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Posts Tagged ‘Good Old Days’

Nostalgia For All Those Born Before 1945

WE ARE SURVIVORS!!! CONSIDER THE CHANGES WE HAVE WITNESSED

 

We were born before televison, before penicillin, before polio shots, ballpoint pens; before pantyhose, dishwashers, clothes dryers, electric blankets, air conditioners, drip dry clothes — and way before man walked on the moon.

 

We even got married first and then lived together. How quaint can you be? In our time closets were only for clothes, not for “coming out of”. Designer Jeans were scheming girls named Jean or Jeanne, and having a meaningful relationship meant getting along with our cousins.

 

We thought fast food was what you ate during Lent, and outer space were the upper rows in the balcony of our favorite movie theatre. We were born before anybody had coined the term house-husbands. There were no such things as gay rights or computer dating, dual careers or commuter marriages and this was before day-care centers, group therapy and nursing homes.

 

We never heard of FM radio, tape decks, electric typewriters, artificial hearts, word processors, let alone computers, yogurt and guys wearing earrings. For us, time-sharing meant togetherness not computers or condominiums; a chip referred to a piece of wood, hardware meant screw drivers or hammers, and software wasn’t even a word.

 

In 1940, “Made in Japan” meant  junk and the term “making out” referred to how you did on your exam. “Macdonalds” and Instant coffee were unheard of. We hit the scene when there were 5 & 10 cent stores, where you actually bought things for 5 and 10 cents.  Ice cream cones cost a nickel or at the most a dime.  If you lived in a big city you could ride a streetcar from one side of town  to the other for a nickel. What else could a nickel buy? Well you could make a telephone call, buy a “Pepsi” or enough stamps to mail one letter and two postcards.

 

A brand new Chevy coupe was available for $600…but  who could afford one? A pity, too because gas was only 11 cents a gallon! In our day cigarette smoking was fashionable. Grass was mowed, never smoked. Coke was a cold drink and pot was something you cooked in. Rock music helped grandma’s put their babies to sleep and “Aids” were helpers in the principal’s office.

 

We certainly knew there were differences between the sexes but changing sexes would have been unthinkable. We made do with what we had. And we were so dumb as to think we needed a husband to have a baby. No wonder we are so confused and there is such a generation gap today.

 

But we survived!!!  What better reason to celebrate?

 

Another reason to celebrate is finding a new job for those who have been downsized by  their companies having to close stores or outsourcing jobs to low wage countries. If you or somebody you know is in this fix, I have good news for you. Here’s an inexpensive way to learn how to start your own money making business right from your own home A business you can be never be fired from.  A business that can provide a way for you to make part-time income when you retire or full time income without the expense of an outside office or the rent for a storefront. That business is MAIL ORDER and it’s booming like never before… all due  to  the world wide web. Selling a product or service right from your home to someone living hundreds or thousands of miles from you, even, overseas is a way for you  to say goodbye  to uncaring bosses forever.

 

HOW TO BECOME A MAIL ORDER MILLIONAIRE is a complete guide to starting your own home based business. Written by long time mail order expert Fred Broitman, founder of Chicago’s largest independently owned direct response advertising agency, SUNMAN DIRECT. If you would like to start a business that you can operate from your home no matter where you live and sell a product or service to men and women all over the world, then take advantage of this special offer and save 25%. It’s available to order from Amazon for $39.95 plus s&h. However if you order direct from the publisher, it’s yours for only $29.95 and shipping is FREE.

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George Lauer — The Man Who Changed The Way Everyone Shops!

The Biggest Surprise is That Neither He or His Company Patented It

 

On a Sunday afternoon in 1971, an I.B.M. engineer stepped out of his house in Raleigh, N.C., to consult his boss, who lived across the street. “I didn’t do what you asked,” George Lauer confessed.

