The 20th Century officially ended the last day of 2000 at midnight, give or take a second. Between then and now, the hype has been deafening. By now, we have rated the 100 Greatest Used Car Salesmen, Greatest Evangelists, Greatest Love Songs, Greatest Movies and Greatest Liars (no contest here) to go along with the never-ending Greatest Athlete of the Century. Give His Airness a world of credit as a phenom. The Babe was incomparable. The only thing common about Jim Brown was his name. They were great, all. But they were great on TEAMS. Sorry, their accomplishments can’t be isolated from the contributions of their world-class teammates. What they did depended on others’ failures and successes. By definition, the greatest athletes work alone. Any world class rock climber ranks higher than the myriad of commercial superstars. Any decathlon champion belongs way ahead of them. Winners of the Iditerod (lead dogs, not drivers) are in a league of their own. Mildred “Babe” Zaharias was an Olympic, tennis and golf champion who founded the LPGA before she died at 45. Can shooting, jumping and dunking compare? For sheer athletic prowess, any number of Hollywood stunt men put the runners, dunkers and hitters to shame. In reality, rankings are a disservice to true athletes and only serve as a gimmick by which ESPN and Sports Illustrated and other media organizations can build advertising revenues. Anyway, years ago a famous boxer repeatedly announced to the world that he was the greatest. That settles it.

As companies become too large to be manageable, so do countries. As companies become top-heavy and bloated, so do governments. The U.S. Government is obese. Morbidly obese. The Fed has its hand in every nuance of every life. The cost to taxpayers is staggering. The waste is obscene. If the Fed had to abide by the rules of a company or a family, it would have filed for bankruptcy long ago. It’s past time to revisit the genius of the Founding Fathers. It’s time to put the Fed on a crash diet, to dismantle most of it and allow the States to govern their own affairs. Likewise, the States should scale back and allow municipalities greater sovereignty. Consider the simplest model for sound government: the residential neighborhood or apartment complex. In your neigborhood, you may have an Association. If so, you elect officers. The Association has meetings. The Association is charged with collecting “taxes” to manage roads, entrance landscaping, the pool, tennis courts, luminaries, teenager vandalism, etc. But the Association has nothing to do with your family, your medical care, your education, your sex life. The Association governs the big picture, you have dominion over the little picture. The Fed rightly should be the “Great Protector”—a Cop, a Park Ranger, a Diplomat, a Highway Builder and a Supreme Jurist. But the Fed should get out of 90% of the business it’s in. Here’s the simple analogy. Your Neighborhood Association is the Fed. Your Family is the State. Get the picture? Powerful states and municipalities do not equal civil unrest, but true civil rights. This is a serious recommendation. Somebody should pay money for it. Of course, some nitpicker will come along to find fault. Please, TJ,  show up in Congress—for just one day.

Years after visiting Ireland, many memories and impressions remain. Among them, the golf courses, astonishing in their beauty; village taverns, rollicking with laughter and music; lush gardens, flourishing under a climate made in heaven; ancient towns, arrested in time, economically deprived and systemically dingy. But, most of all, there is the memory of Thomas. He was 13, a smidgen over five feet, sandy haired, blue-eyed and materially poor, working as a caddy on a windswept afternoon on the rugged terrain of County Kerry. By American standards, young Thomas was stuck at the edge of poverty. Essentially, his prospects were bleak. Unworldly and unprivileged, he surely would be encouraged to follow in the timeless footsteps of his class in a country still chained to a caste system. By American standards, however, this ragged boy had riches our affluent society does not own and cannot buy. Because, you see, still in the eighth grade, Thomas was a scholar of the English language. In his lilting Irish brogue, his words flowed like sparkling water over stones, pure, correct, grammatical, even literary in their diversity. This little, scruffy child and likely his truck-driver father had a far better grasp and appreciation for language than our college graduates and talking heads on television who ostensibly earn their livings communicating. The “dumbing down” of America became starkly real in Ireland, where those who have no wealth are educated in a language they honor and love. Meanwhile, in America, more people attend college now than ever before and more money per capita is spent on education from kindergarten through high school. Television and computers have promised unprecedented learning and understanding but technology only seems to assure the speedier transmission of illiteracy. While teachers strike for more money, their students can’t write simple sentences, don’t know the difference between “lie” and “lay,” don’t have a clue about “subjects” and “objects” and can only sum up a thought by saying “you know” or “like.” Yes, there are exceptions; but the horror is we’re into the second and third generation of decline. When parents have no reverence for their traditions, when their books are merely decorative accessories like candlesticks and ceramic birds, and when athletes, actors and talk-show hosts are the demigods they most admire, who can expect their children to recapture or respect the virtue and value of the English language? On a windswept bluff in late August, a stocky Irish lad in shabby clothing was eloquent proof that real wealth has nothing to do with nearly everything that now dominates our priorities.