified affection. But don't subvert the purpose of your blog.

Nothing sells itself, absolutely nothing.

I have amongst my marketing students some of the very brightest people around... and when they make a mistake, I know the pedestrian run of mankind and marketers are making it, too, in spades.

One of the most rooted errors of these folks is the pernicious, invidious notion that their blog and its contents will sell themselves; that what they are promoting and selling in their blogs needs no introduction, nor powerful words of recommendation; it's good enough on its lonesome.

In a word: rubbish! In two words: complete rubbish!

Dear friend, there is nothing in this world, not the policies and messages of presidents, popes, and sovereign  kings; not the very finest example of the most potent of salubrious medications; not the safest swiftest modes of transportation.... absolutely nothing sells itself.

Once you have realized this essential truth of business, you enter a new,  higher level of commerce and marketing... for you are now a puffer in the Great Age of Puffery.... and your daily objective is clear: to puff better, more artfully, more carefully, more successfully than any other puffers on this planet.  He (or she) who puffs the most, the best, reaps the most.

Thus, say you intend tomorrow to publish a jim dandy article on some subject of note and significance. The duffer puffer, the one on the bottom of the marketing heap, merely publishes the article, with this unvoiced sentiment: "Here's the article. Make of it what you will. I can't be bothered to tell you why you should read it... perhaps I don't even know."

And some dare call this marketing.

Now, try this instead...

(puff the day before you publish the article.)

Tomorrow, you readers have an incredible gift coming. I persuaded internationally known author and commentator Dr. Jeffrey Lant to let me have, in advance of publication, his latest article. It details the truth about the relationship of Snow White with those with-it guys, the 7 Dwarfs. You won't believe what one of the most perceptive commentators around has discovered about Snow... and those Dwarfs. Can you say 'Happy.' You certainly will tomorrow...."

With these fast-moving words, you are keeping your audience, your present and future customers all, on the very edge of their seats. You want them in a pother of anticipation and excitement about What Happens Next. You, cleverkins, are ascending in the crucial business of puffery; selling the sizzle, not the steak. And you're frolicking all the way to the bank.

Remember, puffing is not something occasional or episodic. It is not merely one essential thing in marketing; it is the essential thing and it must be regarded accordingly... from this moment on. Let me make this point absolutely, crystal clear:

If you want to sell a product, you must puff it.

If you want to sell your service, you must puff it.

If you want a person to read your blog, you must puff it.

If you want that same person to read an article in that blog, you must puff it.

Get the picture?

A few more hints

Your puffs must appear prominently in your blog, at least 1 at the top of the first page.

They must be short, enticing, action oriented. They must radiate a single imperative message: Look at all  you get, look how delicious it is, grab it, grab it now...'

Here's another example.

"Wow! I'm ecstatic to tell you that I've snagged another one of Dr. Lant's superb articles. Yesterday nearly 400 of you smarties emailed me with your thanks, congratulations, and sincere appreciation for his last insightful article. Now I've got another for you. Stay tuned... you'll have it in just HOURS. Make sure to email me at once with your reactions and compliments... it's another winner!!! You can reach me by email (email address here); cell phone (number here)... or land line (number here.) And I want to hear from each and EVERY one of you!"

You must get on with the essential business of puffing each and every day, without exception, that you want money.

And, I guarantee you, that as you improve in your puffery, you will improve your prospect responses, dramatically.

And your bottom line? Why that will improve, too, and dramatically so if and only if you follow up each and every response, as quickly as possible, with a special offer. In other words, thank the respondents, thank them as soon as possible... and always give them a thing (or two) which makes you money.  Thus are you benefited as you benefit your fast-responding prospects.

There are many things, of course, which factor into consummate blog success. They include

* having good content, interesting, practical,  timely;

* publishing according to a schedule, never missing a deadline;

* writing directly to your readers, always using "you";

* keeping every word of text short, peppy, upbeat,

* and, always and forever, every single day, puffing.

Because if you don't puff, if you do not encourage, recommend, admonish, excite, and motivate you are leaving the crucial act of marketing in the hands of  those least able to discern for themselves what to do. That decision must be yours. You and only you must advance the necessary reasons for acting as you want them to act. That crucial aspect of marketing belongs to you... and you must do this every time you want results. Like today.

Check out Job Crusher 2 => http://eddierdh.jobcrusher.hop.clickbank.net

About The Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., where small and home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books.

Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com

Get 250,000 Advertising Credits Absolutely NO Cost! PLUS Timed Traffic-Blaster Bonus Visit my Business Web Site Right Now! http://worldprofitassociates.com/t13.cfm?id=24515

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Every person reading this article; indeed, most every person on this planet has experienced the phenomenon of The Boss. This is the designated person within your organization who gives the orders and runs the show.

He or she is the person you talk about the most and strive to do your best for, right?

But the real question is: do you daily do your bit to help the boss be a better boss, producing better results and astonishing every one in the entire organization?