 

Lauer had been instructed to design a code that could be printed on food labels and that would be compatible with the scanners then in development for supermarket checkout counters. He was told to model it on the bull’s-eye-shaped optical scanning code designed in the 1940’s by N. Joseph Woodland, who died in December. But Laurer saw a problem with the shape: “When you run a circle  through a high-speed press, there are parts that are going to get smeared,” he says “so I came up with my own code.” His system, a pattern of stripes, would be readable even it was poorly printed.

 

That pattern became the basis for the U.P.C., the Universal Product Code, which was adopted by a consortium of grocery companies in 1973, when cashiers were still punching in all prices by hand. Within a decade, the U.P.C. — and optical scanners — brought supermarkets into the digital age. Now an employee could ring up a cereal box with a flick of the wrist. “When people find out  that I invented the U.P.C., they think I’m rich,” Laurer says. But he received no royalities for this invention, and I.B.M did not patent it.

 

As the U.P.C. symbol proliferated, so, too, did paranoia  about it. For decades, Laurer has been hounded by people convinced that he has hidden the number 666 inside the lines of his code. “I didn’t get the meat,” Laurer said ruefully, “but I did get the nuts.”.

 

This article first appeared in the New York Times Magazine January 6, 2013 under the byline of Pagan Kennedy.

 

Did you know there’s a Museum dedicated  to the bar code? The ID History Museum is run by Bill Selmeier who was interviewed for this story:

You worked at I.B.M. in the 1970’s and then helped promote the U.P.C? Yes, I started the seminars where we invited people from the grocery and labeling industry into I.B.M. We were there to reduce their fear.

 

What were they afraid of? They were afraid that anything that didn’t work right would reflect badly on them — particularly if it was only their own package that wouldn’t scan. The guy from Birds Eye said “My stuff always has ice on it when it goes through the checkout.” So we put his package in the freezer and took it out and showed him how it scanned perfectly.

 

Why are you still so interested in the history of the U.P.C. code? Let me put it this way: What bigger impact can you have on the world than to change the way everyone shops?

 

Even my book How To Become A Mail Order Millionaire has its own unique U.P.C. and as a visitor to my blog I want to offer you a special low price to order the book on a no risk trial. Plus an extra bonus. You can save more than 30% off the price and if you’re not completely satisfied, return it for a full refund. Sold everywhere for $39.95 plus s&h, you can order it direct from the publisher for only $29.95 and shipping is FREE.

It has been described by experts in the field as “the definitive guide to success in mail order/direct response

 

How To Become A Mail Order Millionaire is a complete guide to starting your own business, a business you can run from your home with no cost for an outside office or place of business and utilizing the power of the World Wide Websell your product or service all over the world.

 

You’ll learn:

 

How To Get Started
How To Find Great Products
How To Make Your Business Profitable Right From The Start
How To Price Your Product or Service For Biggest Profits
Secrets of Creating Winning Mail Order Ads
14 Seure Fire Check Off Lists That Guarantee Huge Profits
and included in this newly revised edition:
 
Complete Up-To-Date Information on How To Use the Internet To Super-Charge Your Mail Order Business

 

and for all new buyers I’m offering you a huge bonus. Order from this posting and you also receive a full years personal consultation from the author at no cost. Fred Broitman is the founder/CEO of SUNMAN DIRECT Chicago’s largest independently owned direct response advertising agency.  To receive this extra bonus, just send your name and address along with your check or money order for $29.95 to: SUPERIOR PRESS Dept. 8103 333 N. Michigan Avenue Suite 1032 Chicago, IL 60611

Ray Bradbury – The Passing of the Space Age Prophet

Ray Bradbury, Age 91, died peacefully in his sleep June 5. I don’t remember being as saddened as I was by anyone who was not a family member or an acquaintance but I felt as if I knew him well because I grew up with him through his books, short stories, TV shows and movies. He’s finally gone at 91, the last titan of the era when sci-fi fandom was a way of life. The maestros of that tight world were Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Robert Heinlein–and Ray Bradbury. You had to put Bradbury in that rank, even though your mom read him in the Saturday Evening Post. That could get embarrassing to those of us in the Sci-fi hard core.

