AimlesslyChasingAmy

I won’t say that I have a foot fetish, but I have been thinking a lot about feet lately.  Perhaps it was because I recently broke my little toe on a box of tiles I had sitting in the hallway as I chased Sammy around the house at 4:30am.  Sammy is an older cat who had been abandon a number of times because he thinks outside the box; ie he and the litter box have never bonded.  So every morning at 4:30am Sammy meows, signaling “it’s time” and runs around the house until I can corner him and put him out.  The offending tile is slowly becoming a floor (pictured below).

Or maybe the week’s pre-occupation with feet started when I saw that Kristy Gazes (foot pictured above at the 2007 WPT Championship) was not in the final list of invitees for the NBC Heads Up Poker Championship and Clonie Gowen was.  As I recall, the gals met up in NBC’s first round last year with an additional wager of shoes on the line.  Gazes won a pair of Jimmy Choos and went on to defeat Isabelle Mercier (for an unspecified brand of shoe) and Scott Fischman (for an evening of lap dances).  And it’s not like I have anything against Gowen (other than the fact that she often passive aggressively knocks the hat off my head doing the fake kissy thing), but why not invite someone like Vanessa Selbst?  NBC went out of their way to pick some young male talent that honed their skills online.  Why not a young female onliner?  It’s not like she doesn’t have Heads-Up street cred; she finished third in the WSOP $5K Heads-Up Championship.

Or maybe I was thinking about feet because of a recent post on 2+2 that quoted an interview where Mike Matusow mentioned his autobiography.  I started wishing the book was already out so I could tell some stories about Mike that I have had to keep quiet.  But as a teaser, one of the things I was thinking about was how Mike ended up in solitary when he was in jail.  I know a lot of people would guess that it was his mouth that put him there - but it was actually his feet.

Or maybe it was because I was starting to develop a little fantasy involving Anthony Bourdain (yes I know he’s “older” and married).  Wildbill had given me a copy of A Cook’s Tour: In Search of the Perfect Meal.  I loved the book, except for the fact that I would read it right before sleep and get so hungry I would have to fight the urge to get out of bed and cook a full meal.  I started watching his show on the Travel Channel and liked so many things about him.  He smoked, he drank, he liked food, and looked pretty good for all those vices.  I liked that he was neither spiritual nor religious, but was willing to try anything once (which I’m not sure is even a category on match.com).  There was an episode where he disclosed that he loved having his feet massaged.  Oh man.  We were twins separated at birth (assuming our mother was in labor an uncomfortably long time).  The episode also was to include his trip to a reflexologist.  I was getting warm just thinking about it.  And then it happened.  I saw his feet.  It was over between us.  I can’t even put the thrill kill into words.  I guess I wasn’t alone.  In the TV Guide Recap blog it summarized: “Tony’s visit to the reflexology center (and an unnecessary close-up of his unpedicured feet).”  Watch the video clip, but wait until the very end before you judge. 

And then I started thinking about sticking my foot up the Fed’s ass.  I was never a big fan of Alan Greenspan, but there was something that Greenspan understood that new Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke hasn’t realized yet; perception is so much more valuable than reality.  The tools that the Fed weilds in aid of the economy are fairly limited.  Greenspan understood that and knew the real key to keeping an even keel was maintaining the facade that the Fed was in control.  No matter what happened, Greenspan would tweak a quarter of a point while signaling more may be required.  He as the “all knowing and powerful” would pull the trigger again when the Fed determined the time was right.  He made everyone (especially the markets) believe he was proactive, not reactive.  People were assured that the Fed knew best and was on top of whatever economic catastrophe du jour was unfolding.  Think the Wizard of Oz. 

Our markets were closed on Monday.  The rest of the world’s markets swooned; possibly in disbelief of how we so totally screwed our economy.  On Tuesday morning, the Fed blinked.  They lowered interest rates by .75% - three times the “normal” adjustment and completely outside of their normal calendar.  They signaled to the world that they were right to panic.  It was like the newbie that flops quads and pushes all-in.  You’re not going to get the bang for your buck that way and now everyone knows you’re freakin’ at the table.  In some ways it’s worse than the newbie quad flopper.  The Fed doesn’t get those chips back; that move is now spent.  I’m not saying that a reduction in rates wasn’t warranted; just not like that.  Now everyone knows it is merely a man behind the Fed’s curtain.  Run Toto.  Run.