You see, virtually everyone in virtually every organization is so focused on what the boss thinks of them and what everything he says means... that almost no one thinks about what the boss needs to do his job better, for the good of all. Hence this checklist of things you can do starting today to make your boss more effective and hence your organization overall.

1)  Review your own working relationship with the boss.

Making your boss more productive starts with -- you!

What are you doing that is less than effective?

Do you come in habitually late?

Do you take extended, unauthorized breaks and lunch?

Do you have a desk that resembles an explosion in a paper factory, so that you're constantly engaged on wasting time finding things that should rightly be at your fingertips?

Do you spend your office time online visiting websites you shouldn't while muttering about how difficult and time-consuming your job is?

If any of these, or countless other infractions, apply to you... you are not helping yourself and you are certainly not helping your boss.

Start by putting one of your typical days under a microscope. What do you do that you shouldn't? What are you not doing that you should?

Before you can help the boss, you may well need some help yourself.

2) What kinds of things does the boss usually say to you?

Bosses are in the business of constantly reviewing performance and working with employees to improve what they do. This means communication, and a lot of it.

What is the boss saying in her communications to you? Your job is to become a better employee in the eyes of your designated boss. To do so, keep a list of everything the boss says to you and writes to you. Here you'll find the seeds for improvement.

The plain fact is, you probably haven't been very concerned about making your boss' life easier... and you probably haven't reviewed all his communications to see what he's really saying and what you need to do. Now, however, that must be a key consideration...  not just once either.

3) Study what the boss does... and brainstorm ways you can make what he does easier and more effective.

For instance, say your boss has to remind you constantly about a given infraction or task inadequately or incompletely performed. Say that you must file a daily report on sales, for instance, before leaving for the day. Say you're lax in this department; your report often comes in the day after, or even later. This inconveniences your boss, makes his life more difficult than it needs to be, and doesn't help your advancement prospects either.

Remember, if the boss is engaged in constant oversight of what you're doing and getting you to do your job better, he's wasting time better spent on higher-level, organization-building duties.

4) Volunteer suggestions that will make your boss' life easier.

Every boss in the world is engaged in numerous tasks which others could do as well and which prevent the boss from using his skills in the best possible way. A perceptive individual like you can be of the utmost assistance here.

Say your boss has to make sure the rest room is always clean and hygienic. Employees complain when high standards are not kept, but who's helping the boss with this task, which is frankly not very taxing, though most important?

How about you? Once you've watched the boss do this task and once you're sure you can easily add it to your work load, schedule an appointment with the boss and propose that you take over this task, to free up some of the boss' valuable time. In other words be proactive.

Given the ordinary relations between employer and employee, your boss may well be astonished at your proposal, maybe wondering what you've really got in mind. However, make it clear you want to help the boss delegate less significant tasks, the better able to concentrate on things important.

Your boss, being human, will want to know  what your motivation is, what is your ulterior motive? Are you after more money? Even the boss' job?

Your response should be simple and honest, "I want to help you."

It may well be that your boss has never heard such a sentiment before; it may take a moment or two for the very idea to sink in. Sit down and say nothing until the boss speaks to you -- and accepts  your proposition.

5) Begin your new task at once, as soon as the boss has approved.

Don't wait to begin the new regime, the regime of helpfulness and needed assistance. Start today.

Make sure you understand the new task completely; written instructions may be necessary. Then commence at once, always giving the boss a prompt, clear report on what you did. Do the task the very best way you can, thereby indicating what  kind of person you are and the high standards you mean to maintain.

6) Look out for other ways to assist.

Don't propose too many changes at the beginning; one is enough for now. But not forever. As soon as you have mastered  the new task delegated by your boss; as soon as you are doing it promptly and well... continue your self-appointed, important task of reviewing other things you could take on. You are sure to find several.

By this time, your boss will be at once happy at what an exemplary, helpful employee you are... while wondering whether you're bucking for his job. Make it clear that your first objective is just being helpful, but that you would like to be considered for advancement when positions emerge. The fact that you are ambitious is a plus; make sure the boss sees it that way, too. When asked, make it clear you're a team player and that serve the captain of that team... the boss.

You are the best employee around. Soon you'll be the best boss, too.

People who show the empathy and willingness to assist the boss as you are doing are the best employees on earth. Believe me, your boss knows this, and if he's as dedicated to the organization as you are, he'll do what's necessary to keep you. Congratulations! You are moving up... and will continue to do so... becoming in short order the boss yourself.

Now boss: what is your first task? To locate the best and brightest in your organization... the people who can help you and make you the very best boss ever. People like you!

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

I am not a violent man but I have waited, with all Americans, for the violent end to one man of consummate evil, Osama bin Laden... and now -- at long last --  his end  has come and my heart beats quicker and in gratitude to the people who have done this worthy deed and rid the world of the man whose face was the face of death.