Ray Bradbury was born August 22, 1920 in Waukegan, IL and used his memoires of this small town for settings in some of his best stories.

So begins a eulogy to Ray Bradbury by Bruce Sterling in the Saturday June 9th Wall Street Journal. Mr Sterling continues; His pedigree was impeccable, though he came from “Lassfuss”, the Los Angeles Science Fantasy Society, a primeval caldron of sci-fi geek culture, founded in 1934. In my own caldron of Austin, our literary mentor, Chad Oliver, came to us from Lassfuss. He told how he and Bradbury and the “Twilight Zone” screenwriter Charles Beaumont would hunt for all-night burger joints, talking sci-fi until dawn.

It sounded so wondrous that we never understood that we were hearing a hard-times story. This was depression-era California and the real Bradbury was displaced from the Midwest to Hollywood like a Steinbeck Okie, one of countless thousands who went West and inadvertently created a big chunk of postwar culture.

Ray Bradbury was born August 22, 1920 in Waukegan, IL and used his memoires of this small town for settings in some of his best stories. In 1934 his family settled in Los Angeles. There as a young boy he roller skated through Hollywood trying to spot celebrities. From 1938 to 1942 he was selling newspapers in the streets of L.A. He published his first paid work in 1941 a short story entitled “Pendulum” in the pulp magazine Super Science Stories. By the end of 1942 he had become a full time writer. That same year he married Marguerite McClure whom he met at a bookstore a year earlier. They had four daughters and eight grandchildren. He first shot to international fame after publication of his short story collection, The Martian Chronicles which was partially based on an idea from Ancient Greek and Roman Mythology.

His best known work Fahrenheit 451 was published in 1966. The film adaptation by director Francois Truffaut was a major hit starring Julie Christie. Many other novels and stories had been adapted to film and TV as well as radio, theatre and comic books. He wrote episodes for the Alfred Hitchcock Presents TV series. Total literary output is close to 600 short stories, more than 30 books and numerous poems and plays. It’s easy to forget that Bradbury wrote a lot of horror stories, too. Having been  through the Depression and war to emerge in the anonymity of postwar America, how could he not? An emptied world where the smart machinery grinds on, yakking inanely, as the mainstream consumers are nuclear blast shadows stenciled on the outside of their suburban home— a vision from a smiling guy in short pants who spoke reverently of Buck Rogers comics. People elided his dark, mournful side, because his affect was so brisk and boistrous. He was the sharpest of social critics, but never mean-tempered like Orwell or Huxley. He was rather, like that other great portraitist of hard–life Middle America, Edward Hopper, painting horror with an effect of stillness, bleakness, loneliness, bereavement  and deprivation.

He used to speak of a mystical experience: instead of attending a family funeral, he ran off to a carnival. He found a sideshow huckster named “Mr. Electrico,” who told him that he was not a 12-year-old but a reincarnated spirit. He hit him on the head with an electrical wand and told him to aspire to immortality. If it sounds like a half-hour fantasy TV episode, it’s probably because Bradbury wrote so many of those, years later. But as a way of life: departing a funereal mainstream culture to play techno-trips with the tattooed sideshow weirdos.

Mr. Sterling concludes: But if that was Bradbury’s origin myth, it’s also what he became. Wine from Dandelions, lowly yet highly evolved, borne by the wind into the last places,you’d expect to find them blooming. Exotic, yet common as the soil.

In 2004 he received a National Medal of Arts. Also a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. An asteroid is named in his honor “9766 Bradbury” and the Apollo Astronauts named a crater on the moon “Dandelion Crater” after his novel “Dandelion Wine“. Many of his short stories were published in PLAYBOY MAGAZINE and even a TV commercial for Sunsweet Prunes ran in the 1960’s. John Huston, a huge fan of Bradbury’s work asked him to write the screenplay for Huston’s film adaptation of “Moby Dick“. He submitted a working script to Huston in early 1954. By the time the film came out in 1956, Huston had listed himself as co-author. Bradbury protested Huston’s action to the Screen Writers Guild and initiallly was successful in having Huston removed as co-author but the powerful film maker had the decision over turned.  

