I'm going to be taking 1000 pictures and posting them in a seperate blog starting Janury 1st, 2009. This project will last for the whole year. Here's the link:
1000 Pictures 2009
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
WOW. Someone needs a reality check...
I'm pasting this article because the link will probably break soon. This was one of the headline articles on Yahoo's homepage. Can you say 'slow news day'?
The Billionaire's Black Sheep
What's it like when your grandpa is the richest man in the world? For Nicole Buffett, it means forgoing cable TV and health insurance and making do on $40,000 a year. Here, she dishes on her upbringing and why her grandfather Warren Buffett disowned her.
By Leah McGrath Goodman
Nicole Buffett is at home among the neo-hippies who shuffle along the laid-back, tree-lined streets of Berkeley, CA. At an elfin 5 feet tall, clad in a flowing peasant dress and sandals adorned with peace signs, her long hair cascading in ropy dreadlocks to her waist, the 32-year-old abstract painter is just another of the city's free-thinking, granola-crunching denizens. And yet, she's a walking oddity. "The first thing most people think of when they hear my last name is money," she laughs.
Not just money — gobs of it. Nicole Buffett's grandfather is the legendary investor Warren Buffett, whose $58 billion fortune made him the richest man on the planet, a mantle he seized from Bill Gates last fall. So deep are Buffett's pockets that when the financial markets cratered in September, the so-called Oracle of Omaha single-handedly buoyed Wall Street (at least for a day) by plunking down $5 billion on troubled investment bank Goldman Sachs. ("Canonize Warren Buffett," cried one headline on CNBC's Website.) But there's a bitter irony to Buffett's beneficence. Wall Street's white knight is also an unforgiving hardhead when it comes to his own granddaughter, whom he cut off two years ago after a falling-out. "For him to discard me like that was devastating," Nicole says matter-of-factly. "It permanently divided our family."
When Nicole was 4, her singer-songwriter mother married Warren Buffett's youngest child, Peter, a composer for commercials and films. He later adopted Nicole and her identical twin sister, who were embraced as kin by the larger Buffett family — especially Susan, Warren's first wife, an avid music lover and cabaret performer. "A lot of people don't realize that my family is full of artists," says Nicole. (Susan Buffett, who died in 2004, was an early buyer of Nicole's art and named Nicole one of "my adored grandchildren" in her will.)
As a child, Nicole made regular visits to "Grandpa's" modest home in Omaha, where he still lives, purchased in 1958 for $31,500. Despite the humble digs, Nicole remembers the occasional spoils of Buffett's wealth. At Christmas, when she was 5, he gave her a crisp $100 bill from his wallet. Once, she was invited on a private tour of the See's Candies factory he owned. And twice yearly, Peter Buffett packed up his brood for a vacation at his father's compound in Laguna Beach. Nicole also remembers once tiptoeing into her grandfather's study to fetch something, careful not to disturb him while he read the Wall Street Journal. Just as she turned to slip out, Buffett cleared his throat and said, "Nicole, I just want you to know that your grandmother and I are very proud of all that you've accomplished as an artist." "It's a really big deal for him to communicate on such an emotional level," says Nicole, her eyes welling. "So it was a big deal for me."
Nicole was clueless about the scope of the Buffett fortune until she was 17, when her grandfather appeared on the cover of Forbes for having topped the magazine's annual list of the richest Americans. Her classmates nearly stampeded her at school with the news. "I called my dad, and he said, 'Yeah, Grandpa is going to be getting a lot more press, and we're going to have to get used to that. But we'll be living our lives the same way and doing what we always do,'" Nicole says.
In fact, the national media debut only intensified Buffett's efforts to preserve his unaffected lifestyle. Aware of the unfairness of what he calls "the ovarian lottery," Buffett made clear to the family that there'd be no handouts. "For most people, your life is largely determined by the wealth you were — or weren't — born into," Nicole explains. "But our family was supposed to be a meritocracy." That philosophy translated into a near-fanatical devotion to living like regular Joes. Buffett's kids went to public schools and, when they were old enough to drive, shared the family car. "You wouldn't guess it, but I grew up in a household with my parents saying, 'If you're fortunate enough to find something you love, then do it,'" says Peter Buffett.