The facts.

For years, the CIA had been monitoring an al-Qaida courier. They knew he was important because detainees told investigators he was profoundly trusted by bin Laden and might very well be living with bin Laden. Last August, as a result of monitoring this courier, intelligence officials got a break. The courier arrived at a highly fortified compound nestled in an affluent neighborhood of an affluent Pakistani town two hours outside Islamabad.

Everything about this compound suggested some nefarious purpose. It was surrounded by walls as high as 18 feet, topped with barbed wire. Two security posts were the only way in. A third-floor terrace was shielded by a seven-foot privacy wall. No phone lines or Internet cables ran to the property. The residents burned their garbage rather than put it out for collection.  Intelligence officials came to believe that this highly distinctive compound was built about 5 years ago at a cost of about one million dollars for a person of consequence in al-Qaida.. The question now was who that person of consequence might be.

Increasingly, after innumerable reviews of the compound and everything known about it, intelligence officials came to believe that the compound was bin Laden's... but for this most important of covert operations there could not be any error of any kind. Americans, they knew, had to have success, total success from this mission... and that's precisely what these officials aimed to give an aggrieved, long-suffering, and patient nation.

And so they did their important work, their painstaking work, their essential work so that when they did what they must do they would be completely successful, and Osama bin Laden would not escape yet again.

Absolute certainty required.

By mid-February, intelligence from multiple sources was clear enough to enable President Obama to "pursue an aggressive course of action." During the next two and a half months, Obama led five meetings of the National Security Council focused solely on whether bin Laden was in that compound and, if so, how to get him.

Everyone was agreed from the President on down: this time there must be complete success...

And so, first of all, just who had access to this growing body of intelligence was drastically limited. Our closest allies -- Britain, Canada, Australia, etc. -- are ordinarily in the loop... but not this time.  Too, the United States does not normally carry out ground operations inside Pakistan without collaboration from Pakistani intelligence. But this was the ultimate covert operation and what was "normal" in such matters was not good enough.

There had to be total success; everything had to be done right... the first time.

April 29, 2011. The President approved the operation to kill Osama bin Laden and the countdown to vengeance began.

For this most important of missions, Obama went with real people instead of our sophisticated Predator drones. President Obama entrusted the honor of America to some of America's finest, the elite Navy SEAL Team Six under the command of CIA Director Leon Panetta. The names of team members have not (so far) been released... but they have well and truly earned the gratitude of the nation.

A fiery end, a bullet to the head.

In the dead of night, helicopters descended out of darkness to deliver Armageddon. One can imagine the event.

The inhabitants of the compound would have awakened, drowsy and disoriented, to their worst nightmare. Coming for them, every one of them, were the deliverers of promised retribution... the representatives of a great nation delivering at last what every citizen of that nation wanted: Revenge!  Retaliation! Justice! 

Unimaginable horror scarred the night skies as, one by one, the representatives of al-Qaida fell... the courier who lead the CIA to this place... bin Laden's brother... his son... and the man of practised and unfathomable evil Osama bin Laden  himself... one blessed bullet into the brain that brought so much undeserved pain to so many.

This was the man whose hatred created, on the fateful day of September 11,  profound misery; a man who turned happy children from happy homes into orphans... a wicked man who tore wives from husbands and husbands from wives... a man who turned doting grandparents into crazed people mad with despair... asking a single question over and over again: "Why?" What had so many innocent people done to deserve so much....

And so, even as the Twin Towers fell, even as a great nation reeled and wept... the sentiment took root that the perpetrator of this great evil must be found and punished.

And that day of righteous punishment came -- May 1, 2011.

Buried according to Islamic practice and tradition.

The bodies of Osama's victims were buried in the burning debris of the once majestic towers, the very symbols of our greatest city. The bravest of the brave found these bodies and gave them the most reverential burials. We gave the remains of bin Laden the same high respect... burying him with decency and full honors, so that no one could say we treated him with the deep contempt with which he treated us. Here, as so often, we rose above... to behave with the deep decency which is the core of who we are.

An incident, not the end.

I am not, as I said, a violent man; I often wonder why we humans seem to need, even crave, so much of it. But of this I am sure: the total eradication of this man was needed, warranted, and beneficial. His misguided followers, now disoriented and dismayed, will turn the man into a martyr, but they will be wrong to do so. His twisted perspective hurts them, too, and can deliver nothing more than more infernos and more pain.

That is why we must continue to be vigilant. One bullet is not the end...  but that bullet surely marks the end of the chapter which began September 11, 2001.

It is a beautiful day here in Cambridge, Massachusetts... the kind of day that makes one glad to be alive. I intend to go, in a minute, into the sparkling air and the brilliant sunshine... to say a little prayer for the victims, our honored dead... and hope their spirits may now rest more easily, abiding forever in the Peace of God they came to know too soon.

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About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Eduardo Cartaya http://WorkingOnlineNow.com