 Ray Bradbury remained productive until the end. He has now departed and the world as he worried in 1979 is a much madder place. More reason to re-read Fahrenheit 451 including the afterword and oppose political correctness with the courage of the master himself.

For an overview on his 50- plus years career read “Ray Bradbury: The Life of Fiction” published by the Kent State University Press.

How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the OWS Protests

That’s the headline to Matt Taibbi’s article in the current issue of ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE. Last week’s post was from a conservative columnist who writes for FORTUNE MAGAZINE. It’s only fair for a progressive view–and there’s few as good as Matt Taibbi. He alone is well worth subscribing to one of my favorite magazines ROLLING STONE. Herein are excerpts:

“I have a confession to make. At first I misunderstood Occupy Wall Street. The first few time I went down to Zuccotti Park, I came away with mixed feelings. I loved the energy and was amazed by the obvious organic appeal of the movement, the way it was growing on its own. But my initial impression was that it would not be taken very seriously by the Citibanks and Goldman Sachs of the world. You could put 50,000 angry protestors on Wall Street, 100,000 even, and Lloyd Blankfein is probably not going to break a sweat. He knows he’s not going to wake up tomorrow and see Cornel West or Richard Trumka running the Federal Reserve. He knows modern finance is a giant mechanical parasite that only an expert surgeon can remove. Yell and scream all you want but he and his fellow Franksteins are the only ones who know how to turn the machine off.

That’s what I was thinking during the first few weeks of the protests. But I’m beginning to see another angle. Occupy Wall Street was always about something much bigger than a movement against big banks and modern finance. It’s about providing a forum for people to show how tired they are not just of Wall Street but EVERYTHING. This is a visceral, impassioned, deep-seated rejection of the entire direction of our society, a refusal to take even one more step forward into the shallow commercial abyss of phoniness, short-term calculation, withered idealism and intellectual bankruptcy that American mass society has become. If there is such a thing as going on strike from one’s own culture, this is it. And by being so broad in scope and so elemental in its motivation, it‘s flown over the heads of many on both the right and the left.

The right-wing media wasted no time in cannon-blasting the movement with its usual idiotic clichés, casting Occupy Wall Street as a bunch of dirty hippies who should get a job and stop chewing up Mike Bloomberg’s police overtime budget with their urban sleepovers. Just like they did a half-century ago, when the debate over the Vietnam War somehow stopped being about why we were brutally murdering millions of innocent Indochinese civilians and instead became a referendum on bralessness and long hair and flower-child rhetoric, the depraved flacks of the right-wing media have breezily blown off a generation of fraud and corruption and market-perverting bailouts, making the whole debate about the protestors themselves—their hygiene, their ‘envy’ of the rich, their ‘hypocrisy’.

The protestors, chirped Supreme Reichskank Ann Coulter, ‘needed three thing: showers, jobs and a point’. Her colleague Charles Krauthammer went so far as to label the protestors hypocrites for having iPhones. ‘OWS’, he said is Starbucks-sipping, Levi’s- clad, iPhone clutching protestors (denouncing) corporate America even as they weep for Steve Jobs, corporate titan, billionaire eight times over’. Apparently because Goldman and Citibank are corporations, no protestors can ever consume a corporate product—not jeans, not cellphones and definitely not coffee’—if he also wants to complain about tax money going to pay off some billionaire banker’s bets against his own crappy mortgages.

Meanwhile on the other side of the political spectrum, there were scads of progressive pundits like me who wrung our hands with worry that OWS was playing right into the hands of assholes like Krauthammer. DON’T GIVE THEM ANY AMMUNITION! we counseled. STAY ON MESSAGE! BE SPECIFIC!. We were all playing the Rorschach-test game with OWS trying to squint at it and see what we wanted to see in the movement. Viewed through the prism of our desire to make near-term, within the system changes, it was hard to see how skirmishing with cops in New York would help foreclosed-upon middle-class families in Jacksonville and San Diego.