Committed to instilling those homespun values in his grandkids, Buffett agreed to pay for their college educations — and nothing more. He picked up the six-figure tab for Nicole's art school tuition. Once, Nicole called her grandfather's office to ask if he'd help her buy a futon when she moved to an off-campus apartment. "You know what the rules are: school expenses only," his secretary told her.
Four years ago, following Susan's death, Buffett showed up for his family's annual Christmas gathering clad in a garishly over-the-top red tracksuit and Santa hat, a gift from "Arnie" (California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger). Everyone laughed at the absurdity of it all. When the holiday ended, Nicole raced into Buffett's arms. "We're not a touchy-feely family, so when I did it, the rest of the family seemed a little surprised," Nicole says, beaming. "But he gave me this great big hug back."
It was the last time the pair would share an embrace. Two years later, Nicole agreed to appear in The One Percent, a documentary by Johnson & Johnson heir Jamie Johnson about the gap between rich and poor in America. "I've been very blessed to have my education taken care of, and I have had my living expenses taken care of while I'm in school," she states on camera. None of the Buffetts, a famously press-averse bunch, had ever before appeared in so public a forum to dish about their upbringing. Though Nicole informed her father of her role in the film and he had no objections, she failed to give her grandfather a heads-up. Asked in the film how he'd react to her interview, Nicole responds, "I definitely fear judgment. Money is the spoke in my grandfather's wheel of life."
Nicole concedes that the remarks may have sounded brusque. "I meant that my grandfather is like a Formula One driver who only wants to race — he just loves the game and wants to be the best," she says. But Buffett was galled. He had for some time felt ambivalent about Nicole and her sister's claim to his fortune — though Peter had legally adopted them, he divorced their mother in 1993 and remarried three years later. To make matters worse, while plugging the film on Oprah, Nicole confessed, "It would be nice to be involved with creating things for others with that money and to be involved in it. I feel completely excluded from it."
The perceived sense of entitlement and Nicole's self-appointed role as family spokesperson prompted Buffett to tell Peter that he'd renounce her. A month later, the mega-billionaire mailed Nicole a letter in which he cautioned her about the pitfalls of the Buffett name: "People will react to you based on that 'fact' rather than who you are or what you have accomplished." He punctuated the letter by declaring, "I have not emotionally or legally adopted you as a grandchild, nor have the rest of my family adopted you as a niece or a cousin." Nicole was devastated. "He signed the letter 'Warren,'" she says. "I have a card from him just a year earlier that's signed 'Grandpa.'"
But Buffett's decision was irrevocable. "I don't have an easy answer for where my father is coming from," says Peter Buffett, who speaks to Nicole regularly. "But I know I can't change the spots on a leopard." Jamie Johnson convinced Nicole to tape a follow-up interview, which he added as an emotional postscript to his film. "To pretend like we don't have a familial relationship is not based in reality. I've spent years of my life at his home in Omaha. I'm shocked and hurt," Nicole says.
Now, despite her sterling surname, Buffett is getting by on $40,000 or so a year, largely on the sale of her paintings (collectors include Shirley Temple's daughter Lori Black and Hollywood special-effects guru Scott Ross). There's no denying that the Buffett name piques interest in the art world, where Nicole's pieces have fetched as much as $8000. One of her techniques is to leave unfinished works outside, exposed to the elements. "I like to see what happens," she says, hovering over canvases mottled with sunbursts of color.
Nicole supplements her income by working at a San Francisco boutique, but still can't afford cable or health insurance. Since their falling-out, Buffett has begun mailing sizable Christmas checks to his grandchildren, despite his no-freebies rule. Even so, Nicole vigorously insists that she has no regrets. "I think it shows he's trying to reach out to his grandkids in a more personal way," she says, before pausing. "And probably he's rewarding them for behaving."
In the two years since they last spoke, Nicole has been besieged by her grandfather's image. "I can't turn on the TV or read the paper without seeing him," she says, referring to his role in the Wall Street bailout and as Barack Obama's adviser during his presidential bid. She dreams about a reconciliation, however unlikely. Still, she says she'll never stop being a Buffett. "I will always be self-reliant," she says, curled up on her couch, her dreadlocks draping her body like a quilt. "Grandpa taught me that, and it has set the tone for my life."
Awww... poor, poor Nicole. "Getting by" on $40,000 a year? She's 32 years old with no children. I am 32 years old with no children and I get by, quite comfortably I might add, on much less than that. Grandpa paid for her six-figure art school tuition and she's upset that he didn't buy her a futon? If you have a six-figure education you should be able to pay for your own damn futon. I paid for mine. And good for Mr. Buffett for not giving his family handouts. And I would like to mention that "Christmas checks" are not the same thing as "freebies". They are Christmas gifts, and my guess is that he's getting older and is gifting a portion of his income to his heirs so that they won't have to bear the tax burden. Lots of people do this as they get older. He obviously doesn't consider her one of his heirs, and that is his perogative. I'm pretty sure that are reasons not mentioned in this article as to why he feels that way. I think she sounds like a spoiled brat. Her own father doesn't even sound like he's defending her. He's just kind of like 'I don't know...' Now I know that 40k is not a ton of money - you may not be able to eat at Chez Panisse every night or wear Prada on a daily basis, but she can't afford cable TV? Besides, she claims to be 'at home among the neo-hippies'? Hippie philosophy is typically anti-overconsumption, anti-money. I do agree that having no health insurance is pretty serious, but you can't tell me this girl couldn't get it if she wanted it. Like having a wealthy family entitles you to health insurance. What about the boutique she works at? Maybe she should find a job that provides insurance - like the rest of us. Waah Waah Waah...
The Billionaire's Black Sheep
What's it like when your grandpa is the richest man in the world? For Nicole Buffett, it means forgoing cable TV and health insurance and making do on $40,000 a year. Here, she dishes on her upbringing and why her grandfather Warren Buffett disowned her.
By Leah McGrath Goodman
Nicole Buffett is at home among the neo-hippies who shuffle along the laid-back, tree-lined streets of Berkeley, CA. At an elfin 5 feet tall, clad in a flowing peasant dress and sandals adorned with peace signs, her long hair cascading in ropy dreadlocks to her waist, the 32-year-old abstract painter is just another of the city's free-thinking, granola-crunching denizens. And yet, she's a walking oddity. "The first thing most people think of when they hear my last name is money," she laughs.
Not just money — gobs of it. Nicole Buffett's grandfather is the legendary investor Warren Buffett, whose $58 billion fortune made him the richest man on the planet, a mantle he seized from Bill Gates last fall. So deep are Buffett's pockets that when the financial markets cratered in September, the so-called Oracle of Omaha single-handedly buoyed Wall Street (at least for a day) by plunking down $5 billion on troubled investment bank Goldman Sachs. ("Canonize Warren Buffett," cried one headline on CNBC's Website.) But there's a bitter irony to Buffett's beneficence. Wall Street's white knight is also an unforgiving hardhead when it comes to his own granddaughter, whom he cut off two years ago after a falling-out. "For him to discard me like that was devastating," Nicole says matter-of-factly. "It permanently divided our family."
When Nicole was 4, her singer-songwriter mother married Warren Buffett's youngest child, Peter, a composer for commercials and films. He later adopted Nicole and her identical twin sister, who were embraced as kin by the larger Buffett family — especially Susan, Warren's first wife, an avid music lover and cabaret performer. "A lot of people don't realize that my family is full of artists," says Nicole. (Susan Buffett, who died in 2004, was an early buyer of Nicole's art and named Nicole one of "my adored grandchildren" in her will.)