What both sides missed is that OWS is tired of all this. They don’t care what we think they’re about, or should be about. They just want something different.

We’re all born wanting the freedom to imagine a better and more beautiful future. But modern America has become a place so drearily confining and predictable that it chokes the life out of that built-in desire. Everything from our pop culture to our economy to our politics feels oppressive and unresponsive. People want to go someplace for at least five minutes where no one is trying to bleed you or sell you something.

I think I understand now that that’s what the Occupy movement is all about. It’s about dropping out if only for a moment, and trying something new. It doesn’t need to tell the world what it wants. It is successful for now, just by being something different.”

These are only excerpts from Matt’s excellent article in the November 22nd issue of ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE. To read it in its entirety, pickup a copy or better yet become a subscriber. I’ve been hooked on their political reporting for 25 years and with age, year after year, it only gets better.

What Really Has The 99% Up In Peaceful “Constitutionally Protected” Protest

If you are like most of us then you are one of the 99%. If you happen to be one of the 1%, then lucky you. Just skip this week’s blog because you won’t be the least bit interested in what I have to say. This opinion piece ran in the Nov., 7, 2011 issue of FORTUNE MAGAZINE. It was written by Geof Colvin.

“The most important fact to realize about the rash of popular protests around the world— OCCUPY WALL STREET in the U.S., demonstrations in Greece, Spain, London and elsewhere in Europe, really aren’t about money or inequality. If they were, they’d be easier to deal with. They’re about perceived injustice. which reflects a deeper, fiercer problem.

The spark of the U.S. movement may soon be obscured as it’s taken over by career protesters, labor unions, and others who enjoy any chance to torment corporate managers. But the spark is where we find what’s new and meaningful, and it seems to have emanated from a feeling by the protestors that they aren’t getting a fair shot at prosperity. They believe that big companies, specifically major banks, have rigged the system to their own benefit and to ignore the suffering of ordinary people.

That perceived injustice is the real root of today’s rage. Yes, many Wall Street executives make tons of money, but plenty of hedge fund managers, for example, make far, far more, yet no one is camping outside their suburban Connecticut offices. For that matter, America loves Warren Buffett, just as they loved Sam Walton when he was the country’s richest man. Fellow citizens making billions do not by themselves get many people riled.

Even economic inequality isn’t enough to send mobs into the streets. Inequality in the U.S. has been increasing for over 30 years. During most of that period the rich were getting richer, and the poor were getting richer. But the rich were getting richer faster. Though the gap was widening, the lid stayed on discontent as long as everyone was moving ahead.

Inequality actually diminished in the recent recession, as it usually does in tough times. If inequality were the problem, people would be less upset today than they were in 2007. What’s new is that those with medium and lower incomes have not been getting richer for several years, while those with high incomes have been, and the unprecedented slowness of post-recession job growth has left many feeling deprived of their rightful opportunity to improve their lot. More broadly, they feel they’re being punished even though they did nothing wrong, while those whom they blame for the whole mess—the bankers—got bailed out and were raking it in. INFURIATING INJUSTICE.

The elements are the same in protests worldwide, whether the specific grievance is blatant corruption, as in China and the Middle East, or violation of the social compact as in Europe. The innocent are punished while the guilty are rewarded. That combination is intolerable.

In the U.S. this narrative is flawed and in some ways plain wrong. Most of the Occupy Wall Street protestors probably don’t know that they as taxpayers, actually made money from the bank bailout. They may be forgetting that millions of Americans are being foreclosed on because they willingly, even eagerly, took out mortgages they couldn’t afford. Some protestors are simply clueless, like one who responded to a question from the New York Times by saying ‘he never heard of Warren Buffett’, or one who complained to NPR ‘that we’re paying for the bailout’, or one who told the Times that ‘the airline Virgin America is a good company because it’s working on solar planes.’