As a child, Nicole made regular visits to "Grandpa's" modest home in Omaha, where he still lives, purchased in 1958 for $31,500. Despite the humble digs, Nicole remembers the occasional spoils of Buffett's wealth. At Christmas, when she was 5, he gave her a crisp $100 bill from his wallet. Once, she was invited on a private tour of the See's Candies factory he owned. And twice yearly, Peter Buffett packed up his brood for a vacation at his father's compound in Laguna Beach. Nicole also remembers once tiptoeing into her grandfather's study to fetch something, careful not to disturb him while he read the Wall Street Journal. Just as she turned to slip out, Buffett cleared his throat and said, "Nicole, I just want you to know that your grandmother and I are very proud of all that you've accomplished as an artist." "It's a really big deal for him to communicate on such an emotional level," says Nicole, her eyes welling. "So it was a big deal for me."
Nicole was clueless about the scope of the Buffett fortune until she was 17, when her grandfather appeared on the cover of Forbes for having topped the magazine's annual list of the richest Americans. Her classmates nearly stampeded her at school with the news. "I called my dad, and he said, 'Yeah, Grandpa is going to be getting a lot more press, and we're going to have to get used to that. But we'll be living our lives the same way and doing what we always do,'" Nicole says.
In fact, the national media debut only intensified Buffett's efforts to preserve his unaffected lifestyle. Aware of the unfairness of what he calls "the ovarian lottery," Buffett made clear to the family that there'd be no handouts. "For most people, your life is largely determined by the wealth you were — or weren't — born into," Nicole explains. "But our family was supposed to be a meritocracy." That philosophy translated into a near-fanatical devotion to living like regular Joes. Buffett's kids went to public schools and, when they were old enough to drive, shared the family car. "You wouldn't guess it, but I grew up in a household with my parents saying, 'If you're fortunate enough to find something you love, then do it,'" says Peter Buffett.
Committed to instilling those homespun values in his grandkids, Buffett agreed to pay for their college educations — and nothing more. He picked up the six-figure tab for Nicole's art school tuition. Once, Nicole called her grandfather's office to ask if he'd help her buy a futon when she moved to an off-campus apartment. "You know what the rules are: school expenses only," his secretary told her.
Four years ago, following Susan's death, Buffett showed up for his family's annual Christmas gathering clad in a garishly over-the-top red tracksuit and Santa hat, a gift from "Arnie" (California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger). Everyone laughed at the absurdity of it all. When the holiday ended, Nicole raced into Buffett's arms. "We're not a touchy-feely family, so when I did it, the rest of the family seemed a little surprised," Nicole says, beaming. "But he gave me this great big hug back."
It was the last time the pair would share an embrace. Two years later, Nicole agreed to appear in The One Percent, a documentary by Johnson & Johnson heir Jamie Johnson about the gap between rich and poor in America. "I've been very blessed to have my education taken care of, and I have had my living expenses taken care of while I'm in school," she states on camera. None of the Buffetts, a famously press-averse bunch, had ever before appeared in so public a forum to dish about their upbringing. Though Nicole informed her father of her role in the film and he had no objections, she failed to give her grandfather a heads-up. Asked in the film how he'd react to her interview, Nicole responds, "I definitely fear judgment. Money is the spoke in my grandfather's wheel of life."
Nicole concedes that the remarks may have sounded brusque. "I meant that my grandfather is like a Formula One driver who only wants to race — he just loves the game and wants to be the best," she says. But Buffett was galled. He had for some time felt ambivalent about Nicole and her sister's claim to his fortune — though Peter had legally adopted them, he divorced their mother in 1993 and remarried three years later. To make matters worse, while plugging the film on Oprah, Nicole confessed, "It would be nice to be involved with creating things for others with that money and to be involved in it. I feel completely excluded from it."
The perceived sense of entitlement and Nicole's self-appointed role as family spokesperson prompted Buffett to tell Peter that he'd renounce her. A month later, the mega-billionaire mailed Nicole a letter in which he cautioned her about the pitfalls of the Buffett name: "People will react to you based on that 'fact' rather than who you are or what you have accomplished." He punctuated the letter by declaring, "I have not emotionally or legally adopted you as a grandchild, nor have the rest of my family adopted you as a niece or a cousin." Nicole was devastated. "He signed the letter 'Warren,'" she says. "I have a card from him just a year earlier that's signed 'Grandpa.'"
But Buffett's decision was irrevocable. "I don't have an easy answer for where my father is coming from," says Peter Buffett, who speaks to Nicole regularly. "But I know I can't change the spots on a leopard." Jamie Johnson convinced Nicole to tape a follow-up interview, which he added as an emotional postscript to his film. "To pretend like we don't have a familial relationship is not based in reality. I've spent years of my life at his home in Omaha. I'm shocked and hurt," Nicole says.
Now, despite her sterling surname, Buffett is getting by on $40,000 or so a year, largely on the sale of her paintings (collectors include Shirley Temple's daughter Lori Black and Hollywood special-effects guru Scott Ross). There's no denying that the Buffett name piques interest in the art world, where Nicole's pieces have fetched as much as $8000. One of her techniques is to leave unfinished works outside, exposed to the elements. "I like to see what happens," she says, hovering over canvases mottled with sunbursts of color.
Nicole supplements her income by working at a San Francisco boutique, but still can't afford cable or health insurance. Since their falling-out, Buffett has begun mailing sizable Christmas checks to his grandchildren, despite his no-freebies rule. Even so, Nicole vigorously insists that she has no regrets. "I think it shows he's trying to reach out to his grandkids in a more personal way," she says, before pausing. "And probably he's rewarding them for behaving."
In the two years since they last spoke, Nicole has been besieged by her grandfather's image. "I can't turn on the TV or read the paper without seeing him," she says, referring to his role in the Wall Street bailout and as Barack Obama's adviser during his presidential bid. She dreams about a reconciliation, however unlikely. Still, she says she'll never stop being a Buffett. "I will always be self-reliant," she says, curled up on her couch, her dreadlocks draping her body like a quilt. "Grandpa taught me that, and it has set the tone for my life."
Awww... poor, poor Nicole. "Getting by" on $40,000 a year? She's 32 years old with no children. I am 32 years old with no children and I get by, quite comfortably I might add, on much less than that. Grandpa paid for her six-figure art school tuition and she's upset that he didn't buy her a futon? If you have a six-figure education you should be able to pay for your own damn futon. I paid for mine. And good for Mr. Buffett for not giving his family handouts. And I would like to mention that "Christmas checks" are not the same thing as "freebies". They are Christmas gifts, and my guess is that he's getting older and is gifting a portion of his income to his heirs so that they won't have to bear the tax burden. Lots of people do this as they get older. He obviously doesn't consider her one of his heirs, and that is his perogative. I'm pretty sure that are reasons not mentioned in this article as to why he feels that way. I think she sounds like a spoiled brat. Her own father doesn't even sound like he's defending her. He's just kind of like 'I don't know...' Now I know that 40k is not a ton of money - you may not be able to eat at Chez Panisse every night or wear Prada on a daily basis, but she can't afford cable TV? Besides, she claims to be 'at home among the neo-hippies'? Hippie philosophy is typically anti-overconsumption, anti-money. I do agree that having no health insurance is pretty serious, but you can't tell me this girl couldn't get it if she wanted it. Like having a wealthy family entitles you to health insurance. What about the boutique she works at? Maybe she should find a job that provides insurance - like the rest of us. Waah Waah Waah...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
They got him...
For those of you who don't know, one my old friends was murdered in April of 2007. One of the guys who did it was a citizen of Mexico and they've been trying to extradite him for the past year. They finally got him. On some message boards Greg was made out to look like the bad guy here because he was 'lured by sex with a minor'. In my opinion, you cancel out your 'minor' status when you purposely lure someone to your house, tie them up and murder and rob them. Losers - too bad they're not seeking the death penalty, but hopefully they will both be tortured horribly in prison for a long long time.