IT DOESN’T MATTER. WHAT PEOPLE KNOW OR DON’T KNOW ISN’T IMPORTANT. ALL THAT COUNTS IS WHAT THEY FEEL.

At a private meeting of movers and shakers a few years ago, a CEO presented the facts on long-term diverging fortunes of the wealthy and the middle class in the U.S. Henry Kissinger, who was chairing the meeting, observed ‘that the situation held the makings of a social and political cataclysm’. It seemed an overly dramatic pronouncement, but he was right. Only a feeling of powerful injustice was missing, AND NOW IT’S HERE!

Even if Occupy Wall Street should evaporate, the fuel that’s feeding it will not. Think of it as a warning. Cataclysm is a long way off and it certainly isn’t inevitable. But we’re a little bit closer.

Thank you Steve Jobs

Apple - Steve Jobs - Hong Kong design student Jonathan Mak, possible a homage to a Raid71 design.

Thanks, Steve
We’ve all been lucky to live in a world where there was a person with such an imagination

The above and what follows is from an editorial written by Stanley Bing who contributes his wisdom and writing skills to every issue of FORTUNE. It alone is worth the price of a subscription.

“I WANTED TO TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY before time and our common mortality rob me of the chance to do so, to thank you, Steve Jobs, for all that you have done for me. No, I never had the privilege of meeting you, or had a chance to get yelled at by you in a business meeting, or even watch your charisma transform an audience into acolytes. But I feel as if I know you well enough to express, as you ascend to your new role as chairman, the sadness I feel and my gratitude for so many of the good things that you have brought to my life. It‘s not business, it’s personal.

I want to thank you for my graphical interface. There were computers, of course, before you made that first Mac. They could run only one program at a time. They had no graphics. You knew that was lame. You imagined the alternative—multiple programs, launched by clicks, running concurrently in a windowed field. Last night I I watched a movie, printed photos, harvested e-mail, and bought a bunch of business socks, all at the same time. So thanks for my GUI.

I want to thank you for my mouse. Can you imagine a world without mousses? I can’t. Before you bred them for commercial use, a person needed a host of keyboard commands to get anything done, and a lot programming code to produce words and numbers on paper. I read somewhere that you got the vision after you visited Xerox’s PARC. They showed you what they were up to, but they sort of didn’t know what they had. You ran with it. Because that’s the way you did everything. All in. Feet first.

I want to thank you for all Macs, great and small. I went to your Apple store the other day and saw a tidy row of new machines, from the slender new Airs to the massive towers of power. I wanted every one. They’re pretty and shiny, unlike my big old black rubberized clunker the corporation gave me, and the last time I got a virus was just before I put my Windows PC into the closet. That was when I sent the phrase “I love you” to 22,000 fellow employees and the CEO “I love you, too, but let’s not let anybody know,” he-mailed back.

I want to thank you for my Airport Extreme, the small white box through which I get my Internet. Before it, I used to have to plug it in and configure this horrible router. It never worked. I often ended up screaming and crying and throwing hardware at the wall. This thing? You just plug it in and use it. Sometimes as I fall asleep I watch the little fellow, with its round eye glowing green in the darkness, a beacon of easy functionality.

Thanks for my iPod, which pretty much defined how I listen to music now. And for iTunes, which you made too easy not to understand. And for my iPad, too which despite all is really nothing more than an Angry Birds machine. No, you can’t work on it. So what? Work isn’t everything.

And thanks for my new iPhone, which channels a million apps and does everything well except the phone part. A pompous Silicon Valley dude I know used to say, with a weary grin, “every year is the year for mobile.” Until you decided it was, Steve. And so I never have to generate a single unaided thought for the rest of my life. What a relief!

And oh,yeah. Thanks for TOY STORY too. And UP. Really loved UP.