Go to hell you meanless excuses for human beings. You're wasting our air.
Go to hell you meanless excuses for human beings. You're wasting our air.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
So I've Been Doing Some Reading...
It all started with Botany of Desire by Michael Pollen. The premise of this book is to look at the world from a plants-eye view. It sounds strange but it's really intriguing! The typical way humans look at the world is basically that we are in control, we plant the food or plants and water them and care for them and manipulate them to suit our needs. But think about how plants might see this relationship, what are they doing to get us to cater to them the way we do. Pollen says that the goal of any species (not the individuals) is to duplicate itself. So somehow these plants have figured out how to get us to provide them with what they need to duplicate. It's a give and take relationship - we give them what they need, they give us what we desire. To demonstrate this he uses 4 common plants and explains how each of them have fulfilled our desires, which in turn fulfills their needs. The plants along with our associated desire are: apples/sweetness, tulip/beauty, marijuana/intoxication, and potato/control. It's a really interesting take on the world. Very educational too. I highly recommend this book.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Read This Book!
I finished reading this book at least a month ago and I can't stop thinking about it! I think I'll just have to read it again. Obviously I recommend it. It's so interesting and it really makes you think about things in a different way than we're used to. One thing I liked is that Mr. Weisman really looks at things objectively and avoids the "humans are inherently evil" attitude that many enviromental advocates tend to have. I've never bought into that. While it would be completely blind to think that humans don't have a huge impact on the earth, to think that we have the power to all out destroy it is also ignorant. The truth is that the earth was here long before us, will be here long after we're gone, and has always and will continue to change whether we're here or not.
Some parts of this book made me feel better about where we stand with our relationship with the earth (it's NOT doomsday!), other parts were a little scary, but most of it was just plain interesting.
Those of you who have never heard of this book are probably wondering what this book is all about so here's some info from the website for the book:
In The World Without Us, Alan Weisman offers an utterly original approach to questions of humanity's impact on the planet: he asks us to envision our Earth, without us.
In this far-reaching narrative, Weisman explains how our massive infrastructure would collapse and finally vanish without human presence; what of our everyday stuff may become immortalized as fossils; how copper pipes and wiring would be crushed into mere seams of reddish rock; why some of our earliest buildings might be the last architecture left; and how plastic, bronze sculpture, radio waves, and some man-made molecules may be our most lasting gifts to the universe.
The World Without Us reveals how, just days after humans disappear, floods in New York's subways would start eroding the city's foundations, and how, as the world’s cities crumble, asphalt jungles give way to real ones. It describes the distinct ways that organic and chemically-treated farms would revert to wild, how billions more birds would flourish, and how cockroaches in unheated cities would perish without us. Drawing on the expertise of engineers, atmospheric scientists, art conservators, zoologists, oil refiners, marine biologists, astrophysicists, religious leaders from rabbis to the Dalai Lama, and paleontologists – who describe a pre-human world inhabited by megafauna like giant sloths that stood taller than mammoths – Weisman illustrates what the planet might be like today, if not for us.
From places already devoid of humans (a last fragment of primeval European forest; the Korean DMZ; Chernobyl), Weisman reveals Earth's tremendous capacity for self-healing. As he shows which human devastations are indelible, and which examples of our highest art and culture would endure longest, Weisman's narrative ultimately drives toward a radical but persuasive solution that doesn't depend on our demise. It is narrative nonfiction at its finest, and in posing an irresistible concept with both gravity and a highly-readable touch, it looks deeply at our effects on the planet in a way that no other book has.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Where have I been?
Around. I don't know, I guess I've just been lazy. Spring is almost here and today was the first day I didn't have to wear a coat to work (remember, I catch the bus at about 6:30am). It was already over 50 degrees! I am getting ready to propagate my houseplants now, they are doing so well! I'm putting shelves on my windows so I'll have more room for them to get light and I'm thinking of getting a portable florescent light to supplement. Anyway, I don't have much else to say right now, I'm going to try to keep up with this better!
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