Its been your world, Steve. And we’ve been lucky enough to run along behind you, picking up goodies as you dropped them in our path. It’s a little scary to think that one day you’ll go off to your famous mountaintop and not return with the next big thing. But at least we can all say we lived in a time when there was a person with such an imagination and offer thanks in whatever digital or analog format we choose, wherever on earth we may be. We can do that now.”

A quote from this addresses says it all.

“Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart”

The only addition I care to add to this tribute to this great man is that Steve Jobs real legacy is APPLE itself. Without fanfare he quietly made sure his beloved company was built to last.

If At First You Don’t Succeed… The Wright Way To Go

Like flight pioneers Orville and Wilbur Wright, you’ll never get off the ground if you don’t try.

This weeks blog is inspired from an article in the October issue of THE RED BULLETIN written by Jeff Wise, a journalist and the author of “Extreme Fear: The Science of Your Mind in Danger

Jeff writes, “On the 100th anniversary of the Wright brothers’ first flight, 35,000 people gathered at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, to watch a replica of the famous first plane take to the air. Nothing had been left to chance: the $1.2 million reproduction was exact in every detail, right down to the thread count in the muslin that covered the wing struts.

However, the weather was failing to cooperate. When the hallowed moment came, it was raining—and worse, almost completely windless. At last the drizzle subsided. With the help of some of Orville and Wilbur Wright’s descendents, the craft was maneuvered onto its launching rail. The pilot throttled the engine up to its maximum 12 horsepower, and the replica Flyer set off down the 200-foot track.

It didn’t get very far. Rearing up, it climbed about 6 inches off the ground and then finally slumped ignominiously into a puddle. As 35,000 people witnessed first hand that day, the Wright’s “first airplane was such a poor flyer that it barely qualified to be called an airplane at all. It only managed to get off the ground back in December 1903 because there happened to be a strong wind that day.

In retrospect, we now understand that the Wright brothers made many wrong guesses in configuring their design. The propellers were in the back, instead of the front; the elevator (this controls the movement of an aircraft’s tail) was in the front, instead of the back; the wings angled downward, instead of upward. The plane was barely controllable.

Does that mean that the brothers’ first flight – a 12-second hop was a historical irrelevance? Not at all. The Wright’s did accomplish something epochal that day. Until that moment of quasi-flight, no one really knew whether a heavier-than-air flying machine lay within the realm of possibility. After Kitty Hawk, they did. The Wright brothers may not have had all the details worked out, but they had one foot through the doorway.

A similar dynamic holds true for us as individuals. We each live a life bounded by a sense of what we know to be possible for ourselves. Everything else lies beyond, in the realm of Things That We Might Not Be Able To Do. And then, one day, we cross over the line, and our personal domain is forever enlarged.

Is this the day you decide to become an entrepreneur, perhaps start your own mail order business. If you don’t give it a shot, you’ll never have the opportunity to cross over the line. “Before Edmund Hillary climbed Everest, no one knew the human body could endure such punishing conditions. Before Roger Bannister broke the four minute mile in 1954 it was a goal that lay in the far fringes of possibility. When reports of the Wrights’ achievement leaked out, they electrified a group of European engineers and inventors who had been working for years to solve the problem of flight. They had no details about how the Flyer worked-the Wright brothers were legendarily secretive-but knowing what they were tackling was definitely possible, they redoubled their efforts. Then on October 23, 1906, a Brazilian-born inventor named Alberto Santos-Dumont took to the air in a craft he called “14 bis“. The world as these pioneers knew it was forever changed.

Opportunity is all around if you are willing to get up and cross that line. Here’s one that could change your life.

Order Now and Save $10
As a special offer only available to readers of this blog. You can now buy my book HOW TO BECOME A MAIL ORDER MILLIONAIRE directly from me for the special price of $29.95 plus $3.50 for first class postage and handling. Send a check or money order in the amount of $33.45 payable to SUPERIOR PRESS along with your name and address to: Superior Press 333 N. Michigan Ave STE 1032 Chicago IL 60601 and I will promptly ship the book. Or you can purchase the book at the regular retail price from Amazon.

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